Klein finally understood what these young women were plotting.
Good grief, they really weren't going to give him a moment's peace!
Of course, in everyone else's eyes, his reputation as a "heartthrob" was now set in stone.
Even Krum's dance partner, after dancing with him at the opening ball, kept glancing eagerly toward the dance floor, leaving Krum's face dark with displeasure.
"If you want to go, then go."
But he didn't get angry. He merely waved his hand helplessly.
He couldn't win.
He could see it now. No matter the matter, he couldn't win.
He wondered if they'd been enemies in a past life. That damn Klein Grindelwald always seemed to have it in for him.
Krum felt so wronged.
And he had no one to complain to.
After all, even his headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, had been beaten senseless.
Sigh. The only person who could rein in Klein Grindelwald was probably a Great Wizard like Dumbledore.
Hm?
Wait!
As Krum watched his partner walk away, inspiration suddenly struck.
Right, how had he forgotten that person?
But a moment later, he shook his head hard, as if trying to rid himself of those dangerous thoughts.
"No, no. How could I think that? This is wrong."
He muttered to himself in the corner, his voice growing quieter and quieter.
At last, Krum raised his head and stared resolutely at the most dazzling guy on the dance floor, seeming to have made up his mind.
There could be no other answer.
Only Soren could help him reclaim his lost dignity!
Azkaban Prison.
Winter was growing harder and harder to endure.
"Achoo!"
Peter Pettigrew wrapped himself in his thin bedsheet, but it did nothing to keep out the cold.
He struggled to open his eyes and reached up to touch his eyelashes. A