The dance concluded at the stroke of midnight, marking the beginning of the Christmas vacation. However, for John, the holiday season was anything but festive. His days were consumed by the tedious task of healing his injuries, the aftermath of using spiritual magic proving more challenging than he had anticipated. At present, he found himself in a peculiar state, tears streaming down his face for no apparent reason. "This ridiculous empathy has turned me into a crybaby," he lamented, frustrated by his uncontrollable emotional responses.
Xin Hao had left for vacation, leaving John without his usual company. Only the members of the Qunxing Club were privy to his current predicament. Malfoy, finding the situation amusing, struggled to contain his laughter, nearly injuring himself in the process. Daphne, on the other hand, radiated happiness, her mood seemingly unaffected by John's emotional outbursts. She carefully cut fruit into small pieces, offering them to John with a gentle hand. "Woooo, Daphne, you're so kind," John sobbed, overwhelmed by his heightened empathy. He longed to rid himself of this burdensome ability, his emotions compelling him to embrace Daphne in a tearful hug.
Daphne comforted John with a soft pat on the back, her smile as bright as the sun. "There, there," she soothed, her happiness shining even brighter in the face of John's distress. Malfoy, amused by the scene, attempted to provoke John further, only to be swiftly knocked unconscious by a well-aimed punch.
Fleur and Cedric arrived at the Star Club to find Malfoy sprawled on the ground and John still in Daphne's embrace, tears staining his cheeks. "Should I have stayed away?" Fleur wondered, taken aback by the sight. Cedric, equally surprised, shared a look of sympathy with Fleur. John, noticing their arrival, attempted to compose himself, his eyes red from crying. Fleur, moved by the scene, resolved to give up drinking, a decision spurred by her own vulnerabilities.
"I've discovered a clue," Fleur announced, trying to shift the focus away from John's emotional state. Cedric, however, revealed that he was already aware of the information, leaving Fleur momentarily speechless. John, unable to contain his emotions, burst into tears once more, prompting Fleur to offer her assistance, only to be deterred by Daphne's protective gaze.
After some effort, John managed to stabilize his emotions, apologizing for his unusual behavior. "It's a side effect of using too much magic," he explained, hopeful that the condition would improve in a few days. Fleur and Cedric, though finding it difficult to reconcile this vulnerable version of John with his usual strategic demeanor, nodded in understanding.
The conversation then shifted to the upcoming challenge, with Fleur expressing her intention to use the Bubble-Head Charm, despite her lack of proficiency. John suggested that she and Cedric consider learning to communicate with underwater creatures, a crucial aspect they had overlooked in their preparations. Enlightened by John's advice, the two departed to refine their strategies.
In their absence, John resumed his efforts to concoct a potion that would help manage his overwhelming empathy. By the start of the second semester, he had finally succeeded in tempering his emotional responses, much to Daphne's dismay.
A flurry of owls interrupted the quiet, one carrying the Daily Prophet directly to John. He scanned the newspaper, his eyes landing on a small article featuring Hagrid. "Magizoologist Hagrid would be thrilled to see his name in print," John mused, smiling at the thought. Through the article, he sensed Rita Skeeter's relentless determination to persevere, despite her recent setbacks. Hagrid was universally adored at Hogwarts, not least by the school's celebrated hero, Harry Potter, who appreciated Hagrid's penchant for thrilling teaching methods. The article went on to highlight Hagrid's crowning achievement, the creation of the Skrewt, which he boldly declared a landmark in the field of Magizoology. "Exaggerated," I muttered, flipping the newspaper to the next page, where the ongoing coverage of the Triwizard Tournament caught my eye. A betting frenzy had taken hold of the magical community, with wizards young and old wagering Sickles and Galleons alike. Though the stakes were modest, the allure of potentially striking it rich was irresistible. The international bets were piling up, rivaling even the Quidditch World Cup in terms of the total money wagered. I realized that if this trend continued, the tournament could surpass the World Cup in earnings. The presence of Viktor Krum, a Quidditch superstar, and the beloved Harry Potter had set the tournament abuzz with excitement. The "Daily Prophet's" relentless coverage made it impossible to ignore. The odds had shifted dramatically; Krum had fallen to third place, while Cedric Diggory had risen to second, and Harry, previously in second, now led the pack. "Without Krum's massive fanbase, he might have dropped to fourth," I mused, noting that Fleur Delacour had faced some setbacks. Despite Cedric's top score, Harry dominated the headlines. The first task allowed the use of a Firebolt, but what about the reliance on one's wand? It seemed the tournament favored the bold, perhaps too much so. I pondered this as a black owl delivered an envelope, which I decided to open later that evening.
Today's lesson on Magizoology, led by a beaming Hagrid, focused on the Skrewt. I suspected Hagrid had only seen the part of the article praising his work, oblivious to Rita Skeeter's subtle dig at the dangers of his teaching methods. That evening, upon opening the envelope, my mood darkened instantly. "Attacked, and the culprits remain at large," I read, the letter originating from Silver Hand Manor. An attempt had been made to breach the manor's defenses, but the assailants had been repelled. Their ability to locate Silver Hand Manor suggested they were no ordinary foes. "Could it be Voldemort?" I wondered, though if it were him, the attack would likely have been more successful. It seemed probable that Death Eaters, seeking Barty Crouch Jr., who was detained at the manor, were responsible. "I've severed his Dark Mark; their persistence is troubling," I reflected, acknowledging that I might have underestimated the Death Eaters. Following Voldemort's downfall, many were imprisoned in Azkaban, though the most dangerous, like the Lestranges, remained at large, with others in hiding, awaiting their master's return.
The realization that Death Eaters had located Barty Jr. suggested a possible traitor within. Silver Hand Manor was heavily fortified, making internal betrayal a concerning possibility. I immediately penned a letter to Tang Mi, instructing him to conduct a thorough investigation. Direct involvement was risky, so I advised Tang Mi to recruit a skilled infiltrator for the manor's security team. Tang Mi's prompt response assured me of his commitment to purging any traitors. He had found an expert in disguise to join the security detail, offering me some peace of mind.
I sent Tang Mi a ring capable of temporarily neutralizing the enchantments binding Barty Jr. Removal of the ring would reactivate the magical constraints I had placed on him. With this precaution, Barty Jr. was covertly moved. In the depths of another prison, Ludo had been confined for over ten days. Throughout this period, his only interaction was with the solitary meal delivered daily, a routine that was slowly fraying his sanity. On one particular morning, he awoke to discover an additional presence in his cell. Overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of company, he barely registered the familiarity of the newcomer's face.
A large face loomed over him. Little Barty, upon opening his eyes and seeing this imposing figure, reacted instinctively. Without a moment's hesitation, he delivered a direct punch. Ludo, taken aback by the unexpected assault, felt a surge of anger and retaliated with a slap. The ensuing scuffle was bewildering to Ludo, who couldn't comprehend the ferocity of a man fighting with one hand missing. Eventually, he retreated, cowering in a corner like a frightened child, overwhelmed by the aggression.
Little Barty's eyes were clouded with confusion, struggling to piece together how he had ended up in this predicament.
Elsewhere, Lippi Kerber, an old Auror, seamlessly blended in with the security team, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His greatest asset was not his magical prowess but his ability to connect with anyone, a skill honed over years of service. His presence among the guards was as natural as if he were one of them, his demeanor unassuming yet confident.
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Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge