The Durmstrang competitors' lounge was filled with arrogance. On the screen, Karkaroff's students watched the aftermath of the Beauxbatons surrender, their laughter raucous and dismissive.
"They've handed everything to Hogwarts," sneered one, his eyes fixed on the broadcast. "The French are nothing but cowards."
Krum stood at the front, his expression grim but his mind calculating. "Hogwarts has twenty fragments. The East has ten. They are destined to clash. When two titans fight, they both bleed. We wait. We let them tear each other apart, and then we strike."
In the corridor outside, the air was thick with tension. Charlotte stood face-to-face with Sunny Finch. There was no surprise in their encounter, only the cold inevitability of converging strategies.
"Looks like we're on the same wavelength again," Charlotte said, her voice smooth.
Sunny Finch's lips curled into a predatory grin. Two massive war hammers materialized in her hands. "Shall we do this together? It'll be faster."
"Agreed," Charlotte replied, stepping back.
Without another word, Sunny Finch leaped forward, swinging her hammer with devastating force. The lounge door didn't just open—it exploded inward, splintering against the wall.
Inside, the Durmstrang students froze. Krum's face darkened. "Sunny Finch! Do you think Durmstrang is a playground?"
But there was no banter this time. Behind Sunny Finch, a flood of Hogwarts wizards surged into the room. Wands were drawn instantly.
"Leave them conscious enough for the second stage," Charlotte commanded calmly to the students behind her. "But ensure they remain in the Hospital Wing until the examination begins."
The Durmstrang students—athletes rather than skilled duelists—were overwhelmed in seconds. It was a massacre. Erwin Cavendish, observing from a safe distance, mentally cataloged the destruction. He noted Harry's reckless spell that shattered a chair, then a table. He made a mental note to discuss furniture compensation with the Boy Who Lived later. Details mattered.
In the Great Hall, the Beauxbatons students watched the carnage on the enchanted screen with a mixture of horror and profound relief.
A girl swallowed hard. "Thank Merlin we didn't fight them. They're absolute monsters."
Fleur nodded, her face pale. "They won't touch us. We surrendered the fragments; we're out of contention. But those Durmstrang students... they won't even have time to heal before the next round begins."
By the time the confrontation subsided, the Durmstrang lounge was a wreck, and its occupants were a pile of groaning bodies sprawled across the floor.
Outside, Charlotte and Sunny Finch stood amidst the chaos, neither making a move against the other. A silent understanding passed between them. The true conflict was between the East and Hogwarts, and it required absolute preparation.
They both knew the date without needing to speak it: February 23rd. The day before the second task. The day the decisive battle would commence.