Let's Do It Right This Time, Chapter 19:

It started out as an ordinary day. Harry had indulged in a lie-in the morning after the Wizengamot meeting, and aside from a surprisingly mild remark about "lazy firsties" from a rather tired looking Gabriel Nott, he made it all the way to the Great Hall without any mishaps.

The Great Hall was another story, considering that Ron and Draco Malfoy, with the tentative input of Neville and Draco's hangers-on, were indulging in a nice, friendly Gryffindor-Slytherin spat, and Snape didn't seem to be around to stop it. Aurelius's sighed nearly inaudibly as he approached. Once again, it seemed to be up to him to stop it.

"One wonders how your parents tolerated you, everyone knows you're nothing but a squib, Longbottom-"

"I'm not!" Neville said almost desperately, trying to be brave.

"Then prove it. You. Me. Wizard's Duel. Midnight in the trophy room."

Oh, great. Aurelius tried to hold in a disgusted sigh. So much for reading up on parcelwards that evening; he'd probably have to be dragging Gryffindors back to the common room in the middle of the night. Not that he had that kind of authority; he'd probably actually be given detention for being out after curfew. No. He had to stop it before it began.

"You should do it! Prove yourself! I'll be your second." Honestly? How could Ron not see the implications of that statement- he played chess.

"B-but I don't know a lot of spells-"

"Then throw your wand away and punch him in the nose."

Neither Gryffindor, or the Slytherin for a matter of fact, saw Aurelius Gaunt stalking up behind Draco to stage an intervention. That is until he spoke. "Well, well, well, heir Malfoy."

Draco whirled. "Gaunt! What the Hell are you doing?"

"I am within my rights to wander the Great Hall like every other student," he paused. "I might, however, ask what you are doing, picking petty fights does not honor our noble house."

"And what gives you the right to interfere with my personal business?" asked Draco, doing his best not to be intimidated.

"The fact that any altercation involving a Slytherin in Hogwarts for the last two hundred years has always been construed to be our fault. I do not want to be in the negatives before we've even gotten to Samhain. Besides, some people do not find Gryffindor baiting polite."

At this point, the whole of the Gryffindor table was watching in some fascination. Since when did a Slytherin defend them?

"You don't want me as an enemy," Draco began to bluster.

"You're right. I don't. Because I'd rather not see your smug face at all. Come. We're causing a disturbance."

"You mean you are-"

"Oh, don't start that, Malfoy, you're the one who thought it was funny to challenge someone to a duel before breakfast. Oh, and for future reference," he added to the Gryffindors, "Malfoy's too much of a coward to actually show up to a duel anyway- no doubt he was just trying to get you out after curfew."

The Gryffindors continued to stare. Neville was starting to look thoughtful, and Ron's anger seemed to have died down a little. Hermione was actually, gasp, looking up from her book. In fact, it seemed that even the teachers were enthralled, considering that no one had thus far gotten up to stop them.

"I am not a coward! If you think you're so smart, why don't you duel me! Bet nobody'll want to be your second..."

"What about 'keep all arguments in house'?"

Draco reddened. "You started it!" he pointed out.

"And I'll finish it, too. It's time someone took you to task, seeing as dear, dear Lucy never bothered to teach you manners befitting a pureblood."

"How dare you talk about my father like that!" Draco spat. "You miserable squib!"

Aurelius responded by wandlessly, and wordlessly, casting langlock, enjoying the sounds that Draco made as he discovered that his tongue had glued itself to the roof of his mouth. "I fail to see how I earned that particular appellation," he said mildly, "seeing as I'm probably more powerful than all my inbred cousins combined." He blinked. "Come. Let's go to the Slytherin table. I assume that you're hungry? Then, with a glance at the other houses: "Show's over. Kindly go back to whatever you were doing."

Draco gave him a basilisk level stare as Aurelius released the silencing charm. "Gaunt, you will pay..."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you'll tell Daddy Dearest and he'll have my magic bound or something," said Aurelius, deliberately turning his back on his housemate.

And at that moment, Draco struck. "Osso Frangere!"

It was a rather nasty spell, considered Dark with a capital "D", and the few who knew it gasped in shock. Aurelius jumped back with a hiss, feeling the wind of it's passing. And stared in horror as the spell struck Seamus Finnegan square in the chest.

Aurelius had never been really close to Finnegan, despite sharing a dorm with him for six years, but he wouldn't wish that nasty hex on anyone. Quick as lightening, he lunged to catch Seamus as he fell, wand jerking in quick, jagged movements to dispell the skeleton-fracturing curse before it could take hold, parcelmagic rippling from his lips in sibilant spurts; he had learned the counter from a very old book on parcelmagic healing, which had mysteriously reappeared in the library after Dumbledore's untimely demise. The Gryffindors looked as though they were beyond shock by this point, and Mcgonagall's mouth was gaping rather unflatteringly.

At last, Aurelius looked up, panting and drenched with sweat. "Draco," he rasped, once again surprising everyone by his use of the blonde's first name, "You complete and total bloody idiot! Did you even know what that spell does? Or that it can only be countered by a parcelmouth, of which there are five known world-wide, two of which are insane and the other two in bloody India?! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM! DO YOU WANT TO GO TO AZKABAN?!"

Utter silence fell. Draco's mouth opened and shut rhythmically like a mud-puppy. And then Dumbledore's voice rang out over the Great Hall.

"Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Gaunt. I'm afraid that I must see you in my office."