The worry about "Snape poisoning someone" lingered only in the minds of Harry and a bunch of other Gryffindor students from start to finish.
Of course, Dylan wasn't part of that crowd. Snape had pretty much stopped paying attention to his progress lately.
Dylan, for his part, had already shifted his focus back to the Triwizard Tournament.
Hufflepuff and Slytherin students didn't give the Snape rumor a second thought.
Lately, the hottest topic buzzing around the castle was all about the visiting magical schools.
Students gathered around long tables and in hallways, speculating endlessly.
What kind of unique tricks and secrets did these foreign magical schools hold?
Almost every well-known magical school was protected by special charms, the most common being the "Unplottable" spell.
This wasn't just simple invisibility—it made the school vanish entirely from any standard magical map.
Even if someone came sniffing around with high-end tracking devices, the moment they stepped into the school's warded perimeter, they'd get trapped in a looping illusion, wandering in circles.
You'd either end up back where you started or stumble into a nearby forest or swamp. Visiting properly? Good luck with that.
Because of these barriers, Hogwarts students could only dig into old library books to learn about other schools.
Books like European Magical Education Review and Hogwarts: A History had become hot commodities.
The moment the library opened in the morning, students would rush in to snag a spot and flip through pages. Show up late, and you'd be stuck hovering by the shelves, waiting for someone to finish.
Occasionally, fights even broke out over who got to read a book first.
As for the visiting schools, there was some precedent. Last term, a professor from Uagadou had brought an exchange group to Hogwarts.
Their students had shown off some jaw-dropping Animagus transformations right in front of everyone.
One turned into a sleek black panther, its fur glinting in the sunlight.
Another became a nimble hummingbird, zipping around over people's heads, chirping away.
The crowd of Hogwarts students had watched in awe, gasps and cheers filling the air. That display made Uagadou, the African school known for its mastery of Transfiguration, unforgettable.
Dylan knew about it but didn't bother joining the spectacle. What was the point of watching someone else show off? He'd rather hole up in his own little world, tinkering with cooler magic.
This time, with the Triwizard Tournament, everyone at Hogwarts had heard whispers about Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the two famous European schools.
Beauxbatons was best known for its Alchemy.
After all, they'd produced the legendary alchemist Nicolas Flamel.
Word among students was that Beauxbatons' underground labs were filled with centuries-old bronze cauldrons. Even first-years learned how to refine metal essences, and older students got to dip their toes into the basics of turning lead into gold.
Durmstrang, on the other hand, had a complicated reputation for its focus on Dark Magic.
The infamous dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, who'd sparked a war in the wizarding world, had been a student there—until he got expelled for experimenting with dangerous Dark Magic that hurt a classmate.
Whenever this came up, someone would gasp, "No wonder they take students like that. Their classes must be intense!"
Some Slytherins whispered among themselves, "I bet their Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons are even tougher than Moody's practical drills."
Then there was one small but juicy detail that caught a lot of attention.
While flipping through European Magical Education Review, students noticed that both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang seemed to offer way more generous financial aid than Hogwarts.
Ron nearly slammed the table when he heard. "Why's that fair? We're scrimping and saving for potion ingredients, and they're getting extra cash to buy fancy magical gear!"
Dylan didn't chime in, but he overheard a Hufflepuff nearby grumble, "If Hogwarts gave out more aid, I could buy rarer herb seeds."
Harry, Ron, and Neville, each with a copy of Unfogging the Future tucked under their arms, struggled to pull open the trapdoor to the North Tower. They climbed down the creaky spiral staircase, the handrails coated in a thin layer of dust. Every step made the wooden boards groan under their weight.
"I can't believe… your Divination homework is just made-up stuff?" Neville's round face flushed pink, his eyes wide with disbelief after hearing Harry and Ron's "tips" for getting by in class. His fingers instinctively tightened around his textbook.
Professor Trelawney had kept the three of them after class.
She'd gushed that Harry and Ron's homework showed "remarkable prophetic talent," no doubt thanks to Dylan's guidance.
She'd even told them to spend some time helping Neville find the "knack" for Divination.
Neville glanced up at the trapdoor to make sure Trelawney wasn't peeking out, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "But doesn't she see through it? That stuff sounds so fake."
"She loves it," Ron said with a shrug, brushing dust off his pants like he had it all figured out. "Doesn't matter if it's true or not. As long as it's bad news, her eyes light up. Dylan's already clued us in on her habits."
"It's kind of like Snape," Harry added, rubbing his chin. "Snape wants us to actually mess up so he can gloat. Trelawney just loves hearing our made-up disasters. The more detailed, the more she calls you 'gifted.'"
"So just do what we do," Ron said, sidestepping a ghost drifting up the stairs. "Hit the library, check next month's Astronomy Observer for stuff like Saturn retrogrades or Mercury in opposition, then make up some bad luck tied to it."
"Last time, I wrote that 'Saturn crossed my fate line, so I tripped over a gust of wind,' and she said I had sharp instincts," Ron added.
"But it's exhausting if you do it too much," he sighed, his brows knitting together. "I can't make heads or tails of those tea leaves or crystal ball reflections. I'd switch to Arithmancy in a heartbeat if I could."
He paused, his voice dripping with envy. "Hermione was just saying the other day that Professor Vector in Arithmancy praised their class and didn't even assign homework this week. I'm so jealous!"
Right then, Ron yelped.
The staircase step was slick with something, and his ankle twisted, sending him toppling backward.
Harry reacted fast, grabbing his left sleeve. Neville lunged for his right arm, and together they yanked him back upright.
Ron clung to the railing, panting, his palms sweaty. Before he could catch his breath, a nearby medieval suit of armor started clanking and shaking, a wheezing laugh echoing from inside like someone was stifling a chuckle.
Harry and Ron reached for their wands, but before they could draw, Peeves popped out from behind the armor.
Floating in midair with his hands on his hips, he flashed a wicked grin. "Redhead! Got lucky this time, but next time you won't!" he taunted in his shrill voice.
With that, he zoomed down the staircase.
Just as Harry and Ron relaxed, Peeves spun around 180 degrees, pulled a small sack from behind his back, and hurled it at them.
Harry and Ron froze, fumbling for their wands, but Neville was faster. He swung his foot and kicked the sack hard.
It flew back, smacked the ceiling, and burst with a loud pop.
White foam rained down, splattering all over Peeves' face and clothes.
"You'll pay for that!" Peeves screeched, wiping foam off his face before twisting and vanishing through a crack in the ceiling.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look, then both gave Neville a thumbs-up. Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Neville, that kick was awesome! You were faster than us!"
Neville's cheeks turned pink, and he scratched the back of his head, messing up his hair. "It was just… instinct, you know? I saw it coming and my foot just moved. Didn't think I'd actually hit it."
Ron smacked his lips. "You're getting pretty impressive. Dylan's been teaching you a lot, huh?"
Neville grinned. "Dylan's amazing. A quick chat with him feels like learning from a professor."
"Oh, right!" Harry slapped his forehead, turning to Neville. "Those books Dylan recommended to you—how were they? I was thinking I might check them out over the summer if I get the chance. Could learn something useful."
"They're really helpful," Neville said eagerly. "They cover a ton of basics on potions and plants, way more detailed than our textbooks. Want to borrow them? I haven't returned them to Dylan yet. I'll check with him back at the dorm. If he's cool with it, I'll pass them to you."
"Sweet," Harry said quickly. He pulled out his wand, pointed at the foam scattered on the floor, and muttered, "Scourgify!"
The foam vanished instantly, leaving the floor spotless.
"Weird," Ron said, frowning. "Peeves usually just chucks chalk or water balloons. Where'd he get cleaning solution?" He nudged the floor with his shoe. "Think he's teaming up with Filch? That guy's always lugging around cleaning supplies."
Neville glanced at the armor Peeves had hidden behind and touched its smooth, icy surface. "This armor looks freshly polished. Maybe someone cleaned it, and Peeves swiped the cleaner."
As they chatted and walked down the corridor, they noticed it wasn't just the armor.
Every portrait they passed had been spruced up.
The frames were dust-free, their wood gleaming. The canvases looked vibrant, with the figures' clothing details sharper than ever.
Sir Cadogan's portrait was practically glowing.
Its faded frame had been polished to a shine, the colors on the canvas so vivid they looked freshly painted. Cadogan's armor gleamed, the patterns on his helmet clear enough to reflect light.
As Harry, Ron, and Neville approached, Sir Cadogan yanked his pony's reins, the little gray beast clopping across the canvas. He charged toward them, shouting, "Hey! You lot, halt!"
The three stopped, eyeing him curiously.
Cadogan pulled the reins, his pony rearing with a whinny. He puffed out his chest, patted his armor, and boomed, "Behold me! Look at this shiny new armor! This gleaming frame! Say something nice—tell me how dashing and heroic I look!"
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, both at a loss for words. They weren't exactly great at over-the-top compliments.
When they didn't speak, Cadogan's face fell. He smacked his pony's rump. "No praise? Fine, I'll chase you until you do!"
With that, he galloped out of his frame, charging down the corridor after them.
The trio bolted, with Cadogan hot on their heels, yelling, "Praise me! Praise me! I'm far grander than before!"
The chase went on until Cadogan, in his enthusiasm, accidentally barreled into Barnabas the Barmy's portrait. A troll in a pink tutu blocked his path, roaring in protest at the intrusion.
Harry, Ron, and Neville stopped, leaning against the wall to catch their breath. They glanced back at Cadogan, now arguing with the troll, and burst out laughing.
The Triwizard Tournament announcement had shifted everyone's focus and sparked a massive cleanup across Hogwarts.
It started at the castle's highest towers—
House-elves were wiping down armor with polish-soaked cloths near the North Tower's spiral staircase.
The Astronomy Tower's observation deck had been scrubbed spotless, and even the dusty portrait frames were meticulously polished.
That's why the armor Harry's group encountered was so shiny, and the portraits along the way looked brand-new.
By October 30th, the castle was transformed.
Not a speck of dust lingered in the stone corridor cracks. The torch brackets gleamed softly, and the moving staircases' wooden steps were smooth and polished.
The Great Hall had the biggest makeover.
The usual Halloween pumpkins and ghost decorations were gone, replaced by a formal, stately setup that gave the air a serious vibe.
New silk banners hung along the hall's walls, each representing a Hogwarts house.
On one side, Ravenclaw's sky-blue banner featured a bronze eagle, its wings spread as if ready to soar, the feather details sharp enough to seem alive.
Slytherin's deep green banner showcased a coiled silver serpent, its scales embroidered with shimmering thread that caught the light.
On the other side, Gryffindor's fiery red banner boasted a golden lion, its mane detailed and proud, radiating fearless energy.
Hufflepuff's wheat-colored banner displayed a lively black badger, its front paws resting on a loyalty emblem, looking both sturdy and warm.
That afternoon, during History of Magic, sunlight streamed through the high windows, warming the students' textbooks.
Normally, Professor Binns' droning voice would have half the class dozing, but today, no one nodded off.
Some propped their chins on their hands, others held quills over notebooks, but their eyes kept darting to the clear blue sky outside, brimming with anticipation.
A few whispered to themselves, hoping one of the schools might show up early. Maybe Binns would end class early to let them watch the arrival.
No such luck. When the bell rang, the sky was still empty, not a single unusual cloud in sight.
The students sprang into action, stuffing A History of Magic: Millennia of Lore and Secrets into their bags, quills and pens shoved haphazardly into cases.
As Binns' ghostly form drifted through the wall, most of the class was already out the door, with the rest hurrying to catch up.
The corridor buzzed with chatter, questions flying left and right.
"Which school's gonna show up first? Beauxbatons?"
"How many people are they bringing? A dozen students and a couple of professors?"
The biggest mystery was how they'd arrive—
"Portkeys, maybe? Like at the Quidditch World Cup, just grab and go?"
"Could be a magical train like the Hogwarts Express, steaming right into the grounds."
"Maybe Beauxbatons' flying carriage? Or Durmstrang's ship that sails underwater?"
The questions piled up, but no one had answers. All they could do was head to the entrance hall, buzzing with excitement.