"Hermione doesn't understand Quidditch."
When Ron asked why she wasn't worried, Ginny said this.
"The moment I saw you mount your broomsticks, I knew you'd win."
"Huh?"
Harry, Ron, and Cedric all looked at her in surprise when Ginny said this.
Under the gaze of the three, Ginny unconsciously twirled a strand of hair around her fingertip, but her eyes were unusually certain.
"Harry, Diggory, you're both Seekers for the team. And there's Sherlock, who has talent similar to yours and whom Wood keeps wanting to recruit. With a combination like this, I really can't imagine how you could lose."
She paused, her gaze falling on Cedric's bandaged shoulder, her tone softening somewhat. "Though I didn't expect Diggory to still get injured..."
"Just a minor injury. Madam Pomfrey's magic is more effective than I imagined."
Cedric smiled and raised his arm, his gaze sweeping toward the entrance of the stands. "On the other hand, Miss Weasley has more confidence in us than we have in ourselves."
"Those involved are often confused, while bystanders see clearly."
Ginny glanced lightly at Harry, a faint smile on her lips, her words carrying a composure that others found hard to understand.
Ever since returning from Hogsmeade, she seemed to have truly learned to keep her feelings lighter and look at things more casually, just as Hermione had suggested.
"I think Sherlock will gently comfort Miss Granger," Cedric added.
"Comfort? Forget it!"
Ginny sighed softly. She knew Sherlock quite well now and said without hesitation, "The word 'gentle comfort' probably doesn't exist in his dictionary. At most, he'll analyze and reason things out with Hermione."
"What? Is that the kind of person Sherlock is?" Cedric looked surprised.
Harry nodded seriously. "He really is that kind of person."
"Shh, they're about to score you!"
Ron suddenly lowered his voice sharply, pointing at the judges' table where five judges sat on raised golden chairs.
The first to move was Madame Olympe Maxime.
The tall headmistress of Beauxbatons, her black velvet robes hanging down beside her chair, swept her heavy gaze over the scorched field that had been ravaged by the Hungarian Horntail, then glanced indifferently toward the distant tent.
Finally, her wand lifted lightly, and a silvery-white ribbon floated from the tip, twisting in the air to form a neat "7".
"That's acceptable," Ron said quietly.
Harry and Cedric nodded to each other. The score wasn't low indeed.
But both understood that Beauxbatons' students had yet to compete, so the headmistress held back somewhat in her scoring.
Cedric said thoughtfully, "I suppose it's because her students haven't gone yet."
Harry thought of Hermione's trembling figure as she rushed out earlier.
Perhaps sometimes, the torment of waiting was more grinding than facing the dragon himself.
But as Ron said, this result was acceptable enough.
Next was Mad-Eye Moody.
His magical blue eye spun wildly in its socket. After a moment, red light flashed, forming a striking "9" in the air.
"Ha ha, that's more like it!"
Ron excitedly patted Harry's back, his voice nearly drowning out the surrounding cheers. "No wonder my dad speaks so highly of him—truly our own Auror!"
The cheers from the spectator stands instantly rose higher.
Next was Dumbledore, sitting in the center.
His silver-white beard floated gently as he raised his hand, the tip of his wand glowing with a warm white light, also drawing a "9" in the air.
"We've got this!"
Ron clenched his fist tightly. "I knew Professor Dumbledore would be the fairest!"
"I bet he didn't give ten points because he was afraid you'd get proud."
Ginny teased with a smile, the corner of her eye catching Harry's slightly reddened ears before quietly looking away.
Harry and Cedric exchanged glances, both unable to help but smile.
Ten points had always been wishful thinking. Even though they'd obtained the golden egg, with Cedric's injury right there, it couldn't be considered truly perfect.
Nine points was already the highest score they could expect.
As long as Professor Karkaroff and Mr. Bagman gave another seven or eight points, Hogwarts' lead would be secure.
But the next second, the entire arena's cheers suddenly stopped, cut off like a severed string.
Igor Karkaroff's face was so dark it could drip water.
He didn't even look at the field much, just swept his eyes across Dumbledore with a corner glance, his lips curling into a mean arc.
Then his wand gave an extremely perfunctory shake, and a dull gray light formed numbers in the air—4.
The air instantly froze.
"Are you kidding me!"
Ron jumped to his feet, his already clenched fists now crackling. "Is that old bastard blind?!"
"That's so unfair!" Ginny also stood up, her small body standing straight, her voice clear enough to pierce through the silence. "We clearly did the best!"
Harry's nails dug deep into his palms, anger jumping in his eyes like flames.
He could accept fair judgment, but couldn't stand this blatant favoritism.
Cedric shook his head lightly, his brows tightly knitted, his eyes full of anger, but more filled with helplessness at this injustice.
The spectator stands completely exploded.
Huge boos and protests surged like a tide. Hogwarts students angrily pounded the stands' railings.
Even Professor Flitwick was so angry he stood on tiptoe and cursed him shameless.
"Rigged!"
"Despicable!"
"Shameless!"
"Karkaroff, fuck you!"
More impulsive students shouted swearwords, surprising Professor McGonagall beside them into frowning, though she ultimately didn't speak to stop them.
"Albus, it seems your school's students' quality still needs improvement."
Karkaroff frowned pretentiously, turning to tell Dumbledore, "Such vulgar language is truly disappointing."
"Professor Karkaroff, our school has always respected freedom of speech."
Dumbledore still wore a gentle smile, his half-moon spectacles reflecting light in the sunshine. "The children's gratitude is always so direct and passionate, isn't it?"
Karkaroff snorted coldly, turned his head sharply away, his expression even uglier.
"Ha ha, you two don't need to worry, there's still me!"
Ludo Bagman was so excited his face flushed red.
Clearly the excitement from his earlier commentary hadn't yet passed.
Karkaroff was about to turn and ask when he saw Bagman almost jumping as he waved his wand. A dazzling golden light shot straight into the sky, forming a large "10".
The entire arena instantly erupted!
The dissatisfied boos were replaced by deafening cheers. Students waved their hands vigorously, shouting themselves hoarse.
Full marks!
True perfection!
"T-ten points?" Harry instinctively rubbed his eyes, hardly believing what he was seeing.
Cedric was also stunned, reaching up to touch his shoulder. "But... I'm injured..."
"Oh, don't be a spoilsport now!" Ron threw his arms around both their shoulders, shaking with excitement. "Mr. Bagman is much more generous than Professor Dumbledore!"
"Exactly!"
Ginny also smiled, reaching out to lightly hug Harry's arm. "He's not afraid of you getting proud!"
Harry's cheeks warmed slightly, his gaze inadvertently meeting Ginny's eyes.
Her eyes were clear and bright, filled with pure joy, without a trace of the grievance Hermione had mentioned.
He quietly breathed a sigh of relief, then felt an inexplicable pang of guilt and quickly looked away.
Just as their conversation ended, suddenly shouts from dragon handlers rang out from the other side of the field.
The Durmstrang team, who had drawn number two, was entering. They had to face a Chinese Fireball with crimson scales.
"Does it seem smaller than the Hungarian Horntail?"
Neville and Dean squeezed over. Neville stared at the dragon, his voice still trembling a bit.
He'd just been frightened by the dragon. Thinking that his grandmother had actually let him participate in this Triwizard Tournament, he couldn't help but feel a wave of lingering fear.
"The Hungarian Horntail is one of the most vicious dragons!" Ron pounded the railing in frustration. "The judges should've taken that into account when scoring and given us a few more points!"
"Not a bad suggestion. After this task ends, you can propose it to the organizers."
Sherlock's voice sounded faintly.
Everyone turned to look and saw Sherlock and Hermione walking over side by side.
Hermione's hair had been tidied, the stray locks at her forehead tucked behind her ears.
But looking carefully, the red marks at the corners of her eyes hadn't completely faded, and her cheeks still carried a flush that hadn't dispersed.
She clutched a small cloth bag in her hand—the schoolbag she'd left on the stands earlier.
"Sherlock! Hermione!"
Ron immediately waved. "You're finally here! That old bastard Karkaroff just gave us four points. We were practically dying of anger!"
The two looked toward the judges' table following Ron's gesture and saw Karkaroff talking to Madame Maxime with a dark expression.
Hermione pressed her lips together, not immediately joining the condemnation as she usually would.
She quietly walked to Ginny's side, hiding her bag behind her back.
Earlier outside the tent, she'd finally managed to give Sherlock the calendula healing salve.
Ginny noticed her small movement and leaned over to whisper, "Everything okay now?"
"Mm," Hermione nodded lightly. "I was too anxious earlier."
As she spoke, she looked toward Sherlock, who was currently staring at the Durmstrang team.
Viktor Krum stood at the front, gripping his wand tightly, still maintaining that gloomy expression.
Toby Thornton and Lucas Poliakov followed closely behind.
Both had tense expressions.
"Do you think Krum will also summon his broomstick?"
Ron asked curiously. "He should've been able to hear Mr. Bagman's commentary and know what happened, right?"
Reminded by Ron, everyone reacted.
Right, Krum was one of the world's best Seekers.
In terms of technical skill alone, he was even above Harry and Cedric.
If he'd just heard Mr. Bagman's commentary, there was no reason he wouldn't do the same.
After all—there was no rule saying you couldn't learn from your opponents, was there?
"He'll definitely do it."
Sherlock said with certainty. "Once he gets on a broomstick, his advantage will only be greater than ours."
As if to verify Sherlock's words, the next moment, Krum indeed raised his wand!
The Summoning Charm was successfully cast, and a broomstick came whistling through the air.
However, the Chinese Fireball seemed to move more alertly than the Hungarian Horntail.
It suddenly spun around, its tail sweeping with a whoosh. The broomstick wobbled in the air before stabilizing.
Krum quickly jumped on the broom and flew high into the air.
The Chinese Fireball raised its head and roared angrily, opening its mouth to spew a burst of flames.
Krum nimbly dodged to the side on his broomstick.
His two teammates, unable to fly into the sky like Krum, raised their wands and began chanting spells.
Two red lights rapidly shot toward the Chinese Fireball, but unfortunately hit the dragon's tough hide, posing no real threat.
Instead, their actions angered the Chinese Fireball. It no longer bothered with Krum in the air, turning its attention to Thornton and Poliakov on the ground.
Thornton and Poliakov nearly wet themselves. Without a word, both turned and ran.
"Split up! Don't run in the same direction!"
Krum in the air couldn't help but shout a reminder.
Only then did Thornton and Poliakov react, hurriedly changing direction.
Krum's expression grew increasingly gloomy as he watched his two teammates once again run together in the same direction.
But seeing that if he didn't act, his teammates would become the dragon's meal, he could only take a deep breath and dive straight toward the Chinese Fireball.
The fast-moving Krum successfully attracted the Chinese Fireball's attention.
Seeing this, Krum immediately stopped his dive and soared upward.
It must be said, his Wronski Feint was much more skilled than Harry's.
Amid the spectators' gasps, a burst of flames erupted, but he nimbly dodged to the side.
At this moment, Krum's two teammates finally seemed to react. Seizing the opportunity, they again cast spells at the Chinese Fireball.
Unfortunately, they missed again.
Next, Krum alone circled in the air on his broom, diving several times, weaving back and forth around the Chinese Fireball's perimeter.
To the spectators, the scene was extremely dangerous.
There were no precise time calculations, no reckless charges, only his personal skill forcing his way through.
Whether it was the Chinese Fireball's flames or its tail attacks, none could touch Krum.
"He's really amazing!"
Harry said admiringly. "If he had two good teammates, he'd succeed in less than five minutes!"
"Too bad he doesn't."
Cedric smiled.
A full ten minutes passed, almost three times what the Hogwarts champions took before the match finally showed a turning point.
Poliakov's spell finally hit the Chinese Fireball's eye.
The Chinese Fireball immediately let out a terrible, earth-shattering scream.
The eyes were the most vulnerable part of a dragon's body.
Their target had been there from the start.
Their aim was just a bit off.
But finally, they succeeded.
Without a word, Krum seized the dragon's moment of painful struggle to grab the golden egg and flew rather awkwardly away from the field.
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