How we think the fight will go
“You just don’t get it,” the magician said over a pint of ale. “I could have dropped a planet on him.”
“And yet you didn’t, Pug—and here you sit,” the pale man sitting next to him said. They were at a small bar in Hell’s Kitchen, not far from where the Suvudu gods worked. Pug still had a bitter taste in his mouth as he walked to the pub and could see their tower looming above.
And now he sat with a person of evil—a man he normally would have tried to destroy—sharing a drink. He glanced up at the television.
“He always goes for the Sectumsempra,” Pug said. “It never works.”
“It wasn’t fun, though,” Lestat muttered. “And I didn’t even have any blood to lose.”
“It’s just so unoriginal.”
“How’re your bitter grapes, champ?”
“Go to Hell,” Pug said.
“On my way,” Lestat smiled. He stared intently across the bar, and a bottle of cheap red flew into his hand.
Pug shook his head and turned his attention back to the TV. He sighed, watching Quick Ben draw on Serc and fly through the air.
“What?” Lestat asked, not really in the mood to hear Pug moan, but pretty sure he should just get it over with–a few lifetimes had taught him a little something about human nature.
“It’s just that…,” Pug began before taking another mouthful of ale. “It’s just that I could have had a magnificent duel with Quick, but instead I lost to him because I threw paper instead of rock!”
“Yeah, that was pretty stupid of you.”
Pug glared at the vampire, who simply shrugged and turned his attention to the fight on the television.
“Finite Incantatem!” Pug looked at the screen to see that whatever Quick Ben had been planning was thwarted by Snape—including his ability to fly. Even as Quick Ben fell, Snape was running towards him with his wand in his left hand, the right one destroyed by something the High Mage must have done to him earlier in the match.
Quick Ben disappeared.
Or, rather, the screen didn’t show him anymore. Didn’t show much of anything, as first the landscape went dark, then suddenly alternated between flashing colors of red and green. Snape was still visible, and looked particularly distressed by the dazzling display.
And the fact that Quick was nowhere to be seen.
“Huh,” Lestat grunted.
“Meanas,” Pug muttered. “And maybe Rashan.”
“Doesn’t matter. Watch.” The two once again looked up at the television.
Snape was now stumbling about as the ground shook beneath him, jagged rocks shooting up and catapulting the wizard through the air. Even as he tumbled to the ground, though, Snape was reaching out with his wand. The sound from the TV was that of screeching, as if something was distorting his speech, but it was clear even as he shifted from red and green and back that Severus was mouthing words.
“Ossio Ben?” Lestat asked, squinting, trying to read the wizard’s lips.
“Smart,” Pug said. He was starting to really appreciate this Snape’s ability to duel.
The ground stopped shaking on the television, and the air before Snape seemed to shift. Standing—bracing himself—he said rather clearly “Homenum Revelio!, and much to Lestat’s surprise, Quick Ben was on the screen.
“Nice!” Lestat said, draining the bottle in his hand. Looking down the bar, he held out his hand. “Accio wine!”
Pug shook his head in disgust. On the TV, Snape was pointing his wand at Quick Ben. “Crucio!”
Quick Ben fell to the ground, his lean body contorted in pain. But he didn’t stay down, and Snape’s surprise was evident on the wizard’s face. He pointed the wand at the High Mage again, clearly trying to intensify the spell…but Quick pressed on, looking stronger and stronger as he did.
“He’s healing himself,” Pug said.
“Neat trick,” Lestat said, taking a deep pull on the new bottle of wine. “It’s almost over.”
And it was. Snape, desperate, cried out “Incendio! Stupefy! Avada Kedavra!” and yet nothing was happening. The fire hit Quick Ben, but although he winced, he kept on coming, a hand raised in Snape’s direction. And then it was if whatever juice Snape had was gone, the stunning and killing spell having no effect at all. The wizard looked down at his wand, unbelieving, as if it was no longer the object it once was.
The world stopped flashing green and red…and Quick Ben plunged a knife into Snape’s ribs.
“Two magicians, and it comes down to—”
Lestat was interrupted by a sudden movement on the screen, as Snape’s left hand shoved his apparently useless wand into Quick Ben’s stomach.
“Didn’t think the boy had it in him,” Lestat said.
The two magicians staggered, falling to their knees. For a moment, it looked as if that would be the end of both of them.
Yet Snape’s collapse continued, and soon he was on the ground, unmoving. Quick Ben, however…
“Healing himself again?” Lestat said.
“It would appear so.”
“Maybe you were better off not fighting him to the death.”
Pug watched the television as Quick Ben gathered himself—and his knife from Snape’s body—and made his way off-screen.
He wondered if Lestat was right. He wondered if Suvudu would give him another shot in the future.
Predicted Winner: Quick Ben
NOTE: THIS MATCH ENDS ON SUNDAY, MARCH 27TH, 2011, AT 5 PM, ET
Quick Ben image courtesy of Michael Komarck. Severus Snape image courtesy of Grant Gould.