A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

“Navie, let’s give it a try,” Byers offered.

Neville paused for a moment, walked to the center of the field, and said in a low voice, "I'm not that good."

"It's nothing," Biles said with a smile. It was just a friendly match anyway, a good way to change the mood.

However, the truth surprised him. Neville was proficient in various basic spells, especially the Stunning Spell and the Ironclad Spell, and he was very skilled at casting these two spells without making a sound.

A silent spell!

Neville's steps were somewhat stiff, repeating the same few steps over and over. Byers got used to it after a while and found the pattern, but this stiff gait seemed to have been tested and honed over a long period of time, and he felt like he had run into a rock.

Neville doesn't usually take the initiative to attack. He usually lets Byers recite the spell first, then Neville casts the Ironclad Charm, and then takes a few steps away, always keeping face to face with Byers. In the gaps between Byers' spells, Neville takes the opportunity to shoot a few Stunning Charms, and sometimes Obstacle Charms or Disarming Charms.

His face was taut, which looked very much like his dueling style.

Flitwick murmured, "This kind of footwork isn't taught in school dueling classes. It looks simple, but it requires a lot of practice. Every tiny movement has a unique purpose."

Moody gripped his cane and said in a deep voice, "This style seems familiar; I have a recollection of it."

“It must have been Frank Longbottom who taught him,” Felix said.

“I see…” Flitwick said admiringly, “His father was an excellent Auror, and he must have tailored this gait for Neville, which matches his personality quite well.”

"Hmm, very resilient strides," Felix commented.

On the court, Byers was getting a little anxious. Although they were friends, he was a Warriors candidate, so he increased his magical output, and the spells lit up with bright arcs of light.

But Neville remained as stubborn as a rock, enduring his attacks. He kept muttering something to himself, "Steady as a rock, light as a feather, still as a pool, moving like spring thunder..." Suddenly, he boldly leaped out, unleashing a red light, and then hid himself again.

The magical barrier in front of him shattered six or seven times, but he managed to pull it back up each time.

Yuria fell into deep thought, and even Wilkinson's wine seemed to lose its appeal. Bethney watched anxiously as her brother struggled, asking in bewilderment, "What's going on? Why can't Byers break through that kid's defenses?"

“That’s one reason why Byers didn’t use any particularly lethal spells. And…” Wilkinson said hesitantly, “The kid’s footwork is good, very stylish. And he uses the Ironclad Charm really well; all his tactics revolve around this one spell. I’ve seen at least thirteen or fourteen techniques, each very targeted.” He took a swig of his drink, chuckled twice, and then observed intently.

"This is also a test for Biles; he should learn to use his brain."

After a stalemate of more than ten minutes, Byers finally found the key to breaking the deadlock. Clusters of bright flames flew from the tip of his staff, condensing into a blurry large bird, which rushed towards Neville.

To everyone's astonishment, Neville hastily cast a second layer of armor spell on himself, firmly blocking the flames.

“Wow!” Ron looked at Neville in surprise; his impression of Neville seemed to have been reshaped.

The fiery bird broke through the first barrier, then crashed solidly into the second Ironclad Charm, nearly shattering itself. But Byers waved his wand repeatedly, and the fiery bird reformed, this time bypassing the front and flying in from the side.

Neville readily conceded defeat.

“You can hold on a little longer.” Byers walked over and shook his hand solemnly.

Neville shook his head. “You’ve already found the flaw,” he said, scratching his head sheepishly. “Actually, Dad devised a strategy for me, but I just can’t use it right now.”

“Well, looks like you have a good dad,” Byers said helplessly.

Next, the Ivermoni students became serious. They suddenly realized that these students, who were on average two or three years younger than them, were not so easy to deal with. They took turns, actively choosing their opponents. At the same time, they followed Professor Wilkinson's orders and Byers's approach, refraining from using dark magic and powerful spells. However, with their superior magic power and spellcasting skills, they quickly defeated Susan Bornes, Emilche, and Sabine in succession. This relieved the Ivermoni students, as it seemed that these people were not all as skilled as Neville.

Draco also performed quite well, going toe-to-toe with one of the witches from Evamony. He almost succeeded with a powerful spell he used in the third-year duel, but when Evamony students got serious, they lived up to their reputation as carefully selected reserve warriors, with any one of them possessing the level of a novice Auror.

If the positions were reversed, and the Hogwarts students took the initiative to attack, Ilfamoni's students could wear them down until their magic ran out.

……

As his companions were chosen one by one, Harry grew anxious. Why wasn't he chosen?

Is it because he's short? Or because he looks weak?

He stared at Astoria, who was also sulking—no one was paying attention to her, even though she had tried her best to stand at the front.

Harry suddenly felt a pang of sadness.

Even Hermione has joined the fray. Her opponent is that wizard named "Grevis," who chuckles and says, "I've heard your name quite a few times these past few days, Miss Know-It-All?"

Hermione frowned; his tone was anything but friendly.

"Can we begin?"

“Of course,” Grevis grinned.

"Whoosh!"

A silent disarming spell flew out swiftly. Grevis quickly jumped aside, looking at her in surprise, "Is this the spell you're best at?"

Hermione said sternly, "You'll find out." She waved her wand repeatedly, casting spells that temporarily suppressed her opponent, forcing Grevis to erect a circular magical barrier to completely envelop himself.

Flitwick asked in surprise, "When did Granger master the Silent Spell? And she can even apply it to multiple spells. This doesn't seem like something she just learned."

Moody's demonic eye spun wildly, watching her movements silently, secretly plotting in his mind.

Felix explained, "Her control over magic has always been outstanding, and when I asked her to write a paper on the dueling system, she put the Silent Charm first."

"why?"

"Her spells..." Felix thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words, and said, "They are rather conventional, often surprising people with some details that demonstrate control, but the power of the spells is not as good as expected."

Flitwick immediately understood what he meant. "That's really nothing. Granger's spellcasting is very consistent, which is her greatest strength. Once she comes of age, she can fully utilize her strengths and choose compound spells... Oh my god!"

On the open ground, Grevis broke their previous agreement.

The black flames expanded and scattered into more than a dozen clusters, hanging in the air. As his wand slashed down like a sharp blade, those flames suddenly plummeted from the sky.

Hermione erected a magical barrier, then felt the intense heat; her hair even smelled burnt. She quickly ran away, and in her panic, she saw that the magical barrier had been scorched with black flames, leaving a large hole.

"what is this?"

“Devilfire, I told you not to use dark magic,” Wilkinson said in a deep voice. “Grevis is a bit out of control; he cares too much about this honor… We’re prepared to separate them at any time.”

Several professors approached in unison, and Flitwick exclaimed, "We should stop this fight; it has gone beyond mere friendly sparring."

Felix said calmly, “I feel the same way as you, Felix, but I believe in Miss Granger.”

A dozen or so black flames crashed to the ground, scorching the grass and looking like the footprints of a demon descending from the sky. Hermione's eyes widened as she dodged the flames in a panic, simultaneously unleashing a series of armor-piercing spells to defend herself.

Harry and Ron stood by anxiously, wishing they could rush over, but with the professor there, they barely managed to restrain themselves, watching as the black flames that had crashed to the ground transformed into a twisted serpent, coiling its body and then closing in on her.

"What are the professors waiting for?" Harry asked, puzzled, drawing his wand, its tip gleaming. What spell should I use now? Disarming Charm, Stunning Charm, Armor Charm, or Patronus Charm?

None of that seemed to work... So he simply pointed his wand at "Grevis," wondering whether he should cast a curse at him.

Hermione wasn't too flustered; she still had one last trump card. She glanced at Felix, who nodded back. So she stopped, letting the black flames envelop her, her fingertips shimmering with golden light.

Wilkinson had already raised his wand, and Bethney handed her wand to Julia. "Quick!" Immediately afterward, they heard an unfamiliar spell coming from the girl's mouth.

Golden flames poured down from Hermione's palm. Compared to the small flames she displayed in the ancient rune office a little over a month ago, it had now grown into a colossal beast. The golden flames surged outwards like a flood, colliding with the black flames rushing towards her. The black flames crumbled instantly upon contact, shattering into fragments.

Grevis's expression froze on his face.

The golden flames contracted, eventually giving way to a gigantic firebird, resembling a phoenix, far more exquisite than the magic Byers had previously envisioned. It let out a high-pitched cry, and in an instant, the golden firebird appeared before the stunned Grevis, a foot away from him, his curly hair turning to ash, his pupils reflecting a long, golden beak.

“This is what I wanted to see.” In the silence, Felix nodded and said with satisfaction.

……

Grevis was led away, his expression somewhat dazed, a lingering fear in his eyes as he left.

Professor Wilkinson approached silently and apologized to the Hogwarts professors: "Grevis... he took this tournament too seriously. He carried the hopes of many people, wanting to restore the family's glory..."

“Grevis?” Flitwick repeated. “That surname sounds familiar.”

“Being a descendant of the Twelve Aurors, just like me, made me empathize with him and relax my vigilance,” Wilkinson said. “More than seventy years ago, there was a scandal in the American wizarding world. The head of security for the Magical Congress—Percival Grevis—was impersonated,” he explained somberly, “causing a huge mess and almost exposing the entire American wizarding world.”

"Impersonated?" Several professors looked over.

“This is a very secretive matter,” Wilkinson said in a low voice. “Not many people outside the community know about it.”

"Who impersonated him?" Felix asked with interest.

“Grindelwald.” Wilkinson only said the last name, but everyone present knew who he was referring to.

"It's connected to Grindelwald!" Flitwick exclaimed in surprise. "Then what about that child from earlier..."

“Victor Percival Grevis,” Wilkinson said. “Percival Grevis is his grandfather, and that’s why he’s having mental problems. I can assure you, if he causes any more trouble, I’ll send him back.”

The professors said nothing more. It was an accident; a student broke the rules, and no one else was to blame. Besides, the Hogwarts students didn't suffer any loss; on the contrary, that Grevis was probably traumatized.

Not only him, but all the other Illuminati students were shocked, staring intently at Hermione. In their minds, this disheveled witch had become one of the students they absolutely dared not mess with.

Even before Professor Wilkinson left, he deliberately asked, "That little girl...you don't plan to make her a warrior, do you?"

“No, she’s not old enough,” Felix said.

Wilkinson learned of Dumbledore's age restriction from Flitwick and greatly appreciated it, saying, "I think it's very necessary...yes, very necessary. Warriors are under tremendous psychological pressure, so it's best not to let students who are too young participate..."

Chapter 378 Five Schools Gather

A new week has begun; it's the last week of October, and the professors are all speeding up their work to make time for the upcoming competition.

Moody's class was still filled with terror. "I can smell cowards," he said in class. He was about to take turns reciting the Imperius Curse to the students when Moody looked at them sinisterly with his good eye and said in a low voice, "You will find that the more you run away, the more danger will find you... Yes, it always has a special fondness for cowards."

The young wizards all shuddered when he raised his wand.

Of the entire grade, only Harry showed resistance to the Imperius Curse. "You have the potential of an Auror! Potter, show them what you're made of!" Moody roared, casting the Imperius Curse four times on Harry before turning his attention to the next person once Harry was completely free of its effects.

When class ended, Ron and Neville helped each other out of the classroom. They were treated similarly. Under Moody's control, Ron performed a passionate dance, while Neville performed a series of amazing gymnastic moves.

“Who does he think he is, that paranoid maniac…” Ron said indignantly, rubbing his thigh.

As they passed a group of second-year wizards, the wizards stared intently at Hermione and openly discussed her horrifying behavior in the clearing over the previous weekend.

"That fiery phoenix... burned all its hair off..."

Hermione's expression was a mixture of happiness and embarrassment. "Don't they have anything else to do?" Even while doing her homework in the library, she couldn't escape the intense stares. When she refused the third group of students asking for autographs, the young wizard scoffed, "What's so smug about that?"

Hermione said incredulously, "Am I smug?"

“You look like you’ve been blessed with happiness,” Ron said, not without envy. “You’re beaming with joy and always smiling.”

“That’s terrible…” Hermione paused for a moment, then sighed and said to Harry very seriously, “I’m starting to admire you, Harry.”

"What did you say?" Harry asked, completely bewildered.

“I’m just… a bit sentimental,” Hermione said. “Think about it, I’ve only recently gained a little fame and I’m already feeling pretty cocky, but you’ve been under that kind of gaze for three years and haven’t shown any signs of it.”

Harry stammered, "That's because I don't think fame is anything good... Well, to be honest, sometimes it feels pretty good."

"Does that include being misunderstood?" Hermione looked at him intently and asked. These past few days, she'd truly experienced the downsides of sudden fame; only by becoming the center of attention did she know what it felt like.

She suddenly remembered that when they were in their second year, Harry's Parseltongue accent led many classmates to suspect that he was the heir to the Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin. They all avoided Harry and gossiped about him behind his back.