"So, do you intend to confess your feelings to a lady in such a noisy environment?"
Cassandra said this, yet her small hands were aimlessly toying with the silverware on the table.
Reasonably speaking, a lady would never commit such a breach of etiquette, but who could blame her for being nervous right now?
She was indeed nervous. Even if she maintained a calm exterior, being confessed to by the person she liked in a setting like this... not even Cassandra could remain indifferent.
"What else should I do?" Harry reached out to rub his nose, asking Cassandra, "Or would you prefer I confess to you in front of everyone while giving my acceptance speech? Actually, that's not entirely out of the question..."
"Forget it," Cassandra scoffed coldly. "I would rather you do it sneakingly than broadcast it to the world. You might be shameless, but I still have my dignity..."
Cassandra then added another sentence, "If you dare do that, I will leave the Great Hall immediately!"
When she said this, Cassandra was extremely serious.
Harry simply assumed Cassandra was being thin-skinned, so he laughed and changed the subject.
However, Cassandra was actually thinking on Harry's behalf. If it were any other time, it might have been fine, but in this current setting, reporters were present, and Veratia was also seated at the High Table. If Harry really confessed to her in front of so many people, what would happen to Veratia?
Although she didn't particularly like that girl with the surname Grindelwald, she ultimately couldn't make things difficult for Harry.
Harry was also pondering this in his heart; he really should find a formal occasion to solidify his relationship with Cassandra.
This current setting was indeed too hasty. His godfather had a good saying: women need a sense of ritual. As long as the sense of ritual is maximized, the actual outcome doesn't matter much.
"The feast is about to start," Ron exclaimed. "Look, Dumbledore and the others are coming over. I'm suddenly a bit hungry."
"You just ate seven chicken legs for dinner, Ron," Bill said from the side. "Can you eat a little less? I really don't want my baby brother turning from Ronald into Ronaaaald."
Ron twitched his nose. If the twins or Percy had said this, he would have counterattacked without mercy.
But the problem was, the person saying this was his eldest brother.
It is widely known that a qualified eldest brother possesses a natural bloodline suppression over his younger siblings.
Mr. Weasley was busy with work year-round, and since Bill was the oldest, whenever Mrs. Weasley was busy with housework, it was Bill who managed the younger siblings. Therefore, he was highly respected among his brothers and sister.
Even mischievous children like the Weasley twins didn't dare to openly contradict their eldest brother when he gave orders.
The authority was absolute.
"Alright," Ron said. "But chicken doesn't make you fat. I think eating two more drumsticks won't be a big problem."
While they were speaking, Dumbledore had already walked up to the High Table.
The whispering in the Great Hall instantly quieted down—and this situation seemed contagious; the sounds of private conversations grew softer and softer until they disappeared completely.
"Welcome, everyone," Dumbledore said after the silence fell over the hall, pressing the tip of his wand to his throat and casting a Sonorus charm.
After all, the Great Hall had been expanded by mysterious magic and was now almost as large as a Quidditch pitch.
Without the amplifying charm, no one would be able to hear clearly what he was saying.
"I am honored to have everyone gather here happily," Dumbledore continued. "This is Hogwarts' honor. The perfect conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament could not have happened without everyone's support. On behalf of all Hogwarts students, faculty, and staff, as well as every individual working hard in the corners, I express my heartfelt gratitude to you all."
Applause rang out for Dumbledore's impeccable words.
"He actually didn't forget the house-elves..." Hermione wiped her eyes. "Jesus's nails, Dumbledore really is worthy of being the Headmaster of Hogwarts!"
Jesus's nails?
Harry gave Hermione a strange look. How did this girl learn such odd phrases at Hogwarts?
And she was applying them in such weird contexts...
When people say "Merlin's beard" or "Merlin's pants," those have historical origins...
But saying something like "Jesus's nails"... wait, sister, aren't you a Muggle-born?
Those nails of Jesus... were they Jesus's own?
That joke was honestly hellish enough.
Jesus: You people really only think about yourselves.
"Additionally, on behalf of all the judges of the Triwizard Tournament, I would like to extend my most heartfelt congratulations to the winner, Harry Potter! Let us congratulate him on winning this year's Triwizard Tournament!"
Applause rang out again, accompanied by cheers and whistles in abundance.
Dumbledore waited until the shouting had mostly subsided, then pressed his hands down gently in the air and said with a chuckle, "Now, I declare the banquet officially begun—I believe after waiting for several hours, everyone is already a bit hungry. So... I will not keep you any longer!"
With the sound of Dumbledore clapping his hands, a multitude of delicious dishes instantly appeared before them—various styles, a dazzling array of food.
"This doesn't look like British cuisine at all," Fleur muttered not far away. Unknown to anyone, she had already sneaked to Bill's side.
Fleur was not actually internally conflicted about losing the Triwizard Tournament.
If she had lost to someone else, she might have felt self-reproach, but losing to Harry...
Come on, it's Harry Potter. What kind of person is he?
Losing to him really isn't shameful, is it?
"Actually, I think so too," Bill said with a laugh. "After leaving Britain, I realized there are so many delicious foods in the world... However, having been in Egypt for so long, my taste buds have become a bit desertified... Oh, there's even Kebab?"
Kebab comes from Arabic, used to describe a type of roasted meat skewered on an iron rod. The main ingredients are beef, lamb, or chicken.
Its full name should be Döner Kebab, meaning rotating roast meat. The method involves stacking meat on a vertical rotisserie; the meat rotates and roasts on the rack. When the outermost layer is cooked and dripping with juices, it is sliced off with a special knife, allowing the meat inside to be roasted in turn, ensuring not a single bit is wasted.
Having been abroad for so many years, if Bill had to name his favorite dish, it would still be Kebab.
"Then I'll try it too." Fleur's peach-blossom eyes were fixed tightly on Bill. Although they hadn't spent much time together, Bill's humor and charm had completely captivated her.
It should be said that Bill was not only handsome but also experienced.
As the saying goes, reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles. Since graduating, Bill had traveled extensively, eventually working as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts in Egypt.
His personal experiences were simply not something students in an ivory tower could compare with.
Captivating Fleur was only a matter of time.
"Truly the sour stench of love..." Ron muttered in a low voice from the side, a sound only Mrs. Weasley and Hermione could hear.
Mrs. Weasley simply smiled it off; she had long noticed the friction between Hermione and Ron.
Hermione, however, forked a chicken leg and slammed it heavily onto Ron's plate.
The meaning was obvious: Even food can't shut your mouth!
Ron was actually quite happy, but his habit of running his mouth meant he was still muttering as he picked up the chicken leg.
"Really, why so fierce, why so fierce..."
Thud. The result was a sharp elbow strike from Hermione, causing him to grunt in pain.
"They have such a good relationship," Harry said to Cassandra with a chuckle.
"Do they?" Cassandra didn't lift her head, though she had seen the scene just now. "It seems you envy them, Harry. Do you want me to give you a..."
"No, no, Cass," Harry waved his hands hurriedly, whispering, "You are a lady of the Malfoy family; how could you make such barbaric movements? Listen to me, in my heart, you have always been very gentle!"
"Hmph, hmph?" Cassandra hummed twice, very satisfied with Harry's answer.
At least you know what's good for you, she thought, and casually sliced several pieces of steak for Harry.
"Where's Poppy?" Harry looked up and asked. "I remember she was with you just a moment ago; how did she disappear in the blink of an eye?"
"Oh, she's with Professor Scamander's family." Cassandra pointed to the Scamanders not far away. From Tina to Theseus, and then to Rolf Scamander, they were all sitting at the Hufflepuff table, chatting happily.
Noticing Harry looking over, Poppy Sweeting waved at him happily.
Harry fell somewhat silent, not because Poppy hadn't come over to be with him, but because he felt sad for Cassandra.
Although Poppy had traveled through time, she still had the company of her family.
But Cassandra...
Well, by blood, although Cassandra was related to Lucius's family, they weren't actually close.
Having experienced the Malfoy family at its most glorious, how could Cassandra consider Lucius a decent human being?
Not openly cursing Lucius as a prodigal son or a piece of trash was already an act of mercy from the grandaunt; did he dare hope the grandaunt would lift her eyes to look at him?
"It's alright, Cass." Harry reached out and embraced Cassandra's slender waist, his voice soft. "You still have me. I will always be with you."
Cassandra's body stiffened, but then immediately softened.
This Harry...
Sigh, always making people love and hate him at the same time.
Forget it, I chose this, I chose this...
Cassandra sighed lightly in her heart. It seemed that from their meeting on the train in their first year, their entangled lives were destined.
However...
This guy's sweet-talking skills were getting better and better. She really didn't know who he learned it from.
Perhaps that dog godfather?
But Cassandra didn't dislike it; a Harry like this was much better than the dull gourd he used to be.
She didn't know exactly what she saw in Harry. In short... he just looked pleasing to the eye? So she made him her follower, and then somehow confusingly fell in love with this guy.
Truthfully, sometimes she regretted it. If she hadn't been so awkward, if she could have gotten along properly with Harry, would that Grindelwald woman have been unable to forcibly interject herself?
But what she didn't know was that a woman with deep schemes like Veratia would always find a suitable angle.
Everything stemmed from that Christmas when they went to Vienna together, and Harry, that reckless daredevil, helped Veratia remove the diadem.
Even if things were to happen all over again, Cassandra actually wouldn't regret it.
Well, after all, saving a despairing girl is ultimately a good thing.
Perhaps if Harry and her own beam of light hadn't shone into the Grindelwald girl's life back then, that woman would have long since twisted into a second Gellert.
Maybe an enhanced version of Gellert. If it came to that... with the assistance of such a terrifying sister, the Acolytes would probably speed-run their conquest of Europe.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Cassandra suddenly asked Harry. That kid's hand wasn't behaving; after resting on her waist for a while, it had touched her thigh.
"Eating, I'm eating right now." Harry said with a beaming smile. "Hey, speaking of which, I am a bit hungry..."
He tapped the table, and his favorite dishes immediately appeared before him.
A man's life is always this simple; as long as there are one or two favorite dishes, he will eat them until he's had enough.
Single-minded, just too single-minded.
"Harry?" Ron suddenly craned his neck, asking across Hermione, "What are your plans for the holidays? Staying at Number 12 Grimmauld Place the whole time? or do you plan to go out and have some fun to clear your mind?"
"No plans yet." Harry ate the food on his plate methodically, speaking leisurely. "If nothing unexpected happens, I'll definitely return to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. I don't have any plans for the summer vacation anyway... Of course, it's also possible I might go to Vienna for a visit. I haven't been there in a long time."
"How long?" Ron asked. "I don't remember you ever going to Vienna."
"Take a guess," Harry said with a chuckle, but in his mind, he was thinking:
About a hundred years, give or take.
"I'd better not guess." Ron rolled his eyes. "Guessing is exhausting..."
"However, I do have a somewhat immature idea," Harry said again. "During the summer vacation, it would be better for the members of our Dueling Club to gather together... After all, some big things are happening, and I think you all need some intensive training."
"Oh no!" Ron slumped onto the table, speaking feebly. "Training during the summer vacation? Merlin's pants, can't I just enjoy the holiday?"
"You have about a week to enjoy the holiday," Harry said with a smile. "But after a week, you'll have to pack your things and set off, embarking on the journey of intensive training with us... I will notify the other members about this as well. Help me convey the message to the Gryffindor students; I'll go notify Cedric, Draco, and the others."
"Alright."
Hearing that others would be accompanying him, Ron felt it wasn't so hard to accept after all.
If he were the only one doing intensive training and unable to enjoy the holiday, that would truly be unacceptable!
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