The duel began as soon as the two bowed to each other.
Barty Crouch Jr. flicked his wand sharply, sending a screeching red curse barreling straight at Snape.
Snape's black eyes remained calm, devoid of panic. His wand danced through the air, and in the blink of an eye, three ordinary candles twisted and melted. Their flames wove together like living tendrils, forming a gleaming shield of silver fire.
The curse struck the shield with a crackle, sparks bursting in every direction and briefly illuminating both their faces with molten light.
Seizing the moment, Snape launched a counterattack—a jet of black light from a Blocking Hex streaked toward Barty, slicing the air with a harsh crackling.
"Protego!" Barty's expression flickered as he raised his wand just in time. A shimmering barrier enveloped him, and the impact rang out like a bell, waves rippling across the surface of his shield.
Two potent magical forces collided in the limited space of the stage. Sweat beaded on both of their brows as neither managed to overpower the other.
Snape's wand moved faster and faster, whipping through the air like a striking snake, curse after curse raining down in a relentless volley.
Finally, by sheer magical pressure and his superior stamina, Snape spotted the brief moment when Barty inhaled and dropped his guard. His Stunner hit square in the chest.
Barty flew back like a broken puppet, slammed into the enchanted boundary at the stage's edge, and collapsed heavily to the floor. His wand rolled away, spinning across the stone.
"Cease fire!" Professor Flitwick's voice rang out immediately. He leapt from his high stool with a practised agility, eyes fixed intently on Snape's movements.
Snape smoothly slipped his wand into his robes, his steps measured as he crossed the stage. He stooped to retrieve Barty's wand and gently helped the unconscious boy to sit upright.
"Professor, may I take Barty to the hospital wing?" Snape asked in a tone of polite concern.
"You?" Flitwick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I'm going with you."
After asking Professor Slughorn to oversee the remainder of the event, Flitwick and Snape departed the Great Hall, carrying Barty between them through the corridor toward the hospital wing.
"Professor," Snape said curiously as they walked, "how did you know what that Unlocking Charm would do to a person?"
He wasn't proud of it—he'd acted recklessly the night before. If Flitwick hadn't stopped him in time, the situation might have ended both his and James's time at Hogwarts. The fallout would have come differently for each of them—Snape would be expelled, James would likely withdraw under pressure.
"Oh, Severus, for Merlin's sake," Flitwick snapped, his tiny shoes clicking sharply on the floor, "not every lock is meant to be opened! I've heard about the mess between you and James, but really—do you want to go down in Hogwarts history for all the wrong reasons?"
"My apologies, Professor," Snape said with an uncharacteristically sheepish smile. "I won't ever use an Unlocking Charm on a fellow student again."
Their conversation carried them to the doors of the hospital wing.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of herbs and potions. Madam Pomfrey was tending to several injured students, her eyes flashing with indignation as they entered.
"Flitwick, when is this cursed duelling tournament going to end?" she barked, hands on her hips. "This is what—injury number what now?!"
"Ah, Poppy," Flitwick offered an apologetic smile, "tonight's the last of it. Only regular lessons from here on."
"What?" Pomfrey squawked like an enraged hen. "Regular lessons? I'm going to speak with the Headmaster!"
Grumbling under her breath, she took Barty from them, gently smoothing his straw-coloured hair and checking his forehead.
"Stunner?" she asked brusquely.
"Yes, Stunner," Flitwick confirmed quickly. "We're doing this training now so they suffer fewer injuries later."
"I get it, I get it… dangerous times…" she muttered, mostly to herself. "You two can go. I'll handle it from here."
"I'd like to stay with him until he wakes, Madam Pomfrey," Snape said softly. "He was stunned because of me—I'd like to make sure he's all right."
"Oh, he'll be fine," she said, her voice softening a little. "But if you're staying, keep quiet."
"Yes, ma'am." Snape nodded respectfully and took a seat beside the bed.
Pomfrey snuffed out most of the candles in the room and retreated to her office.
Snape sat in silence, watching moonlight pour through the high windows, listening to the soft rustle of wind brushing through the leaves outside.
Time slipped by.
Eventually, a faint sound stirred him from his thoughts.
The sky outside had turned navy blue. Madam Pomfrey was already back at work, carefully spooning a shimmering blue potion into Barty's mouth.
Snape rubbed his stiff neck and looked at the boy's pale face.
That face, meek and boyish now, would one day pass twelve O.W.L.s, resist the Imperius Curse, and imprison Mad-Eye Moody—the best Auror the Ministry had, the one who filled Azkaban with more Death Eaters than anyone—at the bottom of a magical trunk for a year.
A cold and tangled feeling crept into Snape's chest.
If he couldn't pull Barty away from Voldemort… then for the safety of the magical world, it might be better to find a way to make sure Barty never got the chance to become a threat.
Snape lifted Barty's sleeve.
No Dark Mark. Not yet.
A few minutes later, Barty's lashes fluttered. Under the potion's effects, he slowly opened his eyes.
"You're awake. The treatment was a success," Snape said gently, forcing his features into something resembling warmth.
"What are you doing here?" Barty sat up with a start, warily scanning the room.
"Sorry for going too hard on you yesterday," Snape offered a paternal, benevolent smile. "You're incredibly skilled for your age. It made it hard to hold back properly."
"I stayed to make sure you were all right. Do you feel any discomfort?"