Compared with the mood at Hogwarts,
Beauxbatons was already popping champagne at halftime.
It was easy to imagine how delighted that petty Headmaster Beauxbatons was at this result.
The look on his face suggested he had already won the Starry Sky Cup.
Even Snape could not stand him.
"Haha, what a splendid match." Headmaster Beauxbatons applauded, repeatedly praising Durmstrang's headmaster for his excellent coaching.
Mr. Edgar did not even spare him a reaction. He went straight to the dejected Durmstrang team.
"This was the finest match I've ever seen," Mr. Edgar told the disappointed Durmstrang players. "You did very well. What I saw was a spirit that never gave up."
"A heart that keeps charging forward and fighting until the very last second is the most precious thing of all."
The players looked at their headmaster and gathered around him.
He was the best headmaster Durmstrang had ever had.
Mr. Edgar gently patted the players' shoulders.
These youngsters reminded Mr. Edgar of his son.
Neither Edgar nor his son was good with words or expressing himself. No one knew the grief that the faded paint on the portrait bearing Edgar's name in that ancient castle had brought him.
Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons, was furious at the expression on Headmaster Beauxbatons's face, as though victory was already assured.
Yes, if Beauxbatons lost the match-lost without any doubt-
Then Hagrid would return to Beauxbatons with her.
But then Beauxbatons's pride would be trampled into the dirt.
The proud headmistress of Beauxbatons would no longer have anything to be proud of.
So when Madame Maxime spoke to her team, this was what she said.
"Tomorrow, trample those stupid, arrogant Beauxbatons fools into the dirt! Plant a footprint right on their faces with your freshly polished leather shoes!"
Perhaps Beauxbatons was neither