It was an invisible shield, not particularly large, certainly not a great bulwark, just big enough to protect the chest area. It only revealed itself with a flash of color corresponding to the spell it deflected, shimmering briefly when it repelled one of Snape's incoming curses.
"Pay attention! Professor Snape is trying to exploit weaknesses in the Protego spell!" Lockhart announced during his dueling lesson. "Look at those gleaming eyes of yours—ha! I know what you're thinking: that Protego is invincible, right?"
"But I'm sorry to tell you," Lockhart continued, his words rapid, "Protego is not invincible. It doesn't appear automatically, nor does it defend on its own." He gestured animatedly. "It might look like I'm effortlessly countering every spell Professor Snape throws at me, but in truth, I have to focus intensely to summon the shield in the path of his curses—and I must constantly adjust its position myself."
"Professor Snape, of course, knows the spell's flaws," Lockhart went on. "That's why he's been trying to sneak attacks from different angles—like that Sandstorm Jinx just now, or that Transfiguration spell—aha! Trying to catch me off guard with an attack from below while I'm explaining, Professor Snape? Nice try, but no dice!"
Crack!
The students couldn't even tell what magic Lockhart had used. With a single flick of his wand, Snape, shielded by his own Protego, was sent flying backward, now struggling to pick himself up from the floor, looking disheveled.
"Another victory!" Lockhart raised an eyebrow, turning to bask in the students' cheers with both arms raised.
The Gryffindors cheered the loudest. It didn't matter who it was—as long as they took down Snape, Gryffindor would back them up. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined in, though their cheers were quieter. Only the Slytherins looked sour, unsurprising since Snape was their Head of House and usually favored them (except when it came to Harry).
"No worries, children," Lockhart said, flashing a smile at the Slytherins. "As I promised at the start, I'm returning your Potions professor to you in one piece. He's just… a bit dusty, that's all."
The students' laughter grew louder.
"Protego is quite fascinating, isn't it?" Lockhart continued. "It feels like nothing can get through it. But if you all think that way, you're mistaken. Even adult wizards—Ministry employees included—can't always cast an effective Protego."
"Lower-year students might not grasp the spell's complexity," he added, "but upper years, you've studied it in class. You should know where the difficulty lies."
"Reaction speed and precision," a Ravenclaw student called out. "And the speed at which the shield forms."
"Correct! Five points to Ravenclaw!" Lockhart nodded approvingly. "And there's one more crucial thing: Protego cannot block the Killing Curse. If you leave Hogwarts and someone casts Avada Kedavra at you, don't just stand there behind a Protego, thinking you're safe—I guarantee you'll meet a swift end."
Some students chuckled, but many fell silent at the mention of the Killing Curse.
"Thankfully, this is just a friendly dueling demonstration, which somewhat limits Professor Snape's full strength. I have no doubt he knows plenty of dark—"
"Professor Lockhart!" McGonagall cut in sharply, her tone a warning.
"Sorry, sorry!" Lockhart shrugged, unfazed. "Anyway, come on up, Professor Potter! You must be eager to teach the students more, aren't you?"
Now it wasn't just Ron casting worried glances at Harry; many students turned to look. If Lockhart were still the bumbling fool they thought he was, no one would've worried for Harry. But Lockhart had just proven his skill, defeating Snape head-on!
It was as if he'd turned the duel into a casual lesson, effortlessly toying with Snape, the "dark bat," as if he were a plaything. The students might not know as many spells as the professors, but they could sense the confidence that came from overwhelming strength.
"Don't worry," Harry reassured his friends before stepping onto the stage.
"Same as before?" he asked.
"Just like I did," Lockhart replied, locking eyes with Harry and barely containing his excitement. "First, we bow."
Harry and Lockhart gave a quick nod, barely fulfilling the first rule of a wizard's duel.
"Excellent. I'll count to three—two—three!"
The moment the words left Lockhart's mouth, both he and Harry fired spells at each other and simultaneously moved from their spots.
Clang!
Harry's spell—a simple Stunning Spell—struck the Protego Lockhart had left in place, producing a sharp, clear sound. Lockhart raised an eyebrow; Harry's spell was weaker than he'd expected. He might not even need to dodge.
Unlike his relaxed demeanor against Snape, Lockhart was visibly tenser facing Harry. The banter he'd kept up earlier was gone. Their exchange was swift—within seconds, they'd fired four spells at each other, all ones the students could recognize, like Stupefy or Impedimenta.
Harry even used Transfiguration to conjure a barrier large enough to shield himself on the stage. But Lockhart, equally adept at Transfiguration, countered. Before the barrier could block two spells, it sprouted writhing, claw-like vines that lunged at Harry.
The duel became a contest of magical control. The students watched as a wooden crate on the stage suddenly sprouted countless vine-like tendrils resembling human hands, only to harden into stone moments later, swaying as if caught in a schizophrenic dance.
It was tougher than Harry had anticipated. He was certain Lockhart's Transfiguration skill rivaled McGonagall's. Not only was Lockhart vying for control of the conjured objects, but he also demonstrated the ability to transform multiple targets of varying sizes simultaneously.
Stones and wooden fragments danced across the floor, quickly morphing into tiny blade-wielding figures charging at Harry like an army. "Frost Shock!" Harry shouted, thrusting his wand into the ground.
Instantly, a wave of icy blue mist radiated from him, like a surging tide of frost, freezing every transfigured creation in its path and shattering them into dust, leaving nothing behind.
Lockhart didn't pursue further, merely raising an eyebrow.
"If I'm not mistaken, Professor Potter, we're conducting a wizarding duel demonstration—and we're limited to spells commonly used by wizards," Lockhart said, twirling his wand. "But that spell of yours… is it really a spell?"
"It's not conjured ice or a temperature-altering effect," Lockhart continued, shaking his head. "It's elemental casting, as you claimed in your paper. I understand your competitive streak, Professor Potter. After all, setting aside your achievements, you're still just a twelve-year-old boy."
Lockhart's condescending tone was unmistakable, even to the students watching.
"Wanting to win isn't shameful," he went on, "but this approach won't teach the students anything. They're not shaman, and they can't commune with those mystical elements. You've failed them, Professor Potter."
"Oh, I don't think so, Professor Lockhart," came a voice.
It was Professor Flitwick, Harry's mentor, colleague, and friend. The white-haired little wizard beamed with pride and excitement.
"It is a spell! One Harry and I invented together!" Flitwick declared enthusiastically. "It's essentially a summoning charm that allows non-shaman wizards to selectively communicate with and receive responses from elements. It consumes a wizard's magic, uses a wizard's wand, and is cast with a wizard's incantation—it's wizarding magic!"
"The spell's mechanics and magical structure will be published in a journal," Flitwick added cheerfully. "Interested students can read it later. But I can confirm that the spell Harry used is a wizarding spell. Watch—Frost Shock!"
Flitwick demonstrated, swiftly waving his wand. Unlike Harry, he didn't thrust it into the ground, but a wave of icy blue mist trailed his wand's path. Students close by could feel the chill.
Everyone knew Flitwick had drunk countless Elemental Binding Potions without becoming a shaman. Yet, by Lockhart's own logic, Flitwick was now wielding—or rather, calling—the elements.
And the elements had answered.
"Professor Potter! Can we do it too?" a student shouted eagerly. "Can we call the elements with this spell?"
"Of course," Harry nodded. "But so far, Professor Flitwick and I have only developed a few spells that can elicit elemental responses, and we haven't fully verified the patterns. Professor Flitwick will teach you more in Charms class."
Since revealing his abilities shortly after starting at Hogwarts last year, Harry had been collaborating with Flitwick to recreate shamanic magic through wizarding spells. They'd only recently made progress.
The Frost Shock spell corresponded to the elemental magic of Frost Shock. Truth be told, eliciting elemental responses this way was challenging. Harry and Flitwick had experimented with numerous casting gestures and magical pathways, submitting their findings to Mysteries of Magic magazine just last week.
Suddenly, the Dueling Club seemed less important. The students were far more excited about learning new spells.
"Professor Potter!" another student shouted. "Does this mean we're shamans too? Can we divine or summon ancestral spirits?"
"Shamans? Definitely not," Harry shook his head. "We're just replicating some shamanic abilities with spells. Maybe in the future, we could divine or summon spirits, but wizards already have spells for summoning spirits or divining, don't they? No need to take the long way around. For now, since this is Dueling Club, let's focus on learning some dueling techniques."
Without further explanation, Harry signaled to Lockhart to continue the duel.
Lockhart's expression had visibly darkened. The students' attention had shifted entirely to the new magic—they'd long envied the shaman apprentices who could call storms and lightning.
In the end, Harry and Lockhart's duel felt somewhat anticlimactic. Lockhart was clearly frustrated as he guided the students through their own duels.
His earlier warning proved true. When Gryffindors and Slytherins were paired, their duels started with harmless prank spells like Rictusempra. But as tempers flared and they found the spells lacking, some students tucked their wands into their belts and resorted to fists. Surprisingly, a well-timed punch did more damage than those prank spells.
Thankfully, Lockhart had invited McGonagall as his assistant to show off his prowess. Her presence kept the Great Hall from descending into chaos, reining in the hotheaded students.
By the time the lesson ended and Harry returned to the Great Totem, Ron was still bruised and boasting about how fiercely he'd fought the "Slytherin scum" and his glorious victory.
Even Hermione had joined the fray, finally getting a chance to teach Pansy Parkinson a lesson. Neville, encouraged by Harry, had also confronted the boys who constantly mocked him.
Fighting! Exhilarating!
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