A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 165: Clash of Wands

The solid wooden doors of the Great Hall shattered into countless pieces, amidst a swirl of smoke and dust, as crimson beams of light, reminiscent of laser-like streaks, swept through the entire room.

Felix Harp casually flicked a spell away—a Stunning Charm.

"Weak magic," he mused with surprise.

But in the next second, a red beam of light came straight at him, colliding against an invisible barrier, producing a deep rumble.

Felix smirked, his lips curling. "Now, that's more like it."

He pulled Professor Burbage along as he gracefully side-stepped, the Professor frantically pushing aside her ginger hair that had fallen in front of her face. "What's happening? What's going on?"

Felix didn't reply. The combined effects of the Sensory Charm and Memory Acceleration had slowed everything around him.

Burbage's questions seemed drawn out, and the swift arc of spells in flight appeared slightly sluggish.

Before a dozen spells could reach him, he was already prepared, conjuring a Shield Charm to ward them off.

"Tch!"

With a soft sound, Felix used a Disillusionment Charm to transport himself and Professor Burbage to the seventh floor of the hotel. "Professor Burbage, I've checked before—nobody resides on the sixth and seventh floors. They aren't likely the attackers' target. Find a room to hide in."

This was confirmed based on his previous investigations. Earlier, Celestina and that weathered-faced wizard had sought a quiet place to discuss private matters.

"Alright, alright." Burbage nervously swallowed, still shaken by the intense scene. She had never witnessed so many spells all at once before.

Felix's earlier advice echoed in her mind.

Felix's form twisted and vanished, leaving behind a faint trail of black smoke. The next instant, he emerged from the air of the Great Hall, appearing on the balcony of the second level.

After narrowly dodging a misaimed red arrow, he stood elevated, looking down below.

The room had turned into a mess—doors blown open, tables and chairs scattered, scorch marks everywhere. The attack had come suddenly, and most of the Muggle studies experts were sprawled on the ground, but from their condition, they seemed only unconscious.

"Huh, these attackers show some restraint, don't they?"

His gaze rapidly scanned the scene, his mind working at lightning speed to process every detail in the room.

This was the initial requirement of swift-assault tactics—to read the battlefield and gather useful information.

The opposing sides consisted of three factions: Celestina, the weathered-faced man hiding behind the lectern—they belonged to the American magical government faction;

Maxwell and two unfamiliar young Aurors stood near the stone pillars, probably guards assigned by the French Ministry of Magic;

The remaining dozen Muggle experts from different countries were sporadically positioned around, struggling to defend themselves.

The other side consisted of the attackers, all dressed in black robes adorned with white star decorations, wearing masks. There were twenty-seven of them, and more were continuously pouring in.

"Norwell Celestina! Show yourself!"

One of the attackers shouted. As they spoke, the windows of the fourth-floor hall shattered, and seven or eight black-robed wizards on broomsticks burst in, soaring above the ceiling and casting spells downward.

Felix swiftly swung his wand, knocking two wizards attempting to hex him out of the air, sending the rest of them veering away in fright.

Celestina was hiding behind the lectern. Fierce as a lion, she retorted, "It was abolished in 1965!"

"Do you know what you've done? Defying the Magical Congress!"

She seemed to be explaining something, but it only further ignited the attackers' rage.

"Liar!"

"This is deception!"

These attackers were organized with distinct roles, forming four squads—front, back, left, and right. Within each squad, some were in charge of offense, others of defense, mutually supporting and advancing, seizing over half of the Great Hall and almost cornering the Ministry of Magic team against the wall.

What was even more dreadful was the constant influx of black-robed wizards into the room. The enemy's numbers seemed boundless, which made Maxwell feel a sense of despair.

Last time, there were only five attackers. This time, it looked like that number had multiplied tenfold. The French Ministry of Magic had already exercised great caution, sending out a total of twelve Aurors, forming two combat teams. That strength would have sufficed to sweep through a black market. However, this time, they were suffering a brutal defeat, with seven being taken down with a single blow.

There was only one reason—there were simply too many of them on the opposing side! Spells were coming from all directions, leaving no room for evasion.

Maxwell gritted his teeth and glanced at his comrades beside him. Including himself, there were only three left. The remaining nine had fallen into the hands of the enemy.

He could only pray that the Ministry would soon discover the anomaly and send reinforcements.

...

Felix Harp was getting somewhat confused. The attackers had a straightforward objective—to capture Norwell Celestina. And it seemed Celestina knew she was their target, even who they were.

Because, from behind two stone pillars, she was shouting to Maxwell, "Do not use lethal spells!"

But the battlefield was not something she could control. And in the midst of a battle, showing mercy was not a good idea. A red light struck Maxwell, causing his body to stiffen, followed by seven or eight more red lights.

Amid his shocked expression, the spells sent him flying and slammed him into a pillar behind him.

"Maxwell!"

A young Auror's eyes went red. He gritted his teeth and cast a black spell, conjuring a sharp dagger from the swirling black mist in the air. With unstoppable momentum, the dagger pierced into the chest of an attacker on the other side, blood spurting from his chest instantly.

"Bethany!" a mournful cry came from the opposition, followed by a sharp escalation in their spellcasting.

Though not completely understanding the situation, Felix felt he needed to intervene—before things became irreparable.

Raising his hand, he unleashed a Bursting Hex. The spell hit the chandelier on the ceiling, causing it to shatter along with half of the ceiling itself. Dust and debris rained down.

The crimson lights in the air weakened considerably.

Felix's figure suddenly appeared conspicuously in the center of the hall. Calmly and precisely, he swished his wand, sending Stunners streaming like water from its tip. The smoke cleared, leaving seven or eight attackers lying on the ground.

"All hexes end!"

Felix reversed his wand, plunging it into the ground. A wave of red light surged out like a tidal wave, emanating from him. Attackers, Muggle experts, Aurors, and officials from the American magical government were sent flying like straws. The spells they were about to cast fell into silence.

Everyone's gaze turned to this suddenly appearing figure, watching as he slowly rose, holding his wand expressionlessly.

The hall was so silent that you could hear every breath. Several seconds passed—

"Take him down!" A composed voice among the attackers spoke.

But a dozen spells struck only the black smoke he had left behind. Then, everyone present witnessed a scene they would never forget—Felix's figure kept flickering, every appearance accompanied by a dazzling red light.

The most astonishing moment was when they simultaneously saw seven shadows of Felix.

Pushing through the attacker squad that had managed to advance closer to the front of the hall, they were almost instantaneously scattered within one or two seconds. The other three squads crumbled into chaos.

"So weak," Felix thought, his puzzlement deepening. Despite their organized formations, their individual skills were terribly lacking. They lacked the essential self-defense awareness even within the protection of their team, akin to bullying children...

Felix didn't feel the exhilaration of spellcasting; instead, his confusion grew. If he had to compare, some of them didn't even measure up to Percy Weasley in terms of spell power.

"The disparity in individual strength among the members is huge, they aren't accustomed to using killing curses and dark magic, their combat experience is lacking, and their spell power is weak..."

"Where did these attackers suddenly appear from?"

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