Yes, after all his painstaking calculations, he had finally discovered the key to winning this match. As long as he kept following that rhythm, victory should have been guaranteed.
But who the hell could have predicted that a pillar would spawn directly under the dragon's ass and launch it into the sky?!
In an arena the size of a stadium, there were only three such pillars in total. Their appearance times were completely random. And yet one of those damned things had just happened to emerge in his blind spot, using the sturdy pillar to perfectly block the red warning light that should have appeared beforehand. Even the view from his magical perception had been obscured by the magical structure beneath the sturdy pillar, preventing him from noticing it in time!
If that sturdy pillar had not blocked his line of sight, Avada would have had every way of drawing the dragon away in advance or widening the distance first, and then guiding it to breathe fire onto the newly appeared pillar to charge it!!
What kind of cursed probability was that?!
For one brief moment, Avada felt that if he were to chant the incantation for a certain Dark spell right now, it would probably achieve an unprecedented level of power.
"..."
And it was not just him. Outside, the spectators in the stands—and even "Ludo Bagman" in the commentator's seat—had also fallen into silence.
'...I didn't design this, did I?'
Barty Crouch Jr. rubbed his eyes in bewilderment, making sure his Polyjuice Potion had not somehow gone wrong and caused him to see things.
'Did that thing really appear randomly? Or did Karkaroff secretly pull some trick to mess with the champions' mentality and distract them?'
'But hadn't we already agreed that this task would proceed normally, and that we wouldn't make our move until the third task??'
'Don't tell me that traitor is secretly pulling something behind my back again? But the other Death Eaters said he could be trusted...'
'No, that's not right. Those cowards can't be trusted completely either. How could anyone truly loyal to the Master completely cast aside his great ideals and crawl on living in disgrace? If Dumbledore hadn't driven them into a corner with no way out, they probably would never even have thought about reviving the Master—especially Karkaroff, that traitor. I know perfectly well what he did...'
'Hmph. I'll make use of you for now, and once the Master returns, let's see who he settles accounts with first.'
The instant Karkaroff's face—one Barty loathed from the depths of his heart—rose in his mind, his fists clenched involuntarily. His nails dug deep into his palms, and the sharp sting of pain quickly brought him back to his senses.
He was still Ludo Bagman right now. He was still at the Triwizard Tournament. He still had commentary to deliver for the audience.
"Merlin above, who could have imagined that Mr. Ken's luck would be this bad..."
He adjusted his state almost instantly and threw himself once more into his flawless performance. Years of resisting the Imperius Curse had tempered his mind enough that controlling his emotions now came as naturally as breathing. Even the slight twist of expression he had let slip by accident earlier, under the deliberate hesitancy of his tone, had turned into the look of someone who wanted to complain but did not even know where to begin...
"The dragon destroyed one of the pillars, but that wasn't Mr. Ken's fault. He had only just brought the dragon under control when the charging pillar rose straight up from under the dragon's backside..."
Barty scratched his hair, making himself look as if he were thinking desperately yet still unable to organize the scene into words. To be fair, what had just happened really was so absurd that it would have been difficult for anyone to describe clearly.
"But this will certainly be a regrettable factor in the scoring, and it will also make the rest of the match much harder. He now has only two pillars left to work with..."
Meanwhile, Hogwarts Great Hall.
What should have been the professors' seating area had been replaced by a huge white screen, upon which the events unfolding at the Durmstrang arena were being projected with crystal clarity. The professors, meanwhile, had moved their chairs down to the open space between the four house tables, sitting there together with the students as they watched the match without blinking—shocked along with them that the organizers had actually chosen something as dangerous as a Ukrainian Ironbelly, then cheering and applauding together at Avada's brilliant performance...
And then, when that heaven-sent pillar had jabbed the dragon under the rear, launched it into the sky, and then snapped cleanly apart, they had all fallen silent together.
"Th-That... that's match-fixing, isn't it?"
At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting together in a row as usual, and in the open space beside them sat this year's new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the legendary Auror Alastor Moody.
Ever since he had taken the post, this highly skilled combat master had received an enthusiastic welcome from the entire school except Slytherin. Even the most arrogant students in Slytherin did not dare act up in front of him—for after all, quite a few of their parents had been sent to Azkaban either directly or indirectly by this old Auror.
And afterward, his teaching ability had only further increased his reputation. Whether it was combat, stealth techniques, or the sheer variety of spells, this professor handled them all with effortless ease, explaining everything vividly and clearly. His skill in infiltration and using Transfiguration in particular was practically magical in itself, and the many techniques he demonstrated left students staring in amazement. Every so often, he would even mention obscure Death Eater secrets in class, greatly broadening the students' horizons...
His only flaw, however, was exactly as the rumors had said—he was far too cautious and suspicious. The slightest disturbance was enough to seize his full attention, making him turn toward it with an alert and guarded stare. To quote some of the Slytherins who disliked him and muttered behind his back:
"Like a rat."
—To be honest, Harry also felt that the professor's mannerisms did sometimes resemble a rat, but he had not dared say that to anyone.
What was more, this professor really had treated him with much more care than he showed the other students. He had heard it was because his parents had once fought alongside Moody. Since the school year began, Professor Moody had already given Harry quite a bit of extra tutoring, taught him more combat techniques in greater detail—though for some reason most of them seemed to revolve around stealth—and would occasionally pull him aside to talk about stories from his parents' past. All of that had made Harry develop a very good impression of him.
"It probably isn't match-fixing—but even if it were, it wouldn't be surprising. A man like Karkaroff pulling some dirty trick would shock absolutely no one."
"Moody" snorted and answered Harry in his rough, buzzing voice. "But I don't think Karkaroff has any chance to pull something like that right now—he's sitting right next to Dumbledore."
"Then Ken's just absurdly unlucky. Will this make him fall behind the other champions?" Harry asked worriedly.
"Definitely. At the very least, Karkaroff will definitely use this as an excuse to dock him some points. But as for the level of those other two champions... heh heh."
"Moody" bared his teeth in an ugly sneer.
"Whether they can even last more than a few moves against a dragon like that is another question entirely."
(End of Chapter)