bacchusnovels Chapter 457 Please Call Me Director Phillips
Chapter 457 Please Call Me Director Phillips
Chapter 457 Please Call Me Director Phillips
Nine hours ago.
October 31st, midnight.
As the candlelight flickered and died in the Halloween-decorated pumpkin lanterns, a pearly mist suddenly seeped from the oak floor.
A figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the corridor outside the auditorium, his black cloak blending seamlessly with the tapestry on the wall depicting the giant beating Barnabas.
As moonlight swept across the gilded hourglass in the foyer, it revealed the unnatural curve of his left leg—the wooden prosthetic was enveloped in some kind of incantation, emitting a sound like a snake shedding its skin.
"Close your ears and plug your ears." The hoarse incantation made the griffin statue on the door knocker lower its head.
Just as those hands were about to touch the Goblet of Fire, a voice suddenly came from behind.
"Good evening, so it's our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Are you here to feed the Goblet of Fire a midnight snack on Halloween night too?"
Moody's right hand froze in mid-air, the wooden prosthetic limb making a slight creak. He turned, his eyes flashing with the demonic gaze, coldly scrutinizing the newcomer.
Standing before him was Sean, wearing a newly donned black robe, his face bearing his usual gentle smile... and a hint of arrogance.
He had just finished his intimate moment with Tonks, took a shower, and rushed over without stopping.
The timing was perfect, without the slightest error.
I just happened to see Moody feeding the Goblet of Fire here.
Moody didn't answer immediately in response to Sean's teasing, but simply tilted his head slightly.
A moment later, his hoarse voice rang out: "You're right, Phillips, I was indeed preparing a 'midnight snack' for the Goblet of Fire." He gently touched his wooden prosthetic leg, seemingly deep in thought, then gave a cold laugh. "However, what interests me more is how you ended up here at this hour."
Sean approached unhurriedly, his gaze shifting from the Goblet of Fire to Moody. "I'm planning to participate in the Goblet of Fire as well. The Triwizard Tournament wasn't held the year I was in school, which is a regret of mine, and now I want to make up for it." He raised an eyebrow, looking directly at Moody. "What do you say, Professor Moody? Do you, like me, want to experience it for yourself?"
Moody narrowed his eyes, remained silent for a moment, and did not respond.
Participating in the Triwizard Tournament as a professor?
If you look at this sentence in its entirety, you can find countless flaws to criticize.
In other words, this statement alone is enough to make people criticize it.
But looking at Sean's serious expression, Moody couldn't help but feel that he really intended to do it—which puzzled Moody.
Perhaps sensing Moody's doubts, or perhaps wanting to give him a "shock" unique to Hogwarts.
Sean pulled a slip of paper from his pocket with his name on it and held it up to Moody. Then, he gently waved his wand and whispered, "Confundo!"
Instantly, the writing on the note began to distort and become blurred, as if shrouded in a hazy mist.
Moody's eyes darted around, trying to see the changes clearly, but Sean had already cast the spell with great skill, and no matter how Moody observed, his vision could not completely see through that confusing fog.
“You know,” Sean turned to Moody with a slight smile, “the Confusion Charm is quite interesting; it can obscure the true nature of things.” He walked slowly towards the Goblet of Fire, looking down at the flickering blue-white flames, his tone still calm: “You know the Goblet of Fire doesn’t easily choose its users. Why not let it pick for itself and see if it’s suitable for me?”
Moody's gaze was fixed on Sean, but he didn't say anything to stop him. He just watched coldly as Sean gently tossed the note into the Goblet of Fire.
The paper streaked through the air, leaving faint specks of light before finally falling into the leaping blue and white flames.
As the paper was touched, the flames instantly turned a deep blue, emitting a dazzling light, followed by a series of rapid sparks exploding.
Moody's eyes narrowed slightly, his eyeballs darting around as if searching for some sign, but the flames in the Goblet of Fire had long since returned to calm.
Sean calmly withdrew his gaze, his smile unchanged.
Under Moody's astonished gaze, Sean pulled out several more slips of paper from his pocket, his movements becoming increasingly practiced.
Like a wholesaler, he tossed each slip of paper in using the same procedure. Each time he tossed it in, the slip disappeared into the flickering blue-white flame, which instantly turned red and burst into sparks.
After finishing all this, Sean extended his hand to Moody, smiling meaningfully: "Give me the note. Do you need me to submit it for you?"
For a moment, Moody was tempted.
But when he finally realized what had happened, he understood exactly what Phillips had done—completely disrupting his plans.
Mingming wanted to put Harry's name in to cooperate with his "master's" plan.
The events were quite complicated, but to put it simply:
Having joined forces with Voldemort, he was given a noble mission: to lure Harry into a pre-arranged trap through the Triwizard Tournament.
This task was originally given to Peter Pettigrew by Voldemort.
Voldemort was in a very difficult situation at the time, and he had no one else to rely on, so Peter became his choice.
But ever since Barty Crouch Jr. joined their ranks, he has been more suited for the mission than Peter from any perspective, which goes without saying.
Moody's gaze instantly darkened when he realized that Phillips had disrupted his plans.
Do you know what you're doing?
"I know," Sean replied matter-of-factly. "I'm feeding... no, I'm helping some people, including myself, realize their dreams."
As he spoke, he let out a long, sorrowful sigh.
"The three-way competition should be an honor for every school, but in my opinion, the current rules, which only allow each school to have one spot, are far too narrow."
Sean waved his hand, as if stating some intolerable fact, "Why not let more people participate? Everyone has the opportunity to demonstrate their courage and ability, why should these opportunities be reserved for only a few?"
Moody's face grew increasingly grim.
Although he didn't understand what Sean was babbling about, he had a feeling that his nominal boss, the writer, the professor of Muggle studies, was crazy—the two of them were completely on different wavelengths.
Sean continued to express his views.
"That's right, the Goblet of Fire exists to select the most outstanding warriors, but why not let more people participate?"
"If it's truly about selecting the best, then it should allow for more competition, rather than concentrating all the opportunities on a select few."
"That would actually seem unfair."
"As a professor, I should give full play to my initiative and turn injustice into fairness."
"So, I took action."
While Moody was still hesitating, Sean had already extended a sincere invitation to him.
"So, Professor Moody, it's time for me to ask you. Do you think we can cast our names together and break this injustice? We're both good enough to go all the way, and how the Goblet of Fire chooses us is entirely up to it."
Enraged, Moody's wooden prosthetic leg screeched against the ground as he swung his wand violently, shouting in a hoarse voice, "Out of body!"
Sean seemed to have anticipated Moody's move.
His figure seemed to be lifted by the wind in an instant, and with a light twist, he skillfully avoided Moody's attack as if he were one with the air. The magic in the air had not yet completely dissipated, and Sean was already standing calmly to the side.
"It pierces to the bone," he said.
The next moment, the air seemed to be frozen by some invisible force.
When Moody came to his senses, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if his body was being torn apart. He was breathing rapidly, and cold sweat instantly soaked his forehead, dripping down uncontrollably.
"This is just a small warning. Next time we meet, please call me Director Phillips."
This was the last thing Moody heard before he lost consciousness.
evening.
The Great Hall at Hogwarts.
The Halloween dinner seemed to last much longer than usual.
Perhaps because of the two consecutive days of banquets, the people did not enjoy the carefully prepared and sumptuous dishes as they usually did.
The atmosphere in the auditorium became extremely tense, with everyone craning their necks to look around anxiously.
Everyone was restless, constantly standing up to see if Dumbledore had finished eating, wishing the food on their plates would be gone quickly so they could find out who would become the champion of the Triwizard Tournament.
However, it seems that some people don't want things to go their way.
During the meal, many people talked to Dumbledore, seemingly wanting to learn some details about the Triwizard Tournament.
However, this does not include Sean.
He was still struggling with the beef on his plate.
For some reason, the beef seemed particularly difficult to cut today.
It looked perfectly cooked, with a light caramel color on the surface, an enticing golden hue around the edges, and a rich aroma.
But with each slice, the blade makes a slight "click" sound when it touches the meat, as if the meat is rejecting the blade.
In addition, the other dishes were also quite unique—a plate of brightly colored roasted chicken legs, surrounded by fragrant roasted potatoes fresh from the oven, exuding a creamy aroma, and a plate of lettuce salad on the corner of the table, which looked colorful and refreshing.
Finally, after an unknown amount of time—
The golden plates returned to their original cleanliness, and the noise in the auditorium suddenly increased significantly.
Dumbledore stood up, and instantly the Great Hall fell silent.
Karkaroff and Mrs. Maxim looked just as nervous and expectant as everyone else; Ludo Bagman, on the other hand, was all smiles, winking excitedly at the students from various schools; while Mr. Crouch seemed rather impatient, as if he were getting annoyed with it all.
"Alright, the Goblet of Fire is about to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "It should take another minute. Listen, once the champion's name is announced, I want them to go to the top of the Great Hall, then walk along the faculty desk and into the next room—" He pointed to the door behind the faculty desk, "" "where they will receive their initial instruction."
Dumbledore pulled out his wand and waved it dramatically.
As he completed his action, all the candles except the one inside the jack-o'-lantern went out, and the entire auditorium instantly became half-lit and half-dark.
At this moment, the Goblet of Fire emitted a dazzling light, brighter than anything around it. The blue-white flames seemed even more dazzling than usual, as if sparks were flickering in the dark night, blinding and radiant.
Everyone's gaze was fixed on the Goblet of Fire, awaiting that decisive moment.
The group kept glancing at their pocket watches, looking extremely anxious.
"Soon," Lee Jordan whispered, moving closer to Harry, even though there were two seats between them.
Suddenly, the flame in the Goblet of Fire turned red, and sparks crackled and spewed out, shaking the entire auditorium.
Then, a tongue of fire shot into the air, and several pieces of charred parchment flew out of the cup—everyone in the hall held their breath, and the air froze.
Dumbledore caught the parchment, held it far away, and carefully read the words on it by the light of the flame.
The flames then returned to their blue-white shimmering state.
"The champion of Durmstrang," Dumbledore announced in a clear and powerful voice, "Viktor Krum."
"That's not surprising!" Ron shouted, followed by enthusiastic applause and cheers from the auditorium.
The people of the Middle Kingdom saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and walk heavily and somewhat wearily toward Dumbledore.
He turned right, walked along the desk, headed towards the door, and entered the room next door.
"Fantastic, Viktor!" Karkaroff's voice boomed amidst the deafening applause. "I knew you were destined to be a warrior!"
As the applause gradually subsided and the noise in the auditorium subsided, everyone's attention refocused on the Goblet of Fire.
A few seconds later, the flames turned red again, sparks flew out once more, and then a second parchment floated out. "The champion of Beauxbatons," Dumbledore continued, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"It's her, Ron!" Harry exclaimed immediately. The girl who looked just like a Veela stood up gracefully, tossing her shimmering silver hair, and walked like an elf between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh, look, they're all so disappointed," Hermione said softly, nodding to the other Beauxbatons representatives.
Harry felt that Hermione's use of "disappointment" was clearly an understatement.
The two girls who were not chosen wept bitterly, burying their heads in their arms and crying sadly.
When Fleur Delacour also went to the next room, the auditorium fell silent once again.
A palpable sense of excitement flowed through the silence.
Next up were the champions of Hogwarts. At this moment, the Goblet of Fire turned red again, sparks flew, and flames rose rapidly into the air. Dumbledore pulled the third parchment from the flames.
"The brave warriors of Hogwarts," he proclaimed, "are...:..."