As everyone left the Great Hall, a small conflict unfolded at the entrance.
As Dumbledore's headmaster Karkaroff passed through the doors, he accidentally caught sight of Harry and froze in place. He halted, staring at Harry as if unable to believe his eyes.
The students of Durmstrang followed behind their headmaster, also coming to a stop.
Karkaroff's gaze slowly moved to Harry's face, fixing on the scar.
At that moment, a furious voice sounded from behind him.
"Yes, that's Harry Potter."
Karkaroff whirled around. Moody stood there, his heavy frame leaning on his cane, his magical eye fixed unblinkingly on Karkaroff.
Karkaroff's face turned pale, showing a terrifying mix of resentment and fear.
"It's you!" he exclaimed, staring blankly at Moody, seemingly unable to believe his eyes.
"It's me," Moody said darkly. "Unless you have something to say to Potter, Karkaroff, I suggest you move along. You're blocking the doorway."
Professor Karkaroff didn't say another word. With a wave of his hand, he led his students away. Moody continued to glare at him until they disappeared from view.
His magical eye remained fixed on Karkaroff's retreating figure, a look of extreme distaste on his scarred and weathered face.
Meanwhile, Bartemius Crouch Jr. watched the spectacle impassively, saying nothing.
Behind them, Alaric almost burst out laughing.
To him, the scene was utterly ridiculous.
Karkaroff was a Death Eater captured and brought to Azkaban by Mad-Eye Moody after six months of pursuit.
By the time of Karkaroff's trial, Voldemort had already fallen, and he faced a life sentence in Azkaban.
However, he struck a deal with Bartemius Crouch Sr., the former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to provide names of other Death Eaters in exchange for his release.
Afterward, he went to Durmstrang to teach Dark Arts and eventually became the headmaster.
Because Karkaroff was captured by Moody, he harbored deep fear and hatred toward him.
Alaric believed that Dumbledore had invited Moody as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this semester partly to monitor Karkaroff.
However, in reality, the Moody teaching at Hogwarts was actually Barty Crouch Jr. in disguise, a fervent Death Eater who despised Karkaroff as a traitor.
As for Bartemius Crouch Sr., besides being Moody's former boss, he had a judicial deal with Karkaroff, releasing him from Azkaban, which made their relationship somewhat awkward.
Therefore, he could only watch their conflict unfold without intervening.
Now, with the released criminal and his captor, undercover agents and gangsters, father and son turned enemies, and politicians with behind-the-scenes deals.
All converging on these three individuals—Harry Potter might as well be a crime thriller or a soap opera, just imagine a 500,000-word, 52-episode saga of intrigue and rivalry.
The next day was Saturday, and Hermione dragged Alaric to see the Triwizard Cup early in the morning.
Normally, students would have breakfast much later.
However, besides Alaric and Hermione, there were others who woke up much earlier than usual on a weekend.
As they descended into the entrance hall, they saw over twenty people gathered there, with a few still munching on bread, all closely inspecting the Triwizard Cup.
It was placed in the center of the hall on the stool where the Sorting Hat usually sat. A thin line of gold had been drawn on the floor, ten feet away from the cup, forming a circle around it.
"Has anyone put their name in yet?" Hermione asked a third-year girl.
"Yes, representatives from Durmstrang have," she replied. "But we haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts sign up."
"Someone must have sneaked in our names while we were sleeping last night," George Weasley piped up.
"If it were me, that's what I'd do... wouldn't want anyone to see. Imagine if the cup spat your name out all crumpled up, how embarrassing!"
"So, how do I go about putting my name in?" Hermione asked Alaric.
"Age line!" Fred Weasley said, his eyes sparkling.
"That's easy, surely you can fool it with an Aging Potion? As long as your name gets in that cup, you can smile happily—it can't tell who's seventeen and who isn't!"
"They're right," Hermione realized. "The Triwizard Cup itself can't possibly discern age; otherwise, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have added the age line unnecessarily."
"In fact, we've already succeeded!" Fred exclaimed triumphantly.
"What do you mean, succeeded?" Alaric asked.
"With Aging Potion," Fred explained. "We just drank a drop each."
"Everyone took a drop," George added joyously, rubbing his hands together. "We just need a few more months to age."
"The method of using Aging Potion is too obvious," Alaric reminded them impassively.
"Dumbledore must have anticipated this. He wouldn't overlook it."
However, the twins' enthusiasm was not dampened by his reminder.
"Are you ready?" Fred said excitedly, shaking all over. "Alright then, here goes—I'll go first—"
He pulled out a parchment from his pocket with "Fred Weasley—Hogwarts" written on it.
He walked straight to the edge of the age line, standing there on tiptoes, swaying like a diver preparing to jump from a fifty-foot platform.
Then, under the gaze of everyone in the hall, he took a deep breath and stepped over the line.
For a moment, everyone thought Fred had succeeded—George certainly thought so, as he cheered triumphantly and followed Fred forward.
But then they heard a hissing sound, and the twins were thrown out of the golden circle, as if an invisible shot put athlete had tossed them out.
They painfully crashed onto the cold stone floor ten feet away, and in addition to the physical pain, they suffered the humiliation of it all.
With a loud bang, identical long white beards sprouted from their chins.
The people in the hall burst into laughter. Even Fred and George, upon seeing each other's white beards, couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"I warned you," a deep, amused voice said, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore walking out of the Great Hall.
He surveyed Fred and George, eyes twinkling. "I suggest both of you pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey.
She's already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Mr. Summers of Hufflepuff, who were equally determined to age themselves a bit.
But I must say, their beards are nowhere near as splendid as yours."
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