Subduing Ginny was proving far more difficult than Oleandra had anticipated. After travelling with her through Nidavellir for a few days in her third year, she'd known the girl was stronger than most of her age— but she had never imagined she'd be this good of a duellist.
"Feel like giving up yet?" said Ginny. "Just so you know, I won't hesitate to use the Killing Curse."
"As long as there aren't any more Basilisks up your sleeve, I think I'll manage," Oleandra shot back, sheathing her sword. "And I've this nagging feeling you wouldn't let me live, now that I know you're the real culprit behind all those attempted murders."
That being said, Oleandra didn't think anyone would believe her words over Ginny's at this point.
"Bombarda!"
Oleandra narrowly avoided the beam of blue light and threw herself to the ground to avoid getting struck by the shockwave. She'd nearly missed the tell-tale glow of Ginny's aura— the light emanating from the ring of blue flames protecting her was irritating her eyes.
Annoyingly, Ginny's Anti-Flight Jinx was disabling Oleandra's greatest weapon: the Book of the Stars, in which she had inscribed her arsenal of runic spells. Normally, Oleandra would summon the grimoire to float before her, letting her flick through its pages while keeping her hands free to wield her wand, sword, or perform mudra with her fingers.
But with flight banned, she ruefully thought to herself, she would be forced to hold it in one hand— making it highly impractical in such a fast-paced fight. It seemed like she would have to rely on the hand seals she had practised, and the runic tattoos already painted on her body.
Oleandra scrambled to her feet and finally drew her wand.
"Flagrate!" shouted Oleandra.
With every slash, a fiery trail followed the tip of her wand, swiftly weaving into a shimmering tapestry of flaming runes suspended in midair as she wrote.
"Finite Incantatem," said Ginny, waving her wand lazily.
The flaming runes vanished before Oleandra could put them to good use.
"It's no use, Oleandra!" Ginny shouted gleefully, drawing a flicker of blue flame from the ring of fire around her and shaping it into a snake, which she then sent lunging at Oleandra. "I know everything your runes can do. I've studied them all! You don't stand a ghost of a chance against me!"
"Aguamenti!" shouted Oleandra, before snapping her fingers and calling out, "Laukaz!"
A jet of pure water shot from her wand and gathered into a sphere above her head.
Melding her innate command of fresh water with the power of the rune of the lake, Oleandra lashed out at the fiery snake with a tentacle of cold water, snuffing it out in an instant. Then, reshaping the sphere into a towering wave with a wave of her hand, she sent it crashing down on Ginny, dousing the blue flames that surrounded her.
"Protego Maxima!" Ginny shouted.
A shimmering silver shield materialised before her, cleaving the torrent.
Oleandra raised her arms and brought her hands together with a sharp clap. The twin streams of water bent to her will and, following her movements, rushed to meet again behind the shield, crushing Ginny's slight frame between walls of water as unyielding as concrete.
At last, Oleandra had landed a hit on Ginny, leaving her kneeling on the sodden field, dazed and shellshocked.
Ginny was in a pitiful state— ash from the scorched grass and flowers blackened the puddles and stained the hem of the beautiful robes she'd worn to her older brother's wedding. The shock had knocked her hair tie loose, and her waterlogged ginger locks clung to her face in sticky strands, making it look rather as though an octopus had latched onto her head.
Inwardly, Ginny was astonished.
Conjuring water was nothing special, but this kind of fluid, instinctive manipulation of the elements was something not even her adult self had ever fully mastered. To her knowledge, the only person who might have attempted such a feat was Dumbledore, a grandmaster of Transfiguration— and he was dead. Only he could have sustained a spell like this for so long, and even then, he'd have needed to repeat the incantations in his head without pause or error, guiding the magic with constant, deliberate movements of the wand.
Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort ever truly feared.
Though Voldemort could attempt to replicate what Dumbledore could do, deep down he knew he was no match for him. There was a reason Voldemort had never dared to fully commit to a Wizard's duel with Dumbledore, even at the height of his power, after all.
The former Headmaster's mastery over Transfiguration had allowed him to shape his surroundings as he pleased and bend them to his will, completely nullifying the Dark Lord's mastery of the Killing Curse. It was only upon his death that Voldemort had truly gained the confidence to fully put his plans into motion.
"Isaz," said Oleandra coldly.
There was no time for Ginny to cast a Hot Air Charm to dry herself. The water swirling around her ankles froze solid in an instant, locking her feet fast.
"Avada Kedavra!" roared Ginny, pointing her wand at Oleandra.
Oleandra unsheathed her sword in a flash and parried the bolt of crackling green energy, driving it into the ground, where it boiled off some of the water at her feet. She then snapped her fingers, drawing some of the water of the ground into a sphere the size of a bowling ball, before sending it flying towards Ginny's face.
"Protego Maxima!"
The ball shattered into a myriad of droplets as it struck Ginny's silver shield, but to her shock, the water ball instantly reformed behind the ward, coalescing into a bubble that fully encased her head. Eyes wide, Ginny instinctively clawed at the bubble, but her fingers sank helplessly through the water, unable to get a hold of it.
'Evanesco!'
Ginny plunged her wand into the water bubble and silently recited the Vanishing spell's incantation. As the water receded from her sight, letting her draw a shaky breath, she realised that Oleandra had vanished. She spun on the spot, snarling…
…just as Oleandra brought down the Sword of the Lake in a silver arc, slicing through Ginny's wand hand. Ginny clutched the bloody stump, stifling a scream as she reached for her severed hand spinning in the air with the other. But before she could grasp it, Oleandra drove her fist into her face, knocking her clean out.
"Two down, one to go," said Oleandra, nimbly catching Ginny's hand out of midair.
Oleandra gazed at Ginny's sleeping face, a tangled mix of emotions flickering across her own.
She had been compelled to reveal yet another ace up her sleeve to triumph over a girl a year her junior. But should she ever have to face Voldemort again, she knew all too well she would need to call upon the Lady of the Lake's powers once more.
After all, without Tracey and Daphne, there was no chance she could summon the illusory projection of the dragon from the Insigil of Lindorm again, relying on her own power alone.
Oleandra slipped the black-stoned ring from Ginny's finger and slid it onto her own. She raised the tip of her sword to Ginny's throat, hesitating for a moment over whether to take her life— but in the end, she withdrew the blade and sheathed it. Without another word, she picked up Ginny's discarded wand and, along with the girl's hand, dropped them both into her magical pouch.
Even though Ginny had tried to kill her in their duel— and had very nearly succeeded— it didn't sit right with Oleandra to execute a one-handed, disarmed, unconscious opponent. And without her wand, she doubted Ginny'd ever pose much of a threat to her again.
And so, Oleandra turned on her heel and strode beyond the range of the Anti-Apparition and Anti-Flight Jinxes, then took to the air and vanished into the night, leaving behind Ginny's bloodied form on a bed of frozen white petals, now tinged scarlet from the blood slowly seeping out of her stump…