Charleston knew he had crossed a line, and facing Madam Mantha left him wracked with guilt.
He approached the professor, his voice trembling slightly. "Good morning, Madam Mantha."
"Good morning, Mr. Joyce," Mantha replied smoothly, adjusting the silk cuffs of her robes. "Since you initiated this duel, I assume you are highly confident in your dueling abilities. I sincerely hope your performance reflects that. As for your other actions... we will discuss them after the match."
Charleston wasn't an idiot; he knew exactly what she meant. Put on a good show, and he might get out of this without a severe punishment. Embarrass himself, and he was dead meat.
Taking several deep breaths, Charleston offered a heavy, solemn nod.
"Step up to the platform," Mantha instructed, turning her attention to Richie. "I will referee this duel."
Charleston and Richie climbed onto the raised white stone platform, taking their places on opposite ends and drawing their wands.
Madam Mantha stood in the center, evaluating them both. Charleston's eyes darted around, betraying his sheer panic and anxiety, while Richie stood perfectly still, looking completely unbothered.
Mantha let out a quiet sigh. Sometimes, you could predict the outcome of a duel just by looking at the combatants before the first spell was even cast.
The surrounding spectators fell dead silent.
Once both boys were in position, Mantha smoothly took control of the room, speaking in flawless English.
"Duelists, take your marks. Bow to your opponent!"
Both boys raised their wands vertically, then offered a crisp, formal bow.
"Wands at the ready!"
They raised their wands, pointing them squarely at each other.
"The duel will commence after a countdown of three!"
"Three... Two..."
"One!"
The second the countdown hit one, Madam Mantha leaped off the stone platform.
Simultaneously, a sharp, clear voice rang out.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
It was Richie.
With a rapid, practiced flick of his wand, a streak of grey magic shot across the stage before Charleston could even process the word "Go."
"Expelli—"
Charleston barely got his wand up. Before the first syllable of his spell fully left his mouth, the Full Body-Bind Curse slammed into his chest. His body locked up entirely, and he tipped backward like a felled tree.
Thud.
Charleston hit the stone floor hard. His wand rolled out of his frozen grip, but his arm remained rigidly raised in a casting position. His eyes darted wildly around the room in absolute terror.
It's over.
Seeing that his opponent was completely incapacitated, Richie calmly lowered his wand and turned to look at Madam Mantha, who was standing at the edge of the stage, deep in thought.
Truth be told, Richie didn't know any advanced dueling techniques. But he did know one incredibly simple, highly effective strategy that beat all the flashy maneuvers in the world: speed.
As long as he cast his spell faster and completely neutralized the opponent in the first exchange, he won. It was that simple.
And Richie had executed it perfectly.
Madam Mantha stared at the paralyzed Charleston, her eyelids lowered. A moment later, she formally announced the result.
"The victor is Mr. Richie Harland of Hogwarts!"
The Beauxbatons students in the stands were completely stunned.
Charleston hadn't even had a chance to react! The Hogwarts kid just threw out a basic Body-Bind Curse and won? The whole thing took less than a second!
"Charleston is absolutely pathetic!"
"He didn't even cast a single spell! If Professor Chrono (the Dueling instructor) hears about this, he'll make him practice the Disarming Charm five hundred times before he's allowed to leave class!"
"Oh, by Flamel! I swear I just saw the shadow of that Hogwarts professor in him!"
"Silence!" Mantha snapped, leveling a glare at the stands. The students instantly shut their mouths.
She turned her attention back to Richie, studying him for a moment before speaking.
"Mr. Harland, your dueling technique is highly impressive. It immediately reminds me of your Head of House, Professor Flitwick. Two years ago, he came to Beauxbatons and challenged three of our dueling professors. He ended every single match with that exact same lightning-fast casting and absolute precision."
"That is exactly why his portrait hangs over there, right on the Wall of Honor in the Star-Wand Dueling Hall." Mantha pointed toward Flitwick's photo on the wall.
Richie blinked in surprise. So that was why Flitwick's picture was here.
To put it bluntly: Professor Flitwick had shown up, completely dismantled their staff, and Beauxbatons had hung his picture up as a permanent, humiliating reminder to train harder.
And now, here Richie was—Flitwick's student—standing in the exact same spot, effortlessly crushing a Beauxbatons student...
Honestly, it was a little embarrassing.
Mantha waved a hand, and Charleston's friends quickly rushed the stage, hauling his rigid body out of the hall.
"As you just witnessed, our younger students—much like Mr. Joyce—still severely lack the courage and decisiveness required to face a true challenge," Mantha continued. "Professor Chrono always says that true skill can only be forged in actual combat."
"Therefore, I formally ask that you accept further dueling challenges... from any Beauxbatons student in their third year or below."
"It would be an invaluable cultural exchange, allowing our younger generation to personally experience the art of Hogwarts dueling."
Mantha's request didn't just shock Richie; it sent a wave of agitation through the Beauxbatons students in the stands.
By asking him to stay and fight, Mantha was basically admitting that this Hogwarts kid was leagues ahead of her own students. And he didn't even look that old! Wasn't she just inflating his ego while publicly humiliating her own school?
Richie frowned deeply. He was only here because his aunt brought him on a tour. The first duel was an accident; he had accepted it without even knowing what it was.
But if he agreed to Mantha's "request" now, he would literally be doing exactly what Professor Flitwick did: systematically dismantling the school's pride.
How could he do that? As a polite, civilized, friendly representative of Hogwarts, he couldn't just beat up a bunch of foreign kids! The global wizarding community is one big family, right?
Richie shot a desperate look at Annabelle, silently begging her to save him from this mess. (As for the fact that she was the one who got him into this mess in the first place... that was an argument for later).
Catching his eye, Annabelle gave him a conspiratorial wink and flashed an "OK" sign.
Richie: ?
Annabelle cleared her throat and stepped forward, addressing Madam Mantha.
"Madam Mantha, if I recall correctly, the Beauxbatons Library is strictly off-limits to outside visitors?"
Mantha offered a slight nod. "That is correct. It houses many of Master Flamel's original alchemical manuscripts. To ensure their protection, the library is entirely restricted."
Annabelle nodded slowly, her tone suddenly loaded with implication.
"Well... my nephew, Richie, belongs to Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts. His absolute favorite thing in the world is burying himself in a library, studying and examining rare, historical texts..."