After pushing through the doors and entering the Great Hall, Adrian paused just inside the threshold to do a visual sweep of the vast space in front of him.
The celebration continued in full swing around him, utterly oblivious to the crisis that had just unfolded in the gardens outside. Students swirled across the dance floor in their formal robes, their movements synchronized to the Weird Sisters' current energetic number that filled the hall with pounding drums and wailing guitars.
The enchanted ceiling above showed a perfect starlit winter sky, with gently falling snowflakes that dissolved into nothingness before reaching the heads of the dancers below.
His gaze moved thoroughly across the crowded hall, filtering through the swirling dancers, clusters of chatting students, and faculty members who had withdrawn to the sidelines for drinks. Within moments, his attention locked onto Ludo Bagman's figure near one of the drink tables.
Bagman seemed to be trapped in an uncomfortable social situation, surrounded on both sides by Fred and George who had apparently cornered him for some urgent discussion. A strained smile remained plastered across Bagman's face, showing he desperately wanted to escape but couldn't find an exit strategy.
Percy stood several feet away from this confrontation, observing with concern and seemingly wrestling with the question of whether professional duty required him to step forward and rescue his superior from harassment by his own younger brothers or whether family ties recommended he should simply pretend not to notice his brothers' aggressive tactics.
As Adrian approached near enough to overhear their conversation, Ludo's voice reached his ears with a tone that mixed forced cheerfulness with desperation.
"Ah, of course you won your wager, boys, that was never in dispute," He was saying with obviously false enthusiasm. "And I've already paid you substantial amounts in Galleons for that victory, haven't I? What other possible reason could you have to continue pestering me?"
"Those were Leprechaun gold coins that vanished after several hours, and furthermore—" Fred began angrily.
Before he could complete his accusation of fraudulent payment, Ludo noticed Adrian's approach and his eyes immediately lit up with the desperate relief of someone spotting unexpected salvation.
"Over here, Professor Westeros!" He called out with exaggerated enthusiasm, completely ignoring the twins' unfinished complaint while waving frantically to attract Adrian's attention. "I'm so glad you're here. I have something tremendously important to discuss with you—it concerns Harry Potter's performance in the tournament."
Adrian had no recollection of when exactly he and Ludo had supposedly become such familiar acquaintances that casual conversation would be expected, but he chose not to address this presumptuous familiarity.
He stepped forward and said clearly, "I'm afraid we don't have time for long conversations right now, Mr. Bagman. Professor Dumbledore is currently waiting for you in the hospital wing with urgency. There was a small incident tonight that needs your attention and official Ministry involvement."
Ludo released an almost audible sigh of relief. At this particular moment, he would have welcomed any excuse whatsoever to escape from these two persistent pests who had been hounding him about their gambling debts.
"Ah, I see the situation perfectly," He responded quickly while beginning to squeeze past the twins on both side of him. His forced smile broadened with genuine pleasure at this convenient escape opportunity. "I'll go there immediately to assist with whatever crisis has developed."
Fred and George gave him identically furious glares.
"Gentlemen," Adrian said to the twins, "you'll need to find another, more appropriate time to resolve your financial differences with Mr. Bagman. The current situation involves emergency circumstances."
Fred and George exchanged a glance, clearly not intending to give up so easily.
But Adrian's gaze carried an unmistakable authority, and they had no choice but to step back.
"Of course, Professor," George replied with a shrug meant to convey casual acceptance, though his tone remained light and his eyes held an unmistakable flash of calculating cunning. "We certainly have plenty of time to continue this discussion. Mr. Bagman isn't going anywhere permanent, after all."
Ludo's smile froze on his face.
It seemed he would be bothered by these persistently clever twins for quite some period.
'Damn it all,' He thought with internal despair, 'these two redheaded menaces are even more persistent and relentless than goblin debt collectors and at least those sharp-toothed goblins operating out of Gringotts wouldn't dare show up at Hogwarts to publicly harass a Ministry official!'
"Very good cooperation," Adrian acknowledged with a slight nod of approval, then turned his attention toward Percy, who had been hovering uncertainly nearby. "You need to accompany us as well, Percy."
Percy heard someone call his name and immediately set down the punch glass he had been nervously clutching.
Just at that moment, Harry suddenly appeared from the dancing crowd, approaching their group with discomfort visible in his posture and expression. His dance partner Parvati Patil followed close behind, her pretty face showing concern for Harry's distress.
Harry's complexion had turned somewhat pale, noticeably lacking its usual healthy color. One hand was pressed firmly against his temple indicating head pain, while his eyebrows were drawn together in a tight furrow of discomfort.
"Professor Westeros," Harry began directly, "my scar hurt extremely badly around half an hour ago. The pain was intense enough to make me stop dancing."
Adrian's eyes immediately narrowed with sharp concern as he processed this significant development.
"And the pain now?" He inquired with careful attention. "Is it still present or has it subsided?"
Harry shook his head with relief at the temporary reprieve from agony.
"The intense burning sensation only lasted for perhaps a minute at most before fading," He explained. "You specifically instructed me that if my scar showed any unusual signs or caused unexpected pain, I should report it to you immediately regardless of circumstances."
Adrian nodded with grim understanding, his mind already forming guesses about the cause and timing of this episode.
Half an hour ago resembled almost exactly to when Karkaroff had been violently affected by whatever curse Voldemort had channeled through the Dark Mark.
Through the unique magical connection Harry shared with the Dark Lord via his scar, he had probably experienced effects from that surge of dark magic.
"You should accompany us to the hospital wing as well, Harry," Adrian decided. "This symptom requires potential examination by both Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey."
After a brief journey through the castle's corridors, the hospital wing had become unexpectedly crowded with important personnel gathered around a single patient bed.
Dumbledore stood at the bedside, while Adrian, Professor McGonagall, Ludo Bagman, Percy, and Harry had all gathered to witness and discuss the incident.
Adrian had already provided Professor McGonagall and the newly arrived officials with a complete summary of the evening's events.
At this particular moment, everyone had gathered in a concerned semicircle around Karkaroff's hospital bed. Surprisingly, during the brief minutes that Adrian had been absent from the hospital wing, Karkaroff had somehow regained basic consciousness.
However, the quality of that consciousness left considerable room for concern.
Karkaroff's eyes had a terrifyingly vacant look. He looked around the unfamiliar environment with complete confusion, his gaze moving slowly from face to face as if struggling to process basic visual information.
His eyes finally settled on Dumbledore's appearance, and he asked in a hoarse, uncertain voice.
"Where is this place? Who are you?"
"His brain has suffered some form of significant magical damage," Madam Pomfrey said with uncertainty about the precise diagnosis.
"Based on preliminary examination, certain specific memories appear to have been forcibly erased or destroyed, and that targeted damage has subsequently affected other connected memory systems. Well... I'm not sure how much he still remembers."
Professor McGonagall leaned down closer to the bed, aligning herself within Karkaroff's field of vision, and asked in a deliberately slow, clearly pronounced tone like speaking for someone with bad hearing.
"Do you remember who you are? Can you tell us your own name?"
Karkaroff's dull, unfocused gaze shifted toward her with difficulty, as if the simple act of redirecting attention required tremendous mental effort.
He slowly raised one trembling hand and stared at his own bony fingers for a long period, as if they were some unfamiliar objects.
"This is very bad indeed," Ludo commented with unusually grave seriousness, his usual jovial demeanor was completely abandoned in the face of such tragedy. "My three-year-old niece can at least say her own name when asked."
"Is there any possibility that his memory can be restored through magical or medical intervention?" Adrian inquired, though he suspected he already knew the disappointing answer.
"Extremely difficult, bordering on impossible," Madam Pomfrey responded with a decisive shake of her head. "Even if some partial recovery proves to be possible through experimental techniques, he certainly won't regain all of what's been lost."
Adrian shook his head silently with a mixture of sympathy and recognition of harsh reality.
Karkaroff was thoroughly finished now.
"What should we do about this crisis, Mr. Bagman?" Percy said with barely controlled panic, his voice climbing toward genuine hysteria. "The Triwizard Tournament has lost one of its three participating headmasters! Should the entire competition be canceled immediately?"
"Please don't panic unnecessarily, Weatherby," Ludo replied with forced calmness desperately trying to project capable authority despite his own uncertainty. "It's only one headmaster who has been incapacitated. Our actual champions haven't suffered any harm at all. From a strictly technical perspective, this unfortunate incident has absolutely no direct impact on the competition itself."
'You must be joking!' Ludo thought with internal desperation. 'How could they possibly cancel the Triwizard Tournament now? Without the continuous tournament operations and the gambling opportunities it provides, how would I ever manage to resolve my catastrophic debt problems!'
The massive amounts of gold he owed to various dangerous individuals throughout the magical underworld made cancellation literally unthinkable from his personal survival perspective.
Hearing Ludo's casual dismissal of such a serious situation, Percy felt deeply uneasy about the careless attitude being showed toward what should be treated as a major international incident.
This was absolutely not some minor administrative hiccup that could be glossed over with optimistic attitude. He had a professional obligation to notify Bartemius Crouch Senior immediately about these developments through emergency owl post!
After all, He was just a temporary assistant filling in for his superior. Important policy decisions about international magical cooperation still had to be left to Mr. Crouch's judgment and official authority.
The next morning arrived with cold December sunlight streaming through frost-covered windows, and Karkaroff was quietly transferred to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for long-term specialized care and potential experimental treatment.
Although there had been considerable commotion in the gardens during the last evening, for the vast majority of students who had remained inside the Great Hall throughout the ball, they had spent a genuinely wonderful evening filled with music, dancing, and social opportunities they would remember fondly.
However, a small but significant number of students had witnessed at least portions of the disturbance in the garden.
For a long period of time following that night, wild rumors flew around Hogwarts with remarkable speed, spawning countless contradictory versions of events as the story passed from student to student with increasingly creative embellishments.
Some claimed with confidence that Professor Moody and Headmaster Karkaroff had gotten into a violent physical brawl in the garden over some unspecified insult, and that Moody's famous magical eye had somehow shot concentrated laser beams that struck Karkaroff down like a stunning spell on steroids.
Others whispered scandals with delight that Karkaroff and Professor Snape had been involved in some inappropriate romantic relationship that the vigilant Professor Moody had accidentally discovered during patrol, leading to confrontation and exposure. (This version was famous among girls)
Of course, the most widespread and persistent rumor was that: Karkaroff was secretly a Death Eater who had been carrying out secret missions for Voldemort, and that Professor Moody had successfully captured him red-handed.
Initially, most students dismissed this particular theory as absurd.
Although Durmstrang Institute was known throughout the Wizarding world for its relatively lenient attitude toward Dark Arts education, the idea that their actual headmaster would be actively carrying out secret missions for You-Know-Who seemed somewhat unrealistic and bogus conspiracy.
Durmstrang students refused to believe such damaging accusations about their Headmaster, and defended Karkaroff's reputation with strong denials.
However, when those same students discovered that their headmaster had literally vanished into thin air overnight, simply gone without any official explanation, formal goodbye, or official replacement, everyone began to panic and reconsider their skeptical dismissals.
The sudden disappearance transformed wild rumor into plausible reality, and the Durmstrang group began facing uncomfortable questions and suspicious stares from their Hogwarts peers.
That evening, as the winter sun set early, Adrian sat at his desk carefully grading the Christmas holiday assignments that students had dutifully turned in before departing for vacation.
Although the official Christmas holiday break had only just begun yesterday, at least one remarkably dedicated student had already completed absolutely all of the homework assignments he had distributed!
That exemplary person was, entirely predictably, Hermione Granger.
And judging by even a brief examination of the submitted work's quality, every assignment had been completed with meticulous perfection that exceeded his already high expectations for model students.
The primary assignment had been a complete observation report analyzing the four dragon breeds that had appeared during the Triwizard Tournament's dangerous first task.
Hermione had written lengthily about each dragon species' particular weaknesses and strengths in her detailed essay with proper citations from real books on dragonology.
She had even included her own original insights and reasoned speculation about theoretical methods for subduing each variety should such necessity arise in practical situations.
Adrian had to acknowledge that this work could serve as a model example for future classes.
Knock knock!
The office door was suddenly knocked on.
"Come in."
"Please come in," Adrian called out while setting down his quill and turning his attention toward the entrance.
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