Though ambushing someone was despicable, Vladimir hadn't broken any tournament rules.
This was ultimately a comprehensive test of abilities. The blame lay solely with Buso's lack of vigilance – just because they'd cooperated in the second round didn't mean he should have let his guard down around Vladimir.
And yet, the latter had precisely targeted the Invisibility Grass in his possession.
What irked Zaka was that after knocking Buso unconscious – effectively eliminating him – Vladimir couldn't be bothered to send up red sparks to summon the professors for rescue.
With so many dangers lurking in the maze, abandoning someone who'd lost combat capability there was practically sentencing Buso to death!
Katerina also found Vladimir's conduct lacking in sportsmanship, whispering an apology:
"Perhaps the excitement of such substantial gains made him forget. I'll reprimand him afterwards."
Zaka sneered. "Then you'd better win the championship first. Dumbledore, you have my support."
Dumbledore offered an awkward yet polite smile, choosing not to involve himself further.
Another ten minutes passed. Krum and Harry arrived at the tower almost simultaneously. After a wary glance at the two Command Seals on Harry's hand, Krum chose not to confront him, instead lurking nearby while waiting for Harry to enter.
His targets were Cassandra, Zaka and Vladimir – the three champions he considered weakest.
"We should prepare to greet the champions," Crouch suddenly announced, producing the medal case.
The winning school of the Holy Grail War would keep the Grail, while these medals were prepared for the participants.
Nearby journalists readied their cameras, preparing to follow for photo opportunities.
Fudge's eyes gleamed. "Barty, how about letting me present the awards?"
"Well..." Crouch looked uncertainly at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, if you'd be so kind as to assist, nothing could be better."
Fudge brightened visibly. For politicians like him, positive publicity was lifeblood. Presenting the awards would guarantee his portrait dominating tomorrow's global headlines.
The judges rose from their seats, intending to hold a brief awards ceremony outside the tower before escorting everyone back.
...
Within the maze, Harry remained vigilant against Krum.
Only after inserting both keys and seeing a passage appear without Krum making any move did Harry proceed cautiously.
The moment he stepped inside, the floor beneath him began ascending, stopping only when reaching the fourth level.
This was a spacious Great Hall. As Harry appeared, wall torches flared to life, illuminating the monstrous figure at its centre – making his heart sink.
He recognised it from The Monster Book of Monsters.
A Sphinx, with a lion's body and a beautiful woman's head. Harry tensed, raising his wand though not yet casting.
"Must I defeat you or answer your riddle?"
The Sphinx smiled. "Either will suffice. Should you best me, you may proceed."
She shifted slightly, revealing the staircase she'd been blocking.
Though briefly tempted to charge past, Harry dismissed the idea. The Sphinx was no weakling – like the Manticore, it was a XXXXX-class creature.
"I choose to answer the riddle."
'Hermione, Wayne, lend me just one per cent of your intellect. I'll return it after using it.'
Harry silently prayed in his heart as the Sphinx sat back on its hind legs and recited:
"Head without a tail, with horns and mouth. Twist its horn, and water pours forth."
"Answer me, what is this?"
Harry's eyelid twitched. "Could you slow down and repeat that?"
He was still praying when the riddle came to an end.
How unsporting!
Fortunately, the Sphinx was in a good mood now and patiently repeated it at a slower pace.
"A head without a tail... that pours water... twisting horns... some kind of mechanism?" Harry ventured.
The Sphinx merely smiled mysteriously, which Harry took as encouragement – he was on the right track.
"Twist to get water... a tap? Is that it?"
The Sphinx's smile grew warmer. Without speaking, it simply stepped aside.
Harry rushed into the passageway in exhilaration – not because he was closer to victory, but because he'd just realised how clever he was. He'd have to brag to Ron about this later.
Where were the others?
Had someone already reached the cup?
Would he run into them soon?
As he climbed the stairs, Harry's thoughts grew more complicated.
Originally, he'd been reluctant to participate in the tournament. But having come this far, he couldn't help feeling ambitious about winning – that was only human nature.
Still, after six months of Grindelwald's tutelage, Harry had decent control over his mindset.
Soon, he reached the fifth floor.
The space was as large as below. A Blast-Ended Skrewt lay motionless on the ground, and four Mandrakes in the corner had been torn to pieces.
Harry froze.
Had someone already passed through?
Were there only single challenges per floor?
Suddenly, a low voice came from the stairs leading to the sixth floor.
"The Skrewt went berserk. You're lucky, Potter – you can bypass this challenge."
Moody limped into view.
"Professor, you're not joking?"
Harry eyed him sceptically. Moody pointed at the fallen Skrewt. "The selection team didn't notice this one was in heat – exceptionally aggressive. I came specifically to deal with it."
"Believe what you will. I'm leaving."
With that, Moody ignored him and descended the stairs.
Only after he'd disappeared did Harry scan the room again. Finding no other mechanisms, he headed for the sixth-floor stairs.
"Protego!"
"Reducto!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The crisp sounds of collision echoed through the room. Harry staggered back two steps but ultimately blocked the spells.
"You actually reacted in time?"
Moody stared at him in surprise, not launching another attack.
"Hah," Harry smirked coldly. "I've been on guard against you all along."
Moody's expression darkened. "Potter, when did you realise something was wrong with me?"
"I don't know what you're planning."
Harry answered honestly, his gaze flickering imperceptibly to the window on his left before settling back on Moody.
"But I had a gut feeling."
"Though you've kept up appearances all term, you're the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor! There's no way it'd be this peaceful. Out with it – what's your game?"
Harry had become something of an expert after being screwed over by Defence professors for three consecutive terms. As long as Moody remained unexposed, he couldn't relax.
Now that he'd been ambushed, Harry actually felt strangely relieved.
He'd been right all along!
Moody's face twisted in fury, never imagining he'd be exposed for such an absurd reason, mentally cursing the three previous professors to hell.
"Discovered or not, it changes nothing." Moody flicked his wand, and the windows slammed shut automatically, cutting off any distress sparks.
"Potter, Diggory's already reached the sixth floor. You won't win the tournament now, but no matter..." Moody spoke slowly, his facial scars contorting grotesquely. "I'll capture you myself and deliver you to my great master!"
Harry's pupils contracted.
Master? Moody was one of Voldemort's people?
Wait!
This wasn't Moody!
"Relashio!" A gruff voice echoed through the enclosed space as blinding light flashed.
Harry rolled aside, dodging the spell as the wall behind him exploded into a small crater.
Without incantation, red light shot towards Moody, followed by several sharp blades erupting from the floor. Caught between attacks, Moody flattened the blades with a Shield Charm before deflecting the beam.
Harry bolted for the ascending staircase – the room was too confined. Only on the stairs could he safely conjure protective flames without trapping himself.
Moody anticipated this. A crackling bolt of lightning struck the wall, collapsing rubble to seal the exit.
"Potter! There's no escape!"
Moody cackled wildly, firing a dazzling silver beam...
...
On the seventh floor, Cedric stumbled in, covered in lumps, yet wearing a foolish grin.
He'd nearly thought the sixth challenge impassable.
The guardian there turned out to be Ilvermorny's Horned Serpent. Thankfully, the task wasn't to defeat it, but merely to endure for ten minutes.
Otherwise, he'd never have made it.
Honestly, Cedric doubted anyone except Mahoutokoro's Sakura could've managed it.
The creature's flight alone made it nearly untouchable.
Even playing around, the serpent had whacked him hard with its tail several times – his whole body ached.
Yet seeing the Holy Grail gleaming less than a hundred metres away at the room's end, Cedric found renewed strength and broke into a sprint.
Claiming that cup would make a year's effort worthwhile, bringing honour to Hufflepuff.
Never had a hundred metres felt so endless. As he gasped onto the final platform, a soft whisper reached his ears:
"Impedimenta."
Thud!
Cedric tripped and fell. Behind him, a figure materialised.
"Vladimir?" Cedric twisted in disbelief, watching the burly youth stride past him towards the cup.
"Diggory, you're not bad. We should talk sometime." Vladimir glanced back before kicking Cedric's wand away. "But this champion title can't be handed to you. The Cup belongs to Koldovstoretz, belongs to me."
"How did you get up here?" Without his wand, Cedric didn't resist, merely asking curiously.
"Did you defeat the Horned Serpent directly?"
"Not at all." Vladimir sneered. "This isn't Hogwarts territory. Couldn't I just Apparate up?"
Cedric looked stunned, watching helplessly as Vladimir raised the Cup.
The moment the Cup was lifted, a dazzling golden light erupted, shooting straight into the sky.
Then Cedric saw Vladimir's navel being yanked as his feet left the ground, spinning away before vanishing from sight.
Outside the tower, when Fudge and the other judges arrived with reporters, they found Krum unconscious on the ground.
Karkaroff rushed over and crouched to check, relieved to find it was just a Stunning Spell, but still furious. "Who did this? Why wasn't a distress signal sent?"
"At least he's unharmed," Fudge said soothingly.
Before Karkaroff could respond, movement came from the tower's peak. Everyone looked up to see golden light enveloping half the spire.
"It seems the final victor—"
Fudge's words were cut off as his feet left the ground.
The medal stuck firmly to his hand, dragging him through the air at high speed. In the howling wind, Fudge spotted another figure clutching the Cup beside him.
He recognised him – Koldovstoretz's champion.
On the ground, everyone watched as Fudge disappeared into the horizon.
The crowd: "..."