Chapter 147: Scoring
Zacharias Smith glanced at the messy scrawl on the parchment in his hand as he read aloud.
“First, Madame Maxime… she gave you nine points. Seems she’s quite impressed with you!”
Jon gave a slight nod.
“Then there’s Mr. Crouch—he gave you eight. Probably because he thought you mishandled the final move and ended up injured.”
“Professor Dumbledore… unbelievable, he actually gave you a perfect ten! But honestly, I think it’s fair. No favoritism at all—you really were the best of the four Champions. After all, the Ironbelly can’t really be compared to the Horntail or the Short-Snout!”
“And then… that bloody Ludo Bagman only gave you six points. Is he blind?”
“Actually,” Cedric Diggory interjected, “Bagman wasn’t completely unreasonable giving Jon a lower score. Jon was clearly the most battered of the four Champions. But Bagman completely ignored the fact that the Ukrainian Ironbelly is far more difficult to deal with than the other dragons.”
“Whose side are you on, Cedric?” Zacharias shot him a glare.
“And that shameless Karkaroff—he only gave you five…”
Zacharias seemed to lose all restraint, ranting furiously about Bagman and Karkaroff.
Cedric, however, calmly continued explaining to Jon.
“Overall, you’re ranked third right now. Viktor Krum and Harry Potter are tied for first with forty points. You’re in third with thirty-eight. Fleur Delacour is fourth with thirty-five. In other words, all four scores are very close.”
“Mhm, thanks.” Jon nodded.
Truthfully, Jon couldn’t care less about the Triwizard Tournament points. By the time the Third Task came—the true final—it was practically a matter of whoever scored the highest just dying faster.
“Keep it up.” Cedric smiled and patted Jon on the shoulder. “Professor Sprout saw your performance in the First Task—she was absolutely overjoyed.”
“We’re back!” Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, and a few others burst in, carrying a large jug of pumpkin juice along with cakes and cheese. “Straight from the kitchens!”
“A delayed celebration!” Hannah Abbott squealed, and everyone poured out into the common room.
Familiar and unfamiliar faces alike crowded into the Hufflepuff common room. Nearly every student came up to Jon, loudly offering praise and encouragement.
Tables and chairs were piled high with cakes and pitchers of pumpkin juice. Cheers and laughter rang out again and again, filling the Hufflepuff common room with warmth and noise.
...
In the days that followed, Jon finally managed to shake off the shadow of the Ukrainian Ironbelly.
Life grew easier. Almost every teacher began treating him with newfound respect. After watching him cast a flawless Shrinking Charm, Flitwick was so delighted that he awarded Hufflepuff twenty points.
During Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid mysteriously pulled Jon aside and whispered, “Tell me honestly, Hart… what’s it like, facing a little cutie like the Ukrainian Ironbelly head-on? Of course, my favorite will always be the Norwegian Ridgeback…”
In Potions class, Snape informed him that he could skip detention once this week.
When he found a free moment, Jon took the golden egg to the bathroom and opened it underwater. As expected, the eerie song of the Merpeople echoed from within.
He even examined it closely. Seeing that the Merpeople were “human-headed with fish bodies,” rather than “fish-headed with human bodies,” brought him no small relief.
...
On Sunday evening, Jon once again arrived at the door to Dumbledore’s office.
“Password?” the ugly stone gargoyle looked at him and said, “I love lemons!”
“I know you don’t know,” it added cryptically.
Jon stepped past it and climbed the stone spiral staircase, which rose automatically like an elevator until he pushed open the door at the top.
The moment he entered, a deafening noise erupted from ahead, startling him.
It was the portraits of the Headmasters on the walls—applauding him.
“Well done!” Headmistress Dilys Derwent gave him a thumbs-up. “We saw your performance through Dexter’s Quidditch Pitch portrait.”
“At least you haven’t disgraced Hogwarts,” Headmaster Phineas Black said loftily, raising his chin.
“Yes, we watched you—it was magnificent!” Headmaster Dexter Fortescue declared, his face glowing. “The way you used that Kimmer feint to outmaneuver the Horntail mid-air—why, it reminded me of my own glory days!”
Fortescue barreled on enthusiastically, oblivious to his mistake. “Had you been born three hundred years earlier, I’d have written immediately to have you fast-tracked into the England National Team…”
“…Wait, why aren’t any of you saying anything?”
He finally noticed Jon’s bewildered expression—and the disgusted looks from the other portraits.
“I think you’ve mistaken him, Dexter,” Albus Dumbledore said with a smile, approaching from the Pensieve. “The one who escaped the Horntail on a broomstick was Harry Potter. Jon brought down the Ironbelly with Devil’s Snare and Ghost Vine.”
“What?” Fortescue let out a strangled cry.
“A Quidditch-obsessed fool,” Dilys Derwent muttered, shaking her head before closing her eyes to nap.
“Yes… an idiot,” Phineas Black agreed for once.
“What… Phineas, would you dare repeat that?” Fortescue ignored Derwent, yanking out his wand and pointing it at Black.
...
Fortunately, Dumbledore cut in before the portraits could start dueling.
“Enough, all of you. Rest now.” He waved his hand firmly.
Then he turned to Jon and led him toward the Pensieve.
“Phineas and Dilys have already praised your performance, so I won’t add more. In short, I’m very pleased.” Dumbledore gave a warm nod.
“A few days ago, I visited Nurmengard Castle in Austria and obtained this memory.”
As he spoke, he raised a crystal vial in his hand.
“A most precious memory. Come with me, Jon.”
Author's Note
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