Chapter 186 This guy is 8 years old?!

Chapter 186 This guy is eight years old?!

Colin was startled and quickly put the camera down, but it was too late.

"Colin Creevey!" Professor McGonagall's stern voice rang out. "No photography in the auditorium! That's the rule!"

Colin's face turned bright red, and he nodded repeatedly.

"I'm sorry, Professor! I'm so sorry! I didn't know!"

"Now I know," Professor McGonagall said. "Go."

Colin quickly ran to the Gryffindor table and sat down not far from Ron.

He was still panting after he sat down, but his eyes were still bright.

Ron, watching him from the side, couldn't help but laugh.

"You've got some nerve, kid."

Colin turned to look at him.

"Who are you?"

"Ron Weasley," Ron said, "from Gryffindor."

"You're Weasley? That Weasley?" Colin's eyes lit up.

"Which Weasley?" Ron was stunned. Am I that famous?

"It's that one," Colin thought for a moment, "It's that one I don't know either, it's Weasley!"

"Okay," Ron said, both amused and exasperated. "So, what's your name again?"

"Colin Creevey!" Colin said. "You can call me Colin. Do you like taking pictures?"

"I don't really like it." Ron shook his head.

"Would you let me film that?"

"----Won't."

Colin was a little disappointed, but quickly smiled again.

"It's okay. I'll just take pictures of other people."

Harry watched this scene from the side and couldn't help but laugh.

Colin noticed him, and his eyes lit up again.

"You! You're Harry Potter!"

Harry paused for a moment.

How did you know?

"I recognize you!" Colin said excitedly. "You have that scar on your forehead! That's so cool! Can I take a picture of you?"

'

"Take a picture?" Harry asked blankly.

“That way I can prove I’ve seen you,” Colin said eagerly, taking a few more steps forward. “I know everything about you. Everyone has told me. How you escaped the mysterious man’s clutches, how he disappeared, and so on. You still have that lightning bolt-shaped scar on your forehead.”

At this point, his gaze searched Harry's hairline.

“A boy I met on the train said that if I use the right developing solution, the people in the photos will move.” Colin took a deep breath, his face trembling with excitement. “This is really interesting, isn’t it? Before receiving the letter from Hogwarts, I never knew that all those strange things I could do were magic. My dad delivers milk, and he doesn’t believe it either. So I’m going to take a ton of photos and send them to him. If only I could have one of yours!”

He looked at Harry pleadingly: "—Maybe I can stand next to you and ask your friend to press the button? And then, could you sign your name?"

Ron was laughing so hard he couldn't stand up straight.

"Harry, you're finished."

Hermione looked up.

"Don't bully the freshmen."

“I didn’t bully him,” Ron said. “I just said Harry’s finished.”

Colin was still looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry sighed.

"All right."

Colin cheered and raised his camera.

With a snap, another cloud of purple smoke appeared.

Professor McGonagall's gaze swept over them again.

Colin shrank back and put the camera away.

"I'll do it when I get back," he said softly.

Harry smiled helplessly.

"Michael Blaise!" Professor McGonagall called out his name again.

A dark-haired boy stepped out of the line. He was about eleven years old, of medium height, neither fat nor thin. His expression was calm, without the nervousness and excitement of a newborn. He walked to the stool and sat down, his gaze sweeping over the Slytherin table as if he were examining something.

The hat stayed on his head for a moment.

Then he shouted, "Slytherin!"

Blitch stood up and walked toward the Slytherin table. He walked slowly and calmly, appearing to be a very composed person. His gaze swept across the Slytherin table, as if searching for a suitable place.

Draco watched him approach and nodded slightly.

"This is alright."

Blaitch sat down not far from Draco, nodded to those around him, and said nothing. After sitting down, he began to straighten his robes, his movements very careful.

"Ginny Weasley!" Professor McGonagall continued calling out names.

A little girl with red hair stepped out of the line, walked to the bench, sat down, and put on her hat.

Ron sat up straight at the Gryffindor table.

"Ginny!" he whispered, a nervous look on his face.

His hand gripped the fork tightly, his eyes fixed on the small figure.

Hermione put down her book and looked over as well.

"Ah, another Weasley?" the old man yelled. "Gryffindor!"

A cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table, and Fred and George jumped up, waving their arms in exaggerated gestures as if they were performing.

"Ginny! Over here! Over here!"

"We're here!"

"Come quick!"

Ginny took off her hat, her face turning even redder. She stood up and ran toward the Gryffindor table.

Halfway through the run, she tripped over her own robe and almost fell, but she quickly regained her balance and continued running.

Fred and George pulled her over and made her sit between them.

"Well done, Ginny!" Fred said.

"We told you, you're definitely Gryffindor," George said.

Ginny smiled, a very happy smile.

Thank you.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in his seat.

"That scared me to death," he said, finally putting down the fork in his hand.

"What are you afraid of?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid she'll go to Slytherin," Ron said, wiping his forehead. "That would be too embarrassing. None of our seven children have ever left Slytherin."

Hermione chimed in, "Has the Weasleys ever produced a Slytherin?"

"No," Ron said. "Hopefully never will."

He paused, then added, "But even if she did, my mom would pull her back."

Harry and Hermione both laughed.

Ginny sat between Fred and George, observing her surroundings. Her gaze swept across the Gryffindor table, over the unfamiliar faces, and finally settled on Harry.

Her face turned red again.

Harry was talking to Ron and didn't notice her.

"Spencer Witton!"

A muscular boy walked out; he was much stronger than Blake, with broad shoulders, and looked like he exercised regularly.

He put on his hat.

"Slytherin!"

He stood up and walked toward the Slytherin table. His steps were steady and firm. He sat down next to Bleach and nodded to him.

"Looks like a good batting prospect." Akagi—oh no, it was Flint who saw the kid's physique and his eyes lit up.

He had already started planning in his mind how to get this "f***ing eight-year-old" little wizard into the Quidditch team and train him hard.

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