On the other side of the stands, Narcissa asked doubtfully, "Lucius, what is the Selwyn family up to?"
Lucius pondered for a moment, glancing at old Selwyn. "He's got it! Real experience, no question. That sly old fox probably spotted Erwin ages ago—maybe even noticed Amelia back at Hogwarts but didn't back her. Now he's betting on the boy!"
Narcissa's eyes widened. "What do we do? Has he recognized Erwin? We can't let him expose the boy's identity—we have to stop him!"
Lucius shook his head. "It's not that simple. No one knows old Selwyn's full strength, but the Dark Lord himself visited the Selwyn family once, and they survived without joining the Death Eaters. I underestimated him; he's no fool. Now it's up to Erwin to decide his move."
Narcissa watched Erwin anxiously as he stood lost in thought.
"What's the matter, junior?" Grodia sneered. "No reason to turn down terms like that!"
"It's exactly because the terms are so generous that it feels off," Erwin replied.
Grodia laughed. "Come on, Erwin—you've got no reason to refuse, have you?"
Erwin mulled it over but couldn't pinpoint the issue. It seemed like a straightforward win-win. At worst, if it was a trap, he'd track down Selwyn Manor and stock up on some explosive surprises. Why turn away free benefits? Besides, if he wasn't mistaken, the Selwyns' interest likely tied to his hidden heritage.
"Alright," Erwin said finally. "I agree."
Grodia grinned. "Then let's get on with it!"
He struck first, firing a silent spell at Erwin without warning.
Erwin cursed under his breath at the lack of fair play but had no time to dwell. Vines erupted from the ground, snaking around his calves just as he moved to dodge.
So Grodia was still holding back—casting silently but chanting aloud earlier to lower his guard. Clever.
Erwin slashed his wand. "Diffindo!"
The vines shattered into fragments. But Grodia's spell was already closing in. It looked hopeless; even blocking with his wand would be too slow.
Yet in the next instant, Erwin raised his hand toward the incoming curse. Magic surged across his palm, and he caught the spell mid-air, hurling it aside like a discarded Quaffle. It slammed into the ground with a deafening crack, leaving a smoking crater.
The stands went deathly quiet. A flicker of intrigue crossed Dumbledore's face.
Lucius gasped. "At his age? Mastering that already? Just how vast is his magic?"
Grodia stared, equally stunned by Erwin's counter. "I thought I'd overestimated you, but clearly not! How much power do you have left to pull that off?"
Erwin just smiled, saying nothing. It was a Ravenclaw trick—nothing fancy, just raw magical force to deflect a spell's path. The sort of move only wizards with exceptional reserves could manage in a duel.
Erwin's wand whipped through the air, unleashing a barrage in retaliation. He wasn't one to play defense.
Grodia dodged the first spell with impressive speed, but a chill prickled his neck. Instinctively, he conjured a Protego, and not a moment too soon—a curse struck his back, shattering the shield and sending him stumbling.
Grodia whirled, eyes wide. "How?!"
Erwin offered no explanation. How could he? Admit it was his golden talent at work? The crowd in the stands buzzed in confusion.
Grodia's eyes lit up. "Prefect, how did you manage that? I swear the spell missed!"
Pansy and the others shook their heads, baffled.
Truth was, this was the first real showcase of Erwin's gift in the fight. Earlier, during the Apparition skirmish, there hadn't been enough space for the spells to curve mid-flight. But up close like this, the talent turned every curse into a homing hex—unpredictable and deadly accurate.
The duel reignited in a frenzy. Grodia adapted fast, realizing dodging was futile against Erwin's curving projectiles. After a few failed evasions, he abandoned the effort.
If he couldn't avoid them, he'd endure.
Wands blazed, spells flying like fireworks. The two traded blasts relentlessly, turning the arena into a war zone of scorched earth and splintered stone. Bursts of light erupted between them, the air thick with acrid smoke.
But after shattering another of Erwin's curses, Grodia felt his reserves straining. His magic was no match for Erwin's; this attrition would end with him drained dry.
"Last one, Erwin! Block this, and it's yours—Fiendfyre!" Grodia bellowed.
From his wand tip, a small flame ignited and ballooned wildly, devouring every ounce of Grodia's magic until nothing remained. The inferno grew monstrous, a roaring beast of cursed fire hurtling straight at Erwin.
Snape's wand was already out, poised to intervene. Even Dumbledore's Elder Wand had materialized in his grip, unnoticed by the crowd.
All eyes locked on Erwin, who stood rooted, staring at the oncoming blaze as if petrified.
Snape and Quirrell raised their wands, ready to snuff it out.
Then, from the heart of the arena, a sharp voice cut through: "Protego!"