"That is—!!" someone shouted in terror.
"The Dark Mark! The Dark Mark has returned!!" A wave of panicked cries erupted from the crowd.
Rumors had long circulated in the wizarding world—one of them being that Voldemort had never truly died and would one day rise again.
The stadium, once buzzing with excitement, suddenly felt like scalding oil doused with cold water—it boiled over in chaos.
People shoved and surged toward the exits, and half the crowd was knocked to the ground. Some wizards summoned their broomsticks; others followed suit. The air and ground alike were jammed with frantic bodies.
The announcer tried to calm everyone down, but no one listened. One hundred thousand witches and wizards, all mixed together—some even taking advantage of the chaos to steal, loot, or prank—turned the entire scene into utter mayhem.
And the source of it all was nothing more than a single Dark Mark in the sky. The fear of Voldemort had already been etched deep into the bones of Europe's wizarding world.
When Wes Elwin returned to Hogwarts, Dumbledore was already waiting for him in the headmaster's office. The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, the firelight from the hearth flickering across Dumbledore's long silver beard.
"How did it go?"
"Just a mob of cowards," Wes shrugged. "I killed a few Death Eaters. The rest realized things weren't going their way and fled. Moody stayed behind to clean up the mess. Then someone else released the Dark Mark, which set off the panic."
Dumbledore's eyes sharpened. "Do you know who it was?"
Wes thought back to the scene. He hadn't spotted anyone suspicious. "It wasn't from that group of Death Eaters."
But in the original story, it had been Barty Crouch Jr. who released the Dark Mark. With that in mind, Wes cautioned, "Since Moody acted, the Death Eaters won't let him off easily."
Dumbledore nodded. "Moody is very cautious—he trusts almost no one."
"The one who released the Dark Mark also needs watching. He's not on the list Lucius provided."
Wes's words left Dumbledore in silence. The mysterious figure's appearance was indeed a troublesome matter.
"Azkaban isn't impenetrable. Didn't Sirius escape from there just last year?"
Dumbledore lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Wes. "You're suggesting a Death Eater might have escaped?"
Wes didn't answer him directly. "Don't you have plenty of friends in the Ministry? Check with them and you'll know."
With that, he turned and left. Dumbledore watched his retreating back, lost in thought.
Wes didn't care what arrangements Dumbledore made next. If, after his reminder, Barty Crouch Jr. still managed to sneak into Hogwarts, then Dumbledore really would be growing senile.
The incident at the Quidditch World Cup never appeared in the newspapers—clearly the Ministry had suppressed it. But there had been too many witnesses; rumors spread like wildfire across the magical community.
A grand celebration of wizardry had been utterly ruined by a single Dark Mark. Cornelius Fudge's seat as Minister was now dangerously unstable, and unrest simmered within the Ministry itself.
Fortunately, Hogwarts was unaffected and opened on schedule.
Still, the students' conversations never strayed far from that night at the World Cup. Even during the Sorting Ceremony, few paid attention—their minds remained fixated on that terrifying mark in the sky.
When Dumbledore announced that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Alastor Moody, the entire hall fell silent.
Not a single young wizard clapped in welcome—everyone was frightened by Moody's terrifying appearance. Even a few professors instinctively kept their distance.
Wes stared at Moody, lost in thought. I wonder if this is the real Moody… or someone in disguise.
Anyone caught under the gaze of Moody's magical eye instinctively lowered their head, unable to meet his stare. The atmosphere became uncomfortably awkward.
"Students," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall, "please welcome our new professor, Alastor Moody."
Moody stood beside him, his presence truly sending chills down spines.
"I know my appearance may frighten you," Moody's voice was deep and commanding, "but Defense Against the Dark Arts is not a light subject. Here, you will learn how to protect yourselves, how to face the forces of darkness."
Wes carefully observed Moody, trying to catch some inconsistency in his words or actions. He knew Barty Crouch Jr. might use this chance to infiltrate Hogwarts, and Moody would be the perfect target. But if this truly was Moody, then his arrival would undoubtedly bolster the school's defenses.
When Moody finished his speech, the hall fell into silence again. Only when Dumbledore took the lead in clapping did hesitant applause trickle through the students.
Moody might have been one of the most unpopular professors in Hogwarts history, but he didn't seem to care. He plopped down right beside Wes. "If not for your warning, I'd probably have been ambushed by Death Eaters."
"And last time too—if Dumbledore hadn't arrived in time to scare them off, I'd have lost my life."
"No need to thank me. Your strength is formidable, and Dumbledore praises you highly."
The two spoke quietly at the staff table, and only then did Wes confirm this Moody was real—not an impostor.
But their conversation was soon cut short as the students' chatter grew louder.
"Really, Headmaster?" the Weasley twins, Fred and George, shouted. "You're not joking, are you?"
Dumbledore, distracted by their question, veered off-topic. "Speaking of jokes, that reminds me of a rather amusing one. One day, a troll, a banshee, and a leprechaun walked into a bar…"
Professor McGonagall, sitting stiffly in her chair, cleared her throat to bring him back to the point. When Dumbledore seemed not to hear, she finally resorted to tapping her glass with a spoon.
Dumbledore came back to himself and addressed the hall. "Apologies, students. In fact, I have a very important announcement to make."
He scanned the room to ensure everyone was listening before continuing: "This year, Hogwarts will host a very special competition—the Triwizard Tournament."
The hall erupted into cheers, a storm of excited chatter breaking out instantly.
The Muggle-born students, though unsure what it meant, joined the celebration once they heard it was an event not held in over a century.
Then Dumbledore announced that, due to the Triwizard Tournament, all Quidditch matches for the year would be canceled.
Students were a bit disappointed, but the thought of a much grander event awaiting them quickly swept away their complaints.
°°°
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