The Guest from Afar

Chapter 358 A Guest from Afar (4.1K) (1/2)

As if an invisible hand had turned the time converter, in the blink of an eye, Hogwarts leaped from the end of summer into the embrace of October.

The mountains surrounding the castle were tinged with deeper autumn colors, and the surface of the Black Lake was shrouded in a hazy mist in the cooling air. Thick, colorful fallen leaves began to accumulate at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

During this period, Cedric Diggory devoted most of his spare time to forging the "Soul Armor".

In Professor Lynch's stone hut deep in the Forbidden Forest, the mandrakes he faced were maturing more and more. From the initial near-mature individuals to the fully mature specimens with thick roots and piercing cries, he was pushing himself to the limit step by step.

Successful construction and continuous stress testing have brought about significant progress. Now, even the scream of a fully mature mandrake, which would be enough to kill an ordinary wizard instantly, is more of a strong, soul-level "noise" and "shove" that requires concentration to resist for Cedric. It brings more lasting fatigue and mild psychological discomfort than the initial near-collapse shock.

The invisible armor covering his soul became increasingly solid and resilient with each impact, becoming more closely integrated with his own will. Of course, he still had a long way to go before he was truly "immune" to this level of soul impact, a fact that was constantly reminded of, including the exhaustion he felt after each test and the palpitations that required a long period of rest to calm down.

During this period, Lynch became an extremely patient observer.

He continued to teach as usual, instructing Cedric, handling Hogwarts' daily affairs, and some matters concerning the Stone Tower Merchant Guild. But the black raven perched on his shoulder seemed to be appearing more frequently and silently throughout the castle than ever before.

It swept across the corridor, paused at the window, or stood silently atop the high vaulted beams, its dark pupils reflecting everything within the castle: the students' growing excitement and speculation about the Triwizard Tournament, the ongoing discussion sparked by Professor Moody's unsettling yet memorable Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Harry's extra practice after Quidditch, Draco Malfoy's sometimes strange attempts at appeasement and his occasional resurgence of sharp wit—

As for Alastor Moody, after the bizarre experience of his Magic Eye "malfunctioning" at the beginning of the semester, he did indeed immediately go to see Dumbledore.

From the old headmaster, he learned about Lynch's complicated past and his deep-seated hatred for Voldemort, as well as Dumbledore's trust in him to some extent.

This explained many things and temporarily calmed Moody's sharpest alarm—at least, this person wasn't sent by Voldemort.

However, despite the explanations, Moody's taut nerve regarding the "suspicious figure" never truly relaxed. He no longer stared at Lynch with the same undisguised, intense hostility as before, but his demonic eyes would still "inadvertently" sweep over Lynch's location when scanning the castle, lingering for a moment longer than with others. It was a persistent attention mixed with scrutiny, assessment, and unresolved doubt.

What truly reignited Moody's intense and irrepressible aversion to Lynch was his repeated observations of Lynch's close association with Severus Snape.

They would have brief conversations in the hallway, sit next to each other in the faculty lounge, and once, Moody's Magic Eye caught the two of them entering the underground classroom area one after the other and disappearing at the end of a secluded corridor.

To Moody—the old Auror who had devoted half his life to fighting dark wizards and Death Eaters—Snape was a former Death Eater who had only been somewhat exonerated by Dumbledore's guarantee, and who always exuded an aura of gloom and suspicion. For whatever reason, close association with such a figure instinctively aroused Moody's disgust and wariness.

Consequently, his initial skepticism towards Lynch, which had lessened slightly due to Dumbledore's explanation, was once again mixed with strong personal likes and dislikes. Every time he saw Lynch and Snape in the same room or interacting, Moody's normal black eyes would flash with undisguised disgust, and his hand gripping the flask would tighten. He couldn't understand how Dumbledore could simultaneously "trust" two such complex figures, but he chose—or rather, was forced—to suppress this distrust, transforming it into more covert and persistent surveillance.

At least, with his demonic eyes watching, these two wouldn't be able to completely hide anything if they did anything wrong.

Lynch was fully aware of the subtle change in Moody's attitude and the rekindled disgust, but he didn't care.

Like a seasoned hunter, he lay lurking deep in the jungle, his breath blending seamlessly with his surroundings. His eyes pierced through the gaps in the branches and leaves, calmly tracking the prey's every move, calculating the wind direction and distance, waiting for the crucial moment to arrive.

He knew that Voldemort's side wouldn't remain silent for long. Whether it was Moody or some other pawn, they would eventually push that evil resurrection plan forward.

He only needs to make sure that the net he has set is strong enough and that his angle of observation is clear enough.

The cold winds of October began to howl through the castle towers. As evening fell, the sky darkened and the biting winds stirred uneasy ripples on the surface of the Black Lake.

But the open space in front of Hogwarts Castle was packed with people, almost all the teachers and students gathered there, wrapped in thick cloaks, talking excitedly in hushed tones, and craning their necks in anticipation.

The air was filled with a restless atmosphere that was a mixture of tension and anticipation.

Finally, a strange sound, like rolling thunder, came from the distant sky, rapidly approaching. The students all looked up and exclaimed in surprise.

A huge, dark blue shadow appeared on the horizon, flying in at an incredible speed.

As the distance closed, the shadow revealed the outline of an enormous, light blue carriage, the size of a house, drawn by twelve winged, silver-maned horses, each as large as an elephant.

The carriage swept across the Forbidden Forest, whistling through the air, circling halfway across the clearing on the opposite shore of the Black Lake before landing precisely and smoothly on the flat grass in front of the castle. The heavy carriages crashed to the ground with a deafening roar, startling many students.

The car door opened, and a well-dressed Beauxbatons boy jumped out, unfurling a golden spiral staircase.

Immediately afterwards, a figure as tall as a small mountain bent down and stepped out of the car door—Mrs. Maxim, the principal of Beauxbatons.

She wore an exquisite black satin robe and opal jewelry, exuding an air of elegance. Behind her, about twenty male and female students in light blue silk robes filed out, shivering slightly in the chilly evening breeze, their gazes fixed on Hogwarts Castle and the gathered crowd with a mixture of curiosity and demureness. They all looked quite beautiful, with several girls particularly striking, eliciting soft exclamations and whistles, which were quickly silenced by sharp glances from their respective headmasters.

Headmaster Dumbledore stepped forward warmly and welcomed him in a loud voice.

Mrs. Maxim responded in a deep, clear voice, with a slight foreign accent.

The welcoming ceremony was underway when another unusual commotion drew everyone's attention.

This commotion originated from Black Lake.

In the center of the already turbulent lake, a massive whirlpool suddenly appeared, the water swirling rapidly and emitting a low, mournful sound. The whirlpool grew deeper and wider, as if some enormous creature was about to burst from the lakebed. The students screamed and retreated, while the professors gripped their wands tightly, on high alert.

Suddenly, from the center of the whirlpool, a long, dark mast slowly rose, followed by sails and rigging. Finally, a magnificent ship emerged completely from the water, appearing both eerie and awe-inspiring in the twilight. Its hull seemed to be made of dark, weathered wood, and its portholes gleamed with a dim, yellowish light, like the eyes of a ghost ship. It glided silently toward the lakeshore, eventually docking at the pier, its gangway automatically lowering.

Durmstrang's students disembarked.

Each of them wore a heavy fur cloak over a blood-red robe, and they looked robust with serious, even somewhat gloomy, expressions.

Their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, led the way. He had soft, silky white hair and a curly goatee, and a forced, overly enthusiastic smile on his face. His gaze swept quickly across the crowd before settling on Dumbledore at the front. He strode over to him, his voice high and clear: "Dumbledore! My dear old friend! It's been a long time!"

Among the Durmstrang students behind him, one figure immediately attracted almost everyone's attention—Viktor Krum!

The world-renowned Seeker looked even more somber than in the poster, with a furrowed brow and broad shoulders, silently following behind the group, but his appearance immediately caused an uncontrollable commotion, especially among the girls.

Harry saw Krum too, but his attention was drawn more to the overall atmosphere of Durmstrang. They looked—very different, with a cool and disciplined air, unlike the sophistication of Beauxbatons or the eclecticism of Hogwarts. He remembered Malfoy's awkward "science talk" on the train.

Lin Qi stood at the back of the teachers' line, calmly observing everything.

The raven on his shoulder had silently taken flight and landed on a bare tree branch not far away. Its dark eyes reflected the lights of the boats on the lake, the silk fluttering beside the Beauxbatons carriage, and the deep color of the Durmstrang student's blood-red cloak.

He saw the light seem to linger on him for a moment, almost unintentionally, as Mrs. Maxim spoke with Dumbledore; he also saw the unease and flickering beneath Karkaroff's overly enthusiastic exterior; and he saw Moody's demonic eye, amidst the clamor of the welcoming crowd, stubbornly and undisguisedly sweeping over him from time to time, as well as—Snape not far away.

But none of that mattered, because when the huge, light blue Beauxbatons carriage was still just a faint dark outline in the clouds on the horizon, and the first rumble of thunder sounded, Lynch had already raised his head and cast his gaze precisely in that direction.

The cold wind blew his black hair across his forehead, but he was completely unaware.

A faint yet incredibly clear sense of resonance emanated from the depths of the rapidly approaching carriage, like a distant heartbeat striking a specific string in his soul.

It was not a sound, nor an image, but a pure sense of existence—a "half-body" connected to his mind and blood was returning.

His magic wand.

After being kept hidden deep within Beauxbatons by Dumbledore and isolated for years, the carriage on the horizon crossed the strait and drew ever closer.

Lin Qi stood motionless amidst the rising cold wind and the clamor of the teachers and students around him.

Only in those unfathomable black eyes did a fleeting, yet sharp as lightning-like ripple pass through the deepest recesses of their depths.

He took a slow, deep breath, the cold, dry air filling his chest and completely calming his turbulent emotions, returning him to an absolute calm like a frozen lake.

He no longer looked at the carriage, his gaze lowered, as if he were simply patiently waiting for a routine welcoming ceremony.

Inside that enormous carriage, which resembled a mobile palace, in a small, secluded compartment heavily protected by soundproofing and protective magic, the situation was far from peaceful.

Two witches, dressed in Beauxbatons-style robes and looking quite capable, were intently focused, their lips pressed tightly together.

The tips of their wands continuously emitted soft, silvery-white beams of magic, weaving into a fine net of light that firmly enveloped a small, unassuming black walnut box in the center of the room, its surface covered with intricate ancient runes.

The box was shaking slightly.

It wasn't a violent shaking, but a low, continuous tremor, as if something inside was awakening, struggling, and trying to break free. Each tremor caused ripples in the silvery-white net of light, and fine beads of sweat appeared on the foreheads of the two witches.

"Hold on!" one of the older witches hissed, her wrist as steady as a rock. "The headmaster instructed that its senses might become stronger the closer we get to our destination. We absolutely cannot let it break the seal here!"

The younger witches nodded emphatically, increasing their magical output, making the light net even more solid.

They could sense that the object in the box was emanating an increasingly clear and urgent wave of "desire," as if a long-lost lone wolf had caught the scent of its master and was desperately trying to break free from its constraints and return to its origin.

When the entire delegation from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang set foot on Hogwarts soil, Headmaster Dumbledore, with his ever-cheerful yet undeniably loud voice, directed all the exclamations, whispers, and greetings toward the warm and bright interior of the castle.

"Welcome, welcome to our distinguished guests!" Dumbledore opened his arms wide, his blue eyes shining behind his half-moon spectacles. "I believe that after such a long journey, nothing can dispel the cold and fatigue better than a sumptuous Hogwarts dinner! Please follow me; a sumptuous feast is ready, and our Great Hall is eager to welcome our friends!"