"Assemble!!"
"Roar, roar, roar—"
The response to Cedric was a thunderous roar and shout; students, little elves, ghosts, professors, and even the Niffler colliding with the bone dragon... everyone, even Snape, instinctively let out a roar as if to vent all the pent-up grievances in one breath—
Then, the counterattack began.
The battle heated up the instant both sides clashed.
Cedric, as the captain of the United Kingdom team, was the first to charge into the enemy ranks. The magic rune plate armor on him glead with a blinding blue light, pulverizing three goblins in his path, then swinging his great sword with both hands—"Clang! Crunch! Thud!" The sound of tal clashing, bones breaking, and flesh tearing resounded almost simultaneously, sending a circle of goblins flying.
"Cedric! To the left!"
Harry’s voice ca from behind him, at the sa ti, a Disarming Spell flew over, accurately knocking a war axe out of the hand of a goblin attempting to sneak attack from the left. Without turning his head, Cedric swung his sword backhand, cleaving the goblin in two, then nodded to Harry, "Thanks, Potter!"
"You’re welco!"
Harry continued to ride the Firebolt into the air, swiftly streaking across the battlefield, his magic wand pointing repeatedly, as Expelliarmus, Diffindo, and The Blasting Curse rained down like raindrops, specifically targeting those attempting long-range sneak attacks on the students, and he wasn’t the only one—like the Weasley Twins not far away—
"Taste this, shorty!"
Fred shook the purple orb in his hand, then tossed it straight into a pile of goblins in the distance, "Boom!" A mass of sticky glue exploded, sticking the goblins to the icy surface. They couldn’t die, and naturally couldn’t reform elsewhere to rejoin the battle.
"And this!"
George imdiately threw out a sizzling black orb, which hit a troll’s head, rapidly expanded like an open mouth, clamping onto its head and dragging it down toward the Black Lake.
At the edge of the battlefield, Ron and Neville ford a temporary team.
"Neville, how much longer?"
Ron instinctively shouted, simultaneously flinging a string of Leg-Locker Curses at the five goblins rushing over.
"Almost, almost there!"
Even though Neville’s hands were trembling from nervousness, his actions were precise. He grabbed a handful of dark seeds from his seed pouch, flung them forcefully in the densest direction of goblins, and waved his wand, "Herbivicus!"
The seeds hit the ice and began to grow madly without reason.
Like a disgusting blob of flesh turned green, an entangled mass of vines ford into a big ball, surrounded by sharp flytrap-like cuts. As these plant blobs rolled over and crushed the goblins around them to death, they suddenly trembled and began spewing flas—
"rlin’s on the right..."
Seeing that bizarre, sanity-losing scene, Ron swallowed hard, "Neville, we’re good friends, right..."
"Of course, of course."
Neville assured while scattering another handful of seeds.
Professors fought with equal effectiveness.
Professor McGonagall had transford everything she could around her; three massive lions roared as they tore through the enemy ranks, each pounce taking down several goblins. Professor Flitwick floated in the air, his wand a blur of motion, effortlessly casting spells to aid each student who barely escaped danger. Snape’s Diffindo was equally swift, and any troll he targeted would find itself headless within seconds. Around Professor Sprout floated several barrels of Dittany—
In battle, injuries were inevitable, but before students saw their wounds bleed, they were already covered with Dittany.
Victor Rookwood hovered in mid-air, watching the battlefield below spiral out of control, his face ashen.
He attempted to reorganize the resistance, but now, he was locked in a genuine one-on-one duel with Hermione. The girl had shed her previous evasive tactics, her wand unleashing relentless, powerful spells, leaving Rookwood unable to afford any distraction, lest he find himself destroyed in the next mont—
Before the man could think of a counterasure, things took a turn for the worse.
Of course, William hadn’t appeared yet, so it wasn’t that bad.
But sohow, from the mont the Hogwarts army charged out of the castle, or perhaps even earlier—the goblins and trolls that got killed stopped turning into black mist and reforming at a distance like before.
Once they fell, they truly fell.
Though black mist still erged from their bodies, it was much thinner, dissipated slowly, and the process of reforming seed slowed down dozens of tis. Now, when a troll got killed, it took nearly a minute for the mist to barely sketch out a vague outline, and that outline was extrely fragile, easily dispersed by any spell.
"What’s happening?!"
Victor instinctively shouted, his gaze turning to Lanlock, who was nearly pumled into a Muggle by the Niffler.
"That... damned... woman sold out M..."
The bone dragon bellowed angrily, voice brimming with rage, but was imdiately silenced by Kabuda using a Ford car to give a good brushing.
Victor abruptly spun his head towards the distant castle.
In the west, the setting sun hung in the sky, its orange-red light streaming through the clouds, and he could feel the power sourced from the ti paradox within him, which allowed him to "exist," ebbing away like a tide. Not only that, a burning, intense pain began emanating from deep within his brain...
"No... impossible..."
Victor murmured to himself, "How could she, alone, accomplish this... I... I..."
"What are you staring at?"
Hermione couldn’t possibly know Victor’s earthquake-like inner turmoil. Seizing the opportunity, she naturally wouldn’t withdraw, her wand flicked, "Sectumsempra!" An invisible blade flashed through the air, and Victor’s head detached from his neck, yet his vacant gaze remained fixed in the direction of the castle...
This ti, however, there were no more signs of reforming.
...
"Squeak, squeak~"
The Niffler let out a loud cry, its sharp claw piercing through the chest of the scarred bone dragon, pulling out an imp-sized black goblin. Without the intent to hear it out, it squeezed hard, and Lanlock burst like a caterpillar, symbolizing the utter end of the last goblin—
"...Is it over?"
Professor McGonagall, over a hundred years old, wiped the sweat from her forehead, gestured for the nearby stone figures to halt, straightened her back, and looked around at the silent students. Scanning each young face, the tension on her own face couldn’t help but give way to a smile, "It’s over."
She spoke with a sigh of relief.
"Oh—!!~~~"
As if a valve had been released, the students’ cheers filled the sky, and they exchanged excited glances, shouted, and hugged... Harry declined Cedric’s armored offer of a hug, instead bumped fists with the ecstatic big boy, his gaze sweeping around and finally settling on Hermione—
The girl had just stood up, with Kabuda, reverted to its original form, sitting smugly in her palm, showing off to the Little Fire Dragon perched on her shoulder.
"...Still no word from Senior William?"
Harry walked up beside Hermione, seeing her frowning, he instinctively asked, "What’s troubling you?"
"Nothing."
Hermione picked Kabuda up and placed it on Norbert’s head, looking up, she replied, "I think, from just now, haven’t we maybe forgotten sot... uh, where’s Professor Dumbledore gone?"
"What Dumbledore..."
Harry’s instinctive response was half out of his mouth before he stopped abruptly, blinking in so confusion, "Yeah, where’s Professor Dumbledore gone?" He turned, his gaze passing over the celebrating crowd, to the lakeside where the ancient castle glowed with a bloody hue in the sunset light.
...
...
Earlier, Map Chamber.
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