The sheer stillness that followed Snape's opening statement—that they were here to learn how to survive—was absolute. The spectacle of the previous matches faded, replaced by a grim, practical focus.
"How exactly do we respond to pure, existential danger?" A student from Ravenclaw, usually obsessed with abstract theory, voiced the practical question everyone was suddenly thinking. "Does this level of caution truly apply here, at Hogwarts?"
The consensus among the young wizards was immediate: This sounds terrifying, but undeniably practical. Their eyes locked onto Snape, eager and slightly horrified.
Snape's thin lips curled into a faint, disdainful smile. "Your previous Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor should have instilled these fundamental principles, but it is abundantly clear his capabilities extend no further than stammering through textbook summaries."
A wave of suppressed laughter and knowing murmurs rippled through the crowd. Professor Garlic! The reference to Professor Quirrell, who perpetually reeked of garlic (presumably to ward off a certain vampire, though the students were unaware of the true reason), was unmistakable.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look of shared satisfaction. While Snape was terrifying, he was competent. Quirrell's classes were a pathetic waste of time, and the lack of real-world instruction had worried Harry, especially after his encounter with the three-headed dog. Snape, at least, treated them like students who needed to be prepared for a dangerous world.
Professor McGonagall, standing beside the arena, opened her mouth as if to admonish Snape for his professional slight, but she hesitated. After recalling Quirrell's dismal performance and the recent unsettling discovery in the fourth-floor corridor, she decided the truth, however harsh, was necessary. She remained silent.
"I repeat," Snape continued, his voice cutting through the silence, "life is not a duelling club. When genuine danger is upon you, the filthy creatures of the Dark Arts will not observe rules or wait politely for your turn."
Snape laid out three non-negotiable, prioritized steps for survival in a sudden confrontation:
Immediate Warning: "The first spell you should master is not an attack, but a simple Screaming Charm or Alarm Charm. Many dark practitioners are akin to rats in a sewer; the slightest unexpected sound or attention will send them scurrying back into the shadows. Noise is your initial shield."
Instant Protection: "You must master the Ironclad Charm (Protego), and remember to carry your Guardian School Badge (a personal magical token). Dark wizards prefer ambush. An Ironclad Charm buys you the crucial two seconds needed to counterattack or execute a coordinated escape."
Seize the Initiative: "Finally, if evasion or warning is impossible, then you must not hesitate. You must strike first." Snape's eyes darted momentarily to Sebastian.
"A wise figure once shared a famous maxim with me: The first person to strike gains the tactical advantage, and the last person to strike suffers the consequences. Remember this: it is infinitely better to face the minor inconvenience of an interrogation at Azkaban than to mourn your loved ones at their graveside."
Snape's address was less a lecture and more a brutal, practical survival guide. Professor McGonagall shifted uncomfortably, feeling the curriculum being violently accelerated, but remained silent, acknowledging the dark practicality of his counsel.
"Professor Snape!" A bold Slytherin student, recognizing the ruthlessness, challenged him, "If we must take the first move, what is your strategic recommendation for our limited skill set?"
Snape's cold lips curved into the slightest of smiles. "A suggestion? Given your woeful lack of advanced magical knowledge, the most appropriate course of action is an instant saturation attack. Use your most powerful, practiced offensive spells and launch a barrage that gives your enemy zero time to react or mount a proper defense. Overwhelm them with speed and volume."
He glanced back at Sebastian. "To demonstrate this Aggressive Saturation Strategy, I will now ask Professor Swann to assume the role of the counter-attacker."
Harry's eyes blazed. Saturation attack! This was the very fast-paced, aggressive style Sebastian had drilled into him—focusing on rapid-fire, precise strikes rather than slow, powerful curses. He desperately wanted to see how the masters executed it.
Snape and Sebastian positioned themselves, their wands raised, their expressions focused and cold.
Lockhart, wisely, simply counted them in: "Three! Two! One! Begin!"
They moved almost as one. No dramatic build-up, no grand incantations—just an instant torrent of raw magical power. Snape launched his signature counter-curses and disarming spells, each one fast, sharp, and brutally efficient, while Sebastian parried, dodged, and responded with a relentless volley of rapid-fire attacks.
The arena was instantly consumed by blinding, shimmering magical light. The students watched, hypnotized, as the two professors moved with a terrifying grace, their movements minimal, their spells tearing through the air and colliding mid-way with deafening cracks.
Unlike the elegant, controlled spectacle of McGonagall's transfiguration or the fluid dance of Flitwick's charm-work, this was violence contained—pure, focused magical combat designed to incapacitate quickly.
"Observe!" Hermione yelled over the noise, trying to make her point heard to Ron and Harry. "It's not just the speed! Look at the intensity! The same curses we cast are far more potent and focused when they use them! We must focus on spell power as well as speed!"
Ron, initially terrified, was now swept up in the adrenaline. "Merlin's socks! Who said you can't hit the Muggle Studies Professor?! This is incredible!"
The intensity built rapidly. The spells became heavier, the collisions brighter, until the entire hall felt saturated with raw, conflicting magic. Harry felt a knot of anxious tension in his stomach—the duel seemed dangerously real.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the magic ceased. Snape and Sebastian lowered their wands simultaneously, the magical light receding, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and the faint smell of burnt air. They had neutralized each other in a stalemate of overwhelming speed and precision.
The hall erupted. A chaotic wave of cheers and shouts washed over the arena.
"Whoa! That was unbelievable!"
"They didn't even hit each other, but it was like a hurricane!"
Fred, thoroughly excited, was shouting over the din to George, pointing wildly. "That wasn't even their strongest level! I swear, they held back at least half their power!"
Harry, exhausted just watching, clapped until his palms stung. "See, Ron? That's the real goal! That blinding speed and intensity! That's the style we need!"
Sebastian waited patiently for the noise to subside, then raised his voice to a commanding pitch, cutting through the residual excitement.
"Silence! I can see some of you are desperate to show off your newly inflamed ambition. Good. But remember, the greatest duelists begin by mastering the simple arts."
He cast a quick, silent spell, and a thick, soft practice cushion materialized instantly behind every single student in the hall.
"We will now begin the practical application of the Full Body-Bind Curse—the Petrifying Spell," Sebastian announced. "I want you to observe my wand movement carefully." He demonstrated a sharp, precise jab. "The incantation is simple: Petrificus Totalus!"
"You will pair up. Your objective is simple: immobilize your partner before they immobilize you. If you succeed, your partner will fall stiffly, but safely, onto the cushion behind them. Begin!"
The Great Hall, moments ago a spectator venue, instantly transformed into a chaos of nervous excitement as students scrambled to find partners, wands raised, ready to practice the first, terrifying lesson in offensive incapacitation.
The sudden shift from theory to practice was a perfect tactic to channel the students' adrenaline. Do you think Harry, Ron, and Hermione will stick together, or will Harry partner with someone else to maximize his learning?