Facing three dark curses flying straight toward his handsome face, Louis remained calm—so calm, in fact, that he still had the leisure to think about something entirely different.
"What is the essence of magic?" he mused lazily. "If I could grasp that essence, maybe I could develop a Qi Magic spell that counters every single curse."
"Something even simpler and more convenient than Finite Incantatem."
The world of Harry Potter had a fascinating quirk—most spells had a perfect counter-charm.
For basic spells, there was Finite Incantatem; for higher-level ones, there was General Counter-Spell.
Any magic that could be dispelled by these was considered legal; those that could not—well, those were the Unforgivable Curses.
That was why, despite being far more destructive and wide-ranging, Fiendfyre was never classified as an Unforgivable Curse.
"A magic-suppression field where no one can cast spells, and everyone has to fight with knives and fists… now that would be fun."
The idea amused him, but that was for the future. For now, Louis raised his wand toward the front and said calmly, "Finite!"
With his mastery of Dark Qi Magic, his spellcasting had always been about absolute freedom and control.
A spell like Finite—normally used only to end magical effects—was, in his hands, transformed into a solid magical barrier.
A white light screen appeared before him, neutralizing every curse completely.
Before Cassandra could even react, Louis had already followed up with a Disarming Charm.
Enhanced by his Level-10 mastery of basic spellcraft, his precision and power were formidable.
For instance, this Disarming Charm didn't just pierce through Cassandra's Protego, but also neatly knocked her wand from her hand—without sending the poor girl flying twenty meters backward.
"Duel over! The winner is Mr. Wilson."
Snape, ever the schemer, announced the result before Lockhart could even recover from the backlash of the Disarming Charm.
"Both Mr. Wilson and Miss Vole demonstrated remarkable skill.
Slytherin—fifty points."
Snape declared the result decisively, awarding his own House another fifty points.
Combined with the fifty they'd already earned from Louis' previous deduction exercise, Slytherin now led the other Houses by a full hundred points—an enormous gap.
The crowd of students, who had originally intended to cheer, froze mid-applause.
Truly, no one could kill the mood quite like Severus Snape.
Louis bent down, picked up Cassandra's wand, and returned it to her.
"Good effort. You've already surpassed ninety-nine percent of the students in this school," he teased lightly. "Keep it up—since I'm a year ahead of you, maybe next year you'll even surpass me."
Cassandra rolled her eyes at him with a graceful, flirtatious glance.
"Do you think I'm that easy to fool?" she huffed, snatching her wand back.
Louis smiled as he watched her proud, tsundere exit, then turned toward Professor Snape.
"Professor," he said earnestly, "I don't think that little demonstration was enough. Perhaps our instructors should show us what true, top-tier dueling looks like."
"I'd be happy to volunteer as the opponent."
Snape's lips curled in delight—Louis' words had hit him right in the heart.
"You're absolutely right," he said, looking slyly at the man beside him, whose forehead was still flushed red. "What do you say, Professor Lockhart?"
"Wh-what?"
Lockhart had just recovered from his daze, only to find two very sinister smiles aimed directly at him.
"Ahem! I think that duel was already splendid enough—no need for me to step in. Better to let the students practice a bit on their own. Look, they're all so eager!"
Lockhart immediately tried to steer the topic away. He had just seen Louis's performance—and he was absolutely certain he wouldn't last a single second against him.
A wise man knows when to retreat, and Gilderoy Lockhart prided himself on being a very wise man.
But wisdom alone wouldn't save him here.
"Oh? Are the students really that eager?" Louis turned to the audience, his gaze carrying a clear and silent threat. The moment his eyes swept across the hall, absolute silence fell—no one even dared to breathe too loudly.
Louis smiled in satisfaction and looked back at Lockhart.
"See, Professor? It seems the students still haven't quite grasped the finer points of dueling. They're not that eager to start practicing yet."
Don't treat me like I'm blind! You're the one scaring them into silence!
Lockhart nearly choked on the complaint he was holding back, his chest tight with frustration.
He glanced between Louis and Snape—the two of them looked for all the world like villains with dark smoke rising behind their backs. Nothing about them screamed "good people."
Am I really going to fall into their trap here? he thought bitterly.
He knew his own abilities better than anyone else. Dueling? Forget it. He could barely cast a few proper spells, and when he did, half of them went out of control.
But refusing the challenge outright would make him look cowardly—a fatal blow to his precious reputation!
And for Lockhart, whose pride in his fame outweighed everything else, that was simply unacceptable.
Yet losing to a student was even worse than refusing altogether. That would destroy him completely!
He needed a way to accept the duel gracefully—without actually having to fight.
And suddenly, inspiration struck.
He slipped a hand quietly into his pocket…
"Please, hurry up, Professor Lockhart," Louis said smoothly. "Why don't you show everyone the magnificent skill you wrote about in your books? I'm sure a man brave enough to take on werewolves and giants wouldn't be afraid of a little demonstration duel, right?"
Louis was just about to keep mocking him when—crack!
He froze. It was a faint snapping sound—barely audible to anyone else, but Louis heard it loud and clear.
"Ah! No problem at all! Hahaha! It's time for everyone to witness my true strength!" Lockhart suddenly puffed out his chest, strutting proudly up to Louis.
"Come, Mr. Wilson! But don't cry when you lose!"
Louis's expression turned odd as he watched Lockhart pull his wand from his pocket.
"Oh, Merlin's beard! My wand—it's broken!" Lockhart exclaimed dramatically, wearing a look of exaggerated despair. "What a pity! You've all just missed your only chance to see my real power!"
"Professor, you can use mine!" a devoted fan shouted from below, offering their wand eagerly.
Lockhart's face twitched. For the first time in his life, he genuinely hated his fans. Still, he forced a polite smile and declined.
"For a powerful wizard," he said solemnly, "his own wand is his most loyal companion."
So your way of cherishing your loyal companion is… snapping it in half?
Louis was speechless. Lockhart clearly suffered from a chronic condition—if he didn't brag at least once every three sentences, he'd get physically ill.
"However," Lockhart continued, changing tack smoothly, "even if I can't give you a dazzling magical duel myself, my assistant and Mr. Wilson here should be able to put on a show worthy of your attention."
With that, he neatly dumped the responsibility back onto Louis and Snape.
"After all, the students only need a demonstration. Surely there's no need for me to personally step in, right?"
As he spoke, Lockhart silently congratulated himself on his brilliance. Not only had he shifted the burden onto those two scheming troublemakers, but he'd also found a perfect excuse to turn future classes into dramatic reenactments of his book adventures instead of actual spell practice!
After all, without a wand—how could he possibly teach magic?
Let the students just watch him act out his legendary heroics instead!
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