October 31st, 1992
"Professor Sprout's on some vacation, she's been gone for weeks now!"
"I know, what's up do you think?"
"I hear it has something to do with her cousin in America."
"That's ridiculous, she doesn't have any cousins."
"Says you!"
And the argument went on and on. Eventually, Harry and Melanie had to pull Phoebus and Selene apart before they finally stopped their heated debate.
Since it was a Saturday, and the day of Hallowe'en, it wouldn't be fair for Harry to say that the Grints are the only ones feeling fidgety or argumentative. Remembering the troll from last year, there seems to be a certain kind of doom hanging over the school, as if everyone is mentally counting down to the most dramatic moment of the day to occur. But Harry has done his best to assure his friends and himself that nothing will really come to pass – just a normal day of relaxation, and the first Duelling Club meeting with Professor Goldilocks.
Eventually, three o'clock rolled around and it was time for the students 2nd-7th years to gather in the Great Hall where the meeting was to take place. To everyone's surprise the normal elongated tables are gone: instead, there is only one extended platform with a long blue runner on top. On this platform was Professor Lockhart in dazzling robes.
"So he's going to cluck around like a rooster. What else is new?" Phoebus whispered to Harry who chuckled in response.
"Welcome, all you lovely, bright young pupils!" Lockhart's engorgio'ed voice could be heard all too clearly across the hall. "Gather round, gather round!" When the students obeyed, Lockhart began his flamboyant and well-rehearsed speech. "In light of the events surrounding my predecessor in the year past, Professor Dumbledore has allowed me to start this little Duelling Club. What is it for, you may ask? I'll tell you!" At this, Lockhart put on his most dramatic act yet, at least until tomorrow. "You must train yourselves in preparation for anything Dark, anything dangerous, that may come your way. Being a veteran in such events, I've taken it upon myself to enlighten you all. If you wish to know more of such happenings, read my autobiography." The girls once more swooned and the boys all rolled their eyes in annoyance. "Now that that little introduction is out of the way, allow me to introduce to you my assistant...Professor Severus Snape!"
All the students turned to see their greasy-haired Potions master arise from the sides and join Lockhart on the platform, looking every bit as reluctant and disdainful as Harry himself felt.
"Dumbledore must have bribed Snape to do this," Draco muttered.
"Or Snape owes Dumbledore. Either way," Harry interjected, to which Draco responded with a single apprehensive shrug.
"I am not your assistant," Snape literally growled. However, his remark went in one ear and out the other as Lockhart ignorantly pushed the complaint aside.
"Snape and I will partake in a little demonstration now to educate you young ones on what is to be expected in a duel. Don't worry, though," Lockhart leaned in close to one of the girls as if sharing a secret, "you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him." Said girl fainted on Granger, who didn't even bat an eyelash at her classmate. Instead, all eyes were on the two professors as they began the proper introduction into a duel. Harry looked around and noticed Leclair standing not too far off. Casually he leaned over and tugged on her robe sleeve to get her attention. He got it, and she rolled her eyes at his behavior until he made his offer:
"Five Galleons that Snape will win." Leclair's perfect porcelain face drew into a contemplative look, her silver eyes debating whether to accept the challenge. Granger, who happened to notice what was going on, begged her friend not to take part in it.
"Elle, don't do it. He's only baiting you." Leclair looked once to her friend, then back at Harry, before she shook Harry's hand confidently. Smirking, Harry could already feel the money in his hand as the men before them walked off in opposite directions.
"Ready?" Lockhart asked, but before Snape could reply, he gave the countdown, "1...2...3!"
"Expelliarmus!" Professor Snape's offensive spell took Lockhart completely by surprise. In fact, the force of the spell not only caused Lockhart's wand to jump out of his hand, but pushed him to the edge of the platform. He would have fallen off if not for his fan girls catching him and pushing him back onto the stage.
Once he was able to stand again, Lockhart gave Snape a dashing smirk before reaching for his wand...before remembering that it was forced out of his hand and is now nowhere to be found.
"Wand's out of his hand, I win," Harry whispered to Leclair. Groaning, she coughed up. "Thank you."
Meanwhile, Lockhart simply laughed and, as usual, made things up on the spot.
"Quite a clever ruse, Professor Snape, but everyone knows I was just going easy on y–"
"Then perhaps it would be best to teach the students how to block offensive spells," Professor Snape inclined his head just a little, "Professor." Most if not all of the boys snickered at the comment while Harry made mental notes to give Professor Snape more respect in the near future.
"An excellent suggestion, Severus," Goldilocks replied cheerfully. "Let's have a little contest, shall we? A little brute force might show them a world of good, won't it?" The question, aimed at Snape, had no response, therefore leaving the blonde man on his own. "Very well. Let's start with the second years, shall we? Mr. Weasley, come on up!"
Soon the fiery red headed Weasley stood on the platform, his pride shone on his freckled face, like a toad puffing out his throat. As Weasley prepared himself, Lockhart started to call up another student, but Snape stepped in.
"You chose Weasley, Professor, and if I may, it is now my turn." Lockhart, knowing better than to argue, inclined with a small bow, and Professor Snape started to think on a choice. However, it didn't take that long before the tall man made his choice: "Mr. Stidolph."
All of Harry's friends, fellow Slytherins, and Harry was sure his admirers, cheered him on as he climbed onto the platform from his spot near the pedestal and delicately pulled his holly wand out of his dark leather wand holster which was secured fast on his right leg. The two rivals met at the same central spot as the teachers before them, and conducted the same beginning ceremony.
"Better start writing your will, Stidolph," Weasley's threat, once again, went over Harry's head. Smirking, Harry said nothing, but as the two walked away, Harry began to summon the proper magical levels necessary for what he wanted to do.
Since Harry removed those ghastly tracking and limitation charms on himself and his items, Harry's felt more powerful than at any other time before. His already phenomenal performances in classes (especially Transfiguration and Charms) have only gotten better. Harry winced somewhat at his lack of successes in DADA, but in his defense, Lockhart is an idiot. Never mind that now, though. Now, Harry can finally put his previously inaccessible magic to the test.
The two boys reached the appropriate ends of the platforms, just within hitting range of their wands. They raised their wands at each other, and waited for their Defense professor to give the cue.
"Ready?" At both students' nod, Lockhart began the countdown: "1...2...3!"
"Lacarnum Inflamarae!" Weasley's spell caused a blue fire to emit from the end of his well used wand. Unfortunately, though, the spell wasn't meant to be used offensively, and thus, soon died out on its own. Harry could only laugh.
"You've got to be kidding, Weasley," Harry barked, "Oh come on, you have to admit it's pretty funny, you'd be laughing yourself. In fact...Rictusempra!" The spell hit Weasley dead on, but he didn't fall to the ground or anything. Instead, Weasley opened his mouth, only to burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha...Win...Win...bahahahaha!" Weasley rolled over on the floor, his laughter extremely contagious as soon everyone in the Hall was laughing, except for Professor Snape. Finally, Harry decided to give Weasley some air and cut him off with a leg-locking curse, which not only prevented movement but also his vocal cords. Harry casually walked over to the now petrified Gryffindor with a smug smirk on his face. "Now what to do with you...shall I let you keep fighting, or end your humiliation now?" The small laughter from his supporters only helped to boost Harry's ego.
To his surprise, however, a small objection popped up from the crowd.
"Professors, he's not allowed to do that," Leclair piped up, her silver eyes filled with such hope. Pity, really. So beautiful too, if only her faith wasn't in the wrong person.
"I'm afraid, Miss Leclair," Snape explained, sounding less than apologetic, "that the rules of a duel do not apply as whole-heartedly as Quidditch might." After a brief look to the duellers, then back at the girl, Snape added, "Unless you wish to be Weasley's second, then I assure you, there's not much you can do."
"I'll gladly stand in." With that, Leclair hoisted herself up onto the platform while Weasley was dragged off to the Hospital Wing. Granger's eyes grew as wide as saucers while the other Gryffindors began to egg her on, eager for some real fighting. Leclair smiled at her classmates, and Harry was sure that her beauty would have blinded him, but he can't let that get in the way. His pride and his reputation are at stake. Professor Lockhart was all over this plot twist.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is something you do not see every other day," he commended, "Two of the finest students in my class competing against each other...can't you just feel the tension in the air?" Oh, Harry could feel it all right, but he's pretty sure it's a different kind of tension altogether. Nevertheless, he completed the same beginning process of the duel with Leclair with a passive face, as did she.
The two turned and walked away from each other, Harry aware of every step she takes and of every step he takes. When they're far enough apart, they take the correct stance and wait for the indication to begin.
"Ready?" Lockhart's annoying voice peeped like before. "1...2...3!"
"Incendio!" Before Harry knew it, hot fire was coming his way, but fortunately he was prepared.
"Ardor Glacio!" he cried, and just as the fire hit, the flames engulfed him, but not touching him. Now it was Harry's turn.
"Tarantellegra!" his voice making a prominent dent in the atmosphere around them. Thinking fast, Leclair dodged the spell and shot an 'Expelliarmus' Harry's way, which he also dodged.
Back and forth the spells went, and the audience seemed rather surprised that neither was willing to give up five minutes into the round. Harry could feel the same fire that Leclair holds in her eyes, and he wasn't willing to let that go anytime soon. The more they fought, the more Harry began to truly admire her. It was as if the two were embraced in some dangerous dance, a tango of sorts. The more they danced, the more he fell in love. All the more enchanted and enraptured, Harry didn't even notice the leg-locker until it was too late.
"Petrificus Totalus!" It didn't even hit him until the spell itself did. After falling to the floor as if dead, Harry tried desperately to struggle out of the charm, but alas, it was no good. Thus, Leclair was made the victim of the match.
"Well done, Miss Leclair, well done!" Lockhart gave Leclair a handshake and a hug as congratulations before promptly guiding her (a.k.a. pushing her) off the stage where her joyful Gryffindors waited for her. Harry himself was guided gently off the platform by his fellow Slytherins and was carried into the Hospital Wing. Of course all the gentleness, Harry knew, meant that a storm was coming, and when he was un-Petrified, the brutal weather revealed itself.
"That was terrible!"
"You were winning, Stidolph, winning!"
"We'll be the banes of the Gryffindors for months now!"
"I hope you're proud of yourself!"
Naturally, most of these outbursts came from Draco and Phoebus. For Harry's other friends and admirers, they looked on pitifully, but didn't say anything. They know better. Draco and Phoebus only do it because they're among his best friends and can do stuff like that.
"What are you talking about?" Selene defended Harry. "He was brilliant, and besides, duelling isn't about winning or losing!"
"Yeah, unless the other player wants to kill you," Malfoy exclaimed matter-of-factly. "You lost to Leclair, of all people!"
"Not very surprising, if you ask me," Adam interjected, "Harry's always had a soft spot for Leclair." Harry looked to the Hufflepuff, confused at first, then somewhat ashamed.
"It's that obvious?" he asked, a little sheepishly. Adam only nodded sagely. Draco shook his head in frustration and walked away.
"I don't understand it," the others heard him muttering to himself as he walked out of the Hospital Wing. Just then, Madame Pomfrey appeared.
"Ah, Mr. Stidolph. You haven't been here since that Quidditch practice two weeks ago. A new record," she complemented him sarcastically. Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'm fine, Madame Pomfrey, I was just petrified–"
"All the same," the nurse interrupted, her matronly eyes glowing, "It's best to get you checked up in case there's anything out of the ordinary." Harry obeyed, although annoyed to do so, and within ten minutes he was out the door.
"Nice to see Madame Pomfrey cheerful as usual," Phoebus noted, earning him a laugh from the others.
"Elle you could have been hurt!" Immediately Harry's group sobered up as they leaned in against the wall to hear the conversation around the corner.
"You're starting to sound like my Mama, Hermione," Leclair reprimanded, "I told you I'd be alright, and I got to show Stidolph a thing or two." Weasley groaned.
"I wish I didn't miss it, Elle. It must have been fantastic, according to what my brothers were saying. You're amazing." Harry frowned at the admiration in Weasley's voice, and Leclair laughed nervously.
"Thanks, Ron." After a moment of silence, Leclair found her excuse to leave. "I have to go study a bit more in the library. I'll catch up with you two, all right?" Both Weasley and Granger bid their goodbyes and now Leclair is alone. Harry turned to the others who were behind him.
"You lot go on. I'll see you later." His friends nodded in understanding and Phoebus whispered to him,
"Go get 'em, tiger." This gave Harry a small blush and Phoebus a small cackle as the group walked away to go eat some dinner. Harry could hear Leclair approach the corner and took this as his signal to come out of hiding. She gasped upon seeing him, but when realizing who it is, she gave an impressive look of disdain, for a Gryffindor.
"Leclair," Harry greeted warmly.
"Go away, Stidolph," she warned, but unfortunately for her, Harry wasn't going to take any of it.
"Is that any way to talk to a classmate? I just wanted to congratulate you on that match earlier." Leclair rolled her eyes and averted herself from being touched in any way by him.
"I know you Slytherins. You always have an ulterior motive." Harry gently grabbed her arms, but at her prying away, his face fell.
"But what if I didn't have an ulterior motive? What's wrong with a 'congratulations'?"
"You'd be lying if you said you didn't. And..." Leclair paused a bit at this, a little confused at the latter question. Harry wanted to step closer, but being the wiser one, he kept his distance. "I suppose there's nothing wrong with the complement, except you always have something up your sleeve."
"That's a bad thing?" This stopped Leclair again. Harry took this as his chance, "Look, Leclair, I'm not as bad as you make me out to be. Really, if you just gave me a chance–"
"Ah ha!" Leclair interrupted triumphantly. "Proof: you always have something up your sleeve!" Harry groaned in aggravation.
"Okay, yes you caught the bad guy, I was using my felicitations to talk to you. Are you happy now?" Leclair stopped again. Harry internally groaned. Why is this so confusing? Why are girls so confusing? Before Harry could ask any of those questions, Leclair growled in frustration.
"Just leave me alone!" she cried as she stomped up the stairs. Not being one to give up (or to let her have the last word, or both), Harry followed her, for the first time feeling that brash Gryffindor side that his biological parents would have been proud of.
He continued to follow her up and down the stairs, and through each hallway and corridor that she could find. Finally, Harry's eyes caught her snaking into the library.
Ah ha! Nowhere left to run! Harry's triumphant smirk made itself known as he pushed the doors open. Inside the library was empty, everyone else going to dinner. Madame Pince was reading her book and, upon seeing Harry, rolled her eyes at the Slytherin's antics and went back to reading. Harry ignored the bingy old bat though. Instead his eyes were focused on catching the slightest little hint, the smallest clue that will lead him to her. However, he was surprised to find that he could come up with nothing, therefore, Harry sniffed.
Not a big one, just a small little whiff with his nose to point him in the right direction. Being a werewolf, Harry's senses are especially more sensitive than a normal human's, and he can't imagine a time where this proved to be a disadvantage. He got it; a scent that lead straight to the Restricted Section.
If she thinks the word 'Restricted' is going to keep me out, he thought victoriously as he snuck in through the dark barred doors. He sniffed once again, and continued to follow the scent until his nose found another, more disturbing smell. The smell of a rotting corpse.
Now Harry's mind is on a high alert. If Marielle is hurt in any way, then a lot of questions would need to be asked. First off, is she seriously hurt? Obviously yes because it's a rotting corpse. Wait...rotting? So it's not Marielle because he just saw her today, right? If Marielle truly was the rotting corpse then she would have been missing...right?
To Harry's relief, Leclair is just fine. Her eyes as big as saucers, and her porcelain face unusually white, but other than that she's okay.
"Leclair, what is it? Are you hurt?" The fear must have made Leclair forget of their little argument earlier because, to Harry's surprise, she hugged him and began to cry. "Hey, shhh, it's all right, it's going to be okay," Harry found his arms around her immediately, himself whispering soothing words into her ear. It wasn't until he saw the source of the smell that he understood what Leclair was crying about.
A human corpse, lying on the floor in a pool of its own blood. Judging by the smell and the blood staining the dark wood floor, Harry could surmise that this corpse has been here for what...a week? Maybe two?
"It–" Leclair spoke for the first time, her Gryffindor courage helping her push away from Harry and find her own balance. "It's so terrible." Harry didn't even bother to wipe the tears off his shoulder as he leaned down close to the body. He sniffed again and, immediately, connected the dots.
"It's Professor Sprout."
A/N:
And the most dramatic moment of the story thus far! As always, R&R, and I don't own anything that J.K. Rowling owns! Cheers!
~ Galatea Griffiths