Chapter Three
On the Subject of Dueling

Harry did not get a chance to write in her diary again, or re-visit the Room, until much later. Ron and Hermione had accosted her once she showed up to dinner, and she spent the evening in the common room watching Ron, Fred, and George play with bouncy balls that would multiply with each bounce. Half of Gryffindor was there, too, even Hermione, even if all she did was sniff disapprovingly and bury her face in a book.

The next morning, however, Harry had Herbology, first thing. She was not pleased, holding a tiny, squealing plant-baby up while Ron desperately shoveled dirt with his hands, both of them wearing pink fuzzy earmuffs.

Next, she was cornered by a positively miniature Gryffindor with a camera, who insisted on taking pictures of her, and asked her to sign them more than once.

Of course, Malfoy heard this, and made things twice as bad, but at this point, that was just par for the course.

All of this might have been tolerable, if it weren't for the presence of one Gilderoy Lockhart. He cornered Harry before Herbology, lectured her about signed photos, and even, had the gall to quiz them on the books for his class.

This might have been acceptable, even preferable, from a professor, except for the fact that the questions weren't about magic, the monsters themselves, or the strategies he'd used to stop the monsters in his books.

They were about him - the man himself, and Harry found him embarrassing. Maybe there was something wrong with her, because it seemed like she was the only girl that wasn't half-in-love with him, Hermione included. Harry tried, but she couldn't see it. Maybe, too, it was partly because he was so in love with his fame, and Harry wanted nothing to do with hers.

Or maybe, she just wasn't wired right.

In the second half of the lesson, when he let loose a horde of pixies, all Harry could think was that Cecilia would come up with a way to stop all the pixies at once. Instead, she and Ron and Hermione spent almost an hour rescuing Neville and getting the pixies back in their cages.

They didn't bother with Lockhart's wand, fool that he was.

During the week, Harry was able to squeeze a few chats in, in the Diary, but it was hard to sneak away to the room.

It was only Saturday afternoon that she managed to make it up to the seventh floor corridor, again, dragging her feet from the crack-of-dawn Quidditch practice that Wood had started.

Inside, she summoned Cecilia. Interestingly, Cecilia had somehow updated her uniform - instead of the old-fashioned full-body robe, she wore something like what Harry wore now - a shirt, vest, and skirt, with tights underneath, all covered by an open robe.

"Hello, Harriet."

"Hi, Cecilia," she said. "It's been a long week."

"Oh? Tell me about it."

Harry grumbled, and threw herself onto the couch. "There are two more menaces in my life, named Professor Lockhart, and Colin Creevey."

"So, the new Defense professor isn't what you hoped for?" Cecilia asked, settling into an armchair next to Harry. She folded up her long arms and legs into the chair, effortlessly elegant.

"No, he's awful! He started the first class with a quiz about all the things he likes!"

"That's… very strange," Cecilia said. "What kinds of things?"

"Stupid things! Like his favorite color or his perfect day or other crap!" Harry was nearly shouting, but it was awful. Lockhart was awful.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Cecilia said, gently.

"I don't either. He makes us buy his stupid books and he's not gonna teach us anything. It's awful."

"His books?"

"Yeah. He wrote like a whole bunch of books about his adventures or some crap. And he made us read them but he didn't quiz us on any of the Defense stuff. he just quizzed us about him," Harry huffed, and exhaled in a huge burst. She was just so angry, at the fact that he was a teacher. Quirrell had been pathetic, but Lockhart wasn't even trying. "What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color? What is his perfect day? What is his lifelong dream?"

"He does indeed sound absolutely awful," Cecilia agreed. "But I'll teach you all kinds of Defense against the Dark Arts. Dueling, and everything."

"Thanks," Harry said. "But… no offense, but you shouldn't have to! Is it some plot to make sure everyone is terrible at Defense?"

Cecilia laughed - a high, clear sound. "I'm not sure. But it would be a brilliant move by Voldemort, wouldn't it?"

Harry forced a smile, but her heart wasn't quite in it. "All the girls like him, too. Hermione and Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. I don't get it, though."

Cecilia picked up on what she wasn't saying. "Maybe you just see him in a different light."

"I dunno," Harry said.

"There's nothing wrong with being different, Harry."

Harry glanced down at the floor. She shrugged.

"Well, do you want to learn some magic?" Cecilia asked.

"Yes!" Harry shot up.

"Alright," Cecilia said, ditching the outer robe of her uniform, leaving her in just a shirt, vest, and skirt. Harry did the same. "I think, it might be best for me to evaluate what you do know." She led Harry over to the large, depressed area in the middle of the room, bending down and tapping the edge of the circle with her wand. "But first, the demonstration you requested last time.

"I'm going to cast three different spells, all of which are similar. One of them is dark magic - by the ministry's definition. You're going to tell me which one." She glanced at Harry, who nodded.

"First: Diffindo." Cecilia made a small slashing motion, and a thin blade of blue light pulsed forward, splashing against the ward boundary.

"Second: Lacero." Again, the motion was similar, but the arc was bigger this time, and the light was a deep red. It was much quicker, and when it hit the edge of the arena, the fizzling light was much brighter, and the noise crackled, like sizzling bacon. It was almost like the spell was fighting the ward, until there was a soft pop and a flash of green light, and then the spell was gone.

"Third: Bifexum." This time, Cecilia made a wide, sweeping motion, and the arc of light was at least four feet wide - almost as tall as Harry. It was orange, but a dull, burnt orange, with purple light trailing behind it like some perverse negative.

This spell was by far the most impressive, and it impacted the ward barrier with an enormous crack, and Harry could see the faint green outline of a bubble, being pushed outwards by the spell - it had lost almost none of its size, or its shape. It seemed, for a long second, that the spell was going to pop the bubble, until the bubble itself seemed to flex, the green darkening and then the spell was gone.

"Cool," Harry said.

Cecilia gave a small bow, and a flourish.

She smiled. "It's lovely to have such an eager audience. Now, tell me which you think is dark magic."

Harry wasn't sure.

"I want to say it's the third one," she said, fiddling with her tie. "Because, uh, wow. But since this is like, a teaching thing, that means it's a trick question. So, the second?"

Cecilia beamed. "Yes. The Lacerating Curse is illegal. That's because it's designed to be used on humans, and the purpose is to shred muscle. If you were hit with it, it would be a cursed wound, and it would resist magical healing. The only way would be through physical therapy - rebuilding those muscles the hard way."

"That's nasty. But that means - that third one is legal?" Harry was having trouble seeing it.

"Yes. It's called the Demon Cutter, originally designed for hunting Manticores. It's a monster hunter's curse - something that is not technically illegal in Wizarding Britain, mostly because it's incredibly foolish." She smiled wryly. "Demon Cutter or no, it is likely that most wizards would die in a close encounter with a Manticore. They're incredibly fast and resilient."

Harry recalled that particular spell. If people were unsuccessful against monsters with that, she guessed she could see why.

"So, if you used it against someone, would it kill them?"

"Oh yes. You could probably use it very effectively to cut down trees, as well. But if the Ministry banned every spell that could conceivably be used to hurt someone, then, well, we wouldn't be learning very much magic at all."

Harry frowned. "Last year, Ron and I knocked out a troll with Wingardium Leviosa."

Cecilia was getting into it now. Harry noticed that she had something of a lecturer's pose, when she talked - back straight, arms clasped loosely behind her. Sometimes she paced, from side to side.

"Setting aside the fact that you fought a troll, of all things, yes, that is exactly what I mean. The first spell, Diffindo, is something you'll likely learn this year in Charms class. It's a bit like a magical pair of scissors, mostly for cutting or severing small things, like cloth, or parchment. But you can certainly kill someone with it, if you hit them in the right place, just like you can kill someone with a pair of scissors, if you properly apply the force in the right place."

Harry nodded. "So, the Lacerating Curse is dark magic because it's designed to hurt people."

"Yes," Cecilia said. "Or, perhaps, it's more accurate to say that it's dark magic because it's only use is hurting people. It's a rather cruel spell - designed to hurt someone permanently, to maim them. The Demon Cutter, brutal as it is, is not cruel. It is more like a Muggle chainsaw - brutal and certainly capable of murder, but a tool designed for a specific purpose. Of course, this isn't a perfect framework - there are many spells that are dark magic, but this framework doesn't explain."

Harry asked, "Wait, so how does the Ministry determine what spells are illegal and which aren't?"

Cecilia rolled her eyes. "I have no idea. I am not a sitting member of the Wizengamot, after all. You should ask someone other than me, though, because I think many of the classifications are stupid. There are many areas in which we disagree."

"Okay," Harry said. "I'll think about this."

"Good," Cecilia said, and she gave Harry that small, genuine smile again. Harry could tell that most of Cecilia's expressions were careful and cultivated, but sometimes, when she was truly pleased, her eyes creased and Harry knew that it was genuine. "If you were in a duel with another witch, what spell would you cast first?" she asked.

"Body-bind?" Harry asked.

"Show me," Cecilia urged, gesturing at herself.

"You want me to cast it… at you?"

"Yes. Now, get to it, before I hex you, instead."

Harry raised her wand, squinting hard. "Petrificus Totalus!" she shouted. The jet of light was immediate, and Cecilia batted it aside with her wand, and it bounced into the side of the pentagon's boundary, where it fizzled with soft green light.

Harry hadn't even seen her cast a spell. "Can you show me how to do that?" she asked.

Cecilia smirked. "I can, but it's rather advanced for a second-year. But your spell wasn't bad - nice bit of power in it, and it would lock down someone completely, unless they were capable of dispelling it wandlessly."

"Wandlessly?" Harry asked.

"Sufficiently powerful wizards can do some magic without a focus. A finite is one of the obvious things to learn first," Cecilia explained. "But for your age, that's fine. Now, I think we should focus on learning some useful spells for dueling, and get you used to moving around. Some traditional duels don't allow for that, but they're stupid."

"Like, you can't avoid spells?"

"Technically, you're not supposed to move your feet. It's all dodging and shielding," Cecilia explained. "So, we'll start with the simple things." She raised her wand. "I'll go easy, with Stinging Jinxes."

Harry gulped. When the flash of light came, she twisted to the side, just barely. The second, however, nailed her in the hip.

"Ouch!" she hissed.

"Move faster, then," Cecilia said.

"I had Quidditch today, already!" Harry complained.

Cecilia just raised an eyebrow, and then said, "Voldemort won't care if you had Quidditch." And then she shot another Stinging Jinx at Harry. She didn't dodge quickly enough.

Harry winced again, and forced her exhausted feet to move.

Harry was thoroughly exhausted, when she collapsed into bed that night. But she couldn't wait to do it again.

Harry, surprisingly, found herself busy - Quidditch, classes, and spending time in the Room, with Cecilia. Hermione and Ron had asked where she kept disappearing off to, of course, but something in Harry held back on telling them.

Cecilia was hers - and Harry, who was so willing to share things, who so rarely had things of her own to share, for the first time, wanted something to herself. So she'd just laughed, and made an excuse about reading in a secluded corner of the library.

October came, and with it a spate of wind and rain. Harry was roped into attending Nick's Deathday Party on Halloween, and regretted it immensely, but they did manage to return to the feast, and loaded up on desserts. Harry had far too much treacle tart, and narrowly avoided a full interrogation by Snape, who felt that attending Deathday Parties was very suspicious.

This was par for the course. Harry only nursed her anger, and resolved to pay it back by destroying Slytherin in the first match of the new Quidditch season. Of course, this plan was stymied: a rogue bludger that seemed completely out for her blood.

She caught the Snitch, of course, but Lockhart got to her before Madam Pomfrey did, and she spent the night in the Hospital Wing.

Dobby made an appearance, tearful and confused, and apologized profusely for all of the things he had done, and admitted: he had thought there was a danger coming to Hogwarts, but Hogwarts was strangely danger-free. Harry was glad of this: she might have preferred an elf looking after her, but Dobby's help so far had mostly accomplished the exact opposite.

Of course, the end of the autumn term brought with it something Harry found herself very excited for: a notice of a Dueling Club had been posted in the Entrance Hall. Harry was excited - Cecilia had been teaching her this exact thing for two months, and finally, finally, she'd found an academic subject that she excelled at.

Dueling Club, then, was a chance to show off. And she could not wait.

When she returned to the Great Hall that evening, however, she was to be disappointed.

Lockhart was standing up on top of the stage, wearing a stupid-looking doublet and an even stupider-looking grin.

"Welcome, welcome!" he said. "Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little club, to teach you all how to defend yourselves!

"First, let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape!" Snape strode onto the platform, looking sleek and dangerous, in his black robes. "He's agreed to help me with a quick demonstration, before we begin."

"Think they'll finish each other off?" Ron asked.

"We can only hope," Harry agreed. "Don't think Snape is dumb enough to murder someone in front of half the school, though."

"Just our luck," Ron said.

Snape's lip was curling as they lined up against each other, on the platform. Harry noted, with some trepidation, that Lockhart insisted on an elaborate bow before they began. The platform itself was long and thin, and there was unfortunately very little space for moving around. Harry had almost doubted Cecilia when she described dueling like this, but seeing it for herself, she could tell already that this wasn't going to be what she was hoping for.

At the mark, Lockhart waved his wand like the idiot he was, but Snape snapped his forward, and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" A crimson jet of light shot out and smashed into Lockhart, sending him flying through the air to impact the wall, his wand spinning from his hand.

"Do you think he's alright?" Hermione asked.

"Who cares?" Ron said.

"He'll be fine," Harry said. "The Disarming Charm isn't intended to cause injury."

"How do you know that?" Hermione stared at Harry, almost accusingly.

"I told you, I've been doing a lot of studying," Harry said. "It was a lot of this sort of thing - useful spells and a bit of dueling."

"Really?" Hermione didn't look convinced.

"Yeah." Harry grinned at her. "Just watch."

"Is that so," Snape said from behind them both. "Perhaps, Miss Potter, if you are so capable, you would not object to partnering with Mr. Malfoy."

"I would love to," Harry purred, "Sir."

Snape just raised an eyebrow. "Quite. Mr. Weasley, you pair with Mr. Finnegan. Miss Granger, with Miss Bulstrode."

Harry stepped away, eyeing the pale, pointed face of Draco Malfoy. She held her wand, loose, and kept her weight balanced on the balls of her feet.

Cecilia had mentioned a hex, and Harry had remembered it, specifically, to use on Malfoy.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart called. "And bow!"

Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads to each other.

"Three - two - one, and go!"

Malfoy went on two. It was only two months of being repeatedly hexed by a sadistic diary that allowed Harry to dodge to the side.

"Flyet!" Harry shouted. The yellow wad of magic hit Malfoy directly in the chest.

He raised his wand to curse her back, but she just stood there. "Wibbly Bibbly!" he shouted. Nothing happened. Harry laughed. "Jiggery Pokery!" Harry laughed harder, even as he tried cursing her, over and over, and nothing came out.

Lockhart tried shouting for attention, but Harry was too busy laughing to care. "Finite Incantatem!" Snape's voice cut through the air, and the chaos around them disappeared.

Malfoy stopped babbling and immediately shot Harry a scathing look. Harry just grinned at him. Ron bustled over, and rescued Hermione from Bulstrode's headlock, forcefully separating the two.

Lockhart tried to rope Neville and Justin Finch-Fletchley into a demonstration, but Snape of all people had a good idea, and put up two sixth years instead.

To Harry, it seemed as if Snape was attempting to rig the match - the Hufflepuff, Callahan, was pudgy and nervous-looking, while the Slytherin girl, Selwyn, that he put up was infamous for hexing people in the corridors. She had a short bob cut and wild-looking, protuberant eyes.

Lockhart attempted to demonstrate something, but Harry, even with her recent instruction, had no idea what. Callahan looked even more confused at the explanation. Selwyn just looked eager.

Lockhart counted them down. Selwyn started on two, and when Lockhart said, 'go,' Callahan was flipped through the air, flying backwards to land on his face, just off the side of the platform.

A couple more Hufflepuffs went to help him up, and Lockhart looked around, awkward. "Er, well, that's all for today."

Harry glanced around, at Ron and Hermione. "Let's go?" she offered.

Ron grunted, "A club taught by Lockhart is completely useless. What a surprise."

"It's not useless!" Hermione protested.

Harry put in, "The only thing we actually learned today was from Snape."

"Exactly," Ron said. "You've gotta admit it, Hermione, we don't actually learn anything from him."

"If he's such a horrible teacher," Hermione argued, "How come he's done all the things in his books?"

"Not everything written in books is the truth, Hermione."

Hermione didn't say anything in response. She just shot Ron an absolutely filthy look in response.

"I just want to know how Harry knows so much about dueling," she said.

Harry shrugged.

Ron put in, "I saw what you did to Malfoy, mate."

"It was just a Babbling Hex," Harry said. "If he can't cast spells, he can't curse me."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Harry?" Hermione asked. "The girl I know wouldn't read ahead to save her life."

Harry looked at the ground, frowning. "Well, considering Voldemort, I think that might be a real distinct possibility in the future."

"Oh," Hermione said, deflated.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron reassured her. "We'll practice with you, if you like."

"Sure," Harry agreed. "I could show you some stuff, sometime."

"Definitely more useful than Lockhart," Ron sneered.

"Oh, shut up!" Hermione said. "You're just jealous."

"As if."

After the Dueling Club, most of the student body left, for the holidays. The Weasleys stayed behind, and, to Harry's surprise, so did Malfoy.

Of course, Malfoy wasn't about to let humiliation like that go. He cornered her, a few days before Christmas, when she was returning to Gryffindor tower from the Room.

"Get her!"

Harry was ready for him, however, and he didn't have the reflexes to dodge out of the way of the thick, yellow gob of magic.

True to form, the Babbling Hex was very effective on Malfoy. Harry was overconfident - Crabbe and Goyle were terrible at spellcasting, and with Malfoy completely disarmed, Harry figured that she had won.

Of course, she hadn't quite accounted for the fact that she was a tiny, underfed twelve year old girl, and while Malfoy's goons were terrible using wands, they were large boys, two of the largest in the year.

Harry nailed Crabbe with a Full Body-Bind, and he toppled, but Goyle caught her, then, ripping her wand from her hand and threw it down the hall.

Malfoy grinned. He knew, by now, that he wouldn't be able to cast spells, and Harry had taken out one of his minions, but he still had the edge up on her.

Goyle grabbed her, and Harry struggled, halfheartedly. This was a situation in which she was familiar: Dudley had often made his goons chase Harry, and hold her while he pummeled her. So, even though she was in the arms of a large, thuggish boy, she wasn't afraid.

Malfoy stepped forward, gesturing to Goyle. Harry could tell in a heartbeat he wanted Goyle to dispel the hex on him, but Goyle frowned, and opened his mouth.

Harry bolted. The trick to getting away from holds like that was to go limp, and lull them into thinking you wouldn't try to run, and then rip yourself away when they were distracted.

"Bunkey Monkey!" Malfoy shouted. Goyle turned around to stare at Harry, but she was halfway to her wand. She risked a glance, and ducked out of the way of whatever spell he sent.

"Kingfisher scum!" Harry wondered whether Malfoy was sick of talking in gibberish yet. She retrieved her wand, and spun.

"Petrificus Totalus!" The spell hit Goyle, and he toppled over. "Rictumsempra! Digentas!" The Tickling Jinx and the Finger-Removing Curse both hit Malfoy. Harry, once she saw him laughing, fingerless, curled over in obvious discomfort and humiliation, wondered if it might have been too much.

But, it was too late to back out now. Harry didn't want to wait to stick around and get in trouble when Malfoy inevitably went whining to Snape, so she bolted - past Malfoy, past the corpselike bodies of Crabbe and Goyle, and down the stairs, all the way to Gryffindor tower.

She tucked herself into a couch, next to Ron, and said, "I've been here for a few hours, alright?"

He just nodded. "Have we been playing chess?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," she agreed.

He went up to the dormitory, and returned a moment later with a chess set, placing pieces until the board was half-full. He gave Harry the advantage, so she had no reason to complain.

"So, what did you not do tonight?" Ron asked.

"Well," Harry explained. "I have been in the common room all evening, and definitely not on the seventh floor, dueling with Malfoy and his goons."

Ron paused. "You alright?" he asked.

"Of course. If I had been there, I'd be able to reassure you that someone - no one knows who, mind - jinxed both his goons with Full-Body Binds, and left him there under the effects of a Babbling Hex, a Tickling Jinx, and a Finger-Removing Curse."

"Ah," Ron said. "Nice one, mate."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, sagely.

Fred and George came in a few minutes later, right when things started to go wrong for Harry in wizard's chess. Half her problem was that Ron's pieces certainly did not like or trust her.

"Harry's been here for the last few hours," Ron said.

"Sure she has," Fred agreed, his tone casual.

"Lost to you a good few times in chess, too, from what we hear," George added.

Harry grinned.

When McGonagall turned up, face pinched, they were sitting around the fire, the four of them.

"Miss Potter," she said. "Professor Snape has accused you of cursing some of his students this evening. I told him that this accusation was unfounded and foolish, but duty compels me to ask.

"Where were you this evening?"

"I was here, pretty much all night," Harry replied. "Ron and Fred and George can back me up."

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

The twins nodded, dutifully.

Professor McGonagall eyed the four of them carefully. Eventually, she nodded.

"That will be all." She swept out of the room.

"Bloody hell," Fred said.

"You've been naughty, ickle Harrykins," George added.

Harry laughed. "Picture this: Snape, the greasy dungeon bat, is alone, in his office, oiling his hair and practicing the dramatic robe swoop. He hears a knock at the door. Grumpily, he answers it, and finds Draco Malfoy, doubled over, tears of laughter in his eyes and spouting gibberish.

"He performs a quick finite, and Malfoy stops laughing, and can speak normally, but, as he soon learns, Malfoy doesn't have any fingers. Those are still up on the seventh floor, with Malfoy's wand, and his goons, both of whom are under the effects of Full-Body Binds."

Fred and George had identical, pleased grins on their faces. Ron chuckled under his breath.

"Of course, Harry Potter has been in the Gryffindor common room all evening, so it couldn't possibly have been her, right?"

"Definitely not," Ron agreed.

an: I always did think that the Diary's goals didn't necessarily make sense. It seems to exist as a weapon, initially, and then, it tries to eat Ginny to become a real boy again. Which, okay - if it's a weapon, that's one thing - maybe better used when Voldemort's back and can properly make use of the crisis at Hogwarts, but we can chalk that up to Lucius acting without orders. But if its goal is to resurrect itself - or come to life, with a solid body, attacking students under the nose of Dumbledore seems somewhat foolish. Then again, he doesn't really solve the problem, but still. These two goals seem somewhat mutually exclusive. Once you count the later revelation (planned or no) that it's a Horcrux, it seems more likely that it was supposed to eat Ginny and escape Hogwarts, rather than attack Muggleborns, and couldn't contain itself.

On some level, this is Tom Riddle in a nutshell, despite Dumbledore's claim that he doesn't have feelings. He's ruled by them, ultimately.

As for Cecilia... well, you'll see.