The thunderous battlefield, which had been filled with the constant noise of explosions and shouted spells only moments before, immediately fell into an eerie, unnatural silence that pressed against everyone's eardrums.
Everyone present stared in complete, shocked disbelief at the pale-faced, frail-looking Slytherin girl standing before them with her wand raised. Their expressions were unable to hide their astonishment at what they were witnessing.
Even the Slytherins themselves, who knew Astoria's capabilities familiarly, couldn't quite believe that under Neville Longbottom's devastatingly powerful strike, that silver meteor that had seemed capable of shattering stone, Astoria had somehow emerged essentially unharmed and combat-ready.
No, that wasn't entirely accurate. Astoria had been injured.
Her left sleeve was completely torn away, shredded to hanging tatters, exposing a pale arm beneath.
A nasty, bloody wound on her forearm, deep enough to expose muscle tissue had stopped bleeding through some hasty healing charm, but the entire torn sleeve was already thoroughly soaked through with dark red blood that dripped slowly onto the ground.
Looking at the young girl holding her wand steady despite pain, breathing softly but calmly through slightly parted lips, everyone present felt their hearts moved by her sheer determination and courage.
"Astoria!" Draco's voice cracked with emotion.
He finally snapped violently out of his shocked daze, as though released from a paralyzing spell. He cried out her name with concern, then ran urgently toward her without much thought for tactical positioning.
Pansy, Blaise, and Theodore also rushed to Astoria's side in unison, forming a protective semicircle around their wounded teammate.
Including Neville, the few students who had just moments ago been actively confronting the Slytherins with murderous intent hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. But ultimately, responding to some unspoken code of honor, they chose not to interfere with this moment or attack while the Slytherins were distracted.
The four gathered Slytherins surrounded Astoria protectively, their bodies were forming something akin to a living shield.
Draco knelt down to examine the wound on Astoria's arm up close, his fingers were hovering over the injury without quite touching it. Then he slowly turned his head to glare with burning intensity at Neville, his expression was absolutely ferocious.
"You should have stayed lying safely on the ground, Astoria," Theodore Nott said with a sinister, accusing look at Neville that promised future retribution.
Then he spoke with a stern face turned toward the girl. "You've risked too much."
"They're just flesh wounds, nothing serious that won't heal," Astoria shook her head gently, dismissing their concern.
Her voice was steady despite the pain she must be experiencing. "My Shield Charm managed to block most of the magical damage before it could do real harm. In fact, I hadn't actually fallen unconscious at all from the impact. I was just pretending to be knocked out."
"Pretending?" Pansy's sharp gaze snapped from Astoria's gruesome wound to the younger girl's calm face, her eyes were widening with as she looked at this younger student whom she had always somewhat disliked for being perhaps too close to Draco for Pansy's comfort.
"I was originally planning to wait patiently for the right moment," Astoria nodded, her blue eyes were gleaming with intelligence.
"Wait for a perfect opportunity to present itself where I could at least definitively defeat one of them with a surprise attack. But they were all very vigilant, especially Longbottom and Lovegood. I didn't have absolute certainty of success, which is why I continued to wait. But I couldn't continue pretending to be unconscious anymore when—"
Astoria's meaningful gaze pointed toward Fleur Delacour, whose face had turned ashen pale after losing both her teammates in quick series to Slytherin's cunning.
The gathered Slytherins all immediately understood what Astoria meant, nodding with appreciation.
Fleur and her Beauxbatons teammate had also been coming directly after their group with clear hostile intent. If the Slytherins hadn't managed to take down at least one of them by complete surprise, exploiting Astoria's seemingly helpless position, they would have been the ones getting surrounded and attacked from multiple angles.
Astoria's Stunning Spell, cast from her prone position with perfect timing and angle had been incredibly powerful, channeling all her remaining reserves into one decisive strike.
Fleur had to face the harsh reality before her: Triana wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.
Slowly rising to her full height, trying to salvage some dignity from this disaster, Fleur struggled to control the anger and frustration trying to overwhelm her composure.
She said coldly, "Return Beauxbatons' badge to me."
"Don't even think about it, Delacour," Draco's gray eyes were cold, his lips were curled in a contemptuous smile. "Losers don't get to make demands."
"Your defeat is already decided and inevitable, Malfoy," Neville interjected, taking a deep, steadying breath to calm his racing heart. He gestured at the surrounding forces. "You no longer have any advantage in numbers. It's over."
"Who says so?" Astoria's expression was eerily calm and resolute, as if the painful wound on her left arm still seeping blood despite the healing charm didn't affect her combat readiness at all. She spoke before Draco could give a response. "I can still fight."
Hearing this declaration from someone so obviously injured, the other Slytherins' expressions all shifted slightly with concern and uncertainty.
But ultimately, after exchanging brief glances, none of them moved to stop Astoria from making such a statement or tried to convince her to withdraw.
"Even if you join the fight, brave little girl, you still have no chance of winning," another voice suddenly came from the dense forest.
Viktor Krum, who had not yet revealed himself or his position, emerged from the shadowed woods with his team, stepping carefully through the tangled bushes with his wand at the ready.
"Durmstrang..." The Slytherins' already tense nerves suddenly drew tighter, their bodies were visibly stiffening.
Draco's pale face darkened completely as he said angrily, "Potter took your badge, not us!"
"Ahem..." Poliakoff and Lanquarde's faces both flashed with unnaturalness.
Viktor also coughed twice awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with this alliance of convenience against students who hadn't actually wronged them.
Then he said with a deliberately stern face, trying to justify his position, "But you are the enemy of all champion teams here, aren't you? Everyone knows it. If we let you leave from here now, once you recover your strength, no single team will be a match for you."
Draco's brow twitched at this cold logic, and he found himself with no effective response.
Now the situation had completely reversed from just minutes ago.
The Slytherin hunting party which had seemed so formidable and unstoppable was now reduced to just Draco, Pansy, Theodore, and Blaise, plus Astoria whose remaining genuine combat capability was highly questionable given her injury.
And they had to somehow face Cedric Diggory's team with its full complement of three fighters, Viktor Krum's team of three, plus Beauxbatons' core member and champion Fleur Delacour.
Nine against five, with one of the five badly wounded.
The Slytherins fell into contemplative silence in unison. From the current situation, objectively analyzed, they had almost no realistic chance and no logical need to continue resisting.
Slytherin wizards, raised on pure-blood tactical thinking, generally didn't waste energy doing things they knew were ultimately futile.
"Give up, Malfoy," Cedric said softly, watching the surrounded and isolated Draco Malfoy. He could feel and understand the other boy's unwillingness to accept defeat. "You're all very strong. But... it no longer matters now."
The Slytherin group were indeed formidable opponents. Even without their numerical advantage earlier, Cedric's own team alone might not have been able to achieve victory against them.
It no longer matters?
The dying flames in Draco's gray eyes suddenly blazed fiercely again, reigniting with furious pride. "What gives you the courage to say that, Diggory?"
Draco's expression twisted into something fierce and almost wild. "If you really think you can easily take us out without paying a heavy price, then come on and try! We'll see who falls first!"
"Do you really still want to continue fighting, Malfoy?" Neville frowned deeply. He gestured toward Astoria. "I think what you should be doing right now is firing your red flare and calling someone to properly treat Greengrass's injury before it gets infected."
"Don't trouble yourself, Longbottom," Astoria said coldly.
Draco slowly turned his head, tearing his glare away from Cedric. He first looked sharply at Astoria, reading absolute determination from her unwavering blue eyes and slight nod.
Then he looked toward Pansy, seeking her input.
Whether to go through another even more brutal battle—Pansy seemed somewhat hesitant initially, uncertainty was flickering across her face.
However, the moment Draco looked directly at her, meeting her eyes and silently asking the question, Pansy immediately made up her mind. "I follow your command, Draco," Pansy said, gazing adoringly at Draco's handsome face.
"Professor Watson is from our Slytherin house," Blaise Zabini said lightly. His dark eyes gleamed with pride. "He passed down noble techniques and the fruits of his knowledge to us. Some incompetent fools don't deserve to make us surrender."
Fleur and Viktor both flushed red, their faces were grimacing as they were so angry their noses seemed to twist with rage. They both knew exactly who the "incompetent fools" Blaise was referring to were.
"I understand what you mean, Blaise." Draco pressed his lips together into a thin, determined line. He took a deep breath, centering himself for what was to come.
Looking at each of his remaining team members' faces in turn, he felt something swell in his chest.
"The honor of pure-bloods and Professor Watson's reputation must not be tarnished, ATTACK!"
The sudden, unexpected shout startled the three teams surrounding the Slytherins, catching them unprepared. And the five spell beams that came rushing at them in unison frightened Viktor nearly out of his wits!
Whoosh!
Five powerful spells with different colors wrapped in fine threads of crackling lightning, penetrated the air with a hair-raising shriek that set teeth on edge. The sound was like the wail of incoming artillery.
Viktor and his two Durmstrang teammates positioned facing this overwhelming wave of coordinated attacks head-on, were completely stunned by the five spells that had been perfectly angled to block all their obvious evasion routes. They stood frozen like deer before predators, completely unsure how to react in the split-second they had!
"Protego!" A clear voice rang out.
Just when the three Durmstrand members thought their elimination from the competition was absolutely certain, a savior appeared from an unexpected area!
Luna whose position happened to be closest to the Durmstrang team due to her earlier duel with Pansy had strange otherworldly light flashing in her silver eyes.
She cast her Shield Charm almost simultaneously with the five Slytherins launching their assault.
At the critical moment, Luna successfully erected a shimmering Shield Charm barrier directly in front of the three paralyzed Durmstrang members. However, due to the distance involved and the difficult positioning angle, Luna's hastily cast Shield Charm could only block two of the five incoming spells.
Nevertheless, this precious opening was immediately seized by Viktor who suddenly threw himself violently to the right, tackling Poliakoff, who was standing vulnerably to his right side, hard to the ground!
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
After three deafening, earth-shaking thunderclaps that made ears ring and sent debris flying, Lanquarde who had no one close enough to help him dodge and hadn't reacted fast enough himself was thrown nearly twenty feet through the air by the explosive force of spell impacts.
His body ragdolled through space before crashing down, then rolled a considerable distance across the rough ground before finally coming to a stop.
His fate was completely unknown!
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