Stealing Magic: A Darker Hogwarts

A wizard duel hinged on five factors: raw magical power, the number of spells known, spellcasting skill, combat instincts, and magical gear. Sean knew he was outmatched against Felix Varnholt in most of these.

Their magical power was close. Felix, a fifth-year soon to be sixth, had years of training, his magic honed like a well-kept wand. But Sean, a first-year with a second Magic Awakening , held his own, his raw talent rivaling Felix's experience. Their wands—each perfectly suited to its owner—offered no edge either way. Gear like Aldridge's bag tipped the scales slightly, but not enough yet.

The other three factors were where Felix dominated. He knew more spells, weaving them seamlessly in combat.

His spellcasting was far sharper, each flick of his wand precise as a Potions master's cut. And his combat instincts? They were leagues beyond Sean's, reading the duel like a Seer reading tea leaves. From the moment their wands clashed, Sean was on the back foot, pinned by Felix's relentless spellfire. Beating him with pure magic alone was a pipe dream.

If this were just a friendly duel, Sean wouldn't care about losing. He was twelve, a first-year set to start second year, and losing to a fifth-year was no shame. He'd already bested Schiller Cavill, another fifth-year , so a loss to Felix would be an honest defeat, nothing more. But the stakes were higher. His system thrived on victories.

A loss meant no reward, and that thought lit a fire in Sean's gut. He had to win.

He exhaled sharply, then inhaled, his legs coiling with Troll Strength. Spotting a split-second gap in Felix's barrage, Sean exploded forward. His speed, fueled by Troll Strength and Troll Spiked Hide, let him dart around Felix, circling like a hawk. He fired Petrificus Totalus while inching closer, his boots scuffing the dueling room's scorched floor.

"Felix, be careful, he's getting close to you!" a voice shouted.

Heads turned. The speaker, one of Felix's two allies from earlier, froze, realizing his mistake. He'd blurted a warning, disrupting the duel's unspoken rules. His face paled, and he clamped his mouth shut.

Aldridge's hand, already brushing his wand, eased back. Jason, wide-eyed beside him, caught the motion. He had no doubt Aldridge would've silenced the guy—maybe with a throat-locking charm—if he'd said more. The dueling room's charmed runes pulsed faintly, as if scolding the interruption.

Felix didn't hesitate. Schiller had warned him about Sean's strength, and he wasn't about to test it up close. Though tall and strong, Felix knew Sean's Strength was unnatural. He backpedaled, wand steady, keeping the gap wide. No need to play the hero when distance was his ally.

Sean didn't fault Felix's retreat. If he were in Felix's shoes, he'd do the same—why risk a fistfight with a magically enhanced first-year? Still, Sean had closed the distance enough. Time to act.

"Incendio!" Sean roared, slashing his wand.

A roaring cloud of fire burst forth, surging toward Felix like a Weasley Wheezes prank gone wild. Under its cover, Sean tucked his wand behind his waist and charged, yanking out the lumpy bag Aldridge had crafted, charmed with the Undetectable Extension Charm . Its contents—his secret weapon—rattled faintly.

Felix eyed the fire cloud, his dueling instincts screaming trap. He retreated faster, wand flashing to dispel the flames with a gust of charmed air. The fire vanished, revealing Sean sprinting toward him, bag in hand. Felix didn't know what was inside—potion, powder, or worse—but he wasn't taking chances. Distance was safety.

"Stupefy!" Felix snapped.

A red bolt shot from his wand, aimed at Sean's chest. But a silver flash erupted from Sean's bag, intercepting the spell. A muffled bang echoed as the red light exploded harmlessly.

Felix stared, stunned. A massive silver tower shield, rough-hewn and etched with ancient runes, loomed before Sean, nearly hiding him. Its surface bore crude splice marks, like a Hogwarts portrait patched together, but it held firm. Felix's Stupefy had left only a tiny dent, barely a scratch.

A shield in a wizard duel? It was absurd, like bringing a broom to a Potions exam.

Felix Varnholt stared at the towering silver shield, its rune-etched surface glinting like a Hogwarts portrait under torchlight. His first instinct was Transfiguration—turn the shield into something useless, like a teacup or a twig. He flicked his wand, muttering a spell, but the shield didn't budge. Not a shimmer, not a wobble. It stood firm, mocking his effort.

"What do you think those ancient runes are for?" Sean called, a sly grin in his voice.

As he spoke, he shifted the shield to his left hand, his right diving into the lumpy bag charmed with the Undetectable Extension Charm. He pulled out another item, its craftsmanship as rough as the shield's. The crowd gasped. It was a chain hammer, its arm-thick chain clanking, its head—studded with spikes and as big as a Quaffle—gleaming with menace. One swing could crush bone, troll or human alike, leaving nothing but a mess.

Crash… Bang!

The hammer head dropped, smashing a small crater into the dueling room's scorched floor. Sean dragged it, the chain scraping like a dragon's growl. Even with Troll Strength surging through him, the weight tugged at his arm, a reminder of its raw power.

"Come on, let's start the second round!" Sean shouted, his eyes locked on Felix.

Felix swallowed hard, taking a step back. For the first time, he spoke directly to Sean, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What's wrong with you? Are you actually a troll?"

Sean's mouth twitched, suppressing a laugh. He didn't know how to respond. What, should I say I'm a troll in human skin? His Troll Strength and Troll Spiked Hide made the jab hit close, but he wasn't about to admit it. Instead, he focused, channeling every ounce of strength. Shield in one hand, chain hammer in the other, he charged, a one-man battering ram.

Felix's eyes widened. Sean looked like a fully armed troll, a massive threat straight out of a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. Felix raised his wand, unleashing a torrent of spells—Stupefy, Diffindo, Petrificus Totalus—each one precise, desperate to stop Sean's advance. Half the spells missed, Sean dodging with surprising agility for his size. The rest slammed into the shield, leaving tiny pits but no real damage.

Yet Sean kept coming, closing the gap. The chain hammer spun in his hand, a deadly whirl of metal, and he swung it down toward Felix with terrifying force.

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