Chapter 81: Exclusive Report of Tears and Lies, the Evolving wand
Mid-November, after Potion Class.
The underground corridors of Hogwarts were cold and damp, but colder still was the temperature of the human heart.
Harry Potter hurried along with his head down, trying to avoid the gazes of those around him.
A heavy stone seemed to press against his chest, not just because of the school-wide ostracism, but also because of Ron Weasley's coldness.
"Potter! Do you want one too?"
Draco Malfoy blocked his path, wearing that massive "Support Cedric" badge pinned to his chest.
He pressed it hard, and the red letters instantly changed into a badge glowing with sickly green fluorescence that read "Potter Stinks."
The Slytherin students around them burst into laughter.
"Very funny, Malfoy," Harry said coldly. "If you think this will help you pass Potion Class."
"Want one? I have plenty." Malfoy grabbed a handful of badges and threw them at Harry. "But I doubt you can afford one. After all, you're just a pathetic orphan with no parents, relying on cheating to get attention!"
This sentence struck a nerve.
Anger instantly clouded his mind. Harry drew his wand, and Malfoy drew his almost at the same time.
"Densaugeo!"
"Furnunculus!"
The two spells collided in mid-air and deflected.
Harry's spell hit Goyle, and his nose began to sprout boils, while Malfoy's spell hit Hermione nearby.
Hermione screamed and covered her mouth; her front teeth began to grow wildly, instantly extending past her chin like a beaver.
"It seems you have plenty of energy."
A flat, emotionless voice made the chaotic corridor fall silent instantly.
Morrin White stepped out from the shadows.
He was wearing that black trench coat, holding a ledger in his hand, followed by Alfred, who was like a shadow.
He glanced at Goyle, whose face was covered in boils, and then at Hermione, who was crying with teeth that had grown down to her chest.
"A foolish duel," Morrin commented. "No accuracy, only injuring bystanders."
"He started it!" Malfoy accused him first.
"I don't care who started it."
Morrin walked up to Hermione, looking at her still-growing teeth.
Professor Snape happened to arrive, but he sarcastically remarked that he couldn't see any difference in Hermione, which made her run crying toward the Hospital Wing.
Morrin watched Snape's retreating figure and shook his head.
"Such low-level workplace bullying is truly beneath the dignity of a Dean."
He turned around and looked at Harry and Malfoy.
"Since you two like waving your wands so much, go wave them somewhere more useful."
Morrin pointed upstairs:
"Potter, go to the Nimbus showroom, the room for wandinspection. Although I think your holly wand is useless for anything but grilling sausages, as the 'the savior', you have to go through the motions."
"And you, Draco," Morrin threw the ledger to him. "Go tally the sales of the badges. If they aren't sold out, you can swallow the rest yourself."
...
The Nimbus showroom.
It was a smaller classroom, with most of the desks and chairs pushed to the back.
Ludo Bagman was chatting with Fleur Delacour, that beautiful half-Veela, Krum stood gloomily in the corner, and Cedric was looking out the window.
When Harry walked in, he found there was one more person inside.
Morrin White was sitting on a high-backed chair next to the judges' table, holding a cup of black tea, while Rita Skeeterwas squatting beside him, recording something like an obedient pug.
"Morrin?" Harry was stunned. "Why are you here? Are you a champion?"
"I am the representative of the investors." Morrin pointed to the badge on his chest [White Alchemy Industries · Strategic Partner].
"Furthermore, as the owner of The Daily Prophet, I have an obligation to supervise my employees to ensure they write 'objective and impartial' reports."
At this moment, Mr. Ollivander walked in.
The inspection ceremony began.
Ollivander checked the wands one by one: Fleur's with Veela hair, Cedric's with Unicorn hair, and Krum's with Dragon heartstring.
Finally, it was Harry's turn.
"Ah, yes." Ollivander said.
"Orchideous!" A bouquet of flowers burst from the tip of his wand.
"Perfect," Ollivander announced.
Just as the ceremony was about to end, Morrin suddenly stood up.
"Mr. Ollivander."
Morrin walked up to the wandmaker and pulled out that pitch-black, iron-heavy black ironwood wand from his bosom.
"Since you're here, would you mind taking a look at this old friend of mine? Recently... it seems a bit 'hungry'."
Ollivander took the wand, and the moment his fingers touched the wand's body, the old man's eyebrows twitched violently.
"This..."
Ollivander brought the wand close to his eyes, a look of shock flashing in his silvery-white eyes.
"black ironwood... Black Dragon nerve... but I remember when I sold it to you two years ago, although it was heavy, it was still 'dead'."
Ollivander stroked the dark red, vein-like markings on the wand's body.
"Now, it is alive."
The old man looked up at Morrin, his voice trembling slightly:
"It has absorbed a massive amount of... blood and magic from high-level creatures. Acromantula venom, Norwegian Ridgeback breath, and even..."
Ollivander sniffed the tip of the wand:
"...and even a kind of ancient and evil snake aura I've never seen before. Mr. White, what on earth have you been doing with it? The current strength of this wand already exceeds that of most adult Wizards' wands. It is evolving."
"Just used it to handle some 'business disputes'." Morrinsmiled and took back the wand. "Since it's in good condition, I'm relieved."
Krum and Fleur, standing nearby, both looked at Morrinwith horrified expressions.
This wand... was it forged through killing?
The ceremony ended.
Rita Skeeter immediately pulled Harry into the broom cupboard for an exclusive interview.
"You don't mind saying a few words, Harry?" Rita said, her quill already dancing wildly on the parchment.
"Um... I want to say I didn't..."
"Do you miss your parents? Is it the tears in your eyes that make you unable to see the names on the parchment clearly?"
"I'm not crying!" Harry retorted angrily.
"Rita."
The door to the broom cupboard was pushed open. Morrinleaned against the doorway, watching the female reporter who was trying to fabricate a story with a cold gaze.
"What's wrong, boss?" Rita immediately stopped her pen and smiled obsequiously.
"Change the angle."
Morrin looked at Harry's angry and helpless face, his eyes flashing with calculating light.
"Don't write him as an ambitious cheater. That's too cliché; readers are tired of it."
Morrin walked up to Harry and patted his shoulder like a caring older brother, though in reality, he was suppressing his resistance:
"Write him as a... tragic boy teased by fate, longing for attention but lacking the ability."
"Focus on his loneliness, describe him crying in the dark night calling out his parents' names, and describe the heartbroken look in his eyes because he was misunderstood by his friends."
Harry's eyes widened: "What are you talking about?! I didn't cry!"
"Shut up, Harry. This is a character persona." Morrin said in a low voice, "Only by writing you as miserable and helpless as possible will everyone let their guard down against you. And..."
Morrin looked at Rita, the smile at the corner of his mouth as sharp as a blade, thinking to himself:
"...Only in this way will that kid named Ron Weasley, when he sees the newspaper, feel completely overshadowed. His jealousy will grow like poisonous weeds until it completely destroys your friendship."
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" Rita recorded excitedly on the paper. ""The Scarred Boy: Tears and Loneliness Under the Halo of the savior"! This will definitely sell like crazy!"
Harry trembled all over.
He looked at Morrin, feeling a fear deeper than when facing Lord Voldemort for the first time.
Lord Voldemort wanted his life.
But Morrin... he wanted to manipulate his life, even using his emotions to cash in.
"Go, Harry."
Morrin opened the door and made a "please" gesture.
"Go enjoy your last moments of peace. When the first task begins..."
Morrin leaned into Harry's ear and whispered:
"...You will find that facing a fire-breathing Dragon might be much easier than facing tomorrow's newspaper."
[Task Progress: Harry's mental breakdown (In Progress)]
[Current Draws: 18]
[Target: The Dragon of the first task (Preparing to harvest Dragon blood)]
Morrin walked out of the Nimbus showroom, and the rain outside had stopped.
But for Harry Potter, the storm had only just begun.
Chapter 82: The Tears of a Tragic Hero, the Inspection Site, and the Hungarian Horntail Bows Down
November 21st, Saturday.
If there was anything worse than being ostracized by the whole school, it was being "pitied" by the whole school.
The front page of The Daily Prophet at breakfast carried that article by Rita Skeeter, "The Scarred Boy."
The article used an extremely sensational tone to depict how Harry cried in front of his parents' photos late at night, and how he longed to find that missing fatherly love in the Triwizard Tournament.
"Look at this!"
At the Slytherin long table, Pansy Parkinson read the newspaper aloud, laughing until she was doubled over: " 'Harry's green eyes are often filled with tears...' Oh, my god, Potter, are you a crybaby?"
At the Gryffindor long table, Harry buried his face in his oatmeal, wishing he could drown himself in it.
Beside him, Ron Weasley was cutting his sausage forcefully, his knife and fork making a harsh scraping sound on the plate.
"How touching," Ron said coldly. "Now you have not only fame but also everyone's sympathy. You must be enjoying this, right, Harry?"
"I didn't cry! That woman made it all up!" Harry looked up abruptly, defending himself angrily.
"Really?" Ron didn't look at him, just stared at the moving picture of Harry in the newspaper, which indeed looked teary-eyed—the result of Rita's photo editing. "Anyway, you're always able to be the center of attention. Whether as a hero or as a victim."
Harry opened his mouth but found himself speechless.
The rift in their friendship had widened into a chasm under the public opinion offensive carefully woven by Morrin.
...
Late at night, at Hagrid's hut.
"Harry, bring your invisibility cloak," Hagrid said mysteriously, his large, furry face full of anxiety. "Follow me. There's something you must see. It's for your life."
Harry put on his invisibility cloak and followed Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest.
They walked a long way until a huge roar and the sound of trees being smashed echoed around them.
The air was filled with the smell of sulfur and burning.
Harry looked through the bushes and instantly felt his heart stop beating.
Four huge, distinct Dragons were being kept in an enclosure made of thick wooden planks.
They were spewing flames, and dozens of Dragon keepers were desperately pulling on chains, trying to control them.
"Dragon..." Harry felt a wave of dizziness. "The first task is a Dragon?"
"Yes," Hagrid looked at the monsters, his eyes shining with obsession. "That's a Welsh Green, a Swedish Short-Snout, a Chinese Fireball... and that one, the most vicious one, the Hungarian Horntail."
Just as Harry was being overwhelmed by fear, he saw someone who shouldn't have been there.
In front of the cage holding the Hungarian Horntail stood a young man wearing a black trench coat, not wearing a Dragon keeper's uniform.
He held a notebook in his hand and showed no fear at all; instead, he was very close to the irritable black Dragon, close enough to be at a dangerous distance.
It was Morrin White.
Beside him stood a sturdy young man with red hair and a face full of freckles and scars: Charlie Weasley, Ron's second-oldest brother.
"This Horntail is in good condition, Charlie."
Morrin's voice cut through the noisy roars and clearly reached the ears of Harry and Hagrid.
"The scale luster is very high, and the fire sac is full. However..." Morrin pointed at the Horntail's tail with his cane. "Its tail spike seems a bit worn? This will affect the selling price of 'Dragon Spike Powder'."
Charlie Weasley wiped his sweat with a bitter smile: "Mr. White, this is a living killing machine, not frozen meat from a supermarket. To get it into the cage, our three teams were almost burned to ashes."
"That is a technical problem on your part."
Morrin closed the notebook and said indifferently:
"I have already paid the 'rental fee' and 'insurance fee' for these four Dragons. After the competition, I want to reclaim all the Dragon blood, shed scales, and Dragon dung. If it suffered unnecessary injuries because of your operational errors..."
"ROAR—!!!"
Seeming to understand that Morrin was treating it like cargo, the Hungarian Horntail suddenly flew into a rage.
It snapped a chain, its huge, spiked tail swept out, and it knocked two Dragon keepers who were trying to get close flying.
Then, it opened its bloody mouth and spewed a forty-foot-long flame at Morrin, who was standing in front of it!
"Watch out!" Charlie screamed in terror.
"Morrin!" Harry, under the invisibility cloak, almost shouted out loud.
But Morrin didn't move.
He didn't even dodge.
He just raised his left hand, the hand wearing a black Dragon-hide glove, and opened it toward the flames.
[Primary Fire Immunity (Purple)] — Activated.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Thermal Deflection.
That Dragon breath, which could melt steel, hit a point three feet in front of Morrin as if it had struck an invisible wall. It automatically split to both sides, flowing past Morrin, only blowing the hem of his trench coat.
The flames dissipated.
Morrin was unharmed.
He lowered his hand, his eyes instantly turning sharp.
He looked up, his black pupils instantly turning into golden slit pupils.
He didn't want to waste any more time with this beast.
[Dragon Might (Blue, Growth Type)] — Monarch-level release!
This time, it wasn't aimed at any specific person, but at this "lower Dragon" that dared to breathe fire at him.
The aura on Morrin changed.
In Charlie and Harry's perception, he was still the same young man.
But in the Hungarian Horntail's perception, the tiny creature in front of it had suddenly turned into an ancient, terrifying giant Dragon even older than itself! That kind of pressure acted directly on its soul.
"Roar..."
The Horntail's originally fierce roar suddenly got stuck in its throat, turning into a frightened whimper.
Its yellow eyes revealed extreme confusion and fear.
It didn't understand why this human had the scent of a "Dragon King" on him.
It backed away.
This monster, known as the most vicious Dragon, slowly tucked its wings under Morrin's gaze, lay on the ground, and buried its head in its claws, signaling submission.
The whole scene was dead silent.
All the Dragon keepers were stunned.
"This..." Charlie Weasley opened his mouth wide. "How did you do that? You... do you know Dragon taming?"
"A little trick for business negotiations."
The slit pupils in Morrin's eyes faded, returning to normal. He tidied up his hair, which had been messed up by the heat wave, and said in a flat tone:
"Animals understand the rules better than people. As long as you let it know who the boss is here, it will be very obedient."
Morrin turned around, ready to leave.
As he passed a large tree, his steps paused slightly.
[True Sight] had allowed him to see the outline under that invisibility cloak long ago.
"Good evening, Hagrid," Morrin said to the air. "And... Mr. Potter, who snuck out."
Harry froze.
Morrin didn't expose the invisibility cloak, just said meaningfully:
"Since you've seen the questions, go back and review well. The first task is a Dragon. And your wand..."
Morrin glanced at the direction Harry was in:
"...Besides 'Expelliarmus', I think you should learn something else. For example... how to escape on a broomstick."
After speaking, Morrin left the Forbidden Forest with Alfred, who was waiting on the periphery.
Leaving Charlie Weasley confused in the wind: "Who is he talking to? The air?"
And under the invisibility cloak, Harry was soaked in cold sweat.
He looked at the giant Dragon that had been subdued by Morrin's gaze-subjugation, and then looked at the direction Morrin had left in.
Fear.
Deep fear.
Even Dragons were afraid of him. And he actually had to compete with someone like this in the tournament?
"Hagrid..." Harry's voice trembled. "I think... I'm in big trouble."
Hagrid swallowed: "I think so too, Harry. That White... sometimes he's scarier than that Dragon."
...
On the way back to the Castle.
Morrin was in a good mood.
The close contact just now allowed him to complete the final data collection through the system.
[Scanning Target: Hungarian Horntail]
[Discovered Traits]: Hellfire (Purple), Dragon Scale Armor (Blue), Flight Mastery (Purple)
[Current Extraction Count: 20]
"I don't need Dragon Scale Armor; I have the hardening of [Gate of Truth]."
"I don't need Flight Mastery either; I have a broomstick."
"But that fire..."
Morrin reached out his hand, and a small flame ignited in his palm.
"If I can upgrade my [Alchemy Fire] to the magic-attributed [Dragonfire], the power will be raised by another level."
"On the day of the competition."
Morrin crushed the flame in his hand.
"I'm going to have a 'Dragon-slaying show' in front of the whole school. Of course, after getting the Golden Egg."
"As for Harry Potter..."
Morrin thought of the savior who had been scared silly.
"It's a good thing that Fake Moody can teach him some useful things. Otherwise, this competition would have no suspense at all."
Chapter 83: Flying Billboards, Broken Chains, and the Dragon Tamer's Scepter
November 24th, the day of the first task.
The massive rocky stadium was packed to the rafters. Thousands of Wizards screamed and waved flags in the stands. The air was thick with the smell of popcorn, pumpkin juice, and—the scent of nervous sweat.
At the most prominent entrance of the stadium hung a massive banner:
[Security for this event is exclusively provided by White Security Company]
[Today's Special Promotion: Black Swan Series · Civilian Version—Flies faster than a Dragon!]
Inside the VIP box.
Morrin White sat between Minister Fudge and Lucius Malfoy.
Wearing a dark grey double-breasted overcoat and holding a steaming cup of coffee, he looked as relaxed as if he were watching a circus performance.
"Truly spectacular," Lucius remarked with feigned sentiment as he watched the roaring Swedish Short-Snoutbelow. "I hope our champions have purchased personal accident insurance."
"As long as they aren't stupid enough to engage the Dragon in melee combat," Morrin said indifferently. "By the way, Minister. Regarding the 'Dragon Hide Monopoly' we mentioned earlier..."
"Of course, of course!" Fudge said, wiping away sweat. "As long as nothing goes majorly wrong during this competition..."
Boom!
A loud explosion echoed from below.
Cedric Diggory successfully Transfigured a Labrador to distract the Dragon, but he took a blast of fire to the face while grabbing the Golden Egg, losing half an eyebrow.
"Barely a passing grade," Morrin evaluated. "Good use of Transfiguration, but the tactics were too conservative."
Next was Fleur.
She used a Sleeping Spell.
The Dragon fell asleep but let out a snort, setting her skirt on fire.
Then came Krum.
He used a Conjunctivitis Curse to blind the Dragon directly; in its agony, the Dragon trampled half of the real eggs.
"Barbaric," Morrin shook his head. "Damaged the specimens. Points deducted."
Finally.
The whistle blew.
Harry Potter entered the arena.
Facing the Hungarian Horntail, which loomed like a black fortress, Harry looked incredibly small.
Standing behind a rock, he took a deep breath and raised his wand.
"Accio! Firebolt... no, Black Swan!"
A few seconds later, a piercing sound of breaking air came from the direction of the Castle.
A pitch-black broomstick with a wild design and metal nozzles at the tail sliced through the sky, coming to a steady halt in front of Harry.
The crowd erupted in an uproar.
"What kind of broom is that?!"
"Mr. White gave it to Potter!"
Ludo Bagman, the commentator, was so excited he nearly jumped up, thanks to the massive sponsorship fee Morrinhad paid him:
"Look! Mr. Potter has summoned his ride! It's the latest masterpiece from White Heavy Industries—the Black Swan · Mass Production Model! It's said to utilize the latest Alchemical Aerodynamics..."
Harry mounted the broom.
In that moment, he forgot his fear.
Because the broom felt incredibly stable.
Just as Morrin had promised—"Its durability is three times that of a Nimbus."
Boom!
A blue trail of flame erupted from the tail of the broom.
Like a black meteor, Harry instantly shot into the high sky.
The Hungarian Horntail roared and unleashed a forty-foot torrent of flame.
A normal broom would likely have caught fire from that.
But Harry pressed a button on the handle.
[Alchemical Coating · Activated].
A silver light flashed across the broom's surface as it tore through the sea of fire, completely unscathed!
"Unbelievable!" Bagman roared. "It's fireproof! It's bathing in the flames! Is this the latest masterpiece from White Heavy Industries?!"
The students in the stands went wild.
Countless eyes were fixed on that broom, their gazes screaming "I want to buy one too."
Morrin allowed a satisfied smile to cross his face in the VIP box.
"Looks like orders will explode tomorrow."
Harry performed several thrilling maneuvers in the air, using the broom's extreme speed to toy with the lumbering Dragon.
Finally, after a dive, he successfully snatched the Golden Egg.
"He did it!" Ron yelled until his voice went hoarse in the stands.
But just then, an accident occurred.
The Hungarian Horntail was driven into a total rage by being toyed with.
It let out a world-shaking roar, its spiked tail slamming violently against the ground.
Crack!
The thick iron chain tethering it—snapped.
"Oh no," Charlie Weasley shouted from the sidelines. "The chain broke! It's out of control!"
The Dragon, now free, didn't go after Harry because it couldn't catch that broom.
Instead, it turned its murderous gaze toward the stands, where thousands of fresh "snacks" waited.
"ROAR—!!!"
The Horntail spread its wings and charged directly toward the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor seating areas.
Students let out screams of despair; a stampede was about to happen.
The Aurors raised their wands to cast spells, but the distance was too great.
"A bunch of useless trash."
VIP
"It seems our client is in a bit of trouble."
Morrin stood up.
He didn't take the stairs; instead, he jumped from the fifty-foot-high VIP box.
"Ah!" Fudge covered his eyes in terror.
But in mid-air, Morrin's overcoat billowed.
[Flying Talent (Purple)] + [Gate of Truth · Gravity Control].
He didn't fall to his death; instead, like a black meteorite carrying immense kinetic energy, he crashed down between the Dragon and the stands.
Thud!
The ground was smashed into a large crater, dust flying everywhere.
The Hungarian Horntail, which was about to breathe fire, was startled by the sudden commotion. It lowered its head to look at the tiny figure blocking its path.
It recognized this human.
The human who had made it feel fear in the Forbidden Forest.
"Go back."
Morrin stood before the giant Dragon, leaning with one hand on his black ironwood wand.
His voice wasn't loud, but under the effect of [Magical Amplification], it resonated throughout the stadium.
"Your performance is over."
The Dragon hesitated.
It feared the aura emanating from Morrin.
But it had just been enraged by Harry, and its primal wildness overcame its fear.
It opened its mouth, red light surging in its throat.
It was going to breathe fire!
"So you've chosen the hard way."
Morrin snorted coldly.
He didn't use a magical shield.
He abruptly raised his right hand, palm aimed at the Dragon's maw.
[System Extraction · Designated Target: Hungarian Horntail]
[Extracted Trait]: Hellfire (Purple)
[Consumption x 5]
[Check Successful! Trait fusion in progress...]
A surge of scorching energy instantly filled Morrin's veins.
"Want to play with fire?"
Morrin's pupils instantly turned a molten gold-red.
"Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame!" (Crossed out)
"Alchemy: Crimson Lotus Hellfire!"
Boom—!!!
Erupting from Morrin's palm was not a defensive spell, but a deep red pillar of fire even thicker and hotter than the Dragon's breath!
It was [Hellfire] purified by Alchemy!
The two torrents of flame collided in mid-air.
Dragon Breath vs. Alchemical Fire.
They held for only a second.
Morrin's flames pushed back with overwhelming dominance, literally stuffing the Dragon's breath back down the Horntail's throat!
"Awoooo—!!!"
The Horntail shrieked in pain as black smoke billowed from its mouth. Its massive body was pushed back by the force of the flames until it crashed to the ground, legs flailing in the air.
The entire stadium fell into a dead silence.
Thousands of spectators gaped, even forgetting to breathe.
What had they just seen?
A fourth-year student had blasted a Dragon over with fire?
Morrin withdrew his hand and blew on the faint smoke rising from his glove.
He walked up to the still-twitching Dragon and tapped its massive snout with his wand.
"Next time, remember to see who your opponent is before you open your mouth."
Morrin turned around to face the stands.
He straightened his tie and gave the stunned teachers and students a standard, elegant, yet bone-chilling smile.
"Apologies, everyone. It is safe now."
...The medical tent.
Harry clutched the Golden Egg, watching Morrin walk in with an extremely complex look in his eyes.
Ron stood to the side, looking at Morrin as if he were a god.
"You... you just..." Harry stammered.
"I was protecting my'spokesperson'."
Morrin pointed at the Black Swan broom in Harry's hand.
"If the audience is burned to death, who will buy my brooms? Who will watch your advertisements?"
Morrin pulled a jar of Burn Ointment from his pocket and tossed it to Ron, who had been singed by sparks in the stands.
"Good job, Harry."
Morrin turned and left the tent, leaving only his silhouette behind.
"It seems our cooperation can continue."
Outside the tent, Rita Skeeter was so excited she was nearly fainting.
Tomorrow's headline was ready.
"The Young Dragon Slayer: Morrin White! The Man Who Conquered Fire with Fire!"
And in the shadows further away.
Fake Moody stared fixedly at Morrin's back with his magical eye, a crazed grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Such powerful strength... the Dark Lord will love this."
"When he is resurrected in the graveyard... your blood will surely be the finest sacrifice."
Chapter 84: A Ticket to the Vanity Fair, the Rejected Veela, and the Girl with Radish Earrings
In December, snow covered the mountains.
Since the first task ended, the atmosphere at Hogwartshad undergone some subtle changes.
Previously, everyone's impression of Morrin White was "the rich Slytherin" or "the mastermind behind the scenes." But ever since he used alchemy flames to face the Hungarian Horntail head-on in front of everyone, an emotion called "worship" began to spread throughout the Castle.
In this magical world that prizes power, the strong always have privileges.
At this moment, in the Great Hall, Professor McGonagallhad just announced a major piece of news:
The Christmas Ball.
"This is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament," Professor McGonagall said sternly, her gaze sweeping over the whispering students, "It is a good opportunity to build friendships with our foreign guests. I do not wish to see Hogwarts students behaving like a pack of babbling baboons."
Once the news was out, the whole school fell into a state of restlessness. The girls were discussing gowns, and the boys were panicking about how to invite a partner.
Slytherin common room.
The atmosphere here was much more composed than in other houses; after all, everyone here was "aristocratic."
Morrin sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, reviewing an analysis report on the "high-end formal robe market."
"This is simply a great opportunity to rake in money," Morrin said to the Malfoy beside him, "I have already had Madam Malkin work overtime to rush a batch of 'White' collaborative robes, focusing on'slim fit' and'stain-resistant.' Draco, you are the spokesperson."
"No problem, Morrin!" Malfoy was looking in the mirror, tidying his hair, "But... who do you plan to invite? Pansy has been waiting for you to ask. If you don't invite her, she might cry herself to death."
Not far away, Pansy Parkinson was staring at Morrin's back with a longing that was almost burning.
"Pansy?" Morrin didn't even lift his head, "She's too noisy. And her aesthetic is still stuck in the Victorian era."
"Then... Daphne Greengrass? Or that Fleur from Beauxbatons?" Malfoy gossiped, "I've seen that Veeladeliberately walk past you in the corridor several times."
"A Veela's charm is indeed top-tier," Morrin closed the document, "But that kind of creature is too proud. If I take her, people will only discuss her beauty and ignore my existence. In business occasions, that is a major taboo."
"Then who exactly are you going to choose?" Malfoy was anxious, "You can't go alone, right? Champions must lead the dance!"
Morrin didn't answer.
He stood up and straightened his collar.
"I'm going out for a bit. If it's about the robe orders, let Alfred handle it."
Library, near the Ravenclaw tower.
Morrin didn't go to those popular social spots; instead, he came here.
He was looking for someone.
In a corner piled with old newspapers, he saw that familiar figure.
Luna Lovegood.
She was sitting on the carpet barefoot, even though it was deep winter.
She was wearing those iconic radish earrings, holding a copy of The Quibbler upside down, and humming a tune no one could understand.
Students passing by would occasionally cast strange looks at her, whispering "Loony."
Morrin walked over.
As he approached, those whispers instantly vanished.
Everyone looked in surprise at this Slytherin king walking toward that freak.
"Good afternoon, Luna."
Morrin crouched down in front of her, his line of sight level with hers.
Luna put down the magazine, her silver-grey eyes, always veiled in mist, looking at Morrin, revealing a dazed smile.
"Hello, Morrin. You look like you have many Wrackspurts circling you. They are screaming 'ball', 'ball'."
"Your hearing has always been very good." Morrin smiled and took out an exquisite velvet box from his pocket, "A gift for you."
"What is it? A Gorgon's eye?" Luna opened it curiously.
Inside was a pair of exquisite, silver crystal dance shoes with tiny diamonds and warming runes embedded on the uppers.
"To prevent Nargles from stealing your shoes again, I added an [Automatic Recall] spell to this pair," Morrinsaid softly.
Luna blinked: "So pretty. But I don't know how to dance. Daddy says we dance like we're shooing flies."
"That doesn't matter." Morrin reached out and tucked her messy blonde hair behind her ear, "I'm not going to dance either. I'm going to... show off my 'taste'."
"Miss Luna Lovegood."
Morrin issued the invitation formally, his tone without a trace of teasing, only solemnity:
"Would you be my dance partner? On this night full of hypocrisy, comparison, and noise, be the only... truth by my side?"
The people eavesdropping around were stunned.
Morrin White, the richest and most powerful boy at Hogwarts, rejected all the beauties in the school and invited... the crazy girl Luna?!
Luna looked into Morrin's eyes.
She didn't scream or blush like the other girls.
She just tilted her head and thought for a while.
"Okay," Luna said, "But I want to wear my radish earrings. They can ward off dark curses."
"Of course." Morrin stood up and reached out to her, "That is your trademark. No one dares to make you take them off."
Christmas night.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was decorated into a silver-white ice palace.
The walls were covered in shimmering silver frost, and snowflakes that would never melt drifted from the ceiling.
This was a battlefield of competition.
Pansy Parkinson wore a pink ruffled robe, looking like a cream cake.
Hermione Granger stunned the whole room; she had straightened her hair and was wearing a flowing purple-blue robe, arm-in-arm with Viktor Krum.
Ron was so jealous in the corner that his face turned green; he was wearing that second-hand robe that only looked decent after cutting off the lace.
"Champions, enter!" Professor McGonagall shouted.
The doors opened.
Harry walked in with Parvati Patil, looking a bit stiff.
Cedric and Cho Chang were a golden couple.
Fleur Delacour was arm-in-arm with Roger Davies of Ravenclaw, beautiful enough to make people unable to look away.
But when the fourth pair... no, the last "Honorary Champion" walked in, the whole room went quiet.
Although Morrin hadn't signed up, his performance in the first task earned him equal treatment.
Morrin White was wearing a deep black slim-fit robe with dark silver embroidery, the cut perfectly accentuating his tall, straight figure.
He didn't carry a cane, because his hand was holding...
Everyone thought he would bring a peerless beauty.
But he brought Luna.
Luna was different today.
She wore a silver-grey long dress that looked like it was woven from moonlight, custom-made by Morrin from the Goblins.
The dress flowed with a faint alchemical radiance, changing colors as she moved.
Her blonde hair was simply pinned up, revealing her slender neck.
Although she was still wearing those radish earrings and that cork necklace, set off by the extremely expensive gown, these originally "weird" decorations actually showed an avant-garde artistic sense.
This was an extremely strong contrast in beauty.
She was a madwoman, and she was also an elf.
"Oh my god..." Hermione couldn't help but exclaim, "Is that Luna? She looks... very special."
"Unique taste," Krum commented in stiff English, "That boy... has guts."
Chapter 85: Hagrid's Identity, Tears of a Giant
Morrin led Luna through the crowd.
He felt countless gazes from around them—some were surprised, some mocking, but most were filled with confusion and awe.
"They're looking at us," Luna whispered. "So many Nargles."
"Let them look."
Morrin gripped Luna's hand tightly and strode confidently toward the center of the dance floor.
"In this world, following the crowd is the survival strategy of the mediocre. But we..."
Morrin looked down into Luna's clear eyes:
"...we define the trend."
The music began.
The Weird Sisters started playing a slow waltz.
Morrin led Luna in the dance.
Luna's dance steps were indeed strange; she often missed the beat or suddenly spun around.
But Morrin, using his powerful [Body Control (derived from Ultimate Disguise)] and [Half-Giant strength], perfectly accommodated her every mistake, turning those stumbles into unique dance steps.
Amidst the spinning, Morrin saw Fleur's gaze—it was a look mixed with frustration and curiosity. She couldn't understand why that boy would rather choose a "crazy girl" over her.
"Because you're just a vase, Fleur," Morrin laughed internally, "and she is a mirror."
...Midway through the ball.
Morrin took Luna to the courtyard for some fresh air.
There were many rose bushes and conjured fairy lights.
"Thank you, Morrin," Luna said, sitting on a stone bench and swinging her glass slippers. "No Nargles bit me tonight."
"It's my honor."
Morrin leaned against a pillar, holding two cups of butterbeer.
Just then, an argument broke out in the nearby bushes.
It was Hagrid and Madame Maxime.
Hagrid was confessing his feelings to her and trying to find common ground by admitting he was a half-giant.
As a result, Madame Maxime flew into a rage, insisting she was just big-boned before storming off.
"He really doesn't understand a woman's heart," Morrinshook his head. "To pursue a lady, one must first praise her elegance, not expose her genetic flaws."
Immediately after, in another part of the bushes, Karkaroffand Snape were arguing in low voices.
"It's turning black! Severus!" Karkaroff's fearful voice came through. "You feel it too, don't you? That mark..."
"I have nothing to fear, Igor," Snape replied coldly.
Morrin narrowed his eyes.
[True Sight] pierced through the bushes.
He saw the dark mark faintly appearing on both of their arms.
"It's getting closer."
Morrin set down his glass.
Lord Voldemort was approaching. His power was seeping through the marks of these servants.
"Luna," Morrin suddenly spoke.
"Yes?"
"If one day, the sky turns dark and stays that way for a long time."
Morrin looked at the moon in the night sky, his voice deep:
"Would you be afraid?"
Luna looked up, her carrot earrings swaying in the moonlight.
"No," she said. "Because the stars are still there. And..."
She pointed to Morrin's chest:
"...and your fire is still burning. Even though it's a black fire, it's very warm."
Morrin was momentarily stunned.
Then, he smiled. It was one of the few sincere smiles he had shown in this world.
"That's right."
Morrin reached out and caught a falling snowflake.
"Then let the storm rage even more fiercely."
"I can't wait to present our Dark Lord with an ultimate gift in that graveyard."
...January.
Before the warmth of the Yule Ball had fully faded, Hogwarts was enveloped by a sudden cold snap.
This cold snap didn't come from the weather, but from The Daily Prophet brought by the owls.
In the Great Hall, the atmosphere at breakfast was exceptionally eerie.
The usually noisy long tables were now filled with whispers, and countless gazes turned toward the large empty seat at the staff table; Hagrid hadn't come for breakfast.
"I knew it!" Draco Malfoy waved the newspaper, his face flushed with excitement. "Look at this! That big oaf finally can't hide it anymore!"
Morrin White sat across from him, elegantly slicing a piece of smoked salmon.
He didn't look at the newspaper because it was a draft he had approved yesterday.
The headline was written in bold black letters:
"Dumbledore's Massive Oversight: Hogwarts Employs a Brutal Monster to Teach?"
Rita Skeeter not only exposed the fact that Hagrid was a half-giant but also did her best to exaggerate the brutal nature of Giants, claiming Hagrid's classes were a threat to students' lives.
"If my father finds out, he'll definitely have that beast fired immediately!" Malfoy threw the newspaper to Pansy next to him, laughing loudly.
"Quiet down, Draco."
Morrin put down his knife and fork and wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
"Over-excitement makes you look like a nouveau riche who hasn't seen the world. Besides..."
Morrin's gaze swept across the crowd to the Gryffindortable. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were staring over angrily; the newspaper in Harry's hand was already crumpled.
"...it seems our savior is coming over to cause trouble."
Sure enough, Harry stood up abruptly, even knocking over the pumpkin juice in front of him.
He strode toward the Slytherin table, and Ron and Hermione couldn't even pull him back.
"You did this!"
Harry rushed up to Morrin and slammed the newspaper onto Morrin's table, making the plates jump.
"You made that woman write it! You're the owner of The Daily Prophet! How could you do this? Hagrid is your friend!"
The whole hall went silent. Everyone watched the confrontation.
Morrin wasn't angry.
He just glanced indifferently at the newspaper stained with pumpkin juice, then looked up and calmly met Harry's furious gaze.
"First of all, Mr. Potter. If you slam my table again, I'll have to charge you a 'tableware damage fee'."
"Secondly..."
Morrin leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced:
"This is freedom of the press. Hagrid is a half-giant; that is a fact. Facts cannot be covered up, only managed."
"You're ruining him!" Harry roared. "Everyone knows how bad the reputation of Giants is! Parents will demand he be fired!"
"And so?" Morrin countered. "Do you want me to suppress the truth and deceive the public for the sake of so-called 'friendship'? That's Dumbledore's way of doing things 'for the greater good,' not mine."
"You..." Harry was shaking with rage. "You're just a cold-blooded bastard! You don't care about Hagrid at all; you only care about your newspaper's sales!"
"I care about value, Harry."
Morrin stood up, his powerful aura making Harryinvoluntarily take a step back.
"Hagrid's current value is a 'negative asset.' If he cannot prove himself, then being eliminated is the inevitable outcome."