Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

When Harry and Clark turned around after saying hello, they discovered that Ron was missing.

"He was here just now!" Harry said.

Clark seemed to have noticed something and smiled, "It seems that my little cousin has a problem with me."

"You have an opinion, why?" Harry was very confused.

"Oh, Harry, don't you understand this?" Hermione said from the side, "He is jealous!"

"Jealous?" Harry asked in disbelief, "Jealous for what? Just because Clark became a Hogwarts warrior?"

"Think about it," Hermione said patiently. "You know, it's always you and Clark who attract everyone's attention. He has always been the little transparent one around you."

"It's not us..."

Hermione saw Harry open his mouth angrily and quickly added, "I know you and Clark are not pursuing this... but - how should I put it -."

"Because he has had to compete with many older brothers at home since he was a child." Clark continued her words.

"As the last boy born, he has several older brothers and an only younger sister.

It can be said that Aunt Molly and Uncle Arthur cared the least about him among the several children.

After arriving at Hogwarts, although you became his best friend, every time someone saw you, he was left aside.

He suffered it all in silence, never saying a word.

Now it seems that my becoming a Hogwarts Warrior happened to be the last straw that broke the camel's back. "

Harry was speechless and even felt a little ridiculous.

"Very good, that's great. Tell him for me that as long as he wants, I can switch with him at any time... No matter where I go, people are staring at my forehead stupidly..."

Clark had to pat him on the shoulder, "Okay, he is just a child having a tantrum. After a while, he will figure it out."

When several people came to the auditorium, they saw Ron sitting at the table eating alone. Clark and others walked over.

However, this guy quickly swept away the food on the plate and walked away very proudly.

"This guy!" Clark could only smile and shake his head.

But Ron's behavior is not an isolated case.

No matter how much praise a person endures, he will often also endure how much slander he will receive.

Clark thought that with his own strength and the reputation he had accumulated over the past few years, it would be easier for everyone to get used to him being a warrior.

However, the next day, he discovered that he was completely wrong.

Although he has indeed gained a large number of fans from the lower grades, there are still some people in other colleges who are not convinced by him.

Among them, the one who was most hostile to him turned out to be Hufflepuff, who had always had the best relationship with Gryffindor.

A single herbal medicine class is proof enough of this.

Obviously, these Hufflepuffs felt that Clark had stolen the glory that belonged to their warriors.

Since Hufflepuff houses rarely achieve glory - they are most excited when Cedric becomes the possible champion of Hogwarts.

Of course these people don't know that in the original book, after becoming a warrior, Cedric sacrificed his young life for this.

They just stubbornly believed that Clark's method of becoming a Hogwarts warrior was not honorable.

After all, he still has the identity of Hogwarts School Director, so this selection is likely to be a secret operation.

For this reason, the atmosphere in the herbal medicine class was extremely weird and depressing.

Apart from this little unpleasantness, the rest of the situation is pretty good.

In Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class, the Slytherin students did not reject Clark very much.

Of course, their relationship with Gryffindor was not good before, and this situation could not get any worse.

And they don't like Bruce, an American transfer student, very much.

"Ah, look, guys, this is the warrior of Yinfamouni."

When Clark and others arrived at Hagrid's cabin, they happened to hear Malfoy talking to Crabbe and Goyle with a smile.

"Do you have a book signed by him? It's best to ask him to sign it quickly. I doubt he can stay here long...Half of the warriors in the Triwizard Tournament are dead..."

Bruce didn't react at all to Malfoy's sarcasm. It seemed that everything the other party said had nothing to do with him.

Malfoy also noticed Clark's arrival at this time. He originally wanted to ridicule him, but under Clark's dangerous gaze, he decisively chose to follow his heart.

Compared to these two houses, the attitude of Ravenclaw students towards him was quite good.

Although they are not as sought after by Gryffindor students, as long as they meet him on the road, Ravenclaw students will greet Clark with a smile and cheer him on.

In the Charms class where he taught the Flying Curse, Professor Flitwick praised him so much that Clark was almost embarrassed by his praise.

——In class just now, he used his telekinesis to make everything in the classroom fly toward him, as if he were a magnet that attracted blackboard erasers, wastebaskets, and moon palace diagrams.

But not all teachers are so kind to him.

That afternoon, two consecutive potions lessons made all the little Gryffindor wizards shudder.

Being locked up in a dungeon for a whole hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins was nothing short of...

A painful ordeal.

Clark was naturally among the students in class, but he felt fine.

After all, he had already memorized the content that Snape was going to teach, so he didn't find it difficult.

Snape seemed to understand this too.

"The dream team should be disbanded!"

He said insidiously, and then separated Clark and the three of them.

"Mr. Prewett, you and Wes come together.

Harry Potter, I think Longbottom needs your help more.

As for you, Miss Know-It-All, maybe you could sit with Pansy. "

The three of them had no choice but to pack their things and change seats.

"Antidote!"

Satisfied, Snape stood on the podium, looking around the class as he spoke, his cold black eyes flashing with an unpleasant light.

"You should prepare your own formula now. I ask you to cook it carefully, and then we will choose one person to try it..."

Snape glanced around the classroom, and everyone subconsciously avoided his dangerous gaze.

Eventually, only Clark met his eyes, and looked at them without fear.

This situation was naturally regarded as a provocation by Snape, but before he could continue to think about how to deal with Clark, there was a knock on the door of the underground classroom.

Snape waved his hand and the classroom door opened, revealing Colin Creevey.

He sidled into the classroom, smiled at Clark, and walked towards Snape's podium at the front of the classroom.

"What?" Snape asked impatiently.

"Excuse me, sir, but I have to take Clark Prewett upstairs."

Snape looked down at Colin from his aquiline nose, and his smile hardened on Colin's eager face.

"Prewett has another hour of Potions class," Snape said coldly, "He will go upstairs after class."

Colin hesitated.

"Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman asked him to go," he tried to keep his tone calm, "all warriors want to go..."

"Very well, very well," snapped Snape, "Prewett, leave your things here. I want you to come back later and test your antidote."

"I'm sorry, sir - he has to take his things with him," Clark was sure that Colin's words must be a lie, "all warriors -"

"Very good!" said Snape, "Prewett—take your bag and disappear from my sight!"

Clark smiled and threw his schoolbag over his shoulder, stood up, and walked out of the Potions underground classroom door with Colin.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Clark?" Colin said impatiently as soon as they walked out of the classroom and closed the door, "Isn't it? You became a warrior! I always thought that you were the only one in Hogwarts worthy of being a warrior."

"That's not the case," Clark smiled and waved his hand, "As long as you have the courage, everyone is his own warrior."

They both walked up the steps to the foyer. "Why are they taking pictures, Colin?"

"Probably it will be published in the Daily Prophet! By the way, Ginny said that the school magazine is also planning to arrange interviews with the warriors for a special report."

"That's great," Clark praised. "It seems she has adapted to the job of deputy editor."

"Yeah, by the way, good luck to you!" Colin said, by which time they had arrived outside the room.

Clark knocked on the door and walked in.

It was a smaller classroom and most of the desks were pushed to the back of the room, leaving a large open space in the middle.

But there were three desks facing each other, placed in front of the blackboard, covered with a long piece of velvet.

Behind the velvet-covered desk, there were five chairs, and in one of them sat Ludo Bagman, talking to a witch wearing a magenta robe.

Viktor Krum stood in a corner with a gloomy face as usual, not talking to anyone.

Bruce was uncharacteristically talking to Fleur, who looked very happy, shaking her head and flipping her hair from time to time, making her long silver hair shine with a dazzling luster.

A potbellied man held a large, slightly smoking black camera in his hand and was watching Fleur from the corner of his eye.

Bagman suddenly saw Clark, stood up quickly, and jumped forward.

"Ah, he's here! The third warrior! Come in, Clark, come in... There's nothing to worry about, it's just a wand-testing ritual. The other judges will be here soon -"

"Detection wand?" Clark asked.

"We must check whether your wand is fully functional and performs well, because in future competitions, the wand is your most important instrument." Bagman explained.

"The expert is upstairs with Dumbledore. After the examination, he will take some pictures. This is Rita Skeeter," he said, pointing to the witch in the magenta robe. She is working on..."

Before Bagman finished speaking, Rita Skeeter stood up on her own initiative, walked to Clark, and spoke humbly with a hint of flattery.

“Mr. Prewett, I really didn’t expect to meet you here.

Ah, look at my memory. They say you are the warrior of the Triwizard Tournament. I think you are the only one in the entire Hogwarts who deserves this honor. "

Clark looked at the red-robed witch in front of him. She wore a pair of thick-framed glasses with jewels. Her hair was styled into delicate, stiff, and weird waves, matching her big-chin face. , looks particularly awkward.

"I didn't expect that you, a great reporter, would be doing the interview today. It seems that I can make the headlines for once."

Clark smiled and stretched out her right hand, and Rita Skeeter quickly let go of the crocodile leather handbag she was holding and took the initiative to hold it.

"No, no, Mr. Prewett, if you want to be on the front page, it won't be a matter of minutes."

Her fingers were thick and fat, and her nails were two inches long and painted bright red.

But there was no delay, she held Clark's hand tightly, as if this was a rare opportunity that she must seize.

Bagman was dumbfounded by the scene in front of him. This was the first time he had seen Rita Skeeter, a woman, treat a person with such an attitude.

You know, as the Director of the Sports Department of the Ministry of Magic, he often interacts with Rita Skeeter, a media practitioner.

In his impression, the leading reporter of the Daily Prophet has always been very "troublesome".

Yes, it is very troublesome.

This old woman relied on her pen with a very arrogant attitude. If something didn't go her way, she would take out her broken quill and write wildly.

It just so happens that this guy has many readers and fans, and those wizard aunts like to read the content she writes.

"Before we start, can I have a few words with Mr. Prewett?" Rita Skeeter suddenly said, as if she felt that Bagman was a bit of an eyesore, "The youngest warrior, you know... To add some color to the article.”

"No problem!" Bagman didn't seem to want to spend more time with the old woman, so he quickly responded loudly, "It's just - I wonder if Clark objects?"

Rita Skeeter quickly turned her gaze to Clark's face again, "Mr. Prewett..."

"I think I can still spare a few minutes." Clark said reservedly.

"That's great," Rita Skeeter said happily, her face flushed with excitement.

She lowered her head and bent over, stretched out her hand, and led Clark to the table aside.

"I've actually wanted to interview you for a long time, Mr. Prewett," Rita Skeeter sat down on an old chair, swaying as if she might fall off at any time, "I can call you Clark." ?"

With that said, before Clark could agree, she opened her crocodile leather handbag and took out her quill pen.

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