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Students from fifth to seventh year weren't supposed to be at the Grand Hall.
They had their Intra-School Competition tomorrow.
If they wanted to secure a position within the top 10 in their group, every second of preparations mattered.
However, someone had heard the wind of something incredible happening in the Grand Hall.
Darcie Malfoy had been chosen as the first student to fight.
That alone was enough.
Darcie wasn't just a celebrity.
She was a prodigy when it came to magic.
Professor Flitwick had crowned her with the potential of the greatest duelist.
Professor Snape had already accepted her as a personal assistant in potioneering.
Professor McGonagall had declared that there had been no student who could and, perhaps, would ever match Darcie in the field of transfiguration.
Professor Sprout had doubted that the only reason Darcie wasn't the greatest in Herbology was because of her lack of interest.
Darcie had fought with Dumbledore by her side on the last Halloween, planting a full-grown Werewolf into the wall.
She had survived the curse of ice.
She wasn't just a witch.
She was The Witch.
So, all had rushed, leaving their dorms, to see her duel, hoping they would gain some kind of inspiration.
The only thing that troubled them was that what if they were too late and the match was already over?
So, when the crowd of students arrived at the many entrances of the Grand Hall and heard nothing, their faces fell.
Yes, they thought, it was already over.
Then their gazes landed on the dueling platform, their eyes squinting against the blue radiance.
…
There wasn't a student who didn't gasp at the sight.
First, it was the levitating, dueling platform itself. The white floor was laden with blood.
So much blood, in fact, that even the students peeking inside the Grand Hall from the entrances could see it.
Second, it was the person for whom they had rushed here.
Darcie Malfoy's golden-white hair was stuck to her face. Her white shirt, with sleeves rolled up, was intact. Her black pants were fine, too. There was nothing wrong with her black shoes as well.
But… the way she was holding her left hand…
They looked down at that left hand and gasped again.
Darcie's left hand's fingers were twisted at odd angles, dripping blood on the floor.
If they were any closer, like the ones who were right next to the dueling platform, they could have seen the bones as well.
She was gasping, pain making her face twitch now and then.
And her poisonous, green eyes were blurring, gaining a darker, blacker color.
Then, in this stupefying silence, they looked away from her, to the third sight that made them gasp.
Opposite Darcie stood a knight in blue armor — giving off blue flames as if the armor itself was nothing but a condensed form of those flames. And incomprehensible runes were dancing around him, worshiping him.
They couldn't see the face of this student for the helmet covered it as well.
However, through the helmet's slits, they saw his eyes glowing blue.
The radiant knight then outstretched his hands.
With a buzzing boom, blue flames came rushing in from the surroundings, becoming hilts of two greatswords.
Then, slowly, the swords' blades began taking shape, all the runes around him trembling.
Darcie's face twisted in pain and… were they seeing it true?!
Was that… anger on her face?!!
No student of Darcie's fan club had seen her like this.
No student in the Hogwarts had seen her like this.
Except for her friends, none knew her like this.
Those poisonous green eyes became black.
Black flames began rippling off her.
On the dueling platform, a fallen wand cracked with green-black lightning.
In the front of the Grand Hall, where the professors were seated, the Headmaster left the table in such a hurry that one could have taken him as a young man.
What in the name of Merlin was going on?!!!
"Oi…" the knight suddenly said, his words a buzz in all ears. "Get a… hold on yourself… Darcinominium…"
Darcie's entire body shook, the blackness in her eyes melting away with shock.
Then, just when it felt like doom had arrived, it happened.
With a poof, blue flames exploded off the knight, vanishing instantly. It was like someone had poured a tub of water on him.
The armor disappeared and the student within revealed himself.
Black hair. Gryffindor's tattered robe. Torn white shirt.
Eyes rolled back into his head.
With a thud, he fell face first.
And it was over.
…
"BLACKKKKKKKKKK!!!"
As Madam Villanelle rushed up the dueling platform, half the Gryffindor shouted Black's name. Harry and Ron didn't even shout, their faces speaking for themselves.
Pale. Blue. Red. As if they had seen ghosts coming alive and then dying again.
Draco, along with Daphne and Hermione, was making their way toward Darcie.
From behind her, a petrified Umbridge saw Black falling unconscious. She smirked. Caring for nothing, raising her wand, she erupted, "Winner Darcie Malfoy!!!"
The Slytherin were shameless enough to roar out cheers.
Everyone else was just too caught up in the moment.
Standing on the platform, short of breath, Darcie didn't feel like a winner at all.
Just before the moment she was about to knock Arlen Black out of his goddamn mind, the blue flames had become a breastplate in front of him, taking on the blow.
It was like she had punched slabs of feet-thick steel.
Darcie looked at her twisted fingers.
Why was she even standing, she didn't know.
"Here!" Someone passed her a potion. "Drink this, girl."
Darcie could barely see.
The adrenaline's coming off… she realized, the thought springing in the back of her mind.
But before the real pain of those broken fingers could find her brain, the potion sent her to dreams.
Professor Snape tapped Darcie with his wand, making her levitate next to him.
"I will take her to the hospital wing," he drawled, looking at Dumbledore, who nodded.
Both wizards, of course, completely ignored the very existence of Umbridge who was strangely giggling to herself.
On the other side, Madam Villanelle did the same with Black, somehow assuring Harry and Ron.
"Professor!" Draco and the two girls ran toward Snape.
Dumbledore put himself between them.
"Mr. Malfoy, please," he said, bringing a smile to his face. "Ms. Darcie Malfoy will be alright. You three need to stay at Grand Hall."
The students, who heard Dumbledore, suddenly realized something.
They hadn't been watching the duel of the century between two rivals or something.
It was just a match—the first of many. Now, as the first two students were going to the hospital wing, it was their turn.
Their faces paled.
Dumbledore saw the doubts on their faces like reading a book.
"Everyone…" he said slowly, but his voice boomed in the students' ears. They all turned their heads to look at him. Even the students gathered outside the Grand Hall could see his face now.
Dumbledore smiled at them all.
Then his smile vanished.
"This is it…" he told them. "No Albus Dumbledore can stand against all the darkness. No ministry can stand against it, either. There will be no myths coming alive to stand in your place when the times come to face it.
"The myths are inside you—in each of you. Bring them out."
Blood rushed to the students' heads as they heard the Headmaster, their fingers balling into fists.
Dumbledore pointed toward the bloodied, dueling platform.
"Stand here today!" he roared, his blue eyes pulsating. "And prove this to the world — Prove it to yourself.
"Let them know that the students of Hogwarts don't fear any doom."
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