Evan was not as calm as Caresius, and the quick run he had just made exhausted most of his strength.
He slipped slowly from Buckbeak’s back and felt his knees shaking. His muscles were aching all over now, and even his breathing was burning.
Buckbeak turned his head, his big amber eyes looking inexplicably at Evan, who desperately clung to his body.
Evan smiled bitterly and asked Buckbeak to leave.
He walked slowly to Hagrid’s Hut. Although he was extremely tired, the fruits of this expedition were beyond imagination.
After seeing the powerful magic, Evan decided to change his research direction. He was going to focus on the ancient magic and the magic recorded in The Book of Abraham, so as to understand the magic theory involved as soon as possible.
Evan sat in Hagrid’s Hut for more than an hour, drinking tea and discussing issues related to the rearing of the Blast-Ended Skrewts.
He didn’t know the final fate of the Blast-Ended Skrewts, the Fire Crabs and the Manticore inside the ruins, but in such a large-scale collapse, they must have all died.
If Hagrid knew about this, he would definitely cry sadly.
When it was nearly five o’clock and the sun was setting slowly, Evan dragged his tired body back to the castle.
He had just walked into the entrance Hall of the castle and saw a large crowd of students, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase.
“What happened?” Evan asked, next to him was Ernie MacMillan of Hufflepuff House, who emerged from the crowd, his eyes gleaming.
“Only a week away!” said Ernie excitedly.
“What’s only a week away?”
“The Triwizard Tournament!” Ernie quickly replied, trembling slightly with excitement. “The school just posted the notice. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock in the evening on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.”
“Oh, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are coming?!” Evan was in a trance, Evan was in a trance. Time had passed so fast.
He had recently received a letter from Gabriel telling him that the students in Beauxbatons were ready to leave.
Not surprisingly, her sister Fleur performed very well in the school’s internal primaries, and was highly regarded by Madam Maxime. Gabrielle also became the only junior student of Beauxbatons who had the chance to visit Hogwarts.
“Evan, you’re here, haven’t seen you all day. Where have you been?!”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione emerged from the crowd in delight, and they had just finished reading the notice.
“I went to Professor Moody to ask some things about the course,” Evan said simply.
“Okay, I am leaving!” said Ernie. “I wonder if Cedric knows about it. I’ll go and tell him.”
“Cedric?” Ron said blankly as Ernie hurried off.
“Diggory!” said Harry. “He must be entering the tournament.”
“I remember him. That idiot, Hogwarts champion?” said Ron frowning as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the Great Hall.
“He’s not an idiot. You just don’t like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,” said Hermione. “I heard he’s really a good student … and he’s a perfect.”
Listening to her tone, it was as if him being a prefect settled the matter.
“Oh, is it?!” Ron frowned, as if to refute Hermione.
But in the end, he said nothing. Since the last incident, the two had been getting along very cautiously.
During the following week, while Evan was focusing on magic research, obvious changes took place in the castle.
Now, no matter where they went, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation: the Triwizard Tournament.
Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves, and so on.
Evan was naturally a popular candidate for the Hogwarts champion, although he did not meet the 17-year-old standard set by the three headmasters.
However, there were still many who thought he would find a way to compete and become a champion.
After a period of heated discussion, this rumor came to an abrupt end.
The news that Evan was not going to be a champion to compete in the tournament came from the Gryffindor circle.
While feeling both sorry and grateful for Evan, the young wizards also selected the strongest students in their minds.
Most of the senior wizards who were seventeen years old seemed to think that they had the potential to become champions.
At the same time as everyone was talking about it, the castle was undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning.
Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces.contemporary romance
The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking.
Argus Filch, the caretaker, watched at the door of the auditorium every day while eating. He was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.
Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too, trying to make everything appear in the most perfect state.
When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight.
Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin.
Behind the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.
Evan, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Colin and Ginny looked around and sat down at the Gryffindor table.
Next to them, Fred and George were, once again, unusually sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices.
Ludo Bagman was avoiding them, and the letters that the twins wrote to him some time ago were sent back intact.
“It’s a bummer, all right.” George was saying gloomily to Fred. “But if he won’t talk to us in person, we’ll have to send him the letter after all. Or we’ll stuff it into his hand. He can’t avoid us forever.”
“Who’s avoiding you?” Ron said curiously, and walked over and sat down next to them.
“No one, I wish you would.” said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.
“What’s a bummer?” Ron asked George.
“Having a nosy git like you for a brother,” George replied.
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