Ron came running over, panting heavily, just in time to catch a glimpse of Krum's scarlet cloak disappearing around the corner.
"Krum… what was that guy doing here with you lot?" he asked between breaths with his eyes darting quickly toward Hermione.
"He just came to ask for information," Wade said as he returned to the group. "Karkaroff has most likely run away."
"Run away?" Harry's eyebrows nearly shot up into his hairline. He said angrily, "He must've known something and didn't want to tell anyone—so he just bolted!"
"But we can't exactly drag him back for questioning now," Michael said, frowning. "The real question is… what kind of threat could scare a headmaster so badly he'd abandon his own students and flee in the middle of the night?"
Ron looked completely lost. "Run away? Karkaroff? What are you all talking about?"
A group of students ran laughing across the lawn nearby, one of them even tumbled into a roll at the end—completely unaware of the serious topic being discussed under the tree.
…
The weekend passed in a blur. For two nights in a row, Harry, Hermione, and Ron used the Invisibility Cloak to sneak into the Restricted Section of the library, poring over the dark magic books normally forbidden to students.
The cloak could barely cover all three of them anymore, so each time Harry had to make two nervous trips to ferry his friends in and out of the library.
After class on Monday, Hermione couldn't help but discuss what she'd read:
"I finished The Cursed Bones last night, along with The Art of Sacrifice and Origins of Dark Magic," she whispered. "It's possible the killer was trying to cast some sort of curse using the bones…"
Harry quickly gestured for her to stop talking and pointed ahead. "Look—Durmstrang students."
Two students in dark red robes were walking toward the Great Hall, surrounded by a few Slytherins. They were chatting and laughing together, looking perfectly cheerful.
"That's so weird," Ron muttered. "Their headmaster disappeared, and it's look like it doesn't bother them at all… if anything, they look happier."
Harry said thoughtfully, "Karkaroff must've been really strict with them. Did you ever see how he talked to his own students? It's like, to him, anyone who wasn't Krum didn't even matter."
Hermione said sympathetically, "It wasn't much different for Viktor. Before he became famous, Karkaroff treated him just as harshly."
Ron shot her a glance, and the amused grin that had been on his face vanished immediately.
When they reached the Entrance Hall, they found it packed tight with students, everyone craning their necks to look at a large notice board that had been set up near the stairs.
The buzz of conversation filled the space, making it hard to hear what anyone up front was saying.
Ron, being the tallest, pressed a hand on Harry's shoulder and stretched his neck as far as he could. After finally getting a good look, he read out loudly—
"Urgent Notice: To prepare for the Third Task of the Tournament, all afternoon classes are suspended today. All students are required to assist with setting up the event grounds. Please report to the Quidditch Pitch at 3:30 p.m."
"Classes suspended?"
Harry's eyes lit up instantly, but then he frowned. "Wait… assist with setup?"
For the last two tasks, the Ministry had built the entire arena overnight by themselves—students hadn't been involved at all.
"Whatever it is, it's better than lessons!" Ron said excitedly. "Brilliant! No classes this afternoon means no homework either!"
Before he could finish speaking, the students who had read the notice burst into cheers —
To them, anything was more fun than sitting in a classroom listening to lectures.
"What?" Hermione said in disbelief. "Why are classes being suspended? I already made my study schedule! Can't they set up the arena on the weekend instead?"
But it seemed she was the only one upset about it — everyone else was so delighted they were practically ready to throw their schoolbags in the air.
"Wait, this is all so sudden…" Harry frowned. "Could it have something to do with what Wade mentioned before?"
"Of course it does!" Hermione huffed. "Maybe the school needs everyone out of the castle to make it easier for them to search… but they could just as easily do that over the weekend! Why take away class time?"
Harry could tell Hermione was in a state where reasoning wouldn't help, so he quietly closed his mouth.
…
After lunch, groups of students made their way toward the Quidditch Pitch. Harry and Ron bounded down the steps cheerfully, while Hermione followed gloomily behind — still carrying her book bag, which, unsurprisingly, contained several thick volumes.
"You're really planning to study right now?" Ron asked incredulously, glancing back at her.
Hermione lifted her chin stubbornly. "Who knows how long this will take? I might as well use any spare time I get."
As Wade descended the steps, he happened to overhear this and once again deeply understood why — despite her not having a bad temper and always being willing to help others with their studies — Hermione still didn't have many friends in Gryffindor.
When they arrived, it was clear the professors had already begun. The Quidditch Pitch had been transformed into a vast open-air workshop. Professor McGonagall stood at the entrance, handing out assignments to groups of students.
Inside, Professor Flitwick was gracefully waving his wand — old wooden benches were restoring themselves to pristine condition, and more planks floated up into the air, automatically assembling into neat rows of new seating.
Professor Sprout was working as well, carrying a large basket from which living vines continuously flew out and wrapped around the stands and weaved into elegant railings.
Filch trudged slowly across the field, dragging a heavy crate of ropes. Students ahead of him quickly stepped aside to clear the way.
Students like Wade, who excelled at Transfiguration, were assigned to decorate the main stands. With a gentle tap of his wand, a scratched old stool turned into a beautifully carved armchair.
Harry and his group were in charge of cleaning the entire area. Buckets of magical cleaning solution floated by under levitation charms, and soon the air was filled with the strong scent of rosemary and mint.
Even the first-years had tasks — hanging banners and ribbons, making flags, and setting up little golden bells as decoration.
Most of the professors focused on casting Solidification Charms on the new seats, ensuring the stands wouldn't suddenly revert to their original form or collapse under the audience's weight once the magic wore off.
As Michael leisurely used his wand to color the carvings on a chair, he complained to Wade:
"What a hassle… Why can't they just bring part of the Quidditch Final stadium here instead? How many spectators are they expecting anyway? Are they really adding this many seats — don't tell me all ten other schools are coming to watch?"
"Impossible. Uagadou alone has tens of thousands of students," Wade replied. "It's probably just a small selection — most of the audience will be officials from various Ministries of Magic."
As he spoke, his eyes flicked toward Professor McGonagall at the center of the field.
Wade noticed that Professor Snape wasn't there — nor was Professor Moody.
And more than the upcoming task itself, what truly intrigued Wade was this: at such a sensitive time, with everything that had happened recently, was the school really organizing this big "setup effort" just to thoroughly search the castle?
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