Fists and magic

Several Gryffindor students who had seen Gerald in Transfiguration waved when he entered.

Lee Jordan had already claimed a spot in the front row and beckoned to him. "Gerald, over here!"

Gerald walked straight to the Gryffindor side, took a seat near the window, and set Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection on the desk to read.

On the Slytherin side, several burly boys were eyeing the Gryffindors with disgust, as though they were looking at a pile of rubbish that needed clearing away.

Gerald recognized their leader.

Graham Montague.

He had been a minor character in the original story, a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch Team who later succeeded Marcus Flint as captain.

Now, he was sweeping a malicious gaze over every Gryffindor.

Gerald had no intention of bothering with these children, but someone just had to ask for trouble.

"Well, well. You're that Mudblood, aren't you? Even your books are falling apart. What makes you think you can learn magic?"

Several Slytherins beside him snickered.

Fred and George stepped forward together, drawing their wands.

"What, are the blood traitors standing up for a Mudblood again?" Graham Montague sneered.

"You..."

Before George could act, Gerald beat him to it.

He reached out with his right hand, grabbed the front of Montague's school robes, and lifted him out of his chair with one hand.

Graham Montague's mocking expression turned to shock.

He grabbed Gerald's wrist with both hands and tried to pry his grip loose, but that hand might as well have been cast from iron. It did not budge.

"You... let go..." Montague's voice rose in pitch.

Gerald said nothing. He carried him a few steps toward the classroom door, then tossed him out like a chick.

Montague's body traced an arc through the doorway and slammed into the opposite wall of the corridor.

The whole thing took less than three seconds.

The classroom fell utterly silent.

Several Slytherins rose to their feet, their faces full of anger and disbelief.

"Merlin's beard!"

Fred stared at Gerald's back.

"He actually lifted that Slytherin with one hand."

Lee Jordan looked at Gerald returning to his seat, then at Montague lying outside the door, and silently decided never to upset Gerald for as long as he lived.

Gerald sat down again, opened his book to the page he had been reading, and continued.

As though nothing had happened.

Honestly, being called a Mudblood did not bother him all that much.

Perhaps it was because he had only recently entered the wizarding world.

But however little he cared, there was only so much buzzing in his ears he could take from someone who behaved like a fly.

One punch now could spare him a hundred later.

With brats like these, all he had to do was beat them into submission.

The Slytherins clearly were not willing to let it go.

Several more students stood up, led by a dark-skinned boy with sleek, shiny hair.

Gerald thought he recognized him. Blaise Zabini?

No, Zabini enrolled later.

"How dare you?" the boy demanded.

The students behind him immediately drew their wands. Not to be outdone, the Gryffindors drew theirs as well.

"Enough."

A woman's voice came from the doorway.

Gerald turned toward it.

A woman in her thirties walked in.

She was tall, wearing a well-tailored dark blue robe, with dark hair pinned at the back of her head and regular features.

Something stirred in Gerald's mind.

He did not recognize her. She did not seem to have been mentioned in the original story.

A new character? I wonder if she's romanceable.

Gerald suddenly froze at that thought.

This isn't a game, Gerald. Put those grand ideas away.

The woman walked to the front and faced the class.

"I am Ella Winslet. You may call me Professor Winslet. I will be teaching you Defence Against Dark Magic this year."

She paused.

"Now, can anyone tell me how that student outside flew from the classroom into the corridor?"

The classroom was so quiet that the crackle of burning candles was audible.

After hearing both sides of the story, Professor Winslet let her gaze linger on Gerald for several seconds.

There was a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

Such strength. Could he have a giant bloodline?

But neither his height nor his features fit.

By then, Graham Montague had climbed to his feet.

Montague's face alternated between livid and pale, whether from the fall or from anger.

He glared at Gerald, his eyes almost blazing with fury.

"This isn't over. We're wizards. What does brute force prove? If you've got the nerve, settle this in a proper wizard duel."

"Graham Montague, watch your language."

Professor Winslet frowned.

"Wizard duels are premature for first-years like you. Besides..."

"I accept your challenge."

Gerald's voice was not loud, but it silenced the classroom at once.

Fred was the first to react.

"Gerald, why not let it go? You don't know this, but children from pure-blood families like Montague's start learning spells much earlier than you. You've only just started. How are you going to fight him?"

"This isn't the time to show off. We've got plenty of ways to shut him up. It doesn't have to be a duel..."

Lee Jordan was also frantically signaling to him from the side.

"Don't worry."

George and Fred exchanged a glance and fell silent together.

They had not known Gerald for long, but they knew he never did anything unless he was confident of success.

Professor Winslet also looked at him doubtfully.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Professor."

Montague sneered, his anger giving way to smug satisfaction.

He thought Gerald was walking straight into his trap.

How long could a Muggle-born first-year have been learning magic?

How many spells could he possibly know?

Lumos, Scourgify, or a Mending Charm?

What use would those be in a duel?

Winslet was silent for two seconds, then gave a slight nod.

She stepped back, cleared a space at the front of the classroom, and used her wand to draw two white lines about ten feet apart on the floor.

"The rules are simple. Stand behind your respective lines and begin after the dueling bow. Spells only, no physical contact. No excessive force, and you must stop immediately when I tell you to. Understood?"

"Understood."

Both boys held their wands in their right hands, placed their left hands against their chests, and bowed slightly.

The instant he straightened, Montague spun sharply, his wand already raised.

"He's launching a sneak attack!" Lee Jordan shouted.

But Gerald reacted faster.

"Expelliarmus."

A streak of red light struck Montague's wrist with pinpoint accuracy.

His wand flew out of his hand.

Montague stood frozen, his right hand still posed as though holding a wand, but his fingers were empty.

"A beautiful Disarming Charm."

Professor Winslet could not help praising him.

"All right, we have a winner. That will be-"

She never finished.

Gerald flicked his wand again in one fluid motion.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Montague's body abruptly rose, his feet hovering about a meter above the floor. He hung rigid in midair like a cat held by the scruff of its neck.

"Enough!" Professor Winslet stepped forward.

But Gerald had already cast his third spell.

"Three-Foot Push."

Graham Montague, who had been floating in midair, instantly flew out through the classroom door again and slammed hard into the wall.

He opened his mouth and let out a muffled groan.

"Hiss-"

George sucked in a sharp breath and said in shock,

"That was brutal."

Several Gryffindor girls covered their mouths lightly, their eyes sparkling.

Professor Winslet stood where she was, looking at Gerald's calm face, her pupils suddenly contracting.

Was that-a spell combination?