Chapter 159. Harry and Malfoy
To be honest, Wesson felt that if Malfoy went up against Harry, he wouldn't stand a chance.
But at the moment, there really wasn't a better choice.
Harry agreed to the arrangement as well, a faintly relaxed smile on his face.
He'd been waiting for the chance to face Malfoy for ages…
Harry climbed onto the platform, his eyes never leaving Malfoy's face.
Malfoy looked a little nervous yet somewhat self-assured; the corners of his mouth were lifted, but the way he held his wand was a little stiff.
Wesson naturally became the referee for their duel. He hopped onto the stage and said, "Everyone knows the rules of the duel: no jumping off the platform, no closing for physical attacks, basic non-lethal spells only, until one party concedes or loses the ability to fight back."
He glanced around to make sure the surrounding barriers had been re-stabilised, then gave a slight nod and stepped back. "Ready?"
Harry nodded, taking up a seasoned duelling stance.
Malfoy nodded as well.
Below the stage, Snape's expression had been blank, but when he saw Harry's stance, a flicker of emotion crossed his face.
Why does this fellow's posture look so much like Wesson's?
"Begin!"
Almost the instant Wesson finished speaking, Malfoy shouted an incantation, "Tarantallegra!"
It was a very minor jinx that forced the victim's legs to dance uncontrollably—often used for pranks.
Of course, it wasn't out of place in a fight either.
The spell shot towards Harry at speed.
Harry's eyes narrowed. He raised his wand, held it poised in the air, and called clearly, "Protego!"
Light burst before Harry; the spell broke into a few lingering after-images in mid-air and quickly dissipated.
A few gasps rose from below.
"The Shield Charm? Isn't that something we don't learn until fourth year?" Hermione muttered under her breath at the side when she saw it.
Snape frowned at the sight.
That way of casting the Shield Charm… was exactly cut from the same mould as Wesson's!
Which meant the Shield Charm was, in all likelihood, something Wesson had taught him.
Thinking this, he looked over at Wesson.
Wesson noticed Snape's gaze and smiled, giving him a wink.
How is it? Harry's doing well, isn't he?
Snape silently withdrew his gaze and turned back to the stage.
As things stood, Malfoy's defeat seemed inevitable.
Harry gave Malfoy no time to react. Almost as the defensive charm fell, he shifted from defence to offence.
"Stupefy!"
The incantation flew swift and true, striking Malfoy square in the chest.
Malfoy had no time to respond.
"Bang!"
The spell hit dead-on. Malfoy staggered, dropping to his knees as if struck by a blunt instrument; then his legs buckled and he collapsed onto the platform.
His wand rolled to the floor.
"Draco!" a Slytherin girl below cried out. She was about to rush onto the stage, but Wesson stopped her.
Wesson strode forward, checked Malfoy's condition, then turned to announce to all, "The winner—Harry Potter."
No one had expected the fight to end so quickly.
Well, Harry himself hadn't expected it either.
He'd thought Malfoy could at least trade a couple of volleys with him. It seemed he'd still overestimated Malfoy.
It also, indirectly, proved the results of his summer training.
After a heartbeat of silence, the hall erupted into thunderous cheers.
Especially the Gryffindor section.
Ron threw both hands up, not forgetting to jeer, "Nice one, Harry! Malfoy, is that all you've got?"
Hermione couldn't hide her excitement; the corners of her mouth lifted of their own accord. Over on the Slytherin side it was much quieter—many bowed their heads in silence, though a few resentful stares stayed locked on Harry.
"Don't worry, everyone," Wesson said. "Mr Malfoy is only stunned."
He waved his hand; a gentle "Rennervate!" struck Malfoy.
Malfoy let out a faint grunt and slowly opened his eyes, dazed for a moment.
A heartbeat later he realised he was still on the duelling platform, and his face flushed scarlet.
He struggled to sit up, and his gaze finally settled on Harry's face in front of him.
Harry stood to the side. He did not add to Malfoy's humiliation with words, but gave him a polite nod.
This, however, only made Malfoy more furious and ashamed.
He clenched his teeth, wanting to say something, but in the end no words came out.
Wesson picked up Malfoy's wand from the floor and silently handed it back. "Don't worry, you're not hurt. This was only a small demonstration."
In the end, Malfoy had no choice but to slink off the stage.
Harry gave a slight bow to the students below.
No sooner had he stepped down than the Gryffindor students surged forward, hemming him in.
"Brilliant!" Seamus said at the side.
Hermione shouldered through the crowd to reach Harry and fired off a string of questions. "Harry, that was Protego just now, wasn't it? And you cast so quickly and precisely! When did you learn all that? We haven't even covered it in class yet!"
"I'll tell you later," Harry replied.
Just then, Lockhart came bustling over.
"Spectacular! Absolutely spectacular!" he said, clapping. "Excellent performance, Mr Potter. I knew you could do it. As your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, I'm most gratified—of course, it's very much thanks to my usual guidance…"
Hearing that, Harry couldn't help curling his lip.
His victory had nothing whatsoever to do with the so-called "Defence Against the Dark Arts" professor in front of him.
After Harry and Malfoy finished, Wesson continued pairing off the students.
"Mr Weasley, let me think, you'll be with—"
"I'll go!"
"Let me!"
Unexpectedly, when it came to Ron, several voices rose from the Slytherin crowd all at once.
Wesson arched a brow, his gaze sweeping over the eager Slytherin students, a little puzzled.
Harry took one look at the students calling out and immediately understood.
Those Slytherins were the unlucky ones who'd been hit by Ron's Slug-Vomiting Charm earlier.
Ron's face soured; he shot an imploring look at Harry and Hermione.
Just as Harry and Hermione were about to say something—
Wesson hurriedly cut in, "Mr Weasley, you're with Granger."
"Why?" a Slytherin boy shouted in displeasure—one of those who'd suffered from Ron's Slug-Vomiting Charm.
Wesson's eyes narrowed slightly. "No reason."
For an instant, the air in the hall seemed to freeze.
The Slytherin student opened his mouth, then, under Wesson's calm gaze, backed down.
No joke—Wesson was not about to let today's Duelling Club meeting turn into an all-out brawl between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
"All right," Wesson clapped his hands, his voice warm again. "Find your partners and practise freely.
Remember—this is practice, not a real fight. And use your wands, not your fists."
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