Hogwarts' Golden Glory

“Of course, of course, you don’t think so,” Skeeter interrupted him. “The readers will judge for themselves.”

She scribbled wildly in the notebook with her quill pen.

Then she turned to Hibiscus.

"Miss Delacour." Skeeter's tone changed instantly, as if she had met someone she liked.

"Beauxbatons' warrior, Veela bloodline—truly beautiful. Do you think your beauty will help you in the upcoming matches?"

Hibiscus narrowed her pale blue eyes.

"I will prove it with my abilities."

"I believe everyone is looking forward to seeing you shine in the competition," Skeeter said. "Of course, your safety is the most important thing."

Furong was stunned for a moment.

She had prepared herself for difficulties, just like Krum and Cedric had done.

But Skeeter spoke to her in a gentle tone, as if coaxing a child.

"Uh... thank you," Furong said, her tone tinged with uncertainty.

Skeeter was still smiling, a smile so genuine it didn't seem like a journalist's professional smile, but more like that of a fan meeting their idol.

Furong frowned slightly, a question rising in her mind—why is she so nice to me?

She didn't think she had any special relationship with Skeeter.

Her gaze unconsciously drifted toward Kane.

Kane stood to the side, expressionless.

Furong looked away, nodded to Skit, and said nothing more.

Skeeter turned to Harry.

"Mr. Potter!" Her tone remained gentle, even with a hint of kindness. "The second champion of Hogwarts—I know there are many rumors outside, but I believe you will prove everything with your performance."

Harry's lips twitched.

He had expected Skeeter to ask him questions like, "Did you get in because of your reputation?"

"How did your wand check go?" Skeeter asked, her voice as gentle as if she were interviewing a child.

"Successfully," Harry said, looking at her warily.

"That's great!" Skeeter said with a smile. "I'm sure you'll do very well in the competition."

There were no sharp questions, no sarcastic insinuations, and no drawn-out, ironic use of the word "savior."

Harry and Fleur exchanged a glance.

They both saw the same question in each other's eyes—what's wrong with her today?

Why target only the other two?

Skeeter turned to face Kane.

Her smile became even brighter, but there was a hint of caution in that brightness.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Her voice was gentler than when she had spoken to Fleur and Harry. "You have consistently performed exceptionally well. The wizarding world has witnessed the contributions your father, Mr. Lucius, has made to the competition."

Kane looked at her without saying a word.

"I believe readers are more interested in knowing—how did you master such amazing magic at such a young age?"

"Research," Kane said.

"Research!" Skeeter repeated excitedly. "Truly admirable! And your phoenix—it's so rare! Readers will surely want to know your story with Igor!"

Kane glanced at her but didn't reply.

Skeeter's quill danced wildly above her head, but her expression remained tense throughout.

"Alright, alright." Skeeter put away his notebook, his smile still on his face. "This interview is over. I will write a fair and impartial report."

She turned and walked out of the classroom, the sound of her high heels fading away quickly down the corridor, much faster than when she came.

After the door closed, the classroom was quiet for a few seconds.

Harry and Fleur exchanged a glance.

"Why is she so nice to me?" Furong asked first, her tone filled with confusion.

"And she's been really good to me," Harry said. "Unnaturally good."

The two of them turned to look at Kane at the same time.

Kane stood by the window, with Igor perched on his shoulder, preening his feathers.

He had no expression, as if the interview had nothing to do with him.

"It's because of you," Furong said, not as a question, but as a statement.

Kane did not deny it.

"She's afraid of you," Harry said.

Kane glanced at him. "She's smart."

Fleur leaned against the table, arms crossed. "So she didn't make things difficult for Harry and me, not because we're good people, but because we're standing next to you."

"Yes," Kane said.

Harry was silent for a moment.

He suddenly remembered the expression on Skeeter's face when he turned to Kane—the cautiousness in that smile, the tension beneath that radiance.

It wasn't journalistic professionalism, it was fear.

"Thank you," Harry said.

Kane did not answer.

He walked from the window to the door, with Igor flying ahead, his dark golden feathers shimmering in the candlelight.

The door opened and then closed.

Steady footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into the distance.

Furong looked at the closed door, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly.

"That person."

"Hmm?" Harry looked at her.

"It's nothing." Fleur straightened up, picked up her wand from the table, "I just feel that it's good to have him in front of me."

She walked out of the classroom.

Harry stood there, staring at the empty doorway.

He suddenly remembered Sirius's words in the letter—"Listen to Kane. He won't hurt you. At least not this time."

Sirius is right. It's not because he's kind, it's because he has the ability to stop those who want to harm you.

Harry shook his head and followed.

When Harry returned to the Gryffindor tower, there were hardly any people left in the common room.

He climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory and pushed open the door.

Ron isn't here. Seamus isn't here. Dean isn't here.

Only Neville was sitting on the bed, watering Mibumi.

"Harry!" Neville looked up. "You're back! How did the wand check go?"

"No problem." Harry walked to his bedside and found an envelope on his pillow.

His name was written on the envelope, the handwriting messy, but with a familiar, unpretentious strength.

Sirius Black's handwriting.

Harry opened the letter and sat on the bed to read it.

"Harry."

I'm busy with some things. I'm making up for mistakes I made in the past.

You don't need to worry about what it is; I'll tell you when I'm done with my work.

Regarding the Triwizard Tournament—Dumbledore is right, someone is targeting you.

Not just you, Kane too.

You are all chosen targets.

So you should listen to Dumbledore. He's very clever.

We should listen to Kane too.

I know you don't like him, and to be honest, I don't like him either.

That guy is too cunning, just like his father.

But I have to say—he's really strong.

He's not the kind of strong who's "a little talented," but the kind of strong who makes you feel like a piece of trash when you stand next to him.

I saw it with my own eyes in the cave.

So listen to him. He won't hurt you.

At least not this time.

Once I've finished what I'm doing, I'll go back to Hogwarts.

Until then, take care of yourself and don't die.

Sirius Black

P.S. Don't tell Kane I praised him. If he knew, he'd definitely look down on me!

Harry couldn't help but smile slightly after reading the letter.

Sirius said, "That guy is too cunning," but still told him in the letter to listen to Kane.

The number of people who can make Sirius Black bow down can be counted on one hand.

Kane is one.