The Dueling Club's "Iconic Scene" (2)

Her quill flew across the notebook, too fast to write out complete words. Only rough abbreviations and shorthand symbols crowded the parchment like a swarm of migrating ants. Ink splattered from the tip, leaving blue spots on her fingertips, but she did not notice at all.

"Merlin's stinking socks..." Ron's voice drifted over from beside her, so quiet it was almost as if he were talking to himself. His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes fixed on the stage, the flashes from colliding spells reflected in his pupils. "That old bat Snape is really this good? I feel like he could hang me up and beat me senseless."

Hermione's quill paused.

She turned her head and looked at Ron with an expression that said, "You finally said something that wasn't nonsense."

"You only just figured that out?" Her voice was low, but the disdain in it was as thick as undiluted potion. "He's been a Potions professor at Hogwarts for over a decade. That doesn't mean all he can do is brew potions. Even pure-bloods like Lucius show him respect. I heard from Neville that his grandmother warned him that if he ever accidentally ended up in Knockturn Alley, all he had to do was mention Snape's name, and those Dark wizards wouldn't dare lay a hand on him. Do you realize how lucky you are to have survived this long now?"

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glanced at the black-robed figure onstage and swallowed.

"Close your mouth. Watch carefully and learn." Hermione turned back, her quill landing on the parchment again, her words firing off like a barrage. "If you can learn even one or two moves from him, your Defense Against the Dark Arts grade can go from 'Acceptable' to 'Exceeds Expectations.'"

Ron said