The fight held no suspense.
With a trembling hand, Draco cast a Disarming Charm.
Warrington did not even block it.
He merely shifted sideways, and the red light skimmed his robes and flew toward the wall behind him.
Warrington's magic was steady and controlled, without a single wasted movement.
Like an experienced old wolf, he watched with amusement as a cub bared its fangs and claws for the first time.
He easily neutralized every one of Draco's faltering follow-up spells.
Sometimes he tilted his head, sometimes he waved a hand, and sometimes he merely gave a light tap with his wand.
Draco's cheeks burned. Every missed attack felt like an invisible slap across his face.
He was not dueling. It was more as though he were on a stage, playing along with Warrington's one-man show.
When Draco's dwindling magic left a tiny, almost imperceptible opening,
Warrington truly raised his wand for the first time.
A Disarming Charm so fast it was almost invisible was cast later but struck first.
Draco's wand flew cleanly from his hand, traced an elegant arc through the air, and landed at Warrington's feet.
Draco stood rooted to the spot.
Defeat had come so quickly and so completely that he could not accept it at all.
He had lost to sheer power and experience, utterly and completely.
Warrington stood on the platform without so much as another glance at Draco.
He surveyed the room.
The Dragon Pearl holders from the other four years, including the recently defeated Blaise, silently stepped forward.
The Seventh Year Dragon Pearl holder smiled.
He casually tossed the Dragon Pearl in his hand to Warrington.
Five Dragon Pearls, each glowing with a different light, flew from them of their own accord and drifted slowly toward Warrington.
They joined Warrington's own pearl.
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