"Petrificus Totalus!"
The duel began, and Matthew struck first, launching the Full Body-Bind the moment the signal was given. His casting was clean, fast, and confident. For a first-year, it was exceptional. Many third-years wouldn't have done better.
But before the spell fully formed, Matthew's body locked up. His limbs froze mid-motion, eyes wide.
Rowan had already cast the same spell.
He stepped forward calmly and flicked his wand. "Finite."
The paralysis lifted.
"You were really good," Rowan said with an encouraging smile. "I just happened to be a little faster this time."
Winning was one thing. Winning without burning bridges was another.
Matthew's disappointment faded almost immediately. "I'll practice harder," he said seriously. "Next time, I'll beat you."
Rowan nodded. He didn't correct him. There was no need.
"Stop! Stop that at once!" Lockhart's panicked voice cut through the hall. "You're meant to duel with your wands, not your fists!"
They turned to look.
The platform had descended into chaos.
Most younger students simply didn't know enough combat magic. Some knew spells but froze under pressure. Matthew was an outlier, not the norm. When magic failed, tempers took over.
Even Hermione Granger had dropped her wand. She was grappling with a second-year Slytherin, Millicent Bulstrode. Millicent had an arm locked around her neck, while Hermione drove her fist into Millicent's thigh without hesitation.
Lockhart bounced frantically through the crowd, trying to manage injuries and shouting useless advice. Snape, on the other hand, looked almost amused. His attention was fixed elsewhere.
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were locked in their own duel. One was forced into an uncontrollable dance, the other doubled over with laughter from a Tickling Charm. It was messy, but impressive.
Rowan sighed.
"Stupefy."
Hermione collapsed. Millicent followed an instant later.
Rowan moved.
Spells flew from his wand in rapid succession. One by one, the brawling first- and second-years dropped unconscious. The chaos slowed, then stopped.
Then Rowan raised his wand toward the older students.
Third- and fourth-years fell quickly. They were skilled, but not ready.
Then he met resistance.
"Stupefy!""Protego!""Expelliarmus!"
The shield flared just in time, deflecting Rowan's Stunning Spell and sending a Disarming Charm back at him. He twisted aside, narrowly avoiding it.
Now this was different.
Two seventh-years stepped forward, alert and focused.
"So it's you, Rowan Mercer," one of them said, eyes sharp. "Careful. We won't go easy."
The duel became a three-way clash.
Advanced spells streaked across the platform like tracer fire. The crowd fell silent, all eyes locked on the exchange. Rowan relied on movement, timing, and precision. He didn't raise a shield once. He didn't need to.
He dodged.
Every spell missed by inches.
Whispers rippled through the Great Hall.
"He's insane. He's not even using a shield.""That's not normal reflexes.""He fights like he already knows where the spells will land.""Merlin help me, he's terrifying… and kind of adorable."
Snape noticed.
Watching Rowan hold his ground against two seventh-years, a rare look of approval crossed his face. The boy had talent. Real talent.
I should teach him more, Snape thought. He's wasting potential relying on just a handful of spells.
Lockhart chose that moment to step forward, beaming.
"Observe carefully," he announced. "Mr. Mercer often seeks my advice on dueling. You could say he's learned quite a bit from me."
Snape very nearly hexed him on the spot.
He knew exactly what Rowan asked Lockhart about, and it wasn't combat. It was memory magic. Obliviation. Fabrication. Mental reconstruction.
All the more reason, Snape decided, to teach Rowan properly.
If Lockhart tried to take credit again, Snape would make sure the lesson was unforgettable.