Read 20+ Chapter's Ahead in Patreon
Snape and Professor Flitwick locked eyes. For a heartbeat the world seemed to fall silent, then almost at the exact same instant, both men sprang into motion.
Professor Flitwick struck first. With a sharp, decisive flick of his wand, a blazing streak of blue shot forth, the spell tearing through the air with a hiss as it raced toward Snape.
At the very same moment, his small, compact frame coiled like a spring pushed to its absolute limit. With a sudden snap, he launched himself sideways, vanishing behind the jagged remains of a half-collapsed wall. The movement was so swift and precise that it left nothing but an afterimage in the eye.
No sooner had his figure disappeared than a streak of scarlet light screamed through the air. A Stupefying Charm (Stupefy), sharp as a thunderbolt, slammed exactly into the spot where Flitwick had been standing only a heartbeat earlier.
The ground exploded. Chunks of shattered stone and dust burst outward in a spray, proof of just how terrifyingly fast Snape's counterstrike truly was.
But Flitwick did not falter. Even as his body was still suspended midair, his wand flicked once more. This time his target was not Snape himself but the crumbling brick wall beside him, its foundation already loose and precarious.
"Reductor Curse (Reducto)!"
The professor's sharp cry cut through the chaos. With a deafening crack, the wall detonated, bursting apart into a storm of rubble. Smoke and grit surged skyward, cloaking the battlefield in a choking haze.
Flitwick landed lightly, halting his momentum at once. He tilted his head almost casually, and in that tiny, seemingly effortless motion, he slipped past another of Snape's scarlet curses that lanced through the dust. The spell missed him by a hair's breadth.
At the same instant, his wand flicked again, and the countless shards of stone suspended in the air seemed to shiver under his command.
"Multicorfors!"
The fragments twisted unnaturally, stretching and sharpening until they transformed into hundreds upon hundreds of lethal stone darts, each one glittering with a cold metallic gleam.
They hovered for the briefest pause, as though waiting for the command to strike, then with a shrill whistling roar they plunged downward all at once. The sky itself seemed to darken beneath the storm of arrows, a relentless rain of death aimed directly at Snape.
"Whoosh, Whoosh, Whoosh...!"
The ferocity of the attack was beyond imagination, overwhelming and merciless.
The stands erupted. The audience leapt to their feet as one, the noise swelling to a fever pitch. Especially the Ravenclaws, who screamed themselves hoarse, fists raised high as they cheered wildly for their Head of House.
It seemed certain that Snape would be swallowed whole by the storm of razor-sharp arrows. Yet through the chaos, his black robes did not so much as flutter.
He did not so much as raise an eyebrow. With a movement as restrained as it was decisive, his wand traced a simple, commanding half-arc before him.
"Protego Totalum!"
In an instant, a shimmering dome of protective magic burst outward, curving into the form of a gleaming half-sphere of iron-like strength that wrapped Snape completely within its protective shell.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The storm of stone arrows came crashing down in a frenzy, each impact ringing against the shield like hammer against steel. Sparks burst with every collision, showers of stone dust exploding outward, until the entire barrier was engulfed in a storm of light and rubble.
The surface of the protective dome rippled violently, shuddering under the onslaught, yet it did not give way. With grim resilience, it endured until the last of the deadly barrage had been absorbed.
From the Slytherin section, thunderous cheers erupted at once. Their shouts rolled through the hall like a wave, fierce and triumphant. Even the visiting students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang could not hold back their applause, swept away by the sheer spectacle of the defense.
Excitement blazed in every eye. The roar of voices and pounding hearts seemed to gather above the dueling stage, condensing into a palpable energy that made the air itself vibrate.
Suddenly, a fierce wind swept through the dueling arena!
Leaves and grit whirled into the air, yet instead of clouding vision, the gusts seemed to sharpen it. Every student found themselves able to see the duel more clearly than ever before, catching even the subtlest flicker of movement between the two combatants.
It was their first time truly experiencing the combined effect of the "cheer amplification" and the "magical projection." Here, the audience was not merely watching; they were woven into the battle itself, their presence feeding the intensity. Unlike Quidditch, which was seen from a distance, here every strike, every spell, was thrown directly into their hearts, raw and immediate, impossible to ignore.
Professor Flitwick pressed his advantage without pause. His attacks came like waves, one cresting over another, never allowing Snape even the smallest breath of reprieve.
The moment the last few stone arrows shattered and fell away from Snape's shield, Flitwick struck again. A scarlet Stunning Spell burst from his wand, sharp and fast, and before its light had even faded, his small figure had already darted along the cover of the low wall. He moved with such incredible speed that he left only a faint blur trailing behind.
Snape's expression did not change. His wand flicked and the incoming charm was blocked, its light scattering harmlessly across his defenses. But Flitwick was already a step ahead. His wand slashed once more, and this time its tip leveled directly at the ground beneath Snape's feet.
"Quicksand Trap!"
The stone slabs beneath Snape liquefied in an instant, transforming into a swirling whirlpool of greedy sand. A monstrous suction pulled at him, eager to drag him under and bury him in the earth.
Snape's eyes narrowed, his composure unbroken but his focus razor sharp. His reaction was as fast as lightning.
He pointed his wand downward, channeling a surge of immense power. With a resounding boom, the force erupted outward, breaking the pull of the quicksand and blasting him free. His body shot backward like a fired cannonball, launching clear of the treacherous pit.
Yet Flitwick's follow-up strike was already upon him, swift and unrelenting. The Ravenclaw Head seemed to have predicted the exact arc of Snape's escape.
Just as Snape was hurled backward and had not yet steadied his footing, Flitwick's small figure burst upward from behind a broken wall. With astonishing agility, he vaulted high into the air, his wand tip igniting with a sudden, blinding brilliance.
A hail of luminous projectiles tore through the air in rapid succession.
The glowing missiles streaked across the sky, weaving into a dense lattice of light that formed a deadly net. With uncanny precision, the shimmering mesh descended, ready to ensnare Snape at the very spot where he would land.
The harsh light flickered endlessly, but Snape did not raise a shield. Instead, he angled his wand in an almost impossibly sharp trajectory, pointing not at the barrage above him, but toward the ground where Flitwick's leap would soon end. There, scattered dangerously across the floor, lay a heap of jagged rubble.
"Fulgari!"
A violent shockwave slammed into that heap of debris.
BOOOOM—!
The rubble detonated as if struck by heavy cannon fire. In the blink of an eye, it burst into a storm of stone shrapnel, each fragment propelled at terrifying speed. The fragments fanned outward like a barrage of shotgun pellets, all of them converging mercilessly on the very spot where Flitwick was about to land.
It was a purely physical strike, vast in scope, unavoidable by simple dodging.
Snape's counter was vicious and precise, a ruthless strategy that turned defense into attack and flipped the balance of the duel in an instant.
Faced with the onrushing hail of debris, Professor Flitwick abandoned his control of the luminous net without a second's hesitation.
Here he revealed the astonishing adaptability of a former dueling champion. His wand whirled in front of him at dazzling speed, stirring the air into a violent distortion. In the next heartbeat, a curved shield of rippling force unfolded before him, slick and seamless as polished glass.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
The barrage slammed hard against the warped air barrier. Most of the stones ricocheted away at twisted, unnatural angles, clattering harmlessly into the broken ruins around them. A few managed to pierce through, but Flitwick's small frame moved with breathtaking precision; he twisted, ducked, and spun with astonishing agility, slipping past each shard by the narrowest margin.
And Snape, like a bat dissolving into the depths of shadow, seized his moment. In that fleeting slackening of the glowing net, his body writhed in an almost unnatural contortion, every movement sharp yet fluid. His black robes rippled and snapped in the air like living wings, shrouding his form in darkness, and he slid, silent and unscathed, through a gap so impossibly narrow it seemed no human body could ever pass.
The two men faced each other once more across the wreckage, both of their breathing faintly quickened, both unwilling to give an inch.
The arena was littered with rubble, smoke and dust rising in choking clouds. Several of the low walls bore deep scorch marks where spells had detonated only moments before.
In scarcely ten seconds of combat, attack and defense had exchanged hands countless times, each maneuver faster than lightning, each spell woven with exquisite precision. The students watching were left utterly dazed, their hearts hammering wildly in their chests.
The wind within the dueling arena grew savage. It no longer whispered but howled, a low and mournful cry echoing through the ruins.
Leaves and shards of stone were swept up into the air. This time they did not whirl aimlessly, but spun as though drawn by an unseen force. Their speed mounted, their rotation growing faster and faster.
What had been no more than a wrist-thin dust devil only moments ago swelled rapidly, expanding into a towering column of storm. Gray-black and monstrous, it rose from the arena floor straight into the sky, a dragon of wind and ruin.
It devoured everything in its path with terrifying speed. Shattered stone, splintered beams, and even stray fragments of rubble were dragged upward and consumed by its ravenous spiral, and still it grew, broader and taller with every breath.
This sudden eruption of nature's fury, this unstoppable force wrapped in a roar of destruction, did not wait politely for the duel to conclude. Even as the two wizards stood locked in tense opposition, it barged into the very heart of the battlefield, heedless of their struggle.
It was no longer a backdrop. The storm had taken form as a 'third combatant,' a presence as menacing and unrelenting as the two masters standing against each other.
Snape's robes cracked and snapped under the tearing wind, every fold of black fabric rising and falling like a storm-tossed tide. His pallid face flickered in and out of sight within the shifting veil of dust, yet his eyes remained fixed, sharp as daggers, unblinking as they tracked Flitwick's small figure, equally ensnared within the gale.
Professor Flitwick, his short body buffeted on every side, fought to hold his balance. His graying hair stood on end, each strand crackling in the violent air. Yet his bright eyes showed no trace of fear. On the contrary, they shone with exhilaration, the gleam of a man who had finally found a worthy match.
"Severus…" his voice cut through the storm with astonishing clarity, "it seems our audience is far more enthusiastic than we imagined!"
Snape's lips twitched upward, not in mirth but in something closer to a spasm, a curve of coldness so sharp it could not be mistaken for a smile.
"They are enthusiastic indeed." His head dipped in the barest of nods. "But Professor Flitwick, your comfortable years as a professor… they seem to have dulled the edge of your instincts!"
He spoke quickly, the words whipping out like a whipcrack. Even before the last syllable faded, his wand lunged forward in a stabbing thrust. A surge of dazzling spell-light burst from its tip and slammed straight into the side of the raging tornado.
The colossal funnel shuddered violently, then obeyed his will. Its course swung hard, the monstrous column veering to charge directly toward Flitwick.
In response, Flitwick's eyes flashed with sudden brilliance. "Ascension Charm!"
His wand tapped the air again and again in rapid succession, so quick it blurred. Massive stones scattered across the ground ripped free, leaping upward as if weightless under his command. As they ascended, they spun at breathtaking speed, each one transforming into a titanic projectile.
They roared through the air like enormous cannonballs, their shrieks tearing the sky, and instead of aiming for Snape, every last one of them smashed straight into the onrushing tornado's column.
"Thunderburst!"
Snape's incarnation rang out simultaneously, cold and merciless.
Boom! Boom—BOOM—!
A chain of brutal explosions ripped through the interior and edges of the storm. Shockwaves tore across the dueling ground, shaking the entire arena to its foundations.
A choking wave of smoke and dust surged outward, drowning the platform in an instant.
The tornado convulsed. No longer advancing with steady force, it writhed like a wounded giant serpent, thrashing in blind agony. Its suction turned erratic, surging one moment and collapsing the next, its reach swelling outward only to snap back in sudden, violent contractions.
Chunks of debris, slabs of rock, and entire clouds of warped smoke were flung outward like monstrous shells, hurled into the ruins and against the protective barriers ringing the stage.
Each impact struck with a thunderclap, setting off sharp, panicked cries from the stands.
**
**
[IMAGE]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Chapter End's]
🖤 Night_FrOst/ Patreon 🤍
Visit my Patreon for Early Chapter:
Extra Content Already Available