On the platform, Harry's situation grew worse and worse.
He was like a moth trapped in a spiderweb, every struggle merely wasting his strength.
Pierre's wand was like an elegant conductor's baton, calmly weaving an inescapable net of magic.
"Vine Growth!"
Countless emerald vines burst from the ground within the thick fog, coiling toward Harry's ankles like venomous snakes.
Harry leaped backward awkwardly, narrowly avoiding them.
But the instant his body left the ground, another patch of deadly electrical light flared in the fog.
Butterfly Dance again!
"Protego!"
Harry forcibly twisted his body in midair and raised another barrier.
This time, the barrier lasted less than two seconds before shattering under the butterflies' successive bombardments.
The remaining arcs grazed his arm, sending a searing sting through it.
The Hogwarts stands were deathly silent.
Ron had gone completely pale, unconsciously muttering, "Come on, Harry... fight back..."
Hermione bit her lip hard. She could see that Pierre's casting rhythm was astonishingly fast. He seamlessly linked environmental magic with offensive magic, forming a perfect closed loop.
Within that loop, Harry could find no opening to cast a counter-jinx.
At the professors' seats.
The sneer on Moody's face deepened.
A floating quill wrote rapidly on parchment.
[Target trapped in a cycle of passive defense. Rate of magical expenditure is three times that of his opponent.] [Decision-making pattern: conservative. Tends to use standard defensive spells; lacks the thinking needed to break the deadlock.] [Holmes's influence... has yet to manifest.]
On the platform, Harry panted heavily. The stinging in his arm and his steadily draining magic made him increasingly agitated.
No...
This couldn't go on!
In another minute, he would lose from magical exhaustion!
Douglas's words and Moody's training collided violently in his confused mind like two entirely different electrical currents.
Moody's teaching was: