The two stood ten feet apart and bowed slightly.
"Begin," Narcissa announced.
Hermes moved almost the instant she finished speaking, his wand pointing sharply forward: "Jinx spell!"
A silver light shot toward Regulus. Opening a duel with a Tickling Jinx wasn't exactly vicious, but it was sudden.
Regulus didn't move his feet; with a casual wave of his wand, an identical silver light flew from the tip, colliding precisely with Hermes's spell in mid-air and exploding into a cluster of shimmering light fragments.
"Leg-Locker Curse!" Hermes followed up immediately with a second spell, a blue light flying fast along the ground.
Regulus merely tapped the ground with his wand, raising an invisible barrier in front of him. The Leg-Locker Curse hit it like a ramp, flying off at an angle toward the wall and dissipating.
"Impedimenta!" Hermes surreptitiously fired a third spell.
"Impedimenta." Regulus chanted the same spell. The two identical curses collided in the center of the clearing with a dull "thud-thud."
But Regulus's spell was clearly more powerful; not only did it shatter Hermes's spell, it didn't even dissipate, instead continuing to rush toward Hermes.
Hermes only just managed to dodge by rolling on the ground, looking somewhat disheveled.
The nearby underclassmen widened their eyes and gasped with their hands over their mouths, while the upperclassmen nodded repeatedly.
Anyone could see that the power of Regulus's magic was astonishing.
Regulus still didn't initiate an attack, calmly blocking or deflecting every one of Hermes's strikes. A Binding Curse was flicked away, and Incendio was extinguished by Aguamenti.
He even dodged some spells with only the slightest of movements.
Throughout the entire process, Regulus had not even left the small area where he had originally stood.
He used only the most basic defensive and disruptive spells from *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1*, but each was executed perfectly and with effortless ease.
His expression didn't change from beginning to end, as if he weren't in a fight; his relaxed posture made it look more like a teaching session.
Meanwhile, Hermes's attacks grew faster and his spells more cunning, demonstrating a foundation in spellcasting far beyond that of an ordinary freshman—clearly, he had received prior instruction at home.
But his face grew increasingly pale, and his breathing gradually became heavy.
He wasn't a fool; he could see that Regulus wasn't using his full strength at all—perhaps he wasn't even trying.
This effortless response made one feel humiliated and powerless.
"Is all you can do hide, Black!" Hermes growled, a flash of anger and ruthlessness in his eyes.
He stopped the rapid-fire attacks and held his wand high, beginning to chant a spell in a deeper, more convoluted tone. An ominous dark red light gathered at the tip of his wand, and the surrounding air seemed to grow a few degrees colder.
Several upperclassmen frowned, and prefect Lucretius stepped forward, appearing as if he wanted to intervene.
Narcissa's brow furrowed, her fingers already gripping her wand.
But it was too late.
"Bone and Blood Stripping!" Hermes hissed out the last few syllables, and a beam of dark red, nearly black light, radiating an aura of coldness and pain, shot violently toward Regulus!
Dark Arts!
Although it was clearly an incomplete and greatly weakened version, its insidious and vicious nature was unmistakable. A chorus of gasps rang out in the common room.
Facing this malicious strike, Regulus's eyes, which had remained calm and undisturbed, finally showed a subtle change.
As expected, Hermes was skilled in the Dark Arts; Regulus could clearly sense that he had used this magic on a living person before.
*Heh, family heritage.*
Regulus also stopped using those basic spells.
He pointed his wand forward; without any gesture or incantation, the movement was minimalist to the extreme.
A silver barrier, solid as a crystal wall, instantly appeared before him, its surface flowing with complex and orderly ripples.
The dark red beam slammed hard into the silver barrier.
From the point of contact came a grating "sizzle," like the sound of metal being corroded.
The dark red light frantically eroded the silver shield but could not penetrate it.
After a stalemate of about two seconds, under Hermes's pale face and disbelieving gaze, the dark red beam lost its momentum and completely dissipated, while the silver barrier remained as solid as ever.
At the very moment the dark red light vanished, Regulus took the initiative to step forward, a speck of red light glowing at the tip of his wand.
"Expelliarmus."
A red beam, far more solid and swift than any of Hermes's previous spells, struck Hermes's chest like a bolt of lightning tearing through the air.
*Crack!*
The wand flew high into the air, spinning in an arc, and was caught firmly by Regulus's other, empty hand.
The battle was over.
This was the dignity Regulus afforded his roommate; otherwise, a Jelly-Legs Jinx would have been enough to make Hermes drop to his knees.
From Hermes casting the Dark Arts spell to Regulus dismantling the attack and completing the disarming, the entire process took less than five seconds—so fast that many people hadn't yet recovered from the shock of the Dark Arts appearing.
The common room was deathly silent as everyone looked at the center of the clearing.
Hermes stood where he was, his right hand still in the position of holding a wand.
His body trembled slightly, his face was as pale as paper, and his eyes were hollow, as if he couldn't accept that his most secret and relied-upon method had been broken so easily.
Regulus stepped forward and handed Hermes's wand back to him, his voice still steady, devoid of a victor's triumph or disdain for the Dark Arts, only pure calmness:
"A good attempt, but the spell structure was unstable and the magic supply intermittent. Next time you use it, you'd better think about killing me instead of being so hesitant."
As the words fell, the air in the common room seemed to freeze instantly.
The word "kill," spoken so calmly by an eleven-year-old boy, sent chills down everyone's spines.
The upperclassmen's reaction was the most direct; Lucretius Boke's eyebrows shot up, and an undisguised look of appreciation, or even pleasant surprise, flashed in his eyes.
Beside him, several core pure-blood students from the fifth and sixth years exchanged glances and began to whisper: "Did you hear that? 'Think about killing me'!"
"Merlin! Coming from the mouth of a first-year…"
"Elegant, powerful, and…" A seventh-year girl from the Carrow family licked her lips, her eyes burning with intensity.
"He doesn't have the hypocritical fuss about the Dark Arts; he knows what they are. This is exactly how a Slytherin should be!"
"The Black family might truly have produced a formidable figure this time," another boy from the Nott family concluded, his tone heavy with caution.
In their eyes, Regulus viewed the Dark Arts objectively, evaluating the user's skill while ignoring its inherent evil nature.
This attitude was, in a sense, more in line with the values of certain ancient pure-blood families than Hermes's half-baked Dark Arts themselves.
Alex Rosier's lips moved; he looked at the pale Hermes, who seemed to have had his soul drained, and then at the calm Regulus.
He wanted to say something, like "This was just a match, talking about killing is going too far…" or "Hermes used the Dark Arts, that's not right…"
But though the words were on the tip of his tongue, he couldn't bring himself to say them.
When Regulus's calm gaze swept over him, he felt all his childish thoughts freeze; he could only lower his head in a panic, staring at the tips of his shoes.
Avery Cuthbert was in a different state of mind.
During the conflict in the Flying Class, he had thought the gap between himself and Regulus might not be that large, requiring only a pursuit of skill and strategy.
Now he understood that the gap was visible to the naked eye. He clenched his fists, then slowly released them, ultimately just watching the two in the clearing with a complex expression, doing nothing.
As for Hermes Mulciber himself, his hollow eyes suddenly snapped into focus, staring fixedly at Regulus, churning with humiliation, shock, fear, and a hint of desperation.
He had indeed hesitated; he didn't dare, nor could he, truly unleash the full power of that spell in front of everyone.
He suddenly snatched his wand back, his fingers gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white. Lowering his head, he quickly retreated into the shadows at the edge of the crowd, locking all his emotions back behind that gloomy mask.
"Ahem," Narcissa cleared her throat, breaking the eerie atmosphere.
She and Lucretius exchanged a look, both understanding that tonight's orientation had achieved its purpose—and even exceeded expectations.
There was no need to continue; there would be no more suspense.
Lucretius stepped forward and scanned the remaining freshmen, his voice steady: "So, does anyone wish to challenge Black or Mulciber?"
His gaze swept slowly across them; Alex kept his head down, and the other freshmen shook their heads repeatedly, avoiding his eyes.
Even Avery, who might have originally harbored some thoughts of a challenge, now stood silently in place without any indication.
"In that case, the title of First-Year Chief goes to Regulus Black. I hope you all take this as your goal and strive to improve yourselves."
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