Author's Note: I. AM. BACK. With a Harry Potter fic. It was inspired by a friend of mine, known as jewlzbird on harrypotterfanfiction . com... So… props to her.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. I think everyone knows that.

Credits: jewlzbird, for… beta reading, plot idea, title, summary… a lot. lol

Antioch Peverell sat on top of an elder tree, swinging one leg lazily. The sun was high in the sky, and he still had plenty of time before he was expected home. He had about a dozen or so coins in his money pouch, hanging loosely on his leather belt. He was going to the market to see if the Muggles had anything of value. The branch he sat on was sturdy; it had to be to support his massive frame. Antioch wasn't fat, far from it. But he was heavily built, and large-boned. He was granted with much-envied physical strength. Of course, being the close-minded stubborn people that they were, most of the villagers attributed his handsomely proportioned body to his magic. The eldest of the Peverells almost pitied them and their inability to learn the magical arts. Almost. Antioch laughed.

The Peverells lived in a small community at the border of a forest, and there were few wizards around. But every so often, there'd be an arrogant wizard at the local wizard's only inn who dared challenge him. Antioch scoffed as he remembered the drunken man, staggering about, brandishing his wand and making obviously hostile advances to him. He wasn't any fun at all. There were challengers like him, their minds too blurred by the magically brewed ale to stay away from Antioch.

And there were the other challengers. No, the other challenger, for there was only one man who could beat him. The laid-back Peverell scowled as he crossed his thoughts. It was the first time he had ever lost a duel, and he wouldn't ever forget it.

&&&

He had walked into the inn, swinging open the door with a confident smile. Most of the inn regulars greeted him with shouts, while the travelers looked up from their meals. The inn was crowded that day, which only meant that more people were witness to his defeat. But Antioch could not possibly have known how bad that particular evening would turn out, or he would have stayed at home. With one hard commanding glance, he managed to intimidate Gallus off his chair. Gallus was a coward. If nothing else, Antioch respected his sober challengers. The skinny man who oddly reminded the Peverell of a rooster, with the way his bright red hair was cut, jumped off his stool and scurried to the corner of the room. Without a word of thanks, Antioch grabbed the stool with a powerful hand and threw his weight on it. Slamming a fist onto the counter, he demanded attention.

The innkeeper of the Blue Dragon Scale apologized hurriedly to a tall blonde man, and then hurried over to the brawny Peverell.

"Ivo," Antioch said in greeting, his face resting lazily on his hand.

Ivo Livius nodded and gave a small false smile. "Good evening, Antioch. How may I help you?"

The Peverell shrugged nonchalantly. "I heard you brewed a new batch of ale. I love fresh ale, give me a tankard."

As Ivo hurried off to fill a tankard, Antioch heard the blonde man growl. His dark green eyes darted to the stranger. "What's your problem?" he growled back.

The blonde stranger's cool eyes gazed back at him. "Nothing much. I just don't understand customs here. Back where I used to live, the innkeeper served whoever arrived first."

Antioch's hands curled into fists. But before he could reply, Ivo slammed a tankard filled to the brim before him.

The innkeeper grinned and declared with a grin as he caught the coin Antioch tossed at him, "Never let it be claimed that service at the Scale is too slow."

The Peverell just shrugged and gulped down the tankard. The ale was to his satisfaction.

And then Gallus accidentally slammed into him. He had apparently been pushed by another man, but the culprit was never caught as he had slipped away. Regardless, Antioch began choking on his drink. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Gallus, who was staring up at him with fear. Growling, he threw him into a table and drew his wand, pointing it at the gasping man's throat. "Get out your wand," he growled.

Gallus fumbled with his wand, but took it out.

Smiling grimly, Antioch obeyed proper procedure and turned in a half circle and took three long strides, disregarding the fact that his dueling opponent was too busy sobbing in fear to do the same. Coward. His third step over, he spun around and roared, "RELASHIO!" The sparks the shot out from his wand missed Gallus, falling short, but he had succeeded in scaring him, not that he wasn't positively terrified before.

But his toothy grin faltered as the blonde stranger stepped up.

"Auguamenti!" The intervention wasn't needed, as the fire had gone out, but the intervention made the stranger's intentions clear.

Antioch's eyebrows rose. "You step between my opponent and I?"

The stranger's mouth was set in a firm, determined line. "Opponent? This is no duel. This poor man obviously has no intention of fighting you. So if you're not too much of a coward, why don't you let me fight in his place? I assure you, I can duel, if that's what you're looking for."

The Peverell's eyes flashed dangerously. Coward, am I? He answered the challenge, not with words, but with a spell.

"STUPEFY!"

The blonde countered with a shield charm, not uttering a single word. Then, he waved his wand at something behind the Perevell. He spun around to see his half filled tankard come flying at him with astonishing speed and accelerating. He ducked to avoid it, but the tankard tipped over, dousing him with ale. He heard the laughter of the other people present, and felt red hot rage. He got back to his feet and raised his wand, intending to hex, but instead found himself performing a banishing charm (Depulso) to get rid of the now-empty tankard flying at him again. His aim was true, and the tankard disappeared and reappeared elsewhere in the room (a startled shout confirmed that it had landed somewhere behind him). He raised his wand again for his hex, but it was suddenly blown out of his hand. He cursed, and then felt the tankard slam into the back of his head. Then a tripping jinx was placed upon him, and within the space of a second, something searing hot was pressed against his neck.

He opened his eyes to find the blonde standing over him triumphantly, his wand at his throat. He was smiling.

Antioch cursed, but there was nothing he could do. He had lost the duel, and attacking the stranger after he had recuperated his wand (which was rather tempting) would have outraged the crowd.

And so Antioch Peverell lost the first duel ever and left the Blue Dragon Scale soaking wet and smelling strongly of ale, with a permanent burn mark on his neck. But worst of all was the mortifying deafening laughter coming from the inn.

He would later know the stranger as Hermanus Celsus, commonly known as Herk.

&&&

Antioch sighed heavily and returned back to reality, startled by the distance the sun had traveled while he was lost in his memory. He realized that he had been absently fingering his scar, and moved his fingers away from his thick neck. Stretching, he climbed out of the tree, not without difficulty. Ignotius was the agile one. Cracking his neck, he began to walk to the marketplace at a leisurely pace.

What happened with Herk would never occur again. Ever. Right after the incident, Gallus had gotten a little bold, but a good beating took that newfound courage out of him. And he had been training. He forcefully engaged his brothers in duels. Though they complained, neither of them could deny that the training had benefited all three of them. Antioch's improvement was complementary. And he had heard rumors... People had been claiming that Herk had dropped by the inn again lately. He hoped it was true, and not something Gallus came up with to spite him indirectly. Indirect rebellion was annoying.

The marketplace wasn't particularly busy today. He nodded to a man selling what he claimed to be fresh vegetables. As he inspected the goods, Antioch felt something brush against his robes. With the same lightning quick reflexes he used to draw his wand, he grabbed the pickpocket's arm before he could run.

Startled, the young man dropped the Peverell's money pouch, and it fell to the floor, the coins rolling out. He was a head shorter than Antioch, and couldn't have been more than maybe five years younger. His unkempt brown hair fell over his frightened eyes; a typical street urchin, living of the earnings of richer folk.

His vice-like grip tightened, and the young man's face contorted with pain. "You trying to steal from me?"

The thief gulped.

Antioch smiled without humor. "Do you know who I am?"

The thief struggled uselessly for a while against his grip and stared, unsure of how to answer.

"No?" His eyebrows rose. "Very well then, kid, I'll tell you." His head tilted a bit to his side, and the boy saw it.

Though he had been aiming for the money, next to where the pouch had hung loosely from Antioch's belt was fastened a greater treasure. A wand. This man was a wizard. He paled, and understood then that while pick pocketing such a large man was unwise, the man being a wizard made it an even graver mistake. Antioch smiled, seeing that he understood. Then he relinquished his grip. But the thief hadn't even dared to hope that the wizard would forgive him. The magical stick poked his chest once and the man muttered something, then he fell to the ground, unable to move. As he crossed the border from the conscious world to his unconsciousness, he couldn't help thinking that maybe if he had a stick like that too, he would have maybe stood a chance…

Muggles. Now even more alert to the difference between him and the non-magical population, he used a summoning charm to return his money to his hand, instead of bending over and picking them up. Then he turned to the vender selling the vegetables. Though he smiled pleasantly and pretended that what had just happened didn't affect him at all, he was pleased to find newfound respect in the man's expression.

"I'll just have a sack of potatoes, if it's not too much trouble." And he smiled as the man scrambled to fill the sack as quickly as he could, as full as he could.

Author's Notes: So I hoped I didn't blind you with the terribleness of it… but wtv. I'm satisfied with it, I guess. So, uh, review?