novelraw Chapter 50 Ambush on the 5th Floor
Chapter 50 Ambush on the 5th Floor
The morning sun on Saturday was like molten gold, streaming through the windows onto the long table in the auditorium.
Karen enjoyed her hearty breakfast while playing with the magic lamp she had made earlier.
"Aren't you really going to watch the Quidditch Team Selections today?" Wesley's mouth was stuffed with a thick layer of buttered bread, crumbs falling from the corners of his mouth, his reddish-brown hair a mess as if swept by a hurricane. "And it's not just our house selections today; Fred from Gryffindor said Charlie will be showcasing their new tactics, which they say will utterly crush Slytherin!"
Karen shook her head and carefully placed the magic lamp into a hidden compartment in her backpack. Inside the backpack were several heavy books—"Principles of Basic Alchemy" and "Advanced Analysis of Rune Runes." "You guys go ahead," she said. "I want to go to the Eagle's Nest to practice what Professor Flitwick taught me last night."
Fabian was adjusting the tightness of his glasses with his wand when he heard this. He looked up, his brown eyes behind the lenses sparkling with curiosity: "Seriously, Karen, what did you learn from Professor Flitwick last night? Your wrists were a little swollen when you came back, and you couldn't even hold a quill properly."
"It's mainly dueling skills," Karen replied casually, not wanting to reveal too much detail. He rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a bruise on his wrist that had already faded. "The professor said I have a good grasp of spells, but lack practical combat thinking." He recalled Professor Flitwick's casting technique last night and what he had learned, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up.
Ernesto, who was tying the laces of his dragon-skin boots, looked up at the words, a flicker of interest in his grey eyes. He was wearing a dark blue robe embroidered with stars today, clearly taking the upcoming Quidditch selection seriously. "Professor Flitwick is the Duel Champion. You'll get his personal instruction; cherish it."
"Oh?" Wesley, his mouth full of food, immediately leaned closer with a wink. "How come I remember someone saying 'What can a half-elf teach us' during the first week of school?" He deliberately imitated Ernesto's signature haughty tone.
A moment of silence fell over the table. Ernesto's fingers hovered in mid-air, his expression frozen. To everyone's surprise, he took a deep breath and said solemnly, "You're right, it was indeed my fault. I've come to realize how absurd that idea was." His gray eyes met Wesley's directly. "I promise I won't make the same mistake again."
Karen, sensing the sincerity in Ernesto's tone, immediately stepped in to defuse the situation: "Ernesto, we've known each other for almost two months. We all know what kind of person you are." He patted his red-haired roommate on the shoulder. "Wesley was just joking, right?"
"Of course!" Wesley nodded quickly, his reddish-brown curly hair bouncing with the movement. "Hey, you've already stood up to Selwin twice in Transfiguration class for Cullen, who can't see you're different from those arrogant Slytherins?" He grabbed the last piece of bacon and stuffed it into his mouth, mumbling, "Hurry up and eat, or all the good seats will be taken!"
Fabian caught the pumpkin juice glass that Wesley's robe had knocked over with lightning speed, shaking his head helplessly. "I bet by the time we graduate, the drinks you spilled could fill the entire Black Lake." He then placed the glass back steadily on the table. "But Wesley's right, we really should get going."
Karen leisurely finished the last sip of pumpkin juice, watching his three roommates dash out of the auditorium like a whirlwind. He packed his bag, checked its contents to make sure he had everything, and then got up to leave.
Hogwarts Castle was unusually quiet on the weekend, with hardly a soul in sight in the corridors. Cullen's footsteps echoed against the ancient stone walls as he walked, recalling the dueling techniques Professor Flitwick had taught him the previous night—environmental manipulation, spell chaining, and concealing intentions. The professor's small figure floated into his mind, his intelligent eyes seemingly still watching him.
"A true dueling master is not a walking encyclopedia of spells, but a tactician who best understands the situation." Professor Flitwick's voice still seemed to echo in my ears. "A well-timed glowing spell can be more effective than ten attack spells."
As Karen rounded the corner on the fourth floor, he noticed the subject of a knight's portrait winking at him. He nodded politely and continued climbing. The fifth-floor corridor was even darker than below, and the torch flames seemed to burn less intensely. Fine dust motes floated in the air, dancing in the occasional sunlight filtering through the high windows.
Just as Karen passed the door of an abandoned restroom on the fifth floor, his Eye of Truth suddenly detected an unusual magical fluctuation; there were traces of spellcasting there not long ago. Karen's pupils contracted sharply, his body reacting before his thoughts could process them.
"Protect the Armor!" He swung his wand almost reflexively, rolling to the side. Although he hadn't fully mastered the Armor Charm, the hastily cast barrier weakened the power of the first spell. The spell grazed his shoulder, bringing a burning pain, and a patch of his robe was instantly charred black.
"Fly around!" Karen shouted, pointing his wand at the piles of discarded tables and chairs on either side of the corridor. Last night's training immediately showed its effects; the heavy furniture seemed to be lifted by an invisible hand, quickly forming a barrier in front of him, blocking the several spells that followed. A beam of red light struck an oak table, leaving charred marks; another spell shattered a chair, sending splinters flying everywhere.
Wood chips and dust swirled in the corridor, creating a hazy mist. Karen seized the opportunity to slip behind a stone pillar and quickly cast a "Silence" spell on himself. His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was unusually clear. He recalled one of the practical principles Professor Flitwick had emphasized last night: utilize the environment.
"Damn it! That Mudblood got away!" A familiar, slippery voice came from the smoke. Selwyn pushed aside the tables and chairs blocking his way and emerged with three Slytherin students, his wand scanning the corridor warily. Today he wore a dark green robe, his light blond hair was neatly combed, and his pale face held a cruel expectation.
Karen held his breath, his grey-blue eyes gleaming coldly in the shadows. He recognized the four attackers—besides Selwyn, there were three other Slytherin students whose names he didn't know, but whom he'd seen in class. Two of them, fat ones, blocked the middle of the corridor, their faces contorted with foolish grins; while the remaining one, a skinny Slytherin with a pointed nose, nervously looked around.
Having confirmed the number and location of the enemies, Cullen suddenly cast a silent, powerful illumination spell. A blinding light erupted from the tip of her wand, like a small sun exploding in the corridor. The four Slytherins instinctively closed their eyes, letting out painful gasps. Cullen seized the opportunity: "Yugardim Leviosa!"
The discarded tables and chairs flew through the air again, this time hurtling towards the attackers. The two fat men clumsily tried to dodge, colliding with each other like two startled hippos. The heavy oak chairs slammed into their backs, and the two men howled in pain before crashing heavily to the ground.
"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!" Karen cast a series of spells, and two beams of red light struck Selwin and the skinny Slytherin's wands precisely. The two wands spun into the air, where Karen caught them with a levitation charm, and they landed steadily in his left hand.
Selwyn, wandless, was deathly pale, but the malice in his eyes remained undiminished. His handsome face twisted into a hideous expression: "You bunch of trash! So many of you can't handle a first-year?" He turned to Karen, his voice trembling with rage, "You think this is all? My father's on the school board, you mudblood—"
"Shut up." Karen's voice was as cold as an Arctic glacier. Last night's dueling training had taught him that hesitation in the face of an enemy was the most dangerous thing to do. He waved his wand, shoving four Slytherins against the wall: "Petrify them all!"
Selwin and his companions were slammed against the stone wall as if held down by an invisible hand. Karen didn't stop, continuing to wave her wand: "Imprison them immediately!" The abandoned bench twisted and deformed, like a living python, transforming into rough ropes that bound the four men tightly together. The ropes dug deep into their robes, leaving red marks on their skin.
"Let us go! Do you know who you're messing with?" Selwyn struggled, his light blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, losing his usual so-called pureblood elegance. "When my father finds out about this, you'll be expelled! Your family will pay the price! I'll make my father find your filthy Muggle parents and make them—"
A dangerous glint flashed in Karen's eyes. He slowly approached the four bound men, his wand pointing steadily at Selwyn's chest: "Who organized this attack?" His voice was soft, yet sharp as a blade.
Although Karen was already fairly certain it was Selwyn, he still wanted to confirm it.
"Die, you Mudblood!" Selwyn spat, spittle flying onto Karen's robes. "You think you're so great just because you know a few spells? Pureblood magic is beyond the comprehension of thieves like you! My father said you Muggles are all thieves, stealing magic that doesn't belong to you!"
Karen stared blankly at Selwyn's contorted face and listened to his curses. An anger rose in Karen's chest, coiling around his heart like a venomous snake.
"Clear water like a spring," Cullen murmured, and a stream of water gushed from the tip of her wand, soaking the lower bodies of the four Slytherins. They looked at Cullen in confusion, not understanding what threat this posed. One of them even laughed foolishly: "Ha ha, is he giving us a bath?"
"Freezing Cold." Karen's second spell instantly froze the water, pinning the four men's legs firmly to the ground. The biting cold immediately seeped through their robes and chilled their skin. Selwyn finally showed a look of terror, but his mouth remained stubborn: "You—you dare! Professor Snape will be here soon—"
"I dare," Karen interrupted him, pointing her wand at the table and chairs floating in the air. "And I really will."
The tables and chairs rose and slammed down, the sound of breaking bones and heart-wrenching screams ringing out simultaneously. Selwyn's left leg was at an unnatural angle, his face contorted in pain, snot and tears streaming down his face. The two fat men howled like wounded beasts, while the skinny Slytherin had already fainted.
"Please, please stop..." A fat Slytherin was the first to break down, sobbing and pleading, his thick lips trembling. "Selwyn forced us to come... He said he wanted to teach you a lesson... He said you were too arrogant..."
Karen ignored him, raising her wand again for another attack. Just then, a cold voice came from the end of the corridor: "Stop!"