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The applause gradually died down.
Viktor gave his wand a gentle wave.
A warm, dry current swept across the entire platform. Every lingering droplet evaporated instantly—leaving the stone gleaming and bone-dry, as though the heart-stopping storm had never happened.
Professor Flitwick hopped down from his golden pedestal, face still flushed with exhilaration.
At that moment, a dark silhouette reappeared in the shadowed entrance.
Professor Snape had returned.
His expression was even more thunderous than when he'd left. The oppressive aura rolling off him felt almost tangible.
He strode to the edge of the platform, flicked a glance at Viktor (who was calmly cleaning up), then at Flitwick. His lips pressed into a thin line. He said nothing—but his rigid posture made his presence unmistakable.
Viktor didn't seem surprised in the slightest.
He finished tidying the arena, turned to face the still-buzzing sea of students, and spoke.
"Quiet for a moment, everyone."
His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried clearly to every corner of the hall.
The excited chatter faded instantly. Hundreds of young eyes locked onto the three professors on the platform.
Two had just demonstrated near-mythical duelling skill.
The third was a former champion.
"As you've all just witnessed," Viktor continued, gaze sweeping slowly across the eager faces below,
"the Duelling Club is not Professor Lockhart's personal project. It will be a long-term, official school activity—designed to improve your real combat ability and self-defence skills."
He completely bypassed the corner where Lockhart was still frantically trying to fix his exploded hair and salvage some dignity—as though the "founder" had become part of the scenery.
"Therefore, starting tonight, the Hogwarts Duelling Club will be jointly organised and supervised by myself—Viktor Scamander—Professor Filius Flitwick, and Professor Severus Snape."
"WOOOOO!!!"
The roar was even louder this time.
Especially when Snape's name was included among the responsible professors—the reaction was explosive.
Awe, surprise, and genuine excitement mixed together.
With a former champion and two wizards of terrifying depth overseeing it—the club's prestige had just skyrocketed.
As for Lockhart?
Who even remembered he existed?
In the face of that near-artistic duel, his earlier posturing had been swept away like dust.
Viktor raised a hand for silence again.
"The club is open to students of all years and all houses. Even if you don't plan to join long-term, you're welcome to observe or drop in whenever you're interested."
He pointed his wand toward one side of the hall.
"This main arena—plus two smaller practice platforms—will be permanently installed on the open ground beside the Quidditch pitch. Every month we'll hold formal duelling tournaments."
At the word "tournaments," eyes lit up across the room.
"Tournaments will have three formats: singles, two-person pairs, and five-person teams." Viktor explained clearly.
"Winners earn not only honour, but house points for their college—and the chance for personal guidance from the supervising professors."
"But—" His tone sharpened, expression growing serious.
"—I must emphasise one point above all others, and I expect every single one of you to remember it: the sole purpose of this club is to help you learn how to defend against the Dark Arts, protect yourselves and others, and train your ability to think and cast under pressure."
"It is not a place to settle personal grudges, vent emotions, or show off violence!"
The hall went very still. Students listened intently.
"Which is why the rules are non-negotiable." Viktor's voice was steel.
"Rule One—and this is the absolute底线: during any duel, Stunners and any spell above that level are strictly forbidden. That includes—but is not limited to—Blasting Curses, Severing Charms, poisons, or anything capable of causing serious injury."
"Disarming Charms, Binding Charms, Impediment Jinxes, and Transfiguration are permitted within reason—but the caster must have sufficient control to stop immediately if real harm becomes possible."
"Professor Flitwick, Professor Snape, and any duty professor that night have full authority to halt a dangerous exchange at any time. Violators will face severe penalties: point deductions, suspension from the club, detention—or worse."
Flitwick nodded gravely. Snape gave a faint, almost approving snort through his nose.
"Rule Two: safety protocols."
"Anyone wishing to engage in formal duels or high-intensity practice must submit an application to the 'Duelling Club Security Team' in advance, receive approval, and use designated areas only."
"Before stepping onto the platform, duelists must wear the provided protective helmets and anti-magic safety goggles."
He flicked his wand.
Several sets of silver-grey helmets—padded inside, with transparent visors—appeared along the edge of the platform, beside a row of seemingly ordinary glasses whose lenses glinted faintly.
"The Security Team will be led by our Gamekeeper, Mr Rubeus Hagrid—"
Viktor looked toward the stands.
"—together with the student Heads of House and prefects from each college."
Hagrid leapt to his feet on the benches—his massive frame like a small mountain. He waved both huge, hairy hands, voice thick with emotion.
"Don't you worry! Leave it to me! Not a single child's gonna get hurt on my watch!"
The students gave him warm, affectionate applause and cheers. Hagrid's face disappeared behind his enormous beard—but his eyes were unmistakably wet.
"Rule Three: points and competition structure."
"To encourage fair, healthy competition, we're introducing a points system. Each person may issue only one formal duel challenge per day—and both parties must agree before it begins."
"Winners receive 3 points. Draws award 1 point each. Losers deduct 1 point. However—points are only awarded or deducted when challenging someone from the same year or higher. Challenging a lower year carries no point value regardless of outcome."
He paused, letting the students absorb that.
"In the final month of term, we'll rank the top eight in each year group by total points. They'll receive special rewards and recognition. Of course—" his tone shifted slightly,
"—to prevent point-farming exploits, there are restrictions. For example, you cannot repeatedly challenge the same defeated opponent."
"Within reason, the challenged party may refuse without penalty. Full details will be posted on every common-room noticeboard—read them carefully."
"Rule Four: respect the referee."
Viktor's gaze swept the hall—lingering a fraction longer on the usual suspects known for mischief.
"All decisions made by the presiding referee are final during the duel. If you disagree with a call, you may request arbitration from the duty professor after the match concludes."
"Once arbitration is complete, the decision is binding. Challenging the referee's authority will result in immediate suspension and substantial point deductions."
With the rules laid out, Viktor allowed his expression to soften slightly. His voice eased.
"The rules may seem strict or numerous—but they exist for one reason only: to keep every participant safe and ensure the club runs in a healthy, positive direction."
"I hope that here, you learn more than just spells and techniques. I hope you learn self-control, respect, tactical thinking—and the ability to stay calm and clear-headed in crisis. Those are the things that will truly protect you from the Dark."
He paused for a moment, then concluded:
"The Duelling Club will officially open for sign-ups and arena bookings next week."
"Details and procedures will be posted on the noticeboards. That concludes tonight's demonstration and briefing. Thank you all for coming."
A brief hush—then an even more thunderous, sustained wave of applause and cheers crashed through the hall.
Students talked excitedly—replaying the duel in their heads, debating the new rules, eyes shining with anticipation for what was coming.
Harley, Ron, and Hermione clapped until their hands stung.
Ron was already daydreaming about climbing the rankings, reaching the top eight of their year.
Hermione was mentally cataloguing which books on duelling tactics and rule strategy she needed to pull from the library.
Harley gazed up at the three professors—Viktor's calm composure, Flitwick's uncontained joy, Snape's brooding intensity.
For the first time, the idea of "learning to fight" felt clear, concrete, and genuinely exciting.
In the shadowed corner of the hall, Gilderoy Lockhart stood alone.
His trademark dazzling smile had frozen into something brittle and painful.
He tried—half-heartedly—to catch the attention of a few passing students.
No one looked twice.
They were too busy talking about the Duelling Club, the three real professors, and the incredible magic they'd just witnessed.
The grand event he had schemed to make his personal triumph—
In the face of genuine skill and solid rules—
Had been reduced to a trivial footnote.