Chapter 50: Revelation

The two of them stopped casting spells almost simultaneously, a perfect display of synchronization.

"Marvelous! A battle of equals!" Professor Lockhart's voice chimed in at the right moment. "Did you see that? How perfectly in sync they are! I bet these two professors practice spells together often in private, two cunning fellows!"

Snape's face was dark and grim. He remained silent, stepping down from the stage. However, he didn't leave; instead, he positioned himself in the shadows.

Their exchange was less of a duel and more of a probing.

Indeed, Snape still held a few dark spells in reserve, but those were learned from the Dark Lord, and he hadn't used them since that time, as they held little meaning. And Felix... What about his ancient magic? His alchemical creations? Dark magic?

In the midst of the duel, Felix's magical prowess continued to grow stronger. Would that be his limit when the duel ended? Snape attempted to assess Felix's strength, but he found himself unable to see clearly.

Felix calmly descended from the stage, and the crowd automatically made way, gazes of awe shifting between Snape and Felix among the young wizards.

From the perspective of these young wizards, the duel was a tie, with no clear winner. Although Professor Harp appeared incredibly composed, didn't Snape also pierce through two Ironclad Hexes with a single incantation?

Those were, after all, the most formidable defensive spells most young wizards knew.

"Snape is unexpectedly powerful!" Ron exclaimed, obviously taken aback.

"Professor Harp holds Snape in high regard," Hermione whispered. She was somewhat worried, as to complete the complex potion, they'd likely have to break into Snape's private stores. If they were caught...

Harry remained silent. The recent duel had stirred his blood, making him wish he could take the place of either combatant. However, he realized that while he might be able to see each spell clearly, if he were in their shoes, he might not be able to dodge even the first one.

At this point, Professor Lockhart returned to the center of the stage, his spirits high as he delivered a speech. "It seems the demonstration went well. I'm sure you're all eager—my goodness, I want to cast spells as smoothly as our three professors, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. You're still far from reaching that level!"

Ron muttered something under his breath, and though Harry couldn't hear, he had a strong suspicion it was a criticism of Professor Lockhart, as he felt much the same way.

"Now, according to the plan, we'll select two representatives to showcase their skills. How about Longbottom and Finchley?"

"I find this choice inappropriate, Professor Lockhart," Snape regained his composure and swiftly ascended the stairs, his robes swirling like a bat gracefully gliding across the stage.

"Even using the simplest spells, Longbottom can cause unexpectedly profound damage. If he were to participate," Snape's gaze turned icy, sweeping from Felix to the crowd, "we might end up fitting Finchley's remains into a matchbox."

Laughter erupted among Slytherin students.

"What about Malfoy and Potter?"

"Excellent!" Lockhart agreed swiftly, regardless of Snape's suggestion; he would agree to it.

He gestured for Harry and Malfoy to step into the center of the stage.

Watching Snape and Malfoy converse in hushed tones, Harry first glanced at Professor Harp on the other side, lost in thought. He then turned to Lockhart. "Professor, could you demonstrate the Disarming Charm again?"

Lockhart hesitated for a moment, then leaned in closely to Harry. After a pause of around fifteen seconds, he straightened up and patted Harry's shoulder. "Just do what I told you!"

"What?" Harry asked, baffled. But he noticed Malfoy had already taken his position across from him.

"On the count of three—begin!" Lockhart promptly shouted.

"Kelpie Ascendant!" Malfoy shouted, and his wand exploded with a burst of magic. The smoke coalesced into a long, serpentine creature.

With a "thud," the dark serpent crashed onto the floor, slithering its way closer to Harry.

The young wizards near the stage screamed and retreated, leaving a space.

Felix glanced briefly, then lost interest; it was merely a minor hex. Snape lazily withdrew his wand. "Stay still, Potter," he instructed. Seeing Harry's expression, Snape found satisfaction. The gloomy mood Felix had cast seemed to improve miraculously.

At this point, Lockhart saw an opportunity. He felt compelled to do something to regain control of the situation. Stepping forward, he announced loudly, "Allow me, I'll handle this nuisance." Yet, he quickly realized Harry's expression was growing even more terrified.

Lockhart's spellcasting typically equated to trouble, a simple awareness Harry had developed in a matter of months—the bones Lockhart had removed on the Quidditch pitch could attest to that.

Indeed, Lockhart's powerful incantation struck the serpent, resulting in a loud "bang" echoing through the hall. However, instead of vanishing, the serpent expanded rapidly, transforming into a massive python.

Furthermore, the python, as though injected with hormones, grew increasingly agitated. It reared its head, baring venomous fangs and adopting an aggressive stance.

Felix and Snape raised their wands in unison. But in the next second, a hair-raising sound echoed—an eerie hissing reminiscent of snakes, yet even more terrifying, causing everyone's skin to crawl involuntarily.

Both turned their heads simultaneously, gazing at the young wizard who uttered these eerie words—Harry Potter.

The python writhed violently, contorting its body like a spasming muscle. It grew even more grotesque and threatening, but it suddenly collapsed to the ground, creating a large pit in the floor. It narrowly missed Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Although Harry wasn't entirely sure of the situation, he knew he had thwarted the serpent's attack. With a bright smile, he turned to Justin.

However, he quickly realized something was amiss. The Great Hall fell into an unnerving silence.

Everyone's gazes fixed on him with a disconcerting intensity. Justin trembled, shouting, "What kind of trick are you playing?" He dashed out of the Great Hall like a startled rabbit.

Snape stepped forward, transforming the prone serpent into a wisp of black smoke. His gaze was just as intense, carrying so much beneath the surface that Harry couldn't begin to understand.

Whispers began to ripple through the crowd, accompanied by pointing—certainly not a good sign. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine.

Just then, he felt someone tugging at the back of his robes.

"Come on," Ron whispered, "let's go—quickly."

"But why—"

"Don't ask, Harry. Let's just go."

Ron and Hermione practically dragged him out, leaving the Great Hall.

The crowd naturally parted on both sides, and as they exited, a cacophony of discussions erupted behind them.

Meanwhile, Felix stood still, the recent events playing back in his mind.

Parseltongue...

Harry Potter was a Parselmouth.

All the inexplicable moments connected—the times Hermione had hesitated before asking him questions only other wizards couldn't hear, her unusual interest in magical creatures of the snake variety after the attack...

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