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Chapter 505: Conflict
🕑 Added 2025-02-17 12:33:35 +0000 UTCKyle and Kanna spent the entire morning in Hagrid's hut.
When lunchtime rolled around, Hagrid enthusiastically invited them to join him.
“Steak hash,” he announced. “You'll never guess how delicious it is.”
At first, Kanna was curious, intrigued by what kind of new dish Hagrid might have prepared. That was until she saw him throw an unknown large paw into the pot.
Her decision was immediate. “I think I’ll head back to the castle,” she said quickly.
Kyle made the same choice without hesitation. In Hagrid’s so-called hodgepodge of steak, the only identifiable steak was a palm-sized piece buried beneath a chaotic mix of unrecognizable ingredients. The "steak" seemed to be included purely in name.
Despite Hagrid’s entreaties for them to stay, they got up and left the hut in a hurry—and they were immensely glad they had.
Perhaps to celebrate the choice of the Champions, the lunch served in the Great Hall featured a spread of brand-new dishes: classic French beef stew, onion soup topped with puff pastry, and an unnamed crispy roll that was likely a Durmstrang specialty. It was delicious.
“Thank goodness we came back,” Kanna said, ladling herself a bowl of onion soup. “I can’t even imagine how that paw would’ve tasted stewed with the steak.”
“It’s hard to imagine indeed,” Kyle replied with a smile.
Hagrid’s sense of “delicious” was vastly different from theirs, not to mention his approach to aesthetics in food.
However, returning to the castle came with its own challenges. The downside was that Kyle had to deal with overly enthusiastic students, who seemed a little too eager to show their support.
During just one meal, Kyle found himself sitting next to a stack of thick books. They had all been borrowed from the library, offered by students who believed they might be helpful for the Triwizard Tournament. But when Kyle casually flipped through them, he realized he’d already read more than half of them.
Over the next few days, this became a daily occurrence. Kyle spent a significant portion of his time graciously refusing these kind gestures—and signing autographs.
Kyle had never imagined that Hogwarts students would actually start asking him for autographs, much like they did with Viktor Krum. This was the first time he fully understood the fame attached to being a Triwizard Champion.
Even when he had become the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin, no one had ever asked him for an autograph before.
Meanwhile, the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang began attending classes alongside the Hogwarts students. Most of them were sixth or seventh years, with not a single fifth-year student among them.
Of all the visiting students, Viktor Krum was undoubtedly the most popular. Wherever he went—whether attending class or simply wandering the castle—he was constantly surrounded by a group of admirers.
Among the crowd around Krum, one face appeared more often than the others: Malfoy.
After two months of relative quiet, Malfoy had returned to his old arrogant self the previous week. He resumed picking on Harry and Ron at every opportunity—though this time, his focus was mostly on Ron.
Whether it was during class or in the corridors, Malfoy made a point of mocking Ron. For the first time, Ron was enduring the same treatment Harry usually received.
Ron was furious. On multiple occasions, he was ready to fight Malfoy, but he managed to hold back thanks to the intervention of others.
This continued for a week. Then, on one Wednesday at lunch, Ron happened to overhear Malfoy speaking to Krum as they walked toward the Great Hall.
“That redhead has a screw loose,” Malfoy said deliberately loud, ensuring Ron could hear every word. “He fawns over anyone famous. First Potter... that idiot with the scar on his head. I suppose he thinks if he hangs around Potter, he’ll somehow move out of that... that house, whatever you call it. Viktor, you must be careful not to get tangled up with him. That little toady...”
“Malfoy!”
Ron shoved his way through the crowd, his face livid. “Do you want to say that again?”
“Oh, I thought it was someone else,” Malfoy sneered, looking Ron up and down. “Have you given up on sucking up to Scarhead Potter? Maybe he’ll give you a decent set of clothes.”
“Get off, Malfoy,” said Harry sharply, as he and Hermione each grabbed one of Ron’s robes to hold him back.
“Don’t be angry, Ron,” Hermione said, trying to calm him. “He just wants you to start a fight so Professor Snape has an excuse to punish you.”
“I don’t care...” Ron snarled, struggling against their grip. “I’ll rip his mouth off today!”
“How frightening,” Malfoy said mockingly. “And your father—oh, that old Weasley—what a disgrace his shabby appearance is to the Ministry of Magic...”
Ron’s struggles intensified.
“Ha, yes, your family dresses so ‘decently,’” Malfoy added with a smirk.
At that moment, Fred and George pushed through the crowd from the opposite side. Unlike Ron, they were calm, even amused.
“George, do you remember the picture in The Daily Prophet the other day?” Fred asked, grinning.
“Of course, Fred. The well-dressed Mr. Malfoy made quite an impression,” George replied, his smile matching his brother’s.
George cleared his throat dramatically and, while gesticulating wildly, began reciting the lines printed in the newspaper:
“I don’t know... Mr. Minister, they threatened me into doing it, I’m innocent...”
These had been Malfoy’s words during his trial, printed alongside a humiliating photo of him.
Fred joined in, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes in a mock imitation of Narcissa Malfoy. Together, they reenacted the scene as though they were performing in a stage play, earning laughter from the surrounding crowd.
“How dare you!” Malfoy snapped, his pale face flushing as he drew his wand and pointed it at Fred and George. “I’ll make you pay!”
“Fine, go ahead!” Fred said calmly, drawing his own wand. “If you’ve got the guts, do it. And then, like the old Malfoy, claim you’re innocent. Isn’t that what your family does best?”
Malfoy glared at Fred, his chest heaving with anger. The tension mounted, and then both moved simultaneously.
“Densaugeo!”
“Protego!”
Malfoy’s spell shot toward Fred, but it rebounded off the Shield Charm and hurtled back faster than it had come.
The next moment, Malfoy was thrown backwards, landing awkwardly on the ground. His front teeth began growing rapidly, extending past his lips and toward his chin at an alarming rate.
“What’s all the ruckus?” a soft but dangerous voice asked.
The crowd parted as Professor Snape appeared, his gaze falling on Malfoy, who looked like a confused and humiliated groundhog sprawled on the floor.
“Professor, you’re just in time! Come and see—I was so scared,” Fred said dramatically, dragging out his words. “I was just practicing the Shield Charm when Malfoy suddenly collapsed. What happened?”
“Practicing the Shield Charm?” Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Yes,” George chimed in. “We really like this charm, so we practice it a lot.”
“That’s right!” came another voice.
With a distinct thump, Professor Moody arrived, his wooden leg clunking as his magical blue eye swiveled between Snape and Malfoy.
“Looks like he’s been hit by his own charm,” Moody growled. “Very interesting... Jinxing your classmates in public, Snape. What do you usually do in these cases?”
Malfoy, still clutching his oversized teeth, didn’t dare say a word.
Snape’s face twisted with irritation.
“Slytherin loses ten points, and Malfoy is confined to his dormitory,” he said coldly, yanking Malfoy up by the robes and dragging him away without further comment.
“Oh!” Fred exclaimed.
“Praise the professor!” George added, slapping Fred on the back, clearly enjoying their triumph over Malfoy.
