Will raised an eyebrow. Why was Harry so ready to kill?
What on earth had that old Sorting Hat taught him? Anyone who didn't know better might think slaying the Basilisk with a sword in his second year had brought out his bloodlust.
"What if they come back?" Harry asked, looking innocent.
Will shook his head. "I doubt they're in any mood to. They'll probably go after the Beauxbatons students next. Harry, you have to leave a trapped enemy a way out."
Harry didn't understand. "What does that mean?"
"Don't push an enemy too hard when they're desperate. We have all of Durmstrang's Golden Eggs now, their people are injured, and one of them even got hit by a blinding curse. He may have to withdraw soon." Will picked up an untouched skewer of meat and tore off a bite. "Let them fight the Beauxbatons students instead."
Harry scratched his head. So that's how it works. He wanted to say more, but his stomach chose that moment to growl.
"Have something to eat." Will glanced at the grill. "This meat probably won't be enough, though. Go catch a rabbit. I remember there are plenty of burrows near the part of the woods where the Thestrals live. Sorry for the trouble, Harry. I'll guard the Golden Eggs while you catch one."
Harry stayed where he was.
"Is something wrong?" Will used Transfiguration to lengthen the grill again, ready to roast a rabbit later.
"Are we really going to handle the rest of the competition like this?" Harry scratched his head hard. He couldn't quite make sense of it. They were so relaxed—was this a picnic?
"What else would we do?" Will said as if it were obvious. "You have two Golden Eggs, I have one, and they just delivered three more.