Observing that Karkaroff had stopped all movement and lay disturbingly still on the cold stones, everyone present got a united moment of genuine surprise mixed with alarm at this sudden deterioration of the situation.
Adrian moved forward swiftly, kneeling beside the fallen Karkaroff and placing two fingers against the side of his neck to check for vital signs.
"He's still breathing, but the respiratory function is extremely faint and irregular," Adrian reported with a concerned frown. "I cannot definitively identify what specific variety of dark magic has been used here, but based on the symptoms and the timing... this is almost certainly on Voldemort's intervention. Probably some sort of silencing Dark Curse rooted within the Dark Mark to prevent interrogation."
Dumbledore released a soft sigh.
"I hadn't anticipated that Igor would be actively serving Voldemort again," He said with apparent sadness. "I had hoped his fear of Azkaban and desire for freedom would outweigh any lingering loyalty to Voldemort."
"I suspected him from the very beginning of this tournament," Moody said with gruff vindication, clearly pleased that his paranoid instincts had been confirmed. "A cowardly traitor who sold out his former friends to avoid punishment is never worth trusting under any circumstances. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater in my professional experience."
Then his magical eye rotated with precision to focus on Snape, who had maintained complete silence throughout the entire interrogation and its violent conclusion.
"Now we have another person present who needs to be held accountable for his associations and activities," Moody continued with obvious accusatory intent. "Snape, I believe you should have something significant to contribute to this discussion about Death Eater conspiracies."
Before Dumbledore could raise any objection or try to redirect the conversation, Snape spoke with his typical expressionless delivery that revealed nothing of his internal emotional state.
"This entire situation has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with me or my current activities," He said with cold decisiveness.
"Oh, really?" Moody responded with heavy skepticism, slowly advancing toward him with predatory pondering. His magical eye locked onto Snape's face with unshrinking intensity.
"Then perhaps you wouldn't object to showing us your left arm and definitively proving that Voldemort hasn't established recent contact with you through your own Dark Mark?"
"I don't see how that would be particularly relevant to the current investigation," Snape replied with irritation.
However, even as he voiced this objection, he was already moving to roll up his left sleeve with suppressed anger.
In the pale moonlight that illuminated the garden, his exposed forearm appeared almost unnaturally pale, the skin had an almost transparent tone that revealed the network of veins below.
Everyone present unconsciously held their breath as their gazes focused on that significant location. There was indeed a faint black mark visible on the skin, but it had faded so much that it had become barely recognizable.
It appeared more like an old scar left behind by some injury gotten many years ago.
"Satisfied with your investigation now?" Snape's voice dripped with venomous sarcasm and fury at being subjected to such humiliating scrutiny.
Moody continued staring intently at the faded mark with obvious suspicion, as if trying desperately to detect some evidence of recent activation or magical concealment charm that might be hiding its true condition.
However, after several moments of intensive examination, he could only produce a cold, dissatisfied snort that showed he remained unconvinced but lacked concrete evidence to support continued accusations.
"Severus is completely trustworthy, Alastor," Dumbledore interjected gently. "I trust him with my life and with the safety of every student at Hogwarts, just as I trust you with those same precious responsibilities."
Moody's magical eye refused to shift away from Snape's now-covered arm, his suspicion apparently undiminished by Dumbledore's character witness.
"I'll be watching you constantly, Death Eater," He said with menacing promise. "Every single move you make, every word you speak, every suspicious action you take. Don't imagine for one moment that you can successfully pull any deceptive tricks under my vigilant observation."
Upon hearing this threatening warning, Snape's face showed barely a ripple of emotional response, as if such scrutiny represented nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Dumbledore felt somewhat helpless about this ongoing antagonism between two valuable allies. He understood that Moody would never truly listen to his reassurances about Snape's reformed loyalties.
Moody only believed in his own judgment, and this stubborn independence had become increasingly higher during recent years as paranoia took deeper root in his personality.
"How utterly tedious," Snape exhaled with contempt for the entire confrontational argument. "Your constant surveillance won't yield any convicting results, and furthermore—"
"Allow me to interrupt this fascinating debate," Adrian suddenly interjected. "We have more important medical concerns that require attention. Karkaroff needs to reach Madam Pomfrey's care immediately. His current condition is... well... I genuinely hope he survives long enough to receive proper treatment."
Only at this reminder did everyone's attention return to the actual victim lying motionless on the ground.
The foam that had initially appeared white around Karkaroff's mouth had undergone a disturbing transformation, now displaying an ominous black color that seemed liked poisoning or curse contamination.
His breathing had deteriorated to the point of being nearly imperceptible, clearly, he was on the verge of death.
Around five minutes later, after being levitated with extreme care through the castle corridors, Karkaroff had been delivered to the hospital wing.
When Madam Pomfrey finally arrived after receiving the urgent summons, she was still wearing her formal dress robes from the ball, her normally stern face had a slight flush that showed she had drank some celebratory wine during the evening's festivities.
However, the moment her gaze fell upon Karkaroff lying on the hospital bed, all traces of alcohol-induced relaxation vanished instantly without leaving any trace.
"Merlin's beard and all the saints!" She exclaimed with shock, her healer's instincts immediately asserting complete dominance over her consciousness.
She hurried forward to begin examination. "What on earth has happened to this man? These symptoms are extraordinarily severe!"
"There was a slight accident during the ball," Dumbledore explained with understatement to minimize the true drama of recent events. "Headmaster Karkaroff appears to require some medical assistance."
Madam Pomfrey performed rapid diagnostic procedures, checking Karkaroff's unresponsive eyes with a glowing wand tip, then examining his mouth for obstructions or poison residue, and finally had her gaze to settle on the Dark Mark still visible on his exposed arm.
The infamous brand had now dimmed considerably from its earlier vivid glow, presenting a burnt and almost necrotic appearance.
"I cannot definitively diagnose what's been done to him based on initial examination," Madam Pomfrey said with grave seriousness, "The symptoms point to either an extremely complex curse or perhaps some variety of rare dark magic that I haven't encountered during my entire career."
Dumbledore nodded with understanding, recognizing that her assessment matched his own preliminary analysis of the situation.
"I'm not adequately skilled in treating the specific type of damage that curses of this magnitude typically cause," Madam Pomfrey continued with sincerity about her professional limitations. "At best, I can keep him alive and prevent further deterioration, but I cannot reverse whatever has been done to him. And I must emphasize, this was definitely not any kind of 'slight accident' as you characterized it."
Her sharp gaze fixed on Dumbledore with obvious reprimand for such minimization of serious magical case.
"The wisest course of action at this point would be swift transfer to St. Mungo's Hospital. They have specialized staff there who deal specifically with curse damage and dark magic contamination."
"That arrangement will be entirely sufficient," Dumbledore agreed without hesitation. "I'll make quickest arrangements for his emergency transport to St. Mungo's."
Then he turned his attention toward Adrian, who had been observing this conversation.
"Professor Westeros, would you please locate and fetch Mr. Bagman from wherever he's currently enjoying the ball... and Percy Weasley as well. The Triwizard Tournament may require some significant administrative adjustments going forward, given that one of the participating schools has just lost its headmaster."
Meanwhile, back in the Great Hall, the Yule Ball continued its festive celebration in blissful ignorance of the events that had unfolded in the gardens.
Colin occupied a relatively isolated corner of the vast space, completely absorbed in fiddling with his beloved camera. He had recently managed to upgrade the device to a proper magical version through considerable saving and a generous birthday contribution from his parents.
Now he had the ability to capture moving photographs rather than the static images produced by Muggle cameras which was a tremendous improvement that opened exciting new possibilities for his documentation of life at Hogwarts.
Because the formal Christmas Ball maintained strict policies allowing only students from fourth year and above to attend (unless they had been specifically invited as someone's guest), most of the lower-year students hadn't chosen to stay at the school during the holiday break, and preferred to return home to their families.
As one of the rather few third-year students who had remained at Hogwarts during Christmas, Colin's key motivation had been the opportunity to photograph more memorable moments featuring Harry Potter, his absolute hero and the subject of his most valued collection.
Professor McGonagall had graciously granted permission for this photographic documentation, provided he didn't create disruptions or make other students uncomfortable with excessive attention.
However, just a short time ago, when Colin had ventured into the gardens seeking fresh air and perhaps some romantic couple photographs, he had accidentally captured something far weirder and more mysterious than expected.
His camera had recorded the Durmstrang Headmaster Karkaroff: the violently torn sleeve, the expression of terror distorting his face, the panicked defensive movements, and most extraordinarily, prominently displayed on his exposed arm, a strange glowing tattoo that seemed to pulse with its own light.
As a Muggle-born wizard with limited exposure to dark wizarding history, Colin had no context for understanding what that pattern represented or why it might be noteworthy.
He only knew that absolutely everyone who glimpsed this particular photograph let out instant gasps of shock and horror, their faces turned pale as if they had witnessed something genuinely terrifying.
Even more strangely, when he had tried to ask several older students for explanation about the pattern's specific meaning, absolutely no one had been willing to provide detailed information. Instead, they had all showed looks of fear and quickly made excuses to leave from him, as if the simple image carried some infectious virus.
Therefore, Colin had made a new plan: he would show this mysterious photograph to some of the Durmstrang students currently attending the ball. Surely students from Karkaroff's own school would know about their headmaster's circumstances and could explain this unusual tattoo.
Just as he was considering which Durmstrang students might be most approachable for such questions, Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly sounded beside his ear.
"Mr. Creevey, how is your photographic documentation of the ball progressing—"
Before she could complete this casual inquiry, her sharp eyes fell upon the specific photograph currently in his hands.
"Wait just a moment," she said with sudden force. "What exactly is that?"
Colin obediently handed the photograph over for her examination, assuming she was simply curious.
Professor McGonagall accepted the moving image and studied it carefully for several seconds. Her face immediately became extremely serious.
"Come with me immediately!" She commanded with unusual urgency, grasping Colin's arm and pulling him away from the Great Hall's celebration.
She didn't stop moving until they had reached a quite private corner of the entrance hall.
"Where did you take this photograph?" she asked gravely. "And Karkaroff? Where is he?"
Colin was startled by Professor McGonagall's urgency.
He could only stammer out a confused explanation: "In the gardens outside the main entrance. When I saw him, Headmaster Dumbledore was there, along with Professor Westeros and Professor Moody. They all seemed to be having some sort of discussion."
At precisely that moment, Adrian came striding in from outside the castle.
Professor McGonagall immediately approached him. "Professor Westeros, regarding Karkaroff..."
"Go to the hospital wing, Professor McGonagall," Adrian knew exactly what she was asking. He nodded in response. "Professor Dumbledore is currently there overseeing the situation. He'll properly explain the events to you. I still urgently need to find Mr. Bagman."
Upon receiving this direction, Professor McGonagall immediately began hurrying toward the hospital wing.
Adrian also moved quickly toward the Great Hall's entrance.
Watching both professors disappear in different directions with obvious serious purpose, Colin remained standing alone in his isolated corner of the entrance hall, feeling deeply confused and somewhat at a loss.
He blinked his eyes with bewilderment.
So... could someone please explain to him what that mysterious mark actually meant and why it generated such universal horror?
Why did every single person who observed the image react as though some terrible disaster had befallen the entire wizarding world?
Only he remained completely in the dark.
Also, Professor McGonagall hadn't returned his photograph before rushing away.
'Oh well,' Colin thought with optimism, 'I have taken several more photographs like that one anyway.'
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