The twins told us the history and rules of the Triwizard Tournament while we young Padawans were satisfying our first, second, and third hunger. The idea and concept have been very simple for God knows how many years. The selection is made with a goblet - sheets with names and school affiliation are thrown into it. The goblet is enchanted so that it considers candidates from only three schools - Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang. If someone particularly gifted decides to make up his or her own school or sign up for another existing school, his or her application will not be considered at all. The goblet chooses the best candidate from each school, although the selection criteria are unclear and are not specified anywhere. The chosen champion must participate in every stage of the tournament because the goblet works on the principle of the blood contract, the consequences of failing to comply with which can easily drive you into the coffin. The tasks can be very different, but there are always "monster" and "mystery."

"Monster?" ​​

"No lower than the fifth class of danger. Five hundred years ago, they were fighting a basilisk," nodded the left twin.

"And in 1792, they were catching Cockatrice. A lot of people got hurt."

"Yeah..." Hermione looked at the twins and me as if we were mentally ill. "And you voluntarily want to participate in something like this?"

"You?" the twins looked at each other, immediately shifting their gaze to me. "You too?"

"Me, too."

"Brother Forge..."

"Yes, Brother Gred..."

"Do you think the book knight will find a way?"

"Not before us, brother!"

"Let's hurry up and get to work!"

"...food first..."

"... right."

Gradually, those who had so briskly scattered away from Moody returned to the hall. Ron and Potter came back as well, glancing in my direction grudgingly. To hell with them...

*****

The days flew by rather quickly. Rumors swirled around the school about how cool or cruel Moody was in class or about the strange new cat that had discouraged half of Hogwarts from kicking animals in two days. Some had cats as pets, by the way, and there were two theories - someone decided to protect their pet with amulets and artifacts. The second theory was that McGonagall, in the form of a cat, was cursing students with various harmless but terribly offensive spells because she is tired of fighting against the violation of discipline with ordinary methods that do not go beyond the rules.

Professor Flitwick somewhat dampened my and Hermione's enthusiasm, complaining that he hadn't yet received all the tools and ingredients he needed. But the little professor didn't leave us without work, giving us a list of literature on the magical characteristics of various materials. He told us to learn, study, and figure it out, and, if anything, to ask for advice. He was ready to help at any time.

The rest of the school lessons were just school lessons. Hermione and I spent a lot of time in personal training, still swapping wands to learn magic and dueling more fiercely - more than once or twice, we had to use various wound-closing spells, healing spells, and suffer from Skele-Gro. Yes, we didn't use Maleficism and dark magic, the basics of which we already understood from the Restricted Section. The reason wasn't fear or anything else - we didn't want to use negative emotions in magic because as the mind affects magic, so magic affects the mind. And traces of such magic are either extremely hard to remove, like scars, or simply impossible. Not at our level.

In DADA class, Moody was furious. A pseudo-Moody, I should point out. He was sipping something from a flask now and then, and if you passed by at that moment, with my sense of smell, you could detect the distinctive scent of a polyjuice potion. It's strange because Wormtail is dead, the Ministry employee wasn't missing, Voldemort had no one to put him in the homunculus and nurse him. He couldn't make his stupid plan and send Barty Crouch here, but nonetheless, someone is under a polyjuice potion. And it didn't matter who at all. Anyway, Moody was scaring the students with the Unforgivables by demonstrating them on a spider. After that class, not without a hint from Dumbledore, Moody calmed down, but he explained everything clearly, showed a couple of simple spells, countermeasures, Protego of the three basic types, and things like that. He was a good teacher, to tell the truth - he followed the textbook and had time to add something from himself.

Snape remained Snape - he developed in us the ability to ignore irritants, but no one wants to learn this amidst the dislike of the potion master.

Charms, Runes, Arithmetic - nothing special. Independent theoretical study of the books on Flitwick's list went on its own and was just put off in my head. I hope this will come in handy soon.

A week before the end of October, there was an announcement in the Great Hall about the imminent arrival of guests from other schools, the thirtieth of October, to be exact. This served as the starting point, the beginning of an instant buzz in the castle. The students began discussing the tournament and the other schools again. The teachers, along with Filch, were tidying up the castle and even, for once, insulated everything, restored the windows, polished the armor, and renewed the portraits with the tapestries. I even thought for a second that I was home again, in a previous life - until they get stung in the ass, they won't move!