Chapter 330

This remark sparked a great uproar.

A second-year wizard should never be paired with a sixth-year wizard.

“Did Mr. Green offend Snape?”

The Hufflepuffs looked anxious.

“This is unfair! It’s blatant abuse of power!”

Roger Davies shouted in outrage, turning to Penelope, whose brow was also furrowed.

Or rather, all Ravenclaw students wore grim expressions.

“He’s doomed now…”

Theodore from Slytherin chuckled mockingly.

Flint was captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team—a position won by more than just skill on the pitch.

Further back, members of the Wish Hut wore strange expressions.

“Wizard Sean versus Flint?”

Ron’s face turned bright red.

“I just hope Wizard Sean doesn’t accidentally…”

Wizard Sean had slain the Basilisk with one sword—he’d done it alone—and not one of them had ever seen the Basilisk’s corpse.

“What is Snape trying to do?”

Hermione thought deeper, but even she couldn’t fathom Snape’s intent—was it merely to make things difficult for Wizard Sean?

Impossible. Snape knew Wizard Sean had defeated a troll alone.

She glanced beside her: Wizard Sean had already walked toward the stage amid countless stares, his face calm—so far, no Hogwarts student had ever seen him flustered or nervous.

This was why the name Green had spread so widely at Hogwarts.

Everyone knew he was a wizard who could not be challenged, swayed, or tempted; even Headmaster Dumbledore would admit he would achieve greatness.

And the students believed he possessed something uniquely captivating.

So a group of Ravenclaws spoke up:

“Professor Snape, I’d like to volunteer! A good duel requires evenly matched opponents!”

Roger Davies raised his hand; a circle of Quidditch teammates surrounded him, and Penelope nodded approvingly.

Onstage, Professor Snape coldly glanced at him, his black eyes devoid of emotion:

“Get out—”

The Ravenclaws fell silent as startled birds.

Roger helplessly lowered his hand—he understood that not only was he now targeted by Snape, but their secret weapon was ruined too.

Flint strode forward with arrogance, grinning slyly.

“Let me explain the procedure: first, face your partner!”

Lockhart called out from the stage,

“Next, bow! Raise your wands and prepare!”

Lockhart shouted loudly—he always loved to perform on stage,

“When I count to three, cast your spell—just a touch, nothing more—we don’t want accidents. One—two—three—”

“Expelliarmus!”

Flint reacted swiftly, his wand tracing a wide arc.

Wizard Sean, however, understood Professor Snape’s intent—but even senior Hogwarts students found it hard to match him.

Even someone as physically strong and battle-experienced as Flint.

Wizard Sean raised his wand, spoke no incantation—Stupefy and Impedimenta had already been cast silently and instantly.

At the same moment, stone arms sprouted from the stage, seizing Flint; before he could react, his wand was knocked from his hand.

Professor Flitwick’s technique of combining spells allowed two offensive and defensive charms to be cast simultaneously, and a simple transfiguration could end the duel swiftly.

“What just happened?”

“Did Flint lose?”

The young wizards below were still bewildered—they’d only seen both wands raised, then Flint’s knocked away without resistance.

“Making stone arms move—that’s advanced transfiguration.”

Ron stared longingly at the stage; the stone arms had already retracted.

“Didn’t you see? The real marvel was the silent spells—two cast at once!”

Hermione’s perception was always sharp,

“But how did Wizard Sean manage it?”

“Spell combination techniques, Hermione—Wizard Sean’s notes on Charms class record it; you just haven’t turned to that page yet.”

Justin explained gently.

Unlike other wizards, Wizard Sean liked to record his understanding of magic—he didn’t care if others saw it; his progress outpaced his notes by far.

On the contrary, writing things down helped him reflect and refine them.

Snape first gave Wizard Sean a strange look, then glanced coldly at Flint and snapped:

“Get off—”

“Ah, it seems our Mr. Green is the victor! Unexpected, but I must say—he’s clearly mastered my Dark Arts Defense course.

Had he studied under me, he’d have advanced even further—no doubt about it.”

Lockhart flared like a peacock.

“I’d bet anyone who won could say the same thing,” Ron muttered.

Hermione nudged him—he suddenly realized the hall had fallen utterly silent.

Professor Snape stared at Lockhart as if he were already dead; the students below felt the oppressive pressure.

It was only when Wizard Sean stepped down that the crowd finally burst into enthusiastic applause.

It was only when Wizard Sean descended the stage that the wizards burst into enthusiastic applause.

Ron shouted.

“I was worrying for nothing.”

Captain Roger laughed heartily at Wizard Sean.

Theodore from Slytherin hid among the crowd, not daring to lift his head.

Wizard Sean stepped off the stage and nodded to Roger and the waving Ron.

But as his gaze drifted farther, he paused slightly—there, two professors had appeared without notice:

“Exceptional transfiguration, Minerva.”

Professor Flitwick praised in his high-pitched voice.

“Casting two spells simultaneously, Filius—that’s what you taught him.”

Professor McGonagall’s mood, previously poor, improved slightly.

As longtime friends, their conversations always lifted each other’s spirits.

The two professors on this side were harmonious, but onstage, Snape and Lockhart were entirely different.

“Demonstrate the proper dueling stance, Professor Lockhart.”

Snape said coldly.

“Of course…”

Lockhart replied.

Wizard Sean looked at Professor Snape, whose expression was terrifying, and suddenly thought of the curse on the Dark Arts Defense class.

“Will Lockhart get killed by Snape?”

Ron stammered.

“Surely not…”

Justin pondered, recalling Snape’s fury today, and suddenly felt…

“Impossible—you think Professor Snape has no sense of restraint?”

Hermione countered, then thought again,

“At worst, he’ll end up in the hospital.”

Meanwhile, onstage:

Snape’s upper lip curled.

Everyone in the Wish Hut wondered why Lockhart still smiled so cheerfully; Harry believed that if Snape looked at him like that, he’d already be sprinting in the opposite direction.

Everyone in the Little Hut was puzzled why Lockhart still smiled so pleasantly; Harry thought that if Snape had looked at him with that gaze, he would have already turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.