Although his attire couldn't be called luxurious, at least it wasn't ragged, with patches upon patches—hmm, Harry suddenly thought that if Lupin's clothes looked worn and layered with patches, it might actually better illustrate his rich experiences.
"Remus Lupin, our new professor," with a turn of thought in his mind, Harry continued: "Hmm, perhaps some of you are not unfamiliar with this name. If you know him, then you should know that when I say he's skilled in practical combat, I'm not joking. He experienced the Wizarding War and survived the pursuits of Death Eaters and Voldemort."
When Harry uttered that name, a wave of gasps rose among the students.
"After the war ended, he began wandering through various parts of the wizarding world. He's familiar with those dangerous magical creatures that can be found everywhere in the wild or aren't so common, as well as those dark magical creatures that can silently take your life. He's also well-versed in how to deal with dangerous individuals and survive."
"Yes, judging by your expressions, it's just as you imagine," Harry laughed. "Smugglers, con artists, poachers, dark wizards... I believe he can teach you crucial survival skills, which are exactly what you might need after graduating from school."
"That would be incredibly useful! Professor!!" George couldn't help shouting.
Smugglers, con artists, poachers, dark wizards... Although it sounded a bit off, for students still in school—or rather, for these adolescents in their prime—a person who could navigate dealings with such dangerous figures with ease held a kind of fatal attraction.
Not to mention that Lupin also carried the title of a war hero.
If earlier tonight the students had been most looking forward to news about the Triwizard Tournament, now their anticipation for the new professor and the new course had even caught up to that of the tournament—they could hardly wait to hear Lupin tell stories right then and there.
This was a professor personally endorsed by the headmaster as having real adventuring experience, nothing like that self-promoting book-writer Lockhart.
The students' fervent gazes made Lupin's scalp tingle; he fidgeted uncomfortably. He couldn't remember the last time so many people had stared at him at once, and for a moment, he was terribly nervous.
"At this point, I've introduced our two new professors to you!"
Harry had to raise his voice to quiet the chattering students. "Next, there's one last matter—I'm sorry to tell you all that there will be no House Cup Quidditch this year."
There were no sounds of disbelief, no questions, not even a hint of shock.
"You already knew the answer in advance, which robs you of much of the surprise," Harry said with a slight shake of his head. "In any case, starting from October and lasting through the entire school year, Hogwarts will host a magical competition that was interrupted for hundreds of years—the Triwizard Tournament!"
Finally, the moment they'd been waiting for arrived, and the students erupted into loud cheers, whistling, pounding on the tables, celebrating wildly.
Harry had to wait nearly a minute and a half before he could speak again.
"Since some among us don't know what this tournament is about, I need to explain it to you. Those who already know can think about what they'll eat in a bit."
"The Triwizard Tournament was established about seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between Europe's three largest magical schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Each school selects one champion, and the three champions compete in three magical tasks, ultimately claiming the title."
"The tournament is held every five years, with the three schools taking turns hosting. It was intended to foster friendships among young wizards from different countries, but unfortunately, it was discontinued due to the excessively high death toll."
The mention of the death toll cooled the enthusiastic students a bit. After all, many of them who didn't enjoy reading magical history truly didn't know the detailed background of the Triwizard Tournament—they only knew that the selected person would be called their school's champion, full of honor—and most importantly, if they were the champion, it would be incredibly cool!
But honestly, not many students cared about the death toll; most still looked eager to sign up and start the competition right away.
"In any case, over the centuries, people have tried several times to revive the tournament, but none succeeded," Harry continued. "Until now, in this moment when the whole world is undergoing great changes."
"There's no need to explain the specific reasons to you; I'm sure you don't care anyway. In short, this time we've done a lot of work to ensure that every champion faces as little life-threatening danger as possible. In October, the headmasters of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will lead their carefully selected competitors here, and the champion selection ceremony will take place on Halloween Eve."
"An impartial judge will decide which students are most qualified to participate in the Triwizard Tournament and win glory for their school. I know you've already heard that this Triwizard Tournament is different from every previous one, but please don't worry about the fairness of the competition."
"No one will require you unfinished students to compete against professors; the tasks for students and professors are separate, so ultimately, two groups of champions will be decided, and the winners will also receive a prize of five thousand Galleons. I have to say, that's a substantial sum."
It was indeed substantial—this prize amount was enough for many wizarding families to live on for over a decade without any extra entertainment expenses.
"I want to participate! I have to participate!!"—words like these were roughly what every student at the long tables was saying now, especially Fred and George, who looked so excited they were about to jump up.
Imagining the possibility of gaining such honor and wealth made him beam with excitement. People like Fred fantasizing about becoming Hogwarts' champion weren't alone; Harry could clearly see that beside every long table, there were people staring at him fervently or whispering excitedly to their neighbors, yearning for both fame and fortune.
"Don't rush; I know you're all eager to win the Triwizard Cup for Hogwarts," Harry continued. "But I have to say, given the grandeur of this tournament, each school will select three champions instead of the previous one—which means the winners will have to split the prize with their teammates."
"Even so, that's over fifteen hundred Galleons each!" someone couldn't help shouting.
"Yes, even split, the prize is still high enough," Harry nodded. "But remember what I said earlier? The Triwizard Tournament has a death quota, meaning if you die in a task, there's no one to avenge you, and no one will be punished for it—of course, attacking each other to death is definitely not allowed."
Harry's renewed warning cooled the students down a bit; death still carried some deterrent power.
"This is a tournament of far greater grandeur than any previous Triwizard, because this time, not only wizards will come to watch, but the Muggle Prime Minister will attend in person, and there will be Muggle television broadcasts," Harry said somewhat seriously. "You don't need to understand the implications behind this tournament; the first formal contact between wizards and Muggles has nothing to do with you."
"You just need to know one thing: this tournament cannot have any incidents where students or professors die—that would be all about showcasing the wonder and charm of the wizarding world and magic to ordinary wizards and Muggles from that perspective."
"Therefore, after our careful discussions, the participating schools and the Ministry of Magic unanimously agree that we won't use an age limit to restrict you, limiting participation only to students who are seventeen or older, that is, adults."
Some students began cheering.
"But given the danger of the tournament, even though we've taken many preventive measures in advance, students below sixth or seventh year simply couldn't handle it... However, it must be admitted that there are indeed some magical geniuses in this world who possess strength beyond their peers."
"For example, you! Professor!" George shouted.
"Yes, for example, me," this time Harry didn't feign modesty but nodded in agreement. "In short, to allow geniuses like me to freely showcase their abilities, we indeed won't use an age restriction to directly disqualify those who don't meet the age, but I also have to regrettably tell you that this won't make participation easier for most of you."
"Because for those under seventeen who want to sign up, you must obtain signatures from Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Lupin, and Professor Snape. Oh, sorry, you don't need all of them—just two, and you can enter."
"These four professors will consider your usual knowledge reserves and magical abilities; they'll only give a signature if they believe you have the strength to survive," Harry shrugged. "Trust me, this isn't any easier than an age limit, but at least you have a chance."
In an instant, four more people were being stared at with fervent gazes, especially Lupin—as the new professor who didn't know the students well yet, many set their sights on him as the key target.
"That's about all I have to say," Harry nodded in acknowledgment. "Protect yourselves, stay safe, study hard—that's all I want to caution you about. Now, eat."
With Harry's words, the four long tables were instantly filled with heaps of food, making the already famished students' mouths water.
"But you forgot the most important thing, Headmaster Potter!" Instead of cheering and diving into the meal like the other students, Fred stood up and shouted: "This is your first opening feast as host! Congratulations on becoming our headmaster!!"
Fred's words reminded the other students, and in an instant, voices congratulating and welcoming Harry rose one after another from the long tables.
"...Thank you," after a slight pause, Harry smiled and raised his glass. "Thank you for your support."
Needless to say, it was a sumptuous dinner, and it only stopped when everyone was walking out holding their bellies.
"Er, Harry?" Without hurrying to leave, Hagrid shuffled over to Harry's side and said: "I can still call you that, right? I mean—fancy coming to my place for a drink?"
"What nonsense are you talking, Hagrid," Harry said somewhat helplessly, patting Hagrid's forearm. "Of course we're still friends; how could that change? But I didn't expect you to have room left for drinking... Remus, want to come along? Consider it a celebration for you."
"Oh, you're right, Harry; I was overthinking," Hagrid looked relieved. He patted his belly and said: "I just have some things I want to ask you about. Er, come along, Remus; we haven't had a drink in ages."
"Round two?" Lupin smiled mildly. "I don't mind. By the way, I guess Sirius has probably arrived at the Great Totem by now. Just a heads-up: he's pretty angry that you didn't agree to let him attend the feast."
"By the rules, non-staff can't enter Hogwarts; it's already good that he can come to the Great Totem," Harry sighed. "Let's go; don't keep him waiting."
Sirius was indeed already waiting at the Great Totem—with his favorite Muggle fast food, busily grilling meat on the grass outside the Great Totem, and even stacking bottled beer into a mountain on the grass.
"Mm, I was originally planning to let you try my new collection—supposedly a wine brewed by some Eastern magical creature that looks like a monkey; very precious," Hagrid grumbled, sitting beside Harry with a huge beer mug in hand. "But with this many people, there won't be enough to go around."
"Then hide it away for when it's just the two of us," as a fellow drinker, Harry whispered with a wink.
"Good, er, I mean, I've already hidden it," Hagrid winked back—then the two of them burst into laughter together.
"Hey, what are you two whispering about?" Sirius walked over with a plate of grilled meat and said: "Here, Harry, congratulations on officially becoming Hogwarts' headmaster."
"Actually, I already was last year," Harry said with a smile, picking up a rib.
"That doesn't count," Sirius said nonchalantly. "Only a headmaster who's successfully hosted a new students' opening feast is a real headmaster. The graduation feast you hosted last year only counts as half."
"Right, this makes it complete," Hagrid said after chugging a mouthful of beer. "I have to thank you, Harry—and Dumbledore too. If it weren't for you two killing the basilisk and finding evidence that the basilisk was the one who killed Myrtle, there's no way I could've become a professor."
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