Sean stood firm, his wand at the ready, a sly glint in his eyes. "As you said, Professor, you have a better way to handle those pixies. But since my spell interrupted you, you couldn't show everyone. I'm truly sorry for that. To make up for it, I'll be your opponent. Please use that method on me so we can all learn from you!"
Lockhart's smile stiffened, his dazzling teeth faltering. How had the conversation shifted from praising his brilliance to challenging him to a duel? He glanced at Sean, who had stepped back, poised for a fight, and stammered, "Mr. Sean, magic is far too risky. I wouldn't want to hurt you, so I'd rather not…"
Sean cut him off, his tone calm but firm. "Professor Lockhart, you said my spell was gentle, so I'm sure it won't harm me. Even if I get a scratch, I won't complain. Hogwarts has the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey's healing skills are top-notch. You don't need to worry. Besides, I think everyone's eager to see you in action!"
With that, Sean shot a quick glance at Blaise, then at Harry and Ron. They caught his signal and started clapping and cheering. Draco Malfoy and Miles Bulstrode, who'd been keeping a low profile lately, exchanged puzzled looks. They didn't fully grasp Lockhart's incompetence, but if Sean was volunteering to get schooled, they were happy to watch. Grinning, they joined the applause, their cheers laced with mischief.
The clapping spread, soon engulfing most of the class. Lockhart's unease grew, but his vanity swelled under the attention. With no way to back out, he drew his wand, tilting his chin proudly. "Well, Mr. Sean, since you and your classmates are so keen to witness my skills, I won't disappoint. But do be careful—I'd hate for you to get too banged up!"
Sean nodded, his expression polite but sharp. "Professor Lockhart, please!"
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi—" Lockhart began, his wand raised dramatically.
Before he could finish, Sean flicked his wand, a red jet of light—Stupefy LV2—streaking toward Lockhart. It struck his chest, sending him crashing into the enchanted cabinet behind him with a splintering thud. The classroom fell silent, students gaping as Lockhart slumped amidst the wreckage, his wand clattering to the floor.
While the class reeled, Sean opened his system, ignoring the Cornish pixie rewards from earlier. He scrolled to the latest entry:
[Win the duel and randomly select an ability of the duel opponent.]
[ Drawing… Drawing completed, obtained: Writing Skills LV4.]
His eye twitched. Writing skills? From Lockhart? Suppressing a groan, he snapped the system shut and hurried to Lockhart's side.
Helping the dazed professor to his feet, Sean brushed dust and wood splinters off his robes, his face a mask of admiration. "Professor Lockhart, you're so kind to us students! You held back because you didn't want to hurt me. I completely misjudged you and cast a spell first. I'm so sorry!"
Lockhart blinked, his confused expression morphing into a dazzling grin as his signature white teeth gleamed. Was that how it happened? Of course! He nodded eagerly, seizing the excuse. "You're absolutely right, Sean, the second-year who understands me best! You saw through my plan. I'm touched. So, let's call off this—"
"No!" Sean interrupted, his voice earnest. "I messed up again, Professor. I need to make it right. I'll stand here, and you cast first. With your incredible skills, I'm sure you can teach us all while keeping me safe. After all the adventures in your books, this should be easy for you, right?"
Sean shot another look at Blaise and Harry. They grinned, catching his drift, and led the class in another round of cheers, egging Lockhart on with enthusiastic shouts.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with tension, the students splitting into three distinct groups as Sean's challenge to Lockhart unfolded.
The first group clung to their admiration for Lockhart, their faith in his dazzling persona unshaken. Despite a flicker of doubt, Sean's clever praise of the professor matched their vision of him as a heroic wizard, straight from the pages of Year with the Yeti or Wandering with Werewolves. They nodded eagerly, convinced Lockhart was merely holding back.
The second group, sharper-eyed, saw through the charade. They were certain Lockhart was a fraud and believed Sean was poking fun at him. Grinning, they hoped to see the professor make a fool of himself again, their whispers filled with glee at the prospect.
The third group wavered, unsure if Lockhart was a liar or a legend. They didn't buy his tales of grandeur, but they weren't ready to call him a fake. Curious, they wanted the duel to continue, eager to see what would happen next.
When Blaise and Harry led another round of cheers, the room erupted, most students joining in with claps and shouts. Even the enchanted chalkboard behind Lockhart seemed to quiver with anticipation, its surface faintly glowing.
Lockhart stood frozen, caught between unease and temptation. Sean's words sounded sincere, and the roar of the class stoked his vanity. Surely, he could manage a simple duel without exposing himself? With a theatrical flourish, he raised his wand, his confidence returning. "Mr. Sean, you're right. This is no challenge for me. Let's duel again, and I'll show you how to defeat an opponent with gentle magic!"
He struck a pose, more suited to a West End stage than a classroom, and waved his wand with what he thought was elegance. "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" he declared, a golden light bursting from his wand, shimmering as it aimed for Sean.
"Protego!" Sean countered, slashing his wand in a swift arc. A blue-white shield rippled before him, the Shield Charm glowing steadily. Lockhart's golden light struck the barrier, fizzling out like a sparkler in a storm. It was all flash, no substance—much like Lockhart himself. The shield didn't even waver.
Sean glanced at Lockhart, who was edging backward, his eyes darting toward the door. No way was Sean letting him slip away. Another duel meant another chance to win a skill through his system, and he wasn't about to miss out. "Depulso!" he shouted, firing a transparent blast of energy.
The spell hit Lockhart square in the chest, sending him tumbling backward. He spun through the air, robes flapping like a startled owl, before crashing onto the stone floor with a thud. The classroom fell silent, the students' eyes wide as Lockhart lay sprawled, his wand skittering across the ground.
Then, laughter erupted, loud and unrestrained. If the first defeat had been a shock, this one was undeniable. Lockhart was no wizarding hero—except, perhaps, to a few loyal fans like Hermione, who clutched her copy of Travels with Trolls with a stubborn frown. Most of the class now saw the truth: Lockhart was a fraud, his spells as empty as his boasts.
Sean ignored the professor, his focus on his system. He opened it, scrolling past the Cornish pixie rewards from earlier and the disappointing Writing Skills LV4 from the first duel. His eyes locked onto the latest entry, eager to see what ability he'd gained this time.