Chapter 195: Krum
A burst of whispers immediately erupted within the Great Hall.
Harry stood up abruptly, his face flushing a deep red. "Hagrid didn't do anything wrong! He was taking care of those animals!"
"Sit down, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge turned her head, her gaze as cold as a venomous snake.
"This conversation does not involve you. If you dare to be disrespectful again, I wouldn't mind teaching you some manners before investigating Hagrid."
Julian took a sip of pumpkin juice with a smile, his eyes meeting Hermione's in mid-air.
Hermione appeared somewhat anxious; she clearly sensed the political maneuvering behind this, but she knew even better that resisting Umbridge now would only make things worse.
"Let's go." Umbridge waved her hand and turned to leave with the Aurors.
"Draco, bring some people, let's go take a look as well." Julian set down his cup, his tone as casual as if he were discussing today's weather.
"After all, as assistant investigators, we have an obligation to ensure the fairness of the process."
Draco paused for a moment, then a wicked smirk appeared on his face. "Of course, Julian. I'd be more than happy to see how that big oaf cries."
When Julian's group arrived at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was standing helplessly in front of his small wooden hut.
Behind him, several large wooden crates were emitting ear-grating scraping sounds and strange explosions.
Those were Blast-Ended Skrewts.
A brainless and extremely dangerous monster illegally crossbred from a Manticore and a Fire Crab.
"This... this is my new project, Madam Investigator," Hagrid stammered an explanation, his large hands nervously rubbing against his apron.
"They're just... just a bit lively."
"Lively?" Umbridge covered her nose with a handkerchief, looking at the sparks flying from the crates with disgust. "Mr. Rosier, as the student representative, do you believe such creatures are suitable for the classroom?"
Julian stepped forward, observing the writhing masses of flesh from a close distance.
He could sense the chaos and agony within the souls of these creatures.
"From an academic perspective, Mr. Hagrid's innovative spirit is admirable," Julian's voice echoed across the open grass, and Hagrid gave him a grateful look.
"However, from a safety management perspective, these creatures have neither visual organs nor a clear predatory logic; their only purpose for existing seems to be indiscriminate attacks." But then, Julian's tone shifted.
"Madam, I believe this not only violates the laws of biological breeding but is also a disregard for student safety. Especially considering we are about to welcome guests from other schools."
"You are right, quite right," Umbridge nodded with satisfaction.
"Mr. Hagrid, in light of your serious violations, the Ministry of Magic will temporarily revoke your teaching license and perform a forced destruction of these... things. As for yourself, due to the illegal breeding involved, you need to come back to the Ministry with us for investigation."
"No! You can't do that!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione came running over, panting. Harry rushed in front of Umbridge, furious.
"Mr. Potter, it seems you haven't learned your lesson," Umbridge sneered, her gaze shifting to Julian.
"Mr. Rosier, how do you think we should handle this behavior of seriously interfering with official duties?"
Julian looked at Harry's face, distorted with anger, and then at Hagrid's despairing expression beside him.
He slowly walked up to Harry, his height—half a head taller than Harry—exerting a strong sense of pressure.
"Harry, calm down." Julian's voice was extremely gentle, yet it carried an indisputable power.
"Rules are rules. If you really want to help him, you should find evidence to prove his legality instead of shouting here like an immature child. This will only make Hagrid's situation more difficult."
He turned around to look at Umbridge. "Madam, Mr. Potter was merely acting on impulse due to personal feelings. I think rather than taking him away, it would be better to let him watch these dangerous items be disposed of. For him, that would be a better education than detention."
Umbridge narrowed her eyes, then giggled. "A very creative punishment. Let it be so. Aurors, begin execution."
As the Aurors waved their wands, massive explosions rang out at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid let out a wail and slumped to the ground.
Harry stared fixedly at Julian, his eyes filled with an unprecedented level of hostility and despair.
Julian merely stood there quietly, watching the firelight reflect in the depths of his eyes.
This was only the first step.
Hagrid's departure would completely sever Dumbledore's eyes and ears in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, and as for Harry's hostility toward him, he didn't care for now.
After dealing with Hagrid's matter, Julian did not return directly to the Great Hall but took a detour to the shore of the Black Lake.
Durmstrang's ghost ship was moored quietly in the center of the lake, its masts looking like slender fingers in the mist.
Ripples spread across the lake's surface as a few Merpeople occasionally surfaced before quickly diving back into the depths.
"That was quite a performance."
A voice with a foreign accent came from behind him.
Julian didn't turn around; he knew it was Viktor Krum.
"Is politeness not emphasized at your Durmstrang, Mr. Krum?" Julian said calmly, looking at the lake water.
Krum walked up to his side, still wearing that slightly somber expression.
Dressed in heavy fur robes, he looked like a silent mountain in the breeze.
"At Durmstrang, we only care about power and results." Krum turned his head, staring intently at Julian.
"Your performance in front of that woman just now was like a—"
"Politician is a derogatory term; I prefer to call it a maintainer of order." Julian turned around, looking Krumstraight in the eye.
"Krum, you are a pure athlete; you pursue speed and passion on a broomstick. But have you ever thought about what you would do if one day the broom beneath your feet no longer obeyed your commands, or the school behind you was no longer your safe haven?"
Krum frowned. "I don't understand what you mean."
"You will understand." Julian stepped closer, his voice very low. "In this tournament, Karkaroff wants you to win to restore his dignity as Principal."
"But let me tell you, winning is not the only goal. If you want to survive in this world that is about to collapse, you need to find stronger allies, not that stray dog who only knows how to run away."
Krum's breathing became heavy; he could sense the startling amount of information contained in Julian's words.
He knew Karkaroff had once been a Death Eater, and he knew Karkaroff's current situation was very delicate.
"What exactly do you want?" Krum asked.
"What I want is a complete, obedient Durmstrang." Juliansmiled slightly and patted Krum on the shoulder.
"Go back and tell your classmates that if they encounter any trouble at Hogwarts, they can come to me. After all, we are the hosts."
Chapter 196: The Champion
Julian left the Black Lake, leaving Krum standing alone in the wind.
For the rest of the day, Hogwarts fell into an unprecedentedly oppressive atmosphere.
The news of Hagrid being taken away spread rapidly throughout the school, and the Gryffindors were filled with righteous indignation.
But faced with Umbridge's elusive 'Educational Decrees' and the patrolling Aurors, they could only vent their frustration in the common room.
Meanwhile, Julian sat in the Slytherin dormitory, unfolding the analysis report on the goblet of fire sent by Hermione.
"Logic... contractual binding..."
Julian's slender fingers lightly traced across the Parchment.
"If the goal is to throw Harry's name in, it isn't difficult. The hard part is how to make the goblet of fire select Harry while simultaneously selecting someone it simply cannot refuse."
He looked out the window; the rain had stopped, and moonlight spilled over the Black Lake, making it look cold and silent.
"Halloween..." Julian murmured softly.
He closed his eyes and began to construct that grand Reality Weaving matrix within his consciousness.
This time, he wasn't just challenging a few Wizards, but an ancient contract that had been passed down for centuries.
In that pitch-black abyss, some indescribable power was slowly awakening along with his will.
In the days that followed, the classes at Hogwartsbecame exceptionally tense.
Umbridge wasn't satisfied with merely driving Hagridaway; she began to appear frequently at the back of various classrooms, holding that loathsome little notebook, recording every word and action of the Professors.
Professor Flitwick was criticized for 'lacking practicality' because he demonstrated an 'overly flashy' spell in class.
Professor Trelawney was even publicly humiliated by Umbridge, who called her Divination 'unfounded trickery'.
The entire school was filled with complaints, but the Slytherin classes alone remained unusually calm.
In Snape's Potion Class, Umbridge even showed an unprecedented hint of a smile.
"Professor Snape's teaching is very rigorous and fully meets the standards of the Ministry of Magic." After her inspection, Umbridge nodded to Julian, who sat in the front row. "Of course, this is also inseparable from the cooperation of excellent students."
Julian returned a perfect smile, though he was sneering in his heart.
Snape's sallow face was so gloomy at that moment it could almost drip water; he clearly loathed this kind of political fawning, but for the sake of the larger plan, he had to choose to endure it.
And in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the situation became even more bizarre.
Moody—or rather, Barty Crouch Jr.—showed an almost pathological enthusiasm for teaching.
Not only did he demonstrate the three Unforgivable Curses to the students in the very first lesson, but he also stared at everyone with an extremely provocative gaze.
"Imperio!" Moody roared in a raspy voice, his magical eye spinning wildly in its socket. "Can any of you resist it? Eh?"
He threw a controlled spider onto Neville Longbottom's desk, watching the poor boy tremble with fear.
When his gaze fell on Julian, the magical eye stopped moving.
"Rosier." Moody limped over to Julian, the scent of aged spirits and Polyjuice Potion wafting toward him.
"I heard you're a genius. So, what do you think is most important when facing an Unforgivable Curse?"
"Willpower, Professor," Julian replied calmly, his eyes as deep as a pool of stagnant water.
"As well as a clear perception of reality. If you do not acknowledge the pain, the pain cannot hurt you; if you do not acknowledge the control, the control cannot bind you."
Moody paused for a moment, then let out a sharp, harsh laugh.
"Good! Well said! Clear perception!" He slapped the desk, a flash of fanaticism crossing his twisted face.
"But in this world, clarity often means pain. Rosier, if your name appears in the goblet of fire, I will look forward to your performance in the Triwizard Tournament."
Julian said nothing, merely watching him quietly.
He could feel the almost insane loyalty to Lord Voldemortdeep within Barty, and that impulse to destroy everything.
This is an excellent tool, Julian thought.
As long as he was used properly, he would be the spark that ignited the entire Hogwarts powder keg.
Time soon reached October.
The air at Hogwarts was filled with tension and anticipation.
The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had been at the school for a month, and the competition between the three schools had spread from verbal sparring to every corner.
In the Great Hall, the massive goblet of fire had already been placed in position.
Every day, students who had turned seventeen crossed the Age Line drawn by Dumbledore, throwing Parchmentwith their names and schools into the eerie blue flames.
Cedric Diggory threw his name in amidst the cheers of the Hufflepuffs.
Fred and George tried to sneak through using Aging Potion, only to end up with faces full of white beards, causing the entire hall to burst into laughter.
Julian stood in the shadows of the corridor, watching it all.
"Do you plan to participate?" Daphne walked over and asked softly. "With your strength, that Age Line couldn't possibly stop you."
"I don't need that trophy to prove anything, Daphne," Julian replied indifferently. "Though, this stage is indeed quite nice."
He turned his head, looking at Harry as he walked out of the Great Hall.
Harry looked very melancholy; Hagrid's departure had hit him hard, and Umbridge's frequent targeting of him lately left him exhausted.
"Harry Potter..." Julian murmured softly. "Your name will soon become the final echo of this era."
He pulled a specially made coin shimmering with a faint purple light from his pocket and flicked it gently.
The coin traced an arc in the air, then vanished into the void.
That was the fuse of Reality Weaving.
The night of Halloween was fast approaching.
On Halloween Eve, the Great Hall was decorated with extraordinary splendor.
Thousands of jack-o'-lanterns hung from the ceiling, blue flames flickering inside them, echoing the color of the goblet of fire.
After the feast ended, the Great Hall fell into absolute silence.
Dumbledore walked to the side of the goblet of fire, reaching out his slightly withered hand.
"Now, the goblet of fire is about to make its decision."
The flames in the cup turned from blue to red, then shot out a piece of charred Parchment.
"The champion for Durmstrang—Viktor Krum!"
A burst of fanatical applause erupted from the Durmstrang side; Krum stood up expressionlessly and walked toward the small room in the back.
Immediately following, a second piece of Parchment flew out.
"The champion for Beauxbatons—Fleur Delacour!"
Fleur elegantly tossed her silver hair and left her seat under everyone's gaze.
The third piece of Parchment.
"The champion for Hogwarts—Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table almost collapsed from the cheering as Cedric walked into the room with a gentle smile.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore said loudly. "Now we have our three champions..."
However, before he could finish his sentence, the goblet of fire turned from blue to red once more.
Total silence fell over the hall.
Chapter 197: Escape
A Parchment scrolled in the firelight, slowly drifting into Dumbledore's hand.
Dumbledore's face instantly turned extremely grim. He trembled as he uttered the name:
"Harry Potter."
An unprecedented commotion erupted in the Great Hall. Harry sat stunned, his face pale.
"I didn't put my name in! I didn't!" he cried out in terror.
But the goblet of fire did not stop.
It seemed to go mad, its flames expanding wildly, even licking the ceiling of the Great Hall.
Under everyone's terrified gaze, a fifth Parchment, glowing with an eerie purple light, shot out from the sea of fire.
It didn't float down; instead, it plunged like an arrow directly in front of Julian at the Slytherin long table.
Julian slowly reached out and picked up the paper.
The name on it was not his own.
He looked at the contents of the paper, a cold smile, enough to freeze one's soul, appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"It seems this play is even more exciting than I imagined."
He stood up and displayed the Parchment to everyone.
It clearly read:
"Julian Rosier — Hogwarts — Order Academy"
"Order Academy?" Dumbledore shot to his feet, his eyes filled with unprecedented horror. "What is that? Hogwarts has no such academy!"
"It does now, Principal."
Julian's voice was exceptionally clear in the dead silent Great Hall.
"From this moment on, reality is defined by me."
He turned around and strode towards the Champions' Room, under the terrified, bewildered, and awestruck gazes of all the teachers and students.
In the small Champions' Room, the atmosphere was suffocatingly oppressive.
Krum leaned against the wall, Fleur sat on a chair, and Cedric stood somewhat awkwardly.
When Harry walked in, utterly distraught, Fleur let out a scornful sneer. "A little boy? Is Hogwarts out of people?"
But then, the door was pushed open again.
Julian walked in.
An oppressive aura emanated from him, making it impossible to look directly at him.
"Julian?" Cedric was stunned. "How could you also..."
"The rules have shifted a little." Julian walked over to Harry and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
Harry felt a cold power instantly soothe his anxiety, yet it also filled him with a deeper fear.
"Don't worry, Harry." Julian's voice was eerily gentle. "I'll be with you. Until the very last moment of the competition."
Urgent footsteps sounded from outside the door.
Dumbledore, Headmaster Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, as well as Umbridge and Moody, all rushed in.
"What is going on?!" Headmaster Karkaroff roared. "Two extra champions? This isn't fair!"
"Fairness is built upon strength, Headmaster Karkaroff." Julian turned around, facing these giants of the magicworld, his tone calm and arrogant.
"The goblet of fire chose me, which means I am an indispensable part of this contract. As for Order Academy... I think this is precisely what the Ministry of Magic has always wanted to see—a new, more efficient educational model."
He looked at Umbridge.
Although Umbridge was also shocked, upon hearing the will of the Ministry of Magic, she immediately straightened her back.
"Exactly!" she shrieked.
"Mr. Rosier represents a transformation! A necessary endeavor for the future of the magic world! Dumbledore, I don't think you have the right to refuse the goblet of fire's choice, unless you want to break this sacred contract."
Dumbledore stared intently at Julian. He saw an abyss in the young man's eyes.
He knew this was no accident.
This was Julian's first declaration of war against this world.
"In that case..." Dumbledore sighed deeply, as if he had aged ten years in an instant. "Then, this Triwizard Tournament will have five champions."
He looked at Julian.
"Mr. Rosier, I hope you remember that with great power comes great responsibility."
"What I remember is, with great power, the rules are made by me."
Julian bowed slightly, performing a perfect Rei (bow).
Late at night after Halloween, Hogwarts Castle was shrouded in a suffocating silence.
The moon was obscured by thick clouds, and the occasional streaks of cold light that broke through swept across the Black Lake, illuminating the Durmstrang ship moored on the water.
Julian stood by the window of the Slytherin dormitory, his fingertips gently caressing an ancient badge that glowed with a faint purple light.
"Master..." an ethereal, slightly magnetic voice whispered in his ear.
Purple Fiend's figure emerged from the shadows.
She was currently in a semi-human form, her ruby-like eyes glittering in the darkness.
She bowed slightly, her long purple hair falling over her shoulders, and several transparent small spiders crawled between her fingers – they were her network of spies throughout the Castle.
"Karkaroff moved." Purple Fiend reported in a low voice, a hint of excitement in her tone.
"He brought his skull-adorned scepter and several heavy leather suitcases, and is trying to leave Hogwarts via a hidden path at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He looks terrified."
"Fear is only natural." Julian's lips curved into a cold arc.
"When the mark on his arm began to glow brightly again, when he realized that his betrayal of his comrades was about to be reckoned with, his only instinct was to flee."
He turned around and donned a dark travel cloak, his movements elegant and unhurried. "Let's go, let's meet our Headmaster Karkaroff. Before he completely becomes a stray dog, there's still something I need from him."
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Withered fallen leaves groaned underfoot.
The evening wind whistled through the dense branches of the Forbidden Forest, making a wailing sound, as if countless wronged souls were whispering.
Headmaster Karkaroff was hurrying along the muddy path, stumbling with each step.
His luxurious fur cloak was now splattered with mud, and his pointed beard trembled slightly from extreme tension.
He kept pulling back the sleeve of his left arm, staring in horror at the increasingly clear dark mark.
"Damn it... damn it... he's coming back, he's really coming back..." Headmaster Karkaroff muttered nervously, his eyes wildly scanning his surroundings.
Suddenly, he stopped.
In a clearing not far ahead, a slender figure stood silently in the moonlight.
The person had their back to him, as if they had been waiting there for centuries.
"Headmaster Karkaroff, a late-night stroll is not a good health habit, especially for someone with a racing heart."
Julian slowly turned around, his deep purple eyes shining astonishingly bright in the darkness.
"Rosier?!" Headmaster Karkaroff sharply drew his wand, his voice turning shrill with fear. "What are you doing here? Get out of the way! Otherwise, I won't be polite!"
"Won't be polite?" Julian let out a soft laugh, which sounded particularly grating in the empty forest.
"Igor, your hand holding the wand is trembling. Are you afraid of the old master who is awakening, or are you afraid of me, the new master of order?"
"Enough nonsense! Crucio!" Headmaster Karkaroff didn't hesitate; he violently waved his wand, and an evil red light cut through the night, heading straight for Julian's face.
Chapter 198: Control
Karkaroff's attack was sudden, but Julian didn't care.
Julian didn't even move his feet; instead, he quickly drew his wand and gave a light tap forward.
The red light suddenly twisted and snapped eerily three feet away from Julian.
Finally, it dissipated into the air as harmless sparks.
"Igor, it seems your strength hasn't grown during these years of seclusion." Julian's voice was cold and grand, as if echoing from all directions at once.
Karkaroff was stunned; he had never seen such a defensive method. He waved his wand frantically, pouring out various vicious curses like a rainstorm:
"Blazing Flames!"
"Reducto!"
"..."
Karkaroff attacked continuously, but every spell was blocked by Julian.
"Avada—"
A ghostly green light appeared at the tip of Karkaroff's wand.
"Enough!!!"
Julian's eyes turned cold, and he clenched his left hand in the air.
The mud beneath Karkaroff's feet surged upward as if it had a life of its own, turning into countless black chains that tightly bound his limbs.
Not only that, but even the air around him seemed to become as thick as water, pressing against his lungs so that he couldn't even utter a spell.
Bang!
Karkaroff knelt heavily on the muddy ground. His wand flew out of his hand, was nimbly caught by Purple Fiend, and then snapped casually.
Julian approached step by step; the sound of his leather boots stepping on fallen leaves sounded like a death knell to Karkaroff.
"Don't... don't kill me..." Karkaroff gasped violently, the instinct of facing death making him begin to plead.
"What do you want? Galleons? Durmstrang's Dark Artsmanuals? I can give them all to you!"
Julian crouched down, looking levelly at the disheveled Principal.
"Igor, don't think of me as shallow as you are. I know what you're afraid of." Julian reached out and abruptly yanked back the sleeve of Karkaroff's left arm.
The dark mark was writhing like a living thing, emitting an ominous aura.
"He's coming back, isn't he? Do you think you can escape his punishment by fleeing to the North Pole, to the ends of the earth?" Julian looked at him mockingly.
"A traitor, a coward who identified Bellatrix and Barty Crouch in the courtroom—how do you think he will torture you?"
Karkaroff closed his eyes in despair, his whole body shaking like a leaf.
"However, I have some good news for you." Julian leaned close to his ear, his voice low and seductive.
"Your master's resurrection plan isn't going as smoothly as you think. In fact, he is currently just a remnant soul struggling on the brink of death."
Karkaroff snapped his eyes open, looking at Julian in disbelief.
"What... what are you saying?"
"rowena ravenclaws diadem, Slytherin's pendant, and that diary that once caused a riot at Hogwarts..."
With every name Julian uttered, Karkaroff's pupils constricted further.
"Those things have all become scrap in my laboratory. I destroyed them with my own hands—destroyed the soul fragments that made him immortal."
Karkaroff gasped. As a former core Death Eater, although he didn't know the specific details of Horcruxes, he knew those were the things Lord Voldemort cherished most.
"You... you destroyed them?" There was a strange ecstasy in Karkaroff's voice. "Then he... is he as good as dead?"
"Dead? No, he won't die that easily." Julian stood up, his gaze deep. "But he will become increasingly mad, increasingly weak."
"When he realizes his soul is incomplete, he will take his anger out on every subordinate he can find. Especially ones like you... subordinates who once betrayed him."
The sliver of hope that had just risen in Karkaroff was shattered once again.
"So, Igor, your only way out isn't in flight, but with me."
Julian held out his hand.
"Hand over the Administrative Seal of Durmstrang. From today on, that school will no longer belong to you, nor to any family. It will become an overseas branch of the 'Academy of Order'." As he spoke, Julian looked directly into Karkaroff's eyes.
"And you, as my agent, can continue to sit in the Principal's seat and enjoy your wealth and status. I will protect you from being found by that remnant soul."
Karkaroff stared intently at Julian, weighing his options.
On one side was illusory freedom and certain death by pursuit; on the other was relinquishing power to linger on.
"How... how can I believe you?"
"You have no choice," Julian said flatly. "Or I could kill you right now and take some time to go to the Black Lake and take over your ship. I think Krum and the others would be very happy to see a stronger leader."
Karkaroff was silent for a long time. Finally, as if drained of all strength, he tremblingly pulled out a completely black seal from his robes, carved with a double-headed eagle and a skull at the top.
That was the symbol of power passed down through Durmstrang for centuries.
Julian took the seal, feeling the ancient Dark Artsfluctuations lingering on it.
He nodded with satisfaction and gave a casual wave; the mud chains binding Karkaroff instantly vanished.
"A wise choice, Mr. Principal."
Julian put the seal away. "Now, dry your tears and straighten your furs. Go back to your ship as if nothing happened. Tomorrow morning, I want to see you continuing to flirt with Umbridge in the Great Hall."
Karkaroff stood up disheveled; he looked at Julian, his eyes filled with awe.
"What... what do you really want, Rosier? You've destroyed so many Horcruxes and taken my school... Do you intend to replace him?"
"Replace?" Julian turned and walked into the depths of the Forbidden Forest, his voice drifting away with the wind into the night.
"I have no interest in his low-level reign of terror. What I want is for the logic of this world to be completely returned to order. And Durmstrang is just one piece of my puzzle."
Merpeople, Werewolves, Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, Pure-blood families, and now, Durmstrang...
Purple Fiend followed silently behind Julian. Before leaving, she gave a cold glance at Karkaroff, who was slumped on the ground, a cruel curve appearing at the corner of her mouth.
By the time they returned to the Castle, the glow of dawn had begun to appear on the horizon.
Julian stood at the top of the Owlery, looking at the Durmstrang ship in the distance.
Through that seal, he could now feel every gear and every plank of the entire ship under his will.
Those battle-hardened students of Durmstrang would gradually become the sharpest spear in his hand.
"Master, is Beauxbatons next?" Purple Fiend asked softly, standing behind him.
"No rush." Julian looked at the rising sun. "Madame Maxime is a tough nut to crack, but Fleur... she is quite a good choice."
Chapter 199: The First Task
Time flew by, and November soon arrived in the Scottish Highlands.
A cold wind swept through the entire Hogwarts Castle, yet the students' enthusiasm remained undiminished.
The pitch originally used for Quidditch matches had been completely transformed; massive stands now surrounded a rocky pit, and the air was thick with the scent of sulfur, hay, and the distinctive stench of a large predator.
Thousands of students, Ministry of Magic officials, and reporters who had caught wind of the event packed the stands, their clamor nearly piercing the gloomy clouds.
Julian stood in the champions' waiting tent, his fingers lightly brushing over his deep purple battle robes.
The cuffs of the robes were embroidered with intricate magical runes, each thread faintly shimmering with dark light.
Not far from him, Cedric was pacing incessantly, his face as pale as a sheet of Parchment.
Fleur pursed her lips tightly, her azure eyes filled with unprecedented gravity; her Veela elegance seemed somewhat fragile in the face of death's threat.
Krum maintained his usual somber expression, but the way his fingers repeatedly gripped his wand betrayed his inner turmoil.
As for Harry, he sat on a bench in the corner, looking as if he might faint at any moment.
"Alright, champions, please come forward to draw lots," Mr. Bagman's voice rang out, sounding inappropriately cheerful.
He shook the purple silk bag in his hand.
Cedric was the first to reach in, pulling out a small, lifelike model of a Swedish Short-Snout with the number '1' hanging around its neck.
Fleur drew the Common Welsh Green, number '2'.
Krum got the medium-sized South American Dragon, number '3'.
Harry's hand trembled as he pulled out one of the remaining two—an Antipodean Opaleye, number '4'.
The last one, also the largest and most ferocious, was left for Julian.
When Julian lifted the model of the Hungarian Horntail—covered in spikes and breathing black flames—from the bag, the air in the tent seemed to freeze instantly.
The number on the model was '5'.
"Oh... the toughest one, Mr. Rosier." Bagman wiped the sweat from his forehead, a hint of pity flashing in his eyes. "Good luck."
Julian merely gave the small dragon in his hand a faint glance, his fingertips exerting a slight pressure as the magic of Reality Weaving instantly suppressed the model's roar.
"Luck is for the weak, Mr. Bagman," he replied calmly, then sat back into the shadows.
The whistle blew, and the match officially began.
Cedric was the first to walk out of the tent.
Deafening cheers erupted from the stands; the Hufflepuffs were cheering for their hero.
Julian closed his eyes, clearly sensing everything in the arena through the Reality Weaving tendrils scattered around the field.
Cedric's tactics were very Hufflepuff.
He first Transfigured a boulder into a lively Labrador Retriever.
The Swedish Short-Snout's blue flames instantly engulfed the hound, but in those few seconds, Cedricrelied on his excellent agility to dash toward the Golden Egg.
However, the dragon's instincts far exceeded his expectations; the Short-Snout abandoned the bait at the last moment, its tail-swipe shattering the ground and sending debris that cut half of Cedric's face.
After several bouts of struggle, Cedric obtained the Golden Egg as expected, but the price was being carried off to the Hospital Wing.
Next was Fleur.
She initially attempted a large-scale Sleep Charm, her Veela magic weaving a golden net across the arena.
The Welsh Green did indeed grow drowsy under her singing, but the dragon's snores were laced with unstable sparks that ignited Fleur's expensive silk skirt.
She frantically used a Water Spell to extinguish the fire, snatching the Golden Egg just a second before the dragon woke, but her Beauxbatons uniform was already more than half-burnt.
Krum's performance was full of Durmstrang's violent aesthetics.
He hit the South American Dragon directly in the eye with a Conjunctivitis Curse.
The intense pain drove the dragon into a frenzy; it trampled the ground wildly, not only destroying half the field but also crushing several real dragon eggs.
Karkaroff's face turned ashen in the stands, as the judges gave very low scores for such destructive behavior during their evaluation.
When Harry appeared, the crowd reached a minor peak of excitement.
He summoned his Firebolt, tracing thrilling arcs through the air.
The Antipodean Opaleye was incredibly fast, its pearly scales shimmering with blinding light in the sun; Harrywas flying almost flush against its dragon breath.
Finally, he used a dive to lure the dragon away, relying on the broom's superior performance to grab the egg.
Though he looked heroic, in Julian's eyes, this was nothing more than child's play.
"The final champion, Julian Rosier of the Order Academy!"
Bagman's voice echoed through the entire valley via a Sonorous charm.
The moment Julian stepped out of the tent, the noisy stands suddenly fell into an eerie silence.
There were no cheers, no boos, only a sense of awe that was almost stifling.
People watched the fourteen-year-old boy; he wasn't riding a broom like Harry, nor was he gripping a wand like Krum.
He hadn't even drawn his wand, simply keeping his hands in his cloak pockets as he walked with steady steps toward the chained behemoth.
The Hungarian Horntail.
It was the most ferocious of all the dragons.
Its pitch-black scales shimmered with a metallic luster in the cold wind, and the dense spikes on its tail left deep furrows in the ground with every sweep.
When it saw Julian approaching, its yellow eyes with vertical pupils flashed with a hint of violence.
It opened its massive maw, a ball of black flame capable of melting steel brewing deep within its throat.
In the stands, Daphne covered her mouth in horror, and Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his hand already resting on the Elder Wand.
However, Julian did not stop.
He stopped less than ten feet away from the dragon.
At this distance, the Horntail only needed to lunge forward to swallow him whole.
"Quiet."
Chapter 200: Shocking the Entire Arena
Julian spoke. His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried a frequency that seemed to penetrate the soul.
At the same time, he released the aura hidden deep within the subspace.
It was Norbert — the former Norwegian Ridgeback, an aura of a "Dragon King" nurtured in Julian's subspacewith countless Dark Arts sacrifices and high-purity magic.
In that subspace, Norbert had grown into a terrifying entity over fifty meters long, every drop of its blood fused with Julian's will.
At this moment, Julian was like a walking dragon-forbidden zone.
The Hungarian Horntail's imminent burst of flame suddenly extinguished.
Its massive body trembled violently, and an emotion called "submission" appeared in its previously wild eyes.
In its perception, this human before it was not a weak prey, but an ancient deity, cloaked in human skin, countless times higher in rank than itself, ruling over all dragons.
It was a suppression from deep within its bloodline, an absolute obedience between living beings.
Under the dumbfounded gaze of tens of thousands of spectators, the Horntail, reputed as "untamable," slowly lowered its proud head.
It retracted the spikes on its back and coiled its massive tail docilely around its body.
It let out a low growl, similar to a puppy's whimper, then rested its head on the cold pile of rocks and closed its eyes.
Julian walked forward, extended a hand, and gently pressed it against the Horntail's cold snout.
"Good boy," he murmured.
The entire arena was so silent that you could hear a pin drop.
Bagman's whistle fell to the ground, Umbridge's toad-like face was filled with disbelief, and Karkaroff slumped in his chair as if he had seen a ghost.
Fleur, watching this scene backstage, also had her eyes shining.
Julian turned around and elegantly picked up the glittering Golden Egg from the dragon-guarded nest.
He didn't leave immediately; instead, he glanced back at the Horntail and snapped his fingers.
magic quietly activated, healing the dragon's wounds caused by the iron chains.
Then, in the hushed silence of the crowd, he, clad in his deep purple robe, slowly walked back backstage like a monarch inspecting his territory.
"Ten! Ten! All tens!"
When all five judges—including Karkaroff, who had been trying to find fault—unanimously raised cards marked "10," the arena erupted in cheers loud enough to shatter glass.
It was the worship of absolute power.
The Slytherin table had gone completely wild, with Dracoand Nott jumping onto the tables and roaring.
And in that dark corner, Moody (Barty) was staring intently at Julian with his magical eye.
He felt a threat he had never experienced before.
This power, this absolute control over higher beings, even his master at his peak might not have been able to achieve it so effortlessly.
Julian returned to the Rest Area (Rest Area), where Harrywas looking at him as if he were an alien.
"How did you do that, Julian...?" Harry stammered, "That was a Horntail, Charlie said it killed several Dragon Handlers."
"Harry, when your will is strong enough, the whole world will make way for you." Julian patted his shoulder, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
"The Golden Egg holds the secret to the second task. I suggest you open it early, otherwise, those things at the bottom of the Black Lake won't be as compliant as this dragon."
As he spoke, Julian couldn't help but recall the merpeople at the bottom of the lake; after several months of cooperation, they had essentially established a good working relationship with the House of Rosier.
Later, Julian returned to the Room of Requirement.
Purple Fiend was already waiting there, holding a recently intercepted secret letter.
"Master, Madame Maxime has written to Beauxbatons, requesting an additional security consultant," Purple Fiend whispered. "She seems to feel that Hogwarts is no longer safe."
"Let her add one." Julian opened the Golden Egg, and the piercing screams emanating from it echoed through the room.
But with a casual wave of his hand, the screams instantly transformed into a beautiful melody.
"The second task is underwater. I think it's time to meet those old friends. And..."
He looked out the window; in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, Norbert's aura was faintly flickering.
Just then, there was a knock on the door of the spire.
A graceful figure appeared outside the door.
Fleur Delacour.
She had changed into a form-fitting blue velvet dress, her silver hair shimmering softly in the moonlight.
The arrogance she previously displayed was gone, replaced by a complex expression mixed with frustration and curiosity.
"Rosier," she began, her voice a little hoarse.
"I think we need to talk about the magic you used in the arena just now."
Julian sat behind the massive Obsidian Desk, his hands clasped together.
"Talk? Miss Delacour, I thought the Beauxbatonschampion would be busy studying the Golden Egg right now."
"I already know the secret of the Golden Egg. But your secret..." Fleur took a few steps closer, and the Veela's scent quickly filled the small space.
She stared intently into Julian's eyes, trying to find even a trace of being seduced, but she failed.
Julian's gaze remained as calm as an abyss, even carrying a hint of scrutiny.
"Your secret is more important than this competition." Fleur bit her lip. "I've never seen anyone command a dragon like that. That wasn't beast taming. Who exactly are you?"
"Who I am isn't important, Miss Delacour." Julian stood up and slowly walked towards her.
That overwhelming aura made Fleur involuntarily take a step back, her back hitting the cold stone wall.
"What's important is that what you see now is just the tip of the iceberg. If you want to survive the upcoming tasks, or rather, if you want Beauxbatons not to lose too badly..."
He reached out and gently twirled a strand of Fleur's silver hair.
"Learn to submit. Just like that Horntail."
Fleur's breathing quickened; she could feel the cold magicemanating from Julian's fingertips.
This magic filled her with fear, yet also held a captivating allure that made her soul tremble.
"You... you want me to submit to you?" Fleur's voice trembled, her eyes flashing with an unyielding yet wavering light.
"Why not?"
Julian released her hair and turned away.
"Witness the collapse of this old world and the establishment of a new order. Now, go back. Don't make me lose patience with you."
After Fleur left, silence once again filled the room.
Julian returned to his seat and took out the Durmstrangseal from a drawer.
He pressed the seal onto a Parchment, and a purple light flashed, revealing a draft for a "Tri-School Joint Security Magic Squad."
As soon as the news of Lord Voldemort's return spread throughout the entire wizarding world.
This draft would allow him to legitimately mobilize Durmstrang's combat forces and establish his own armed presence within Hogwarts.
Umbridge would support him because it aligned with the Ministry of Magic's security needs, especially given the existence of a certain illegal organization.
Dumbledore couldn't oppose him because it was a compliant change under the Triwizard Tournamentcontract.
"Master, Karkaroff went mad on the ship just now; he smashed all the mirrors." Purple Fiend poked her head out of the shadows, covering her mouth with a soft chuckle.
"Let him be mad. As long as he can still stamp seals, he's useful." Julian said coldly.
He looked out the window; in the distant Forbidden Forest, the howling of Werewolves could faintly be heard.
Every chess piece on the board was now in place.
In the near future, Hogwarts would begin a true transfer of power.
And this was just the beginning.
Awaiting for more chapters to be updated on WTR-Lab