The days grew shorter as autumn deepened, and the air in the castle sharpened with the promise of coming winter. Sagar's reputation had only grown—among professors for his quick mastery of spells, among students for his clever pranks and mysterious air. But in Slytherin, admiration was always tinged with rivalry, and none felt it more keenly than Draco Malfoy.
Draco watched Sagar with a mixture of envy and fascination. He had always been the center of attention in Slytherin, the heir apparent to House Malfoy's legacy. Now, with Sagar's arrival and effortless charm, Draco felt his position threatened. The whispers in the common room, the glances in class, the way even Professor Snape seemed to watch Sagar with grudging respect—it all stoked Draco's pride and resentment.
It was only a matter of time before the tension broke.
The Challenge
It happened one evening after Potions, as the Slytherins made their way back to the common room. Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, blocked Sagar's path.
"Jadhav," Draco drawled, his voice loud enough to draw a crowd, "I hear you're good at magic. Care to prove it? Or are you only clever when no one's watching?"
Sagar regarded him with a calm, almost amused expression. "Are you challenging me, Draco?"
"A wizard's duel. Tonight. Midnight, in the old trophy room," Draco declared, his eyes flashing. "Unless you're afraid."
A ripple of excitement ran through the students. Sagar smiled, bowing slightly. "I accept. But let's make it interesting—no hexes below the belt, and no help from your bodyguards."
Draco bristled, but agreed. The terms were set.
Midnight in the Trophy Room
Word of the duel spread like wildfire. By midnight, a small crowd of students—mostly Slytherins, but a few daring Gryffindors—had gathered in the trophy room, their faces lit by the flicker of wandlight on polished silver.
Draco stood at one end, wand at the ready, his jaw set in determination. Sagar faced him at the other, his expression serene, his eyes glinting with anticipation.
Pansy Parkinson, acting as referee, raised her hand. "On three… One, two, three!"
Draco struck first, sending a jet of sparks toward Sagar, who sidestepped with feline grace and flicked his wand in a counterspell that turned the sparks into harmless butterflies. The crowd gasped.
Draco, undeterred, tried a Disarming Charm, but Sagar parried, sending Draco's spell ricocheting off a shield charm and into a suit of armor, which began to dance wildly.
Sagar retaliated with a clever Confundus Charm, making Draco's wand emit soap bubbles instead of sparks. Laughter rippled through the room, but Sagar's face remained respectful—never mocking, always in control.
Draco, red-faced but determined, tried a final, desperate Jelly-Legs Jinx. Sagar responded with a nonverbal spell that not only blocked the jinx but transfigured Draco's shoes into squeaky rubber slippers. The crowd couldn't help but laugh, and even Draco cracked a reluctant smile at the absurdity.
Sagar lowered his wand and bowed. "Well dueled, Draco. You have a strong arm—just needs a little more focus."
For a moment, Draco hesitated, pride and embarrassment warring in his eyes. Then, with a grudging nod, he extended his hand. "You're not bad, Jadhav. For a newcomer."
Sagar shook his hand, and the crowd erupted in applause. The duel was over, but the rivalry had changed—no longer bitter, but edged with mutual respect.
Aftermath
The duel became the talk of Hogwarts. Some said Sagar had humiliated Draco; others admired the creativity and sportsmanship on display. Even the professors heard of it—though no one could prove who had started it, and Sagar's record remained spotless.
That night, as Sagar returned to his dorm, he felt a sense of satisfaction. He had won more than a duel—he had claimed his place in the tangled web of Hogwarts' alliances and rivalries.
And as he drifted off to sleep, he wondered what new challenges—and new friends—tomorrow might bring.