Thud!
This time, it wasn't the sound of a magical explosion, but the heavy impact of Alex's completely rigid body hitting the floor.
Because the Spongify spell was still active beneath him, he actually bounced two or three times before coming to a rest face-down, quietly "asleep".
"Oh, that was incredible!"
"Alex's reflexes were so fast!"
"He almost had it!"
Seeing Alex go down, the wizards in the stands finally realized the duel was over. The sheer intensity of the exchange in such a short amount of time completely blew their expectations out of the water.
A moment later, the hall erupted into thunderous applause.
Looking at Alex on the floor, Madam Mantha offered a highly satisfied nod. This was the standard a Beauxbatons student should strive for.
She waved her hand, and the same group of students who had just hauled the second-year boy to the hospital wing rushed back up to drag Alex away.
The Full Body-Bind Curse didn't cause any actual physical harm; it would naturally wear off after a while. Sure, a simple Reviving Spell could break it instantly, but Beauxbatons tradition dictated that the loser of a duel had to sit with the effects of the spell to ensure the lesson was "unforgettable".
As a result, the previous victims of the curse were currently lying quietly in the hospital beds, experiencing exactly what it physically meant to be entirely helpless.
Watching Alex get carried off the stage, Richie couldn't help but breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
He had to admit, Alex had actually put some serious pressure on him. If his reflexes had been even a fraction of a second slower, he probably would have lost.
The fight also made Richie realize a glaring flaw in his repertoire: his spell pool was incredibly shallow, and most of what he knew were just practical, everyday charms.
For his first few months at Hogwarts, he had thrown himself entirely into theoretical research. When it came to practical casting, he had strictly followed the professors' syllabus.
Because of that, aside from learning the Body-Bind Curse for his spell-derivation experiments, he didn't know any actual offensive spells, and his knowledge of defensive magic was basically zero.
It was a massive oversight. How could he survive in the wizarding world without knowing how to actually fight? True safety meant keeping things in his own hands.
Richie instantly made up his mind: next semester, he was carving out time specifically to grind offensive and defensive spells.
He might not need to use them, but he had to know them.
Watching Richie stand casually on the stage (though he was actually just spacing out), the appreciation in Madam Mantha's eyes deepened.
This Hogwarts student's dueling instincts far exceeded her expectations. His rapid casting speed, his ability to adapt mid-fight, and his seamless chaining of spells were all executed with absolute ease—a level of composure her Beauxbatons students simply couldn't match.
All she could say was: he was truly Flitwick's student.
Just then, a voice called out from the stands: "Excuse me, sir, what year are you?"
The question made everyone pause. It hit them: this Hogwarts kid hadn't actually stated his year; they only knew he was a Ravenclaw.
Thinking about it, they assumed he had to be at least a third or fourth-year. Sure, he was a little short, but that level of restrained, absolute calm was impossible for a lower-year student to fake.
Richie didn't understand the French, but he got the gist that he was being asked a question. He shot a look at his aunt.
The human 'Godwin Translator' gave a slight smirk and repeated the question in English.
Richie blinked, pocketed his wand, and looked back at the crowd.
"I'm Richie Harland, Ravenclaw House, first year".
Once the bilingual students translated his answer, the twenty-something Beauxbatons students in the hall were completely floored.
A first-year? This was a first-year?
A Hogwarts first-year had just single-handedly swept five Beauxbatons students—two first-years, two second-years, and a third-year...
And honestly? It looked like he could probably take a fourth-year too.
Was the skill gap between wizards really that massive?
Up in the stands, Fleur Delacour frowned deeply.
Should they keep challenging him? If they did, it would have to be a fourth-year stepping up. But a fourth-year fighting a first-year? Win or lose, Beauxbatons would look completely pathetic.
Honestly, this Hogwarts boy was incredibly annoying. He specifically showed up during the Christmas holidays when most of the school was gone just to issue dueling challenges. The few skilled underclassmen duelists she knew had all gone home for the break, leaving only Alex Boyd.
And now, even Boyd had lost...
It was totally opportunistic, picking on the weak—not gentlemanly at all!
No one knew what Fleur was thinking, and nobody cared about her massive misunderstanding of Richie's intentions.
Down by the stage, Madam Mantha looked at the grave, shocked faces of her students and lifted her chin slightly. Her goal had been achieved.
Mantha formally announced, "This dueling exchange is concluded. Mr. Richie Harland of Hogwarts has won five matches. A clean sweep!"
Sunlight slanted into the Star-Wand Dueling Hall, illuminating Richie as he stood on the stage, forever burned into the memories of the Beauxbatons students.
Because the duels took up so much time, Richie headed straight to the Beauxbatons dining hall with Annabelle for lunch.
The dining hall felt more like a grand banquet room. A massive fountain sat in the center, and the domed ceiling was constructed from cascading strings of deep blue crystals. From any angle, you could look through the crystals and see the crossed-wands crest of Beauxbatons.
"Ever since the Triwizard Tournament was discontinued over a century ago, the connection between Beauxbatons, Hogwarts, and Durmstrang has been strictly limited to the professor and headmaster level," Milosan explained.
They were seated at a round white table. House-elves draped in blue silk rapidly served their food on elegant platters.
"Especially two years ago, thanks to your Head of Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick," Milosan continued. "After he challenged and defeated three of our dueling professors here at Beauxbatons, he immediately traveled to Durmstrang. Rumor has it their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was bedridden for three months".
Hearing that, Richie raised an eyebrow.
Professor Flitwick's "Dueling Champion" titles were definitely not just for show. But why had he never mentioned such an incredibly glorious track record?
(Professor Flitwick: "If it hurts international unity, keep it to yourself.")
"I actually hadn't heard that one," Annabelle said, spearing a piece of escargot with her fork and popping it into her mouth.
"You haven't been back to the school in years. A lot has happened since you left," Milosan said, her eyes curving into a warm smile as she caught Annabelle up on Beauxbatons gossip.
Meanwhile, Richie just sat quietly on the side, enjoying his massive French feast.