"Sean, be careful, you must win!" Blaise Zabini called, his voice tight with urgency as he stepped back into the crowd.
Nodding to Blaise, Sean drew his ebony phoenix-feather wand. As if sensing his eagerness for the duel, the wand pulsed with a faint warmth, magic flowing smoothly through his veins, sharp and ready.
Sean and Jason faced each other in the Slytherin common room, its green lanterns casting eerie shadows. They raised their wands in a formal salute, an essential ritual of the pure-blood duel, the crowd's murmurs fading to a tense hush.
The moment the salute ended, the fight began.
"Expelliarmus!" Jason struck first, his wand slashing forward, a red jet of the disarming spell streaking toward Sean.
Sean dropped low, rolling across the stone floor to take cover behind a heavy oak table, the spell sizzling past and scorching the wall. Splinters flew as Jason, undeterred, flicked his wand sharply. The table exploded in a burst of wood and sparks, shards scattering across the room.
But Sean was ready. As the table shattered, he sprang up, wand aimed at Jason. "Petrificus Totalus!" he incanted, a silver-blue light shooting from his wand.
Jason's expression tightened, and he stepped back swiftly, raising his wand. "Protego!" A shimmering shield flared, deflecting the petrification spell with a faint crackle. Sean wasn't surprised—Slytherin's cutthroat atmosphere bred capable wizards, and Jason, bold enough to challenge him, was no pushover. A single spell wouldn't end this.
As Jason's shield flickered, Sean was already moving, his wand weaving a new strategy. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he cast, wrist flicking rapidly. Once, twice, thrice—the levitation spell surged, lifting chairs, a candelabrum, and a stray goblet from the floor. The furniture spun in the air, hurtling toward Jason like a swarm of angry cornish pixies, their shadows dancing wildly under the lanternlight.
"It's interesting that the Levitation Charm can be used in this way," Irina remarked, her eyes fixed on the duel unfolding in the Slytherin common room. She and Samuel stood at the crowd's edge, the green lanternlight casting serpentine shadows over their calculating gazes.
Samuel nodded slightly, impressed by Sean's tactics.
"He's only been at Hogwarts a few weeks, yet his spellwork is sharp. Most of his magic is fresh from lessons, with some self-taught tricks. In raw understanding, Jason can't match him."
"So, what's your take?" Irina asked, her tone probing.
Samuel's gaze lingered on Sean, dodging and casting with fluid precision. "He's promising, but I defer to you. Should we back him?"
Irina hesitated, her mind weighing risks. "Let's wait and see. If we support him, it's all-in—no half-measures. A misstep could make enemies. We need to be sure." Her voice was steady, reflecting the cunning that had earned her prefect status.
"Good," Samuel agreed. He respected Irina's judgment, knowing his own prefect role leaned heavily on family ties, while hers stemmed from skill. Her instincts guided their decisions, and he trusted her to read Sean's potential.
Bang! A red jet of light—likely a disarming or stunning spell—struck the floor, blasting a small hole in the carpet and scorching the stone beneath. The crowd flinched, the common room's air crackling with the duel's intensity, as Sean and Jason's wands danced in a flurry of sparks.
Sean stumbled back, caught off guard, and flicked his wand. A half-shattered table, splintered from earlier spells, lurched forward under "Wingardium Leviosa," shielding him. A red jet—likely a disarming spell—slammed into it, reducing the table to kindling with a sharp crack.
"How many tables and chairs do you have left?" Jason taunted, advancing slowly, his wand steady like a predator stalking prey. Sean stayed silent, eyes narrowed, assessing. Jason's voice hardened. "Okay, I'm tired of playing. Let's decide the winner next."
As Jason raised his wand, a red glow blooming at its tip, Sean acted. He swept his wand downward, brushing the stone floor. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The common room's heavy carpet shuddered, rippling like a stormy sea. The wave surged forward, catching Jason mid-step. He yelped, tumbling hard to the ground, his spell fizzling as his concentration broke.
Sean sprang to his feet, wand dancing. The carpet, still under his levitation spell, rolled wildly, coiling around Jason layer by layer, trapping him in a cocoon of dusty fabric. The crowd gasped, the Slytherin common room's green lanterns flickering with the duel's frenetic energy.
Sean eyed Jason, now a writhing lump beneath the carpet. He knew the levitation spell's limits—without stronger magic, the carpet wouldn't hold long. If his Transfiguration were better, he could morph it into ropes or chains to bind Jason permanently. But as a first-year, he could barely turn a match into a needle without sweating. Battle-speed Transfiguration was beyond him.
Luckily, the mysterious system from his past life, which had granted him two unique abilities, gave Sean a secret advantage to tip the scales against Jason.
Bang! Bang! Two red bursts erupted from the carpet, shredding most of the fabric. Jason clawed his way free, dust-coated and furious, his robes askew. He raised his wand, ready to retaliate, but froze. Sean stood poised, wand leveled, a light green glow flaring from its tip.
"Thorns!" Sean incanted, the non-canon spell surging forth in a verdant arc, ready to ensnare his opponent
The green light surged toward Jason, erupting into thorny vines studded with sharp barbs. They coiled around him, tightening swiftly, piercing his skin. Crimson trickled along the vines, absorbed by their eerie, pulsing surface. Jason cried out, pain contorting his face. His wand slipped from his grasp, entangled by the vines binding his arm, leaving him defenseless.
Sean's mastery of the Thorn Curse, a dark spell honed through his mysterious system, had surpassed even Miles Bulstrode's skill. By besting Miles twice before, Sean had refined the curse to a potent level, understanding its strengths and flaws. Its slow activation was a weakness—easily dodged by a wary opponent. So, in the duel, Sean had lured Jason to the carpet's center, using "Wingardium Leviosa" to trap him momentarily, creating the perfect opening for the Thorn Curse.
"Sean, lift your spell. You win this pure-blood duel," Samuel called, stepping forward, his prefect's authority cutting through the common room's tense air.
Sean nodded, trusting Samuel's word as a Slytherin prefect. With a flick of his wand, he dispelled the Thorn Curse. The vines withered instantly, shrinking into a pile of brittle weeds that crumbled to the floor. Jason collapsed to his knees, disbelief etched on his face. Moments ago, he'd held the upper hand, certain of victory. Now, defeated in a pure-blood duel he thought he'd win, he faced ruin.
Worse, he'd failed Miles Bulstrode, who'd spurred this challenge. The duel's consequences were brutal: Jason could never face Sean publicly again without yielding in shame. Submission was an option—pledging loyalty to Sean until graduation—but as a proud wizard, how could he bow to a squib's son?
Jason's eyes darkened, desperation clouding his judgment. Irrationally, he snatched his wand from the floor, aiming at Sean's back. But Sean was faster. "Petrificus Totalus!" A white light shot from his wand, striking Jason. His body stiffened, frozen mid-cast, a stone-like figure poised for a forbidden sneak attack.
Even In Slytherin, where cunning was king, such dishonor—attacking a victor post-duel—was unforgivable. Jason's former allies turned away, their faces cold, unwilling to share his disgrace. The common room's green lanterns flickered, casting harsh shadows over the scene.
Samuel eyed the petrified Jason, then gestured to his friends. "Take him to the hospital wing. His injuries? Say they're from his own spell experiments." His tone left no room for argument, protecting Slytherin's secrecy.
Turning to Sean, Samuel's expression softened slightly. "Sean, are you interested in talking to us?"
Sean, still catching his breath, nodded eagerly, his system's latest reward unexamined. "Of course, I also want to thank you two for helping me win the duel this time. If you don't mind, why don't you go to my room and chat."
"That would be great!" Samuel replied, a hint of intrigue in his voice, as the crowd dispersed, whispering of Sean's triumph.