"Then that will do it. Thank you, Mr. Gregorovitch."
Karkaroff smiled at Gregorovitch, then turned to Ludo Bagman.
"Do we need another photograph?"
"Of course! This is yet another iconic moment!"
Bagman replied cheerfully, pulling out his camera again. Compared to yesterday, however, the camera now had a tripod attached beneath it. He arranged the three champions, the judges, and Gregorovitch into position, then pressed the shutter and hurried around to stand beside the four judges. Only after the click sounded did he walk back, looking at the back of the camera with a satisfied smile.
"All right."
He nodded, signaling that everyone could disperse, then said to the three champions,
"And also, as I mentioned before—oh, Miss Delacour wasn't there at the time—this afternoon I'll be conducting individual interviews with each of you. You'll need to come by my office—it's on the second floor. I'll leave the door open, so you'll spot it right away... How does three o'clock in the afternoon sound?"
"No problem."
All three of them nodded.
"Then we'll begin with Mr. Krum."
Bagman continued naturally, paying no attention whatsoever to the surprised look in Krum's eyes.
"Then Miss Delacour—please come to my office at about three twenty. After that, Mr. Ken, at around three forty... No objections? Good!"
"Finished discussing it?"
Seeing that the champions and Bagman were done talking, Karkaroff checked the time and smiled.
"Then I believe you might as well go and have lunch directly. There are only a few minutes left before class ends anyway... And let me wish you a successful interview in advance this afternoon, Mr. Bagman."
...
Avada did not dare linger in Durmstrang's dining hall for long. Instead, he chose to return directly to the dining car on the Hogwarts Express and eat there.
Part of the reason was that, as the youngest champion and the one whose public name was only a single syllable, he was undoubtedly one of the focal points of attention for the entire school. And with a mission still hanging over him, he was not especially willing to expose himself too much to other people's eyes.
The other part was to spare the house-elves' feelings. If the service they provided was not properly enjoyed, they would not feel very good about it.
Besides, Gregorovitch's evaluation of his wand would certainly be passed along by the other two champions. It was hardly the sort of thing that needed to be kept secret. And the words of a top-tier wand master would, without question, raise the amount of attention on him by several more levels.
Still, he was not surprised Gregorovitch had described his wand that way. After all, he had always known in his heart that he had never possessed a wand like other wizards did—one that was uniquely his, one that had chosen him. While others were still at the stage of "the wand chooses the wizard," he had already been able to pick freely from Ollivander's stock. And the wand in his hand even now had indeed never fully completed its allegiance to him...
As for the reason, Avada suspected that this wand was unable to bear some particular trait of his, and was therefore stuck in this strange state between allegiance and non-allegiance.
'Thinking about it that way, I really have put this wand through a lot all this time...'
With that thought, Avada took out the wand that had followed him through countless storms and tempests, stolen Horcruxes, tricked Voldemort, and even sealed the diary. He held it in his hand and looked at it for a moment.
"Once the Tournament is over, I'll upgrade you with the Elder Wand's techniques."
After lunch, he rested in his room for a while, then returned to Durmstrang Castle for class.
After only half a day of lessons, he could already feel why Durmstrang deserved its reputation as a thousand-year-old school standing alongside Hogwarts. Whether in teaching standards or cultural depth, it was no worse than Hogwarts in the slightest—and in certain fields, it was even stronger.
For example, Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Even setting aside Durmstrang's own traditions of emphasizing dueling and war magic, Hogwarts's revolving door of Defense professors over the last fifty years—and the wildly uneven quality among them—was more than enough to leave that subject lagging far behind Durmstrang's. Even the British Auror Office had repeatedly complained to the school, saying that the state of the class had seriously affected recruitment...
Oh, right—and the History of Magic professor here was not a ghost, either. His lectures were also remarkably vivid.
But perhaps because of the need to preserve the secrecy of the school's location, there was not a single young professor here. Nearly every one of them was wrinkled all over, with either gray hair or a long beard, all looking at least sixty or seventy years old. Compared to them, Karkaroff actually counted as one of the youngest people in the whole school...
Thus, at 3:40 in the afternoon—
Avada had already explained his situation to the professor before class began, so he did not even have to bring it up himself. Five minutes early, the professor teaching simply told him that he could leave now.
After packing up his things, he headed to the second floor as instructed. After looking around a bit, he quickly found a room whose door was standing open. He leaned over and peered inside—
Ludo Bagman was there.
"Ah, Mr. Ken!"
Bagman immediately stood up and walked to the door, inviting him inside to sit across from him at the table.
"I've just finished interviewing Miss Delacour. If you'd come half a minute earlier, you might have run into her... Shall we begin now?"
"No problem."
Avada straightened his posture a little as he sat.
"Very good, then."
Ludo Bagman spread out a piece of parchment and dipped his quill into ink.
"Let's begin with the first question—what was it that drove you to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament?"
'To carry out Dumbledore's mission, and incidentally help Wormtail dig a pit for the pure-blood families...'
"Ahem."
Avada's expression turned serious.
"Of course, it was to help my alma mater, Hogwarts, win honor. The Triwizard Tournament has been suspended for hundreds of years, after all, and its revival this time is unquestionably of historic significance. If Hogwarts can win this Tournament, then the prestige it gains will surely rise even further..."
"And from a more personal perspective, I also felt that the lifting of the age restriction this time was a very good opportunity for me..."
He went on at length, while Bagman quickly recorded everything he said. Then came several more questions, all of which Avada answered as carefully as possible without letting anything slip. The process went very smoothly. Judging by how practiced Bagman seemed, these questions were probably all part of a standard template.
"Now then, there's one more thing everyone is very curious about."
He set down his quill, rubbed his wrist, and continued with a genial smile.
"In the Goblet's display, your name appears as only 'Ken.' May I ask—"
"Ah, sorry, but that's not something I can conveniently answer."
Avada immediately shook his head decisively.
"My current name has been recognized by Hogwarts, the Book of Admittance, and the Goblet of Fire—threefold approval. There is no issue or inconvenience with it whatsoever."
"...I see."
Bagman nodded, looking somewhat disappointed.
"Then that's all. Is there anything you'd like to say to the public?"
"Hmm... nothing for the moment."
"Very well. Then this interview is concluded. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Ken."
He stood up and smilingly patted Avada on the shoulder.
"You may go now—there's no need to shut the door. A little airflow like this is rather nice, thank you."
Classes had just ended, and the corridor outside was already growing noisy with students. It seemed Ludo Bagman quite enjoyed a lively atmosphere...
'There's nothing else I need to dwell on for the moment.'
Avada wandered through the castle for a bit, then directly found the classroom where his next lesson would be held. He went in, arranged his textbooks and parchment on the desk, and began silently planning things out again.
'For the next stretch of time, I can devote more energy to the investigation. The key point is Barty Crouch. If he really doesn't know his son has escaped, then he should be casting the Imperius Curse once every week or so. And that means he'll have to leave Durmstrang...'
"Mr. Ken!"
Suddenly, a loud crash shattered his train of thought. The classroom door was violently flung open, and Barty Crouch came striding toward him with wand in hand.
"I need you to come with me at once. To the headmaster's office. Quickly."
"What happened?"
Avada's eyelid twitched.
Crouch's face was ashen. He stared at him for a moment before finally speaking, his voice hoarse and harsh.
"Ludo Bagman... is dead."
(End of Chapter)