The room was dimly lit by holograms of the SHIELD logo and occupied by one measly table and man sitting in the chair, peering curiously at a file folder in front of him. AVENGERS INITIATIVE PRELIMINARY REPORT, it read.
The man himself wore a black t-shirt, jeans, and glasses. He had messy black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. The most abnormal thing about him was his chest. It held a glowing circle in the center of what seemed like a perfectly normal chest, emitting a blue-ish hue through his shirt.
Nick Fury entered just as the man went to open the file and stopped him in his tracks. "I don't think I want you looking at that. I'm not sure it pertains to you anymore." He produced another white folder, "Now this, on the other hand, is Agent Romanoff's assessment of you. Read it."
The man took the file with little fanfare and opened it.
"Personality overview," he started, voice snide, "Mr. Stark displays compulsive behavior." He paused, "In my own defense, that was last week... Prone to self-destructive tendencies. I was dying… I mean, please. Aren't we all?"
"Textbook narcissism?" He paused again. "Agreed."
His eyes made their way down the page, "Okay, here it is. Recruitment assessment for Avenger Initiative. Iron Man? Yes."
He snapped the folder closed dramatically, "I gotta think about it."
"Read on," Fury goaded.
He opened the file again. "Tony Stark not… Not recommended? That doesn't make any sense. How can you approve me but not approve me? I got a new ticker. I'm trying to do right by Pepper. I'm in a stable-ish relationship." He lost some of his cockiness for the first time. Fury walked around and rested against the table by his chair.
"Which leads us to believe at this juncture we'd only like to use you as a consultant," he said.
Tony stood wordlessly and offered his hand. Fury took it, but before he got a word out, Tony clasped his other hand on top of Fury's. "You can't afford me."
He turned and began to walk away before suddenly pausing, "Then again, I will waive my customary retainer in exchange for a small favor."
Fury eyed him warily.
"Rhodey and I are being honored in Washington and we need a presenter."
Fury smirked, "I'll see what I can do."
It was a week after their victory over Slytherin (needless to say superior brooms did not equal superior skill) and the subsequent petrification of Gabby Ferlet, a 5th year Ravenclaw, that the Hogwarts Duelling Club was announced.
The students, of course, already had their own, hidden from the teachers, roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices sweeping the school (he could sense that all of them were useless). Hannah Abbott bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Hufflepuffs pointed out that she was in no danger; she was a half-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.
Snape had been abnormally nasty since Harry had defeated Slytherin and humiliated Malfoy so Harry had resorted to cursing a potions lesson for revenge. Ron's cauldron melted all along his table and ruined both his neighbors' (Dean and Seamus) potions, Daphne Greengrass's potion made strange sounds as a suspicious-looking gas was emitted. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's respective potions exploded due to rotten Puffer-Fish eyes and Lavender somehow managed to get a dung bomb in her potion, which not only smelled but also eventually splattered all along the right wall.
Harry stifled his laughter the whole class, though Hermione kept shooting him disapproving and flummoxed looks as if she knew he was responsible but could not figure out how. Between that and his genuine excitement at the chance to do battle at school, he was in a good mood for the first time since he'd gotten to school. His good mood dampened, however, when he discovered who was in charge of the dueling club.
"Lockhart?" He muttered incredulously. "That guy couldn't beat a muggle broomstick."
Neville sniggered, but Hermione eyed them disapprovingly.
"You can't just go around insulting teachers!" She exclaimed in annoyance.
"Lockhart isn't a teacher." Harry retorted, "He is an egotistical fraud." His dislike for Lockhart was now bordering on hatred thanks to the "demonstrations" Lockhart had been making him help with during class.
On their first day, Lockhart had brought in pixies; the class ended with Harry and Hermione having to round them all up with immobilizing spells. After that disaster, he must have lost his nerve because now he spent all class forcing Harry to help him reenact scenes from his book for the whole period. It was rather embarrassing, even if Harry relished in tossing him on his arse (he had to be careful not to display too much strength though, unfortunately), but it wasn't like anyone but Hermione paid attention anyway.
Tonight, the long dining tables in the Great Hall had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.
Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"
"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works." He smiled in a way he probably thought was charming. "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry — you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"
Harry wished they'd finish each other off but unfortunately, this wasn't in his domain (nor would his father approve) and he doubted he would ever be that lucky.
Snape's upper lip curled. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at him like that he'd have been preparing to fight for his life.
Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed (why would anyone bow before they fight?); at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like in front of them, as if they were swords, even if, had there been actual swords, they would have been horribly unbalanced.
"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."
"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured to his friends, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One — two — three —"
Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.
Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered and Harry was tempted to join them. Hermione was dancing on her tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.
"Who cares?" said Harry, and every other boy around them, together.
Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.
"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I've lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."
Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me —"
They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ernie first.
"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Macmillian, you can partner with Finnigan. Potter —"
Harry moved automatically toward Hermione.
"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger — you can partner Miss Bulstrode."
Malfoy strutted over, smirking, which Harry thought was a gross amount of overconfidence for a boy about to face off against a god. Behind him walked a Slytherin girl who reminded Harry of a particularly ugly creature he'd seen in the Shi'ar galaxy (also in Midgard) when he was younger. She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively. Hermione gave her a weak smile that she did not return.
"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"
Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.
"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don't want any accidents — one... two... three — "
Malfoy started on "two" but Harry, with his enhanced reflexes, was more than capable of pivoting away. He swung his wand high and shouted, "Rictusempra!"
A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.
"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry hung back, Asgardian honor dictating that it would be unsporting to bewitch Malfoy while he was already down.
The blonde Slytherin tried to take advantage of this but it was all too easy to conjure a shield.
Eventually, Snape canceled all the spells and Malfoy was relieved of the charm. He stood up gasping and glaring furiously at him, but Harry couldn't have cared less.
"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the carnage that had been generated. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you —"
"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch- Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker. "How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile. Harry wanted to roll his eyes. Clearly, Snape hadn't seen the results of the previous duel.
"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.
"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."
He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops— my wand is a little overexcited—"
It took all of his self-control not to roll his eyes.
Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something about a snake in his ear (from what Harry could make out). Malfoy smirked.
"Scared?" muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.
"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.
Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"
"What, drop my wand?"
But Lockhart wasn't listening. "Three — two — one — go!" he shouted.
Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"
The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, curious, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. It reminded him of Loki, oddly enough. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.
"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the snake. "I'll get rid of it..."
"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.
"You will pay for that!" It hissed.
Harry froze in shock, did the snake just talk? It made no sense. Animals did not have languages otherwise someone who understood All-Speak would have found out by now, right? All-Speak only worked for languages understood by intelligent sentient beings. Snakes...he was confused.
Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke.
"Did that snake speak?" Harry asked. He was back in the Common Room after the dueling club, speaking with Fred and George, who had come up to congratulate him on humiliating Malfoy in front of the whole school.
The twins exchanged startled looks. "What d'you mean?" asked George.
"Snakes speak parseltongue," said Fred.
"Well, it did sort of hiss, didn't it?" George continued.
"Parseltongue?" Harry echoed, "Like Salazar Slytherin?" It suddenly clicked what the matter was...he'd spoken parseltongue on accident because of All-Speak!
"Yeah mate," said Fred.
"You didn't understand the snake…" said George.
"Did you?" They finished in unison.
"Not exactly." He hedged, wondering whether this was a good idea. He was sick of lying about himself to everyone except Luna, so yes, it was a good idea, consequences be damned.
"Can you or can't you?" Fred asked eagerly.
"I can speak any language...parseltongue included."
"Huh?" George muttered, looking at his twin.
"Anyone can theoretically, I suppose," Fred said.
"No, no!" He cut him off, "I am fluent in every language."
They looked at him skeptically.
"I can!" He insisted, "Try me!"
"Peux-tu me comprendre?" Can you understand me? Fred asked after a moment of thought, her voice taking an English accent suddenly (to Harry's ear). Harry wasn't sure whether he was surprised the twins could speak a second language.
"Oui, tu me crois maintenant?" Yes, do you believe me now? He answered, the language perfectly understandable to him. It rolled off his tongue with ease.
"How does that prove you can speak parseltongue?" Fred asked skeptically.
"What language did you take in primary?" George asked.
"You know about muggle primary?" Harry asked.
"A neighbor taught us what we needed from primary, mate," said Fred, "we learned French."
"I took Latin," Harry said, switching back to English. "I told you I can speak any language," Harry said, a touch smug.
"But you didn't speak French!" George cut in, sounding frustrated.
"Yes, he did!" Fred insisted.
"What did you hear?" Harry asked, curious.
"English!" George exclaimed.
"He spoke in French-" Fred said, but it came out as more of a question.
"I didn't hear it!"
"I'm pretty sure I was talking in French." Harry cut in. "Do you know French, George?"
"Yes," George said, "that doesn't explain what just happened though. How come I heard you in English?"
Harry shrugged, honestly baffled. "I dunno. I've always been able to speak in any language."
He'd never heard of someone hearing something in a different language than he was speaking, even All-Speak only made him able to understand other languages and speak them...not speak multiple languages at once.
Actually, that wasn't true. His father made speeches all the time to audiences that didn't all speak the same language, but they all seemed to understand him anyway. Harry had always thought it was a spell, but now he wasn't so sure.
That wasn't how All-Speak worked, at any rate.
A/N::: REVIEW!
