...Something's wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong!!
Something's definitely wrong—
Viktor Krum's leg involuntarily started shaking—he stared intently at the competition platform where William had just blocked an evil curse aimed at Ilvermorny's champion, Daniel Stephens—yes, the strongest student from North America, had actually lost.
Ever since that "harmless" little fat guy stepped onto the stage, everything seemed off.
Yamamoto Senren, who was hit by a vine, Alexander who was smashed into the wall with a punch, and Fleur who was knocked out by a Stunning Spell…so far, apart from the Hogwarts champions, only he and "Cauliflower" have yet to take the stage—and among the previous five champions, only Abebe Hailu had won.
Of course, Krum did not count Yamamoto Senren's victory over third-year kids.
Moreover, to win, the Uagadou champion had almost exhausted all means, barely winning through wandless magic after being disarmed—
So…why are these Hogwarts students so powerful? Most of them aren't even adults!
Krum took a deep breath, and the hand holding his magic wand finally stopped trembling—he had to think of something.
...
"...Draco Malfoy wins,"
Gently flicking away the evil curse that almost hit Daniel's eyes, William ignored the opponent's ugly expression and calmly made a mark in his notebook—then he shouted to the crowd behind, "Next group—"
"Wait, sir, perhaps I could pick another opponent—"
It was Malfoy this time, the boy who had just defeated the Ilvermorny champion looked somewhat smug as he confidently said to William. Although his tone was respectful, the boy's mocking eyes were directed at Harry not far away, as if to say, even champions aren't that impressive—
Harry took a deep breath, preparing to stand up.
"Get down."
William said expressionlessly, then without giving Malfoy a chance to argue further, he kicked him right in the butt.
"Serves you right—"
The disheveled Malfoy, rubbing his butt after falling off the platform, heard a muttering voice next to him. He turned his head in annoyance, "Says the one who didn't win…" Staring into Daphne's light green eyes, the boy muttered back irritably.
"Next group, Piero Hamilton, and George—Mr. Weasley, please refrain from selling Truancy Treats in my class, or do you want me to write a letter to Ms. Molly? Or perhaps lose your Galleons...."
"I'm sorry! Senior! I won't do it again—"
At the mention of Galleons, the Weasley twins slid to their knees at lightning speed. Fred frantically snatched back the tin box from the third-year Hufflepuff wizard they were trying to sell Truancy Treats to, while George tidied his clothes and then clambered hastily onto the competition platform.
"If you lose, I'll call your mom."
Looking at the redheaded boy who seemed ready to gloss over this duel, William smiled threateningly, "And Fred, the same goes for you."
"Such injustice! Senior!" Fred raised his arms high, "Oh heavens! Distinguish the loyal from the false!"
"Shut up."
"Alright, get busy with your matters first."
"Also, George, don't try persuading your opponent to surrender, or else…never mind, you might as well try."
"..."
George felt as if he had been set up by capitalism, and facing the eager green cauliflower across the dueling platform, he forced a smile uglier than crying.
So, Piero looked on bewildered as George charged over shouting about dreams, friendship, and bonds or something.
"...George Weasley wins, not bad performance, next group."
Five minutes later, William pulled Piero, who had been some what dazed by George's spell, off the platform, announcing the latter's victory.
It's my turn...
Watching Harry who had already walked to the edge of the platform, Krum's face was dark—he seemed to always have a sour expression, only now it looked even gloomier than usual.
Next, all eyes were on the two of them standing on the platform—because they were the only duo of champions exactly facing off, if there were any further confrontation rounds, this was already a preview—
"Richard…sir, I want to ask about Dark Arts—"
Suddenly, Krum asked quietly, though he didn't speak loudly, the nearby little wizards still heard him—coming from Durmstrang, Krum assumed these people would be intimidated by Dark Arts, even if not outright terrified, they should have some reaction—
After all, after that war, Hogwarts was notoriously against and loathed the Dark Arts.
Yet, everyone here seemed unfazed, a calmness that made Krim somewhat uneasy.
"Except for the Unforgivable Curses, the rest is up to you."
William jumped off the dueling platform, a slightly amused expression tugging at his lips—the Durmstrang champion seemed to be overthinking. Not to mention minor evil curses, even Avada Kedavra, these young wizards had experienced two or three times each, albeit in Dream Games simulations, but the pain was real—
Of course, apart from Voldemort, probably no one knew how painful Avada Kedavra really was.
William couldn't interview him, so he could only imagine it.
They had long been desensitized to Dark Arts, though this didn't mean they'd let their guard down against such things—
So, Krum and Harry stood at opposite ends, they bowed to each other and then counted down three, two, one…
"Confringo!"
"Ventus!"
The red Blasting Curse just shot from Krum's wand tip when it was swept back at him by a gust of wind. He could only quickly raise an Iron Armor Spell, but the hastily erected Defense Spell couldn't completely block the Blasting Curse, leaving a grey-black mark on Krum's chest.
"Avis, Engorgio!"
While the Blasting Curse exploded, Harry was not idle. He pointed his wand to the sky, and golden canaries burst from his wand tip, rapidly expanding into balls like missiles aimed at Krum, who had to dodge hurriedly and attempt to disrupt Harry with attack spells—
But those spells were dodged by Harry with an uncanny footwork, followed by a barrage of magic machine gun fire—
Krum was defeated; this was a fact determined from the second spell onward. Harry seemed adept at dragging opponents into his rhythm of attack, and once he seized the advantage, Krum's defeat was inevitable—the five-minute struggle was his last dignity.
...
...
"So, did you find out about the second task? Viktor, let me tell you, this class cost me a full five hundred Galleons—"
Nightfall, Krum trudged back to the large ship docked at the shores of the Black Lake, not exchanging words with Piero Hamilton who returned with him; their expressions were equally heavy—
And as Krum entered the cabin, Karkaroff, having seemingly waited for a long time, stood up to greet him, babbling incessantly.
Five hundred Galleons?
Krum was puzzled; he remembered Fleur only paid two hundred Galleons.
"...We are likely going to lose."
After a long silence and under Karkaroff's concerned gaze, Krum shook his head.
"Lose...what do you mean?"
Karkaroff blinked in confusion, seemingly failing to grasp the word Krum used.
"Literally, today, that William organized us for battles against those Duel Club students—"
"How did it go?"
"Lost."
"You lost? To that Cedric Diggory?"
Karkaroff's eyes widened, but then he shook his head, dismissively, "Don't worry, the tournament judges wouldn't set up a real duel task—that has no spectacle. I'll make sure you gain the upper hand in the following games—"
"No, my opponent was Harry Potter." Krum shook his head, eyes vacant.
"...That fourth-year kid?"
Karkaroff's verbose speech was cut short, he paused in disbelief.
"Lost, without even a chance to fight back—not just me, every champion lost except for Abebe Hailu."
"They cheated!"
Karkaroff exclaimed with incredulous anger.
"..."
Krum suddenly felt a surge of irritation; he shook his head, ceased explaining, and turned towards his room.
"Hold on, you—"
"Bang—"
Karkaroff tried to say something, but only a wooden door slamming responded to him, leaving him half-standing, his hunched figure appearing weak.
He stood quietly for a long time—until the moon reached its zenith, and a sigh echoed from his throat as he turned and walked another way, navigating creaky boards and bypassing the complaining portraits and armor, up to the ship's deck.
A full moon casting its watery glow over the land, a biting wind blew from the depths of the Forbidden Forest; Karkaroff involuntarily shrunk his neck.
He saw a silhouette.
"...You again."
Karkaroff staggered to the ship's bow, seemingly grumbling jokingly.
"Why do you think, Igor—"
The young man extinguished his almost burnt-out cigarette, "You should know this is your last chance, the master has never been this patient..."
"Patience? He's afraid of Dumbledore, isn't he?! He's too cowardly to execute me! Execute this traitor!"
Karkaroff loudly interrupted the young man's words, trying to appear confident, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his frail bravado. "You too, Crouch! You're frightened—"
"Yes."
Barty Crouch Jr nodded, his frankness surprised Karkaroff.
"You—I could report you now—"
"Then you wouldn't survive either, my dear friend. Would you dare risk your life?"
"..."
"You'll have to leave eventually, without...heh, without Dumbledore's old invincible protection, do you really think you can escape the master's grasp? Frankly, as much as I want to kill this traitor right now, the master is willing to give you this chance, Igor, you'd better make the right choice—"
"..."
The moon silently spread its light, like the silent waters of the lake.
"Besides, who said you have a choice?"
In the darkness, the young man smirked suddenly.