Harry and Ron's hearts sank.
Still, they tried to comfort themselves.
"It can't be that bad…"
"At least we're not total idiots."
"We definitely won't be the worst."
But then came the next name.
"Susan Bones!"
A nervous-looking Susan stepped forward from the Hufflepuffs and walked onto the stage.
"Lumos!"
Her wand lit up with a clean, bright glow. It was another smooth Lumos spell. Not quite as dazzling as Hannah's earlier display, which had broken through to the Bronze level, but still an excellent performance.
The professors didn't award her extra points, but they did applaud her efforts. Susan breathed a sigh of relief and walked back to her seat with light steps.
"I didn't embarrass Hufflepuff, did I?" she whispered to Hannah.
"Honestly, I was so afraid I'd forget the spell up there. But Hermione wished me luck, so everything went okay."
Having completed her "execution," Susan relaxed and started chatting and laughing with Hannah. Now, they could enjoy watching others being "tortured" under the pressure of the test.
"Terry Boot!"
"Mandy Brocklehurst!"
Two Ravenclaws stepped up one after the other. Terry's Lumos spell reached the Bronze level. Clearly, the Eaglets had been working hard.
Their recent loss of first place had struck a nerve. This Lumos assessment had been initiated by none other than their Head of House, Professor Flitwick. If Ravenclaw couldn't reclaim a top spot, it would be a disgrace to their name.
Professor Flitwick beamed with pride. The tiny professor jumped up onto the judging table and awarded Terry an extra three points.
Then came the first Slytherin student to take the stage: Millicent Bulstrode.
Unlike the other nervous first-years, Millicent walked up confidently. Calm and composed, she even performed an elegant, noble bow to the professors before speaking the spell.
In a crisp, aristocratic accent, she said:
"Lumos!"
Her wand burst into light—far brighter and steadier than anyone before her.
Professor Robert, sitting at the edge of the stage, raised his eyebrows, barely hiding his surprise. In his internal grading system, this spell would rank somewhere between Bronze and Silver level.
Millicent Bulstrode? A background character from the original story, with almost no presence. And yet—how had her Lumos improved so dramatically in just a few weeks? She might even be close to Hermione's level.
Snape stood up, applauding loudly.
"A beautiful Lumos. The best so far."
"You must have trained diligently."
"Millicent, you've earned five points for Slytherin."
She descended the stage amid loud cheers from the Slytherin students, proud and glowing.
Harry and Ron, meanwhile, were sinking further into their seats.
So far, no one had performed worse than them during practice sessions.
A cold dread settled over them.
Ron, pale but still trying to joke, whispered:
"It's fine, Harry. There's still Crabbe and Goyle."
"You know—it's a miracle they're even at Hogwarts."
"No way we're worse than them."
That gave Harry a glimmer of hope.
But soon, it too was crushed.
Because Crabbe and Goyle took the stage one after another—and while their Lumos spells weren't amazing, they were far from terrible. In fact, they were pretty average—definitely better than Harry and Ron had hoped.
Now the two Gryffindors sat slumped in their seats, spirits crushed. Harry's cheeks burned. He imagined the whole hall watching with eager eyes when he went up—only to witness a clumsy disaster.
Merlin help me.
This was the real execution.
Harry regretted it now—spending all that time on Quidditch practice. The match was still weeks away. He should have practiced Lumos more.
Meanwhile, the Slytherins were delivering one impressive performance after another. The professors were starting to notice.
Even Hermione looked a little worried.
She had originally hoped to take first place. But now, the competition for the top three spots looked brutal.
And there were still many Slytherins yet to go.
On the judges' platform, the professors began exchanging puzzled glances.
The Slytherin students had improved too fast—almost impossibly so.
Even if they had practiced day and night for two weeks, the scale of progress seemed unnatural.
Something was off.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes.
"Phosphorescent Potion?" he murmured.
"That obscure concoction that boosts Lumos temporarily?"
He turned to Snape.
"Severus—you brewed this for your students?"
The other Heads of House looked astonished.
"A potion?"
"You're helping them cheat!"
"This isn't fair!"
Snape raised his chin, dismissive.
"There's no rule saying students can't use potions."
"Slytherins have always specialized in potion-making."
"They'll continue using these methods in future competitions. It's part of what gives Slytherin its edge."
"Banning potions would be what's unfair."
The other professors were left speechless.
After all, Snape wasn't entirely wrong.
Potions were indeed Slytherin's traditional strength. Even in past Triwizard Tournaments, Slytherin champions had secured victories using potions.
No rule explicitly prohibited them.
Even Dumbledore didn't object.
Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick could only sigh silently.
At this rate, Slytherin would take the top three spots—and gain a massive lead in the House Cup.
Only McGonagall held on to one last hope.
"Maybe Hermione can still place."
And Hermione didn't disappoint. When she went on stage, her Lumos spell gleamed at the Silver level, according to Robert's internal scale.
It put her in the lead—temporarily.
But her glory didn't last long.
Malfoy went up next.
And his Lumos? Even stronger than Hermione's.
Then came another Slytherin student, whose performance also edged past Hermione's.
Now, the top three were: Malfoy, another Slytherin, and Hermione—barely hanging on in third.
The number of students left to perform dwindled rapidly.
It was unlikely the standings would change.
Many now pinned their hopes on Harry Potter.
But when Harry went up, despite his pressure-induced breakthrough, his Lumos was only average.
Far behind the top three.
He stepped down quietly.
The Slytherins relaxed, smug and secure.
Victory was within their grasp.
Snape allowed himself a rare, satisfied smirk.
"Looks like Malfoy will take the prize this time," he said, pleased.
McGonagall and Flitwick exchanged frustrated looks. They had nothing to say.
But Professor Sprout wasn't ready to give up.
"What's the rush?" she said coolly.
"Robert hasn't gone yet."
All heads turned.
Robert Sprout.
A name few had paid attention to.
A student whose magical talent many considered disappointing.
Even the other professors raised their eyebrows.
Sprout still believed in that boy?
Then came the call:
"Robert Sprout."
The room grew quiet.
Robert stood and walked toward the stage—calmly, without hesitation.
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