Disclaimer: The Great Architect of Harry Potter built it of good stuff.


Chapter 51

Most of the time, Hermione and Harry were content to write letters home, like normal people. However, the fastest way to get information from Hogwarts to Crawley was to mirror-call Sirius and Remus and have them apparate there, and that is what they did to inform their parents of their conversation with Dumbledore and his plan, which Hermione expanded, to thwart the Board's callous actions. (Actually, the fastest way was Dumbledore's private Floo connection, but the less he was directly involved the better.) It would certainly be nice if they had another pair of mirrors to call their parents directly, but they had to make do for now.

After discussing a few options, Dan and Emma decided to take the Knight Bus to Colchester right after their last dental appointment for the day so that they would be able to catch the Creeveys before dinnertime. On a weekday at this time of day, the trip was mercifully short—only about half an hour. They stepped off the purple monstrosity dizzily and took a moment to straighten their clothing before walking up to the door.

Mrs. Creevey answered and immediately took note of the solemn looks on their faces. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, hello," she said. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Creevey," Emma replied. "Are your husband and Dennis home?"

"Oh, of course. Please come in. Joe, Dennis," she called, "the Grangers are here—they need to talk to us."

Joe and Margaret Creevey were an unobtrusive, unassuming-looking couple, both on the short side, conservatively-dressed, and with similar mousy brown hair to their children. Joe was a milkman—a real early-to-bed-early-to-rise type—humble and quiet, but with a strength that Dan and Emma Granger were beginning to see in their conversations with the family. Margaret worked as a receptionist and had much the same personality as her husband. Their children, on the other hand, were their complete opposites—excitable and hyperactive, with a constant thirst to learn about anything and everything magical. They had already started an album with all of the pictures Colin had sent them, and then there was Dennis—nine years old, although he could pass for eight—maybe even seven—with a young child's passion for dinosaurs now carried over to dragons, chimaeras, and anything else that could eat him. When told this, Harry wrote back that he would get on great with Hagrid.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Mr. Creevey said once they were all seated in the living room (with Dennis fidgeting a lot, as always). "What's the matter?"

Emma took a deep breath and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Creevey, we're sorry we had to be the ones to tell you this—there were unfortunate circumstances that demanded it—but…your son was attacked at school the night before last."

"Attacked!" Mrs. Creevey breathed. "Is—is he alright?"

"Well, he…he will be," Emma replied. "I'm sorry—that's the only quick answer I can give you that would make any sense."

"I…I think you'd better give us the long version, then," Mr. Creevey said as he struggled to maintain his composure.

So Dan and Emma told them a brief history of the founding of Hogwarts, the legend of the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin, the Halloween attack on Mrs. Norris, and finally, how Colin was found in the corridors in the equivalent of a coma with his finger still pressing down the shutter of his destroyed camera.

"And you say they can't help him until spring?" Mrs. Creevey said in horror.

"No, they won't help him until spring," Dan clarified angrily. "Apparently the potion he needs is only in season twice a year—May in the Northern Hemisphere and November in the Southern Hemisphere—but the Board of Governors refuses to pay to import it when the school has a crop of its own, even though it won't be ready for six months."

"That's stupid!" Dennis yelled.

"Yes, I'd have to say it is," Mr. Creevey said angrily. "Doesn't that conflict with their mandate to take care of their students or some such?"

Dan shook his head. "Stupidity has nothing to do with it," he said. "The Board is controlled by a faction that is prejudiced against muggles and muggle-borns—the Chairman in particular. The Chairman is the Headmaster's number one political opponent, and he's been pushing to sack him for years. If he gets his way, children like ours won't be able to attend Hogwarts at all."

Dennis looked at least as horrified by that as what happened to his brother: "What? They can't do that! They can't make us not go, can they?"

"Not at present, Dennis, but we have information that these attacks are part of an elaborate scheme to do just that."

"But that's awful," Mrs. Creevey said. She had been near tears for most of the conversation. "Attacking children for some political scheme—"

Emma just shook her head: "Trust us, it can get worse. When we have more time, we'll have to tell you more about the magical civil war. But right now, the real reason we came is that we thought you deserved a chance to see Colin."

"You—you can take us to him? I thought the school didn't normally do visit days."

"It doesn't." Although maybe it should, Dan thought. "But we know our way around the magical world better than most muggles. We can have you there in an hour."

"An hour?" Dennis said in surprise. The Grangers nodded.

"Well, then…" Mr. Creevey stood up. "What are we waiting for?"

"There is one small complication," Dan said. "There are two different ways we could take you. One is the way people would normally go. The other is a little faster and safer, and it would definitely less unwanted attention, but we would need to take you to our house, and we would have to ask you to keep our location a secret. It could cause a lot of trouble for us and especially Harry if it got out."

"You won't have any trouble from my wife or me," Mr. Creevey said firmly. "It's the least we could do for your coming here to help us. Dennis, will you keep Mr. and Mrs. Granger's secrets for them?"

"Sure thing! Your secret's safe with me, Mr. Granger, sir," the little boy said eagerly.

Dan smiled a little at the boy and said, "Alright, then, let's go. Oh, and you'll need your Anti-Anti-Muggle necklaces."

The Creeveys quickly retrieved their charms and followed the Grangers out to the curb. Once there, Emma took off her necklace and held it out to the street. There was an almighty BANG! The Creeveys jumped back as a purple triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere, and Stan Shunpike jumped out of it in his gaudy purple uniform, saying "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded—oy, 'choo doin' back already?"

"We're going home, Mr. Shunpike," Emma sniffed as she handed over the appropriate change. "These three are coming with us."

"Right, then. Hey, Ern, we're goink back you-know-where."

"Ar," the driver said.

The Grangers quickly pulled the Creeveys into the nearest seats as the bus started up again. "Hold on tight," they warned.

"Um…" they started.

BANG! The Creeveys' first experience on the Knight Bus was similar to the Grangers': it took them a while to stop screaming.

"Sorry about this," Dan said over the noise. "Wizards haven't really figured out convenient transport." Not surprisingly, they were all pretty shaken up by the time they got back to Crawley and stepped off the bus.

"Startin' to brink over more 'ouse guests are we?" Stan asked as they left.

"That's our business, Mr. Shunpike. Just remember your agreement with Madam Tonks," Emma said darkly.

Stan shuddered. He remembered that agreement all too well. It was the summer before last. His very first month on the job, and Harry Potter comes on the Bus. It would have been a big day for him, but then, Andromeda Tonks offered him the same agreement she'd made with Ernie Prang: all of the Knight Bus staff would agree to keep Harry Potter's location a secret—or else. Stan might not have been the brightest bulb in the shop, but he wasn't about to cross a daughter of the House of Black.

In fact, the Creeveys would have been hard pressed to reveal the Grangers' address anyway since the bus stopped right outside their house, and their address was never spoken aloud in their presence. They did know, however, that it looked like a nice neighbourhood, which was to be expected for a couple of dentists. "Welcome to our home," Emma said as they led them inside. "We'll only be here a minute. We just came here because we have a private connection. We're not really supposed to have it, but Professor Dumbledore set it up for us in case of emergency. The Creeveys were surprised at that, and also confused, since they didn't really know what Emma was talking about, but they didn't have time to ask before the woman grabbed a handful of powder from an urn, threw it into the fireplace, and called, "Hogwarts!"


Albus Dumbledore was seated at his desk trying to sort out the paperwork he had accrued in the wake of the disastrous Board meeting when a rather loud and distressing alarm sounded—an alarm he had keyed to one very important incoming Floo address. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, what's wrong?" he said urgently, rushing over to the fireplace.

"Nothing on our end, Professor," he heard Emma Granger say, although there was a bit of an edge in her voice. "We have the Creeveys here with us. They'd like to come through the Floo so they can see their son."

Albus gaped in surprise for a minute. He'd meant for the Creeveys to be informed, not brought straight to Hogwarts the very same day. Trust that family to take things a step or three further, he thought. Caw! Fawkes croaked from his perch and shot him a look that seemed to say, You asked for it. It was true. He should have seen it coming from them. Even so, it could be a good thing. Unless the Grangers had taken out their frustrations on his name, it would just serve to vex Lucius Malfoy further without giving him any real leverage. "Why, Mr. and Mrs. Creevey," he said, "I am terribly sorry about your son, but I am pleasantly surprised that the Board was so prompt in contacting you." His tone made it clear how fake that story was. "This is quite irregular, but I would certainly not forbid a family visit to see young Colin. You may step through the fireplace when you are ready."

"Through the fireplace?" a young boy's voice squeaked.

"Um, thank you, Professor," the calmer voice of Mr. Creevey sounded, "but you did just say step through the fireplace?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," Emma said. "Just try to land on your feet."

Dumbledore took a moment to send off a quick Patronus message to his Deputy, and just afterwards, Daniel Granger staggered out of the fireplace into the Headmaster's office, narrowly missing one of the spindly-legged tables for the many twittering devices. He and Dumbledore helped Mr. and Mrs. Creevey stay upright when they tumbled out. Little Dennis fell flat on his face, but he immediately sprang back up, exclaiming, "That was awesome!" while Emma brought up the rear.

"Allow me to welcome you to Hogwarts," Dumbledore told them. "I wish it had been under better circumstances. I will escort you to the Hospital Wing. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, if you wish to see your children, I believe you will find them in the disused corridor at the other end of this floor at this time of day. Professor McGonagall will be here shortly to escort you."

"Uh, thank you, Professor, that would be nice," Emma said, checking her watch and realising this was when the kids were usually exercising. Of course he knows their daily routine, she thought.


"So Lord Malfoy is working with the Heir and interfering with Dumbledore's response to make him look bad?" Neville said as he, Harry, and Hermione were doing their stretches. Neville was surprised to find he was starting to enjoy these sessions. In addition to the fact that he was starting to feel the improvement in strength and coordination, it was (usually) a good way to forget about the disasters going on around him for a half hour.

"Yeah," Harry grunted as he bent to touch his toes. Even at his age, he wished he could keep the flexibility of his feline body in human form. "Near as we can tell, the Heir of Slytherin is gonna try to get rid of all the muggle-borns in the school—he usually petrifies them, but he killed one once."

"And the Malfoys' elf basically told us they're in on the scheme," Hermione added. They finished their stretches and started jogging in place.

"And Lord Malfoy's trying to get rid of Dumbledore?" Neville said.

"That's what our sources say," Harry said. Those sources being Dumbledore and Draco Malfoy himself, but it would be best not to spread that around. Besides, no one would question Harry Potter having "sources".

"Lord Malfoy controls the—Board of Governors," Neville observed. He was starting to pant. He could still only just keep up with the other two at this. "If he gets rid of Dumbledore—he'll be able to appoint—whoever he wants—to replace him."

"That makes sense," Hermione said. "There's no way they'll keep the school open if that many muggle-borns are attacked one by one, but then the new Head could finish the Heir's job if Mr, Malfoy picks him out. It's lucky for the Creeveys that we could make sure the school's still acting halfway-responsible."

"Yeah, lucky—" Neville said. "Lord Malfoy can already make the Prophet—print what he wants them to—try to blame Dumbledore for everything."

"We really don't want that," Harry said. "We've had issues with Dumbledore before, but we definitely want him here in the castle."

"Me too—Are you two scared—? You've gotta be pretty big targets."

"A little," Harry said with as much confidence as he could muster, "but we've got a lot of people backing us up."

Neville nodded and kept jogging in place. After another minute, they slowed down and transitioned into the kata they had taught him. Hermione and Harry had continued to tell Neville that he should probably focus on duelling, but they taught him enough karate that they were confident he could throw a punch or a kick without hurting himself. "It's really creepy that people are being attacked and no one can figure out how," he said after a while. "You'd think they'd have some way to protect us. Maybe I should get one of those amulets, like Lockhart was talking about. I heard Finn McLaggen was selling them."

"If it was Lockhart saying it, I highly doubt they actually work," said Hermione dryly.

"Yeah, and if Finn's anything like Cormac, I don't know if I'd trust him either," Harry said. "Smells kinda fishy to me." And not in a good way, he added mentally. It was getting too close to dinner. "Anyway, you shouldn't need one, being a pureblood and all."

"I don't know…" Neville said fearfully. "The Heir went for Filch's cat first, and everyone knows I'm almost a squib."

"You are not, Neville," Hermione said. "Being a late bloomer doesn't make you a squib, and all your marks are decent except Potions."

"People still call me that, though," Neville said.

"Nobody who matters," Harry insisted. "Besides, you're the sole heir of a Most Ancient House, and listed on the Pure-Blood Directory, no less. The Heir wouldn't dare attack you, even if he doesn't like you."

Neville considered this. His parents had been attacked by Death Eaters and tortured until they couldn't remember their own names. The whole time, he'd been hidden right there in the house, and the Death Eaters knew it, but they never looked for him—threatened to, certainly, but they never did it—never went after the heir of the family line. And that was Bellatrix Lestrange at her most vicious and insane. It was true: a Most Ancient House and still on the Pure-Blood Directory? There were only four of those families left, none of them healthy. He saw no reason to care about such things. To tell the truth, he still harboured a little bit of resentment towards his relatives for pushing him so hard to show magic. But just the same, a lot of people would think his blood was too pure to spill.

"Huh, I never thought about it that way," he admitted. "It feels weird—it doesn't really feel right that I'm safe just because of who my family is, and you're not."

"Yeah, the magical world is pretty messed up," Harry said. "But at least you're safe."

A few minutes later, a voice came wafting up the corridor: "Yes, they're up here every day. They drew quite a crowd at first, but now, it's usually just Mr. Longbottom. You do have to admire their dedication."

An even more familiar voice replied, "Well, we're glad we've succeeded in teaching them to take their health so seriously." Hermione and Harry looked up just in time to see their parents and Professor McGonagall coming around the corner.

"Mum! Dad!" the yelled, running over to hug them. "Wow, you got here fast," Harry commented.

"The Creeveys wanted to come right away," Dan told them. "Professor Dumbledore took them to the infirmary."

"We've missed you so much," Emma said. "It's so hard—It's terrible that you can't just have a normal school year here."

"Well, hopefully Dumbledore will solve it soon," Hermione said, to general agreement.

"Er, good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Neville muttered shyly as he approached.

"Good evening, Neville. You're looking well," Emma said.

"Thanks."

"I see you're keeping up at the exercising with Harry and Hermione," Dan said.

"Yes, sir," Neville replied. "And going to the Duelling Club, too. I'm not that good, but it is pretty interesting."

"You're not that bad, either," Hermione said. "I'd say you're a fast learner."

Dan smiled a little. "Well, it's good to see there's some kind of self defence training going on here," he said. "I don't know if it'll be any good with this Heir of Slytherin character, but it's better than nothing."

"Well…" Neville said hesitantly. "At least we know the Heir's probably not gonna attack me. So I guess…if you two wanna stick close or something…"

"Thanks, Nev," Harry said. "You're a good friend."

"Yeah," Hermione added, "plus that'll be one less thing to worry about."


A couple days later, a first-year girl wandered into the disused bathroom on the second floor. She looked around curiously, checking all the stalls. Finding no one in sight, she called out, "Myrtle? You can come out, Myrtle. It's only me."

There was a sound of a splash, and then the transparent form of a third-year Ravenclaw poked her head out of one of the stalls.

"Hello, Myrtle," the visitor squeaked dreamily.

"Oh, hello, Luna," Moaning Myrtle replied mournfully.

"How have you been?"

"The same," the ghost sniffed. "No one wants to talk to poor Myrtle."

Luna Lovegood nodded sadly. "The attacks have caused a castle-wide infestation of aquavirius maggots," she said. "People are becoming distrustful and talking to each other less. Also, the wrackspurts around the Board of Governors must be getting very bad. Harry Potter told me that they refused to help Colin, so he won't be awake until spring." She sighed and sat up on the edge of a sink.

Myrtle stared at her and shook her head in confusion, but Luna didn't particularly care. She didn't want to show it, but she found things were growing difficult for her again at Hogwarts. With Colin petrified, Ginny feeling sick all week, and Harry Potter and Hermione Granger withdrawing to their closer friends, the number of people who would actually talk to her had dropped dramatically. Penelope Clearwater would still listen to her concerns, but only reluctantly. Being a muggle-born, she was becoming understandably concerned with looking after herself. That only left Mandy Brocklehurst, who did make an effort, but could only handle Luna in small doses.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Myrtle said, snapping Luna out of her musings. Friend? she thought. That sounded very nice, but she wasn't sure it was correct. Not that she and Colin had anything against each other, but she didn't know him all that well. "I remember when I was alive, people were being attacked like that," the ghost continued. "No one could figure out who did it or do anything to help them, and everyone was getting really scared. Except the Slytherins. They were even more unbearable that year. They kept teasing me that I would be next because I was a m…mudblood." Her voice rose to a high-pitched whine.

"You should not call yourself that, Myrtle," Luna said firmly.

"Oh, what does it matter? I don't have any blood left, anyway." Then, she gave a loud moan and dove back into her toilet.

Luna sighed sadly. Myrtle wasn't much for conversation, either, but she couldn't help but feel some kinship with the ghost. They were both Ravenclaws, and they were both bullied for their oddness. Myrtle did seem a little jealous that Luna had more friends than she'd had, especially Harry Potter, whom she kept asking Luna to introduce to her. But she was actually quite pleasant most of the time and didn't call her names, so Luna couldn't say she was all bad.


The Duelling Club exploded in popularity in the aftermath of the attack on Colin, particularly amongst the younger years and the muggle-borns. Practically all the muggle-borns in the school below O.W.L. year began attending weekly. The older students came less either because they were too busy, or they were more confident in their duelling abilities, and most of purebloods treated it like any other club—only coming if it interested them, or if they were members of Noble Houses, who were expected to be good at it. The pureblood group of course included Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott—all children of suspected Death Eaters, who would have a different reason to be interested in the subject.

By mid-December, the younger students who came regularly had all made significant gains in their practical skills with basic jinxes, and even many of the older students were improving in their aim and reliability of casting. One person who was doing better than most people expected was Luna Lovegood. Luna decided that the duelling club was a good opportunity to try all of those spells that had been used against her earlier in the year—not that she held a grudge—just that it was an excellent learning experience.

"Skontapto," she said after dodging a Slipping Jinx in the first-year exhibition duel that Lockhart and Vector had put her in in front of the crowd. With her voice, it sounded almost half-hearted, but the spell flew true. Unfortunately, her opponent slipped out of the way. "Mordeodigiti," she tried again. The Toe-Biting Jinx struck home, and her opponent began hopping around uncomfortably.

"Expelliarmus!" her opponent yelled back.

Luna dodged and fired back three spells in quick succession: "Locomotor Wibbly. Spongenua. Ventus."

"Contego, Contego, ContegoWhoa!" Thud.

Luna's last spell sent a gust of wind at her opponent, making her Block Charm a liability as it pushed against is and knocked her over. Luna immediately stopped laughing and went over to check on her with concern. "Oh, dear, are you okay, Ginny?" she asked.

"Um…fine, Luna," Ginny mumbled as she staggered to her feet. Ginny hadn't even been sure about coming back to the Duelling Club. She couldn't quite place it, but something about it made her feel uncomfortable—something that all of Tom's coaching could not dispel.

You really do need to learn to defend yourself properly, Ginny, Tom had written to her. Lockhart is worse than useless in class, but in the Duelling Club, you can make it up somewhat.

I don't know, Tom, Ginny replied. It's just that…She held her quill in place, trying to put her thoughts into words. I don't know what's come over me this year. I haven't been feeling well, and I always feel funny after the club meetings.

You haven't been sleeping well, Tom wrote quickly. He'd been trying to help her discretely in her duels to strengthen his link to her, but he would have to be more careful if she was starting to get suspicious. I know it can be difficult to sleep in times like these. Probably that combined with tiring yourself at the meetings is what's doing it. But you have to remember, the only way to get over that is practice. If you pace yourself, you'll be able to handle it better over time.

Ginny thought about this. It made sense (Tom's advice usually did), But something still felt off. I know Mum doesn't like me going to it she wrote, to her own surprise. Come to think of it, neither do Percy or Ron, she wrote.

But none of them can stop you, Ginny. You're old enough make your own decisions on this. This is a vital piece of your education, and your family should recognise that. Besides, Ron's just being jealous, he replied. He was bending the truth a bit, but was true that Ron sounded a bit annoyed to Ginny's ears whenever she tagged along with him, Potter, and Granger. Anyway, it sounds like Harry really enjoys duelling. If you work hard at it and let me help you along to move ahead of your yearmates, that's definitely something that would catch his attention.

Well, I guess I can keep trying it. And I would like to learn some more hexes I can use against Fred and George.

That's the spirit.

Tom, what's that spell Harry uses a lot? Hamasu?

There was a small ink splatter of laughter, and Tom wrote back, That would be Mahasu, the Sumerian Strike Hex. It's a very old and very simple spell. It merely strikes one's opponent like a punch to the nose, but it is still in use because it is particularly fast and easy to cast, and hard to mispronounce…

"Hey, we're still duelling, aren't we?" Ginny said as she faced Luna again. "Mahasu!"

Luna dodged and then spun around as the spell hit her in the shoulder. She responded with a Shoe-Sticking Jinx and a Disarming Charm. Ginny blocked the latter, and as for the former, she was hit, she pulled her feet out of her shoes in the blink of an eye.

Luna blocked Ginny's next volley and then incanted, "Keratoglossa."

Ginny failed to block that one, and it hit her in the face. (Her Blocking Charms were far from perfect.) Immediately, her tongue felt numb, thick, and…scaly? She wasn't sure, but there was some kind of hard coating on it or something. What was that spell, and where had Luna found it? And yet, it didn't seem that debilitating…that is, until she cast her next spell and found she was no longer able to pronounce the letter 'L'. "Experriarmus!" she cried, but her wand fizzled.

"Expelliarmus," Luna said, and Ginny's wand went flying. Professor Vector approached to call the duel.

"Excellent job, Miss Lovegood," she said. "Creative use of the Tempest Jinx and the Horn-Tongue Hex. That's a good thing to note. Anything that makes it difficult for your opponent to speak clearly can be useful. In fact, I want everyone to break off into pairs again and try that. Focus on spells that can impair speech."

Ginny looked around to see the surprised looks that Luna had actually won a duel. Her heart sank when she saw Harry flash Luna a thumbs-up. This wasn't going very well for her at all.

Meanwhile, the rest of the club paired up. Harry and Hermione stuck to their fellow second-years for this one, so Harry faced off against Daphne Greengrass and Hermione with Mandy Brocklehurst.

"So are you coming to the Christmas play this year?" Mandy asked the others as they took their positions.

"Of course, Mandy," Hermione said. "It sounds really interesting."

"Thanks. I know The Voyages of Odo the Hero isn't exactly a big political statement like last year, but—"

"Miss Brocklehurst, I don't think this country could take another big political statement like last year," Daphne interrupted.

"I don't know, I thought it worked out pretty well, Miss Greengrass," Harry said with a mischievous grin.

"Well, of course you would, Mr. Potter, but some of us actually have to live in the magical world," she said. Harry narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

"It's okay, though," Hermione told Mandy. "I'm looking forward to seeing what it's like. I haven't been able to find any translations of early manuscripts about Odo the Hero in the library."

"Didn't you say there was an original manuscript in my vault?" Harry asked idly.

Mandy tripped and almost fell flat on her face. "You have an original Odo the Hero manuscript?" she gasped in awe. Harry sighed softly. Mandy was just getting over her hero worship complex around Harry.

Fortunately, Hermione was able to clear it up: "I doubt it's an original. It looks like it dates to the time of the Founders, but I haven't had time to try to translate it. Anyway, I'd like to see how much the play resembles Beowulf."

"Who?"

"A muggle poem about a hero who fought monsters. It dates from around the same time. I have to wonder if they're linked at all."

"I suppose it wouldn't be that surprising," Daphne said offhandedly. "The lines were pretty blurred that far back. Anyway, we should get to the duelling. Are you ready, Mr. Potter?"

"Of course, Miss Greengrass." They took their stances. "Cantis!"

Harry was fast, but Daphne had the experience that was expected of her as the daughter of a Most Ancient House. She blocked the jinx and retaliated with a Babbling Curse, which Harry dodged. They went back and forth for a while; then, Harry landed a Cantis on her, and the Singing Jinx caused her next spell to come out with completely the wrong inflection. Thus advantaged, Harry pressed on and soon disarmed her.

The upper-year students were quickly silencing each other (although many of them were also good at nonverbal casting, so that didn't stop them). However, the younger students had to resort to jinxes and hexes like Luna's. Soon, Hermione cried "Epoximise!" and, by a lucky shot, nailed Mandy in the face, causing her mouth to stick closed. Harry thought the difficulty of aiming would make that one impractical in a real fight, but it was fun to watch.

"Very good," Professor Vector said once all the jinxes had been undone. "Silencing Charm are, of course, a good choice, but you'll want to pay particular attention to those who used something else to equal effect. The creative use of spells is very important in advanced duelling."

"Excellent," Professor Lockhart added. "Let's have a second year exhibition duel now, shall we? Standard student rules again. Let's see…Mr. Potter, why don't you come up here? And…" he looked around the room. Not many second-years wanted to take on Harry. "Mr. Finch-Fletchley, step lively, now." Justin shrugged his shoulders and climbed up on the platform. "Hey, Harry," he said politely.

"Hey, Justin," Harry replied, though he had a bit more of a predatory tone left over from duelling Daphne. Still, it was all in good fun, and there was no trouble between them. He and Hermione hadn't had a lot of chances to talk to the muggle-borns in the other houses lately, but his understanding with Justin had calmed them down after the attack on Colin, and he could see that Justin himself was looking more relaxed too.

"Wands at the ready," Lockhart said. "One…two…three!"

The spells began flying. Justin was new to the sport, so he was not as fast as Harry and considerably sloppier, but as a muggle-born with a background in football, he did understand dodging, and he made up for his shortcomings with raw enthusiasm. His spells may not have been as controlled, but he put a lot of power into them. It was a risky strategy, since he would tire faster, but it certainly kept Harry on his toes.

It was a very active duel with a lot of movement, rarely matched in the Club except for the case of Harry versus Hermione, and the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs each began cheering their duellist. Gradually, though, Harry began to win out, pushing Justin back. Growing a little annoyed and quite a bit more desperate, Justin's control started to slip, with wild sparks starting to emerge from his wand.

One thing Justin Finch-Fletchley was known for was his proficiency with fire-based spells. They came naturally to him, and sometimes by accident. Few people could surpass him in that category besides Seamus Finnigan and the Weasley Twins. However, he wasn't always as in control as they were, and in this case, his mental focus on power at the expense of control got the better of him.

Without warning, Justin yelled out, "Incendio!" People screamed as a huge fireball flew down the duelling platform and slammed into Harry. With a reflexive, but half-formed wandless Block Charm, he was spared being singed, but he was still thrown flat on his back with a painful blast of heat to his face.

Everyone looked on in shock, Harry and Justin most of all, but Harry hesitated a second too long, an Justin snapped his wand up again and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" He must have put a lot of reckless power into that one, too, because Harry's wand came clean off his wrist strap.

Then everyone realised what had just happened. A second-year muggle-born—someone with practically no formal instruction in duelling—disarmed the Boy-Who-Lived in a duel after threw a massive fireball at him. An angry look came across Harry's face. He was mostly angry at himself for not catching that Disarming Charm, but that was a bad example to show to the crowd.

"Whoa, sorry about that, Harry," Justin said, moving to help him up. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry said quickly, climbing to his feet on his own. "Um, nice job, Justin," he barely thought to say.

"Thanks," Justin said. "Hey, Harry—" he tried again.

"It's okay," Harry said sharply.

Hermione noticed her brother starting to make a scene and intervened. "It's alright, Harry," she guessed his problem. "Everyone gets distracted sometimes."

Harry turned, about to make a cutting remark at her, too, but he stopped and took a deep breath: "Yeah, I know." He turned back around and said, "It's cool, Justin, really," and he quickly shook the Hufflepuff's hand before rejoining the crowd.