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The students' fervor surged like invisible kindling, each cry and cheer feeding the raging magical tornado that roared in the center of the arena.
Under the subtle, half-deliberate urging of the two powerful wizards, the violent storm showed no sign of dying down. Instead, it swelled, growing ever more terrifying, as though their duel itself was pouring fuel into its hungry core.
The balance of the fight began to shift in silence.
Snape and Flitwick grew wary, their every strike measured with greater care. Each spell had to be calculated not only against the opponent's defense, but also against the devouring pull of the storm.
That swelling tornado was like an unseen judge looming over them both. Its deep rumble rose and fell, not with words, but with a thunderous insistence that seemed to press upon their hearts: finish this quickly!
The duel reached its fever pitch. Two evenly matched opponents, pouring forth the wealth of a lifetime's mastery, unleashed spells of staggering force. Brilliant arcs of power crackled and clashed, some striking clean, others grazing by, and many ripped away by the hurricane, twisted into the howling currents of the storm.
The magical tornado ballooned like an overfilled bladder of air, swelling at a speed visible to the naked eye. Within its whirling core, energy thrashed and roared, a low, guttural growl that made the onlookers' chests tighten and their breath catch.
At last, after endlessly gorging itself on the aftershocks of their spells, the colossal vortex swelled until it nearly consumed the entire dueling ground.
The towering pillar of wind strained against its own limits. The storm wall, once a dense gray-black barrier, had thinned to near transparency, and deep within its heart flickered an ominous, blinding light, like the core of a newborn sun on the verge of bursting.
Then Snape's slicing curse struck home. It was a single stroke, but it became the final straw that broke the balance.
RUMBLE—!
A deafening roar shook the heavens.
With a sound like the sky itself tearing open, the swollen tornado detonated. In an instant it was no longer wind, but raw destruction unleashed, exploding outward with the force of a powder keg ignited by its fuse.
The shockwave tore across the dueling grounds, flattening everything in its path. The floor of the arena heaved as if struck by a hammer, stone and earth bursting apart. Shattered rock, splintered beams, and clods of dirt were flung high into the air, only to be seized again by the maelstrom of released energy and ground down to nothing, reduced to drifting dust.
The thunder of the blast drowned out the spectators' cries. Their gasps and screams were swallowed whole, smothered beneath the overwhelming roar of destruction.
But in that very instant, two radiant shields flared to life. Pure, concentrated light enveloped the duelists, holding firm against the storm's wrath and anchoring their figures at the very eye of the chaos.
A breath later, a gentle breeze swept across the arena. Calm and cleansing, it scattered the suffocating smoke and choking dust in one effortless stroke.
The dueling ground gradually cleared before all eyes. Snape and Professor Flitwick stood a dozen feet apart, each encased in the lingering glow of protective enchantments. Neither bore the slightest wound.
And before them, from the torn earth at the center of the arena, a massive stone stele rose with a grinding rumble. Its surface shimmered with flowing light, the brilliance twisting and reforming until it locked into a single, resounding word:
DRAW!
No further words were spoken. With quiet understanding, the two professors lowered their wands. Side by side, they turned to face the roaring audience. With movements solemn and precise, they bowed deeply, honoring both the duel and the crowd that had witnessed it.
Snape's black robes billowed behind him as he swept from the arena without looking back. Professor Flitwick, by contrast, straightened his back proudly, raised his tiny fist toward his house, and gave it a spirited shake. His gesture was met with a shriek of wild delight from the Ravenclaws, their cheers rising even higher than before. Only then, buoyed by their roar, did he leave the stage, his steps quick and light.
Blinding flashes burst in rapid succession, magical cameras firing from every angle. The sharp clicks of shutters rang out like a storm of snapping twigs.
Reporters from every wizarding newspaper crowded along the edges of the stands, their eyes gleaming like searchlights. They drank in every last detail, greedy to extract more material from this spectacle of a duel.
The first match had ended with both Heads of House striking each other down!
Yet the clash had been pushed to its absolute peak, their mastery on full display. Together they had ignited the hearts of every young witch and wizard present, setting Hogwarts alight with passion.
Headmaster Dumbledore rose to his feet, smiling as he lifted a hand. With a gentle downward press, he quieted the thunderous cries, and his voice rang out clear and commanding, carrying to every corner of the venue.
"My deepest thanks to Severus and Filius for the unparalleled spectacle they have given us tonight. A duel worthy of a textbook, a demonstration that will be remembered. Though they did not decide victory or defeat, their courage, their wisdom, and the brilliance of their magic have shone brightly upon Hogwarts."
He paused, allowing his piercing blue gaze to sweep slowly across the expectant audience. Then, with solemn weight in his voice, he proclaimed, "Now, let us take a brief respite and prepare to welcome the second contest, one that has stirred anticipation no less fervent. Entering the arena, our extraordinary master of Transfiguration, Professor Minerva McGonagall!"
His hand lifted again, this time pointing toward the far end of the teachers' dais.
"And standing against her was… Professor Sargeras Greengrass, whose strength and skill speak for themselves! Ladies and gentlemen, let us watch closely and see what unfolds!"
"WOOOOOHHHH!"
The little lions of Gryffindor immediately erupted in howls of excitement, a wave of noise that shook the stands. Yet amid their jubilant shouts ran a thread of uneasy murmurs.
"Professor McGonagall… do you think she'll be alright?" Seamus swallowed hard, his gaze fixed nervously on the tall, commanding figure of Sargeras. "I mean… Professor Greengrass isn't exactly someone you'd want to mess with…"
"Don't talk nonsense, Seamus!" Neville's face flushed crimson as he clenched his fists tight, as though trying to lend his strength to Professor McGonagall. "She's the Deputy Headmistress! My gran always says she's unbelievably powerful…"
Ron joined in, frowning as he tried to recall. "Yeah, but… have any of you actually seen Professor McGonagall fight before? I mean properly fight? Besides taking points off or handing out detention…"
"You idiot, Transfiguration is hardly about turning a lectern into a mouse!" Hermione said without even turning her head. Her voice carried the sharp impatience of someone correcting a very obvious mistake. "Professor Greengrass already told us in our very first Dueling lesson that Transfiguration is a battlefield-level discipline, a form of magic that can change the tide of battle. And Professor McGonagall is a master of it."
"Speaking of that…" Dean Thomas cut in eagerly, his eyes still sparkling with excitement from the last duel, "I never expected Professor Flitwick to be so fierce! He's always so kind and cheerful in class, but when he fights — blimey, he's terrifying!"
"Professor Flitwick was a dueling champion in his youth. Of course he's strong," Harry said, his eyes fixed unblinking on the stage. His voice was calm, though touched with surprise. "What I didn't expect was Snape. He was incredible too… In the very first class, Professor Greengrass completely overwhelmed him, so I thought he would—"
Ron, sitting beside him, nodded quickly, cutting in before Harry could finish. His agreement was emphatic, almost relieved, as though Harry had voiced the very thought he had been holding back.
"By the way… where's Professor Sprout?" Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff asked suddenly, glancing around with a puzzled expression on his round face. "Why isn't she here?"
"Oh, come on, Ernie. Between dueling and magical plants, you know which one she prefers…" someone muttered with a grin.
"That's true," another added with a soft laugh. "Professor Sprout is so gentle and kindhearted she can't even bring herself to use a harsh banishing charm on mischievous house-elves…"
"Shhh—be quiet now, the duel's about to start!"
At once, all eyes turned back to the arena.
Professor Greengrass and Professor McGonagall now stood facing one another in front of the towering stele. Without the need for any spoken agreement, both lifted their wands and chose the same option: Random Terrain.
The surface of the stone stele shimmered, light rippling across it like water, until at last a set of bold characters fixed in place: 'Barren Highlands.' Then, with a rumble, the stele sank back into the ground.
The once-flat platform warped as though seized by some invisible giant hand. In an instant the smooth floor heaved upward into jagged, uneven ridges. Craggy rocks jutted half-buried in the dirt, their sharp edges like broken fangs. Strands of brittle, yellowed grass pushed stubbornly through cracks in the stone, and stunted, twisted shrubs clung to life in scattered clusters. The entire stage was transformed into a desolate, merciless landscape, bleak and lifeless as a battlefield long abandoned.
"Professor McGonagall…" said Sargeras with a courteous bow, his tone smooth yet edged with challenge, "since this is an exhibition match, why don't we devote ourselves entirely to demonstrating the practical art of Transfiguration as it is used in real combat? It would serve as a vivid and unforgettable lesson for the students."
Professor McGonagall's eyes gleamed sharp as steel, yet to the students' astonishment, an uncharacteristic smile touched her lips. "Then you had best give it your all, Sargeras. In the classroom, I may guide with patience, but here… I will not hold back in the slightest."
"That is precisely what I was hoping for, Professor," Sargeras replied with a smile of his own. "But remember, I am no longer the schoolboy you once instructed. In all the years since I left Hogwarts, I have never slackened in my study of Transfiguration, not for a single day."
"Very good." McGonagall said simply, her wand rising with quiet authority. "Then let us see what you have learned."
Even before her final word had faded, Sargeras moved. With a motion both elegant and swift, he flicked his wand toward a massive boulder in the arena. At once, the stone's weathered surface softened, as though melting under invisible hands. Its jagged edges sagged, reshaping under the irresistible force of his Transfiguration spell…
A piercing cry split the air. From the shifting mass burst a colossal eagle, its feathers a sheen of deep blue-black, its wingspan so vast it seemed to blot out the sky. Its talons gouged the earth as it launched upward, wings beating with thunderous force, driving it higher and higher until it soared above the battlefield.
"Wooooah—!" A wave of awe exploded from the Ravenclaw stands, their cheers echoing like rolling thunder.
The giant eagle wheeled high above the arena, circling once, its glacial eyes scanning below. Then, without hesitation, it folded its wings tight against its body and plummeted downward, a streak of shadow aimed straight at Professor McGonagall.
But she did not so much as flinch. Almost in the same breath that Sargeras moved, her own wand had already snapped toward another massive boulder nearby. The stone shuddered and convulsed, swelling and twisting as if alive, until a deep, guttural roar burst forth and thundered across the arena like rolling storm clouds.
From the torn earth rose a lion of staggering size, its mane bristling like a crown of living fire, its golden eyes blazing with majesty and unyielding fury. It crouched low, muscles coiling and rippling beneath its tawny hide, then hurled itself upward with explosive force, a living cannonball streaking through the air to meet the eagle's deadly dive.
"Professor McGonagall!!" The Gryffindor stands erupted, their thunderous cheer rising into the heavens with the lion's leap.
The two behemoths collided in midair with a shuddering crash. The impact rattled teeth, the sound a bone-deep thud of flesh, claw, and stone-forged sinew meeting head-on.
Stone shards burst outward. The great eagle's talons raked cruel gouges into the lion's flank, while the lion lunged with jaws wide, snapping mercilessly toward its opponent's wing.
For a moment they were locked in savage combat, but the sheer size and strength of the lion began to tilt the balance. Blow by blow, it pressed the eagle back, the weight of its body overpowering.
Sargeras's face remained calm, unreadable, his wand flashing once more. In an instant, the form of the beleaguered eagle rippled like mercury. Its feathers shimmered, melting into scales, wings twisting into coils.
The beast stretched and elongated, and within the blink of an eye, the eagle had vanished. In its place uncoiled a monstrous serpent, thick as an oak trunk, its hide gleaming with sinister green-black scales.
The giant snake moved with terrifying agility, its massive coils whipping around the lion before the audience could even draw breath. In scarcely two heartbeats, its muscular body had locked tight around the lion's throat and belly, constricting with a crushing force meant to end the battle in a single stroke.
"Beautiful!" The Slytherin section couldn't help but erupted in wild cheers, their voices sharp with triumph. They applauded not only the flawless transformation but also the sight of their House's emblematic serpent overpowering the lion of Gryffindor.
The lion thrashed with frantic strength, its roars muffled beneath the tightening coils. For a fleeting instant, it seemed all but doomed to be crushed.
But McGonagall's wand flicked, swift and precise, her eyes never leaving the fight. At once, the lion's massive body began to collapse inward, its bulk folding and shrinking as if deflating. In the blink of an eye, the proud king of beasts had compacted into a creature far smaller, black and white stripes flashing as it twisted free.
A badger!
It slipped through the serpent's deadly embrace as if greased, the coils snapping shut on empty air. The badger landed with surprising grace, then without pause sprang forward, a streak of feral energy. Its sharp teeth sank viciously into the serpent's scales, the sound of gnawing and tearing filling the arena with a shrill scrape that made onlookers shudder.
"Yes! That's it, Hufflepuff!!" At last the students of the badger house had their moment. They leapt to their feet, shouting with exhilaration, their cheers bursting forth like fireworks in the night.
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[Chapter End's]
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