Severus Snape was still struggling to suppress the turbulent emotions in his heart, walking numbly toward the exit of the eighth-floor corridor. However, just as he reached the landing, someone rounded the corner from the stairs below.
Snape looked up instinctively. He saw a young man in Slytherin robes, his black hair reaching his shoulders. A monocle rested over his right eye, framing a delicate face with sharp, sword-like eyebrows. The boy's dark eyes widened the moment they locked onto his.
*What kind of look is this?* Snape wondered. The young man looked vaguely familiar, as if he had seen his face in a report or a passing glance.
The student paused for a heartbeat after identifying Snape, then reacted with startling speed. He whipped out his wand in a swift, fierce motion and cast a Shield Charm—not as a defense, but as a kinetic burst.
Though reeling from his own grief, Snape's reflexes were honed by years of danger. His wand appeared in his hand with a flick, and a horizontal sweep deflected the incoming spell. But the young man's offensive was relentless; a barrage of Petrificus Totalus, Expelliarmus, and Stupefy shot toward him like rounds from a machine gun.
Attacked by this mysterious student, Snape felt a surge of cold anger. While maintaining a steady Protego, he began to fire back with several cutting curses.
The boy, however, was incredibly agile. He dodged the return fire with nimble footwork, and any curse he couldn't evade was caught by his Shield Charms, which he condensed into solid, handheld plates of force. Spells flew back and forth, the missed shots detonating against the stone walls and floor with thunderous cracks, sending masonry flying.
Snape hadn't expected a student to be this troublesome. He unconsciously dialed up his power; several of his hexes shattered the boy's counters and continued toward their target with undiminished force.
The young man showed remarkable control. He waved his wand, stirring the rubble on the floor into the air. Combined with a sudden, violent draft, he conjured a magical localized storm that swirled in front of him, catching and deflecting the powerful spells. Some of the energy even circled the boy before being flung back at Snape as a counterattack.
Seizing an opening, the student gathered his strength and lunged, swinging his left fist through the air. Snape felt a sudden spike of pressure; his instincts screamed that a massive fist, condensed from pure magical force, was hurtling toward him.
In a desperate move, Snape mobilized his magic and slashed downward. A crescent-shaped cutting spell cleaved the invisible fist in two, but the collision triggered a violent magical explosion. The resulting shockwave knocked both Snape and the boy off their feet.
Snape hit the floor hard, pain radiating through his side, but he struggled to rise. He realized the student was even faster; the boy had used the momentum of his fall to roll and spring upward in a single, fluid motion—a "carp jump" Snape had never seen. Before Snape could even find his footing, a spell was already screaming toward him.
With his balance gone and the spell inches away, Snape cursed his luck. *What is this? Getting into a brawl with a child and suffering a defeat in the middle of a hallway?*
Just as the spell was about to find its mark, a figure stepped into the line of fire and absorbed the impact. It was Dumbledore.
The Headmaster had been in his office when the explosions began, and he had hurried down to investigate. If he had been a second later, Snape would have been incapacitated.
"Alan, what are you doing?" Dumbledore asked, glancing at the disheveled Snape before turning a stern eye toward Alan.
Alan stood opposite them, breathing heavily. He had come to find Dumbledore, but the sight of the man from Sirius's photo album had overridden his reason. Encountering a known Death Eater while he was already drowning in grief and rage had left him with only one impulse: attack.
Exhausted from the duel and the exertion of his extraordinary Shield Charm, Alan kept his wand leveled at Snape. "Headmaster, I know this man. He's a Death Eater!"
Snape's face darkened instantly as he pulled himself up, a cold sneer forming on his lips.
"It seems there has been a significant misunderstanding between you two," Dumbledore said with a small, weary smile, surveying the ruined corridor.
"Misunderstanding? Headmaster, I don't follow." Alan didn't lower his wand; its tip remained fixed squarely on Snape's chest.
"Don't be rash, Alan. Severus is with us. I can vouch for him personally," Dumbledore advised, his voice calm but firm.
"Are you sure?" Alan asked. Despite his fury, his trust in Dumbledore was absolute. He slowly lowered his wand, though he continued to frown at the dark-haired man.
"We have all been through a great deal these past two days," Dumbledore said, turning to Snape. "I'm sorry, Severus, that you were greeted this way upon your return to Hogwarts."
"Hmph. It seems Hogwarts is as welcoming as ever. Perhaps I should reconsider your offer," Snape said, his voice like ice.
"That is the charm of this place, Severus; you will always find surprises here. You will come to love it again." Dumbledore ignored the bitterness. "Alan, Professor Snape is not the man you imagine him to be."
"Professor?" Alan repeated the title, his gaze still full of suspicion. After a long moment, he looked at Dumbledore and sighed. "Fine. My apologies, Headmaster. I was reckless."
"If by 'surprises' you mean being assaulted by children..." Snape shot a final, lethal glare at Alan. "I will remember you, 'reckless' boy."
With a sweep of his black robes, Snape brushed past them and vanished down the stairs.
"You have quite a lot of fire in you today, Alan," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the shattered stone and scorched walls.
"I'm sorry, Headmaster. It's my fault." Alan looked away, his anger replaced by a leaden exhaustion.
Dumbledore shook his head. He knew Alan wasn't the only one pushed to the breaking point by the week's tragedies. He gave a gentle wave of his wand. Every fragment of stone and splinter of wood rose into the air, seamlessly reattaching to the walls and floor until the corridor looked as though the duel had never happened.
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