Who else could those troublemakers be but the two of them?
"Those two are enough to give anyone a headache." Hagrid said, laughing boisterously. "Aside from Peeves, the two of them are what the professors worry about the most in this school."
"Same at home." Charlie shook his head helplessly.
Since Mrs. Maxim had also left, and he'd already seen the dragons, Harry felt there was no need to hang around here any longer.
"Let's go back." he whispered to Pabi. "By the way, where's Newt?"
"Newt should be sleeping. He was involved in escorting these Fire Dragons here the whole time; it completely wore him out." Pabi said softly. "But I think he'll be back on his feet by tomorrow. You know what he's like—he loves Magical Creatures to death, he'd cuddle a Fire Dragon to sleep if he could."
"I seriously suspect he put a spell on Tina, otherwise why would Tina like him…" Harry said, spreading his hands.
He wasn't like other people—being classmates with Dumbledore in the class of 1887, of course the gap was huge.
What can you do, he's an old Hogwarts alumnus—damn this seniority thing.
"You…"
Pabi sighed and lightly punched him with his fist.
When the two of them returned to Hogwarts, the professors were in the Great Hall, nervously gathered as if facing a great enemy, discussing something.
Luckily, Harry's Disillusionment Charm was pretty good, so the two of them managed to slip back to their respective common rooms bit by bit.
Before they parted, Pabi had originally wanted to invite Harry to the kitchens to grab a bite, but Harry turned him down—he had to get up early for class tomorrow morning.
Strictly speaking he didn't have to attend class, but he really couldn't skip Magic Potion Class, or Snape would roast him alive.
As he passed the doors of the Great Hall, Dumbledore cast Harry a meaningful look.
Harry of course knew that the meaning behind Dumbledore's look wasn't that he'd gone to see the Fire Dragons, but that he'd gone to see them together with Pabi.
That was the situation, but what the situation actually was would depend on… the situation.
The next day, after Magic Potion Class, Harry was called back.
It was Neville, who passed on the message that Professor Moody wanted to see him about something.
Harry couldn't help wondering why Professor Moody wanted him, but he still went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class professor's office.
This wasn't his first time in this office; the last time he came, the professor in charge had still been Lupin.
Lupin was probably Harry's favorite professor, followed by Rozier.
Strictly speaking, he actually liked Professor Quirrell too, but unfortunately, Professor Quirrell did not like him.
That made him rather sad.
Every professor had their own tastes and decorating style. On Moody's desk there was something like a big glass spinning top with cracks running through it.
Harry recognized it at a glance: it was a Peeping Mirror, because he had one himself, though his was much smaller—Ron had given it to him a while back.
On the corner of a little side table sat a strange object that looked a bit like a golden television aerial, but twisted up horribly, emitting a constant soft buzzing sound.
On the wall opposite Harry hung something like a mirror, but it didn't reflect the room; instead, there were many dark shapes drifting back and forth inside it, all vague and indistinct.
"You like my Dark Magic Detectors, do you?" Moody asked. He had been studying Harry carefully the whole time.
"What's that?" Harry pointed at the twisted golden aerial and asked.
"Secret Investigator. It vibrates when it detects plotting and lies… Of course, it's useless in here—too much interference—students all over the place making up excuses for not doing their homework.
Ever since I moved in, it's been buzzing non-stop. I had to damage my Peeping Mirror because it wouldn't stop squealing at me. It's far too sensitive—picks up anything within a mile. And of course, it's not just kids' tricks it can detect." he said hoarsely.
Harry kept feeling that Professor Moody was lying to him, but he had no proof.
"So you should know what the first task is by now, right?" Professor Moody said gruffly, shifting his wooden leg. "You should know—Fire Dragons, right?"
Seeing Harry nod, Moody looked very satisfied.
"Good, but I must warn you, absolutely do not use that Slaughter Curse on a Fire Dragon. I know you're very good at it, but don't do anything stupid." Moody added again: "Young Wizards your age never know their limits. I'm warning you, don't you dare use that Magic Spell in front of a crowd, understand?"
Harry thought, I'm not an idiot, why would I use an Unforgivable Curse in front of everyone?
"I understand, Professor." he nodded.
"Good." Professor Moody thought for a moment, then went on: "The first task definitely isn't about making you lot defeat a Fire Dragon. That'd be pure fantasy for students like you. But I think there must be some way to cheat the system, so I want to ask you—what are you best at?"
I'm best at the Unforgivable Curses, he thought.
But what he said aloud was: "Quidditch, Professor. I'm good at Quidditch—you know, my Godfather bought me a Fire Crossbow Arrow last year."
"Good, Quidditch." Moody looked at him with a "promising lad" expression. "What you need to do now is make full use of your strengths, understand?"
"I understand, Professor." Harry scratched his head, not quite seeing why Professor Moody was telling him all this.
Curious as he was, he didn't probe further.
"All right, kid." Moody clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm also going to teach you a piece of Magic—the Summoning Charm. Heard of it? If I'm not mistaken, Filius will be teaching that to the fourth years next term."
"I've heard of it, Professor." Harry tried his best to act like an ordinary student.
"Good. I'll teach you how to use this spell. Come on… watch closely…"
...
Half an hour later, Harry left Professor Moody's office.
He scratched his head, still not understanding why Professor Moody was helping him, so he decided not to think about it.
Maybe he was doing it for Hogwarts, for the United Kingdom? Harry knew Professor Moody had been an old Auror.
That night when he returned to the common room, Hermione and Ron came rushing over, with Neville tagging along behind them.
"Neville said Professor Moody called you to his office?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Yeah." Harry flopped into a chair, crossed one leg over the other, and spread his hands. "He told me some things about the Triwizard Tournament. I don't know why he's helping me, but I still have to appreciate the gesture."
"He's an old Auror." Ron said with a grin. "Dad's good friends with him, they worked together for years. I heard Dumbledore trusts him a lot too—maybe Dumbledore put him up to it?"
"No way, right?" Neville scratched his head. "Is Dumbledore that kind of person? Letting someone tip off the Warriors about what the first task is going to be?"
"I don't think I've told you yet, but last night Pabi and I went to the camp—you know, the one Charlie's at—and it was full of…"
Here, Harry looked around the room; seeing no one nearby, he lowered his voice and said, "There were several Fire Dragons in there… I saw Mrs. Maxim there. Do you think she'd be able to resist telling the Beauxbatons Warrior? And I bet Kakaroff has his ways of finding out too…"
"Now that you put it that way…" Hermione nodded in sudden understanding. "Then it really does sound like this was Dumbledore's idea."