Return of Salazar Slytherin

The Great Hall was in an uproar. 

Most of the young witches and wizards present had heard of Daphne's name—after all, she had caused quite a stir in her first-year. But no one expected her to be this audacious! 

Everyone here is weak? How is that different from outright declaring, "You're all trash"? 

The students below the stage were raring to go, itching to teach this bold little witch a lesson and show her that young people shouldn't be too overconfident. 

"Will my sister fly into the air and rely on air superiority to win the duel?" Astoria speculated. 

Rhys shook his head. He didn't think Daphne would do that, at least not at the start. 

Even Professor Flitwick was startled by Daphne's statement.

He glanced first at Snape, then at Lupin, his confusion evident. What was going on with Daphne? How did this little Slytherin end up with the same combative spirit as a Gryffindor student? 

Oh well, he thought. He'd just have to pay closer attention to ensure she didn't get hurt. 

Inwardly, Flitwick had already prepared to intervene in the duel if necessary. 

Still, Daphne's bold proclamation had undeniably set the atmosphere in the Great Hall ablaze.

Every single student present was brimming with the urge to step onto the stage and knock her down a peg. 

Malfoy stared at the stage, a contemplative look on his face. 

Marcus leaned in, grinning as he nudged Malfoy's arm. "Why don't you go up there and duel her? Let me tell you, showing off your skills is the best way to catch a girl's attention." 

Malfoy licked his lips.

He had to admit, he was tempted. 

If he could defeat her in front of everyone… would she start seeing him in a different light? 

Tempted as he was, Malfoy knew Daphne was not weak.

He turned to Marcus and asked why he wasn't going up himself. 

"Me? Handling a little girl like that would be a piece of cake. But, you see, as her senior, it wouldn't be right for me to bully someone younger." Marcus said with a laugh, brushing off the question. 

Despite his troll-like appearance, Marcus was far craftier than he seemed.

He had no intention of stepping into the ring with Daphne. Losing would ruin his reputation, and winning wouldn't bring him any benefit. But egging on his junior, Malfoy, to take up the challenge? That was a risk-free plan. 

Regardless of the duel's outcome, Marcus figured he'd come out ahead. 

"Don't tell me, you, a Malfoy, are afraid of a girl! That would be embarrassing! Haha!"

Fueled by Marcus's instigation and a surge of adrenaline, Malfoy didn't think too much about it. He pushed his way to the front of the stage and shouted loudly, "Daphne, I challenge you to a duel!" 

This time, it seemed fortune was smiling on Malfoy, as Daphne actually heard his challenge—and accepted it! 

When Professor Flitwick invited Malfoy onto the stage, his mind was filled with a surreal sense of disbelief: she actually responded to his challenge.

Could it be...

Did he hold a special place in her heart?

Malfoy wasn't entirely wrong—his position in Daphne's mind was indeed unique.

After all, the top spot on her blacklist was a special place!

Grinning from ear to ear, Malfoy ascended the platform, unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face.

Daphne and Malfoy stood facing each other, bowing politely.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," Malfoy whispered to Daphne with a flourish of his bow.

"No, I suggest you go all out," Daphne replied, a smile on her face.

The chance to strike without repercussions—what a truly joyous moment this was…

At Flitwick's signal, the duel began. Malfoy quickly raised his wand, but Daphne was faster.

With a flick of her left hand, she cast a defensive spell in front of herself, while her right hand waved decisively toward Malfoy.

Bang!

An air-formed fist smashed into Malfoy's stomach, making stars dance before his eyes.

Spell interrupted!

Malfoy, clutching his stomach from the heavy blow, couldn't manage to utter a spell. Meanwhile, Daphne's relentless assault showed no signs of stopping.

Feigning spellcasting with exaggerated wand movements and muttered incantations—words even she didn't fully comprehend—Daphne continued to manipulate her mana, delivering a barrage of blows to Malfoy.

The second air-formed fist struck his side, twisting his face in agony. The third punch landed squarely on his nose, causing it to bloom painfully. The fourth, fifth... each hit rained down with precision and force.

Flitwick scrutinized the patterns Daphne traced with her wand, furrowing his brow as he observed.

There was no discernible connection between her incantations, wand movements, and the resulting effects. It appeared as though she were randomly waving her wand.

Professor Flitwick was stunned. This kind of magic was exceedingly rare and seemed to hint at wandless casting.

In his younger years, Flitwick had sparred with students from Africa's Uagadou School of Magic, known for their mastery of wandless magic.

Their opponents often felt as if they'd been physically pummeled by invisible blows, a technique strikingly similar to Daphne's current performance.

While Flitwick analyzed Daphne's technique, her barrage on Malfoy continued without mercy. Every strike was a solid, punishing hit.

Standing nearby, Professor Snape could no longer bear to watch. He coughed heavily, twice, signaling Flitwick that it was time to intervene.

Snapped out of his thoughts by Snape's pointed cough, Flitwick hurriedly called an end to the duel.

Daphne obediently stowed her wand, while Malfoy collapsed onto the dueling platform with a loud thud.

The young wizards and witches below the stage: …

Seeing Daphne standing calmly on the platform, her expression serene and composed, at least half of the students lost any desire to challenge her.

Who could associate the doll-like, delicate young witch before them with the same person who had mercilessly pummeled her opponent moments ago? Many even doubted their own eyes, yet Draco Malfoy lying there on the stage was irrefutable proof of what had transpired.

Professor Snape strode quickly to Malfoy's side and drew his wand.

"Ennervate!"

The reviving spell healed Malfoy's physical wounds, but it couldn't mend his crushed spirit. At that moment, Malfoy had no intention of getting up; he couldn't bear to meet the gazes of those around him.

Snape, however, was having none of it. He hauled Malfoy to his feet with a firm grip, then dragged him off the platform and handed him over to Marcus.

Having witnessed Malfoy's thorough defeat at close range, Marcus felt a chill run down his spine.

Could he really withstand that relentless barrage of attacks if he stepped onto the stage? He had no definitive answer.

Maybe his sturdy physique would allow him to endure a few more punches?

"Next," Daphne's crisp voice rang out from the stage.

Malfoy's eyes snapped open. He grabbed Marcus's arm with sudden urgency. Marcus instantly sensed trouble, but it was already too late.

"Y-You have to avenge me!" Malfoy pleaded, begging Marcus to step onto the stage and fight on his behalf. Right now, Malfoy didn't care about anything else—he just wanted someone to help him win back his pride.

Marcus wanted to refuse, but Malfoy was bound to offer a condition he couldn't turn down.

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