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Kestrel stood gazing out over the vast, glittering expanse of ice and snow before her. The lake stretched wide beneath the spring sun, its frozen surface gleaming like polished glass, while on a cluster of reefs nearby, several merpeople thrashed and splashed in visible distress. The sight only made her lips curve into a bright, radiant smile.
"This is perfect!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing with pure excitement.
Without hesitation, she pulled out her wand and pointed it smartly at her boots. In an instant, two sharp blades of ice formed neatly along her soles, turning her shoes into skates.
With a jubilant cheer, Kestrel launched herself forward. She bent low, the ice groaning beneath her speed, and glided toward the rocks where the anxious merperson were trapped.
"Don't worry, I'll get you out of there!" she called, her voice carrying brightly over the frozen expanse.
She raised her wand, pointing it toward the center of the lake. A surge of magic spiraled forth like the tip of a whirling drill, boring swiftly into the thick ice until, with a crack, a wide hole opened up in the frozen sheet.
"There you go!" she laughed warmly, gesturing toward the opening.
At once, the frightened merperson dove headfirst into the water, disappearing one after another into the safety of the dark depths. The last to leave was an elder, who lingered a moment longer. She lifted her head above the rim of the hole and gave her a long, measuring look before slipping beneath the surface.
Kestrel paid no heed to the mixture of astonishment and doubtful murmurs rising from the surroundings. She was already lost in her own creation, her entire attention immersed in the design of what lay ahead upon the lake's icy stage.
Her wand swept and twirled through the air with rhythmic precision, as though she were conducting an invisible orchestra. Each graceful motion left trails of glowing sparks, each spell uttered crisp and ringing, and soon the frozen expanse began to transform before the watching eyes.
A winding, mischievous racetrack unfurled across the glittering surface, twisting and curving like a living serpent. It began near the castle's lakeside edge, then snaked its way outward, coiling across the plain of ice until it vanished near several enormous bubbles that lay suspended, frozen in the clear depths below.
But this was no ordinary course. Kestrel had filled it with what she liked to call her "little surprises":
The Tripping Ice Hump: A stretch of seemingly flat ice would suddenly swell into a small hump without warning, enough to send any skater tumbling if they were racing at speed.
The Fog Spout: Crystalline ice pillars could erupt without notice, spewing thick white mist that blanketed the path ahead in a veil of blinding cold.
The Slippery Trap: An area enchanted with a jinx so slick it felt like gliding across a buttered floor, where balance and control were all but impossible.
The Bottomless Pit: An innocently disguised patch of ice that split open beneath a skater's feet, revealing a gaping hole wide enough for one unlucky contestant to plunge through. It was harmless, of course, but left the victim drenched and thoroughly disheveled.
The Swaying Ice Bridge: The only way across certain frozen gullies, so narrow and unstable that the entire bridge quivered under the faintest weight.
The rules were simple: skate the course from start to finish and reach the end. Yet the true brilliance of the design lay in one delightful twist, for contestants were not only permitted but wholeheartedly encouraged to wield magic along the way.
The racers, once on the track, could swing their wands at any time. Spells might be used to clear the obstacles before them, or just as easily to sabotaging their rivals in the process.
"Ice Rise! "At the caster's call, the frozen surface ahead would swell upward, forming a neat little ramp. A sudden incline like that could mean the difference between falling behind and seizing a burst of speed.
"Smooth Path! "With a single sweep, the treacherous Tripping Hump or any rough bump in the way would flatten instantly, ironed sleek and perfect as though pressed by an unseen hand.
"Bridge Form! "At a fork in the course or over an inconvenient shortcut, a solid bridge of ice could leap into being, spanning the gap in the blink of an eye. It was sturdy enough to carry a skater, though slippery underfoot, and often served as a tempting weapon for those bold enough to cut corners.
"Slick Ice! Rough Ice!" These were the tricks of the cunning. Cast "Slick Ice" behind you, and the rival who was hot on your heels would be sent sprawling face-first on the glassy surface. Cast "Rough Ice" before them, and the path would turn jagged and uneven, a field of bumps ready to send them tumbling.
And then came the ultimate challenge… the finishing spell, "Stop and Stand!"
The final test demanded that a skater, racing full speed toward the course's edge, bring themselves to a sudden and flawless halt. By conjuring tremendous friction beneath their feet, they had to pull off a sharp, stylish stop, the kind of finish that left spectators cheering and jaws dropping. Failure meant shooting straight off the course in a clumsy heap.
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"Professor Lumina, what is all this for?"
More and more students had been drawn to the edge of the Black Lake, craning their necks to see. They watched Kestrel darting across the ice, her wand flashing in constant motion, and finally someone could no longer hold back their question.
"Ha! A fresh lesson, straight from the oven!" Kestrel froze mid-spell, spun on her heel, and faced them. Her face was lit with pure delight, the glow of excitement spilling from her every expression as she shouted her reply.
"An Ice skating competition?" one of the students ventured, half curious and half doubtful, peeking from the crowd.
"Of course it's more than just skating!"
She swept her arm with theatrical exaggeration, as though brushing away such a dull notion.
Then, with quick strides, she marched toward the waiting cluster of students. With a light tap of her wand against her throat, she spoke clearly.
"Sonorus!"
Her words boomed out at once, magnified into the cold winter air. Her voice carried across the lake, sharp and commanding, echoing over the ice and reverberating in the stillness along the shore.
"This is a test of your ability to adapt in the moment," she declared with complete seriousness. "Picture this: in the middle of a fight, if your enemy realizes he cannot defeat you and tries to flee, what should you do?"
The students exchanged baffled looks. "Uh…?"
"Idiots! Of course you chase them!" Kestrel barked, her tone thick with exasperation. Then she shifted the question in an instant, her expression quick and sly. "Now turn it around. Suppose you are the one who can't win. Then what should you do?"
This time the students had learned their lesson. They blurted out together, "Run away!"
"Wrong!" Kestrel snapped, thrusting one finger high, her tone fierce and uncompromising. "That is called a strategic withdrawal! Understand? Strategic withdrawal!"
She stood with her hands on her hips, chin raised proudly, and continued with all the confidence of a seasoned general. "Do you really think running mindlessly will save your life? Naïve! The art of retreat — pah, let me rephrase, the art of 'strategic withdrawal'— lies in knowing how to change the road beneath your feet!"
She began to pace as she spoke, her words brisk and forceful, her eyes glinting with conviction. "Whether it means building a bridge and laying down roads beneath your own steps to carve out a slim chance of survival, or planting a few 'little surprises' to slow the enemies at your back, these are life-saving skills on the battlefield! Today's lesson is nothing less than a rehearsal for the battles yet to come."
The students gave a long, drawn-out, half-comprehending "Oooh…" in response.
"Bah, just theory won't help you grasp the essence of it."
Clearly convinced she had explained enough, Kestrel waved off further questions impatiently. Her sharp gaze swept the crowd like a searchlight, then she pointed, quick and decisive, at more than a dozen students. "You! You! You there! Yes, you too! Don't even think about hiding… it's you I'm talking to!"
Her finger landed squarely on Hermione, who had been dragged here by Harry and Ron just to watch the commotion.
"You lot, step forward. No more gawking. Onto the course, all of you! Knowledge is proven in practice!"
Hermione's face froze in disbelief. For a moment she looked like she might argue, but seeing no way out, she could only shuffle reluctantly toward the starting line, joining the other unlucky souls who had been singled out.
Kestrel rattled off the rules at a blistering pace, her explanation swift but precise, making sure every student grasped the essentials. Only when she was satisfied did she raise her wand once more.
"Attention now, the starting signal is going to be… a little unusual," she announced with a sly grin. "At the beginning, I'll give you all a small… a very small, boost."
With that, she swept her wand through the air in a dramatic flourish.
The line of students had barely a moment to gasp before a powerful, irresistible force slammed into their backs. Their cries of alarm stuck in their throats as they were hurled forward like stones from a sling, cutting through the air with a sharp "swoosh."
The once-silent expanse of ice exploded into chaos, transformed in an instant into a wild skating ground where shrill screams tangled with bursts of uncontrollable laughter, a magical ice carnival spiraling delightfully out of control.
At that very moment, Kestrel rose from the ground before their astonished eyes. Her form shimmered, then burst into a great bird of scarlet light, wings unfurling wide as she swept swiftly above the racetrack.
"Ahhhh—splash!" A Hufflepuff first-year, barely a few steps into the course, stumbled into a Slippery Trap. He spun like a broken top, went flying, and landed face-first in a spray of glittering ice shards that clung to his cheeks like frost. His tumble drew peals of laughter from every direction.
Flustered, he scrambled upright and muttered a quick Scourgify, brushing the mess away before lurching back into the fray.
"Watch my ice ramp—oi!" A tall Gryffindor, brimming with confidence, whipped out his wand to cast Ice Rise, hoping to vault cleanly over an obstacle. But his angle was far too steep. The "ice ramp" thickened into a looming "ice wall" instead, and he slammed into it with a dull thud. Flattened, he slid down the slick surface like a squashed frog, skimming helplessly across the ice.
"Cross the bridge! Quick, cross the bridge!" Two Ravenclaws burst forward together, sprinting toward a swaying ice bridge that had just formed. The first leapt onto it, but the second, with a mischievous grin, flicked his wand at the planks behind him. A shimmer ran across the surface, and the bridge had turned treacherously slick.
"WHOOSH—Crash!"
The trick backfired spectacularly. Both of them, along with a few opportunists trailing close behind, slipped in unison and tumbled together in a heap of tangled limbs and robes, rolling across the bridge like a cluster of spinning gourds.
"Impedimenta! Wait… no, not there!"
An overly panicked Slytherin student, nerves frayed and judgment clouded, mistook the course's end. In a desperate attempt to brake, he hurled an Impedimenta spell in the wrong direction with trembling hands. The spell landed directly in front of an innocent competitor who was sprinting at full speed.
The poor student had no time to react. He smacked into what felt like a rubbery invisible wall, was bounced skyward like a puppet on strings, and came crashing down in the most ridiculous sprawl imaginable, sending the crowd into fits of roaring laughter.
"Flatten it! Hurry, flatten it!" someone shouted as a cluster of students charged into a bumpy stretch cloaked in a conjured "Fog Sprout." Their companion hastily attempted to cast "Smooth Path," but the spell went astray. The beam veered aside and struck the wrong patch, warping smooth ice into a jagged mess. The caster himself stumbled straight into the uneven ground, bounced around so violently that his wand nearly flew from his grip, and let out a furious curse that was promptly drowned out by the audience's uproarious mirth.
The whole scene had turned into a magical parody of Ice Mario Kart, with spells rippling across the ice, raising and collapsing ridges in chaotic bursts. Conjured bridges shimmered like mirages, only to vanish beneath scrambling feet, while the laughter of the crowd rang out over the mayhem.
Competitors screamed as they skidded frantically across the ice, struggling to keep their balance while waving their wands like desperate duelists. They reshaped the course beneath their feet, dug pitfalls for rivals, and cast frantic charms to stave off their own looming wipeouts.
And high above the chaos, Kestrel circled in the form of a sleek dark silhouette. One claw clutched a gleaming stopwatch, while the other gripped a scoreboard enchanted to update itself in real time, glowing runes flickering with hilarious penalties and bonuses: Crash into ice mound: –1, Friendly fire: –2, Spectacular wipeout: +1.
From time to time she whistled shrilly when a student skimmed perilously close to the edge of a bottomless pit, and at others she burst into unrestrained laughter whenever some unfortunate soul toppled over in the most humiliating fashion, brought low by his own clumsy miscast spell.
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[Chapter End's]
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