Chapter 258: Fly's Harry
Hogwarts Student performance exceeded most expectations—many handled crises with surprising proficiency, some even surpassing what seasoned wizards might struggle with. After nearly 80% of the contestants were eliminated, a single team finally emerged before the Ball Python.
At that moment, the serpent had grown massive under the spell’s influence. Its head alone was nearly as wide as a person’s height, and its already plump body now seemed monstrously large. The first student to approach thought he’d hit a wall—until he realized the wall was moving. Frozen in shock, he barely had time to react before the Ball Python’s tail lashed out, sending him flying.
Though he was caught midair by a Night Kneazle, the outcome was still elimination.
One team after another surged into the central area, charging blindly toward the serpent. Originally a docile creature, the Ball Python was now treating the chaos like a game—its instinctive shyness and caution replaced by amusement. Instead of using its signature entangling coils or its deadly, backward-pointing fangs, it simply swatted students aside with its tail or shifted its body, effortlessly clearing them from its territory.
But the goal wasn’t to defeat the beast—it was to leave their team’s mark upon it.
Soon, clever students devised a strategy: split the group—some to distract the serpent, others to dart in quickly and sign their name. The serpent’s scales were unnaturally smooth, making climbing nearly impossible. Some teams, satisfied with mere participation, simply scrawled their names far from the head.
One student, kneeling on the ground, let out a despairing wail: “Why did I pick a name like ‘Popping Explosion Love Enthusiast, Go to Hell Under Gobstone’?! How am I supposed to write all that?!”
His lone remaining teammate stood motionless beside him, eyes vacant—like his soul had already left his body.
“Hahaha!” The Weasley Twins burst into laughter, their synchronized movements flawless. Their team name? “Wild and Wicked.”
With perfect teamwork, they not only left their mark but also wiped out a rival team’s signature. As they leapt down from the serpent’s back, they were immediately met with chaos.
That was when Harry and his team burst into the core zone.
They were the last team remaining—most others had either been trapped mid-maze or suffered too many losses to continue, and had already opted to withdraw.
Only a few from the Umbrella Room remained. Michael, Neville, and Theo had fallen along the way, sacrificing themselves to protect their teammates. Now, only Harry and Hermione stood.
Wade sat atop the Owl Shed’s platform, unable to hear the commotion but keenly aware of every movement unfolding below.
Though unintentional, the twins’ chaotic tactics had given Harry and Hermione a crucial advantage.
Teams that had already signed were quickly retreating to the sidelines, gathering in clusters for safety.
Had things gone as planned, Harry and Hermione would have faced the Ball Python alone—its attention divided by the swarm of flies, forcing them to dodge attacks while rushing to mark the serpent.
But now, several Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were locked in brutal combat around the serpent. One sweeping tail sent them all flying.
And the teams whose marks had been erased were forced to charge in again—this time signing anew, defending their work, and sabotaging others.
Fred and George had utterly shattered the original order. They’d shown everyone: signing was only step one. The real test was whether you could protect your name until the very end.
“Perfect! Now’s my chance—while it’s distracted, I can fly right over.”
Harry reached for his broomstick, ready to mount.
“Wait!” Hermione grabbed his arm.
She glanced at the clock. “Just one second to write ‘SSC’… Wait until five minutes before the end.”
Harry instantly understood—she was right.
He had no confidence in protecting his mark in the chaos. And once he mounted his broom, he’d become a prime target for anyone desperate to eliminate him.
But staying put wasn’t easy either.
The agony of being so close yet unable to finish was only part of it. The real danger came from stray spells whizzing through the air, the occasional sweep of a Giant’s tail, and surprise attacks from other teams.
Fortunately, the other magical creatures in the maze seemed terrified by the commotion. Unlike before, none burst out of the bushes to attack.
From his high vantage point, Wade watched the scene unfold like a storm below.
To prevent real injuries, every professor, Night Kneazle, and most house-elves were stationed around the maze, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.
To Wade, Harry and Hermione looked like tiny ants—darting, scrambling, never still.
Suddenly, Hermione’s legs locked together. She collapsed toward the ground, and the massive body of the Ball Python loomed over her.
Harry’s face twisted in a snarl—his lips shaped a single word: “Hermione!”
The serpent paused. Then, with a flicker of movement, a house-elf appeared, whisking Hermione away.
Before vanishing, she gave Harry a quick, determined “OK” sign.
Harry forced a nod. He knew—she was warning him to wait. Three more minutes. Then strike.
He dodged two crossing spells with lightning reflexes, rolled on the ground, and emerged covered in dirt and soot.
Perhaps because Harry was the smallest and youngest, and never initiated attacks, the Ball Python barely noticed him. Neither did the other teams.
That made survival easier.
Three minutes passed.
A broomstick shot upward—like a swallow diving into storm waves, light and agile.
“Whoa—!” The stands erupted in gasps.
The competitors were stunned. In the next instant, seven or eight spells shot toward Harry. The Weasley Twins clapped and laughed.
He flew like water, untouched by wind, as if the storm itself obeyed him.
Moments later, the stands roared with thunderous cheers. The sound was so loud, Wade could hear every word clearly from the Owl Shed.
He lowered his telescope.
Professor Mor chuckled. “Regret it? If you’d joined, the applause now might have been for you.”
“Why would I care?” Wade replied flatly. “Human emotions are fickle—especially strangers’ affection. One small thing can turn love into contempt… or even hatred.”
Professor Mor smiled. “That’s… not something you’d expect from someone your age.”
He shook his head. “Children should be a little more lively.”
Wade turned to him. “Lively… or easily fooled?”
No answer came.
Then, with a sudden bang, a house-elf appeared—trembling slightly.
“Mr. Wade Gray… the Maze… it’s in trouble…”
(End of Chapter)
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