0341 Confrontation

In the Great Hall, an eerie silence descended like a heavy curtain after the shrill, desperate tones of Filch’s voice echoed through the chamber. The abrupt stillness was palpable, as if a powerful silencing charm had been cast over the hundreds of young witches and wizards seated at the long tables, their gazes transfixed upon the squib caretaker in a collective state of skeptical astonishment. even the professors at the staff table were gawking at him in disbelief.

“I—I thought you would have foreseen this, Headmaster—” Filch stammered hesitantly, his ruddy cheeks flushed a crimson hue, the words spilling forth with a trembling uncertainty that showed his unease at being the sudden center of such rapt attention.

Such an unprecedented scene in the Great Hall was a rare occurrence indeed, akin to spotting a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. As Filch’s thin voice wavered into silence, the spell was broken, the vast hall erupted with noise ten times louder than before. Young witches and wizards sprang to their feet in a flurry of motion, the sound of scraping chairs and overturned tables sounding like a wrecking crew methodically demolishing a crumbling structure.

“I told you, Harry!” Hermione’s excited exclamation was drowned out amidst the pandemonium as she shouted to him, her voice ringing with urgency. “Here we go!”

“He actually did it—” Ron’s dazed and shocked expression was quite amusing even among the stunned wizards around him as he opened his mouth and said blankly.

Ron’s words served as a jarring reminder to Harry, who sprang upright in an instant, disregarding Hermione’s exasperated objections, was about to dash upstairs, but then—

Bang!

The resounding boom, akin to a bomb detonating, thundered through the Great Hall with cataclysmic force, causing everyone to freeze in their tracks as if encased in a full body-bind curse.

“I hope you can all quietly remain in the Great Hall and continue enjoying your lunch. Of course, I don’t object if students who are already full return to their common rooms for a good rest before the pleasant afternoon classes begin. As for the trouble upstairs, I hope you can trust that I can handle it,” Dumbledore’s resonant voice rang out, rising to his feet with an air of commanding authority that was seldom witnessed by the student body. Though his words were not overtly harsh, his tone allowed no argument, a stark contrast to the usually amiable, grandfatherly demeanor he typically displayed.

The young witches and wizards fell into a hushed, uneasy silence, keenly aware that they were bearing witness to a side of Dumbledore that was rarely seen in the school.

“Thank you for your support—” Dumbledore nodded his head graciously towards the students, the simple gesture conveying an unspoken reassurance that the escalating situation was well in hand. He then turned his penetrating gaze towards Professor McGonagall, who looked a bit panicked, his expression calm as if the disturbance upstairs were merely a trivial matter of some unruly portraits engaging in a scuffle.

“Could you please maintain order here, Minerva? I’m afraid I must go upstairs to investigate—”

“Oh—upstairs, yes, Albus!” Professor McGonagall grasped Dumbledore’s sleeve with a trembling hand as he headed for the entrance hall, her eyes flickering with worry and concern. “You will be able to control the situation, won’t you, Albus?”

“Ah, of course—” Dumbledore gave a reassuring smile, “I still need to come back for my pudding later. It would be unforgivable to waste food prepared by the hardworking house-elves who sweat to fill our bellies.”

With a gentle tug, Dumbledore’s sleeve slipped from Professor McGonagall’s weakened grasp, and all eyes were on the aged but currently expressionless face of Dumbledore as he made his way towards the entrance hall. As he reached the threshold, Dumbledore turned and glanced at Harry, his gaze like a bucket of cold water dousing Harry’s heated thoughts.

Harry was certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that Dumbledore’s penetrating look was a silent warning, warning him not to make the situation more complicated. 

At the insistent prompting of Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, the young witches and wizards reluctantly returned to their seats, though the atmosphere in the Great Hall remained heavy and oppressive, as if weighed down by an invisible mantle of leaden dread.

In all its history, the ancient castle of Hogwarts had never borne witness to two professors dueling within its walls.

“Why won’t he let me go up there!” Harry had never been so annoyed with Dumbledore as at this moment. Sirius needed his support the most now, but Dumbledore wouldn’t let him go upstairs.

“We all know Sirius and Professor Snape don’t get along. Their grievances go back a long way,” Hermione’s calm, measured tones cut through Harry’s turbulent thoughts like a soothing balm, “Dumbledore knows very well that you going up there will only escalate their conflict.”

Harry understood what Hermione said, of course. He knew Sirius and Snape fighting had everything to do with him, which was precisely why he couldn’t ignore it. His classmates seemed to realize this too, as many eyes were fixed on him, whispering to those sitting nearby.

This scrutiny was unbearable for Harry, as if these people were all accusing him of being a coward.

“They’re on the fourth floor, by the hospital wing entrance, Headmaster!”

As Dumbledore nimbly navigated a treacherous path, leaping lightly over a crumbling staircase that had begun to disintegrate before his very eyes, the renowned Adalbert Waffling enthusiastically directed him from within the confines of his ornate portrait frame. Waffling, famous for his influential work “Magical Theory,” often flew into a rage when woken by Gryffindor students wandering the corridors in the dead of night.

“Thank you, Mr. Waffling, I believe I can find them—”

Now, Dumbledore’s expression turned stern as he hurried past the cluster of enthusiastic portraits reporting the situation.

Boom!

As Dumbledore rounded the corner onto the fourth floor, an earth-shattering explosion thundered down the corridor from the opposite end, a billowing cloud of thick, choking smoke rolled towards him like an unstoppable avalanche. But before the dusty fumes could even reach halfway down the hall, they were abruptly halted by a shimmering, translucent barrier, leaving the space behind it untouched and pristine.

Bryan leaned nonchalantly against the age-worn stone wall. This morning, needing to continue drafting his course outline and upcoming announcements, he had not come to the Great Hall for lunch but had the house-elves in the kitchens deliver food to his office. Now, one hand casually flying a plate piled high with the remnants of his lunch, the other loosely gripping a half-eaten sandwich he observed the unfolding confrontation with keen relish, unhurriedly taking bites between the bursts of frantic magical combat.

Beside the leisurely Bryan stood a terrified Draco Malfoy, an enraged Madam Pomfrey with her hair disheveled, and a few young wizards confined to the hospital wing for various ailments.

Upon catching sight of Bryan, the imposing aura that seemed to emanate from Dumbledore’s towering frame like a tangible force visibly receded. The aged headmaster strode forward, positioning himself behind the group bearing witness to the duel.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived, Headmaster Dumbledore!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice trembled with barely suppressed fury. “You simply wouldn’t believe what happened. Those two were dueling right outside the hospital wing! Oh, if it weren’t for Bryan, you’d be searching the rubble for our bodies right now, Dumbledore!”

“Oh, nice move!”

From the smoke-choked depths of the corridor, Sirius’s gruff voice rang out, rapidly advancing as he blasted a gaping hole through the remaining half of the wall with a powerful curse. A hail of rough stone shards exploded outwards like shrapnel from the point of impact.

Snape, his pale features twisted into a sneer of contempt, neatly darted through a nearby doorway, flicking his wand in a blur of motion to unleash three streaks of blinding silver light that lanced through the dense clouds of dust and debris. The searing magical barrage grazed Sirius’s cheek, drawing a thin line of crimson before colliding against Bryan’s shield in a colorful burst of sizzling energy.

Seeing that no one was hurt, Dumbledore’s face softened slightly as his gaze fell on Bryan. Before he could speak, Bryan seeming to sense his approach, reached out to pat the speechless Draco in a reassuring gesture and said nonchalantly,

“Our young Mr. Malfoy here tried to act cool in Sirius’s class, resulting in him being punished and a trip to the hospital wing. The lad was rather resourceful, having Ms. Parkinson notify me first, who then notified Professor Snape, and Sirius came to check on Draco’s condition after his morning classes ended—” Bryan shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the destructive magical battle unfolding mere paces away. “And then they started fighting.”

“Why didn’t you stop them, Bryan?” Dumbledore’s voice was stern.

“Why stop it?” Bryan angled his head, giving the headmaster a careless smile “Conflict was inevitable, better sooner than later. At least with me here, nothing too serious will happen.”

“Is that all you’ve got, Snivellus!”

Sirius’s enraged roar resounded like a thunderclap, paying no heed to the thin rivulet of blood tracing a crimson path down his stubble-lined jaw from the shallow gash on his cheek. With a wild snarl, he charged forward, wand raised in a slashing arc as he unleashed a torrent of blinding ruby-red light that lanced towards the shadowy doorway where Snape had taken cover.

“You haven’t improved much over the years, have you!”

Snape’s obsidian eyes glittered with cruel anticipation, his wand flicking in an intricate series of movements as he prepared to counter Sirius’s furious assault. As the blazing torrent of crackling energy bore down upon him, he swung his wand in a sweeping arc, the air shimmering and distorting around the tip as he scattered the coming spell amidst a dazzling spray of sizzling emerald and silver sparks.

With Sirius’s spell dispersed, Snape did not remain on the defensive. His face twisted into a vicious sneer as he flicked his wand again, this time spewing forth a billowing cloud of dense, oily black smoke from its tip. The fumes swirled and merged into an ominous cloud that rapidly expanded to blanket the floor, walls, and ceiling of the corridor in a shroud of impenetrable darkness.

From the churning womb of this suffocating miasma, the scattered stones and rubble strewn about the hallway began to shift and undulate with a sinister, unnatural life of their own. Like hideous buds unfurling from the soil, they elongated and contorted, taking on grotesque new shapes as dozens upon dozens of thick, brawny forms emerged – a twisting horde of venomous serpents as wide around as a grown man’s wrist.

The writhing mass of scaly black bodies slithered forth from the clinging tendrils of smoke, scales glistening like oil-slicked obsidian in the dim half-light. Their wedge-shaped heads weaved in a hypnotic dance, forked crimson tongues flicking as they tasted the air, hissing with a menacing hoarseness that set the teeth on edge. Within moments, the entire corridor was overrun by these dozens of black serpents, hissing menacingly at Sirius with their blood-red forked tongues.

“You have made some progress, you mangy mutt!” Snape sneered amidst the pythons. “I mean, at being mulish and arrogant!”

*******************************
For More Chapters; /FicFrenzy

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep