Chapter 200
In the days following the confirmation of the Champions, the atmosphere between the houses grew increasingly tense.
Hufflepuff believed that Harry Potter had stolen an opportunity that rightfully belonged to Cedric Diggory. Malfoy was one thing—Cedric himself had openly admitted defeat, and with that, they had no grounds to criticize further. But the sudden appearance of a fourth Champion gave them a new target, and they showed Harry no such restraint.
Why wasn't Cedric the extra Champion? That question lingered in the minds of many Hufflepuff students.
Naturally, Gryffindor students couldn't tolerate insults aimed at their own Champion. The tension between the two houses quickly became explosive.
To make matters worse, some Slytherin students would deliberately provoke them whenever they passed by. Hogwarts had been unusually restless these past few days. If not for the school rules, it would have already descended into open conflict.
The professors reacted in different ways. Severus Snape, for one, never missed a chance to mock Harry during Potions class.
"Impulsiveness does run in the family," Snape drawled lazily after finishing his lecture, letting the students work on their own. He leaned closer to Harry and spoke in a low voice. "Though it seems you've surpassed your foolish father. Do try not to get injured. Otherwise, I might feel inspired to add something… interesting to your healing potion."
Harry's hand, steady as it stirred the cauldron, trembled slightly. His grip tightened around the stirring rod. The grey-green potion reacted violently, splashing upward. If not for his glasses, it might have gone straight into his eyes.
"The one responsible for healing is clearly Madam Pomfrey. What does it have to do with you, you greasy old bat?" Ron muttered from the side.
"Talking out of turn in class and insulting a professor. Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape said coldly, a thin, cruel smile appearing on his face.
"Just ignore him, Ron," Hermione Granger said quietly once Snape had moved on to the Slytherins. "He's trying to provoke Harry on purpose. The more we react, the more he enjoys it."
"Aguamenti," she added, flicking her wand. A stream of clear water flowed out, washing the potion residue from Harry's glasses.
Potions class between Slytherin and Gryffindor had always been like this.
In Herbology, things weren't much better.
Even Pomona Sprout, usually kind and gentle, seemed unusually strict. She assigned the most tedious tasks to the two Champions. As Head of Hufflepuff, she clearly wasn't pleased that her house's best candidate had been eliminated.
For instance, Malfoy was made to slice Ginger Root without a mask. The root gave off an extremely pungent smell in its raw state—strong enough to trigger uncontrollable sneezing. Normally, students were required to wear protective masks when handling it.
For Hufflepuff, this counted as a punishment.
Malfoy found it almost amusing.
The so-called punishment didn't trouble him at all. Still, he cooperated, even squeezing out a few tears and pretending to struggle, as if to satisfy the old professor.
After he completed the task without complaint, Professor Sprout seemed to calm down.
"...I still wish you good luck," she said awkwardly after class, stopping him briefly. Though he wasn't from her house, he still represented Hogwarts.
Harry didn't fare any better. In one lesson, he was struck square in the face by a bouncing bulb, drawing laughter from everyone around him. His luck was clearly no better.
Meanwhile, Minerva McGonagall took a very different approach.
As both Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress, she carried more responsibility than most. After finishing her Transfiguration lesson, she remained at the front of the classroom.
"You all know I rarely deviate from the lesson," she began, her tone firm. "But today is different. I deliberately shortened the class to address something important."
Her gaze swept across the room, sharp and unwavering.
"I will not have students from other schools laughing at Hogwarts for internal division. I trust none of you wish that either."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepening. She looked older, more tired.
"There are certain remarks I do not wish to hear again."
The classroom fell completely silent. It was rare to see her this angry.
Perhaps not since the time of the Basilisk incident had she shown such visible concern beneath her anger.
After that, the students did restrain themselves—at least outwardly. But while words faded, emotions remained.
Jealousy. Resentment.
These were now directed squarely at the two Champions.
"Those who are not envied are mediocre."
Malfoy's words, spoken in the Slytherin common room, quickly calmed his agitated housemates. Some of them had been ready to retaliate despite McGonagall's warning—but her authority meant little compared to his influence.
"As Slytherins, we don't waste time on meaningless disputes. Strength is the only crown worth wearing. Let them slander us—it will only make our eventual victory shine brighter."
His standing within the house had grown steadily over the years. Since his second year, he had brought Slytherin glory again and again. That reputation now stood firm, like a tower built from solid stone.
And Malfoy had already begun considering how best to use it.
The week passed in this strained atmosphere. Before anyone realized it, the weekend had arrived.
And on Sunday, all four Champions received notice—
They were to gather at a specific location.