The announcement caused total chaos.
A second-year paired with a sixth-year? No matter how you sliced it, that wasn't normal.
"Did Green piss off Snape or something?"
The Hufflepuffs looked sick with worry.
"This is straight-up abuse of power!" Roger Davies roared, turning to Penelope, who was frowning just as hard as the rest of Ravenclaw.
Pretty much every Ravenclaw looked ready to riot.
"He's screwed…" Theodore Nott snickered from the Slytherin section.
Marcus Flint wasn't just Slytherin's Quidditch captain because he was good at hitting Bludgers. There were… other reasons.
Back near the Hope Cottage crew, faces were weird.
"Sean versus Flint?" Ron's face went red from holding back laughter. "I just hope Sean doesn't accidentally—"
Sean was the kid who soloed a basilisk with a sword. They still hadn't seen the body.
"What's Snape playing at?" Hermione muttered. Even she couldn't figure out his angle. Just messing with Sean? No way—Snape knew full well Sean had taken down a troll by himself.
She glanced over. Sean was already walking calmly toward the stage under every stare in the room. Cool as ever. No one at Hogwarts had ever seen him rattled.
That's exactly why the name "Green" was legendary around here.
Untouchable. Unshakable. Impossible to bribe or scare. Even Dumbledore had basically said the kid was destined for greatness.
The students just thought he was ridiculously cool.
A bunch of Ravenclaws started yelling.
"Professor Snape, let me take his place! A good duel needs evenly matched opponents!"
Roger Davies threw his hand up, surrounded by the entire Quidditch team. Penelope nodded approvingly.
On stage, Snape slowly turned and gave Roger a stare so cold it could freeze lava.
"Get. Lost."
Every Ravenclaw shut up instantly.
Roger lowered his hand like a kicked puppy. He knew he'd just painted a giant target on his own back—and probably doomed their secret weapon while he was at it.
Flint swaggered up, smirking like he'd already won.
"Let me explain the rules!" Lockhart called from center stage, loving the spotlight as usual. "First—face your partner! Next—bow! Then raise your wands and get ready! On my count of three, cast your spells! Only to disarm—we don't want any accidents! One—two—three—Expelliarmus!"
Flint was fast. His wand whipped in a huge arc.
Sean, meanwhile, had already figured out what Snape was doing. Even a sixth-year like Flint was barely a warm-up for him.
He lifted his wand—no incantation.
Impedimenta and Obstacules fired silently at the exact same time.
At that exact same moment, stone arms erupted from the stage floor, grabbed Flint like he weighed nothing, and yeeted his wand clean out of his hand before he even knew what hit him.
Flitwick's combo-casting trick—two spells at once, perfectly silent—plus a quick transfiguration to end the fight in half a second.
"…What just happened?"
"Did Flint just lose?"
Most of the kids down below were still processing. They'd seen two wands go up, then Flint's went flying and he got rag-dolled by living rock.
"That was animated stonework—advanced transfiguration," Ron whispered, staring.
"You missed the real part!" Hermione hissed. "Two silent spells at the same time!"
"But how does he even do that?"
"Spell-chaining, Hermione," Justin explained gently. "It's in Sean's Charms notes—you just haven't gotten to that page yet."
Unlike most wizards, Sean wrote down everything he figured out about magic. He didn't care if people saw it—his progress was way faster than his notes could keep up anyway. Writing it down just helped him think.
Snape gave Sean a long, unreadable look, then turned and snarled at Flint, "Get off my stage."
"Aha! Looks like the winner is Mr. Green!" Lockhart beamed like a peacock. "Surprising, but clearly he's been paying attention in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class! And if he studied under me personally, well—there's no question he'd be even better!"
Ron rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw his own brain. "He'd say that no matter who won."
Hermione elbowed him. He finally noticed the room had gone dead silent.
Snape was staring at Lockhart like he was already planning the funeral.
It took until Sean stepped down for the applause to finally explode.
"That was awesome, Sean!" Ron yelled.
"I was worried for nothing," Roger laughed, loud and relieved.
Theodore Nott shrank into the crowd and refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Sean gave Roger and Ron a small nod as he walked past.
Then he glanced farther back and paused—two professors were standing there.
"Outstanding transfiguration, Minerva," Flitwick squeaked, clearly delighted.
"Dual-casting at the same time, Filius—that's your influence," McGonagall replied, the corner of her mouth actually twitching upward.
The two old friends chatting always lifted each other's spirits.
Up on stage, though, the vibe was very different.
"Your turn to demonstrate proper dueling form, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, voice dripping venom.
"Of course—" Lockhart began, still smiling like an idiot.
Sean looked at Snape's terrifying expression and suddenly remembered every curse he'd ever heard associated with Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
"Lockhart's not gonna die up there, right?" Ron whispered, voice shaking.
"No way…" Justin said slowly, then paused. Considering how furious Snape had been all day… maybe?
"No, come on," Hermione cut in. "Professor Snape has self-control. Worst case—he ends up in the hospital wing."
On stage, Snape's upper lip curled into something that was definitely not a smile.
Back with the Hope Cottage crew, nobody could figure out why Lockhart was still grinning like that.
Harry figured if Snape ever looked at her like that, she'd already be halfway to Scotland.