Ron stared down at the stone lying on the ground. He remained silent for several seconds, before he finally understood what Hermione meant.

“So, you’re saying—” Ron began with difficulty.

He had to swallow hard before continuing. “Krum gave us a completely fake school badge that he transfigured from a stone?”

Hermione nodded grimly. Her face had turned cloudy and dark.

Harry was also staring at the round stone block rolling slightly on the uneven ground. His feelings were complicated, swirling together in an uncomfortable mixture—there was genuine anger, yes but there was also an overwhelming sense of helplessness and absurdity.

“We must be the absolute laughingstock now,” Harry said, his voice was flat with resignation.

He was referring to the fact that their every single move was being broadcast live to thousands of spectators. The audience outside the forest must have seen them expend all that tremendous effort, all that magical power and physical energy to defeat the Durmstrang team in brutal combat.

Only to be tricked completely by Viktor with such a simple deception.

The entire European wizarding community had watched them fight desperately for a worthless stone.

“Pretty clever, really—” Ron also shook his head slowly and sighed.

He was surprised to discover that he wasn’t angrier about the deception. Perhaps he simply had no energy left to be furious.

Now all three of them realized that they couldn’t continue being so rash and impulsive, blindly charging forward into every confrontation without thinking. The competition project that Professor Watson had created wasn’t nearly that simple or straightforward.

They needed to use their brains properly, think strategically rather than just tactically.

The three climbed slowly out of the pit one by one. They supported each other as they staggered away in a deliberately far from where they’d last detected the Slytherin hunting party.

“This will go on endlessly like this,” Harry’s voice was muffled by exhaustion and the hopelessness of their situation.

“Malfoy will definitely come after us next, or go after Neville’s group. Even if they’ve lost their ability to move quickly on broomsticks, even if we’ve both expended tremendous physical energy, we’re still at a disadvantage. With our positions being exposed every half hour without fail, we can’t rest properly at all. Sooner or later, inevitably, we’ll be caught and defeated.”

“What I’m more concerned about are the actual victory conditions,” Hermione said with a expressionless face as she and Harry supported the still-limping Ron on sides.

“And I need to understand where all the other students from Physical Education class went. If we can’t figure out these two questions, our actions will have no real direction.”

Ron looked distressed. “As for the victory conditions—Fleur lost her badge but wasn’t immediately eliminated from the competition, wasn’t transported out. And her badge was taken by Malfoy, so we know he has at least one.”

He paused, working through the logic. “Krum’s team must have also encountered Malfoy’s hunting party by now. So Malfoy should have two badges in his possession at this point.”

“Not necessarily,” Harry suddenly interjected with a stern, thoughtful face.

“Although Krum’s team definitely couldn’t stand up to Malfoy in a direct fight, he might have pushed the blame onto us.”

Harry’s expression grew more certain as he worked through Viktor’s likely thinking.

“I mean, he might have told Malfoy that we took their badge. If Krum really said that with conviction, Malfoy would definitely believe it without question, because Malfoy knows very well the gap in capabilities between the other two foreign teams and us.”

Ron thought carefully for a moment, then nodded slowly in agreement.

“That makes sense. But even so, Harry, even if Krum still has his badge, at least we know for certain that Fleur’s badge is definitely in Malfoy’s hands.”

He spread his hands helplessly. “If collecting all four badges is truly what it takes to end the competition then we must take down Malfoy’s entire group. And that’s impossible, right? They have twice as many people as we do, maybe more.”

The positions refreshed again with that now-familiar glow—this was the fifth time since the start of the competition. Harry squinted down at the map, studying it carefully despite his tired, burning eyes.

Now there were only two blue dots showing on the dark surface instead of three.

“Krum probably met up with Fleur’s group,” Harry said, staring intently at the dot slightly closer to them.

Hermione and Ron both nodded, agreeing with his reasonable assessment of the situation.

What genuinely surprised all three of them, what made them exchange startled glances, was that Cedric, Neville, and Luna who had been cautiously wandering around the edge of the arena for the entire competition, staying away from confrontation were now clearly approaching the intense center where all the action had been concentrated.

“Are they finally willing to actually join the competition?” Ron said with sarcasm.

Although they were nominally on the same Hogwarts team, the past two and a half exhausting hours of desperate experience made Ron completely unable to resist making a bitter, resentful remark.

“They may have judged that the badges from our three teams have likely been gathered into one party’s hands by now,” Hermione analyzed, though she looked somewhat worried by this development.

“So they’ve finally decided to enter the battle. But we’re definitely not in any condition to meet up with Cedric’s group right now, are we?”

She looked between Harry and Ron. “Once we meet, we’ll have to fight them. We can’t just surrender or run away. Otherwise, it would be too cowardly—so many people are watching us, judging our every action.”

Her worry deepened. “But if Cedric’s group runs into Malfoy first instead of us… from their movement patterns, they might not know yet what they’re walking into.”

Harry’s mind was racing.

Currently, they had several options to choose from, each with significant advantages and drawbacks.

First, they could deliberately avoid both Neville’s group who was heading toward them from one direction and Malfoy’s hunting party who would soon catch up to their current position from another direction. They could circle back around through the forest to find Krum and attempt to seize Durmstrang’s real badge this time.

After some rest and food, their stamina and magical power had recovered at least somewhat from the zero they’d reached. Meanwhile, Durmstrang’s group hadn’t brought any food supplies into the forest and had also expended considerable energy in their various encounters.

Comparing the two sides objectively, the possibility of successfully seizing the authentic badge this time was actually quite high.

Second, they could deliberately meet up with Cedric’s group and initiate contact.

In their current weakened state, they almost certainly couldn’t overcome Cedric, Neville, and Luna. So even if their badge was taken from them, at least the badge would remain with a Hogwarts team, which meant the school would still benefit overall.

And they could warn Cedric’s group about Malfoy’s pursuit, give them crucial tactical information about what they were really facing.

Third, they could learn from Cedric’s earlier cautious approach and completely withdraw from the active battlefield for a time. Once their physical condition recovered sufficiently, once they’d rested and regained their strength, they could strategically re-enter the chaotic melee.

However, by then Cedric’s badge would probably have already fallen into Malfoy’s hands as well.

“No matter what option we choose—” Harry began slowly.

The light on the blackboard went out. They had to make a critical choice quickly. “We can’t ultimately escape from Malfoy’s group.”

Harry lowered his brow in deep thought for a while. Then he said with growing conviction, “That’s absolutely certain. There’s no avoiding them.”

Ron also said with a gloomy, resigned expression, “Even if we keep running circles around them until Christmas, we’ll eventually have to face them. There’s no other outcome unless we directly give up the competition and quit.”

“Then—” Harry’s voice dropped. His bright green eyes were constantly flashing with gathering light.

“This also means logically that we can’t avoid having to somehow take down Malfoy’s entire group if we want any chance of winning. We have to defeat them eventually.”

He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Oh, and we could also try to extract information from them when we do confront them.”

“That’s assuming we can actually defeat them, Harry,” Hermione reminded him sharply. She was clearly afraid he might make an impulsive, reckless move.

Harry raised his head to meet her worried gaze. His face was still pale from exhaustion. But the light shining in his eyes was brighter now.

“I know we can’t do it under normal circumstances, Hermione. I’m not stupid or suicidal,” Harry said. “But what if—”

Harry suddenly clenched his fist with decision, his expression became resolute. “I have an idea. Let’s go. We won’t meet up with Neville. We’re going back instead.”

“Go where?” Ron immediately asked. “Are you planning to go back and find Krum after all?”

“No,” Harry slowly shook his head. “Even if we successfully get Durmstrang’s real badge this time, it will ultimately just be taken by Malfoy later anyway. Come on, follow me. We’re going back to where we first appeared in the Forbidden Forest!”

With that, Harry turned sharply and changed direction. He began striding forward despite his exhaustion.

“Go back to where we first appeared in the Forbidden Forest?” Ron’s expression was utterly bewildered.

His feet followed Harry automatically out of long habit and trust, but his mind struggled to understand. “But what would we possibly do there? What’s the point? There’s nothing there except a bunch of deadly Devil’s Snare that tried to kill us, Harry!”

By midday, with the sun high over their head and the competition clearly going to be a lengthy, drawn-out affair, Hogwarts had arranged for house-elves to serve lunch to the spectators and the judges.

In the cramped viewing area, it wasn’t realistically possible to have a traditional feast with abundant dishes spread across long tables.

So, Bryan had thoughtfully instructed the house-elves earlier that morning to prepare food that was mainly fast-food style—easy to eat while standing or sitting in tight quarters.

At the judges’ table, Madam Bones had only taken a few simple, distracted bites of the sliced roasted sausage on her plate. She hadn’t even touched the sandwich that sat beside it before stopping her meal entirely, pushing the plate aside.

Honestly, this particular mode of watching the competition was indeed quite novel and engaging, unlike anything most of them had experienced before. Even the well-traveled, experienced wizards seated at the judges’ table were rarely in such consistently high spirits.

The tension and drama were absolutely fascinating.

“They just experienced what could fairly be called a ‘crushing defeat,'” Amelia observed, watching Hermione, Harry, and Ron on the giant screen with interest.

She tilted her head thoughtfully to ask Bryan, “But they can immediately gather their spirits and mental focus for the next move without wallowing in despair. Such resilient character, such mental fortitude in young people is very worthy of praise, don’t you think?”

She paused, then added with curiosity, “But I really can’t guess what their next action plan is.”

“Those young minds occasionally come up with some surprisingly ingenious ideas to help themselves overcome difficulties, Amelia,” Bryan replied with a smile.

“They see solutions that more experienced wizards miss. But expecting me to guess correctly what they’re planning would be completely unrealistic. I’m not a mind reader.”

In fact, Bryan already knew exactly what Harry intended to do. But he didn’t need to say so explicitly. Otherwise, Madame Maxime and Headmaster Dreghorn sitting nearby might think he was secretly helping Hogwarts’ champions, giving them some kind of unfair advantage.

“If I remember correctly, Bryan,” Amelia said with a smile, “you’re only twenty-five years old yourself.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Bryan’s tone was light and self-deprecating.

“Already approaching thirty, actually—not young anymore, am I? Practically elderly by some standards.”

Bryan’s playfully melodramatic words caused several people seated at the judges’ table whose average age was well over seventy years to roll their eyes in unison at his ridiculous claim of approaching old age.

However, Dumbledore who had single-handedly raised everyone’s average age being over a hundred himself merely chuckled with amusement at Bryan’s joke. His blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles.

But his warm smile suddenly disappeared, vanishing from his face as though it had never existed, when Rufus Scrimgeour appeared unexpectedly below the judges’ table.

The expression on Dumbledore’s face became instantly calm.

Scrimgeour was quite famous throughout the British wizarding world, known to anyone who followed Ministry affairs. Anyone who knew him personally or by reputation had developed a impression of his tough and tenacious character.

However, the Scrimgeour who now appeared below the judges’ table, climbing up from the crowd, looked disheveled and unlike his usual composed self. His tawny hair was stuck awkwardly to the side of his face with sweat, plastered there.

His normally sharp, predatory eyes now conveyed an unmistakable sense of panic and deep unease.

Madam Bones immediately realized with a sinking feeling that something serious had happened.

Without wasting a single word on pleasantries or explanations to the other judges, she swiftly left her position. She went down quickly to below the judges’ table where Scrimgeour waited.

People throughout the viewing area watched with curiosity as the Director of the Auror Office leaned close to the ear of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He whispered urgently for what seemed like a long time.

Then, Madam Bones’ face gradually turned pale.

When Scrimgeour finally stood up straight again, having delivered his complete message, Madam Bones’ body suddenly swayed alarmingly. She looked as if she might be blown over by the gentlest wind, as though her legs had lost all strength.

In the stands nearby, Sirius, Amelia (the American witch), Remus, and Arthur exchanged quick, alarmed glances. They all rose together in concern and walked quickly toward Madam Bones.

At the judges’ table above, both Dumbledore and Bryan also immediately left their positions. They quickly walked down from the platform moving to join the growing cluster of concerned people.

“What happened, Amelia?” Dumbledore asked, his voice was slightly worn with worry.

Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes held a profound, searching gaze that seemed to look through her to the terrible truth beyond.

“Rufus just told me—” Madam Bones began, her frightened gaze swept over all the people now surrounding her in a circle.

She gasped several times, struggling to get enough air into her lungs to speak. Her gaze finally settled on the faces of Bryan and Dumbledore, the two most powerful wizards present.

“Azkaban has fallen!”

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