Chapter 352: magic, Can It Really Be Played Like This?!
As soon as he finished speaking, Dumbledore pulled his wand from his pocket and waved it gently towards the center of the arena.
A pale silver light flew from the tip of his wand, silently landing on the ground next to the Golden Egg.
None of the spectators knew what this light was for, only the Principals at the judges' table understood.
The next second, the previously invisible barrier charms in the arena suddenly materialized.
They glowed with a faint red aura, extremely regular in shape, like giant bricks meticulously cut, each half a person tall and one meter wide, with straight edges and sharp corners.
These red bricks were not only distributed near the ground but also floated at various heights within the arena.
In the low-altitude area, a dozen bricks were joined together to form small platforms about half a square meter each, just large enough for one person to stand on.
In the mid-to-high altitude area, more bricks were arranged vertically, forming translucent barriers, some blocking the path of the Dragon's claw attacks, while others were positioned within the range of their tail whips.
Watching these clearly visible obstacles, the spectators finally understood firsthand why Dylan Hawkwood could evade so calmly.
These bricks served as both his footholds and natural barriers against the Dragon's attacks.
"So that's it! This is basically building an invisible cage!" someone in the stands exclaimed.
Everyone realized that if the Dragon had tried to ascend any later, these continuously increasing red bricks would have eventually enclosed the entire arena, completely trapping the two Dragons on the ground.
And Dylan Hawkwood had clearly anticipated this.
He had preemptively used barrier charms to restrict the Dragon's wings, leaving them stuck in mid-air.
The wings, which would normally give the Dragon an aerial advantage, had now become a hindrance.
The barrier charms were precisely lodged at the wing joints; the more the Dragon struggled, the stronger the sensation of restraint at the joints, forcing them to maintain a suspended, neither-up-nor-down posture, making it extremely difficult even to adjust their body angle.
"Roar—! Roar—!" The two Dragons let out earth-shattering roars, but these roars lacked their usual ferocity, instead carrying a strong sense of frustration.
They twisted their bodies in vain, their sharp claws flailing in the air, yet unable to touch even a single red "brick."
Their Dragon's breath spewed forth, only to collide with the barriers, turning into bursts of sparks, completely unable to harm Dylan Hawkwood in the distance.
The Dragon Handler Wizards at the edge of the arena watched this scene with exceptionally subtle expressions.
An older Wizard shook his head, his voice full of emotion: "I've dealt with Dragons for thirty years, and this is the first time I've heard a roar like that—it's not the roar of a fierce beast, but clearly the frustrated complaint of something with its hands and feet tied."
Charlie Weasley also nodded, a hint of surprise in his eyes: "Other types of Dragons, like the Common Welsh Green Dragon, occasionally let out similar aggrieved roars after losing a territorial battle. But these are a Hungarian Horntail and a Norwegian Ridgeback, and the strongest female Dragons at that! They are incredibly fierce; even when injured, they only fight harder. To make them emit such a frustrated sound is harder than making a Dragon voluntarily surrender."
"Well, no matter what, today has certainly been an eye-opener," the older Wizard sighed, a touch of relief in his voice, "At least the scales of these two Dragons haven't suffered severe injuries—I was worried before that the rock spears would cut large areas of their scales, but now it seems Dylan Hawkwood's barrier charms, while restricting the Dragons, haven't caused additional harm. Our subsequent treatment work will be much easier."
Not just the Dragon Handler Wizards, but the students in the stands also keenly noticed the unusual nature of the Dragon's roars.
Terry Boot of Ravenclaw pushed up his glasses, looking at the anxiously twisting Dragons in mid-air, and stroked his chin, saying: "I read in a book that Dragons are the proudest magic creatures; even when in desperate straits, they will fight to the death and never show weakness. Now it seems the book's description was too conservative—when facing an opponent like Dylan Hawkwood who can precisely restrict them, even the proudest Dragon will be forced to reveal a frustrated side."
His classmates beside him nodded in agreement.
Everyone had initially thought that a single person facing two Dragons would be a bloody, head-on battle.
But no one expected Dylan Hawkwood to use an almost "gentle" method, through layers of barrier charms, to trap the two fierce Dragons, rendering them immobile, and without causing serious injury!
This "subduing the enemy without fighting" tactic was more shocking than directly defeating the Dragons!
Meanwhile, Dylan Hawkwood, using the platforms built from red "bricks," was steadily approaching the Golden Egg in the center of the arena.
The suspended Dragons, though still roaring, could no longer pose a threat to him.
The Manticore next to the Golden Egg seemed to be attracted by the commotion in mid-air, looking up at the Dragons, temporarily not noticing Dylan Hawkwood approaching.
The best time to retrieve the Golden Egg had quietly arrived.
"So magic can be combined and used like this…" Chris Morne of Ravenclaw looked at the platforms made of red "bricks" in the arena, couldn't help but pull out his wand, gently stroking its shaft, his eyes full of eagerness, "As expected of Dylan Hawkwood, to be able to play so many tricks with basic magic!"
"I advise you not to try it easily," Anthony Goldstein quickly reached out to stop him, pointing towards the stands where the Gryffindor students were, "You'll see over there—someone has already tried it for us."
Chris looked in the direction he pointed, only to see the Gryffindor area in chaos.
Several chairs were overturned, many students were sprawled on the ground, and some were rubbing their bruised arms, complaining softly.
Just then, an orange tabby cat jumped out of the crowd, its form gradually enlarging upon landing, returning to Professor McGonagall's stern appearance.
She stood with her hands on her hips, her sharp eyes sweeping over the chaotic students, and said sternly: "Anyone who dares to cast magic indiscriminately in the stands again will lose fifty points for Gryffindor!"
"See?" Anthony spread his hands, a hint of relief in his voice, "A few Gryffindor students thought Dylan Hawkwood's magic was cool, so they tried to build platforms with barrier charms in the stands. They couldn't control the magic's intensity, not only falling themselves but also bumping into others, which attracted Professor McGonagall."
Chris quickly put away his wand, coughing awkwardly: "Then… then never mind! We don't want to cause trouble for Professor Flitwick; Ravenclaw's points can't afford to be deducted."
Their discussion was quickly drowned out by the commotion in the center of the arena.
The two Dragons in mid-air had clearly realized they couldn't move with their wings restricted, and could only abandon the idea of ascending.
They twisted their bodies anxiously, their sharp Dragon claws flailing uselessly in the air, yet consistently unable to touch those red "bricks"—evidently, this "visible but untouchable" restraint made them even angrier.
Soon, the two Dragons seemed to reach a tacit understanding—since claw attacks and tail whips were useless, they would use the most direct Dragon's breath attack.
They simultaneously opened their gaping mouths, sparks erupting from their nostrils, and a low roar emanating from their throats, as two scorching streams of Dragon's breath instantly spewed forth.
One deep blue, one orange-red, like two angry fire snakes, they lunged towards Dylan Hawkwood.
"Oh! With the two Dragons' wings restricted, they are forced to…" Ludo Bagman explained, following his train of thought, but halfway through, he suddenly realized something was wrong, and his voice abruptly stopped.
He frowned, his mind quickly sorting things out—the word "forced" was always used to describe champions.
For example, a school champion, unable to withstand the ferocity of a Dragon, is forced to abandon the task.
But now, he was actually going to use "forced" to describe the Dragon's actions??
This completely subverted his understanding of the "champion vs. Dragon" confrontation model!!
The Dragon would not wait for Ludo Bagman to clarify his thoughts.
The two streams of Dragon's breath converged in mid-air, the temperature instantly rising, even the red "bricks" along the path were scorched slightly, and in a blink of an eye, they surged towards Dylan Hawkwood.
This time, Dylan didn't defend with a Shield Charm or dodge with a Banishing Charm like before.
He stood steadily on the red platform, raised his wand, and thrust it fiercely towards the incoming Dragon's Breath.
The Dragon's Breath instantly erupted in a dazzling blaze, making the spectators in the stands squint their eyes.
Even knowing Dylan's strength, many couldn't help but clench their fists, their hearts in their throats.
No one expected him to choose to face the Dragon's Breath head-on.
"Boom—!" A colossal explosion-like sound echoed above the arena.
Immediately after, countless white mists of water gushed out from Dylan's position, spreading rapidly like a thick fog, instantly completely obscuring his figure.
The billowing steam continuously spread upwards, not only covering the Dragon in mid-air but also shrouding the upper part of the arena in a thick white mist, where only flickering firelight and Vagueshadows could be vaguely seen.
Ludo Bagman finally recovered from his shock. He pointed at the vast expanse of white mist, his voice filled with disbelief: "My goodness! Dylan Hawkwood is... is he using the Water-Making Spell against the Dragon's Breath?! A direct clash of water and fire! He actually dares to use such a risky method!!! Oh my god—!!!"
His brows were tightly furrowed, and his eyes were slightly narrowed as he tried to see through the steam, but the dense white fog was like a barrier, making it impossible to see anything inside.
"This method is too dangerous, isn't it? If the intensity of the Water-Making Spell can't keep up with the temperature of the Dragon's Breath, the water will be instantly vaporized, and Dylan will be directly exposed to the Dragon's Breath!"
Just as Ludo was anxiously speculating about the situation inside, Dumbledore, at the referee's table, suddenly spoke, his tone calm but with a hint of warning: "Mr. Bagman, please pay attention to your surroundings—the steam is spreading rapidly, and the arena floor is already accumulating water."
Ludo looked down and realized that a thin layer of water had already appeared on the ground at the edge of the arena, and the steam was still spreading towards the stands.
He quickly picked up his wand and loudly reminded through the microphone: "Attention, front-row spectators! The steam carries a high temperature, and the ground is already accumulating water, please step back to avoid slipping or getting scalded!"
At the center of the arena at this moment, steam and firelight were still intertwined, and no one knew what the situation inside was like—had Dylan's Water-Making Spell suppressed the Dragon's Breath, or had the Dragon's Breath broken through the water's defense?
Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on the vast expanse of white steam, waiting for the final outcome.
"Surroundings..." Ludo Bagman, hearing Dumbledore's reminder, quickly composed himself, shifting his gaze from the vast white steam to look around the arena.
Soon, he discovered an anomaly, and his voice instantly rose, with a hint of surprise: "Look! Those red 'bricks' constructed by the Shield Charm—they are actually moving!"
The audience looked in the direction he pointed and indeed saw the red barriers in mid-air slowly moving.
The originally scattered "bricks" gradually gathered, some moving closer to the sides of the Dragon's wings, while others connected below them, forming a tighter encirclement.
"What is Dylan going to do? What is he doing?" Ludo frowned, his tone full of confusion, "This cursed steam! It blocks all our sight!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than a strange change occurred in the steam in the arena.
The white mist, which had been diffused in mid-air, seemed to be drawn by an invisible force, gathering towards the east side of the arena, gradually condensing into masses of dark gray storm clouds.
The storm clouds grew thicker and thicker, soon obscuring the sunlight overhead.
Immediately after, large raindrops poured down from the storm clouds, hitting the ground with a pattering sound, instantly forming a shallow puddle in the center of the arena.
And at this moment, the red barriers finally completed their movement.
They surrounded the two Dragons, connecting to form a cylindrical cage, and the red glow appeared exceptionally striking under the washing of the rain.
The two Dragons were firmly trapped in the center, unable to spread their wings, and their claws could not touch the barriers, so they could only turn their heads in vain, unable to even breathe fire.
Because the top barriers of the cage had already closed, forming a complete enclosed space.
Ludo Bagman blinked, suddenly noticing a detail.
The color of those red barriers seemed much deeper than before, changing from light red to a color close to crimson.
"I understand!" He slapped his thigh suddenly, his voice full of realization, "The high temperature of the Dragon's Breath can bake the barriers redder, but it cannot destroy the structure of the Shield Charm! Now these two Dragons are completely confined in the 'cage' constructed by the Shield Charm, making it difficult for them to even move!"
He looked at the Dragons, which were no longer roaring, his tone considerably more relaxed: "Look! Now both Dragons have calmed down! Next, Dylan only needs to bypass the Manticore next to the golden egg to easily complete the first task! This is simply the easiest 'cleanup' I've ever seen!"
Dumbledore, at the referee's table, heard this and smiled, gently shaking his head, without offering an explanation.
Ludo Bagman didn't notice this detail, but the trapped Dragons felt it with extreme clarity.
They could clearly feel that the surrounding red barriers were continuously emitting faint heat, and the deeper the color, the more obvious the heat.
If this heat continued to intensify, they would probably be literally "roasted" inside, which was by no means the "peaceful" state Ludo spoke of, but rather a forced suppression of their temper!
Just then, Ludo's gaze was drawn to another scene.
He saw that Dylan had already landed steadily on the ground, using the barrier "cage" for support.
And the distant storm cloud, at this moment, also underwent a new change.
The pouring rain suddenly stopped, and immediately after, large snowflakes drifted down from the storm clouds, instantly covering the arena floor with a thin layer of white frost.
"My goodness! What magic is this?" Ludo Bagman's voice was full of admiration, "From torrential rain to heavy snow, it only took less than half a minute! Dylan Hawkwood is demonstrating his ultimate understanding of magic!"
"This ability to precisely control the weather, even a Wizard from the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Meteorology might not be able to do it!"
His gaze shifted to the edge of the arena, and he instantly understood Dylan's intention.
The Manticore, which had been lurking near the golden egg, was now curled up behind a rock, its fur bristling from the cold, and even its tail was pressed tightly against its sides.
Even though Dylan was approaching the golden egg step by step, it merely watched vigilantly, showing no intention of attacking.
Clearly, this sudden blizzard had completely incapacitated the Manticore, which was accustomed to warm environments.
"So that's it! This is Dylan's true purpose!" Ludo Bagman excitedly waved his arms, his voice full of praise, "He used magic to create a blizzard, which not only lowers the ground temperature but also restrains the Manticore's movements! Manticore, as a magical creature, fears cold weather the most; this is simply a perfect strategy that kills two birds with one stone!"
The spectators in the stands also burst into exclamations of admiration.
No one expected that this seemingly difficult "one-man against two Dragons" challenge would ultimately conclude in such an ingenious manner.
No bloody struggle, no perilous dodging, just a simple combination of a few spells easily resolved all threats!
magic, could it be used like this?
Oh my god, is this really just a student who is still in school?
Perhaps even some Professors in many magic schools couldn't compare to him!
Everyone's gaze was focused on Dylan, watching him walk step by step towards the golden egg, awaiting the moment of ultimate victory.
Chapter 353 The First Item Ends
At this moment, the Manticore was huddled behind the rock, motionless, not because of the cold.
The blizzard at most slowed its movements slightly, but it would never affect its combat power.
What truly made it hesitate was the invisible danger lurking in the blizzard.
It could sense through instinct that this snow was not naturally formed; every snowflake was attached with a faint magical fluctuation.
It was not sure if these fluctuations would instantly erupt if it pounced on Dylan, bringing unpredictable consequences.
After weighing its options, it chose to stay in the safe zone and quietly observe the situation.
Of course, the most crucial thing was that this human child gave it a strange feeling of complete powerlessness.
It was as if, if it went up against him, it would surely die!
In the arena, in the resting tent on the other side.
The champions who had completed their trials were intently watching the scene outside, all wanting to know how Dylan would complete the final act.
When Harry saw the heavy snow falling in the distance, he suddenly clapped his hand and realized, "So he had a plan all along! First, use magic to block the Dragon's breath, and the evaporated water vapor just happens to provide enough water source.
This way, it not only blocked the attack but also laid the groundwork for subsequent magic—it's so clever!"
"It is quite clever," Draco said, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against a tent pole, his tone carrying a casual agreement.
"Now that you mention it, it doesn't seem that complicated."
Harry's summary and Draco's words made the Beauxbatons champions nearby look conflicted.
They opened their mouths, wanting to refute that it was not simple at all, but they didn't know where to start.
Theoretically, the logic of a Water-Making Spell blocking Dragon's breath + water vapor changing the weather was indeed clear, but the difficulty in actual combat was only understood by those who had experienced it firsthand.
The Beauxbatons champions exchanged glances, seeing confusion in each other's eyes.
When they cast such magic, they would definitely need to set up ritual magic in advance and use the power of a magic circle to condense a strong enough water column.
But Dylan was in mid-air, without any auxiliary tools, directly casting a larger-scale one.
A tsunami?
This could even allow him to simultaneously counter two Dragon's breaths!
They still hadn't figured out how Dylan precisely controlled the intensity and range of the Water-Making Spell without stable support.
Many people were also watching how Dylan manipulated the weather.
In their school's magic system, this spell was actually a key course, and the members had systematically studied relevant knowledge.
They knew very well that converting from heavy rain to heavy snow required precise control of the water vapor concentration in the air, the extent of the sudden temperature drop, and balancing the output of magical energy.
Even a slight deviation would cause the magic to fail or even backfire.
But Dylan completed this series of operations as smoothly as drinking water, which left them both surprised and frustrated.
Just then, a cheer erupted from outside the tent.
Everyone quickly rushed to the entrance and saw Dylan had already walked to the golden egg, bending down to steadily lift it.
Harry and Draco were the first to cheer, and Cedric also clapped with a smile, instantly making the atmosphere in the tent lively.
The champions from other schools were also attracted by the cheers and gathered at the tent flap, wanting to see what was happening outside.
But before they could stand firm, Madam Pomfrey's strict voice came from behind them: "Everyone, get back to bed and lie down! Look at your injuries, and you dare to move around here? If your wounds open up, you'll be in for it!"
Everyone turned around and saw Madam Pomfrey supporting a champion whose arm had been scratched by a Dragon's claw, wrapped in thick bandages, and who was now trying to struggle to the entrance.
Clearly, Madam Pomfrey's words were mainly directed at this most severely injured champion.
The champion smiled sheepishly and could only obediently be helped back to the infirmary bed by Madam Pomfrey, but still couldn't help but turn his head, looking through the tent's gap at Dylan holding the golden egg outside, his eyes full of admiration.
The moment Dylan raised the golden egg, the discussion at the judges' table officially began.
Madam Maxime took over, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes full of approval for Dylan: "I want to add something—regarding the choice of Dragon in the trial."
"The Hungarian Horntail and the Norwegian Ridgeback, among all Dragon species, both in terms of size and ferocity, rank among the top five, and are by no means comparable to those docile Dragons that rarely actively attack humans."
"Facing such opponents, Dylan was still able to withdraw unscathed, and even prevented the Dragonfrom causing additional damage.
This ability already far surpasses other Wizards of his age.
I wonder, Mr. Karkaroff, do you have any other thoughts?"
He opened his mouth; the argument he had prepared about "magic relying too much on skill rather than raw power" was now completely stuck in his throat.
Karkaroff's face flushed crimson, and he threw his hands up, his voice full of indignation: "I… I haven't said anything yet!"
"Since Mr. Karkaroff has no objections, can we assume that everyone has reached a consensus?"
Ludo Bagman interjected at the opportune moment.
He was afraid of new arguments emerging and quickly pressed on, "If there are no problems, can we start scoring Dylan?"
Karkaroff's face turned from crimson to purplish-blue.
He clenched his teeth, as if squeezing out words: "Of… of course there's no problem! Let's start scoring now!"
Madam Maxime was the first to raise her wand.
She looked at Dylan, holding the golden egg in the center of the arena, her voice full of admiration: "I truly cannot find any fault in Dylan's performance—his tactical design was meticulous, his magic control precise, and he maintained calmness when facing danger.
This is already the most perfect performance."
As her words fell, two faint purple ribbons floated from the tip of her wand, one of them twisting flexibly in the air, finally solidifying into a clear "10"—this was the first perfect score in this competition.
A cheer immediately erupted from the stands, and the Beauxbatons students waved their school flags even more excitedly.
Immediately after, Ludo Bagman and Old Barty Crouch also gave their scores—Ludo's orange-red ribbon and Barty's dark-blue ribbon both, without suspense, turned into "10"s.
The appearance of three consecutive perfect scores instantly ignited the atmosphere of the circular stands.
The audience stood up, applause and cheers intertwined, more fervent than any previous time, even drowning out the Dragon's roars.
Just when everyone thought the scoring was about to end, Headmaster Dumbledore suddenly spoke with a chuckle, his tone carrying a hint of teasing: "Honestly, I think he still has room for improvement—for example, in the density of spell placement, if it could be optimized a bit more, perhaps he could restrict the Dragon faster and reduce unnecessary maneuvering time."
His words made everyone at the judges' table laugh—everyone knew it was just Dumbledore's joke.
After all, achieving a perfect score while single-handedly confronting two powerful Dragons was an unprecedented achievement.
And Dylan, in the center of the arena, seemed to have heard the cheers from the stands.
He raised the golden egg, nodded slightly in the direction of the judges' table, and then, guided by the staff, walked towards the resting tent.
His first trial concluded in the most perfect way.
No sooner had Dumbledore's teasing words fallen than he slowly raised his wand.
His fingertip gently rotated the wand, and a faint silver light overflowed from the tip, gradually condensing into the shape of a ribbon.
The ribbon twisted and intertwined leisurely in the air.
It did not directly form a "10" like the other judges but finally settled on a clear "9".
"Although there's room for improvement, 9 points are already enough to show his excellence."
Dumbledore explained with a smile, his appreciation undiminished.
Everyone understood that this 1-point difference was merely his "expectant strictness" towards a junior, rather than genuinely believing Dylan had significant shortcomings.
Next, it was Karkaroff's turn.
He gripped his wand tightly, his knuckles slightly white from the effort, his brows furrowed, clearly undergoing an intense internal struggle.
Giving a perfect score would mean completely admitting that Dylan's strength far surpassed the Durmstrang champion.
Giving a low score, however, he feared being accused of "personal vendetta" by the other Principals.
After agonizing for a full half-minute, he seemed to have made up his mind, reluctantly raising his wand, muttering softly, "Dumbledore also has a point… there really are areas that could be optimized…"
As he moved, a dark gray ribbon floated from the tip of his wand, hesitated for a few seconds in the air, and finally twisted into an "8".
This score was neither high nor low; it neither completely denied Dylan's performance nor fully revealed his "selfishness," making it the most "compromise" choice Karkaroff could make.
At this point, all judges' scoring was complete, and the scoring segment of the Triwizard Tournament's first task officially concluded.
While the Dragon Handler Wizards and animal control personnel entered the arena, guiding the Dragons with magical ropes and leading the Manticore back to the Forbidden Forest with calming spells, Ludo Bagman stood up and gently pressed the tip of his wand to his neck, casting a Sonorus Charm.
His voice instantly became booming, clearly echoing through every corner of the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I now announce the final scores of the champions from each school in the Triwizard Tournament's first task!" Ludo's voice was full of excitement.
"First, the Beauxbatons champions, whose ritual magic showed extremely high professionalism, ultimately received fifty-two points!"
A round of enthusiastic applause also erupted in the Beauxbatons section, and silver-blue ribbons danced in the air.
"The Durmstrang champions, relying on their excellent flying skills and ability to handle risks, received forty-five points!" Hearing this score, Karkaroff's expression softened slightly, and the Durmstrangstudents also applauded, though their cheers were far less enthusiastic than the previous schools.
"Finally, the Hogwarts champions!" Ludo deliberately raised his voice, his tone full of anticipation.
"Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Cedric Diggory, the three champions, completed the task in an innovative way, receiving fifty-seven points!
And Dylan Hawkwood, with his astonishing performance of single-handedly confronting two Dragons, received sixty-seven points!"
He paused, then added: "According to the pre-tournament rules, Hogwarts' final score will be calculated as the average of the two champions' teams, which is (57+67) ÷ 2 = 62 points!"
As soon as this score was announced, the stands instantly erupted—an average score of 62 points, far surpassing the other schools!
Hogwarts, without a doubt, took first place in the first task!
Beauxbatons ranked second with 52 points, and Durmstrang came in third with 45 points.
"Hogwarts! Hogwarts!" The Hogwarts students stood up excitedly, shouting their school's name loudly.
Many pulled out pre-prepared magical fireworks from their pockets, lit them, and tossed them into the air.
Colorful fireworks bloomed in the arena sky, some transforming into eagles, some into lions, and others into badgers and snakes.
The four animal forms circled and danced in the air, creating an exceptionally spectacular scene.
Cheers, applause, and the crackling of fireworks intertwined, and the entire arena seemed to transform into an ocean of joy.
Harry, Cedric, and Draco, hearing the cheers in the resting tent, exchanged smiles.
The victory in the first task set a perfect start for Hogwarts, and the next challenges still awaited them.
On the magic screen in the resting tent, the judges' scoring was being broadcast live.
When Harry saw Karkaroff's dark gray ribbon finally twist into an "8," he couldn't help but shake his head with a sigh, his tone carrying a hint of surprise: "He actually gave an 8… that's already considered a high score!
I was worried he'd only give a 4 again, like he did when scoring us before."
Draco stood nearby, his brows tightly furrowed, his gaze fixed on Karkaroff's tense profile on the screen, his tone full of disdain: "Doubling a 4 to an 8 is worth being surprised about? Look at his expression—his mouth is almost twisted to his ears, and the hand holding his wand is still trembling slightly.
He was clearly forced into it and only gave that score because he had no choice; he must be incredibly conflicted inside."
Harry followed his gaze and indeed saw that while Karkaroff maintained a calm facade, the unwillingness in his eyes was undeniable, and he even deliberately avoided eye contact when the other Principals looked at him.
He couldn't help but nod, agreeing: "It really is like that… if it were any other time, he probably wouldn't even spare a 6."
Cedric, standing nearby, also nodded in agreement.
In fact, even before the scoring began, they had learned about the judges' scoring habits through discussions with champions from other schools.
Now, seeing Karkaroff's score, the three further confirmed their previous judgment—most judges maintained relative fairness when scoring.
Madam Maxime was also like this; when scoring her own school's champions, she would subconsciously give a high score of 9, which served as encouragement for her own students.
But when scoring other schools, she could still judge objectively, and the scores were all within a reasonable range.
Harry, Draco, and Cedric could all understand this level of "selfishness."
After all, they were champions trained by their own school; watching them strive in the competition, it was inevitable to have a bit more favoritism, as long as it didn't exceed reasonable boundaries, it wouldn't violate the principle of fairness.
Chapter 354 Arrangements for the Second Item
However, Karkaroff's scoring completely crossed the line of 'reasonableness'.
According to information revealed by Champions from other schools, Karkaroff's standards for grading other schools were ridiculously strict.
The Beauxbatons Champion completed the task perfectly, and her tactics and performance were recognized by the other judges, yet he only gave her 4 points, almost deliberately negating all her efforts.
Even more unacceptable was that when it was the Durmstrang Champion's turn, his scoring standards instantly changed.
Clearly, the Durmstrang Champion also failed to complete the task, and there was even an accident where his golden egg was burned.
Yet Karkaroff directly gave him a perfect score of 10 points!
At the time, Harry and Cedric were so shocked they couldn't speak when they heard this news—they had never imagined that a judge could be so biased.
Draco, on the other hand, had a 'seen it all before' expression, as if he had long anticipated it, and merely said indifferently, "Such people are always like this. As long as Durmstrang's interests are involved, all principles of fairness can be thrown out the window."
Now, looking at Karkaroff's stiff expression on the screen, Draco added, "However, after this round of scoring, the other Principals must have understood his intentions."
"Next time there's a scoring session, this segment will definitely be adjusted. Most likely, it will be held until all schools' Champions have completed the task, or it's confirmed they cannot complete it, before all judges score together."
He paused, a hint of certainty in his eyes: "And by then, Karkaroff will definitely be made to score first—his score will be revealed first, and then other judges will adjust their scores based on his, to prevent him from seeing others' high scores and deliberately lowering the scores of other schools, continuing his double standards."
Harry and Cedric exchanged glances, both feeling that Draco's prediction made a lot of sense.
After all, with this scoring controversy, no one would ignore Karkaroff's bias. Adjusting the scoring process became a necessary measure to ensure fairness in subsequent competitions.
What they were more concerned about at the moment was what the next challenge would be after the first task.
"Actually... I don't think the Durmstrang Champions did anything wrong either." Cedric looked at the Durmstrang match footage being replayed on the magic screen, his tone carrying a hint of regret, and he hesitated halfway through his sentence, as if afraid his opinion was inappropriate.
"You're right! They really just had bad luck." Harry immediately agreed, his eyes full of understanding. "When I watched the replay, I noticed they were almost touching the golden egg, just one last step, and then the golden egg was accidentally burned by the Dragon's breath. It was such a shame."
Draco leaned against the tent's railing, hands in his pockets. Hearing their words, he couldn't help but shrug, a hint of teasing in his tone: "Bad luck is one thing, but having a Principal like that is truly helpless. If they really can't stand it, they'll just have to wait for them to get a new Principal—but in the short term, there's probably no hope."
Their discussion was soon interrupted by footsteps outside the tent.
Dylan followed a Ministry of Magic staff member in a dark green uniform, entering from the arena entrance.
The staff member held a folder and briefly explained the subsequent procedures to Dylan as they walked. The two quickly arrived in front of the medical rest tent on the inner side of the arena.
As soon as the staff member lifted the tent flap, Madam Pomfrey's figure immediately appeared at the entrance.
She frowned, holding her healing wand, and first quickly walked up to Dylan, scanning him meticulously from head to toe. The pale blue light at the tip of her wand showed no abnormal reactions.
Then she moved behind Dylan, specifically checking his shoulders and back. Only after confirming there were no hidden wounds or burns did she finally breathe a sigh of relief, a relieved smile appearing on her face: "How impressive! You didn't injure yourself at all."
"Thank you for your praise, it's nothing." Dylan replied with a smile.
Just a few Dragons and a snow leopard.
It truly was nothing.
"That's right! Very ambitious and confident!" Madam Pomfrey patted his arm, her tone full of satisfaction, "This is probably the happiest news for me today—at least there are no new wounds to deal with."
As soon as she finished speaking, Harry excitedly stood up from his seat and quickly walked up to Dylan, his tone full of admiration: "Dylan! Your method of dealing with the Dragon just now was too amazing! My goodness, one spell could block Dragon's breath and attack at the same time. I never thought basic magic could be used like that before!"
"Your responses were also excellent." Dylan smiled as he looked at Harry, Draco, and Cedric, his gaze lingering on Harry for a few seconds. "I heard you hurt your back earlier. Your wound should be fine now, right?"
"Of course it's fine! Aren't you confident in Madam Pomfrey's healing magic? I'm completely..." Harrysaid, trying to turn around to show his healed back, but as soon as his body turned halfway, he suddenly froze in place—as if held by an invisible force.
"Even if it's completely healed, you can't move so much!" Madam Pomfrey's stern voice immediately rang out. She walked to Harry's side and gently tapped his back with her wand. "I healed your wound, but the healed skin still needs time to consolidate. You must rest well and avoid strenuous activity!"
As her words fell, Harry's body regained its ability to move.
He rubbed the back of his head, his voice becoming a little weak: "I know... Although the wound is indeed healed, since you say so, I'll rest obediently for a few days."
"You've all worked hard during this time, get some rest." Dylan looked at their slightly tired faces, his tone full of understanding—to prepare for the first task, they had been practicing tactics almost every day for the past few days, which indeed consumed a lot of energy.
"Oh, right," Draco suddenly remembered something and turned to look at the Ministry of Magic staff member next to him, a hint of doubt in his voice, "Where are Ludo Bagman and the rest of the judging panel? After the scoring ended, wasn't there any announcement about what's next?"
The staff member quickly flipped open the folder in his hand, scanned it a few times, and then replied: "Mr. Ludo is currently in the center of the arena, discussing the arrangements for subsequent projects with the Principals of the judging panel. After we confirm the physical condition of all Champions here, he will come over and explain the next steps. He should be here in about ten minutes."
Hearing Draco's question, the Ministry of Magic staff member immediately realized he needed to inform all Champions of the situation.
He cleared his throat, deliberately raising his voice to ensure that Champions from other schools in the tent could also hear clearly: "Please rest assured, Champions, Mr. Ludo and the Principals of the judging panel are not deliberately delaying. They need to temporarily prepare some items related to the subsequent process, so they will be a little late. Please wait patiently."
As soon as the staff member finished speaking, Draco raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his tone: "Preparing items? What could be so important that the judging panel needs to spend time preparing it? It's not a reward for us, is it?"
"I think it's probably related to the golden egg." Dylan's voice rang out at the right time. He held up the gleaming golden egg in his hand, gesturing for everyone to look at it. "Have you noticed anything different about this golden egg compared to the eggs we usually see?"
When Draco heard this, his tone instantly became hesitant: "Anything different? I did glance at it before, but I didn't look closely..."
He was actually like Harry; ever since completing the task and returning to the tent, his attention had been entirely on Dylan's match against the two Dragons, and he had long forgotten about the golden egg.
"After we came back, we put the golden egg on the medical bed over there, and we haven't had time to study it closely."
Harry shook his head directly, a hint of embarrassment in his tone, and even coughed twice to cover it up, "Mainly, I was so eager to know how you dealt with the Dragons at the time. As soon as Madam Pomfrey healed my wound, I rushed to open the tent flap to watch the match, and I had no mind for the golden egg."
As he spoke, he pointed to a medical bed in the corner of the tent—their golden egg lay quietly on the white sheet, sunlight filtering through the tent's seams, casting a faint glow on it.
And the reason Draco hesitated was precisely because he had done the same thing. When he saw Dylan trapping the Dragons with magic, his attention was instantly captivated, and he even forgot to take another look at the golden egg placed next to him.
"Look here." Dylan walked to the medical bed, placed his golden egg and the other golden egg side by side, then picked up one of them and pointed to the slightly pointed end of the egg, "If you look closely, you can find a very thin seam in the middle of the golden egg. It's easy to miss if you're not paying attention."
Harry immediately leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the seam, his fingers itching to touch it, but he was afraid of accidentally damaging the golden egg.
He observed for a few seconds, his tone a little uncertain: "It feels... this seam seems to be specially designed. Maybe it can be pried open by hand?"
He turned to Dylan, asking tentatively, "Shall we try? See if there's anything hidden inside?"
Just as Harry's hand was about to touch the golden egg, the tent flap was suddenly pulled open.
Ludo Bagman and Old Barty Crouch walked in, carrying a golden egg—evidently, this was for the Durmstrang Champion who had not yet received his golden egg.
They first handed the golden egg to the Durmstrang Champion. After he took it, Old Barty Crouchstepped forward, speaking in a serious tone: "Champions, I will now announce the arrangements for the second task."
The tent instantly fell silent, and everyone's gaze was focused on him.
Old Barty continued: "The second task will officially begin on March 1st. Before then, you will have enough time to rest and adjust, and you can also use this time to try and decipher clues related to the second task."
His gaze turned to Dylan, and he specifically pointed to the golden egg in his hand: "I'm sure you've noticed that this golden egg itself is the key clue to the second task. If you've observed the golden eggcarefully, you should have noticed the seam on its body—you can open the golden egg through this seam, and inside are important messages related to the second task."
As soon as Old Barty finished speaking, a low murmur of discussion erupted in the tent.
Harry and Draco exchanged glances, both seeing surprise in each other's eyes, not expecting that the golden egg they had previously ignored actually contained such an important clue.
And Champions from other schools also picked up their golden eggs, beginning to carefully observe the inconspicuous seam, their eyes full of curiosity and anticipation.
In Madam Pomfrey's perception, everyone in the tent was divided into two categories—the injured who needed treatment, and the temporarily safe non-injured.
After Old Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman left, some injured Champions had just picked up their backpacks, ready to leave the tent, when she quickly walked up and grabbed their arms.
"Wait, your injuries aren't fully healed yet." Madam Pomfrey frowned, pulling out a small bottle of pale green potion from her medical kit and handing it to them. "This is an anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving potion. Apply it to the wound once in the morning and once in the evening. Don't find it troublesome. Also, don't do strenuous exercise for the next three days. If the wound reopens, it won't be as simple as just applying medicine."
The Champions quickly nodded in agreement.
Harry, Dylan, and Draco followed behind, and couldn't help but exchange smiles as they watched this scene.
Not long after they walked out of the tent, a sharp scream suddenly came from behind them. The sound was urgent and loud, piercing the tranquility of the arena, making one's scalp tingle.
"What's going on?" Harry was so startled he almost jumped, turning sharply to look in the direction of the tent, his eyes full of confusion. "Did Madam Pomfrey do something to them again? Like forced treatment or something?"
Draco raised an eyebrow, a hint of malicious teasing in his tone: "Maybe someone didn't listen to medical advice, like secretly trying to practice magic, and Madam Pomfrey found out. In her anger, she might have used a 'Softening Charm' to temporarily immobilize that person—after all, for her, 'obediently recovering' is the most important thing."
Cedric heard this and couldn't help but shake his head with a smile: "It shouldn't be that exaggerated.
Although Madam Pomfrey is strict, she only uses healing magic and wouldn't casually use spells to restrict people's movement."
Dylan, meanwhile, recalled the details of that scream: "The sound didn't sound like a simple wail of pain. It sounded more like someone trying to speak but not clearly, with a hint of urgency. Maybe someone was trying to explain something, but was too rushed and couldn't control their volume."
"Could it be an African language?" Harry suddenly thought of something, his eyes lighting up. "Lee Jordan told us before that he traveled to Africa for a while during the summer, and he even imitated local Wizards speaking in front of us, just making a bunch of 'woo-wah' sounds, saying that was his daily communication with the locals."
Chapter 355: Ghostly Scream?
He paused, then added, "I didn't understand a word he was saying at the time, but Fred and Georgeslapped their thighs and said, 'That's a perfect imitation!' They even said Lee wasn't lying. Ron, though, thought it was just a joke the three of them made up, not an African language at all."
Just as they were discussing animatedly, a clear female voice suddenly came from beside them: "Mr. Dylan Hawkwood, would you mind sparing a few minutes to chat with us?"
Dylan looked in the direction of the voice and saw Fleur Delacour standing in the shade of a nearby tree. Behind her were Adèle Lefèvre and Claudia Laroche—all three were Beauxbatons champions, and they were looking at him with a hint of anticipation in their eyes.
Dylan quickly had a guess.
They probably wanted to discuss the details of the magic used in the first task, such as how he used magic to trap the Dragon.
He smiled and nodded: "Of course, no problem. Let's talk here."
Seeing this, Cedric patted Dylan's shoulder: "Then we'll head back to the Castle first. We'll find you later."
"See you."
Dylan waved to them, and after watching Harry and the others walk away, he turned to walk towards Fleur and the other two, ready to hear their thoughts.
As soon as Dylan walked into the shade, Fleur Delacour spoke directly, with undisguised curiosity in her tone: "Mr. Dylan Hawkwood, we came to you today mainly to ask about the magic you performed in the arena—that magic that could instantly condense a large amount of water, and even withstand two Dragon breaths. We are really curious about its principle."
She paused, seemingly choosing her words carefully, then added: "I wonder if this magic involves any secret techniques? If it's not something that needs to be kept secret, we hope to make a deal with you—we are willing to exchange Beauxbatons' unique magic, just to understand the details of this magic, such as the method of energy control and the distribution of attention during spellcasting."
"A deal?" Dylan caught this key piece of information, raised an eyebrow, and his eyes showed a hint of interest—he hadn't expected the Beauxbatons champions to seek magical exchange in such a way.
Fleur immediately explained: "This is a custom of Beauxbatons. Our school has a deep accumulation in Alchemy teaching, and the core of Alchemy is 'equivalent exchange,' so when we handle many things, we unconsciously apply this principle—we don't want to acquire others' knowledge for free, and we hope our sharing will receive corresponding respect."
"I see." Dylan's lips curved into a smile, "Using the principles of Alchemy to handle magical exchange, this method is indeed very special and meaningful—it ensures fairness and can promote the collision of different magical systems."
Hearing Dylan's approval, Fleur's eyes lit up, and her smile showed a hint of undeniable pride—Beauxbatons' Alchemy tradition had always been her pride, and receiving recognition from other excellent Wizards made her exceptionally happy.
But before Fleur could continue with the specifics of the deal, Dylan changed the subject: "However, regarding this magic, I don't think a deal is necessary."
He looked at their surprised expressions and added: "You can look out for the next issue of The Hogwarts Voice school newspaper. I've already written a paper on the principles of the magic, the spellcasting steps, and the details of my adjustments in actual combat, and submitted it. By then, you can just read the paper to understand everything."
"The Hogwarts Voice?" Adèle Lefèvre couldn't help but raise her voice, her tone full of surprise, "You actually published the details of such practical combat magic directly in the school newspaper?"
Clotilde, beside her, also nodded and explained: "We've been at Hogwarts for a while and already knew about this school newspaper. It's just that we've been busy preparing for the first task, either practicing ritual magic or researching the Dragon's weaknesses every day, so we haven't had the mind to read the school newspaper—even Fleur has been busy refining her plan to fight the Dragon, even pausing her Alchemy experiments, let alone paying attention to the school newspaper's content."
"Of course, it's true." Dylan's tone was calm, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, "Headmaster Dumbledore has always told us that any thoughts about magic, no matter how profound or shallow, are worth recording and sharing—they don't necessarily have to be written as rigorous academic papers, but can also be essays, experimental logs, or even small tips for modifying spells. He said, 'As long as there is earnestness poured into magic, any medium is fine; there's no need to be bound by form.'"
Fleur was silent for a few seconds, then still insisted: "But I already said I wanted to make a deal. I can't let you share it for free. We still hope to do something for you, even if it's not an equivalent exchange, we don't want this transfer of knowledge to be 'one-sided'."
Looking at Fleur's serious expression, Dylan pondered for a moment and suddenly had an idea: "I do have a suggestion—you could also write an article about the ritual magic used in Beauxbatons' spellcasting and submit it to The Hogwarts Voice. This way, Hogwarts students can learn about the characteristics of ritual magic, and you can also organize your magical thoughts through writing. It's a kind of bidirectional sharing, what do you think?"
"That's a very fair proposal."
Fleur immediately nodded, but quickly hesitated again, "However, I need to report to Madam Maximefirst—ritual magic involves some traditional Beauxbatons techniques, and if the Principal doesn't agree to disclose it, we might not be able to submit it."
She paused, then added sincerely: "If the Principal doesn't agree to disclose it, what we can do is to organize the core principles of the ritual magic array separately and give them to you alone. But we also hope you can understand and not spread these contents, considering it our secret exchange."
Dylan smiled and extended his hand: "No problem, I'll wait for your news. Whether it's a submission or a private sharing in the end, I'm very much looking forward to learning about Beauxbatons' ritual magic—after all, the collision of different magical systems is an interesting thing in itself."
Fleur looked at Dylan's outstretched hand and also smiled as she shook it—an agreement centered around magical sharing was thus reached in an unexpected way.
After bidding farewell to Fleur and the other two, Dylan did not immediately return to Hogwarts Castle.
Instead, he went to the library.
Hogwarts had many books, and even though he studied day and night, there were always books he hadn't finished reading.
Upon returning to Hogwarts, Dylan went to the common room.
As soon as he walked in.
A dozen Gryffindor students were guarding the door. Seeing him enter, they immediately cheered and surrounded him, escorting him to the center of the common room.
Harry and the others were also there.
The common room had been meticulously decorated.
Most of the originally scattered tables and armchairs were piled in a corner, while the remaining few were pushed to the center, forming a long, large table.
The table was laden with various delicacies and drinks.
Golden crispy pumpkin pies, gingerbread drizzled with honey, silver pitchers full of freshly squeezed juice, and several plates of fragrant roasted chicken, looking like a small buffet.
"Everyone! Let's give our Gryffindor champion—Dylan Hawkwood—the warmest applause for his safe return!"
"Champion Dylan!"
"Hero Dylan!"
"Dragon Slayer Dylan!"
The students immediately cheered along, shouting increasingly exaggerated titles. Many also held up small flags they had prepared earlier, emblazoned with the words "Gryffindor Will Win."
Even more enthusiastically, several students skilled in magical decoration raised their wands, instantly conjuring countless colorful festive ribbons.
They danced and swirled in the air, like flowing rainbows.
Others lit magical fireworks, and tiny sparks whizzed around in circles in the air.
The atmosphere in the common room instantly reached a climax. The aroma of food intertwined with the scent of fireworks. The students cheered and eagerly rushed to the large table, picking up plates to sample the various delicacies.
Dylan and Harry were surrounded by their classmates, receiving congratulations, and couldn't help but break into bright smiles.
Dylan paused, but still didn't go directly back to his dormitory.
When everyone had eaten their fill and were resting with full bellies in their chairs, someone suddenly pointed to the golden egg in the corner: "Oh right! Dylan, Harry, where are the golden eggs you brought back from the arena? Didn't Old Barty Crouch say there were clues for the second task inside? Can we take a look?"
This sentence instantly piqued everyone's interest. All eyes turned to the golden egg, and the previously lively common room instantly fell silent. Everyone waited for Dylan's answer.
Hearing someone mention the golden egg, Ron first frowned, his tone full of surprise: "I thought the Ministry of Magic would retrieve the golden eggs after the competition, I didn't expect them to still be with us. Do we really need it for the next task?"
As soon as he finished speaking, George had already walked quickly to the corner, picked up the golden egg, and examined it carefully.
He almost pressed his nose against the egg, his fingers gently caressing the surface of the shell, and soon made a discovery: "Look, there's a very thin crack here, it can be pried open! Should we pry it open and take a look?"
"Do we really have to open it now?" Neville hesitated, a hint of worry in his eyes, "I remember Old Barty Crouch mentioned that the second task requires the champions to complete it independently. Wouldn't it be inappropriate for everyone to study it together now?"
"But the task hasn't officially started yet." George's eyes were a bit unfocused, his fingers unconsciously picking at the corner of his clothes, "It's just looking at what's inside, it shouldn't count as breaking the rules, right?"
Everyone's gaze finally focused on Dylan. Fred spoke first, asking: "Dylan, what do you think? Should we open it now and take a look?"
Dylan looked at their expectant eyes and smiled, nodding: "It's fine to open it and take a look. If you know the clue first, just don't tell me for now, and I'll figure it out myself. This way, it doesn't violate the 'independent task' requirement, and it satisfies everyone's curiosity."
"No problem!"
"I promise I won't tell you!"
"Definitely keeping mum!"
"Don't worry!"
The students immediately chimed in, nodding their heads like pecking chickens, afraid Dylan would change his mind.
In fact, as early as when he brought the golden egg back from the arena, Dylan had noticed its special features.
A faint layer of magical energy was attached to the surface of the eggshell, which ordinary unlocking spells could not break. Instead, prying it open directly with hands from the crack was the most direct and effective method.
He guessed that this design was probably related to the Dragon in the first task.
After all, a Dragon's breath is extremely hot. If it were unlocked with magic, it would likely trigger an energy backlash. It was just unfortunate for Viktor Krum that the Dragon happened to attack the golden egg with its breath, causing the golden egg to be burned.
Dylan walked over to George, took the golden egg, placed his hands on either side of the crack, and looked up at everyone: "Then I'm going to open it. Everyone pay attention, there might be something unexpected inside."
The students immediately held their breath and nodded repeatedly, their eyes fixed on the golden egg, not daring to blink, for fear of missing any detail.
"Three… two… one!" As Dylan's words fell, he gently applied force with both hands, and the golden eggsnapped open with a "click."
But it was empty inside, with no physical object, only a piercing shriek suddenly erupted.
The sound was sharp and ear-splitting, like countless saws cutting glass simultaneously, or a trapped beast roaring in despair, making people's scalps tingle.
The reason it was "familiar" was because Dylan, Harry, and others had heard a similar sound not long ago when they left the medical tent, but it was further away then, and the sound wasn't as clear.
The students subconsciously opened their mouths wide, clapped their hands over their ears, their features contorted, their faces showing extremely uncomfortable expressions, and some even couldn't help but frown and take a step back.
Just then, Hermione quickly raised her wand and clearly chanted the spell: "Muffliato!"
A pale blue magical light instantly enveloped the entire area. The piercing shriek immediately disappeared, replaced by a faint "buzzing" sound, like distant insects flapping their wings, no longer causing any discomfort.
The students all lowered their hands from their ears, exhaled a long breath, and their faces showed expressions of relief after a narrow escape.
Fred rubbed his slightly numb ears and said with lingering fear: "Oh my goodness, that sound was too terrifying, it was like a banshee roaring in my ear. I thought my ears were going to be deafened just now."
"And this golden egg was taken from a Dragon, but the sound inside doesn't sound like a Dragon's roar at all; instead, it has a strange feeling to it."
George frowned, tapping his chin with his finger, clearly pondering the source of the sound.
Harry frowned: "Similar sounds came from the medical tent just now. Could it be that champions from other schools also encountered this situation when studying the golden egg? Are they alright?"
Chapter 356 Mermaid
"She probably found a clue, but just hasn't figured out how to deal with it yet," Hermione speculated. "But that's normal; after all, the golden egg's clue surely isn't that easy to decipher."
After a while, everyone saw Dylan gently close the golden egg.
George was the first to react, eagerly asking, "Dylan, have you guys already figured out the golden egg's secret?"
"We've figured out half of it," Dylan explained with a smile.
"Huh?" Neville blinked.
Dylan then hummed a tune, and then, looking at the students gathered around him, he explained, "The tune I just hummed is actually the golden egg's true melody."
"Huh?" Neville subconsciously blinked, his brows furrowed tightly as he tried to connect the ear-splitting shriek that made people cover their ears with Dylan's somewhat pleasant humming.
After several attempts, he still shook his head, his tone full of confusion: "The difference is too great, isn't it? There's no way to connect them! What we heard from the golden egg just now clearly sounded like a banshee roaring madly in our ears, completely unrelated to any melody!"
"Hey! I told you that first!" Ron, standing nearby, immediately raised his hand, protesting with a hint of smugness, "I complained to you just now, saying it sounded like a banshee roaring. Why are you acting like it's your own idea now?"
"Indeed, they sound like they're on completely different levels," Dylan nodded with a smile, agreeing with everyone's feelings, then changed the subject. "But that's precisely the key—we need a 'medium' to restore the distorted sound from the golden egg to its original pleasant form."
He looked around and continued, "This medium is a humid environment. I need to make the air here moist first. If you don't mind, please gather a little closer to me. The golden egg's song might be quite soft later, and you might not hear it clearly if you're too far away."
At this point, as if suddenly remembering something, he added, "Oh! There's also one more important thing—it's best if everyone casts a Charms on themselves first. When the environment becomes humid later, the water vapor in the air will be quite heavy. With this Charms, you won't have to worry about your clothes getting wet, and you won't feel sticky and uncomfortable."
"A song? And we need to cast a Charms specifically?" Hearing these new requirements, the students' curiosity was instantly piqued, and the discomfort from being startled by the shriek had long vanished.
Everyone pulled out their wands, flicked their wrists, and clearly recited the Charms.
A faintly glowing magical barrier instantly enveloped everyone's clothes, like a transparent protective film.
After casting the Charms, everyone eagerly moved forward again, forming a tight circle, their eyes fixed on the golden egg in Dylan's hand.
Dylan first stepped aside, waving his wand towards the long table laden with food in the center of the room.
As a faint blue glow emanated from the tip of his wand, the long table slowly moved to the corner, clearing enough space.
Then, he re-gripped the golden egg, aimed his wand at its surface, took a deep breath, and clearly recited the Charms.
"Moisture Without Sound."
This was a moisturizing and preservation Charms specifically used to create a humid environment.
The moment the Charms was cast, a pale blue, translucent energy field rapidly spread out from the golden egg's center, enveloping all the students present.
Within the energy field, the air instantly became humid; skin could clearly feel tiny water particles, yet it didn't make one feel stuffy or hot.
The previously dry air seemed infused with life, becoming fresh and moist, perfectly preparing for the golden egg's song to emerge.
As the Charms was cast, the pale blue magical energy field quickly stabilized.
The students immediately felt a noticeable change.
The surrounding air became exceptionally humid, with water vapor clinging to the skin, bringing a cool sensation, as if truly by a lake or in a forest after rain; even breathing tasted faintly moist.
Fortunately, everyone had heeded Dylan's reminder and cast the Charms beforehand.
A golden magical barrier enveloped their clothes; the thick water vapor automatically dispersed upon encountering the barrier, not dampening the fabric in the slightest.
But the wool rug on the floor wasn't so lucky; without magical protection, it was visibly absorbing water vapor, its once fluffy and dry fibers gradually becoming heavy.
Some even lightly stamped their feet and could see tiny water droplets seeping from the rug, leaving shallow wet marks on the floor.
Dylan tucked his wand back into his robe pocket, gripped the golden egg with both hands again, his thumbs pressed against the sides of the seam, and looked up at the gathered students: "Ready? This time, when I open it, you should hear the golden egg's true voice."
The students nodded, their eyes full of anticipation, yet also with a hint of caution.
That piercing shriek earlier was too vivid; several people, seeing Dylan prepare, instinctively winced, their hands raised to their ears, ready to cover them, clearly afraid of hearing that jarring sound again.
Dylan said no more, gently applying pressure with both hands, and with a "click," the golden egg was pried open again.
As before, the eggshell was empty, with no physical object inside, but this time the sound that emerged was completely different.
It wasn't a sharp shriek, but a delightful chorus, male and female voices intertwined, with a gentle and soothing melody—the exact tune Dylan had just hummed, only with added harmony, making it sound richer and more moving.
The singing was also interspersed with clear lyrics, each word reaching everyone's ears: "Find us where our voices sound, for on the surface, we cannot sing."
"First, you will lose the treasure you live by… you will be in dangerous darkness… We have hidden your treasure in the pure thing, to seek and reclaim what we have taken."
"An hour's time, complete the 'magnum opus' as best you can, or return laden with the 'magnum opus,' or face failure and return empty-handed."
The lyrics repeated twice before gradually fading.
Dylan slowly closed the golden egg, then drew his wand and lightly tapped the pale blue energy field; the energy field instantly dissipated, and the surrounding humidity receded with it.
He then turned his wand to the rug on the floor and recited Scourgify.
Light swept over the rug; its previously damp fibers instantly returned to being dry and fluffy, and even the wet marks left earlier vanished.
The golden egg's song completely faded, and the common room was silent for a few seconds before erupting into lively discussion.
George spoke first, his tone full of confusion: "The difference between before and after is too great! When it was opened just now, the sound inside was like a banshee screaming, horrible and ear-piercing, but now it's become such a beautiful chorus, even the melody is so graceful. What caused this?"
Hermione didn't immediately join the discussion. She looked down at the rug on the floor, subconsciously increasing the pressure from her calf, and lightly tapped the spot where the rug had seeped water with her fingertip, saying thoughtfully, "Could it be related to the environment? The first time it was opened, the surroundings were dry. This time, before it was opened, Dylan used magic to make the air very humid, and then the song appeared. Perhaps the golden egg needs a specific humid environment to reveal its true voice."
Her words instantly resonated with others, and Fred immediately nodded: "Now that you mention it, I think that makes sense too! The water vapor in the energy field was especially dense just now, and the rug was soaked, and the golden egg sang. Before, in the medical tent, the environment was dry, so it emitted a shriek. From this perspective, 'humidity' must be the key to unlocking the golden egg's sound!"
Dylan watched everyone discussing animatedly and didn't immediately interject.
He knew that students drawing conclusions through their own observations was more meaningful than being directly told the answer.
And the golden egg's lyrics mentioning "pure thing," "dangerous darkness," and "an hour's time" gave him an initial guess about the second task.
"To achieve that level of humidity just now, you'd probably have to go to the seaside, wouldn't you? And it would have to be on a foggy day—that kind of misty weather where you can wring water out of the air is the only way to get such dense water vapor."
A Gryffindor student rested his chin in his hand, his tone full of speculation, his gaze unconsciously drifting towards the night sky outside the window, as if already imagining a foggy seaside scene.
"You have a point," Dylan nodded, his fingers gently caressing the surface of the golden egg, and added, "Moreover, when there's heavy fog at sea, a certain magical creature often appears in various legends. Their existence is closely related to 'water' and 'sound.'"
"It's Sirens, isn't it! Or what we usually call Merpeople!" Hermione's eyes lit up, and she immediately reacted, her tone full of excitement, "The golden egg's song just now needed a humid environment to appear, and Merpeople live in water and are known for their singing. This definitely isn't a coincidence!"
"If that's the case, is this golden egg related to Greek Merpeople?" another student asked curiously. "When I traveled to Greece last summer, I saw Merpeople once, led by a local Wizard. Their singing was indeed exceptionally beautiful, but I was too far away at the time to hear what they were specifically singing."
But as soon as he finished speaking, he frowned again, shaking his head in confusion: "No, that's not right. Why is there such a huge difference in the golden egg's sound just by changing to a humid environment? From an ear-piercing shriek to a pleasant chorus, that's too magical."
"Actually, the Merperson's song can be understood using the concept of a 'medium' in ritual magic," Dylan patiently explained. "Merpeople have a very special vocal cord structure that requires a humid environment as a 'medium' to make their vocal vibrations produce beautiful melodies. In a dry environment, their voices become distorted and ear-piercing, just like when the golden egg was first opened."
He then added, "I first discovered that the golden egg's shriek actually contained a melody—since there was a melody, it meant it was a complete piece of music, just lacking the appropriate 'medium' to restore its original form. And besides using magic to create a humid environment, there's an even simpler method: just submerge the golden egg in water and open it underwater. You'll naturally hear the same song."
"Speaking of 'humid environment as a medium,' I think I saw this knowledge point in some book…" Another Gryffindor student frowned, trying hard to recall, unconsciously tapping the table with his fingers. "It was a book about Merperson research, but I can't quite remember the specific name."
"There aren't many books about Merpeople; you probably saw it in one of them," Dylan provided the answer. "One book specifically mentioned the conditions for the propagation of Merperson songs, detailing the influence of environmental humidity on their singing."
"Yes, I remember the book also mentioned that Merperson songs contain magic that can confuse sailing ships and their sailors, making them lose their sense of direction. If the golden egg's song comes from Merpeople, will there be danger?"
"What you're referring to are the characteristics of Merpeople in warm waters," Dylan clarified. "Merpeople from different waters have very different ways of life. Warm-water Merpeople are more adept at using their songs to cast mental magic, influencing people's consciousness through melody to confuse sailors, while cold-water Merpeople are physically stronger, with thicker scales. When in danger, they prefer to directly attack with their claws and tails, rarely using their songs."
He paused, then added, "Besides that, there are also differences in their appearance—warm-water Merpeople have a more graceful appearance, with brightly colored scales, somewhat like elves in legends, while cold-water Merpeople have a more ferocious appearance, sharp teeth, and dull gray scales. But regardless of the type of Merperson, one thing is the same: they all have a deep love for music, which is why they can sing such melodies."
"In that case…" George's eyes lit up, and he boldly speculated, "Could the content of the second task be to deal with Merpeople? And it must take place in water; the most suitable place near Hogwarts is the Black Lake!"
"The Black Lake? Wait a minute, then, will they bring Greek Merpeople here?" Fred suddenly became excited and leaned forward to ask, "I've only seen pictures of Greek Merpeople in books before, and I've never seen real ones. If we could see them in the Black Lake, that would be so interesting!"
With a few people taking the lead, many students' eyes lit up, and they began to discuss in low voices, their tones full of anticipation; some even speculated whether they could go to the Black Lake shore to watch.
"No, Fred," Dylan shook his head with a smile. "I don't think the Ministry of Magic would be able to bring Greek Merpeople here. The main reason is that Merpeople are highly intelligent magical creatures with their own societies and rules. They certainly wouldn't be willing to travel all the way from Greece to England just to be 'competition props.' Moreover, the Black Lake's water temperature is low, belonging to cold-water regions. Greek Merpeople are accustomed to warm seawater, so even if they came, they wouldn't be able to adapt to the environment here and would easily get sick."
Upon hearing this, Fred's excitement immediately faded, and he sighed with some disappointment, but quickly cheered up.