"... I thought you two had a falling out—"
Early the next morning, in the crowded entrance hall, Hermione pushed through a group of first-year little wizards gathered around watching the "Savior" and quickly stepped forward to pat Harry on the shoulder, only to be startled by the glaring dark panda eye on the boy's face.
"Oh, it's Hermione."
Harry turned his head and couldn't help but yawn—a result of barely sleeping the entire night, though the panda eyes had another cause.
"Morning, Hermione."
Ron, walking next to Harry, also turned his head. Unlike Harry—his panda eye was on his left eye.
"... Are you two playing a couple's makeup?"
Hermione paused, looking at the two with their dark circles, feeling amused but managed to hold back her laughter.
"We had a bit of a tiff."
Harry had no intention of hiding it, but Ron, standing to the side, felt somewhat embarrassed—thinking back, he realized he was indeed the unreasonable one last night. "Then I gave him a good thrashing—" Harry gestured with his fist, indicating that Ron's eye circle was its doing.
"Mutual fight! It was a mutual fight!"
In such a bizarre situation, Ron insisted as always.
"Alright, then both of you have five days of detention."
"!!"
The trio instinctively turned their heads and saw William, who was also yawning.
"Senior, didn't you sleep well either?"
Although Hermione had a sound sleep last night and got up promptly in the morning, seeing the three people in front of her yawning one after another made her want to yawn too.
"... Sort of."
William rubbed his nose. Until ten minutes ago, he had barely finished restoring the traps he'd dismantled and had to repeatedly throw Stunning Spells at the about-to-awaken Moody. Roughly estimated, Moody wouldn't wake until after lunch.
"Ah—"
Another yawner approached; it was Cedric—finally, Hermione couldn't hold back any longer and joined in with a yawn, while next to Cedric, Cho Chang also covered her mouth with her hand. The chorus of yawns spread like a tide throughout the entrance hall.
Yawning is indeed contagious.
"What's with your looks?"
Cedric rubbed his sleepy eyes and noticed Harry and Ron's half-panda eyes.
The group walked along and sat at the Gryffindor Long Table—once the students from the seven magic schools all arrived, except for Uagadou, which still maintained its isolation, the rest would dine in the hall. Hence, the little wizards were no longer picky about sitting at their own house tables.
"... Is this the magical engine Hermione mentioned before?"
While waiting for breakfast to appear, Ron curiously looked at the square, white metal box William had fished out from somewhere. As one of the two Pure-Blood wizards present (the other being Neville), he had never seen such a peculiar metal box and couldn't grasp its purpose.
"It's a TV."
Hermione corrected him—then William set the TV at the front end of the Gryffindor Long Table and pulled out a remote from his pocket. With a slight press, a swirl of blue light twisted, revealing a decently clear scene on the TV screen: a gray-white corridor, empty of people.
"Where is this?"
Harry, grabbing a piece of bread from the basket, asked curiously.
"Professor Snape's bedroom."
"?!"
"Just kidding, it's the corridor of the sixth-floor classroom—Professor Snape wouldn't allow me to place cameras in his bedroom."
Though I have.
William chuckled and continued pressing the remote—prompting excitement among the little wizards as familiar scenes appeared: above the Black Lake, the Fat Lady at the Gryffindor Common Room entrance, the Eagle Ring at the Ravenclaw Common Room, the Gargoyle, and the Headmaster's Office entrance...
It wasn't the moving images that captivated them—after all, images move even in the Magic Realm—but rather the familiar faces occasionally passing by on the screen, including Professor Graves in a nightgown walking out of the Headmaster's Office with Professor Dumbledore.
"The effect's not bad—"
Eyeing the somewhat satisfactory imaging technology, William nodded. His dissatisfaction wasn't significant but stemmed from his eyes being trained by 4k, 2k, and other high-definition graphics. Naturally, when looking back at a TV from the 1990s, it seemed rather blurry—
"It's Dean! He's only just getting up—"
The native little wizards didn't find it blurry, unlike Ron, who easily named him based on the few dozen pixels flashing by.
After all, it's a color TV; recognizing skin color is standard.
"What is this?"
A crisp voice sounded behind William, followed by a silver figure who came close to him, looking somewhat curiously at the Magic TV beside the table.
"It's her!"
A chorus of exclamations rose and fell, causing William to frown as he turned his head, just in time to meet the girl's gaze. Her waist-length silver hair tilted to one side as she turned, cascading down smoothly. Her alabaster swan-like neck was elegant, her azure eyes narrowed slightly, and a smile graced her lovely face—
"Mr. Richard..."
"You have a piece of spinach between your teeth."
William's eye twitched, and he decisively lowered his head—not because he was intimidated by her beauty or anything nonsensical like that, but because the bit of spinach was so glaringly conspicuous. William was worried that if he kept looking, he might impulsively try to pick it out for her.
"..."
As a result, the atmosphere turned awkward immediately. Fleur instinctively shut her mouth, her gentle smile frozen in place, while her tongue darted around as if searching for the leafy intruder William had mentioned.
"Sister, what exactly is this?"
Finally, in the midst of the stiff atmosphere, a voice full of childlike wonder broke the silence, pulling everyone out of the awkwardness—except for Fleur Delacour, for whom this wasn't so easy. The others wanted to laugh but couldn't do so directly.
Everyone turned to see a "Fleur," two sizes smaller, standing behind her with wide, curious eyes trained on the ever-changing television screen.
"This is my sister, Gabrielle."
Fleur reached out to pull the girl to her side. The embarrassment had yet to fade from her face, and she was at a loss for words. Meanwhile, the little girl, who had just turned eight, clearly didn't share her elder sister's concerns. Swaying her mist-like silver hair, she stood in front of William, looking up—
"Brother, you're so handsome! Are you a Veela too?"
"No, I'm not. And I'm actually not as handsome as Daniel Wu, who's reading now—"
William caught the little girl's outstretched arm and softly started explaining the origins and uses of the TV to her—"So, that means everyone in the world can watch my sister compete in the Eight-Team Tournament?!" After hearing William's words, the little girl's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Yes, and perhaps your mom and dad will watch too—provided they know that such a thing exists first."
"!"
The little girl's eyes lit up, and she quickly ran back to her sister. "Fleur, Fleur, let's hurry back and write a letter to mom and dad!" She said this in French, and William understood it because Hermione had once again taken up the role of translator.
"...Is there anything you can't do?"
Watching Hermione sipping her porridge without a change in expression, William couldn't help but ask.
"Making TVs."
Hermione thought for a moment and then answered.
Meanwhile, Fleur, whose "perfect entrance" was sabotaged by a piece of spinach, finally found a reason to leave. After briefly saying goodbye, she tugged her sister along and dashed out of the hall.
"She's really pretty."
It was Ron who said this again, and after speaking, he began craning his neck to search for "like-minded" people, only to be met with glares from all the witches.
"If you like her, be bold and chase her—"
Fred appeared ghost-like beside Ron, wrapping an arm around his neck.
On the other side, George approached the TV, carefully taking the remote with William's permission and tinkering with it. Ultimately, the bustling hall appeared on the screen in the center, and he reflexively looked up. Just above the teachers' table, in the recessed area of the column, he saw the same rectangular black block.
"Is that a camera?"
"I prefer to call it surveillance."
William nodded and also glanced up. He had placed quite a few of these all over the castle and its surroundings recently to see if Hogwarts' "Magic Magnetic Field" would cause the Magic TV to malfunction. But it seemed that there wasn't such a concern—
"So, the entire tournament process will be live broadcast to the world?"
George rolled his tongue, repeating the somewhat awkward phrase twice.
"Yes."
"Including the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade?"
George was evidently aware of William's current short-term business strategy—namely, using the Eight-Team Tournament's appeal to help the disconnected-from-the-Muggle-world wizards understand the TV's purpose before rolling out a "home version" to rake in the galleons!
"Of course, wizard pubs in the UK should be completely covered—what do you want to do?"
"Obviously, to advertise!"
"Have you guys already made those things?"
William remembered that he had once sponsored these two guys; their original seed money had been taken by Bagman. Later, Professor McGonagall had helped them negotiate with Bagman, only to end up with a note of debt—
"Of course!"
Fred nodded vigorously, and then he pulled out a pouch from who-knows-where and dumped out a heap of items.