The black venomous snake glided forward gracefully toward Harry Potter. As a magical construct, its movements were guided entirely by the will of its creator. Since Draco intended to attack Harry, the snake recognized only Harry Potter as its enemy.
"Don't move, Mr. Potter. I'll take care of it."
Naturally, Snape wouldn't allow Harry to be harmed by such a spell. Although the fact that his protégé Draco could cast the Dark spell Serpensortia at such a young age was impressive to Snape, this spell was not suited for a formal duel.
Serpensortia belonged to the category of Dark Magic. Its purpose was to summon a venomous snake made of magical energy, which could then attack a target—or serve other uses. However, due to the slow nature of snakes, it lacked the surprise element needed for dueling, though it was quite effective for assassinations.
"Let me handle this—I'm quite skilled at resolving these sorts of problems."
Gilderoy Lockhart stepped in to stop Snape and waved his wand, casting a spell no one had ever heard of.
The snake, mid-slither, was struck by the spell. It didn't vanish but was instead hurled into the air, landing with an ungraceful thud.
Still, the spell had some effect—the snake, now confused, misidentified a nearby student as its new target.
Clearly, Lockhart's specialty—Confundus Charm—had kicked in. This particular spell was his signature magic. Even when used unintentionally, it tended to produce its usual effects.
Harry Potter stared at the snake for a long moment. A strange, instinctive urge began to surge within him.
"Leave! Leave! Leave him alone!"
Parseltongue burst out of Harry's mouth. He hissed at the snake, embedding his will into the sibilant sounds, shaping them into a language the snake could understand.
The black snake was utterly bewildered. It had a target, but Harry was commanding it to leave. Its head swayed side to side in hesitation.
"Finite Incantatem!"
Though surprised that Harry could speak Parseltongue, Snape didn't forget to dispel the Serpensortia spell.
A flash of light struck the snake, and the magical energy that formed it dispersed into nothingness.
"What the hell were you doing?"
The student who had nearly been attacked was Justin Finch-Fletchley—the same student who, in the original timeline, was nearly petrified alongside Nearly Headless Nick.
Everyone assumed Harry had ordered the snake to attack Justin. Even Harry could see the misunderstanding in their faces. He felt deeply wronged—he had only told the snake to go away. How had that been interpreted as an attack on Justin?
Both Lockhart and Snape stood near him, their expressions stern and uneasy, as if they'd just witnessed something incredible.
Harry couldn't stand the way everyone was staring at him. The inexplicable hostility in their eyes hurt more than he could bear.
So, the boy skipped the rest of the class and ran straight back to the Gryffindor common room. Ron, worried about him, followed.
Oddly enough, Snape didn't deduct any points from Gryffindor—but his face was particularly dark.
"What are you all standing around for? Everyone split into two lines. Each of you must duel once."
Snape ordered the students to form two rows on either side of the dueling stage. Regardless of which house they were from, everyone had to step up and duel.
"Fair and square! And remember, children—you're only allowed to use Expelliarmus!"
Lockhart reminded them once again. This time, no one dared disobey. Everyone had seen the consequences of reckless spell use.
"Looks like there's nothing more to see here. The Dueling Club seems to be working well,"
Regulus Black said to Dumbledore, already turning to leave.
"Hermione's about to go up. Aren't you staying to watch?"
Dumbledore smiled faintly. Clearly, he was well aware that his assistant had been spending quite a bit of time charming the young girls of Hogwarts.
"Oh! Her opponent is Draco? What a coincidence."
Regulus Black hadn't expected Draco to face off against another member of the Golden Trio. Was this, like in the books and films, Draco Malfoy's destiny—to always clash with the Trio?
"Well, if it isn't the Gryffindor lioness who ran away,"
Draco sneered at Hermione, clearly not taking her seriously.
"You could always transfer houses, you know! I saved a spot for you in Gryffindor. I believe the girls' dormitory still has a bed open."
Thanks to Regulus Black's coaching, Hermione had become quick-witted. Her retort left Draco speechless, unable to show his face in Slytherin for a while.
Not only did she suggest Draco transfer houses, but she also told him to move into the girls' dormitory. That was enough to make Draco completely lose his temper.
"Shut up, you stupid Mudblood!"
Draco waved his wand, looking as though he was about to cast Avada Kedavra on the spot.
"My grades are better than yours! Are you saying you're even worse than a Mudblood?"
Hermione fully understood the slur "Mudblood." In the past, she might have been so hurt by such an insult that she would cry. But the Hermione now was much stronger—she struck back with the most effective counter. My grades are better than yours—so what does that make you, if not even beneath a Mudblood?
It was likely that Draco wouldn't dare call Hermione a Mudblood again—at least not until his grades surpassed hers.
At this point, Draco felt insulted once again. He stopped arguing and swung his wand.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Protego Maxima!"
Draco's spell was blocked by a thick, transparent wall, which slowly absorbed and dispersed the energy.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Protego!"
This time, Draco's spell hit Hermione directly, but it was neutralized by a protective charm she had on her. Most of the magical force was deflected away.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Expecto Patronum!"
Finally, Hermione summoned her Patronus. A massive griffin appeared on the dueling platform. Draco's spell had no effect at all. The silver-threaded griffin swayed its head and tail, casting its noble and majestic gaze over the crowd. A powerful aura of dignity and authority filled the air.
"How is this possible?"
Faced with the griffin, Draco was so terrified that he collapsed onto the dueling platform. He recognized the spell—Expecto Patronum—but never imagined that a second-year like Hermione could cast it. With his family background, Draco knew full well that this spell wasn't typically taught until fourth or fifth year. In the original story, Harry casting it in third year was already seen as an incredible feat.
Just as quickly as it had appeared, the griffin vanished—its silver form unraveling into threads of light and returning to Hermione's wand.
This scene once again moved the watching professors and Dumbledore. Harry speaking Parseltongue had already been shocking enough. Now, Hermione had cast an advanced Patronus spell, and even managed a clean magical recall—this was astonishing.
"Expelliarmus isn't supposed to be used like that. Let me show you how it's done. Expelliarmus!"
Hermione lectured Draco, who was still on the ground, then waved her wand.
Draco shut his eyes, dreading what would happen next. He had used overwhelming magical force earlier with clear ill intent. Now the tables had turned, and he didn't dare imagine how much power Hermione might unleash.
A flash of magical light passed over him—his wand was wrenched from his hand and flew into Hermione's grasp, but his body remained completely unharmed.
Hermione had used only the precise amount of magical energy needed to disarm him—nothing more. The kind of Expelliarmus that knocked someone flat was simply the result of excessive and unnecessary force.
For example, when Snape disarmed Lockhart earlier, it was clearly intentional that Lockhart got knocked down.
"Throwing your magic around wildly, and you can't even control it precisely—are you really a Slytherin?"
Hermione didn't intend to beat Draco up. That would just be a crude way to vent frustration and would make her seem uncivilized.
But after taking Regulus Black's advice, she had learned to defeat her opponent in a way that displayed elegance and poise—outclassing them both in power and noble bearing. That was the best way to deliver a slap in the face—clean, final, and irrefutable.
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