The Great Hall buzzed with a restless crowd, people craning their necks and standing on tiptoes to get a better view.
"Too much flourish, too obvious," Hodge Blackthorn remarked coolly. "Of course, those are minor issues… but you don't know how to cast silently? How do you manage teaching sixth and seventh years, then?"
Umbridge's face flushed crimson with fury.
She could cast silently—most adult witches and wizards could manage simple everyday spells without a word. But dueling spells? Those were far removed from Umbridge's cushy bureaucratic life. She was far more skilled at office politics and claiming credit for others' work.
"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"
Umbridge shouted in a frenzy, her short wand spitting out two feeble red beams. Hodge, unfazed, raised a shimmering magical barrier with a flick of his wand, effortlessly deflecting her spells.
"Your casting's unstable," Hodge noted, nodding as if grading an underwhelming performance.
Umbridge's eyes bulged. "You little—" A red spark grazed her hair, and she let out a shrill scream, stumbling back. "How dare you! I'm from the Ministry of—"
"This is a duel," Hodge cut her off sharply. "Is that your teaching philosophy? Tell students to announce their credentials when facing danger? Or maybe recite a law? Brilliant strategy."
Umbridge's lips trembled. Even when she'd been demoted to the archives, surrounded by yellowed, forgotten files, she'd never lost control like this.
"Stupefy!"
Hodge sidestepped with ease.
"Got any other spells?"
"Incarcerous!" Umbridge bellowed, jabbing her wand at him. Thick ropes materialized in midair, slithering like snakes before wrapping around Hodge, binding his arms tightly.
A menacing grin spread across Umbridge's face.
Hodge smiled back.
"A simple escape charm," he said softly. The ropes went limp, slumping to the floor. "Learned it in first year. No wand required, even. I hear Senior Davis is quite good at it."
All eyes turned to a tall, handsome Ravenclaw boy. Roger Davies, the Quidditch team's Chaser, was well-known. He waved excitedly at the crowd, clearly enjoying the attention.
Umbridge, meanwhile, was far from amused. She seethed, her hatred for Hodge practically radiating off her.
"My turn to attack," Hodge said, stepping forward. Umbridge's furious expression froze, as if it had just dawned on her that duels were a two-way street. She stumbled backward, only to slip and crash heavily onto the floor.
"Lubricus Planum," Professor Flitwick commented from the sidelines, impressed. "Cleverly used here to create a slick surface."
Umbridge scrambled to her feet, spewing a stream of vile curses. Students near the stage gaped, shocked at the language coming from her mouth. Hodge raised his wand, and Umbridge choked, her face turning beet red as she clutched her throat, unable to breathe.
"Hodge—" Flitwick said nervously.
"It's not a dangerous spell," Hodge replied calmly.
"I know, the Tongue-Tying Curse—a simple jinx, usually for pranks," Flitwick explained reflexively, hurrying to Umbridge's side. "But we should stop—oh, I forgot, you can't speak with your tongue knotted—" With a wave of his wand, Umbridge gasped for air, then erupted into a fit of coughing.
"Anapneo," Flitwick said, pointing his wand at her to clear her airway.
"Are you alright? If there are no objections, I'll call a halt—ow!" Flitwick yelped as Umbridge, still on the slick floor, grabbed his arm in a desperate lurch. The move sent Flitwick sprawling, but it gave her enough leverage to crawl off the slippery patch. The students glared at her, outraged.
Umbridge didn't care. She'd lost all sense of reason, consumed by a need to make Hodge suffer. Her mousy brown hair hung in disarray, her bow lopsided, her face contorted with rage. Baring her teeth, she raised her wand and screamed in a hoarse, frenzied voice, "Crucio!"
Hodge didn't move. He stood still, almost serene, even closing his eyes. But the expected agony never came. He opened his eyes to a chorus of gasps and saw Snape, wand raised, radiating fury.
"Enough," Snape snarled through gritted teeth.
"Sna—" Umbridge began, but her words were cut off by a cold, precise incantation: "Expelliarmus!" Her wand flew from her hand, arcing through the air and landing neatly in Snape's grasp.
With a sharp "pop," Snape's wand conjured ropes that snaked around Umbridge's mouth, wrists, and ankles. She toppled onto the wooden stage with a thud, utterly helpless.
"Flitwick, I'm taking her to the Headmaster," Snape said curtly.
"Leave this to me," Flitwick replied, his usual cheer replaced by solemnity.
Snape pointed his wand at Umbridge, and she floated upward. "Out of the way!" he barked, striding toward the exit. The students parted instinctively, staring as his billowing black robes vanished through the Great Hall's doors.
Only then did the reality sink in. The Cruciatus Curse. Umbridge had just used one of the Unforgivable Curses.
"What's an Unforgivable Curse?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"The Unforgivable Curses are the Killing Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Imperius Curse. They're the darkest, most cruel forms of magic," Ron explained, half-terrified, half-thrilled. "Using any of them can land you a life sentence in Azkaban."
"So, Umbridge is done for?" Harry asked, glancing around. Others were explaining the same thing to their friends, the hall abuzz with whispers. "What does the Cruciatus Curse do, exactly?"
"Pain," Ron said bluntly. "Unbearable pain. Trust me, compared to the Cruciatus Curse, death's a mercy."
"They say it can tear your soul apart," Hermione added softly, her voice trembling. "I can't believe she—she actually dared to…"
Harry understood completely. He looked at the gilded stage, piecing together Hodge's plan.
Provoke Umbridge into using an Unforgivable Curse? No, that was too far-fetched—Hodge couldn't control her actions. More likely, his goal was to humiliate her publicly, ruin her chances of becoming a professor. If things went even better, maybe she'd use a dangerous spell, which, as Flitwick had said before the duel, was strictly forbidden. Harry was surprised to find himself following Hodge's logic.
"Quiet, everyone, listen!" Flitwick called from the stage, ushering students out in an orderly fashion. Hodge remained behind. The crowd dispersed, buzzing with indignation.
"Did you see Professor Snape's move? So clean!" a Slytherin girl gushed, starry-eyed.
Ron made a face at that.
"Hermione," Harry asked thoughtfully, "that spell—the one with 'Expelliarmus'—what was it?" He'd been practicing dueling spells with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, but he hadn't yet learned how to disarm an opponent.
"The Disarming Charm!" Hermione answered.
————
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