The first Saturday after Halloween.
In the dungeon, the air in the fifth underground classroom was incredibly still and damp.
William leaned back behind the podium, engrossed in a book titled "Amendo Dipeite: Master or Idiot". To be honest, the author, Rita Skeeter, was truly "impressive". The three elements of journalism were firmly missed: truthfulness, timeliness, accuracy... not a single one.
The entire text was filled with: taking things out of context, selectively quoting, and creating confrontation.
However, people loved reading such articles because everyone could find their own pleasure point in them.
Even if there wasn't a real point of pleasure, it was amusing to read.
Talented person, needs to be explored.
Closing the hefty volume, William looked up — a group of little wizards who had joined the Duel Club were now lying in a circle in the center of the classroom, each on a chair, eyes tightly shut, faces full of tension, as if they were having nightmares.
Nightmare... maybe it was a nightmare indeed?
After all, being chased by eighteen vicious dogs biting your backside certainly wasn't a sweet dream. This was probably the twenty-third time Malfoy regretted signing up for the Duel Club — William's teaching style was like this, one theoretical lesson, one practical, one relaxation...
Playing a "surreal survival" game in a dream was apparently classified as entertainment relaxation.
Although Malfoy didn't understand where the relaxation was in being chased around by a horde of spiders and vicious dogs?
But apart from the first time when three vicious dogs bit him on the neck, he improved every time afterwards. He even figured out some techniques, like taking advantage of the moment when the lead wolf leaps into the air—
"Jelly-Legs Jinx!"
The purplish-red spell struck the underbelly of the vicious wolf like a venomous snake, causing its once sturdy legs to collapse as if the bones were sucked out upon landing, sprawling on the ground. The two wolves trailing it tripped and tangled into a heap.
"Incendio!"
The scorching flames quickly wrapped around them, and the stench of burning fur made Malfoy's already pallid face turn even whiter. Despite being utterly exhausted, he continued to retreat, determinedly, knowing that more vicious wolves roamed than the three howling under the flames.
"Roar—"
Through the vermilion flames, a shadow leapt up, landing next to Malfoy in two bounds, even avoiding the spell he hurled, "Damn it!!" Once again, it was this wretched elite monster. Malfoy's expression was grim. It was his third time being thwarted at this level—
According to William, seventeen wolves or spiders, plus a slightly paler elite monster, comprised the boss of the first major level.
Beating them would allow him to start from 2-1 next time, without needing to face the two initial wolves.
Currently, the best record in the Duel Club was held by Cedric, who had defeated the boss of the second level and was advancing to the third. Meanwhile, the second batch was composed of older students, who were tormented almost to ecstasy by the bosses of the second level...
Trailing behind were students like Malfoy, who, being younger, had fewer means, and were still stuck at the first level boss.
Originally, Malfoy wasn't in such a hurry. After all, as the "guide" suggested, defeating such foes was indeed challenging for third and fourth-year students, but... that damned Harry Potter had already passed, and so had that Gryffindor know-it-all, even Neville had passed at the beginning of the lesson—
Yet Malfoy hadn't.
He was losing face, and with only twenty-one people having joined the Duel Club this term, even fewer were from Slytherin. Among third-year Slytherins, only two were present. Although the Greengrass girl was slower in progress than him, Malfoy couldn't resign himself—
He recently didn't even dare loudly taunt Harry anymore, as their scores in the "Dream Arena" had become a new method of competition between them.
No, he had to get through!
Seeing the gaping jaws of the vicious wolf inching closer, the previously exhausted Malfoy suddenly found a surge of strength from nowhere. Raising his right hand, he performed a deep nasal swab on the vicious wolf, feeling the sticky sensation on his arm. Malfoy grabbed his wand from where it had fallen with his left hand—
"Entrail-Expelling!"
A soft plop echoed, and the vicious wolf, like it had lost control of its bowels, released a waterfall of foul-smelling filth onto Malfoy's leg. As the vile substance drained, in the next instant, a cascade of entrails mixed with clots of blood plopped onto the ground, and Malfoy felt the force that nearly bit through his forearm suddenly relent—
"Boom—"
With effort, Malfoy shoved the lupine carcass off his chest, lying there in a daze, panting heavily. The pain from his arm left him thoroughly drained, but before he could start cussing while clutching his arm, an unprecedented wave of relief swept over him, enveloping his entire body.
Even the sharp pain in his arm dissipated suddenly and entirely.
Uh, how could this be described...
A Black clan female Death Eater, preparing to board a flight, suddenly glimpsed Voldemort's marble-footed grace in a daze (strike through entire section).