The corridor stretched taut like a bowstring, instantly dividing into two clear fronts, forming a tense, explosive triangle. On one side, Arcturus pinned the Gryffindors — motionless, but all the more menacing for it, like a blade already half-drawn from its sheath. On the other, Avery and Warrington guarded them, positioned apart and blocking any path of retreat. In the center, backs pressed together, the three Gryffindors huddled: Adrian facing Arcturus, Burke and Reed facing the other two Slytherins.
Seconds stretched like molasses. Burke, as if breaking free from a chain, seized the initiative. Deciding that hesitation was fatal, he acted swiftly — and made a fatal mistake, playing into his opponents' hands. His adolescent nerves couldn't withstand the pressure and tension of the situation.
Not dividing his attention, he concentrated all his skill into a series of devastating attacks against Cassius — whom he mistakenly perceived as the most dangerous on his flank. Three Stunners rose one after another, and the attack's crescendo sounded in a thunderous chord:
— Flipendo Tria!
Only the last, most powerful spell was spoken aloud. The others were cast silently, proving Burke's skill. Fired at different angles, in shallow arcs, they converged on Cassius from the sides, leaving no room for maneuver and distracting him from the main strike.
Almost simultaneously, Reed, trying to support the attack, sent a clot of fire toward Cassius. Seeing such disregard, Avery hurled a spell at the attackers, which, opening like petals, struck their hastily raised shields with slight dispersion. That second of hesitation and shield-raising gave Blackmore an opportunity for a counterattack. A powerful counterattack.
Thanks to Arcturus's presence, the Slytherins had not only a qualitative advantage but also a tactical positional advantage. They had caught the Gryffindors in pincers, forcing them back-to-back. Now any move risked exposing a comrade covering the rear from the motionless Arcturus, or vice versa.
Cassius, meanwhile, raised a simple Protego, but the last spell — that Tria — threatened to collapse his flimsy shield. Holding the shield would only mean losing momentum. Instead, he made a sharp, precise wand movement to meet the attack. He chose to parry. His own red Stunner met Burke's more powerful charge in mid-air. The thunderous crack of colliding spells echoed off the walls. Defense and counterattack in one motion — a dangerous but brilliant trick that saved precious moments for retaliation. Main thing is Arcturus didn't notice that stunt, flashed through his mind.
Behind Marvyn and Reed, a different atmosphere reigned. Adrian didn't charge into a blind assault. He waited, only occasionally making light thrusts with weak beam spells, trying to provoke Arcturus into making the first move. He understood perfectly that alone, he couldn't win this fight. He had personally seen Arcturus, at a recent Dueling Club meeting, defeat — not without effort, but defeat — Raymond Shafik, the best fifth-year duelist, the one predicted to become a brilliant duelist. Adrian himself had lost to Shafik twice last year. Twice out of two. However much it stung his pride, he had to admit Malfoy was a monster of their year… and the years above and below.
Adrian was just stalling for time. But now, through the roar of the battle behind him, it became clear his comrades were losing. He had to act, even distracted, though it was detrimental. From his wand tip, thick, acrid smoke billowed after a whispered:
— Fumos.
The spell was cast directly in front of him, to conceal his next moves. The next moment, he unleashed a blinding spray of sparks at his opponent, then instantly froze the floor in a wide area with a Freeze charm, which for the next few seconds would ensnare anyone stepping on it. Only after that did he spin around and hurl a cascading attack spell — a single charm splitting into three fast-moving clots of magical energy, flying toward the Slytherins from behind.
Turning back toward Arcturus, he had already raised a dense shield, ready to receive the blow. But the thick Fumos smoke enveloped him, then the other Gryffindors, who, gaining a brief respite, tried to seize the initiative again.
But the wind from Malfoy's wand turn the smoke against them. Adrian's actions had saved the situation, only to hand the initiative back to the snakes.
Arcturus himself sidestepped the incoming spells, and the next moment, the three Gryffindors, blinded by their own smoke screen, scattered from it in all directions. It was a tactical failure.
Closest to Arcturus was Reed, his back turned. Before he could turn, he instinctively lunged aside, dodging a milky-white Petrificus ray, but a follow-up Stunner caught him, hurling him to the floor. Further success was prevented by a fan of desperate new attacks from Adrian.
The Gryffindor changed tactics. Bursting from the smoke, he unleashed a flurry of fast, sharp attacks on Arcturus, mixing simple banishers with cutting curses and short bursts of fire like Incendio. He seemed to be trying to stun his opponent, to throw off his rhythm with this fierce, unpredictable cacophony. Each spell was precise and fast, at the level of a good fourth-year duelist.
How disappointing it must have been when his opponent… started deflecting them. Simply deflecting.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Each time, Malfoy's wand met the incoming spell with a short, precise jab, sending it into the wall or floor with a dry pop. One beam passed a centimeter from the rising Reed. The spells he couldn't deflect, Arcturus dodged with a slight, almost serpentine twist of his body or turn of his shoulder. He wasn't defending. He was literally controlling the entire battlefield. His style was a demonstration of absolute superiority — in speed, precision, in skill itself. In everything!
Burke, meanwhile, was desperately fending off Cassius Warrington's relentless attacks. If Adrian were in his place, the forces would be equal. But Burke had always been slightly inferior to his friend — and consequently, to Cassius. Not to mention the overall situation was entirely against them.
Cassius, seeing his last attack fail, switched to more aggressive methods.
— Diffindo!
The cutting curse whistled through the air. Burke leaped back, and Reed seized that moment, finally managing to scramble to his feet. His gaze blazed with hatred, his wand rising to send a narrow, deadly stream of fire at Marcus. Incendio was already erupting from his wand, along with his scream.
But Avery spotted the movement through the thinning smoke.
— Depulso!
The banishing charm struck Reed in the chest, hurling him back a few meters. The fire stream slashed across the ceiling, never reaching its target. Avery immediately finished the stunned Gryffindor with a flick of his wrist. A powerful Stunner finally knocked Reed out of the fight. Then Marcus sent magical bindings. Incarcerous ended the fight for Reed, and now he couldn't even move properly.
— Ade! Back to back! — Marvyn shouted, backing toward his friend under the devastating hail of spells from the two Slytherins. Dispelling his shield charms under the barrage from Cassius and Avery, even for a second, would mean defeat.
Malfoy wasn't idle either. Hearing Burke's cry, he finally unleashed his full power on his opponent. At least, that's what an observer would think.
And it was terrifying, terrifying for Adrian. The heat of battle, now nearing its end, began to breach the last dams of his control, but fortunately for all his enemies, he held on for now.
— Ventus Duo!
A powerful gust of wind, at first seeming merely strong, turned into a deafening roar, drowning out all sound for Adrian. He still managed to raise a shielding charm, but those few seconds while the magical shield cracked and bent under the monstrous wind pressure cost him everything. That time was enough for Malfoy.
He had prepared a surprise.
No sooner had the roar of the wind charm died than a reddish Stunner ray, amplified by Duo, slammed into Adrian's cracked shield, followed by a whole barrage of banishers. Ten seconds of such dense spell fire, and even Adrian's strong defense would be shattered. But Arcturus's main goal was elsewhere. On the other side, desperately defending, Burke was slowly backing toward his friend. And they were almost together, back to back.
— Immobulus!
The spell, resembling a clot of blue mist, didn't hit Adrian's shield directly, but its edge, at an angle. A bright flare of magical emanations, like an explosion, couldn't destroy the main shield, but Burke's half-dome, his back to his friend as he fended off attacks from the flank, didn't protect Marvyn from the area stun effect. It wasn't just that he was thrown aside — he was frozen for a moment. The spell was designed to totally stun small creatures, so he'd recover quickly, but that moment decided everything.
Adrian lunged sideways, managing to cover the frozen Burke from two almost simultaneous Petrificus spells. A desperate and skillful move, but it only delayed the inevitable. Even his Protego Duo now seemed a pitiful barrier. Because the next moment, Malfoy used a spell of such power that one wouldn't normally see even in seventh-year duels.
— Everte!
A combat spell of dark crimson, with a powerful, low hum, flew from Arcturus's wand. It wasn't Flipendo or a Stunner. It was something else — a devastating stream of pure force, compressed into a beam like a not-too-long spear.
The most powerful non-Dark spell in his arsenal tore through the corridor with an air-rending whistle. An enhanced version of such a spell had once nearly killed him twice. That's why the strike wasn't aimed at the center of Protego Duo, but at its point of contact with the floor — to avoid severe injury.
A powerful bang and a deafening, dry crack sounded. Even the strong magical stone of the floor, whose solidity exceeded ordinary granite due to school charms, was slightly damaged, leaving a star of small chips after the impact. Adrian's protective dome collapsed, absorbing part of the monstrous energy, but unable to withstand its pressure.
The shockwave of pure force, now uncontained, burst into the collapsing defense.
Adrian, at the epicenter, was hurled two meters into the wall. He struck the stone with his back and shoulder with a dull, bony thud and crumpled, gasping for air. His left shoulder was unnaturally twisted — at least a dislocation. Beneath his clothes, a crimson bruise was surely spreading across his shoulder. And underneath, who knows, a bone might have cracked.
Burke, standing half-bent behind his friend, slightly to the side, was simply rolled across the floor by the wave. He hit hard, the air knocked from his lungs, but on a crest of adrenaline, he even managed to scramble to his feet. His dueling instinct acted faster than the pain. His hand, still convulsively gripping his wand, thrust forward, aiming at Arcturus, who seemed frozen, observing the result of his strike.
In reality, he was mentally kicking himself for again succumbing to the remnants of anger and that bloodlust that only intensified with each painful memory of his kidnapping days.
For a moment on Arcturus's face, there wasn't a triumphant smile, but a brief, predatory smirk — a grimace of dark satisfaction at the power of the blow, though his mind understood he could have been gentler. He certainly noticed Burke's movement and even felt the faint surge of gathering magic in that direction.
And then Arcturus sprang into motion.
His movement wasn't just fast — it was explosive, swift, and therefore particularly terrifying in its senseless excess. The lunge toward the barely-standing Burke took a second.
— Expelliarmus!
The spell shot forth from Arcturus. It tore the wand from Burke's numbed fingers, which he'd held throughout the fight. The wood clinked sharply against the stone and rolled away.
Burke barely had time to cry out before Arcturus was upon him. His free left hand seized the Gryffindor's wrist, twisted it behind his back, and yanked it upward — to the limit where tendons were about to tear and the joint emitted a deathly crack. Burke howled in pain, crumpling helplessly.
— Fulguro! — Arcturus hissed almost in his ear, pressing his wand tip to Burke's ribs.
A short, searing discharge of shock magic coursed through Burke's body. He convulsed, muscles stiffening, and crashed to the floor, twitching silently, eyes rolling back.
It all took less than a couple of seconds.
And it was at this moment, by the wall where Adrian lay, that a final, desperate act was committed. Barely regaining consciousness through the fog of pain, he fumbled for his wand, lying half a meter away. His gaze, burning with rage and pain, found the clustered Slytherins. His thoughts no longer worked properly — only instinct and a burning desire to spoil their victory, to somehow avenge this humiliating defeat. His chapped lips whispered the beginning:
— Bombar…
But he didn't finish.
Avery, who had been standing guard, watching the swift punishment of Burke, reacted faster.
— Expelliarmus! — Marcus shouted sharply.
Adrian's partially formed spell fizzled, escaping his wand as only a pathetic firecracker pop and a puff of acrid smoke that licked his face, singeing his eyebrows. Adrian gasped, his wand flying from his fingers again and skittering across the floor. He made no further attempt to rise. Defeated and slightly broken.
Silence, this time final and irrevocable, fell over the corridor. The air smelled of ozone, dust, and burnt cloth.
I slowly straightened, catching my breath. My hands trembled, not from fear or anger, but from self-control. I had held back, held back with all my might, to avoid plunging headlong into the fight. I was afraid it might give second wind to the dormant curse of my lineage — the House of Black. How I loved this clear, cold reason… Though not so clear — my head was starting to ache terribly…
I surveyed the result of the short battle. The whole fight had taken no more than five minutes. The outcome: three defeated Gryffindors. Reed was stunned and bound. Burke lay unconscious, twitching occasionally. Adrian… Adrian was pinned against the wall, his left shoulder unnaturally twisted, a trickle of blood from a broken brow running down his face, and in his eyes, the wounded pride of one who could do nothing against me. If only he knew how much I had held back…
In his eyes, besides a suppressed scream of pain, there was also anger. Not surprising, given how we had humiliated and injured them… But most importantly — they were alive. And not even seriously injured.
Well, by school standards, seriously; by mine, no. Though, one must consider the injuries I'd endured this summer. I had suffered so many terrible wounds that a simple dislocation seemed a joke.
Of course, I had still succumbed to that bloodlust that always accompanied the anger. It would have been better to part ways immediately after Avery and Cassius appeared, then take revenge through others or covertly. But I think Gryffindor pride won't allow them to report us.