"What is he doing? First Cedric and now me?" Harry blurted out at hearing Ron's challenge towards him, not sure what on earth Ron was playing at.
"He's taking care of his rivals," Hermione said, clearly knowing what he was playing at. Not surprisingly, since she seemed to be one step ahead of Harry in these things. Standing up slowly, Harry released his holly wand from its brace and into his hand, stepping out onto the arena. He stood opposite Ron, narrowing his eyes, wondering what thoughts swirled behind that freckled face. They bowed ever so slightly, wands ready - no cheerful banter like the last time - and then the duel began.
The air exploded in magic with beams of light bursting through, scorching the walls or causing blasts when they were countered. It was a straight forward duel of muscles, each wizard trying to wear the other out and to be quicker, stronger, more enduring. Harry had seen how prepared Ron had been for his duel with Cedric though, and knew he would be this time as well. So he waited and remained vigilant for when Ron made his move, while keeping up the bombardment as well as defensive spells.
It took a little while, Ron either waiting for the right moment or maybe trying to mislead Harry, but then he made his attack. Harry realised that Ron went at this like a chess-player. He wanted all his pieces in the right place before he attacked and begun the exchange of pieces that would lead to checkmate. With Cedric it had been the fog and the ward, the focal point behind Cedric, launching the attack from behind and then striking from the front. With Harry, Ron's tactical mind had come up with a different approach, avoiding the trap of relying on the same old tactics.
Several pieces of furniture had been blasted around by Ron accidentally; or so it would seem. Chairs and tables lay scattered, and at one point, Harry noticed one table was pushed back by a gust of wind, summoned by Ron that otherwise did nothing. Except push that table so that it was straight across from the other. Ron activated another element, raising a wall of fire, but between the two duellists; this blocked any line of sight between them, but since Ron could play chess without looking at a board, it did not trouble him.
It did, however, hinder Harry from escaping Ron's next move; the fire was in front of him, and he was not fast enough to move backwards - the tables were very long and perfectly aligned, and would clash together long before Harry could get out of their reach. Ron sprung his trap as soon as the flames went up, the two tables crashing together to catch Harry in between them and knock him out.
Harry had a split second to think, however, and he made his decision. He could not levitate fast enough; the only way to avoid the tables was forward through the fire. The fire was magical and would not be tampered with by his own magic so easily; another solution was necessary. Harry threw a protective spell on his own skin, one that hardened it against heat, meant to avoid sunstroke and for moving through deserts. There were no actual deserts in Britain, but Harry had learned the spell just in case, and now it served him well.
Harry had been in the far end of the room, and all the spectators could see was the great wall of fire in front of him; and then the two tables, from each side of the room, clashing together as they disappeared out of sight behind the fire. There was a loud gasp as everybody assumed Harry had been knocked down, and Ron's expression was one of triumph. Then The Boy Who Lived walked through the wall of fire, as if it were nothing to him; his clothes caught on fire, not protected by the spell, but Harry paid it no heed. He moved quickly until he was out of the fire and landed a hex that caused paralysis straight onto Ron, too dumbstruck to defend himself.
Moody rose quickly and ensured the fire died down without causing damage, as the caster of the spell lost the ability to maintain it. The fire in Harry's clothes disappeared as well and he stood, blackened from smoke and with gaping holes in his shirt and pants, looking as grim as the reaper himself. The silence was deafening before a roar of applause broke out, people always loving a good show. Only Madam Pomfrey sobbed at the idiocy of a student walking through fire, and how she knew people would get hurt and this duelling club was a terrible idea. She hurried over with salve and fretted to treat Harry's skin, which had suffered some burns; the spell protected from heat, but could not combat fire outright.
Only now did Harry notice the pain and started somewhat less grim to wince when Madam Pomfrey touched his skin. He moved off the field, still with thunderous applause and he tried to remember that feeling; feeling invincible as he walked through fire, all emotions burned away, only determination - disregarding any cost in other to obtain victory. He was reminded of the Sorting Hat's words from years ago, when he had worn it. Indeed, perhaps he was more fitting to be in Slytherin than he cared to think. He exchanged looks with Ron as he was revived and picked up his wand.
"You need to learn to adapt," Harry said, knowing this was Ron's weakness, even in chess; if his plan fell through, he always had to spend ages to think on how to salvage his position. And, Harry added but only in his thoughts, you don't want to win badly enough.
It took a while before Madam Pomfrey was satisfied; truth be told, she could not be, but she had to leave Harry to watch the next duel. Harry fell down in his seat between Neville and Hermione.
"Harry, that was the most brilliant thing I have ever seen," Neville said, his voice full of admiration.
"Harry, that was the most reckless thing I have ever seen," Hermione added a second later. She raised her fist to strike his shoulder, but her hand hovered aimlessly as she saw the burnt skin.
"Fiddlesticks," she added, embracing him instead, which caused him to wince again before he awkwardly tried to return it. It was worth the discomfort though, Harry thought, taking deep breaths and checking that his wand had not suffered any damage from his fakir tricks.
As the effect wore off, like a shock, Harry began to wonder if he was crazy. Sure, getting smacked by tables would have hurt like hell, but it was something that could be fixed straight away. Walking through fire was quite something else, and even with the protective spell it had been very dangerous. Risking his wand was a stupid move as well; it was without doubt Harry's most precious belonging. Harry knew he was not going to challenge anybody tonight, in fact he would be happy if this was his final duel.
However, Ron was not the only one who wanted to see Harry low. When those in the third tier could make their challenges, Zabini called out Harry's name. There was disapproval shouted from the stands, as many clearly felt this was not sportsmanlike; but Harry was still in the competition and the challenge was valid. Harry could either accept and duel, or admit he was too injured and forfeit. The pain from the burn wounds had not diminished, but the damage was superficial; Harry saw no reason to forfeit. And even if the damage had been more extensive, Harry would still not have backed down.
Harry and Zabini bowed, and the duel began. Both probed the defences of the other wizards, and Harry noticed that Zabini seemed to favour weaker hexes that in turn were harder to counter. After less than a minute, Harry's legs were twitching and he had a splitting headache, with rashes breaking out that itched terribly. Harry had not been idle, however. He recalled Zabini's fight against Ginny and pretended to copy her tactics.
He threw stunners at Zabini, as if to exploit the same weakness. Zabini reacted by reinforcing his protego and throwing in an extra ward for good measure to absorb the next hostile spell thrown. However, Zabini had raised all his defences against attacks that were magical, and he had wisely swept aside all nearby debris that could be hurled at him. Instead Harry released the strap on his brace and flung it by hand against Zabini. It hit him squarely on the nose, raising laughter, and disrupting his defences long enough for Harry to disarm him.
"Cheater!" Some yelled, primarily from the green-clad Slytherin benches. Moody and Snape held conference, and it was clear that they were of different minds; but Moody was perhaps the one teacher Snape could not intimidate.
"The duel is awarded to Potter," Moody growled. "Only weapons and attacks with lethal intent or force are banned - a piece of leather with a spring does not count as either."
Harry summoned his brace to him and then limped down from the stage and onto his seat, both Neville and Hermione rushing to support him the last steps.
"Harry, what's wrong? Are you still cursed?" Hermione said with concern, while her wand flashed as it scanned him.
"No, I dispelled them all. But he used hexes and jinxes with slow, long effects. Even when countered, their effect doesn't go away," Harry said, itching furiously with one hand while the other was pressed against his head.
"Why would he do that?" Neville speculated. "The fights rarely last long, and it obviously did not help him."
"Maybe he wanted to drag it out, win a slow, certain victory," Harry said, while Hermione bit her lip. He knew that was her facial expression for when something did not fit, but he was hurting in too many places to care. He just wanted the evening to finish now and go to sleep. The burns on his skin, the headache, legs still twitching a bit, and itching rashes everywhere, he felt terrible. Hermione used a few tricks she had learned in preparation to become a medical witch, and reminded Harry of his rejuvenation potion. He swallowed it whole, only to realise it had no effect.
"One of the curses must have been designed to counter it," Hermione said with dismay. Then she had to leave as she was challenged by Cedric. Harry tried a bit to keep an eye on the fight, but eventually just lay down on the bench and only heard Neville tell him a bit later that Hermione had won.
"I challenge Harry Potter!" The viciousness in the voice was not to be mistaken. Harry opened his eyes and sat up, helped by the returning Hermione. Malfoy.