Erwin hadn't seen it coming. Neither had anyone else.
To the untrained eye, Sunny Finch seemed flighty, but she was actually the most cunning of the lot. She had begun her preparations the moment the teams were finalized. Extremely cautious, she placed her tracking markers on the weakest member of each opposing team, ensuring they remained undetected.
While the Durmstrang students patrolled the woods, Sunny Finch and her squad waited silently under the trees. Veiled by her magic, the enemy walked right past them.
Then, Erwin announced the start of the No-Rules Tournament.
"Go!"
Sunny Finch's group surged from the shadows. As they moved, the formations triggered. Magical arrays flared to life, surging from the ground to trap the Durmstrang students in the center.
Before the opponents could even raise their wands, the exchange students had them surrounded. The spectators gasped. Karkaroff's face turned ashen in the viewing gallery. Meanwhile, the exchange instructors stroked their beards with deep satisfaction.
Erwin watched Sunny Finch with genuine interest. This was impressive tactical magic. Using only the terrain and a few pocket items, she had woven a trap right under their noses. It was crude, perhaps, but effective. Erwin had studied enough to understand the difficulty involved.
Caught completely off guard, the Durmstrang students were paralyzed.
"Counterattack! Form up!" Krum roared, his voice tight with panic.
The burly wizards tried to organize, but they had already lost the initiative. The exchange students moved like a single organism. Some provided covering fire, others charged in to absorb hits, while the rest struck with precision. It was a masterclass in teamwork, a product of rigorous training.
But it was too late.
The exchange students didn't just attack; they dismantled them. Close range, a raised hand, a single strike. The Durmstrang students, built like brick walls, crumpled as if made of paper. One by one, they hit the ground, unconscious.
Only Krum, reacting with Seeker-fast reflexes, dodged the first wave. Seeing his classmates falling like wheat before a scythe, he didn't hesitate. He turned on his heel and fled.
"Leader! They're running!" a student shouted.
Sunny Finch waved a hand. "Let him go. Chasing him is a waste of time. We have other targets."
They ignored the bodies on the ground and marched toward the castle.
Meanwhile, back in the Great Hall, the atmosphere was electric.
A group of students had drifted over to the scoreboard, idly checking the parchment fragment counts. Beauxbatons was leading with a massive fourteen. Durmstrang sat at ten. Hogwarts had six. The exchange students were, predictably, stuck at a humiliating zero.
"Just for show," someone muttered. "The real fight hasn't started."
Then, the numbers flashed.
Durmstrang: 10 → 8.
Exchange Students: 0 → 2.
The chatter died instantly. Every eye locked onto the enchanted parchment.
"Holy—! The exchange students attacked Durmstrang?"
"It's only been five minutes! How are they already clashing?"
As they watched, the Durmstrang number plummeted again.
8 → 6 → 4 → 2.
Simultaneously, the exchange students' number soared.
2 → 8.
In a single stroke, they had jumped from dead last to second place.
"Someone check the grounds! I need to see this!"
"It's a massacre! Come on!"
A stampede of students bolted toward the main doors.
Grindelwald threw his head back and roared with laughter.
At the High Table, the mood was vastly different. Karkaroff sat rigid, his face purple with rage.
"Is this what you call training, Karkaroff?" Grindelwald sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "They didn't even raise a shield. One exchange, and they were down. Are the exchange students truly that strong, or are your students simply useless?"
Karkaroff's knuckles turned white. He said nothing, seething in silence.
Madame Maxime, however, wasn't listening. She was thinking about her own girls. Beauxbatons was currently leading, but that made them targets. The exchange students and Hogwarts were terrifyingly strong.
She made a mental note to speak to them tonight. If they were targeted, they were to surrender immediately. It was better to lose the parchment than to see those girls get hurt.