The air was sucked dry the instant Moody raised his wand.
The sunlight was still scorching, yet it brought not a trace of warmth.
The students below the platform felt an invisible hand clench around their hearts, and even their breathing grew cautious.
"Don't think you can stall for time with your smooth talk, Holmes!"
Moody's roar was like a boulder crashing into a silent lake.
Before his words had faded, a concentrated streak of purple light shot out, so fast it left only a searing afterimage in the air.
The light carried a vicious edge, aimed straight at Douglas's heart.
The students did not even have time to cry out.
Yet Douglas showed not the slightest panic.
He did not chant a spell or even raise his wand.
He merely leaned slightly to the left and tapped the wooden platform lightly with his toe.
Like a fallen leaf stirred by a breeze, he slipped nimbly past the lethal purple light at an inconceivable angle.
The soles of his leather shoes traced a smooth, elegant arc across the wooden platform.
The purple light missed and slammed into the vine railing at the platform's edge, bursting with a muffled bang and blasting out a spray of charred wood chips.
Moody's electric-blue Magical Eye spun wildly, yet never looked at Douglas.
His normal eye remained fixed on him, as though seeking to record every twitch of every muscle fiber in Douglas's body.
"Nice moves. Like a ballet dancer!"
He gave a hoarse, cold chuckle, his words steeped in a battlefield veteran's contempt.
"But in a real fight, the next spell will go straight through your knee!"
Douglas came to a stop and brushed nonexistent dust from his sleeve, that same unfathomable faint smile still on his face.
"Deputy Director Moody, every great