Tearing down and building up—just like Muggle kids obsessing over those little "mini 4WD" cars, the young wizards showed an unexpected frenzy when handed tents they could modify freely. The level of excitement completely caught the school staff off guard.
This time, the tents were single-occupancy—entirely personal.
In theory, with enough skill, one could transform a tent into the most luxurious version imaginable—but that was nearly impossible.
The better the materials, the easier the modification, and the quality of the result depended heavily on the wizard's own skill.
Arthur Weasley could take a Muggle car and turn it into a magical flying vehicle that could become invisible, carry vast loads, and even recognize its owner. Over time, it seemed to have developed a life of its own.
This was why even someone as proud and influential as Malfoy Sr., who could sway the headmaster himself, still got into scrapes with Arthur at the bookstore—and even sent newspapers to mock his son after being criticized.
Judging a person by their enemies is always accurate. You really think the Weasleys were ordinary?
Apart from lacking money, they were extraordinary in every way.
Even without a traditional family position, the twins' potential was unmatched—they were now the main forces in the tent renovation project.
Third-year students could barely be considered novices, so everyone was outside, reveling in their newfound project. The school clearly had no intention of spoiling their fun, and keeping these mischievous kids occupied with this project was a perfect solution.
What nobody realized was that a few headmasters were secretly considering another idea: hosting a Quidditch match.
A three-school melee—no restrictions on team representation. Any school team, even privately organized ones, could participate.
It was the perfect way to chAnniel the students' overflowing energy. "You're so eager to achieve big things? Fine—here's Quidditch. Throw yourselves into cheering and training."
A commemorative trophy for this exchange wouldn't be a bad idea either.
The other schools had no objections, and even Ilvermorny, still eager for revenge, agreed without a second thought. After all, schools are about responsibilities, not personal vendettas.
But that was for later.
For now, the most sensational news on campus was Hogwarts' renovation camp.
Ilvermorny had only provided temporary supplies that students couldn't touch—they had to wait for specialists to arrive. Meanwhile, Hogwarts students were already transforming the campgrounds.
By evening, the most skilled, hands-on students had fully revealed the magically hidden furniture inside the tents. Though messy and unsightly, it was a huge breakthrough.
After a quick demonstration of the simplest techniques and half an hour of helping each other, a group of exhausted young wizards collapsed on the ground, too tired even to cheer.
But this was only the beginning—there were always students with no classes or the audacity to skip them.
By the next day, they had figured out how to construct rooms inside the tents using the hidden materials, and several skilled students had already added decorative patterns outside.
At dusk, as everyone practiced their modifications, reinforcements arrived.
The girls had come—having heard from the boys about their new "toy," they arrived in groups to inspect the camp.
Unsurprisingly, the boys' decoration style received widespread criticism. For girls with better aesthetic standards, focusing solely on functionality while ignoring appearance was a waste. Some patterns were acceptable, but overall, the tents still looked ugly.
No one defended them.
Unless someone intended to live seven years alone at Hogwarts without social interaction—definitely not good news.
That evening, beyond reviewing daytime discoveries, the tents began to receive all sorts of embellishments: glowing fireflies, woven flower clusters, colorful tassels, various emblems, exaggerated team logos, and screens replaying spectacular Quidditch goals. Almost every proposed decoration was tried—just different styles, no limits.
And this was only the beginning. The renovations continued—even bathrooms were created inside.
Various modification projects were proposed and implemented. The boys' practical skills improved dramatically, making the project meaningful, though expensive.
Tents weren't cheap. Even as semi-finished products, their cost remained high. Without Ilvermorny's funding, Hogwarts could not have supported such a large-scale project.
That night was another success. The twins even added their own "skill tree quirks."
Ever seen a tent kick visitors out?
They invented one—crude but highly effective. Anyone entering would be magically expelled. The tent quickly became popular in the camp.
Idle, mischievous students even cast spells to lighten their bodies or prevent injuries, deliberately getting ejected to see who could fly the farthest.
The twins, far from being proud, continued developing new prank spells for the tents, while others studied books to further expand the modifications. Clearly, everyone was fully invested in this magical playground.
At dusk, the girls returned—more of them this time.
After yesterday's adjustments, the tents were visually improved, though plenty of room for enhancement remained.
As the girls prepared to enter and inspect the interiors, BAM—you know what happened.
The Hufflepuff female prefect launched a perfect arc, nearly sending herself to the infirmary had she not stabilized mid-flight with her wand.
With the sound came laughter from inside the tent. "Haha, who forgot again this time?"