A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 206: Guiding the Battle

Young wizards gazed at each other, but not a single one volunteered to step onto the stage.

Below, a cacophony of whispers filled the air.

This was a chance to face off openly with a professor, but the question remained: Who should they choose?

Felix Harp chuckled softly. "Who among you is willing to give it a try? Opportunities like this are rare."

Harry felt a tickle inside, his lips dry. He had undergone Professor Harp's special training during the summer break, and he knew very well the vast gap that existed between them. However, he could never quite quantify just how wide that gap truly was.

And just now, a sudden thought occurred to him. Could he gain the insights he desired through one-on-one guidance?

In the midst of his hesitation, the first person stepped forward—Percy Weasley.

He bowed with solemnity. "As the head boy of Gryffindor, I'm more than willing to set an example for others."

"Excellent, Weasley. Which professor do you choose?" Felix encouraged, his gaze fixed upon him.

"Professor Flitwick," Percy replied without hesitation.

He had made up his mind before coming up. Among the three professors, Snape was universally recognized as unfriendly to Gryffindors, and while facing him might not be life-threatening, embarrassment was inevitable; ruling Snape out.

Hagrid didn't use his magic frequently, but his Disarming Charm from last year left a deep impression. Percy worried that Hagrid might use a spell of that magnitude on him; ruling Hagrid out as well.

With this consideration, Professor Flitwick seemed to be the most suitable choice. He had an affable and gentle personality, wasn't overly strict with young wizards, and rarely deducted points.

Flitwick had displayed ease in guiding students during dueling lessons the previous school year, never leaving them feeling disheartened.

"I choose Professor Flitwick," Percy reiterated.

Soon, Flitwick and Percy stood face to face. Flitwick reminded him, "Remember what I've told you before." He had spent over an hour detailing his own fighting style.

Percy nodded. Both raised their wands and saluted, and then the duel officially began.

Percy made the first move, sending a Disarming Charm soaring through the air, but Flitwick simply tilted his head to dodge it, his eyes focused unwaveringly on his opponent's wand.

Almost simultaneously, a bright incantation shot toward Percy. Luckily, he had rehearsed before taking the stage. After casting the Disarming Charm, he instinctively jumped to the side, simultaneously uttering the incantation for the Shield Charm.

"Protego Armorum!"

The Shield Charm took form just in time to intercept Flitwick's spell.

"Nicely countered, Percy," Flitwick praised. He consciously controlled the pace of his attacks. Nearly three minutes later, he decisively employed an Impediment Jinx, defeating Percy.

Flitwick critiqued, "Your spellwork is quite proficient, and you possess your own logic, but it's evident that you lack practical experience. Your reactions under pressure were a bit hasty."

Percy freed himself from the bindings, smoothed the wrinkles from his robes, and with formality, said, "Thank you, Professor Flitwick. I'll keep that in mind for the future."

He bowed and stepped down from the gilded platform, Gryffindor's young wizards cheering with excitement.

"We're the first ones!"

"Percy, how did it feel facing the professor? Did you feel the pressure?" someone asked him.

Percy explained, "Certainly, there was some pressure, but you don't have time to dwell on it. You must remain entirely focused."

With the first person bravely taking the plunge, the young wizards became increasingly eager. Timidness faded away as swiftly as dawn, and soon the second student was standing on the gilded stage.

Again, a Gryffindor student, Oliver Wood, tall and robust, was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He scratched his head in embarrassment. "I, I choose Professor Harp."

Felix Harp and him saluted each other. Wood mumbled, "Professor, please go easy on me. You're the one I fear the most."

"Then why choose me?"

"Hey, heh, since I'm graduating soon, boasting about facing you sounds pretty impressive." Wood said, a bit sheepishly.

Impressive, quite the choice of words…

As the duel began, Wood still shouted enthusiastically, "Expelliarmus—"

A beam of red light zipped past his hair, extinguishing the words behind it. The spell's force made his hair stand on end.

He gazed at Professor Harp, wondering if being hit by that would literally cleave him in two. Looking back at him, the professor nodded with an encouraging smile.

"I…"

Soon, the students witnessed a complete domination. In the initial moments, Wood hadn't even managed to cast a full spell; his attempts constantly disrupted by silent casting.

It wasn't until Wood closed his eyes, and almost recklessly muttered the Disarming Charm, that the duel regained normalcy.josei

Professor Harp ceased preventing Wood from casting spells. They engaged in a back-and-forth, firing spells of various colors.

Professor Harp employed the duel strategy he had discussed in previous dueling lessons: defense/evade—counterattack. Each action had a theoretical basis, and with Flitwick's prior words in mind, they had a more profound understanding. Even the first-year students could sense something.

Seven or eight minutes later, sweat-drenched Wood conceded. As per tradition, Felix offered feedback, "Wood, you lack fluency in nonverbal spells. Your duel intentions are too conspicuous, and you lack a consistent approach."

"In your recent performance, you cast twelve different spells. These included dueling spells like Expelliarmus and Protego, as well as minor jinxes like the Leg-Locker Curse and the Tickling Charm. Among them, you cast Expelliarmus three times, Protego twice, the Leg-Locker Curse twice, and the Tickling Charm once…

"It's not that you can't use minor jinxes, but you must choose your spells carefully. For instance, the Leg-Locker Curse can't directly control your opponent. This means you waste excellent opportunities for initiating and hitting your target.

"Moreover, your spells lack a distinctive impact, which indicates a lack of mainline spells…"

Wood humbly accepted the advice, wiping the sweat from his face.

Next, Gryffindor students were eager to step up, but the other three houses protested. A Slytherin student took a stand, a seventh-year prefect named Jeffrey.

"Professor Snape, please provide guidance to a student," he respectfully requested.

Snape laid down his fork and withdrew his wand from his black robe, his robes billowing as he walked to the center.

Facing the Slytherin student, Snape evidently held back. Otherwise, according to his temper, he might have simply cast a spell to knock his opponent down. However, this time, he seldom attacked, choosing instead a defensive posture.

Jeffrey's first spell hit the ground three feet away from Snape. With a cold expression, Snape scolded, "Are you worried about accidentally hitting me, Jeffrey? Use every spell you can think of to attack. Dueling is a serious matter!"

Next, Jeffrey began his attacks from various angles, sending spells of different colors towards Snape. The young wizards witnessed a spellbinding display of defensive teaching.

Snape rarely used protective spells like Protego. His eyesight was exceptional, easily deflecting incoming spells. Confronting a cloud of seemingly dark mist, he pointed his wand at it, turning it into a cloud of white mist.

Stepping out of the mist, Snape's vague face grew clear. He gradually approached Jeffrey, casually deflecting the spells coming his way and sending them off course.

Soon, Jeffrey found himself backed against the stage's edge, forced to concede.

"Absolutely fantastic! Did you all see that?" The Slytherin students erupted in enthusiastic applause.

Harry couldn't resist his yearning any longer and rushed onto the platform.

Snape looked at Harry, a sneer on his face, and spoke in a lowered voice only they could hear, "Couldn't hold back any longer, could you? Just like your father, always seeking the limelight. Maybe this makes you feel special, enamored with being seen as a savior…"

"I don't think of myself as special. Everything just seems to find me!" Harry retorted. "Like Sirius Black, who escaped from Azkaban, I had no prior knowledge of him."

"Don't mention that nauseating name," Snape replied coldly.

Harry spoke with certainty, "I've seen records from your student days. You didn't get along, but there must be deeper reasons behind it…"

Snape's expression became enigmatic, his lips tightly pressed as if restraining spiteful words.

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