Chapter 7
The Duel
After the wand weighing ceremony, Rita Skeeter unleashed her demands upon the champions and their mentors. She insisted on group pictures, followed by individual shots of the mentors with their champions, and even some photographs with the committee, the judges, and anyone else she deemed relevant.
"Before we proceed to lunch...I must insist...and I hope you'll indulge me...I would like a picture of the two Dumbledores!" Rita Skeeter said with an unnerving smile.
Athena's initial mirth from enjoying the event turned to a stern expression as she fixed a glare on Rita Skeeter. She looked towards her sister who seemed slightly unnerved by the comment.
"Ms. Skeeter...I really don't think that's appropriate." Lyra stated firmly, her patience waning for this intrusive reporter.
"I agree." Dumbledore chimed in, his tone equally firm.
Skeeter let out an impatient click of her tongue and turned her attention to Mr. Crouch.
"Mr. Crouch, you do need that article, don't you?" She asked sweetly, her words carrying a subtle threat.
Mr. Crouch glanced over at Dumbledore pleadingly. Dumbledore's expression was a mixture of anger and frustration. He clenched his jaw but reluctantly submitted to the request.
"I don't think I can oblige." Lyra retorted haughtily.
"Come now, Ms. Marks, don't be such a diva!" Rita teased, her tone grating on Lyra's nerves. Lyra could feel the many smirks in the back, one which irritated her the most, came from Snape.
"I am not a Dumbledore. So, I don't think just by you labeling me as one makes it alright." Lyra responded with unyielding stubbornness.
"I am not the only one...who labels you as one, Ms. Marks...the whole world calls you that these days...surely you know that."
"And...I thought you said you were flattered." Rita asked raising a polished eyebrow.
"Ms. Marks, please...just take the picture..." Barty Crouch pleaded, his resolve crumbling.
"No, I don't think I will..."
"Lyra..." Athena's soft voice interrupted. Lyra turned to look at her aunt, defiance in her eyes, yet her aunt's expression silently begged her to get this over with.
"Just...do it..." Athena implored.
Lyra scoffed, an internal battle raging in her head, but she eventually gave in and quietly took her spot next to Dumbledore.
They stood there awkwardly, both feeling the tension of this forced situation weighing heavily upon them.
"Relax...please..." The photographer urged.
"Just take the fucking picture!" Lyra snarled, her patience wearing thin.
"Now...now...you must give the audience a smile at least...both of you!" Rita chided smoothly.
Lyra exchanged a glance with Albus, silently asking if he was ready to get this ordeal over with. He sighed in defeat and nodded.
They turned their attention back to the camera and, albeit reluctantly, conjured smiles. Lyra crossed her arms while Dumbledore held his hands behind his back, their postures sharp and exuding power.
The photograph captured the moment, and as soon as it did, the two moved away from each other in silence. Dumbledore's eyes spoke a million apologies, burdened by the guilt that his name had undermined Lyra's achievements. She shook her head at him and turned away, leaving an unresolved tension lingering in the air.
After the grueling photo shoot, Dumbledore arranged a hasty lunch for the exhausted group, knowing everyone was famished. Rita Skeeter, however, claimed to be feeling unwell and declined any food, opting for copious amounts of water instead.
The champions and mentors found themselves waiting their turns for interviews with Skeeter, who had set up her operation inside the office connected to the classroom.
Sarah sat in quiet concentration, diligently working on her potions homework, while Athena provided patient assistance with some guided steps. Nearby, Lyra sat with her legs crossed, absently nibbling on a piece of chicken pie, the remnants of her frustration still simmering within her from the earlier request.
"This Skeeter woman is quite the character...please be careful in there, especially you, Sarah." Athena expressed her concerns as she reviewed Sarah's essay.
"Don't worry, Athena, she seems utterly smitten with me..." Lyra retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm, her gaze unwavering on the office door.
"Just avoid saying anything too incriminating." Athena advised.
"That's quite a tall order, Thee-Thee," Lyra responded dryly.
"You know what I mean, Lyra. She's known for being rather ruthless—twisting words and emotions for the sake of sensational news. She's a manipulator and a..."
"So, she's like any other journalist then..."
"I know you're still upset about earlier." Athena said calmly.
"But it's just a picture...it means nothing." Athena added pointedly. Lyra frowned at Athena's sudden kindness.
"It means a lot, Athena...you know I detest that ridiculous name!" She snapped.
"I know...but it's like you said...it's just a silly name...people won't truly believe you're a Dumbledore..." Athena stated.
"People are foolish. They believe what they want to believe..." Lyra retorted.
"And what about you? What do you believe, Lyra?" Athena asked chuckling as she gently placed a hand on her niece's face. Lyra fell silent at the odd question, her gaze once more fixated on the door.
Athena shook her head at Lyra, turning her attention back to the essay. She provided Sarah with multiple tips to enhance her work, and Sarah diligently incorporated them.
The office door swung open abruptly, and Moody and Potter emerged, both visibly seething with anger. Athena and Sarah abandoned their tasks, eager to find out what had transpired. Meanwhile, Lyra seized the opportunity to light a post-lunch cigarette, her self-control evidently slipping as she forgot her promise to herself of limiting it to just one a day, made just the night before.
A short while later, Sarah and Athena returned, animatedly recounting the false information Rita Skeeter had penned. Lyra continued to watch the office door, which now burst open once more. She observed Zeus Shorthorn and Snape exiting the room. Shorthorn appeared deeply disturbed, while Snape seemed bothered by the encounter. Their eyes met, staying glued together for minutes. When she realised what had just transpired, Lyra turned away. Snape, feeling caught, looked away as well.
"Lyra!" Sarah called for what seemed like the hundredth time, her frustration evident as her aunt's mind wandered elsewhere.
"What?!" Lyra snapped irritably, shifting her attention to her niece.
"Come on...we're the last ones." Sarah urged, her lip bitten in exasperation. Lyra gritted her teeth and rose, following her niece into the office and firmly shutting the door behind her.
As they settled in, Rita Skeeter began her interview with Sarah. Lyra, however, remained preoccupied, still seething from the previous encounters. Her thoughts kept circling back to Snape's bizarre behavior. In all honesty, she felt a bit shaken by it. Had Snape attempted to read her mind? It wasn't a mere suspicion; he had indeed tried. Lyra hadn't noticed it before, but every time their gazes had locked, Snape had peered directly into her eyes. He had attempted to breach her mental defenses, she had a feeling, he had done this many times before and she had a nagging feeling that he had succeeded this time. She didn't know what he had glimpsed at, but once she realized his intrusion, she promptly pushed him out. What was Snape playing at?
"Lyra?" Sarah called out, pulling Lyra's attention away from her thoughts. She turned to her niece, noticing that both Sarah and Rita Skeeter were now looking at her expectantly.
"Sorry…I was…distracted…what…what were we talking about?" Lyra asked, glancing at Skeeter, who wore a cunning smile.
"Your niece was just telling me about what she found most fascinating about you! She said you could show it to me." Skeeter said smoothly.
"Fascinating? Me? I'm really not that interesting…Ms. Skeeter, even if you believe I am." Lyra replied raising an eyebrow at the woman challengingly.
"Come now, Ms. Marks...it's rather unlike you to be so humble...your deeds are extraordinary...and so are your failures," Skeeter smirked, her words carrying a veiled threat, as if to say, she accepted her challenge. Lyra eyed her cautiously.
"I...really don't know what you are referring to...Sarah, what did you tell her?" Lyra asked anxiously, fearing that her niece might have revealed something, potentially jeopardizing their situation.
"I just told her about the thing..." Sarah said, shrugging casually.
"WHAT...what...thing?" Lyra asked apprehensively.
"You know...the thing...the thing you do...THE THING!"
"For Merlin's sake, if you say 'thing' one more time..." Lyra snapped, growing frustrated.
"Don't get so annoyed...I was just telling her how cool you are...and how you can guess exactly where someone has been without even knowing them!" Sarah replied, pouting in annoyance.
"She says...you don't even need magic..." Skeeter chimed in, treating Sarah as if she were a cute child. This only aggravated Sarah further, and she shot an annoyed look at her aunt.
"Oh...no...uh...she's right...in a way." Lyra replied seriously. Skeeter suddenly became much more interested.
"Oh...really? So, then tell me, Ms. Marks...where was I before this?" Skeeter asked, smirking confidently.
Lyra reclined in her chair, fixing Skeeter with a penetrating gaze as she raised a polished eyebrow.
"Late last night...at a pub!" Lyra stated. Skeeter's eyes widened in surprise.
"How...how is that possible...this can't...there has to be something...some magic...how would you know this?" Skeeter stammered.
"Did you see me use my wand?" Lyra asked, amused by Skeeter's astonishment.
"I take it by your reaction that I was right." Lyra continued. Skeeter nodded, her composure clearly shaken.
"You see, Ms. Skeeter, we humans have become far too self-absorbed. We no longer take the time to observe the world around us; we'd rather selfishly focus on ourselves and what's beneficial to us. Like that picture you took earlier. I assume is going to raise something worthwhile for you. What I just did, anyone can do...in fact, as a journalist, it's an integral part of your job description—observing the world around you, finding news. What I did was simple—it's called the art of deduction. Really, nothing more, nothing less..."
"So...you just...you deduced all of that, in a second?"
"Oh...oh, no, no...I've been observing you all day. From the moment I offered you a cigarette, I knew...and I also knew the backstory. You were clearly there to impress someone, possibly a senior employer. You were naughty, weren't you, Ms. Skeeter? You clearly got him extremely drunk along with you and lost track of time, waking up with a bad hangover. But you couldn't miss this scoop, even if you didn't really want to be here in the first place."
Skeeter grew increasingly apprehensive, her smile fading.
"How...how do you know all this?" Skeeter hissed, closing her book and squeezing the quill within it. Lyra smirked; she had her cornered. This would teach her to mess with her
"It's simple, isn't it? In the morning when I offered you a cigarette, you said you didn't smoke, yet you reeked of perfume—an unsuccessful attempt to mask the smell of cigarettes on your clothes. How I knew you were meeting a senior employer...which you transformed into something else, your chipped toenail tells me they weren't what you were prepared for, but you went for it anyway. They seem like they're really into feet. However, to secure this job, you really needed something substantial, which is why you were so desperate for that picture."
"The dress you're wearing makes it clear you were trying to impress someone, and it certainly wasn't a room full of old teachers and bureaucrats or even acne-faced teenagers. It had to be someone you really wanted to leave an impression on, someone who already knew you but held more power. Perhaps a senior editor in your newspaper? I knew you were hungover because you refused to eat anything and have been overhydrating yourself all day, a feeling I am well accustomed to. How did I know you came here in a rush? The buttons on the back collar of your dress were done wrong, indicating you didn't have time to conceal the marks they've left on your neck. Of course, I can't possible claim to assume their gender...that's something I leave to mystery."
"Did you enjoy my little exposé, Ms. Skeeter?" Lyra asked, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs, resting her elbow on the armrest as if to say she had the upper-hand. Rita Skeeter had nothing to say, looking extremely anxious. The smile and smugness had vanished from her demeanor, replaced by fear.
"Ms. Marks...please...I could...lose my..." She began pleading.
"Have you ever played chess, Ms. Skeeter?" Lyra asked, cutting her off abruptly.
"I am familiar with the game." Rita replied.
"Then you'd know which piece is the most powerful, yes?"
"Yes."
"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page. After all, if women don't support women, the world would crumble, wouldn't you say?"
"Completely."
"Do you have any other questions for us?" Lyra asked as she stood abruptly.
"I'll do anything...I swear...just..." Rita begged shaken by the encounter.
"Stop using that name." Lyra said sharply. Rita nodded urgently.
"Lovely...I look forward to your delightful piece in the Prophet tomorrow. Come, Sarah." Said Lyra jovially, getting up and giving Rita Skeeter one last glance. The woman forced a tight and strained smile as they walked out of the room.
"How did it go?" Athena asked, her voice filled with anxiety, as Sarah and Lyra exited the office. Minerva had joined her sister.
"It...was weird...really...I honestly didn't understand half of it." Sarah admitted, looking puzzled as if she had just walked out of a complicated exam.
"What? Was it that bad?" Athena asked, her panic growing as she turned to Lyra, who shook her head, attempting to reassure her.
"I honestly think Lyra...threatened her..." Sarah mused, still baffled by the strange encounter.
"YOU THREATENED HER! OVER A PICTURE! LYRA!" Athena nearly yelled.
"Oh dear..." Minerva added, sounding anxious.
"Merlin...I didn't exactly threaten her..." Lyra offered.
"Then she asked her...if she liked chess? I don't know...it was really weird...you know how she gets all cryptic, Aunt Athena...then Rita Skeeter looked like she'd seen a ghost...Lyra told her never to call her that name again...and she just accepted it..." Sarah said, growing more confused the more she thought about it.
"Lyra! Tell me exactly what happened!"
"What?! I basically said...that I know she's skank, sleeping around for work, and that...if she says something inappropriate, news of her behavior might just find its way into the world. Of course, I was polite about it." Lyra replied, shrugging casually.
"Ohhh..."
Sarah realized, putting the pieces together.
"You're FUCKING brilliant...you know that!" Sarah exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief at her aunt.
"SARAH! Language!" Athena snapped as Lyra chuckled.
"Wait...how did you know all of this?" Minerva wondered.
"The art of deduction, Aunt Minerva...you were an auror...you understand it." Lyra said, patting Minerva on the shoulder.
"I think, I'm going to faint." Athena muttered.
"Stop being such a drama queen!" Lyra and Minerva chimed in unison, rolling their eyes at her.
Sarah burst into laughter, while Athena glared at the two women, who were now chuckling stupidly at her.
A few days later, Lyra sat at the breakfast table with the Daily Prophet open before her. The day had finally arrived—the day Rita Skeeter's exposé on the Triwizard Tournament and its champions was set to hit the print. As she perused the newspaper, Lyra couldn't help but notice that the entire publication was brimming with articles about the tournament, the first page was particularly covered by one individual: Harry Potter. Very little was mentioned about his mentor Alastor Moody.
Potter's face dominated the front page, and the article was far from flattering. Rita Skeeter had taken the liberty of weaving a sensational narrative around him, laden with exaggeration and misinformation. Lyra vividly recalled the somber expressions on Potter and Moody's faces after their interview. It was disheartening to see the boy constantly plagued by adversity, first thrust into the Triwizard Tournament against his will, and now slandered in the press.
Lyra glanced over to the Gryffindor table, where people gawked at Potter as though he had sprouted another head. With a sigh, she turned the page and delved into the short article featuring herself and Sarah Lincolns. Skeeter had gone into painstaking detail about how Sarah, as the luckiest of all champions, would inevitably rely solely on her famous family to navigate the competition. Lyra knew this was far from the truth. Sarah possessed remarkable talent in charms, concealed beneath her kind and gentle exterior. Her determination and cunning, as proved by her episode with Tessra Jones, spoke volumes about her true character.
Moving on to the next article, Lyra found a brief, ten-line piece about Zeus Shorthorn and Severus Snape. It was anything but complimentary, portraying them in a negative light without just cause. Skeeter questioned Zeus's motives, attributing them to his notorious pureblood family, while insinuating that Snape, as his mentor, was fostering a hidden agenda. Snape was labeled a "reformed Death Eater," yet his sincerity was called into question.
Lyra shifted her gaze to Snape, who met her eyes with an awkward and defensive expression. She noticed him retracting his hand under the table. Disgusted by his previous attempts to invade her mind, she watched him rise from his seat and leave his breakfast untouched.
Turning her attention to the next page, Lyra wasn't surprised to find a picture of herself alongside Albus Dumbledore, occupying half of the third page. The accompanying commentary highlighted the similarities in their techniques and achievements. It emphasized they had both peaked during their youth. It drew parallels between their sharp observation skills, dueling prowess, and intelligence. These were facts well-known to the world, and Lyra was thankful that Skeeter had refrained from using that idiotic name she detested. Although the article itself irked her, Lyra decided to overlook it. She had grown accustomed to being compared to various individuals, and as long as her accomplishments were recognized on The AIMS Wall Of Greatness, she could care less about such comparisons.
With a dismissive gesture, Lyra placed the open newspaper back on the table and took a sip from her goblet of pumpkin juice.
"I see, she used the picture..." Minerva, sitting beside her, commented softly.
"I am not surprised she did. It must have paid well..." Lyra replied with a hint of resignation.
"You know, many people would be thrilled to be featured next to him..." Minerva pointed out,
"Well, I am not like many people." Lyra scoffed, her response was swift and blunt. She shot another disdainful look at the image in the newspaper.
"That you are most certainly not." Minerva acknowledged her comment with an amused smile.
Lyra's eyes remained fixated on the picture as she picked up the newspaper again. There was an odd question that slipped out. She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the image closely.
"Is it...is it weird...that we have the same smirk?"
Minerva, slightly taken aback by the unexpected query, bit her lip, hesitant to respond. But Lyra quickly dismissed her own question with another.
"Does...does my hair really look like that?"
"It...it does."
"Hmm...I should probably get it cut..." Lyra mused casually, her gaze lingering on the image for a moment longer before she closed the newspaper.
Harry Potter walked past multiple people wearing those offensive badges. Everywhere he went, those badges with the words "POTTER STINKS!" mocked him.
What was even worse was that Rita Skeeter's article had just come out yesterday, and people were now either looking at him with pity or disgust. The Slytherins, however, were having a field day, taunting him.
He had even gotten into an altercation with Malfoy that morning, and Hermione had borne the brunt of it. So, he had lost both his best friends now—Ron, who was behaving like an absolute prat, and Hermione, who was spending her day in the hospital wing. All of this, while he had to grapple with what he had witnessed the previous night.
A nerve thumped in Harry's head, but he recalled Hermione telling him to ignore them. So, that's what Harry tried to do.
Finally, locating the person he was looking for, Harry slumped into the Transfiguration courtyard. He pulled his backpack closer and walked up to Zeus Shorthorn with determination.
"Zeus...do you have a moment?" He asked softly. The Slytherins surrounding the Head Boy glared at Harry like he was the lowest of the low.
"Read the badge, Potter!"
"Get lost, Potter...the real champion doesn't have time for you!"
"Are you going to cry, Potter...shall we fetch the tissues?"
They laughed menacingly at his expense. Zeus tried his best to silence them and pulled the younger champion aside, out of earshot.
"Potter...about the badges...I've told them not to..."
"Forget that..."
"The first task...it's dragons!"
"What?!"
"Yeah...dragons. They've got one for each of us. They've got nesting mothers, it seems, making them even more vicious...we're supposed to collect something...I don't know exactly what that means...but...this is all I know." Said Harry purposefully. Zeus Shorthorn seemed taken aback by what the boy had just revealed. Potter then turned around to leave. Zeus grabbed his backpack.
"Potter, wait! Why...why are you helping me?" Zeus asked in surprise.
"Karkaroff knows...so obviously, Krum knows too...and since I know...I thought it was only fair to tell you! It's dragons...and people die in this thing...and...I don't want anyone to die."
"Harry...Harry...slow down, mate!" Said Zeus as Harry took a deep breath.
"Does...does Sarah Lincolns know?" Zeus asked as Harry frowned in thought.
"No...I don't think she has any idea." Harry replied, shaking his head.
The two boys now turned to look at Sarah Lincolns, who was in the courtyard talking to her friends.
"Should we tell her? I mean...she's the only one who doesn't know...and she's been nothing but nice to me...to Neville...to..." Harry rambled.
"We should. Of course!" Said Zeus, smiling proudly at Harry's kindness.
"I'll speak to her in the common room...I've got to get to Transfiguration...before Professor McGonagall follows through on her threat to turn me into a pocket watch." Harry said, and Zeus laughed.
"A classic threat, she has yet to act upon..." Zeus added with a chuckle. Harry smirked.
"Thank you, Harry!" Zeus said sincerely. Potter nodded and began walking away.
"Potter! Hey, Potter!" Called the young blonde boy from the tree. Harry clenched the strap of his backpack in anger as he turned to look at Malfoy.
"Why so tense, Potter? Scared because your mummy and daddy can't save you?" Malfoy taunted, quoting the already misquoted piece by Rita Skeeter that had come out that morning. Harry began walking away.
"Hold on, Potter...I need to know something. My father and I have a bet, you see...I said you won't last ten minutes in this tournament. He reckons you won't last five! What do you think?" Draco laughed wickedly.
That really hit Harry's last nerve. He threw his bag down and walked towards Malfoy with a threatening demeanor.
"Shut up, Malfoy! I don't give a damn what your father thinks. He's vile and cruel, and you're just pathetic!" Harry yelled, his wand at the ready, and Malfoy had his wand up too. They glared at each other. Harry scoffed and then turned around to pick up his bag. Malfoy raised his wand and cast a jinx at Harry.
"Protego!"
Harry turned around to see his protector, Sarah Lincolns, who had stepped in front of him. She effortlessly deflected the spell as if it were nothing. For the first time, Harry realized that she was a force to be reckoned with. Sure, she usually seemed like a harmless and sweet girl. Harry wondered if Rita Skeeter's article about her being a Helpless little spoilt rich girl had affected her. But right now, the way she stood between him and Malfoy, Harry understood, that Sarah was beyond that, even if she seemed that way, there was a lot more to her than her family and connections. Harry could see, why the Goblet had chosen her and not anyone else.
"Attacking someone when their back is turned is a coward's move!" Sarah snapped at Malfoy, who glared at her.
"Can't hide behind your American girlfriend forever, Potter...going to make her compete in the first task for you too?" Malfoy said snidely.
"That's enough, Malfoy..." Said Zeus, approaching Malfoy to confront him.
People began to gather around.
"This bitch wants to duel, Zeus...she's still standing there...protecting Precious Potter...he's the one who stole your glory...if I were you, I'd be ready to take them down, cousin!" Spat Malfoy, glaring daggers at Harry and Sarah.
"No one is dueling anyone!" Snapped Zeus as the crowd now started booing him.
"Why not? Are you scared, Shorthorn?" Called someone from the crowd.
"Hogwarts are a bunch of cowards!" Shouted a Durmstrang student.
Suddenly, the crowd erupted into yelling and screaming at each other.
"People! There's nothing happening here. We're not savages. Malfoy...Potter...apologize to each other and settle this!" Said Zeus, looking at both boys, who glared at him with hatred. The crowd once more turned against Zeus in unison.
"You're really a disgrace, Shorthorn...fight her! If not for your cousin...then for the sake of Slytherin!" Snapped Malfoy, looking at Zeus with disgust.
"I am not fighting a girl!" Zeus snapped, but he quickly realized the implications of his words and turned to Sarah, shaking his head.
"No...no...I didn't mean it that way..."
"I can beat you in seconds!" Sarah retorted as the crowd cheered her on, and even Harry joined in.
"Please...this is ridiculous! Sarah...come on...I didn't mean it like that...I'm sorry..." Zeus said, while Malfoy playfully pushed him forward.
"I am NOT dueling anyone!" Zeus thundered at his housemates, who were now chanting his name.
"Why not? She's clearly not skilled for this...her stance is poor, and she's not holding her wand properly...a simple disarming charm, and she's done for." Announced a baritone voice, its owner clearly enjoying the attention. The crowd fell silent. Zeus looked at his mentor, who the crowd had respectfully cleared a path for, all eyes on him to see what he would say.
"I am not fighting her...she's another champion...this tournament is about camaraderie...if you're so keen on a duel...fight her yourself!" Zeus snapped loudly at Professor Snape, who merely rolled his eyes in response.
"Pity. You'd win...especially, seeing how evident her negligible understanding of dueling is...probably never even cast a spell at another person in Defense class, have you, Ms. Lincolns?" Snape asked sardonically, smirking at her. The Slytherins collectively booed her, and Sarah sucked in her cheeks, determined not to let them get to her. She had cast a spell or two—or maybe five—but that didn't mean she hadn't watched her aunt practice in their backyard from time to time, or listened to her recount her duels with dark wizards. Listening to all those tales of glory had to count for something, right?
"I have a lot of field experience...do you think that counts?" Came a confident voice from the other side. Snape, who had been enjoying the attention and reveling in the chants of his name, paused to look at the speaker. The crowd once more parted, and Lyra Marks walked towards Sarah Lincolns and Harry Potter. She stood next to her niece, facing Snape head-on.
"This is a bad idea..." Zeus hissed at his mentor, but Snape didn't seem inclined to listen.
Snape disregarded him, his wand discreetly sliding into his hand from up his sleeve. His challenging gaze locked onto Lyra, who scoffed at him, further stoking his anger. Who did she think she was?
"She's a member of the 27 Coven, Professor...what are you doing...?" Zeus inquired, his voice heavy with concern.
"There is no one to judge..." Snape sneered at Lyra, their gazes locked in a silent battle.
"Aunt Lyra...don't..." Sarah whispered, tugging at her aunt's shirt, hoping she would exhibit maturity and disengage from the confrontation. But Lyra was not one to back down from a duel.
"You know the AIMS policy on bullies...we don't tolerate such behavior." Lyra reminded Sarah, withdrawing her wand from its holster.
"I'll judge this!" Moody volunteered, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, much to the astonishment of Sarah and Zeus.
"Still got a chance to run, Mr. Snape... I'd advise you do so," Lyra taunted him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
However, Snape did not take kindly to her comment. He was not one to shy away from a fight.
"Contenders must bow," Moody declared firmly, but the two adversaries merely inclined their heads, albeit unwillingly.
"Alright then...you want to play dirty...the first one to get the other off their feet wins." Moody announced, a cunning smile playing on his lips as his magical eye darted between Snape and Lyra.
The two contenders continued to glare at each other, neither making a move, their wands held ready in attack stances but taking no offensive action. They simply stood there, locked in a standoff, both waiting for the other to make the first move.
"What... what are they doing... how's Snape going to win if he just stands there?" Draco voiced his annoyance, prompting Zeus to shush him.
"A duel isn't about thoughtless spells; it's about who can outmaneuver the other mentally. Right now, they're both waiting for the other to reveal their hand. The first move can make or break the entire duel." Zeus explained in a hushed tone.
"How boring..." Draco grumbled.
"If one of you doesn't do anything... I'm calling this off!" growled Moody, mirroring Draco's sentiment.
The duellists remained resolute, neither yielding to the mounting pressure. The crowd eagerly anticipated their next move.
Lyra focused intently on Snape, avoiding eye contact to prevent him from attempting to invade her thoughts once more. Her gaze remained locked on his hand, a single twitch being all she needed to disarm him. However, Snape was skilled and had not yet fallen for her trap.
Snape's attention briefly wavered, and in that fleeting moment of distraction, his wand shifted a mere centimeter to the left. It was the opening Lyra had been waiting for; his wand cast a spell perilously close to her face, but she was already in motion.
"Rusty, are you?" Lyra thought with a smug grin, seizing the opportunity.
Swiftly, she sidestepped to her right, and the duel escalated, unleashing a torrent of spells that sent flashes of light and cascades of colors through the air.
"Confringo!"
"Diffindo!"
"Obscuro!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Reducto!"
"Stupefy!"
"Tarantallegra!"
"Avis!"
"Bombarda!"
"Confundo!"
A volley of spells streaked back and forth between them, the rapid exchange leaving both of them panting for breath. While they had relentlessly pushed each other around the dueling arena, none of the basic casts had succeeded in bringing either of them to their knees.
Their stamina was waning, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they tirelessly defended themselves against the ceaseless barrage of magical assaults. Yet, neither showed any sign of wavering or retreat; their determination remained unshaken.
"Levicorpus!" Snape sneered, and Lyra crouched to evade the spell.
"Snape!" Moody warned sternly.
"Cheat!" Lyra accused him with a snarl, making Snape scoff. They had forsaken the rules; this was no longer a duel but a battle of egos, pride and wits.
"You're playing dirty!" Lyra declared, her voice laced with frustration. If he wanted to fight unfairly, she would respond in kind.
As soon as she crouched to avoid Snape's spell, she aimed her wand at the ground.
"Seismos!" She incanted.
The ground around them trembled unexpectedly, catching Snape off guard. He struggled to maintain his balance, affording Lyra the opening she had been waiting for.
"Volamucus!" Lyra declared, directing her wand at him.
A grotesque, mucus-covered bat erupted from Snape's nose, much to his horror and the amusement of the onlookers. Lyra wasn't finished yet, determined to put him down. She decided to make this a little more fun.
"Impedimenta!" She cast, and Snape tried to dodge it, but he wasn't quick enough. The spell struck him, sending him tumbling backward, though he had not been taken off his feet.
"Flipendo!" Lyra snapped, her wand flourishing playfully. Snape was sent spinning mid-air, his robes twisting around him as he fell with a resounding thud on his back.
"Expelliarmus!" Lyra announced, her final spell, disarming Snape as his wand flew out of his grasp. She swiftly caught it.
The duel had concluded, and Snape had been defeated, his pride bruised and his back battered.
"Right...I'm not even surprised...Ms. Marks wins!" Moody declared, and the AIMS students erupted into cheers.
Lyra couldn't help but scoff and flash a triumphant smirk as she observed the Slytherins and Hogwarts students, who had previously been fervently cheering on their professor, now wore dejected expressions. Zeus stepped in, attempting to assist his defeated professor by dusting off the man's disheveled robes.
As she watched Snape collect himself, Lyra bit her lip, experiencing a twinge of sympathy for her opponent. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to challenge a member of the formidable 27 Coven. It seemed a decision marked by either extreme foolishness or an excessive dose of egotism.
"Are you all right, Mr. Snape?" Lyra inquired, calling out to him as she extended an olive branch by returning his wand. She genuinely meant no harm. She honestly, wondered why he disliked her so much?
Snape's response, however, was a glare, icy and disdainful.
"Go on...no hard feelings...good game..." She offered, her tone reflecting a genuine attempt to smooth things over.
But Snape's retort was anything but conciliatory.
"Save your pity, Marks...you'll need it for your champion in the first task." His voice dripped with derision as he muttered.
Lyra's patience had worn paper-thin. She snapped at Snape, her voice edged with anger, and the watching students could feel the tension crackling in the air.
"What the fuck is your problem with me?" She spat at him, her eyes narrowing.
Snape's veneer of composure finally crumbled, his sneer revealing a loss of control.
"The problem is that you think you're above everyone else, but in fact you're nothing but an immature little bitch." He lashed back, his voice dripping with venom.
Those words hit Lyra, striking a raw nerve within her. She had endured similar insults in the past, and she refused to let Snape's offensive words stand unchallenged. Her eyes blazed with fury, her voice dropping to a low, threatening tone.
"Say that again...I fucking dare you..."
Snape, either too obstinate or too arrogant to back down, began to repeat his insult.
"An immature little bitc..."
Before he could finish his words, Lyra exploded. With a swift, powerful punch, she struck him squarely in the face, the impact resounded with a loud crack, sending him stumbling backward, his hand instinctively clutching his now-bleeding nose.
Athena's voice thundered through the chaos, her astonishment and anger evident in her words.
"MS. MARKS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Teaching the teacher..." Lyra replied, flexing her hand, which stung from the force of the punch.
Athena shot her niece a stern glare before hurrying over to Snape's side. Minerva joined her sister in tending to the injured professor. Soon, Dumbledore arrived to assess the situation and then escorted Snape to the hospital, thundering at the students to return to their studies.
"Go to Minerva's office and stay there!" Snapped Athena as she rushed after Dumbledore and Snape.
Lyra rolled her eyes and turned to find her niece and Potter engaged in conversation. A sense of dread gnawed at her. Had her anger jeopardized Sarah's position in the tournament? Could they take away her mentorship for this incident? What consequences would Sarah face if that happened?
Lyra cursed her impulsive temper. Sarah noticed her aunt's concern and approached her with a proud smile.
"I'm sorry you're in trouble because of me." Sarah said gently as she walked up to Lyra.
"I've been in worse situations." Lyra replied shortly.
"Sarah, I fear I have failed to set a good example for you. I feel like I might have really messed up this time." Lyra admitted anxiously.
"Lyra, no. You protected me. He was being a bully, and you're right. I just wish you hadn't punched him." Sarah said, placing her hand in Lyra's.
"I know...I just...I got angry, and..." Lyra trailed off, struggling to explain her actions.
"I know." Sarah replied soothingly, drawing on the wisdom she'd gained from her father's experiences with his sister.
"I should go." Lyra sighed.
Sarah hugged her aunt around the waist, and Lyra could feel the warmth of her affection.
"I love you, Lyra! Thank you...for being here!" Sarah declared.
Lyra licked her lips, her anxiety diminishing slightly. She had indeed punched Snape, but he had provoked her with his words. This was his fault, not hers. He had crossed the line to begin with, by trying to invade her mind.
"I...love you too, Sarah!" Lyra replied, placing a gentle hand on her niece's head. They parted ways, each carrying their own worries and thoughts.
AN/- Would love to know what you'll think of the story so far. Please review :)