Viktor had chosen to save the stocky young man, Poliakoff, through his desperate tackle. But under Slytherin's devastating concentrated volley of synchronized attacks, Lanquarde had no chance to raise any resistance before being directly eliminated from the competition.
Whether on the blood-soaked field or in the crowded spectator stands high above, all the wizards who knew anything substantial about Slytherin House and its centuries-old reputation wore expressions of astonishment. They could hardly believe their own eyes at what they were witnessing!
Regarding Slytherin, one of the four great houses of the thousand-year-old Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with its ancient history, there existed many different definitions and characterizations within the world's broader magical civilization.
Ambitious, cunning, resourceful, self-preserving—these were the words typically associated with the house of the serpent. But practically no one, not even Slytherin's staunchest defenders, would ever use the word "courage" or "bravery" to define this particular house.
Those virtues belonged to Gryffindor.
Yet the scene unfolding before their astonished eyes was enough to completely shatter certain deeply ingrained perceptions and long-held prejudices that people had maintained about Slytherin House for generations.
Facing enemies nearly double their number, nine against five, with one of their own badly wounded, the second-year Astoria Greengrass had taken the bold initiative to strike from her prone position.
With a perfectly timed stunning spell, she had kicked out the only remaining champion's assistant from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, eliminating Triana before she could even enter the fray.
And with the enemy's tactical encirclement already formed and tightening, not only did Slytherin stubbornly refuse to surrender as would have been the reasonable, logical choice, but they had boldly and defiantly struck again with fury. They had sent off one of Durmstrang's champion assistants in a devastating opening barrage that had left everyone in shock.
These audacious actions were sufficient proof, undeniable evidence, of their exceptional courage and warrior spirit!
But while their actions were undeniably admirable, they had also undoubtedly and truly enraged both the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contingents.
Neither side had any superfluous words left to exchange, no time for threats or swagger. From the start of this engagement, the most chaotic melee involving the most teams simultaneously began for real!
Neville and Draco clashed once more in the center of the battlefield.
This time, having learned painful lessons from their previous brutal exchanges, both became notably more cautious. They chose not to engage in the close-quarters entanglement that had left them both bleeding and exhausted.
Instead, they dueled with rapid-fire spells from a safer distance.
Astoria, now operating at only half her normal fighting capacity used her excellent Transfiguration skills to assist Pansy. Together they kept the furious and maddened Krum and Poliakoff pinned down on the battlefield's left flank, preventing them from overwhelming other positions.
Zabini and Nott, who had been bound together as a defensive unit since the beginning of the melee and had been fighting somewhat ineffectively as a pair finally separated to maximize their offensive potential.
A fierce, predatory glint flickered in Nott's indifferent eyes. He swung his wand in a wide, sweeping arc, and two slender conjured ropes shot from his wand tip like striking vipers, looping directly toward Luna and Cedric simultaneously.
It appeared he actually intended to hold off both opponents alone.
Meanwhile, Zabini went straight for Fleur Delacour. A thick branch torn from a nearby tree, manipulated by a powerful Levitation Charm, became as hard as iron through transfiguration. The improvised spear nearly pierced clean through Fleur's calf before she twisted aside at the last possible instant!
"You lot!" Fleur exclaimed breathlessly.
Seeing the transformed branch now embedded deeply in the ground mere inches from where she'd been standing, still quivering from the force of impact, Fleur broke out in a cold sweat that dampened her silver-blonde hair.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She immediately realized that in pure dueling ability, she simply could not compare with these Hogwarts students who had been rigorously trained by Bryan. Blindly resisting through conventional spell-work would be worse than foolish.
"Can anyone help me?" Fleur didn't try to tough it out or maintain false pride.
While quickly darting around the chaotic edges of the battlefield, dodging the relentless attacks from Zabini who had locked onto her like a hunter pursuing prey, she called out loudly without shame. "Please!"
"I'll help you!" Cedric shouted back immediately.
With a powerful backward leap, Cedric narrowly avoided the rope snare that Nott had thrown at him.
Although the continuous fierce battles spanning what felt like hours had completely drained Cedric's stamina reserves and depleted his magical power to dangerously low levels, he still gritted his teeth and pushed through the exhaustion.
With a desperate roll that scraped his shoulder raw against stones, he evaded Nott's follow-up ferocious attack.
Under Luna's cover, Cedric rose shakily to his feet and casted a Stunning Spell at Zabini's back.
By this point in the brutal fight, with magical reserves depleted and bodies pushed beyond normal limits, no one had the energy or power left to use their most powerful signature spells. They were all relying purely on basic dueling charms.
The contest between the two exhausted sides was no longer truly a competition of superior magic or tactical intelligence, but rather a raw test of courage, determination, and sheer willpower to continue fighting!
"Thank you, Cedric!" Fleur gasped out between ragged breaths, shouting gratefully to Cedric who had selflessly helped her escape her desperate predicament despite his own exhaustion. "I have some specialty magic but it's not suitable for direct combat. It's better for support and enhancement!"
"Then use it now, Miss Delacour!" Cedric said wearily, his voice was hoarse from exertion. "Whatever you can do!"
And so, Fleur began to dance.
Just like the powerful Enchantment spell she had successfully used against the enormous dragon in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, Fleur's blonde hair, previously tied back in a practical style, automatically came loose and began flowing.
Her snow-white skin, pale as moonlight, radiated a flawless, ethereal shimmer under the afternoon sunlight coming through gaps in the canopy.
Accompanying her graceful, hypnotic dance movements, a mysterious wave of pure magical energy radiated in all directions like ripples on a pond.
All those Fleur had "defined" as allies in this chaotic battlefield immediately felt their spirits lift, like drought-stricken plants on the very verge of withering death suddenly receiving the life-giving nourishment of rain.
The young wizards locked in bitter, desperate combat with the Slytherin students all felt their exhausted bodies receiving replenishment.
On the tense, explosive battlefield, Fleur's sudden dancing—this unexpected tactical shift left everyone feeling initially bewildered and confused. What was she doing?
But her teammates immediately understood through their own improved physical condition what exactly Fleur was doing.
And after a brief moment of confusion, the Slytherin students were brought sharply back to their senses by the suddenly increased pressure from their opponents, who were fighting with renewed vigor. They instantly grasped what Fleur was doing.
"Stop interfering, Delacour!" Draco roared with fury born of desperation, immediately attempting to redirect his attention and attacks toward Fleur.
However, Draco's hasty attack was once again dispersed and deflected by Neville, who had positioned himself protectively between Draco and the dancing Fleur.
"Well done, Fleur!" Neville shouted excitedly, his spirits were soaring as he felt energy flowing through his limbs. "Just keep dancing exactly like that, and we'll win this battle soon!"
Thus, in an instant, both sides' objectives immediately shifted with this new understanding.
The five remaining Slytherin members redirected their attacking focus toward Fleur with coordination despite their exhaustion, recognizing that eliminating her support magic was now their only path to victory.
Meanwhile, Neville and his expanded group of allies quickly adjusted their defensive positions to protect Fleur at all costs, strictly defending against any strikes directed at her vulnerable dancing form.
Seeing the situation turning decisively unfavorable, their one advantage slipping away, Draco abandoned his newly adopted conservative approach. With reckless determination, he charged straight forward in a desperate strategy, preparing to break through Neville's blockade.
Of course, he was once again forced violently back by the gleaming sword light Neville wielded and the spells casted from his enchanted sword.
Now, all the Slytherin students understood with clarity that the time had come for a desperate, all-or-nothing struggle.
If this current situation continued for even a few more minutes, their opponents would only grow progressively stronger while Slytherin grew weaker. Eventually Longbottom and his group could afford to adopt an even more conservative, defensive fighting style and simply wear them down to complete exhaustion and inevitable defeat!
Slytherin's attacks surged forward like ocean tides under a full moon's pull, wave after relentless wave were fiercely pounding against the defensive line that Neville and his allies had formed around Fleur.
The continuous explosions from spell impacts left all the remaining members of the three champion teams covered head to toe in dust, dirt, and smoke stains.
In such intense and frenzied combat, where spells flew faster than thought and reflexes meant the difference between victory and unconsciousness, no one could emerge completely unscathed.
As time ticked by second by agonizing second, everyone sustained varying degrees of injury. But not a single one of those young wizards with bloodshot eyes and heaving chests was willing to meekly accept the bitter fate of defeat! They would fight until they literally couldn't stand.
The battlefield shows no mercy to the weak or hesitant.
High-frequency spell exchanges, where attacks came faster than breathing, ruthlessly test the hard power and fundamental skill of the dueling wizards on both sides.
Poliakoff, who had remained on the field only thanks to the heroic rescue efforts of Viktor and Luna was the first of this group to exit the arena in defeat.
He fell prey to the venomous fangs of a conjured snake that Draco had released during the cover of an explosion's blinding firelight.
The venomous snake that had finished off Poliakoff slithered low across the ground preparing to stealthily approach and eliminate Cedric from behind. But the serpent was abruptly turned to dissipating smoke by one of Luna's vigilant musical notes.
On Slytherin's side, the inevitable finally occurred. Astoria Greengrass finally fell once more collapsing to the ground.
Having endured the initial explosive impact from Neville's devastating magic, losing considerable blood from her arm wound, and persisting until now purely through raw willpower, she had finally reached her absolute limit.
Willpower alone was not enough to help her overcome all physical difficulties and the weakness from blood loss.
Her vision growing increasingly hazy, Astoria barely dodged Viktor Krum's incoming curse through pure instinct before collapsing heavily onto the ground that had been nearly shaved down a full layer by spell impacts.
Even as she fell, facing Draco's direction across the battlefield, her blue eyes still flickered with unwillingness and frustration.
Astoria's fall, the sight of her crumpling to the ground, caused another powerful surge of desperate strength to well up in Draco's nearly depleted body.
His expression twisted into something almost unrecognizable, his eyes were revealing genuine madness and desperation. Facing Longbottom's silver sword attempting to force him back yet again, Draco made a choice that shocked everyone watching. He actually reached out his left hand directly toward the falling blade!
This hysterical, suicidal move startled even Neville. No one knew better than he just how sharp this silver sword that Professor Watson had personally gifted him truly was.
Alarmed by the scene, Neville abruptly pulled back his force mid-swing, not daring to let the deadly sword in his hand continue its sweeping arc toward Draco's hand.
Of course, Draco would not waste the precious opportunity he had nearly bought with the threat of his own maiming!
His outstretched left hand suddenly changed direction in mid-air, abandoning the blade. Instead, his fingers grabbed Longbottom's collar. At the same time, his right hand's wand thrust directly forward toward Neville's throat at point-blank range!
"I've won, Longbottom!" Draco's wild eyes conveyed to Neville with certainty, his face was showing satisfaction despite his exhaustion.
Whoosh!
Just then, at that precise moment of Draco's premature triumph, a streak of red light flew in from the horizon and entered the battlefield!
Draco, who was preparing to savor his thorough, hard-won victory suddenly felt an incredibly powerful force.
Before he could even begin to react, his tightly gripped wand was forcibly yanked from his palm.
The sudden numbness and magical stiffness his body felt in response immediately made Draco realize from whose wand this Disarming Charm shot from such an inconceivable angle had come!
"Potter..." Draco said through gritted teeth, feeling the wind pressure from above.
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