HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

As West had predicted, Minister of Magic Fudge explained the attack at the Quidditch World Cup as sabotage by some extremists and was even unwilling to associate the incident with Voldemort.

Hermione crumpled up the understated report in the Daily Prophet and threw it into the fireplace, where the flames instantly consumed the whitewashed words.

"What a dereliction of duty! How come someone like this hasn't fallen yet?" Hermione bit her lower lip indignantly. The girl's gaze gradually hardened, as if she had made up her mind.

"Never mind that for now, Hermione. Look at this term's list," Harry said, holding up the parchment. "It tells us to bring an extra dress."

"Hmm?" Hermione took the list, her brows furrowing slightly. "This is indeed strange. Perhaps we can ask West; maybe he knows what's going to happen?"

"A three-way battle for supremacy!?"

With West nodding, Hermione looked incredulous. "Wasn't this cancelled many years ago? I remember it being mentioned in 'Hogwarts: A History of the School'."

"The Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore overruled objections and decided to hold the event again this year. They are confident that they can guarantee the safety of the students." West shrugged and twirled his wand.

Harry asked, puzzled, "What is the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Oh, Harry, perhaps you really should read more books," Hermione couldn't help but say. "The Triwizard Tournament was established over seven hundred years ago; it's a friendly competition between the three largest magic schools in Europe. During the tournament, each school selects a champion, and then these three champions compete in three magical events."

Her voice suddenly turned serious, "It's a pity that it was cancelled for almost a century because of the high death toll..."

Harry scratched his head, not daring to ask any more questions—before Hermione explained, he even thought that Hogwarts was the only magic school in the world.

"But that has nothing to do with you. There is an age limit for this competition. Only students aged seventeen and above can register," West added.

"Ugh, that's so unfair—ouch, Hermione!" Harry winced as Hermione punched him.

"Harry! The Triwizard Tournament is dangerous! Didn't you hear me? Many people have died in it!" Hermione said, hands on her hips, looking just like Professor McGonagall giving a lecture.

"Okay, I won't say anything more." Harry shut his mouth, but his eyes were still full of curiosity.

"Let's not talk about that now. You guys pack your things, we're going to Diagon Alley to buy some things later," West said, standing up from the sofa. "Most importantly, we'll get you a suit made."

West arrived outside Snape's room and gently knocked on the oak door.

Snape was leaning against the soft chair by the window, reading a book, motionless and unresponsive.

"Severus~" West leaned against the door, his face full of resentment, deliberately dragging out the last syllable, which echoed in the empty corridor.

"Speak." Snape turned a page without even lifting his eyelids.

"Would you like to come with us to Diagon Alley? We'd like to have a dress custom-made."

West walked in, shoved the book off Snape's hand, and revealed his calm eyes.

Snape remained expressionless. "Assuming you know, I'm not going to the party."

"Then what should I do, dear professor?" West half-squatted in front of Severus, forcing a little water to well up in his eyes, looking like an abandoned puppy.

"I suppose you don't lack a dance partner, or rather, you don't need one," Snape said coldly, turning the book back up.

After a while, Snape couldn't help but slap West's hand, which had been secretly touching his thigh. "West! Aren't you leaving?!"

"I won't leave unless you agree to my request," West said, squatting on the ground and acting like a rogue.

Snape's eyes twitched, and he was about to spray venom when he heard a gasp from the doorway. He turned around abruptly and saw two furry heads peeking in from outside. Once discovered, they immediately shrank back inside.

"Harry, it's all your fault, you were so loud..."

"Hermione, you clearly also..."

Their whispers could be clearly heard into the room.

Snape sighed and gave West a light kick. "Get up."

West looked up, his eyes sparkling, his voice suddenly becoming cheerful, "You said yes?"

"...I'll only jump once," Snape conceded, his voice barely audible.

Ultimately, Snape still didn't agree to come to Diagon Alley, but West had already achieved his goal and didn't want to get entangled any further.

After accompanying Harry and Hermione to buy textbooks for the new semester, he went to a formal wear shop to order custom-made suits.

Hermione's gaze was drawn to a long blue dress. She hesitated for a moment, rubbing the hem with reluctance, but finally bought it.

West and the shopkeeper went into the back room and talked about something. Indistinct voices could be heard coming from behind the heavy velvet curtains.

Harry admitted his taste was truly terrible and was about to ask Hermione for help when a familiar voice sounded behind him: "Harry?"

The distinctive aristocratic air of the Malfoy family.

"Draco?" Harry turned around, a smirk playing on his lips. "What are you doing here?" His eyes lit up the moment he saw Draco.

Draco stood in the doorway, his blond hair seemingly glowing in the bright sunlight. Lady Malfoy stood beside him, her arm linked with his.

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said nervously, unconsciously straightening his wrinkled shirt.

Narcissa smiled faintly at Harry, patted Draco's hand, and said, "Dragon, look at your suit. Mom will go buy you some textbooks."

Her gaze lingered subtly between Draco and Harry for a moment.

"Okay, Mom." Draco nodded obediently, and after Narcissa left, he went to Harry's side. "Silly boy, whatever you do here, I'll do here too."

Harry blinked. "Little Dragon."

Draco paused for a moment, then suddenly bristled, his face flushing red. "You're not allowed to call me that!"

Harry looked aggrieved. "Why? But that's what your mother calls you."

Draco looked embarrassed, his gaze involuntarily falling on Harry's trembling eyelashes and green eyes. He almost gave in, but still firmly insisted, "Anyway, don't shout!"

"Well," Harry said, a little disappointed, "you've come at the right time, Draco. Can you help me pick out a dress?" He pointed to the dazzling array of dresses.

Draco looked Harry up and down. "Are you alone?"

"West and the shopkeeper left, and Hermione is picking out jewelry on the other side," Harry replied obediently. "My taste is definitely not as good as Draco's, and I need Draco's help."

Draco, flattered by the compliment, said, "You know that much." He walked briskly toward the row of formal wear, head held high.

Draco quickly picked out a style, and Harry deliberately chose a similar-colored suit to Draco's, cautiously glancing at Draco, afraid that he would notice.

Hermione also bought accessories, a very simple bracelet that didn't quite match her dress.

"That dress is quite expensive, I can't buy any more jewelry," Hermione said helplessly.

The three of them sat eating ice cream at Florin's Ice Cream Shop next to the dress shop.

"Come stay at my house for a few days, okay?" Harry coaxed Draco. "I miss you so much."

Draco sensed that Harry was acting strangely today, but he was pleased and flattered. "Okay, I'll tell my mom."

Hermione looked at the two of them and couldn't help but roll her eyes, stirring the ice cream with extra force.

She wanted to see when these two fools would figure each other out. If absolutely necessary, she would take some "necessary measures."

After waiting for a while, West finally came out of the store, just as Narcissa finished buying Draco's equipment.

When Narcissa saw West, she unhesitatingly placed Draco next to Harry, saying, "Okay, baby, you can stay at Harry's house for a few days, and then go back to school with Harry."

Narcissa looked up, smiled gently, and said, "Then I'll leave my little dragon in your care."

"Mom! Don't call me Little Dragon in front of my classmates." Draco lowered his voice, his ears turning red.

"Okay, little dragon baby." Narcissa deliberately dragged out her tone.

"Mom!" Draco's protest was drowned out by the chuckles of the crowd.