Even after finally fending off the initial impact, the defender realized it wasn't over; a second Stupefy was hidden directly behind the first.
How did that kid release ten spells in a single breath? It should have taken several seconds just to cast that many.
One of the wizards was still trying to process the speed of the assault when he felt his magic reserves bottom out. His Protego, already weakened by the first high-intensity strike, could no longer withstand the weight of the second. Without exception, the wizard was hit squarely by the spell and sent tumbling across the hall.
As for the others, some reacted in time, frantically throwing up secondary shields, while a few of the more skilled combatants managed to hold their ground, their barriers groaning under the double impact.
Avery, however, proved his resilience. Although the power of the magic was unexpected, he held his shield firm. The moment he weathered the two-fold attack, his mind snapped toward retaliation. But when he looked up, the space where Alan had been hovering was empty. By the time he lowered his gaze, he realized his opponent was already back on the ground, launching a fresh offensive.
Four Stupefy charms shot toward them at high speed, skimming mere inches above the floor.
Avery, reacting on pure instinct, had no time to warn the others. He could only snap his wand down to conjure a fresh Protego against the low-angled sneak attack. Before he could even congratulate himself on his reflexes, two sickening thuds sounded beside him. The two men flanking him hadn't reacted at all and were sent sprawling across the stone floor.
"So that's how it is—what a magnificent play!" Professor Flitwick, observing from the sidelines, resisted the urge to applaud but couldn't help a cry of admiration.
"Professor Flitwick, was there something special about that?" a nearby reporter asked, scribbling furiously. "It looked like Alan just knocked them down with basic spells."
"Hehe, there was nothing basic about those moves," Flitwick said, shaking his head with a wide grin. "Alan dismantled them by manipulating their vertical viewing angles."
"Viewing angles?"
"Precisely. Alan was suspended high in the air, raining spells down from above. Did you see how the wizards all angled their Protegos upward? Just as they committed to that defense, Alan dropped to the floor. He used a Ground-Skimming technique for the follow-up. Their focus was still locked on the sky, and they were too busy managing the overhead pressure to track his descent. Moving from the ceiling to the floor in a split second... a normal duelist simply can't shift their defensive focus that fast," Flitwick explained.
The Professor understood the tactic better than anyone; during his own dueling days, he had often used his small stature to strike from unexpected, low-profile angles.
"And don't think he was just firing off lucky shots," Flitwick continued, his excitement growing. "He's utilizing the Multi-casting technique from Finkley's Method. Most masters are doing well if they can manage two or three simultaneous streams, but Alan just layered ten. He's weaving Multi-casting with rapid-fire chain spells and Ground-Skimming charms. In just a few seconds of combat, he displayed three high-level Finkley techniques interchangeably. The speed and accuracy are breathtaking!"
The reporters and wizards nearby nodded in realization. Even if they didn't fully grasp the technical jargon, it sounded undeniably impressive.
In the arena, Avery and his last remaining companion felt an immense pressure, as if a mountain were settling on their shoulders. Alan wasn't hiding behind illusions or using strange alchemical trinkets; he was simply taking them apart, one by one, with superior magic.
While they were still dazed, Alan moved again. He raised his wand and flicked it backward with a pulling motion. Avery saw no spell light, no projectile. But the wizard next to him was out of luck. One of the unconscious men lying behind them was suddenly yanked forward as if by an invisible rope, colliding directly into Avery's partner.
"Ah!" The wizard, knocked off balance by his own teammate's body, was a sitting duck. Alan followed up with a pinpoint Stupefy. The man let out a short scream before being blasted sideways, skidding into the spectators and causing a minor commotion.
Finding himself alone, Avery's heart sank. He had entered this fight full of confidence, intending to humiliate Alan and dampen Millicent Bagnold's political momentum. Instead, he had been the one made a fool of in front of the entire Ministry.
The humiliation curdled into a cold, sharp resentment. Avery stared at Alan, his face contorted with a desire to see the boy dead.
*That's the look,* Alan thought, watching him closely. *You want to kill me, don't you? Go on. Use the Killing Curse. If you do, this 'annoying' problem in front of you goes away forever. Just do it.* Alan was silently cheering him on; he had intentionally left Avery for last, hoping the pressure would force the man to reveal an Unforgivable Curse in front of a room full of witnesses and reporters.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Avery barked.
He had ultimately suppressed the urge to commit murder in the middle of a gala, falling back on his most proficient hex to fight for his survival.
Alan pouted in disappointment. *Can he really endure that much?* It seemed that without the influence of mind-altering substances, simple psychological pressure wasn't enough to force a seasoned criminal's hand.
Faced with the incoming spell, Alan didn't bother with words. He simply strode forward, casually deflecting the Body-Bind with a flick of his wrist. He batted away several more desperate curses as he closed the distance.
Avery watched as the boy walked right up to him. Just as he prepared to cast a point-blank hex, Alan unleashed a fierce, lightning-fast whip kick, connecting squarely with Avery's hand and sending his wand spinning across the hall.
The movement triggered a sudden, vivid memory. Avery stared at the boy. Years ago, a masked figure had kicked his wand away in the exact same manner during the escape of Sirius Black.
"So it was you!" Avery gasped, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. Alan was the one who had rescued Black.