bioinnovel Chapter 268 Seven Years Old is a Hurdle
Chapter 268 Seven Years Old is a Hurdle
Chapter 268 Seventeen is a Hurdle
After the drinks—
Pumpkin juice is served three times, and British cuisine is served five times.
The students, having eaten and drunk their fill, pushed aside their empty plates and patted their round bellies contentedly.
After the last dessert was gone, Dumbledore stood up as usual and announced the precautions, just like in previous years.
The first announcement to be made is naturally of the new professor for the new academic year – the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It has been many years since any professor has been able to teach for more than a year.
"Please allow me to introduce our new Defense Against Magic professor, Alastor Moody."
Dumbledore raised his hand to indicate the direction Moody was in.
Moody stood up slightly nervously, nodded almost imperceptibly, and then sat back down in his chair even faster.
The hall was silent, an awkward silence, except for a few people, including Dumbledore and Hagrid, clapping a few times.
Almost all the students were stunned by Moody’s bizarre appearance. They had never seen a face made up of crisscrossing scars, nor eyes that seemed to be constantly swirling in their sockets.
It was so bizarre that everything about Moody, from his appearance to his personality, seemed extremely strange, and the students even forgot to clap their hands symbolically.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashed across the magical ceiling.
The forked lightning illuminated Moody's狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) face vividly, making him look even more terrifying amidst the rumbling thunder.
The students' reaction was extremely lukewarm, but Professor New Year remained unmoved, and Moody sat motionless in his seat as if in a trance.
After a muffled clap of thunder, Dumbledore continued with the instructions for the new school year, and the obnoxious school warden, Mr. Filch, once again proved just how unlikeable he was.
Administrator Filch added several new items to the already long and tedious list, bringing the total number of prohibited items to a whopping 437.
No one but the great Argus Filch could remember this list of prohibited items that lasted longer than his life.
Even the usually composed Dumbledore couldn't help but twitch his lips, let alone the students sitting below.
"I regret to inform you that the school will not be hosting a Quidditch match this year."
One stone stirs up a thousand waves; Dumbledore's words immediately aroused strong dissatisfaction among the students.
Everyone was stunned for a moment, their mouths agape in surprise as they stared silently at Dumbledore, as if doing so would make the headmaster retract his decision.
Then, the angry students erupted in extremely loud boos, the jeers even drowning out the deafening thunder coming from outside, almost lifting the ceiling off.
Cancel Quidditch matches, not a single Quidditch match for an entire school year—how could anyone say that?! How could anyone do that?!
Outraged students used every means to make noise in order to express their dissatisfaction and anger towards the school.
After a long while, seeing that Dumbledore remained unmoved, the agitated students finally calmed down.
They realized that there was no turning back on canceling Quidditch matches, and no amount of protesting would change anything.
When the students quieted down, Dumbledore spoke again, continuing, "The school is holding a large event this year, starting in October and lasting throughout the school year, so the school has had to cancel the Quidditch matches—..."
Although everyone still couldn't accept the school's reason for canceling Quidditch matches, they stopped booing the headmaster.
"But I believe you will derive great enjoyment from this event. I am very pleased to announce that Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year!"
The tension in the auditorium dissipated instantly, and the students' interest was piqued by this long-standing event.
Next, Dumbledore explained the Triwizard Tournament to the students, recounting its long history and emphasizing that the tournament was interrupted due to the excessive number of deaths.
However, the students, their blood boiling, were not deterred by the "death." Many of them excitedly whispered among themselves, wondering who would be interested in those who died more than a hundred years ago, and that those who died in the competition were simply not good enough.
"Students who participate in the competition can not only win honor for their school, but also win a prize of one thousand Galleons for themselves."
As Dumbledore announced the tournament rewards, the students' last shred of worry vanished. They could win both honor and a substantial prize—what a wonderful thing!
As for the reason why the three-way competition was interrupted, too many participating students died, so no one cared. It went in one ear and out the other.
The champion of the Triwizard Tournament, a personal prize of one thousand Galleons, is none other than me!
The students in the auditorium became excited at the thought of potentially gaining both honor and wealth, eager to sign up for the competition immediately and for it to begin right away.
die?
nonexistent!
I am the protagonist of my own life!
If you never take any risks in life, what's the fun in it?
Every student in the Great Hall was watching Dumbledore, whispering excitedly to their neighbors, and almost everyone was thinking of signing up for the competition.
However, the Great Hall, which resembled a scene of massive crime, was doused with a bucket of icy cold water by Dumbledore.
"Given the dangerous nature of the competition, the Ministry of Magic and the school have agreed to set an age limit for this year's competitors; only students aged seventeen and over may register."
In an instant, the students, all under the age of seventeen, went from fanaticism to extreme anger. They launched a fierce protest, and the auditorium was filled with a series of crackling and clattering sounds.
Quidditch matches are canceled, and registration for the Triwizard Tournament is impossible. This lousy Hogwarts is better off gone!
Of course, dropping out of school is impossible; the boys and girls under the age of seventeen are simply expressing their anger in this radical way.
Compared to the younger students, those who were about to turn seventeen, such as Fred and George, were the most agitated and angry people in the entire auditorium.
Fred and George will turn seventeen next April, and by the time they are eligible to register for the competition, it will be too late!
The most painful ones are those born in November. Just a few days apart, if they were premature, they would not have missed the three-way battle that had been interrupted for more than a century.
As the students' protests grew increasingly heated, Dumbledore had to raise his voice several times to drown out their angry shouts.
"Once the champion of Hogwarts is finally chosen, I believe you will all wholeheartedly support him or her," Dumbledore concluded. "Alright, it's getting late, go to bed! Hurry up!"
Dumbledore hastily announced the end of the opening banquet, and the students were already losing their tempers. If they continued with this nonsense, the old headmaster would be useless.
"You can't do that!"
"That's not fair! It's so unfair!"
"That shitty Ministry of Magic! That damn Hogwarts!"
Many students couldn't help but curse as they left the auditorium, and even when pushed to the door by the crowd, they couldn't help but turn back and glare angrily at Dumbledore.
Belvina, sitting in the faculty seat, secretly wiped away non-existent cold sweat from her forehead. The Ministry of Magic was her, Hogwarts was her, and from any angle, the issue of age restrictions for participating in competitions was inextricably linked to her.
Fortunately, the angry students were completely unaware of this, otherwise they would have torn Belvina apart!
If he can't beat Dumbledore, can't he beat Black?!
"Tsk tsk!" Bussie clicked her tongue, gloating. "Who came up with the idea of an age limit for participation?"
"It definitely wasn't me," Belvina said. "It really wasn't me. My only responsibility was not opposing the proposal to restrict the age of entry."
Paul Bernard said quietly, "Go tell the students, and see if they believe you!"
"It's really not my fault," Belvina retorted. "Besides, isn't the age limit also for their safety?"
"Personal honor, team honor, and a prize of one thousand Galleons," Bassheda said enviously. "I'm really tempted, let alone the children. They've already ignored the danger."
Under the reward, there must be a brave man.
The generous rewards of the three-way competition are enough to make students put the dangers out of their minds.
This fervor won't subside until the first project officially begins, at which point they'll understand why the death toll remains so high.
The students in the auditorium all left, leaving only a mess that silently spoke of their dissatisfaction.
Belvina and Bassheda rose from the faculty section and walked unhurriedly toward the foyer outside the auditorium.
"What exactly is the first project?" Bassheda whispered. "I promise I won't tell anyone, just tell me!"
"I was only just turning to the title page, and you're already so eager to know what happens next." Belvina shook her head. "Can't you leave a little bit of anticipation?"
Bassheda shook Belvina's arm coquettishly, saying in a sweet, coquettish voice, "Tell me, just tell me! I've been holding it in for over a month, I really can't wait any longer."
Belvina dodged away in disgust, scolding, "Where did you learn all this from? You don't learn the good things, but you insist on doing weird things like others."
"Tell me, I promise I won't tell anyone, just the two of us." Bassheda clung to her like a persistent plaster, "Tell me, tell me~"
Belvina shook her head helplessly and said, "The first item is Hagrid's favorite; it's his most beloved magical creature."
"Hagrid's favorite magical creatures—" Bassheda murmured, "He likes all magical creatures that are extremely dangerous! This is such a difficult choice."
The two were whispering to each other when a strange sound of footsteps came from behind them.
Thump, thump, thud—the footsteps were hollow, like someone tapping the floor with a wooden cane.
Hearing the noise, Belvina turned around and saw Alastor Moody limping over.
A thousand-year-old castle, a raging thunderstorm, and a terrifying-looking man—this scene resembled something out of a horror movie, as if Moody might pull out a foot-long dagger at any moment.
However, no blood splattering occurred, and Moody did not pull out a weapon. He dragged the wooden prosthetic leg away, staring blankly.
"I know!" Bassheda exclaimed excitedly, "Yes, it must be a dragon!"
Belvina, who was watching the horror movie live, was startled and reached out to pinch Bassheda's increasingly round cheeks.
"People can scare each other to death!" Belvina complained.