Standing on the dueling stage, Snape’s expression and mood were a stark contrast to Lockhart’s beaming, flowery grin.
Draco could guess a few reasons why. It likely had to do with the thief who’d stolen those potion ingredients. Or perhaps Snape already had a suspect in mind but lacked the evidence to prove it—or maybe, for some reason, he couldn’t retrieve them.
What kind of potion could it be? Draco made a mental note to look into it later.
He was especially curious about who Snape suspected, and what kind of potion could be brewed from the stolen ingredients.
Of course, another likely reason for Snape’s foul mood was the simple fact that a respected Potions Master like him had to share responsibility for this farcical Duelling Club alongside Lockhart—someone he clearly regarded as a clown. No wonder Snape’s face was so dark.
And yet Lockhart, standing right beside him, seemed completely oblivious to the almost tangible black aura radiating from Snape’s back...
“First, I’d like to introduce my assistant—Professor Snape!”
“……”
Snape’s chilling glare was enough to make several first-years, who had been about to clap, instantly lower their hands in fear. Their awkward, embarrassed expressions made Draco, standing at the edge of the crowd, glance at them with a flicker of pity.
He could already predict Snape had memorized every one of their faces.
Oblivious to Snape’s murderous glare, Lockhart went on cheerfully, continuing to say things that only made matters worse...
“Your dear Professor Snape told me he knows a little something about dueling himself. And lucky for all of you, he’s graciously agreed to help me with a short demonstration before class!”
The more excited Lockhart got, the more visibly nervous the students became—stepping back in unison as if something terrifying had appeared before them.
“Now, now, no need to be frightened—once I finish our little demo, I promise I’ll return your Potions professor safe and sound!”
“……”
That baseless confidence made even Draco wince and curl his lip in secondhand embarrassment.
He was certain of one thing—Snape, who had already drawn his wand and was sizing up his target, wasn’t going to hold back.
And Draco wasn’t alone in sensing it. All around him, the other young wizards could see the malicious smile tugging at Snape’s lips, and they could feel just how offended he was by Lockhart’s latest performance.
No one could understand how Lockhart still had the nerve to smile. If Snape ever looked at them like that, they’d be sprinting for the hills...
...
With Lockhart’s ill-fated attempt at pre-duel bravado wrapped up, he and Snape now stood face-to-face on the dueling platform.
The young wizards all turned their eyes to the stage, eagerly anticipating what was about to unfold. No one could tell if they were more curious about Lockhart’s “performance” or about what kind of dark magic Snape might unleash to shock them.
“If they both end up knocking each other out, wouldn’t that be perfect?”
Ron Weasley muttered in Harry Potter’s ear. Harry nodded absentmindedly, not even noticing the death glares coming from Lockhart’s fans nearby.
Luckily, all eyes were quickly drawn back to the stage by Lockhart himself.
“As you can see, we’ll start in the standard dueling stance, wands at the ready. On the count of three, we’ll each cast our first spell. And of course, we won’t be trying to kill each other.”
He said it with a smile, but the cold sneer from Snape made it clear he had very different intentions.
“One, two, three!!”
“Expelliarmus!”
Snape’s spell shot out at lightning speed, the precision and timing showing just how practiced he was. Lockhart didn’t even have time to react before a flash of red light sent him flying across the stage.
The scream that followed had no technique. Just raw emotion.
Lockhart slammed into the wall, slid down, and collapsed into a heap on the floor, making every student watching gape in shock.
It wasn’t just the ease with which Snape had taken him down—it was the sheer ruthlessness of it.
Clearly, Snape had been thoroughly irritated by Lockhart...
...
Lockhart didn’t get up for a long moment, and his fans anxiously tried to move forward. But one sharp look from Snape froze them in place.
Aside from those brainless... devoted fans, most of the young wizards simply stared at Lockhart lying crumpled on the floor with strange, conflicted expressions. Out of respect for his title, they didn’t voice what was really on their minds.
The Slytherins, though, had no such reservations. They broke into loud applause and cheers for their Head of House, showing no concern for Lockhart’s dignity.
Amid those mocking cheers, Lockhart finally staggered to his feet. His colorful hat had fallen off, and his carefully styled hair now stuck up in all directions—completely ruining his earlier polished image.
“Alright, you all saw that, didn’t you?”
Wobbling back onto the stage, Lockhart tried desperately to maintain what little was left of his image as a powerful and dignified figure in front of the students.
But Snape’s spell had stripped that illusion away entirely.
“That was a Disarming Charm—as you saw, I lost my wand. Ah, thank you, Miss Brown.”
He took back his wand and, incredibly, still hadn’t learned his lesson. Turning toward Snape, he smiled.
“Yes, Professor Snape, it was a good idea to show them that move, but if I may be honest, your intentions were far too obvious. If I’d wanted to block it, it would’ve been effortless...”
His pompous tone made Snape’s smirk freeze for just a moment. A few seconds later, with a gleam of menace in his eyes, he began to raise his wand again.
Lockhart must’ve noticed, because he quickly turned away mid-sentence and faced the audience, their expressions ranging from amusement to disbelief.
“That concludes our demonstration! Now I’ll come down and divide you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d be so kind—”
“Professor!”
A sudden voice from the crowd cut him off. Lockhart blinked, caught off guard, and looked toward the raised hand.
“Hmm... I remember you. One of the mischievous Weasley twins. Got something to say? If it’s an autograph you want—”
“No, Professor, I just wanted to ask: can we choose our own opponents?”
“Oh, well...”
Lockhart hesitated, unsure if it was Fred or George speaking, but Snape seemed to catch on immediately and stepped forward.
“Now that sounds interesting. Well then, Mr. Fred, since you’re so clever, why don’t you tell us—who do you want as your opponent?”
Fred and George, known for their jokes and pranks, weren’t foolish enough to test Snape’s patience today—not after watching Lockhart get flattened like a ragdoll just moments ago.
Fred Weasley clenched his jaw, then stepped forward and called out boldly.
“Draco Malfoy!”
“......”
“That’s who I want to duel!”
“......”
Gasps. Objections.
The entire hall turned to look at Draco, who was leaning casually against the wall.
He had suddenly become the center of attention—but judging by his calm, unbothered eyes, he clearly didn’t take the challenge seriously at all...