After the Care of Magical Creatures class, Snape and his two companions followed the crowd toward the Great Hall.
As they passed through the entrance hall, they saw a small cluster of students noisily gathered around the bulletin board, all talking excitedly about a newly posted parchment notice.
Abbott squeezed his way in for a look, then immediately turned around and waved enthusiastically for Snape to come over.
"The Dueling Club," he said. "First meeting tonight. It's been years since the last one, no idea why they suddenly brought it back."
"It'd be strange not to," Snape said, also pushing his way through and staring at the words on the parchment. "When you run into a dark wizard, they won't exactly show you mercy."
It was, indeed, somewhat baffling that such an effective way to train students in real combat had been discontinued at Hogwarts for decades.
According to the original course of history, it wouldn't reappear until more than ten years later, in Harry's second year, when Gilderoy Lockhart revived it for a brief stint purely out of vanity.
After that, the practical training of Hogwarts students would rely entirely on the illegal student organization known as Dumbledore's Army, a fact that, frankly, made one question whether there weren't some shady people involved.
"I don't think I'll be joining," Pandora said, looking at the two of them. "Wizard duels only allow the use of wands. That's boring."
"What else would you want to use?" Abbott raised an eyebrow.
"Plenty of things." Pandora patted her pocket and gave a short reply.
"For everyone's safety, it's probably for the best that you don't join," Snape said.
Although Snape wasn't especially interested in dueling his classmates, this was, after all, a rare opportunity to legally use spells on them. There was no way he was passing that up.
Both Snape and Abbott decided to participate, and Pandora didn't mind watching from the sidelines.
That evening, after taking a leisurely stroll by the Black Lake, the three hurried back to the Great Hall before eight o'clock.
The four long tables that usually filled the hall had vanished, replaced by a wide, open stage.
Hundreds of bright candles floated above, their light so dazzling that even the stars on the enchanted ceiling seemed dim in comparison.
Almost the entire school had turned up, chattering noisily, every student clutching their wand tightly with faces full of excitement and anticipation.
"Quiet, make way-"
A somewhat familiar voice called out from within the crowd, but as students looked around, no one could see who was speaking, and so they ignored it.
Then, amid a chorus of surprised gasps, the crowd suddenly parted down the middle, as though a giant invisible hand had brushed it aside.
Snape saw Professor Flitwick striding toward the stage on his short legs, with Professor Slughorn following leisurely behind, his round belly leading the way.
As he walked, Professor Flitwick pointed his wand at his own throat and said, "Sonorus!"
His voice immediately thundered through the hall, overpowering all other noise, every word landing clearly in each student's ear.
"Students! From this day forward, I, " Flitwick gave a little hop onto the stage, "Filius Flitwick, the Eleventh All-England Wizarding Dueling Champion, will serve as your instructor and referee for these practical dueling sessions!"
"You should feel quite fortunate. It took the Headmaster considerable effort to persuade the Board of Governors to let us restart the Dueling Club. It wasn't an easy task."
"I'll explain how things will work next," said Flitwick, raising his wand high. "For the first few days, all years except the seventh will duel within their own year group. The winner of each year's competition will earn fifty House Points for their House."
"And, to give you a clear measure of your own ability, " his voice carried across the hall, ", and to remind the upper years not to grow complacent, the champion of a lower year will have the right to challenge the champion of a higher year. Higher-year students are not permitted to refuse."
"The victor of any cross-year challenge-" a shower of colorful fireworks burst from the tip of his wand, "- will also earn the points of the defeated champion's House! Of course, if you're from the same House, it's up to you whether to show your senior a bit of courtesy."
"Now then, let Professor Slughorn and me give you a little demonstration!"
"If you would, Horace," Flitwick called cheerfully, gesturing him forward.
Slughorn smiled, strode unhurriedly through the crowd, and climbed onto the stage. The two professors took positions at opposite ends.
They turned to face each other, bowed politely, and raised their wands to chest level in the traditional dueling pose.
"As you can see," Flitwick addressed the now-quiet audience, "we hold our wands in the standard dueling stance. On the count of three, Professor Slughorn will cast a spell, and I will defend."
"One, two, three-"
Both raised their wands sharply. Slughorn shouted, "Incarcerous!"
In an instant, a rope appeared in midair, slithering toward Flitwick like a living serpent.
But Flitwick reacted immediately, casting a Shield Charm, "Protego!"
The rope slammed against an invisible barrier with a sharp thud, then fell limply to the floor before vanishing with a faint "poof."
The Great Hall erupted in applause. Students craned their necks, standing on tiptoe, eager to rush onto the stage for a closer look.
"Thank you, Horace," said Flitwick, beaming.
"My pleasure," Slughorn replied, one hand resting on his belly and the other behind his back, as he stepped down from the stage toward the edge of the hall.
"Oh, yes, one more thing! The Headmaster asked me to stress the rules!" Flitwick conjured a tall stool, climbed up with some effort, and announced loudly: "First, no curses that cause severe injury.
"Second, only wands may be used; no magical creatures or plants allowed! Third, do not snap your opponent's wand! Fourth, no deliberate verbal insults!"
"Now, first-years, please step up!"
The first-years immediately broke into excited chaos, all rushing forward at once.
Flitwick had to hop down again and reorganize them into pairs before the duels could properly begin.
"I feel like those rules were written just for me," Snape muttered to Pandora. "But I'll say this, those cabbages really were useful. Think you can make some more of something else...?"
The duels among the first and second years were far more amusing than they were dangerous.
The first-year champion turned out to be a blonde girl who cast the Tickling Charm with remarkable speed and accuracy. In every match, her opponents, though defeated, collapsed in helpless laughter, no one could claim they were unhappy about losing.
Because most participants preferred to laugh themselves senseless rather than yield, only the first- and second-year duels were completed that day.
It wasn't until the next evening that the third-year competition finally began.
Snape had expected it to be as uneventful as the first day's contests, but the moment Gilderoy Lockhart stepped onto the stage, everything changed.
Lockhart wore a gorgeous lilac robe, his golden curls arranged in perfect waves that gleamed dazzlingly under the candlelight.
Unlike other contestants, he didn't bow to his opponent. Instead, he turned gracefully toward the crowd, flashing a charming smile.
Several younger girls let out squeals of delight.
"Something's not right..." Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously, scanning the surroundings. "That peacock's up to something..."
Sure enough, purple smoke suddenly filled the air around them, and moments later, portraits of Gilderoy Lockhart, each wearing that same radiant smile, appeared hanging all along the Great Hall's walls.
Ignoring the growing chorus of boos, Lockhart kept smiling just as winningly as his painted selves.
"Good evening, everyone, allow me to, "
But before he could finish his sentence, his furious opponent shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"
A blinding flash of white light shot across the stage. Lockhart's smile froze instantly; his arms snapped straight to his sides, and under everyone's gaze, he toppled stiffly off the stage.
"Ah-!" Several students screamed.
Flitwick scrambled down from his stool and hurried to Lockhart's side, checking him carefully.
"Gryffindor wins, but no points awarded!" he declared to Lockhart's opponent. "Mind your dueling etiquette!"
"That's not fair, Professor!" the Gryffindor student protested loudly, his face flushed with indignation. "It was his fault!"
"Yes, his fault," Flitwick agreed mildly as he waved his wand to release Lockhart from the Full Body-Bind. "But remember, he's still your classmate!"
The winner stomped off the stage, clearly dissatisfied.
Although the spell had been lifted, Lockhart remained sprawled on the floor, that rigid smile still plastered across his face.
If his complexion hadn't shifted from red to white and back again, Flitwick might have thought his counter-spell hadn't worked.
"Up you get, Lockhart," Flitwick prodded him with his wand. "Come now, don't lie there, we still have matches to continue."
After that brief interlude, the pace of the competition picked up considerably. The duels for the fourth and fifth years concluded within an hour despite their intensity.
The fourth-year champion was young Barty Crouch Jr. His spellwork was exceptionally polished, few opponents lasted more than ten rounds against him.
The fifth-year winner was Dirk Cresswell, the Hufflepuff student fluent in Gobbledegook. With strong Shield and Disarming Charms, he repeatedly forced opponents to concede.
Finally, it was time for the sixth-year matches.
Snape was the seventh to compete. His first opponent happened to be Remus Lupin.
They both climbed onto the stage, bowed to each other, and raised their wands in front of their chests.
They stood about ten meters apart, eyes locked. Almost simultaneously, their wands lifted.
Lupin struck first, a Stunning Spell shot toward Snape. Snape flicked his wand lazily, easily deflecting the red bolt.
"Moon-face," Snape drawled, "long time no see. No need to rush."
"Severus," Lupin said calmly, edging in a slow circle, "Incarcerous, "
Once again, Snape brushed aside the spell almost effortlessly.
"Why aren't you counterattacking?" Lupin asked, holding his wand steady. "Don't you want to win?"
"Do you still think you're innocent?" Snape sneered. "You've always just stood by, oh, sorry, sat by, with your hands over your ears and your eyes shut. Always pretending you had nothing to do with the rotten things happening right in front of you."
"Did you know," Snape continued, "that in the Far Eastern island nation where the only Asian wizarding school, Mahoutokoro, is located, a few years ago a comic was published?"
"Impedimenta!" Lupin fired another spell.
Snape sidestepped neatly, avoiding the curse.
"In that comic, there's a strong, hulking character who bullies a smaller, weaker one. But plenty of people just stand by and watch. They call it neutrality. Just like you, burying your face in a book, pretending not to see."
"Professor, he's using verbal attacks!" James's voice rose from the crowd.
"He hasn't insulted his opponent, Mr. Potter. That's within the rules," Flitwick said, shaking his head without stopping the match.
Lupin's wand didn't cease moving, he continued firing spell after spell.
"Blocked again, and again, Remus," Snape said coolly, flicking his wand to deflect each attack. "I can block your curses, but can you block the fear of watching your friends leave you one by one?"
That hit Lupin like a whip. He let out something between a growl and a cry, slashing his wand through the air. The candles above the stage transformed into a barrage of fiery rockets that hurtled toward Snape.
Facing the blazing onslaught, Snape drew a wide circle with his wand. Instantly, the rockets morphed into shining silver spheres that turned back on Lupin, forcing him backward.
Terror flickered across Lupin's face. He stumbled several steps and fell right off the stage.
"Remus," Snape said coldly from above, "the Headmaster made you a Prefect, not a bystander."
"Make way! Make way!"
James and Sirius shoved through the crowd, rushing to help Lupin up, with Wormtail shrinking nervously behind them.
"Professor," James said through clenched teeth, "next round, let me duel him."
At that, Wormtail shifted slightly to one side to get a clearer view of the stage. His face wore an eager look, as though impatient to see the inevitable outcome.