"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 6: Agent Wyzett
After dinner, a good number of students chose to linger in the Great Hall, determined to hold their spots until eight o'clock.
Professor Flitwick raised his wand, drawing the four House tables together and sliding them precisely to the center of the hall.
Professor McGonagall stood before the tables, her wand weaving through the air as gracefully as a conductor's baton. With a series of elegant transfigurations, she transformed the tables into a broad, gleaming stage.
While Professor McGonagall adjusted the final details—gilded filigree curling along the edges—Professor Flitwick pointed his wand skyward. With a gentle flick, the brilliant star-strewn ceiling faded into a velvet-black night. Thousands of candles floated overhead, their flames flickering in the dark, mirroring the students' nervous anticipation—restless, excited, and tinged with a thrill that set hearts racing.
…
As the crowd swelled, the Great Hall grew ever noisier. Students pressed shoulder to shoulder, voices rising in eager speculation.
"They're coming! They're coming!"
Heads swiveled toward the entrance.
"It's Snape…"
"And Professor Lockhart…"
"Aww, I thought Headmaster Dumbledore would show up in person!"
Snape led the procession, his familiar silhouette unmistakable—billowing black robes, eyes hooded, face unreadable and cold.
Lockhart trailed behind, resplendent in a flamboyant magenta robe with tasseled sleeves, his trademark smile plastered across his face. He waved grandly to the crowd, only to trip on the steps and nearly tumble onto the stage.
Snape cast him a sidelong glance, lips curling into a thin, unmistakably mocking smirk.
Unfazed, Lockhart launched into a flamboyant speech, extolling his own noble intentions and the importance of tonight's event. He made sure to mention his best-selling books, weaving in tales of his supposed adventures at every opportunity.
Only when Snape shifted impatiently, wand in hand, did Lockhart's smile falter. He stammered, "Allow me to introduce my assistant…"
Snape flexed his wrist, looking more than ready to fulfill his assistantly duties.
But Lockhart changed tack. "As you all know, Professor Snape is a master of Potions—a field quite different from my own exploits…"
"And given my… considerable experience in the field, I'd hate to accidentally injure him during our demonstration by, well, not holding back enough…"
Snape's eyes narrowed, cold and predatory as a viper sizing up its prey. Lockhart edged back a step, coughed, and pressed on.
"So, since we're here to teach students how to duel, why not have a student volunteer for the demonstration? Professor Snape, what do you think?"
"Indeed… an excellent suggestion," Snape replied, his eyes glinting. "Since it was your idea, I'll select an agent, and you—"
But Lockhart, relief all over his face, cut in before Snape could finish, "Absolutely! No problem at all!"
Given less than a week's practice, even with his trusty notebook, Lockhart knew he was no match for Snape. Letting Snape choose a student "agent" was clearly his best option.
After several days of frantic practice, he could just about manage a Shield Charm. At least, he hadn't botched it in rehearsal. And how much trouble could a student possibly cause? He could always rely on his Shield Charm.
…
"Mr. Wyzett Lovegood!" Snape called, scanning the crowd with a slow, deliberate turn. "Up you come!"
Ever since that "Outstanding" in Potions last term, most students didn't even bother to protest anymore. They just watched as Wyzett strode up onto the stage, coming to stand at Snape's side.
"Ah… an excellent choice…" Lockhart beamed, recovering his theatrical flair. "Today, we're teaching a simple spell—the Disarming Charm!"
"That's right! Just disarm your opponent's wand, and you win—quick, efficient, and very practical… Do you know the Disarming Charm?"
"Ahem." Snape gave a quiet cough, just loud enough for Wyzett to hear.
Wyzett caught the cue and shook his head with practiced innocence. "Professor Lockhart, I've only read about the spell. I've never actually used it…"
"Ah…" Lockhart winced, rubbing his temple. That phrase—"only read about"—sounded all too familiar.
"Well, let me show you then… The incantation isn't complicated—it's Expelliarmus! And then you thrust your wand forward—"
"Is that so? Thrust your wand?" Snape interrupted silkily. "Mr. Lovegood, what's the proper wand movement for the Disarming Charm?"
Wyzett replied, "According to the book, for beginners it's best to flick your wand outward, as if you're batting away your opponent's weapon."
"Aha… must've mixed it up with another spell…" Lockhart stammered, mopping his brow. "So many spells, you know how it is…"
"Well, since you're so clear on the Disarming Charm, let's give the students a demonstration, Wyzett! And walk them through the whole dueling process while we're at it!"
"Yes, Professor Lockhart." Wyzett gripped his wand.
"First, we raise our wands to chest height, noses pointing at the tips…" Lockhart intoned, "Then we bow…"
"Both parties should keep a safe distance… Remember, dueling rules say only magic—no physical contact…"
Snape suddenly interjected, "Shouldn't you two stand a bit farther apart? Beginners with the Disarming Charm often misjudge their strength…"
Harry's eyes widened. "Snape's actually looking out for Lockhart?"
"I wouldn't call it concern…" Ron muttered. "Look at Snape's face—he's got that look he gets patrolling Potions. He's definitely up to something."
Lockhart waved dismissively. "No need, I assure you. As an adventurer, I'm quite confident!"
Snape nodded, his expression unreadable. "Very well—Mr. Lovegood, do try to restrain yourself. Don't overdo it."
Wyzett coughed lightly, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. "I'll do my best!"
"Then let's begin!" Lockhart flourished his wand, attempting a dramatic sword-like twirl. "On the count of one, cast the Disarming Charm—three, two, one!"
The instant "one" left Lockhart's lips, Wyzett snapped his wand forward. "Expelliarmus!"
A flash of scarlet erupted—so blinding that the students closest to the stage saw the world turn red.
With a thunderous crash, they blinked the color from their eyes—just in time to watch Lockhart peel himself off the far wall and slide slowly to the floor.
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