Red and white collided in mid-air. In less than half a second, Umbridge's Impediment Jinx broke through Harry's Disarming Charm, which dissipated harmlessly.
When it came to raw magical power, Harry obviously couldn't compare to Umbridge, but this brief delay still allowed Penelope to regain her senses.
Rolling to the side, she dodged the incoming curse.
Gripping her wand tightly, Penelope felt the confusion drain from her expression, replaced by cold determination.
Although she didn't know if what this woman said was true, it would be easy enough to verify.
Norway's most heinous criminal in recent years? Setting aside everything else, Penelope raised her wand and aimed it at the woman across from her.
"Stupefy!"
Dazzling red light burst from the wand tip, snapping Umbridge's attention back from Harry.
With a wave of her wand, a semi-transparent barrier formed in front of Umbridge. But when the red light struck the barrier, cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, making Umbridge frown.
Her Shield Charm had nearly been shattered by a single Stunning Spell—what kind of proficiency and magical power was this?
The target she'd chosen seemed far from ordinary.
But the situation gave her no time to dwell on it. The young woman had already assumed a textbook combat stance, unleashing spell after spell in rapid succession.
It felt like facing a seasoned Auror.
Barriers appeared before her one after another, Umbridge's eyes flashing with growing anger.
A decade without combat didn't mean she'd lost her edge.
If facing that young man Dumbledore had found, she might still be somewhat afraid—after all, that young man always gave her a deeply unsettling feeling, and the magical power in his body was truly vast, even comparable to the old man himself.
But this little girl—how could she possibly be a match?
Auror? In their heyday, she'd lost count of how many Aurors she'd killed!
Her eyes flashed with ferocity. "Umbridge" defended against the spells whilst beginning to plan a series of counterattacks in her mind.
It was time to show this young witch why Death Eaters were even more terrifying than Grindelwald's followers!
After releasing that Disarming Charm, Harry quickly pulled his hand back under the cloak, but even so, Lockhart nearby still saw it.
A ghastly green light flashed in his eyes as Lockhart stiffly turned his head to look at where Harry was standing.
Seeing Lockhart's gaze, Harry felt his chest tighten, and the scar on his forehead began to ache faintly.
For some reason, Lockhart's current gaze seemed profoundly wrong. Although Lockhart usually looked down on everyone, his eyes often carried confidence or a strange arrogance.
But now, aside from cunning, his eyes held only naked killing intent, sending a chill through Harry's entire body.
Was the current Lockhart... really still him?
But before Harry could think further, Lockhart in front of him had already drawn his wand, aiming at where Harry's hand had appeared.
He slowly spoke, his voice somewhat hoarse, his tone carrying indescribable coldness and terror.
And that spell was a type Harry had never heard of.
"Crucio."
Blood-red lightning gathered at the wand tip. An intense sense of crisis enveloped Harry completely, freezing him in place momentarily, unable to move.
His pupils shrank to pinpoints. Harry watched that blood-red light form at the wand tip across from him and shoot toward him.
Time seemed to slow at this moment. In a daze, Harry even saw a silver-white arc of light appear beside him.
But just then, an icy sensation washed over him as a red shadow floating in mid-air appeared before him, ten claws crossed in front to block that blood-red light.
The blood-red lightning struck the claws, scattering in all directions. Sir Podmore let out a pained grunt, the ghost's body becoming somewhat unstable, trembling violently.
But this trembling lasted only a moment before gradually disappearing. The spectre raised its head, looking at Lockhart before it with blood-red eyes, its mouth twisting into a cold smile.
"Very strong Cruciatus Curse. I can tell your soul is truly rotten to the core—even here, I can smell that decaying stench."
"But this pain isn't even one-tenth of what I felt before death."
Having said this, the spectre opened its mouth, releasing a silent shriek. Even behind it, Harry clutched his ears in pain, feeling a shrill sound constantly echoing in his mind, torturing his spirit.
And Lockhart across from him, fully affected by this shriek, was now clutching his head, painfully crouching down, two emotions warring in his eyes—one showing panic, the other rage.
Sir Podmore obviously wouldn't miss such an opportunity. Its claws glowed with red light as it rapidly floated toward Lockhart.
Pounding his head violently, Lockhart muttered under his breath, "Shut up! I've endured the nausea of praising you for a month!"
"Damn waste, your magical power is pathetically weak, and your spell proficiency is only barely acceptable with Memory Charms!"
"What exactly have you been doing?!"
After this outburst, his eyes flashed with ghastly green light again as he regained control of his body. He barely raised his wand, narrowly blocking Sir Podmore's attack with a Shield Charm.
Only then did Harry finally recover from the curse's aftereffects. Breathing heavily, he quickly stepped away from where he'd been standing.
Then he turned his head to look at his previous position.
Just now, when that spell was about to reach him, he thought he'd glimpsed a strangely familiar silver-white arc of light appear beside him.
But after Sir Podmore appeared, that arc of light abruptly disappeared, as if it had never existed.
Was it his imagination?
After pondering briefly, Harry shook his head and looked toward the other battlefield.
There, Umbridge and Senior Penelope were fighting intensely. The senior's combat stance looked highly practiced, each spell aimed at Umbridge's vital points, reminding him of when the senior fought three poachers alone at the camp.
But Umbridge across from her was only defending without any counterattack, which struck Harry as odd.
According to Professor Kahn, defence always consumed more energy than offence. Each spell blocked by a Shield Charm would turn into equivalent mental pressure on the caster.
Why would Umbridge not fight back, letting the senior attack freely?
Just as Harry was puzzling over this, a faint voice came from beside him.
"I smelt it, meow! Is it here, meow?"
Hearing Alice's voice, Harry quickly lifted the edge of the invisibility cloak and let her in.
Slipping under the cloak, Alice breathed a sigh of relief, then said urgently:
"I saw it, meow! They released a giant snake from a faucet, meow!"