THE BINDING OF FATES
CHAPTER 21
THIS MEANS WAR! GRYFFINDOR VS SLYTHERIN
Summary: Jon challenges Slytherin House
"So it's true then, Weasley?" Draco asked outside the Herbology greenhouses as they queued up for class Monday morning.
"That you're a git? Yup, it's true."
"I don't see them around; Potter, Black and the mudblood Granger," Draco smiled.
"Don't call her that."
"They say Potter and Black sent each other to the hospital wing sparring." Draco proclaimed, making sure everyone was listening. "That sounds like typical Gryffindor genius through and through." Pansy squealed with laughter.
Ron reddened. Alexandria told the house that they suffered a magical accident 'trying spells'. Jon and Harry did not explain further over the weekend when the gang visited after Drinkwater's sparring practice session. The both of them said it was an accident and they didn't want to talk about it.
Contrastingly, Hermione was in bright spirits, uncharacteristically going through Witch Weekly with Ginny and Alexandria. Since Hermione did not appear upset about the two of them fighting or having a row, Ron left it at that. It was apparently an accident, not some dire falling out between the two friends.
"It's none of your business, innit?" Ron spat back, angry of not being able to defend his mates better.
Professor Sprout came outside the greenhouses and ushered the bickering second years inside. Ron and the second year Gryffindors all grouped up and took their seats, bristling as they took offense at the snickers and jibes thrown at them through the period when Sprout wasn't looking.
"You sure about this, Harry?" Hermione asked, inspecting the weapon in her hands. It was after lunch Monday afternoon. Hermione was still recovering from her injuries so she got to spend more time with Jon and Harry, who were both bed ridden for the weekend. Today was the first time all three ate lunch together at the table since that horrible Friday. The two boys managed to get out of bed and hobbled across to the eating area for lunch.
"Yes. We will make you a new wand, but until then, this is yours. Hippogryff feather on Birch. Very good at animating, and slicing and dicing. Most winged creatures' wands are okay at levitation, so give it a whirl," Harry encouraged.
"Winguardium Lleviosa!" she swished and flicked at the magazine on the table. The magazine shot up to the exact height as the tip of her wand, floating steadily. "Libernoctis!" the magazine opened smoothly. "Convertat page!" The magazine pages began to flip over one by one.
Hermione continued in this vein, adding modifications while hovering the book. It closed, opened, turned on the Y axis, rotated one hundred degrees away from her, she conjured a bookmark, and with another complicated combination, ordered all the magazines to stack in a pile by order of issue date and number.
Harry and Jon just stared, listening to all the Latin flow effortlessly off her tongue and marveled how her delicate and intricate wand movements controlled the magic with such precision.
"It'll do. I absolutely love its animation spells. What else did you say... slicing and dicing?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Jon replied, watching her style of casting. This girl was a prodigy. He felt like a clumsy bison in comparison when it came to wand work.
"You guys don't want this apple right?" she indicated the fruit bowl placed by elves in the middle of the table.
"Go ahead. There's more where that came from," Harry shrugged.
Hermione levitated the apple. It rose to her command. "Spiralis secare!" It began to rotate in midair, an invisible knife peeling it precisely with a spiral cut. Harry picked up the fallen apple skin. It was efficiently perfect; no excess white flesh was wasted on the rind.
"Horizontali Segmentum!" The apple cut in half horizontally. "Alea Altitudenum!" she continued, her excitement building. The apple diced itself vertically.
The cut up pieces floated in mid-air, resembling a destroyed apple floating in space.
"Try Fructus ascetaria, segmentum alea," Harry advised. He showed her a salad toss motion with his wand and then a mixing spin. He remembered this spell from observing Mrs. Weasley the last time around.
"Fructus ascetaria, segmentum alea!" Hermione repeated, pointing at the fruit bowl. All the fruit in it were sliced, diced, and tossed into a delicious fruit cocktail.
"I take it back," Hermione whispered, looking between the wand in her hand and the dessert bowl before her. "This wand is ...amazing! A potions student's absolute dream!"
"Glad you like it," Harry beamed. "Hermione Jean Granger, I now proclaim you to be (he cast the gloom and boom charm on himself) My First Customer!" Harry's voice echoed grandiosely throughout the ward.
"What?" she laughed. "You made this?"
"Yes I did. Since you're special, it's free of charge. My gift to you."
Hermione laughed again, hugging the wand close to her in a frightfully girlish gesture. Jon smiled, absorbing how Harry had a knack of making sick and injured girls feel happy, and helping to put their unfortunate situation behind them.
Her laughter died down. "Wait, I never told you my middle name," Hermione noted.
"Overheard Mr. Drinkwater when he asked for your full name," Harry lied immediately. He felt halfway proud, halfway torn because of how easily his little fibs were rolling off his tongue. Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly, unsure if she ever had to answer that particular question.
"You seem to know a lot of things..." Hermione said suspiciously. "Not just about me. About people in general."
Harry shrugged. Dumbledore old chap, you've got to give me some pointers on how not-to-be-blurting-out-random-future-knowledge techniques. He could see the questions forming on Hermione's face.
Uh Oh. The Big guns were needed to be unleashed. He swelled magic through his core.
Deflection level: Godlike! Prerequisite personal influential sway accrual: Complete!
Dumbledore persona: Execute!
"Hermione, are you ready for me to grow your hair?" Harry asked smoothly, eyes twinkling.
"Um. Once you're absolutely sure," she replied skeptically.
Harry deduced that he needed to work on his eye twinkle. That was definitely too much resistance.
"Don't worry. I got this. Here, I'll test it out on mine first." Harry watched Jon's longer, curly hair that came to rest on the top of his collar. He waved his Troll on Holly wand and tapped his head.
His hair grew a bit longer, and mimicked Jon's roguish uncombed look, except Harry's hair was more spiky naturally.
"Oh," Hermione looked between them with female appreciation. "Now that is something," she said agreeably. "The long hair and no glasses, hm."
"That is... disturbing," Jon said. "You do look completely different."
Harry translated that in Jon-speak as 'What the hell! Now we look like brothers or something and you're going to steal my thunder with the ladies! But you're my bro and all so... I can't hate too hard. Do your thing, mate.'
Harry smiled, then put on a solemn air.
"Do you approve, Mistress Hermione?" Harry copied Jon's knightly accent and demeanor. "I will style your hair exactly as you wish. This I swear," Harry bowed his head slightly.
Hermione raised her eyebrows, watching Harry's and Jon interplay. Jon was smirking, taking his ribbing in stride as he folded his arms. He winced as he did this, forgetting the injuries to his ribs.
"Alright then, this is the one I like." She unfolded a magazine page tucked away in her Hospital robe pocket. The picture was a model with a smooth, side-parted professional style with gentle waves at the end.
"It shall be done, Hermione of House Granger," Harry waved his wand and tapped Hermione's scalp.
Hermione's hair began to grow before their very eyes. Harry realized that it was growing out how it naturally would and probably needed some cajoling to style. He gingerly got to his feet and summoned a bedside mirror from one of the patient stations. "Hold this, milady," he said politely. Hermione took the mirror and looked into it as Harry worked his charms. "A touch here. Oui! Gorgeous, simply gorgeous!" Harry used his wand like a stylist's comb, flitting here, gliding there. "Just fabulous, such volume and sheen!" he twirled here, preened there, all with an extravagant air. "The boys would absolutely die," he murmured in anticipation. When her hair had reached the appropriate length, he canceled the hair growing charm and executed a permanent transfiguration charm to prevent the spell fading.
He stepped back and bowed, a perfect replica of Jon's formal full bow. Jon finally laughed.
"Voila! It is done Mistress Hermione! Go forth, and Slay."
Hermione looked at herself in the mirror, smiling. With her teeth fixed and hair perfectly styled, she looked so ...different. She could not believe how dramatic the change was to her appearance. She blinked, and her eyes watered a bit.
"Miss Hermione?" Jon asked, immediately concerned. "Are you well?"
"You two, are the best friends I have. Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. Harry remembered that around Christmas time last time around Hermione was feeling terribly lonely due to Ron being a prat. Both Jon and Harry simply smiled, nodding. "And don't think it's just about the hair, which is lovely, by the way. I was more concerned about my eyes, and my wand ... in that order. The hair would have grown back. The perpetual darkness... was something I didn't think I would have gotten used to. Thank you so much, Harry." She got up and gave him a hug around his neck, careful to avoid his injured arm and torso. "And to you as well, Jon," she bent over and hugged him in the chair.
"The 'Light that penetrates the darkness'..." Jon mused.
Harry's eyes opened wide. Why was Jon throwing that out in front of Hermione?
"What?" Hermione asked, wondering where that one came from.
"Oh nothing. He seems to have a way with 'damsels in distress', doesn't he?" Jon teased Harry.
Now it was Harry's turn to give Jon a dark look. Hermione grinned at their attempts to one up each other.
"Don't mind him," Harry said. "He's just mad he doesn't have the mad hair styling skills I got."
"Surely," Jon agreed, rolling his eyes.
"I am not a 'damsel'!" Hermione pouted. After a few moments, she sighed. "I guess I was in dire need of help, and you two showed up. Perhaps, this time, I do fit the bill."
"And the last time, with the troll, remember?"
Hermione grinned and waved her hand in dismissal. "That was last year. However, Jon; you are absolutely right. I will be more vigilant... and maybe with your help I will get better at defending myself."
"Of course, that's what friends are for, milady."
Harry recognized that Jon used milady to females that he has accepted as more than acquaintances. And his use of first names by itself was only when the woman was personal. Harry didn't know what to call the relationship Jon had with Alexandria, but from what he knew of Jon, touching and calling a woman by her first name alone seemed much more intimate from the quiet and polite Lord Commander.
He just hoped that Hermione didn't take this crush on too seriously, if it was a crush. He could be reading this totally wrong, and Hermione would eventually like Ron as per normal and everything would work out fine.
Later that evening, Harry, Hermione and Jon were visited by Professor McGonagall. She had informed them that details of Marcus' attack was not to leave the hospital wing. Auror Drinkwater wanted to investigate who would panic and either try to leave the school or get in touch with Marcus at the holding cell in London.
The three Gryffindor students decided that the less negative attention on Hermione, the better for her recovery.
"Mr. Potter has done a fine job, dear," she inspected Harry's work.
"Yes, I told him so already. Please do not let him get a fatter head than he has already, Professor."
"Speaking of 'fat head'," McGonagall waved her wand above Harry's new hairstyle. She frowned, and nodded at the same time, impressed. "A permanent keratin growth transfiguration. Hmmm... ten points from Gryffindor for unsupervised human transfiguration, but twenty points for successfully casting a permanent one. Next time, please inform me so I may... observe."
"Yes Professor McGonagall," Harry replied dutifully.
"Poppy has advised me that the three of you can be released under strict orders. So, I must give you the bad news. You are temporarily banned from playing Quidditch until I receive a clean bill of health from the healer, signed by the headmaster. A substitute seeker will be recruited in the meanwhile. The faster you allow yourself to heal, the sooner you shall be able to train. You have three weeks until the season starts. Our first match is on the second week in October. Please, I am reminding you, for your sake, do not overdo it."
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Harry apologized.
"Jon. You are to watch yourself as well. You injury was complex and you will take at least a few weeks to feel at your best. Your clinic visits will be twice weekly. Madame Pompfrey will owl you when to visit."
"Understood, Professor."
"For your quick thinking and your bravery, the two of you are awarded fifty points each for your actions Friday evening concerning Ms Granger."
"Thank you very much, Professor McGonagall," Harry and Jon chorused, bouncing fists.
"Once we have an understanding that you will not be injured again, you shall remain in my good graces, the two of you." McGonagall gave them a stern, single nod and commanded them to follow her down to the main hall for dinner. "Now. With me."
There was a lull in the noise from the great hall as they entered. Jon walked over and stood up next to Alexandria. Cormac MacLaggen paused his eating and looked behind him. He scowled but eventually moved his plate aside, forcing other students to make space for him.
"Thank you, good sir," Jon dismissed him and sat down. Harry smirked as he observed this walking past. Harry and Hermione walked further down the table and grabbed an empty spot next to the first years. Ginny looked positively shell shocked when he casually sat down next to her.
"Hey," Harry said, already summoning two plates and utensils from the rack in the centre of the table. It floated effortlessly towards them and Hermione thanked him for her set. Harry nodded and began piling food on his plate. Ginny was still frozen in place by Harry's proximity.
"You hair," she remarked, eyes wide.
"What?" Harry said distractedly, mouth full of food.
"It is longer," she squeaked.
"Oh. Yeah." Harry made a dramatic head-sweep, tossing his hair to make it fall more naturally over his collar. He grinned at her. The intended tomfoolery flew completely over her head and she simply stared at his green eyes and long hair, biting her lower lip.
Oh crap.
"Yeah," Ginny breathed. Her pale skin turned scarlet. Harry felt awkward now. He smiled, now totally embarrassed, and took a sip of his drink. The other first years were staring at Harry, snickering at Ginny's obvious infatuation.
"Why were you hiding your face last week, Harry Potter?" Colin Creevey asked in a voice which sounded more like a little girl's.
"My eye was injured. It's still a bit sensitive to light," he answered truthfully.
A round of whispers traveled through the first year bunch.
"We thought... you t-turned Dark," Colin explained. Some of the other first years nodded in agreement.
"Oh no. Not at all," Hermione defended him. "Harry will never do such a thing."
Another round of whispers traveled across the first years.
"Wow Hermione," Ginny said, finally seeing Hermione's hair. "Look at you!"
Hermione smiled shyly. "Thanks," she said, not knowing what else to say. Some of the second year boys, including Ron did give her longer looks than usual. Then some of them turned their attention to Harry, who was presently shoveling food in his face. He was sitting closely next to her, shoulder and elbow touching. Seamus, Dean, Lavender and Parvati decided that Hermione was trying to get a bit chummy with one of her best friends.
Why else would she do up her hair so nice all of a sudden?
Most of the student population did not know about what had happened to her and had no idea of the real reason the three of them were in the infirmary over the weekend.
Harry, oblivious to the undercurrents happening at the Gryffindor table, ate his dinner in complete ignorance.
The remainder of the week passed by without much incident. Hermione was complimented by her house mates during the week and the other houses actually took second looks when she walked down the corridors.
Potions was the last class on Friday afternoon. When the bell rang and homework assignments were handed out, Snape sat down at his desk, dipping his quill in his red ink bottle and began scribbling in his pile of essay papers to correct.
"Potter, Black, stay after class," he commanded over the din.
"Ron, Neville, make sure all of you stick together," Harry leaned over and warned the two boys sitting in front of him. "No deviations, keep a look out."
"Um. Sure," Ron said, confused.
"Just walk in a group, as usual," Harry smiled, clapping him on his shoulder. "We will come up when we find out what he wants."
"Cool," Ron replied. The majority of students filed out the class, eager to start the weekend. Harry and Jon approached the teacher's desk. Snape did not look up from his marking until he had finished that particular essay. When he tallied the marks, he circled it and the matching grade on the top of the parchment. With a tap of his wand it was bound with a conjured ribbon that saw much better days and sealed with a Slytherin-green wax stamp.
He raised his eyes under the greasy curtain of black hair and watched the two of them. Both boys waited patiently, not intimidated in the slightest. Snape stood up, slowly circling the both of them.
"The Auror has addressed the facilitators with your... foolhardy request," he drawled as he ran his finger across slim digests on a bookshelf. "Ah. The Salute by R.W. Higginbottom. Book one of the Chronicles Of Magical Battle Arena Tactics series." He deftly used his index finger to pull out the top, then slide out the entire narrow paperback.
Snape opened it to the first few pages, flipping pages as he scanned the diagrams and handwritten notes made by the author. He looked up, finally focusing on the two of them. He lifted it in front of him so that they may see the cover.
"Do you know what this is, either of you?" he drawled. Their expressions did not change one iota. Snape carried on without breaking stride. "Of course you don't. One of you were raised by muggles..." the way he said it made Harry want to slap the insult right out of his mouth- "the other fell from the blue sky."
There was a pause where Snape allowed either of them to retort with a hot-headed response. Harry said nothing, and let the silence hang. Jon was looking around the class, bored. Harry almost smirked when Snape narrowed his eyes at them, not understanding the lack of an easily provoked Gryffindor temperamental outburst.
Harry almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He decided that he would give Snape a pseudo-reason to dock points, since it appeared he might self implode if this silence continued.
He let the silence continue for another minute, anyway. Just to tick him off.
"Thank you for your astute observation, Professor Snape," Harry said respectfully.
"Ten-" Snape began, then corrected himself mid docking. "Be mindful of your cheek, Potter," he snapped, unable to rationalize where the cheek actually was. Harry said nothing. Jon patiently clasped his hands behind his back, as if he were the ranking officer awaiting a tardy status report from his subordinate.
He tapped his foot once, twice. Snape turned on his heel and walked back to his desk. He opened his draw and took out a fine parchment scroll bound with a leather strap.
"This book is the first in a series of texts about the ancient art of magical dueling. It is an introduction of sorts, compiled from British historians and some international intellects over centuries. Transcripts of invaluable material that cannot be found anymore in its original form, has been summarized here."
He tossed the book on the school desk nearest to them.
"Since you were so formal, Black," Snape said coolly, "Drinkwater has begun the procedure. Each of the students in my House has been given a written transcript of your challenge: "I wish to make myself available to Duel challenges from your house. Any year, any student currently in this school. I will abide by whatever rules are in place by the Headmaster. My only personal limit is that the maximum amount of opponents I must face at once be no more than four. I cannot guarantee the safety of more than that. I hold on to my right to have a second." These were your exact words. Interestingly enough, it covers any loophole that can twist favour upon yourself, or my students, except for the insane condition that you will accept up to four combatants from any year in Slytherin house. Would Mr. Potter be your second?"
Jon looked at Harry. Harry nodded immediately.
"He will," Jon agreed.
"Very well. Potter, as second, it is your duty to try to convince Black here that he either seeks redress through negotiation, or, seek a peaceful resolution to the matter at hand in hopes of preventing bloodshed."
"Blood has already been shed, Professor Snape," Black insisted, his voice clear and unwavering.
"And the culprit has been caught," Snape countered.
"If it was a singular effort, I would see it end then and there."
"But you do not wish to retract."
"There are two in your house that I do not send this challenge to. I will notify them through post."
"Interesting. Potter, would you try to persuade him to drop this foolhardy request?" Snape asked in probably the most polite attempt at a request Harry has ever heard from the man.
"May I have a word with Jon?"
"Make it quick. You may step outside."
The two boys left the class and stood outside the door in the hallway. Harry drew his Fwooper feather wand and cast a silence spell on the door so that any eavesdropping spell Snape might have cast would be nullified.
"Physically, we're fucked right now. We don't know what Slytherin has planned in that sealed scrolled he has in his hand. Are you sure this is what do you want to do?" Harry dropped his voice to a murmur.
"The wording states the headmaster sets the rules. Not foreseeing anything seriously dangerous in those rules coming from him and the Auror; I see no problem. I can take on four of them, even without the aegis."
"Jon, your body isn't in top condition right now. Monday we couldn't even get up from the hospital bed."
"Magic makes things much easier," Jon dismissed his injuries. "As my second, you will protect me when the duel ends, in the unlikely event that I shall fail."
"Jon... we cannot lose to Slytherin... that would be a catastrophic disaster." Harry shuddered at how the rest of his years here the second time around would be absolutely miserable if that were to happen. A pair of freaking second years challenging anyone from the entire Slytherin snake pit to duel and then getting their arse kicked. That would leave a devastating psychological scar.
For life.
No way he was going to let that happen.
"Jon. I have to make a judgment call here. We have to set some rules. Rule number one, both parties must agree on the date. Rule number two, both parties must battle on a uniform arena, with the same conditions for both sides. Rule number three, One on One, or the both of us against them up to four students. How about that?"
"Fair enough. Shall we?" Jon nodded, eager to get back inside. Jon's confidence was contagious. Harry grinned.
"Yeah, let's do this."
"Well?" Snape drawled as they came back in the room.
"As his second, I agree to the initial terms of Jon's challenge, but humbly request that amendments be made concerning the dueling conditions."
Snape strode over to his writing desk and procured a dictation quill.
"Think carefully. Then dip this quill into the bottle. It will transcribe what you say on this parchment," Snape ordered.
Harry did so. He cleared his voice.
"Three simple items. One; both parties must agree on the date, two, both parties must battle on a uniform arena with identical conditions for both sides... and um, three... the duels are either one on one, or the both of us against two, three and no more than four Slytherins."
"You are in luck. The headmaster was convinced by that ...man... that certain precautions must be in place and have made the rules list." Snape drew out another scroll tied with a ribbon and sealed with the headmaster's wax stamp. "Under careful consideration, four of my students agreed to the challenge. And your terms suit theirs. Please read, and sign this scroll, if you accept the headmaster's rules."
Harry and Jon read the headmaster's rules. Basically it drew the line on piercing, slashing, and permanent bodily injury spells: Sectum-class Reducto-class, Flame, Poison, Debilitation, and any hint of Dark Magic being performed will be dealt with by Auror Drinkwater and himself.
The Duel must be done on a weekend, on a floating wooden raft that would be placed on the lake. This raft would be circular and forty five feet in radius. Knocking a competitor off into the water during one on one battles will result in victory for the opponent. During a melee, all team members must no longer be able to compete or sent into the water to claim victory. No outside magical or physical interference during the match would be allowed. Supporters would be present with installation of bleachers on the banks.
"He's making it into a show," Harry groaned.
"It is a spectator sport, Harry." Jon said offhandedly and signed without hesitation. Harry signed as well.
"Good. Here is the acceptance to the challenge. Montague, Carrington, Mafloy, and Bole await agreement on the date and time."
"Why am I not surprised," Harry sighed.
"You know them?" Jon asked.
"Flint's quidditch team..." Harry shrugged. "Must be missing their skipper." Jon took it and read it.
"Why all this flowery verbose?" Jon asked, confused. He continued reading. "Finally. Good. It says here tomorrow at high noon. Would there be any guarantee that my housemates will not be attacked in retribution of victory of this duel?
Snape sneered at them.
"Attacks on students are strictly forbidden in this school, Black," Snape reminded him not too gently. Harry noted the example of Snape's well-executed higher-level deflection and avoidance technique.
"Hm," Jon said, staring at Snape. He never answered the question, Jon thought.
"What?" Snape demanded. Jon refused to bait the man further.
"Professor. The ink on this agreement is almost a week old. And the parchment was high quality, but someone seemed to have kept it in a place with a lack of fresh air and sunlight. The leather ribbon is now crusty," Jon said calmly, without inflection.
"I rather you made your decision after classes. We all know how diligent you Gryffindor students are," Snape's mouth made the tiniest upward curve, a mere tightening of the cheek muscle.
"By chance were you wishing that we would back down on such short notice, Professor?" Jon challenged.
"Are you?" Snape drawled, raising his eyebrow.
Harry had to admit that Snape had a screwy way of getting things to go his way. He goaded Jon easily this time using Jon's own code of honor.
"No," Jon signed the acceptance to duel. Harry signed next to him.
Damn it. Snape still succeeded in manipulating us because we are agreeing to tomorrow's date. Bastard.
Harry was positive Snape had the rules letter in hand from Dumbledore and the Slytherin acceptance letter signed by his students that same Friday night.
"Very well. It is agreed. Be at the lake at 11:55 or you shall be considered as cowards who reneged." Snape smiled for the first time since the term started.
"Thanks for letting us know well in advance, Professor, so that we could prepare," Harry commended sarcastically.
Ah. He goofed up. There it was. The classic Gryffindor temperamental outburst.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," Snape retorted, fully expecting the response this time. "Take the book and read the headmaster's rules. It will guide you in your code of conduct tomorrow. We are finished here."
The walk back up to Gryffindor common room was strange. Jon moved with a brisk stride, excited. Harry was deep in thought, struggling at times to keep up the pace. Only a few Gryffindor older students were there, some studying, while others were enjoying the afternoon playing games or reading a book. The majority of the house was outdoors enjoying the cloudless afternoon, a rare occurrence this late in September.
Except for the entire year two group. Ron, Hermione, Neville and the rest of the second years were all waiting for them by the fireplace. The conversations came to an abrupt halt when Jon and Harry entered. They moved as a group across to them.
"What did Snape want?" Ron asked bluntly.
"I think Dumbledore might want to make it an announcement at dinner," Harry replied distractedly.
"Oh come on," Hermione griped. Harry sighed.
"He would be the better person to explain-" Harry began.
"Tomorrow, we are taking on Slytherin in a duel," Jon nodded, dropping his bag on the ground and plopping down on the couch. He summoned a footstool from underneath a writing table and casually crossed his World Wizarding Gear Combat boots on it. He took out The Salute and began to read, a slight smile on his face. Their year two classmates looked at each other, perplexed, hoping that one of them understood what Jon meant.
"'Taking on Slytherins' ... what does that mean ?" Seamus exclaimed. "The tournament roster and schedule is out?"
"No. I have challenged their house to honorable combat. Harry is my second. We shall fight on the morrow."
"Challenged their house!" Ron laughed. "Crikey!" He hit Dean on his back who was choking on his crisps.
"McGonagall is going to have her nut when she hears this one!" Seamus added, howling.
"As if you two couldn't be in more trouble than you usually are," Parvati scolded. "Is it war you want? Why make statements like that?"
Hermione and Neville were the only ones in their group who weren't laughing. Hermione stepped right up under Harry.
"No. You didn't, Harry. You shan't! Please tell me this is a joke!" Hermione argued, suspecting that Jon didn't really tell 'jokes' and this was the blasted truth.
"Sorry," Harry said in apology. "Or... not sorry. I'm not sorry about doing it. Just..."
"You're sorry you are going to worry me to death or something?" Hermione suggested. Harry shrugged.
The rest of the crew's laughter died immediately.
"Ok. This is getting weird," Lavender said in the silence.
"What is getting weird?" Alexandria, Angelina, Katie, Alicia and Ginny Weasley came through the door. Fred and George came in after. Harry was grateful that Fred and George were taking on their undercover guard duty seriously. Oliver and Lee Jordan came in last. Jon immediately stood up from the couch when he saw Alexandria enter the room.
"We are going to be taking on Slytherin's Quidditch squadron in a duel. Harry and I, versus... whoever those three are and Malfoy." He watched Alexandria approach warily. His shoulders squared, and his posture became rigid. "Alexandria, you are well?" he asked politely, grimacing at her stern expression.
"Well, I was... until I heard... what was it that I heard? A Duel?" Alexandria hissed. Her face was getting red with anger.
"Yes," Jon explained simply. Alexandria walked over to him and forcefully poked him in his ribs. Jon flinched as if he had been stabbed. He rubbed the spot gingerly.
"No," Alexandria commanded. "Look at you. You are not yet healed. Madame Pomfrey will not allow it."
"Too late. We signed and sealed," Harry reinforced. "Snape has all the stuff and his guys are probably drilling as we speak. Dumbledore is gearing up to put on a grand show tomorrow."
Alexandra looked cross. "This Potions Master; Snape, is an idiot. He does not care about his charges," she huffed. "If it must be so, I will be ready as your medical backup, my Lord Black, if needed." She curtsied angrily and stormed up the staircase into her room. The door slam echoed in the resulting silence.
"She's mental! What was that she said?" Ron asked in the silence. "Snape... doesn't care about his charges? They have the advantage!"
Neville finally laughed. "Oh no. She knows exactly what she was talking about. You guys weren't there. Slytherin won't know what hit them." He came across and offered high fives to Harry and Jon. The three boys grinned as they connected. "You got this."
"What is this, then?" Fred asked. Harry told them that they were going have a melee on the lake tomorrow and the staff would facilitate the school by setting up bleachers. The Gryffindor quidditch gang was suitably impressed.
"So, you are saying, that the two of you," Oliver Wood jabbed two fingers at them; "Are going to take on three Seventh years, and Draco Malfoy in a duel?" he raised up four fingers. He looked quite ridiculous with his fingers waggling in the air like that.
"Yup," Harry nodded.
"And you are saying-" Oliver pointed to Neville; "that Slytherin won't know what hit them."
"Yup," Neville agreed.
"I am definitely missing something here," Oliver watched the two second year boys at the center of attention. "Those blokes know their stuff. Malfoy probably does too. You two are dangerously overconfident."
"Nah, they'll be fine," Neville insisted.
"There is no need to worry," Jon said calmly. "Harry is the Boy who Lived, not so? A legendary hero. Have you no faith?"
Harry groaned. "That was an accident, Jon. Remember? I had no part in that."
"Are you trying to convince them, or not?" Jon squared off to Harry.
"You're doing it wrong. That story had nothing to do with any aspect of my skill."
"Skill? What skill?" Ron blurted, confused. Lavender laughed. Hermione sat down on the couch, distressed.
"Isn't there any way you could retract this challenge?" she asked Jon. Her expression blatantly conveyed that she suspected the real reason behind this foolish display of testosterone. It was Revenge.
Harry and Jon turned towards her.
"No. Nor do I wish to," Jon said simply. Hermione frowned, thinking. Harry knew that 'It's all my fault' expression all too well. He hated making Hermione worry. This time it could not be helped. The following questions and ambiguous statements of their chances of survival were getting on Harry's nerves. He decided enough was enough.
"Guys. Listen. Drinkwater and Dumbledore used our challenge to orchestrate our fight into a big show. Snape was probably drilling his guys the moment he got the Challenge and Duel documents in order."
"And only now decided to inform us, the craven," Jon snarled. Harry nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. We all know how Snape does things. And Dumbledore loves to throw a convenient blind eye at times. So if it is a show he wants, it is a show he'll get. We'll give the whole bloody school a show to remember."
"Hear, hear!" Ron exclaimed.
"Nice," Katie replied. "You two planned the whole boy band hair thing too?"
"Love the confidence Harry-boy," George nodded.
"Anything you need, we're your guys," Fred declared.
"Don't crash and burn," Angelina warned. "You'll never live it down."
"Have no fear, my friends. This is what immortal heroes do for fun. Come. Let us prepare," Jon hit Harry with the back of his hand and headed up to the bedrooms. The two of them squared off in the dorm.
"You're lucky I am around, you know that, right?" Harry scoffed. "I think you're being a bit cocky."
"You're lucky I am around. Saved your life a few times, didn't I?"
"You're keeping count?"
"Yes. The tally is climbing, I must say," Jon smirked. "I am accustomed to some sparring and skirmishes on a far more frequent rhythm. This peace, unsettles me."
"Getting chained and suffocated almost to death didn't excite you enough?"
"Bah. An accident amongst friends. Not the same."
"You really think you could fight right now?" Harry probed.
"Once I don't get hit, I'll be fine."
"It's a fight, Snow. That is what happens."
"With Roderick Hallow, the legendary Lord of the Light as my second, how can I lose?" Jon clapped Harry on his bad shoulder. Harry grimaced in pain. "Sorry. So weak," Jon shook his head with laughter.
"Anyway. You saw the rules. We can't damage them ... permanently, or even threaten to seriously damage them with our casting. Kinda blunts your edge, if you understand what I mean."
"I know. I was hoping you had a way around it."
"I don't. But! Damage doesn't always need to be blood and broken bones. We'll hurt them where it'll hurt the most... their Slytherin pride."
"Ah. Makes sense. They are like the Lannisters, feeling they are better than everyone else."
"Correct. Whoever those Lannisters are."
"The Red and Gold 'lions' of Casterly rock."
"What? We're the red and gold lions, Jon. Gryffindor, remember?"
"Ah. Yes. Bad comparison. Apologies."
"Anyway, here's the plan. Let me get some stuff from here than we'll go to the Room of Requirement. Remember that Excanduscent fireworks spell Tonks had at Beauxbatons?... I was thinking..."
The following morning Harry and Jon were late heading down to breakfast. There was a roar of voices getting louder and louder with each step closer to the great hall. Colin Creevey and another first year were waiting at the last turn before the entrance to the hall.
"There they come, Jean-Marc! Go! Get Alexandria!" Colin ordered. His friend took off at full speed down the hall and through the massive double doors leading to breakfast. Colin brought up his camera and took a photo of the two of them advancing down the hall. Jon and Harry glanced at each other, confused. "Guys! Jon! Wait a moment. She wanted us to... ok here she comes!"
Alexandria came into view with little Jean-Marc. Her face was calm, composed, but her eyes were ablaze with anger.
"You British love to fight."
"Morning, Alexandria," Harry grinned. "I thought you were coming to tell us something we didn't know."
"Alexandria," Jon approached, feeling contrite. "Yesterday. I did not wish to anger you so-"
"Jon. I will deal with that, later." She cut him off. "I must warn you. The other houses are hostile towards our House and the both of you, in particular. Three quarters of the school think that you two are arrogant enough to challenge the entire Slytherin house? Why is this lie so rampant?"
"It is the truth, Alex-" Jon began. Alexandria put the full force of her glare on Jon. Harry rubbed the back of his head.
"You...what?" she snarled. A long string of French curses rolled out her mouth for ten seconds straight. Jon stood there, chin up, hands clasped behind his back in the at ease position, absorbing the tongue lashing akin to the ancient oak absorbing the winds of winter. Harry's ears turned red. No matter the language, a proper cuss out was a proper cuss out. "This stunt has sent this school into war. No wonder McGonagall is in such a catty mood. Our points tally has been decreasing at an alarming rate as of last night. She is in a foul temper since dawn this morning. Right now, it is madness in there. It started off as a simple food fight. Now it is a totally different beast. She will have your heads when she returns. I cannot help you. Follow me." Alexandria turned on her heel and marched back down to the double doors.
"Die Potter!" a random Slytherin fifth year jumped out a nearby broom closet, readying his wand with a blasting curse. Alexandria flashed her wand without breaking stride and a massive mop attacked him, wrapping the disgusting dirty tentacles around his face. He was left writhing on the ground, both hands fighting the vicious monster trying to eat him alive. Colin Creevey and Jean Marc just stared at the back of her head, absolutely smitten with her.
Alexandria did not even look back as she led the four junior boys towards the double doors.
"You chose wisely not to come down for dinner last night. This school has become a mad house! The prefects had to part two serious fights last night. The heads of House were on patrol hours after curfew keeping the peace! Docking of points and detentions have been rampant up to early hours of this morning. You British are a rowdy lot when it comes to house loyalties and hooliganism. Those Slytherins... are the absolute worst. I am so glad I was not sorted into them."
"What about Dumbledore? What is he doing?" Harry asked.
"The Grand Sorceror is treating all of this like some sort of joke. No one dares hex anyone else in front of him, but he seems to be totally unaware of the chaos unleashed as of last night. I am not sure if he is pretending, or not. He is down by the lake. Where were the two of you last night, anyway?"
Harry and Jon were frozen in the doorway, watching the utter chaos. "Training," Jon explained.
"Shea!" Alexandria summoned, sending a glowing light from her wand. A butterfly shaped patronus message flitted across to the Slytherin fifth year girl. Shea was at that moment casting a water charm on one of her first years being attacked by a swarm of conjured bees. Shea came over after attending to her, blocking random pieces of flying food and random spells as she calmly crossed the warzone. The moaning girl was levitated behind her across the main hall. Shea eyed Jon and Harry with a weird expression when she came in front of them.
Harry and Jon were witnessing a full blown breakfast war in the hall. The junior Gryffindors were hunkered down behind an overturned table, under siege. They were taking cover as Slytherins wearing plain black robes with handkerchiefs wrapped around their faces were hurling hexes and magically projecting the remains of breakfast towards the Gryffindor end of the hall. There were no teachers or prefects around. Shea Carrow had somehow walked through that entire melee without fear, efficiently blocking stink spells and projectiles that veered too close.
"You guys are fucking nuts. Alexandria, you sure know how to pick 'em." She smiled anyway.
Alexandria ignored her statement, pointing over her shoulder.
"Montague, the younger one, will need murtlap potion and probably a helping hand," she advised her Slytherin friend.
"Oh? What'd he do now?" she sighed. Shea blocked another dungbomb that was deflected back their way.
"A mop is trying to kill him!" Colin exclaimed excitedly. Colin and Jean Marc immediately brought down scuba goggles that were hidden underneath their cowls. A red and gold bandana that was wrapped around their necks were refastened around their nose and mouth. "We're going back in! Come on!" Both first years sprinted and slid behind the overturned breakfast table, reporting to Forge Weasley. Harry spotted a masked Ron priming what appeared to be Dungbombs from a large storage box. Seamus, McLaggen, and Lee Jordan were taking turns coming from under cover and spraying the room with blasts of magic.
"Blimey," Harry whispered. Jon appeared grim, but excited.
"Ah. This is more like it," he nodded in appreciation. "Where are the authorities?"
"Somebody unleashed a termite jinx on the bleachers set up overnight. The teachers are trying to repair it before the parents and invited guests arrive. Some of the staff are helping Hagrid cut down trees to create new wooden planks. The prefects and upper classmen are also helping," Shea said. "Year five and down are well... here."
The enchanted ceiling had dark clouds reading Die Slytherin, Die floating across the entire hall.
"Why does that termite spell sound like a twins' sort of thing?" Harry murmured, touching his chin, watching on as spell fire exchanged across the hall like laser fire in Star Wars.
"Who is winning?" Jon asked.
"Gryffindorks, obviously," Shea viciously batted away a jelly legs jinx with a beater's bat held in her left hand. "They have dungbombs. Alexandria has been busy helping my house with medical attention, actually. Those with asthma have really bad reactions to the dungbombs. She has tried her best to help the more seriously jinxed students up to the medical wing. I must round up the next batch and help where I can."
"You two, you better fix this before the teachers come back!" Alexandria pointed her wand at the two of them, crouching as she went back into the fray.
"Harry!" Hermione had finally spotted him from her huddled position behind the overturned long table. "Stop this! Do something!" she screamed as she cast another umbrella charm to protect herself from splash damage from clashing spell fire overhead.
Harry nodded at once. "Will do!"
He didn't move an inch, just stuck his right hand in his pocket and leaned against the doorframe.
Hermione rolled her eyes and covered her nose with the sleeve of her robes.
"Don't worry about us!" Fred bellowed, casting a volley of Vomiting hexes. Two runners got caught flush on their backs, falling to their knees and bringing back up a lovely mixture of sausages and eggs.
"We got this Harry!" George laughed. "Behold!" A loud, ripping, flatulence roared through the hall. George cast what appeared to be a toxic fart-throwing curse, the dark, noxious fumes spreading out of his wand like a flame thrower. A group of five Slytherins were caught trying to escape, flailing their arms and crumbling in a dying heap, the spell eating away at their bodies but more importantly, their souls.
The victims held their hands up to the Light, crying for their mothers to take them home.
"They'll give up, eventually," Ron shouted as he gave Jon and Harry a thumbs up. George and Fred immolated another retreating group of attackers with what appeared to be a combined fart-thrower. The mixture of the brownish-green blast of gas offered no solace to the innocent and guilty alike. The wails and coughing of the inundated souls penetrated deep within the hearts of the enemy.
Slytherin Fifth year Everest Hargreaves could not believe third year and second year Gryffindorks had them pinned under cover.
"Fuck this. Slytherins... ATTACK!" He vaulted over the bench. Many joined him, screaming "For Salazar!"
"No! Get back! God damn you! Back!" Blaise Zabini shouted, trying to order the older Slytherin attackers to stop climbing over their cover. They didn't take heed, too enraged to listen to sense. Blaise peeped over their overturned table, a grimace on his face as he watched his allies fall under the onslaught.
"May god have mercy on their souls," he prayed as he saw his comrades bravely charge across the hall. Out in the open, they were done for.
"They're suicidal!" Lee Jordan announced. "This is it! Artillery!"
Ron grabbed two dungbomb grenades from the box. He tapped his wand on the tightly wrapped bundle of burlap material and tossed it across to Neville, who caught it and expertly lobbed it across the room. The rushing wave of attackers were scattered by the noxious blast.
"Six more are down," Dean announced, picking off another with a well timed tripping jinx. He too, was soon overcome by the stench, and gave up the ghost. "Seven."
Ron repeated the priming charm on the second 'bomb and this was caught by Lavender, who surprisingly, also had very good aim. The Slytherin table was decimated as this one snuck through their Iron Curtain defense. Their dwindling numbers tried to escape, but the ghastly fumes eventually took them out. Some were left crawling on their bellies, the stench suffocating them quickly as the heavy, thick layer of bomb smoke permeated over that half of the breakfast hall. The few who were still on their feet, were sent stumbling, tripping, trying their best to escape through the eastern doors. Others simply passed out, noses bleeding in agony.
"That's ...fifteen. They're running. Let's finish them off," Dean announced, counting. He gave Seamus, Ron and Neville a bounce.
It was a massacre from then on out.
Blaise Zabini held on as long as he could, but it was futile. The Gryffindor tactics were overwhelming. He saw the dark, brownish haze settling in over his face, a monster created in the bowels of the Devil.
"I've... failed, Draco. It's up to you, now," he whispered, before the blissful dark took him.
An hour later no one would have thought that there was a Dung-bomb massacre in the great hall. Harry and the other Gryffindors helped clean up the ghastly mess, and used a combined banishing charm to clear the stench.
"We set it up well." George approached his twin.
"And executed like a boss," Fred agreed. The mind numbing Gryffindor Quidditch team handshake was performed once again.
"Victory," George faced the east. He let his face be warmed by the sun's rays, eyes closed in rapture. "Never smelled so sweet."
"Any casualties?" Fred asked.
"Not a soul. Flawless victory."
"You guys," Harry grimaced. "Have outdone yourselves."
"It wasn't our most meticulous scheme. But sometimes, brute force is all that is necessary," Fred said sagely.
Jon folded his arms, silently agreeing with this tactic. They were heavily outnumbered, but their ordinance was too advantageous. It was a complete and ruthless slaughter.
"You were our inspiration, lads," George came between Jon and Harry, draping his arms on their shoulders, still smelling of fart toxin. Both Harry and Jon covered their noses.
"A second year transfer challenging the house of snakes? You got to be kidding me. No one simply ups us like that." Fred snapped his fingers. He wagged his index finger at them. "Oh no, no, no, no. Not so easy, mate. You caused this, Black and Potter."
"Or Potter-Black?"
"Potter calling the kettle Black?"
"Ok, joke's over," Harry groaned.
"We owe this victory to you two," Forge said in unison.
"Really? Don't pin this on us. We weren't even participating. You're lucky McGonagall hasn't swooped down and cursed you into oblivion," Harry warned.
"Nah mate. We got that covered too. Check it out." Fred and George came in closer so the four of them made a rough circle, and produced the Marauders Map. "Behold. The secret to our success. Watch. Teachers are still a fifteen minute walk away. And down in the dungeons, look. We destroyed one of the dungeon loos too. Filch is cleaning that up. Snape has the four of them sparring since dawn. Malfoy, Bole, Montague and Warrington."
"He must really want this win," George said.
"The Marauder's map," Harry said automatically.
"Whoa. You know of this?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
"Seer's dream," Harry explained. It sounded like a good enough reason to know things he shouldn't know. This was a glorious opportunity. That map was important and he needed it. "I was wondering when it would finally pop up."
"Whoa."
"Whoa."
The twins were, for the first time Harry could recall, lost for words.
"Yeah. Whoa." Harry shrugged.
"So..."
"So..."
"Yeah?" Harry asked.
"You..."
"See things?"
"In my dreams. Sometimes." Harry replied.
"Wicked."
"Blimey."
"It belonged to my dad." Harry said earnestly.
"It did?"
"Who?"
"Prongs."
"Holy cricket."
"You ...want it back?" George offered.
"It... I don't know. I would like to. But... you.. well.. this..." Harry gestured to the now cleaned great hall. "Was epic."
"It was, wasn't it?" Both twins grinned at each other. Harry couldn't believe in the future that there could only be one of them still alive.
He will fix it, this time around. George was currently talking to him.
"Hm, what?" Harry apologized, lost in his thoughts.
"I said: if you don't mind lending it to us now and then, I'm sure your dad would have wanted you to have it. Here." Fred offered it to him. He told him the code words to activate it. Harry listened intently, pretending he didn't know.
"Thanks. It means a lot to me." Harry and the twins executed the mind boggling Gryffindor handshake.
Now he had a way to track Michael Ellewyn-Sare. He activated the map, and looked for his name. It was found down by the forest boundary. He was surrounded by other seventh years and a few teachers. Probably being the model student, helping out with the repairs.
Fucking snake.
"Come on Black. Let's owl Tonks. She might want to see the show."
At half past eleven there was a mass exodus of students out of the school, the students trimmed in green pouring out of the front doors.
"Who in Merlin's name told my house to go first?" Snape muttered to himself.
Snape watched the proceedings like a hawk from the Slytherin combatants' tent on a rocky area overlooking the lake. The solemn, forest green tent was without frills, without any sort of typical Slytherin boast. It was a salvaged muggle army tent, outfitted with proper enlargement enchantments of course, but the simplicity of it personified the task set out for those four boys.
No nonsense. No sense of entitlement. Only one purpose lay in front of them: To squash the Gryffindor upstarts who dared to come into this school and challenge Slytherin, the house which had over the years, produced the highest number of the most powerful wizards ever to walk the earth.
His sleeves billowed in the autumn wind as he paced outside the tent. Escorting his students was Professor Sinistra. There was something strange about his house procession.
"Draco!" Severus called out. "Retrieve the omnoculars on the desk. Bring them to me."
Draco dashed out of the tent and gave it to him. Snape noted that the crash course in dueling had him looking much worse for wear. No amount of counter potions could totally eliminate the number of spells he had absorbed during sparring. His skin and hair looked sickly, but he held himself erect, and ready for the fight to begin in a half an hour.
If Severus did not know his student from since birth, he would have presumed that Draco Malfoy had grown a spine over the past week. Volunteering to be on a dueling squad of much more experienced wizards and enduring the training took some sort of guts.
"What's going on?" Draco asked, peering across the lake towards the long snakes of students trekking down to the stands. Snape put the omnoculars to his face.
Are those, bubble head charms?
Many of his students were dropping vials of potion in their eyes as they walked, or coughing into handkerchiefs. They trudged down wearily, as if beaten, and broken.
"I don't know. There seems to be an issue with the lower years. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are following them. Wait-"
They could not be serious.
Coming out of the castle last was House Gryffindor.
"In Line, In Line!" Percy Weasley was bustling about, ordering miscreants here and there into a neat orderly fashion. At the front, Ron Weasley was holding a massive flag, a glittering Red Lion against a golden coat of arms banner flapping proudly in the midday sun.
They had organized themselves into a small marching band, complete with bagpipes, drums, flutes and trumpet. The pipes were played by the Scottish students; Cormac Mclaggen, Jimmy Peakes, Jack Sloper, and Mary MacDonald, the boys dressed in red and black kilts. Snare drums were played by Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, and Seamus Finnigan. The tuba was held awkwardly by Neville Longbottom, who was grinning proudly. Lee Jordan was striking a massive bass drum with a Thoom, Thoom beat at the back of the band.
Minerva McGonagall, resplendent in deep forest green tartan robes and steep pointed hat, stood at attention in front of her charges. A red and gold ceremonial war banner was draped diagonally across her torso, the Sword of Gryffindor proudly belted at her hip.
Two loud battle horns were blown by Fred and George Weasley, signaling for the students to begin marching on the spot.
The bagpipes started, the snare drums followed, and the flute pierced the clear blue sky. House Gryffindor began marching down the front steps. The remaining students who were not playing instruments opened their voices loudly in song; singing a modified version of 'Scotland the Brave.'
Hark when the night is falling
Hear! Hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling,
Down thro' the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the Gryffindor men.
Towering in gallant fame,
Hogwarts my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
House of my high endeavour,
House of the Bow and quiver,
House of my heart for ever,
God-ric the Brave!
High in the misty Highlands,
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat
Beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maidens' eyes.
Towering in gallant fame,
Hogwarts my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
House of my high endeavour,
House of the Sword of Silver,
House of my heart for ever,
God-ric the Brave!
Far off in sunlit places,
Sad are young Wizard faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss
Of sweet Scottish rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming,
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for Hog-warts again.
Towering in gallant fame,
Hogwarts my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
House of my high endeavour,
House of the Lion Banner,
House of my heart for ever,
God-ric the Brave!
Down the hill two contestants were vastly impressed.
"Bloody hell! A lot happened when we were in the Room of Requirement last night! McGonagall is wearing the Sword of Gryffindor!" Harry exclaimed as he watched their house come down the hill towards the lake. Their shabby tent was hastily set up not even fifteen minutes before, right next to the newly redesigned spectator bleachers. Harry was relieved Jon was good at these sort of things. Might have been a trifle embarrassing trying to figure out how to set up a muggle tent in front of all these people.
"You killed the basilisk with that? It's a ceremonial sword!" Jon said.
'Don't judge a book by its cover and all that."
"A sword, is not a book. It is what it is."
"Is your 'sword', just any sword?" Harry raised his eyebrow. Jon nodded in understanding.
"Ah- I see what you mean. Forgive me. I am still learning the ways of magic."
"Alexandria and Lee Jordan went all out with the preparations. Oliver told me she was working the entire night trying to get this done," Harry told Jon.
"I thought she was upset about this duel," Jon muttered. He felt a wave of appreciation and affection swell up inside of him that she would go to all this length in support of them.
"She was. But the French love their pomp. Maybe she channeled all that negative energy into organizing this for us. McGonagall is taking this on seriously! Actually, with that expression, she looks like she is the one heading to duel!"
"Aye, a true warrior, that one." Jon agreed one hundred percent.
"Do you think she knows about the battle this morning?"
"Alexandria has told me in an effort to prevent a total shutdown of all pastimes, she convinced Pompfrey not to report this directly to the heads of house. The healer's log book is still open to staff, and the mandatory report still went to the headmaster, as far as Alexandria knows."
"Dumbledore seems quite happy," Harry said, leaning out to spot Dumbledore and the rest of staff sitting at the top tier of the bleachers. "Guess that is a good sign."
There were about forty to fifty visitors seated in the guest section. A few Ministry officials inclusive of Shacklebolt and Barty Crouch Senior, and others he did not recognize. He spotted Tonks who waved at him. He saluted her with a smile. She was sitting next to Sarah Clearwater, Penelope's sister and photographer for Witch Weekly. That Hag, Rita Skeeter was instructing her male photographer to take pictures of House Gryffindor's marching band.
By the time all the students were seated, it was five minutes to twelve. The Slytherin Dueling squadron flew down on brand new Nimbus 2001 broomsticks right in front of their house mates. There was a feeble groan of cheer, but mostly coughing.
Severus Snape stood at the edge of the lake where a magical rope bridge was suspended over the water leading towards the battle arena. Multiple ropes anchored on different points along the lakeshore held the floating platform immobile on the water.
"Purity of Magic," he declared, reciting their House's Watchwords.
"Purity of Magic," his boys responded, raising their wands in front of their nose in salute.
"Focus. Remember the plan." Snape stepped aside and the four of them traversed the bridge towards the battle arena covering the Black lake. Madame Hooch, the Quidditch referee stood dead centre on the platform, her broom held in her left hand.
"Names?" she barked, taking out a parchment. The four boys told her their names and their voices automatically registered a golden tick next to their written names on the list.
McGonagall eyed Snape as she came forward towards the bridge. Snape stepped aside, even though he was pretending he did not even see her. Jon and Harry came forward, Harry's hood covering his left eye from the harsh midday sun.
"I would have helped in your preparations, if I had known," she said in apology. "However, that is no excuse. In a duel, there are no excuses. You shall make our House proud this day," she declared.
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Jon and Harry chorused. She nodded once, then let them proceed unto the bridge. They arrived at the platform and Madame Hooch asked for their names. When their names were ticked, the magical drawbridge slowly vanished from sight. The six boys all turned towards the spectators, as per instructions in the book; The Salute.
"Greetings, honored guests, fellow staff, and my dear students!" Dumbledore stood, his voice booming with the Sonorous Charm. "In a lucky turn of events, our Dueling Tournament this year has a chance to be opened with a Challenge!" There was polite applause at these words. "Never one to shun old customs, I have agreed to the dueling committee's request to allow this event, but with safety precautions, of course. In your hands-" (Dumbledore snapped his fingers and parchment appeared in everybody's laps) "Are the contestants' school profiles and the rules of engagement. Ah. It is now precisely noon. On to you, Madame Hooch!"
A concentric inner circle, half the radius of the entire floating platform, was painted on the arena. Half the circumference was painted green, the other was painted red.
"Slytherin- behind the green circle! Gryffindor, behind the red!" Madame Hooch mounted her broom and drifted out of the arena circle on the far side of the bleachers, so that she would not block the spectators' view.
The two teams were approximately forty five feet away from each other. "After the duel begins, you may move anywhere you wish, but if you fall off, you are defeated!"
Jon and Harry took positions along the red arc, empty hands loose at their sides. The four Slytherins took position along the green, each with wands in hand. Harry and Jon mentally took note of their positions. Draco was the one closest to Harry's left along the painted circle.
"Turn around!" she commanded.
"On the count of three, you may turn and cast magic!"
"One!"
A hush fell amongst the crowd. Jon and Harry snuck out something from their robe pockets, now that their back was turned to their opponents.
"Two!"
"To arms," Harry said quietly at Jon.
"To arms," Jon responded with a grin.
"Three!"
Harry and Jon spun around but did not draw. Instead, they flattened themselves to the ground immediately. Red bolts of magic crisscrossed where they were standing microseconds before Hooch had finished the count. Harry had explicitly warned Jon about this happening. Harry grunted as he could only use one arm to cushion his fall because his left hand was still bandaged in a sling.
The items they had retrieved during the count were now lobbed in a high arc on their way down. Two small potion vials shattered at the feet of the Slytherin team.
Jon's vial broke and Instant Darkness powder exploded in a cloud on the Slytherin side. Harry's vial broke and Sticking Solution in gaseous form mixed within the darkness powder. Both Jon and Harry rolled away from each other on the platform exactly three times and came up on bended knee, almost ten feet away from the water's edge. The Slytherins' entire half was covered in thick, impenetrable smoke. That didn't stop them from casting spells wildly at the locations they thought the two Gryffindor were at the start.
"Maior Homenum Revelio!" Harry cast quietly with his trusty Troll Hair on Holly. A bright shining orb of blue magic expanded and immediately highlighted the boys with a glaring red outline. More wildly fired spells were returned from the blinded and confused Slytherins, none even coming close to either Harry or Jon.
"Pinnarum pice et malleolis!" Jon shouted, the one and only new low level curse he learned last night, specifically for this strategy. A wide stream of white feathers with tar-sticky nibs flew out of his Dragon heartstring on Olive wand, mixing into the instant darkness gas.
Spells were now being cast non-stop towards them, the four red outlines frustrated and losing composure within the pitch black cloud blanketing them. This caused even more turbulence for the steady stream of white feathers to stick onto their robes and bodies.
Jon stopped the feather spell. The multitude of feathers were swirling within the now-sticky Instant Darkness mist.
"Now!" he commanded Harry. With uncanny precision both boys dug into their robes for each of the two ring boxes that Master Olivander had given them to test out their Niffler on Oak wands' Space-altering magic.
"Envisio finite!" Jon apparently caught nothing in mid air. Harry slid across his ring box towards Jon, who summoned it into his hand with a well practiced move. He cast the cancelling charm on the ring box and six funny looking arrows popped out, landing on the arena floor with a clatter. He immediately notched one in his invisible bow. The arrow was blunted with what appeared to be a large red and gold lollipop instead of a diamond shaped head.
"Hold," Jon commanded, his bow held taut at the ready. A spell shot towards him, narrowly missing his hair, but he didn't even flinch.
It was a flame curse, anyhow.
"Any second now," Harry agreed, crouching low, aiming at the red figures who were now trying various charms instead of attack spells to disperse the gas. One of them almost achieved a counter by casting a spelunking torch spell that seemed to be having some sort of minor effect.
As they predicted last night, Draco was first to run out of the darkness and into the Light.
"PULL!" Jon bellowed in triumph. Harry locked on his wand at a feather covered Draco and put all his magic into a new, never before seen modification on the hovering charm.
He dubbed it the Skeet Shooter.
"Winguardium Depulso Mobilicorpus!"
Draco shot up into the sky as if blasted vertically from a cannon, his feathered arms flapping helplessly. Jon tracked him and let loose his invisible bowstring.
The Depulso Banishing charm combined with the Excanduscent Firework Charm enchanted on the arrowhead exploded when it connected solidly with Draco. Draco's upward trajectory was now sent horizontal. Simultaneously, fireworks erupted into the sky.
Red and gold Chrysanthemum decorated the midday sky, enchanted to shine bright no matter the hour. There was a loud "Oooooh" from the spectators. Draco eventually fell a mile or so away in the massive lake with a barely heard splash.
"Hit!" Harry snapped. "Next!"
"Hold..."
Montague came flying out of the darkness, unaware of what was to befall him. At least he had up a decent protego shield.
Unfortunately for him, Winguardium wasn't deflected by that particular defense.
"PULL!"
"Winguardium Depulso Mobilicorpus!"
Twang.
This time, the firework exploded into a Golden Lion with a green snake hanging limply from its jaws. The crowd clapped and screamed in delight. Snape just stared at the sky, his face impassive, his wand tapping his thigh in annoyance.
"Jon! That was for the finale!"
"Apologies," Jon shrugged as he stood up to see where he splashed into the lake. "Drat. Draco landed further."
"Oh! Careful!... Bole seems eager. NOCK!" Harry screamed.
Bole tried to do a neat combat roll as he dashed out the cloud, similar to what Jon could do almost naturally, but the effect was ruined due to his feather covered robes. Harry thought he looked exactly like a drunk ostrich falling over at top speed. Harry sent him up.
"Think you can hit him twice?!" Harry shouted across the arena at Jon as Bole skyrocketed. Jon was tracking him with his invisible bow.
"Leave it to me."
Twang.
Red and Gold Carousels began spinning on first impact.
Bole shot off at the angle of deflection. Jon, with unbelievably fast hands, reloaded and brought his aiming trajectory lower at around sixty degrees, instead of the eighty five on the first release.
Twang.
Both Harry and Jon stood up, leaning awkwardly as they tracked the flight of the second arrow. They watched Bole fall, fall, fall...
A Bulls-eye Style pattern finally exploded in the far distance. The roar from the crowd was deafening.
"Fuck yes," Harry offered Jon his fist. Jon connected solidly. Bole skipped a couple times along the lake surface before he eventually submerged.
Carrington had obviously heard the roaring of the crowd and decided not to run out of the darkness. Harry and Jon waited patiently. They dodged a few random spells that edged close.
"Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! " came the chant from the Gryffindor section.
Jon folded his arms, watching the red outline crouch low, shield in place. Harry turned towards Tonks. She was clapping and chanting along with the Gryffindors.
Harry put his hand to ear, miming he couldn't hear.
"Do it! Do it! DO IT! DO IT!" the crowd shouted louder. Harry raised his one good arm in recognition. A lusty round of applause was his reward.
"NOCK!" he commanded. Jon drew his lollipop arrow. The crowd roared even louder in excitement.
Carrington knew that something bad was going to happen to him, crouched low in a defensive position, hiding behind the strongest blocks that he knew. He just couldn't go out there. They ...were doing something to the others... something terrible...
Better he saved face than get his arse handed to him. Before he could change his mind, he dashed off to where the nearest edge was, ready to end this farce.
"Oy! A Runner!" Harry pointed with his open hand, exasperated. The crowd booed.
"PULL!" the crowd screamed collectively just before Carrington leaped off the edge.
"If you insist," Harry muttered to himself darkly. With an extravagant pull on an imaginary switch, Harry caught him just before his feet hit the water and sent Carrington into orbit.
Twang.
Jon and Harry waved towards the crowd as part of traditional custom. The crowd cheered as the last firework exploded into a lightning bolt in the midday sky, Carrington falling into the lake with a soft splash in the distance.
Madame Hooch flew across to the grinning duo. She pointed the wand at her throat.
"Decision! Within a round time of four minutes, twenty six seconds by arena elimination. Victory belongs to House Gryffindor!"
A tremendous roar blared from the bleachers. The majority of Slytherins were already heading down the stairs and making their way back up to the castle. Harry and Jon ran across the bridge and were enveloped in a surge of their housemates in a massive group celebration.
Tonks had found her way somewhere in the melee. Harry only knew this in the mad tangle when a girl that looked suspiciously like a younger version of Tonks grabbed him bodily and planted a wet kiss on his face. She winked at him and then shoved her way out, disappearing out of the crush.
The band started up again suddenly as the sound of bagpipes rang through the air.
Towering in gallant fame,
Hogwarts my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
House of my high endeavour,
House of the Black and Potter,
House of my heart for ever,
God-ric the brave!
AN: Thank you for reading. "Scotland the Brave" (1911) Song Lyrics are credited to Cliff Hanley and Robert Wilson.