章 517: 0516 Future

The light drizzle that had begun to fall over Hogwarts grounds seemed to mirror Fleur's dampened spirits as her plan to spend time alone with Bryan at the hospital wing ultimately fell through.

The soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the castle's ancient stone walls created a melancholic backdrop to the events unfolding inside it.

Madame Maxime arrived at the hospital wing very quickly. Upon learning about the incident, she looked quite displeased, but couldn't express her anger openly. After all, Fleur's injury was partly due to her own recklessness, a fact that didn't escape her notice.

Moreover, the actual harm suffered by her student was minimal - at most, Fleur had lost a few leg hairs in the encounter with the Blast-Ended Skrewt. Madame Maxime couldn't help but think that a simple fall on the marble stairs of Beauxbatons might have caused more damage!

Still, the incident left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Madame Maxime's stomach. Her eyes now held a hint of worry as they darted between Fleur and the Hogwarts staff present. Beauxbatons' prime candidate encountering a problem before the Triwizard Tournament had even officially begun was undoubtedly a bad omen.

To prevent any further such accidents from happening again, Madame Maxime took up a vigilant position by Fleur's bedside.

Bryan also wanted to demonstrate Hogwarts' sense of responsibility, and didn't leave either. As the afternoon wore on, the light drizzle outside intensified, casting a gloomy shroud over the grounds. The pitter-patter of rain against the hospital wing's windows created a soothing yet somewhat melancholic ambiance. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to seep into the stones of the castle, making the air in the hospital wing feel heavy and muggy.

Gabrielle, who had risen early that morning in excitement for the day's adventures, found herself succumbing to the dreary atmosphere. Sitting by Fleur's bed, she gradually began to droop, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing minute. Before long, she had fallen into a deep slumber, her head resting gently on her sister's leg.

Being a caring older sister, Fleur couldn't help but worry about Gabrielle's well-being. Her eyes darted between her sleeping sister and the less-than-warm environment of the hospital wing. The stone walls, while providing excellent insulation during the scorching summer months, now seemed to radiate a chill. Concerned that Gabrielle might catch a cold in these unfamiliar surroundings, Fleur made the decision to return to their carriage.

"Perhaps it would be best if we returned to our quarters," Fleur suggested, her melodious voice tinged with a hint of reluctance.

Madame Maxime understanding Fleur's suggestion nodded in agreement. She gently picked up the sleeping Gabrielle into her arms. The young girl didn't wake up and remained peacefully oblivious as they made their way back to the Beauxbatons carriage.

The journey across the Hogwarts grounds was dull. The misty rain cloaked the landscape in an ethereal haze, blurring the lines between earth and sky. Madame Maxime's giant body led the way, Gabrielle held protectively against her chest, while Fleur walked alongside, her usual grace somewhat dampened by the day's events.

Upon reaching the powder-blue carriage that was their temporary home, Fleur heaved a sigh of relief as Gabrielle was safely rested within its warm interior. She smoothed her repaired skirt before turning her attention to the figure standing a short distance away.

Bryan Watson stood about ten feet from the carriage, the misty rain creating a halo effect around his tall, lean body. Fleur's heart skipped a beat as she looked at him, taking in every detail of his appearance.

To Fleur, Bryan Watson was something entirely different from the young men she was accustomed to. At Beauxbatons, Fleur had never lacked admirers. Her Veela heritage ensured a constant stream of suitors, and she had experience in conversation and interaction with handsome boys.

But Bryan Watson was different. His physical appearance, while undeniably attractive, was perhaps the least remarkable of his qualities. It was his air of mystery, the intense sense of power that seemed to radiate from him, that truly set him apart.

Fleur's intuition from her Veela heritage or perhaps intuition honed over years of dealing with fanatical admirers, gave her a unique insight. She could sense, with a certainty that both intrigued and frustrated her, that Bryan had never harbored any romantic thoughts towards her. This realization was as shocking as it was stimulating to Fleur.

Never before had she encountered someone immune to her charms at least not those of her age. It even sparked a competitive fire within her.

"Would you like to come in for a bit, Mr. Watson?" Fleur asked, her voice carrying a hint of hope despite her try at casual indifference.

Bryan's response was as polite as it was disappointing. "Thank you for the kind invitation, Miss Delacour—" He said, his smile gracious but distant. "But entering the living quarters of so many young ladies wouldn't be a gentlemanly behavior—"

This rejection, while not unexpected, still stung. Fleur had observed Bryan's careful maintenance of boundaries with everyone, which she had also noticed even during their encounters in Paris.

Determined not to let her disappointment show, Fleur gave a sweet smile. "Then, I'll see you tonight—"

"See you tonight, Miss Delacour—" Bryan replied with a slight nod. "I hope you succeed in becoming the Beauxbatons champion—"

As soon as the carriage door closed behind Fleur, the friendly smile on Bryan's face vanished, replaced by a furrowed brow and a hint of worry in his eyes.

If he wasn't blind, he should have noticed the trace of affection in Fleur's gaze every time she looked at him.

And Fleur was different from the young witches in the upper years at Hogwarts. Those girls' attitudes towards him were more akin to hero-worship, their attempts to pass him love letters more of a playful game than a genuine expression of feeling.

But Fleur... Fleur was different. This girl seemed to genuinely hope for something to blossom between them, and she wasn't shy about showing her feelings.

Bryan could have ignored it, written it off as a passing fancy of a young girl away from home for the first time. But he felt that such a passive approach wasn't quite right.

The truth was, there was nothing inherently wrong with Fleur. The problem lay with Bryan himself. His identity as a time traveler, the weight of knowledge about a future that might never come to pass, and his long-term self-imposed isolation had created barriers around his heart. He found himself instinctively rejecting anyone or anything that threatened to breach those walls, to touch upon the secrets he held so closely.

Moreover - and this thought caused Bryan's expression to cool further - the Wizarding world was in a state of barely contained turmoil. Signs were everywhere, for those who knew how to read them, that the existing structure and system could no longer quell the growing discontent among the different classes and Beings of the magical community.

Muggle technology had surged forward, its advances moving at a relentless pace, posing an undeniable threat to the magical world's long-held secrecy. The future development of surveillance, digital information, and global networks would make it harder to maintain the delicate illusion that magic was mere fantasy. With every new device and breakthrough, wizards would face increased risk of exposure—and, with it, the terrifying prospect of renewed persecution from Muggle societies that could now more easily detect and track magical activity.

And then there was Voldemort on the brink of return. Add to this the ancient, thousand-year-long struggle between the legendary wizard Merlin, the four Hogwarts founders, and the dark wizard Herpo - a conflict that was now beginning to resurface after centuries of dormancy - and the future looked more unstable than ever.

In such tumultuous times, Bryan couldn't afford to have any "weaknesses."

After taking a moment to steady himself, to confirm his resolve, Bryan cast his gaze around the mist-shrouded grounds. There was no sign of Hagrid in the gloomy landscape. It seemed that after the shock of the day's events, het wasn't in the mood to continue showing the guests around. Bryan couldn't blame him.

With a sigh, Bryan turned his steps back towards the castle. Before the evening feast, he had planned to rest in his office. The previous night had been nearly sleepless, and he had risen early this morning to prepare the tour for the foreign delegations. He knew that after tonight's feast, he could anticipate a heated argument - likely involving Karkaroff and Madame Maxime over the Skrewt incident - so he needed to reserve enough energy to handle the situation.

But as is often the case in the unpredictable world of Hogwarts, things didn't go as planned. Bryan had barely managed to get a little over an hour of irregular rest before being jolted awake by urgent knocking on his office door.

Groggily, he made his way to the door, his mind still foggy with sleep. As he opened it, he found himself face to face with a rather flustered-looking Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bryan. I didn't know you were resting!" McGonagall exclaimed, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Bryan in his pajamas, rubbing his sleepy eyes. However, her surprise quickly gave way to a cooler expression, her lips pressing into a thin line that showed disapproval. It was clear she viewed napping in one's office during the day as a form of laziness.

"What brings you here?" Bryan asked, unable to suppress a yawn. He blinked rapidly, trying to chase away the last remnants of sleep. "How can I be of service, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall's posture straightened, her voice taking on a more formal tone. "Someone from the Ministry has arrived, Bryan. Specifically, Barty Crouch from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He's here for tonight's feast—" She pressed her lips together, her expression conveying the urgency of the situation. "You've worked with him before, so Albus hopes you can help entertain him."

Bryan's mind quickly shifted into gear, the mention of Barty Crouch dispelling the last of his drowsiness. "Where are they?" he asked, already moving to change out of his pajamas.

"Just downstairs—" Professor McGonagall replied briskly, her foot tapping on the stone floor. "In the small room behind the Great Hall."

With Professor McGonagall constantly urging him to hurry, Bryan didn't have much time to make himself presentable. He hastily changed his clothes, his fingers fumbling slightly with the buttons of his robes in his rush. As they made their way downstairs, Bryan attempted to tame his unruly hair, all while explaining to McGonagall how the rumors about Hagrid attacking the Beauxbatons girl - which were now spreading like wildfire through the school - had started.

This mishap, coming on the heels of the Blast-Ended Skrewt incident, undoubtedly angered McGonagall, who cared deeply about the school's reputation. Her face grew increasingly pinched as Bryan recounted the events, and even he didn't escape her sharp reproach.

"You knew Hagrid always likes to keep strange creatures, but you still took them there, Bryan!" McGonagall exclaimed; her face ashen with anger. Her Scottish accent became more distinct, as it often did when she was upset.

"Do you not realize how many eyes are on Hogwarts at this moment? If this gets out – oh, I can just imagine the Daily Prophet's headlines now: 'Hogwarts Employs Underhanded Tactics to Sabotage Beauxbatons' Leading Candidate!'"

By the time they reached the small room behind the Great Hall, Bryan was almost eager to face Barty Crouch. In the entire Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even in the entire wizarding world, only Professor McGonagall dared to scold him like an underage wizard, disregarding his status and power.

As they entered the room, Bryan noticed that Ludo Bagman hadn't traveled with Barty Crouch. Instead, Dumbledore and Crouch were talking by the fireplace, their backs to the door. From behind, Crouch's posture looked unusually hunched, looking tired to the point where he wasn't maintaining his usually rigid posture.

"Ah, you're here, Bryan—" Dumbledore turned around, his blue eyes twinkling as he smiled calmly at the new arrivals.

Bryan's gaze focused on Crouch, who had also turned to face them. He was about to greet him with a smile, his hand already outstretched in greeting. After all, he had worked closely with Crouch in Paris for over two months, and while they weren't in the same faction, Bryan admired certain qualities of him.

But as Barty Crouch's gaze met his, Bryan's outstretched hand paused mid-air for a moment, and he almost couldn't maintain his smile.

Fortunately, He recovered quickly, not showing any outward signs of his internal surprise. Instead, he forced a jovial tone into his voice as he said, "How have you been lately, Barty? I heard you personally inspected those Dragon reserves?"

Bryan's laughter sounded somewhat forced to his own ears, and was deeper than usual.

"I was just listening to Barty's stories about his inspection—" Dumbledore interjected smoothly, but there was a flicker in his bright blue eyes. He looked at Bryan, still smiling calmly, "You should hear them too, Bryan. Thanks to Barty's efforts, our first task can proceed as scheduled—"

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章 518: 0517 Barty Crouch

Barty Crouch Sr. looked haggard, as if he had just recovered from a serious illness and his eyes, once sharp and alert, now darted about the room with an unsettling nervousness.

Crouch seemed unusually sensitive to the cold, despite the warmth emanating from the roaring fire. He huddled closer to the hearth, his shoulders hunched and trembling slightly, as if trying to absorb every ounce of heat. After casting an impatient glance at Bryan, he quickly averted his gaze, fixing his eyes intently on the dancing flames. It was as if he yearned to melt into the fire itself, to escape the penetrating gazes of those around him.

Bryan casually moved to Crouch's other side, standing beside him with Dumbledore on the opposite flank.

"What's wrong?" Bryan asked, his tone carefully controlled to sound casual. His eyes, however, missed nothing as they scanned Crouch's face. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing whatsoever!" Barty snapped, his tone matching the impatient expression that flashed across his face. He shrugged his shoulders dismissively, inching even closer to the fireplace. The flames cast an orange glow on his sallow skin, creating an almost ghoulish effect.

Despite his rough denial, Crouch seemed compelled to offer an explanation. His words tumbled out in a rush, "I've been traversing half of Europe these days - first Norway, then Wales and Romania. Everything progressed smoothly enough at first; the dragon reserves in those locations had already carefully selected their most suitable specimens for the champions to face. But when we reached the Hungarian Horntail, things went awry. The staff there wanted the big fella to get used to its cage early, but they forgot it's the time when it least wants anyone near!"

With obvious reluctance, as if the very movement caused him pain, Barty pulled back his sleeve to reveal an angry red burn that sprawled across his forearm like a gruesome tattoo.

"The timing couldn't have been worse," he continued, his words tumbling out in an almost agitated rush. "We nearly lost the entire handling team. The healers at St. Mungo's kept me confined to a bed for two endless days, and even then, the head Healer insisted I needed at least another week of recovery.

Absolutely impossible, of course. Young Weasley in the office means well – perhaps too well, his enthusiasm practically bubbles over – but he's too young, lacks the experience. And with the champion selection looming..." His voice trailed off abruptly, as if he'd suddenly remembered he was saying too much. He stood there, breathing heavily, as if the explanation had drained him of his last reserves of energy.

Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling with concern behind his half-moon spectacles, spoke up. "Barty, you truly look like you need proper rest—"

To both Bryan and Dumbledore's surprise, Barty strongly agreed. "Oh, yes, yes Indeed!" he exclaimed, his gaze once again fixed on the dancing flames. The fire reflected in his eyes, giving them an almost feverish gleam.

"If you wouldn't mind, Dumbledore, and you too, Bryan, I desperately need a moment of privacy before tonight's feast begins. The champion selection is only the beginning – I have to rush back to the Ministry later. So many matters requiring my personal attention..."

He released a weary sigh that seemed to deflate his entire being, his eyes drifting closed as exhaustion etched deeper lines into his face. His arm rested heavily on the mantelpiece, his body swaying slightly as if he might succumb to sleep at any moment.

Bryan, sensing the need to give Crouch some space, turned to Dumbledore and said. "Let's give Barty some space, Headmaster Dumbledore—".

"Much appreciated, Bryan—" Barty mumbled, his eyes still firmly shut. His voice was dry, almost raspy, as he added, "Solitude is exactly what I require right now. I must admit, that St. Mungo's Healer may have had a point after all. This cursed arm is absolutely screaming!"

The walls of the small room were adorned with numerous portraits, their occupants watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of interest. Some of the figures gazed at Barty Crouch with admiring eyes, clearly impressed by his dedication to duty even in the face of physical discomfort.

As Dumbledore and Bryan made their way to the door, Dumbledore turned back, addressing Crouch's hunched form. "If you need any help, Barty—" he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine concern, " Don't hesitate to send word through any of the portraits. They can locate me wherever I might be within these walls."

With that, they left Crouch alone in the room, with the crackling fire as his only companion.

The spacious Great Hall, usually bustling with activity, was relatively quiet. However, a large crowd of young wizards had gathered in the entrance hall, their excited chatter filling the air as they pointed at the Goblet of Fire.

The ancient artifact stood proudly in the center of the hall, erupting with mesmerizing blue-white flames that cast an otherworldly glow on the eager faces surrounding it. The students were so engrossed in the spectacle that they failed to notice Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson quietly exiting from the front of the hall.

Outside, the drizzling rain had prematurely darkened the sky, casting a gloomy shroud over the Hogwarts grounds. Considering the limited time remaining before the evening feast, Dumbledore and Bryan opted not to return upstairs. Instead, they left the Great Hall through a discreet side door, their footsteps echoing softly as they made their way to a small, secluded courtyard nestled between several of the castle's imposing towers.

The dark green lawn, freshly washed by the gentle rain, had taken on an eerie, almost black hue. Raindrops glistened on each blade of grass, creating a gleaming carpet that seemed to absorb what little light remained in the gloomy evening.

At the heart of this lush area stood an ancient spruce tree, its knotted branches reaching towards sky like grasping fingers. Surrounding the tree was a circular flowerbed, meticulously constructed from warm goose-gray stones. The leaves of the old spruce rustled ominously as they were struck by the falling rain, creating a dark, almost terrifying symphony that perfectly matched the foreboding atmosphere.

This secluded courtyard, rarely visited even on the brightest of days, now had only Dumbledore and Bryan. The two wizards stood in contemplative silence, the weight of their recent discovery hanging heavily in the air between them.

Bryan's gaze swept across the courtyard once, taking in every detail, before settling on Hogwarts' highest and most imposing structure - the Astronomy Tower. Its silhouette loomed against the darkening sky overlooking their meeting.

"Was it Voldemort's doing?" Though he was asking a question, Bryan's tone was very calm.

Dumbledore, his long silver beard glistening with tiny droplets of rain, stroked his chin. His deep gaze seemed to pierce the dark clouds above, as if searching for answers in the turbulent skies and replied thoughtfully. "I believe so,"

A long silence enveloped the two. Neither spoke, both lost in quiet contemplation of the problem at hand. The only sounds were the soft patter of rain on leaves and the distant, muffled excitement emanating from the castle.

Bryan's mind raced with questions and theories. If Voldemort already had an agent working for him inside Hogwarts, why would he also seek to control Barty Crouch?

After all, Crouch wasn't just any Ministry official - he was effectively the second-in-command at the British Ministry of Magic. His position was incredibly sensitive; if someone were to accidentally discover he was under the Imperius Curse, it would certainly not bode well for Voldemort in his current vulnerable state.

Logically, Voldemort should take extraordinary cautions to remain hidden in the shadows, avoiding any action that might reveal his presence to the wizarding world at large. Yet here he was, not only taking this enormous risk but doing so directly under the watchful eyes of both Dumbledore and Bryan. It was indeed a puzzling matter. Bryan had some vague theories forming in his mind, but nothing concrete enough to voice aloud.

When it came to understanding Voldemort's twisted psyche, Dumbledore certainly had an edge over Bryan. After all, he had been the one to first introduce young Tom Riddle to the magical world, personally extending his Hogwarts acceptance letter to that peculiar, overbearing boy in the London orphanage. He had watched firsthand as that brilliant but troubled child transformed himself into the most feared dark wizard of the age, whose very name most people feared to speak.

Sensing the shift in Bryan's demeanor, Dumbledore broke the silence.

"I don't think Tom chose to act on Barty to control the Ministry through him. Oh, I have no doubt that's part of his long-term strategy, but certainly not his immediate concern—"

He paused, his blue eyes twinkling with a mix of concern and deep thought.

"My assessment is— and I guess you've reached a similar conclusion, Bryan, is that something unexpected will unfold during tonight's Halloween feast, barely an hour from now. This is certainly no spontaneous scheme – it will be the result of Tom's meticulous planning. However, it's reasonable to anticipate that both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will react rather... unfavorably... to the prospect of Hogwarts having two champions in the Tournament.

Ah, of course, if Hogwarts had only one champion, and he was an underage wizard under seventeen, Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff might not raise such strong objections—"

Bryan nodded, his quick mind immediately grasping the implications of Dumbledore's words. "I see what you mean—" he said, his brow furrowing slightly. "You think Voldemort is worried these two schools might firmly resist the champion selection results, so he needs a wizard with authority to speak up."

A small frown creased Bryan's forehead as he continued, "It's surprising he's so cautious and can consider problems at this level. I thought after losing most of his soul, his mind wouldn't be so sharp anymore."

Though his words were clearly meant in jest, there was an undercurrent of genuine surprise in his tone. If Dumbledore's guess was correct, Voldemort had indeed demonstrated a level of foresight and strategic thinking that was somewhat unexpected.

Whether the truth aligned with Dumbledore's theory didn't require much speculation - Barty's behavior at the evening's feast would undoubtedly reveal his true purpose. He had obviously come to Hogwarts with a specific goal in mind; otherwise, he could have easily feigned continued illness at St. Mungo's.

The real cause for concern, however, lay beyond this immediate situation.

If Voldemort had indeed controlled Barty Crouch solely to ensure the addition of an extra participant in the Triwizard Tournament, what would be his next move after achieving this goal?

Would he cruelly discard Barty as a sacrificial pawn after his usefulness was exhausted? Or would he seek to use him as a strategic foothold within the Ministry of Magic?

Whichever path Voldemort chose, it was clear that Dumbledore and Bryan couldn't simply stand idly by and watch events unfold. Yet intervening now would be unwise. Voldemort had finally extended a tentacle from the darkness; this was his most vulnerable moment. Any hint that he might have been exposed would likely drive him back into hiding, potentially setting back their efforts to control his plans by months or even years.

Bryan's thoughts turned to another puzzling aspect of the situation. Had Voldemort been lurking in Barty Crouch's home ever since leaving Little Hangleton?

But upon further reflection, he dismissed this idea as unlikely. As a well-known high-ranking official in the British Ministry of Magic, Barty Crouch's residence would undoubtedly have a constant stream of visitors, both expected and unexpected. Such an environment would be far too uncomfortable and risky for Voldemort in his current weakened state.

After long moments of contemplation, Bryan finally spoke. "I'll have Sirius pay more attention to Barty's recent condition," he said, his voice low and determined. "Of course, I'll tell Sirius to keep his distance from Barty Crouch."

Dumbledore pondered this suggestion for a moment before nodding, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

In the void above them, the wild wind roared furiously like an ancient war horn calling warriors to battle. Standing in the darkened courtyard, Dumbledore and Bryan faced the rolling darkness, their figures silhouetted against the encroaching night. They seemed like a living barrier, separating the gloomy, ominous courtyard from the brightly lit Great Hall outside, where hundreds of students eagerly awaited the evening's event, blissfully unaware of the dark clouds gathering on the horizon of their world.

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