章 373: 0372 A Contest (Part-2)
"I'll be the referee."
Cedric stepped forward.
The six of them took their usual starting positions for training, while the others made room. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were greatly invested in this contest without the supervision of professors, and they whispered together about the potential outcome.
And the Gryffindor and Slytherin, who were clearly divided, were on guard against each other. They didn't trust each other and thought that the other side would play dirty when the game was going on.
Harry noticed Hermione rolling up her sleeves and using a hair tie to tie up her messy locks. Then, with a calm expression, she crouched into a ready stance. Though Hermione had been tense in the common room earlier, she now seemed to have shed all her burdens.
"Begin!" At Cedric's shout, the six contestants shot forward like arrows released from bows.
Truth be told, if it was just over a month ago, Harry would never have believed these young wizards could move with such agility.
Within the first fifty feet, each of them displayed reflexes that would astound Ron and the others who had abandoned this class long ago. The six contestants used their unique evasive styles to dodge the incoming Dung-bombs. For a while, the figures on the field were flying, and all kinds of thrilling maneuvers emerged one after another.
To be fair, Malfoy was indeed diligent in this class.
He was used to the Dung-bombs rhythm of attack, he precisely timed the gaps between the wave of attacks to sprint forward, evading with pinpoint accuracy that forced Harry to admit – in this class, Malfoy had become his rival once more.
"Oh, look at Longbottom and Lovegood!"
To Harry's regret, Hermione failed to show extraordinary skill, being the only one struck by a Dung-bomb before the fifty-foot line. At this rate, she would undoubtedly lose the contest.
Harry's focus was solely on Malfoy and Hermione until Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff gasped in astonishment. He hurriedly shifted his gaze to observe Hermione's two teammates and was instantly dumbstruck.
'Was that really Neville?! And what was going on with Luna?!'
Prior to the fifty-foot mark, everyone's progress was roughly equal. But once they crossed that first stamina-draining threshold, while the speed of others visibly slowed, Neville suddenly let out a gruff roar, his accelerating figure like a young lion pouncing on its prey!
Neville displayed a jaw-dropping agility once more!
As everyone else decelerated, he abruptly sped up, overtaking them all. A Dung-bombs came hurtling at his chin from a tricky angle, but just as the afterimage neared Neville's side within five feet, he made an abrupt feint, sweeping his hand through the air before whipping the Dung-bombs in another direction!
Smack!
Two Dung-bombs collided forcefully mid-air, foul-smelling mess splattering everywhere!
"Longbottom!" Blaise Zabini roared furiously. He was not expecting this and was splashed in the eyes by the smelly liquid that exploded in front of him. He staggered to a halt, clutching his face and howling in pain.
"Foul play!" Pansy Parkinson screeched from the crowd, her face twisting. "Longbottom should be disqualified for that sneak attack!"
It was hard to tell if it was an accident or intentional on Neville's part, but apart from the Slytherins, no one could deny being impressed by Neville's brilliant move!
Beyond the hundred-and-fifty-foot mark, most contestants were visibly struggling, with one exception – Luna!
When Harry turned his gaze towards Luna, he was struck by an astonishing sight.
Up until that distance line, Malfoy, Nott, Neville, and Hermione had each been hit by several Dung-bombs to varying degrees. Hermione in particular, whose athletic ability was not as good as that of Cho Chang, and girls's physical strength was generally lagging behind boys - in previous training sessions, Hermione would have already collapsed by the 150-foot line. But tonight, bolstered by resolve and perseverance, she performed somewhat better than usual.
However, just as Professor Watson had once said, willpower can indeed ignite one's determination to pursue strength, but it cannot help you instantaneously bridge vast gaps in power.
From Hermione's increasingly clumsy footsteps, it was clear she was nearing her limit.
But what was going on with Luna?
"She actually dodged all the Dung-bombs?" Ginny voiced Harry's bewilderment in an astonished tone.
Luna had never displayed any outstanding ability before; her performance in this class was utterly unremarkable - neither at the bottom nor the top. But now, her performance had stunned everyone.
"Could she have been hiding her true strength all along?" Parvati also muttered quietly.
Just as Ginny said, among all the competitors present, Luna was the only one who hadn't been hit by a single Dung-bomb.
Whether it was the speed of advancement or evasive maneuvers, Luna had not showed abilities far exceeding others. Yet those Dung-bombs flying right at her just....missed her completely, not even grazing her robes!
"That girl is cheating!" Pansy Parkinson snapped. "She must have tampered with the armor using her position as a teaching assistant!"
"If you can't provide solid proof, Parkinson," Harry said coldly, "then shut your mouth!"
Harry's icy rebuke made Parkinson's face flush red. But the fact was, Harry himself was equally perplexed.
Luna looked far too at ease!
Her bouncing, skipping demeanor reminded Harry of the hopscotch craze that had swept his Muggle primary school for a time.
From his own experience with this training, Harry mainly relied on two methods to evade the incoming Dung-bombs. The first was straightforward; for anything within his field of vision - simply dodge aside when physically able. As for those outside his vision, like ones coming from the sides or rear, he mainly depended on his hearing to detect their whistling approach from a certain distance.
Harry was certain that Neville's surprisingly good performance today was due to using these methods. But Luna seemed completely different.
Several times, Harry noticed Luna suddenly leap aside....when there were no Dung-bombs anywhere nearby. Only after she changed position would the Dung-bombs come hurtling towards her previous position!
This was simply inconceivable! Could she somehow see into the future?-*Observation-Haki*
Harry gazed at the short Luna with a slightly dazed, utterly baffled expression.
Draco who was already struggling suddenly heard a breezy, tuneless humming in his ear. Before he could react, the Ravenclaw girl he had never taken seriously nimbly skipped past him, bizarrely hopping sideways a few times before easily avoiding another barrage.
Draco himself was not so lucky.
A momentary lapse in concentration, coupled with his already severely depleted stamina, cost him the opportunity to evade. A series of Dung-bombs struck his back and stomach in rapid succession - agonizing areas to be hit. Combined with the rotten stench, Malfoy could no longer bear it.
Losing his balance, the vomiting Malfoy tumbled over and over on the ground. Yet at that moment, his position was just a few steps from the 200-foot line.
No matter what, Draco could not accept the shame of failing to complete the course.
Using one hand to shield the back of his neck, he crawled forward in a prone position. But just as he was a few steps away from the 200 feet line, a sudden gust of wind from behind made Draco's face fall in despair.
At least three Dung-bombs were incoming simultaneously!
After all this training, everyone was well aware of the Dung-bombs's terrifying impact force. With his physical strength exhausted to this extent, Draco knew there was no way he could withstand this assault!
But then, a dark blur suddenly obscured the torchlight. Next, Draco felt a gust if wind whip past over his head.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
His pale blonde hair was now drenched in foul liquid, but Draco had no chance to worry about it. He slowly sat up, staring dumbly as Neville retracted his whipping leg and extended a hand to pull him up. For a moment, Draco was at a complete loss.
"You lost, Malfoy." Neville pulled Malfoy to his feet, locking eyes with Draco's widened grey orbs. For the first time, he felt that he was no longer tormented by panic.
"Questioning the decisions of those wiser than you is foolish--" Luna, standing beside Neville, tilted her head and repeated the words from before the contest began in a light voice. To Draco's astonishment, this little girl showed barely any signs of exertion beyond a slight shine on her forehead; even her breathing was barely disordered.
Nott had collapsed about ten feet away from the 200-feet line, wailing helplessly, this was on par with his usual level. Draco opened his mouth, but ultimately he didn't bother reprimanding him.
However, when his gaze fell on Hermione, still stubbornly pressing on a few paces behind Nott, the words slipped uncontrollably from his lips:
"At least I beat Granger. By the rules, she has to resign from her position as Professor Watson's assistant."
This was indeed an indisputable fact that neither Neville nor Luna refuted.
Looking at Hermione, who was almost covered in sticky and smelly liquid, but still gritted her teeth and staggered to avoid the Dung-bombs, a surge of anger from deep within made his eyes burn hot.
"This isn't worth it, Hermione--" Ginny covered her mouth, and Harry could hear the sob in her murmured voice.
Time seemed to be frozen, everything in front of her was blurred, and the unbearable swelling and pain all over her body made Hermione want to burst into tears. In a trance, she suddenly wondered why she had joined Professor Watson's physical education class in the first place.
The initial reason was just curiosity.
This was almost the only reason any young witch or wizard was willing to persist in this boring, arduous course after experiencing it.
After joining the Hogwarts faculty, Professor Watson demonstrated his deep knowledge and power through a series of incidents, making every student hope to learn flashy magic from his new class.
Hermione too hoped to glimpse Professor Watson's brilliance in this class. After initial confusion, she became convinced that his course was definitely not so simple - and if she gave up easily, she would surely regret it. Though pure physical training was not her forte, she excelled more at seeking truth in the vast ocean of magical knowledge.
"Just give up, Granger, you've already lost!" Hermione heard Malfoy growling through gritted teeth, but she didn't pay any attention to it at all. Moreover, she didn't realize that she had just broken the class record previously set by Cedric, the best in this class with her arduous, stumbling progress.
Though her academic performance was consistently at the top across all subjects, even Harry and Ron could not understand the fear in her heart.
This sense of dread came from her Muggle origins. Although Hogwarts did not discriminate against Muggle-born students under Dumbledore, Hermione's sensitive heart could never fully escape the prevalent pure-blood supremacist attitude of the wizarding world. This was also one reason she persisted in this class - Professor Watson was a Slytherin alumnus, but he is also a Muggle-born wizard who had achieved tremendous acclaim throughout the Wizarding world.
Hermione hoped to one day become as accomplished as Professor Watson, to prove that even Muggle-born witches and wizards could attain remarkable achievements through sheer hard work and perseverance.
"Ugh!"
A sudden stabbing pain shot through her struck shoulder blade, and the powerful impact made Hermione, who was staggering, unable to maintain her balance and collapse to the ground.
The stinky Dungbomb liquid practically replaced sweat streaming down her young face. But the lonely, disheveled figure of the struggling Hermione, and the unwavering determination emanating from her frail back, moved most of the young witches and wizards in the classroom.
Gradually, Hermione felt the pain leaving her body. She had no more suffering, no more grievance - only a burning conviction in her heart driving her forward.
Yes, she has always kept Professor Watson's words close to her heart.
Love and hate are both powerful emotions capable of imbuing one with the determination to pursue their dreams. However, they cannot help you instantly bridge vast gaps in power.
Hermione knew she could not suddenly become exceptionally talented in this class. She knew that she would not reach the record set by Cedric faster than the Slytherins participating in this contest. So from the start, her only goal was simply:
To reach the finish line!
It was such an arduous journey, more distant than the path from the Entrance Hall to the Sorting Hat on her first night at Hogwarts - as if it had no end.
Hermione, who was half conscious, seemed to hear Harry shouting something, and she seemed to hear Ginny crying, but now she no longer had the energy to care about these things, she just wanted to move forward!
Watching the girl straining with every ounce of her effort, just to crawl a little farther, Draco did not realize that the shame and anger on his face had quietly faded, replaced by pure bewilderment.
He could not understand what would drive that Mudblood to go to such extremes.
And yet, this did not prevent his very soul from being greatly shaken!
"Alright, Granger!"
Unexpectedly, Draco's shout filled every corner of the classroom.
"You win!"
The struggling girl's lips finally curved into a faint smile. Then her eyes rolled back as she passed out, her head lying to the side.
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章 374: 0373 Unexpected
Just as Madam Maxime had said, when Bryan sought out the hotel staff requesting another room, he was informed that all rooms had been booked by the wizards from various countries who came here on official business. Even the staff quarters had been rented out, forcing the hotel employees to squeeze into the laundry room for sleep during this period.
Of course, Bryan would never choose to share a villa with the Beauxbatons delegation.
It was not a matter of room availability, but rather, the fear of rumors.
If someone inadvertently discovered he had spent a night inside the Beauxbatons delegates's quarters without leaving, who knows what kind of scandalous gossip might spread! In the end, he returned to that messy room, pitching a tent on an undamaged patch of lawn and making do for the night.
"Are you certain?"
Barty Crouch's terrifying expression as he gazed upon the collapsed villa reminded Bryan of his determined attempt to have Peter sentenced to death at the Wizengamot trial.
The head of the International Magical Cooperation Department at the British Ministry of Magic turned ashen, his eyes bulging with fury and his face contorted with a ferocious glare like that of a red-eyed gambler who had risked everything and lost!
"Are you sure Beauxbatons had no involvement in this?"
Bryan could understand why Barty was so furious. First, infiltrating their room, destroying their quarters and the security plans they had prepared was like humiliating the British Ministry in front of the world. As the Ministry's representative, Barty felt the sting of this insult deeply.
Moreover, the Triwizard Tournament was Barty's "crowning political achievement," the pinnacle of his ambitions. Should this event unfold successfully under his watchful guidance, with Hogwarts serving as the host, his reputation within the British wizarding world would soar to unprecedented heights, an achievement that would instantly add his name in the annals of history.
If fortune truly smiled upon him, and Hogwarts emerged victorious as the champion of the Triwizard Tournament, it would be a moment of immeasurable joy for Barty, a resounding triumph that would wash away the endless humiliation inflicted by his prodigal son, whose actions had decimated Barty's lifelong dedication, and the adverse impact it had caused, could finally be swept away.
Yet now, someone was once again attempting to obstruct his long-awaited path to redemption, Barty glared at the ruins with bloodshot eyes, swearing on the honor of the Crouch family that he would make the culprit pay dearly!
But who was the perpetrator of this act?
Barty pondered this issue as well, his thoughts even more complex than Bryan's.
At the very pinnacle of Barty's list of suspects stood Vipor Dreghorn, whose reputation had suffered a crushing blow the previous night.
This man was already at odds with Dumbledore and it was normal for him to extend his anger and resentment towards Hogwarts. Moreover, the humiliating experience he had endured at the party held the day before had provided him with the most compelling motive, the necessary connections, and the ability to orchestrate such a brazen act.
The second tier of suspects encompassed the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.
As their direct competitors, they might do such a thing to undermine Hogwarts's successful bid to host.
Furious as he was, Barty had not entirely lost his senses.
The reason he placed these two schools in the second tier of suspicion was that Maxime and Karkaroff should know that if their involvement in such a wicked plot were to be exposed, the consequences would be far more severe than just losing the right to host the Tournament.
The third tier of suspects, however, was shrouded in a more complex and complicated web of uncertainty.
Could Cornelius have played an underhanded trick? It was certainly possible.
As foolish as the Minister of Magic might appear at times, after so many years in his position, he should possess at least a measure of sense, that if he were to push Hogwarts into the position of the host, he would effectively become his greatest threat.
For this reason, Amelia was also a suspect.
The thought made Barty's heart skip a beat! If Amelia had indeed given the order, could this be a case of the pot calling the kettle black?"
After all, this incident was utterly extraordinary – a group had managed to infiltrate the heavily guarded hotel, demolish their assigned room with liberty, and slip away unnoticed, leaving not a single clue in their wake.
Just how had they accomplished such a feat? Were the hotel's overhyped security measures merely a facade, a charade designed to instill a false sense of confidence, or had the hotel staff itself been collaborating with the perpetrators?
If indeed this was a case of the pot calling the kettle black, Barty's breath caught in his throat, a sensation akin to the constricting grip of an invisible hand. Maintaining an external facade of composure, he moved his gaze to drift sidelong, settling upon the figure of Bryan standing with arms folded. But that one look left Barty visibly shaken, as he realized Bryan was scrutinizing him with the very same suspicious gaze!
"You suspect me, Bryan?" Barty exclaimed, his disbelief evident in the tone of his voice. "That's absurd! Why would I sabotage my own efforts?"
"I did harbor some suspicion earlier, Barty. After all, you left the party first last night and could have justifiably entered this room..."
The words hung in the air, causing Barty's face to contort into an even uglier form, but before he could explode, Bryan, who seemed to have shed the negative emotions that this incident had initially brought, smiled faintly and said, "However, just now, I have ruled out that possibility."
Bryan's words did little to improve the unsightly contortion of Barty's features, and he was about to say something when the door, isolated by the winding stone road, suddenly creaked open, allowing a sneaky head to poke through the narrowing gap.
It was none other than Ludo Bagman, finally making his return after a night of unrestrained debauchery!
"Aha, I knew you wouldn't miss important business, Barty! You're up awfully early!"
Catching sight of Barty Crouch standing outside a tent with a face like a man about to commit murder, Ludo's expression froze, the artificial grin he had plastered upon his features turning into an awkward grimace. Then, his gaze shifted to Bryan's subtly amused smile, and Ludo's heart skipped yet another beat.
"Bryan, you too? What in Merlin's name happened to the Villa?"
After Bryan had briefly summarized the situation, offering a concise yet thorough account of the events that had transpired, Ludo's expression, though noticeably better when compared to the visage of Barty Crouch, remained grim.
"What do we do now?"
Ludo paced back and forth before them, as he actively wracked his brain, seeking countermeasures to this situation. "We...we of course need to find out who did this, right? Since Bryan says he has no leads, the Department probably has no good options either. Oh, Cornelius will absolutely have my head if he finds out this happened while I was away!"
"He won't be the only one, Ludo—" Barty growled through gritted teeth, his words infused with a palpable undercurrent of menace that sent a shiver coursing down Ludo's spine. "I have no intention of letting you off either!"
"Besides Bryan, neither of us can say anything about the other. After all, oh..."
Ludo fumbled, grasping at straws as he concocted a series of feeble excuses, trying to shirk responsibility for the calamity that had unfolded. But, catching sight of Barty's expression that seemed to silently warn "utter another word and I'll curse you into oblivion," Ludo instinctively shrank back, his neck retracting like a turtle seeking refuge within its protective shell as he hurriedly sought to divert the conversation.
"I mean, the security plan!"
Wiping the cold beads of sweat that had formed upon his brow, Ludo hurriedly continued, his words tumbling forth in a torrent of urgency, "The investigation can wait, but our top priority is that plan, Barty. That's what's most important!"
"Thank you for the reminder, Ludo. I almost forgot!" The sarcasm that dripped from Barty's every word was palpable, his bulging eyes glaring at Ludo with an intensity that caused the latter to instinctively take two steps back, as if seeking to put additional distance between himself and the explosive fury that seemed to radiate from Barty's very being.
"No need to worry too much about the security plan—"
At that moment, Bryan made a startling statement.
Not worry? But this was the most crucial issue at hand!
Counting the present day, they had just three days remaining before the event was set to commence, and they had no time to waste in starting over from scratch!
Barty and Ludo both found themselves staring at Bryan, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and confusion as they tried to make sense of the utter nonsense that had just been uttered. Under their watchful, scrutinizing gazes, Bryan suddenly waved the wand that had been concealed within the folds of his sleeve.
From the half-open tent door, hundreds upon hundreds of blank parchment sheets burst forth with a whooshing sound akin to a volley of cold arrows unleashed from the quivers of a thousand archers. The parchments arrayed themselves before the three wizards, forming an immense screen that rivaled the size of a muggle movie theater in both scale and spectacle.
Immediately after the parchment sheets had assembled themselves into this vast projection screen, a quill, seeming to possess a mind of its own, flew out from the tent, hovering before Bryan with an almost.
Ding—
"Besides being eloquent, I also have an excellent memory—"
As if responding to his words, dozens upon dozens of quills suddenly took flight, soaring to sky in a whirl of feathers and ink, each one rapidly inscribing the hovering parchments with streaks of text that seemed to materialize like afterimages.
"I can essentially recall anything I've seriously read or written down myself—"
Observing the subtly shifting expressions that appeared across the faces of Barty and Ludo, equal parts bewilderment and dawning understanding, Bryan smiled faintly.
"So, whoever did this was foolish to think they could obstruct me—"
Midway through his sentence, Bryan abruptly paused. Disregarding Barty Crouch, whose features had begun to radiate an unmistakable sense of relief at having narrowly escaped disaster, Bryan focused the full intensity of his narrowed gaze upon Ludo Bagman, whose lips had turned pale.
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