novelraw Chapter 135: The Judges' Heated Argument
Chapter 135: The Judges' Heated Argument
If we look at everything that happened around the judges' table during the second task from Sirius Black's perspective, we might see more details that Draco didn't have the chance to know.
Not long after the champions set off, a heated argument broke out around the judges' table.
"Viktor was struck by a powerful Stunning Spell, not some ridiculous physical ailment!" Igor Karkaroff roared, furious. "Mr. Bagman, as the headmaster of Durmstrang, I demand fair treatment and a rescheduling of the task!"
"Oh, that's not something you can decide so easily," Bagman said uneasily. "The competition has already started."
"Don't tell me you didn't see it! This is most likely the work of champions from other schools! Viktor already knew about the golden egg. He's been working so hard, spending countless hours every day diving to the bottom of the Black Lake to prepare for the task! You all know how cold the lake water is this time of year!" Karkaroff's blue eyes blazed with anger. "Now, to just let him forfeit like this—I absolutely do not approve! If he were conscious, he wouldn't approve either!"
"I understand your frustration, Igor. I also feel sorry for what happened to Mr. Krum," Dumbledore said gently, earning only a disdainful snort from Karkaroff.
"However, the champions cannot accept such accusations so easily—we need evidence," Dumbledore continued. "Madam Pomfrey is taking care of Mr. Krum in the makeshift medical tent on the shore, and he could wake up at any moment. I think that once he wakes up, the judges can go there and find out as soon as possible who committed such a heinous act."
Karkaroff's face darkened, and he was about to say something more when he was interrupted by Madame Maxim's imperious words: "We will not accept a rematch! It would affect the fairness of the competition. The details of the task, which should have been kept secret, are now common knowledge, and the champions' methods are no longer a secret. Moreover, the other champions have already gone to the lake and expended a great deal of energy. If there is a rematch, only one person will still be in peak physical condition..."
"Are you suggesting that I deliberately rendered Viktor unconscious?" Karkaroff's eyes flashed with icy coldness. "That we're putting on an act?"
"That's certainly a possibility," Madame Maxim said, straightening her large, imposing frame.
"In my opinion, you simply don't want to see any champion other than Beauxbatons' achieve good results!" Karkaroff chuckled briefly, his voice unpleasant.
"How dare you say that? That's incredibly rude!" Madame Maxim's large frame, clad in a black satin dress, heaved with indignation.
"Please don't be angry, everyone—" Bagman said, trying to smooth things over. "Mr. Karkaroff, you have to consider the actual situation. We spent a great deal of manpower, resources, and money—and three months preparing for the second task. If we were to re-run it, based on the principle of fairness, we would definitely have to choose an entirely new event. Considering the costs in terms of time, money, and manpower, it's simply impossible to accomplish—"
"Hmph, you don't seem to care—after all, you're an official of the British Ministry of Magic, representing the Hogwarts students, so their safety is assured—"
"Mr. Karkaroff!" Percy Weasley, who was replacing Barty Crouch as judge, couldn't help but stand up from the judges' table and interrupt Karkaroff. "As the organizers of the Triwizard Tournament, we have always been fair and impartial, and can withstand any scrutiny! The Goblet of Fire's selection period has fixed dates. If we replay the task, everything will be delayed. How can we possibly hold an extra task before the Goblet of Fire goes out? Doesn't this require advance planning and coordination? Besides, the champions need ample time to recover after each task..."
Sirius Black stood to the side, gazing at the sky impatiently.
The noisy group didn't seem like school headmasters at all. They looked more like small vendors haggling over prices at a Muggle market piled high with fruits and vegetables.
The reason he was willing to come to the judges' table was simply because it was closer to Harry—he could be the first to know if the champions in the task made any moves, and the first to rescue them if they were in danger.
As the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Sirius had taken on some of the support roles in the Triwizard Tournament—for example, rescuing champions who encountered unexpected situations. He certainly had complete faith in Harry's wit and courage—that was beyond question—but the Black Lake was full of unknown dangers, and even he and James, daring as they had been back in their day, had never actively considered going down to explore it.
The incessant arguing was getting louder.
"In short, a rematch is out of the question." Percy adopted a rigid and unyielding demeanour, much like Crouch himself, and said arrogantly, "The task has already begun, and it must be played by the rules. There is no room for negotiation."
"Who gives you the right to speak here?" Karkaroff gave him an unpleasant look. "Where's Barty Crouch? He's got quite the airs about him—not even showing up for such an important occasion!"
"Mr. Crouch is ill!" Percy straightened his back, his head of fiery red hair bristling.
The red hair reminded Sirius of Harry's friend Ron, and the amusing twins Fred and George. Clearly, however, in terms of personality, Percy had gone to a very different extreme—far more serious and rigid than his brothers.
"I've heard," Dumbledore said, asking Percy with interest, "How is Mr. Crouch's health?"
"I believe he will recover soon. Until then, someone needs to take charge of the outstanding work." Percy smiled at Professor Dumbledore, his face regaining a touch of humility, though his tone still held a hint of pride. "I have had to handle various matters that arose while he was away from his office."
"We don't have time to listen to a Ministry assistant bragging about his work!" Karkaroff interrupted Percy rudely, asking maliciously, "And what about that student who jumped into the Black Lake without permission, Albus?"
"I was equally surprised," Dumbledore said with a smile, glancing at the now calm Black Lake.
"Albus, this is not the time for you to be so sanguine! What was that student thinking? How could he just jump into the Black Lake where the champions are competing? Isn't that against the rules? What if he jumps in and casts a curse on one of them, disrupting the task?" Madame Maxim said vehemently, her face showing great disapproval.
"That's right—he's blatantly breaking the rules! Is this the standard upheld by the British Ministry of Magic? Is this the example Hogwarts is supposed to set?" Karkaroff said menacingly.
Percy flushed and remained silent.
"Given Mr. Krum's current incapacitation, the Durmstrang champion's hostage does indeed require additional rescue." Dumbledore's gaze shifted from the lake, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles remaining calm. "That young man did display some inappropriate impulsiveness and acted with surprising lack of consideration. However, one thing I can assure you upon my honour: even if he is not a Triwizard Tournament champion, he is an excellent Hogwarts student, and I believe he knows what he is doing. I believe he only wants to rescue the hostage left at the bottom of the Black Lake and will not do anything extra to the champions, much less bring shame upon Hogwarts."
"That would be for the best," Madame Maxim scoffed. "In any case, this task is turning into something of a mess."
"That makes sense. This entire competition is completely chaotic." Karkaroff seized the opportunity and said slickly, "I don't remember anyone telling me that the host school can arbitrarily allow unrelated students to participate in the task, just as I don't remember anyone telling me that the host school can arbitrarily have two students entered as champions."
"Igor, I thought we had reached a consensus on that issue," Dumbledore said calmly.
Karkaroff looked somewhat annoyed. He turned his gaze to Madame Maxim. "Madame, since you also have doubts about this, why don't you reconsider and perhaps choose another day to compete..."
Madame Maxim's expression suddenly became somewhat serious, a crease appearing near her brow. She didn't want to replay the task, but she also didn't want to let go of certain "unfair practices."
Sirius gazed at the deep, dark lake, no longer listening to their tedious argument.
He was immersed in a kind of shock—he was deeply impressed by Draco's leap from the stands.
Everything had happened so fast that, as a rescuer, he hadn't even had time to react. Amidst the gasps from the stands, he'd only managed to catch a glimpse of Draco entering the water—a figure resolute, swift, and unwavering.
Merlin, who could have imagined it?
Draco Malfoy—his adopted nephew—was such a hopeless romantic! Sirius shook his head instinctively.
He'd known from the start that Draco would go to any lengths over "Granger becoming Krum's hostage," so when Dumbledore suggested choosing her, Sirius had vehemently opposed it.
"That girl—she's not suitable!" he'd said to Dumbledore. "Choosing her is completely unnecessary!"
"Sirius, relax, this is just a task," Dumbledore said casually. "No hostages will be hurt."
Sirius had had no say in the matter—the other judges had no objections. For the sake of fairness, he couldn't even reveal the details of the task to Draco, so he'd had to avoid him and couldn't face his godson.
He could only watch helplessly as Dumbledore used magic to place the hostages under the Draught of Living Death—Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Cho Chang, and a little girl who looked somewhat like Fleur—and cast one protective spell after another on the unconscious figures.
Even though he was mentally prepared, he hadn't expected the Slytherin boy to be so reckless!
Jumping straight into the Black Lake—ignoring the rules—that was genuinely exhilarating. If he were ten years younger, back in his student days, he might have jumped in for a spin too. Thinking about it, a hint of anticipation even appeared on Sirius's face.
The boy was very enigmatic. Most of the time he appeared cold and distant, and was used to being sarcastic. When talking to Sirius, he was always cool and arrogant, showing no respect for him, and even awkwardly refusing to call him "uncle."
Most people would consider such behaviour impolite, but Sirius found it oddly appealing. He had always disliked insincere, performative family relationships, and this pursuit of honesty made him feel comfortable.
Sirius found it difficult to define Draco. He had initially thought the boy was a typical Slytherin, just like his parents—pretentious, hypocritical, and opportunistic.
He'd even wanted to advise Harry to stay away from Draco. He didn't believe that this platinum-haired, pointy-chinned, sharp-tongued boy had any good intentions! He must have had ulterior motives for getting close to Harry.
However, after several encounters, Sirius realized that his judgment had been flawed.
Draco Malfoy was definitely not as simple as he appeared on the surface.
He was a contradiction, a mixture of many traits. Most of the time he displayed the coldness and caution of Slytherin, occasionally a hint of Gryffindor courage and fearlessness, and sometimes a tiny spark of exciting madness.
For example, the madness he displayed at this moment—jumping into the Black Lake without hesitation—was a kind of stubborn madness unique to the Black family's blood, a madness that only a Black could truly perceive.
Sirius admired this madness. He and his old friends had all had this quirk to some extent.
Combined with a scene he'd witnessed at the Yule Ball, everything became clear to Sirius.
Hermione Granger—the brightest student in Gryffindor—was the unexpected hammer that had shattered Draco Malfoy's cold mask, the kindling that had ignited the dormant embers.
Undoubtedly, she was the source of his madness. Sirius didn't know how this witch had done it. She had quelled the cowardice of that Slytherin, igniting his courage. Perhaps even something more.
Yes, Draco said he didn't want to get involved and didn't care about Harry's life or death. But he still cared about Harry and helped him. He'd cared about Harry's mental state before the task, helped Harry study the spell to deal with the dragon, and even asked Snape for Gillyweed early on. Was this what Draco called "none of his business"?
This boy was so hypocritical! Beneath his cruel and ruthless words lay a hidden spark of passion.
He really didn't know how Narcissa and Lucius had raised such a son.
Thinking of this, Sirius grinned. While allowing a small part of his thoughts to wander, he kept his wary grey eyes fixed on the silent black lake, ready to rush down and rescue someone the moment he saw a red spark of distress.
Fleur Delacour used her last bit of strength to launch red sparks toward the water's surface.
Her robes had been accidentally tangled by several horned Grindylows, and then her hair. Just as she was trying to pull herself free, the pale green demons extended their long, thin claws, grabbed her wand-holding hand, bared their teeth at her, and seized her legs and arms almost simultaneously, followed by her face and throat.
A Grindylow grinned and punctured her Bubblehead Charm—she couldn't breathe.
The fear of death crept over her, and Fleur panicked. Suffocating, she swayed from side to side among the swaying water plants, about to sink to the dark bottom of the lake. With her last vestige of consciousness, she sent a silent prayer to Merlin, hoping someone would come to rescue her.
After an unknown amount of time, a hand grabbed her arm. Then several flashes of light appeared, and the green claws released her neck, allowing her to breathe, but she immediately choked on water.
She tried to struggle, but the arm was very strong. In the confusion, Fleur looked up along the hand and vaguely realized that it was her dance partner from the Yule Ball—Sirius Black.
Why is he here? she thought groggily, and stopped struggling.
The handsome man didn't look at her. Instead, he was busy surveying his surroundings. His black hair swayed in the water, and his grey eyes blended into the lake. With his other hand, he held his wand, deftly shooing away the fanged Grindylows hiding among the seaweed, while simultaneously pulling her rapidly toward the surface.
His face was breathtakingly clear in the reflection of the Black Lake. Fleur stared at him blankly as he pulled her along until fresh air from above filled her lungs.
She was hauled out onto the lakeshore in the cold air, wrapped in a blanket, and gradually came to her senses—she had failed.
Her hostage remained at the bottom of the Black Lake.
"What is my hostage?" she rushed toward Madame Maxim, her eyes wide with terror.
"Your sister," Madame Maxim said, flustered. She had just come from a heated argument and was in a foul mood. Now she was further annoyed by Beauxbatons' failure in the second task.
With all these circumstances combined, Madame Maxim forgot one thing—how much Fleur cared about her sister.
"Gabrielle?" Fleur's eyes widened suddenly—why would it be Gabrielle, who was far away in France?
Damn it! The thought of her sister facing immense danger at the bottom of the cold, dark lake made her dizzy.
"Gabrielle!" she screamed, throwing off her blanket and rushing toward the lake, wanting to go down again to rescue her sister.
"Stop her! She can't go down there anymore—she's out of the task!" Percy Weasley yelled angrily behind her. "Isn't anyone going to do something about this? We've been criticized far too much for our adherence to the rules already... The safety at this task is absolutely terrible!"
Just as she was about to plunge back into the lake, Fleur was stopped by Sirius, who had just come ashore dripping wet.
"Let me go! I need to save her—my little sister!" she screamed hysterically at Sirius, her beautiful face bearing several cuts from the Grindylows.
"No! Stop, stop!" Sirius forcefully restrained her. She charged wildly, like an angry unicorn in tattered robes—she even started biting him—and he had to hold her tightly to stop her madness.
"Gabrielle... she's at the bottom of the lake... my little sister... I'm the worst sister ever... she's so young, how frightened she must be!" Fleur struggled in vain and burst into tears.
For the first time, she found the handsome face before her so repulsive. Why was he stopping her?
"Calm down!" Sirius tried his best to hold her, but he couldn't actually grip her tightly because her body was covered in cuts from the Grindylows and he was afraid of making them worse. He shouted at her in frustration, "She'll be all right!"
Fleur seemed not to hear him. Her eyes were blurry with tears, her voice hoarse, as she pleaded with the cold-hearted man before her in broken, halting English, "Please, let me go, I have to go... She'll be scared... It's so deep... so dark... There are so many monsters... She'll get hurt! No one will save her... In an hour... she'll die!"
"Fleur Delacour! Use your head! Dumbledore won't let the hostages die. She'll be rescued when the time comes!" Sirius snapped. He pulled and dragged her ashore, though she was struggling like mad.
"Really? Will she... will she be all right?" Fleur finally heard what he said clearly.
Her struggles lessened, and a vulnerable expression appeared on her face.
"Of course! For Merlin's sake, we're not murderers," Sirius said irritably. Once they were some distance from the lake, he finally released her and assured her again, "She'll be fine. Don't try to go back into the lake. Otherwise, I'll have to jump in again to save you."
Fleur regained her senses.
She suddenly realized that, in full view of everyone, she had just been dragged along the shore by this man like a rag doll.
This was so embarrassing!
"You're so rude!" She staggered to her feet—ignoring his outstretched hand—and glared at him angrily. "No one has ever dared to treat me like this!"
"Rude? You mean the teeth marks you left on my arm?" Sirius looked up at her through the fringe half-fallen over his face, his expression a mixture of shock and anger.
Then, he held his bleeding arm up before her face and said, slowly and deliberately, "Do you think—anyone has ever dared to treat me like this?"
Fleur's mouth fell half open, and she was speechless.
She suddenly realized the shameful thing she had done—she had been acting like a wild, unruly child, biting indiscriminately, rather than the elegant and composed Beauxbatons champion she was supposed to be.
Her image was shattered.
Merlin, let her disappear! For Gabrielle's sake, for the sake of her remaining at the bottom of the lake... and for the sake of her own foolishness just now...
"Look at yourself! You look half-mad." Sirius wiped the water off his face, smoothed his wet hair back, and turned to leave.
How dare he say that to her! Fleur stood there, gritting her teeth, glaring at his retreating back.
Fleur Delacour—that French witch was really not to be trifled with, even half-mad with fear. Sirius draped the large towel that Madam Pomfrey had grumbled at him to take over his shoulder, recalling Fleur's stunned, disbelieving expression, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.
She was quite interesting. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as she shakily wrapped a towel around herself, gazing motionlessly at the lake. The thought struck him unexpectedly.
Then Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff's champion, emerged from the lake with Cho Chang. Shortly after, Draco and Hermione appeared.
Sirius heard a variety of sounds from the stands: boos, screams, and cheers, and he could hear Madam Pomfrey gasping. She murmured, "How romantic..."
Sirius turned to look at Madam Pomfrey and was quite surprised to find that she was not as furious as she had been when she first saw them—having complained that the task was a complete physical ordeal—but instead wore a rather dreamy expression on her face.
Sirius didn't have time to mock Madam Pomfrey. He rushed over and pulled them ashore.
Despite his pale face, Draco gestured for him to help Hermione first. Sirius couldn't help but roll his eyes, and as he pulled Draco ashore, he couldn't resist mocking him as "a fool, a Slytherin romantic," unsurprisingly earning a curt reply from Draco: "Shut up—"
"That hypocritical little rascal!" Sirius burst into laughter, then hurried off to pull his godson ashore.
Only then did he truly feel relieved. He had been on tenterhooks for Harry the whole time.
As for Draco? That slippery Slytherin—he wouldn't worry about him! Sirius clicked his tongue.
Harry, though—what a fine boy he was. He'd even managed to pull Fleur's sister up with him.
Thank Merlin, that French witch finally didn't have to cry anymore.
Wait—what was she doing? Was she kissing Harry and Ron?
She was really using her Veela charm on Harry! He knew she was trouble! From now on, he'd have to keep a close eye on her. Sirius hissed, clicking his teeth in thought.
By the time Sirius snapped out of his wild thoughts, Ludo Bagman had already announced the results of the task and added at the end: "The final task will take place on the evening of June twenty-fourth. The champions will know the details a month in advance."
"Very good"—Sirius's eyes gleamed.
In just a few days, the Daily Prophet would be reporting on this extensively. As long as Voldemort could read, he would walk step by step into the trap they had set.
Sirius looked at Harry, who was shivering with water dripping from his hair, with deep satisfaction, while thinking about someone else.
James—I'm about to avenge you.
His eyes welled up with tears, and he chuckled softly. The excitement of "getting revenge" made him want to share it with someone. He looked at Draco and saw that he was still embracing Hermione, and they had even started kissing without a care in the world.
It was simply unbearable to look at.
"Oh, give us a break! Get a room!" he shouted at them.
But they were so engrossed in their own world that they were completely unaware.
Are they deaf? Sirius rolled his eyes.
Kids these days—they really had no shame.
"Sirius—you're such a spoilsport! Don't you think what you're saying is inappropriate for the children?" Madam Pomfrey, carrying a stack of large towels, rushed over and angrily booed him.
"I'm inappropriate for the children? I... Open your eyes and look—who's carrying on behind the medical tent?" Sirius raised his voice.
Merlin, was Madam Pomfrey blind?
"Quiet! It was just a romantic kiss! Don't ruin the children's beautiful moment with your cynicism!" Madam Pomfrey said, her face flushed.
"You're all mad... completely mad..." Sirius sighed, giving her a disdainful look, finally recognizing Madam Pomfrey's well-hidden romantic streak.
"The champions and the hostages have all been properly seen to. Why aren't you in the medical tent? Did you come out here just to see this?" he asked bluntly.
Madam Pomfrey glared back at him fiercely, a hint of guilt flashing across her face.
"Me, come out here to see this? I'm too busy for that! I'd rather be in the tent! But after Mr. Krum woke up, Professor Dumbledore wanted to question him—and all the judges were there. To be honest, they were very disrespectful to the patient! A patient who had just woken up was being questioned, and they even dared to kick me out!" Madam Pomfrey said indignantly.
That made more sense! Sirius shrugged at her and stopped arguing about her unreasonable behaviour.
Curious about the cause of Krum's coma, he glanced at his foolishly grinning nephew and strode toward the entrance of the medical tent.
"It was that judge sent by the British Ministry of Magic—Barty Crouch," the young man with a heavy Scandinavian accent said with a look of frustration. "He attacked me this morning when I was walking to the edge of the Forbidden Forest."
All the judges in the tent gasped, their faces showing shock.
"Impossible! Mr. Crouch would never do such a thing!" Percy Weasley's face flushed red, redder than his hair. "He's bedridden—how could he possibly come to Hogwarts and do something he would never stoop to? This is an irresponsible accusation! It's slander!"
"I saw it clearly," Krum said with a grim face. "Test me with magic—give me Veritaserum—do whatever you want. The result will be the same. I wasn't lying."
"There's no need for Veritaserum, Viktor. They have no right to do that. If they continue their 'rule-breaking' ways and take the opportunity to ask you other questions—like where Durmstrang's campus is located—our safety will be completely compromised." Karkaroff patted him heavily on the shoulder, his tone smooth. "Everyone will trust you—no one will be foolish enough to doubt the character of a champion certified by the Goblet of Fire."
Krum didn't speak again, looking gloomily out of the tent, as if something was tugging at his mind.
"Of course, Igor," Dumbledore said slowly, "if Mr. Krum, as a Durmstrang champion, vouches for the truth—"
"I vouch for it," Krum said without hesitation. The rest of the people in the tent exchanged uneasy glances and fell silent.
"Mr. Bagman, I have reason to believe that your officials are single-handedly undermining the fairness of the Triwizard Tournament!" Karkaroff pressed his advantage. "By Merlin, the officials of the British Ministry of Magic cannot bully our honest and hardworking champions! I demand that the results of the second task be voided!"
"If the situation is indeed as Mr. Krum describes, then I have to second this proposal," Madame Maxim said.
"Of course you will..." Percy muttered to himself.
Beauxbatons' performance in this task had been poor. If the results were invalidated, it would only benefit them.
Ludo Bagman finally recovered from his shock.
"Wait! Barty, oh, he definitely wouldn't—he's not that kind of person." He blinked, hesitating. "Is there some misunderstanding?"
"A misunderstanding?" Karkaroff sneered. "Absolutely absurd! This Tournament was a conspiracy from the very beginning! It wasn't a fair competition from the start. First, you smuggled Harry Potter into the selection—despite his age! Now, looking back, wasn't it Mr. Barty Crouch who insisted on that? Now he's gone even further, directly trying to incapacitate our champion! I smell deceit and corruption throughout this whole affair—"
"That's right," Madame Maxim began speaking rapidly in French, waving her hand and sounding very dissatisfied, "Ils s'attendaient à ce que ce soit le cas, et je n'y croyais pas encore—They anticipated this would happen, and I didn't believe it at the time!"
"That's just your side of the story!" Percy, unable to contain himself any longer, spoke up righteously over the backdrop of Madame Maxim's French tirade. "Mr. Crouch has the right to defend himself..."
"Listen to me—all of you!" Dumbledore said sharply. He raised his voice—the judges fell silent—and the heated debate raging in the medical tent was briefly quelled.
He looked around seriously, knowing he had to do or say something quickly before the judges—whose faces displayed a variety of expressions including anger, coldness, confusion, and bewilderment—started arguing again.
"I believe in Mr. Krum's honesty. He has no reason to lie about such an important matter or to accuse a highly respected Ministry official—" Dumbledore said, seeing Krum's expression finally relax a little. "I also believe that the officials of the Ministry of Magic are honest and fair, and not abusive." He glanced toward Percy, who was looking at Dumbledore gratefully.
"The most important thing now is to find Mr. Barty Crouch as soon as possible, establish what happened—whether he came to Hogwarts or attacked the champion—and then make a decision." Dumbledore's blue eyes shone with determination, his tone calm and composed.
At this moment, the Hogwarts headmaster finally abandoned his gentle smile, revealing a sharp glint in his eyes, and offered a methodical plan: "Ludo, Percy—please report this matter to the British Ministry of Magic as soon as possible, and immediately send someone to Mr. Crouch's house to verify whether he is still there and still confined to bed. Olympe, Igor—please return to your residences, strengthen security, and maintain order among your students. As for me, I will lead the Hogwarts staff in conducting a thorough search of the castle and the Forbidden Forest, in case the attacker is still hiding somewhere on the grounds—or may even launch another attack on the participating champions."
"But—" Karkaroff wanted to argue, but Dumbledore didn't give him the chance. He said in an unquestionable tone, "I will inform you immediately as soon as I have any news. Igor, I promise—everything will be handled fairly. I am willing to stake my name on it."
Karkaroff stared at Dumbledore for a long moment—finding his arrangements to be impeccable—and then, as the other judges had already filed out of the medical tent one by one, he had no choice but to yield.
"Get some rest, Viktor—" He approached Krum, gave him a few words of advice, and left with a gloomy face.
Only Krum, Dumbledore, and Sirius remained in the tent.
Krum seemed unconcerned by Karkaroff's parting warning. A look of anxiety crossed his face, and he couldn't help but ask, "Professor Dumbledore, is the task over? Is my hostage still at the bottom of the lake?"
"Oh, Mr. Krum, I think you need not worry about that. The hostages will all be safely brought ashore in due time, and Mr. Malfoy has already rescued Miss Granger," Dumbledore said calmly.
"What did he do? That boy named Malfoy?" Krum asked in shock, unable to believe his ears.
"That's right! He dove to the bottom of the lake and rescued Granger—" Sirius repeated this well-known fact, saying gleefully, "You can rest assured! They're both fine!"
"Oh, damn it! By Merlin!" Krum's thick, dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his expression one of genuine anguish. "This is a disgrace! That bastard Barty Crouch—he ruined everything!"
Sirius smiled at him, secretly feeling a swell of pride that Draco had gained the upper hand in this invisible rivalry.
He stopped there, not saying anything more—there was no need to kick someone when they were down—and slowly followed Dumbledore out of the medical tent.
"What do you think about this?" Dumbledore asked. "It seems that Mr. Krum has no intention of lying."
"I also think he was telling the truth. But Barty Crouch's behaviour was so abnormal—how could someone so protective of his reputation do something like attacking a champion? He was acting like a completely different person," Sirius said.
"Yes. It could be Polyjuice Potion, or it could be the Imperius Curse." Dumbledore pondered. "The truth will only come out when we find him."
"I'm afraid he won't be easy to find," Sirius said.
To everyone's surprise, Barty Crouch was found that very afternoon.
He looked as if he had been wandering for many days. The knees of his robes were torn and stained with blood. His face was covered in cuts, his beard unkempt, his complexion ashen and haggard.
"He was talking to himself in front of a big oak tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid said, greeted Professor Dumbledore who had rushed over. "It was Fang who found him. Aren't you a great hero, Fang?"
Fang barked excitedly.
"What happened, Barty?" Dumbledore asked the distraught Crouch.
"I'm sorry... I can't... He forced me... Voldemort... He cast a spell on me, making me attack the other champion... to ensure... Harry Potter's ultimate victory..." he mumbled, clearly still desperately resisting the lingering effects of the Imperius Curse.
"Voldemort—where is he?" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed sharply. He grabbed Crouch's collar, asking urgently.
"At my house... after the first task, he came to my house..." Crouch's eyes were somewhat vacant, and his body twitched.
Dumbledore's expression changed drastically. Professor McGonagall gasped softly. Sirius nearly jumped to his feet.
"Quickly! Sirius, come with me!" Dumbledore released Barty Crouch, letting his limp body sink to the ground. "Minerva, go and find Severus and Madam Pomfrey—take good care of him!"
He grabbed Sirius's arm and Disapparated with a crack, leaving a startled Professor McGonagall and a bewildered Hagrid staring blankly at the barely conscious Crouch.