Fleur’s lip curled. Her hands clenched into fists by her sides.

“You,” she hissed.

Mingyu flinched.

Everyone held their breaths, too shocked to even react.

All the color drained from Cassian’s face.

Fleur stepped forward, voice only a whisper but sharp enough to cut. “You dosed me.”

Mingyu said nothing.

“You dosed me,” she repeated. Her voice cracked.

All at once, the hall caught up. Chairs scraped. Students turned.

Gabrielle looked up at her sister, clearly trying to work out what she was missing.

Master Ji’s face was thunder. The warmth, gone. The constant smile, gone. He came down from the High Table in long, heavy strides and grabbed Mingyu by the collar before anyone had time to blink.

The entire hall froze.

This was a man who’d spent months being polite to everything from portraits to stray cats. Seeing him like this was like watching a mountain get up and walk.

His voice rasped, “What did you do?”

Mingyu’s mouth opened and closed. “N‑nothing. This is a setup.”

Bagman shot up from his seat. Kingsley did too. Heads of schools pushed back their chairs. Maxime was already at Fleur’s side. Cassian jerked his chin at Bathsheda, she slipped past students toward the Beauxbatons table.

“They’re playing games,” Mingyu said, voice shaking. “I didn’t do anything-“

Fleur’s hiss cut straight through him. “You dosed me.”

That alone could’ve split the hall.

Cassian drew a slow breath through his teeth to calm himself before he did something he would regret. “Everyone stays where they are. No one touches anything.”

Master Ji hauled Mingyu a fraction closer. “Look at me,” he said, breathing hard. “Look at me and say you didn’t.”

“I didn’t!” Mingyu’s voice wavered. “Master, I swear. I didn’t, I would never-“

Fleur stepped forward again, jaw tight. “Tell the truth.” Her hand trembled. Her eyes were glassy with rage. “I thought it was real. Sudden but sweet.”

Bathsheda reached her gently. “Breathe. Don’t strain your voice.”

Fleur didn’t look away from Mingyu. “When you opened the Amortentia bottle, the smell was him. I was about to melt. But now… it’s still him, just the most disgusting thing in the world.”

“I didn’t,” he said again, but it landed badly, thin and panicked.

Bagman looked horrified. “But… you weren’t obsessed with him. At the dance, and later too. You didn’t act like someone struck with a love potion.”

Cassian shot him a glare. “Veela are immune to love potions. She’s a quarter-Veela. The potion affected her, but not enough to make her obsessed. Even then, even Amortentia wouldn’t be enough.”

Master Ji nodded. “This is him, isn’t it?” His gaze fixed on Mingyu, sharp, penetrating, as if he meant to strip the truth straight out of him.

McGonagall stepped forward, posture like sharpened steel. “Miss Delacour, when did you first notice?”

“When the antidote hit,” Fleur said. “When everything in my body recoiled from him.” Her breath shook. “Before that… every time he was near, it was warm. Safe. Soft. I thought…” She cut herself off, furious with the memory.

“See?” Mingyu’s voice quivered. “It’s the antidote. It’s wrong. It’s making mistakes-“

“No,” Cassian said flatly. “It doesn’t make mistakes. It reacts to active traces to reverse the side effect. I admit I didn’t know Rose Bath could reverse a Love Potion. I thought it was only good for detection. But the potion works. Better than we anticipated. If you’re getting blasted by something foul, it means someone used potion on you, or on someone around you.”

He looked at Fleur.

Fleur didn’t even blink. “It’s him.”

Master Ji’s grip tightened.

Mingyu’s breath hitched. “Master, I didn’t. Please, I didn’t. This is, this is a frame job-“

Cassian frowned, barely holding back. Nails digging into his palm. “Master Ji. You’ll decide.”

Ji didn’t even blink. He looked ready to set the whole hall on fire with his bare hands. “Do it.”

Cassian didn’t argue. He turned to Snape, who was already striding over with a small silver vial between two fingers. He simply handed it to Master Ji.

Ji uncorked it, grabbed Mingyu by the jaw, and forced the Veritaserum down his throat.

Mingyu choked, coughed, tried to pull back. Didn’t matter. Ji held him like he weighed nothing.

The potion hit fast. Faster than it should have. Those trained in Occlumency had a certain resistance to Veritaserum, and from Mind Training lessons Cassian was certain Mingyu was quite capable of it. Then he noticed Master Ji subtly using magic to lower Mingyu’s defenses.

Mingyu’s shaking went from panicked to rigid. His eyes unfocused, then snapped straight ahead.

Cassian stepped closer. “Tell us what you did.”

Mingyu’s mouth opened immediately.

“I dosed her.”

A gasp went through the hall. Fleur’s fingers dug into the edge of the table. Gabrielle grabbed her sleeve.

Cassian felt something under his sternum go hot. He didn’t trust himself to speak yet.

Mingyu went on, too fast, like he’d been holding all of it in his throat for weeks. “I needed to win the Tournament. I need to. My grandfather said I must honour the school. Honour the family. I was supposed to place above everyone. I needed her to be… compliant.”

Fleur’s face twisted. Maxime’s hand settled on her shoulder like iron.

Ji’s fingers whitened, Mingyu whimpered. “Your grandfather.”

“Yes.” Mingyu swayed slightly.

“Deputy Headmaster of Fenghuang,” Cassian said, looking at Ji.

Ji gave a nod, not looking away from the boy once.

“We plotted this,” Mingyu said. “My grandfather and I. He’s Grandmaster Potioneer. He designed the batch. We didn’t know who would come out of the Cup. Didn’t matter. It would be useful no matter the name.”

Fleur’s shoulders shook. Maxime caught her elbow before she tipped.

“Luckily,” Mingyu said, “it was Fleur.”

Gasps, curses, a chair hitting stone rung at the same time.

Cassian’s jaw went tight.

“She was beautiful. Strong. Perfect match. It was clever,” Mingyu continued, every word slicing the hall open. “She wouldn’t try to win against me after that. And if I needed her… she could help. Assist in tasks. Even attack the others if it came to it.”

Maxime’s wand snapped into her hand. Gabrielle pressed herself into her sister’s side, face buried in her robes.

The more Mingyu spoke, the redder the hall got. Students stiffened. Staff stood. Kingsley was already halfway down the steps. Even Bagman looked like he was going to be sick.

Ji slapped the boy so hard the crack echoed through the hall. Mingyu hit the floor, blood splattering from his lip, body shaking like his bones couldn’t hold him up anymore.

Dumbledore grabbed Ji’s arm, but the man tore free like Albus wasn’t even there. Trying to restrain him was like trying to leash a storm.

“You bastard,” Ji snarled. His voice scraped the stone. “You and your grandfather. I’ll make sure neither of your kin ever cast another spell again. I’ll rip the magic out of your veins.”

Students closest to him shrank back. Even the Durmstrang table shifted as one, as though instinct told them to get out of the blast radius.

Dumbledore stepped in front of him. “Ji. You can’t.”

Ji’s head snapped toward him. “Stay away, Albus.”

“I won’t.” Dumbledore didn’t move. “You can’t do that. He is bound to the Cup.”

Maxime let out a sound halfway between a growl and a gasp. “Are we going to let him continue? After this?”

Dumbledore’s shoulders sank, helpless. “We have no other choice.”

Cassian’s mouth opened, he was about to offer another rework of the tasks, another mad plan to twist the Cup’s rules into something they could live with. Dumbledore’s hand shot out and stopped him.

“It won’t work this time,” he said quietly.

Cassian’s jaw locked. He cursed under his breath. The cup ate too much magic to function properly, and every third reset required a sleep. The first time, they’d had to change the first task because of Ash. The second time, Cassian pushed for changes so Potter would be out. And now this was already the third. But was the tournament really more important than this?

Ji bent, yanked the boy up by the collar again. “You used her. You used my school.”

The way he shook wasn’t rage alone. It was shame.

Mingyu’s head lolled slightly, eyes glassy from the serum. “Master… I only did what was expected. Grandfather said-“

Ji slammed him back to the ground so hard the floor shuddered.

“That old man,” Ji spat, “will answer for this. I swear it.”

Kingsley stepped in, wand out, voice steady. “Master Ji. Enough. He’s confessed. He’s contained.”

Cassian clenched his fist. “This tournament is cursed.”

“No,” Snape said coldly. “People are.”

Mingyu lay on the floor, breathing shallowly.

Ji stood over him, jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed along his temple. “Do not think this is forgiveness,” he said to the boy. “You will finish this Tournament because the Cup demands it. After that…” His voice dropped to something dangerous. “…the world will learn what your family has done.”

Mingyu didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The serum held him like a hook in the throat.

Bathsheda knelt beside Fleur, murmuring quiet French under her breath until the girl’s breathing steadied.

Ji turned to Fleur and Maxime and bowed so deep his forehead nearly brushed his knees.

“I am so sorry,” he said, voice rough. “There are no words for the shame I feel. That this happened under our banner, by one of ours… I cannot tell you how ashamed I am.”

Fleur didn’t answer. She hadn’t moved since Mingyu confessed.

Ji looked at Gabrielle too. “To both of you. From all of us.”

His face didn’t crack, but his eyes were burning with anger. “He’s not one of us anymore.”

Maxime gave a short nod.

Dumbledore stepped forward, “All champions will be monitored. All potions tested. And should anything else surface…” he looked directly at the staff tables, “…we’ll pull the Cup from the ground ourselves.”

No one argued.

***

Cassian and Bathsheda stepped out of the staff room and went straight into hers.

Cassian paced once, twice. “That was sick.”

Bathsheda pressed her palms to her eyes. “All of it.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “And he’s still a Champion.”

“Cup rules,” she muttered. “Dumbledore can’t break them again. Not without tearing down the wards, and the school with them, or sacrificing his magic outright. Even Dumbledore can’t challenge the Cup and stroll away untouched. That thing feeds off the ley lines anchoring the entire continent. You’ve read the books. You know what it costs.”

Cassian let out a sharp breath. “Brilliant. Love Potion abuse, coercion, conspiracy, international disgrace. Congratulations, lad, off you pop to the next task.”

Dumbledore made sure that what happened in the Great Hall did not leave Hogwarts. Not a whisper. Fleur held the only key to the secret. Until she chose otherwise, silence was law.

He didn’t stop at warnings. The ward lattice listened for loose tongues. Anyone who tried to gossip would find the words sticking in their mouths.

Staff weren’t spared either.

Mingyu remained a Champion. Ji hadn’t thrown him out, hadn’t dragged him home, hadn’t so much as raised a letter to Fenghuang. Not yet. Rage simmered under the man’s ribs, but he held it in place with both hands.

Ji wanted to track every rotten branch of the plot, Mingyu, the grandfather, anyone else who’d stirred the cauldron. But if he moved now, the old man would vanish. Allies too. The Cup’s binding at least kept Mingyu in Hogwarts’ reach, the rest would bolt the moment rumour reached them.

Mingyu didn’t return to the Fenghuang dormitories after the hall incident. Dumbledore had him moved to a forgotten corner of the castle. An abandoned classroom got cleared out, a narrow bed dragged in, and a single lamp charmed to stay lit through the night in case the boy couldn’t sleep in the dark. He would sleep there. Eat there. A tray outside the door, no conversation, no company.

The isolation wasn’t just punishment, it was also a protection. Dumbledore kept him out of sight for a reason. Most of the castle wouldn’t have hesitated to hex him the moment they caught a glimpse. Even some of the staff stopped holding back when his name came up.

Even the Fenghuang students kept their distance. The betrayal hit them harder than anyone else. Whatever pity they might’ve had was drowned by embarrassment. Shame. Fury. One of theirs had humiliated them on a world stage. He had been one of theirs, and now he wasn’t. Simple as that.

Cassian raked a hand through his hair. “What am I supposed to do with this anger?”

Bathsheda didn’t look up from the spot on the wall she’d been staring down for the past minute. “Just don’t make him a martyr. That’s enough.”

Cassian stopped. Stared at the floor like he might find something useful there. “She shouldn’t have to carry that.”

“She doesn’t want the headlines.”

He snorted. “Course not. Let’s protect the poor boy’s dignity. Wouldn’t want the world thinking less of a school that let this happen.”

“She’s protecting herself.”

He sat beside her, dropping into the chair. “You’re right,” he said, rubbing both hands over his face. “Dumbledore’s got more common sense than me. This is Fleur’s call. Her trauma. Not mine to swing around like a bloody hammer.”

Bathsheda let out a slow breath and lowered her hands. “Good. Because if you went charging in, you’d make it worse for her. She’s not alone,” Bathsheda said. “Maxime’s glued to her. Half the Beauxbatons too. Gabrielle hasn’t left her side. And Master Ji… He would burn the country down if she asked.”

(Check Here)

Not really the chapter for a rant. Don’t feel like really. This isn’t virtue signaling, and it sure as hell isn’t about gender. It’s just what it is… it exists whether anyone wants to look at it or not. It’s real, and sick.

—

To Read up to 50 advance Chapters and support me…

patreon.com/thefanficgod1

Please drop a comment and like the chapter!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep