Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed.
Well—Lockhart bowed, with both hands making a flourish. Snape just stared at him coldly.
Then they raised their wands in front of their chests like arrows.
"As you can see, we're holding our wands in the standard dueling stance,"
Lockhart said, trying to sound calm as he addressed the silent crowd.
"On the count of three, we cast our first spell. Of course, neither of us will be trying to kill the other."
"Really?"
Sean heard Ron swallow loudly beside him.
"One—two—three!"
Both wizards snapped their wands up over their shoulders.
"Expelliarmus!" Snape barked.
A blinding red flash shot across the stage; Lockhart staggered.
He flew backward off the platform, smashed into the wall, then slid down and crumpled on the floor.
Malfoy and a few other Slytherins exploded into applause and cheers.
Sean was already sighing. It was obvious Snape hadn't come here planning to go easy on Lockhart.
"See? He's fine."
Hermione actually let out a breath of relief.
"I really don't think it's going to be that simple."
Justin frowned.
Lockhart staggered back to his feet; his hat had flown off, and every glossy curl of his hair was standing straight up.
"Well, you all saw that!"
He wobbled back onto the platform.
"That was a Disarming Charm—as you noticed, I lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown.
Yes, Professor Snape, excellent idea, showing them that spell, truly—but I must say, and no offense, your intention to pull that little move was a bit obvious.
Had I wished to stop you, it would've been the work of a moment. Still, for the sake of their education, I suppose we might as well let them see—"
The killing light had faded from Snape's face; he didn't even look at Lockhart now.
A few seconds later, Lockhart collapsed again. The students gasped one after another, convinced the earlier Disarming Charm must have rattled his brain.
Sean knew better. Snape had not cast just a single spell.
"He didn't actually kill him, did he?"
Ron asked, half gleeful as he stared at Lockhart's limp form.
"Hopefully."
Harry's thoughts were rarely far from Ron's.
"Don't be ridiculous!"
Hermione snapped.
She wasn't worried about Lockhart—but anyone who'd read Green's notes and paid attention in class knew just how valuable Snape's skill at Potions was.
Losing their Potions Master over a fraud would be a very bad deal.
Lockhart was carted off to the hospital wing. No one knew when he'd be back.
Down below, Sean found himself wondering if Voldemort's curse on the Defense position was simply too strong.
Standing in the middle of it all, it was hard to believe this was all coincidence.
He had "coincidentally" angered Snape, Lockhart had "coincidentally" launched a Dueling Club, and Snape had "coincidentally" been provoked on stage in front of the whole school…
Magic really was too vast. Sean wasn't sure he'd ever be able to trace the mechanism of that curse.
He glanced at Snape; the man still wore that tight, mocking half–smile, but the oppressive mood around him had eased a little.
"That's enough demonstration. Pair up."
Snape said curtly.
He began assigning partners with crisp efficiency.
Sean saw Harry and Malfoy placed together, Ron paired with Goyle, and Hermione facing Pansy Parkinson.
You had to admit, the matchups were deliberate.
Everyone got their own personal grudge.
The only ones who seemed relatively lucky were Justin and Neville.
As for Sean—an entire open space had been left around him. However excited they were about dueling, no one volunteered to stand opposite an opponent they knew they couldn't beat.
Flint had lasted barely a minute. He still didn't know what spells had hit him.
"Follow me."
Snape walked up to Sean, stared at him for a heartbeat, then turned sharply and strode away. He had always been miserly with words.
Because Snape's pace was so long and fast, Sean had to hurry to keep up.
"That's odd,"
Hermione murmured as she watched them go. She turned to Justin.
"Why do I feel like there's… something between Professor Snape and Sean—"
On the stage, the rest of the duels grew stranger and messier.
A sickly green mist drifted across the hall.
Ron tried to trip Goyle with a Transfiguration, not realizing the other boy didn't bother with spells at all;
Hermione and Pansy traded hexes until Hermione finally ended it with a clean Stupefy;
If Justin and Neville were the most entertaining of the lower years—with solid spellwork on both sides, mixing offense and defense and trading blows evenly—then Harry and Malfoy were certainly the most chaotic.
At first, Harry swung his wand up over his shoulder—but Malfoy struck as soon as they'd counted "two":
His wand cracked Harry across the skull; Harry felt like he'd been hit by a flying frying pan.
He staggered, but everything seemed to still be working, so he seized the chance, pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and shouted:
"Rictusempra!"
A silver jet hit Malfoy in the stomach; Malfoy dropped to his knees, laughing helplessly, limbs gone weak and useless.
Harry hesitated. He vaguely felt that hexing Malfoy while he was on the ground was unsporting. Unfortunately, he was wrong.
Gasping and wheezing with laughter, Malfoy still managed to jab his wand at Harry's knees and gasp out: "Tarantallegra!"
Instantly, Harry's legs started jerking wildly on their own, as if he were dancing some frantic jig.
A short distance away, Sean had been following Snape along the edge of the stage, listening to him sharply correct the older students' mistakes.
All the way around they'd watched the upper years hurl all kinds of spells, and seen just as many ways to counter them.
With his habit of hoarding knowledge, Sean watched carefully and paid close attention as Snape demonstrated how to neutralize each spell with the simplest, most efficient techniques.
Every now and then, Snape would glance sideways at him; the deep scowl on his face eased by the tiniest amount. The two of them finally stopped near Harry and Malfoy.
Malfoy, still on his back, jabbed his wand upward and shouted: "Serpensortia!"
The tip of his wand exploded. Harry stared in horror as a long black snake burst out, thudding onto the floor between them.
It coiled, raised its head, and prepared to strike.
The students shrieked and scrambled back, leaving a clear space around it.
"Don't move, Potter."
Snape said lazily. Clearly, seeing Harry frozen in place, locked eye to eye with an enraged snake, made him feel a bit better.
~~~
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