The Ringing

"Two teams?" Harry practically sprang out of his seat, instinctively turning to scan the cabin. "He has accomplices?"

"Nothing surprising about that. A lunatic like this..."

Sirius ground his teeth, rose to his feet, and said, "I'm going to economy class right now!"

His gaze met Lupin's for an instant with remarkable speed. Then Sirius headed straight toward the rear, casually patting the old Auror on the shoulder as he passed Moody.

"I'll leave this to you, Alastor, Remus!"

Sirius said in a low voice.

Moody: "...All right."

He had long since risen, leaning on his cane in the middle of the aisle. His gaze kept shifting between Viktor's calm profile and Modihis's ghastly white face. His normal eye was filled with undisguised shock, as well as the bewilderment of someone who had no idea what was going on.

Lupin had already guessed something from Wade's attitude, while Sirius's thinking was more straightforward. He was not in a hurry to understand every detail; he only needed to know what he had to do right now.

Moody, seated in the row behind, had kept his nerves taut, yet it was as if he were standing in fog. His Magical Eye had been spinning wildly and erratically.

At this moment, that confusion and the irritability of feeling excluded by everyone else were replaced by a sharper, more concrete vigilance.

With a grave expression, he nodded. Ignoring the ironclad rule that magic had to be concealed from Muggles, he gripped his Wand tightly and shot Lev Zakharov beside him a blade-sharp glance.

Zakharov: "...?"

The man still sat ramrod straight, his hands folded over his knees, looking as though he had everything under control. In reality, he was even more confused than Moody.

—At least Moody knew who his companions were. Zakharov's mind