When she said this, Hermione's facial expression was a bit twisted.
It was clear she still held some grudges...
"It's what we should do." The twins were eager to give it a try, after all, they hadn't been spared from various ominous predictions by Professor Trelawney.
During breakfast, the Gryffindor students sat in the Great Hall, proudly with heads held high as they ate.
The Hufflepuff students were much more open, crowding around Harry, asking for autographs.
And the Ravenclaw girls, in groups of three or five, chirped and surrounded Harry tightly.
Cassandra sat at the Slytherin table, coldly staring at those girls; if looks could kill, they would have been sliced to pieces by her gaze.
After breakfast, Harry initially planned to take a stroll to clear his mind, but unexpectedly, he was informed to go to a cabin for an inspection.
Just as he reached the entrance, Pabi came rushing over with a fragrant breeze.
Harry...poor Harry, received nearly a minute of suffocating embrace.
"You really became a Warrior!" Pabi exclaimed happily, not forgetting to pull Harry out from her embrace, "Really became a Warrior—congratulations, congratulations..."
"There's nothing much to congratulate about," Harry rolled his eyes and said in a low voice, "After all, competing with them feels somewhat unfair—but I still have to do my best in the competition."
Pabi raised her eyebrows, then suddenly sniffed at Harry.
After sniffing twice, Pabi's expression slightly changed.
"Oh," she said, "I have something to take care of, you go in first...hm, I'll find you later after you're done, okay?"
"Sure." Harry reached out and pinched Pabi's cheek, not to mention, it felt quite nice.
He waved to Pabi and pushed the door to enter the classroom.
It was a small classroom, most of the desks were pushed to the back, leaving a large open space in the center.
However, three desks were joined together at the front of the blackboard, covered with a long piece of velvet.
Behind the velvet-covered desks sat five chairs, one of which was occupied by Ludo Bagman, who was conversing with Lady Rita Skeeter, the reporter from the Prophet Daily.
Victor Krum, as usual, stood silently in a corner without speaking to anyone.
Fleur sat on a chair, looking serene, seemingly uninterested in conversations as well.
A corpulent man holding a large smoking black camera was casting sidelong glances at Fleur.
Bagman suddenly saw Harry, quickly stood up, and leapt forward.
"Ah, here he comes! Hogwarts' Warrior! Come in, Harry, come in...nothing to worry about, it's just a wand inspection ceremony, the other judges will arrive soon—"
"Wand inspection?" Harry asked in confusion, feeling as if he had forgotten something, but unable to recall what exactly.
"We must check whether your wands are fully functional and in good condition, as they will be your most important tools in future events," Bagman said, "The expert is upstairs with Dumbledore. Then there will be some photographs. This is Rita Skeeter," he pointed to Lady Rita Skeeter in her magenta robes, "she's writing a small piece on the Tournament for the Prophet Daily..."
"Perhaps not such a small piece, Ludo," Rita Skeeter said, noting Harry's glance, she stiffly returned a polite smile.
Harry, of course, she knew.
As she assessed Harry, he also sized her up.
Lady Skeeter's hair was coiffed into elaborate, stiff, weirdly shaped curls, which, paired with her large chin, looked particularly awkward.
She wore glasses encrusted with gemstones. Fat fingers clutched a crocodile-skin purse, with two-inch-long, bright red nails.
But this ensemble truly matched her character.
However, Rita was uncharacteristically uninterested in chatting with Harry. She merely glanced at him before immediately retreating her gaze, intending to resume her conversation with Mr. Bagman.
Harry sat beside Fleur, who warmly addressed him upon his approach.
"Good morning, Hogwarts' little master."
"I'm not so little anymore." Harry tried to assert himself, although the silver-haired Enchantress was beautiful, she still fell short compared to Vivi.
"Hm, you're not little." Fleur smiled warmly at him, "Well, I'll go easy on you in the upcoming competition."
Harry glanced at her, keeping silent.
Arguing with a woman was, in itself, a waste of effort.
After a brief chat, Dumbledore entered with two headmasters.
Following them was an elderly man whom Harry recognized.
None other than Mr. Olivander, the wandmaker dating back to 300 B.C.
They took seats at the judges' table, forcing Rita Skeeter to vacate Mr. Crouch's spot and find a seat in a corner.
Mr. Crouch did not seem pleased to see her, his expression akin to looking at a pile of dung.
Harry stifled a laugh.
Rita stealthily pulled a roll of parchment from her purse, spread it on her knee, and dabbed the tip of her Speedwriting Feather Pen, setting it vertically on the parchment.