Professor Snape had been in an exceptionally good mood lately. Following Quirrell's death, he had finally gotten his wish and was officially appointed as the substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the remainder of the school term.
At Damian's suggestion, Professor Snape had enthusiastically added practical live-duel combat sessions to the curriculum.
The final exam grade was divided into two distinct parts. Sixty percent of the grade came from the written exam, while the remaining forty percent was determined by these practical duels.
"If you want to chat, you can stay behind and help me scrub cauldrons," Professor Snape drawled impatiently. "If not, hurry up and begin; there are many more students waiting to duel."
To ensure safety, all practical exams were conducted under his direct supervision.
Damian gestured casually with his eyes, signaling for Fred Weasley to attack first.
Fred braced himself, the corners of his mouth curling up into a mischievous smirk. "Don't worry, this won't take up too much of your time."
After weeks of practical combat classes, the entire student body had a terrifyingly clear impression of Damian's strength. Fred was naturally no exception; he knew there was an insurmountable gap between them, and he stood absolutely no chance using standard dueling methods.
He pulled a dark, heavy sphere from his robes and chucked it aggressively in Damian's direction. Damian merely waved his wand, effortlessly transfiguring a nearby chair into a solid wooden board that swatted the sphere away.
However, the moment the board struck the sphere, it violently detonated. A massive cloud of thick, acrid smoke instantly erupted, rapidly consuming the entire classroom.
"Trying to block my vision?" Damian chuckled softly. "It's useless, Fred."
But a split second later, Damian realized something was horribly wrong. Relying on his True Magical Perception, he accurately pinpointed the magical signature of a massive, crude alchemical device being drawn from Fred's robes.
Fred's voice echoed from within the smokescreen, trembling with unbridled excitement. "Taste this! The absolute latest prototype from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes—the Gatling-Style Dungbomb!"
A terrifying, rhythmic mechanical thumping echoed from the thick fog.
Damian's expression shifted slightly. He immediately cast a Shield Charm, wrapping his body in a semi-transparent magical barrier. Yet, he quickly noticed that only a stray Dungbomb or two occasionally flew in his direction.
Fred was actively strafing the crowd of spectating students!
From the very moment he had drawn Damian as his dueling opponent, Fred had completely abandoned any hope of passing the exam. He was strictly here to advertise his newest product!
The classroom instantly descended into absolute chaos. Screams, coughing fits, and furious curses intermingled as the unbearable stench hit the crowd.
"Ah! My eyes!"
"What is this smell?!"
"Damn it, Weasley! Aim better, you hit me!"
Fred's sheer audacity was truly staggering; he was a Gryffindor to the core.
Even though Damian wasn't the primary target, he refused to endure the suffocating stench a second longer. He whipped his wand in a wide arc, conjuring a localized gale that forcefully blew the thick fog out the windows.
As the visibility cleared, Damian beheld a scene of utter devastation. The spectating students were covered in foul-smelling muck, slipping over desks and groaning in misery.
Without missing a beat, Damian waved his wand again. The discarded wooden board behind Fred seamlessly transfigured into a thick, writhing vine that instantly bound the prankster tight.
Professor Snape's face was utterly livid, his dark eyes practically breathing fire. He had managed to cast a Shield Charm just in time, protecting himself and a small cluster of lucky students from the bombardment.
"Fred Weasley! What in the name of Merlin are you doing?!" Snape roared, his composure shattered. "Has your skull been filled with dung water?! This is a final examination!"
Seeing Fred's unapologetic, shit-eating grin only fueled the Potions Master's fury. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"
Recognizing that Snape was half a second away from a magical aneurysm, Damian calmly stepped forward. Channeling his advanced mastery over Transfiguration, he waved his wand across the room.
Instantly, the foul Dungbomb residue plastered across the students and the floor transfigured into harmless, odorless pebbles that clattered onto the stone tiles.
"Transfiguration?!" an older Ravenclaw student gasped in shock. Executing such a massive, multi-target, and precise Transfiguration spell without a verbal incantation was practically unheard of for a first-year.
Even Professor Snape was momentarily taken aback, forced to acknowledge that Damian's terrifying mastery of Transfiguration had likely already surpassed his own.
Scowling deeply, Snape yanked out his grading ledger and viciously scratched a 'T' next to Fred's name—a failing grade reserved only for a Troll. Conversely, he smoothly marked an 'O' for Outstanding next to Damian's name.
"Next pair," Snape hissed.
Exam week had finally concluded, and the highly anticipated day of the House Cup award ceremony had arrived. The Great Hall was already packed to the brim with students, buzzing with lively, nervous energy.
"We've got our seventh consecutive win in the bag, haven't we?" Jerry asked, taking a sip of black tea to soothe his dry throat.
Beside him, Geralt looked utterly listless, sporting deep, bruised-looking dark circles under his eyes after surviving a week of brutal all-nighters.
"I suppose so," Damian replied smoothly, though he was internally a bit uncertain. After all, this was Harry Potter's chaotic first year at Hogwarts, where logic rarely applied.
However, the disastrous Philosopher's Stone heist was already in the past. Furthermore, Gryffindor was currently languishing at the absolute bottom of the rankings, thanks entirely to the Weasley twins aggressively testing the merchandise Damian had funded.
Dumbledore would have absolutely no justifiable reason to award them hundreds of extra points now.
At the High Table, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up and approached the golden owl podium. "The exams are over, the semester is concluded, and ahead of you..." he said, his eyes twinkling kindly, "...the entire summer vacation awaits."
The Great Hall erupted into vigorous applause. After the grueling stress of exams, every single student was desperate for the holidays.
Once the noise finally subsided, Dumbledore raised his hands. "Now, we will proceed with the House Cup award ceremony. The specific scores for each House are as follows..."
He paused dramatically. "Slytherin House sits comfortably in first place with a staggering total of six hundred and twelve points. Therefore, the undisputed winner of this year's House Cup is... Slytherin!"
Dumbledore clapped his hands together. Instantly, the generic banners overhead shifted into the vibrant green and silver colors of Slytherin. A massive banner depicting the Slytherin serpent unfurled grandly behind the High Table.
A thunderous, deafening roar of triumph erupted from the Slytherin table.
A moment later, Dumbledore held out his hands again, signaling that he wasn't finished. Once the cheering died down, the Headmaster carefully retrieved a gleaming crystal trophy from beneath the podium.
"Next, we have a very special presentation regarding an award related to Quidditch."
"This specific award requires a unanimous nomination by the Heads of all four Houses, and must subsequently receive votes from more than half of the student body to be validated," Dumbledore explained softly. "It is an honor that has not been claimed by anyone in over a decade. The previous recipients of this award have, without exception, all gone on to become exemplary professional Quidditch players."
"This award is the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup's 'Overall Best Quidditch Player'." Dumbledore smiled brightly. "And this year's undisputed winner is... Damian Black!"
This time, students from all four Houses erupted into genuine cheers and applause. Despite house rivalries, no one could deny that Damian's dominant performance on the pitch had been legendary.
As the surrounding students clapped, they eagerly watched Damian's reaction. The entire Slytherin House had deliberately kept the school-wide voting a strict secret from him, hoping to genuinely surprise their star player.
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