The sixth-year curriculum at Hogwarts was certainly less suffocating than fifth year, but it was still far from a time for carefree relaxation.
The professors assigned more homework, and the coursework was noticeably more difficult than usual…
In Transfiguration, for example, even Hermione Granger sometimes had to go over Professor McGonagall's explanations once or twice before fully understanding them.
That went without saying for everyone else.
When Hermione reached the Gryffindor common room, she saw her roommates Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil with their faces flushed bright red, as though they were silently competing with themselves.
They looked as if they'd overdosed on U-No-Poo…
Hermione knew they were actually practicing the Nonverbal Spell.
But as she walked over, Parvati suddenly jabbed Lavender with her elbow. Lavender lifted her head and flashed Hermione a brilliant smile.
"Hermione—" Lavender drawled.
"What is it?" Hermione replied absently. She was still holding the Invisibility Cloak and scanning the common room for Harry.
"Have you seen Ron?" Lavender asked urgently. "I know you're usually together…"
"Sorry, I haven't," Hermione said coolly.
"Oh… okay, thanks." Lavender looked a little dejected. She then linked arms with Parvati, and the two of them left the common room together.
Hermione sat down on the sofa they had just vacated and carefully folded the Invisibility Cloak, smoothing it into neat layers.
She didn't have to wait long. Only a few minutes later—
The doors to the common room opened again, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team filed in one after another.
"Hey, Granger!" Seventh-year Cormac McLaggen, Gryffindor's Keeper, greeted her with a wave as he passed by the sofa.
"Hi…" Hermione replied casually.
As team captain, Harry Potter brought up the rear. At a glance, he spotted the silvery-gray, smooth cloak in Hermione's hands—
"Thank goodness!" Harry exclaimed. With one hand dragging his Firebolt, he shoved past McLaggen and rushed over, asking excitedly, "Hermione, how did you find it?"
"Professor Dumbledore gave it to me," Hermione said with a smile. "He asked me to bring it to you…"
"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry Potter froze.
"He said Mr. Filch found it this morning outside the Gryffindor common room," Hermione continued. "It looks like you really were frightened by an illusion when you left earlier…"
"I saw Jon, covered in blood…"
Harry muttered as he carefully took back the Invisibility Cloak.
"But Jon is dead. It had to be an illusion… of course…"
At that instant, Hermione frowned slightly.
Harry, however, was completely focused on the cloak he'd just recovered and didn't notice her reaction.
The Invisibility Cloak felt exactly the same as ever. And yet, for some reason, Harry had an inexplicable sense that something was missing—something important.
Probably just my imagination, he told himself.
He looked up again. "By the way, Hermione… Did Professor Dumbledore call you to his office just to have you bring this cloak to me? Was there nothing else?"
"No," Hermione Granger said, nodding. She smiled, thought for a moment, then said,
"This is what Professor Dumbledore told me… If he really had any other intention, it was to have me remind Mr. Potter that being careless isn't a good habit. Sometimes, a reminder from a friend works better than an old man's lecture."
Mimicking Professor Dumbledore's tone, Hermione couldn't help but giggle.
"I'm sorry…" Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and laughed. "But still… that 'Mr. Potter' part was definitely something you added yourself."
"Why?" Hermione asked, curious.
"Because Professor Dumbledore has always called me by my first name—'Harry,'" Potter said matter-of-factly. Then he added, "Ever since that close encounter in the Hospital Wing at the end of first year."
"He's always called you 'Harry'…" Hermione repeated softly, her brow knitting.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Nothing… it's nothing."
From then on, Hermione seemed distracted.
Harry told her several amusing stories from Quidditch practice, but she only responded with absent, perfunctory smiles.
"Oh, right, Hermione," Harry said suddenly, as if remembering something. "Tomorrow's our first Hogsmeade visit this term. Looks like it'll just be the two of us…"
"Oh…"
"Ron… Ron, he…" Harry hesitated.
Before he could finish, Ron entered the common room hand in hand with Lavender Brown, setting off a wave of laughter.
Mr. Weasley's face was even redder than his hair, and he kept his head down the entire time. Miss Brown, on the other hand, greeted everyone around her openly and cheerfully.
"As you can see," Harry said with a shrug.
"Oh…" Hermione replied flatly, her head still lowered, as if lost in thought.
...
By mid-October, under the influence of a North Atlantic cold front, the climate of the Scandinavian Peninsula had turned bitterly cold.
In Grums, Sweden, average temperatures had already dropped to around minus five degrees Celsius…
The entire surface of Lake Vänern was covered with a thin sheet of ice.
At that very moment, a long, dark, pole-like object slowly rose up through the ice… followed by the appearance of sails and rigging…
A massive ship emerged gradually onto the frozen surface, gleaming under the sunlight. Its appearance was grotesque, like a skeleton—resembling the remains of a sunken ship newly hauled from the depths. Dim, misty light flickered in its portholes, like the eyes of a ghost.
Even more unsettling was the fact that the entire ship was draped in black veils, as though mourning the death of some great figure.
The skeleton ship "glided" across the ice, inch by inch, until it reached the very center of Lake Vinnern—
Then, a colossal shadow suddenly surged up from beneath the ice, growing larger by the second. With a thunderous crash, the ice shattered at incredible speed. In the next instant, a whale of unimaginable size burst from the water, its gaping maw swallowing the entire skeleton ship in a single bite.
The whale vanished beneath the surface once more, and everything returned to stillness, as if nothing had happened at all.
...
At the bottom of Lake Venn, within the castle enveloped by shimmering bubbles of water.
Countless students and teachers from Durmstrang Wizarding School stood in their underwater plaza, watching as the ghost ship—guided by the Leviathan—returned to campus.
To be honest, most of the students showed little sign of grief. A few of the professors, however, looked distinctly uneasy.
"Where is Headmaster Vance…"
They murmured among themselves, voices low:
"How could he not be here for the return of Headmaster Karkaroff's remains?"
"We were counting on him to preside over the memorial…"
...
Professor Winston Vance, Headmaster of Durmstrang Wizarding School, was in her office.
"Professor Vance… all students and staff have already gathered in the plaza to receive Headmaster Karkaroff's remains. It took tremendous effort to extradite them from the Russian Ministry of Magic. At a moment like this, you really must be present!"
A white-haired elderly instructor pleaded at the office door, his voice bordering on desperation.
"I'm busy right now," came a cold reply from inside.
The gaunt, goateed Headmistress of Durmstrang, who had held her post for just over a year, was indeed occupied within her office.
In front of her lay an extremely thick tome, opened to a page bearing the portrait of a masked wizard.
"Winston, it seems you're quite busy," the masked wizard said coolly. From the voice, it was clear she was a witch, though her age was impossible to determine.
"My apologies, Lady Rosier," Professor Vance said humbly. "But may I ask… can you confirm whether the rumors are true?"
"The Austrian Ministry of Magic is doing everything it can to suppress the news," the ageless witch said after drawing a deep breath. "But I've received reliable and accurate intelligence. The tower at Nurmengard has indeed collapsed."
"Oh, Merlin!" Professor Vance looked ecstatic, nearly beside herself.
"Lord Rosier, I also have important news… The Lethifold—the Master's Lethifold—left Durmstrang early this morning. It drifted south…"
Beneath the witch's mask, a faint smile seemed to appear.
"So… so…" she said excitedly, "the Master has truly escaped the prison that bound him for fifty years!"
"But Lord Rosier, why hasn't the Master contacted us?" Professor Vance asked, a hint of resentment in her voice. "We are still utterly loyal to him. We are still willing to give everything for him…"
"He will… he certainly will…" the witch said tremulously. Her voice suddenly sounded aged, yet it brimmed with a strange vitality. "We must be ready at all times…"
Professor Vance nodded firmly.
She drew her wand. Etched into its handle was a yellowed mark—
a peculiar symbol resembling a triangular eye, with a vertical line cutting through its pupil.