Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Hermione paused for a moment at those words. She looked up, a complex light flashing in her brown eyes.

"You think so too?" she asked, her voice softer than expected.

"nonsense."

Harry leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling of the common room. "Just think, he helped Sirius Black clear his name in his first year, and solved the Chamber of Secrets crisis in his second year—if he were in the competition, that would be something to watch."

"He is indeed very strong."

Ron muttered, stuffing a chocolate frog into his mouth and crunching it loudly. "But I don't want to see him represent Hogwarts. The thought of a Malfoy being a champion is just awkward."

"Ron, don't be so prejudiced against the Malfoys," Harry said.

Ron stubbornly replied, "Oh."

Hermione glanced at him but didn't reply.

She lowered her head and continued flipping through the book, but her mind wasn't on the content of the textbook.

She recalled the naturalness with which Fleur sat next to Kane at the dinner party, and Kane's unhurried confidence as he cast spells in Moody's class—like someone who had seen much bigger storms and had no interest in these trivial matters.

He is truly strong.

That's what Sirius Black wrote in his letters.

"And," Harry suddenly added, "if Kane participates, Hogwarts will definitely win!"

Ron stopped chewing the chocolate frog: "Aren't there any good ones at other schools?"

"Even if he's incredibly skilled, can he compare to Kane?"

Ron glanced at Harry, then at Hermione.

"Have you two been cursed by Malfoy?" Ron muttered, crumpling the Chocolate Frog wrapper into a ball. "One says it's a pity he can't participate, the other says he's very strong—what, are we Gryffindors planning to all defect to Slytherin?"

"No one betrayed us." Hermione finally looked up. "This is just an objective assessment. Kane Malfoy is indeed capable; you can't deny it."

"I didn't say I wouldn't admit it." Ron pursed his lips, his voice lowering. "I just don't like him."

"Nobody made you like him," Hermione said, "but it's a fact."

Ron snorted, shrank further into the sofa, and stopped talking.

After a moment of silence, Hermione stood up: "I'm going to the library."

"It's so late?" Harry looked out the window—it was completely dark.

"There's some information I need to look up."

Hermione picked up a stack of books. "About the history of the Triwizard Tournament—I want to know if there are any precedents of people being too old to participate."

"You're not trying to help Kane find a loophole, are you?" Ron's voice came from behind the wool blanket, tinged with disbelief.

Hermione paused for a moment: "I'm just doing academic research."

"Every time you mention 'academic research,' you're actually helping Malfoy."

Ron's voice was muffled. "Last time you talked about academic research, you ended up discussing ancient runes with him in the library for an entire afternoon. The time before that, you talked about academic research and borrowed a stack of books about the nature of magic, which disappeared the next day—I guess you lent them to him."

Hermione's face flushed slightly: "I read the book myself."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Roasted over an oven."

Ron peeked half his face out from behind the wool blanket, looking at her with a "keep knitting" expression.

Hermione hugged the book tightly and hurried towards the stairs of the girls' dormitory.

"She's gone," Ron said.

"Hmm," Harry said.

"Do you think she likes Draco Malfoy?"

Harry was silent for a moment.

"I don't know. But the way she looked at him—it was different from how she looked at others."

Ron sighed and pulled the wool blanket all the way over his head: "It's over. There's going to be a traitor in Gryffindor."

"She just admires him," Harry said. "Admiration and liking are two different things."

"Really?" Ron's voice came muffled from under the blanket. "Then how do you explain that every time she sees Fleur and Malfoy talking, she starts tearing apart beef?"

Harry opened his mouth, but found himself unable to refute it.

From the very first day the Goblet of Fire was placed in the foyer, Hogwarts was plunged into an atmosphere of near-madness.

The wooden goblet looked ordinary, even a bit old—its body was covered with the marks of time, and there were a few fine cracks along the edge.

But the blue-white flame in the cup makes it completely different.

The flames flickered, devoid of heat, yet radiating an ancient magic that inspired awe to the very core.

"Age line".

That day, Dumbledore drew a thin gold line around the Goblet of Fire, which shimmered faintly on the stone floor.

"No student under the age of sixteen can cross this line. I have cast the strongest age detection spell; do not attempt to challenge it."

As he spoke, his blue eyes swept across the crowd behind his half-moon glasses, lingering on Fred and George's faces for a mere half-second.

Fred and George returned an innocent smile.

That smile meant: We will definitely take on the challenge.

From that day on, the foyer became the liveliest place in Hogwarts.

Every day during breaks, lunch, and before and after dinner, people would gather around the Goblet of Fire.

Some genuinely wanted to sign up—those older students who had turned sixteen solemnly wrote their names on parchment and threw them into the blue and white flames.

The flames would suddenly leap up, engulfing the parchment, and then return to calm.

Some people came just to watch the excitement.

Watching those younger brave souls "attempting to challenge the age limit".

Apart from George and Fred.

The first to try was Seamus Finnigan of Gryffindor.

"I have a way."

Seamus mysteriously told the onlookers, pulling a wand that looked modified from his robes, "My mother sent me an ancient spell that supposedly can fool any age-detecting magic."

He raised his wand, pointed it at himself, and chanted a long string of incantations that no one could understand.

A string of colorful bubbles emerged from the tip of the wand, and then—his face began to change.

wrinkle.

Wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes, mouth, and forehead. His hair had turned from light brown to gray-white, and his back had become slightly hunched.

"My God!" Dean Thomas exclaimed, "You've turned into an old man!"

Simo touched his face, feeling the wrinkles on his hands. He walked to the glass window next to him, looked at his reflection, froze for three seconds, then let out a scream: "This isn't what I wanted—my youth—!"

"Can you turn back?" Neville asked cautiously.

Seamus recited the spell again. This time, his wand emitted a plume of black smoke, blackening his entire face.

The wrinkles haven't disappeared.

With an old face and covered in soot, Simo fled the hall amidst the laughter of the crowd.

It is said that he returned to normal after three days.

The second attempt was by Ernie McMillan of Hufflepuff.

Ernie is very serious.

He spent the entire day in the library researching "how to bypass the age detection magic".

Finally, they found a "potion for disguising age" that was supposedly commonly used by medieval wizards.

You don't need to drink it; you just need to apply it to your skin to form an "age film" on your body's surface, making the detection magic mistakenly think that the tissue under your skin is seventeen years old.

Moreover, it's not actually getting old, and it won't have any impact on your health!