Did Lockhart... even fight back?

On stage, Blake shook Lockhart's hand firmly, feeling his own strength. He raised his head, addressing the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with a smirk.

"Professor Lockhart, considering your many wonderful adventures, you must be an incredibly powerful wizard," Blake began. "So, I'll go all out in this duel. Any objections?"

Lockhart's face lit up at being called powerful.

"Of course not!" Lockhart replied, puffing out his chest. "In fact, even if you go all out, a little wizard like you could never hurt me!"

Blake couldn't tell where Lockhart got such confidence. He knew the professor's abilities—or lack thereof. But since Lockhart was so cooperative, Blake decided to indulge him.

"Alright then," Blake said with a sly grin, drawing a second-hand wand. His real wand was far too powerful, and he didn't want to risk killing Lockhart outright. That wouldn't be fun. If Lockhart was here to duel, Blake thought, he might as well take his time—especially on behalf of those permanently harmed by Lockhart's memory charms.

The audience grew silent as Blake and Lockhart faced each other. Following dueling etiquette, they bowed. Lockhart, ever theatrical, twirled his wand in an elaborate display.

Holding their wands at the ready, Lockhart explained, "Ladies and gentlemen, observe! On the count of three, we'll cast our first spells. Naturally, we'll avoid anything fatal!"

"Three... two... one!"

Both raised their wands.

"Silencio!" Blake cried. A bright white light shot from his wand, hitting Lockhart squarely in the chest.

Lockhart staggered back, patting his chest in confusion. "It doesn't hurt?" he thought. But something felt off.

To his horror, Lockhart found his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. His lips were sealed shut. He tried to speak but couldn't make a sound.

Blake didn't wait.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted. A flash of red light struck Lockhart again, causing his wand hand to twitch. Yet, inexplicably, the wand remained stuck in Lockhart's grasp.

Lockhart stared at his hand, dumbfounded.

"What's going on?" he thought.

Blake feigned amazement. "Incredible, Professor Lockhart! You even resisted my Disarming Charm! Let's try another spell!"

Lockhart panicked. What was happening? He wanted to shout, to demand an explanation, but his mouth wouldn't obey. Meanwhile, Blake was already casting again.

A white spell hit Lockhart's chest like a whip. Pain shot through him, but no marks appeared on his clothes or skin—only a stinging ache in his very soul.

Lockhart's body froze as another charm took hold. He couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't even throw down his wand to forfeit. His humiliation was complete.

Blake, however, wasn't done. He kept casting spell after spell, each one lashing at Lockhart like a phantom whip. The audience gasped, interpreting the scene very differently.

"Professor Lockhart is incredible!" someone whispered.

"Yeah! Look at him—standing still and taking all those spells like a champion!"

"I was wrong about him," another murmured. "He really is a powerful wizard!"

Some in the crowd weren't so sure. Lockhart's silence seemed odd, but they said nothing.

On stage, Lockhart was inwardly wailing. He didn't want to stand still! He couldn't move! His mouth was glued shut, and Blake's spells—while not strong enough to knock him out—were painfully relentless.

Worse, his clothes and skin bore no damage, leaving the audience with no clue about his suffering. Each spell landed with a searing ache that felt like it targeted his very soul.

Blake tilted his head, pretending to admire Lockhart. "Professor, your protective spells are astounding! You're just standing there, testing my strength, aren't you?"

The audience buzzed with realization.

"That's why he isn't moving!" someone exclaimed. "He's testing Blake!"

Lockhart nearly cried. Protective spells? Testing strength? He had none of those things!

Blake wasn't finished. With a flick of his wand, he sent Lockhart flying backward with a Banishing Charm. The professor hit the ground hard and thought, finally, it's over.

But it wasn't. Blake cast a Summoning Charm, yanking Lockhart back by his robes before he could even catch his breath.

The audience gaped as Blake continued his relentless assault. Smoke from one of the spells filled the stage, shrouding Lockhart in a gray haze.

Blake stepped closer, his voice low but clear. "Comfortable, Gilderoy Lockhart?" he asked mockingly. "Perhaps you remember these names: Jero Fiers, Rip Carlos..."

Hearing those names, Lockhart's heart sank.

"You thought your memory charms erased everything, didn't you?" Blake continued. "But some of your victims had friends—important friends, like Professor Dumbledore."

Lockhart's mind reeled. Dumbledore knew? That must be why he'd been hired! Not for his reputation, but to expose him.

Blake leaned closer. "Dumbledore suspects you, but he hasn't acted... yet. I, however, have everything he needs to bring you down. So, Professor, what are you going to do next?"

Lockhart's eyes darted around frantically. He nodded as best as he could, desperate to show compliance.

The smoke began to clear. Blake released his spells, and Lockhart could finally move. His mouth was no longer sealed shut, but he didn't dare speak out against Blake.

Trembling, Lockhart forced a shaky laugh. "Ah... your technique is impeccable, Blake! Clearly, you don't need a supervising professor."

Without waiting for a response, Lockhart stumbled off the stage and out of the room, humiliated and terrified.

The audience sat in stunned silence. Something wasn't right, and they were beginning to piece it together.

"Did Lockhart... even fight back?" someone muttered.

"Why would he? He just stood there and took it all!"

Realization dawned on them. Lockhart hadn't been testing Blake's strength. He'd been immobilized and helpless.

Harry watched the scene unfold, torn between satisfaction and pity for Lockhart.

Before he could think further, a hand clapped onto his shoulder.

"I heard Professor Lockhart agreed to supervise because of your request," said Blake, his smile sharp and knowing.

Harry froze under Blake's gaze. At that moment, he silently began drafting his suicide note.

=============

Want to read more?

Join my Patreon

patreon.com/Max1mus

Also Please vote for this work with your Powerstones

And don't forget to leave a review