After returning to his room on the train, Avada forced himself not to keep dwelling on all that chaotic nonsense. Once he had dealt with the matters on Belby's side, he simply collapsed into bed and went straight to sleep. After all, he still had far too little information. There was no point in overthinking everything by himself.
And unless some further unexpected development occurred, he had no intention of telling his companions that there was a conspiracy behind this Tournament.
Part of the reason was that he was afraid those people—whose acting skills were nowhere near as good as his own—might let something slip in front of outsiders, causing unnecessary trouble for Dumbledore's investigation. The other reason was that, truthfully, he was not especially worried that any unexpected incident would endanger the students.
After all, Grindelwald had already guaranteed that the pure-blood families' plan would fail in an extremely ridiculous fashion. And if a great many innocent people ended up getting dragged into it and wounded or killed, then no matter how one looked at it, it could never be called "ridiculous," could it?
Grindelwald was only a former ambitious schemer, not a madman. And for someone whose heart was set on "making wizardkind great again," and who also happened to be the vice headmaster of a university, losses among the magical world's young elite would by no means be a good thing.
Still, since he had promised Dumbledore that he would do his best to protect the Hogwarts students, then he definitely had to put in some effort behind the scenes. At the very least, over the coming days, he needed to find a chance to confirm Barty Crouch's condition in a short span of time, and then judge from there whether he should leak a bit more information to Dumbledore—or even do something more drastic, like directly hit old Barty with Legilimency...
After mentally reviewing his plans for the days ahead, Avada almost found himself praying that the Goblet of Fire would not choose him as champion.
He was already busy enough.
...
Early the next morning, when some of the Hogwarts students made their way to Durmstrang's hall out of habit, intending to eat breakfast, they were surprised to discover that the long tables and round tables from the night before had all disappeared. In the now completely empty hall, only the teachers' dais at the front remained, along with the Goblet of Fire, still leaping with blue flames.
Only after asking around did they learn that Durmstrang had a proper dining hall of its own, rather than letting students eat directly in the hall the way Hogwarts did. If not for the Goblet of Fire still being there, hardly anyone would ordinarily come to the hall at all...
But after they found the location of the dining hall, they discovered that Durmstrang's Nordic-style food was actually quite good. There were even quite a few French and English breakfast items as well, though it was unclear whether those were normally provided or had been specially added for the guests.
And after breakfast ended, since the Hogwarts students had not received any notice about classes or activities, they had nowhere to go. So they could only return to the Express and gather in the dining carriage to chat.
A while later, Dumbledore came in from outside, holding a stack of parchment.
"Come here, children."
Dumbledore gathered the students into the meeting room and distributed the parchments in his hands, explaining,
"These are Durmstrang's course selection forms. You need to tick the classes corresponding to the ones you take at Hogwarts, and attach your current course progress as well. Beginning tomorrow, you will officially begin receiving Durmstrang's instruction."
"Don't worry. I've looked over their courses in general, and they are almost no different from Hogwarts's. The pace is also more or less the same. After all, this subject-based structure for foundational magical education is practically an internationally recognized standard..."
"...Er, Professor,"
one student said, raising a hand while looking over the form.
"What is this 'Dueling' class? Is it a club? Or an actual course?"
"It is an actual course."
Dumbledore nodded.
"This is one of Durmstrang's distinctive offerings. Its content overlaps somewhat with our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, but it places greater emphasis on practical combat. Though to be honest, I personally do not particularly recommend that you choose it. For one thing, we have no instructional foundation in that area, and for another, their understanding of dueling is not quite the same as ours—for example, this course openly teaches Dark Magic."
"Then forget it."
Several students who had looked rather tempted immediately shrank back.
Every student present was elite among elites in terms of knowledge, ability, and character, so naturally they all understood quite well the dangers of abusing—or even merely mastering—Dark Magic. They had also learned in full, through Defense Against the Dark Arts, how to resist Dark Magic. Naturally, none of them wanted to study that kind of thing.
Very quickly, the students completed their forms and handed them back to Dumbledore. He then left the train again with the stack of parchment and headed back toward Durmstrang Castle, leaving behind yet another group of students with nothing to do...
"I want to go look around Durmstrang first."
One of the Gryffindors stood up.
"Anyone want to come?"
"Wouldn't that be a bit inappropriate?"
Cedric asked hesitantly.
"They should still be in class right now. If we wander around freely, we might disturb them..."
"Then let's go check out the library first."
A Ravenclaw suggested this, and immediately won broad support. Dumbledore had not restricted their movements in any case, and simply going to the library to read would not bother anyone. So the Hogwarts students entered Durmstrang in little groups. After asking someone for the location of the library, they headed straight there—right now the hall was full of students gathered around the Goblet of Fire, so it could not have been a better time to ask for directions.
Then, not long after they had settled into the library, they saw a group of students in pale-blue uniforms walk in as well. Apparently the Beauxbatons students also had nothing to do at the moment. The two groups merely exchanged silent glances, and neither side stepped forward to offer greetings.
After all, the Hogwarts students were not exactly unfamiliar with making jokes about the French in everyday life, and only a few months earlier, at the Quidditch World Cup, they had been cheering enthusiastically when Ireland defeated France...
And it seemed Beauxbatons was much the same.
So the two sides—natural competitors who had not exactly been shy about looking down on one another in the past—maintained an awkward silence and each read their own books, yet neither side was willing to be the first to leave the library. It was only lunchtime that finally liberated them...
And so, that afternoon, the Durmstrang students were all wondering why those foreign students who had looked so full of intellectual curiosity in the morning—making everyone sigh in admiration that they really were elites—had not a single one of them come to the library all afternoon.
"Time to gather in the hall, children!"
At last, at five in the afternoon, the students—who were starting to feel unable to endure being stuck in their rooms any longer—finally received Dumbledore's summons.
"There is another feast waiting for us, and after that—we will finally learn the identity of the champions."
(End of Chapter)