A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 384: Dispute

"Ronald Weasley," Dumbledore called out again.

Ron was completely stunned. He couldn't help but wonder if there was another student named "Ronald" in the school, but there was only one Weasley with that surname.

Soon, he stood up excitedly, "I'm a champion, I'm a champion!" He reached out and pulled Hermione, who was in a daze, and walked happily to Harry's side. He leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear, "You're amazing, mate! I thought you left me behind. How did you do it? Did you use an Invisibility Cloak at night? Honestly, you should have woken me up. I haven't seen..."

"I didn't put any piece of paper into the Goblet!" Harry said in frustration. He couldn't help but get angry. How couldn't Ron see that he hadn't done anything?

"Alright... you three, go inside that door," Dumbledore said, his face devoid of a smile.

The hall was abuzz with discussion, making Harry feel overwhelmed. He just wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and think in a quiet corner. He walked away without any attachment, as if he wanted to leave his troubles behind. Hermione followed him with concern, and Ron walked last. He intentionally slowed down, straightened his chest, and walked like the important person he imagined in his mind. The only regret was the lack of applause in the hall.

Harry pushed open the door. He had been craning his neck from his seat to see inside before, but now he finally saw it clearly. It was a small room with wizard portraits hanging on both sides of the walls. As they entered, a wrinkled witch left her frame and started whispering to the wizard in the adjacent portrait. Below the portraits were six or seven spacious sofas that reminded him of the Room of Requirement. Across from them, the fireplace was roaring.

Harry realized things weren't looking good. This wasn't a place for contemplation. Fifteen pairs of eyes were all fixed on them. In that instant, their gazes made Harry feel suffocated. Ron gave him a nudge from behind and cheerfully stuck his head out, "What are you waiting for, Harry? Do you want them to get a better look at the youngest champion?"

"Shut up!" Harry said, but it was too late. Just a few steps away on one of the sofas, the girl who resembled a Veela and might be named "Fleur" lifted an exquisite face and looked at them in astonishment. "Are you the champions?"

"I..."

Before Harry could answer, she turned her head, her silvery hair swaying, and looked at someone in a different direction. Harry caught a whiff of the fragrance that hit him in the face, choking back the words he had planned to say. He heard Fleur speak toward that direction, "Cedric, your students really know how to joke..."

It was then that Harry noticed, across from Fleur, were the three champions of Hogwarts. Cedric smiled at him, "Is something the matter? We can't hear much in there, it's quite chaotic outside."

Harry found himself suddenly losing the ability to speak, especially in front of the three champions of Hogwarts. It felt like Snape had cast a Silencing Charm behind his back.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached from behind them. Ludo Bagman rushed over, "Why are you all lingering outside?" He said with great enthusiasm, pushing the three of them—Harry, Ron, and Hermione—into the room. Warm air greeted them as they entered.

"Absolutely bizarre!" Bagman pinched Harry's arm excitedly, dragging him to the center of the room. He looked around, as if reciting a classic line from a play, "Absolutely bizarre! Ladies and gentlemen... Please allow me to introduce—although it seems incredible—this is the sixth set of champions for the Triwizard Tournament!"

He seemed oblivious to the stares he was getting, waving at Hermione and Ron who were still by the door, "Come over, don't be shy! It's truly a wonder! You've got your seniors in there too, you should get to know them properly—"

Ron tugged at Hermione, but she shrugged him off. So he went over alone, standing tall. He was feeling quite dizzy at the moment, overwhelmed by immense joy that filled every corner of his being. He suddenly wanted to raise his wand and cast the Patronus Charm; he was sure he could do it. After all, he was a champion! He hadn't seen a scene like this even in the Mirror of Erised back in his first year.

But Fleur's words poured cold water on his enthusiasm—

"Sorry, Mr. Bagman," Fleur said, "Did something go wrong? They can't compete; they're too young—two little boys and a little girl."

Even though Harry's mind was a jumble of emotions and thoughts, he felt a twinge of anger upon hearing this.

Little boys?

At this moment, a group of footsteps approached, and the door was slammed open with a loud "bang." Madame Maxime, tall and robust, entered, followed by a procession of heads of schools and a wan-looking Barty Crouch Sr.

"What does this mean, Dumbledore?" she said angrily, her head almost hitting the chandelier that hung down from the ceiling. The chandelier had magical lights, and as she straightened up, it blocked a significant portion of the light, casting the room into shadows.

"I'd like to know that too, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said, his face bearing a cold smile and his eyes emanating coldness.

The other heads of schools were all visibly angry, ready to make their complaints.

The scene in the hall shifted again—

Felix was crouched, carefully examining the extinguished Triwizard Cup. It looked like something a clumsy carpenter might have made using an ill-suited axe, without a single smooth surface.

Yet, he studied it with great intensity, his eyes flickering with a constant light.

"Do you see anything, Felix?" Flitwick asked quietly, "Is there something wrong with the Cup?"

"It's easy to conclude that there's a problem with the Cup. The question is, who did it, and how," Felix whispered. "But my greatest concern isn't this. Having two unique sets of champions... might not be a good thing."

Flitwick hesitated as he looked at him. "Dumbledore will handle it, won't he?"

Meanwhile, the hall was chaotic. Many professors were maintaining order voluntarily. "Heads of houses, take charge," Professor Sprout said loudly. "The headmasters will deliberate and come to a conclusion. We just need to wait."

"It's not just waiting!" a gruff voice interjected.

Professor Sprout turned around, looking surprised at the limping figure walking towards them. "Professor Moody?"

Moody was also present in the hall.

He went past Professor Sprout. His magical eye was spinning madly in its socket as he gazed at the tumultuous students.

"Quiet!" he roared. "Listen to me now." He paced through the crowd, the thud of his wooden leg making a dull sound, "There's been a little hiccup. Your headmaster has more important matters to attend to. There's something I need to clarify on his behalf."

He raised his head, his two eyes scanning the crowd, as he said in a hushed tone, "I know that some of you don't follow the common path or are afraid to make a fool of yourselves... In any case, you chose to sign up at night... when it was quiet and dark... You might have thought you were alone, but there was a shadowy figure lurking in the darkness. I'm absolutely certain that some of you saw him... Those places that seemed strange to you, things that were different from usual... odd shadows, reflections that don't make sense, think about them, then tell me."

Amidst the uneasy commotion, young wizards and witches looked left and right. Amidst the crowd, a Hufflepuff student raised his trembling hand.

"Is it you? Is it you? Child, did you discover something?"

Sure, I'd be happy to translate the provided text into English while maintaining the tone and authenticity of the Harry Potter universe:

Moody strode over, his hand on the young wizard's shoulder, and bent down to ask. The young wizard was frightened, trying his best to keep away from Moody's artificial eye.

"Professor Moody, you seem to have scared him," Felix said. At some point, he had appeared next to Moody, subtly observing him.

"You're right, Harp," Moody clicked his tongue. A smile, mingled with the scars on his face, emerged, making him even more terrifying.

But he stepped back a few paces and made way.

Felix rescued the young wizard from Moody's grip and asked gently, "What's your name? What year are you in?"

"Um, Owen Cadwell, sir," the young wizard stuttered, "I'm in my first year."

Felix smiled, "You can call me Professor Harp. So, Mr. Cadwell, were you out for a night stroll yesterday? As a first-year, you're quite brave. Tell us what you saw."

"It wasn't a night stroll, Professor Harp," Owen emphasized. He saw Moody lowering his head again, his terrifying face getting closer, so he hurriedly closed his eyes. "I wanted to go to the kitchen to get some food. Eleanor told me about it, she's my friend... But on the way back, I thought the Triwizard Cup was in the entrance hall, and I could take a look... Professor, I didn't intend to break any rules."

"I see. What did you see?" Felix asked, getting to the point.

"I, I saw... I saw..." he stammered, suddenly widening his eyes, "Headmaster Darmesteter!"

The hall was so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

"It can't be true! He's lying!" a Darmesteter student exclaimed indignantly.

"I'm not!" the young wizard named Owen turned red and shouted, "I saw his beard, goat-like beard! He sneaked out of the entrance hall!"

"Well done, child," Moody grinned a terrifying grin, pulling Owen towards the adjacent room of the hall, "I need your testimony. Let's see what they have to say now!"

Felix followed, pondering quietly. He wasn't as optimistic as Moody; things inside were probably already in chaos.

As expected, as soon as they pushed the door open, Karkaroff's voice could be heard—

"Rules? Unfair rules! I insist my students re-register, and of course, other schools too. In short, Hogwarts must be excluded!"

"But Karkaroff, this is probably not possible," Bagman said uneasily, "The Triwizard Cup has just extinguished. It won't reignite until the next tournament."

"In the next tournament, Durmstrang will definitely not participate!" Karkaroff thundered, pacing back and forth in the narrow room. His silvery fur cloak made a loud rustling sound, "So, I propose, release the restrictions on Durmstrang students, the part about dark magic..."

"Karkaroff, we've discussed this—"

"You're discussing this with me? Haven't we had enough meetings before? What has it brought us? Shameful cheating! I almost want to leave now!"

"Are you accusing others to divert attention, Karkaroff?" Moody roared, "All champions must participate, as Dumbledore said. They are bound by a magical contract. Unless you want your students to face severe consequences."

Karkaroff panted and glared at him, his eyes red, but he didn't mention leaving anymore. He turned to the other three headmasters, "What do you think?"

"Don't try to change the subject! Clear your suspicion first before accusing others!" Moody shouted.

"What do you think I would do?" Karkaroff exclaimed, "I'm just cautious by nature, habitually checking... Even if I wanted to cheat, I wouldn't make a mysterious second group of champions for Hogwarts!"

This made sense. The other headmasters nodded slightly. Everyone hoped their champions would win, but they wouldn't engage in actions that benefited rival schools, giving them a second chance.

However, Moody persisted, "Perhaps someone's purpose isn't to win... Right," his voice carried a hint of a growl, "Perhaps someone wants Potter to die for this. Yes, some of you might not understand, an ordinary little boy, what's the big deal... but you understand his value, don't you, Karkaroff?"

His magical eye swiveled around, capturing everyone's expressions in the room. The one remaining intact eye stared at Karkaroff, spittle flying.

"Don't forget your former identity. Some scum remains scum for life. You—"

"Alastor!" Dumbledore looked at him sternly. Moody clicked his tongue, falling silent.

Karkaroff resembled an injured animal, suddenly devoid of all strength, and leaned against the wall involuntarily. "You're... threatening! Let me tell you, it wasn't me... there's no reason..."

Madame Maxime let out a loud hum. Seated alone on a sofa, she voiced, "I must remind you, we're off-topic now. I don't know what grudges you hold, but our focus right now is how to handle the unexpected second group of champions from Hogwarts."

"These are minor issues," Felix suddenly spoke up.

"Minor issues? Minor issues!?" Madame Maxime repeated his words in annoyance.

"That's right, minor issues... Please wait, ma'am," Felix said, looking at Dumbledore. "Albus?"

Dumbledore looked up, locking eyes with him—

In an instant, light and shadows twisted, the world turned upside down.

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