A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

At eight o'clock in the evening, the school's Great Hall was bustling with activity.

The long dining tables had vanished, replaced by a temporary gilded square stage at the center of the hall, bordered by three tiers of wooden steps.

Hundreds of candles floated in midair, adorning the center of the hall with their enchanting glow.

Harry and Ron hurriedly returned to the Great Hall. Nearly all the students in the school had arrived, squeezing and jostling as they excitedly discussed. Squeezing through the crowd, Harry accidentally knocked off the frog-shaped glasses of a first-year witch. He quickly apologized, "I'm sorry."

The witch took her glasses back, placed them on her forehead, and softly hummed a tune that Harry couldn't quite catch.

They reached the Gryffindor section where Seamus, Dean, and Neville were. "Hey, Harry, over here," they sighed with relief. "It's getting really crowded."

Neville Longbottom's round face turned, taking in the scene. "Seems like everyone's here. Looks like everyone's curious about the dueling."

At that moment, Hermione joined them from another direction, holding a newspaper in her hand.

"You're a bit late. Where were you?" Harry asked, craning his neck to look down the corridor.

"I went to see Professor Hagrid first. On my way back, I bumped into Professor McGonagall."

"Anything important?" Ron asked absentmindedly. Before Hermione could answer, he let out a heavy sigh, echoed by many other young wizards. They had caught sight of Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in splendid purple and crimson robes, striding into the hall.

Walking beside him was the stern-faced Severus Snape. The contrast between the two was remarkable—Lockhart exuded exuberance, while Snape emanated somber gravitas; Lockhart's attire was vibrant, whereas Snape's was entirely dark.

Harry groaned; his two least favorite professors were about to teach them dueling.

With a peacock-like flourish, Lockhart started his speech. For the first ten minutes, he recounted how he had "persuaded Dumbledore to give everyone the opportunity to learn self-defense," inevitably weaving in familiar elements of self-promotion and book recommendations—they were quite immune to this spiel by now.

In the last thirty seconds, Lockhart unusually introduced his "assistant" Snape.

"Professor Snape himself possesses a fair knowledge of dueling, and he generously agreed to assist me with a small demonstration before the lesson—but don't worry, I'll return your Potions professor to you intact." Lockhart grinned widely.

Snape curled his upper lip and managed a courteous smile. Watching Snape smile that way sent a shiver down Harry's spine; if Snape ever smiled like that at him, he'd have fled in an instant.

During this time, Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, stood at the edge of the area, looking impatient. She carried a white medical kit with her. Felix Harp, also known as Professor Flitwick, quietly appeared in a corner of the hall.

He was quite intrigued by this so-called "dueling lesson," harboring some ideas deep within him. He decided to come and observe.

If Lockhart messed up, perhaps he could take over...

Given what he knew about this professor, a blunder was a high probability event.

This was his subconscious attempt to assess the mediocrity and chaos of the magical world and Hogwarts. But for the sake of caution, he chose to watch and wait for now.

...

The Dueling class had officially begun. In less than three minutes, Felix Harp watched as Gilderoy Lockhart was sent flying by a Disarming Charm, his eye twitching in the corner. Lockhart awkwardly got to his feet, his magnificent purple robe now sporting a long tear.

Incompetent as ever, but could he at least acknowledge it?

Assisted by a few young wizards, Lockhart struggled back to the center of the stage. "Alright, everyone saw that!" His wavy hair stood erect as a result of the spell's effect, looking quite ridiculous. But what was even more amusing were his subsequent words.

"This is the application of the Disarming Charm. I hope my recent demonstration left a deep impression on you all," he glanced at Snape, "though, don't take this the wrong way, but your intentions were quite clear just now. If I wanted to stop you, it wouldn't take much effort..."

"But young wizards need to broaden their horizons. Why not show them..." Lockhart's words trailed off, as Snape stared at him with a murderous glare.

Lockhart wisely changed the subject, moving the lesson to the next stage. Without any specific teaching, he paired up several young wizards, having them stand in squares on the stage.

"The demonstration phase ends here! Let's see what you've learned. Professor Snape, if you'd be willing to assist me..."

What followed was a mess. Lockhart aimed to avoid direct confrontation with Snape or actual magical instruction, so he shifted his focus to critique and guidance. However, he had overestimated the spellcasting level and discipline of the Hogwarts young wizards.

Especially with Snape intentionally or unintentionally grouping his own house and the Gryffindors together—of course, a fight was inevitable.

Despite Lockhart's repeated emphasis on only using the Disarming Charm, the young wizards were clueless—excluding Lockhart's previous "demonstration." As a result, after several unsuccessful incantations, a variety of minor hexes popular among the student body were unleashed.

From Felix's perspective, only Harry and Malfoy's group had a semblance of skill, but they hardly grasped the concept of dueling. It was a turn-based affair, with one uttering "Lethifold Lariat" while the other countered with "Tarantellegra," leaving the rest of the time spent in idle observation.

The remaining young wizards fared worse—Neville and Justin lay fallen, gasping for breath. If Felix wasn't mistaken, they hadn't managed to cast a single spell throughout the ordeal. Ron was clinging to the ashen-faced Seamus, his wand still emitting a faint green smoke.

As for his own assistant's group... Their wands were long gone, and they were grappling with each other. The Slytherin girl's larger size gave her the upper hand, her arm locking Hermione's head in place, though Hermione had a handful of the opponent's hair in a vice grip...

"Oh my, oh my!" Lockhart screamed. But he was utterly ineffective in the chaos. Felix had to step through the crowd, waving his wand to cast several spells, separating the young wizards.

"Professor Harp..." Lockhart sounded panicked and somewhat hesitant. But soon his attention was captured by the pitiable state of the young wizards. "Miss Fawcett, grip tightly—your bleeding will stop in an instant. Boot, your nose is broken, and Ernie..."

Madam Pomfrey ascended the stage, pulling Lockhart away. The eminent school nurse quickly performed spells, administering various potions into the young wizards' mouths. "Dumbledore should never have approved... absolutely absurd, downright ridiculous... wholly unfit..."

Seamus took a sip of the shimmering green concoction, his face growing even greener. Finally, he let out a burp, emitting a puff of green smoke.

"Subjecting young wizards to dangerous activities, making a mockery of the professors..." Madam Pomfrey muttered incessantly, but she soon resolved the trouble. In less than five minutes, the young wizards were back on their feet.

Lockhart appeared somewhat bewildered. "Um, er..." He hesitated for a few seconds. "Let's thank Madam Pomfrey for her efforts, she's a valuable assistant in our Dueling class... and of course, Professor Harp."

He sneaked a glance at Felix, who stood on the stage with no intention of leaving.

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