Work Text:
"Expulso!" Mstislav shouted, his forehead beaded with sweat. A column to Felix’s left exploded with blue light. He didn’t manage to cast Protego in time and was knocked down, a piece of the column pinning his robes to the ground.
Mstislav, victorious, made his way to his fallen foe. “Can't spell?” he laughed, leaning towards his schoolmate. “That’s what rubbing elbows with muggles does to you!” Felix looked away, trembling.
“Now, what are we going to do with you, los…” The boy didn’t finish as his wand was knocked out of his hand and another pressed into his chin.
"Loser?"
