The cheers nearly blew the roof off the arena as Wade and Harry quietly exited the spectator stands.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick stood a short distance away, their faces beaming with undisguised joy. However, Professor McGonagall's face was a little pale, seemingly still worried about her students.
They waved the two over. As they approached, Professor McGonagall immediately stepped forward, her hands gripping Harry's shoulders tightly.
"That was magnificent, Potter!"
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled slightly:
"Absolutely outstanding, both the dive you made past the Dragon earlier and the decisive way you defeated that Durmstrang... Oh, you need to go see Madam Pomfrey... And you too, Gray. Filius, please take Gray to the medical tent..."
Professor Flitwick, who was practically dancing with excitement while holding Wade, immediately pushed Wade aside at her words:
"Yes, yes, yes, you both need to see Madam Pomfrey first."
"I'm not injured, Professor," Wade said.
"Oh, my dear boy, not all injuries are visible to the eye," Professor Flitwick said with a smile. "Madam Pomfrey knows what to do."
"Sorry, Professor," Wade said softly. "I didn't follow your advice."
"No, no, no, my dear Wade, I did advise you to keep a low profile during the competition, but there's nothing wrong with how things turned out... No, I should say it's even better."
Professor Flitwick showed no hint of blame. A brilliant smile spread across his face, and he said cheerfully:
"Seeing your performance in the arena reminds me of myself when I was young—spirited, fearless, and surprising everyone with my strength!"
"Merlin!"
Professor Flitwick suddenly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his damp eyes:
"I almost forgot what I used to be like, and here I was telling you to hold back... To ensure the smooth running of the competition, I told you to learn to endure, even if it meant suffering some grievances and gossip..."
"But young people should act like young people! Keep that sharp edge, my boy! Let everyone know that Ravenclaw can also shine brightly in crucial moments, not just be cowards who play it safe!"
"Who would dare call you a coward, Professor?" Wade chuckled. "You were the Champion of the Duelling Championship. No matter who your opponent was, I believe you had the courage to face them."
"Haha, that's ancient history. I can't believe you still remember," Professor Flitwick tried to suppress the upturn of his lips. "Once you graduate, perhaps you can also participate in the Duelling Championship. With your strength, you're sure to bring back another Champion title."
The two walked to the medical tent, laughing and chatting. After pushing aside the thick canvas door and stepping inside, they found the space astonishingly large, with dozens of beds arranged in two rows, most of them occupied by patients.
Some people's robes were scorched, and they had large burns on their bodies; others had thick green ointment covering their faces, groaning in pain; still others had their arms or legs in slings, sitting glumly on their beds with dark expressions.
Many more injured individuals were unconscious and had not yet woken up, emanating the smell of Potions.
In this situation, Madam Pomfrey naturally couldn't handle everything alone, so the Ministry of Magic had specially invited several healers from St. Mungo's. Everyone moved between the beds like busy hummingbirds.
"The last time I saw something like this was during the riot after the Quidditch World Cup!"
A bald healer loudly complained while applying ointment to a student's arm: "What was the Ministry of Magic thinking? Letting a bunch of students fight Dragons? Even adults wouldn't dare do that!"
"I've been saying all along that this competition shouldn't be held again! Haven't the lessons from centuries ago been enough?"
Another female healer with gold-rimmed glasses said coldly: "Some idiots only care about making a big splash, completely disregarding others' lives!"
"Come here, child."
Another kind-faced healer pulled Harry over. Upon seeing the wound on his leg, she gasped, and a look of unbearable pity appeared on her round face.
"My goodness, you walked all the way here like that? You poor child, how much must that hurt?"
She waved her Wand, sending Harry onto a bed, then pulled out a Potion bottle and carefully dripped the liquid onto his wound.
Madam Pomfrey, who had just finished treating another injured person, hurried over. She looked Wade up and down, asking in surprise, "Gray, you're not hurt?"
Wade smiled. "I was lucky."
The moment he spoke, the groans in the tent ceased, and all the conscious Champions turned to look at Wade, their gazes like knives.
Amina abruptly sat up straight, her face ashen; Olga's face was gloomy, a flicker of inscrutable light in their eyes; Seraphina snorted, turning her back to Wade.
Krum, who hadn't faced Wade, was also looking at him with a serious expression, his brow furrowed in thought.
Of course, some were relatively calm, even nodding and smiling faintly at Wade—like Papua from Uagadou—but such individuals were extremely rare.
During previous treatments, several St. Mungo's healers had heard about Wade's impressive feats from the students' complaints. Their movements slowed dramatically, and they exchanged surprised glances, secretly peeking at Wade by the entrance.
Madam Pomfrey kept a straight face, completely unmoved by the emotions of others. She simply raised her Wand and examined Wade again.
"Indeed, no signs of magical injury..."
She mumbled, then took a bottle of pale blue Potion from a shelf and, without question, pressed it into Wade's hand.
Wade looked at the Potion, resisting: "Madam Pomfrey, I really don't need it—"
"No, you do." Madam Pomfrey's voice carried an undeniable authority. "Do you think continuously casting Spells doesn't put a strain on your mind? Drink it. This calming draught will relax your tense nerves!"
Wade looked to Professor Flitwick for help, but saw that the head of house, who had just been treating him like a treasure, was now three meters away, gazing at the patterns on the tent as if they held some profound magic.
"Alright," he sighed, uncorked the bottle, and drank it down in one gulp. The Potion maintained its consistently awful taste, making Wade grimace.
A coolness flowed down his throat into his stomach, then spread throughout his body. His heart rate slowed, and his thoughts became clear and transparent as if washed by a spring. The various emotions from the competition quickly receded from his mind, making him feel like an observer.
Madam Pomfrey finally nodded in satisfaction, pointed to an empty bed, and told Wade to sit down. "Good, now rest quietly for a while. Someone will call you out once the competition is completely over."
She quickly walked towards another unconscious student. Just then, the tent flap was pushed open again, and a student, charred and blood-stained, was brought in.
Wade turned his head and saw that it was Itō Tai from Mahoutokoro.
The healer who rushed over to greet the patient let out a sharp cry, and the Auror who brought in the injured student explained subserviently:
"It was the Hungarian Horntail... that big beast was already enraged by the previous Champion, and this child tried to fly past like Potter, but was accidentally caught by the Dragon while dodging..."
Harry had almost forgotten the oppressive feeling the Dragon had given him earlier. Now, looking at the dying student, a cold sweat subtly broke out on his back.
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