Bab 55: Chapter 55: The Killing Shot of the Wind Arrow
"Oh, no. Not you," he groaned.
"I don't know what he's talking about," Lockhart said loudly to the anxious Gryffindor students gathering around. "Don't worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."
"No!" Harry exclaimed. "Just leave it as it is, thank you..."
He tried to sit up, but the pain in his arm was too intense. Nearby, he heard the familiar sound of a camera clicking.
"I don't want pictures of this, Colin," Harry said loudly.
"Lie down, Harry," Lockhart said reassuringly. "This is a simple spell—I've done it countless times."
Augustus stood to the side, watching coldly. Since a teacher had stepped in, he had no reason to interfere. Yet, for some reason, seeing Lockhart's gleaming teeth and unsettling smile gave him an ominous feeling.
"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" Harry gritted out through clenched teeth.
"He really should go to the hospital wing," said a mud-splattered Wood, unable to suppress the grin spreading across his face despite his Seeker's injury. "That grab of yours, Harry—absolutely brilliant! I've never seen you do anything like it."
Through the tangle of legs surrounding him, Harry glimpsed Fred and George Weasley wrestling the rogue Bludger back into its box. The ball continued to struggle fiercely.
"Step aside," Lockhart said, rolling up the sleeves of his emerald-green robes.
"No—don't—" Harry protested weakly, but Lockhart was already spinning his wand. A second later, he pointed it at Harry's arm.
A strange and deeply unpleasant sensation shot from Harry's shoulder to his fingertips, like lightning. He didn't dare look, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face away. But when gasps filled the air and Colin Creevey's camera began clicking wildly again, Harry realized his worst fears had come true. The pain in his arm was gone—but so was any sense of it feeling like an arm.
Augustus rubbed his forehead. He knew it—letting Lockhart treat Harry was a mistake. Trusting Lockhart for anything was almost laughable. From now on, Augustus resolved, even trusting Filch over Lockhart seemed like the wiser choice.
Harry stood up, his body oddly lopsided. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his right side. The sight made him nearly faint again.
Dangling from his sleeve was what looked like a thick, flesh-colored rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers, but nothing happened.
Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones—he had removed them entirely.
"You should head to the hospital wing. What was a relatively minor injury now requires several doses of Skele-Gro to fix," Augustus said with a tone of regret. If only he had intervened earlier, things wouldn't have escalated to this point. But in the end, it was Lockhart who had played a decisive role in this debacle.
Leaning on Ron for support, Harry limped off the field. Lockhart, seemingly unaffected by the odd looks cast his way, proudly declared, "At least Harry's arm doesn't hurt anymore! I stopped the pain first before sending him to the hospital wing. After all, if the pain was too severe, he might not have made it in time. Now, if any of you want to learn my pain-relief spell, feel free to drop by my office."
The students shivered at the thought, hastily leaving in groups. Watching them disperse, Lockhart shrugged nonchalantly and exited the Quidditch field himself.
Afternoon, Room of Requirement
Augustus stood before the trio of students: Draco, Loki, and Lilian.
"You've now mastered a sufficient number of Level One spells. Next comes practical application. As mages, no matter how solid your foundational knowledge is, it's all surface-level until tested in real combat. True understanding and creativity emerge through battle. Pair off and begin. Loki and Draco, you'll go first."
"Last time, Augustus saved you. This time, be careful—I won't go easy on you," Loki said, standing at one end of the dueling ground, wand in hand. His defiant expression carried a trace of a smile.
"Talk is cheap. Don't hurt your tongue with all that boasting," Draco retorted. "I've been looking forward to this fight—don't disappoint me with an empty show."
"You may begin," Augustus said with a wave, signaling the start of the duel.
Loki calmly cast Basic Ice Armor on himself, forming a protective layer that could partially absorb damage from hostile spells until it was overwhelmed.
Draco countered with Grace of the Wind, enhancing his agility, then swiftly unleashed Wind Blade. The transparent blade tore through the air toward Loki with devastating speed.
Unfazed, Loki flicked his wand and muttered an incantation. An ice spear materialized in midair and flew to intercept the Wind Blade. The spear shattered the attack, continuing its trajectory toward Draco. The remnants of the Wind Blade dissipated harmlessly against Loki's Ice Armor.
Draco, wary of the ice spear, relied on his enhanced speed to dodge. The spear struck the dueling ground and dissolved.
Draco then began maneuvering around the arena, exploiting his speed to flank Loki. From a blind spot, he cast Winds of Binding. A thin, rotating rope of wind ensnared Loki, immobilizing him. Loki's attempts to break free with offensive spells proved futile.
Draco's eyes gleamed with excitement—his next spell would be decisive. With an incantation, he conjured a bow from the air itself, nocking an arrow of light. As the bowstring stretched taut, the glowing arrow streaked toward Loki at an almost imperceptible speed.
Lilian's eyes widened in astonishment. Was Draco about to win? Despite being slower in some aspects of spellwork, his combat instincts and wind-based magic seemed to give him a decisive edge.
On the field, Loki remained trapped. Above him, the light arrow descended like a meteor. In the next second, the outcome of the duel would be clear.
A faint glow flickered in Augustus's silver eyes.
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-- Power
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