Lost Eyes of Magic Chapter 28: Clash of Prodigies, a harry potter fanfic

Lost Eyes of Magic: Chapter 28

Clash of Prodigies

The excitement in the air was palpable as students from all years gathered in the Hogwarts dueling hall. For the first time, the upper years had joined the crowd, their curiosity piqued by the semi-finals of the first-to-third-year duels. The energy of the room was electric, a hum of anticipation rippling through the students as they filled the seats surrounding the singular dueling platform. Unlike the earlier rounds, which had featured three platforms to accommodate multiple matches at once, today only one remained, its polished surface gleaming under the enchanted torches.

The first and second-year semi-finals had already concluded, drawing cheers and admiration from the crowd. But now, it was time for the third-year matches, the most anticipated of the day. The lots had been drawn, and the pairings were set: Harry Potter versus Neville Longbottom, and Daphne Greengrass versus Draco Malfoy.

Harry stood near the edge of the platform, his expression calm, though beneath his quiet demeanor lay a different man from the one who had stepped into the dueling arena weeks ago. A lot had changed since his first match.

Fourteen rituals had been performed since then, advancing him well into his fourth layer of the ritual array. He had completed nine rituals on this layer, which focused on strength and recovery—both physical and magical. His magical core pulsed with a power and stability he could hardly have imagined when he started this journey.

The final ritual of his third layer, however, had been a game-changer in ways he was only beginning to understand. The combination of two key rituals—Resonance of Harmony and Soul's Tether—had drastically enhanced his perception.

Resonance of Harmony allowed his tactile and magical senses to synchronize seamlessly, amplifying his awareness of the world around him. Meanwhile, Soul's Tether refined his tactile senses to their peak, granting him the ability to feel the connections between people, objects, and magic itself. Together, they unlocked a new way of "seeing" for Harry, one that far surpassed his previous reliance on sensing magical cores.

No longer was his perception limited to the glow of magical cores. Now, he could see magic itself, its currents and flows weaving through the environment like rivers of light. The threads of magic that bound people to one another, the wards humming faintly in the background, even the residual traces of spells cast earlier in the day—all of it was laid bare to him.

But that wasn't all. Through experimentation, Harry had discovered something extraordinary. By pulsing his magic outward from his body, he could use it to interact with the physical world in a way that allowed him to see more than just magic. When the magic pulse bounced off solid objects—walls, people, or items—it returned to him like an echo. This echo gave him the outlines of everything it touched, allowing him to perceive shapes with startling clarity. For the first time in his life, Harry could truly see the world around him.

However, the ability required him to actively pulse his magic, a deliberate effort that demanded focus and energy. It wasn't something he could use constantly, but it was a tool—a powerful one—that added yet another layer to his growing arsenal.

As he stood at the edge of the dueling platform, waiting for the matches to begin, Harry's mind was calm, his senses sharpened. He wasn't just ready to duel; he was ready to dominate.

Across the hall, he could sense Neville's magical core—steady, strong, and brimming with determination. Daphne and Draco stood nearby, their own magical presences a familiar hum to him. This wasn't just a competition anymore; it was a test of everything they had worked toward.

Daphne's progress in her magic had been nothing short of startling since Harry had given her the scroll on Frostborn magic. What had started as a curiosity had quickly become a transformation, one that Harry could sense more clearly with each passing day. She was beginning to undergo the change of becoming a Frostborn witch, a process that was reshaping her very magical core.

Her core, once familiar and steady, had started to shift in hue and sensation, its energy evolving into something entirely new. Every time Harry reached out to sense it, he was struck by its distinct coldness. It wasn't the kind of cold that felt distant or emotionless—it was sharp and invigorating, like the bite of winter air. It sent shivers down his spine, not from discomfort, but from the sheer potency of the transformation. Yet, despite the chill that now defined her magic, the emotional side of Daphne's core remained intact. Whenever he was near her, that part of her radiated warmth, a comforting counterpoint to the frost that otherwise defined her growing power.

Neville, on the other hand, had taken a different path, but one no less extraordinary. The teachings of Verdant Harmony had transformed him completely. His magical core had deepened and matured into something unique and vibrant. When Harry reached out to sense it, he was struck by its richness—a core that felt deeply rooted, steady, and alive, like the heart of an ancient forest.

Here's the expanded excerpt:

Neville, on the other hand, had taken a different path, but one no less extraordinary. The teachings of Verdant Harmony had transformed him completely. His magical core, once unremarkable, had deepened and matured into something unique and vibrant. When Harry reached out to sense it, he was struck by its richness—a core that felt deeply rooted, steady, and alive, like the heart of an ancient forest.

Harry was still learning to associate the hues of magical cores with colors, a skill that was developing slowly as his perception of magic evolved. With Daphne, he assumed her Frostborn core to be the color blue, its icy resonance fitting that hue perfectly in his mind. Neville's core, meanwhile, felt undeniably green—a shade that matched the vitality and growth that defined Verdant Harmony. It made sense to him; nature itself was synonymous with green, after all.

That was as far as Harry had gotten with his interpretations. The concept of core hues remained a mystery to him in many ways, but the associations he was beginning to form helped him navigate the complex world of magic he now perceived.

Standing on the edge of the dueling platform, Harry couldn't help but reflect on how far his friends had come. Daphne, with her Frostborn magic, was becoming something formidable and rare—a witch whose very presence carried the strength of ice and winter. Neville, with Verdant Harmony, was transforming into a wizard whose connection to nature was unparalleled. Together, they were evolving in ways that made them not just powerful, but unique.

For Harry, it was both inspiring and a reminder of the stakes. They weren't ordinary students anymore; they were growing into forces that would one day shape the magical world.

Draco, meanwhile, was a different story entirely. Unlike Daphne and Neville, whose magical growth was on full display, Draco chose to keep his strength hidden from everyone except Harry. It was a deliberate choice, one rooted in strategy. Harry understood that for Draco, secrecy was as much a weapon as any spell he could cast.

Draco had begun performing his rituals, though he was still working his way through the first layer. His approach was methodical, each step taken with the precision and care that Harry had come to expect from him. While Harry was already on his fourth layer, he knew Draco would complete his first layer and likely finish all seven layers of his array before Harry reached the end of his thirteenth. That was simply Draco's nature—once he committed to something, he pursued it with relentless efficiency.

Harry had also entrusted Draco with a unique form of magic, one he believed was perfectly suited to the Slytherin. The magic had been chosen carefully, tailored to Draco's strengths and temperament. However, even Harry hadn't yet seen it in action. Draco had kept its nature tightly guarded, and though Harry hadn't pressed him to reveal it, he could sense the potential building within his core.

The change in Draco's magical core was subtle, far less pronounced than the transformations taking place in Daphne and Neville. This wasn't because Draco lacked talent, but because his attention was divided. While Daphne and Neville focused the majority of their efforts on mastering their new magics, Draco's efforts were split between his rituals and the foundational work of learning his new power. The shift in his core was there, though—a quiet but undeniable evolution, like the first flickers of a flame waiting to ignite.

Harry could feel the flickering strength within Draco's core whenever he reached out, the steady pulse of his magic coiled tightly like a serpent poised to strike. It lacked the immediate impact of Daphne's icy chill or Neville's rooted vitality, but Harry recognized it for what it was: controlled, dangerous, and waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

As he reflected on the changes in his friends, Harry couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and curiosity. Daphne and Neville were transforming in ways that were impossible to ignore, their growth obvious to anyone paying attention. Draco, however, was a different kind of force—one that moved in the shadows, hidden but no less powerful.

It was a reminder that while each of them was growing stronger, they were doing so in their own ways, at their own pace. And when the time came for Draco to show what he had been building, Harry had no doubt it would be impressive. For now, though, Draco's strength remained a mystery, a secret known only to the two of them.

As the crowd buzzed with anticipation, Remus Lupin stepped onto the platform, his presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone in the room. His calm, steady voice carried easily over the murmurs of the gathered students, silencing them as he addressed the four semi-finalists standing near the edge of the platform.

"First and foremost," Remus began, his tone warm and genuine, "I want to congratulate the four of you for making it to the semi-finals. Each of you has shown exemplary skill and determination throughout this tournament, and I am certain that every one of you has a bright future ahead of you."

Harry, Daphne, Neville, and Draco stood in a loose line, their postures varying but their focus unwavering. Daphne offered a confident smile, her hands clasped behind her back. Neville shifted slightly but held his chin high, his magical core steady and resolute. Draco's smirk was subtle, but the sharp gleam in his eyes spoke of his readiness. Harry remained calm and poised, his senses fully tuned to the magic and energy swirling in the room.

Remus's gaze swept across them, lingering on each in turn before continuing. "Today's matches will determine who moves on to the finals. This is not only a test of your magical abilities but of your composure and strategy as well. Remember, victory is earned not just through strength, but through how you use it."

The crowd murmured softly in agreement, the upper years watching with keen interest as the semi-finalists exchanged brief glances.

"The first match will begin shortly," Remus announced, turning his focus to Harry and Neville. "Harry, Neville, please take your places."

Neville took a deep breath, his core flaring faintly as he stepped forward, his boots tapping lightly against the polished platform. Harry followed, his movements steady and deliberate, his senses locked onto the magical energy emanating from the room.

The two friends faced each other across the platform, their postures relaxed but their focus sharp. There was a moment of quiet as they settled into position, the weight of the moment hanging heavily in the air. The crowd leaned forward in their seats, the tension building as they waited for the duel to begin.

Remus stepped back, giving them a brief, encouraging nod before raising his hand. "Duelers, ready yourselves," he called, his voice clear and steady.

Neville stepped onto the dueling platform, his movements calm and deliberate as he took his place opposite Harry. His posture shifted subtly, his feet planting firmly on the ground, his knees bending slightly as he assumed the Rooted Stance of his magic. Harry could feel the shift in Neville's magical core immediately—it flared with a steady, grounded strength, its energy resonating with the very earth beneath them. It was a testament to how far Neville had come, both in skill and confidence.

Harry took a slow, measured breath as he raised his wand, his expression composed but focused. He knew he would have to take this duel more seriously than any of the others he had fought so far. Of everyone here, Neville was now the strongest and most skilled duelist. His once-unremarkable core had grown into something vast and formidable, and with the power of Verdant Resonance amplifying his spells, Neville was a force to be reckoned with.

Harry's senses sharpened as he felt the waves of magic radiating from Neville, steady and unyielding like an ancient forest. The rooted stance was designed for defense, for withstanding attacks and creating opportunities for counterstrikes. Harry knew better than to underestimate it—Neville's precision and control had been honed to near-perfection in recent weeks, and his newfound confidence made him a dangerous opponent.

But Harry wasn't a pushover. He had grown just as much, if not more, since the tournament began. His rituals had taken his magical strength and resilience to new heights, and his greatest weapon remained his unparalleled senses. He could feel the flow of magic in the room, the faint vibrations of energy in the air, the tension in Neville's core as it coiled like a spring, ready to release its power.

Most importantly, Harry had his unique perception. His ability to "see" magic, combined with his newly refined sensory pulses, allowed him to map the battlefield in ways no one else could. He didn't need to rely on sight to predict Neville's movements—he could feel the intent behind them, the way magic thrummed and shifted before a spell was cast.

The two friends stood opposite each other, the air between them crackling with unspoken determination. For Harry, this was more than a duel—it was a test of how far he had come and how much he had left to achieve. For Neville, it was a chance to prove that he was no longer the shy, uncertain boy from their first year.

The crowd watched in tense silence, the anticipation thick in the air as they waited for the signal to begin. Harry and Neville both knew what was at stake—not just the semi-finals, but the respect and acknowledgment they had earned through their growth and effort.

Remus Lupin stood at the edge of the platform, raising his hand. "Begin!" he called, his voice ringing clear through the hall.

And with that, the duel was underway.

The moment the duel began, Harry moved first, his wand a blur as he sent out a chain of spells wordlessly. His strategy was clear: overwhelm Neville's defenses with sheer volume. Harry knew that one of the key strengths of Neville's Flowing Stance, derived from Verdant Harmony, was its ability to absorb and reflect spells. But its limitation was also its strength—while it could handle more than one spell at a time, its efficiency faltered against a rapid barrage. By the time Neville reflected one spell, another would already be on him.

Neville, however, was not so easily overwhelmed. With a sharp flick of his wand, the ground beneath him seemed to come alive. Thick tree roots burst upward, twisting and coiling in front of him to form an impromptu wall. Harry's spells slammed into the barrier, sending splinters flying in all directions, the crack of magic on wood echoing through the hall. The crowd gasped, and even some of the upper years leaned forward in their seats, eyes wide with awe.

But Neville didn't stop there. With another motion, the roots unwrapped themselves, their movements fluid and deliberate, as though they had minds of their own. Sharp thorns sprouted from their surfaces, gleaming like tiny daggers, before shooting forward in a deadly swarm aimed directly at Harry.

Harry responded without hesitation, his wand raising smoothly to his lips. With a sharp exhale, he whispered an incantation, and from the tip of his wand erupted a serpent made of fire. The blazing viper coiled and twisted through the air, its molten body illuminating the platform as it surged forward. It collided with the wooden thorns mid-flight, incinerating them to ash before barreling onward toward Neville with unrelenting heat and speed.

The professors, who had been watching the match with growing fascination, exchanged concerned glances. Flitwick waddled over to Remus, his usual cheer replaced with a flicker of unease. "Remus," he whispered urgently, his tone serious, "should we stop the duel? I know we didn't explicitly ban these types of spells, but… these are dangerous for third years. Spells like this—most adults would struggle to wield them safely."

Remus didn't immediately respond, his eyes fixed on the duel. He studied Harry and Neville closely, noting the sharp focus and unwavering confidence in their movements. Neither boy showed signs of panic or hesitation; every action was deliberate, calculated. Finally, Remus shook his head, his voice low but firm. "No," he said. "They both seem confident and fully in control of their magic. I'll allow it to continue—for now."

Flitwick frowned but nodded reluctantly, his gaze returning to the duel. "Still," he murmured, "it does beg the question. How do third years know spells that even experienced adults would struggle with?"

Remus didn't answer immediately, his thoughts drifting as he watched the flames dance across the platform. He had his suspicions, of course—Harry's unique education, Neville's mastery of forbidden nature magic, and the intense drive of both boys to push beyond their limits. But even with those factors, what he was witnessing went beyond mere talent. It was something extraordinary, something he had rarely seen, even among the most gifted students.

On the platform, the fire serpent continued its relentless charge, coiling through the air with deadly intent. Neville's gaze sharpened, his wand moving in a fluid arc as he prepared to counter. The duel was far from over, and the entire hall sat on the edge of their seats, breathless with anticipation as two of the most remarkable students in Hogwarts clashed in a display of magic that defied their years.

Neville waved his wand with a sweeping motion, and the effect was immediate. Vegetation erupted from the cracks in the stone floor, spreading rapidly like a wave. Flowers of every color bloomed amidst the greenery, while grass and weeds sprang up in lush, vibrant patches. Even the ceiling wasn't spared, as vines snaked down from above, weaving intricate patterns and sprouting delicate flowers. The room seemed to come alive, transformed into a miniature garden within moments.

The crowd watched in stunned silence, their awe tempered with confusion. The display was beautiful, but how did it help Neville? Harry, however, understood immediately. His smirk was subtle but full of approval. Neville wasn't just creating a spectacle; he was preparing for something far more strategic.

The fire serpent, relentless in its pursuit, burned through the root wall protecting Neville, its molten body sending embers scattering into the newly grown foliage. As the serpent lunged toward Neville, the boy did something that left the crowd gasping. He held out his palms, steady and resolute, as though inviting the serpent toward him.

When the fiery construct struck, Neville's magical core flared with a deep resonance that Harry could feel from across the platform. The serpent didn't harm him; instead, it seemed to dissolve, its flames swirling into his hands and being absorbed into his very being. The onlookers stared, bewildered, as Neville's body radiated a faint, fiery glow.

But Neville wasn't done. With a swish of both hands, he released the energy he had absorbed. The flames burst outward in a perfect ring, radiating in all directions. The circle of fire surged across the platform, its heat intense but controlled. As the flames spread, the vibrant vegetation Neville had summoned began to wither and die. Flowers wilted, grass turned brown, and the vines hanging from the ceiling crumbled into ash, their life force extinguished in an instant.

Harry nodded, a faint glimmer of admiration in his smirk. "Smart," he murmured under his breath. It was another of Verdant Resonance's abilities—a powerful but costly technique. Neville could sacrifice the life of nearby vegetation to dispel or absorb magical attacks. It wasn't just a defense mechanism; it was a reflection of the balance that defined Verdant Harmony. Life could be taken to protect, to heal, or even to counter greater threats.

Harry understood the underlying brilliance. The plants Neville had grown weren't just for show—they were a resource. They gave him the edge he needed to handle Harry's fire serpent without exhausting his own core. And, if necessary, Neville could use that same life force to heal himself or others, trading one life for another in a cycle of renewal.

The crowd, meanwhile, erupted into murmurs, their amazement growing as they tried to piece together what they had just witnessed. Even the professors exchanged glances, some with wide-eyed awe, others with barely concealed concern.

On the platform, Neville's stance remained firm, his magical core steady as the last embers of the fire ring faded away. He raised his wand again, his gaze locked on Harry, determination shining in his eyes. Harry straightened, his smirk widening slightly as he readied himself for what came next.

The platform trembled slightly as the duel escalated, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Neville's Verdant Magic radiated from him in waves, his core a deep, resonant hum that seemed to align with the very pulse of the earth. Around them, the remnants of Neville's earlier vegetation still clung to life in scattered patches, while the scorched stone of the platform bore the marks of their fierce exchanges.

Harry stood opposite him, his wand loose in his hand, his posture relaxed but coiled with readiness. His senses reached out, feeling the ebb and flow of magic in the room. The tendrils of Neville's Verdant Magic were everywhere, weaving through the air, the ground, and even the faintest cracks in the platform. Harry's mind raced, calculating his next move as Neville raised his wand.

Neville struck first. With a sharp slash of his wand, vines erupted from the floor once more, but this time they came in thick, coiling masses, snaking toward Harry with relentless speed. Each vine bristled with sharp thorns, their tips glinting with a faint, poisonous sheen.

Harry reacted instantly. He flicked his wand upward, conjuring a shimmering barrier of translucent silver—a modified Protego Maxima. The vines slammed against the barrier, their momentum sending ripples through the magical shield. But Neville's control was masterful. The vines didn't retreat; instead, they began to split and weave around the edges of the shield, searching for gaps.

Harry smirked. "Nice try, Neville," he muttered under his breath. He swiped his wand in a broad arc, and the shield transformed into a burst of blinding silver light. The vines recoiled momentarily, but that was all the opening Harry needed.

With a flick of his wrist, Harry summoned a gust of wind that carried the light's lingering energy, scattering Neville's vines and creating enough space for Harry to launch his counterattack. He pointed his wand downward and murmured an incantation, his voice low and deliberate. The stone beneath Neville's feet shifted, rippling like water before solidifying into jagged, crystalline spikes that shot upward.

Neville reacted quickly, his wand carving a wide circle in the air. The roots beneath him surged upward, forming a protective dome that absorbed the impact of the spikes. But instead of resting, Neville pushed further, his dome exploding outward in a shower of splinters. The fragments shot toward Harry like shrapnel, forcing him to twist and pivot, his heightened senses guiding him through the onslaught.

As the last of the splinters scattered, Neville raised his hand, and the ground erupted again. This time, a massive tree trunk shot upward, its bark shimmering with an emerald glow. Neville used the trunk as a pivot, leaping onto it and sending a series of vines cascading downward like a living waterfall.

Harry grinned, his wand tracing a complex pattern in the air. Flames roared to life, forming a swirling vortex that met the descending vines head-on. The fire consumed the vegetation in a blinding flash, but Neville wasn't done. With a sharp gesture, he drew the moisture from the air around them, dousing Harry's flames with an abrupt wave of mist.

The crowd gasped, the dynamic clash leaving them on the edge of their seats. Harry tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening as he sensed Neville's next move. The Slytherin in him admired the cunning and precision of Neville's strategy, but this was far from over.

"Alright, Longbottom," Harry muttered, raising his wand. "Let's see how you handle this."

Harry's wand moved in quick, fluid motions, tracing intricate runes in the air. The ground beneath Neville shifted again, but this time it didn't attack him directly. Instead, the stone smoothed and morphed into a reflective surface, catching the faint glimmer of light from the enchanted torches overhead. Neville's movements paused for a fraction of a second, his reflection staring back at him with an almost eerie clarity.

The reflective surface rippled, and out of it emerged shimmering, translucent copies of Harry. Each one moved fluidly, their motions synchronized with Harry's, creating an illusion that surrounded Neville completely.

Neville's eyes narrowed, his wand slashing through the air as he sent a wave of thorn-covered vines toward the illusions. But the copies didn't falter; they moved seamlessly, weaving around the attacks as if alive. Neville growled under his breath, his core flaring as he summoned his Verdant Stance. The ground trembled, and a massive burst of roots and thorns exploded outward, consuming the illusions in one fell swoop.

But as the dust cleared, the real Harry stood unharmed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Impressive," he said. "But try this."

With a sharp motion, Harry pulsed his magic outward, the invisible force bouncing off the platform and surrounding vegetation. The pulse returned to him, mapping the entire area with precision. Using the feedback, Harry moved with impossible fluidity, dodging Neville's next attack with ease. He raised his wand, conjuring a series of fiery serpents that slithered toward Neville in an intricate dance.

Neville countered by raising a wall of brambles, but Harry's serpents twisted and coiled, slipping through the gaps with unnerving precision. Neville shifted tactics, sacrificing the remaining vegetation around him to create a burst of life energy that extinguished the serpents mid-flight.

The platform was now a battlefield of charred vines, scorched earth, and shifting stone, the remnants of their clash leaving the audience in awe. The professors exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of concern and admiration. This wasn't just a duel; it was a showcase of creativity and mastery beyond their years.

As the dust settled, Harry and Neville stood facing each other, both breathing heavily but unwavering. The crowd erupted into applause.

The crowd barely had time to catch its breath before Harry and Neville launched into their next barrage. The atmosphere in the dueling hall was electric, the crackling hum of magic filling the space as the two combatants escalated their attacks.

Neville moved first, his wand slicing through the air with a fluid grace that sent thick, gnarled roots bursting from the ground once more. This time, they weren't just defensive—they coiled together, twisting into massive, thorn-covered whips that lashed toward Harry with frightening speed.

Harry was ready. His wand traced a sharp rune in the air, its glowing lines pulsing with power before erupting into a barrier of shimmering gold. The roots struck the barrier, sparks flying as their thorns scraped against the glowing shield. But Harry didn't just defend—his other hand moved to inscribe another rune on the platform beneath his feet, its lines radiating outward in a jagged, circular pattern. The ground around him erupted with sharp, crystalline spikes that shot toward Neville in an unrelenting wave.

Neville countered, his magic resonating with the platform itself. The roots and vines around him writhed and thickened, forming a shield-like dome that absorbed the impact of the spikes. But Harry's assault didn't stop there. With a quick flick of his wand, the runic circle beneath him glowed brighter, and the crystalline spikes shattered, their shards transforming into a swarm of tiny, dart-like projectiles that rained down on Neville's defenses.

The air buzzed with the intensity of the duel, and the professors exchanged worried glances. Flitwick, his wand already drawn, waddled quickly toward the edge of the platform. "This is getting dangerous," he muttered, raising his voice. "We need to step in before someone gets hurt."

Remus held up a hand, his expression torn between awe and concern. "Let's not be hasty," he said, though his tone lacked confidence. He glanced toward the students, many of whom had already drawn their wands to assist in protecting the audience. Older years stood at the ready, casting protective shields along the front rows to guard against any stray spells. Despite their caution, not a single person looked away from the duel.

On the platform, Neville retaliated with ferocity. With a deep breath, he drew magic from the last remnants of vegetation around him, the faint green glow of his core flaring visibly. He waved his wand in a sharp arc, and a massive tangle of brambles shot forward, bristling with spikes and moving as if alive. At the same time, he slammed the butt of his wand against the ground, sending a shockwave rippling outward that shattered the floor beneath Harry's feet.

Harry leapt into the air with a burst of magic, his body propelled upward as he traced yet another rune in the air. This one shimmered with blue light, and as he landed, the rune exploded into a wave of freezing mist that spread across the platform, encasing the brambles in ice and halting their advance.

"Not bad," Harry muttered under his breath, a smirk tugging at his lips. He raised his wand again, the tip glowing with fiery energy as he conjured a series of phoenix-like flames that soared toward Neville, their screeches echoing through the hall.

Neville, unfazed, clapped his hands together, summoning an enormous wall of vines reinforced with thick bark. The flames collided with the barrier, sending embers scattering across the platform, but Neville wasn't finished. With a gesture, he sent the embers back toward Harry, now carried by a gust of magical wind infused with shimmering green light.

The professors stepped forward, their wands at the ready. "Remus," Flitwick said urgently, "this is beyond dangerous! These are spells and conjurations that even Aurors would struggle with!"

Remus didn't respond immediately, his eyes locked on the duel. The sheer repertoire and creativity on display from both boys was astounding. He had no idea how third-years had acquired such skill, such control. But even he couldn't deny the risk. "You're right," he said finally, his voice heavy. "Everyone, stay alert. Protect the students."

Despite their concern, no one moved to stop the duel. The crowd was too enraptured, their eyes fixed on the display of magic before them. Harry and Neville were no longer just two students dueling—they were forces of nature, their clash a breathtaking display of raw talent and ingenuity.

Harry's senses pulsed outward, mapping the battlefield even as he moved. Neville's core burned bright in his awareness, its resonance deep and steady. With every spell and counter, the platform became more chaotic—shattered stone, scorched vegetation, and ice crystals littered the space. Yet, neither combatant showed any sign of slowing.

The duel had become something extraordinary, a battle not just of strength but of creativity and will. And though the professors and students watched with bated breath, one thought lingered in everyone's mind: How are they even capable of this?

Harry straightened, his mind racing. He could sense the steady, unyielding resonance of Neville's core, the sheer depth of his Verdant Magic giving him an almost infinite reserve of energy. Every spell Harry threw was countered with precision, every attack absorbed or reflected with a creativity that matched his own. At this rate, they could go on forever, neither gaining a definitive edge over the other.

But Harry wasn't willing to let this duel drag out any longer. He had something Neville couldn't counter—something he had been holding back for a moment like this.

His grip on his wand loosened slightly, his other hand curling into a fist. He drew in a deep breath, focusing his magic inward, letting it condense and concentrate within him. The air around his hands began to shimmer, a faint bluish-white glow radiating from his fingers as raw magical energy surged to the surface.

Neville's eyes narrowed, his wand shifting slightly as he prepared for whatever Harry was about to unleash.

The platform trembled as the duel reached its critical peak, the air thick with magic and tension. Harry stood firm, his wand steady as he began channeling a magic no one in the room had seen before—a spell unlike any traditional combat magic. His magical core pulsed, raw energy surging to the surface and condensing at the tip of his wand.

A bluish-white glow began to form, flickering and growing brighter with each second. The energy radiated heat and power, the sheer force of it warping the air around him. This was Aether Fist, a high-intensity spell Harry had spent weeks mastering. By concentrating pure magical energy into a dense, tangible form, the spell created bursts of power that could shatter defenses and overwhelm opponents.

Unlike most spells, Aether Fist wasn't designed for subtlety. It was raw and explosive, each cast striking with concussive force capable of breaking through shields and physical barriers alike. The spell's strength lay in its adaptability—it could be cast rapidly for sustained assaults or unleashed in singular, devastating blows. Harry's mastery of the spell was a testament to his determination and the countless hours he had spent refining his control.

Across the platform, Neville stood firm, Verdant Harmony resonating within him. His magical core flared as he summoned another wall of thick roots, reinforced with bark and bristling with thorns. Harry exhaled, his senses sharpening as he raised his wand, the glowing energy surging brighter.

"Let's end this, Neville," Harry said, his voice steady.

With a flick of his wand, Harry unleashed Aether Fist. The bluish-white burst of energy shot forward, a blinding streak of light that slammed into Neville's defenses with explosive force. The roots splintered and shattered, fragments scattering across the platform as the audience gasped in awe. The professors exchanged glances, their concern growing as the duel escalated.

Neville, ever adaptable, extended his hands toward the remnants of Harry's attack. The glowing fragments of Aether Fist didn't dissipate—they were absorbed into Neville's core, the energy swirling around him as he redirected its power. With a sharp motion, he thrust his hands forward, releasing the spell back at Harry, now infused with Verdant Magic. The amplified blast tore across the platform, the air crackling with its intensity.

Harry's smirk widened. "Smart move," he muttered, his wand rising again. "But not enough."

"Aether Barrage!" he called, the tip of his wand flaring with light. A series of rapid, smaller bursts of Aether Fist shot forward in quick succession, each one streaking through the air like a comet. The barrage met Neville's reflected energy head-on, the impacts creating bursts of light and sound that left the crowd awestruck.

The two spells clashed with relentless ferocity, each impact sending shockwaves across the platform. Harry's focus never wavered, his wand moving seamlessly as he sustained the barrage. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he pressed forward, chipping away at Neville's counter until the reflected Aether Fist began to falter.

Neville's footing remained steady, his core glowing as he pushed more energy into his defense. But Harry had planned for this. With a sharp motion, he pointed his wand at the ground. "Shockwave Slam!" he shouted, the spell releasing a burst of magic that rippled through the platform.

The ground beneath Neville shook violently, cracks spiderwebbing across the stone. Caught off balance, Neville stumbled, his control over the reflected energy faltering. Harry seized the opportunity, his wand steady as the final bursts of Aether Barrage broke through, shattering Neville's defenses entirely.

The last streak of energy surged forward, slamming into Neville and sending him flying backward. He hit the platform with a resounding thud, his wand clattering to the ground as the glow of his core dimmed. The audience fell silent, the dust settling as Harry lowered his wand, the bluish-white glow fading from its tip.

Remus Lupin stepped forward, his voice clear and authoritative. "Winner: Harry Potter!"

The hall erupted into cheers, the sound echoing through the room as students and professors alike celebrated the incredible display of skill. Harry, breathing heavily, walked toward Neville, extending a hand to help him up.

Neville accepted it, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You're unbelievable, Harry," he said, his voice tinged with respect. "That spell… that was something else."

Harry chuckled softly, his tone warm. "You didn't make it easy, Neville. You were brilliant."

As the cheers of the crowd continued to echo through the hall, Harry and Neville stepped off the platform together. Neville wiped the sweat from his brow, his wand held loosely in his hand as he glanced at Harry with a mix of admiration and exhaustion.

"Yeah," Neville said, his breath still a little uneven. "But that Shockwave Slam you used… that was bloody brilliant." He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Throwing me off balance like that meant I couldn't use the Water Stance to reflect your spells. I'd never considered someone might use a spell to disrupt my footing like that."

Harry smirked, his grip tightening briefly on his wand as the faint glow around its tip finally faded. "It's all about keeping you guessing," he said lightly. "Your Water Stance is incredible, Neville—it's fluid, adaptable, and hard to counter directly. But even the best techniques have a weakness."

Neville nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious. "You're right," he admitted. "I've been so focused on perfecting my stances that I didn't think about what would happen if someone broke my balance. The Water Stance is all about flow, and once you threw me off, I couldn't channel the magic properly. That's something I'll have to work on."

Harry's smirk softened into a smile, his tone encouraging. "You will. And knowing you, you'll find a way to adapt and make it even stronger."

Neville grinned back, his confidence returning. "Thanks, Harry. But next time, I'm going to be ready for that move."

Harry chuckled, the tension of the duel fading into a comfortable camaraderie. "I'd expect nothing less, Neville. You keep pushing yourself, and you'll be unbeatable before long."

As Harry and Neville made their way through the crowd, their conversation was abruptly cut short by the sharp, unmistakable voice of Professor McGonagall.

"Would you two care to explain yourselves?" she said, her tone calm but laced with an edge that demanded attention.

Both boys froze in their tracks, turning to face the stern professor. Neville's confidence faltered immediately, his posture shrinking under her piercing gaze. Harry, however, remained composed, tilting his head slightly in her direction.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "That," she continued, her voice steady but firm, "was not magic any third-year student should be capable of performing."

Neville swallowed hard, glancing down at the floor as though it might offer him an escape. "I—uh—well, Professor," he stammered, his usual nerves surfacing in the face of McGonagall's disapproval.

She silenced him with a sharp glance before turning her attention to Harry. "And you, Mr. Potter," she said, her voice growing more pointed. "Do you care to explain how a blind student is capable of dueling like that?"

The hall grew quiet, the weight of McGonagall's words hanging heavily in the air. Even the crowd, which had been buzzing with excitement moments ago, now watched the scene unfold in hushed anticipation.

Harry straightened, his expression calm but respectful. "Professor," he began, his voice measured, "I've spent a lot of time working to overcome my… challenges. My senses allow me to perceive magic and my surroundings in ways that make up for what I lack. As for the spells I used…" He paused, his tone lightening slightly. "Let's just say I've been doing some extra studying."

McGonagall's brow arched, her gaze scrutinizing. "Studying?" she repeated, clearly unconvinced. "Extraordinary spells such as those don't simply come from a bit of 'extra studying,' Mr. Potter."

Neville shifted uncomfortably beside him, his hands fidgeting with his wand. "It's my fault too, Professor," he blurted out. "I've been learning Verdant Harmony—it's… it's advanced magic, I know. But I've been careful! And Harry—he's just—well, he's Harry."

McGonagall's sharp gaze turned to Neville, and he immediately regretted his outburst. "Careful, Mr. Longbottom?" she echoed, her tone dripping with skepticism. "If that display was your idea of 'careful,' I shudder to think what reckless would look like."

"And you should know, Mr. Longbottom," she said sternly, "Verdant Resonance is a forbidden art. You could be thrown into Azkaban for using such magic."

Neville froze, his face paling as the weight of her words settled on him. "I—I didn't mean to—" he stammered, but before he could finish, Harry stepped forward, his tone firm and unwavering.

"With respect, Professor," Harry said, his voice calm but carrying an edge, "that's not entirely accurate."

McGonagall arched a brow, clearly not used to being contradicted. "Oh? Then please, enlighten me, Mr. Potter," she said, her tone icy.

Harry stood his ground, his head tilting slightly toward her as his voice remained steady. "The curses associated with Verdant Magic are forbidden, yes," he explained. "And rightly so—they're dangerous, destructive, and meant to harm. But Verdant Resonance itself? The art of channeling magic through nature and drawing on its energy? That's not forbidden."

He gestured toward Neville, whose posture was still stiff with anxiety. "Neville didn't use any of the curses. All he did was draw on the natural energy around him to defend himself. That's well within the bounds of what's allowed."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Regardless, Mr. Potter, this level of magic is far beyond what should be practiced by third-year students," she countered.

Harry nodded, his tone firm but respectful. "Maybe so," he said. "But last I checked, Professor, being advanced for your year wasn't a crime. Nor is it a punishable offense."

The hall grew silent at Harry's bold words, the tension palpable as the students and professors alike watched the exchange. Even Neville glanced at Harry in wide-eyed disbelief, though he couldn't help but feel a flicker of gratitude for his friend's defense.

McGonagall's gaze bore into Harry, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she exhaled slowly, her posture relaxing just slightly. "Perhaps not, Mr. Potter," she said, her tone quieter but no less firm. "But there are reasons such magic is not commonly taught. It is powerful, yes, but it is also dangerous—especially in the hands of those who do not fully understand its risks."

Harry inclined his head, his voice softening but retaining its confidence. "We understand the risks, Professor. And we've been careful to respect those boundaries."

McGonagall studied him for a long moment, her sharp eyes searching his face for any hint of insincerity. Finally, she nodded, though her expression remained stern. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Mr. Longbottom. I will trust, for now, that you are being truthful. But be warned—if I see any evidence that you are crossing into forbidden territory, there will be consequences. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," both boys said in unison, Neville's voice a touch more subdued than Harry's.

McGonagall gave them one last pointed look before turning and sweeping out of the hall, her robes billowing behind her. As the tension began to lift, Neville let out a shaky breath.

"Well," Neville muttered under his breath, glancing at Harry, "I think that was the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced."

Harry smirked faintly, tilting his head toward his friend. "She's not wrong about the risks," he said quietly, "but she doesn't know you like I do. You're better at this than you think, Neville. Don't let anyone—including her—convince you otherwise."

Neville managed a small, grateful smile, though the weight of the conversation still lingered. "Thanks, Harry," he said softly. "I owe you for that."

Harry shook his head, his smirk widening slightly. "You don't owe me anything, Neville. Just keep proving them wrong."

As the tension from McGonagall's departure began to fade, Harry and Neville turned to see Daphne approaching, her stride confident yet tinged with curiosity. Hermione followed close behind, her expression a mix of amazement and concern.

"That," Daphne began, her voice cutting through the lingering murmurs of the crowd, "was absolutely amazing." Her eyes flicked between Harry and Neville, a spark of admiration visible even as she crossed her arms. "Honestly, I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified."

Hermione nodded, her tone more measured but no less genuine. "Impressive doesn't even cover it," she said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Harry, Neville—you two were extraordinary. I've never seen magic like that before. Not from anyone, let alone third-years."

Neville rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his face coloring under the praise. "Thanks," he mumbled, avoiding Daphne's piercing gaze. "But Harry's the one who—"

Daphne cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Don't even try that, Longbottom," she said firmly. "You held your own out there—and against Harry, no less. That's more than most of us could ever say."

Then, her confidence faltered slightly, her arms dropping as her tone grew quieter. "Still," she admitted, "I feel kind of… disheartened now. I mean, if you're that strong, Neville, I know I wouldn't have stood a chance against you. And against Harry?" She shook her head, a faint, wry smile tugging at her lips. "Forget it. I'd have lost in seconds."

Harry smiled at her, his expression softening. "Don't be so sure," he said gently. "You might surprise yourself. You've grown a lot, Daphne. More than you realize."

Daphne arched an eyebrow at him, her confidence flickering back to life. "You think so?" she asked, a trace of her usual sharpness returning.

Harry nodded. "I do," he said simply. "You've got strength and skill, Daphne. More than enough to hold your own. You just need to trust yourself."

Daphne considered his words for a moment, her smirk slowly returning. "Alright," she said. "I'll take your word for it. But when we're on the platform, don't go easy on me."

Harry chuckled softly, tilting his head toward her. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Hermione watched the exchange with a faint smile, her gaze lingering on Harry. "You've always been full of surprises, Harry," she said quietly. "But today? You've set a new standard."

Harry turned his head toward her, his expression thoughtful. "Thanks, Hermione," he said sincerely. "That means a lot."

Before the group could linger any longer, Remus Lupin's voice cut through the chatter, commanding attention. "Daphne Greengrass and Draco Malfoy, please approach the dueling platform," he called, his tone calm but firm. Behind him, the platform, which had been left battered and scorched from Harry and Neville's clash, now stood pristine once more. The remnants of shattered stone, burned vines, and scattered debris had been meticulously cleared away by a flurry of restorative spells. It gleamed under the enchanted lights, waiting for the next duel to begin.

Daphne took a deep breath, her shoulders straightening as she looked toward the platform. Her confidence was solid, but there was a faint flicker of nervousness in her core that Harry couldn't miss.

"You've got this, Daphne," Neville said, his voice warm and encouraging. "Just stay focused, and don't let Malfoy get under your skin."

Hermione nodded, her tone matter-of-fact. "You've been working hard, Daphne. Trust in what you've learned—you'll do great."

Harry smiled, his voice calm and reassuring. "Good luck, Daphne," he said simply. "Remember what I said—you might surprise yourself."

Daphne smirked, the flicker of doubt in her core fading as she tilted her head toward Harry. "Thanks," she said, her tone dry but tinged with gratitude. "I'll do my best not to disappoint."

With that, she turned and began walking toward the platform, her footsteps measured and deliberate. Draco was already waiting for her, his posture as composed and confident as ever, a faint smirk playing at his lips. The tension in the hall shifted, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as the next duel prepared to begin.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville moved to find seats with a clear view of the platform. As they settled in, Harry's focus remained on Daphne's magical core, a quiet confidence radiating from him as he prepared to watch the next match unfold.

The platform was set, the combatants ready. The semi-finals continued.

If you enjoy my work and want to support me, you can do so on P4tr3on! Everything I do is free, so you won't miss out if you don't join. However, members get extra benefits like early story updates, exclusive character pictures, and the ability to request commissions.

FFN gets weekly updates on my stories, P4tr3on gets updated as soon as chapters are written

p4tr3on dot com /Filing