"I don't want to participate in this kind of competition at all! But my grandmother will definitely want me to participate—she's always going on about how I should uphold the family honor."
The speaker was naturally Neville.
He had been raised by his grandmother since childhood.
As a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, it was hardly unreasonable for Neville's grandmother to insist he uphold the Longbottom family honor.
But... was Neville really up to it?
Just as everyone was feeling somewhat doubtful, they heard Neville cry out "Ouch!" and then call, "Help me!"
Everyone turned around to see that Neville's foot had already sunk into one of the trick steps in the middle of the staircase.
At Hogwarts, there were far too many staircases like this that played tricks on people.
Fortunately, everyone had been studying here for four years, so for most of the older students, skipping these special steps had become muscle memory, an instinct.
But Neville's terrible memory was legendary.
So even though second-year students could remember these trap stairs, he still could never remember them.
"Why is it always me who has bad luck?"
"Neville, I think you shouldn't enter," said Ron with a laugh as he and Harry grabbed his arms and pulled him out. "I'm afraid you'll forget when the competition even is."
"I think that's really possible," said Neville with a mournful face.
"It's okay, Neville, your grandmother only wants you to enter the competition," Harry helpfully reminded him. "But if you're not selected, then it won't be your problem."
"That's right!"
Reminded by Harry, Neville suddenly realized.
With his abilities, any student at Hogwarts would have a better chance than him.
Thinking of this, Neville's back suddenly didn't ache, his legs didn't hurt, and walking became effortless—he could climb five flights of stairs in one breath without getting tired.
"Harry, you really know how to comfort people. Neville's got his energy back right away!" said George with a laugh.
"Yeah, yeah, he's always the slowest one to move," Fred said with feeling.
"Don't underestimate Neville. These past few years he's been going to fence with Sherlock alongside Harry every day!" Hermione spoke up for Neville. "If you don't use magic, in a one-on-one situation you might not even be his match!"
"Yeah, yeah, Neville is really strong!"
"Great future ahead!"
Amid everyone's praise, Neville stopped in front of the Fat Lady at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
He turned around, looking at everyone helplessly: "Um... does anyone know the password?"
"..."
"Balderdash."
George quickly stepped forward and said the password, while explaining to the others, "A prefect downstairs told me."
The Fat Lady swung aside, letting everyone climb through one by one.
In fact, as long as George said it once, everyone nearby remembered it.
Except for Neville.
His memory really was exceptionally poor.
However, after last year's incident, Neville no longer dared to write the password on a little piece of paper.
Everyone went in, and when they reached the girls' dormitory, Hermione said goodbye and went ahead first.
According to custom, on the first day of the new term, unless there were special circumstances, Sherlock wouldn't explore Hogwarts at night.
When they arrived at their five-person dormitory, everyone's luggage had already been placed at the foot of their respective beds.
Dean, that little fellow, had run faster than anyone and was already preparing to go to bed.
He had even posted a portrait of Viktor Krum above his bedside table.
The poster of the Manchester United football team hadn't been taken down either, hanging right next to it.
Looking at the poster with red as its main color, he sighed and shook his head at those frozen, motionless football players.
"Weird."
Obviously, to Ron, a child raised in a wizarding family, this kind of picture that didn't move was really quite boring.
"You're finally back!"
Dean said excitedly when he saw the four of them. "So, are you planning to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"
Although he said "you," his gaze was mainly bouncing between Sherlock and Harry.
Clearly, in Dean's view, only the Lion King and the Boy Who Lived had any chance of being selected as champions.
"I'm planning to try anyway," said Ron, changing into his pajamas and lying on his bed. "What if I get selected?"
"What if..."
Neville rolled over in bed and couldn't help shuddering. "I really hope that doesn't happen to me!"
Dean rolled his eyes and looked at Sherlock and Harry. "Sherlock, Harry, what about you two?"
"We'll see when the time comes," Sherlock gave his standard answer. "If it's truly interesting, I'll consider entering."
Harry decisively followed his big brother's lead. "I'll wait and see too..."
Not having gotten the answer he wanted, Dean sighed: "Alright, we'll see when the time comes. Good night!"
After the five of them bid each other good night, they successively fell asleep.
That night, everyone had pleasant dreams.
On the first day of the new term, the storm that had lasted all night finally stopped.
The topic of conversation among all the young witches and wizards at the school today still revolved around the Triwizard Tournament.
It seemed as if you couldn't even greet people properly if you didn't mention it a couple of times.
Sherlock glanced at his new timetable and found there were still overlapping classes—Divination and Arithmancy in the afternoon, he could only choose one.
It seemed Hogwarts was determined to let them become self-taught and strive to become masters of time management.
"Today's morning classes are all outdoors, pretty lucky."
Ron had only chosen two electives, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination so he didn't need to worry about schedule conflicts at all.
He shrugged and said: "Hey, Herbology is with the Hufflepuff students, that's not bad. Care of Magical Creatures though—unlucky, we're with Slytherin again..."
"There's more than one unlucky thing. We have two Divination classes this afternoon."
Harry said somewhat helplessly.
When Divination was mentioned, Harry would think of Professor Trelawney.
Every class, she always tried every way possible to predict that Harry would encounter great misfortune, that Harry was about to meet with disaster, that Harry was going to die soon...
And some people in the class actually believed it, which made Harry very distressed.
Only when Sherlock attended Divination class with him would the professor restrain herself somewhat.
Strangely, Harry had actually received a decent score on last year's end-of-term Divination exam.
This left Harry rather speechless.
He really didn't know what the professor was thinking.
"Why don't you just drop the class like I did?"
Seeing Harry looking so troubled, Hermione thoughtfully offered a solution. "Then you could take a more academic class, like Arithmancy."
For Hermione, after dropping Divination and Muggle Studies, even without using the Time-Turner anymore, she could handle the remaining courses.
"Arithmancy... but that's really difficult, as difficult as Ancient Runes..."
Harry glanced at the timetable and instinctively looked at Sherlock. "Sherlock, which class are we going to this afternoon?"
"Hermione's going to Arithmancy. I'll go to Divination with you."
"Ah?"
"Great!"
Hermione was surprised; Harry was delighted.
"Hermione, take notes on the main content of the first lesson."
Sherlock tapped the timetable with his finger. "Expecting Harry and Ron to remember the content of a lesson is unrealistic."
For Sherlock, he wanted to sit in on the first lesson of every class in the new term.
After all, it was customary for teachers to outline the main learning content for the term in the first lesson.
Hermione had dropped Divination, so she would definitely go to Arithmancy.
Ron had only chosen Divination, so he would definitely go to Divination.
So, the only ones who really needed to make a choice were Sherlock and Harry.
With Hermione's abilities, having her alone attend Arithmancy would be enough to relay the main content of that course to the others afterward.
So, whether anyone else attended class with her didn't really matter much.
But for Divination, even with Ron and Harry combined, they probably couldn't recount the main content of Divination class.
That's why Sherlock wanted to meet this Professor Trelawney.
Hermione felt she had figured all this out, and then nodded. "Alright, I'll try to take as detailed notes as possible."
"Then I'll leave it to you."
Sherlock smiled slightly.
Actually, besides this surface-level reason, there was another one.
Mainly, Sherlock wanted to confirm something.
Herbology class was still in Greenhouse Three.
The main content of this lesson was a completely new plant—Bubotubers.
These things didn't look like plants at all, but rather more like animals.
A thick, black, slimy slug protruding straight up from the soil.
What made it even more absurd was that they were all squirming slightly, with many shiny large bumps on their bodies that seemed to be filled with liquid.
This appearance inevitably produced a feeling of disgust.
However, Professor Sprout's next words doubled that disgust: "You need to collect the Bubotuber pus by squeezing them with your hands..."
"What pus?"
"Pus, yes, Weasley, you heard correctly, pus."
Professor Sprout explained to the disgusted-looking Ron: "I must tell you that Bubotuber pus has extremely high value, so don't waste any."
"Ugh... I hate doing this kind of thing..."
Seamus Finnigan muttered.
Next, the young wizards followed Professor Sprout's instructions, put on dragon-hide gloves, and began collecting Bubotuber pus.
"Be careful, undiluted Bubotuber pus will cause unusual damage to the skin."
Neville saw Ron's careless manner and kindly reminded him.
"Thanks, Neville... Oh, this thing is really gro—huh?"
Ron suddenly made a small sound of surprise.
"What's wrong with you?"
Harry looked curiously at Ron.
His good friend's expression was somewhat strange at the moment.
"He's in a state of contradiction."
Sherlock's gaze swept over Ron and he casually explained: "He's developed a psychological aversion to this task, but physically he's feeling satisfaction."
Harry: "???"
Why did that sound kind of perverted?
However, once he tried it himself, Harry instantly understood what Sherlock meant.
The process of squeezing the tubers was indeed disgusting, mainly in terms of visual effect.
But at the same time, it could also produce a strange sense of satisfaction.
Whenever a swelling was squeezed, it would spurt out a large amount of thick, yellowish-green liquid and emit a pungent smell like gasoline.
How to put it?
It was stress-relieving, after all.
So, throughout the entire lesson, everyone's mood was quite complex.
However, this didn't affect their efficiency.
By the time class was nearly over, the fourth-year students from both houses had already collected several large bottles.
"Madam Pomfrey should be pleased."
Professor Sprout was also satisfied with the young wizards' efficiency. She corked the last bottle and said to everyone. "Who knows what Bubotuber pus is used for?"
Hermione and Neville both raised their hands at the same time.
However, one was quick and decisive, the other slow and hesitant.
After seeing that Neville had also raised his hand, Hermione hesitated slightly, then lowered her hand.
She still had many opportunities, but Neville only had Herbology, so she should let him have this chance.
"Very good, Mr. Longbottom, you answer."
"Bubotuber pus is the best remedy for stubborn acne."
"Excellent, five points to Gryffindor."
Professor Sprout said with a smile. Her gaze swept over the young wizards and lingered for a moment on certain faces: "You're now at puberty, and with Bubotuber pus, we can prevent students from using extreme measures to remove their pimples."
As a deep, resonant bell sounded, traveling across the damp grounds from the castle, the pleasant Herbology lesson ended.
Next, the little lions and little badgers went their separate ways.
The Hufflepuff students climbed the stone steps to Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class.
The Gryffindor students walked down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
At the end of last year, Professor Hagrid had narrowly lost to Professor Lupin in the competition for "Most Popular Subject Teacher," but thanks to his monetary power, Care of Magical Creatures remained very popular.
Later he took Sherlock's advice and introduced magical creatures like Fire-Crabs, which were even more well-received.
Of course, most importantly, for the end-of-term exam, he had arranged a very simple project of caring for Flobberworms that even an idiot like Goyle could easily pass.
One could only say, with Hagrid around, why did Lupin exist?
Plus, the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers had been truly terrible, which made Professor Lupin shine in comparison.
But in any case, the little lions were all full of anticipation for the new term's Care of Magical Creatures course.
Everyone had originally thought Hagrid would bring them something cute like Puffskeins in the first lesson.
Or something thrilling and exciting like Hippogriffs.
They never expected that Hagrid would indeed bring them excitement.
Just in a way they never could have imagined.
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