In the untrodden depths of the primeval jungle, where ancient trees had stood for centuries and vegetation grew with wild density, creating an almost impenetrable green maze, blindly casting spells in random directions would only waste one’s precious magical power and rapidly deplete already-strained stamina reserves.

With an unstoppable momentum, like a sharp blade being thrust straight into an enemy’s heart, Harry’s squad with him at the vanguard rapidly closed in on their target.

Their disciplined formation and aggressive advance, their cutting-edge tactical approach, made the two boys positioned protectively behind Viktor Krum change color instantly.

Having spent half a year as students at Hogwarts, neither the Beauxbatons delegation nor the Durmstrang contingent could possibly have avoided hearing discussions about Professor Watson’s personally taught Physical Education class.

The subject came up constantly in common room conversations, at meals, in corridors.

They had also overheard Hogwarts students discussing the intensive course content on numerous occasions, speaking about the brutal training regimen and the extraordinary skills they’d developed.

In those mysterious rumors that circulated through the castle, rumors that seemed almost too extraordinary to be true, Professor Watson was said to train his selected students as though they were elite Aurors in the making.

Each participant was supposedly developing combat abilities genuinely comparable to actual Ministry Aurors.

Students from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had always scoffed dismissively at such obviously exaggerated claims, laughing them off as typical British boasting.

How could any underage wizard, severely limited by their still-developing magical power reserves, relatively poor physical stamina, and lack of real-world experience, possibly compare in genuine combat effectiveness to seasoned Aurors who worked on the front lines year-round, constantly battling dark wizards?

But when Viktor actually faced Harry, Hermione, and Ron as they launched their coordinated attack, when he experienced firsthand the overwhelming pressure bearing down on him pressing against his chest, the reality completely overturned his preconceptions about what student training could achieve!

It wasn’t that he immediately, completely believed those wild rumors about Auror-level abilities. But as Harry, Hermione, and Ron rushed aggressively toward his defensive position, the aura of unstoppable determination and fierce intensity radiating from the three of them in synchronized motion stirred Viktor in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

When they closed the distance to within a critical forty feet, the second wave of magical attacks came in quick series.

But this round proved even less accurate than the first, the spells went wild under pressure. Even Viktor’s own spell went embarrassingly wide, flying harmlessly over Harry’s ducking head and exploding against a tree behind him!

Thirty feet.

This was a critical, decisive distance in formal wizard dueling, a threshold that separated different tactical approaches.

An experienced combat wizard would never miss a stationary target at this precise range. Yet simultaneously, this was still considered a relatively safe distance that allowed sufficient room and reaction time to dodge incoming attacks if one maintained awareness and agility.

Moving any closer would mean the offensive benefits gained in spell accuracy and power would be outweighed by the severe defensive risks one would have to accept!

Harry struck first, seizing the initiative!

This time, breaking from his usual pattern, he didn’t use his signature Disarming Charm. The very instant his landed from a powerful leaping state, a sphere of brilliant blue spell-light left his wand tip with a sharp crack.

The spell wasn’t aimed at any of the three Durmstrang students directly. Instead, Harry aimed precisely at the ground directly beneath Viktor’s feet.

“Get clear!” Viktor shouted desperately to his teammates.

Though he lacked any formal dueling training, had never attended specialized combat classes or received professional tactical education, as one of the absolute top Seekers in the international Quidditch league, Viktor’s innate dynamic vision was even superior to Harry’s by a few notches!

A spell that appeared as merely a blur to ordinary eyes could be clearly tracked in his sight.

Viktor immediately knew that Harry’s opening attack was deliberately aimed at the ground beneath his feet rather than at his body. But he didn’t believe for even a second that Harry had simply missed his intended target through poor aim or nerves.

The most likely explanation was that if they were struck by whatever effect this spell would produce when it detonated, there might not even be a realistic chance for treatment afterward!

With a fierce shout of warning and alarm, drawing on his athletic agility and Quidditch-honed reflexes, Viktor dove desperately toward a thick, rotting log lying on the ground several feet away. He hit the forest floor hard, rolling behind the decaying wood just as—

However, tragically, the two teammates behind him lacked Viktor’s extraordinary keen perception and lightning-fast reactions.

They only managed to take one stumbling step backward in confused retreat, before watching with widening eyes of horror as Harry’s blue spell struck the dirt approximately five feet away from where they stood.

BOOM!

The spell detonated like a military hand grenade, like a small bomb going off. The explosion was tremendous.

Flying earth, shattered rocks, and a powerful concussive shockwave sent both Poliakoff and Lanquarde tumbling through the air like rag dolls caught in a hurricane.

The stockier boy suffered a particularly unfortunate fate. His trajectory sent him crashing directly into a tree trunk. His head slammed hard against the bark with a sickening crack that made Viktor wince.

The boy’s eyes immediately rolled back in his head, showing only the whites, and he passed out cold before his body even finished sliding down the trunk to crumple at the tree’s base.

“Don’t worry about him for now, Poliakoff!” Viktor commanded sharply.

Raising his head cautiously from behind the cover of the rotting tree trunk, peering around the splintered wood, Viktor saw Poliakoff scrambling in panic toward Lanquarde’s motionless body. He was apparently wanting to check on his fallen teammate’s condition.

Viktor immediately roared, “You can’t help him now! Focusing on him will just get you killed too! What we need to do—what we must do—is counterattack!”

SWOOSH!

The shrill whistle of something solid slicing rapidly through the air at high speed stabbed at Viktor’s eardrums with an almost physical pain.

His experience dodging iron Bludgers during countless Quidditch matches made him instinctively avoid the potentially fatal mistake of looking to see what had made that distinctive, dangerous sound.

His body moved before his mind finished processing. Instead of turning his head like an amateur, he ducked low at that very instant, pressing himself flat against the ground.

THWACK!

Wood chips and bark exploded like shrapnel as an ordinary tree branch punched clean through the thick trunk directly in front of Viktor’s hidden position. The improvised weapon embedded itself deep in the earth.

As the sun climbed steadily higher in the sky and the temperature in the forest grew warmer, Viktor’s back became thoroughly drenched with cold, sweat!

He knew all three of the people attacking them so viciously. That red-haired boy with the freckles was even an enthusiastic fan of his, had asked for his autograph with star-struck eyes. Viktor knew from various interactions that they were all decent people.

But… that branch had just been thrown with lethal intent by that very same red-haired boy who’d once asked him excitedly about Quidditch strategies.

Such ruthlessness!

Viktor’s heart sank like a stone to rock bottom, settling somewhere in his boots.

“You bunch of—” Poliakoff began shouting angrily.

Having one teammate brutally taken out in the opening seconds of combat seemed to enrage Poliakoff tremendously, flooding his system with adrenaline and fury. But at the same time, rising panic prevented his mind from making clear, rational judgments about the tactical situation.

He was thinking with emotion rather than logic.

The boy had just managed to duck behind a tree for cover, pressing his back against the bark, when he cried out sharply in sudden pain. Foolishly exposing half his body from behind his cover to launch a wild counterattack without proper preparation, he found that a red beam of precise spell-light struck him directly on the forehead.

The Stunning Spell hit with perfect accuracy.

His body immediately went completely limp, all tension was leaving his muscles at once, and he slowly collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Witnessing this devastating scene unfold, seeing another teammate fall so quickly and easily, Viktor’s eyes nearly split with fury and helpless rage. Yet simultaneously, he also trembled with genuine shock at what he’d observed.

The technical precision was terrifying.

He had watched carefully as the bushy-haired girl he’d come to admire over the school year calmly fired off that Stunning Spell.

And here was the truly frightening part: when the spell-light first left her wand, Poliakoff had still been completely hidden behind the tree, fully protected by solid wood.

But by the time the red spell-light crossed the spatial distance, traveling the dozen feet between caster and target, Poliakoff had stuck his head out himself moving directly into the spell’s path as though he were deliberately ramming himself into the incoming magic!

Was it mere coincidence? Lucky timing?

Viktor glanced sharply at Hermione and noticed with a sinking feeling that the girl’s expression remained completely composed regarding her impressive achievement, showing not even a trace of surprise or self-satisfaction.

No, she had calculated it exactly.

Viktor immediately grasped the frightening truth. This level of tactical prediction was too terrifying, completely exceeded his understanding of what students dueling should look like!

This was professional-level combat awareness.

But simultaneously, a surge of fierce anger and competitive fire rose from the depths of Viktor’s proud heart. As a celebrated Quidditch icon, as someone who’d achieved international fame through skill and determination, he absolutely refused to allow himself to appear so pathetic and helpless when facing the enemy!

His pride wouldn’t permit complete defeat without a real fight.

Viktor pushed off the ground forcefully with both hands and launched himself forward in a combat roll. He rolled along the earth before taking new cover behind a thick spruce tree about fifteen feet from his original position.

He abandoned the rotting log he’d been sheltering behind, which was already nearly blown apart by the relentless storm of incoming spells, reduced to splinters and smoking wood.

Then came his counterattack.

Learning from Poliakoff’s fatal mistake, Viktor didn’t rashly expose himself to direct fire. Instead, he angled his wand around the tree trunk and sent a blade of blue moonlight toward Harry and his companions’ general direction.

CRASH!

The translucent, razor-sharp light blade severed several trees completely. As the massive trees crashed thunderously to the ground, shaking the earth with their impact, the enormous dust cloud they raised prevented either side from seeing the other clearly.

After exchanging quick glances, Hermione and Ron rapidly left Harry’s flanks. They moved in perfect coordination, crouching low to present smaller targets as they flanked smoothly to the left and right, beginning an encirclement maneuver.

Meanwhile, Harry—

He suddenly raised his wand high and conjured a powerful, focused gust of wind that aggressively dispersed the thick smoke and dust, clearing the battlefield.

After catching sight of the dark shadow flickering uncertainly in the rapidly dissipating hazy mist, Viktor’s body was becoming visible again, Harry advanced steadily forward.

His wand began slashing through the air so rapidly it left visible afterimages.

CRACK!

Dazzling crimson lightning with its radiance so intense it even overshadowed the natural sunlight coming down into the forest, turning everything blood-red struck repeatedly wherever Harry directed it.

Everywhere the electric light touched, there immediately came a series of sharp, crackling explosions that echoed through the forest!

The air was rapidly filled with the acrid, burning smell of charred wood.

Harry was absolutely determined not to let Viktor raise his head, not to give him any opportunity to mount an effective defense. Completely heedless of his magical power consumption, unconcerned about conserving energy for later, he pushed his aggressive attack rhythm to its absolute peak.

The barrage was relentless, overwhelming, designed to break the opponent’s will.

Hermione and Ron, moving with stealth, finally reached their planned flanking positions on both side of Viktor’s defensive position.

Viktor, who had been stunned nearly senseless by the unrelenting rainfall of explosions hammering his position, who’d been forced to press himself flat against the tree and simply endure, suddenly felt the crushing pressure lighten noticeably.

The explosions stopped and silence fell.

But before he could figure out how to effectively counterattack, before he could think of any kind of plan, still with his back pressed against the tree and facing away from Harry’s position, he was suddenly disarmed by a Disarming Charm.

The spell shot from a thick clump of bushes directly in front of him.

His wand flew from his grip, spinning away through the air.

The battle was over.

“The badge,” Hermione said simply.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all three of them with faces as pale as snow from magical exhaustion and adrenaline crash surrounded the defeated Viktor in a loose triangle. Their wands remained raised and ready.

A flash of reluctance and regret passed through Hermione’s brown eyes as she looked at Viktor, someone she’d come to respect. But she still extended her hand toward him with steady determination with palms up and waiting.

Viktor, looking as though he’d been thoroughly dipped in gray ash and covered with wood chips that stuck to his sweat-dampened skin and hair, gazed directly at Hermione with those intense eyes. His mouth opened and closed without a word several times.

His eyes flickered with complex emotions for a moment.

After several seconds of heavy silence, he reached slowly into his robes with reluctance. He withdrew the stone tablet engraved with the Durmstrang crest.

Hermione snatched the badge from his extended hand. She said ‘sorry’ in a quiet apologetic voice that barely resounded.

Then the three Gryffindors, without any further hesitation or backward glances, turned and plunged back into the depths of the Forbidden Forest at a run. They disappeared into the green shadows within seconds, leaving Viktor and his fallen teammates behind.

About ten long minutes later, Draco arrived at the battlefield site with his hunting team.

The smoke still lingering heavily at the scene made the entire Slytherin group’s expressions change. Their eyes widened as they took in the destruction.

Draco’s sharp, calculating gaze swept across the devastated battlefield, quickly noting every detail. He rapidly located one side of the combatants through the thinning haze.

Viktor Krum made no attempt to hide or conceal himself. He and the newly awakened and thoroughly battered, Poliakoff and Lanquarde were sitting exhausted on the ground, leaning heavily against a tree trunk to rest and recover.

All three looked like they’d been through a war.

The sudden appearance of a large group of people emerging from the forest shocked all three Durmstrang students badly. They had completely forgotten, in the intensity of their recent battle, that aside from the four official champion teams, there was also this dangerous hunting force operating on the field!

“Who were you fighting?” Draco demanded sharply.

Poliakoff, still somewhat dazed and confused, seemed about to speak honestly, to answer the question. But Viktor shot him a fierce, silencing glare that made the boy’s mouth snap shut.

Then, looking calmly at Draco despite his defeated position, Viktor said coolly, “Why should we tell you?”

If this were an actual battlefield, Draco’s Slytherin group would have had various unpleasant ways to make Viktor talk. But unfortunately, this was a competition arena with rules.

Draco’s left eye twitched with visible irritation.

“Hand over your badge… if you don’t want to suffer physically.”

‘These people are also seizing badges?!’

Viktor caught this key piece of information but he remained emotionless while merely laughing with sarcasm.

“Do you really think we’d still have our badge?”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep