HP:BSG - Chapter 690: The Lizard and Hope

“Merlin!” Hermione gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Has it been following Harry all along?”

Ron’s face darkened with anger. “Don’t tell me Wade’s going after Harry too!”

“Don’t say that—they… they’re competitors,” Hermione said, and her knuckles whitened from how tightly she was gripping her hands. Her lips trembled as she added, “Trying to defeat each other… that’s… that’s what they’re supposed to do…”

“That’s not defeat—that’s brutal!” Neville muttered from the other side. “Look at what happened to the others… they were almost half-dead before they were taken out…”

As Harry entered deeper into the thorn maze, the bluebird followed him inside. The image of the lizard flashed briefly on the screen—just a split second, yet it made every Gryffindor’s heart clench tight.

But by then, the camera had already switched—to Clementine.

…

The girl was sprinting through the shadowy Forbidden Forest, her robe torn open in several places by branches and thorns. She gasped for air, each breath tasted faintly of rust—as if her lungs were bleeding.

“Rrraahhh—!”

A roar echoed through the dense woods ahead. The cheetah’s glowing eyes flickered in and out of sight.

Clementine veered sharply to the side and threw out a spell at the same time:

“Incendio!”

Boom!

A pile of dead leaves burst into flame, and smoke curled upward—but before the fire could spread, the cheetah stomped it out.

It rolled in a patch of mud, covering its body in filth, looking wretched—but now it no longer needed to fear ordinary fire.

Perched on a branch, the cheetah’s eyes gleamed with amusement as it watched the girl’s fleeing back.

Clementine ran for a while longer, then stopped to rest against a tree, her legs were trembling so badly that she could barely stand.

She glanced back—the forest behind her was still and silent. The cheetah hadn’t followed.

It was the same pattern again and again—three, four times now. Even Clementine, slow as she was, had begun to sense it.

The cheetah wasn’t hunting her. It was herding her—like a housecat toying with a mouse—driving her in a particular direction.

What is it trying to do?

Clementine bit her lip, trying to think. But when she heard the faint rustle of leaves behind her, she forced herself to start moving again.

The predator’s shadow followed her, silent and relentless.

She wanted—just once—to turn and see what would happen if she ran the opposite way, straight toward it.

But every time she even thought about it, Jabari’s mangled body flashed through her mind.

Clementine’s teeth sank into her lip.

These cold, merciless dolls— they didn’t seem afraid of killing at all.

She didn’t want to do what it wanted— but she had no choice.

When a low growl came from her side, Clementine adjusted her direction. She was so exhausted she didn’t even feel like running anymore—but the cheetah still didn’t appear.

“Ha!”

She let out a cold laugh, and a sudden streak of defiance flared up inside her.

Fine then, she thought fiercely. Let’s see what’s waiting for me up ahead!

…

The image on the screen suddenly switched again, refocusing on the entrance of the thorn wall.

Some of the spikes were thick and blunt like rusted iron nails, while others were as thin and sharp as serpent fangs—jagged and crisscrossing, looking extremely dangerous.

But after staring at it for a while, the audience began to grow bored.

Someone muttered in confusion, “Why are they still showing this empty shot?”

Only those with keen eyesight noticed something odd—tiny patches of light and shadow shifting unnaturally along the thorn wall. Looking closer, one could faintly make out the outline of a massive lizard hidden within.

A few sharp-eyed spectators eagerly shared their discovery with the people around them, then secretly grew excited, waiting for something to happen.

Just then, a small, slender figure quietly slipped through the trees. Her steps were as light as a cat’s and her presence was almost invisible. If the camera hadn’t zoomed in on her, most of the audience wouldn’t even have noticed her arrival.

“Who’s that champion?”

“Hope. She’s Hope Cruz from Salem.”

“Haha, look at that poor girl—she has no idea there’s danger right there in that thorn wall! I bet five Galleons she won’t last ten seconds!”

“Surprising, though. She looks fragile, yet she’s made it this far unharmed.”

“Yeah, but can she avoid that lizard ambush?”

“What good will that do her? She still has to face Wade Grey after that!”

The spectators, detached and amused, chatted casually. Most didn’t believe Hope would survive this stage—only the students from Salem were pale and tense.

“What do we do?” a freckled boy stammered. “Isn’t there any way to warn her?”

“Calm down,” said Abby, an older red-haired girl, sharply. “Keep your composure. Win or lose, it’s the result we have to accept!”

She said it firmly—but her eyes never left the screen, and her clasped fingers trembled slightly.

“She’ll be okay, won’t she?” a younger girl asked tearfully. She was Hope’s little sister.

Her mother gently patted her back, but couldn’t bring herself to give a confident answer.

Then, everyone saw it—just as Hope was about to step out of the forest, she suddenly paused. The next moment, she cast a Disillusionment Charm.

A soft murmur swept through the stands. As Hope’s figure blended seamlessly into her surroundings, several people began to smile in relief.

…

On the thorn wall, the lizard stirred faintly.

It had watched Harry walk through the entrance earlier, then waited for quite a while—but no new prey appeared.

Still, the lizard was patient. It clung motionless above the entrance with its body perfectly camouflaged against the wall’s surface.

Among all the magic dolls, only this one possessed its own Disillusionment Charm, granting it a chameleon-like ability to blend perfectly with its surroundings.

Thorns jabbed into its belly—some even pierced right through—but the lizard doll felt no pain. At most, the spikes were simply an inconvenience, something that got in the way.

Suddenly, its eyes shifted slightly and locked fixedly in one direction.

A blue bird flew out from the forest, circled a few times, then perched on a branch, gazing toward the empty stretch of grass ahead.

But the lizard knew very well—those “cameras” had no interest in dull scenery. Wherever they appeared, it meant a champion was nearby.

Excitement surged through the creature. Its tongue flicked out, trembling in the air as it fixed its gaze tightly on the patch of grass before the blue bird.

Some less-skilled witches and wizards could only remain still while under a Disillusionment Charm—moving would cause flickers or distortions that could easily give them away.

But Hope’s spell was flawless. Even as she moved lightly toward the thorn wall, not a trace of inconsistency appeared in the air around her.

Still, the lizard detected it—the faint snap of crushed grass blades, the unnatural bend of flattened plants, the almost inaudible sound of breathing.

It remained perfectly still, waiting for the precise moment when the girl would step close enough.

Then, at the entrance, Hope’s footsteps suddenly halted. Her transparent form shimmered slightly—she had sensed danger. Quietly, she raised her wand and her shoulders tensed.

But her eyes were fixed on the dark, shadowy passage ahead—completely unaware of the threat above her head.

Whoosh!

The lizard’s tongue shot downward like a javelin!

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