Tver had certainly heard Snape's words just now; he had simply been hoping he could bluff his way out of it.
After all, mockery was mockery, but he still respected Snape's strength. And he truly couldn't guarantee that either he or Snape would be able to keep themselves restrained, sticking to only the permitted spells like Professor Flitwick. Who knew—if the two of them really started fighting, Aurors might end up knocking on the door…
But Snape clearly wasn't giving him that chance.
"What's the matter, Professor Fawley? Unwilling to give the students a demonstration?"
He sneered at Tver.
The young wizards immediately burst into cheers.
Even the Slytherin snakes found Professor Snape unusually unlikable for once.
"Go, Professor!"
"Take down that old— that old-timer professor!"
"Fight! Fight!"
It seemed Snape was absolutely determined to duel him.
Meeting Snape's sharp gaze, Tver grinned, tilted his head—and swallowed the last crumbs of his biscuit.
The empty bag in his hand fluttered into the shape of a small bird and flew straight into a nearby trash bin.
Seeing this display, the students grew even more excited.
Tver didn't let them down. His smile gradually faded as he stepped onto the stage and took his place opposite Snape.
"Ah, well…"
Lockhart attempted to speak, only to be met with two icy stares from both Snape and Tver. A cold sweat broke out instantly.
He hurried to the edge of the stage—no, not safe enough. He scrambled off the stage entirely and squeezed himself into the student crowd.
Under their disdainful looks, Lockhart expertly adjusted his robes and put his flawless smile back on.
"Excellent! What follows is a spectacular dueling demonstration from our two esteemed professors…"
He shouted from below, but neither man onstage spared him a single moment of attention.
"Professor Fawley's strength should be quite sufficient. What's wrong—afraid of losing to a Potions professor?" Snape began, voice dripping with cold sarcasm.
Tver idly twirled his wand. "Professor Snape, is this lingering dissatisfaction I'm hearing?"
They were referring to the night Colin was attacked, when Tver had made a jab at Snape's strength.
Who would have thought Snape remembered it all this time?
Snape shook his head with a cold, humorless smile.
"I just want to see how much pull that smooth-talking Professor Fawley really has."
He wasn't entirely sure of Tver's strength, but seeing how highly—almost warily—Dumbledore regarded him, Tver was certainly far stronger than Snape himself.
But that wasn't going to make Snape back down. If anything, it made him even more determined to take the initiative and gauge Tver's power for himself.
His resolve hardened. Snape slowly loosened his grip on his wand, letting his arm fall naturally at his side.
It wasn't arrogance. In fact, this was his sign of taking the duel seriously.
The smile vanished from his face, his eyes fixed sharply on Tver's every small movement as Tver casually drew his wand and the two men took their positions at opposite ends of the stage—
"Very good! We can see the two professors… hm, their dueling stances are not quite standard. Hopefully they'll keep that in mind moving forward."
Lockhart finally found a chance to speak, but the students weren't having any of it.
"Stop talking and just count already!" George shouted.
"Ahem, all right then. I'll count to three, and the duel will officially begin."
"One… two… three!"
Unlike when he'd faced Lockhart, Snape fired instantly, a red flash streaking out without any theatrical chanting.
And Tver wasn't Lockhart either. He raised his wand with a casual motion, a transparent barrier forming before his chest.
The Disarming Charm struck it harmlessly.
With a flick of his wrist, Tver sent three red streaks flying back in response.
Lockhart watched the scene, his mouth hanging wide open, yet not a single sound came out.
"This is Professor Fawley's specialty! Casting three spells at once—sure, each one loses some power, but the increased number catches opponents off guard!"
Percy couldn't help shouting, far more dedicated to commentary than Lockhart had ever been.
"Ah—yes, yes!" Lockhart echoed belatedly.
On the platform, the two duelists remained completely unfazed.
Snape dodged the three spells with precise footwork and a Shield Charm. At the same time, he shattered the ropes trying to rise from the ground, and the scattered pebbles around him floated upward, shooting toward Tver like bullets with a sharp whoosh.
Crackle.
A transparent ring of light shimmered in front of Tver, reducing every stone that passed through it to dust. Under the lights, the drifting dust formed a thick, impenetrable cloud.
Before it reached him, a small vortex swirled into existence inside the haze. It expanded rapidly. Within seconds, a full tornado formed, roaring with swirling grit and debris, surging toward Snape with overwhelming force.
Even the young wizards below the stage could feel the biting, blade-like wind the tornado carried. A suffocating pressure filled the hall, forcing them to scramble back several paces before they could breathe normally again.
"Hey—where's Professor Lockhart?" a student asked, glancing around.
"He's hiding in the very back," his friend said, pointing.
If they felt that much pressure, Snape—standing right before it—felt a hundred times more.
The tornado was upon him in an instant.
Snape's brow tightened as he cast a wide-area Shield Charm. It shattered immediately beneath the force of the tornado, which barreled forward without slowing.
At the same time, a faint black light shot into the heart of the storm. Snape rapidly cast several more Shield Charms in front of himself. This time, the eye of the tornado twisted unnaturally. The cyclone jerked and faltered, its force steadily weakened by the overlapping shields until it finally dispersed into a cloud of white dust right in front of Snape.
As the dust drifted through the air, Snape didn't relax; his expression only grew heavier.
This boy's power is terrifying.
This was only standard magic, and he had been pushed to this extent. If the boy unleashed the dark magic he was rumored to excel at, Snape might very well lose.
But Snape wasn't about to back down. After several exchanges, a long-lost excitement stirred inside him.
This—this was real combat.
From that point on, both duelists tacitly avoided using large-scale or lethal spells. Instead, they stuck to conventional combat magic, spell against spell.
The students finally exhaled in relief. Some of the upper-years had seen the faint black flash Snape used earlier—the spell that unraveled the tornado so easily. They'd only ever read about such magic in Restricted Section books.
Now, watching the two duelists move with such fluid precision, hearing the sharp whistle of their spells, they finally had something they could follow.
Even Lockhart popped out again, enthusiastically reciting the lecture outline Tver had given him.
"See? This is real dueling—finding, or even forcing, an opening in your opponent's defense to strike!"
"And in defense, you must think about your next step—your counterattack, your opponent's retaliation, and how you will turn the tables!"
He might have been terrible at actual combat, but when it came to talking, no one in Hogwarts could surpass him.
Feeling pleased with himself, Lockhart planted his hands on his hips.
"If it were me—"
SMACK—BOOM!
A red beam blasted him off his feet again...