Inside the Great Hall, the young witches and wizards watched Kai Adler and Professor Snape on the dueling platform with intense focus.
The two locked eyes, tension rising, while Kai was silently evaluating his approach.
Earlier, when facing Lockhart, he'd considered knocking him out. The man was an incompetent blowhard, so Kai had cast his spells with relative ease. The students below hadn't grasped the full intensity of that exchange.
But Snape was different. Whatever their personal feelings about him, no one at Hogwarts would ever mistake Severus Snape for a fool.
If Kai accidentally defeated him too obviously, it would draw far too much attention.
And that was the last thing he wanted right now.
He wasn't concerned about exposure for his own sake—but for the sake of his investigation. If the monster behind the Chamber of Secrets realized how dangerous he was, they might go into hiding. That would ruin everything.
Perhaps… it was better to hold back.
Of course, Snape had no idea the boy standing across from him was considering showing mercy. He saw only a young duelist standing still—too still.
Spacing out? During a duel?
Snape's lips thinned in disdain. Had Lockhart's defeat gone to the boy's head already?
"Expelli…armus!" Snape chanted sharply, the Disarming Charm flying from his wand like a bolt of light.
Hermione's eyes lit up below the stage—she knew this spell. Kai had patiently taught it to her before term began, helping her master its form.
The spell snapped Kai out of his thoughts. Reflexively, he raised his wand and answered with the same incantation—though the tail end of his words faltered, sounding half-mumbled.
"Expell#& %…"
The collision of spells was spectacular.
A blinding flash erupted, accompanied by a concussive airburst that sent a strong gust rolling through the hall. Students in the front rows stumbled backward. A few first-years even toppled onto their backs, shrieking.
Hermione buried her face in her hands and groaned.
He'd realized too late he was about to cast it nonverbally and tried to cover it up by mumbling the end aloud—poorly.
Couldn't he be just a little more subtle?
Fortunately, most students were watching Snape, not Kai, and didn't catch the awkward incantation. Only Hermione—and possibly the other two close to Kai—noticed.
As the smoke cleared, both duelists stood untouched, their robes unruffled. The floor, however, was another matter. Dust and chalk lines swirled around them.
Gryffindor erupted in cheers.
A second-year from their House had just countered the Head of Slytherin's spell!
Slytherin House, naturally, began hissing in protest.
"Professor Snape went easy on him!"
"He's just a boy!"
But among them, a few students—especially those from established wizarding families—looked at Kai with something far more serious than rivalry.
They'd seen the signs.
Blocking a spell like that, even if Snape hadn't used full force, was no ordinary feat for a twelve-year-old.
On the platform, Snape stared at Kai with a flicker of dark amusement.
The boy had not been daydreaming.
That spell exchange told him plenty.
When Kai had deflected Lockhart's earlier compound charm with a simple Protego, Snape had been quietly impressed. He doubted Lockhart even understood the spell he was casting—clearly something derived from Memory Charms. And yet the boy had seen through it.
But what stood out even more was how he blocked it.
Most wizards used the Shield Charm to absorb or cancel out a spell's effects.
Kai had deflected it.
That required more than power—it required mastery.
You had to understand the magic at play, dissect it mid-air, and replicate the spell's behavior through the barrier. It was something even adult wizards struggled with.
And now this.
A Disarming Charm, countered with his own, near-silent version. A nonverbal incantation, poorly disguised.
Nonverbal casting. Advanced counterspell theory. Fluency in compound magic.
Snape's eyes narrowed.
Wandless magic wouldn't be a stretch either, would it?
He recalled Dumbledore's unusually firm instructions regarding this boy: "Observe. Do not interfere. Turn a blind eye unless absolutely necessary."
Now he understood why.
Kai, oblivious to Snape's mental deductions, simply frowned. He hadn't appreciated the "sneak attack" while he was planning his next move.
Unfair!
Still scowling, he flicked his wand.
"Stupefy!"
The scarlet bolt launched forward.
Snape raised his wand in response—but at the same time, Kai's wand drew a subtle curve.
"Oppugno."
The rubble from the earlier blast—loose stones and debris scattered at the edge of the dueling stage—suddenly lifted into the air and took the shape of small birds, wings flapping furiously.
They circled once, then swooped behind Snape, aiming for his blind side.
"Behind you!" came an urgent shout from the Slytherin benches. Draco Malfoy.
But Snape had already turned, sensing the attack.
"Expulso!"
The birds exploded in midair, turning back into shattered debris. The blast scattered stone and flame in all directions.
But he wasn't done.
He turned again and aimed his wand past the blast cloud.
"Incendio!"
The blazing fireball surged toward Kai, catching the swirling debris and igniting it. Burning rubble soared across the air like a meteor shower.
Students screamed and ducked as the sparks flew closer.
Snape instinctively moved to intervene—but Kai's voice rang out first.
"Accio!"
Every fragment of flaming debris reversed course, rushing to him and hovering like enchanted sentries in midair.
Snape's breath caught.
Before he could say anything, Kai flicked his wand again.
"Ventus!"
A howling gust tore through the Great Hall.
Snape's robes whipped behind him, and for a moment, he was forced to brace his stance.
The burning stones, suspended just a second ago, now surged forward like bullets—faster than before.
Snape's eyes narrowed as he spotted the glint of something between the fragments—
Chains?
Not physical, but magical.
Golden bindings shimmered faintly among the debris, hidden behind the fire and wind.
Compound magic, he realized with a jolt.
Kai Adler had combined conjuration, animation, elemental control, and even transmutation—spells that would require four separate invocations from most adult wizards—into a single sequence.
And it wasn't just for show.
It was aimed at him.