"Thank you!"
After catching Gabrielle, Fleur thanked Arthur once again.
Arthur waved it off. "No need. Let's head back up first."
With that, he and Hermione swam toward the surface, Fleur following closely behind with Gabrielle in her arms.
When the four of them broke through the surface of the lake, thunderous applause erupted from the spectators on the wooden towers.
As soon as they came ashore, the Beauxbatons girls hurried forward and wrapped Fleur and Gabrielle in quick-dry towels, shielding them from the cold wind.
The Hogwarts students wanted to do the same for Arthur and Hermione—
—but quickly realized there was no need.
The two of them were completely dry.
Not a single drop of water clung to their robes, and even their hair was spotless. If the crowd hadn't seen them emerge from the lake with their own eyes, they might have thought the pair never entered the water at all.
Wrapped in her towel, Fleur walked up to Arthur.
"I know I've already said this many times," she said sincerely, "but I still want to say it again. Thank you—for saving my sister and me."
Before Arthur could even respond, Fleur suddenly cupped his face—
—and kissed him.
Straight on the lips.
Hermione froze on the spot.
Fortunately, Harry had just dragged Ron out of the lake at that moment, and most people's attention was focused elsewhere. Otherwise, that single kiss would have shattered the hearts of countless boys on the spot.
Still… not everyone missed it.
Ron saw it.
The moment he opened his eyes, that scene burned itself straight into his soul.
For an instant, Harry swore he heard something crack—
—the sound of Ron's heart breaking.
Ron wailed inwardly.
My first love… ended before it even began.
…Wait.
Why did he say again?
Sadly for Ron, no one cared about his inner tragedy. The crowd was too busy cheering for Harry's successful completion of the task.
As for Fleur—the very object of Ron's shattered affection—she turned bright red the moment she kissed Arthur. Without waiting for his reaction, she fled straight back to Beauxbatons' resting area.
Her flushed cheeks and crimson ears betrayed her composure entirely.
Arthur watched her retreating figure and chuckled softly, shaking his head.
He truly hadn't expected Fleur to do that.
Being from a romantic country, cheek-kissing was a common courtesy—but he'd assumed that was all she intended.
He hadn't expected her to go straight for the kill.
Turning around, Arthur found Hermione pouting at him, cheeks puffed out in unmistakable displeasure.
She was clearly jealous.
"I really didn't know she was going to do that," Arthur explained helplessly.
Hermione huffed. "Then why didn't you dodge?"
"I thought she was just going for a cheek kiss," Arthur said honestly. "So I didn't react. Who knew she'd—"
Thinking about it carefully, it was true. That country used cheek-kissing more than anywhere else.
Fleur had initiated it, and Arthur hadn't had time to process it.
Still…
No matter how Hermione thought about it, she felt annoyed.
She turned her head and shot Fleur a sharp glare.
Fleur noticed—and simply smiled back at her calmly.
That was the final straw.
Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Arthur.
Arthur sighed, then gently stroked her hair, soothing the sulking little witch.
At that moment, Krum surfaced with an unfamiliar girl—the partner he'd danced with at the Yule Ball.
Notably, Krum hadn't relied on a Bubble-Head Charm underwater.
Instead, he'd used Transfiguration.
He had transformed his own head into that of a shark.
The sheer intimidation alone had driven away most underwater creatures, allowing him to retrieve his partner without issue.
With Krum's return, the second task of the Triwizard Tournament officially came to an end.
First place was beyond dispute—Hermione, who surfaced first.
As for second place—
Fleur felt she'd benefited too much from Arthur's help and believed she hadn't earned the ranking.
She personally explained the situation to the judges and requested to be ranked last.
After a brief discussion between Dumbledore and Barty Crouch Sr., her request was approved.
Thus, second place went to Harry.
Harry arranged to celebrate that evening with Ron at Hagrid's hut, but before he could leave, Barty Crouch pulled him aside.
The Imperius Curse was a peculiar thing.
As long as the caster didn't issue commands, the victim would behave exactly as they normally would—capable of thought, habit, and even judgment.
Crouch's actions now were merely professional instinct—offering Harry a few formal words.
Unfortunately, the fake "Moody" didn't know that.
Since Voldemort held the primary control over Crouch, the impostor only had limited authority.
Seeing Crouch speaking with Harry, he panicked.
If Crouch broke free long enough to warn Harry, everything would fall apart.
The risk was small—but he couldn't allow even the slightest chance.
So he rushed over and forcibly interrupted the conversation.
And in doing so—
—he exposed himself.
A habitual lick of the lips.
Barty Crouch Sr. knew that habit all too well.
It belonged to his son.
Under the Imperius Curse, without direct orders, Crouch retained his memories and reasoning.
That single gesture was enough.
He realized the truth.
The man before him was not Alastor Moody.
It was his son.
Crouch said nothing.
He turned and left quietly, his destination unknown.
The fake Moody, however, realized he'd slipped.
Terrified that his identity would be revealed, he made his decision.
That very night, while Harry was celebrating near Hagrid's hut—
—he found Barty Crouch's body at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Harry sprinted back toward the castle to report it to Dumbledore.
Passing through the Entrance Hall, he ran straight into Arthur, Hermione, and Ranni, who had just finished dinner.
Without hesitation, Harry grabbed Arthur and dragged him toward the Headmaster's Office.
Hermione and Ranni were left staring at each other in stunned silence.
Since when had their cousin—their king—become so popular that even boys were fighting over him?
…Of course, that was just a joke.
They knew Harry must have urgent business.
Whatever it was, Arthur would tell them later.
Having eaten their fill, the two girls headed back toward the Gryffindor common room to rest.
Arthur shook Harry off after only a short distance.
If he didn't, there'd be rumors by tomorrow about him and Harry eloping.
And honestly?
That kind of rumor spread fast at Hogwarts.
"What happened?" Arthur asked calmly. "Why are you dragging me around like this?"
"Mr. Crouch… he was murdered," Harry said breathlessly. "His body's in the Forbidden Forest. I'm going to tell Dumbledore."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Chances were, Dumbledore already knew.
Earlier, Arthur had spotted Fudge in the Great Hall.
Given how much the Minister disliked Dumbledore, he wouldn't show up at Hogwarts unless something serious had happened.
He hadn't even attended the Triwizard Tournament personally—leaving everything to Crouch.
Now he was here, looking tense.
The reason was obvious.
Which meant—
Crouch had likely been dead for some time.
Killed by his own son, left lying in the forest, undiscovered for hours.
No retrieval. No dignity.
Tragic, really.
But that had nothing to do with Arthur.
"So," Arthur asked curiously, "why did you bring me along?"
"Uh…" Harry faltered.
He couldn't exactly say it was instinct.
He didn't know why—he just felt that bringing Arthur was the right choice.
Seeing Harry struggle, Arthur didn't press the issue.
Since he was already here, he might as well enjoy the show.
As they reached the door to the Headmaster's Office, voices leaked through.
"You've already lost one man, Fudge!" Dumbledore said heavily. "And he won't be the last. We must act."
Dumbledore was suggesting suspending the Triwizard Tournament.
Fudge, however, refused.
"I will not act rashly," Fudge replied coldly. "The wizarding world needs strong leadership and stability, Dumbledore."
Arthur paused outside the door.
Well, he thought calmly, this should be interesting.
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