The Triwizard Tournament was undoubtedly the event drawing the most attention in the Wizarding World, and Rita had arrived early that morning to conduct interviews.
But as soon as the first task ended, Will buried himself in the Room of Requirement and the top floor of the High Tower. Apart from classes, he rarely went out.
Ron often muttered that if he had performed like Will, he would have spent days basking in admiration in the Common Room and the Dining Room.
The Triwizard Tournament left long gaps between tasks. The Second Task would not take place until after Christmas, giving the Champions time to recover from their injuries. But this year, every school had launched into frantic extra training, especially Durmstrang. A score of zero was simply too embarrassing.
In previous years, judges had awarded points, and the Champions could usually count on a respectable score. Nothing this humiliating had ever happened.
Even Karkaroff had to admit that Will was remarkably capable. He had already asked around about Will and knew how accomplished he was in Potions, Charms, and Ancient Runes.
But he had assumed Will was a scholarly Wizard, perhaps even the sort of student who spent so long in the Library that he could barely cast a Disarming Charm in a real fight.
After all, no student could excel at everything. Someone outstanding academically had to be weaker in other areas.
He had seen plenty of examples, so it had never occurred to him that Will would be this formidable in combat too.
Whatever the case, Karkaroff disliked the boy favored by the Dark Lord more and more. Durmstrang had suffered a crushing defeat, and as Headmaster, he had lost face as well. England's newspapers had been full of barbed remarks about him these past few days.