A flash of malevolent darkness streaked through the air at blistering speed, crossing the distance to Harry in the span of a heartbeat.
Harry's instincts screamed danger as he frantically attempted to dive sideways, but the spell moved with terrifying velocity. His body simply couldn't react fast enough to escape the oncoming destruction.
In the next instant, two translucent barriers materialised before him with crystalline clarity, intercepting the dark magic with a resonant clash that sent ripples through the air.
"Whew."
Staring at the protective shields that had saved his life, Harry felt his wildly hammering heart gradually settle into a more manageable rhythm. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as the reality of what had nearly occurred sank in.
That spell had been impossibly fast and radiated an aura of impending death that chilled him to the bone. Without those timely barriers, he harboured no illusions about his fate. The curse would have torn him apart without mercy.
"Draco wins." Snape's frigid voice cut through the stunned silence that had fallen over the assembled students.
Only then did the shocked spectators finally snap out of their horrified trance.
"Are you trying to kill someone?" Ron's voice cracked with fury as he shouted at Malfoy's position on the platform.
He'd witnessed everything with crystal clarity. That spell's incredible speed and malevolent radiance spoke of power far beyond what any second-year should possess. If it had struck Harry directly, the consequences would have been catastrophic.
"Hmph, the professors are right here. How could they possibly let anything happen to him?" Though Malfoy wasn't entirely certain why he'd unleashed such devastating magic, he refused to allow anyone from the Weasley family to insult him publicly.
"You arrogant git!" Ron's face flushed scarlet as he rolled up his sleeves, preparing to settle things with his fists.
But before he could take a single step forward, Snape's voice poured over him like arctic water.
"Are you finished with your pathetic display? Then vacate the platform immediately and make room for others."
"Yes, Professor." Hearing the dismissal, Draco offered a slight bow before departing from the elevated stage.
Although he'd defended himself against Ron's accusations, deep down he knew with absolute certainty that his mental state during those final moments had been anything but normal.
This unsettling sensation had occurred multiple times before, leaving him increasingly troubled.
With complexity clouding his grey eyes, Draco cast one final glance at the wand trembling in his grip, shook his head in frustrated confusion, and departed the hall entirely.
Watching the young Slytherin's retreating figure, Evans felt his brow furrow with concern.
The raw power behind that spell had been completely wrong. This particular student had previously impressed him as a talented young wizard with solid magical fundamentals, but the curse he'd just witnessed was absolutely beyond any second-year's capabilities.
Could it have resulted from the excitement of facing his long-time rival? He remembered hearing that during magical surges, young wizards sometimes experienced temporary increases in spell potency.
But would such a phenomenon really produce such a dramatic amplification?
After several moments of contemplation, Evans shook his head and filed the incident away for future consideration. If an opportunity presented itself, he might try some discrete investigation.
"I thought he'd actually changed somehow. Turns out he's exactly the same as always!" During their walk back to Gryffindor Tower, Ron continued his angry tirade.
"I don't think he did it intentionally." Harry kept his gaze fixed on the moving staircases, still replaying those terrifying seconds in his mind.
He'd interacted with Malfoy extensively over their shared time at Hogwarts. On the Slytherin's face, he'd observed disdain, rage, and arrogant superiority in countless variations.
But never before had he witnessed such bone-deep coldness as what he'd seen in those final moments before the curse. In Malfoy's eyes, he'd glimpsed only endless frigidity and complete contempt for human life itself.
Immediately afterward, Malfoy had seemed like someone awakening from a disturbing dream. Though Harry struggled with reading subtle expressions, as the intended target of that lethal magic, the dramatic personality shift hadn't escaped his notice.
Could Malfoy genuinely be under some form of external control?
After wrestling with the possibilities, Harry spoke quietly, "What do you think we should do if Malfoy really is being controlled somehow?"
"Actually controlled?" Ron studied Harry with obvious scepticism. "Are you suggesting there's some curse that could make someone love studying and spend every waking moment buried in textbooks like him?"
He gestured toward Hermione walking beside them. "By that logic, we've got someone cursed right here with us."
"So now you have a convenient excuse for avoiding your homework!" Hermione snapped with indignation before analysing the situation more rationally. "But I also think the probability of magical control is quite low. Curses don't typically produce such specific behavioural changes."
"There wouldn't be such a convenient curse anyway," Ron added with characteristic sarcasm. "If something like that existed, Snape would definitely curse every student at least once! He'd never miss such a golden opportunity!"
After absorbing his friends' logical explanations, Harry nodded slowly in agreement.
Given their reasoning, magical control seemed increasingly unlikely.
Yet that expression of cold malevolence continued to trouble him deeply.
When the right moment presented itself, he'd find a way to investigate Malfoy more thoroughly.
Following their return to the common room and some light conversation, the trio eventually dispersed to their respective dormitories.
Tomorrow would bring the Magical Creatures Club meeting in the Forbidden Forest, making early rest essential.
Upon reaching his four-poster bed and drawing back the heavy curtains, Harry caught sight of a dark shadow instantly vanishing beside the translucent container resting on his nightstand.
After recognising Harry's familiar presence, the previously invisible figure materialised once more. The little black cat regarded him with bright curiosity.
"Oh? You're back already, meow? How was the club? Did you have fun, meow?"
"Pretty entertaining, I suppose?" Harry's expression carried a mixture of amusement and lingering tension.
Though Lockhart had hosted the event, watching the pompous professor humiliate himself twice while engaging in that intense duel with Malfoy had made for quite an eventful evening, despite the frightening conclusion.
"Then I want to come next time too, meow!" The ghostly feline's face lit up with excitement before returning attention to its construction project.
"Who knows when that'll be?" Harry shook his head and examined the container before his spectral companion.
"How's your home improvement project progressing?"
Over the past several days, the little black cat had been diligently working on the translucent container Professor Kahn had provided, transforming it into a comfortable living space.
The box now bore no resemblance to its original simple form. Luxurious silk fabrics lined every surface, elegant curtains adorned the walls, and the interior arrangement rivalled the finest dollhouse, complete with miniature beds and perfectly scaled furniture.
"Almost finished, meow!" Without turning from its work, the little black cat continued moving tiny objects in and out of the container with methodical precision.
The castle had settled into deep nighttime quiet, with the other students long since retired to their beds. Most club meetings occurred on Sundays, and even without organised activities, Sunday provided excellent opportunities for both study and recreation.
"Don't stay up too late. We need to wake early tomorrow for the Forbidden Forest expedition." Harry reminded his ethereal friend.
Tomorrow marked their first official gathering in the Forbidden Forest, as Professor Kahn had announced that all future club meetings would take place among the ancient trees. Harry found himself genuinely excited about this upcoming adventure into the mysterious woodland.
"Oh right, I need to remember my broomstick." Muttering to himself, Harry retrieved his Nimbus Two Thousand and positioned it carefully beside his bed.
But just as Harry finished his preparations and settled down to sleep, a sharp crackling sound suddenly pierced the dormitory's peaceful silence.
His eyes snapped open in surprise to discover a diminutive figure wearing a tattered pillowcase standing beside his bed, regarding him with obvious nervousness and barely contained terror.