"Dumbledore, I don't think it's necessary for us to discuss the Triwizard Tournament anymore, especially face-to-face. Look." The man at the table glanced at the warm sunshine outside the window and continued, "This British weather is really depressing. I still miss the weather around Durmstrang. Only in the freezing cold and snow can a wizard's will be tempered."
With that, he picked up his glass and drank the bubbling beverage in one gulp.
The bar was lively and bustling, and no one seemed to notice the foreigner's sarcastic remarks.
"Even the drinks here are something only women would drink." The man slammed his glass hard on the wooden table, causing the already flimsy table to shake a few times, as if it might fall apart at any moment.
"Old friend, I'm afraid I can only agree with some of your views. Sometimes, it's not just the surrounding environment that can temper a person, but also... we have a lady here, shouldn't you be more careful with your words?" Dumbledore also raised his glass and took a small sip of his drink.
"That was my oversight." The man looked at the other woman at the table with a hint of apology. "You know, Madam Maxime, I'm just using an analogy. I don't mean to discriminate against women."
"It's alright." The woman named Madam Maxime simply smiled faintly, not minding his rudeness.
Madam Maxime was an extraordinary woman, or rather, unusual not only among women, but also among wizards or ordinary people. She was so tall that she took up the space of two people at the table. In addition, she had an olive-colored face, big, black, watery eyes, and her hair was combed back. She was dressed in black satin from head to toe, and wore many precious opals. Her English was excellent, but with a slight French accent.
As for the man with the somewhat crude words and behavior, his name was Igor Karkaroff. His standard gentlemanly appearance did not match, with his tall, thin figure and slightly white, short hair. His goatee (with small curls at the ends) did not completely cover his thin chin.
An uninformed person might think he was a typical English gentleman at first glance.
The three at the table chatted casually, completely ignoring the noisy environment of the surrounding bar, and the people around didn't care about what was happening there. This was somewhat abnormal, after all, Dumbledore had a high reputation in both the British and international wizarding communities, and there would always be people who would pay attention to him.
Obviously, they had cast a spell to shield themselves from outside interference.
Dumbledore picked up the thread of the conversation and continued, "I have no intention of interfering with the operations of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. In fact, you are the most enthusiastic about the Triwizard Tournament, aren't you, Mr. Karkaroff?"
"Then why did you ask the two of us to come all the way here to talk? I think if it wasn't for this matter, I wouldn't have bothered to run to this broken place during my free time," Karkaroff said in his thick voice, with a hint of dissatisfaction.
"I don't mind, just consider it a trip." Madam Maxime nodded elegantly, but still asked, "Then what did you call us here for?"
"Hmm." Dumbledore pondered for a moment, and took out a black book that had been scribbled on beyond recognition from his large robes and placed it on the table.
"Dumbledore, what are you trying to do?" Karkaroff's thick eyebrows suddenly raised, as if he had seen something impossible happen.
"This shouldn't be something you're making, right?" Madam Maxime also frowned, the notebook giving her a very unpleasant and evil feeling.
The essence of a Horcrux is unparalleled evil. When it is not destroyed, it can still have a certain ability to disguise and bewitch people. Otherwise, Ginny, Ron, Dumbledore, and now Lockhart, would not have been fooled. However, now that it has been damaged, all that remains is the disgusting evil magical fluctuation.
"Of course, Madam Maxime." Dumbledore nodded, expressing his attitude.
"Then this thing is probably another trophy you obtained after defeating some dark wizard?" Karkaroff said with a self-deprecating smile, "If you just wanted to warn me with this, then there's no need. Although I once had a less than glorious history, I now know that life on the shore is better."
"So, what exactly did you call us here for?" Karkaroff braced his hands on the table, and stood up abruptly, staring at the man in front of him, asking with a hint of questioning tone.
"Take it easy." Dumbledore waved his hand, and then said, "I think my office is more suitable for discussing some secret matters. This is, after all, a tavern."
"My pleasure." Madam Maxime nodded, preparing to get up. Her giant bloodline gave her a bit of a swift and decisive style.
"I've forgotten what year I last went to Hogwarts. This time is a good opportunity to take another look," she muttered to herself, her words full of pleasure and anticipation.
Karkaroff cleared his throat, coughing a few times. The voice in private meetings is different from the voice in front of the public. In front of the students, his voice is always round, smooth, and sweet, sounding like a sissy. This is also to neutralize his past dark history. Changing the external image is sometimes the first step. Now that he is about to leave the private sphere, he must first change his voice back.
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