Hogwarts, Great Hall.
"...So, Headmaster Dumbledore entrusted your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a third-degree Merlin Order honoree, member of the Merlin Knight Order, honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of the Wizard Weekly Most Charming Smile Award—me, Lockhart, and Professor Snape, to host this little club—"
On stage, Lockhart paused for a breath, "Of course, Professor Snape says he knows a bit about dueling, and he very generously agreed to join me—before we officially start, to give you a simple demonstration—" he said, grinning, "So, Professor Snape, before we begin, is there anything you'd like to say?"
The previously noisy hall quieted down, as everyone's gaze turned to the other figure standing at the edge of the stage.
Why...
Why now?
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Snape's face looked extremely unpleasant, his right hand clutching the front of his left arm, his sinister gaze sweeping across the hall—the stinging pain on his left arm hadn't faded, he certainly knew what it meant...
There was the Dark Mark once planted by Voldemort himself, which had extinguished ten years ago and gradually faded away, eventually vanishing from the skin completely, as if it had never existed.
And because of this, despite Dumbledore's repeated emphasis, Snape still felt he might be overly worried.
Things might not be that serious, Voldemort might never rise again, and the prophecy might... be false.
But...
The man bent down, hair falling before his eyes, he finally spotted the boy he was searching for among the crowd, the lightning-shaped scar, the loathsome face, and... those eyes he could never forget—
No, he has to take him to Dumbledore! Right now! The Dark Lord might appear at any moment...
"...What's the matter, Severus?"
Lockhart bent down, his long purple-red silk hat tilting a bit—he waved it casually before the man's eyes, speaking flippantly, "Feeling unwell? It's okay, I can temporarily take over the club hosting duties, and perhaps Professor Flitwick—"
"...Shut up."
"What did you say?" Lockhart's smile froze.
"..." Snape did not repeat himself, he shoved the man blocking his way aside, and quickly walked to the front of the stage, his black cloak flying behind him, "This is my club, Dumbledore merely allowed you to assist—"
"Severus, I must point out—"
"Shut up, we are not that close."
"...Fine, Professor Snape, please remember, I am a third-degree Merlin Order honoree, member of the Merlin Knight Order, honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League..." Each word Lockhart spoke seemed to make his heels a bit higher.
"And then?" Snape said expressionlessly, his cold voice breaking through, "Do I need to borrow a unicycle for you from the circus? Or is this place too small for you to show off your clown tricks?" His speech was fast, quite unlike his usual sarcastic tone.
Silence enveloped the Great Hall.
Then, not knowing who started it (but Harry clearly saw it was the Weasley Twins), applause began to echo throughout the hall, with quite a few little wizards even climbing onto the teacher's dining table to clap—and were promptly yanked down by their Prefect.
"You're clapping for Snape?" Hermione was stunned, watching Harry join the commotion.
"I hate both of them equally!" Harry was almost clapping his palms red, "If they directly start fighting and both end up injured and in the Hospital Wing together..."
Then next week will be the happiest week since school started!
Harry was already fantasizing about a life at Hogwarts without Snape, without Lockhart, and without obsessive fans.
If life really turned out that way, he could hardly imagine how sunny, cheerful, positive, and forward-thinking he would be as a little wizard!
Listening to the relentless applause and boos around him, Lockhart's barely maintained smile completely broke apart, "I want to duel you!" His face flushed red, seemingly caught up in the rush of blood.
The hall fell silent once again, the little wizards tensely watching the scene with anticipation for Snape's response.
"...Of course, demonstration." Snape paused for a moment, then nodded, looking back—
This is Hogwarts, the Dark Lord couldn't possibly appear here directly, and the Dark Mark earlier hadn't indicated a summons, meaning Voldemort hasn't planned to gather the Death Eaters yet—after a moment of calm, Snape's thoughts finally stabilized quite a bit.
"No! It's a due... fine, it's a demonstration." Lockhart's fervor came and went quickly, he wanted to utter a few more harsh words, but ended up wilting, "Professors dueling doesn't sound very dignified. Don't worry, Severus, I'll go easy on you."
Snape did not answer, the two stood on opposite ends of the long stage, turning to face each other, and simultaneously bowed—but at least Lockhart bowed, Snape merely tilted his head perfunctorily.
Both raised their magic wands to their chests, "As you can see, we're holding our wands in a typical dueling stance." Lockhart addressed the quiet crowd, clearly not planning to give up narration, "On the count of three, we'll cast the first spell. Of course, it's just a spar."
"And then, one—two—three!"
"Stupefy!"
Red light pierced through the Great Hall's air, and Lockhart, wearing his purple-red robes, was hit by the spell and thrown back violently, crashing against the hall's wall, tumbling down onto the stage, unable to rise.
"Looks like your Professor Lockhart decided to take a good nap—"
After Snape's words, a group of Slytherins below excitedly applauded and cheered, while other houses, although they were thrilled, appeared somewhat disappointed—they had evidently hoped both would be on the ground unable to rise.
The tension in Snape's heart seemed to fade quite a bit, he toyed with the wand in his hand, his tone calm, "Alright, it seems our demonstration needs a pause, but perhaps we can find a student to cooperate with me—"
This time even Slytherin stopped cheering.
Everyone instinctively held their breath, the little wizards gazed fearfully at the man on stage.
Harry felt a sense of suffocation, because whether it was an illusion or not, he seemed to feel Snape's gaze directed at him.
...Is it too late to drop out now?
"Well, Ha..." Staring at the boy off-stage, Snape's lips curved into a smile... Wait, the man sensed something, looked up, and turned towards the not far figure who just pushed open the door and entered the hall, "Ha—Mr. Richard of Hufflepuff, please, come on up."
"..."
"?"
"Me?"
Having just returned from Malfoy Manor, William stopped in confusion, faced with numerous gazes in the hall, unsure whether his left foot outside the door should step in or not.