Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 502: Front Page Headline

Kyle passed through the side door behind the main guest seating area and entered a small room adorned with portraits of wizards lining the walls. Among them, he noticed Fleur standing behind a house sign, accompanied by another wizard, peering around curiously.

“I heard your name earlier,” Fleur said, walking over from the fireplace. “What a cheer. I didn’t realize you were so famous at Hogwarts.”

“Just the home-field advantage,” Kyle replied. “If you were at Beauxbatons, you’d get far more cheers than me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Fleur said, shaking her long, silver hair.

Kyle glanced over at Krum. The legendary Seeker looked exactly as he had in every match Kyle had ever watched. Krum gave Kyle a simple nod before resuming his position by the mantelpiece, hunched over and deep in thought. His demeanor suggested that being a Champion brought him little joy.

Outside, an indiscernible conversation carried on, accompanied by prolonged cheers that refused to subside. During this time, no one else entered the room—neither Dumbledore, Chris, nor Bagman—as if the three of them had been completely forgotten.

Krum remained silent by the fireplace, his brooding posture unchanged. Fortunately, Fleur and Kyle, being on familiar terms, managed to strike up a conversation to pass the time.

After about ten minutes, the door finally opened again from the outside. A figure darted in, clearly panicked, drawing everyone’s attention.

“What’s going on?” Fleur asked, her gaze fixed on the thin figure. “Do they want us to go back to the Great Hall?”

“Oh... ah, yes.” After a moment’s hesitation, Harry stammered, quickly looking away from Fleur’s face and nodding. “The Daily Prophet is here, and the headmaster’s been talking to them. Oh, and the Minister of Magic—he asked me to tell you to return to the Great Hall.”

“Cornelius Fudge?” Fleur frowned.

Kyle, meanwhile, studied Harry’s face.

“Congratulations, Kyle,” Harry said with a smile. “Fred and George said they’re planning to make a hundred-foot banner, and we’ll all be cheering for you during the match.”

With that, Harry waved and hurried out of the room.

Fleur stood and began walking toward the door with visible reluctance. Kyle, realizing he’d been lost in thought, shook his head and followed her.

“You don’t seem to like Fudge very much,” Kyle said. “You haven’t met him before, have you?”

“No, but Madam Maxime has mentioned him to me.”

“Because of your sister Gabrielle?”

“Yes,” Fleur nodded.

“Has it been resolved?” Kyle asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

“Sort of,” Fleur said, her voice tinged with frustration. “There were six of them involved, but Fudge pinned the blame on just one and decided to send him to your wizard prison. Of course, that was expected—he used the Unforgivable Curses—but our demand was for everyone to face punishment. Instead, Fudge kept evading the issue.”

As they spoke, they arrived at the Great Hall, greeted by a wave of cheers.

Kyle noticed that the Goblet of Fire, which had previously burned with intensity, had now extinguished completely. The sight of the crowd invigorated Fleur, her earlier displeasure giving way to a composed expression. She was well aware that handling the Minister of Magic was Madam Maxime’s responsibility, not hers. At most, she would allow herself a few private grumbles.

“Welcome, Champions,” Fudge said warmly, his voice carrying across the hall.

He approached them with a broad smile, his rosy cheeks and slightly heavier frame a stark contrast to the last time Kyle had seen him in the courtroom. Fudge eagerly shook each Champion’s hand, gripping Kyle’s hand twice as firmly as the others.

“Well done, my boy, I knew you could do it,” Minister Fudge said warmly, beaming at Kyle.

Ka-chow!

A loud pop accompanied the purple flash of smoke from the Daily Prophet photographer’s camera. The man with the camera, a short and excitable fellow named Baddock, grinned widely. “Front page material, Minister!” he exclaimed eagerly.

“No, Baddock,” Fudge replied, shaking his head thoughtfully. “I think I’ll save the front page for the Champions… How about a group photo instead?”

“Very thoughtful, Minister,” Baddock said, snapping to attention. He wasted no time, bustling forward to pull the three Champions—Kyle, Fleur, and Krum—into the center of the Great Hall.

Madame Maxime, though visibly displeased at being displaced, reluctantly stepped aside.

“Don’t move, this… Madam,” Baddock stammered nervously, clearly intimidated by Maxime’s towering height. “This is a group photo, after all. You may stand next to the Champions, but, uh, please try not to block them.”

Maxime’s expression darkened further, and she glanced sharply at Dumbledore.

“Well, of course,” Dumbledore said kindly, stepping behind Kyle. “How about this?”

“Perfect,” Baddock said briskly.

Maxime and Karkaroff joined in, positioning themselves behind their respective Champions. Soon after, Fudge, Chris, and Bagman stepped forward to represent the Ministry of Magic, completing the arrangement.

When everyone was finally in place, Baddock surprised the room by darting over to the Gryffindor table. Without a word, he grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him to the forefront.

“What are you waiting for? Cheer for the Champions!”

Amidst raucous applause and cheers from the students, Baddock finally pressed the shutter.

With the group photo complete, the feast came to an end. The students dispersed, making their way back to their common rooms. Meanwhile, Kyle, Fleur, and Krum returned to the small chamber they had been in before, now joined by the headmasters, Fudge, Chris, and Bagman.

“I do hope that our little get-together has fostered some camaraderie,” Dumbledore began with a smile. “The Triwizard Tournament is undoubtedly a rigorous and challenging competition, but it also provides a wonderful opportunity to forge friendships. I’ve always believed that gaining a like-minded friend can be even more rewarding than earning a champion’s title.”

Krum’s lips twitched slightly, though he said nothing.

“Alright, Albus, let’s not drag this out,” Karkaroff interjected, his tone impatient. “Viktor has been feeling a bit under the weather and could use an early night.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore replied graciously. “May I suggest Madame Pomfrey in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing? She’s one of the finest Healers I’ve ever known.”

“That’s high praise indeed,” Karkaroff muttered.

“Now, let’s move along,” Bagman said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “Time to explain the tasks, wouldn’t you say?”

“Exactly,” Fudge agreed, smiling broadly. “Chris, would you do the honors?”

“Of course.” Chris stepped forward and addressed the room.

“The first task is designed as a test of your courage, so we won’t be telling you what it entails,” he explained. “Facing the unknown is a critical part of a wizard’s growth. What I can reveal is that it will challenge you. There are three stages to the task, each reflecting the character of one of the participating schools. Only by completing them all will you obtain a clue for the second task.”

“That’s enough, Chris,” Bagman interjected with a chuckle. “Any more, and you’ll ruin the mystery!”

“You’re right,” Chris conceded with a small smile.

Kyle, Fleur, and Krum exchanged looks, their expressions far from friendly as they cast wary glances at Bagman, who patted his stomach contentedly, unbothered by their reactions.

“Now, regarding timing,” Chris continued, clapping his hands for emphasis. “The first event will take place on November 30th. You’ll be judged by a panel on your performance. After that, you’ll be on your own—no help from professors or outside sources. Your only tool will be the wand in your hand.”

Chris placed particular emphasis on the word wand, his tone almost a warning, though none of the others seemed to notice.

“Additionally,” he went on, “to ease the pressure, Champions are exempt from the school year exams. You’ll have a full month to prepare for the competition, free from academic distractions.”

He turned to Dumbledore. “That should cover everything, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Dumbledore agreed. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he added, “How about a celebratory drink later? I have an excellent bottle of Firewhiskey I’d like to share.”

Chris hesitated. “It’s the busiest time of year at the Ministry, Albus. I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

“Oh, come now,” Fudge chimed in, winking. “Surely you can spare time for a quick toast. You’ve earned it.”

“Well… alright,” Chris relented with a nod.

“Splendid,” Dumbledore said warmly.

He turned to invite Maxime and Karkaroff to join them, but they were already retreating, guiding their Champions out of the room without so much as a glance back.