Harry had no idea how Lockhart had pulled it off, but the lineup of assistants he'd assembled was undeniably impressive. Apart from Professor Sprout, who was preoccupied with her expertise in Herbology, three of Hogwarts' four house heads were serving as his assistants. The fourth was Harry himself, widely recognized in the British wizarding world as a combat-savvy professor who had mastered powerful elemental magic.
To put it bluntly, if Lockhart wanted to upgrade his roster any further, he'd have to drag Dumbledore himself into it.
When the students heard who these assistants were, they erupted into cheers. Having seen through Lockhart's true colors, they had no expectations of learning anything from him directly. But the other professors? They were the real deal. By comparison, Lockhart, the supposed founder of the Duelling Club, seemed more like the assistant who handled the odd jobs.
"Brilliant! It's Professor McGonagall! We're saved!" Fred was still clapping excitedly.
"Thank you! Thank you all for your support!" Lockhart, oblivious to what the students were actually cheering for, waved smugly. "Yes, I'm delighted that Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick—and especially our Professor Potter—agreed to be my assistants. I'm certain that under our guidance, you'll learn a thing or two."
For once, the students thought he'd said something accurate.
"Let's get started, Professor! We can't wait!" someone shouted from the crowd.
"Whoa, whoa, I know you're eager, but hold your hippogriffs," Lockhart said with a cheerful grin. "Before we begin, there are a few ground rules we need to establish."
"First, you absolutely must not use any magic other than what you've been taught in class. You're bright kids; you know what I mean—spells that cause serious harm, like curses, hexes, or, Merlin forbid, dark magic."
"Students don't know dark magic, Professor Lockhart," Professor McGonagall said icily from the side of the stage. "Nor would they aim such spells at their classmates."
"Of course, Professor McGonagall, we're all in agreement," Lockhart nodded hastily. "I'm just stating it for clarity. Now, the second rule: duelling must be done with wands—hey, no laughing!"
The students' laughter grew louder. Lockhart's words sounded as absurd as saying you needed noodles to eat noodles.
What else would you use in a wizarding duel if not a wand?
"I know you think it's funny," Lockhart wagged a finger. "We're wizards, after all. What else would we use in a duel if not wands and spells? But don't forget, even a wizard as great as Gilderoy Lockhart was your age once. No one knows better than I do what kids your age might do in the heat of the moment."
"Compared to a master wizard like me, your repertoire of spells is limited, and your magical power isn't fully developed. You might be surprised to learn that trading spells for a few minutes could cause less damage than dropping your wand and throwing a punch. Don't laugh! I'm serious! Even Professor McGonagall can't deny that."
McGonagall's face remained expressionless, as if she hadn't heard a word.
"So, that's the second rule: no punching your opponent," Lockhart continued, chuckling to himself. "Though, I suppose when a wizard loses their wand, it's their last resort. And now, the most important rule of all."
"Since most of us here are wizards—and likely will remain wizards—we want you to learn something practical, something you can use in the future. So, Professor Potter, I'm afraid I must regretfully inform you that you and your apprentices won't be allowed to use your… exotic magic."
Lockhart suddenly turned the conversation toward Harry, grinning widely. "After all, not everyone can become a shaman, and not everyone can learn your kind of magic. We're wizards, so we should learn to duel like wizards. But don't worry about Professor Potter—I invited him to be my assistant, and he generously agreed to help me give you a little demonstration before class begins."
Lockhart hadn't explicitly banned shamanic magic; he'd only invited Harry to assist. But the students didn't know that.
They were too busy debating whether Professor Potter could beat Lockhart without his elemental magic. It was a heated discussion. If Potter were allowed to use his elemental spells, the students unanimously agreed Lockhart would end up like that basilisk—burnt to a crisp. But without them?
Raised by Muggle relatives and only entering the wizarding world last year, Professor Potter was, technically, just a second-year Hogwarts student. He'd become a professor because of his groundbreaking new magic. But when it came to traditional wizarding spells? Well, the fact that he still attended other professors' classes spoke for itself.
A close match, perhaps?
A second-year student versus a pompous professor?
It sounded thrilling.
"That old windbag!" Ron, Harry's diehard supporter, grumbled loudly. "He's only doing this because you're new! Why shouldn't you use the magic you mastered? I see through him—he just wants an excuse to humiliate you, as if that'll prove how great he is!"
"Hit him with a Lightning Bolt, Harry!" Hermione said viciously, showing no trace of her former admiration for Lockhart. "Just say it's a new spell you invented!"
Lockhart could hear the students' murmurs but chose to ignore them.
"No need to worry," he said loudly. "Professor Potter is renowned across the wizarding world for his skill and fame, and I, Gilderoy Lockhart, am a celebrated master of magic. This is just a friendly spar between us." He raised his voice further. "But I'm not some villain. To avoid any accusations of bullying the young—or, well, you know—I'll start with a demonstration against my other assistant, Professor Snape."
Snape, who'd been glaring daggers at Lockhart, reluctantly stepped to the front of the stage.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Professor Snape," Lockhart said, not sparing him a glance as he addressed the students. "Don't worry, I won't let you lot fret. After our demonstration, I'll return your Potions professor to you in one piece—no need to be alarmed!"
Snape's glare was no longer just murderous. One hand was now rubbing the handle of his wand, his eyes lingering on Lockhart's neck like a butcher sizing up his next cut.
The students were already cheering for Snape.
Lockhart, still smiling, walked to one end of the duelling stage, while Snape took the other. Following wizarding duelling etiquette, they gave each other a cursory nod—barely a bow.
"Pay attention," Lockhart said. "Professor Snape and I are now performing standard wizarding duelling etiquette: a bow to show respect, then gripping your wand in the standard duelling stance. On the count of three, we cast our spells."
"Let me emphasize, this is proper duelling etiquette. If you're facing danger in the wild, don't bother bowing to your enemy—or waiting for them to bow back."
The students roared with laughter. They weren't stuffy fools. Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalries often started with ambushes in corridors or bathrooms.
"Get on with it," Snape snapped irritably.
"Alright, then—one!"
Lockhart counted quickly. On the third count, Snape whipped out his wand and bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"
A brilliant red light shot from the tip of Snape's wand toward Lockhart, blindingly fast. Many students didn't even have time to react—clang!
A sound like metal striking metal rang out. The red light was deflected back at Snape with even greater speed. Caught off guard, Snape barely dodged his own spell, stepping aside just in time.
The Gryffindors sighed loudly, disappointed that Snape hadn't been hit. But what made them gasp was the deflected spell hitting a decorative stone statue on the side of the Great Hall, shattering it to pieces.
Though McGonagall quickly restored it with a Reparo charm, everyone could see the raw power of Snape's spell. Even without its intended effect, the sheer force was enough to pulverize stone. What would it do to a person?
Snape had clearly cast that spell with the intent to end Lockhart.
"Well done, that's the spirit," Lockhart said casually, as if Snape's near-miss was nothing. He didn't press his advantage, instead turning to teach. "The spell Professor Snape used is called the Disarming Charm, with the incantation Expelliarmus."
"If I'd been hit, my wand would've flown out of my hand… or maybe I'd have been flung across the room?" Lockhart glanced lightly at the shattered statue. "I know you're all wondering how I blocked Professor Snape's attack, aren't you? But explanations come after the duel. Let's finish this, Professor Snape—unless that last one rattled you?"
Snape didn't respond. He shot a glance at Harry, feeling he'd lost face in front of his… well, not quite godson. His face was ashen with fury.
"Fumos."
With a casual flick of his wand, Snape cast a Smoke Charm. The Great Hall filled with thick, grayish mist, obscuring everything. The students couldn't see, and neither could the duelists.
Snape was getting serious. After that brief exchange, he realized he didn't know his colleague as well as he thought. The spell Lockhart used to deflect the Disarming Charm wasn't complex—it was Protego, a Shield Charm that fifth-years could theoretically learn.
The spell was simple, but to cast it so quickly and deflect a spell perfectly? Few wizards could manage that.
What was going on?
Snape was puzzled. That reaction speed, that flawless Shield Charm—was this really the boastful buffoon Lockhart?
He'd test him further.
Lockhart, meanwhile, seemed unfazed by the loss of visibility, grinning even wider.
"Ha! Not dark magic or a forbidden spell, but if the students can't see, how can we teach?" Lockhart waved his wand. "Finite Incantatem."
The mist vanished instantly, countered by Lockhart's spell. But Snape had already achieved his goal.
"Stupefy!"
Clang!
Protego.
"Incarcerous!"
Clang!
Still Protego.
"Depulso!"
The stage's broken stones couldn't breach Lockhart's shield. He stood like a final boss awaiting a challenger, countering every spell Snape threw with the same Shield Charm.
From the start of the duel, Lockhart hadn't moved a single step.
The students watched, dumbfounded, as if they'd seen a ghost. Lockhart was toying with Snape.
Yes, Lockhart hadn't used a single new spell, and Snape was the one on the offensive. But seeing Lockhart's calm, composed demeanor against Snape's grimacing frustration, the students had already decided who was superior.
Lockhart was even teaching mid-duel. The Shield Charm was normally invisible, but after he cast a secondary spell to summon a cloud of silvery dust, the students could clearly see how Protego formed and blocked Snape's spells.