"And why is that?"
Hermione, sitting nearby, asked curiously.
The Hogwarts students had already watched the replay of the first task earlier. While they had marveled at the champions' meticulous reasoning and the organizers' bold creativity, they had also come to understand the other two champions a little better—mainly Fleur, of course. After all, Viktor Krum had already been an internationally famous Quidditch prodigy before entering the Triwizard Tournament, and after making a name for himself at the World Cup over the summer, he was now practically a household name.
Then again, the first task had mainly tested the champions' intelligence. At the time, they had not even been allowed to have their wands, much less engage in actual combat. So how had Professor Moody concluded that the other two champions were weaker than Ken?
"Sometimes, a few small details are enough to provide very useful information."
"Moody" turned to look at Harry and the others beside him, while his large magical eye spun halfway around on its own and continued staring at the giant screen, following the match.
"For example, the unconscious expressions the three of them showed earlier when they didn't have their wands, and then some of their subtle movements at the end, when they revealed the truth and stood facing Karkaroff..."
"If you observed carefully, you would have noticed that without their wands, Krum and Delacour often appeared somewhat stiff. Sometimes their hands would unconsciously move toward where their wands normally were, but after realizing they had no wands on them, they would awkwardly not know where to put their hands..."
"Isn't that normal?"
Harry asked as he instinctively touched his own wand. "If the wand you've used for years suddenly isn't there, most wizards would feel uncomfortable, wouldn't they?"
"You're right. But as you just said—'most.'"
"Moody's" voice lowered.
"But that Ken—after losing his wand, I couldn't see the slightest sign of discomfort in his expression or movements, nor any loss of confidence when facing other people who did have wands. That either means he's already used to solving problems without a wand, like the students from Uagadou... or else it means..."
"He's confident he can protect himself even without a wand?"
Ron, who had been quietly listening for quite a while, could not help interjecting in surprise.
"Judging by how he's performing now, that's probably exactly the case."
"Moody" pointed at Avada on the screen, who was moving around the Ukrainian Ironbelly with apparent ease, then nodded lightly to confirm Ron's guess before continuing.
"And there's another point—when the three of them faced Karkaroff together at the end and explained the truth of the case before the public."
"When the other two champions were speaking—especially when Karkaroff or Crouch suddenly made some movement, like slamming the table and standing up, or shouting in fury—they would usually, involuntarily, turn slightly sideways, lean back, or spread their legs to lower their center of gravity... those are obvious signs of wanting to retreat."
"But whenever that happened, that Ken—not only did his posture not change at all, but his arm would even lift slightly."
"Because he was preparing to use wandless magic against any possible attack?"
"Or because he trusted Dumbledore."
"Moody" shrugged.
"At the time, Dumbledore was sitting right beside Karkaroff and Crouch. He was fully capable of subduing them before they could actually launch an attack, and even if one or two spells slipped through, there wouldn't be enough time for them to cast anything truly powerful... But even so, the fact that Ken still dared to respond to a possible crisis with wandless magic means he must have had a considerable degree of confidence in his own strength. And that confidence was based on knowing the strength of the people he was facing..."
He turned his head back and stared at the figure on the screen, darting rapidly across the arena, for quite a while before finally letting out a slow sigh of admiration.
"That student... is no ordinary person."
"Your observation is excellent too, Professor."
Harry could not help praising him.
"You can pick useful information out of so many tiny details!"
"I've taught you this already. It's a required skill for infiltration."
"Moody" nodded, clearly pleased with the compliment.
"You must keep track of the information in your surroundings at all times. When facing strangers, you have to quickly use the small details they reveal without thinking to piece together their true personality, so you can decide how you yourself should act while undercover..."
"But, Professor?"
Ron, sitting nearby, asked in puzzlement, "I heard my dad say before that you were the kind of Auror who was better at direct combat... so why is it that for all this time, the focus of your lessons has been infiltration?"
"...That's because Arthur has only ever seen the side of me that fights head-on."
Whether it was Harry's imagination or not, he felt that Professor Moody seemed to stiffen slightly after hearing Ron's question. Only then did he continue speaking as though nothing had happened.
"Before any so-called 'direct combat' begins, I've usually already spent a very long time infiltrating—disguising myself, penetrating enemy camps, gathering intelligence, sabotaging logistics, analyzing weaknesses... The work an Auror does is far less flashy and glamorous than it looks."
"But shouldn't those things be handled by your subordinates? As the leader, did you really need to do all that yourself?"
"Then why do you think they were the subordinates, and I was the leader?"
"Moody" rolled his normal eye.
"Because I was better at doing those things than they were... so whenever there was a particularly difficult case, I was almost always the one who personally went undercover. And for most ordinary wizards, infiltration skills really are more useful than combat ability—they're the simplest and most effective way to keep yourself safe."
...
Durmstrang, the arena.
After a charging pillar had appeared out of nowhere and been crushed flat by the Ukrainian Ironbelly sitting on it, Avada had finally managed to steady the mentality that had almost collapsed on the spot. Then, following the rhythm he had figured out earlier, he continued little by little guiding the dragon's patterns of behavior.
That incident had also brought him an unexpected bit of good fortune—after falling from more than ten meters in the air, the dragon's limbs seemed to have suffered a minor problem. Its speed in pursuing him had visibly dropped by quite a bit. That made it much easier now for Avada to widen the distance between them, forcing the dragon to rely on its breath attacks...
At last, after luring the dragon into smashing a few more fragile pillars and collecting a number of only barely useful items like invigorating potions, Devil's Snare seeds, and healing potions, he finally spotted another eye-catching red light somewhere in the vast arena—
And it was a full dozens of meters away from the dragon!
"My luck's finally turned!"
Avada's heart leaped with joy. He immediately directed his Transfiguration birds to harass the dragon from a distance again, then hurried them back to his side just before the pillar rose. A wave of heat soon began to seep slowly from between the dragon's fangs once more.
"ROAR!"
A tongue of flame over a hundred feet long slammed squarely into the crimson pillar that had just risen from the ground, causing it to rapidly light up. The dragonfire seemed to be absorbed directly into the pillar's interior, then slowly rise and refine itself within it. Finally, it emerged again from the very top of the pillar and flowed toward the platform floating in midair...
As that purified dragonfire was completely absorbed, a number gradually appeared beneath the floating platform—
"1".
(End of Chapter)