Hogwarts : Max Level Unforgivable Curse

"What's going on?" Hermione frowned deeply. "Is that broomstick just old and broken?"

Hagrid furrowed his brow. "No, only dark magic can affect a broomstick like that."

"What?!" Hermione gasped, then immediately snatched the binoculars from Hagrid's hands.

She scanned the crowd and quickly locked onto someone casting a spell.

"Snape! He's the one casting the spell!"

"What?!" Ron's eyes widened in shock.

"This is bad! Professor Snape's gone mad! He's trying to kill Harry right now!"

Hermione shoved the binoculars into Ron's face. "Look for yourself!"

"What do we do?" Ron took the binoculars and saw Professor Snape muttering something under his breath.

"We have to stop him, of course!" Hermione stood up, ready to rush across the field to confront Snape.

But Dylan spoke up just then. "Hold on, take a look at this first."

He grabbed the binoculars from Ron and adjusted them before handing them to Hermione.

"Professor Quirrell? He's casting a spell too?" Hermione was stunned.

"That professor who stumbles over his words in class, always clutching his books, and looks as pale as an old woman's heel—he knows how to cast spells?" Hermione said in disbelief.

Dylan raised an eyebrow, glancing at Hermione's slightly parted lips, red with shock.

"Such harsh words coming from those lips?" he thought to himself.

Dylan pursed his lips. "Well, Quirrell's classes are as tedious as an old woman's ramblings, but the fact remains—he's casting a spell."

"And while a curse could make Harry's broom go haywire, a counter-curse could also help him regain control."

"But isn't it strange that Quirrell can cast any kind of spell at all?"

Hermione nodded, frowning. "So what do we do?"

"Don't panic," Dylan said, raising his wand.

Despite the distance, Dylan aimed his wand in Quirrell's direction.

"You're going to cast a spell from here?!" Hermione turned to him.

Dylan smiled faintly. "Finite Incantatem!"

He quietly recited the spell to stop the magic.

But in reality…

"Confundo!" (Confundus Charm!)

Dylan didn't dare use dark magic openly, even with a cover spell. He wasn't sure if Dumbledore was still at the school or if he was watching Quirrell.

For all he knew, Dumbledore could be disguised as a student, lurking in some corner.

Dylan wasn't about to take that risk.

Back in the dungeon, it was one thing—no one could directly see him using dark magic unless they were right there. But here, with so many people around, Dylan couldn't be sure if Dumbledore was among them.

Compared to Quirrell, Dylan thought, if Dumbledore turned his attention to him, Harry might end up fighting him instead of Voldemort!

And Dumbledore might not even wait for Harry to grow up—he might just finish Dylan off on the spot!

"Ah!"

Just as Dylan's Confundus Charm shot across half the field and hit Quirrell, who was locked in a magical duel with Snape, Quirrell's mind went blank.

He had been about to cast another hex on Harry, but suddenly, his head throbbed, and his mouth twitched.

He ended up casting a hex on himself.

His stomach churned, his face turned pale, his eyes widened, and his lips trembled.

Then, his throat convulsed, and his jaw dropped as if it might dislocate.

"Ugh—"

A torrent of yellowish-green vomit erupted from his mouth, spraying out in a wide arc.

The semi-liquid mess was filled with chunks of soggy bread, shreds of vegetables, and other unidentifiable mush.

It splattered like shotgun pellets, drenching everyone in front of him.

Those in the front rows didn't have time to react before they were hit by the sudden "rain."

Some got it on their faces and instinctively shut their eyes.

Others were sprayed on their clothes and jumped up in horror.

And then there were those who had been gaping at the sky, watching Harry's broom go out of control, only to…

"Ugh!"

"Ugh! Ugh!"

"Ugh!"

It was like a signal had been given. Soon, many in the front rows joined in the chorus of retching.

Chaos erupted.

Quirrell, meanwhile, was bent over, hands on his knees, unable to stop vomiting.

Snape, who had been about to cast another spell at Harry, paused when the curse on Harry's broom suddenly broke.

Then, he noticed the commotion in the stands.

He was momentarily stunned.

Meanwhile, Hermione, who had been watching Quirrell through the binoculars, quickly put them down and covered her mouth, looking at Dylan in shock.

"What's going on? What happened over there?" Ron asked urgently.

But Hermione, still covering her mouth, couldn't speak.

"What's happening?!" Ron grabbed the binoculars from her.

He looked through them.

"Professor Quirrell just vomited all over them? Ugh—"

"Don't you dare throw up!" Dylan glared at him.

Ron quickly handed the binoculars to Seamus and clamped both hands over his mouth.

Hermione took a moment to recover, then took a sip from her water bottle before turning to Dylan.

"Did… did you do that?"

Dylan blinked innocently. "Hey, don't go blaming me! I just used a Finite Incantatem! And from this distance, my spell might not have even reached him!"

This time, he hadn't shown any visible effects of his spell.

If anyone accused him of casting something, he'd deny it.

Hermione gave him a suspicious look.

He had cast a spell without any visible effects?

Very suspicious.

"But it really was Quirrell casting the curse on Harry?"

Hermione didn't dwell on it and turned her attention back to the field.

The area around Quirrell was in complete disarray, with students screaming and pushing to get away.

Soon, professors stepped in to restore order.

The game didn't stop, but the students within the vomit radius had no interest in continuing to watch.

They rushed back to their dorms to clean up—

Even though the professors had already cast Scourgify on them.

(End of Chapter)