Chapter 686: Natalia Eliminated
"Boom!"
The blonde girl slammed hard into the tree trunk, blood spraying from her lips. Her pale face was streaked with crimson, a fresh wound blooming like a dark flower. For a split second, her vision blurred—then cleared. There, before her, stood the Gorilla Magic Puppet, gripping a jagged branch, its sharp end aimed straight at her heart.
Worse still, the Lizard Magic Puppet’s cold claw clamped onto her shoulder, its tail coiling tightly around her waist. Its hot breath washed over the back of her head, and the faint glow from its horn cast shadows that seemed to outline a row of jagged, menacing fangs.
The Gorilla loomed over her, voice low and grating.
"Submit?"
It leaned slightly forward, eyes locked onto hers.
"Or shall we break you first, then make you submit?"
Natalia forced a bloodied smile. Her fingers fumbled through the fallen leaves, trembling with effort—until they finally brushed against the cool, familiar surface of her wand.
The Gorilla watched impassively, not stopping her. But the Lizard’s claw tightened, biting deeper into her flesh.
She had no doubt: if she made a move, if she even tensed her muscles—in an instant—those claws would tear her arm clean off.
These two creatures were brutal. And the scattered, splintered trunks all around bore silent, brutal witness.
She closed her eyes for a breath, swallowing the urge to cry. With the last of her strength, she raised her wand toward the sky.
Whoosh—
A blinding red spark shot upward, tearing through the gaps between the leaves, exploding high in the air with a thunderous bang.
The Gorilla dropped the branch. The Lizard retracted its claws. In perfect unison, they stepped back, then vanished into the shadows of the trees—like they’d never been there at all.
The next moment, Professor McGonagall descended from the heavens on her broomstick. She landed gently, her eyes scanning Natalia’s battered form—wounded, bleeding, but alive. Her gaze held both deep concern and a quiet, complex admiration.
"You fought bravely enough, Child."
Natalia managed a weak smile. She tried to speak, but coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Professor McGonagall waved her wand. A gentle levitation charm lifted the girl off the ground.
"Madam Pomfrey has already prepared White Fresh Perfume and Healing Elixir. Hold on."
The broomstick rose steadily, smoothly, climbing into the sky. Below, the dense forest spread out like a vast, dark green sea, rustling softly in the breeze—waves of green, whispering like distant tides.
Natalia forced her eyes open just in time to see a Night Kneazle glide across the treetops. Its enormous bat-like wings unfolded in elegant silence, and its blank, white eyes—pupilless—flickered toward her, as if silently offering pity.
The broom accelerated. Wind howled past her blood-streaked face.
In the fading haze of consciousness, a thought flickered—Where is Wade right now?
A faint, self-mocking smile tugged at her lips. But there was no bitterness, no envy. She had never been naive enough to believe that because of their bond, Wade would have held back in the stadium.
From the moment she’d dropped her name into the Triwizard Cup, Natalia had known the stakes. She’d prepared for one of two outcomes: to rise to the top, or to fall.
After seeing the true caliber of the other Champions, she’d already accepted her fate.
Still…
How unfortunate.
She hadn’t even gotten to face Wade Gray in a fair, righteous duel—only to be eliminated by his makeshift creation.
And this was just a half-baked prototype, hastily made for the Tournament.
She couldn’t even imagine what his true Magic Puppet might look like…
The bright lights of the Quidditch Pitch drew nearer in her fading vision. Natalia exhaled softly, letting darkness swallow her whole.
…
Clementine tore through the forest, heart pounding, lungs burning. She didn’t dare look back. She couldn’t stop. She ran—ran until her legs screamed in protest, until all she could hear was the thunderous drumming of her own pulse.
The echoes of Natalia’s spell and the Beast’s roar faded behind her, swallowed by the trees. Then—her foot slipped. She plunged into a muddy hole, sprawling helplessly onto the ground.
"Aaah!"
She cried out, her wand flying from her grip.
Footsteps approached—quick, deliberate.
Clementine squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the worst.
Then, the tall grasses parted above her. A calm, kind voice spoke from above.
"Human girl? One of the competitors?"
She flinched, trembling, and looked up.
A young Centaur stood over her, silver-white mane glowing faintly like moonlight, his shallow-blue eyes filled with quiet pity.
He took in the sight of her—her disheveled, panicked form sprawled on the grass, her honey-brown curls tangled with weeds and dead leaves, cheeks flushed with childish roundness.
He frowned slightly.
"You’re not of age?"
Clementine stammered, "Y-yes… yes, I am."
The Centaur shook his head, voice edged with disdain.
"Barbaric humans… letting children take part in such a cruel battle."
He reached down, strong arms pulling her to her feet.
"My kind does not interfere in human affairs. But I can guide you a short way—come with me."
"Th-thank you… um… what’s your name?" Clementine whispered, then added quickly, "I’m Clementine—”
"Never mind."
The Centaur cut her off, his gaze fixed ahead. His tone was calm, distant.
"You don’t need to know my name. And I won’t know yours. Names are chains. But we walk different paths. We were never meant to meet."
Clementine froze.
The Centaur took a few steps forward, then paused, waiting.
After a moment, he said quietly,
"Tonight’s sparks are bright. They align with Scorpio."
"What does that mean?" Clementine asked, bewildered.
The Centaur only looked at her—deep, silent, solemn—then lifted one front hoof and tapped the ground. Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the deeper shadows of the forest.
Clementine stood at the fork, trembling. A chill ran through her.
She took a deep breath. Clenched her wand tighter.
Then, without hesitation, she stepped onto the left path.
(End of Chapter)
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