Claim the Win
With a push, the old, polished doors to the Great Hall opened and the flame dancing atop the torches on the stone walls flickered as if in answer to the call. Black robes billowing behind him, a young man with a shock of dark hair strode down the row separating the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, his steps swift and purposeful, giving the impression of one gliding across the floor. In a pale slack hand was his wand. The green eyes behind the wire spectacles he wore were heavy, void of life and resigned to some course of action. Something similar but not quite like a smile shadowed his thin face, his expression neutral, almost lazy.
Harry strode one step, two steps, three steps forward and stopped. He stood in front of the head table, his back straight, his shoulders light. He was aware that the general chatter and buzz over dinner had significantly died down. Unperturbed, he kept his eyes level on the feast-laden table in front of him, but stared at nothing in particular. After a few beats of silence, Harry raised his eyes. They rested on Dumbledore.
"He won't win," Harry whispered to the wizened headmaster.
The occupants at the head table started stirring but were quieted down abruptly. Dumbledore's gaze was hard and calculating, but his tone gave nothing away. "Who won't, Harry?"
"You needn't worry, Sir." Harry was unnervingly calm, even distant. He sounded as though he had just sat down to tea and was perfectly at peace with the world. "I promise you this."
McGonagall frowned, her glasses gleaming like cut crystal as she surveyed the boy. The Gryffindor gave her an odd look which did not sit well with her.
In the same quiet voice, Dumbledore regarded him kindly. "It isn't wise to speak in riddles when we wish to be understood, Harry. What do you wish to discuss with me?"
Harry looked at him with eyes that were bright and yet somewhat dead, intense green boring quiet fire into bright blue. "It's simple, Professor. I only just realized that now."
"POTTER!" came a stern voice, pulsing anger and contempt. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"
Harry shook his head, looking smug but strangely lost. "Dock one hundred if you fancy. It won't matter, Professor."
Snape's eyes bulged. He steadied himself with a quiet breath and regarded the boy with distaste, his retort ready—
"Explain yourself, Potter," came a command in a dangerously low voice. It was McGonagall.
As if in answer, Harry's wand fell, the length of wood clattering to the floor.
"We should celebrate. We're going to win, after all." Harry said, the joy in his voice unnatural.
The boy has gone mad, thought Snape. A sudden gleam in the boy's eyes quickened his pulse. Dumbledore started to rise from his chair but—
"Totalis Protego," Harry whispered softly.
The Shield Charm he conjured was a special one, covering him from head to foot and protecting him from all sides, a pearly cast through which he seemed distorted.
The teachers stood there, watching him intently, wands in their hands, prepared to act, their senses heightened.
"This is how," Harry finally said in a bright voice, "you win."
In horror, they watched as the boy's green eyes grew blood-red, angry and animalistic . Harry swayed as his scar ached fit to bust, but he held his ground. A familiar cold, emotionless voice emerged from between his lips.
"The foolish always try. Give me a worthy challenge, Potter."
From one detached corner of his mind, Harry watched idly as his teachers got to their feet and flung spell after spell, charm after charm at the barrier, desperately trying to break through.
It was a futile cause. The shield would never fall.
From out of nowhere, a jet of green light hit the shield and Harry recoiled. Snape glared at him, his teeth bared, his hair in disarray. The controlled fury and disdain in his voice was palpable. "Don't test my patience, Potter."
Harry looked at him. He smiled. Smiled at Snape. His tormentor, his teacher.
"Does the traitor care?" Harry revelled in the feeling of seeing Snape's lip curl.
He lowered his Glamour Charm.
He wanted them to really see him.
He smiled at Snape. Smiled as the man took in the bruises, the half healed cuts, the scars on his wrists.
Gasps punctuated the din. Pomona looked green. Hagrid blanched.
To all this, Harry chuckled. "We will win." After everything he had gone through, he would make sure of it.
McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick were now furiously pelting the shield with more spells. The barrier rattled and shook but took all the blows, absorbing the bursts of energy.
The light in Dumbledore's eyes dimmed. Looking world worn and old, he made a complex motion with his wand.
Blue light exploded. A rush of wind swept through the hall and the air pulsed with an ancient power.
But the shield still held.
Nothing is more powerful than the will.
Harry raised his hand and scratched the area behind his right ear. A slender white finger trailed downwards and traced the expanse of pale skin before it found a plump, pulsing are. With the pads of his fingers resting on his jugular, Harry looked at Dumbledore.
He blinked. "Everything is always simple." Harry winked. "To gain, we ought to lose first. When we lose, we can gain. And then we win."
For a split second, the red faded from his eyes and the green seeped through. "My loss, your gain, Professor."
Then it was gone.
"Sectumsempra," came a soft, almost loving hiss.
A wet cloud of scarlet exploded in the air. Shrieks and cries erupted all around. The Gryffindor Head of House stumbled backwards in alarm. Someone vomited.
As an inhuman voice screamed in pain and everything exploded in white, Harry gave a small, relieved smile in his mind. "I claim the win."