On the other side, Viktor Krum and his teammates had run into trouble as well.
After quickly destroying a statue that had tried to block their path, they didn't linger. Guided by magic, they pressed straight toward the center.
Viktor knew plenty of teams would choose the same strategy—especially the strongest ones.
But he was confident that no matter how strange Tver's traps were, they would clear them faster than anyone else.
They would be the first to reach the platform.
If they could take the platform early, they would become the defenders. All they would need to do was hold their ground and wear down the other teams to claim victory.
"Krum, what if the other two Champions' teams surround us once we reach the center?" Poliakoff asked between heavy breaths.
At Durmstrang, they had plenty of combat lessons and drills—but no one ever trained them to run.
Fights took place in classrooms or the Colosseum. There was no need for long-distance sprinting.
And unlike Viktor, Poliakoff wasn't a Quidditch player. Most of his daily movement was limited to walking between the castle and the dueling grounds.
After just ten minutes, both he and their other teammate, Horn, were already gasping for air.
Noticing this, Viktor slowed slightly, though he still maintained a brisk, long-striding pace.
"It doesn't matter. Cedric's individual strength is unclear, but his other two teammates look far too relaxed. They clearly haven't spent much time in real combat."
"And although Fleur's team has four people, only two of them are truly strong."
"I'm confident we can defeat either team."
"As for them joining forces…" His steps gradually slowed. "We don't have to defeat them outright. We only need to hold the platform for a period of time."
As Tver's friend, Viktor understood one thing better than most: whatever Tver did, he always had a clear objective.
Sometimes more than one—but every twist and complication was designed to serve a final purpose.
In this match, time was the true test.
Different teams advanced at different speeds, but one thing was certain: the later it got, the more teams would converge at the center.
And the harder it would be to defend the platform.
So even though they were panting from exhaustion, reaching the platform as early as possible would give them the greatest advantage.
However—
"Come out. I've already noticed your little trap."
Viktor suddenly raised a hand, stopping Poliakoff from taking another step forward.
"Someone there?"
Poliakoff immediately tightened his grip on his wand. He and Horn instinctively moved back-to-back with Viktor, forming a triangular formation.
They had never practiced together before, but at Durmstrang, one principle was drilled into them from the beginning: in unfamiliar terrain where enemies couldn't be seen, never expose your back.
"I'm not sure," Viktor said quietly. "The fog blocks detection spells. But I have the feeling something is waiting for us ahead…"
He sent out a few probing spells, but none returned any reaction.
The decision to stop had come purely from instinct—combat awareness forged through years at Durmstrang.
Especially during the years when Tver had still been at school. Back then, Viktor had only just enrolled, still a green first-year, and Tver and Cynthia had dragged him to the arena again and again, forcing him to defend against all kinds of bizarre experimental spells.
"Maybe it's just your—"
Poliakoff didn't finish his sentence.
The moment he turned toward Viktor, three streaks of red light burst out of the fog, shooting straight at his face.
"Protego!" *2
Viktor and Horn didn't hesitate. They yanked Poliakoff back a step and, from either side, reinforced him with Shield Charms.
At the same time, with the fog limiting the range of magic, the attackers' figures were forced to reveal themselves.
"Not bad. When you said twenty feet, you really meant exactly twenty feet." George patted Davies on the shoulder like a satisfied boss praising a capable employee.
"Hah. You wouldn't understand true art." Davies smugly shrugged his hand off.
Yes, they had cooperated.
After dealing with the clamp trap, the two teams had originally intended to go their separate ways. The thick fog made coordination difficult, and neither side wanted to waste precious time searching for the other.
But sometimes things just lined up in the most absurdly convenient way.
As both teams hurried toward the center, they ran straight into each other halfway there.
At first, Fleur and Davies had considered using their numerical advantage to eliminate Cedric's team, a powerful rival.
But Jordan noticed the shattered statue on the ground—and the strong traces of magic still lingering on it.
After a brief assessment, Fleur and Cedric both realized there was likely a team ahead of them moving even faster than they were, and just as strong.
As for which team it was, even Davies—dazed as he was by Fleur—could figure that out.
So between surrounding Viktor now or letting him widen the gap and gain an even greater advantage, they chose the former without hesitation.
And that was how they ended up here.
"Krum, didn't you say you were confident you could beat them? Well, here's your chance…" Poliakoff swallowed.
From the power and precision of those earlier spells alone, it was clear the opposing side had at least three members as strong as they were.
Add the four others who looked every bit the seasoned accomplices, and drawing on years of being overshadowed by Viktor in competition, Poliakoff immediately sensed that this would not end well.
"You don't have any real chance of winning, Krum," Cedric said kindly. "Stop resisting. At least that way you won't get hurt."
George and Fred immediately threw their arms around each other's shoulders, nodding solemnly while pointing at Davies.
"We're harmless, really. But there's a certain pervert here who likes tying people up with ropes. It's not a pretty sight~"
"So you can hurry on to the platform?" Viktor asked lightly.
For the first time, a genuinely open smile appeared on his face.
Cedric could only return a helpless smile.
"I told you. Tricks like this won't work on someone like Krum."
Fleur raised her wand decisively and moved to the edge of the formation—her preferred attacking position.
As for that earlier probing attack, their original plan had been to knock one person out first, then use the threat to pressure Krum into surrendering, saving themselves time.
But the result was obvious.
They had underestimated the Durmstrang students' combat awareness—and Viktor's judgment.
...
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