Just as he had years ago, Alan followed the disarming kick with a fluid spin, driving his foot into Avery's midsection with enough force to make the man retch. Before Avery could double over, Alan seized him by the hair and delivered a brutal, clinical knee strike to the face.
Bang!
The impact sent Avery reeling. He crashed heavily onto the stone floor, blood masking his features, before his head slumped to the side in unconsciousness. In those final flickering moments of awareness, Avery's mind replayed that night in the forest, but this time, there was no Snape to step in and save him.
Watching from the periphery, Snape shook his head slowly. Avery, his former classmate and one-time colleague, had long ago strayed onto a path that led only here.
Whoosh!
A collective roar of astonishment erupted from the gathered reporters, Aurors, and guests. They had just watched a student systematically dismantle ten adult wizards. Alan stood in the center of the hall, breathing easily; not a single hair was out of place, and his ink-colored suit remained pristine.
Many had come prepared to treat the duel as a farce, never imagining the boy stood a chance. Now, they were left reeling. Alan had demonstrated a level of raw power and tactical genius that silenced every doubt. No one dared question the legitimacy of his "Combat Hero" title now. After all, if anyone claimed the adults had gone easy on him, they only had to look at the scorched floorboards and the cratered stone wall where their spells had missed him.
The moment the final body hit the floor, the reporters surged forward. They swarmed Alan so thickly that even Vivian and his friends were pushed aside. Camera lenses were thrust toward his face, and the air turned white with the constant strobing of flashbulbs.
Alan reacted quickly, conjuring a circular Shield Charm to keep the press at a respectful distance. He offered the cameras a polished, professional smile.
"Mr. Wilson, what are your thoughts on this victory?"
"What was going through your mind when Avery provoked you? Did you consider walking away?"
"How did you achieve this level of mastery at fourteen?"
"What do you have to say about the Ministry's medal?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?" "Is it true you're Muggle-born?" "Were you nervous?"
The questions came in a chaotic barrage, but Alan maintained his silent, pleasant mask. He had no intention of wasting his breath on a scrum.
"What is the meaning of this? Why are there wizards strewn across the floor?"
A commanding voice cut through the noise, and the reporters parted like the Red Sea. Minister Bagnold had arrived. She was accompanied by Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Moody, and Barty Crouch Sr. Beside the Director stood a pale young man whom Alan recognized as Barty Crouch Jr.
Vanessa, who was already checking the pulses of the fallen men, stepped forward to deliver a concise report of the afternoon's escalations.
"So, Avery and his companions doubted the boy's merit and initiated a public duel?" Bagnold frowned, her gaze lingering on the carnage. "This is highly irregular. Why wasn't it stopped?"
"The fault is mine, Minister," Alan said, weaving his way through the reporters to face her. "I initiated the challenge. They weren't merely questioning my abilities; they were openly mocking the Ministry and your judgment, suggesting you had been blinded by a child's lies."
Alan sighed with practiced remorse. "I couldn't stand by and let the dignity of your office be slandered. I rashly issued the challenge and insisted the Aurors stand down to avoid interference. If there is blame to be assigned, let it fall on me."
"Oh?" Bagnold looked at Alan with a flash of surprise before glancing at Dumbledore. The Headmaster simply offered a serene nod, his expression suggesting he was perfectly content with however she chose to proceed.
Arthur Weasley pushed through the crowd to corroborate the story. "Minister, it's exactly as he says. Avery was the provocateur—we all heard it. Alan took on a ten-on-one disadvantage, a move that was as brave as it was lopsided, and they accepted without hesitation."
"They intended to humiliate the boy and discredit the Ministry," Arthur continued firmly. "They simply miscalculated. Alan defeated them with ease. Every person in this room witnessed it."
"Is that the consensus?" Bagnold asked, looking toward the other guests and the Wizengamot members in attendance.
"The boy's strength is undeniable!" a Wizengamot elder noted, nodding in approval.
"He certainly proved he's more than capable of handling a few Death Eaters," a reporter chimed in.
In truth, the duel hadn't been as lethal as a real battle; half the challengers had lacked true conviction, and no one had dared cast an Unforgivable Curse in front of the Minister. But a ten-on-one victory was a powerful visual, and Alan's composed demeanor had solidified his legend.
Bagnold nodded, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "Very well. I declare this duel a legal matter of honor and will not pursue charges for the use of magic. Vanessa, see these men to St. Mungo's. The banquet shall continue!"
The Minister had no intention of punishing Alan; she was already calculating how this victory could be spun to further bolster the Ministry's image. She looked at the boy with renewed interest, privately wondering just how deep his talents truly ran.