In the middle of the banquet, the Great Hall's doors opened again.
Barty Crouch and Bagman, both cloaked, headed straight for the staff table.
Harry nudged Ron, who was eating while staring at Viktor Krum. "Look, it's Percy's immediate superior!"
Ron turned to look. Barty Crouch had just sat down in the empty chair beside Madame Maxime.
Beneath his cloak, he wore dark wizarding robes, and his short gray hair was combed impeccably.
In comparison, Bagman, seated beside Karkaroff, looked rather unkempt.
Ron set down the lamb chop in his hand in surprise. "Why are they here?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Probably because of the Triwizard Tournament. Professor Dumbledore said earlier that the competition would begin after the feast."
Ron took a huge bite of his lamb chop and mumbled, "Really? Then they must be the judges choosing the Champions."
Harry nodded. "Mr. Crouch is famous for being fair and strict. No one would object to him choosing the Champions."
At the staff table, Karkaroff looked especially uncomfortable, furtively glancing at Barty Crouch from time to time.
At the other end of the Gryffindor table, Fred and George were also watching Barty Crouch.
But the two of them looked as though the sky had fallen.
"George, our Aging Potion plan is finished. He's the kind of ruthless man who'd punish his own family for the greater good."
"Calm down, Fred. Isn't Bagman still here? We know him so well; we should be able to persuade him to help."
People said Bagman had turned over a new leaf, but a gambler was still a gambler. At worst, they could give him half the prize money.
The banquet gradually drew to a close, and everyone was enjoying highly inventive British desserts.
British cuisine might not be much, but when it came