"Everyone follows the queue!" Professor Flitwick stood on his tall stool, firmly denying James's request. "And remember—you're all classmates!"
James clicked his tongue in frustration, sulking as he moved back into the rotation. But with every opponent he bested, his face grew darker and more rigid, like storm clouds massing in a summer sky.
By the time Snape joined him on the stage, James looked like he was about to boil over.
Snape tilted his chin ever so slightly, staring down his nose at James with unhidden disdain.
"Bow to each other," Professor Flitwick called.
Their bows were cursory, barely more than a stiff twitch of the neck, their eyes locked in open loathing.
"Very well… one, two, three—begin!"
Sparks exploded across the stage as spells met in mid-air, sending cracking echoes across the Great Hall.
Slughorn's expression darkened instantly. He hurried up to join Flitwick, the two of them raising their wands to conjure a protective shield before the audience, blocking stray hexes that whipped past like angry wasps.
This duel was unlike any that had come before—raw, volatile, edged with something just short of murderous. The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps. One student conjured a chair just to stand on it and get a better view.
Snape advanced, wand snapping with precision, eyes ice-cold, face shadowed with fury. His robes cracked and snapped with each stride, his wand like a striking serpent—spell after spell launched mercilessly at James.
Driving forward, Snape closed the distance with alarming speed—then, with his free hand, he suddenly punched James full in the face.
There was a sharp crack.
Blood sprayed from James's nose, dotting the stage with crimson.
"Enough!" Flitwick shrieked, his wand cutting a swath of blue light between them, forcibly pulling them apart. "No fists!"
Snape stumbled back from the magical recoil and scowled. "Professor, there's no rule against it."
"There is now!" Flitwick snapped. "Rule Five: No physical contact whatsoever!"
He waved his wand again. A golden glow sealed James's nose and erased the blood from his face.
"Fine," Snape muttered, cracking his neck. "Have it your way."
They squared off once more. James was seething, fists clenched, nostrils flaring.
"Stupefy!" Snape barked.
James barely dodged. He staggered to one side—only to be met with a second incantation.
"Diffindo!"
It was a standard Severing Charm, usually used to slice parchment or cloth. James braced to take the hit—it wasn't strong enough to cause real injury.
He never felt pain.
Instead, gasps rang out from the audience.
James looked down.
His robes were no longer robes.
They hung in tatters, sliced into fluttering ribbons that waved in the drafty air.
Worse—his hairy legs glistened under the candlelight.
Even worse—his back end felt cold. Too cold.
The shrieks from the girls behind him told him all he needed to know.
His face turned crimson.
With a howl of fury, he raised his wand—but it was too late.
Snape's Disarming Charm struck like a whip.
James's wand shot from his hand, spinning into the air.
Snape didn't even glance at it. He had something else in mind.
Before Flitwick could announce the result, Snape flicked his wand again.
James flew into the air.
And as he reached the apex of his arc, Snape shouted: "Alohomora!"
"No!" Flitwick's scream was filled with horror. His face went pale. He hurled a volley of spells to intercept.
Some rebounded off the ceiling, sending ripples through the enchanted stars above.
"Stop! The duel is over!" Flitwick's voice cracked across the hall. He sprang between the two, throwing up shield after shield. "Stop! Snape wins!"
"Rule Six—effective immediately—under no circumstances may the Unlocking Charm be used in a duel! Anyone who does will be disqualified!"
With help from Slughorn, James floated gently down to the stage—though his shredded robes billowed around him like some war-torn flag.
He hit the ground, rolled, scrambled for his wand—and raised it toward Snape.
Flitwick flicked his wand. Invisible cords lashed around James, binding him tight.
"Go get dressed, Potter," Snape sneered, voice slow and heavy with mock concern. "Looks like you've lost everything today."
Laughter burst from the hall. Some girls hid behind their hands, their faces blazing.
"You filthy—!" James roared, veins bulging as he thrashed against the bonds, his eyes glittering with rage and humiliation.
After the match, hushed whispers rippled through the crowd.
Few understood why Flitwick had reacted with such panic.
Until one Ravenclaw girl near the front suddenly went pale.
"Merlin," she whispered. "That was Alohomora! If that spell had hit Potter while he was in mid-air…"
The rest was drowned in a wave of gasps.
The Hall fell eerily silent, expressions turning from giddy to alarmed. Students edged away from Snape, giving him a wide berth.
Snape didn't care.
He watched as Sirius ordered Lupin and Pettigrew to help James off the stage. Sirius said nothing, his usual smug detachment replaced by a dangerous stillness. He gripped his wand tightly, his eyes burning with fire.
In the next few matches, Snape's reputation preceded him. Several opponents climbed the stage only to jump right back down, forfeiting before the duel even began.
One Ravenclaw girl slipped climbing the steps, nearly tripping over herself in her haste to stay off the stage.
Before long, the match everyone had been waiting for arrived.
Snape versus Sirius Black.