Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0353 Dungbomb Attack

Professor Watson waved his wand again, and the suits of armor lined up against the wall instantly prepared to throw dung bombs. The air was filled with a heavy, somber atmosphere.

"Harry!"

Hermione clutched her chest, calling out in worry. Harry turned his head and gave her, as well as the equally concerned Neville and Ginny, a smile. It might have been a smile, or perhaps a grimace of pain—Harry wasn't quite sure. Fred and George, on the other hand, seemed quite enthusiastic; they were likely the students at Hogwarts most familiar with dung bombs and didn't seem to mind the stench at all.

"Get ready!"

Professor Watson raised his hand in the air, making a chopping gesture.

The other three wizards didn't quite understand what the strange hand gesture meant, but Harry had seen it before. When he was at his Muggle school, during sports events, the announcer would make the same gesture before announcing the start of the race.

Harry focused intently on Professor Watson's open hand. Gradually, he tuned out all the surrounding noise, hearing only his own heartbeat. This intense concentration felt similar to the feeling he had when trying to catch the Golden Snitch in a Quidditch match —everything moving seemed to slow down as if frozen in amber.

Draco, Cedric, and Cho all sprinted out after the short and solemn "begin" was announced. Only Harry had already charged forward the moment Professor Watson's hand dropped!

In just one second, Harry had leaped twenty feet past the red line, but this distance was still insignificant compared to the quarter-mile track.

At that moment, Harry regretted not spending more time practicing his running lately. This way, he might have avoided a few more dung bombs that were bound to hit him.

Draco looked at Harry, who had surpassed him by several positions, with a resentful gaze.

No matter the challenge, whether it was battling Inferi or rowing boats, Potter had always clinched the final victory. Even in Quidditch matches, he was always one step behind. His pride and self-esteem couldn't stand losing to Potter in every competition. Determined to win tonight, he pushed himself harder and chased after harry.

But this trial wasn't just about speed.

Just as Draco focused single-mindedly on "avenging his shame", over a dozen Dungbombs finally "descended"!

To be fair, the situation Harry and others faced was much better than what Bryan had demonstrated earlier. During his demonstration, he had faced dozens of Dungbombs in the first wave of attack, whereas now there were only a dozen incoming at them, and with four targets, each person only needed to dodge four or five dung bombs theoretically.

In theory, it was easier, but in practice, it was much harder.

Draco stared in horror at the looming of dung bombs heading straight for his face. He wanted to dodge, but while his Brain issued the commands, his body couldn't respond to such complex instructions. Unable to perform any intricate evasive maneuvers, Draco clutched his head with a shrill cry, crumpling to his knees and rolling head-over-heels several times across the floor!

Harry fared no better than Draco, clearly attempting to mimic Professor Watson's impressive serpentine "C" motion, but without a broomstick under him, such rapid changes of direction at speed proved far from simple. Harry's feet slipped out under him, and he slammed straight down to the floor with a heavy thud.

"Aah!"

A piercing shriek, loud enough to shatter glass, rang out.

Cho, who hadn't reacted in time, was hit by three Dungbombs. It felt like she had been punched three times in quick succession, and the exploding stench made her lose color in her face. Cho collapsed onto the sticky ground, tears streaming down her face as she made retching sounds.

"Cho!"

Perhaps thanks to luck or composure, Cedric managed to stumble past the first wave. Spotting both Harry and Draco fall simultaneously, he prepared to seize the chance to overtake them, only for the shriek behind him to clutch at his heart. Cedric immediately halted and turned back, rushing to Cho's side to help her up.

"What are you doing, Mr. Diggory!" Bryan's voice was unusually cold. "You think this is just a game? A chance to display your chivalry?"

Bryan then turned his icy gaze towards Cho, who seemed to have lost all will to fight.

"Is the stench of Dungbombs more nauseating than the smell of blood? Get up and finish the course!"

Cedric gritted his teeth, ready to leave Cho and continue his challenge. But the momentary delay allowed the second wave of attacks to catch up. Before he could fully stand, something slammed brutally hard into his forehead, blacking out his vision as he toppled over backwards.

Professor Watson's harsh reprimand left Cho helpless. Instinctively, she tried to follow the command, but the sticky, foul-smelling liquid sapped her strength. Struggling to get up, she was pushed to the brink of collapse by the continuous barrage of dung bombs. and she could only cover her face, shoulders shaking with sobs.

Both Draco and Harry had suffered significant injuries from the first wave of attacks. Draco's knees were badly hurt, and Harry's fall had left him dazed.

The two of them didn't give up. The crisis they faced made them lose all sense of calm, preventing them from fully hearing Bryan's admonishments as they struggled onwards.

But at this point, Draco and Harry had both lost their composure completely, resorting to the equally foolish tactic of shielding their faces with one arm while crawling and rolling forward.

This method was clearly unsustainable. Before they had even reached fifty feet, Harry and Draco were hit by one after another "heavy punches" and collapsed on the ground. They curled up, holding their heads, too exhausted to stand up.

"You can't passively wait for the attacks. You must learn to anticipate, and observe your opponent's movements—" Bryan ordered the armor to stop attacking and sighed helplessly. "Running with your eyes covered is a death wish."

As Harry had expected, every wizard who had come to this classroom tonight had suffered torment. None of them could hold on until fifty feet away, and when the girls left the classroom, tears were streaming down their faces.

"You don't need to arrive at the Quidditch pitch before six anymore, but you still need to spend half an hour every day practicing. You can choose any time you want to continue running. I will know if you've followed my instructions."

Before leaving the classroom, Professor Watson's announcement made all the wizards feel helpless.

"Before returning to your common rooms, go to the hospital wing first and have Madam Pomfrey tend to your injuries. I've already informed her, so she'll be expecting you."

Professor Watson returned to his usual friendly tone, smiling at everyone.

"You may all go now. Ah, Harry, you stay behind for a moment. I need to speak with you about something."

Many students looked at Harry with sympathetic eyes, except for the Slytherins, of course.

Never before had Harry felt such an urgent desire to get away from Professor Watson, but he could only watch helplessly as Hermione and the others hurried out of the classroom.

"Professor Watson—"

Harry tried to make himself appear weaker, speaking pitifully.

"If you want me to try again, I'm afraid—I mean, my whole body hurts."

"It's not about that, Harry."

Bryan chuckled cheerfully.

"I didn't expect you all to accomplish everything in just a few training sessions. In fact, I kept you behind because I have a gift for you, ah, a late gift."

Harry blinked and it took him a few seconds to understand what Professor Watson was talking about.

As the second term of the previous academic year at Hogwarts, Professor Watson privately gave them gifts, in recognition of their active roles during the Basilisk incident.

Hermione received a Magic Book, which perfectly suited her taste. Harry had seen Hermione studying things in the book recently. As for Ron, he received a Merlin commemorative coin, said to possess immense value in both monetary and historical terms. Harry knew that since obtaining this coin, Ron always kept it on him, frequently taking it out to play with.

But at that time, Harry didn't receive anything. Professor Watson only told him that he would prepare a gift for him and give it to him in the future.

Last Christmas, Harry got the Firebolt broomstick as Christmas gift from someone. Initially, both Harry and Ron had speculated that this extraordinary gift was the long-awaited present from Professor Watson, but they soon discovered that the true gift-giver was Sirius, Harry's godfather.

Since then, Harry no longer dwelled on this matter. He only grumbled a few words in his heart when Hermione took out the magic book or when Ron played with his coin. But he didn't expect Professor Watson to bring it up at this time.

"Oh..."

Harry wanted to be modest, but he was indeed very curious about what Professor Watson would give him.

It couldn't be a broomstick, could it? He already owned the world's best racing broom. But apart from Quidditch-related items, what else could it be?

'A full set of broomstick maintenance gear?'

Harry had wanted this for some time, but he was still considering it. Although his wealth could easily support the expense, it was still quite costly. He currently had no means of earning money, so he had to be prudent in using his inheritance.

'An exquisite Quidditch match replay model?'

This model could replay the entire process of any classic Quidditch match in history. It was the latest alchemical product released by the Lumos Company. Ever since learning of its existence, Harry had yearned for it. However, it was also not cheap.

No matter how much he thought about it, everything in Harry's mind revolved around Quidditch—after all, it was his most favorite sport in the wizarding world.

'It couldn't be the keys to a house, could it?'

Harry saw Professor Watson reach into his robes, and this thought suddenly popped into his head.

Previously, Sirius had said that during the summer holidays, he would take Harry away from the Dursleys and have him live in his ancestral home. But Sirius had also mentioned that the house now belonged to Professor Watson, and he only had the right to use it. Harry didn't quite understand how this had happened, but if Professor Watson now took out the keys to that house...

"Take it, Harry..."

Professor Watson finally took his hand out of his pocket and handed him a shiny golden object, with a mysterious smile on his face that Harry couldn't understand.

When returning to the Gryffindor Tower and passing through the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry still had a dazed expression. He had Professor Watson's gift in his pocket, but what concerned Harry more was the professor's intent in giving it to him.

The common room was as lively as ever. Fred and George were vividly recounting the evening's incident with Cedric to the group gathered around them, including Lee Jordan and other young wizards. George mimicked Professor Watson's scolding of Cedric, causing the crowd to burst into laughter.

Harry didn't join them; he quietly slipped past and saw Hermione waving at him from the sofa.

"Where's Ron?"

Hermione pointed to the other side of the common room where a crowd was gathered. Then she lifted her wet hair and sniffed it under her nose.

Although Professor Watson had removed the stench of the Dungbombs from them, for a girl who valued cleanliness like Hermione, the mental shadow couldn't be easily erased. The first thing every young witch did upon returning to the dormitory was to rush into the washroom and thoroughly clean herself.

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione wore a yellow velvet pajama set. She pulled up the right pant leg to her knee, revealing a fading bruise on her legs in the soft candlelight.

"You seem distracted. What did Professor Watson keep you behind for?"

"Oh, it's like this—" Harry murmured, then took out the item Professor Watson had given him from his pocket and began explaining its origin.

Twenty minutes later, the crowd gradually dispersed. Having listened to many jokes and wholeheartedly believing that quitting Professor Watson's physical education class was a wise decision, Ron walked out of the crowd and saw Harry and Hermione sitting there whispering.

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