dmims Chapter 195 Scarface 1 Vaporization 3 Clear
Chapter 195 Scarface 1 Vaporization 3 Clear
Chapter 196 (6.5k long chapter) Scarface Man Transforms into Three Pure Ones
Back to Harry, who was leading the students to wait outside the castle, they saw that the surface of the Black Lake, which had been dead still, suddenly began to splash and churn, just like a pot of boiling water.
From the center of the lake, a huge whirlpool rose up with a thunderous roar, and a dark mast emerged first, followed by rigging and sails.
The boat, like a giant monster in the water, rose menacingly from the surface, its hull gleaming eerily in the moonlight. It was truly jagged like white bones, and vaguely resembled a sunken coffin.
After being tossed about in the waves for a while, it headed straight for the shore. Suddenly, there was a "plop" sound as an anchor was dropped and a plank was placed on it.
The people on the boat stepped ashore, and as they got closer, Harry looked closely and saw that both men and women were wrapped in thick fur cloaks, and were broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, no less imposing than the Hogwarts crowd.
The students from the two schools stood facing each other, their eyes meeting, and their faces all showed a strange expression.
The Hogwarts students secretly lamented their situation, regretting that they had been lazy and shirked their duties during their earlier practice sessions with Harry, causing them to be too small.
When I saw the Beauxbatons students before, they were as thin as sticks, and I thought I was strong and imposing. But I never expected that Durmstrang's group would be so strong.
Durmstrang was also secretly surprised, knowing that their thick training was due to the harsh cold of the North, and the fur cloaks added to their weight.
Looking at the Hogwarts students, most of them were only wearing thin robes, yet they showed such muscular builds. They didn't look like a magic school at all.
"Ah ha! Dumbledore, my dear old friend!"
The leader, a tall, thin man, wore a white fur coat and had a goatee. He tossed his sandalwood staff aside, spread his arms, and strode forward.
Harry observed him closely and saw clearly that although the man's face was all smiles, his eyes were as cold as an icy pool, showing no joy whatsoever; he was truly a smiling tiger.
"Long time no see, Karkaroff."
Dumbledore smiled and embraced him, at which point Karkaroff turned sharply and called out:
"Come here, Krum, let's go inside the castle to warm up!"
After saying that, he squinted at Dumbledore and smiled, "I hope you don't mind, old friend, Viktor has a bit of a cold."
"As Durmstrang's most outstanding student in decades, I have to take extra care of him."
"Ah, of course, special students do need special treatment." Dumbledore nodded. "But Mr. Krum doesn't seem to be in a hurry to warm up."
Karkaroff was taken aback by what he heard. Following his gaze, he saw Krum standing ramrod straight and respectfully beside Harry.
While Harry chatted and laughed freely, Krum was cautious and hesitant. Judging from their expressions, they didn't seem like old friends reminiscing, but rather like subordinates reporting to each other.
Upon seeing this, Karkarov was immediately enraged. He strode over and struck Krum squarely on the back.
"Krum! What are you doing standing here? Are you trying to be someone else's tagalong?"
He was about to explode when he suddenly caught sight of the electric scar on Harry's forehead. He was instantly struck dumb, his face froze, and he couldn't utter another word.
Harry was talking to Krum at the time and had no time to pay attention to him, so he just waved his hand without turning his head and said:
"What does the headmaster matter? I'm just having a chat with the Krum brothers for a while."
"Ah, of course, it was just a chat," Karkaroff replied perfunctorily, then hurriedly added, "But I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, I have something to say to Viktor."
Before Harry could answer, the man had already dragged Krum several feet away, scolding him in a low voice.
"What are you thinking, you idiot! We came all the way to Hogwarts, not so you could be a foil for that Potter!"
Krum replied in a muffled voice, "The Bulgarian minister wants me to have more contact with Harry Potter."
"He's a load of rubbish!" Karkaroff rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, he's trying to use your name to curry favor with Potter, isn't he?"
"No, it's because Harry Potter gave me 500 Galleons after the Quidditch World Cup final."
Upon hearing this, Karkarov suddenly tripped and nearly fell.
His eyes widened in disbelief. "They gave you five hundred Galleons? And what was the reason?"
Upon hearing this question, Krum blushed slightly.
"The minister told me that Harry Potter believed true warriors deserve to be rewarded."
"Bah! Who does he think he is!" Karkaroff glanced at Harry, hooked his arm around Krum's neck, and strode toward the Great Hall, offering earnest advice.
"You're a renowned star wizard in the magical world, with countless people willing to spend fortunes just to see you once. What's five hundred Galleons?"
As he spoke, his grip tightened, and he said in a deep voice, "And you must remember this clearly: there can only be one champion in this three-way battle!"
"So what if he's called a savior? He's still just a fourteen-year-old brat!"
Krum remained silent for a long time. "I don't think the people who built the pyramids with human heads were children."
Karkaroff scoffed, "It's nothing more than a clumsy imitation of the Death Eaters."
"And he actually used a knife to behead people? Does he think he's living a thousand years ago?"
The two entered the castle, talking amongst themselves. While everyone was looking around, Karkaroff suddenly pulled Krum into the shadows of a pillar and hissed:
"Listen up, Viktor, you will win the Triwizard Tournament, and everyone will remember you as a star warrior."
"And that so-called savior is nothing but a stepping stone for you. Just a little bit of the dark magic I taught you will scare Potter to death!"
Nakarov spoke at length, until his throat was dry, before the two finally stepped into the hall.
The men and women of Beauxbatons were still lined up in the hall, listening to Lockhart's eloquent boasting about his dozen or so best-selling books.
He caught sight of Harry and his group, along with Durmstrang and his students, and hastily stopped talking, waving his sleeve to dismiss everyone and take their seats.
Harry settled into his usual seat, and Ron was about to sit down next to him as usual when he heard footsteps. Krum strode in and took the seat to Harry's left.
Ron was momentarily stunned, his eyes widening as he stared intently at Krum's back.
Hermione, standing nearby, couldn't help but chuckle and covered her mouth, saying, "Give him some face, Ron. After all, they are guests."
Having said that, he was about to sit down to Harry's right. But when he turned his head, he saw that Fu Rong was standing gracefully in front of the table, her slender waist swaying as she sat down right next to Harry.
Hermione could no longer laugh, while Ron stretched his mouth to his ears.
He patted her on the shoulder again and whispered comfortingly, "Don't be angry, Hermione. Show some respect to your guest."
Then, without prior arrangement, the two moved to the opposite end of the long table and sat down facing Harry.
Everyone took their seats, but Harry continued talking to Krum. Unfortunately, Krum, who was born in Bulgaria, didn't speak fluent English and his speech was quite broken, almost making Ron exhausted.
Hermione, however, kept her eyes glued to the lotus that had been sitting there.
Seeing that she had pulled her top hat down low, obscuring most of her face, I felt her behavior was suspicious, and I suspected she was hiding something.
Just then, the professors took their seats one after another. Hagrid settled the horses pulling the carriage, strode back to his seat, and ripped off his felt hat, revealing a bare top.
Maxim, who happened to be standing nearby, noticed that the man was bald. His eyelids twitched a few times, and he hurriedly turned his head away, drinking three cups of wine before calming himself down.
After a short while, they heard a flurry of footsteps outside the door. It was Ludo and Crouch, the two directors of the Ministry of Magic in charge of sports and international cooperation, who filed in one after the other.
Only then were all the guests present.
Dumbledore stood up, beaming, and said, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts—and distinguished guests."
"Welcome to Hogwarts, and I hope and believe you will have a wonderful time here."
Before she could finish speaking, Furong crossed her arms over her chest and let out a cold snort.
The sound wasn't loud, but it was incredibly close, causing both Harry and Hermione to frown.
Ron, unable to contain himself any longer, immediately slammed his fist heavily on the table and said in an unfriendly tone:
"What? You have a problem with Hogwarts?"
Hibiscus was taken aback for a moment, then said with a half-smile, "So this is the gentlemanly manners of Great Britain?"
Harry, who was listening nearby, was furious and immediately glared at her, shouting:
"You wicked woman, just say what you want to say! Stop your pretense! If you utter another word of this nonsense, I'll tear your mouth apart!"
Harry's words were harsh, showing absolutely no mercy or pity.
Fleur was the principal's favorite in Beauxbatons and had many talents, so she was always the center of attention. She had never heard such dissenting words before.
A surge of anger rose within him, and he was about to unleash the bewitching spell of the Veela when he suddenly remembered Lockhart's stern warning.
She hesitated for a moment, then simply lifted her top hat, revealing her long, silver hair that cascaded down to her waist like moonlight. A subtle fragrance wafted from her hair, which even Harry could detect.
Ron stared, completely mesmerized, just like Lockhart, his eyes devoid of any light.
Furong smiled slightly, rested her chin on her hand, and said with a sparkle in her eyes, "I hope you can forgive my slip of the tongue, sir. By the way, what's your name?"
"Weasley Ron—"
Ron nodded blankly, but before his smile could spread, his face suddenly twitched, and a few glints of light flashed in his eyes.
No sooner said than done, the desperate Liu Lang grabbed the silver fork on the table and stabbed it viciously into the back of his own hand!
With a "plop," the steel tooth pierced through the palm, and blood instantly gushed onto the table.
Krum watched from the side, his eyes twitching. Hibiscus had never seen such a ruthless person before, and her beautiful face turned pale with shock.
When he looked at Ron again, his eyes had cleared, his face was contorted like a demon, his eyes were bloodshot like a malevolent star, and his teeth were clenched so tightly they were grinding.
"It's Veela again!"
Poems as proof:
Silver threads may bewitch the mortal heart, but iron bones have never feared the invasion of demons.
One pierces through the illusion to reveal the true nature, and one realizes the profound courage of the little saint.
Before Furong could say anything, Ron was already like a tiger released from its cage. He pushed off the table with both feet and leaped into the air.
He pulled the Willow Demon Cudgel from his ear, and with a flick of his wrist, a burst of crimson light erupted as he aimed it at the top of Furong's head and chopped it down!
"Take this!"
When Hibiscus saw the stick carrying crimson flames, she knew something was wrong and tried to grab her magic wand, but it was too late.
In a panic, he rolled backwards to get off his seat, but a loud crash was heard and a half-foot-deep pit appeared on the bluestone floor where he had been sitting.
Still shaken, she cried out in alarm, "Wait! I was just joking!"
But Ron was so engrossed in the killing that he paid no heed to such words. He dragged his staff and chased after them, leaving streaks of crimson light on the ground.
Maxim's expression changed upon seeing this. He was about to raise his wand to chant a spell when he saw Dumbledore's white robes fluttering and his wand already drawing a silver arc.
Ron was not afraid at all and was raising his stick to parry when he saw the lotus suddenly turn into a stream of light and land right in front of the professor's seat.
Karkaroff stroked his beard and chuckled to himself. Maxim quickly examined Fleur over and, finding no injury, glared angrily at Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore, is this how Hogwarts welcomes us?"
"Targeting my students?!"
Hearing Maxim's counterattack, Harry was enraged. He leaped onto the long table, pointed his spear, and cursed:
"You wicked old woman! What a talent you have for turning the tables and distorting the truth!"
"When that witch used her evil magic to bewitch my brothers and sisters, did she ever ask us, her sisters and brothers, if we agreed?"
Before the words were even finished, all the Hogwarts students responded in unison. They drew their swords, gripped their spears and clubs, unleashed their darts and arrows, and roared like thunder.
"No way!"
"That's right!"
"Make her apologize!"
Hundreds of people were shouting, their voices shaking the rooftops, their weapons gleaming coldly, clearly ready to chop Beauxbatons and his men into mincemeat.
The French students were so frightened that their faces turned pale, and they hurriedly clutched their wands in their robes, their legs trembling as they almost ran away.
Seeing the tense atmosphere in the room, Dumbledore felt a sudden pang in his heart. He quickly took out a potion bottle from his pocket, drank it all, and only then could he catch his breath.
He pressed his wand to his throat, cast an amplification spell, and shouted sharply, "Silence!"
The sound was like a thunderclap, instantly silencing the clamor in the hall. Dumbledore then turned to Fleur and said in a deep voice:
"Could you explain this to me, Miss Delacour?"
Furong forced herself to stand up, glanced at the willow-shaped magic staff in Ron's hand, and licked her lips, saying:
"No, it's nothing, I just made an inappropriate joke."
"Please allow me to apologize to you, Mr. Weasley."
Narohart had always been most afraid of fighting, fearing that he would be implicated. At this moment, he hurriedly got up, putting on a smiling face to persuade Narohart to make peace.
"Cultural differences are all the fault of cultural differences."
"When we have free time, we can read my biography together and then we'll have something in common to talk about."
As the saying goes, "One doesn't hit a smiling face." Since Fleur had already humbled herself, Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and returned to their seats, leaving the matter aside for the time being.
Dumbledore then settled Fleur down at the Ravenclaw table to avoid disturbing Harry and Ron.
Although Furong was seated, her beautiful eyes kept stealing glances at Ron. She was secretly alarmed to see that the red-haired man's hand was still bleeding from a bloody hole, but his face showed no sign of pain.
Is this the power of Harry Potter's sidekick?
It seems that Harry Potter himself is indeed more difficult to deal with.
However, it was only some...
To avoid further trouble and to save himself from many formalities, Dumbledore simply clapped his hands, and instantly the empty plates on the table began to steam, transforming into delicacies and fine wines.
Everyone was already starving, so they immediately began to devour the food, creating quite a lively scene.
After the meal was finished, the leftover food on the plates and bowls vanished in an instant. Dumbledore chuckled and said:
"Now the moment everyone has been waiting for is finally here, but before that, please allow me to introduce our two guests."
"They are Mr. Barty Crouch from the International Cooperation Department and Mr. Ludo Bagman from the Sports Department."
After Dumbledore finished speaking, only a few scattered applause could be heard in the Great Hall.
"In the coming days, the two of them will join the judges, along with the principals of the three schools, to score the Warriors' performances."
Upon hearing the word "warrior," everyone held their breath, waiting for Dumbledore to speak.
"Mr. Filch, please bring the box up."
After saying that, Filch emerged from the corner, holding an old wooden box inlaid with pearls and jewels in both hands.
Dumbledore took his wand and tapped the box three times, and the lid creaked open.
Inside, there was a tall goblet carved from rough wood. Although the wood was coarse, strange blue and white flames danced within the goblet.
The flames flickered, like a snake spitting its tongue, their cold light casting an uncertain glow around them. The guests in the hall felt a chill creep into their skin, and they were all mesmerized by the sight.
"It is the Goblet of Fire, the selector responsible for choosing warriors."
"Every student who wants to become a warrior simply needs to write their name and school on a piece of paper and drop it into the Goblet of Fire."
"Within 24 hours, at tomorrow's Halloween dinner, the Goblet of Fire will select the three warriors who he believes best represent the three schools."
"The wine glass is on display in the foyer tonight; any student who wants to enroll can touch it."
Upon hearing that the cup was not subject to any restrictions, Fred and George, those two cunning devils, had a gleam in their eyes and were itching to get started.
Unexpectedly, Dumbledore added, "To prevent underage students from succumbing to temptation, I will draw an age limit around the Goblet of Fire, and no one under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to approach it."
"Ha! Age limit!" Fred, far from being frightened, grinned. "It's just a matter of a bottle of anti-aging serum!"
At this moment, the people below the hall had different thoughts. Those who were old enough were secretly considering whether they could join the ranks; those who were not old enough were plotting how to deceive everyone.
As for Dumbledore's later important words, such as "Once chosen, it is impossible to refuse," most of them were ignored.
Finally, Dumbledore announced that the prize for the champion had been increased from one thousand Galleons to five thousand.
The auditorium erupted as if a ladle of cold water had been poured into a pot of boiling oil, and the cheers nearly lifted the roof off.
After the banquet, everyone returned to their respective camps.
Hogwarts's path led back to the tower and into the dormitory; Durmstrang's path led to the ship; Beauxbatons' path led back to the carriage. Indeed: dragons and snakes return to their lairs, awaiting the rise of new forces.
The next day was a ten-day rest day, and there were no classes.
Harry and several heroes were heading out of the castle, strolling directly to the entrance hall.
In the hall, a stone platform stood on the ground, upon which sat the Goblet of Fire, surrounded by a ring of shimmering gold, like golden ropes binding the ground—the very age limit Dumbledore had spoken of.
Everyone greeted Harry when he arrived. Harry glanced at the Goblet of Fire a few times and asked curiously:
"Is anyone willing to volunteer?"
A Hufflepuff man stepped out from the side and replied, "Everyone in Durmstrang has signed up."
"Beauxbatons had fewer applicants, but they seem to be planning to sign up for all of them."
Harry nodded and said, "There are only a few dozen people from these two schools combined, so they must all be the best of the best. Since so many talented people have gathered here, they will naturally all come to prove themselves."
Having said that, he said no more and went to the training ground to practice.
It was Halloween, and Harry didn't press the others too hard, letting them enjoy themselves. The day passed in the blink of an eye, and dusk had fallen, it was time for dinner.
Harry overheard the students' conversation and learned that during the day, countless hot-blooded young men had tried to sneak into the Goblet of Fire, only to be repelled by the golden barrier and fall in disarray.
The school hospital was overflowing with people, keeping Rozier so busy he was nearly breathless.
Fred and George were the most embarrassed. They had secretly taken a whole bottle of aging potion, and when they were discovered, they were sent flying backwards, whereupon they grew three-foot-long silver beards that hung straight to the ground.
As the crowd chattered and ate heartily, their discussions far exceeded their usual volume, with each person arguing about which warrior's name should be bestowed upon them.
Once the dishes and cups had been cleared away and the table was spotless, Dumbledore rose to his feet. The room fell silent instantly, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
"Alright, the Goblet of Fire will probably make a decision soon, I estimate in about a minute."
"After the warriors' names are called, I hope they can go behind that door."
Dumbledore pointed to the door behind the professors' chair, "They will receive their initial instruction there."
After a short while, when the time came, Dumbledore drew his wand and waved it in the air.
But as soon as the wind passed, all the candles went out instantly, leaving only the faint light from the pumpkin lanterns, and the hall became dark and gloomy.
The Goblet of Fire alone shone brightly, its blue and white flames flickering erratically, illuminating everything else in the room and making it difficult to open one's eyes.
Everyone held their breath and watched intently when suddenly the flame in the cup turned from white to red, crackling and scattering sparks.
Suddenly, a tongue of fire shot up from the cup, carrying a piece of charred parchment that fluttered down.
Dumbledore reached out and caught the paper, unfolded it to examine it, and then shouted loudly:
"The warrior of Durmstrang is—Viktor Krum!"
These words were like thunderclaps falling on a plain, and everyone clapped in agreement. Karkarov was overjoyed and cheered repeatedly.
Despite winning the championship, Krum seemed unaffected, listlessly getting up and heading straight into that door.
As the applause subsided and the voices quieted down, crimson flames immediately rose again from the goblet of fire, and with a "poof," a charred scroll was spat out.
Dumbledore accepted the command and proclaimed:
"The warrior of Beauxbatons is—Fleur Delacour!"
The lotus flower rose to her feet, her silver hair swaying gently. Several young men nearby stared, their eyes wide, as if their souls had been stolen away.
The men further away all had unfriendly expressions, secretly gripping their swords and clenching their fists, their magic wands flashing.
Seeing that this was not the right person, Furong said no more and quickly slipped behind the door.
Amidst the commotion, flames erupted from the cup once more, and a third burnt scroll leaped out.
Dumbledore unrolled the scroll, a smile playing on his lips, and nodded slightly toward the Hufflepuff table, his voice booming:
"The champion of Hogwarts is—Cedric Diggory!"
The sound of the ball hitting the ground was met with thunderous applause from the Hogwarts crowd. Harry joined in the clapping, and Cedric rose to his feet—truly a remarkable young hero!
Just as the matter was about to be concluded, the Goblet of Fire suddenly underwent another strange change. Amidst the surging crimson flames, it spat out a piece of charred paper.
Dumbledore took the paper, stared intently at it, and his brows furrowed.
"Harry?"
Upon hearing this call, the entire hall fell silent.
Harry narrowed his eyes and slowly placed his hand on the hilt of his knife. A hundred paces away, his eyes met Dumbledore's, and all four of his eyes showed a hint of seriousness.
Before anyone could react, the crimson flames in the cup flared up again!
Another sheet of burnt paper fell to the ground. Dumbledore unfolded the paper and looked at it, his brow furrowing even deeper.
"Harry Potter".
The Great Hall was now eerily silent, with hundreds of gazes, each with a different expression, fixed on Harry.
The appearance of a fourth warrior in the Triwizard Tournament was already strange enough, but what was even stranger was that this warrior's name was uttered twice!
Karkaroff, unable to contain himself, stood up and shouted, "I demand a re-selection! This broken cup must be old and malfunctioning!"
The words were still ringing in their ears when, as if the Goblet of Fire had heard them, a sixth crimson flame suddenly erupted.
Before Dumbledore could make a move, Maxim had already stood up abruptly. With a flick of her wide sleeves, the scroll of paper was drawn by magic and fell directly into her huge palm.
The female champion unfolded the paper and examined it closely. Her expression of surprise and doubt deepened, and she blurted out:
"Harry James Potter?"
It is:
Harry Potter's name is like the Three Pure Ones in one breath.
The battle for supremacy among the three was already decided; now, four warriors are vying for victory.
Hogwarts is a place of fire and water, where undercurrents surge and a facade of peace prevails.
Three cunning schemes, a scarred young man descends to the underworld?
(End of this chapter)