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Chapter 295 - 0295 Moody & Karkaroff

The following day proved to be perhaps the most chaotic and bustling day in the Great Hall's recent years.

Of course, this unprecedented level of activity in the entrance hall resembled to what was undoubtedly the busiest day the hospital wing had ever experienced in Madam Pomfrey's career.

She was absolutely packed dealing with an endless parade of students suffering from various magical mishaps, transformation accidents, and the creative consequences of failed attempts to circumvent Dumbledore's Age Line.

Despite the cautionary tale provided by the Weasley twins' spectacular failure with their transformation into bearded old men, students continued their attempts to cross the golden barrier. Each failure seemed to inspire new theories, fresh approaches, and increasingly creative strategies among the watching crowds.

The hospital wing experienced an unprecedented surge of visitors throughout the day, with Madam Pomfrey working tirelessly to reverse aging effects, treat magical burns, heal mysterious rashes, and address various other consequences of students' experimental approaches to bypassing Dumbledore's protections.

Her usually well-organized infirmary began to resemble a battlefield medical station, with beds filled by groaning teenagers in various states of magical distress.

Harry had been among the most persistent experimenters. He had begun with the most obvious approach, using the Finite Incantation with all the magical power he could muster, focusing his intent on unweaving whatever spells protected the golden lines.

When that proved ineffective, he had progressed through various counter-spells and dispelling charms that Hermione had researched in the library.

Each attempt had been met with the same result, the Age Line remained completely resistant to his efforts, showing no sign of weakening or responding to his magical interventions.

Finally, during the quieter midday period when most students were attending classes or eating lunch, Harry had tried his most creative solution. Transforming into his Animagus form, he approached the barrier with the hope that Dumbledore's magic might not recognize him in his animal shape.

Unfortunately, even this transformation was insufficient. The moment his paw touched the golden boundary, he was repelled by the same invisible force that had launched the Weasley twins, though thankfully without the accompanying aging effects.

The barrier seemed to recognize him regardless of his physical form. Clearly, even an Animagus couldn't fool Dumbledore's magic.

Around three or four in the afternoon, a gentle drizzle began to fall across the Hogwarts grounds, creating a soft pattering sound against the castle's windows and adding a melancholy atmosphere to the day's persistent activities.

The gray clouds overhead seemed to mirror the growing frustration of students who had spent hours attempting to overcome magical barriers that remained stubbornly immovable.

Adrian strolled through the courtyard corridors at a leisurely pace, his mind occupied with thoughts of a rather interesting experiment he had conducted just moments earlier.

He had approached the Goblet of Fire during a brief lull in student activity and tried to throw a slip of paper bearing his name into the blue-white flames.

As he had expected, the Goblet of Fire had unhesitatingly rejected his entry, spitting the paper back out with what seemed almost like disdain. The Goblet would never acknowledge a student who was nearly thirty years old.

But this gave him a better understanding of the Goblet of Fire.

When he threw the paper into the Goblet, he noticed a new status had appeared:

[Contract: Goblet of Fire]

When the paper was immediately ejected and his entry rejected, this mysterious status had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

This was clearly one of the magical properties of the Goblet of Fire.

Yet despite this revelation, Adrian remained puzzled by the deeper questions surrounding the selection process.

What exactly were the Goblet's criteria for choosing champions? Was it purely a matter of magical power, measuring raw ability and potential?

Did it consider reputation, looking for students who had already demonstrated exceptional skills or achievements? Or did the selection process involve something else entirely, perhaps character traits, hidden potential, or mysterious qualities that couldn't be easily quantified?

While Adrian was deep in contemplation about the Goblet's selection mechanisms, the sound of raised voices and unusual commotion arose from a nearby corridor, breaking through his philosophical reverie.

Following the source of the disturbance, he discovered a small crowd of students had gathered in one of the stone passageways around something.

"What's happening here?" Adrian asked as he approached the group, directing his question to the nearest student who might be able to provide some context for the gathering.

By coincidence, this student turned out to be Cedric Diggory,.

"I just came from the Great Hall a few minutes ago," Cedric explained, his usual cheerful expression clouded with concern. "From what I could see and hear, Headmaster Karkaroff seems to have had some kind of… conflict with Professor Moody."

"Do you have any idea what the conflict was about?" Adrian immediately inquired; his curiosity piqued by this unexpected development.

Cedric shook his head, indicating he wasn't entirely sure either. "I'm afraid I don't know the details—I only caught the tail end of whatever was happening, and they weren't exactly explaining themselves to the students who were watching."

This response only heightened Adrian's interest in the developing situation. Faculty conflicts were rare enough under normal circumstances, but a confrontation serious enough to draw crowds of concerned students…..

With growing curiosity, Adrian pushed his way through the bunch of watching students until he reached the front of the crowd, where he could observe whatever drama was unfolding in the corridor ahead.

Indeed, just as Cedric had described, Karkaroff and Moody were facing each other in what could only be described as a tense standoff. Though neither man had actually drawn his wand, the atmosphere between them was filled with hostility.

Karkaroff's face was somewhat pale, while Moody sneered coldly, his magical eye spinning wildly as it fixed upon his opponent.

Adrian didn't know what had happened, but clearly someone needed to break this impasse.

He clapped his hands and turned sternly to the watching students behind him: "All right, everyone, time to return to your common rooms. The Halloween feast is approaching, and I imagine you all need some time to prepare."

Adrian's intervention had some effect. The watching students began to disperse reluctantly, with a few upperclassmen still craning their necks for a better look, but after receiving a glare from Adrian, they too departed with the crowd.

For a moment, Adrian felt rather like he had become Professor McGonagall.

Once the crowd had dispersed, Adrian stood to one side, silently observing Karkaroff and Moody. He didn't understand why the two appeared ready to come to blows.

Therefore, he wisely chose to watch and wait.

Karkaroff, noticing the change in circumstances, straightened his collar and said with forced composure, "I must be going, Moody. This is hardly the appropriate time or place for... reminiscing about old times. I have important matters to attend to."

Moody's magical eye continued its unsettling rotation.

"Oh, of course you must," Moody replied in his gravelly voice which carried a tone of menace. "By all means, attend to your important duties. But I want you to know that if I find the time in my busy schedule, I'll certainly come looking for you again, old friend."

The word 'friend' was delivered with such obvious sarcasm that it sounded more like a curse than a compliment.

"Perhaps we can have a proper chat then," he continued, his scarred lips curling into what might generously be called a smile, "and maybe even share some tea while we discuss old times and mutual acquaintances. I'm sure we have so much to catch up on."

Karkaroff didn't respond to these thinly veiled threats with words. Instead, he turned and fled the scene with such speed that he nearly stumbled over his own feet in his eagerness to escape.

Fortunately for Durmstrang's reputation and Karkaroff's remaining dignity, no students remained to witness this less-than-heroic retreat. The corridor was empty except for Adrian and Moody, meaning that whatever gossip might emerge from this confrontation would at least be limited to secondhand accounts rather than direct observation of the Durmstrang headmaster's apparent fear of Moody.

Moody remained exactly where he stood throughout Karkaroff's departure, his gaze following the fleeing figure with undisguised contempt.

Only after Karkaroff's figure had completely disappeared around the distant corner did Moody allow himself a contemptuous snort that perfectly expressed his opinion of such cowardly behavior.

Only after Karkaroff had vanished completely from sight did Adrian feel it appropriate to quietly approach Moody for an explanation of what he had just witnessed.

"What exactly happened here, Professor Moody?" He inquired carefully, uncertain how much the former Auror would be willing to share.

"Didn't you see it with your own eyes?" Moody responded roughly. "That coward took one look at me and nearly wet himself with terror. Couldn't even maintain his composure long enough for a decent conversation."

He spat onto the stone floor with obvious disgust.

"Couldn't even stand steady on his own two feet, the craven fool," He continued with undisguised scorn.

"You're talking about Karkaroff?" Adrian asked with genuine curiosity. "But isn't he the headmaster of Durmstrang Academy? Do you have some kind of history together?"

"Oh, we're far more than casually acquainted," Moody said with a cold laugh that had no trace of actual funniness. "And since you seem to be observant enough to notice that something unusual is happening around here, I'll tell you something interesting—Death Eaters have been crawling out of the woodwork lately, one by one, like insects emerging after a long winter."

His magical eye spun with particular intensity as he continued, "Make absolutely no mistake about this: Igor Karkaroff used to be a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's dedicated followers. And I personally had the satisfaction of throwing his worthless hide into Azkaban where he belonged."

Adrian felt genuine surprise at this. His travels during the post-war period had kept him away from much of the political and legal aftermath of Voldemort's defeat, meaning that many of the details about specific Death Eater trials and punishments were not on his complete attention.

The idea that a former Azkaban prisoner had somehow managed to achieve the prestigious position of headmaster at one of Europe's most respected magical institutions was remarkable in itself. Such a transformation meant either genuine rehabilitation, exceptional political maneuvering, or perhaps some combination of both.

But what puzzled him was this: if Karkaroff had been imprisoned in Azkaban, how had he gotten out?

"If Karkaroff was imprisoned in Azkaban," he asked the question in his mind, "how did he manage to secure his release? My understanding is that most criminals who enter that fortress have no realistic possibility of freedom for the remainder of their natural lives."

When Adrian posed this question, Moody's expression showed genuine surprise, his scarred eyebrows rising as he studied the younger man with fresh interest.

"You really don't know about this?" He frowned in surprise. "How remarkably unfortunate—I had assumed this was relatively recent history that any informed wizard would remember. Karkaroff's case was quite notorious at the time.

Karkaroff managed to secure his freedom by testifying before the Wizengamot, providing detailed names and information about other Death Eaters in exchange for a significantly reduced sentence. His cooperation led directly to the capture and prosecution of several other Voldemort supporters, which earned him early release despite the severity of his original crimes."

Adrian nodded thoughtfully as this explanation filled in important gaps in his understanding of post-war situation.

So Karkaroff was also a traitor to his former cause and companions. Adrian reflected on this, understanding that traitors, regardless of which side they ultimately served or what circumstances drove their betrayal were collectively despised by almost everyone.

"Durmstrang Academy has a well-known policy of openly teaching students the Dark Arts as part of their standard curriculum," Adrian commented thoughtfully.

"If the headmaster is indeed a former Death Eater, then this educational approach becomes much more understandable from a historical perspective. However, I personally believe that exposing young people to Dark Magic too early in their magical development is problematic—it can have lasting negative effects on their psychological development and mental health."

"Ha! That's exactly the kind of behavior you'd expect from typical Death Eater mentality," Moody responded with obvious contempt and disgust. "Get the students to study Dark Arts intensively so they gradually become just like their master—complete madmen who view violence and cruelty as acceptable solutions to any problem."

His magical eye spun with intensity as his anger built, "The stench of Dark Magic practically radiates from Karkaroff. I can detect it whenever he's nearby, and it's absolutely disgusting. I don't believe that man could train any decent, morally sound students even if he tried—his very presence corrupts everything around him."

Adrian shrugged noncommittally, choosing not to continue this particular line of discussion. However, something Moody had mentioned did capture his interest.

"You can sense the Dark Magic aura around Karkaroff?" Adrian asked curiously.

"Of course I can detect it," Moody replied with obvious pride and excitement. "Don't underestimate an old codger who's spent decades hunting down Dark wizards and studying their methods. I may have lost an eye and a leg to their curse work, but believe me, my nose for Dark Magic works better than ever."

"That's quite impressive indeed." Adrian acknowledged with sincere appreciation for such hard-won expertise.

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