Since gaining the Agile Casting (Level 1) talent, Sean's spellcasting speed had always outpaced his opponents. But today was the first time he'd encountered someone who could match him spell for spell—and instead of feeling pressured, Sean felt a rising thrill.
Barrett stood opposite him, eyes sharp, wand flashing with increasing speed. Realizing Sean was keeping up, Barrett narrowed his eyes and pushed his casting even faster.
Sean, of course, wasn't about to back down.
He raised his wand, and with barely a breath between incantations, launched a rapid sequence of spells:
"Stupefy!"
"Expelliarmus!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Sectumsempra!"
"Confringo!"
In their hands, spells that usually required full incantations and careful wand work were fired off in rapid succession—shortened, clean, precise. Like dueling professors, or something more dangerous still.
Neither of them wasted time on defense.
Red and blue bolts of light streaked across the space between them. Stunning Spells and Blasting Curses collided mid-air with echoing cracks. Disarming and Body-Binding spells fizzled out against one another. Sectumsempra clashed with Stupefy, spinning off into sparks and smoke. The very air between them sizzled with magical energy.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each impact sent out shockwaves of colored light—scarlet, gold, icy white—like fireworks crackling in the dark.
Barrett's face darkened with every passing second. The pressure from Sean was immense—oppressive, almost unnatural. He had come expecting to dominate, to overwhelm with sheer force and speed. Instead, he found himself slowly being crushed under the weight of Sean's precision and momentum.
And then there was that laugh.
Clear, unrestrained, utterly unbothered.
It echoed across the clearing like a battle cry. Sean's wand moved with sweeping elegance, his spells weaving seamlessly into one another. Barrett didn't just feel like he was fighting Sean—he felt like he was fighting someone evolving in real time, gaining mastery with every flick of the wand.
A chilling thought crawled into his mind, unbidden.
Is he really just Sean Bulstrode? Could he be... the Dark Lord reborn?
That instant of doubt cost him.
"Barrett, you're distracted!"
Sean's voice cut through the crackling air, and with a powerful slash of his wand, he dissolved the incoming curse. The ground beneath Barrett's feet erupted, earth and stone twisting up like living things. Razor-sharp stone spears surged forward, hurling toward Barrett with lethal intent.
Barrett acted fast—his wand snapped up, conjuring high stone walls in a protective ring around him. But Sean was faster. Before the spears even landed, he slashed his wand in a tight arc.
The spears morphed mid-flight—stone melted into glowing blade-tipped chains, which wrapped around Barrett's defenses like serpents. With a sickening screech, the chains twisted tighter and tighter, cracking the stone with every coil.
Boom—
The stone walls shattered inward, fragments exploding like shrapnel.
But Sean's eyes narrowed just in time.
From the crumbling debris, a wisp of white mist burst forth—a shimmering trail of magic. Barrett, or what remained of him, was fleeing, reduced to a glowing mass of spiritual essence, retreating toward the dark edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Sean's grin widened.
Black smoke coiled upward around him, engulfing his figure like a living cloak. His feet left the ground, the magic of his shadow-smoke flight pulling him into the air in silent pursuit.
At the same time, to prevent Barrett from escaping via Apparition, Marwood and another dark wizard capable of the spell transformed into black mist, gliding through the air to cut off his retreat. They hovered close, silent shadows just outside the edge of the forest. The rest of the group—those who couldn't Apparate—rushed in on foot, spreading through the underbrush like a tightening net.
High above the trees, Sean flew at speed, eyes locked onto the silvery trail of light mist that marked Barrett's path through the forest. Sean flew under his own power, not by Apparition, which meant he couldn't cast spells effortlessly mid-flight—but that didn't stop him from trying.
Raising his wand, he fired spell after spell down at the fleeing mist. Explosions followed in his wake. Trees splintered apart; branches and leaves burst into flame; craters tore open in the forest floor.
Barrett had likely intended to Apparate away the moment things went south—but the moment he saw Marwood and the other dark wizard block his escape route, he realized the truth.
There was no way out.
If escape was impossible… then survival demanded a fight.
In a sudden flash, the white mist dissipated as Barrett forcibly ended his Apparition. His body dropped lightly to the ground, and he stepped forward, wand raised, eyes locked on Sean as he hovered above in a swirling cloud of black smoke.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The curse shot from his wand in a flash of emerald light, howling upward toward Sean.
Barrett wasn't bluffing. As a diehard follower of Voldemort, he had learned the Killing Curse, had practiced it. And now, it was his last, desperate trump card.
Sean saw it instantly—the unmistakable hue, the deadly force, the flash of green cutting through the air.
There was only one response.
"Expelliarmus!" Sean roared, slashing his wand downward.
A beam of red light descended from the sky, clashing head-on with the streak of dark green death barreling up from Barrett's wand. The two spells collided midair with a violent crack, sending shockwaves of crimson and emerald bursting outward. Sparks showered the forest as the magical recoil tore through trees, shattered branches, and scorched the earth below. Each stray bolt that missed its mark still left chaos in its wake—trees splintered, ground blasted into blackened craters.
Barrett stood his ground, wand raised, staring up at Sean—who hovered in the air like some vengeful god wrapped in smoke and shadow. In that moment, something strange flickered through Barrett's thoughts.
If this is truly the Dark Lord… then this is what he must have looked like.
The thought chilled him to the bone.
And then, almost immediately, he felt it—the wand in his hand began to tremble, growing heavier by the second. He gritted his teeth and grabbed it with his left hand to steady it, but even with both arms straining, the pressure mounted.
Bang!
Barrett dropped to one knee, gasping. His arms quaked under the weight of the spell. Sean's disarming curse, still colliding with the Killing Curse, was pressing down with terrifying force. The red beam pushed forward inch by inch, slowly swallowing the green. Black veins began creeping up Barrett's wrists—residue of magical backlash from the unstable curse he had dared to cast.
He knew what would happen if this continued.
The Killing Curse would rebound.
And that would mean only one thing: death.
But just as the pressure became unbearable—just as the spell threatened to fold back onto him—the red light suddenly vanished.
The counterforce was gone.
The green spell shattered, dispersing into nothingness.
Barrett barely had time to blink before Sean dropped from the sky, landing fluidly before him. With a sharp motion, Sean raised his wand—and crack!—struck Barrett's wand clean from his grasp. It clattered to the ground.
Barrett froze, stunned, gasping for breath, hands still tingling from the near-backlash.
Sean stood over him, the last traces of black smoke fading from his cloak. His wand lowered slowly, and in his chest.
This was the first time he had defeated someone with magic alone.
Although it was not as refreshing as using the power of the troll, it gave Sean a different kind of thrill.
Sean reached down and gripped Barrett by the neck—not hard enough to choke, but firm enough to command. He leaned in close, his shadow looming over Barrett, who remained on one knee, panting and dazed.
"Barrett," Sean said softly, almost with something resembling respect. "You've impressed me. Your strength isn't bad… your loyalty—misplaced, but intense. So I'll offer you a chance. A rare one."
Dark smoke coiled around Sean like a living thing, wreathing his body in shadows. To Barrett, kneeling below him, he looked less like a boy and more like a god—or a devil.
"I have contract magic," Sean continued, his voice calm but cold. "If you sign it, your life, your death, your will—all of it becomes mine to command. So now you must choose."
He leaned in further, his eyes glowing faintly.
"Will you die clinging to your fanaticism for Voldemort? Or will you live, pledging that same faith… to me?"
A pause.
"Tell me, Barrett."
Barrett stared up at him, breath ragged, mind spinning. In the haze of pain, fear, and awe, a realization struck him like lightning: this was what he had always imagined the Dark Lord would be. Not a snake-faced wraith hiding in shadows, but this—a force of power and dominance, commanding both respect and terror.
And suddenly, the choice didn't seem like a choice at all.
Barrett took a deep breath, the weight of his broken pride dissolving, and locked eyes with Sean. His voice was clear. Steady.
"Fuck Voldemort."