[100] Spiral into the Dark

"That's an adult matter, none of our business," Hall thought. He had a suspicion, but didn't intend to tell Draco and the others. "Hogwarts has Dumbledore. Let's just focus on our studies and enjoy our short student life." And of course, there was Grindelwald.

Thinking this, Hall leaned back, rested his head on his hand, and leisurely walked toward his room.

Draco and Blaise exchanged a glance. Blaise shrugged, indicating that since Hall didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't press the matter. His curiosity wasn't that strong. But Draco didn't feel the same. He thought everything happening at Hogwarts was somehow related to his family. He decided to write to his father that night, asking if anything had happened at home recently.

"I heard Hogwarts is going to hold the Triwizard Tournament?" Grindelwald, wiping his fingers with a rag, asked casually, as if suddenly remembering something.

Hall had been practising sparring with Grindelwald recently. It had to be said — a real fight was completely different from regular practice. He never expected Grindelwald, at barely five feet tall, to be so good at dodging. Hall's attacks were almost entirely dodged. He collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily, exhausted from dodging Grindelwald's assaults.

Grindelwald didn't have a wand. All his attacks were silent, wandless spells, making them impossible for Hall to defend against. And because he didn't use a wand, his spellcasting was harder to predict.

"Yes, they arrive tonight," Hall answered Grindelwald's question after his breathing had calmed.

"Arriving today? So soon." Grindelwald's voice was low, not really addressing Hall.

Hall propped himself up and sat on the floor. An hour of parkour had really worn him out.

"Heh, you young people these days are so delicate." Grindelwald's mocking voice came from behind him.

Hall didn't bother replying. The room was small — an hour of scrambling around was enough to exhaust a professional Quidditch player.

Hall stood up, back to Grindelwald, and waved lazily. "Master, I'm going to change. They'll be here soon." His clothes were already a mess. He couldn't go to the welcome party looking dishevelled. Dumbledore wouldn't care, but his Slytherin classmates would nag him to death.

"Get lost," Grindelwald said dismissively.

He watched Hall leave the castle. "The Triwizard Tournament is being held early. Looks like someone can't wait any longer."

With that, Grindelwald straightened up, clutching his back, his face contorted in pain. He groaned and moaned as he slowly moved from the wall to the desk and plopped down in a chair.

"Tsk. Getting old. Threw my back out twice already."

"You need to exercise more, otherwise that brat will surpass you."

"Now, please welcome the lovely ladies from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and their Headmistress, Madame Maxime —" Dumbledore's enthusiastic voice echoed throughout the Great Hall.

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As soon as he finished speaking, the Great Hall doors slowly opened with a soft creak. A refreshing breeze wafted in, accompanied by cheerful music. All eyes were drawn to a group of female students in bright blue school uniforms, who entered with light, graceful steps, like elegant dancers.

Their faces beamed with radiant smiles, their skirts billowing in the breeze, like a group of gracefully dancing nymphs, beautiful and enchanting. Behind them stood a tall woman in a magnificent silk robe and a black feathered hat — Madame Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. She stood tall and proud, radiating confidence.

Her appearance drew the attention of everyone present, especially the boys, who couldn't help but murmur in amazement. "Wow! A giantess!"

Hall gazed at Madame Maxime. Her stature was no less imposing than Hagrid's. When she approached Dumbledore, she made him appear petite and delicate.

Dumbledore was clearly dressed meticulously today. His white beard was neatly tied back. He wore a magnificent white silk robe adorned with shimmering star patterns, and a tall, pointed hat. He smiled as he descended the steps, extended his right hand, took Madame Maxime's hand, and politely kissed the back of it.

Madame Maxime was ushered to the main stage. The Beauxbatons girls, divided into several lines, took their seats in an orderly fashion. They sat gracefully, adjusting their skirts.

Dumbledore returned to the stage, gestured for silence, and announced loudly, "Next, let us welcome our friends from the North, and their Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff —"

The Great Hall, which had become noisy with the arrival of the Beauxbatons girls, fell silent instantly. All eyes fixed on the entrance. Hall's gaze followed the crowd.

One by one, boys in brown school uniforms entered in perfect unison. They wielded their wands with fluid, powerful movements. They entered in a single file, then quickly changed to a V-formation. Each time a wand struck the ground, it emitted a dazzling metallic flash.

As they approached the stage, several boys at the front performed a series of difficult rolls — two forward rolls and a side roll — successfully drawing everyone's attention.

But the next second, another figure appeared in the doorway. Almost all the students couldn't help but let out suppressed screams.

"It's Krum!!!" Draco exclaimed excitedly, his face flushed red, gripping Blaise's arm tightly, his expression contorted with excitement.

Hall looked curiously at the figure attracting everyone's attention and confirmed he didn't recognise him.

Draco stared at Hall in disbelief, as if he had heard the most absurd thing in the world. "That's Viktor Krum! You don't know him!?"

Hall shook his head. He didn't care much about such things.

A chorus of voices rose and fell around him.

"My Merlin, it's him!" someone exclaimed.

"Viktor Krum!" another shouted excitedly.

The man, draped in a heavy overcoat and wearing a fur hat, walked ahead of his school's headmaster, exuding an air of status and prestige.

"He's the Seeker for the Bulgarian national Quidditch team!" Draco told Hall, his eyes fixed on Krum, a look of adoration in them.

Hall, observing Draco's reaction, shook his head. Why were these people so obsessed with Quidditch?

More than the prominent Krum, Hall was more interested in the man standing behind him — the Headmaster of Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff.

A night breeze rustled the leaves, as if they too mourned the dragon's death.

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, then turned and walked towards Hogwarts Castle. His figure receded into the night, leaving a sombre atmosphere behind.

Snape glanced at Hagrid, then at the dragon's corpse, and followed Dumbledore silently.

Hagrid took one last look at the dragon, sighed helplessly, and trudged after them.

Hall and Harry left with what they needed. It was already late. Harry was yawning. Hall decided to continue tomorrow. Barty Crouch Jr. was in Dumbledore's hands — he wouldn't escape. As for the Ministry of Magic? Hall had complete confidence in their efficiency, or lack thereof. They certainly wouldn't appear too early.

After saying goodbye to Harry, Hall returned to the infirmary alone.

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