'Igor Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang?'
In previous years, Bryan had traveled extensively across Europe. During his time in Germany, he had also heard local wizards discussing Durmstrang and its current headmaster, Igor Karkaroff.
As is well-known among the wizarding community, Durmstrang stands out as the most unscrupulous and controversial of the three legendary wizarding schools on the European continent. This school still retains many traditional teaching methods. By 'traditional,' it means the school's attitude towards magic is more inclined towards that of traditional wizards, steeped in a philosophy that blurs the boundaries between the dark and white magic, treating them with an unsettling nonchalance.
It was within this unorthodox and morally ambiguous teaching environment that dangerous and notorious wizards like the infamous Gellert Grindelwald were nurtured.
The current headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, has taken Durmstrang's 'liberal' approach to new and unsettling extremes. There are some rumors that he tacitly approves professors to teach dark magic at the school. Furthermore, There is also hearsay that Karkaroff himself was once a Death Eaters.
Judging from the palpable aura of resistance and disgust emanating from the Barty Crouch, these rumors seem to hold some credibility.
Barty's indifferent demeanor, however, did little to dissuade the recently awakened Karkaroff, whose face remained etched with a warm, inscrutable smile as he smoothly shifted his gaze towards Bryan. A momentary flicker of puzzlement flashed across his face, quickly replaced by dawning recognition as he assessed the young man standing behind Barty Crouch, who, judging by his age, appeared to be a subordinate of sorts.
"If my eyes don't deceive me—" Karkaroff purred, a cunning glint flickering in his piercing blue eyes as he extended his hand past Barty towards Bryan, his tone laced with an undercurrent of peculiarity.
"This must be the esteemed head of Hogwarts's student security office, Mr. Bryan Watson?"
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Headmaster Karkaroff," Bryan responded, his face etched with a solemn smile as he grasped Karkaroff's rough, calloused hand in a firm handshake.
"Ah, I didn't expect Dumbledore to actually send you forth," Karkaroff remarked smoothly, his lips curving into a serpentine smile. "It seems he is truly determined to host the Triwizard Tournament this time, Professor Watson."
"Your name resonates even within the halls of Durmstrang," Karkaroff continued, his tone carrying a subtle undercurrent of intrigue. "Recently, the young minds at our school were all busy discussing how you single-handedly defeated Fenrir Greyback and his pack of wolves. They couldn't believe that a single wizard could slay so many werewolves all by himself. They, and my staff, are utterly captivated by your mastery of the Fiendfyre—ah, I mean the 'Spirit Fire.' It is certainly an intriguing and formidable magic, is it not?"
"Haha, it's merely a trivial trick, not worthy of mentioning," Bryan said with a faint smile, though his eyes remained watchful and guarded.
"But I didn't expect to be so warmly welcomed at Durmstrang. I will mention this to Dumbledore when I return. If he doesn't offer me a raise, I will threaten to accept a teaching position at Durmstrang instead,"
Bryan's little joke elicited a roar of laughter from Karkaroff, though Bryan was certain he detected not a glimmer of genuine humor in the man's eyes.
This was clearly a two-faced character, a devious individual of questionable morals and intentions.
"We have no time for such pleasantries; the party is about to start," Barty interjected curtly, his grim expression a stark contrast to Karkaroff's outward cheerfulness. Without further ado, he turned on his heel and strode firmly towards the elevator hall, his abrupt behavior casting a fleeting gloom across Karkaroff's eyes.
"Barty and I have been acquainted for many years," Karkaroff said lightly, his tone laced with an undercurrent of forced humor. "His temper hasn't changed a bit."
"Is that so?" Bryan replied, feigning keen interest as he took a step forward. "How did you two first cross paths?"
"Ah, ahem—" Karkaroff faltered, caught off guard by Bryan's probing query. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, disrupting the awkward silence with a few conspicuous coughs before regaining his composure.
"Just some business dealings. You know, keeping a school running is no easy task. We need to procure many things for teaching, and without Barty's approval, we can't get our hands on certain British supplies."
Unwilling to linger in Karkaroff's presence any longer than necessary, Barty Crouch didn't even wait for the elevator with them, instead headed straight down to the second floor. By the time Bryan entered the banquet hall, Barty and a few other distinguished wizards from the International Confederation of Wizards had already engaged in hushed conversations, while the ever-bubbly Ludo Bagman had unsurprisingly made an appearance, grinning broadly as he chatted over with an energetic group of admirers.
In stark contrast to their hotel's overall Goblin-inspired aesthetic, this banquet hall seemed more in harmony with traditional wizarding sensibilities. A massive, glittering crystal chandelier hung suspended from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the square hall. The white walls were adorned with exquisite artistic sculptures, and the air was covered with the delicate fragrance of fresh flowers.
The banquet hall was buzzing with people engaged in lively conversations all around. To Bryan, this gathering seemed more akin to a glamorous social event than a preparatory party intended to decide the hosting venue for the Triwizard Tournament.
"No wonder Dumbledore was so reluctant to be involved—" Bryan muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing slightly.
Speaking of which, wasn't the planning stage of the Triwizard Tournament supposed to be shrouded in secrecy and confidentiality? Surveying the bustling crowd of hundreds of wizards and witches, clad in a mixture of vibrant robes and garments from every corner of the globe, Bryan couldn't help but question the necessity of such severe discretion.
"Oh, you've arrived ahead of us, Karkaroff—" As Bryan was surveying the venue, a deep voice from the entrance suddenly caught his attention, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned his gaze towards the newcomers.
A towering figure, nearly as massive and imposing as Hagrid, appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a young woman who looked like a student.
"Ah, Madam Maxime, and Miss Delacour—" Karkaroff greeted them with an exaggerated grin, exposing a row of yellowed teeth as he strode forth, pulling Bryan along by the arm.
The two newcomers were both highly conspicuous figures, drawing immediate attention from all those present. Madam Maxime towered even taller than Hagrid, and she was much leaner, making her seem even more imposing – so much so that she was forced to duck her head to pass through the spacious entrance.
Beside Madam Maxime stood a girl of exceptional temperament. She appeared to be about the same age as Percy, with a waterfall of shimmering silver hairs cascading down her back, reaching almost to her waist.
In terms of sheer presence and temperament, this young woman was essentially on par with Cliodna, though she lacked some of the natural charm.
To the other guests in attendance, Bryan himself cut quite the striking figure amidst the banquet hall.
Among the assembled wizards and witches, the majority of whom appeared to be well over 40 years of age, he stood out as a youthful presence. His bearing was upright, exuding an aura of confidence. Whenever someone met his pale violet gaze, their soul would tremble, as if glimpsing an abyss that could freeze it.
"That sly old fox Dumbledore has sent us a formidable new representative, Madam Maxime—" Karkaroff said, his mouth curving into a smile utterly devoid of humor as he gestured towards Bryan.
"Bryan Watson. I'm certain you've become familiar with his reputation. He is a truly intimidating opponent. I fear we may have already lost the advantage before the contest has even begun."
Upon hearing these words, Bryan gave a subtle sidelong glance at Karkaroff, a flicker of thunder passing through his emotionless eyes. Just as Karkaroff tried to sow the seeds of discord, he suddenly felt a tightness constricting his chest, and his grip on Bryan's arm instinctively loosened.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Watson—" Madam Maxime greeted him with a relatively friendly smile, extending her large, ring-adorned hand towards him.
"I have heard much about the amazing deeds and accomplishments you have achieved. They are truly impressive feats, from all accounts."
"Just a stroke of luck, really—" Bryan said, raising his hand to his cheek in a modest gesture as he grasped Madam Maxime's extended hand in a handshake. He then politely nodded his head towards the keenly observing Fleur Delacour. He was about to offer a formal greeting, but at that moment, a commotion from the main stage of the banquet hall drew his attention.
A troupe of elegantly attired ladies floated onto the stage through a side door, each one holding a musical instrument in her hands. They ascended the stage via the side stairs with an almost ethereal grace, surrounded by a soft, pink radiance and the gentle fluttering of translucent fairy wings. Once assembled on the stage, each of them took their seat and began tuning their violin or other instruments in preparation for their performance.
"The Woodland Fairy Troupe," Fleur Delacour explained to Bryan in a voice as sweet and melodious as the ringing of silver bells. "They are quite famous throughout France."
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