It would take them some time to sort out the prepositions.
Unbeknownst to them, the date for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament was approaching.
James's reply was long overdue.
He began his letter by thanking Weilan for the reminder. This led the Aurors to shift their investigation focus towards non-human creatures.
As a result, they indeed discovered that each deceased person had, before their death, kept an exceptionally beautiful mistress.
The reason they had overlooked this before was partly because these deceased individuals had, more or less, had lovers during their lives, and partly because these lovers could indeed provide sufficient alibis.
This time, they re-examined these beautiful women with the perspective that there might be non-humans among the lovers.
As a result, they truly found that one mistress's true identity was very likely a Veela.
“Thank you so much, Weilan!”
James wrote at the end of the letter.
Weilan reasonably suspected that he had cried tears of excitement when writing this, as Weilan found traces of dried water stains on the corner of the letter paper.
“Our Auror office is buzzing! William immediately ran out to call those stinky reporters from The Daily Prophet to throw the evidence in their faces and give them a good scolding.”
“It was Ruben who stopped him, telling him that the most important thing now was to catch the killer, and calling in those noisy reporters would only alert the enemy…”
“Thankfully Ruben stopped William, Merlin’s smelly socks, I really can’t stand that crazy woman Skeeter.”
“If it weren't for Lily's constant understanding and support, I think I might have gone crazy like William—I’ll tell you quietly, some of his younger siblings want to kick him out of the house because they believe the reports in The Daily Prophet…”
For Weilan, this was truly the best news.
If the pure-blood Wizard serial murder case was indeed caused by the Veela who kidnapped Weilan,
Then if the Aurors could catch the killer in time, the Sword of Damocles hanging over Weilan's head would also be successfully removed.
During this time, all articles about Aurors disappeared from The Daily Prophet's reports, replaced by Rita's tracking interviews with the three champions.
Daphne temporarily became a hot celebrity at Hogwarts. Many boys and girls begged Daphne for her autograph, just as they begged Krum.
A brand new Monday, a brand new Care of Magical Creatures class.
Weilan and all his classmates finally saw with tears in their eyes that Hagrid had given up on those terrifying Blast-Ended Skrewts.
“That’s great. Ron, Hermione, quickly take off those leather gloves!” Weilan ran over joyfully to inform his two friends in the group of the good news, “This class we’re feeding Flobberworms.”
Ron and Hermione, both wearing thick leather gloves, though the gloves had been bought less than 3 months ago, they were covered in dreadful holes burned by sparks.
They were preparing to face the Blast-Ended Skrewts as if facing a great enemy, and suddenly being informed of this, their faces couldn't help but show joy.
“Ah haha.” Ron laughed loudly, tossing his glove into the air, “He finally gave up on these horrible things, we won’t be blasted anymore!”
“But Hagrid likes these animals the most.” Hermione looked at Hagrid with some confusion.
Thank goodness, Hagrid, who walked out of the hut, no longer tied his hair into a ponytail.
He was currently distributing cages of Flobberworms to the student groups. Ron also went to get one.
“Ah, I’m also very curious about this.” Weilan grinned, “Last Saturday, out of kindness, I reminded Madam Maxime.”
“What did you remind her about?”
Hermione put down the birdcage, looked at Weilan, and opened her mouth wide in surprise.
“You and I both know that Blast-Ended Skrewts are very dangerous!”
Weilan desperately focused his attention on the pink Flobberworm in the cage.
“So I truthfully described to Madam Maxime how they injured us during class and how they cannibalized each other.”
“You know, the Beauxbatons carriage is not far from here. I don’t want Beauxbatons students to get hurt because of this.”
Hermione choked for a while before finally uttering an exclamation:
“That’s a wonderful idea.”
Their Care of Magical Creatures class began to look a little normal. In this class, they learned how to feed Flobberworms and their various habits.
At the end of class, Weilan and his classmates lined up to return the Flobberworms in their cages to Hagrid.
“Where did your Blast-Ended Skrewts go?”
Weilan placed the cage in position and heard Ron ask Hagrid in a relaxed, cheerful, and upward-inflected tone.
“Alas, I can’t keep them anymore. Madam Maxime is right, student safety is always first. I hope those people at the Ministry of Magic can take good care of them.”
Hagrid snorted and sniffled, making Ron realize his tone was inappropriate.
“I’m sorry, Hagrid, I mean, that’s really sad.”
“It’s alright.”
Hagrid covered each Flobberworm cage with a black cloth, which could reduce the birds' fear and anxiety.
“The Ministry of Magic revealed a little to me that these little darlings will be well-fed and then used for… Oh, I’m sorry I can’t say that.”
Hagrid frantically covered his big mouth.
“The Triwizard Tournament, is that it, Hagrid?”
Hermione cleverly guessed what the “cannot say” thing was.
“So the first task is actually…”
Hermione and Ron desperately suppressed the corners of their mouths, their eyes sparkling with excitement as they looked at Hagrid.
Their reaction made Weilan not very confident—he remembered the first task was Dragons, and Blast-Ended Skrewts only appeared in the last task.
“No, no, you guessed wrong.” Hagrid clapped his thighs in a hurry.
Immediately, he seemed to have made a certain decision:
“Alright, anyway, you’re not participating in the Tournament, are you?”
“Tonight at midnight.”
He bent down, lowered his voice, and mysteriously told them: “Come to my place, I’ll show you those good things.”
“I bet you’ll be shocked, you’ll never have such a good opportunity to get close to them…”
At this thought, Hagrid's large eyes became misty, like a father recalling his adorable infant son.
Weilan, who already knew the general plot direction, was not very curious about the creatures Hagrid wanted them to see—which were Dragons.
They were too dangerous, and Weilan didn't like danger.
But…
“Please, Weilan, don’t you want to know what the first task of the Tournament is?”
Weilan’s helpless gaze bounced back and forth between the eagerly anticipating Hermione and Ron.
This… that… well, Weilan believed Charlie Weasley was an excellent and competent Dragon handler.
“We’ll bring the Invisibility Cloak tonight and go see Hagrid!”
“That’s wonderful!” Hermione beamed, wrapped her arms around Weilan’s neck, and was about to lean in.
“Cough, cough, cough.”
Ron suddenly coughed loudly, patting his chest as he returned to the dormitory.
Hermione let go of her hands, blushing:
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m just a little excited, you know, Weilan, too many good things have been happening lately.”
“I gave the W.P.S.E. badge to Angelina, and in the past few days, some Quidditch fans have been coming to me.”
“They asked about WPSE, and three of them, mixed-blood and Muggle-born students, are willing to support my cause!”
“I plan to, once we reach ten people, go to the Hogwarts kitchens and organize a class for the House-elves, promoting the idea that all labor should be entitled to holidays and wages!”
