Slytherin had poured countless efforts into this dream wizarding school back in the day.
And now, the statues and suits of armor standing before Link were part of that effort.
These things that had long lived side by side with students, scattered almost everywhere inside Hogwarts Castle as "decorations," were in fact all crafted with special methods using extraordinary materials.
They had extremely high resistance to both physical and magical damage, and their joints were astonishingly flexible.
Once paired with the spell Piertotum Locomotor, which could temporarily grant lifeless objects a brief spark of life and limited control, these armors and statues would transform into Hogwarts' final line of defense.
Unfortunately, the statues and armors before him had clearly already been activated by Piertotum Locomotor.
And commanding them on the scene was none other than the gargoyle statue guarding the door to Dumbledore's office.
Looking at the neat phalanx of statue-armor troops arrayed before him, Link couldn't help but feel a headache coming on.
Their resistance was far too high, and they were utterly fearless. If he really wanted to deal with them, it wasn't that he couldn't win, just that it would be far too troublesome, and a huge waste of time.
At that moment, the gargoyle statue at the back of the formation, which had been dozing off, finally noticed Link.
It yawned and said with a tone of impatience and annoyance, "You little brat, disturbing my sleep again. This time, I won't let you through so easily."
Recently, Link had often been summoned to Dumbledore's office to discuss in detail the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, so the gargoyle statue was quite familiar with him.
Unfortunately, their relationship was anything but good.
Because the gargoyle's greatest hobby was sleeping.
And every single time Link came by, he woke it up and made it open the door.
Over time, it was easy to imagine how much resentment the gargoyle statue had built up toward Link.
"There's no need for us to be like this. Worst case, I'll just stop going to Dumbledore's office and disturbing your sleep."
Link spread his hands and said sincerely, making one last attempt.
But sadly, a gargoyle statue that had lived thousands of years clearly wouldn't believe such nonsense.
Just think about it, of course Dumbledore would still be meeting with Link regularly. And if not in his office, then what? In Link's dormitory?
The gargoyle only gave Link a smug grin, then swung its long arms forcefully.
Clang! Clang!
Accompanied by the heavy synchronized thuds of boots, the statue-armor phalanx under the gargoyle's command quickly shifted formation.
The shield-bearing armors moved to the front to form a shield wall, while the stone-spearmen behind them angled their spears forward in a defensive stance, all aimed straight at Link.
"Phew!"
Link sighed, and the wand in his hand began to emit a faint blue glow.
If talking really wouldn't work, then the only option left was a frontal assault.
After all, it wasn't that he was afraid of them, just that he found it troublesome.
Yet just as he raised his wand, he suddenly remembered what the gargoyle had said to him at the very start.
From its words, it sounded as though the gargoyle considered guarding the Triwizard Cup as the same kind of job as guarding the office door.
If that were the case…
Link's expression turned a little odd.
Standing before the formation, he shouted toward the gargoyle, "Password, Honey Scone!"
That had been the office password the last time he visited Dumbledore yesterday evening. Link was sure that unless Dumbledore had gone mad and decided to change it daily, the gargoyle's current password should still be this one.
And sure enough, the instant Link's voice fell, the smug expression on the gargoyle's face froze.
It stared blankly at Link for a moment, then leapt resentfully aside and ground out between clenched teeth,
"Password… correct!"
With that, the statues and armors blocking Link's path all withdrew their weapons in unison, stepping back to open a passage for him.
At this sight, Link couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips.
Grinning broadly, laughing aloud, he strode toward the cup on the central platform.
As he passed the gargoyle, he even reached out and gave its forehead two playful pats, laughing loudly, "I'll remember this grudge! From now on, I'll make sure people come chat with you often. Six days a week should do, I'll leave you one day off, since I'm not a total devil."
The gargoyle's already somewhat frightening face instantly twisted into an even more hideous snarl.
It glared at Link with teeth bared, as if ready to leap up and bite him at any moment.
But sadly, it could never actively attack a Hogwarts student. And so it could only watch helplessly as Link laughed his way past.
For objects like it and the Sorting Hat, special creations granted eternal life through secret wizarding arts, though they might seem wondrous, in the end they were still bound, or rather enslaved, by their creators.
Having teased the gargoyle, Link's mood brightened considerably.
But when he finally stood before the Triwizard Cup itself, he sobered again.
According to the original plan, the Triwizard Cup was supposed to be turned by the committee into a Portkey with its destination set as the central platform of the arena.
That way, the first person to touch the cup, the champion, would immediately be transported back to the stage at the very end of the competition, bathed in golden rain and showered with cheers and applause.
Link could easily imagine how explosively effective that spectacle would have been.
The downside, however, was obvious, there was a high chance that, just like in the original story, the spy hidden within Hogwarts would seize the opportunity to tamper with the Portkey's destination.
So the very first thing Link had insisted on, once he confirmed his cooperation with Dumbledore, was persuading the committee to cancel that plan.
Which meant that the cup before him now was simply a trophy made of gold, silver, and various gems, no enchantments at all.
At this moment, all Link had to do was pick it up, and the Triwizard Tournament would officially be over.
The problem was, Voldemort and the Death Eaters still hadn't made a real move.
If he ended the competition now, wouldn't that mean all the elaborate traps and killing ground he'd prepared would go to waste?
Standing before the Triwizard Cup, Link fell into deep conflict.
Meanwhile, in the main arena, hundreds and thousands of spectators were watching Link's back as he stood before the trophy, projected onto the giant screen.
Although nearly everyone had already assumed before the match that Link would become the champion, who could have expected that this third task, whose difficulty had suddenly been raised so high, would seem like nothing more than a child's playtime before Link?
The overwhelming strength he displayed throughout the competition, the leisurely ease with which he carried himself, and finally the dramatic way he broke through the army of statues and armors, all of it left nearly every Hogwarts student in the stands stirred and enthralled.
They leapt to their feet, waving their arms, shouting hysterically.
At first, the shouts were messy, filled with too many things like the school song, house names, or meaningless syllables.
But in the end, under commentator Bagman's guidance, the cries unified into a single cheer.
"Link!"
"Link!"
"Link!"
Hearing the tsunami-like roar in his ears, even usually cool-tempered Madame Pince and Emily had flushed red with excitement, unable to hold back their cheers.
Of course, human joys are never truly shared. Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and the others from the visiting schools only found the whole scene unbearably noisy.
Fleur and Krum had already been rescued by Professor McGonagall and the others, though they hadn't yet regained consciousness.
By this point, even though the alchemical hummingbirds hadn't captured the scenes inside the Forbidden Forest, anyone with eyes could guess, it was Link who had taken them down and forced them out of the competition.
Otherwise, how else to explain that Harry Potter, who had been right next to them, was perfectly fine and still competing?
And what's more, the actual effects of the traps set up inside Hogwarts Castle in the latter half of the contest hadn't quite matched what they had been told beforehand.
It was blatant favoritism toward Hogwarts' champion.
Yet they had no grounds to complain, because after all, their champions had all been wiped out right at the start of the forest stage.
Thinking of this, then looking around at the cheering crowd and at Dumbledore, who was smiling just as brightly, Karkaroff and Maxime felt worse than if they'd swallowed flies.
Remembering everything that had happened since the second task ended, the two of them felt like utter clowns.
Thump!
Karkaroff finally couldn't take the humiliation anymore. He kicked back his chair, face dark, and stalked out of the arena toward the Durmstrang ghost ship moored near Hogwarts.
Maxime shook her head at the sight, then rose as well.
The difference was, she went to the medical tent outside the arena to check on Fleur.
Right after, the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons followed their headmasters and left.
Staying here any longer was simply too awkward.
Most importantly, they wanted this dramatic exit to serve as a silent protest, to make Hogwarts and the British Ministry of Magic feel ashamed, to turn the celebrations into nothing more than self-indulgence.
But in truth, no one cared about their gesture.
At the center of the arena, Bagman was still leading the crowd in excited chants of Link's name.
With his energy pushing them on, the waves of cheering grew louder and louder, until the very ground of the temporary stadium seemed to tremble.
On the Gryffindor stands, Hermione had already shouted herself hoarse.
The excitement in her heart right now was beyond words.
This was the Triwizard Tournament.
Link's performance today, his achievement, would surely be written into Hogwarts, A History for future generations to admire.
But unlike Hermione and the others around her, Ron, sitting at her side, looked rather gloomy.
Looking at the excited crowd around him, he couldn't stop himself from shouting, "Have you all forgotten you're Gryffindors? Cheering for Link, of all people!"
His voice wasn't even that quiet, but with the overwhelming noise of the cheers, nobody heard a word he said.
In fact, only Hermione noticed him muttering. She lowered her sweaty head and shouted, "What did you say?"
"Nothing!"
Ron pouted and muttered sullenly.
The Krum incident had already proved that saying things like this in front of Hermione would never end well, and Ron didn't want to start another argument with a girl in such a public place, that would be far too embarrassing.
But Hermione frowned at his words.
After their huge fight over Krum, she had clearly seen Ron's immaturity and stubbornness. She really was starting to dislike him.
Still, out of habit, she asked again, "Why do you look so unhappy? Isn't Link your good friend too?"
This time Ron didn't even look at her. Keeping his head down, fiddling with his fingers, he said, "All the camera shots are on Link. Dumbledore's being way too biased. Harry's a Hogwarts champion too!"
He said it softly, almost like talking to himself.
But Hermione had already used magic to block out the surrounding noise, so she heard him loud and clear.
Her mouth dropped open as she stood frozen.
She was shocked Ron would say such a thing.
After all, she knew full well, after the Ball, Harry and Ron had fought bitterly over Fleur.
During it, Ron had even brought up the time Harry had been unexpectedly chosen as a champion, and complained that Harry hadn't put Ron's name in as well, so that he could compete too.
That fight had ended with the two supposed best friends falling out completely, becoming strangers.
And now here Ron was, sulking because Bagman wasn't giving Harry any screen time, even complaining about Link, the person he usually admired most?
A wave of complicated feelings stirred in Hermione's heart.
It was the first time she had seen this side of Ron.
After a long silence, she took a deep breath, then rasped with her already hoarse throat, "Harry! Show us Harry's camera shot!"
Ron's head shot up, eyes wide, looking at Hermione in disbelief. His eyes quickly reddened.
But Hermione kept shouting it again and again.
Finally, Ron stood as well, and with a choked voice joined her, "Show us Harry's camera shot!"
Compared to the thousands of voices in the stands, theirs were far too small, like raindrops falling into the sea, not even enough to cause a ripple.
But luckily, Ron had a pair of "caring older brothers" who loved nothing more than mischief.
Fred and George, not far away, finally heard what their silly brother was shouting, and their eyes instantly lit up.
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