"Ladies and gentlemen, gather 'round, gather 'round!"
In the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart stood on a long, narrow platform that looked more like a dueling stage than a classroom. He was wearing a flamboyant, half-cloak and shouting at the top of his lungs to get the attention of the gathered second-year students.
He looked quite dashing—his robes stylish, his golden curls immaculate.
Maybe it was true what they said about the position being cursed. Every year, a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, each more eccentric than the last.
Hogwarts allowed professors to redecorate their classrooms to suit their tastes, and Lockhart had wasted no time transforming the space into what looked like a makeshift magical arena.
He strutted across the platform like a seasoned dueling champion—but Noah knew better. This guy was all style, no substance.
What could he even do besides the Obliviate spell?
"Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"
Lockhart continued loudly, "In light of the dark incidents that have occurred recently, Professor Dumbledore has kindly allowed me to start this Dueling Club, so I may pass on my knowledge and help train you to defend yourselves—so that you might one day be as skilled as I am!"
"If I ever end up like him, my parents would disown me," Evan muttered under his breath.
"You're not the only one," sighed Kenn and Lance in unison.
Their parents were all former Ravenclaw students. And they all knew what a fraud Lockhart really was.
"Alright, ignore him. Let him have his moment," said Ernie. "By the way, Noah—any idea who you'll be dueling?"
As soon as he asked, every nearby student turned to look at Noah.
Truth be told, none of them had much interest in the dueling part. Most were just there to observe. The matches were mostly between students from the same houses or years, and there were only ten of them—four Ravenclaws, three Gryffindors, and three Hufflepuffs. No matter how you split it, someone was going to be matched with him.
Noah was the obvious outlier in terms of power.
Most of them had sparred with him privately in the Room of Requirement, where losses didn't matter and no one else could see.
But to duel Noah publicly? That was a whole different story.
It would be like Professor Lockhart stepping up against Professor Snape: one spell, and done.
They weren't delusional enough to believe they'd fare any better.
"Relax," Noah said, smiling slightly. "Even if we end up matched, I promise I'll go easy on you. Ten seconds, tops."
The others groaned and rolled their eyes.
"You really know how to kill the mood," Evan grumbled, shaking his head.
Just then, Lockhart, who had recently been humiliated by Professor Snape, scrambled to his feet and decided to change the subject.
"Alright! Now we'll have two students come up and give us a demonstration! Mr. Finnell and Mr. Potter, would you step forward?"
"What?!"
Harry stared, stunned. He glanced at Noah, whose raised brow said it all, then looked up at Lockhart, who was giving him a proud, "You can thank me later" kind of look.
Is he serious?
You want me to duel NOAH?
Harry clearly remembered the time Noah floored a sixth-year Slytherin. He also remembered trying to train a load of spells to challenge him—and getting bloodied for the effort.
Going up against him was just asking for humiliation.
He opened his mouth to protest, especially when he heard Evan and the others chuckling quietly nearby.
But in the end, Harry sighed and climbed up onto the stage. He didn't like it, but respecting a professor's authority was part of being a student.
"Wait." Snape's voice cut through the room, low and deliberate. "Mr. Finnell is a recognized magical prodigy. He has bested students four years his senior. It would hardly be appropriate to have him duel Mr. Potter. Perhaps... Professor Lockhart would care to demonstrate instead?"
"What, me?" Lockhart faltered, and his confident mask slipped for a second.
You want me to duel him?
Absolutely not.
Lockhart forced a smile. "I'm afraid I might... er, accidentally injure Mr. Finnell. That wouldn't do at all."
Snape's expression didn't change. "In that case—Noah, would you care to demonstrate with me?"
Noah blinked.
Wait, what?
Snape?!
Of all people, why him?!
He had fought Snape before in the Room of Requirement—and had been absolutely destroyed. The professor didn't even break a sweat.
But this was real life. Snape surely wouldn't go too hard on him in front of the others... right?
Helplessly, Noah nodded. His classmates were already snickering at his expression, trying not to laugh aloud.
Making his way to the stage, Noah stepped forward. Snape was already there, waiting calmly, wand in hand.
They faced each other and performed the traditional wand salute—graceful, precise.
Then Snape leaned in slightly and spoke in a low voice.
"Do you know why I agreed to this absurd setup?"
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Why, sir?"
"I've been dreaming a lot lately," Snape said softly. "Not a good sign for a wizard."
Noah's eyes narrowed slightly.
Wizards—especially powerful ones—rarely dreamed. When they did, it usually meant one of two things: something terrible was coming... or their instincts were warning them.
"What kind of dreams, Professor?" Noah asked cautiously.
"I dreamed we dueled often," Snape replied, calm as ever. "Not just you. Kane, Potter, the others as well."
Noah's face fell.
"As I feared," he murmured.
"The Room of Requirement, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what was your win-loss record against me?"
Noah gave a bitter smile.
"Zero to ten. I've never won."
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Note: New Fic: Arthur not Artoria
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