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Chapter 565: Seed Competitors
"Wade!"
Before Wade could respond, a voice from behind called out his name. He turned around and saw Fred and George approaching from the direction of Hagrid’s Hut, their heads tangled with weeds, reeking of Dragon dung, their faces etched with exhaustion.
"Fred, George?" Wade asked, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "What on earth did you two get up to so early this morning?"
"Oh, we had a little curiosity about the carriage the Magic Institute brought last night," Fred said.
"—And out of sheer kindness, we decided to feed the old man a piece of bread," George added.
"—Which Professor McGonagall caught us doing."
"No messing with guests’ transportation! Mr. Weasley, why is it always you two?" George mimicked McGonagall’s stern voice perfectly. "Gryffindor loses twenty points! After the feast, report to Professor Hagrid—he’s got some chores for you!"
"—Perhaps some work will burn off all that excess energy," Fred finished, spreading his hands wide. "So then we went to repair the Sigil Horse’s fence—"
"—Clean up the stinking Dragon dung from three dragons!"
"—And the elephant! You know how big a pile that thing can make in one go?"
"Stop!" Wade held up a hand, his expression flat. "I’m already late for breakfast, gentlemen!"
"I just want to eat a carrot this morning," Fred sighed dramatically.
"I think you’d both benefit from a good shower and a nap in your dormitory," Wade deadpanned.
"Fair point," George admitted, then reached out. "Wade, can I borrow your broom? I’m too tired to climb the stairs."
Just then, Wade hadn’t yet returned his broom to the dorm, so he handed it over to Fred. Watching the twin brothers awkwardly straddle the broomstick, swaying unsteadily as they soared toward the Gryffindor Tower, Wade couldn’t help but worry they’d plummet mid-air.
Fortunately, the Weasley Twins were masters of flight. They wobbled, zigzagged, but ultimately managed to squeeze through the tower’s window.
Wade stepped into the castle and immediately spotted the Triwizard Cup resting on a stool in the center of the Great Hall. If not for the blue-white flame flickering inside it, the cup’s crude craftsmanship might have gone unnoticed.
At that moment, Durmstrang students were filing forward to cast their votes—solemn, focused, decisive. Behind them stood the Ilvermorny contingent, waiting their turn.
Each name tossed into the flame turned red instantly, spitting out tiny sparks.
Sometime during this, Theo and Liam had arrived. Seeing Wade, they walked over, each clutching a stack of parchment.
"Wade, have you seen Hermione this morning?" Theo asked.
"No, why?" Wade replied.
"Great. Take a look at this." Theo shoved a sheet into Wade’s hand.
Wade glanced at it. It was a new petition written by Hermione, illustrated with vivid text and drawings depicting the plight of House-elves—years of unfair treatment, abuse, and the rare but real instances where a little sprite had fought back after being mistreated. The message at the end urged the wizarding world to treat House-elves with dignity and respect.
Liam cleared his throat, then recited in a practiced, almost theatrical tone:
"Dear friends, every life deserves respect. House-elves are no different. They long for love, for recognition, for the chance to be valued. Loyal, capable, hardworking—these elves deserve better!"
"Treat little sprites well, and you’ll earn their unwavering loyalty. Abuse them, and they’ll grow weary, even flee, or revolt. Improving their lives benefits both them and us."
"Start small: give them proper food and water, a safe place to rest, decent clothing, and never force them to do what they don’t wish to do..."
Wade couldn’t help but smirk. "So you’re helping Hermione hand out flyers? How’d she convince you to join?"
Liam looked up at the ceiling. Theo sighed. "I don’t even know. One minute we were just hanging around, and the next… we were in."
"Well, her approach is way better than her old plans," Wade said, folding the petition and slipping it into his pocket.
The two groups had finished voting. Wade casually tossed his own parchment into the flame, then walked into the Great Hall with Theo, chatting casually.
His movement was so effortless, so natural—so unlike the tense, solemn gestures of others—that even Theo didn’t notice the moment, still deep in discussion about Hermione’s S.P.E.W.
"Hermione says this is the perfect chance," Theo said. "With all the schools here, we can spread the idea of better treatment for House-elves across the entire wizarding world."
"I agree her ideas are noble," Theo admitted, "but everyone else treats us like lunatics."
Liam countered, "Persistence in the right cause matters, even if people think you’re mad. I never understood why Hermione was a Gryffindor—now I do."
As they entered the Great Hall, the atmosphere had transformed into a Halloween-themed spectacle. The candle flames glowed green, a swarm of living bats darted around the ceiling, and hundreds of tiny human figures carved from pumpkins were scattered across the hall’s corners.
Mando and the Magic Institute students were already at breakfast—except this time, the kitchens hadn’t prepared any exotic foreign dishes for them. Several of the foreign students scowled at their plates of roasted potatoes or steak, clearly unimpressed.
Wade and the others sat casually at the Hufflepuff long table. MacMillan leaned over. "You see those Magic Institute students? Rumor says the youngest among them is only thirteen."
"Thirteen?!" Liam blurted. "Aren’t they too young to face real danger?"
"Don’t underestimate them," MacMillan warned. "They start training at seven. So even though they’re thirteen, they’ve been learning magic for nearly twice as long as we have."
"And that thirteen-year-old? He’s already wearing a Golden Robe."
"Golden Robe?" Theo frowned.
"In the Magic Institute, only those who excel in every subject earn a Golden Robe. Now you understand?" MacMillan said.
Theo paused, then said, "Still, I think Viktor Krum’s more impressive."
"That’s because you only see the star," Hannah Abbot whispered, eyes gleaming with mystery. "Wagadoo has a student—over two meters tall, looks like he could crush a Tibbit Warty Pig with one punch. Looks thirty, but he’s only fifteen. He’s also one of the competitors."
"And Ilvermorny’s Seraphina Piqueli? She’s the niece of the American Magic Congress chair. Her magical ability is legendary..."
The group buzzed with excitement, discussing each school’s "seed competitors." Wade, however, was baffled. How had they gathered so much information in just one night?
But the names weren’t unfamiliar.
Every potential champion from each school had already been marked in Antoine’s intelligence report.
True, none of these students could withstand a single Inferno God Spell. But this tournament was broadcast across the entire magical world. Wade couldn’t just incinerate his opponents in front of millions.
His gaze drifted slowly across the long tables. Several students suddenly shivered, as if a cold wind had passed over them—like they’d been stared down by a predator.
(End of Chapter)
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