Chapter 158. The Result of the Duel
When Wesson and Snape were trading spells in full fever,
Harry, down below the platform, slapped Ron excitedly on the back. "Did you see that? Professor Wesson is completely suppressing Snape!"
Ron stared unblinking at the duel on the stage. "I know—anyone can see that."
Clearly, the duel between Wesson and Snape had the audience firmly in its grip.
Smooth, clean, dashing spellwork—anyone would find it a pleasure to watch.
Ron suddenly developed a keen interest in duelling; he thought that if he were standing where Wesson was, that would be quite the glorious sight.
At the same time, a fine sheen of sweat had already broken out across Snape's forehead on the duelling stage.
He had been driven back to the last fifth of the platform; a bit farther and he would be out of bounds—and beaten.
The hem of his black robes had just been torn by a grazing Severing Charm, exposing the dark grey lining beneath.
Damn it.
How could this fellow be so strong?
Snape could scarcely believe it.
After all, he had crossed wands with Wesson last year. Back then, he had even been able to keep Wesson under pressure.
But now, in both speed and power, Wesson's spells were nothing like before.
Under Wesson's fierce tempo, Snape could only just manage to defend himself; counterattacks were exceedingly difficult.
What was even more unbelievable was that Wesson kept acting as if it were all effortless.
Clearly, he still wasn't using his full strength.
Snape knew that unless he used his most proficient Dark Magic—say, Sectumsempra—
he would have no chance of winning.
And yet, what would it change even if he did?
He didn't believe Wesson had no trump cards of his own—like those plant magics of his. Those were not to be trifled with.
Just as Snape was torn over whether to use Dark Magic,
Wesson's barrage gradually slowed, and at last he ceased his attack.
"Demonstration's over, Professor Snape," Wesson twirled his wand and slid it lightly into his sleeve, smiling. "I think the students have a decent grasp of a duel's flow."
Snape's expression shifted between shadow and light. He straightened the torn corner of his robe and rasped in his uniquely low voice, "We haven't decided a winner yet, Professor Wesson. Are you afraid?"
He would not concede Wesson's victory; after all, he had yet to use the spells at which he excelled.
Who would lose or win was still far from certain.
However, Wesson shook his head and said easily, "That's enough, Professor Snape. If we keep going, the students might get hurt."
As he spoke, he pointed to the cracked floorboards beneath their feet; a few planks had already buckled up, exposing the supports underneath.
The transparent barrier he had set earlier was veined with fractures as well.
Snape's gaze swept the battered stage, and he could only nod in reluctant acknowledgement.
Of course he knew Wesson had a point, but the unwillingness in his chest would not let him simply drop it.
"If you want to carry on to settle it, we might need somewhere a good deal more spacious," Wesson rubbed his chin and suggested.
Hearing that, Snape slowly withdrew his wand and said, face taut, "Another day, then. I'll be waiting."
With that, Snape stepped down from the duelling platform.
The duel between Wesson and Snape thus ended in an imperfect fashion.
Even if it fizzled a bit at the end, it was, on the whole, a high-quality, splendid duel.
At once, the students burst into thunderous applause.
Some even began chanting Wesson's name.
Harry clapped, flushed with excitement, trying to squeeze to the front of the crowd, but he accidentally bumped someone's shoulder.
"Sorry—" he said under his breath.
However, when he saw the person's face, his expression cooled.
Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy looked sour; he had clearly noticed his Head of House coming off second best in the duel.
"Watch it, Potter," he said coldly. "Why aren't you off with your Mud—… riff-raff friends."
Harry noticed that Malfoy had been about to say "Mudblood," but after a glance at Snape he swallowed the word.
"Who I spend time with isn't your business," Harry considered, then changed tack with a smile. "It was a decent duel, wasn't it? Although Professor Snape… lost."
Harry raised his voice deliberately so the Slytherin students around Malfoy would hear.
"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy's face went scarlet in an instant. "Are you blind? Professor Snape didn't lose."
"All right, you're right," Harry shrugged and said nothing more.
Malfoy's frame of mind had already shifted.
That was the point.
Meanwhile, Lockhart had somehow reappeared on the stage.
"Thank you! Many thanks to Professor Wesson and Professor Snape for that marvellous demonstration," Lockhart smoothed his tousled hair and flashed a brilliant smile. "Although to be honest, if I were the one up there… using my true strength, I could have finished it in three minutes! After all, in Wanderings with Werewolves I describe a similar scene…"
A small pocket of boos rose from the crowd.
Ron muttered to Hermione at his side, "Now do you see Lockhart's real level?"
"I've seen it for quite a while," Hermione said evenly.
Lockhart, however, had an excellent mentality.
He pretended not to hear the stirrings below and kept his dazzling grin. "Now, I'll have you pair off in twos for practical exercises! Professor Wesson, Professor Snape, do lend a hand."
Wesson nodded, stepped into the crowd, and began assigning partners.
Lockhart and Snape did likewise.
When he reached Harry, Wesson hesitated.
Who should he assign as Harry's partner?
Honestly, if he had to pick from among the second-years, no one was quite suitable.
After all, following Wesson's summer training, Harry did possess a certain fighting capacity, and his talent for duelling was remarkable; he could even match some capable upper-years.
Most second-years, while not entirely incapable of fighting, were indeed far behind Harry by comparison.
At that moment, Lockhart noticed the situation and came over as well.
"Ah, Potter," said Lockhart, "you can pair with Granger—"
"I will!"
Malfoy suddenly shouldered his way out of the crowd, striding quickly to plant himself between Harry and Lockhart.
His voice was louder than usual, jarringly so.
Harry narrowed his eyes, about to speak, but Lockhart beat him to it.
"Excellent!" he applauded, his face wreathed in smiles. "We happen to need two students to demonstrate—just you two, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy! Up on the stage, please."
Malfoy scrambled up onto the platform at once.
Seeing this, Wesson quietly cast a Mending Charm on the damaged stage.
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