Chapter 130: An Uninformed Snake Enthusiast
“The champion of Hogwarts—”
Dumbledore cleared his throat and announced loudly:
“Harry Potter!”
No applause.
A low buzzing spread through the Great Hall, like a swarm of bees.
Professor McGonagall rose from the head table, hurried past Ludovic Bagman and Professor Karkaroff, and whispered urgently into Dumbledore’s ear.
All eyes turned to the Gryffindor table.
“I didn’t… I didn’t…” Harry said, looking utterly bewildered.
Ron stood beside him, staring with a mix of surprise, disappointment, and even a flicker of jealousy.
“Go on!” Hermione gave him a gentle push from behind, and he finally stood, following Professor McGonagall into the same room as before.
Hundreds of eyes followed him.
“He can’t possibly be seventeen!”
“How did he do it…”
“Can he really handle the Triwizard Tournament?”
Whispers trailed him the whole way. Harry had no idea how he got there; his mind had gone completely blank.
Dumbledore’s gaze returned to the Goblet of Fire.
Almost at the same moment, the flames inside flared crimson again, sparks snapping and flying.
A long tongue of fire shot into the air, lifting another piece of parchment.
After the surprise of a fourth-year Hogwarts student being chosen as a champion, this felt almost unsurprising.
Dumbledore took the parchment almost without thinking.
“Jon Hart!”
The buzzing swelled again—louder than before.
But no one stood.
“Jon Hart!” Dumbledore read the name a second time.
A murmur ran along the Hufflepuff table.
“Is Jon with you, Zacharias?”
“No, I haven’t seen him all evening. Ask Hannah…”
“I haven’t seen him either. Not once today…”
“Jon Hart!” Dumbledore called a third time.
Professor Severus Snape rose from the staff table, an odd look on his face. “Well, Dumbledore…”
“If my memory serves!” Professor Snape’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried across the hall. “Mr. Hart should currently be in my office, serving detention… due to his abysmal performance in Potions.”
...
In the Potions master’s office, Jon had already donned a dragon-hide protective suit and pulled the dragon-hide hood over his head.
It would keep the Indian black eel’s blood off his clothes.
Killing an Indian black eel was easy; getting every drop of its blood into a glass bottle was the hard part.
They were simply too long.
After several messy attempts that left the floor spattered, Jon came up with a method.
Kill the eel, cinch its neck, coil it around himself, then calmly drain all the blood into the glass bottle.
He’d already filled five bottles. More than a dozen Indian black eel corpses lay strewn across the floor.
“By now, the feast should be over,” Jon muttered.
But according to the original storyline, Harry Potter became the unexpected fourth champion, which set off a long argument among the judges and teachers… So once he finished his work, he ought to have a little time to study here.
“Anyone there?” came a knock at the door—a familiar voice.
“Come in, it’s unlocked,” Jon called casually.
...
Fourth-year Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott hurried toward the Potions professor’s office.
Her mind hadn’t caught up yet. What on earth was going on…
Weren’t only seventeen-year-olds allowed to enter the Triwizard Tournament?
Why were Harry and Jon both chosen?
One was a fourth-year, the other a third-year.
And… why did Hogwarts have two representatives?
Was this some Fawley for the hosts? But when Professor Dumbledore explained the rules earlier, he hadn’t said anything about that.
One thing, however, was clear—Professor Sprout’s order from a few minutes ago: get to Professor Snape’s office as fast as possible and fetch Jon, who was in detention there.
Dizzy with confusion, Hannah finally reached Professor Snape’s office.
“Is anyone there?” she called out.
“Come in! The door isn’t locked!”
Hearing the familiar voice, Hannah let out a breath.
She opened the door and stepped inside.
“Ah—!” At the sight before her, Hannah screamed.
Shaking, she collapsed onto the floor, a trembling finger pointing ahead.
“S-snake… snake…”
...
“D-don’t come any closer…” Hannah shrieked, hands scrabbling at the floor as she inched backward.
The familiar face before her was soaked in blood; a thick, long black snake was coiled around his neck; blood covered the floor; black snake corpses lay everywhere… Hannah trembled uncontrollably.
Hannah Abbot had feared snakes since she was little—especially ones this black, long, and thick.
“It’s just an eel… I’m in detention, Hannah!” Jon explained quickly.
“...Triwizard Tournament… Hogwarts… Harry… two champions… fourth…” Hannah Abbot stammered, too terrified to string a sentence together.
“There’s a fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament—Harry Potter, right?” Thankfully, Jon’s imagination filled in the blanks and he “understood.”
Hannah Abbott shook her head repeatedly and stammered again, “Professor Sprout… she wants you… at the banquet…”
“It’s fine, Hannah… I won’t be attending the banquet. I still need to help Professor Snape finish these tasks!” As he spoke, Jon lifted the big black eel in his hand.
“Ah…” Hannah screamed again, bolted for the door, and fled without looking back.
“How odd!” Jon shook his head helplessly.
He walked over, closed the door, and—after a moment’s thought—slid the bolt.
...
“Why hasn’t it started yet?” In the small room beside the Great Hall, Fleur Delacour asked impatiently.
“There’s been a minor complication…” Ludovic Bagman said with a wry smile. “A fourth champion has appeared…”
“Then where is this fourth champion? Just bring him here!” Viktor Krum said irritably. “We’ve been waiting nearly twenty minutes.”
“Another minor complication… that champion happens to be in detention at the moment!” Mr. Bagman said as he edged backward. “I’ll go check on the Great Hall!”
Back in the Great Hall, Mr. Bagman caught the sound of footsteps outside… It seemed the champion in detention had returned?
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mr. Bagman raised his voice. “Here’s the situation: from time to time, the Goblet of Fire does select a fourth champion—this has happened before…”
Spinning his tale, Mr. Bagman gestured toward the doors. “Now, let us warmly welcome—”
The doors swung open. A distraught Hannah Abbott burst in and threw herself into Professor Sprout’s arms.
“Professor…” Hannah sobbed, “Jon… Jon… he’s playing with snakes!”
The entire staff table erupted in confusion.
Even Professor Dumbledore looked torn between amusement and exasperation.
...
Inside the Potions office…
He drew out the last black eel and drove a blade into the back of its neck, ending its life.
Coiling it expertly around his own neck, Jon aligned its throat over a glass bottle.
“Thump… thump… thump…”
Loud knocks—more like pounding—hammered at the door.
“Who is it now?” Jon frowned.
He decided to finish with this last black eel before answering.
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