Another massive explosion erupted in the narrow space between Neville and Draco.
The concussive blast threw both blood-soaked combatants back a ten feet in opposite directions. However, the two battered figures scrambling desperately up from the ground gave themselves absolutely no time to catch their breath. Instead, they lunged viciously at each other once more.
Silver sword blades flickered through the air like lightning strikes, and curse-light shrieked miserably as spells tore past!
Neville and Draco fought in an extraordinarily primal and savage manner that seemed to strip away centuries of wizarding civilization. Their brutal exchanges were filled with mortal dangers and ruthless intent that made even onlookers gasp and flinch in their seats.
At the judges' platform at the forest's edge, showing a clear view of the projection screens, watching this increasingly blood-drenched duel with rising alarm, Dumbledore's white beard trembled. His normally twinkling blue eyes were now revealing deep concern.
"Bryan—"
Dumbledore turned his head, looking sideways at him as he called out softly.
"Shouldn't we intervene and stop this, Bryan?"
Madam Amelia Bones, who had been contemplating what dramatic and far-reaching changes the recent Azkaban prison break would inevitably bring to the British wizarding world's political landscape and the daily lives of its citizens, couldn't help but cast a concerned, questioning look at Professor Watson after Dumbledore spoke.
Her face showed clear worry.
And Ludo Bagman, sitting on Bryan's other side, was repeatedly glancing sideways with increasing frequency, using his eyes and subtle head movements to urgently remind Bryan of the deteriorating situation unfolding before them.
Ludo genuinely loved exciting, dramatic competitions, it was in his nature as a former athlete and current sports administrator.
But the serious injury or actual death of young wizards during the Triwizard Tournament was absolutely not something he wanted to witness or have associated with his name, though such tragic accidents had always occurred during previous iterations of this ancient, dangerous competition throughout its history.
The life-or-death struggle playing out in detail on the projection screens worried all the gathered judges deeply.
Even in the massive spectator stands arrayed behind the judges' platform, most people were watching the match with hearts lodged firmly in their throats, forgetting to cheer even for Hermione Granger's team's spectacular performance.
"The Malfoy boy looks more presentable and shows more courage than his father ever has."
The unyielding death-match, rather than appalling him, caused even Sirius to offer this grudging praise in a surprisingly calm, almost approving tone.
Bryan's sharp eyes flickered as he watched the screens, his expression remained blank as he was momentarily silent.
He understood that Draco and Neville had both been utterly consumed by genuine battle-fury, lost to the red haze of combat. They had reached that dangerous state where they had forgotten they were now in the real, physical world not in his controlled spiritual training realm where death was temporary and injuries healed upon exit.
They had forgotten, in the heat of their brutal struggle, that the savage way they were fighting now with killing intent behind every strike might very well actually kill the other person.
However, after pondering the situation for a moment, Bryan slowly shook his head.
"This kind of evenly-matched duel between fighters of equal skill and determination is extraordinarily rare and precious. After this battle concludes, regardless of who wins, they will both be forged into something stronger."
"But Bryan—" Madam Bones frowned deeply. She was preparing to say something, but Bryan smoothly cut her off before she could build momentum.
"Don't worry, Amelia. No one will die today, I give you my word." His voice showed absolute certainty. "You've all seen the situation developing—variables will emerge very soon."
Deep inside the Forbidden Forest's depths, over a hundred feet away from the blood-soaked strip of clearing where Neville and Draco battled.
The five students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons climbed carefully onto a massive, moss-covered boulder that protruded from the forest floor. They crouched low to avoid detection, their bodies were pressed against the cold stone as they stared absolutely dumbfounded at the nightmarish battlefield spread before them.
"Merlin's beard—" Poliakoff from Durmstrang swallowed hard.
The desperate struggle for victory between Draco and Neville, the sheer viciousness of their exchange, made his whole body tremble with visceral fear.
He murmured in complete disbelief, his voice was cracking, "Are they really planning to kill each other? This is madness!"
The grimness and stern resolve that had been etched on Viktor's face dissolved into shock and something approaching horror.
Just at that precise moment, Neville's silver sword swept past Draco's left ear in a horizontal arc, the blade passed so close it nearly sliced the ear off—a scene that made Viktor's scalp literally tingle.
"This is what—" Viktor, who had personally experienced many intense, physically brutal Quidditch matches under the harsh spotlight of international competition, gasped with difficulty, struggling to process what he was witnessing.
"This is what students taught personally by Professor Watson in his Physical Education class actually look like. Oh..."
His voice dropped to an awed whisper. "I thought our school's tradition of teaching the Dark Arts was much more terrifying and produced more dangerous students than Hogwarts, but these two... they look like they've actually killed people before!!"
Triana who had just moments ago been very adamant about giving the arrogant Slytherin team trouble and making them pay for their earlier attack, now said absolutely nothing. She could only stare with a pale face at Neville and Draco's apparent life-or-death struggle.
Like the others around her, Fleur watched the battlefield with its constant roaring explosions and flashing lights quietly. However, compared to the fear the others were displaying, her blue eyes shimmered with an unusual, intense light.
"We're going in," Fleur suddenly announced.
Going in? intervening in this deadly level of savage combat?
Poliakoff and Lanquarde looked at Fleur in complete bewilderment, their mouths were hanging open, as if the Beauxbatons champion had lost her mind!
"You're joking—" Poliakoff's shoulders twitched nervously as he shook his head in denial. "We'll die if we go down there... They're clearly trying to kill each other! Did you not see that last exchange?"
"We're all champions of the Triwizard Tournament, aren't we?" Fleur's voice was steady and straightforward.
She didn't even bother looking at the frightened Poliakoff, but instead gazed calmly and expectantly at the silent Viktor Krum. "Doesn't the Triwizard Tournament exist specifically to test the champions' courage in the face of danger? Or have I misunderstood its purpose?"
Viktor's eyelids trembled rapidly as he processed her words. His eyes which had been clouded and dulled by instinctive fear, gradually began to shine with returning light.
Fleur was right!
Winning the Triwizard Tournament and claiming victory was certainly important for glory and future prospects, but even more important was demonstrating one's exceptional talent and raw courage on this international stage!
What good was survival without honor?
"The target remains unchanged—we work together to eliminate these Slytherin students first,"
Viktor declared, his erratic, fearful breathing was finding its natural rhythm again as certainty returned. He said firmly, "Then afterward we'll compete fairly with Hogwarts's two teams for final victory!"
The champions' assistants—Poliakoff, Lanquarde, and Triana moved their lips silently, clearly wanting to protest this seemingly suicidal decision.
In the end, after exchanging nervous glances, the three said nothing and chose to obey their respective champion's command.
"Then let's move out!" Fleur braced her arm on the stone and leaped down lightly, landing in a crouch.
"Triana, we'll help that Longbottom fellow deal with Malfoy. Viktor, you take your teammates and flank around to the other side to help Cedric eliminate those two Slytherins hiding in the forest."
With the plan settled and agreed upon, the two teams used the excellent cover provided by the ongoing roaring explosions to rapidly approach the battlefield, moving from tree to tree in silence.
On the blood-soaked battlefield itself, Draco and Neville once again thrown violently back by another mutual shockwave from simultaneous spell impacts, leaped shakily to their feet once more.
This time, showing the first signs of exhaustion breaking through their fury, the two showed tacit understanding by not immediately charging recklessly at each other again. Instead, they half-crouched in place like wounded animals, chests heaving as they breathed heavily through mouths and noses.
Both wore the competition robes that had been slashed and burned to ribbons, hanging off their bodies in tatters. Their blood-covered faces streaked with red and black looked particularly fierce and terrifying in the forest light!
"Longbottom—" Draco spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva that landed with a wet splat, glaring at Neville with a smile of vicious satisfaction despite his pain. "You were going to take me down in one minute—did you manage it, hero?"
Neville pressed his lips together tightly without answering the taunt, refusing to be baited. His peripheral vision swept rapidly across the broader battlefield, and his heart sank once more as he registered the deteriorating situation.
Luna and Cedric were both still successfully containing their respective opponents, preventing Slytherin from achieving numerical superiority. But neither of their individual situations could be honestly described as good or sustainable.
The ongoing battle between Luna and Pansy Parkinson remained deadlocked.
On the surface, Luna still maintained her offensive posture. But her attacks had clearly lost their earlier agility and surprise. Pansy, demonstrating unexpected tactical patience, was clearly planning to simply wear Luna down through superior stamina and was fighting a war of attrition.
And Cedric who had expended even more energy in his sustained bombardment strategy, could no longer maintain the kind of sustained, overwhelming firepower output that had initially pinned his opponents.
Now he could only leverage a slight terrain advantage in the broken forest combined with predictive positioning to keep Zabini and Nott "imprisoned" among the shattered trees and smoking ruins he'd created!
Neville's own situation was equally dire.
Malfoy's tenacity exceeded anything Neville's imagination had prepared him for. Through this brutal exchange, Neville had come to the realization that hoping to cut Malfoy down through raw determination and willpower alone was now completely unrealistic.
If the current situation continued to develop along this trajectory, all three of them would eventually be exhausted to depletion. Eventually, Zabini and Nott who had better preserved their magical power reserves by avoiding direct confrontation, would emerge fresh from the woods to easily claim victory!
What should he do?
Neville racked his brain thinking desperately, running through scenarios, but the current situation filled him with creeping despair. Every option seem to lead to defeat.
He had to admit that with just the three of them, they couldn't overcome the Slytherin team. The numbers were simply against them.
Their only realistic hope now was that when the magical position markers refreshed on everyone's tracking maps in a few minutes, Harry and his team would discover the ongoing struggle between them and the Slytherins.
Without question, Harry's trio would definitely choose to ally with his side to expel Slytherin from the competition first... but then, after Slytherin was eliminated, their team would inevitably have their house badges taken by Harry's team.
Still, that outcome would be infinitely better than being defeated by Slytherin.
In those few stretched seconds of heavy breathing, many conflicting thoughts flashed rapid-fire through Neville's exhausted mind. Finally, his wavering eyes became firm once more with determination.
"So what if I didn't manage it in one minute, Malfoy?" Neville pressed his trembling hands against his knees for support, gritting his teeth hard as he slowly forced himself to stand upright again. "In the end, we'll still win this competition!"
"You're delusional, Longbottom!" Draco's pale face twisted with effort as he used pure willpower to overcome the overwhelming waves of exhaustion radiating from every muscle in his battered body, forcing himself to stand as well.
The wind howled murderously through the trees, and dead leaves danced chaotically through the air in swirling patterns!
The instant Draco and Neville's determined gazes locked again across the space between them, reading the same intent in each other's eyes, the two began to charge at each other once more in what might be their final exchange.
But just at that critical moment—
Whoosh!
A sharp, piercing whistle suddenly came from the dense forest at their side.
This sudden, unexpected noise didn't particularly disturb the other two groups locked in their own desperate combat. But the unfamiliar sound immediately startled both Draco and Neville.
Both instinctively turned their heads toward the source of the sound, only to see Fleur Delacour and her two teammates burst out from behind two spruce trees, charging aggressively toward them!
This completely unexpected turn of events stunned both Draco and Neville into momentary paralysis.
The Beauxbatons team?
Neville, whose battered body was still in forward motion toward Draco, forcibly stopped himself. His eyes flashed rapidly with uncertainty and confusion as he tried to process this development.
Who was their target?
Neville wondered. But in the next second, his confusion was answered.
"Malfoy, give us back our house badge!" Fleur's hair floated behind her as she spoke in a clear voice.
Not expecting or waiting for Slytherin to surrender their stolen badge voluntarily, the two Beauxbatons girls simultaneously raised their wands in synchronization, their eyes were fixed resolutely on Malfoy.
Allies?
There was such incredible good fortune?!
Malfoy's expression was so ugly with impotent rage that it nearly made Neville laugh out loud despite his exhaustion.
Neville's wrist trembled as he raised his sword, preparing to coordinate immediately with the two spirited young women to take Malfoy down in one round. However—
Whoosh!
A red streak of stunning light came as if from the heavens themselves.
Astoria Greengrass who had been lying seemingly unconscious and forgotten on the ground for ages suddenly sprang up from her prone position and released a cunningly angled Stunning Spell that froze the charging Triana's expression.
After the unwillingness and anger burning in her eyes slowly extinguished, her body slowly went limp...
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