It was obvious that the ancient magic had massively boosted Lockhart's power. The once-mediocre Lockhart could now duel Professor Snape head-on.
And when Snape saw Lockhart pull off a Transfiguration spell with that kind of force, a flash of shock crossed his face, followed by a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
But this was still a fight. Snape didn't overthink it. He snapped back to focus, mind racing as he judged the situation.
He retreated several quick steps, widening the distance between himself and the stone wall behind him. At the same time, his wand moved with sharp precision as he barked, "Reducto!"
It was the same red beam of magic, but far more violent. It blasted from his wand tip and hit the stone wall at terrifying speed.
A thunderous boom detonated in the air. The wall looked like it had been hit with explosives—collapsing instantly into rubble. Huge chunks of stone, wrapped in rolling dust, shot outward in every direction.
If Harry hadn't reacted in time and intercepted the debris, the few students closest to the dueling platform would've been bleeding and broken-faced.
Realizing they were unharmed, the students hurriedly thanked Harry. He nodded back, then turned his attention to the platform again.
By now, the duel between Snape and Lockhart had reached its peak. Spell after spell slammed out with overwhelming power—and from a distance, it almost looked like Lockhart had the upper hand.
But that wasn't the whole story.
Anyone at the same level as a true dueling master would've noticed the details. Harry certainly did.
Harry could clearly tell Snape was holding back, almost bored.
Every time Snape prepared to cast, his wand motions shifted constantly, changing patterns mid-flow. More than once, it looked like he started one spell, then abruptly switched at the last instant.
Harry understood why: the moment Snape realized his reflexes had reached for Dark Magic, he forced an emergency pivot—choosing something less vicious, less lethal.
After all, as a Hogwarts professor, using cruel Dark Magic in front of a crowd of young students would be a serious dereliction of duty. It ran counter to the line Snape stubbornly kept inside himself as an educator.
Lockhart, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.
His spell repertoire was painfully small—he kept cycling the same few curses. And even with those, his control was riddled with holes. He didn't truly understand what he was doing.
The only reason he could temporarily suppress Snape wasn't because of solid fundamentals or refined technique.
It was because of that mysterious ancient magic.
It was like cheating. It inflated every spell Lockhart cast to an absurd level. With nothing but brute force, he forced Snape into a momentary corner.
Even so, Lockhart was still about to lose.
After adapting for a while, Snape had begun to read his rhythm. He'd learned how Lockhart moved, how he cast, when he overextended.
Sure enough, not long after, Lockhart exposed a glaring opening.
Snape seized it instantly. "Expelliarmus!"
The red beam slipped past Lockhart's defense and struck his hand.
In the next moment, Lockhart's wand flew from his grip. The impact knocked him off his feet, and he crashed onto the platform.
The duel ended there.
Snape won.
Lockhart scrambled up, clearly unable to believe he'd lost even with that power. He forced an ugly smile and laughed.
"Hahaha! Looks like Lady Luck wasn't on my side today. Right as I was casting, I tripped—that's the only reason Professor Snape beat me.
Students, remember this: the world of magic is full of variables. One failure doesn't mean anything. No matter what, always be cautious!"
The moment he finished, the students burst into applause.
Even though Lockhart lost, the strength he'd displayed was still shocking.
Harry distinctly heard Ron mutter beside him, sounding completely stunned.
"Lockhart's actually that good? I thought he was a total fraud. Guess he really does have something going on.
If he can last that long against Snape, he's good enough to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor!"
Hermione nodded slightly as well. Clearly, both of them had been rattled by what they'd just seen.
Just then, Lockhart raised a hand high and pressed it downward, signaling for silence.
Then he thrust out a finger and pointed straight at Harry. His signature smile returned as he announced, "Earlier, Harry wanted to spar with me. But I, Lockhart, didn't agree—because I didn't want to bully a younger student.
Of course, as a professor, I have responsibilities. So I'd like to choose one student from among you to face Harry. Professor Snape and I will observe, and we'll point out your flaws as you duel.
This is a rare opportunity. So—who among you is willing to step forward and duel our famous Chosen One head-on?"
Lockhart stood there, scanning the crowd, waiting for someone to volunteer.
No one did.
He searched and searched—yet not a single student stepped up to duel Harry.
That made Lockhart sigh dramatically. This was the worst batch of students he'd ever taught!
Of course, if the kids down below could hear what "Geppetto" was thinking right then, they'd have roasted him without mercy.
What—me duel Harry?
In your dreams.
Lockhart only dared say something this stupid because he hadn't seen Harry fight before.
It was the difference between talking tough because you've never seen the big leagues…
…and seeing the real thing, then realizing you're nothing but an ant staring up at the Grand Canyon.
The students had no doubt: if Lockhart had ever witnessed Harry's duel with Voldemort, he would never have said something that brain-dead.
After a while, Lockhart realized nobody was responding. His smile stiffened, and the awkwardness started creeping up his neck.
He could only shrug like he didn't care and say helplessly, "Alright, alright. Seems our Chosen One isn't very popular. Fine—let the great Lockhart help him out!
Come on, Harry. Get up here. I'll duel you personally, so cherish this chance.
After all, the one you're facing is the winner of the Order of Merlin, Third Class; an Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League; and a five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—the wizard everyone loves most!"
Harry hopped onto the platform. After Lockhart finished introducing himself, Harry smiled politely and introduced himself too.
"I see. Professor Lockhart truly is an outstanding wizard—so allow me to introduce myself as well.
Standing before you is the recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class; the Chosen One who defeated the Dark Lord twice; and the youngest Potions Master, Charms Master, and Alchemy Master in history.
Of course, I won't bother mentioning titles like 'strongest second-year,' 'master of magical creatures,' or 'ancient languages prodigy.' They're not important… right?"
When Harry finished, Lockhart froze.
Normally, whenever Lockhart introduced himself, he'd dump every title he had in one breath.
In his mind, that was the only way people could truly appreciate how extraordinary he was.
But this time, everything was different.
Lockhart never expected the trick that made him unstoppable in every social setting would get crushed so casually in front of Harry.
Just look at what Lockhart had said. Aside from the Order of Merlin, Third Class, the rest sounded impressive—but none of it carried the same weight.
And Harry?
Harry had the Order of Merlin, First Class. He was the youngest Potions Master. And he'd defeated the Dark Lord twice.
Damn it.
Lockhart had to admit it.
He was jealous.
How could anyone be that exceptional?
And then he looked at Harry's face—handsomer than his.
A sharp, intense sense of danger stabbed through him.
If this kept going, it wouldn't be long before Harry stole his "most popular wizard" status and became the most adored wizard in the entire wizarding world.
The thought of his female fans abandoning him and throwing themselves at Harry made Lockhart's skin crawl.
No.
That was his.
All of it was his.
Lockhart decided he had to do something. Officially defeating Harry in this fight sounded like an excellent solution.
As for whether he could beat Harry… Lockhart still had confidence.
Ever since he'd obtained that diary—ever since he could draw powerful magic from it—his strength had skyrocketed.
Earlier, he'd only used half his power to avoid losing control. But if he unleashed everything, even Harry wouldn't be able to withstand him!
Besides, the Dark Lord Harry had defeated before was just an old man.
A battered, dying old man—how much fight could he possibly have left?
After running through all of that in a heartbeat and concluding he had great odds, Lockhart plastered on a radiant fake smile and told Harry, "What an outstanding young wizard. I have high hopes for you. Come on—let me see what you can do. I hope my guidance afterward helps you improve enough!"
Harry didn't bother arguing. He simply raised his wand to his chest, taking the proper dueling stance.
A prefect beside them lifted a hand and shouted, "Three… two… one—duel begins!"
To avoid any accidents, Lockhart immediately connected to the diary and activated all of the ancient magic.
His face twisted slightly, turning fierce as he roared, "Reducto!"
A beam of magic, as thick as an adult's forearm, exploded from the tip of Lockhart's wand.
Harry remained calm, waiting for it to reach him.
Right as the beam was about to strike, Harry swung his wand smoothly and said softly, "Finite Incantatem."
The instant Harry's wand met the beam, the magic was torn apart as if it were paper—shredded into drifting sparks that vanished into the air.
Earlier, when Lockhart had dueled Snape, he'd used a similar method to break Snape's spells with open contempt, showing off his "superiority."
But now the tables had turned.
The exact same trick was being used on him—by Harry.
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