The dueling platform in the Great Hall gleamed under the flickering candlelight. Students from every house gathered around the ring, whispering, cheering, and gasping with each match that ended in a flash of light.
And I stood at the center of it all.
The Dueling Club had quickly become my personal stage — a place where I didn't need to hide my brilliance behind charm or humility. Here, raw power and skill ruled, and I was both king and conqueror.
My wand moved with effortless grace, not a single word leaving my lips. Silent casting — something most wizards didn't even attempt until NEWT level — was now second nature to me. Every flick, every twist of my wrist, carried precision and deadly intent.
Across from me stood a sixth-year Slytherin — a boy nearly twice my size, known for his aggression and raw strength. His wand trembled slightly, not from weakness, but from knowing he was facing someone unnatural.
He shouted an incantation, sending a thick wave of magic roaring toward me.
I didn't even blink.
A subtle wrist motion and a shimmering barrier formed before me — translucent, humming softly with layered runes of reinforcement. His spell struck, cracked the surface… and shattered against it like glass.
Before he could react, my wand was already raised again.No sound. No warning.
A surge of invisible energy blasted from my wand tip, tearing through the air and slamming into his chest. His barrier — hastily conjured — splintered under the force like paper.
He was flung backward, crashing to the floor with a dull thud. The hall went silent for a heartbeat — then erupted into cheers and gasps.
I lowered my wand slowly, my face calm, collected, as though the duel had been nothing more than light exercise.
"Twenty-one wins," someone whispered.
"Twenty-two," another corrected, eyes wide.
Yes. Twenty-two straight victories.
I'd been dueling for nearly two hours, my magic reserves running thin, yet my focus remained razor-sharp. Each duel honed my instincts further — every flicker of light, every change in magical flow, became clearer to me. My battle sense had evolved.
A sixth-year Gryffindor stepped forward next — tall, broad-shouldered, confidence practically radiating from him. His friends patted his back, telling him to "put the little Slytherin in his place."
I smiled faintly.Good. Let them underestimate me.
The duel began with a flash of red light. He opened with a series of rapid-fire Expelliarmus and Stupefy spells — basic, but strong. I danced between them, my movements fluid and unhurried, deflecting each with effortless precision.
I didn't bother with incantations. Instead, I shifted my focus inward — drawing on that supreme magic control the system had gifted me. My spells weaved through the air like serpents, bending mid-flight, striking from impossible angles.
A searing line of blue light curved around his shield and struck his shoulder. He stumbled back, shocked — realizing too late that I had redirected the spell midair.
The crowd roared.
I advanced, my wand glowing faintly. My next spell — a silent Depulso — struck him in the chest, sending him skidding across the floor before he tumbled off the stage in a heap of robes and embarrassment.
"Match over!" the club captain shouted, barely hiding his astonishment.
Another victory. Another cheer. Another reminder to everyone in this castle who the strongest truly was.
I could feel my pulse racing, not from exhaustion but from exhilaration. Every duel refined my technique. Every opponent made me sharper, faster, stronger. My magic had begun to flow with frightening precision — my control nearing perfection.
And I wasn't just learning combat. I was learning dominance.
Each victory wasn't just about power — it was about presence. Every opponent that fell before me would remember this day. Every student watching would whisper my name. And the legend of Tom Riddle — the prodigy, the duelist, the genius — would continue to grow.
I lowered my wand, breathing evenly, and glanced toward the upper stands. A few professors were watching now — intrigued, impressed, and perhaps a little concerned.
Good.
Let them all see what kind of wizard I was becoming.
Not a child.Not a student.
A force of nature.
And soon… the entire wizarding world would know it too.