Today, these snails are nearly six feet long and covered in a thick grey protective shell. Their powerful legs thrash about, their tails emit explosive fire, and their spines and suckers render them the most revolting creatures Evan had ever laid eyes upon.
The students gazed somberly at the large boxes Hagrid had provided, each one cushioned with pillows and fluffy blankets.
"Let's get them inside!" Hagrid urged. "Seal the lids and let's observe their behavior."
As it turned out, they soon realized that the fried-tail snails did not hibernate, and they certainly did not appreciate being confined within pillow-strewn boxes with lids. The snails appeared agitated, likely finding the environment stuffy, and their irritation was evident.
After several raucous thumps and a few startled screams, Hagrid bellowed, "Easy, easy!"
The snails, in their vexation, had begun to rampage through the pumpkin patch, leaving behind smoldering remnants of crates. Many students had hurriedly sought refuge in Hagrid's hut through the back door. Evan, however, remained outside to assist Hagrid. With the help of Colin, Ginny, Gabriel, and a few other students, they were able to subdue the ten-tailed snails and secure them, albeit not without suffering numerous burns and scratches.
In Evan's estimation, Hagrid was heading down a perilous path. These fried snails were gradually spiraling out of his control and becoming as hazardous as the sphinx and the scorpion-tailed beast.
The prudent course of action would be to eliminate these snails before they caused any harm, preempting potential problems. Yet Evan was certain that Hagrid would never contemplate such a drastic measure.
He didn't fault Hagrid for his stance; the allure of delving deeper into risky magical research had consumed him. To Evan's own concern, he was preparing to summon a demon after deciphering the ancient magical texts he'd brought back.
Even with the weight of evidence supporting his decision, the path he was on was horrifying, wicked, and scarcely credible. If someone had apprised Evan of these intentions back in his first year, he would've dismissed them as sheer lunacy.
At that time, his comprehension of black magic was confined to merely casting spells and reciting incantations. Spells such as the Avada Kedavra curse were potent and highly effective, but they weren't as malevolent as they were often portrayed.
Evan had assumed that black magic was no more than that, but his subsequent deepening understanding of magic had proven him gravely mistaken.
In his relentless pursuit of power, Voldemort had undertaken acts far more nefarious than most wizards could fathom. Evan had no doubt that Voldemort had also delved into the realm of demon summoning, but the purpose to which he had put these summoned entities was beyond anyone's imagination.
Returning to Hagrid, who faced imminent danger from the increasingly aggressive fried-tail snails, the situation could take a turn for the worse when Rita Skeeter got wind of it.
Following the first task, the journalist had failed to leave Hogwarts and continued to camp within the school grounds, tirelessly pursuing her next big story.
Evan was well aware of her illegal Animagus status and had been keeping an eye out for an opportunity to catch her in her insect form, or, more accurately, to give her a stern warning to keep her mouth shut.
However, Evan couldn't bring himself to do it. Even if he were to expose Rita Skeeter as an illegal Animagus, the cunning journalist was exceedingly cautious. She never transformed in the presence of others and avoided approaching powerful wizards while in her Animagus form.
Evan happened to be one of the individuals she steered clear of.
With no feasible way to monitor her constantly and await her transformation, Evan couldn't afford to invest the time required for such a task.
Seeing Rita Skeeter sauntering towards the Forbidden Forest's edge, Evan decided it was time to give Dobby some exercise.
"Well, well, well, that looks like quite the spectacle," Rita Skeeter commented as she leaned against the fence surrounding Hagrid's vegetable garden. She observed the students' efforts as they grappled with the Fried Tail Snail, a rope looped around its spines.
She was clad in a vivid magenta robe adorned with a purple fur collar and carried an alligator handbag hanging from her arm.
"Who are you?" Hagrid inquired, his brow furrowed, as he continued to wrestle with the flattened and somewhat misshapen Fried Tail Snail, dragging it closer to its companions.
"I am Rita Skeeter, a reporter for the Daily Prophet," Rita replied, her lips curving into a smile. The gold teeth within her mouth gleamed as she spoke.
"I remember you; Dumbledore made it clear that you're not welcome at the school anymore," Hagrid said with a slight frown.
However, Rita seemed entirely unperturbed by Hagrid's words, her smile growing broader. "What are these fascinating creatures called?"
"Fried tail snails," Hagrid responded, his tone filled with enthusiasm.
"Really?" Rita inquired, her interest piqued. "I've never heard of them before. Where do they come from?"
If he could, Evan would have preferred if Hagrid didn't divulge further information. He lightly stepped on Hagrid's foot, prompting him to pause and gaze at Evan with a quizzical expression.
"You're here too, Evan!" Rita Skeeter exclaimed, her demeanor brightening. "So, you enjoy the Care of Magical Creatures class?"
Ignoring her, Evan glared at Hale, who was looking at him expectantly with a grin. He reluctantly nodded.
"That's correct. Many of us find this class quite enjoyable; Hagrid is an excellent instructor!" Evan replied.
"That's splendid!" Rita remarked with enthusiasm. "I hope to interview you all and hear about your experiences in caring for these delightful creatures. The Daily Prophet features a weekly zoology column every Wednesday, as you may be aware. We could feature these Fried Tail Snails."
"They're called Fried Tail Snails!" Hagrid interjected warmly, eager to share his knowledge.
"Indeed, Fried Tail Snails," Rita acknowledged with a nod. "I've already covered the events of the first task and your triumph over the Fire Dragon. You'll be pleased with what I have to say about you, Evan. But for now, we are in need of more material."
Evan gently turned Hagrid's head away and departed, indifferent to what Rita Skeeter had to say. He was certain he wouldn't appreciate her perspective.
Regardless of Rita Skeeter's evaluation, she had a penchant for spinning rumors to her advantage, a prospect that Evan hoped to avoid. His current objective was to maintain a low profile, especially with Voldemort's return imminent.
Considering the considerable time that had passed since the first task and the publication of Hogwarts Magical Newspaper's coverage, it was evident that Rita Skeeter and the Daily Prophet were not interested in the task itself. Evan had no intention of providing Rita Skeeter with the opportunity to fabricate stories. Engaging in an extended conversation with her, as Hagrid had done, would only invite trouble.
Upon sharing this with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, they concurred with Evan's viewpoint.
"You're absolutely right, Evan. She'll twist anything Hagrid says to fit her narrative," Harry remarked with concern.
"Let's just hope Hagrid hasn't illegally imported those fried tail snails and whatnot," Hermione added.
They exchanged knowing glances; this was a possibility Hagrid could very well have pursued. It seemed unlikely that he had obtained those fire crabs through conventional channels, as they were a magical species protected by the Fijian Ministry of Magic.
"Don't worry; Hagrid's been in his fair share of trouble before, and Dumbledore has never fired him," Ron reassured them. "The worst—or should I say the best—thing that could happen is that Hagrid might have to part with the Fried Tail Snails. Sorry, did I say 'worst'? I meant 'best.'"
Their shared laughter lightened the mood.
Evan subsequently delved into studying the ancient magical texts, while Hermione busied herself with writing and sketching.
After Harry and Ron had completed their homework, they seized Fred and George's two fake wands and commenced a playful duel.
Their skirmish grew quite intense, attracting an audience of curious onlookers who were thoroughly entertained.
Professor McGonagall had instructed everyone to be in the common room by eight o'clock, preventing anyone from running about.
"Potter! Weasley!" Professor McGonagall's voice sounded with irritation as she entered the common room. "What are you two doing?"
Startled, Ron held a tin parrot, while Harry clutched a rubberized haddock.
"Can you not conduct yourselves more appropriately for your age?" Professor McGonagall chided, her tone stern.
At that moment, the head of Ron's parrot came detached and landed soundlessly on the floor, severed by the sharp beak of Harry's haddock.
The two of them stared at Professor McGonagall with apprehension.
"Why don't you all take your seats over there? I have a few words for the group." Professor McGonagall's gaze bore into them before she shifted her attention to the rest of the common room. "As many of you are aware, the Christmas Ball is fast approaching! It's a longstanding tradition of the Triwizard Tournament and an excellent opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. While the ball is reserved for fourth years and above, you are permitted to invite a first or second-year student if you so desire."
Evan blinked and instinctively glanced at Hermione, who seemed to be lost in her thoughts and hadn't noticed the parchment slipping from her hand.
Putting down the parchment filled with ancient magical texts, Evan found himself briefly unsettled as he stared at Hermione, a surge of anxiety washing over him.
As December advanced, preparations for the Christmas Ball took center stage.
Everyone needed to secure a dance partner, with the convention being for boys to invite girls. Unfortunately, Evan appeared to be ineligible as he was only a third-year student, a junior, which meant he couldn't attend unless he was asked.
The logical assumption was that Hermione would ask him, right?
Upon hearing Professor McGonagall's announcement, the common room erupted with excitement. Murmurs, particularly among the girls, filled the air, punctuated by shrill giggles.
"Make sure to don your dress robes," Professor McGonagall urged, somewhat disoriented by the response. "The dance is scheduled for Christmas night, starting at 8:00 p.m. and concluding at midnight. Pay heed."
She paused, surveying the room, her expression serene.
"The Christmas Ball is an occasion for relaxation," she remarked, sounding somewhat incredulous.
This elicited even more laughter from the students, particularly Lavender Brown, who struggled to stifle her amusement behind her hand.
Professor McGonagall's hair was perpetually tied in her signature tight bun, never appearing loose. The mere thought of her with her hair let down sparked wild imaginings among the students.
"That's not all!" Professor McGonagall continued, ignoring the laughter. "Behavioral expectations for Hogwarts students will be relaxed for the evening. It would deeply distress me if any Gryffindor tarnished the school's reputation in any manner."
She then left the bustling common room, leaving Ron with a stern wave of her hand.
"Weasley, come here for a moment; I need to speak with you," she instructed.
As she led Ron into the empty corridor, the sounds of excited chatter still emanated from within.
Ron regarded Professor McGonagall with apprehension, uncertain of what she was about to discuss with him.
"Weasley, champions require partners!" Professor McGonagall stated. "You must secure a date."
"A date?" Ron questioned, caught off guard. "I don't dance!"
"Don't be absurd; you must dance!" Professor McGonagall responded, somewhat exasperated. "I was going to inform you that it's customary for the champions to open the ball with their partners. You must find a date, Weasley!"
"I'm really not keen on dancing!"
"You must, it's tradition!" Professor McGonagall asserted firmly, leaving no room for argument. "As a representative of Hogwarts and a champion, you must fulfill your obligations. That's settled; you can return now!"
When Ron rejoined the common room, the discussions were still in full swing. Everyone was buzzing with excitement, eagerly discussing the upcoming Christmas Ball and potential dates. Evan, unable to invite anyone else, sat quietly, hoping that Hermione would extend an invitation.
However, Hermione didn't seem inclined to ask Evan, especially amidst the multitude of options available. As the conversations continued, it became clear that nobody was rushing into making decisions; they were all biding their time.