Unlike the flashy and rule-filled modern wizard duels, real battles between wizards have no such restrictions.
They wager not just their honor, but their very lives.
Only with that kind of resolve does one earn the right to raise their wand and take another’s life.
And that was exactly what Draco saw in his mind...
That intensity was something Lockhart clearly hadn’t expected—he hesitated for a split second.
A chance!
“Protect yourself, Hermione!”
In that fleeting moment of distraction, Draco gave Hermione a quick warning as he flicked his arm. A black object slipped from his sleeve, which he caught with practiced ease, raising it and aiming at Lockhart, who still had a look of surprise on his face.
It was the wand etched with the Malfoy family crest.
Elegant—and deadly!
“Expelliarmus.”
“Expelliarmus.”
Red sparks burst forth.
Hermione, barely managing to duck into a corner, stared blankly at the scene before her. This was the first time she had witnessed a true wizard duel.
No elaborate rituals. No holding back.
Only brutality—and a willingness to do whatever it took.
Compared to this, the Duelling Club had been mere child's play...
...
There was no standing still, trading spells from a distance. After casting their opening Disarming Charms, Draco and Lockhart began moving through the cramped space, casting as they dodged.
Whether it was deliberate or not, both were using only Disarming Charms and Shield Charms to counter.
If not for the situation, one might think they were engaged in a friendly training session between teacher and student...
“Hahaha! I suppose they don’t call you the Prince of Slytherin for nothing! This kind of skill—most grown wizards couldn’t pull it off!”
“...”
“Interesting... very interesting. Is this why that old man’s been watching you so closely?”
“So this is who you really are behind that mask, Pro—Lockhart.”
“Who’s to say?”
It was clear their fighting styles were worlds apart.
At that moment, Lockhart’s expression was a twisted mix of madness and delight—nothing like the bumbling persona he usually wore.
No... in truth, the strength he was showing was nothing like that of the so-called professor who couldn’t even handle a few Cornish Pixies.
That much was obvious from the shock on Hermione’s face.
Unlike Lockhart’s wild and manic energy, Draco fought in near silence, his face expressionless. The only sign of emotion was a faint furrow in his brow...
Bang!
Boom!
Blasts of red light missed their mark, spells clashed and scattered, and Shield Charms deflected curses, leaving the once tidy girls’ bathroom completely wrecked.
Strangely, despite the chaos, not a single wizard came to investigate—as if the whole thing had been prearranged...
“Draco, something’s not right.”
“What is it, our little know-it-all confused about why no one’s noticed anything yet?”
“...”
Lockhart spoke like a proper professor who’d caught on to a student’s confusion—but his tone was all mockery, with not a hint of kindness. Draco frowned at the remark.
True, even if the Christmas holidays had thinned out the wizard population at Hogwarts, the commotion from a battle like this should’ve been noticed. Especially by the professors—they weren’t incompetent.
Which meant... there could only be one reason for the silence.
“Expelliarmus.”
“Expelliarmus.”
Boom!
The clash of spells forced both of them to pause for a beat before they split apart, dodging the scattering red sparks.
The dazzling display made Hermione’s eyes go wide in shock. She had never imagined that a wizard’s duel could be so breathtaking—and so deadly.
But if anyone was feeling truly unsettled, it was Lockhart. After repeated failed attacks, he was visibly rattled. He hadn’t expected Draco’s power to reach this level.
In fact, he had never encountered anything like it.
Draco was only a second-year student, yet the magical power and control he displayed were already on par with freshly graduated wizards.
No—judging by his combat ability, he might even surpass many fully grown ones...
The longer the fight dragged on, the more excited Lockhart became.
“Incredible. If it weren’t for that old man’s plan, I’d actually be looking forward to your future!”
If Draco was a cold and precise swordsman, then Lockhart was a full-blown berserker.
That twisted grin of his—clearly savoring the fight—made Hermione, watching nervously from the side, grip her wand tighter in fear. She couldn’t believe this was the same Lockhart who used to smile like a fool.
Draco, unaffected, blocked another of Lockhart’s spells and muttered with a frown—
“Plan?”
“Hah! If not for that old man’s salvation—oh, no, no, no~ now’s really not the time to talk about that. Come on, let’s pick up where we left off!!”
“Lunatic.”
Right after that, the surge in Lockhart’s magic brought another spike in intensity.
Water burst from shattered pipes, flooding the floor, while broken walls amplified Myrtle’s ghostly wails even louder.
As the battle spiraled out of control, Hermione bit her lower lip, her face tense with worry. It wasn’t obvious, but she could tell Draco’s breathing was growing heavier.
The pressure on him must’ve been immense.
Just then, the stalemate shifted...
...
Thud!
With a flush of feverish madness on his face, Lockhart suddenly widened the distance between them. The burning surge of magic twisted the air around him, and his wand tip, now flickering with a strange light, locked onto Draco’s position.
“Pestis Incendium.”
“......”
“Hermione!!”
Before the words even fully left Lockhart’s lips, Draco had already recognized the overwhelming magical pressure and the malicious energy swirling in the air.
His grey eyes sharpened, vertical pupils briefly flashing as he stared down the wand now radiating a terrifying aura in Lockhart’s hand.
This was dark magic...