A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

"Smell—what?"

“Niffle, her name is Warren, and she’s raised by Professor Hyp,” Hermione explained.

"Her?" Dean was taken aback.

“That’s right!” Hermione exclaimed happily, hugging Sniffle. “She’s quite the little lady, isn’t she, hmm?”

Ron stared at Warren and said, "I've always wanted one. They're famous for finding treasures. Fred and George had one on their New Year's wish list when they were kids."

Fred leaned over Angelina's shoulder and said, "Don't slander us. Our wishes have long been changed."

“Yeah,” George, sitting on his other side, said, “especially when we found out that the Sniff is better at picking money out of the pockets of the people around it, we changed our minds.”

“Watch your pockets, and your forks—” Fred warned as a final reminder.

“And wine glasses,” George added.

Ron clutched his pocket sadly. "They're right, Harry, it's eyeing your coin!"

The Niffler, perched in Hermione's lap, was staring intently at Harry, who held a Muggle coin in his hand. It was a gleaming gold coin that Felix had modified last year, enchanted to monitor the number of Apparitions cast.

According to the agreement, Harry could only use Apparition outside the Room of Requirement after its golden light had filled the room.

When he left school last semester, he was almost there, but during the summer vacation, he ran around with Sirius Black and unintentionally made up for the last bit...

At this point, Dumbledore began to speak with a smile. First, he reiterated the usual points: Filch's list of prohibited items is updated every year and currently has 437 items; he also reiterated that students are not allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest without permission.

They were already familiar with these words, and the people around Harry didn't seem to be paying much attention; they were clearly more interested in the Niffler.

“Harry, you’d better put the coin away. Although Professor Hyp has taught it, well—good heavens!”

Hermione stopped in surprise, sniffed at Varen, reluctantly pulled a Galleon from her pocket, placed it on the table, and then pointed to Harry's coin.

"What is it doing?" Ron asked, puzzled.

“I think,” Hermione said, taking a deep breath, “Harry, it wants to trade with you—”

The three looked at each other, thinking, "What a strange Niffler!" Ron chuckled, "Professor Hyp's teaching is really... haha... really effective. He's even corrected the Niffler's nature."

But soon his smile faded, because he received no response. Valen assumed Harry was unwilling, so he took out another Galleon from his small pocket and stacked it with the first one.

Harry stared at it in disbelief. On the long table, a third and a fourth Galleon were quickly piled up. The more Galleons were piled up, the slower the Sniff became, its little pink hands trembling. Even Dean could see how reluctant it was to part with them.

But the more heartbroken she was when she took out the money, the more arrogant she became afterward. Sniffle stretched out a finger, pointed to the tall stack of Galleons, and then to the glowing coins in Harry's hand, exuding an air of a little rich girl that left everyone around her stunned.

Ron urged, "Don't give up, Harry. Look how many Galleons it can come up with, Merlin's beard... It's much richer than me!"

At this point, Dumbledore finally addressed something closely related to the students: "...I also regret to inform you that the House Cup Quidditch match will not be held this year."

"What?" Harry looked up, breathless with surprise. Not only him, but most of the students were stunned by the news.

"Boom!"

A bolt of lightning flashed across the ceiling, thunder roared outside the castle, rattling the glass windows and slamming the doors of the auditorium open.

A man entered, leaning on a long cane and wrapped in a black travel cloak. With the help of the hall's light, the students from the four houses recognized him and gasped in shock.

The man's face looked as if it had been carved from a piece of rotten wood by a clumsy craftsman who was completely inept at carving. Every inch of his skin was scarred, a piece of flesh was missing from his nose, and one of his legs was a wooden prosthetic that made a thumping sound when he walked. When he passed the dining table, the little wizards on either side were so frightened that they quickly shrank to the other side.

Harry stared at Moody's face, then at the half-eaten smoked potato on the plate, and suddenly felt a little nauseous.

Upon closer inspection, the students discovered that the stranger's most terrifying feature was his eyes. One was perfectly intact, but the other—Niffler was huddled in Hermione's arms, its little hands covering its face, too afraid to look. However, it still remembered to reach out and stuff the Galleons on the table back into its pocket.

Hermione was both amused and annoyed, but when her gaze fell on the stranger's eyes, she couldn't laugh at all. It was a large, round fake eye that darted around in its socket, sometimes leaving only a patch of white visible, seemingly staring behind her.

He shook hands briefly with Dumbledore, then sat down in the only empty seat, ignoring everyone else and eating the remaining food on the table. But his blue prosthetic eye kept darting around, scanning the Great Hall and the students.

"Allow me to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore broke the silence happily, "Professor Moody."

In a chilling silence, Dumbledore announced the existence of the Triwizard Tournament. He recounted the origins and development of the original Triwizard Tournament, how it was later canceled due to the high death toll, and how, after centuries, the Ministry of Magic was finally ready, with the number of participating schools increasing to five this time.

Many students didn't even know Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, let alone Ilfamoni and Vagado from outside Europe. They listened to Dumbledore's speech as if it were a fairy tale.

Felix was familiar with this information. He cleared his throat, and Niffler Valen immediately jumped off Hermione's arms, deliberately taking a longer route to avoid Moody with his frightening eyes.

Moody, with a sausage dangling from his lips, ate it silently, his prosthetic eye following the Sniff's trail until it finally climbed onto a young professor's shoulder. He gave a low snort.

"little things."

Chapter 352 Always Be Vigilant

"The principals of the four magic schools and carefully selected competitors will arrive in October, and the ceremony to select the warriors will be held on Halloween."

"In addition to bringing honor to the school, the winner will also receive a prize of one thousand Galleons."

"However—only students over seventeen years old are allowed to register, because the competition is still very difficult and dangerous. No matter how many precautions we take, students in grades six or seven cannot possibly compete."

"The delegation will be spending most of the academic year with us, and I hope you will be warm and friendly. To that end, we have prepared some exchange activities..."

Dumbledore ended the dinner amidst a noisy and contentious atmosphere, with students full of complaints about the nonsensical age limit.

"Are we just supposed to watch?" Ron stomped down the steps and headed towards the common room.

Hermione said seriously, "This is to protect us, to prevent us from getting into danger because of recklessness and arrogance. You know, the reason the Wars of Champions was discontinued in the past was because so many people died—"

Ron wasn't really listening, muttering under his breath, "That's a thousand Galleons." He looked at Fred and George, who were walking ahead of them, discussing whether the aging serum would work.

“I think one or two drops will be enough. We’re only a few months away from adulthood, George…” Fred thought seriously.

Ron said sourly, "There are still six months to go, but I do hope they succeed." He turned to Harry and asked, "What do you think? If Fred and George do it, I mean, I wonder if we've learned enough..."

Harry shook his head, trying to shake off the fantastical images in his mind. He couldn't help but fantasize about fooling the headmaster's age limit, winning the tournament, and raising the trophy amidst cheers and screams from the crowd...

“Yeah, I think it’s a bit lacking too.” Ron misunderstood Harry’s shake of the head, thinking he was answering his own question. He counted on his fingers: “Even though we have dueling lessons, study groups, and the Spellbook Club, but…”

He said somewhat dejectedly, "Unless Professor Hyp secretly teaches us a powerful ancient magic, we still can't compete with those sixth and seventh graders. We can't expect to blind our opponents with a light spell."

In this discussion about the Contest of Champions, Ron was the most talkative, but it was more like an emotional outpouring of unfulfilled desire. He knew in his heart that the chances of being chosen were slim, but his words silenced Harry and Hermione.

Harry recalled the two times Professor Hyp had used Apparition before him. The first time was in the Forbidden Forest during their second year, when they suspected the new professor was involved with the Chamber of Secrets and followed him to discover him practicing magic. While it had been shocking then, Harry had almost forgotten about it after so long. The second time was at the Quidditch World Cup, just recently, and in a real match. Professor Hyp had used Apparition to outmaneuver hundreds of troublemaking wizards; their eyes couldn't keep up with his movements!

'What if I could do the same thing? I'm not bad to begin with, and when it comes to the Disarming Charm alone, no student in the school can surpass me, plus Apparition...' Harry's heart began to burn with excitement.

Hermione thought of the ancient magic the professor had taught her during the summer vacation—golden flames dancing at her fingertips, instantly turning into a sea of ​​fire… Of course, that was just a demonstration by the professor; she hadn't learned it herself yet.

Hermione patted her head, wondering what she was thinking. She wasn't going to try to break the age limit.

Meanwhile, in the auditorium, the professors all stayed behind.

As Dumbledore and Moody were talking, Moody replied in a gruff voice, "That's right, Arthur and the others arrived just in time. They got up very early and scared away the attackers!"

Professor McGonagall looked at him in surprise: "You were attacked this morning?" She suddenly remembered that Moody had been plagued with troubles since his retirement, often suspecting that dark wizards were plotting against him. Even if someone walked alongside him for a while, he would suddenly pull out his wand and point it at the person, loudly questioning why they were following him.

This happened more than once or twice, forcing Moody to live in seclusion in a remote place, almost like a Muggle community.

McGonagall is now wondering if he's being overly sensitive.

"How could it be fake!" Moody roared. "A bunch of despicable bastards tried to ambush me while I was sleeping soundly, but who am I? I was prepared. However, those scumbags were indeed not weak. They cornered me in my house, and I had no choice but to blow up two trash cans to attract attention."

He spoke in a gruff voice, his prosthetic eye twitching in its socket, making one's teeth ache. Few of the professors gave him a second glance.

"Did you see who it was, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked softly.

“No, I’m old, Albus.” Moody patted his prosthetic leg and said reluctantly, “If only it had been a few years earlier…”

His gaze finally met Felix's, and he calmed down: "All I can do now is offer suggestions and use past experiences to embellish my resume."

Felix calmly looked back, soothing the somewhat agitated Sniff. This was the first time he had met Moody; he had only heard of the famous, resounding name before.

It can be said that Alastor Moody made up a large part of Barty Crouch's reputation. He was Crouch's sharpest sword, the most outstanding dark wizard in the history of the Ministry of Magic, and he filled half of Azkaban's prisons.

Just as he left a psychological scar on many dark wizards, he also left a strong personal mark on the Auror office at the Ministry of Magic.

However, after experiencing numerous dangers, he became somewhat paranoid and even delusional, but this did not prevent him from becoming an idol in the hearts of all the Aurors in the Ministry of Magic—if we were to draw an analogy, his status would be equivalent to that of Dorothea Bohem, the former headmistress of St. Mungo's.

Of course, his rude, irritable, and inflexible personality offended many people, making it difficult for him to stay in the Ministry of Magic and take on an administrative position.

Tough, brave, and battle-tested, he has now become sensitive, paranoid, and somewhat neurotic...

This is the image of "Mad-Eye" Moody that Felix perceived after their brief encounter; he also reportedly had a favorite saying—

"Stay alert at all times!" Moody suddenly shouted, startling everyone else. He himself, however, acted as if nothing had happened, pacing back and forth in the auditorium.

Felix looked at Dumbledore: "Headmaster, you just said you've prepared some exchange activities?"

“Ah, is that so?” Dumbledore, who had been listening quietly, seemed to finally come to his senses. His pleasant gaze swept over the group: “That’s why I kept you here.”

He nodded slightly, thought for a moment, and said, "This is the first time that Iphamoni and Vagado are participating in the championship, which makes them... more like young people, more passionate. They are not satisfied with spending almost a year just on the competition. Iphamoni's principal hopes that students from different schools can have closer contact."

"Exchange student?"

“They’re very close, Felix.” Dumbledore nodded. “But this time it’s one-sided. They want to audit Hogwarts classes, and besides—” he smiled and said, “I think they also intend to compete with the students of Hogwarts.”

The professors exchanged bewildered glances. Did this mean their classes would be open to students from other schools?

Professor McGonagall, as the vice-principal, thought even more deeply. She pursed her lips, her brows furrowed, and said seriously, "Dumbledore, your talk of a contest doesn't mean—this is a provocation!"

Dumbledore shook his head slightly, his silver beard trembling. "There are many things to compare, not just force, which is the worst option." He smiled and said, "I welcome it, though, to let students see the outside world and broaden their horizons."

“I remember, seven or eight years ago, we had contact with the Castellobusher School of Magic, and many students from both sides formed deep friendships. Felix, you should remember that?” he asked with a smile.

Felix scoffed. "I don't have any pen pals in Brazil."

……

After the professors dispersed, Felix and Snape walked out of the Great Hall. Snape's face was grim. "You need to be careful of that guy. Don't let him target you."

"You mean Professor Moody?" Felix asked curiously. "He seems quite upright—"

"He's a madman. He's ready to curse you at any moment out of baseless suspicion," Snape said coldly. "He's never come out of this! He still treats every day like a war!"

“I don’t understand why Dumbledore brought him here. Even if Lockhart were to come, he would be better than him.”

Snape waved his sleeves and strode away.

Felix watched Snape's retreating figure. Further away, Moody was limping forward. Snape was walking faster, but they didn't meet. In the foyer, Snape turned into the basement, while Moody staggered upstairs.

As he raised his arm, Felix noticed not only the curved bottle at his waist, but also half a wand peeking out from his sleeve, strapped to his arm.

"Always be vigilant? That certainly puts it into practice."

……

the next day.

The storm finally subsided, and the sky cleared. Hogwarts welcomed the new school year.