Chapter 331: Lockhart Falls

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed. At least Lockhart bowed, his hands fluttering with elaborate gestures, while Snape merely stared coldly.

Then they raised their wands like arrows, holding them before their chests.

“As you can see, we hold our wands in the standard dueling stance,”

Lockhart forced calmness as he addressed the silent crowd,

“On three, we cast our first spell. Of course, neither of us intends to kill the other.”

“Really?”

Wizard Sean heard Ron swallow hard.

“One—two—three—”

Both snapped their wands sharply over their shoulders.

Snape shouted:

“Expelliarmus!”

A blinding flash of red light shot out, sending Lockhart reeling.

He flew backward off the stage, slammed into the wall, then slid down and curled up on the floor.

Malfoy and several other Slytherin students clapped and cheered.

Wizard Sean sighed; Professor Snape clearly had no intention of letting Lockhart off easy.

“See, he’s fine.”

Hermione seemed to exhale in relief.

“I always thought it wouldn’t be this simple.”

Jia Jia Siting frowned.

Lockhart staggered to his feet, his hat fallen, his wavy curls standing on end.

“There, everyone saw that!”

He stumbled back onto the stage and said,

“That’s the Disarming Charm—as you see, I lost my wand—ah, thank you, Brown.

Yes, Professor Snape, it was a brilliant idea to demonstrate this move, though don’t take offense, but your intent was painfully obvious just now.

If I’d wanted to stop you, it would’ve taken no effort at all. I think, for their education, it’s better they see...”

The murderous look had vanished from Snape’s face; he didn’t even look at Lockhart.

Soon after, Lockhart collapsed. The young witches and wizards gasped, assuming the Disarming Charm had knocked him senseless.

But Wizard Sean knew Snape had cast more than one spell at the same time.

“He didn’t get killed by the spell, did he?”

Ron stared at Lockhart, grinning.

“Hope so.”

Harry always thought the same as Ron.

“Don’t talk nonsense!”

Hermione snapped back.

She wasn’t worried about Lockhart—but any witch or wizard who’d read the Greene Notes and paid attention in class knew how skilled Professor Snape was at potions.

Losing their potions professor to a fraud was hardly a fair trade.

Lockhart was taken to the school infirmary; no one knew when he’d return.

Below the stage, Wizard Sean pondered whether Voldemort’s curse was simply too powerful.

In the midst of it all, Wizard Sean found it hard to believe this was all coincidence.

He’d coincidentally provoked Professor Snape; Lockhart had coincidentally started the Dueling Club; Snape had coincidentally been provoked by Lockhart during the demonstration...

Magic was still too vast; Wizard Sean couldn’t even trace the curse’s mechanism.

He watched Professor Snape, whose expression remained a cold smirk, but the oppressive atmosphere had lifted slightly.

“Demonstration over. Pair up.”

Professor Snape said.

He divided them efficiently.

Wizard Sean saw Harry paired with Malfoy, Ron next to Goyle, and Hermione facing Pansy.

It has to be said that the professor’s grouping was very thoughtful.

Everyone had their own grievances.

The only ones doing slightly better were Justin and Neville.

A large empty space had been left beside Seamus, and even though the young wizards were eager to duel, no one wanted to face an unbeatable opponent.

Flint lasted only a minute—he didn’t even know what spell his opponent had cast.

“Follow me—”

At that moment, Professor Snape walked up to Seamus, glanced at him briefly, and strode off. He always spoke sparingly.

Because he walked so quickly, Seamus had to hurry to keep up with him.

“Strange,”

Hermione watched the scene and asked Justin,

“I can’t help but feel that Professor Snape and Seamus are a bit…”

After that, the young wizards’ duels became wildly varied.

A greenish mist spread across the entire arena.

Ron tried to trip Goyle, who was running toward him, using transfiguration—he hadn’t expected the boy to not even cast a spell;

Hermione and Pansy exchanged spells, until Hermione finally incapacitated her with a Stunning Spell;

If Justin and Neville were the most entertaining among the younger students—both displaying high spell proficiency and a balanced mix of offense and defense, trading blows evenly—then Harry and Malfoy’s duel was the most brutal.

At the start, Harry raised his wand sharply over his shoulder, but Malfoy acted the moment they reached “two”:

His wand struck Harry hard, making him feel as if he’d been hit in the head with a frying pan.

He staggered, but everything still seemed to be working, so Harry seized the moment, pointed his wand directly at Malfoy, and shouted:

“Rictusempra! (Laughing Jinx!)”

A flash of silver struck Malfoy in the stomach; he collapsed to his knees, laughing so hard he was utterly limp and unable to move.

Harry hesitated, vaguely feeling it was unsportsmanlike to cast a spell while Malfoy was on the ground—but he was wrong.

Malfoy, gasping for breath, pointed his wand at Harry’s knees and gasped between laughs:

“Tarantallegra! (Tarantallegra!)”

Instantly, Harry’s legs began twitching uncontrollably, as if he were performing a rapid dance.

Not far away, Seamus had been following Professor Snape, listening as the professor precisely pointed out the students’ mistakes.

Along the way, he witnessed a wide array of spells used by older wizards, and observed how each responded differently.

With the attitude that knowledge is never excessive, Seamus carefully observed the duels and listened as Professor Snape explained how to neutralize them with the simplest, most effortless methods.

Professor Snape occasionally glanced at him, his grim expression slightly softening, and soon they arrived before Harry and Malfoy.

Malfoy lay on the ground, raised his wand again, and roared:

“Serpensortia!”

The tip of his wand exploded. Harry stared in horror as a long black snake suddenly shot out and landed heavily on the floor between them, then reared its head, ready to attack. The crowd screamed and scrambled backward, clearing a wide space.

“Don’t move, Potter.”

Professor Snape said slowly; clearly, seeing Harry standing frozen, locked in a stare-down with the furious snake, made him feel a little better.