Taking on Marcus for the third time

Snape's eyes were dark and furious. Looking at Marcus dangling upside down, he might as well have been looking at himself.

"Who taught you that spell, Ginny Weasley?"

He strode over to Cyrus, his lean frame wrapped in black wizard's robes, and looked down at him.

The spell Cyrus had just used was, of course, Levicorpus, invented by Snape himself. After it had accidentally leaked all those years ago, it had swept through Hogwarts, until James Potter had finally humiliated Snape with his own invention.

But after so many years, few people still remembered the spell.

As it happened, however, Cyrus knew it.

Snape had originally suspected that Ginny Weasley was possessed by Voldemort, just as Quirrell had been, but Voldemort had no interest in such frivolous little tricks.

"Bill taught me," Cyrus said at once.

When in doubt, blame Bill. He was probably inside some pyramid in Egypt right now anyway, and he had started school only a dozen or so years after Snape's generation. The spell could still have been popular at school back then.

"Bill never taught me such a useful spell!" Ron said, deeply aggrieved. "Next time I write to him, I'm going to give him an earful!"

"William Arthur Weasley." Naturally, Snape had heard of the remarkable student who had earned twelve O.W.L. certificates. With Cyrus giving that explanation, he had no way to tell whether it was true, so he could only let the matter drop.

"Head of House, I-"

"Shut up!"

Snape shot a vicious glare at Flint, the disgraceful fool. His expression was utterly black. There was no doubt that, from this day onward, Marcus Flint would be a disgrace to all of Slytherin.

Harry immediately brightened at the sight. Snape's misfortune alone was enough to make him happy.

Snape clearly noticed and took his anger out on Harry.

"It seems some people see someone else win a duel and imagine they can be just as lucky." His eyes moved first, sliding sideways toward Harry, before his expressionless face followed. "Harry-Potter! Why don't you find your own opponent? Do you think someone else's fluke means you can succeed too?"

"Malfoy!"

Draco first gave Marcus Flint a contemptuous look, then stepped forward confidently. "I'll take you on, Potter!"

Naturally, Harry could hardly refuse the challenge.

The other students also recovered from the previous fight and turned to face their own opponents. The scene immediately descended into chaos.

Everyone was firing jinxes. The duels between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were fairly restrained, but Slytherin and Gryffindor had fresh grudges piled on top of old ones. How could they possibly hold back?

Fred and George went after Slytherin's Beaters, while Wood sneaked in a few underhanded attacks. Some even tried to attack Cyrus amid the confusion, hoping to make the enemy who had humiliated Slytherin suffer too!

Cyrus showed them no mercy, hanging every last one of them from the ceiling.

More than ten minutes later, when Lockhart shrieked at the students to stop, a long line of figures already hung from the Great Hall's ceiling. From a distance, they looked like rows of greenish cured meat.

Snape was trembling all over, whether from cold or rage was anyone's guess. In the end, he said nothing, simply casting a wide-ranging general counterspell to release Malfoy from the Pimple Jinx, Harry from the dancing jinx, and the batch of air-dried snakes dangling overhead.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Lockhart darted through the crowd, surveying the aftermath of the duels. "Stand up, Macmillan... careful, Miss Fawcett... pinch it hard, the bleeding will stop in a moment, Boot..."

Now he regretted it.

He regretted it terribly! His eyes grew unfocused, as though all hope had drained out of them. I was wrong. I was so wrong. I should never have agreed to Dumbledore's offer in the first place. If I hadn't agreed, I wouldn't have had to become the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. If I hadn't become the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, I wouldn't have ended up in this miserable place. If I hadn't ended up in this miserable place, I wouldn't have to deal with this mountain of trouble.

After finally putting an end to the commotion, Lockhart stood in the middle of the Great Hall, looking flustered. He glanced at Snape, saw the cold gleam in his black eyes, and immediately looked away.

"I think I had better teach you how to block unfriendly spells."

"Could we have a pair of volunteers-Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?" He called them volunteers, but he had deliberately picked two students who were not particularly gifted. At least that way, even if they caused trouble, he would be capable of dealing with it.

"That would be unwise, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, gliding lightly across the stage like a vicious great bat. "Longbottom can wreak havoc with even the simplest spell. In that case, we would have to pack Finch-Fletchley's remains into a matchbox and send them to the hospital."

Neville's round face immediately flushed red, not because Snape had insulted him, but because Snape had completely mixed him up with Seamus.

Just then, Cyrus felt Snape's gaze sweep over him first, and immediately raised an eyebrow in response. He wanted to see whether Snape would dare send him up to duel Malfoy.

Snape's gaze passed over Cyrus and Harry. It was clear that he would actually have preferred Harry to be the one making a fool of himself up there. But recalling what Dumbledore had told him not long ago, he turned his venomous, snakelike eyes on Cyrus instead.

"How about Ginny Weasley and Marcus Flint?"

"What?" Although Lockhart had already decided not to refuse whoever Snape suggested, hearing those two names still gave him a fright.

"I don't think that would be quite appropriate. I hope you remember that Miss Weasley is only a first-year," Lockhart said, looking deeply conflicted.

"Yes, a remarkably talented one," Snape said, enunciating every word. "But I think we can show the loser a little leniency, can't we?"

He looked at Lockhart, making no attempt to hide the murderous intent in his eyes, and Lockhart shuddered.

"Good, excellent... Miss Weasley and Mr. Flint, then."

Lockhart hardly dared defy Snape. He hurriedly pulled Cyrus to his side. "Now, Ginny, when Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand and waved it from side to side, trying to perform an elaborate flourish, only to drop it on the floor.

"If you have no useful advice, please get out of the way, sir!" Thoroughly annoyed with him, Cyrus pushed him aside.

"Ginny will win, won't she?" Ron asked anxiously.

"Of course she will! Didn't you see how brilliant Ginny was just now? And the professor has just taught her a few moves!" Hermione said confidently, tidying her disheveled hair. She still had not seen Lockhart for what he really was.

"If you mean dropping his wand on the floor, then yes," Ron said sourly.

Besides, he could see that Snape was the one with genuine ability. Perhaps he would teach Flint a powerful spell?

"It'll be all right, Ron. We have to trust Ginny." Harry clapped Ron firmly on the shoulder. It still felt unreal to him. For the first time, Snape was actually targeting someone else right in front of him.

Ron's guess was correct.

When Marcus Flint walked over to Snape, the gloomy great bat immediately reached out a claw and seized him, speaking in an almost threatening tone.

"I'm giving you one more chance, Flint. I don't want to hear any more excuses," Snape said coldly.

On the other hand, if Ginny Weasley really was what he suspected, Flint had no chance of winning.

"Yes, sir..."

"I'll teach you a spell." Snape began whispering in his ear.

"..."

Marcus Flint swaggered onto the long dueling platform.

He looked at the petite "Ginny" standing a short distance away, torn between the fear left by his repeated defeats and his contempt for a first-year student.

Whatever else he felt, though, his nerves were real.

Slytherin had already become enough of a laughingstock. If he lost again, he might as well transfer to another school-or simply die!