The Return to Hogwarts

"Hogwarts must have a school hospital, right?"

"Get him to the hospital!"

Karkaroff's kind expression vanished instantly; he turned and gave the little boy a frightening look.

"So that Hogwarts can legitimately poison Viktor? Shut your mouth, Poliaco, you wretched little boy!"

Karkaroff's stern voice echoed in the hallway, making the skinny boy who had just offered his opinion tremble.

Viktor sneezed loudly, then broke free from Kakanov's support and tried to approach the Goblet of Fire to put his name inside, but Kakanov stopped him again.

"Wait, Viktor!"

Karkaroff's expression immediately became alert. He stopped Viktor and jumped into the age line himself. Then, he pulled his wand from his silver robe, squinted, and tilted his head back to circle the base of the Goblet of Fire.

The young wizards Karkaroff brought were clearly curious about this behavior, but they didn't dare to ask, so they all turned their gazes to Viktor Krum.

"What are you doing, Professor?"

Karkaroff was tapping the rough walls of the Goblet of Fire with his wand, occasionally flicking his wrist to cast spells, and carefully observing the changes in the flames rising from the rim.

Even Viktor was puzzled by Karkaroff's behavior. His dark eyebrows drooped as he asked in a hoarse voice.

“We cannot let our guard down, Viktor—”

Karkaroff remained intently observing the Goblet of Fire, using all his magical knowledge to determine if there was anything wrong with it. He answered Viktor's question casually.

“When you reach my age and have experienced what I have, you will know that we are now facing the most cunning and adept at disguising his hypocritical face in a century. He is capable of anything. I strongly suspect that this cup is enchanted and will filter out the best students from our two magic schools, Beauxbatons!”

"You mean Mr. Amosta Blaine?"

Krum said in astonishment,

"He doesn't seem like the kind of wizard who would do something like this?"

"I'm talking about Albus Dumbledore—"

Karkaroff sneered, revealing a set of unpleasantly yellow teeth.

"Dumbledore's image isn't as positive as you think. A virtuous gentleman wouldn't earn the title of the greatest wizard of our time. When it comes to scheming and plotting, even the Dark Lord—"

Karkarov took a deep breath, cautiously shut his mouth, and looked around to make sure no one was watching him before letting out a sigh of relief and straightening up.

"As for Amosta Blaine—"

After struggling for a while and failing to find any problems, Karkaroff dejectedly stepped out of the age range. He tilted his head and said to Krum,

“I know you admire his magical power, Viktor, but don’t forget what I told you about Blaine, how he defeated us and Beauxbatons to make Hogwarts the host school of the Triwizard Tournament. His methods are no less ruthless than Dumbledore’s, and are even more ruthless.”

Karkaroff looked around the cold-toned hallway with disgust.

"In short, we must be extremely careful. I even suspect that if Hogwarts fails to win the championship in the end, Blaine might directly target you and Beauxbatons' warriors!"

Chapter 560 Surfaced

2023-10-27

Karkaroff did indeed favor Viktor Krum. After Krum cast his name into the Goblet of Fire and confirmed there were no mishaps, he simply put his arm around Krum's shoulder and left, completely ignoring the disappointed expressions of the students he had brought. Amosta believed that if the tournament rules required each school to provide a certain number of candidates, Karkaroff might have only brought Krum to the competition.

For this monitoring, Amosta added some functionality to the panoramic telescope on the terminal, enabling it to not only see images but also hear sounds.

However, inside the office, neither Amosta nor Dumbledore, who had been scolded by Karkaroff, showed any displeasure. Both remained calm as they watched Durmstrang and his group completely disappear from the surveillance footage.

"To my surprise--"

Amosta slowly rose, walked to the fireplace, took the brass kettle from the shelf, and refilled his cup with hot water. Holding the cup, he gazed through the gap in the curtains at the Durmstrang students and teachers walking towards the ghost ship on the lakeshore in the darkness.

"I thought Voldemort would contact his old servants and have him do the work, after all, Karkaroff would be much easier to deal with than infiltrating Hogwarts—"

“You don’t know Tom well enough, Amosta—”

Dumbledore said calmly,

“Unless absolutely necessary, I don’t think he would risk revealing his identity to his former followers before regaining his magic, especially since some of Professor Karkaroff’s actions after he was defeated by Harry might not be considered loyal in Tom’s eyes.”

Amosta nodded slightly, watching Durmstrang's men until they returned to the ship before turning his gaze away.

The moon cast a murky light behind layers of thick clouds. This dim light did not brighten the earth; instead, it fueled the rampant darkness and desolation.

Amosta turned his gaze to the school grounds, where Beauxbatons' carriage was completely dark, all the lights off.

At that moment, a rustling sound suddenly came from the foyer. There was no one around, but there were distinct footsteps on the steps to the side of the foyer. The footsteps went down from the upper floor to the foyer and finally stopped in front of the age line drawn by Dumbledore.

The person hiding in the shadows seemed to be struggling and hesitating. She did not act rashly. For a moment, the only sounds in the hall were the crackling of the torches and the sharp, frightening howl of the wind.

The silence lasted for about ten minutes, until finally, the Hidden One made up her mind. She stepped across the age line drawn by Dumbledore, and the floating silver coils emitted wisps of silvery mist.

One second, two seconds, three seconds --

Nothing happened, and the Hidden Ones let out a suppressed cheer.

The Hidden One stood contentedly beneath the Goblet of Fire, clutching the parchment he was about to toss in, a wide grin spreading across his face as he imagined the taste of fame and fortune.

But at that moment, an immense force suddenly descended, as if an invisible pair of giant hands had grabbed her body and swung her up like a shot put, throwing her out of the coil with tremendous force!

"Oh!"

The Ravenclaw girl, who wanted to take a different path, lay painfully on the cold ground ten feet away from the coil, groaning in agony. Perhaps the reflection of the clean marble floor made her realize that she might have been exposed. After the pain became bearable, she struggled to get up from the ground, instinctively touching her face, and then she touched a tuft of hairy beard.

"Oh!"

The Ravenclaw girl called out a second time, this time with a stronger sense of shame in her voice. She covered her face, sobbed, and ran upstairs, quickly disappearing from the frame.

"To be fair, Miss Fawcett's Disillusionment Charm was quite effective—"

Amos chuckled.

“I agree with you, Amosta--”

Dumbledore said in a chuckled tone,

"At Hogwarts, Ravenclaw students devote the most energy to their studies, so their grades are generally better than those of the other three houses, and this has always been the case. To be honest, I didn't expect anyone to be able to concoct an aging potion so quickly; Miss Fawcett may have been preparing for this all along—"

Da da da--

Just then, a rhythmic tapping sound interrupted Amosta and Dumbledore's conversation, drawing their attention back to the commotion in the foyer.

"Professor Moody?"

Amosta's eyelids twitched slightly. He looked at the figure emerging from the darkness and raised his voice slightly, "What is he doing down here at this time?"

"I guess Alastor is on patrol--"

Dumbledore twitched his silvery-white eyebrows and said calmly,

“Alastor has fought evil his whole life; his experience and intuition are no less than yours or mine. Clearly, he also realizes that if anyone wants to do something, tonight is undoubtedly the most opportune time—”

Things seemed to be just as Dumbledore had said.

Professor Moody, leaning on his cane, stood outside the age line. His blue magic eye darted wildly in its socket, seemingly observing whether there were any treacherous individuals lurking around. After a minute, confirming that the surroundings were safe, he began to circle the Goblet of Fire, his eyes fixed on the rough walls of the goblet, just like Karkaroff, to check if the goblet had been tampered with.

After a while, Professor Moody stopped. He gazed at the sleeping portrait on the wall for a moment, then turned and left the hall, heading out of the castle.

"Ready to patrol the area?"

Amosta took a sip of hot tea and shook his head slightly.

"He should get himself a jacket; it's not that warm outside. If he gets sick, I'll have to carry the Defense Against the Dark Arts class again—"

Dumbledore smiled helplessly.

It must be said that, at times, the Slytherin influence on Amostella is very obvious; you shouldn't expect him to be very tolerant of people he doesn't like.

Dumbledore was about to offer some explanation for Alastor's reckless behavior in the foyer at the start of the school year, but suddenly, the rhythmic tapping of his cane on the floor broke the silence again, interrupting him.

Moody, who had only left the castle a few minutes earlier, turned back. Instead of going upstairs, he stopped again outside the age line. His demonic eyes swayed from side to side a few times before his gaze locked onto the goblet of fire placed in the center of the coil. The face in the center of the panoramic telescope's view was filled with a deep expression.

Du--

Amosta slowly placed the teacup on the mantelpiece, staring directly at the light and shadow, her brows slightly raised, her purple eyes unfathomable.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore, sitting on the sofa, had quietly moved his back away from the soft backrest. His face was expressionless, and a hint of coldness emanated from his azure eyes behind his half-moon-framed glasses. In the gentle breeze created by the mingling of the heat radiating from the fireplace and the chill seeping into the room through the crack in the door, Dumbledore's silver-white beard and hair swayed slightly.

After standing silently for a while, Moody, with a solemn expression, crossed the age line and stood under the Goblet of Fire. He put his hand in his pocket, and when he took it out again, there was a folded piece of paper in his palm.

A pale, incandescent light flashed, and the blue-white flames emanating from the Goblet of Fire trembled violently. Even the roughly carved goblet itself shook violently, as if resisting something. However, this resistance was eventually suppressed, and everything returned to calm. The parchment in Professor Moody's hand disappeared into the strange flames that had just flared up.

Glug, glug, glug--

Moody's movements were almost impatient as he uncorked the bottle he always carried. He gulped down several mouthfuls of liquor, and his disordered breathing and the sudden influx of liquid into his throat caused him to cough violently twice.

Seemingly realizing he had made a commotion, Professor Moody limped away with his cane. Instead of going upstairs, he strode quickly toward the side of the hall and disappeared into the shadows leading to the underground passage of Slytherin Woods.

"That's really interesting—"

The clouds parted and the moon shone brightly in the sky.

Amostella picked up her teacup again, calmly looked at Dumbledore who had responded with the same calm, and repeated,

"That's really interesting—"

Chapter 561 Moody's Identity

2023-10-28