The farce of the Duelling Club finally ended with Harry's astonishing performance.
After Marcel left the stage, Lockhart immediately recovered from his embarrassment and frustration. It had to be said, his skin was not just thick.
"Well, there you have it!" he said, staggering back onto the stage. "That was a Disarming Charm—as you see, I've lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown."
He took back his wand, then cleared his throat and continued, "Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Marcel! Though, if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be a good lesson for them to see..."
Snape glared at Lockhart from below the stage.
Marcel didn't care. He could say whatever he wanted. The rest of the events had nothing to do with him anyway.
Not long after, Lockhart had the students practice in pairs.
But it didn't take long for the scene to get a little out of control...
"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skipping through the crowd, looking at the consequences of their duelling. "Up you get, Macmillan... Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a minute, Boot—"
To stop the farce, Lockhart had to terminate this failed attempt.
"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," he said.
The scene was simply too chaotic.
After a long "speech" from Lockhart, the event finally turned into a one-on-one demonstration again—with him and Snape providing guidance from the side.
And the first pair chosen was none other than Malfoy and Harry.
"Right, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."
He raised his own wand, brandished it, and tried to conjure up a complex flourish, but accidentally dropped it on the floor. Snape sniggered from the side.
Lockhart hastily bent down to pick up his wand.
"Whoops—my wand is a little overexcited."
Snape walked over to Malfoy and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy also began to snigger.
"Professor, could you show me that blocking charm again?" Harry asked, looking up at Lockhart nervously.
"Scared?" Malfoy muttered, so that Lockhart couldn't hear.
"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.
Lockhart clapped Harry cheerfully on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"
"What, drop my wand?" Harry couldn't help but retort, but Lockhart clearly filtered out his words.
As Lockhart began to count down, Harry had no choice but to raise his wand and concentrate as much as possible.
"...Go!"
Malfoy quickly raised his wand and shouted, "Serpensortia!"
With a bang from the tip of his wand, a long, black snake suddenly shot out, landing heavily on the floor between them.
A faint black aura swirled between the black snake's scales. Its mouth was slightly open, its fangs sharp. It was facing Harry, its head held high, clearly ready to attack.
The crowd screamed and quickly backed away, clearing a space.
Marcel also took a few steps back, hiding in the panicked crowd without a sound.
"Don't move, Potter," Snape said lazily.
Clearly, he was very pleased to see Harry standing there motionless, staring at the angry snake.
"I'll get rid of it—"
"Allow me!"
Lockhart cut Snape off. His hands were even quicker. He raised his wand and waved it at the black snake.
Suddenly, with a loud bang, the snake not only did not disappear, but shot up more than ten feet in the air and then fell heavily back onto the floor.
It was furious, hissing as it slithered straight towards Justin Finch-Fletchley, who was closest to it. It then raised its head, revealing its fangs, as if it were about to attack in the next second.
Harry didn't understand why he did it. He didn't even realize he had decided to do it. He only knew that his legs moved forward on their own, as if on little wheels, and then he foolishly shouted at the snake, "Leave him!"
As soon as Harry spoke, the snake collapsed to the floor, as pliable as a pile of thick, black plastic tubing. Its eyes were fixed on Harry.
"Did it work?" Harry looked at the black snake in surprise.
He then looked up at Justin and grinned.
Harry had expected to see a look of relief, confusion, or gratitude on Justin's face—but certainly not the anger and terror he saw now.
"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin shouted.
Before Harry could say anything, he turned and stormed out of the hall.
Snape waved his wand and made the black snake vanish. He looked at Harry with a very meaningful expression. And around Harry, the whispers of the students swirled—which made him feel even worse.
"What's going on?" Harry looked around in confusion.
Just then, Harry felt a tug on his robes.
"Let's go," Hermione said in a low voice, walking over to Harry.
But when they turned back to call for Ron, they found that he had already left at some point.
It wasn't until Harry and Hermione had hurried back to the Gryffindor common room that they saw Ron come through the portrait hole after a long time.
"Ron, where have you been again?" Hermione asked.
Harry, on the other hand, was sitting in a nearby armchair, his head slightly lowered, seemingly deep in thought.
"I went—" Ron looked at Hermione, a look of conflict on his face. He then took a deep breath, as if he had made a decision.
"...I went to find Marcel," he finally said.
"To find Marcel again? What on earth—" Hermione was saying, but was interrupted by Ron's rush of words.
"Hermione, Harry... listen to me," Ron said, walking over to them and lowering his voice. "Remember that day we saw Filch's cat hanging on the wall?"
"Oh, of course... but what's wrong?" Hermione asked curiously.
Harry also looked up, waiting for Ron to continue.
"At that time, while you were all busy looking at the cat, I saw someone at the corner behind!" Ron looked around to make sure no one was paying attention, then said, word by word, "Although I only saw the person's retreating back, I'm sure it was Marcel!"
"Marcel's outer robe is too distinctive, wide and large. I couldn't have been mistaken."
"Are you trying to say... Marcel did it?" Harry said in disbelief.
"No! That's impossible!" Hermione stared at Ron and said firmly. "He can't be the Heir of Slytherin!"
Perhaps Hermione's voice was too high. The second half of her sentence attracted the attention of many people. Everyone turned to stare at Harry.
"Oh, sorry!" Hermione came to her senses and apologized to Harry.
"No, it's nothing... it's just..." Harry shook his head, but his expression was a little dim. He had been worrying about this since he had returned from the Great Hall.
Seeing that Hermione didn't believe him, Ron felt a tightness in his chest.
"You... why don't you believe me! You saw it too, during Harry's match!" Ron shouted. "And, this whole term, ever since school started, Marcel has been acting very strange!"
"That doesn't prove anything!" Hermione immediately bristled and, losing control, shouted back, "I think Marcel is being controlled by Volde—"
She immediately realized her mistake and cut herself off.
"Keep your voice down, Ron!" Hermione said in a low voice. "Do you want everyone to know?"
Ron turned his head and saw many students looking at him with frightened expressions, clearly scared by Hermione's use of the word "Voldemort."
"It's all because of you..." Ron muttered under his breath.
"That... Hermione, what did you just say... Marcel is being controlled by Voldemort?" Harry asked hastily.
"...I'm not sure yet," she said with a complicated expression. "But I think Marcel has been acting abnormally since the end of last term."
"You should know that when Marcel came back, I was the first one to see him. I told you before that it was Voldemort who had possessed Quirrell and instigated him to steal the Philosopher's Stone."
Harry and Ron both nodded.
"Only Marcel and Professor Dumbledore know what happened to Voldemort in the end, but—"
As Hermione spoke, she once again recalled Marcel's expression at that time. She couldn't help but purse her lips, a hard-to-describe expression on her face.
"But when Marcel came back, he looked very... strange," Hermione found it hard to describe in words. "I think Voldemort might have escaped after all."
"Oh—" Ron and Harry looked at each other, both with a look of astonishment.
"And looking at Marcel's state this term, I think he might have been affected by some dark magic..." The more Hermione spoke, the more she felt this speculation made sense. "It's really very possible! You know, Dumbledore was there too! When he came back, he didn't bring Quirrell with him, let alone Voldemort..."
"If it weren't for..." she said, her eyes downcast and a little dejected, "if it weren't for Marcel saving me at that time—"
"So you're saying, Marcel got the Philosopher's Stone back, but he might have also been hit by a dark spell from You-Know-Who..." Ron, who had grown up hearing terrifying stories of Voldemort, didn't even dare to mention his name.
Harry, on the other hand, was stunned again.
His attention was not drawn by Voldemort, but by the words "dark magic," which triggered some memories.
"Ron, Hermione," Harry said after thinking for a moment. "I think, maybe we can go and see for ourselves."
The full story is available on Patreon!
now at 40% OFF!
patreon.com/Zefyrus