Chapter 177: Draco: That’s It?
“Both sides exchange greetings…”
On the candlelit platform, Severus Snape opposite Melvin raised his wand and bowed in greeting. The wand in his hand was unusually long, thirteen and a half inches, birch wood material, originally a light-colored wand, polished with countless tung oils and potions to cultivate this dark, murky color.
Snape’s wand was extremely mysterious; even Flitwick and Sprout didn’t know, and among the students, rumors circulated that it was snake nerve or Hedwig’s wing membrane. At first listen, it fit the Slytherin Dean’s style perfectly, but Britain’s wand shop was only Ollivander’s, and the wands Ollivander sold publicly only used three wand cores:
Phoenix feather, unicorn tail hair, and fire dragon heartstring.
Unicorn repels dark magic, fire dragon favors violent spells, neither quite matching Snape’s personality, so Melvin leaned toward the answer being phoenix feather.
Around the platform, there were sporadic cheers and shouts of encouragement.
Melvin listened carefully, in a pleasant mood; most students were cheering for him. Even Slytherin students had their supporters. The little wizards had good taste.
Flitwick grinned, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle: “Both professors are ready for combat, but I must remind you that the main purpose of today’s exhibition match is to demonstrate the Disarming Charm and Iron Armor Charm. Try not to involve other spells, especially dark magic. Alright?”
“Alright, Professor Flitwick.” Melvin replied with a smile.
“…” Snape merely nodded slightly.
“Get ready, one, two, three!”
【Expelliarmus】
Snape’s eyes sharpened, he swiftly sidestepped and swung his wand, firing off a Disarming Charm directly.
“Buzz!”
A short burst of white light condensed in mid-air, ripples with overflowing silver radiance spreading out.
“Professor Levent’s Iron Armor Charm is outstanding!”
Flitwick’s voice, amplified to be loud and resonant, echoed through the Great Hall. “Everyone, pay attention and carefully feel this wonderful magic shield. It has no fixed shape, no bright color. If your casting gesture is fast enough, it’s hard for the enemy to notice it, making the opponent’s attack miss at an unexpected moment.
“However, Professor Levent, note that this is a duelling class exhibition match. Try not to use silent spellcasting or wandless spellcasting techniques. The students and Professor Snape aren’t prepared for that.”
The onlooker little wizards burst into laughter: “Hahahaha…”
Pretending not to see Professor Snape’s darkening face opposite, Melvin nodded apologetically: “Alright, professor.”
【Expelliarmus】
As the words fell, Snape opposite launched a new round of offense. His wand swung with afterimages, each strike flinging a swift Disarming Charm. If not on the platform, his attacks could cover half the Great Hall.
Snape tried to find a flaw in the Iron Armor Charm through frequent rapid assaults—or force Melvin to reveal a flaw—and take down this impolite young colleague in one go.
However, only a series of light clinks echoed in mid-air, from a dozen spells colliding with the iron armor, a dense cluster of ringing sounds.
Melvin softly incanted the spell, raising his wand. Clearly just an Iron Armor Charm, yet it covered all areas in front of him. Whether spells aimed at his chest or toes, they all crashed into the unbreakable magic shield, eliciting low metallic trembles.
“Many wizards think the Iron Armor Charm can only summon a small shield to block a single spell attack, but Professor Levent’s demonstration proves this wrong. The Iron Armor Charm’s incantation is armor protection; it can protect the whole body like solid armor, blocking arrows and axes just as it blocks incoming spells.”
“Bang bang…”
Dull thuds came one after another.
Snape remained expressionless, his gaze growing more solemn. He’d noticed in the last duelling exhibition that this guy’s Iron Armor Charm wasn’t just armor—it was a turtle shell, protecting the whole body and even deflecting spells grazing past.
He’d sent a few probing attacks, directions completely off the platform, yet they were still blocked.
Sturdy and solid, comprehensive and reliable.
But when he tried slowing his assault, an ominous premonition struck; the change ahead made his pupils contract.
The Disarming Charms from the previous volley were blocked, but no longer dissipating in front of the magic shield—instead, their light trembled, turning direction to splash back.
Flitwick’s raised commentary voice couldn’t help but rise: “Watch closely! The Iron Armor Charm not only defends but can seize the moment to counterattack. Skilled wizards can use the Iron Armor Charm to rebound enemy spells.”
The little wizards all widened their eyes. Professor Levent had demonstrated Iron Armor Charm rebound last time too, but not as intuitively as now. They now realized Professor Levent’s Iron Armor Charm could rebound over a wide area.
On the left side of the arena, Snape’s brows furrowed. He’d just swung spells over nearly the entire area to probe defense gaps. His own Iron Armor Charm wasn’t as proficient as Melvin’s; the hastily raised magic shield could only block spells coming straight from the front.
In wilderness combat, one Apparition could dodge it, but now it was on the arena.
His own attacks too fierce, leaving him unable to defend.
As spells closed in, Snape chose to slightly adjust the Iron Armor Charm’s orientation.
As a former Death Eater, Slytherin’s Dean, Snape had ample combat experience and could draw on his duelling wisdom even at a disadvantage.
“Bang bang…”
The spells straight ahead hit the magic shield first, mirror-like silver light flashing as they turned direction—not toward Melvin opposite, but toward other incoming spells.
As light bloomed, two waves of spells collided, the resulting shockwave making candlelight flicker, sparks flying, the scene as brilliant as fireworks.
Both professors stopped simultaneously, bowing in greeting again, earning full applause.
George and Fred led with whistles and screams, the cheers nearly flipping the Great Hall, ears buzzing.
In the unnoticed corner of the platform, one spark landed on Flitwick’s robe, nearly igniting it, startling him into patting it frantically.
“Hm…”
Professor Flitwick stared as the two exited, eyes full of suspicion, unsure if it was an accident or planned by them.
Wasn’t it just pulling them in as assistant teachers? Was burning his robe necessary?
“Ahem…”
Flitwick coughed dryly twice, quelling the lingering cheers: “Thanks again to both professors for the wonderful exhibition match. Hm, but I must say, the techniques shown still lack reference value, and the teaching effect is average… Classmates can reference their ideas, but don’t try recreating their techniques. Normally, wizards don’t fling a dozen Disarming Charms in succession, nor does the Iron Armor Charm cover such a large area.”
“Now, let’s begin group practice.”
“…”
Melvin, as special guest assistant teacher, mingled among the students to guide their practice, casually chatting with Snape.
Having taken a small loss on the arena earlier, Snape was slightly cold, but not angry—no ugly faces, just occasional barbed remarks in conversation.
Though, when did Snape ever speak without barbs?
Melvin saw no issue: “There will be duelling classes every week. Will Professor Snape continue as special guest assistant?”
“This is Filius’s club, not mine.”
Snape was instructing a Slytherin student to raise his wand higher when casting; after three times not listening, he rolled up his sleeve and smacked the student’s head, making him hold it steady.
The dean’s gaze was intensely oppressive, scaring the student quail-like, trembling as he raised his wand.
Snape chatted idly with Melvin while watching the student’s movements: “Disarming Charm and Iron Armor Charm taught. Next time, have Professor McGonagall demonstrate Transfiguration’s role in duelling.”
“I agree.”
Melvin saw the student’s hand shaking, face bitter like he might cry, and kind-hearted as he was, couldn’t bear seeing a student punished. He shook his head and walked away.
Moving through the student groups, guiding and correcting their casting gestures, Melvin suddenly stopped, eyes lighting up as if receiving glad news, striding quickly out of the Great Hall.
…
“Harry Potter!”
The platinum-haired boy wizard raised his hawthorn wand, face full of resolve to face his archenemy. 10 inches, longer than half his arm, unicorn tail hair core, reflecting magic’s essence, resistant to other magic interference.
“Draco Malfoy.”
Harry raised his fated wand, expression and gaze equally resolute: “You’ve been looking forward to this duel for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yes, and I know you have too.”
“…”
Harry pursed his lips, a bit guilty.
He actually wasn’t looking forward to it much. During holiday, he’d lain in the Ward for days; after discharge, only played, occasionally pondering basilisk, Chamber of Secrets, and professors’ plan. He truly hadn’t put this fight to heart.
“What do you mean? Why aren’t you talking!” Draco pointed at him angrily.
“Ahem…” Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’ve been looking forward to it too.”
“…”
“Also, starting the duel like this—don’t you think it’s missing something?”
“What?” Draco frowned.
“Famous wizard duels all have stakes; the loser must pay a price.” Harry said deeply. “I think today’s duel needs a heavy wager too!”
“You… what wager do you want?”
Draco felt a bit panicked, mind flashing with ideas: snap wand and never use magic again, loser loses freedom becomes servant, brand opponent’s mark on face, lifelong shame, etc.
Storybooks all wrote it that way.
“I want your house-elf.”
“Dobby?”
Draco was incredulous, thinking it some heavy wager, hyped so scarily, but just this?
“Right, Dobby. What do you want?”
“…”
Draco thought carefully; this guy had nothing he wanted. Potter family used to do shampoo business; generations’ accumulation not as high as their half-year income. What good stuff?
“Haven’t decided. I’ll tell you when I do. Duel first!”
“I agree!”
Harry’s thinking was simple too; he wouldn’t lose, so whatever the other wanted didn’t matter.
“Get ready, one, two, three!”
…
Melvin walked the corridor to the courtyard, strolling moonlit paths. Snow hadn’t fully melted, some frost lingering on ground, stained with muddy yellowish water, looking dirty. Night fog rose, misty with faint earthy smell, cool and damp.
Students gathered in Great Hall practicing spells; courtyard quiet. Stepping on snow, each footstep audible.
Others approaching detectable too, like sleepless old headmaster. Dumbledore habituated pre-bed kitchen visit for piping hot hot chocolate, carrying it back to room—not to trouble house-elves, and for a stroll. Night school always held interesting encounters.
Melvin found secluded courtyard corner to sense Ouroboros Mark’s fluctuations. Before closing eyes, he heard old headmaster’s footsteps.
“Melvin, so late—what are you doing here?” Dumbledore approached smiling, bringing noseful cocoa aroma.
“Moonbathing.” Melvin replied grumpily.
“Hm…”
Dumbledore looked up at sky; second day after full moon, still appearing full, silvery white round mass. Melted snow vapor formed clouds, drifting lazily nearby, making it clearer and prettier.
“So beautiful…”
Dumbledore sighed softly: “I don’t like full moons; they recall some not-so-wonderful memories.”
“Actually, good memories outnumber bad ones, but people remember negative emotions more deeply, so bad memories come easier.” Melvin wasn’t rushed now; whether Rita or Peter, whatever news, not urgent these minutes.
Dumbledore chuckled: “Muggle psychology?”
“Actually brain science.”
Melvin explained, “Brain’s main memory structure is hippocampus, but recall needs prefrontal cortex and amygdala too. Amygdala handles emotion control, especially intense fear and anger, making deep impressions. Plus grief, sadness, despair…”
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully: “Perhaps I should extract good memories for separate storage, view in Pensieve during full moons, relive those good times?”
“…”
Melvin neither confirmed nor denied.
Waiting till old headmaster slowly walked far, silhouette vanishing at corridor corner, Melvin closed eyes, mind sinking into Ouroboros Mark.
Consciousness spread with magic power; he knew he was still in Hogwarts courtyard, yet clearly felt weightlessness. Surrounding castle walls melted like snow, space turning void.
No tangible entities, only hazy gray mist.
Gray mist held clusters of silver light flowing.
Those were Apparition anchors; one cluster now dim, shape unusually clear: a rotating Ouroboros, intense emotional fluctuations transmitting.
Melvin immersed consciousness in that light strand.
Slightly salty sea wind hit face, waves crashing rocks relentlessly, in fog-shrouded deep blue tides, a short plump middle-aged man floated on wood chunk, as if to plunge into sea anytime.
