0532 Talents

Under ordinary circumstances, Draco would have been practically vibrating with malicious delight at the prospect of watching Potter suffer. Similarly, the Hufflepuffs, still basking in Cedric’s selection as champion, would have cast schadenfreude-laden glances at Hermione Granger, the know-it-all who shared their house’s moment of glory.

However, the shocking brutality of Professor Watson’s demonstration—the sight of George’s leg being viciously impaled, the crimson pool of blood still staining the white ground surface—had effectively stripped away such petty thoughts. The memory of that ferocity, combined with the knowledge that any of them could be next, had a sobering effect on even the most spiteful among them.

The circle of young wizards instinctively widened further, their robes rustling against the ground as they shambled backward. None wanted to risk being splattered with blood if Potter or his teammates meet a fate similar to George’s.

Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Neville stepped forward; their faces drained of all color. They stood beneath Professor Watson’s penetrating gaze, a gaze that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone to examine their very souls. Try as they might, they couldn’t fully understand the murderous intent lurking behind those blank eyes.

Even Hermione and Harry, usually so confident in their abilities, harbored no illusions about performing brilliantly in this trial. Before being summoned by Professor Watson, Hermione had felt a surge of determination, a familiar confidence in her intellectual abilities. But now, standing before him in this makeshift battleground, she found her usually razor-sharp mind failing her spectacularly.

She desperately searched through her mental catalogue of spells and defensive techniques, frantically trying to recall every lesson from his course, only to realize with growing horror how little would their training help for this level of combat.

“What should we do?” Harry’s whispered question came through gritted teeth, his voice tight with barely controlled fear. His fingers gripped his wand so tightly his knuckles had turned white, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead beneath his black hair.

Hermione’s throat constricted, unable to form a response. Into this moment of paralyzing uncertainty, Professor Watson’s soft voice sliced through the air like a silk-wrapped blade: “Well, are you ready?”

Streams of sweat poured down Neville’s temples, his round face flushed with anxiety as he clutched his wand in a tight grip. In a display that might have been comical under different circumstances, his nervousness had led him to grasp the wand’s handle with both hands, wielding it like some medieval sword.

The sight would have normally drawn snickers from their classmates, but no one dared to laugh now. Hermione, Harry, and Ginny maintained their rigid silence, their jaws clenched so tightly it seemed their teeth might crack, their eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Professor Watson’s hands, their muscles were coiled and ready to dodge at the slightest twitch of his movement.

Bryan surveyed the four small figures standing before him in their rigid line, and released a slight sigh. His expression held a mixture of disappointment and something almost like pity.

“What’s this?” he questioned, his voice carrying a note of weary resignation. “Have you learned nothing from witnessing the fate of your predecessors?”

‘What?’

Hermione’s eyes widened with confusion, her mind struggling to process his meaning. But Harry, standing beside her, suddenly burst out with desperate inspiration, his voice cracking slightly: “Wait, Professor! We… we need time to prepare properly!”

“Two minutes—that’s all you get—”

Bryan’s lips curved into a slight smile as he deliberately placed his hands behind his back and turned away in their opposite direction, apparently giving them privacy to discuss their strategy.

“Listen carefully—” Harry urgently gathered his teammates into a tight huddle. Under the watchful eyes of the other surrounding students, his face had taken on an almost ghostly paleness, and his breathing had become rapid and shallow.

“Standing there like statues, the way the last group did—the way we just did—that’s suicide! We saw what happened to George!” His voice trembled slightly at the memory of George’s agonized screams.

“Then what should we do?” Neville asked swallowing hard, his voice trembled with barely contained panic.

Harry’s brow furrowed in concentration as he casted furtive glances at Professor Watson’s back. His mind raced with fragments of strange ideas and strategic possibilities, much like those moments of pure instinct he experienced during his first Quidditch practices. The familiar sensation of adrenaline-fueled clarity began to sharpen his thoughts.

“We… we can’t possibly match Professor Watson in raw power or skill, even with his self-imposed limitations. That means we’re forced into a defensive position—” Harry’s eyes suddenly blazed with inspiration as he looked at each of his friends in turn.

“Professor Watson can Apparate at will—appear from literally any direction without warning. We need to be prepared for attacks from every angle, every moment.” Harry’s gaze locked onto Hermione’s, conveying the urgency of his plan. “You and I will face Professor Watson directly, while Ginny and Neville maintain constant vigilance of our rear flank.”

The strategy, though simple, carried proper logic that none could deny. After a moment’s contemplation, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville nodded in agreement, their faces showing the first glimmers of hope since being called forward.

Usually, Hermione was the one who came up with strategies for their group, but now Harry had naturally taken on that role and made arrangements.

“Remember what Professor Watson taught us about attack rhythm—” Harry continued, his mind racing through remembered lessons. “We can’t all cast simultaneously; it would waste our magical energy and leave us vulnerable. When I launch my attack, Professor Watson will certainly dodge—that’s when you, Hermione, must be ready to strike at his most likely evasion point!”

This level of coordination would require the accurate teamwork that Professor Watson had mentioned earlier. While Hermione and Ginny’s eyes showed understanding and determination, Neville’s gaze flickered with uncertainty—not from failing to grasp the strategy, but from deep-seated doubts about his magical capabilities.

Natural talent, Harry realized, could never fully compensate for dedicated training and experience. He had wracked his brain to provide what basic tactical guidance he could, but the harsh reality was that they would have to learn the rest through the pot of actual combat.

The allocated two minutes seemed to pass in an instant. Professor Watson turned back around, and when he saw the four students positioned in a square formation—Harry and Hermione watching him tensely while Neville and Ginny faced the opposite direction—his eyes flashed with approval, though his lips quickly curved into a sarcastic sneer.

“Prepared to begin?”

“Yes, Professor!” Harry’s voice came unnaturally high-pitched, showing his tension.

The watching students collectively took another step back, while Draco observed Harry’s tactical arrangement on the field with a gloomy look through his eyes. Though the strategy was obvious as it could be seen through at a glance, he hadn’t thought of it himself. It seemed that, just like in Quidditch, Potter’s dueling talent was exceptional.

WHOOSH!

Professor Watson launched his attack with frightening suddenness. This time, he sacrificed the psychological advantage of Apparition. Instead, after narrowing eyes, he raised his hand and conjured a familiar dark shadow—the same type of stone spike that had so brutally impaled George’s thigh earlier.

The nonverbal spell, combined with his fluid movement, made Professor Watson’s casting speed terrifying. The absence of an incantation eliminated any warning, any chance to anticipate the specific nature of the attack.

In a heartbeat, the stone spike whistled through the air like a deadly arrow, its trajectory aimed with precision at Hermione’s exposed shoulder blade!

Their months of rigorous training proved their worth in that crucial moment. Hermione’s eyes tracked the terribly fast projectile, and in that crucial fraction of a second between choosing to dodge or defend, her mind made the tactical decision.

Rather than attempting to dodge, she raised her wand arm in a practiced motion, her voice ringing out clear and strong as she cast a Shield Charm. The magical barrier materialized just in time, intercepting the deadly spike while it was still twenty feet from its target!

BANG!

The collision of offensive and defensive magic produced a thunderous sound that echoed across the training ground. The violent surge of magical energy sent Hermione staggering backward, her vision blurring momentarily from the intense magical feedback. Yet through the disorientation, a slight smile of triumph appeared on her face as the scattered stone fragments proved she had successfully blocked Professor Watson’s attack!

A wave of hope swept through the watching students—Granger’s successful defense proved they weren’t entirely helpless against their professor’s attack. However, what happened next made them realize what it meant to be overwhelmed with overwhelming force!

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

Professor Watson deftly flicked his wrist, and the scattered stone fragments hanging in the air underwent a terrifying transformation. They multiplied and elongated, becoming numerous razor-sharp stone needles that suddenly reversed direction mid-flight. With a sound like angry wasps, they all rushed towards Potter’s position.

The attack was masterfully executed, covering every possible escape route with a deadly web of projectiles. Harry had no choice but to stand his ground and defend!

In that critical moment, Harry’s shield charm erupted before him, creating a barrier against the storm of stone needles. But Professor Watson hadn’t committed the amateur’s mistake of remaining still—having successfully forced Harry into a defensive position, he vanished from sight with that same magic as before.

Neville and Ginny heard the movements behind them but they did not dare to turn around. They remembered Harry’s instructions, and strictly followed it and defended the rear. Neville, in particular, fought against every instinct screaming at him to turn around, and forced himself to stare ahead with wide eyes. Suddenly, a cold face appeared right in front of him, almost touching his body!

“Ah!” Neville’s terror-filled scream pierced the air as he desperately tried to take his wand out, but Professor Watson’s movements were very fast. In one fluid motion, he seized Neville’s wand while simultaneously conjuring thick ropes that wrapped around the Neville’s body like constricting serpents, sending him crashing to the ground.

Ginny’s reaction speed was impressive. Upon realizing Neville was under attack, she casted her spell almost instantly, with a torrent of bats pouring from her wand tip.

However, Professor Watson had anticipated this response perfectly—he remained in front of Neville for barely half a heartbeat before dodging sideways, allowing the bat-bogey hex to pass harmlessly by. Taking advantage of the brief moment of post-casting rigidity that followed Ginny’s spell, he struck like a cobra, his hand closing around her throat from the side!

The pressure on her neck caused Ginny’s eyes to roll back in their sockets, her body began to tremble as she fought for air.

By this point, Harry and Hermione had finally shaken off their defensive stances and spun around, abandoning their forward defense at the sound of Neville’s agonized cry. The sight that greeted them froze the blood in their veins.

“Stop!” Harry’s voice cracked with desperate fury as he witnessed Ginny’s suffering, but Professor Watson maintained his grip. Instead of showing mercy, he raised his wand directly at Ginny’s terrified eyes while giving them a cruel, cold smile.

“Drop your wands, now!” Bryan commanded coldly as he deliberately tightened his grip on Ginny’s throat.

Seeing Ginny twitching like a fish that was suffocating after being out of water, Harry and Hermione trembled and dropped their wands almost without thinking.

But surrendering their defense meant death rather than salvation.

Two swift red beams shot out like cold lightning, causing Harry and Hermione to roll their eyes and collapse helplessly to the ground. By this point, less than ten seconds had passed since Professor Watson’s initial attack.

*******************************
For More Chapters; /FicFrenzy

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep