As soon as the announcement echoed through the Great Hall, every student who wasn't a Slytherin stared in confusion.
"Chief Challenge? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Is this some new Hogwarts event?"
"No idea. Does anyone know? Explain!"
A few pure-blood students from other Houses stepped forward to explain Slytherin's Chief Challenge system.
It wasn't a secret, but mixed-blood and Muggle-born students rarely paid attention to such things— mostly because Slytherin's reputation made them avoid anything related to it.
Only pure-blood families kept the old traditions alive.
Many had once dreamed of becoming the true Slytherin Chief, until they realized just how impossible the challenge really was.
While the students whispered among themselves—
Ten green beams shot from the serpent throne, each one striking a different Slytherin student.
These students were scattered across the castle— some in their dormitories,
some in the library, some strolling by the Black Lake, and one unfortunate boy kissing his girlfriend behind a pillar.
But the instant the light engulfed them, they all froze.
"I got selected!"
"So did I! Looks like we're part of the first trial. But… how many fighters does the first round have?"
Gemma stared up at the throne floating above the Great Hall.
Her pupils narrowed.
"A full ten-person opening match? That means the throne considers Black's strength outrageously high. It's pulling out the full roster from the start."
Once the ten beams locked onto their chosen challengers, the serpent's eyes glowed red.
A brighter, stronger beam erupted—striking Karmit.
The long tables parted automatically, grinding aside to reveal a rising dueling platform at the center of the hall.
Karmit was pulled upward by the green light and placed onto the stage.
Then the ten beams converged, delivering the ten selected students onto the platform around him.
Gemma observed the group. "All fourth-years? The challenge starts with ten fourth-years?"
Her own first round back then had been only three second-years. Compared to that, the throne's assessment of Karmit's power was incomparable.
The ten students landed and immediately looked at Karmit. None underestimated him—only caution filled their eyes.
Anyone in Slytherin, pure-blood or not, had already heard the rumors. The boy before them was dangerous.
The ten exchanged glances, drew their wands, and prepared.
Karmit simply stood there, calm as still water. There wasn't the slightest hint of tension.
The green light faded.
In that instant, the ten students attacked at once.
No hesitation.
No warning.
Each used their strongest spell—
and among the shouted incantations, someone even squeezed in a Bone-Shattering Curse.
On the staff platform, Professor McGonagall shot upright, wand drawn, ready to intervene.
Dumbledore said gently, "Minerva, stay calm. This isn't our first time. If true danger arises, the throne will protect Mr. Black."
McGonagall forced herself to relax, though her worry remained.
Caring for students was engraved into her very bones.
Ten spells struck at once.
Most students assumed Karmit would fall immediately. After all, the barrage was too fast—he hadn't even drawn his wand.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron struggled not to laugh aloud.
He loved every second of this.
Chief? That damned Black?
What a joke.
If Karmit was blasted into ashes, Ron would celebrate for the rest of the year.
Some people were like that.
Do them kindness, they forget it. Humiliate them once, and they'll resent you for life.
The spellfire was so bright that the center of the platform was obscured.
When the light finally dissipated— Arabella and Gemma's eyes both contracted sharply.
"Impossible!"
Karmit still stood exactly where he had been.
One hand raised.
A shimmering shield of spectral armor hovered in front of him. Every spell had struck that shield— and failed to harm him at all.
Arabella whispered, "A silent, wandless Shield Charm? That's outrageous… How can someone his age have that level of mastery?"
Gemma's expression turned heated, her eyes gleaming. She licked her lips without thinking. 'How far does your limit go… Karmit Black?'
On the platform, the ten challengers were stunned.
"T-this has to be a joke! That was ten spells!"
"He didn't even take out his wand! How did he block all of that?"
Karmit smiled lightly.
"You really don't follow any dueling etiquette, do you? Attacking the moment the light fades. Good thing I'm faster."
One Slytherin student stepped forward angrily.
"Impossible! Even seven-years can't take all ten of us head-on. No way he just— Again!"
He whipped his wand.
°Stupefy°
A red streak shot toward Karmit—
And Karmit casually swept his arm.
The spell rebounded instantly, slamming the student backward and knocking him out cold.
Dumbledore's eyes glimmered.
"Mr. Black's spell mastery far surpasses these students. To reflect a spell like that requires deep understanding."
He and other great wizards could do this when facing weaker opponents.
But Karmit was a first-year facing fourth-years— the roles were reversed.
Karmit glanced across the challengers.
"Let's not waste each other's time."
He lifted a finger toward the nearest student.
A flash of magic burst from his fingertip.
The challenger was blasted off the platform before he even realized what happened.
The remaining students fought back desperately, but in front of Karmit, their resistance was meaningless.
The entire battle lasted less than five minutes.
All ten students were knocked off the stage. Once the last challenger fell, the platform slowly sank and vanished.
The serpent throne dispersed as well.
Karmit glanced at the stunned hall of students, said nothing, and turned to leave. Only after he stepped out of the Great Hall did chaos erupt.
"My god, he's too strong!"
"That's Black? That power is insane!"
"Silent, wandless magic—ten fourth-years couldn't even force him to draw his wand!"
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