Grodia's form twisted in a swirl of Apparition, vanishing just as Erwin's spell streaked toward him. It slammed into the ground instead, sending a spray of earth and grass exploding upward.
Erwin wasn't surprised by the miss. Gloria was no novice; he wouldn't go down easily. With a crack, Erwin Disapparated himself, reappearing in a blind spot to unleash another curse. Grodia countered swiftly, his own wand flashing in retaliation.
The duel erupted into a frenzy. Neither boy paused longer than a heartbeat between spells, popping in and out of sight with rapid Apparitions. Bursts of light crisscrossed the arena—reds, greens, and blues clashing in midair, scorching the turf and sending sparks flying toward the stands.
Dumbledore rose smoothly from his seat, wand in hand. A murmured incantation summoned a shimmering, egg-shaped barrier around the combatants, containing the stray hexes before they could harm any onlookers. Precautions were wise, even if Erwin—without Ron's usual chaos—seemed unlikely to falter.
The crowd gaped in stunned silence, then erupted in whispers.
"Blimey, that's no schoolyard scrap—this is proper wizarding combat!"
"You'd think it was a pair of Aurors dueling, not first-years!"
"Slytherin's unearthed a real prodigy this time."
Harry Potter and his friends clustered together, eyes wide. Draco Malfoy stammered, "Is this what a prefect's made of? Grodia's no joke—these two are monsters. Now that's a real fight."
Pansy Parkinson's gaze shone with fervor. "Lord Erwin's unstoppable! He'll drag us into a golden age, mark my words—straight to the top of the wizarding world."
For the first time, Harry felt a raw hunger for that kind of power. "Reckon we could get that strong if we begged Mr. Erwin for lessons?"
Hermione shook her head firmly. "Don't be daft, Harry. No one's matching Erwin—not ever. But we could certainly improve under his guidance."
They nodded, already plotting how to approach him.
In a shadowed corner of the stands, heads of several pure-blood families watched intently. One leaned toward an elderly man with sharp features. "Old Selwyn, your boy's a force of nature."
This was Grodia's grandfather, patriarch of the Selwyn family. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Doesn't that platinum-blond hair remind you of someone?"
The group exchanged uneasy glances, the air thickening with unspoken tension.
A cool voice broke the silence. "Him? Old Selwyn, what do you know?"
Selwyn's eyes narrowed. "Yaxley, mind your tone. Who do you think you're addressing? Some upstart pup cozying up to one of the ancient pure-blood families doesn't make him untouchable."
The Yaxley patriarch bristled. "You know full well—if it's really him, he's finished. They won't spare him. Do you truly mean to defy the ancient pure-blood families?"
Selwyn said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Yaxley pressed on, frowning. "You're mad if you're considering it. You'll doom the Selwyns!"
Selwyn's lips curled in a sneer. "Keep your nose out of it. Everyone knows what you got up to in Diagon Alley. This boy's no pawn for you to toy with. Worry less about us and more about his payback when he claims his rightful place. Oh, and I hear your wastrel son's already bent the knee."
Yaxley's fist tightened as he stared at the duel below. "He can't touch them. Bloodline or no, he's got no allies in our world. What's he got to fight with?"
Selwyn fell silent again. No allies? He doubted that. His gaze drifted across the arena to where the Malfoys sat alongside Snape and a cluster of Hogwarts professors.
...
The duelists materialized at opposite ends of the arena, both breathing hard, faces drained of color.
Grodia managed a grin through his pallor. "Not bad, junior. Holding up through all those Apparitions—and that queasy pull? Impressive."
Erwin drew a steadying breath, quelling the nausea roiling in his gut. It was brutal, no denying it. "You're no slouch yourself, senior. I underestimated you—your power's downright frightening."
Grodia chuckled. "Flattering yourself, are we? I'm not Apparating anymore; my limits are screaming."
Erwin nodded. Apparition was a combat ace up the sleeve, but chaining it like this wrecked the body—dizziness, disorientation, the works. No wonder seasoned wizards used it sparingly.
Grodia glanced at the stands, catching Old Selwyn's subtle nod. "Let's up the stakes, junior."
Erwin blinked, wary. "What do you mean?"
"If I lose," Grodia said, "the Selwyn family pledges its loyalty to you—permanently."
Erwin's pulse quickened. He studied Grodia, brow creasing. "And if I lose?"
Grodia's smile widened. "Then I ask that you shield the Selwyns from harm, going forward."
Erwin's frown deepened. "Sounds like the same deal either way. Besides, I'm no guardian for a pure-blood house—I haven't got the clout."
Grodia waved it off. "Just say yes or no. In or out?"
Erwin hesitated, senses prickling. Something felt off, like a hidden snare, but he couldn't spot it. A prefect challenge shouldn't draw such a massive gamble from Grodia. Then it clicked—his words earlier hinted at family, not just personal pride.
Erwin turned to the stands. Old Selwyn met his gaze steadily, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He even inclined his head in greeting.
The uncertainty gnawed deeper. Erwin flicked a look at Snape, whose scowl mirrored his own confusion, but the professor offered no sign.
...
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