Serpensortia

Marcus Flint and Cyrus stood together on the high platform.

The platform looked as though it had been built out of dining tables. Flint watched his opponent warily, his face scarlet with shame.

He was a sixth-year student, yet he had to duel a first-year little witch under the scrutiny of nearly a thousand pairs of eyes. And his opponent looked so relaxed, as though he meant nothing at all.

He felt humiliated and embarrassed, but aside from the Gryffindor students deliberately making a fuss, none of the others saw anything wrong with it.

After all, just a few minutes earlier, the first-year student named Ginny Weasley had turned more than a dozen Slytherin students into dried strips of snake and hung them from the ceiling of the Great Hall.

"This time, I'll teach you a lesson!" Flint blustered.

He had no confidence at all. Just watching Cyrus twirl his wand made Flint's fingertips sweat.

"I do hope you put on a better show. Otherwise, I'll be terribly disappointed in Slytherin's standards," Cyrus said casually.

Against someone like Flint, who had more muscle than brains, even Tom Riddle's first-year spellwork would have been enough to teach him a lesson. Frankly, he might have been more dangerous charging in with his fists than holding a wand.

"Come on. I'll give you the first move," Cyrus said generously. "You can cast first. A sneak attack is fine too."

His arrogant attitude made Flint grit his teeth, but the Slytherin gorilla did not refuse. He merely tightened his grip on his wand and took deep breaths.

Don't be nervous, Marcus. You just got careless before.

He kept telling himself that.

She's only a first-year witch. There's no way you can lose!

Lockhart called for them to begin once more. This time, Flint did not rush to attack. He kept his wary eyes on Cyrus, ready to defend at any moment, afraid that his spell would be knocked away just as it had been before.

"What's wrong? Aren't you going to attack?" Cyrus found Flint's timid display rather amusing. He had looked like a gorilla before; now he looked more like a turtle hiding in its shell.

He took a step forward, and Flint immediately retreated a step. The sight was so disgraceful that even the Slytherin students could not help shouting abuse.

"What are you doing, Flint?"

"You're embarrassing us!"

"Teach her a lesson!"

"Just drop out, you useless idiot!" Malfoy shouted the loudest.

As though that meant they were not the ones afraid of Ginny. As though that made them brave, and Marcus alone was a cowardly fool.

Marcus shot him a vicious glare, and Malfoy immediately ducked his head back, not daring to speak again.

Now, the gorilla was finally forced to do something.

He raised his wand-Cyrus was glad he still remembered he was a wizard-and fired off a Stunning Spell.

Cyrus knew it was a Stunning Spell because Marcus shouted the incantation aloud.

He had yet to master the knack of the Nonverbal Spell. Only those petty jinxes unfit for a proper duel came a little more easily to him.

Cyrus did not defend himself. He simply tilted his head slightly and dodged the all-too-obvious attack.

Dueling was not as simple as standing there stupidly firing spells. Fighting Marcus even struck Cyrus as utterly boring.

He let his opponent have several more moves. Or rather, Marcus made his intentions so obvious every time he cast a spell that Cyrus could dodge them with ease.

It was effortless for him, but the spectators below watched with their hearts in their mouths.

From their perspective, for some reason, "Ginny Weasley" was not fighting back and could only dodge Marcus's attacks.

Each of Marcus's spells skimmed past "Ginny's" small body and slammed into the wall. "Ginny, fight back!" Ron shouted in terror.

"Knock her off, Flint!" the Slytherin students shouted, refusing to be outdone.

Everyone in every house was on edge. Three houses were worried about Ginny, while the Slytherin students watched with desperate anticipation, hoping Flint would wipe away their humiliation!

Even Marcus Flint himself thought he had the upper hand. He fired spells in ever quicker succession, aggressively advancing as he attacked, trying to put more pressure on Cyrus.

Ginny Weasley?

Nothing special!

He thought victory was already in his grasp!

Only Snape could see how easily Cyrus was handling it. Even "easily" was an understatement.

He doesn't even consider Flint worth his attention, Snape thought.

His gaze was dark.

A first-year who had attended school for only half a term defeating a sixth-year wizard was already an incredible outcome. Yet the gulf between these two was as vast as that between heaven and earth.

There was no need to think any further. Something was definitely wrong with Ginny Weasley!

"You're boring me terribly, Mr. Flint."

On the platform, Cyrus had grown tired of this childish game of make-believe. He flicked his wrist, and his wand whistled through the air.

A powerful spell from Flint was shattered right in front of Cyrus. To Cyrus, the seemingly formidable spell was nothing more than a flashy, useless firework.

Marcus froze. It was as though someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head, instantly extinguishing his unstoppable momentum. Now, wand in hand, he felt fear under the gaze of Cyrus's eyes.

Cyrus slowly raised his wand, then suddenly fired a powerful spell!

Its light instantly illuminated the astonished faces of the young students surrounding the platform. They instinctively shut their eyes and stumbled back a step.

"Protego!" Marcus Flint cried urgently.

Thud!

Then came a muffled boom, like a firecracker exploding under a cover.

The platform seemed to shake several times.

"What happened?" Ron asked fearfully.

Harry, however, had never looked away. "Flint blocked the spell."

Flint swayed on the platform as though he were drunk. Both his hands were numb, but at least he had managed to block the spell.

Flint breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever else happened, at least the spell could be blocked, right?

What he did not know, however, was that Cyrus had only used a level of power suitable for a duel. Besides, a properly cast Shield Charm should not merely block an attack; it should also rebound the spell's force.

"How many times can you block it, Flint?" Cyrus asked mockingly.

Marcus looked at "Ginny's" adorable face and swallowed in fear, as though what stood before him was not a cute little girl but a ferocious beast!

He could not help retreating several steps, only to hear another, even more frightening voice behind him.

"Use the spell I taught you, Flint-" Snape "roared" in his own distinctive manner.

Flint shuddered, then took another step toward Cyrus.

He had not become brave. It was more as though thorns had sprouted behind him, forcing him forward.

"Serpensortia!"

The tip of his wand burst open. A black snake shot out of it and landed heavily on the floor, rearing up and baring its fangs with a hiss!

The nearby students immediately jumped away in terror, their faces deathly pale.

Seeing that the spell Snape had taught him had worked, Marcus immediately looked smugly at Cyrus. Yet he could find no trace of fear on Cyrus's face.

In fact, Cyrus was studying the little black snake Flint had summoned.

Compared with the basilisk, it was as tiny as a flickering black tongue. Even with its fangs bared, it did not look frightening at all. If anything, it was rather cute.

"What's wrong, Flint? Don't tell me you intend to frighten me with that thing?" Cyrus chuckled. He had excellent control over Parseltongue and would not speak it unknowingly the way Harry did.

"It's all right. Little ones are cute too."

Flint felt humiliated. Although he had already suffered more than enough humiliation lately, he still could not swallow this insult.

Looking at Cyrus's infuriating expression, he threw caution to the wind and cast another spell at the snake.

This time, it was an Engorgement Charm.

The black snake immediately swelled as though its belly were being pumped full of air!

Its head almost reached the ceiling. With a powerful sweep of its tail, the first person it sent flying was Flint himself.

The Great Hall instantly descended into chaos. The young students screamed and scattered like rats in a pot, only to crash into one another. Lockhart's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor.