Umbridge's saccharine, fake smile finally shattered, replaced by a twisted expression of shock and fury.
She charged at Sagres like a pink salamander whose tail had been stepped on, her short, stubby finger nearly poking his nose.
"You! What have you done?!" Her shrill voice rose with anger.
She stood with her hands on her hips, the finger pointing at Sagres trembling slightly from the force.
"How dare you openly destroy Ministry of Magic property?! This is a blatant disregard for the Ministry of Magic's authority! I demand you immediately—"
Swoosh!
A sharp cutting curse sliced through the air. Umbridge felt a sudden gust of wind, followed by a chill at her fingertip.
Plop!
That aggressive, short, stubby index finger—still adorned with pink nail polish—fell to the cold ground, rolled twice, and came to a stop.
Umbridge froze. She withdrew her hand in disbelief, staring at it.
"Huh.. what.. is that my..—Ahhh!"
A rough, pig-like shriek tore from her throat.
But it only lasted half a second.
Nightingale elegantly waved her wand, and a silent Silencing Charm hit Umbridge squarely, blocking the earth-shattering scream in her throat.
"Always maintain elegance, Madam," Nightingale said impassively in her French accent.
Umbridge looked around at the Professors in terror, subconsciously raising her hand to accuse—but then froze mid-motion. Only then did she fully realize that the index finger she habitually used to point was now gone forever.
The six Professors watched the scene coldly. No one stepped forward. No one intervened. Even Professor Flitwick, usually the most amiable, merely pursed his lips and silently averted his gaze.
It was an unspoken acquiescence.
Sagres lowered his eyelids, his face still bearing that unchanging, indifferent expression.
He casually touched the severed finger on the ground with the tip of his wand, and it floated unsteadily, hovering in front of the tear-streaked Umbridge.
"How careless, Madam Umbridge…" His voice was as flat as water, as if stating a trivial matter unrelated to him. "You dropped something."
The entire venue plunged into an eerie silence; even the Durmstrang students, accustomed to fierce duels, held their breath.
The Hogwarts students' eyes widened, and everyone felt a chill crawl up their spines—Sagres's ruthless methods had far exceeded their imagination.
The accompanying Ministry of Magic officials were completely dumbfounded.
They had never imagined that an open attack on a high-ranking Ministry of Magic official would occur at Hogwarts—representing the highest standard of British magic—in plain sight.
Several of them felt their legs go weak and instinctively reached for their wands, but under Sagres's cold gaze, they froze, not daring to move.
"Sagres!" Karkaroff was the first to react. A fleeting, almost imperceptible trace of satisfaction flashed across his gaunt face, but he quickly masked it with stern rebuke. "You are too impulsive! How can you be so… disrespectful to a Ministry of Magic official!"
Madam Maxime let out a sharp gasp, covering her mouth with a handkerchief, but in the depths of her eyes, beyond the shock, there was also a trace of indifference toward Umbridge's self-inflicted humiliation.
Beauxbatons' elegance did not equate to sympathy for a power-abusing clown.
"Enough!"
Dumbledore finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it instantly quelled all murmurs and eased the tense atmosphere.
His sapphire-blue eyes first turned sternly to Sagres, then to Umbridge, who was on the verge of fainting.
"Madam Pomfrey, please take Dolores to the hospital wing immediately. Do your utmost to treat her," Dumbledore said with unquestionable authority.
The school nurse pursed her lips and stepped forward.
With a wave of her wand, a gentle blood-stopping charm fell on Umbridge's bleeding hand, temporarily staunching the wound.
She didn't touch the floating severed finger, merely levitated it with her wand to follow, then half-supported, half-dragged the limp, silently sobbing Umbridge away from the scene.
Several terrified Ministry of Magic officials, as if waking from a dream, stumbled after her.
Dumbledore turned to Sagres, his voice calm but laced with undeniable authority. "Professor Greengrass, your actions have severely overstepped. An assault on a Ministry of Magic official on duty is an extremely serious matter. You will need to provide a formal explanation to the Ministry of Magic after the competition."
Sagres nodded slightly in acknowledgment. "No problem." But his face showed no remorse, only cold indifference. "If they truly need it, I'll give them a 'reasonable' explanation."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over Madam Maxime and Karkaroff, who wore varied expressions, before finally turning to address the assembled teachers and students.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, "the Ministry of Magic's safety concerns are not without merit, but the manner of implementation has clearly caused unnecessary friction—and unfortunate consequences."
He deftly referred to it as an "accidental incident," downplaying the severity.
The Professors and the other two Headmasters were somewhat surprised but kept their expressions composed.
"The Triwizard Duel aims to promote exchange, learning, and to inspire passion and respect for dueling. Cumbersome procedures and restrictions should not become obstacles. The exhibition match will proceed as planned. First up: Severus Snape and Professor Filius Flitwick will present a spectacular and authentic magical duel! Now, let us clear the arena and welcome a true magical feast!"
As Dumbledore's words fell, a brief silence gave way to thunderous cheers erupting from the stands like a tidal wave.
The Hogwarts students clapped, stomped, and whistled with all their might, releasing the tension that had built up.
Even the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were swept up in the excitement, applauding and cheering along.
Although a trace of blood and tension still lingered in the air, the gloom brought by Umbridge—along with the remnants of her ridiculous "absolute safety shield"—was completely dispelled by the cheers.
Everyone's attention returned to the arena, where Snape in his billowing black robes and the diminutive Professor Flitwick had already stepped onto the dueling ground.
The surface of the tall dueling stone tablet shimmered, and the two Professors made their choice almost simultaneously—Random Scene!
The light and shadows on the stone tablet shifted rapidly, finally settling on "Low Wall Ruins."
Accompanied by a low rumble, the towering stone tablet sank into the ground the moment the arena scene was selected.
Then, countless vines and stones began to grow, crack, and stack atop one another.
In an instant, the once-smooth arena was transformed into the weathered ruins of a battlefield: leaning stone pillars skewed into the earth, broken low walls as tall as a person stood jagged and rough, and the ground was strewn with rubble and debris.
Everything now served as natural cover and potential traps for the duel to come.
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