The faint moonlight spilled across the rows of gravestones, their carved names long worn away by years of neglect.
Not far off stood a building without a single light, its walls draped in vines, its structure decayed and abandoned—clearly a place no one had lived in for ages.
From these details alone, it was obvious this was a long-deserted graveyard, a remote corner untouched by human presence.
Certainly not a place anyone would willingly visit in the middle of the night.
In other words, it was the perfect location for murder, secrecy, and things meant to be hidden from the world...
But with his thoughts in chaos, Harry Potter had no room to consider any of that.
His entire attention was locked on the silhouette walking out of the darkness.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The figure was making its way toward him, step by step, weaving through the gravestones.
Its head remained lowered, and despite straining as hard as he could, Harry couldn't see the person's face. Judging from the height, the figure was short. And from the way the arms were positioned—cradling something close—it looked like they were carrying an object.
The hunched back, the hesitant steps… it all felt strangely unsure.
Harry glanced toward the stern "Alastor Moody" standing beside him, trying to understand not only Moody's inexplicable reverence toward this stranger, but also the growing dread tightening inside his chest…
...
As the distance shrank and the moonlight revealed more detail, Harry finally made out the figure's clothing.
And the moment he recognized it, shock washed over his face.
Because—
"A Durmstrang robe? And… that's the Champion badge. Why is it on him!?"
Harry instinctively looked down at his own chest where the same badge sat. His memory was perfectly clear despite being bound.
Only those chosen as Champions could wear that badge.
There were only four.
Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons.
Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter of Hogwarts.
And Viktor Krum of Durmstrang—who should have been here with him, but had vanished…
"Is that you, Viktor!!!?"
Fueled by disbelief and a sense of betrayal, Harry shouted, teeth clenched so hard his voice cracked. His fury made it look as though he might break free from the Incarcerous at any moment.
He hadn't forgotten who told him to fetch the task item.
But the figure wearing Durmstrang's robes—who might have been Viktor Krum—did not respond.
Beside him, "Moody" straightened and opened his mouth in a wide, silent laugh.
The figure moved slowly, stopping before a tall marble tombstone just a few meters from Harry.
Harry strained upward, desperate to see his face.
And in that instant—he met someone's gaze.
"AAAHHH!!!"
The lightning scar on his forehead, already burning like fire, exploded with pain.
It was far worse than anything he'd felt before, ripping a scream from his throat as his bound body writhed uncontrollably.
His agony seemed to draw brief satisfaction from the one staring at him, but that expression quickly shifted—becoming sharp, cold, and filled with excitement.
"I've been waiting for you… Harry Potter.
The blood of my enemy…will let me return to life…"
Half-conscious, Harry heard the words echo faintly in his ears.
Return to life?
Who was being revived?
The blood of his enemy…
Did that mean him…?
...
On the other side…
Unlike where Harry Potter was, the clouds overhead hadn't fully cleared, but it was still clearly broad daylight.
Several professors, with Dumbledore at the front, stood at the center of the pitch. Since all the professors had gathered around him, the young wizards weren't leaving as quickly as usual. Naturally, every curious and anxious gaze was fixed on Dumbledore.
After all, everyone wanted to know what had happened.
"What we can confirm is that there are no traces of death at the scene. That rules out the possibility that Malfoy's Fiendfyre killed him. My guess is that the other side used some method we don't yet understand to move Harry Potter—and they did it under a magical barrier, not to mention taking a wizard away right in front of everyone."
The speaker was an Auror from the Ministry of Magic—specifically one assigned to protect Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, which was why he was here at all.
Although his main duty was guarding the Director of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and the visibly unwell Barty Crouch, it was far more efficient to let professionals handle this matter, so he had stepped forward to take over the investigation.
"Then what could it be? You know that Apparition and similar magic can't be used in Hogwarts."
"I'm not sure, but maybe—" The Auror hesitated, as if considering something he didn't want to voice.
Snape, already irritable with Harry Potter's fate uncertain, didn't bother with tact.
"A Portkey, surely. Unless the Ministry made a mistake, I can't think of any other way someone could tamper with the task item."
"..."
The Auror said nothing and stepped back, expression unchanged.
Ludo Bagman looked awkward at the remark, while Barty Crouch's face grew even paler.
"Enough, Severus. Tell us what you've found," Dumbledore said.
Snape responded with a cold snort.
"I've questioned everyone who was still at the school at the time. None of them saw Alastor."
"I see. Then this is definitely tied to Alastor. It's very likely all of this was planned by him."
Hearing that, Minerva McGonagall—still unwilling to accept it—looked distressed.
"But… Albus, why would Alastor do something like this? I mean, what would he gain?"
"That's what I want to know."
No one could see the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles, but the tension in Dumbledore's voice was unmistakable.
Everyone knew that Alastor had left in the middle of the match, and he'd done it right under Dumbledore's nose.
In a way, his actions were a direct challenge to the greatest wizard of the age.
And it made one wonder what kind of confidence "Alastor Moody" had to dare make a move like that.
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on P@treon.
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
[email protected]/BlurryDream