0353 Dungbomb Attack

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.ViiSiit novelbi/n(.)c/(o)m for latest novels

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.

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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