Weekend morning.
The Great Hall at Hogwarts was bustling, but the liveliest sounds weren't the chatter of the students—they were the constant flapping of owl wings.
They flew continuously through the open windows, scrambling to dive toward the four house tables.
Parcels fell from the sky like raindrops, clattering onto tables, chairs, and the heads of a few unlucky students.
There were copies of The Daily Prophet, The Wizarding Weekly, sweets and snacks sent from home, and several ridiculously large parcels; it was impossible to tell what they contained.
Lynn and his friends had just walked into the Great Hall.
Edgar was walking in front, turned around as he chatted animatedly with the other three, completely unaware of a parcel flying straight toward him.
"Look behind you," Lynn warned.
"What?" Edgar instinctively turned his head—
Thump!
A dull thud echoed through the hall.
The parcel smacked him squarely in the face, knocking him back two steps.
Edgar hurriedly pulled the parcel off his face, rubbing the bridge of his reddened nose as he stared at the culprit in his hands with a bewildered expression.
Lynn and the others walked past him without sparing him a second glance.
"Doesn't anyone care that I just got hit?!"
"As long as you're alive," Lynn replied without turning back.
Edgar: "..."
The four of them arrived at their usual seats and sat down.
The house-elves had already laid out breakfast: steaming toast, fried eggs, bacon, sausages, and a large pot of pumpkin juice.
Edgar unwrapped the parcel that had just hit him and pulled out two newspapers—The Wizarding Weekly and The Daily Prophet.
He flipped through The Wizarding Weekly, then picked up The Daily Prophet and glanced at the front page.
After only one glance, he smiled.
"Lynn," he said, handing the newspaper over, "let me show you something good."
"What is it?"
Lynn reached out to take it and looked down.
Although some time had passed since the second task, it still firmly occupied the newspaper's front page.
People seemed to have endless topics to discuss regarding the great battle at the bottom of the lake, coming up with new angles to write about every day.
The front-page picture this time showed Lynn battling the Blue-ringed Giant Kraken.
The shot had been captured brilliantly—Lynn was hovering in the water, his wand pointed forward. The Blue-ringed Giant Kraken opposite him was charred black, its tentacles severed, looking utterly wretched.
The composition was perfect, and the lighting was excellent. Anyone who didn't know better would have thought it was a still from some fantasy blockbuster.
Below the picture was a lengthy report with a rather sensational title:
"Slaughter at the Lake Bottom! The Champion of Azkaban Single-Handedly Slays Deep-Sea Beast!"
Lynn's mouth twitched as he continued reading.
The content of the report wasn't anything new. It was simply a sensationalized retelling of what had happened during the competition.
Phrases like "earth-shattering thunder," "blades of fire that burned everything," and "seven giant hands tearing apart the beast" made it read more like a myth than a news report.
But what truly surprised Lynn was another article beneath the picture.
Perhaps because the photo was too shocking, or perhaps because Lynn had made defeating the creature look too easy, this previously unpopular magical beast had suddenly become a trend.
That's right—a trend.
The Blue-ringed Giant Kraken, native to the western Pacific and Indian Oceans, Ministry of Magic classification: XXXXX, with a danger level comparable to a dragon, was strictly prohibited from private ownership.
But that did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of Wizards who liked to court death.
According to the newspaper, over the past week, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic had received hundreds of reports, all concerning the illegal keeping of Blue-ringed Giant Krakens.
Some people had dug massive pools at home to keep them. Others had secretly raised cubs in backyard ponds. Some had even tried to purchase adult specimens on the black market.
As a result, the Ministry of Magic had been forced to issue a special announcement.
The announcement was printed directly beneath the picture in bold lettering:
"Joint Announcement from George Smith, Head of the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and Edward Bones, Head of the International Magical Legal Office of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
Lynn skimmed through the announcement. It was nothing more than a reiteration of the Blue-ringed Giant Kraken's dangers, emphasizing that illegal ownership would result in severe penalties and reminding Wizards not to blindly follow trends.
He couldn't be bothered to read it carefully and skipped ahead.
Wait...
He seemed to have overlooked something.
Lynn read the announcement again.
Edward Bones.
He looked up at Edgar across the table.
"When did your dad get promoted?"
Edgar was spreading jam on his bread. Hearing the question, he looked up, glanced at the newspaper in Lynn's hand, and grinned.
"He mentioned it a couple of days ago," he said, his tone carrying a hint of pride. "My dad even told me that when I graduate, he'll get me a job at the Ministry of Magic. I thought he was joking."
Lynn looked at him silently for a second.
Edgar's face was practically glowing, his smile full of the pride of my dad's an important official now.
William, sitting beside him, adjusted his glasses and said quietly, "Head of the International Magical Legal Office... that's not a low-ranking position. If your dad really gets you in later, don't embarrass Hufflepuff."
Edgar waved a hand confidently.
"Don't worry. I'll definitely do a good job."
Ollie spoke up for once, his tone as calm as ever.
"You even copy my History of Magic homework."
Edgar's smile froze.
Lynn chuckled, suddenly reminded of a line of poetry.
"Asking about the Heavenly Palace~"
"Lynn, what are you laughing at?"
"Nothing. I just suddenly remembered my dad is going to have a second child."
Lynn laughed it off and continued flipping through the newspaper.
Edgar looked at him suspiciously but didn't press the issue. After all, Lynn occasionally blurted out inexplicable things, and he was already used to it.
He turned to the second page.
Lynn's gaze swept over a few headlines, and he was about to turn the page—
Suddenly, he stopped.
His eyes fixed on an inconspicuous corner.
There, inside a small boxed section, was a single headline.
[Barty Crouch Death]
Lynn blinked.
He hadn't heard the name Barty Crouch for nearly half a year. He hadn't expected the next time he heard it would be in an obituary.
Nor had he expected the Ministry of Magic to actually publish an obituary for a Death Eater.
What a pity.
He hadn't even made a move yet, and the man had already died.
He continued reading.
The obituary was brief, filled with standard phrases such as "aged XX years." The résumé that followed, however, was considerably longer.
Barty Crouch, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, former Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, member of the Wizengamot, recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class...
Lynn finished reading and fell silent for a second.
Well.
He had mistaken the person.
The one who had died was the elder Barty Crouch, not Barty Crouch Jr.
Lynn hadn't had much interaction with the elder Crouch.
If there had been any, it was at most that he had once "treated" his illness.
Lynn remembered that night clearly.
To help old Barty "sober up," he had used two Cruciatus Curses, followed by one Legilimency and one particularly powerful Memory Charm.
The treatment had been extremely thorough.
From that day onward, old Barty had never been troubled by the Imperius Curse again.
Of course, he hadn't been capable of holding any normal position ever since, either.
Lynn stared at the small black-and-white photograph in the newspaper.
Old Barty's face looked stern and rigid, completely unlike the image in Lynn's memory—his features twisted in agony under the Cruciatus Curse.
He remained silent for a few seconds.
Then he continued reading.
The obituary concluded by stating that the funeral would be held the following weekend.
Wait...
Old Barty's funeral.
Surely Barty Crouch Jr., as his son, would attend.
After all, old Barty had gone so far as to swap his dying wife for his son just to save him. That alone proved how deeply he cared about him.
Thinking of this, Lynn carefully checked the funeral date again.
It happened to fall on a weekend, so he wouldn't even have to worry about skipping class.
The corners of Lynn's mouth slowly curled upward as he began calculating which spell he should open with when he met Barty Crouch Jr. again.
---
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