After staying in the locker room for a while, Kael and a few others returned to the stands.
Professor McGonagall arranged them on the spectator stand next to the judges' panel.
"You'll have to wait a bit longer..." she said. "The scoring will only begin once all the champions come out."
Kael nodded to show he understood.
Once Professor McGonagall left, he settled back and watched the match like an ordinary spectator.
This felt pretty good.
On the field, Krum and Fleur had both reached the third trial.
But as he watched, Kael suddenly realized he might have unintentionally made the competition a lot harder.
Because he cleared the third task ahead of schedule, Krum and Fleur ended up facing two Fire Dragons at the same time.
In other words, the simplest method—one distracting the dragon while the other grabs the stone—no longer worked. To clear this challenge, they'd have to confront the dragons head-on.
The problem was, after the first two rounds, both were already in terrible shape. Fleur was pale and gasping for breath, and although Krum was holding a Firebolt, his arm was bleeding.
Honestly, this was a bit beyond what Kael expected... He'd thought they'd be less exhausted, since in theory, they each only had to deal with one actual round.
"You've really got some nerve." A rough voice sounded behind him.
Kael turned around and saw it was Professor Moody.
He looked quite pleased, that magic eye of his bouncing in its socket.
"That Summoning Charm of yours was clean and beautiful... If only you'd used it in the first challenge—that Zouwu is a lot slower than the Firebolt, after all."
He sounded like he was critiquing Kael's performance as he went on and on: "But it was the third trial that shocked me most. Bold, decisive, confident... If you ever want to become an Auror, based on this tournament alone, I could pull strings to get you into the Auror Office ahead of schedule.
"Well? Interested?"
"Thank you, professor," Kael said. "But I'm still a student. Let's talk about it after I graduate."
He knew full well that all that "boldness" and "decisiveness" was just for show, the whole thing had been planned in advance.
Still, the effect wasn't bad; even Professor Moody with his magic eye hadn't noticed anything, so the others certainly wouldn't… perhaps Dumbledore might, but that didn't matter much.
Moody seemed to catch the hint of a refusal from Kael, nodded, and said nothing more.
Kael turned back and resumed watching the match.
"Oh, just a little bit more... careful... My goodness, I thought she had it already."
"That was so close—ouch... Krum's move just now was cutting it waaay too fine."
…
About ten minutes later, the audience burst into another round of cheers and applause.
After all, these were the top students from both academies, and having known about the Fire Dragons in advance, there was no way they'd be stumped.
Fleur used a strange hypnosis magic, making the dragon groggy and sleepy... Kael figured the Dragon Tamers would love to learn that trick, since it normally took five or six of them using Stunning Spells together to put a dragon to sleep.
As for Krum, he chose a similar method to Kael, first luring the dragon away, then doubling back to grab the stone.
But he picked the wrong target, and in the very moment he snatched the stone, the Hungarian Horntail smacked him with its tail, sending him flying. When he was finally brought out, he couldn't even stand—others had to carry him to Madam Pomfrey.
Ten minutes later, though, he came back, looking much worse for wear but at least able to walk.
"Now do you believe me, Karkaroff?" Dumbledore said. "Madam Pomfrey always puts our champions back together good as new."
The anxious look finally faded from Karkaroff's face... Even though Krum still looked nothing like "good as new," he was sure a lot better than before.
"Hogwarts has an excellent Healer," he said.
"Now that all the champions are present," Bagman announced, standing up, "let's move on to the most exciting part: scoring the champions' performances… I bet you've all been waiting for this!"
Everyone immediately turned to look.
"No one can get more than ten points," Bagman said. "First up: Fleur Delacour. I'll go first..."
He raised his wand, and a long, silvery ribbon-like stream spurted from it.
"Seven points!"
Next was Chris, who also awarded a seven.
"Probably lost points for the second round," Cedric muttered. "She really didn't do well then."
Then Dumbledore gave her an eight... and Ms.Maxime gave a nine.
When Karkaroff's turn came...
"What?" George exclaimed incredulously. "Two points? That's way too low. She cleared every trial, for heaven's sake!"
But Bagman didn't seem to hear him at all.
Next up: Viktor Krum…
Bagman and Karkaroff both handed out tens, putting Viktor far ahead of Fleur.
And Ms.Maxime... She couldn't stoop to Karkaroff's level, so she ended up giving him a five.
Finally, it was Kael's turn.
"Ah, nothing to say here," Bagman laughed, raising his wand. "Ten points, without question!"
Chris also smiled and gave the same score.
It was almost as if they'd discussed it beforehand—the four judges all gave tens.
Karkaroff was last. He agonized over it for a long time, probably racking his brain for any little mistake Kael might have made.
Finally, he lifted his wand and shot out a number… nine.
"What?" Kael hadn't said anything yet, but Fred yelled angrily, "Nine points? You rotten, biased git, you've no right to be a judge!"
George was angry too. "You gave Krum a ten! How was he better than Kael?"
Everyone else was furious too… Frankly, nine wasn't bad, but since he'd just handed Krum a ten, it stung.
If you had even half a brain and common sense, you'd see Kael did way better in his three tasks than Krum… But he still scored lower?
The bias couldn't be more obvious—did he have no shame at all?
But Karkaroff just ignored the uproar, didn't even look back, pretending not to hear anything.
"Hey, catch!"
Suddenly, out of the crowded stands, something that looked like a crumpled ball of parchment came flying toward Karkaroff's head.
"Throwing paper balls… Hmph, childish trick."
Karkaroff sneered, reaching to swat it aside.
But the instant his hand touched the ball, it exploded… A foul, inky-black liquid splattered all over Karkaroff's face.
He was stunned at first, then his face turned green, then purple, then deathly pale in a second.
Urgh…
It stank so badly that for one fleeting second, he nearly fainted.
Everyone nearby, including Dumbledore and Maxime, instinctively took a step back… Some cast Bubble-Head Charms, some Scouring Charms, some pinched their noses—everyone tried whatever they could to keep the stench at bay.
Karkaroff's face looked even worse when he saw this.
Not because no one helped him, but because he'd just realized that some of the stink had gotten into his mouth.