Why was it that despite the red flare signaling withdrawal from the competition having clearly appeared, shooting up into the sky where they’d all witnessed it, there were still four light points showing on the enchanted map?

And what exactly was the role in this task of those classmates from Physical Education class who had been confirmed to be stationed somewhere in the Forbidden Forest?

“Unless—” Hermione’s voice cut through the troubled silence.

Deducing the truth from subtle clues had always been Hermione’s forte. Without hesitation, she took on the natural role of decision-maker for their small team.

“I mean, there’s one possibility,” Hermione said as she thought aloud. “One of the teams had someone get injured. The test in the Dark Passage, that psychological nightmare we went through must exist for every team without exception. Professor Watson wouldn’t give anyone special treatment or an easier path.”

She paused, ensuring Harry and Ron were following her reasoning before continuing. “Maybe someone on another team couldn’t withstand the darkness. Or perhaps, like us, they encountered Devil’s Snare immediately upon emerging or something even more dangerous and someone got badly hurt in the initial chaos, forcing that person to withdraw from the competition.”

Her eyes lit up as the logic appeared more clear. “But the other members of their team, the ones who weren’t injured, are still continuing. That would explain why we still see four teams on the map even though we witnessed a withdrawal flare.”

“If that’s the case—” Harry’s heart leaped with sudden excitement. “Then one of the teams out there only has two members left, or maybe even just one person alone?”

This was undoubtedly a golden opportunity. Whoever encountered this weakened, shorthanded team first would have luck solidly on their side.

Of the four teams currently in the arena, Cedric’s group was unquestionably the strongest in terms of raw magical ability and combat experience. Even Harry had to admit this truth to himself.

If they ran into Cedric, Neville, and Luna in direct confrontation, they would very likely be unable to protect their school badge.

As for Fleur’s group from Beauxbatons and Viktor’s team from Durmstrang, well, excluding the significant possibility of a well-planned ambush or some clever tactical surprise, Harry was reasonably confident he and his friends could defeat them in a direct, honest encounter.

However, Professor Watson had repeatedly emphasized in his intensive lessons, that the most foolish and potentially fatal mistake any duelist could make was overconfidence. Arrogance got you killed faster than incompetence.

Both Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were the most outstanding, talented young wizards their respective prestigious schools had produced in years, perhaps even decades. They hadn’t been selected as champions by accident or politics. They had earned their positions through skill.

The three of them certainly couldn’t crush those two foreign teams completely. A real fight would be difficult, dangerous, and uncertain. But if they encountered either team when it was down on members, then victory would be almost assured.

As for those Physical Education class students who had entered the arena, who were somewhere in this vast forest right now even Ron could figure out that they must be enemies rather than neutral parties. Their presence had to be confrontational.

“If the students Professor Watson arranged to enter the forest have the objective of taking our school badges,” Hermione said slowly, her voice was growing increasingly hesitant.

Her face had gone pale beneath the dirt and scratches. “And if they also have maps like ours that reveal everyone’s positions but they themselves don’t show up on those maps as targets…”

She trailed off, the terrible realization hit her with full force. “Oh!”

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron with unconcealed alarm spreading across her face, seeing the exact same panic and frustrated understanding reflected in their wide eyes. They’d all reached the same horrifying conclusion simultaneously.

“We need to leave here immediately,” Hermione said urgently.

This needed no further explanation.

If Hermione’s guess was correct then their fellow Physical Education trainees represented the most powerful and dangerous force currently active in the arena. A force that no champion team, no matter how skilled or well-prepared, could realistically resist.

The enchanted map had just exposed everyone’s positions to everyone else during that thirty-second window. Their location was known. So, they needed to relocate as quickly as possible.

Hermione raised her wand and used the Disillusionment Charm to help Harry and Ron become invisible. Then the three of them headed toward the blue light point that had been closest to them on the map.

This time, they weren’t as rushed and frantic as when they had been fleeing desperately from the invisible Thestrals. On the contrary, they became extremely cautious in their approach.

First and most obviously, they still couldn’t determine exactly how far away those two grid squares on the map actually represented in real distance.

Second, and perhaps more critically, they themselves were now marked targets for others to hunt. Every other team had seen their position just as clearly as they’d seen others. In this increasingly dangerous situation, staying concealed and undetected was absolutely critical to survival.

They advanced slowly through the dense forest, trying desperately to avoid making loud noises that would carry through the woods or leaving obvious traces in the soft earth that skilled trackers could follow.

Hermione continually used minor magical spells like cleaning charms, levitation spells, careful transfiguration of disturbed earth to erase the footprints they inevitably left behind, ensuring that no one could easily follow their trail back to their current position.

However, this meticulous approach was undoubtedly time-consuming and exhausting, requiring constant magical effort and attention. Nearly twenty long minutes passed with agonizing slowness, and despite their steady movement, they had advanced less than half a mile through the challenging terrain.

After stepping carefully over a hammock-like green vine that stretched across their path like a natural tripwire, lifting their legs high to avoid disturbing it, the three of them arrived at the base of a rocky cliff roughly thirty feet in height.

The cliff face was composed of dark, moss-covered stone that looked slippery. It extended in both directions beyond their limited line of sight, disappearing into the forest’s gloom.

If they had to go around this natural barrier, detouring along its length until they found a passable route, they would undoubtedly be delayed until the next position refresh occurred. They’d miss their window of opportunity to intercept the nearby team while knowing their location.

Just as Hermione stood at the base of the cliff, pondering which tactical choice to make; risk a noisy climb or accept the time-consuming detour, Harry’s expression changed intensely beside her.

His whole body went rigid with alarm, his eyes fixing on something in the distance that neither of his friends could perceive.

“Get down, Hermione!” Harry said sharply.

Without waiting for questions or further explanation, without giving them time to process the warning, he pressed down forcefully on both Hermione and Ron’s heads with his hands. He pulled them both into a thick cluster of bushes several feet away.

Harry’s unusual and aggressive behavior made Hermione and Ron realize immediately that something serious and dangerous was happening nearby. They held their breath without being told, and didn’t ask the questions burning on their tongues.

Trust in Harry’s instincts kept them silent and still.

Almost as soon as the three of them crouched down into concealment, pressing themselves low against the earth and trying to make themselves as small as possible, a whooshing sound became audible.

It was somewhat like wind rushing through narrow spaces. The sound became increasingly clear in Hermione and Ron’s ears as whatever made it approached their position.

This obviously wasn’t a sound made by Thestrals or any other forest creature they’d encountered. This was something else.

About ten tense seconds later—swish, swish, swish!

A group of students riding flying broomsticks came zooming past directly over their heads, just barely skimming the uppermost treetops. The branches above them rustled and swayed violently in the draft created by their passage.

The brooms they rode were neither the sleek Cleansweeps that many students favored, nor the reliable Comets that served as standard school equipment, and certainly not the incredibly expensive, top-of-the-line Firebolts that only the wealthy could afford.

In any case, they were some model of flying broomstick that Hermione didn’t immediately recognize.

Perhaps because the obviously old and outdated brooms beneath them were holding them back significantly, limiting their maximum speed and maneuverability, or perhaps because they were consciously looking down through gaps in the thick foliage, searching carefully for traces of their prey on the forest floor below, their flying speed wasn’t particularly fast.

About half a minute later, the flying students completely disappeared from Harry’s field of vision, vanishing into the forest’s depths in the direction they’d been traveling.

The three not daring to let their guard down even slightly despite the apparent safety remained crouched uncomfortably behind the concealing bushes for another full minute.

Finally, when the tension had stretched almost to breaking point, Ron couldn’t contain himself any longer. Unable to maintain silence for another second, he whispered urgently, “Did you see clearly what broomsticks they were riding?”

Ron’s voice carried considerable surprise. “Those were Shooting Stars—I’m absolutely certain. The broomstick company that manufactured them went bankrupt nearly half a century ago, maybe longer. Their products were said to be notoriously unreliable even when new.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Where on earth did Professor Watson manage to dig up that entire pile of antiques?”

“Malfoy!” Harry interrupted sharply, not joining Ron in his disdainful remarks about the broomsticks’ quality and vintage.

After all, no matter how terrible and outdated those brooms were by modern standards, no matter how slow and clumsy compared to current models, having them at all represented a huge unfair advantage over teams traveling on foot through difficult terrain.

They had all clearly recognized the group that had flown past them, had identified them despite the distance and the interference of leaves. It was a bunch of Slytherins from their Physical Education class.

“Did you see Malfoy’s expression clearly, Hermione?” Harry asked with some disgust, his lips were curling slightly at the memory.

The Slytherin had been grinning with unmistakable satisfaction, wearing that particular smug look that Harry detested. “He looked absolutely delighted with himself.”

“I saw it, Harry—” Hermione replied softly, squinting her eyes as she gazed thoughtfully in the direction Malfoy’s hunting party had departed.

She asked softly, “He looked like he’d done something remarkable, something he was proud of. What could it be?”

An answer surfaced almost simultaneously in all three of their minds.

“Looks like they really are actively ‘hunting’ the champion teams, isn’t that right?” Ron tried desperately to use a light, casual tone to lighten the oppressive atmosphere that had settled over them.

But his grim facial expression, revealed his true feelings far more accurately than his words.

“I absolutely refuse to fall into Malfoy’s hands,” Harry said with cold, absolute determination.

“We need to leave here immediately, right now,” Hermione said urgently.

She was already moving, already planning their next steps. “There are less than ten minutes remaining until the next position refresh occurs. Malfoy and his group came from the direction where the champion team closest to us was positioned, the blue dot we were heading toward.”

She gestured in the direction the Slytherins had flown. “And they were flying directly toward our previous location, the coordinates where we appeared on the map. Obviously, they have access to maps too, identical to ours. They know exactly where we were. We must get away from them as quickly as possible, put as much distance between us as we can!”

With that urgent statement, Hermione stopped bothering to conceal herself with the Disillusionment Charm’s magic. Speed was more important now than stealth. She dropped the spell and took the lead, breaking into a run to get around the blocking cliff that stood in their path.

Harry and Ron hurried to follow close behind her.

“Which direction are we heading?” Ron called out breathlessly.

His stamina was already showing signs of depletion after their earlier sprint from the Thestrals and now this new flight. He gritted his teeth hard, falling gradually to the back of their small group despite his best efforts, struggling desperately not to fall too far behind and become separated.

His legs burned with accumulated lactic acid, his lungs heaved, and every step felt heavier than the last.

“The target remains unchanged,” Hermione said grimly.

Her determination hadn’t wavered at all. “We need to find out exactly what Malfoy and his group did. We need to see the scene, assess the situation, understand their tactics. Information is survival.”

Now, getting away from Malfoy’s hunting group was the first and most critical priority. The three of them began sprinting at full speed through the forest once again, abandoning all pretense of stealth for pure speed.

The slippery moss coating many of the rocks and tree roots caused them to fall repeatedly. But no one cried out in pain when they hit the ground hard, no one wasted breath on complaints. They just focused entirely on pushing forward desperately, on maintaining their pace despite the obstacles.

Getting up; Running.

Falling; Getting up again.

The cycle repeated endlessly.

Once again tripped by a dead vine lurking cunningly among the thick layer of decaying leaves, invisible until it caught his ankle, Harry went down hard. As his face made sudden, unpleasant contact with the wet, rotting foliage carpeting the ground, as the smell of decay filled his nostrils and the taste of dirt entered his mouth, he realized something important.

A question that should have occurred to him earlier.

“Where did everyone else go?” Harry asked as he got up quickly, spitting out leaf fragments.

He wiped roughly at his face with his sleeve, smearing the mud rather than removing it, and waved away Hermione and Ron’s instinctive attempts to help him to his feet. They didn’t have time for courtesy or assistance.

The team, which had stopped for less than three seconds, immediately continued its frantic pace without further delay.

As he ran, Harry expanded on his question, his words were coming in gasps between breaths. “I mean, where are Fred and George? And Ernie MacMillan from Hufflepuff, and all the Ravenclaws we trained with? They weren’t with Malfoy’s group hunting the champion teams, were they? We would have recognized them.”

“Maybe they’re operating separately,” Hermione suggested.

“Probably chasing the other two teams that are farther away, the ones that showed up in the corners of the map. It would make sense to divide their forces to cover more ground.”

With approximately five minutes remaining until the position refresh would occur, revealing everyone’s new locations, they finally reached the place where the hunting team and one of the champion teams had clashed.

The physical traces of battle at the scene weren’t particularly obvious. Only a tree trunk as thick as a large bowl was cleanly severed by powerful cutting magic and still had wisps of white smoke rising from its burned, broken end.

“The hunting team lurked in concealment and approached from a distance, taking their time, before this champion team even noticed their presence,” Hermione said after surveying the area with narrowed eyes.

She was reading the scene like a book. “They had been flying just above the treetops the whole time, staying out of direct line of sight, so they weren’t discovered until it was too late.”

After completing her initial assessment, Hermione followed a trail of footprints pressed deeply into the soft mud.

The prints led to a patch of grass that had been heavily trampled. She peered thoughtfully deeper into the forest in the direction the prints seemed to lead, then returned to where Harry and Ron waited.

Harry, meanwhile, had been examining the ground with equal care. He looked intently at two strange, distinctive marks on the tangled layer of dead grass covering the floor.

His brow furrowed deeply, his expression growing increasingly serious as he interpreted what he was seeing.

“Malfoy struck first,” Harry said with certainty. “This champion team didn’t notice his group’s approach at all—they were completely surprised. He sent out two of his conjured snakes to quietly approach the champions from concealment and subdued them when they weren’t prepared. A despicable but effective tactic.”

“One person panicked when they realized what was happening and fought back desperately with their wand,” Hermione added, picking up Harry’s narrative and continuing the reconstruction.

She pointed to the severed tree. “That spell broke that tree. The aim was wild, off-target. I agree completely with your assessment, Harry. It was almost certainly Malfoy who made the initial move. The snake conjuration is his signature technique.”

Hermione then climbed up a small earthen mound using both hands and feet, her fingers were digging into the soft soil. From this elevated position, she stared down at obvious hollows in the soft, muddy ground below.

“Malfoy’s conjured snakes wrapped around their targets, constricting them,” she narrated.

“One person fell immediately. The one still standing fought back as best they could, casting defensive spells, but had to stop their resistance because their teammate was being physically restrained by the snakes and they themselves faced an immediate magical threat from multiple angles.”

She paused, her expression growing troubled. “But—”

Hermione looked down at Harry and Ron standing below the mound and said with heavy significance, “There are only two impressions on the ground, only two impact marks. I think this team is the one that fired the withdrawal flare we saw earlier.”

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