I stepped forward as the applause continued rolling through the hall, echoing against ancient stone and enchanted portraits alike. Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall stepped down from the raised platform together, still speaking quietly between themselves as the damaged dueling ring slowly began repairing itself beneath lingering traces of magic.
Cracked stone sealed.
Broken roots withdrew.
Scattered debris dissolved into silver light.
The hall restored itself with patient, ancient precision.
I walked toward the center of the platform, clapping steadily.
"Let's all thank Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall," I said clearly, my voice carrying across the chamber, "for an amazing insight into duels of two different disciplines—Herbology and Transfiguration."
I turned slightly toward the gathered students.
"A round of applause."
The hall answered immediately.
The applause this time was louder, more genuine. Even the older students were engaged now, conversations breaking out in low excited murmurs as they tried to dissect what they had just witnessed.
"I didn't even know Herbology could do that."
"McGonagall transfigured the battlefield itself—"
"Did you see the crystal roots?"
"Those weren't standard defensive chains—"
Several seventh years had already started arguing theory among themselves.
Good.
That was the point.
I let the noise settle before continuing.
"Now," I announced evenly, "for our next duel—Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape."
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Even the older students straightened differently this time.
If McGonagall and Sprout had inspired admiration, this pairing inspired caution.
Professor Flitwick practically bounced onto the platform with visible enthusiasm, robes swaying around him as he climbed onto the raised ring. He looked cheerful—almost harmless at first glance.
Then he drew his wand.
Everything changed.
His posture shifted subtly.
Lower center of gravity.
Minimal movement.
Perfect balance.
Several older Ravenclaws went visibly still.
A seventh-year Hufflepuff near the back muttered under his breath, "That's a professional dueling stance."
Beside him, a first year frowned in confusion, clearly not understanding what was different.
Professor Snape ascended the platform without hurry.
Black robes flowed behind him like living shadows as he stepped onto the ring, expression unreadable as ever. Yet the moment he reached the center, the atmosphere around him seemed to tighten.
There was no flourish to him.
No visible preparation.
Just stillness.
The dangerous kind.
Professor Flitwick smiled pleasantly. "Do try not to terrify the students too much, Severus."
Snape's expression didn't shift.
"No promises."
A few nervous laughs spread through the students.
A nervous first-year Hufflepuff near the back swallowed hard as he looked toward Snape.
"Professor Snape is really scary," he whispered quietly to his friend. "He'll probably win easily, right? I just hope he doesn't hurt Professor Flitwick."
Several older students nearby immediately turned toward him.
Then one of the seventh-year Ravenclaws let out a short laugh—not mocking, just genuinely surprised.
"Hurt Professor Flitwick?" he repeated.
The younger student blinked uncertainly.
The older Ravenclaw shook his head. "First years really don't know anything yet."
A Slytherin seventh year folded his arms and spoke without taking his eyes off the platform.
"Professor Flitwick was a dueling champion," he said calmly. "Not a school champion. A proper one."
Another older student nodded immediately.
"He represented Britain internationally for years."
"And won," the Ravenclaw added. "Repeatedly."
The younger students straightened.
Even some of the Gryffindors looked stunned.
"Wait," someone whispered, glancing toward the tiny Charms professor now standing cheerfully on the platform. "Professor Flitwick?"
The older students exchanged amused looks.
"That's why everyone takes Charms seriously," one of them said. "He's terrifying once a wand comes out."
Near the center of the hall, Professor Flitwick smiled pleasantly, entirely unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the conversation happening around him.
Professor Snape remained motionless opposite him, black robes hanging still around his frame like gathered shadows.
The professors inclined their heads.
Wands rose.
"Begin," McGonagall said crisply from the sidelines.
The duel exploded into motion.
There was no opening exchange.
No testing phase.
A streak of silver light crossed the platform so quickly that most first years physically flinched before realizing Flitwick had moved, not the spell.
At the same instant, Snape's wand flicked once.
A translucent shield appeared at an angle rather than directly ahead, redirecting the incoming curse sideways instead of blocking it outright. The redirected spell slammed into the outer wards with enough force to make the runes flare bright blue.
Before anyone could process that exchange, Flitwick was already attacking again.
Three curses fired in seamless succession.
Blue.
Gold.
White.
Not separate castings.
A chain.
The spells curved through the air from different angles simultaneously, forcing layered defense instead of straightforward blocking.
Several younger students lost track of them completely.
Snape moved only inches.
His wand blurred through compact, economical motions as shimmering barriers unfolded around him in overlapping planes. One curse ricocheted upward. Another dissolved against dark silver magic. The third—
Vanished entirely.
Counter-cursed before impact.
The older students reacted immediately.
"He canceled the spell itself," a seventh-year Slytherin whispered sharply.
"Without verbal casting," another added.
Flitwick smiled wider.
Then he disappeared.
Not truly vanished—moved.
So fast that for half a second he became almost impossible to follow.
Tiny compared to most duelists, Flitwick used that size mercilessly. He darted across the platform with astonishing speed while firing precise curses between movements, each one layered behind the last to pressure defenses from multiple angles.
Momentum.
Continuous.
Relentless.
The duel had already surpassed what most students thought spellcasting looked like.
There were no dramatic pauses.
No shouted incantations.
Just flowing sequences of magic chained together faster than many students could comprehend.
Snape answered with terrifying restraint.
Where Flitwick's style flowed outward, Snape's compressed inward.
Every spell served purpose.
A flick redirected momentum.
A slash interrupted spell formation.
A silent curse forced repositioning.
Nothing wasted.
At one point Flitwick launched a stunning spell low while simultaneously conjuring razor-thin arcs of cutting magic from above.
Snape rotated smoothly.
His shield absorbed the stunner while his free hand seized one of the torch stands lining the edge of the platform and transfigured it mid-motion into a spinning iron barrier that intercepted the cutting curses in a shower of sparks.
Gasps erupted around the hall.
"He transfigured during defense?"
"That wasn't even his focus spell—"
Flitwick laughed delightedly. "Still cheating through efficiency, I see."
Snape's black eyes narrowed faintly.
Then the hall blurred.
That was the only way to describe it.
For several seconds, the duel accelerated beyond what most first years could follow at all. Spells collided in rapid flashes of silver and blue light while both professors moved through the platform with frightening precision.
Silent casting.
Counter-curses.
Layered wards.
Redirections.
Magic folded into magic faster than the eye could properly process.
Even many older students had stopped trying to follow individual spells and were instead tracking patterns of movement and momentum.
Only the Heads of House seemed entirely calm.
Then, suddenly—
Flitwick fired a narrow crimson curse aimed directly at Snape's wand hand.
At the exact same instant, Snape launched a black-purple curse toward Flitwick's center mass.
The hall froze.
Both spells were dangerous.
Both professors canceled their own magic simultaneously barely inches before impact.
The curses dissolved harmlessly into sparks.
Silence followed.
Not because the duel lacked intensity—
But because everyone present had just realized something important.
Both professors had been holding back the entire time.
__________________________
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