Travers's words grew increasingly ugly as he deliberately twisted the facts, dismissing Regulus's prowess as nothing more than obscure tricks and dumb luck.
Regulus stood quietly with his head slightly bowed; he knew Travers was trying to provoke him, hoping to make him lose control and strike first.
As long as he made the first move, Travers, a fifth-year student forced into self-defense, would hold the moral high ground regardless of the outcome.
And Travers was confident that as long as he didn't get careless and took the fight seriously, he would never be humiliated like last time.
The whispers around them died down; everyone was watching Regulus, waiting for his reaction.
Regulus stood rooted to the spot, listening to the spiteful words, feeling the cold irritation brought on by the letter slowly fermenting and heating up within his chest.
He looked at Alger Travers's face, written all over with calculation and malice, and suddenly found it somewhat laughable, and rather tedious.
Why did some people just never understand?
He slowly curled the corners of his lips, revealing a smile so cold it was almost sharp.
This smile made those who knew him pause for a moment.
Cuthbert and Alex exchanged a look of bewildered suspicion; they both keenly sensed that Regulus's mood was somewhat off at this moment.
Even Hermes, lurking in the shadows, let his gaze freeze for a split second.
In the shadows of a corner, Snape was watching closely, his black eyes narrowing as he scrutinized a Regulus who seemed like a completely different person.
Regulus did not fly into a rage or retort with biting sarcasm as Travers had expected; he didn't even glance at the upper-year students waiting for a show.
He simply took two steps forward and spoke in a cold, flat tone, "Save your clumsy attempts at provocation, Travers.
You want me to attack you first so you can claim the moral high ground of self-defense and salvage your pitiful pride.
A childish trick, yet you perform it with such effort."
He watched the other boy's expression turn ugly in an instant, and continued in that disconcertingly calm voice, "Like a clown."
Three words, light as a feather, yet they landed like three distinct slaps across Alger Travers's face.
Then, Regulus raised his wand hand.
"So, stop wasting time."
"Draw your wand."
The common room fell dead silent, save for the occasional crackle of the flames in the fireplace.
Alger Travers's face turned pale, then flushed, as the humiliation of having his intentions exposed and the rage of being called a clown intertwined.
He hadn't expected Regulus to defy convention so blatantly, using the bluntest method possible to lay bare his schemes right under everyone's noses.
"Fine!" Travers whipped out his wand, pointing the tip at Regulus, forcing a vicious expression onto his face.
"Since you're so arrogant, I'll show you the gap between a first-year and a fifth-year, and teach you how to respect your seniors!"
The crowd automatically parted, clearing the center space once more, as whispering voices rose like a tide.
"Tsk, Travers really is a fool; he thought everyone else was stupid too."
"The Black kid is ruthless enough, he just tore right through the pretense."
"A fifth-year against a first-year... even if Black beat Travers last time, wasn't that a sneak attack?"
"Not necessarily. Look at how he blocked that Dark Magic..."
"That's different. Mulciber was a freshman too. Travers has had five years of proper training, no matter how you slice it."
"This is going to be a good show."
Cuthbert clenched his fists nervously, Alex had already shut his eyes in fear, and Hermes leaned against a nearby stone pillar, his gloomy gaze locked tight on the scene.
Lucretius did not step in to stop it; in Slytherin, private and voluntary duels like this were often tacitly permitted, provided they didn't lead to irreversible consequences.
"Begin!" shouted an upper-year student who enjoyed the drama.
Alger Travers practically launched a preemptive strike, having learned his lesson from last time with his wand already in hand. "Stupefy!"
A dazzling jet of red light shot straight for Regulus's face.
Regulus flicked his wand lightly; a blur of light flashed, and the Stunning Spell was intercepted before it reached him.
"Incendio!" Travers changed tactics, and a scorching serpent of fire burst from his wand tip, roaring toward his opponent.
Regulus remained rooted to the spot, simply twitching his wand upward: the Fire-Extinguishing Charm.
The flames vanished into thin air, and even the searing heat radiating from the fire snake disappeared with them.
Regulus's indifferent voice drifted over. "Is that all?"
Giving Travers no further chance to cast, Regulus whipped his wand, landing a Jelly-Legs Jinx with precision.
Travers's legs gave way, and just as he began to pitch forward, an Impediment Jinx struck his upper body.
Bang.
Hit by two spells in succession, Travers was flipped stiffly into the air. Before he could land, a second Impediment Jinx followed up.
Bang!
Travers was knocked flying through the air like a rag doll.
The seamless combo made the spectating upper-years wince; just watching it was painful.
"Sss!" A sixth-year girl sucked in a breath, hugging her shoulders and shuddering. "That must hurt."
Another boy chimed in, "More than the physical pain, Travers is probably hurting more on the inside."
A fourth-year exclaimed, "Look at Black's spellwork, non-verbal, fast, and the transitions are flawless!"
A few others exchanged glances.
Could you dodge that?
Maybe. You?
Not a chance!
"Muddy Ground."
Travers had been hit by three spells in a row; flying backward through the air, his mind was a blank slate, and he didn't realize what was happening until he hit the ground.
But, god, did it hurt!
After flying seven or eight meters, he didn't feel the expected impact of the floor, but instead sank into a pit of mud.
"Reducto!" In his panic, Travers aimed a Reductor Curse at the ground beneath him, trying to blast away the mud.
But the moment the spell left his wand, an empty armchair beside him suddenly came to life.
The wooden structure twisted, stretched, and reassembled with lightning speed, transforming in moments into a massive python nearly ten meters long!
The python glided silently, instantly coiling around Travers's waist. It yanked him violently out of the mud, and then its coils tightened!
"Ah!" Travers screamed in terror, waving his wand wildly. "Diffindo!"
The spell struck the python, blasting off a few scales to reveal the distinct flesh beneath.
But that was all it did; the snake only constricted tighter, making it difficult for him to breathe.
"Let go! Let go of me!" Travers struggled futilely, his face flushing red.
Regulus approached with leisurely steps, his eyes devoid of emotion as he looked down at the wretched Travers, tightly constricted by the python.
He waved his wand with leisurely ease.
The python began to move slowly, dragging the desperately struggling but helpless Travers in circles around the clearing in the center of the common room.
One circle, two circles... as if parading a comical trophy.
"Enough! Let him go!" a sixth-year boy whose family was close to the Travers shouted, unable to watch any longer.
Regulus cast him a glance, a look that choked the rest of the boy's sentence in his throat.
Only when Travers began to roll his eyes from lack of oxygen and sheer humiliation did Regulus seem to lose interest, flicking his wand upward.
The python instantly released its grip, transforming back into an armchair with torn upholstery that clattered to the floor.
Alger Travers collapsed on the ground like a fish out of water, coughing and gasping violently. His robes were stained with drool, his face was a mess of snot and tears, and his wand was lost somewhere nearby.
The common room was silent as the grave.
Everyone stared at the black-haired boy who remained as immaculate as before, looking as though he had merely returned from a stroll.
Using only the most basic spells combined with a precise and imaginative piece of Transfiguration, he had toyed with a fifth-year student, not letting his opponent touch so much as the hem of his robes throughout the entire encounter.
Some even suspected that if they hadn't been in the crowded common room, Black might have simply killed Travers.
The python's constriction had made it clear to everyone that Travers had been on the verge of suffocation.
It was no longer a question of victory or defeat; it was a display of attitude and skill, carried out with a certain cruel flair.
Regulus did not spare another glance for the loser on the floor, nor did he acknowledge the looks of shock, awe, and even hidden fear surrounding him.
The irritation in his heart seemed to have vented slightly with this one-sided game, but a deeper, colder sense of urgency remained settled at the bottom of his soul.
He sheathed his wand, turned, and walked straight toward the corridor leading to the dormitories amidst the silence.
Cuthbert opened his mouth but said nothing; Alex was simply dumbfounded.
Hermes gave Regulus's retreating back an inscrutable look, swept a glance at the limp Travers on the floor, and quietly slipped back into the shadows.
After tonight, the name Regulus Black might carry a very different meaning within Slytherin.