章 539: 0537 Confused
"The headmaster of Durmstrang was a Death Eater?" Hermione's voice cracked with disbelief. Her jaw dropped, causing her thick bushy hair to shift slightly around her shoulders as she leaned forward in her worn wooden chair.
Harry, his eyes widening behind his round glasses, slowly turned his head to study the rowdy group of Durmstrang students gathered at the bar. Their thick fur-lined cloaks stood out starkly against the Inn's warm, firelit interior as they eagerly called out to Madam Rosmerta to keep serving drinks.
Thinking of Krum's surprisingly approachable demeanor and helpful nature, Harry said with obvious difficulty, "How is that possible? How could the school possibly allow--"
"Hmph--" The sound was caught in his throat as Sirius cut him off with a cold, bitter snort. His tired face twisted into a grimace as he spoke.
"There are plenty of strange and dark things in this world, far more than you might imagine," Sirius said absently tracing a deep groove in the ancient wooden table with one finger as he continued. "Honestly, Karkaroff isn't exactly what you'd call a brave fellow - quite the opposite, in fact. I thought he'd never dare set foot in Britain again, not after everything that happened.
Surprisingly, he somehow scraped together enough courage to bring his students here for the Triwizard Tournament, even knowing he'd have to face both Moody and Crouch. But that's about the extent of his backbone, mark my words."
Sirius's eyes darkened as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I'd bet my last Galleon that if there's even the faintest whisper of his old master returning, he'll run faster than a startled Hippogriff. He's not foolish enough to think his past actions would ever be forgiven--"
Sirius paused, taking a contemplative sip from his mug. When he continued, his voice carried a note of contempt. "This fellow isn't exactly known for his magnanimity either, mind you. So, it wouldn't surprise me if he harbors some festering resentment toward Dumbledore for stopping Voldemort back then. Or perhaps he's seeking some petty revenge because Bryan managed to outmaneuver him, securing Hogwarts as the host of the Triwizard Tournament. Neither would shock me in the least."
Hermione sat back in her chair, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of her bushy hair as she struggled to reconcile this new information with her experiences.
The idea that Krum's headmaster had once served Voldemort seemed utterly at odds with recent events - after all, hadn't he helped them in a way during the chaos at the World Cup? And just days ago, Krum had gone out of his way to offer her valuable advice about handling the tournament tasks.
"But--" Hermione began, biting her lower lip in that characteristic way she did when struggling with a particularly puzzling problem.
Her brow furrowed in concentration as she leaned forward, lowering her voice even further. "I don't understand. Even if Karkaroff is indeed a Death Eater, why would he specifically target me? It doesn't make any logical sense, does it? I'd never crossed paths with him before he arrived at Hogwarts. Surely he wouldn't just choose someone at random?"
Faced with this pointed question, Sirius's confident demeanor faltered slightly. The shadows under his eyes seemed to deepen as he shifted in his chair, showing that this particular puzzle had been keeping him awake at nights.
"Yes," he admitted slowly, "if he had targeted Harry, that would be much easier to understand--"
Harry's face darkened noticeably at these words. It seemed that any conversation involving Voldemort inevitably circled back to him, like a curse he couldn't escape.
Unable to unravel this particular mystery, Sirius's expression grew somewhat melancholic. He leaned back in his creaking wooden chair, staring up at the Inn's exposed wooden beams with troubled eyes that seemed to see far beyond the ceiling.
"What if--" Harry began tentatively, his forehead creasing with effort as he followed this line of thought to its logical conclusion. "What if Karkaroff had somehow heard of Hermione's name before?"
Noticing Hermione's startled expression, Harry quickly explained, his words coming faster as he worked through the theory. "Think about the World Cup incident - Krum must have mentioned it to his headmaster after returning to school. He might have told Karkaroff about helping you in the VIP box, and Karkaroff made particular note of it."
While this explanation wasn't impossible, it seemed rather far-fetched. Neither Hermione nor Sirius commented, though their silence spoke volumes.
The crackling fireplace filled the thoughtful pause with its warm, comforting sounds.
"Karkaroff being the culprit is just Moody's and my opinion," Sirius finally said, his fingers drumming absently on the scarred wooden table. "The truth might paint a different picture entirely--"
He paused, his dark eyes flicking briefly to Harry and Hermione's chairs. His expression shifted, becoming guarded, almost hesitant, as if struggling with a particularly difficult decision. "Actually, there's something you don't know about. I've been debating whether to share this with you, as I gave my word to keep it absolutely confidential."
"Oh, please tell us, Sirius!" The words burst from Harry and Hermione simultaneously. They exchanged quick glances through the shimmering fabric of the Invisibility Cloak. Harry leaned forward; his eyes bright with interest behind his glasses.
"Very well," Sirius conceded, his voice dropping even lower. He leaned forward, his long dark hair falling forward to partially shield his face from the casual observers. "But remember - this information doesn't leave this table."
His expression grew serious, almost mysterious in the tavern's twirling shadows. " It's like this: The day after you were chosen as champion, Hermione, I received an owl from Bryan. He requested a rather unusual favor. He wanted me to keep tabs on Barty Crouch, to monitor his movements within the Ministry without drawing attention to myself."
"B-Barty Crouch?" Hermione stammered, her eyes growing as wide as Galleons.
"Professor Watson asked you to--" Harry's sharp intake of breath cut through his own words.
The revelation landed between them like a thunderbolt, completely toppling their previous theories.
Neither of them had imagined that Professor Watson would suspect Barty Crouch.
If forced to choose, both Hermione and Harry would undoubtedly place their trust in Professor Watson's judgment over almost anyone else's. His track record spoke for itself, and his intuitions had been proven correct.
But this particular suspicion seemed almost too fantastic to believe. Why would a highly-respected Ministry official, someone who had apparently dedicated his life to upholding magical law, suddenly turn his attention to plotting against an unknown underage witch?
The gears in Hermione and Harry's minds were practically visible as they worked through this puzzle.
Suddenly, their eyes met across the table, twin expressions of realization appearing on their faces as a memory struck.
Their previous encounter with Barty Crouch came flooding back with crystal clarity - that night at the Quidditch World Cup final, while searching for Harry's missing wand. They had secretly entered the destroyed Quidditch pitch, only to witness another horrifying incident.
Hermione had even directly confronted Crouch that night, her righteous anger overwhelming her usual caution. She had condemned him in front of everyone about his heartless treatment of his house-elf Winky, even after everyone had basically agreed that Winky couldn't have been the one who conjured the Dark Mark.
Harry, his mind racing with possibilities, eagerly shared his theory about this connection, then waited anxiously for Sirius's assessment.
"Don't read too much into it, Harry--" Sirius's response came with a gentle shake of his head, causing Harry's enthusiasm to deflate like a punctured balloon.
A knowing chuckle escaped Sirius's lips as he continued, "If Barty Crouch were the type to hold such a petty grudge over that kind of confrontation, he'd never have risen to his current position in the Ministry. I'm sharing this information because it might - or might not - be connected to Hermione's selection as champion. The relationship between Bryan and Barty Crouch is far more complicated than you realize - it's entangled in the web of Ministry politics. Anyway, this isn't something you should be concerned about."
"So what you're saying is--" Hermione's mind cut straight to the heart of the matter, "You called us here today to warn us about both the Durmstrang headmaster and Barty Crouch?"
"And you need to keep a particularly watchful eye on that Durmstrang champion, Hermione--" Sirius's voice took on a serious tone, "Yes, I know he assisted us during the World Cup chaos, but circumstances have changed. He wasn't competing against you then. You might have read about it in books - Durmstrang is quite different from Hogwarts. Their teaching methods..."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Let's say they're considerably more aggressive in their approach. You understand my meaning, don't you? If presented with an opportunity to eliminate competition, I doubt he'd hesitate to seize it."
His voice dropped even lower, barely audible above the growing noise of the pub. "Teaching Dark Arts is deeply woven into their school's traditions. It shouldn't come as a surprise that they'd choose someone like Karkaroff - a Death Eater with a notorious reputation - as their headmaster."
Beneath the protective cover of the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione and Harry exchanged meaningful glances. While neither voiced their disagreement with Sirius's assessment of Krum, their silence spoke volumes about their skepticism.
As the hands of the clock above the bar crept toward noon, the Three Broomsticks began filling with its usual diverse crowd - local villagers in their thick wool cloaks, elegant Beauxbatons students who seemed to float rather than walk, and the fur-clad Durmstrang group.
A hopeful customer eyed the seemingly empty chairs at their table, but Sirius smoothly deflected the inquiry, claiming he was expecting additional company.
Despite the valuable intelligence Sirius had shared during their covert meeting, Harry couldn't quite shake a feeling of disappointment. He had harbored hope that Sirius would definitively identify the mastermind behind Hermione's mysterious selection and explain their motivations. Instead, they had more questions than answers.
Outside the frosted windows, a fine misty rain had begun to fall, shrouding Hogsmeade in an ethereal veil. In the distance, perched atop its lonely hill like a brooding watchman, the Shrieking Shack loomed through the haze, its battered walls and boarded windows keeping watch over the peaceful village below.
Through the flimsy curtain of rain, Hogsmeade seemed transformed into something out of a fairy tale - a village that time had forgotten, where every cobblestone and timber beam held centuries of magical secrets.
"There's one more thing I need to warn you about, Harry--" After a moment of silence, Sirius spoke again, his voice carrying an edge of carefully controlled concern that immediately captured both of their attention. Though he spoke softly, the seriousness in his tone made his words cut through the growing tavern noise like a knife.
"What is it?" Harry straightened in his chair, instantly alert. He realized that Sirius had saved this matter for last and Something in his manner said that this - this was what had truly prompted him to risk meeting them in person.
"I've been in regular correspondence with Remus," Sirius began, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his mug. "We've been discussing recent events. The World Cup incident needs no explanation - you lived through that nightmare.
But there's more. The Ministry's investigation into those masked wizards from the World Cup has turned up some... disturbing possibilities. Word is that those so-called Death Eaters were actually hired hands, and pulling their strings was someone far more dangerous - a genuine Death Eater."
This account stood in stark contrast to the Ministry's official stance, as published in the Daily Prophet's reassuring articles. But neither Harry nor Hermione needed to think hard about which version carried more weight - Sirius's words and his connections had been proven reliable before.
Harry's brow furrowed deeply as he absorbed this information, his mind already racing ahead to its implications.
"There are many signs indicating," Sirius continued, "that the Death Eaters are stirring, becoming bolder again. And you have to ask yourself - what would give these cunning rats, who've spent over a decade skulking in the shadows of the gutters, the courage to show themselves now? The wizarding world isn't just protected by Dumbledore anymore - we have Bryan as well. Unless--"
'Unless what?'
The unfinished sentence hung in the air like a curse.
There was only one possibility - Only one thing could encourage Voldemort's old followers - the sense that their master was regaining his strength.
"Many eyes are fixed on Hogwarts right now, watching both Dumbledore and Bryan. And in the midst of all this scrutiny, we have this suspicious incident with the Triwizard Tournament - it's impossible not to see potential connections. So please, Harry,"
Sirius's eyes bore into his godson's with fierce intensity, "Stay alert at school. If anything seems out of place, don't try to handle it yourself. Dumbledore, Bryan, or Moody are all trustworthy people - let them handle the problems."
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章 540: 0538 Talks
Harry pressed his lips together until they formed a thin, bloodless line, blinking rapidly as the harsh reality of the situation finally formed in his mind.
He finally understood why Sirius looked so defensive– he believed that Voldemort was stirring from the shadows, gradually regaining his power, and would certainly make a move inevitably setting his sights on Harry as his primary target.
The timing couldn't have been worse, with the mysterious circumstances surrounding the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts now directly involving Hermione, his closest and most trusted friend.
Harry could see it written plainly across Sirius's face - he was terrified that Harry, true to his impulsive Gryffindor nature, might throw caution to the winds and do something catastrophically reckless that would put him directly in harm's way.
A wave of irritation washed over Harry. He had foolishly hoped that Sirius would finally stop treating him like some naive child who needed constant protection, who couldn't possibly understand the seriousness of the situation. But here they were again, with his godfather's protective instincts clearly unchanged despite everything they'd been through together.
Hermione, noticing the subtle shifts in Harry's mood, gently nudged his arm with her elbow. Her touch was light but insistent as she gestured for him to truly look at Sirius - not just see him, but really observe the man sitting before them.
What Harry saw made his heart constrict painfully in his chest.
Sirius sat there, his dark eyes fixed on where he knew Harry to be beneath the Invisibility Cloak, though they held none of the mischievous sparkle Harry remembered from those photographs. Instead, they were filled with a deep, almost overwhelming melancholy, his entire demeanor radiating a cautious concern.
The sight triggered a memory that made Harry's eyes burn with sudden emotion - the wedding photograph in the album Hagrid had given him, where a young handsome Sirius had stood proudly as his father's best man.
The obvious contrast to the man before him now was heart-wrenching. That youthful vigor had been stripped away by years in Azkaban, replaced by premature aging and an ever-present wariness that seemed to weigh down his very soul. Where once stood a man, who laughed in the face of danger, now sat someone who had learned the true cost of recklessness through bitter experience.
"Fine..." Harry finally grumbled, the word coming out rough with suppressed emotion. His annoyance warred with his affection for Sirius as he added, "I'll try not to be reckless, okay?"
The promise felt like pulling teeth, but he couldn't bear to see that worried look in Sirius's eyes any longer.
Hermione's sudden burst of laughter broke the tension— she, better than anyone, knew what a massive concession this was for Harry, who seemed to attract danger like a magnet attracts iron filings.
"Well, some reasonable adventures are still acceptable—" Sirius's whole demeanor transformed as he let out a heavy sigh of relief, his shoulders straightening as though a great weight had been lifted from them. A bright smile spread across his face, erasing years of worry lines in an instant. "I'm guessing you haven't had lunch, have you?"
Without waiting for an answer, Sirius raised his hand high in the air, calling out to Madam Rosmerta who was bustling behind the bar counter. "Excuse me— Could we get some food? I'm starving—and plenty of it, please!"
His voice carried the warmth of genuine enthusiasm now that the heavier part of their conversation had passed.
When Madam Rosmerta arrived with a platter of chicken sandwiches, the aroma wafting from them was heavenly.
Both Harry and Hermione realized just how famished they were - their magical education wasn't just mentally demanding, but physically as well. Their bodies were going through rapid growth, both physically and magically, requiring enormous amounts of energy to sustain. After a careful glance around the crowded pub, they eagerly reached out from beneath the Invisibility Cloak.
Sirius watched with undisguised amusement as the sandwiches seemed to disappear into thin air, accompanied by the sounds of eager chewing. His eyes crinkled with warmth as he casually asked, "By the way, I forgot to ask, why didn't Ron come with you? Is James's Invisibility Cloak too small for all three of you now?"
The question landed like a stone in still water. Hermione's posture suddenly stiffened, radiating discomfort. Though she knew Sirius couldn't possibly see her eyes beneath the cloak, she found herself avoiding his general direction nonetheless, as if his gaze could pierce through the fabric of Invisibility cloak.
"Well—" Harry forced down his mouthful of food, his voice tinged with unmistakable displeasure, "I invited him, but he didn't want to come. He borrowed the Firebolt, said he wanted to play some Quidditch—"
"Oh." The simple word carried volumes of understanding as Sirius's smile dimmed slightly. He raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping to a gentle probe, "Has Ron been unhappy lately?"
The timing of the question couldn't have been worse - Harry had just taken another large bite of his sandwich. His violent coughing fit as he choked on his food was mercifully masked by the general noise of the busy pub.
He grabbed desperately for the butterbeer Sirius had secretly slipped under the cloak, taking several large gulps while Hermione patted his back with increasing concern. Finally with his face flushed crimson from the ordeal, he managed to recover his composure.
"How did you know?!" The words burst from Harry in a gasp, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at Sirius.
"Isn't it obvious?" Rather than showing satisfaction at his insight, Sirius's expression deepened with genuine concern. "Harry, Hermione, and Ron, you three have always been inseparable, the closest of friends. Harry, your fame has always been a given - everyone knows the Boy Who Lived. And now Hermione has become a Triwizard Champion, in what I'm hearing will be the most significant Tournament in history."
Sirius leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to ensure privacy. "Bryan has apparently negotiated an agreement with the goblins to broadcast the competition throughout other European countries. The only reason the Daily Prophet hasn't been hounding you for interviews, Hermione, is because they're pouring all their resources into promoting this historic event. Once the competition begins, Hermione will become an international celebrity in her own right. That leaves only Ron..." He trailed off meaningfully.
After a moment's silence, Sirius's brows furrowed deeply and he continued, "From what I understand of Ron's personality, he's not particularly emotionally mature or capable of handling pressure. It's natural for him to feel alone and unhappy, but surely, you've all sat down and had a proper discussion about this? Haven't you?"
Harry turned to look at Hermione, only to find her shrinking away, deliberately avoiding his gaze. With increasing confusion, he slowly turned back to Sirius, his mouth slightly wide open as he began to realize the implications.
"What are you talking about, Sirius?"
Sirius caught his breath, taking a few moments to choose his words carefully before responding with gentle resignation, "Haven't you realized, Harry, that Ron might be jealous of you and Hermione?"
'Ron? Jealous?'
The concept seemed so far-off that his mind initially rejected it outright. But, Harry's eyes widened as the bustling pub around him seemed to fade into a blur, the chattering patrons, even Hermione and Sirius beside him, becoming distant and indistinct, as though they existed in another dimension entirely.
As if a dam had broken in Harry's mind, memories began flooding back with crystal clarity. His thoughts raced backward through time, reviewing Ron's behavior with new understanding - from the moment Hermione's name had echoed through the stunned silence of the Great Hall just a week ago, to their departure from Hogwarts few hours ago. Every sullen look, every muttered excuse, every moment Ron had withdrawn from their company - it all took on a new, painful significance.
"Jealous."
The word felt like acid on Harry's tongue, igniting a fire in his chest that tried to consume him from within. The heat of it was suffocating, pressing against his lungs with each breath.
"Jealous of what?" Harry's voice emerged barely above a whisper, but laden with building fury. "Jealous of my ugly scar that makes people stare and whisper wherever I go? Or maybe he's jealous that someone's targeting Hermione, plotting to use this Tournament to finish her off—"
A heavy silence fell between them as Harry continued his bitter monologue, his voice growing more strained with each word. "This is ridiculous. All this time, I thought he was worried about Hermione... maybe even scared for her safety, but to be jealous? To actually withdraw from us because of petty jealousy? It's beyond stupid."
Harry's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the tendons creaking audibly under the strain. The fire that had been building in his chest now blazed in his eyes as he slowly turned to look at Hermione. The expression of distress on her face told him everything he needed to know even before he asked the question.
"You realized it already, didn't you?" His voice was deadly quiet now. "When was it?"
Hermione remained silent for a moment.
Finally, she responded in a small voice, "That night when I returned to Gryffindor Tower."
Harry's breathing suddenly became erratic. The friendship he had thought was unshakeable- it had developed deep, dangerous cracks, and both Hermione and Ron had been aware of it while he had wandered about in blissful ignorance like a complete fool!
"Why," Harry ground out through clenched teeth, each word feeling like it might shatter his jaw, "why didn't you tell me—"
The sight of tears welling up in Hermione's eyes gave him pause, but she seemed unable to form an answer to his question. What could she possibly say?
From his position across the table, Sirius could hear the heavy, agitated breathing coming from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and could well imagine Harry's current state of mind. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke softly.
"Perhaps you all need some honest communication. Harry, I think you two need to talk to Ron. You can't simply ignore your friend's feelings."
Sirius's expression grew distant, haunted by memories. "You know about what happened between me, Remus, your father James, and Peter... Lately, I've found myself thinking, Harry, if we had paid more attention to Peter back at Hogwarts... if we had noticed his struggles, his insecurities... maybe, just maybe, he might have stayed on the right path—"
Harry stared at Sirius in utter disbelief. The betrayal of Peter Pettigrew had directly led to his parents' deaths at Voldemort's hands, and Sirius had spent twelve years in the living hell of Azkaban because of it. Harry knew, perhaps better than anyone, the depth of hatred Sirius harbored for his former friend. To hear such words of reflection and regret from him was nothing short of shocking.
"I'll talk to Ron!"
The words exploded from Harry as he shot to his feet, the sudden movement causing the Invisibility Cloak to slide off, exposing both him and Hermione to the startled gazes of nearby patrons.
The pub's other customers stared in shock at their sudden appearance, but Harry was beyond caring about such trivial matters. His chest heaved with each breath as he continued through gritted teeth,
"But before that, I'm going to punch him in the nose! Maybe that'll knock some sense into his thick head!"
"Harry!"
Without another word, Harry snatched up his Invisibility Cloak and bolted toward the door. Hermione lunged after him, her fingers managing to brush the hem of his robes before they slipped away like water through her grasp.
Harry rushed forward, ignoring the curious stares following his progress through the pub. The fire of betrayal burning inside him threatened to consume all rational thought. He couldn't believe Ron could have such foolish thoughts, and especially, his behavior of hiding these thoughts seemed more like betrayal in Harry's eyes!
Just as he was about to push open the door, someone outside pulled it open first, intending to enter the Three Broomsticks. Harry's momentum was too great to stop - he crashed headlong into the entering customer. The collision was violent, and the person on the other side clearly wasn't prepared for such an impact. A pained cry pierced the air as she was thrown backward, directly into the arms of the man standing behind her!
Bryan steadied Fleur, who had suddenly fallen into his arms, looked at her tear-filled eyes and bleeding nose, then glanced at Harry who was holding his forehead against the bar counter, and was rendered speechless.
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