Death Arrives as Promised

"Don't talk nonsense, Ron!"

Hermione rebuked him softly, but her face had gone pale at the sound, her breathing stopping for a moment.

It came from the fog-shrouded path lined with gravestones. Something really was crying. The intermittent, stifled sobbing was especially shrill and piercing amid those eerie, sinister graves, carrying boundless despair.

All three of them felt their legs tremble slightly, while Karkaroff, squinting at the path, began breathing faster as well.

"Let's go take a look."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Are you mad, Harry?"

Ron looked utterly incredulous.

"You know there could be danger there!"

"If this really is part of the tournament's trial," Harry said, holding his breath, "we might miss an important clue."

"What if it isn't?"

Karkaroff, who had been silent for some time, raised his first objection.

"What if it isn't, Professor Karkaroff?"

Hermione's face was tense.

"If we came here because of an accident, or if someone set us up, then the trap arranged by whoever's behind this won't be avoided just because we take a different path."

It was an irrefutable deduction. Even though Karkaroff disliked this self-righteous little witch, he had to admit she was right.

Was their current predicament part of the trial? A simple accident? Or someone's deliberate scheme?

Even after surviving several brushes with death, Karkaroff could not tell for the moment. But—

Karkaroff watched coldly as the three Hogwarts students moved forward in a fairly convincing manner. One of them was Harry Potter. If they died here, then so long as it was one of the latter two possibilities, no one could find fault with him.

As he considered it, Karkaroff's gaze gradually turned savage.

No matter what, they still chose the foggy path.

The cold, damp mist struck their faces, while black crows occasionally flew overhead,