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Chapter 540: Karkaroff’s Reckoning
🕑 Added 2025-02-25 12:30:36 +0000 UTC“So, the good stuff you mentioned earlier is gone now?” Kanna asked curiously over dinner.
“Not just that,” Kyle replied drearily, poking at his plate. “I lost something else too.”
Even though he had already made the decision to give the small bottle of ashes to Dumbledore, Kyle couldn’t shake the lingering sense of loss that surfaced every time he thought about it. Not even the delicious aroma of fried pork chops could lift his mood.
Kanna seemed to notice his melancholy and quickly changed the subject. “Is Mr. Nicolas Flamel still at the school?”
“No,” Kyle said with a shake of his head. “Nicolas doesn’t like crowded places. He’s already gone back.”
“By airship?” Kanna asked tentatively, offering Kyle a piece of toast as she spoke.
“How did you know?” Kyle looked at her, surprised. “Did you see it?”
“A lot of people saw it,” Kanna said with a small laugh. “There was this massive airship at the Astronomy Tower, and it caused quite a stir. Everyone’s been speculating about it."
“Some think it’s the school’s secret weapon, while others believe it’s some sort of transportation—like the Beauxbatons carriages or the Durmstrang ship.”
Kyle shrugged nonchalantly. The appearance of an airship wasn’t too unusual in a world brimming with magic, and no one—except Kanna, who knew the truth—was likely to connect it with the legendary Nicolas Flamel.
...
After that, Dumbledore became entirely consumed by his work, and for two full weeks, Kyle didn’t see him anywhere in the castle.
This wasn’t surprising, of course. Although Kyle didn’t know exactly how long it took to refine the Philosopher’s Stone, he was certain it wasn’t an easy or quick process.
By February, Dumbledore still hadn’t returned, but the students didn’t seem to notice. Most of them rarely paid much attention to the headmaster in their day-to-day lives. Professor McGonagall’s absence, on the other hand, would have been a different matter entirely—her missing even a single day would have become immediate gossip throughout the school.
However, while Dumbledore was away, someone else made sure they were noticed.
Karkaroff, acting as though he were now the school’s unofficial director, spent his days strolling through the castle, his condescending tone making him impossible to ignore. He criticized everything he saw, sparing neither students nor staff.
He disapproved of how “undisciplined” the students were, scoffing at the laughter and chatter echoing through the corridors during recess—something, he claimed, no Durmstrang student would ever dare.
The professors weren’t exempt either. Kyle had overheard him more than once dismissing Professor Sybill Trelawney as a delusional fraud, mocking Hagrid as nothing more than a “clumsy oaf,” and criticizing Sirius Black as biased and far too indulgent toward one particular House, making him unfit to teach.
Some Hogwarts students, particularly Draco Malfoy, quickly latched onto Karkaroff’s words.
“Professor Karkaroff and I always think alike,” Malfoy declared loudly in the corridor one day. “My father thought about sending me to Durmstrang, but my mother was against it—she didn’t want me going so far away. Honestly, I think he should have insisted more. At Durmstrang, they have standards. They don’t just let anyone in…”
As he spoke, Malfoy made a point of glancing in Hermione’s direction.
This infuriated Hermione, who wished more than anything that Malfoy could attend Durmstrang as he claimed to want. At least then, half of her school troubles would disappear.
But Karkaroff’s disruptive presence didn’t stop there.
One Wednesday afternoon, as Kyle headed through the foyer after classes, he noticed a large crowd gathered near the entrance to the Great Hall. The students stood three layers deep, completely blocking the pathway.
Curious, Kyle maneuvered his way through the throng to see what was happening.
Sure enough, Karkaroff was at the center of it all. This time, however, his target wasn’t a student or professor—it was Filch.
"I’ve told you more than once to control your cat and keep it from running around the castle," Karkaroff said in his usual condescending tone, glaring down at Filch.
“Mrs. Norris never runs around,” Filch retorted with a scowl. “She helps maintain order in the castle and catches students who break the rules.”
“I’m sorry, perhaps I misheard,” Karkaroff drawled mockingly, elongating his words. “Maintaining order? A cat? Has Hogwarts really fallen so far that it has to rely on a cat to keep its students in line?”
Beside him, several Durmstrang students burst into laughter, their voices carrying through the foyer.
“Quiet, don’t be so rude, or people might think everyone at Durmstrang is uncouth,” Karkaroff said with feigned chastisement. Then, turning back to Filch, he continued, “I must admit, this is rather... unprecedented. If you don’t mind, I’d be happy to donate a sum of money to hire—oh, I don’t know—a wizard to maintain order here instead.”
Filch’s face flushed red, as bright as a boiled prawn. Karkaroff’s taunts didn’t just demean Mrs. Norris; they also struck a deeply personal blow by implying that Filch, as a Squib, wasn’t capable of doing his job. Trembling with indignation, Filch was at a loss for words.
The students and staff gathered around looked increasingly indignant.
For some, Karkaroff mocking Filch and Mrs. Norris might have been amusing—after all, neither was particularly beloved among the students. But when Karkaroff’s insults extended to Hogwarts itself, his mockery became harder to tolerate.
Karkaroff, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the crowd’s reactions. Stroking his goatee, he wore an expression of smug satisfaction as the murmurs around him grew louder.
“What are you all gathered here for?”
Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the noise as she approached from outside. The crowd parted to let her through.
“It’s lunchtime. Go to the Great Hall,” she said briskly, dismissing the students before turning her stern gaze to Karkaroff. “You needn’t concern yourself with the management of Hogwarts, Professor Karkaroff.”
“Of course, of course,” Karkaroff said, his tone dripping with insincerity. “I was merely making a small suggestion. I have no intention of interfering in Hogwarts’ affairs—that goes without saying."
“But please understand, Minerva, as a headmaster, I must take responsibility for my students. Poor Krum has been frightened by that cat on several occasions. I can’t help but wonder if this is deliberate—perhaps to affect his state of mind and tip the scales in favor of your Champion?”
“We would never resort to such tactics,” Professor McGonagall said icily, her lips tightening into a thin line.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not accusing you,” Karkaroff replied with a false smile. “Just… speculating.”
A loud voice from the crowd broke the tense silence. “Ho! I’m afraid only you would stoop to such despicable tactics!”
The remark drew a burst of laughter from the students gathered around.
“Of the five judges, you’re the only one—this old mangy dog—who deliberately gave the other Champions low scores!”
The insult hit its mark. Karkaroff’s smug composure evaporated, and his face twisted with anger. Whirling around, he shouted at the crowd, “Who said that? Come out here at once! I’ll teach you a lesson—for Dumbledore!”
