Chapter 151

The silence lasted for a full two seconds before a voice came from the teacher's bench, slightly trembling and surprised: "Did he just... cast a spell without a wand?"

As soon as these words came to light, the scene seemed to be lit with explosives.

"Casting spells without a wand? That's a skill only a high-level wizard can do!"

"Oh my God, he didn't even lift his wand!"

"This...is this the legendary 'third generation Dark Lord'?"

In an instant, the whole place was in an uproar.

The students started talking one after another, their voices rising and falling one after another.

Hermione and Ron's voices were especially loud. They were as excited as if they had won the game.

Hermione didn't even bother to keep her composure. She threw the book aside as she clapped her hands and screamed, "That's great, Devereux!"

Ron cheered loudly and waved his arms, with a smile on his face that almost reached behind his ears: "This is the game I want to watch!"

Under the leadership of Harry, the little lions all stood up and applauded Devereaux in unison, with enthusiasm that almost ignited the entire auditorium.

And in this wave of cheers, several Slytherin students quietly clapped their hands.

They looked around cautiously, but seemed unable to suppress their admiration for this wonderful victory.

On the ring, Nott was still slumped on the edge of the shield, his face pale.

His hand trembled slightly, as if he wanted to reach for the wand that fell on the edge of the ring, but in the end he was unable to put it down.

He murmured to himself: "How is it possible...I lost, and it was so easy..."

Obviously, this fiasco completely shattered his understanding of his own strength.

Slughorn was still stunned on the teacher's bench, staring dumbfounded at Devereux as he walked off the stage.

The phrase "silent casting" that he just blurted out has almost become the focus of the entire discussion, but at this moment he even forgot to add more comments.

Devereux didn't care. He casually patted the dust on his robe and stepped out of the ring, as if the duel just now was just an ordinary drill.

His expression was still lazy, and he couldn't even hide a hint of boredom, as if the applause and cheers from the audience had nothing to do with him.

As he walked down the steps, Devereaux raised his eyes and glanced toward the audience.

The audience was packed with people, most of them were ignited by the victory just now and seemed excited and confused.

However, there were a few people who were incompatible with the noise around them. Their expressions were either calm or deep, as if they were not infected.

First up is Gryffindor's Head Boy, Luke Harris.

There was a faint smile on his face, and the moment his eyes met with Devereaux, he nodded, as if in recognition of his performance just now.

But deep in Harris's eyes, there is a hint of fighting spirit that cannot be ignored.

Next is Emily Watson of Ravenclaw. She didn't show the slightest surprise or admiration, just stared at Devereux coldly, as if assessing his performance just now.

Her indifferent expression revealed a deep fear, as if she was weighing how to deal with this powerful opponent.

Finally, there is Percy Weasley of Gryffindor.

Unlike the others, he seemed unusually quiet and sat almost motionless in his seat.

The noise around him seemed to have nothing to do with him. His eyes were empty, and his eyes stayed on Devereaux, but there was an indescribable weirdness in them.

His hands scratched the back of his hands unconsciously, as if something was growing there, making him feel uncomfortable.

Devereaux looked away and frowned slightly.

He originally thought that the most threatening people were Harris and Watson, but for some reason, Percy's illusive eyes made him feel a little strangely uneasy.

His [Hunter] entry was actually triggered in a brief moment, and this instinctive alertness made him inexplicably irritated.

"How is that possible?"

Devero thought silently in his mind.

"Percy Weasley, isn't he the good and well-behaved student in the original book?"

He shook his head, suppressing the doubts in his heart.

Maybe I was overthinking it. The most important thing now was to return to the audience and continue to use this competition to improve my spell proficiency.

In the press box, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet had just recovered from the shock.

The shock on his face has not completely dissipated, but his eyes have quickly turned to the reporter beside him.

"What are you doing standing still!"

The editor-in-chief slapped the table in front of the reporter with a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Did you take the photo just now?!"

The young reporter shuddered suddenly, as if awakening from a dream.

He nodded, his movements slightly stiff, with an expression of disbelief still on his face.

Obviously, the result of the duel just now shocked him completely.

Upon seeing this, the editor-in-chief breathed a long sigh of relief, and then put on a serious expression, with a hint of unquestionable command in his tone.

"Listen up! Any time Devereaux plays next, the camera will be locked on him! No matter what happens on stage, we must ensure that we have first-hand material, do you understand?"

When the reporter heard this, he immediately straightened up from his chair, raised his head and raised his chest, and his voice became a little louder:

"Yes, sir!!!"

The editor nodded with satisfaction, but added uneasily: "Don't screw it up, he may be the headline today!"

"I...I declare that the winner of this match is Devero Alexander!"

Professor Flitwick stuttered a bit, obviously not expecting to encounter such a scene.

As soon as his voice fell, the whole auditorium was boiling, and the students were talking about it, and the voices rose and fell like waves.

"Oh my God! Can Harris still win the championship this time?"

"It's hard to say! This Devereux can actually use wandless casting. I wonder what will happen if he casts with all his strength!"

"Yes, yes, just now he actually blocked Nott's curse in one go. Does this mean that his magic level is stronger than these sixth and seventh grade students!"

The game situation that was originally thought to be a foregone conclusion has become confusing at this moment. The students' heated discussions reveal their anxiety and excitement about the next game.

At this moment, a voice suddenly sounded, interrupting everyone's discussion.

"What did you say? Worried about whether Harris can win the championship? Why do you have such a question?"

Everyone turned their heads to look, and saw Wells from Slytherin stood up, with a fanatical face, waving the sign in his hand, and announced loudly.

"Of course it's impossible! Only our third generation Dark Lord can win the championship!!"

He waved the flag frantically, as if he was determined to engrave this sentence in every corner of the hall.

The Gryffindor students were immediately furious, and some even took out their wands, ready to teach Wells a lesson.

But before they could act, they were persuaded by their companions: "Don't argue with a fool..."

At this chaotic moment, a sharp sound rang out, like a bird singing, mixed with a wolf howl.

Everyone's attention was attracted to Luna Lovegood, wearing an exaggerated crow hat, standing in the crowd, and said in a crisp voice:

"Deverot is the fourth generation Dark Lord!!! Harry Potter is the third generation!!!"

For a while, the hall fell into chaos again.

The students argued with each other, and the situation became more and more chaotic, even more lively than the Quidditch finals.

Devereux, standing in the audience, covered his face with his hands and sighed:

"Oh my god, what are you doing? Is this still Hogwarts? This scene is more chaotic than the US election..."

(Second update!!)