Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0372 A Contest (Part-2)

"I'll be the referee."

Cedric stepped forward.

The six of them took their usual starting positions for training, while the others made room. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were greatly invested in this contest without the supervision of professors, and they whispered together about the potential outcome.

And the Gryffindor and Slytherin, who were clearly divided, were on guard against each other. They didn't trust each other and thought that the other side would play dirty when the game was going on.

Harry noticed Hermione rolling up her sleeves and using a hair tie to tie up her messy locks. Then, with a calm expression, she crouched into a ready stance. Though Hermione had been tense in the common room earlier, she now seemed to have shed all her burdens.

"Begin!" At Cedric's shout, the six contestants shot forward like arrows released from bows.

Truth be told, if it was just over a month ago, Harry would never have believed these young wizards could move with such agility.

Within the first fifty feet, each of them displayed reflexes that would astound Ron and the others who had abandoned this class long ago. The six contestants used their unique evasive styles to dodge the incoming Dung-bombs. For a while, the figures on the field were flying, and all kinds of thrilling maneuvers emerged one after another.

To be fair, Malfoy was indeed diligent in this class.

He was used to the Dung-bombs rhythm of attack, he precisely timed the gaps between the wave of attacks to sprint forward, evading with pinpoint accuracy that forced Harry to admit – in this class, Malfoy had become his rival once more.

"Oh, look at Longbottom and Lovegood!"

To Harry's regret, Hermione failed to show extraordinary skill, being the only one struck by a Dung-bomb before the fifty-foot line. At this rate, she would undoubtedly lose the contest.

Harry's focus was solely on Malfoy and Hermione until Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff gasped in astonishment. He hurriedly shifted his gaze to observe Hermione's two teammates and was instantly dumbstruck.

'Was that really Neville?! And what was going on with Luna?!'

Prior to the fifty-foot mark, everyone's progress was roughly equal. But once they crossed that first stamina-draining threshold, while the speed of others visibly slowed, Neville suddenly let out a gruff roar, his accelerating figure like a young lion pouncing on its prey!

Neville displayed a jaw-dropping agility once more!

As everyone else decelerated, he abruptly sped up, overtaking them all. A Dung-bombs came hurtling at his chin from a tricky angle, but just as the afterimage neared Neville's side within five feet, he made an abrupt feint, sweeping his hand through the air before whipping the Dung-bombs in another direction!

Smack!

Two Dung-bombs collided forcefully mid-air, foul-smelling mess splattering everywhere!

"Longbottom!" Blaise Zabini roared furiously. He was not expecting this and was splashed in the eyes by the smelly liquid that exploded in front of him. He staggered to a halt, clutching his face and howling in pain.

"Foul play!" Pansy Parkinson screeched from the crowd, her face twisting. "Longbottom should be disqualified for that sneak attack!"

It was hard to tell if it was an accident or intentional on Neville's part, but apart from the Slytherins, no one could deny being impressed by Neville's brilliant move!

Beyond the hundred-and-fifty-foot mark, most contestants were visibly struggling, with one exception – Luna!

When Harry turned his gaze towards Luna, he was struck by an astonishing sight.

Up until that distance line, Malfoy, Nott, Neville, and Hermione had each been hit by several Dung-bombs to varying degrees. Hermione in particular, whose athletic ability was not as good as that of Cho Chang, and girls's physical strength was generally lagging behind boys - in previous training sessions, Hermione would have already collapsed by the 150-foot line. But tonight, bolstered by resolve and perseverance, she performed somewhat better than usual.

However, just as Professor Watson had once said, willpower can indeed ignite one's determination to pursue strength, but it cannot help you instantaneously bridge vast gaps in power.

From Hermione's increasingly clumsy footsteps, it was clear she was nearing her limit.

But what was going on with Luna?

"She actually dodged all the Dung-bombs?" Ginny voiced Harry's bewilderment in an astonished tone.

Luna had never displayed any outstanding ability before; her performance in this class was utterly unremarkable - neither at the bottom nor the top. But now, her performance had stunned everyone.

"Could she have been hiding her true strength all along?" Parvati also muttered quietly.

Just as Ginny said, among all the competitors present, Luna was the only one who hadn't been hit by a single Dung-bomb.

Whether it was the speed of advancement or evasive maneuvers, Luna had not showed abilities far exceeding others. Yet those Dung-bombs flying right at her just.......missed her completely, not even grazing her robes!

"That girl is cheating!" Pansy Parkinson snapped. "She must have tampered with the armor using her position as a teaching assistant!"

"If you can't provide solid proof, Parkinson," Harry said coldly, "then shut your mouth!"

Harry's icy rebuke made Parkinson's face flush red. But the fact was, Harry himself was equally perplexed.

Luna looked far too at ease!

Her bouncing, skipping demeanor reminded Harry of the hopscotch craze that had swept his Muggle primary school for a time.

From his own experience with this training, Harry mainly relied on two methods to evade the incoming Dung-bombs. The first was straightforward; for anything within his field of vision - simply dodge aside when physically able. As for those outside his vision, like ones coming from the sides or rear, he mainly depended on his hearing to detect their whistling approach from a certain distance.

Harry was certain that Neville's surprisingly good performance today was due to using these methods. But Luna seemed completely different.

Several times, Harry noticed Luna suddenly leap aside.......when there were no Dung-bombs anywhere nearby. Only after she changed position would the Dung-bombs come hurtling towards her previous position!

This was simply inconceivable! Could she somehow see into the future?-*Observation-Haki*

Harry gazed at the short Luna with a slightly dazed, utterly baffled expression.

Draco who was already struggling suddenly heard a breezy, tuneless humming in his ear. Before he could react, the Ravenclaw girl he had never taken seriously nimbly skipped past him, bizarrely hopping sideways a few times before easily avoiding another barrage.

Draco himself was not so lucky.

A momentary lapse in concentration, coupled with his already severely depleted stamina, cost him the opportunity to evade. A series of Dung-bombs struck his back and stomach in rapid succession - agonizing areas to be hit. Combined with the rotten stench, Malfoy could no longer bear it. 

Losing his balance, the vomiting Malfoy tumbled over and over on the ground. Yet at that moment, his position was just a few steps from the 200-foot line.

No matter what, Draco could not accept the shame of failing to complete the course.

Using one hand to shield the back of his neck, he crawled forward in a prone position. But just as he was a few steps away from the 200 feet line, a sudden gust of wind from behind made Draco's face fall in despair.

At least three Dung-bombs were incoming simultaneously!

After all this training, everyone was well aware of the Dung-bombs's terrifying impact force. With his physical strength exhausted to this extent, Draco knew there was no way he could withstand this assault!

But then, a dark blur suddenly obscured the torchlight. Next, Draco felt a gust if wind whip past over his head.

Splat! Splat! Splat!

His pale blonde hair was now drenched in foul liquid, but Draco had no chance to worry about it. He slowly sat up, staring dumbly as Neville retracted his whipping leg and extended a hand to pull him up. For a moment, Draco was at a complete loss.

"You lost, Malfoy." Neville pulled Malfoy to his feet, locking eyes with Draco's widened grey orbs. For the first time, he felt that he was no longer tormented by panic.

"Questioning the decisions of those wiser than you is foolish--" Luna, standing beside Neville, tilted her head and repeated the words from before the contest began in a light voice. To Draco's astonishment, this little girl showed barely any signs of exertion beyond a slight shine on her forehead; even her breathing was barely disordered.

Nott had collapsed about ten feet away from the 200-feet line, wailing helplessly, this was on par with his usual level. Draco opened his mouth, but ultimately he didn't bother reprimanding him.

However, when his gaze fell on Hermione, still stubbornly pressing on a few paces behind Nott, the words slipped uncontrollably from his lips:

"At least I beat Granger. By the rules, she has to resign from her position as Professor Watson's assistant."

This was indeed an indisputable fact that neither Neville nor Luna refuted.

Looking at Hermione, who was almost covered in sticky and smelly liquid, but still gritted her teeth and staggered to avoid the Dung-bombs, a surge of anger from deep within made his eyes burn hot.

"This isn't worth it, Hermione--" Ginny covered her mouth, and Harry could hear the sob in her murmured voice.

Time seemed to be frozen, everything in front of her was blurred, and the unbearable swelling and pain all over her body made Hermione want to burst into tears. In a trance, she suddenly wondered why she had joined Professor Watson's physical education class in the first place. 

The initial reason was just curiosity.

This was almost the only reason any young witch or wizard was willing to persist in this boring, arduous course after experiencing it.

After joining the Hogwarts faculty, Professor Watson demonstrated his deep knowledge and power through a series of incidents, making every student hope to learn flashy magic from his new class. 

Hermione too hoped to glimpse Professor Watson's brilliance in this class. After initial confusion, she became convinced that his course was definitely not so simple - and if she gave up easily, she would surely regret it. Though pure physical training was not her forte, she excelled more at seeking truth in the vast ocean of magical knowledge.

"Just give up, Granger, you've already lost!" Hermione heard Malfoy growling through gritted teeth, but she didn't pay any attention to it at all. Moreover, she didn't realize that she had just broken the class record previously set by Cedric, the best in this class with her arduous, stumbling progress.

Though her academic performance was consistently at the top across all subjects, even Harry and Ron could not understand the fear in her heart.

This sense of dread came from her Muggle origins. Although Hogwarts did not discriminate against Muggle-born students under Dumbledore, Hermione's sensitive heart could never fully escape the prevalent pure-blood supremacist attitude of the wizarding world. This was also one reason she persisted in this class - Professor Watson was a Slytherin alumnus, but he is also a Muggle-born wizard who had achieved tremendous acclaim throughout the Wizarding world. 

Hermione hoped to one day become as accomplished as Professor Watson, to prove that even Muggle-born witches and wizards could attain remarkable achievements through sheer hard work and perseverance.

"Ugh!"

A sudden stabbing pain shot through her struck shoulder blade, and the powerful impact made Hermione, who was staggering, unable to maintain her balance and collapse to the ground.

The stinky Dungbomb liquid practically replaced sweat streaming down her young face. But the lonely, disheveled figure of the struggling Hermione, and the unwavering determination emanating from her frail back, moved most of the young witches and wizards in the classroom.

Gradually, Hermione felt the pain leaving her body. She had no more suffering, no more grievance - only a burning conviction in her heart driving her forward. 

Yes, she has always kept Professor Watson's words close to her heart.

Love and hate are both powerful emotions capable of imbuing one with the determination to pursue their dreams. However, they cannot help you instantly bridge vast gaps in power.

Hermione knew she could not suddenly become exceptionally talented in this class. She knew that she would not reach the record set by Cedric faster than the Slytherins participating in this contest. So from the start, her only goal was simply:

To reach the finish line!

It was such an arduous journey, more distant than the path from the Entrance Hall to the Sorting Hat on her first night at Hogwarts - as if it had no end.

Hermione, who was half conscious, seemed to hear Harry shouting something, and she seemed to hear Ginny crying, but now she no longer had the energy to care about these things, she just wanted to move forward!

Watching the girl straining with every ounce of her effort, just to crawl a little farther, Draco did not realize that the shame and anger on his face had quietly faded, replaced by pure bewilderment. 

He could not understand what would drive that Mudblood to go to such extremes.

And yet, this did not prevent his very soul from being greatly shaken!

"Alright, Granger!"

Unexpectedly, Draco's shout filled every corner of the classroom.

"You win!"

The struggling girl's lips finally curved into a faint smile. Then her eyes rolled back as she passed out, her head lying to the side.

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