11: The Midnight Duel

"Uncle Teddy?"

"Yes, Harry Bear?"

"What did Harry Potter look like?

"You're not asking me this to scavenge my wardrobe again, are you?"

"No, silly!"

"Or try to come up with your next Harry Potter adventures around the house?"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Just making sure... What about him do you want to know?

"Everything!"

"Okay. Well, for one thing, Harry Potter is just a kid. Just like you and me."

"I already knew that! And you're old, uncle. Not a kid."

"Brat… Alright, alright. Hmmm... Where do I start? Well, you know, he's really a small kid, smaller than you are. He's got this lightning scar on his forehead, and the greenest most beautiful pair of eyes you would have ever seen."

"I got green eyes too!"

"Yes, yes, Darling, but unlike your nice wavy hair, he's got a messy black one that puts a bird's nest to shame. Imagine getting struck by lightning, that's how his hair looks."

"That looks cool!"

"Oh yeah? I'm not so sure about that. Then lastly, there's his light physique. He's very thin. Thinner for anyone his age. I guess he got it because his aunt and uncle hadn't really fed him that much."

"I don't like his aunt and uncle."

"Me too, champ. Me too. But Harry Potter was such a nice kid, he didn't hate them even though they didn't like him that much."

"Why did they not like him that much?"

"Well, I guess it was because they were muggles. A lot of muggles are scared of magic. And his family, not only were they scared of magic. They hate it too."

"I love magic."

"Of course, you do. You're a menace with magic anywhere nearby."

"But you love me."

"This is why I regret spoiling you."

If asked, Harry would know the old Harry Potter stories by the back of his hand, all thanks to his uncle's wonderful nighttime stories. There was this fluttering in his chest humming every time he remembered those lovely memories which had become a part of his childhood. And now that he had grown a bit older, he thought some of those stories may have come out a bit downward silly.

Yes, quite downward silly indeed. He couldn't stop himself from smiling about it at times.

Notwithstanding, Harry had cherished all those stories he had, because they turned to become his lifeline in those moments he felt scared or sad. Whenever a thunder struck or a nightmare bothered him in his sleep, Harry would run into his Uncle Teddy's room begging for those stories frantic to be soothed.

It just didn't soak in how huge an impact those stories have caused not just him as a child but also on other people.

People like Hagrid.

The image of the gentle giant breaking down in the middle of the lily fields wouldn't leave his mind even after returning to the dungeons common room later that evening.

Lucky their flying class was dismissed without a fuss. Madam Hooch didn't even bother looking for him when he didn't show up. And when he stepped into the common room, most of the first years were already lounged on the couches. Some were busy over a game of exploding snap while a certain group was preoccupied playing Wizard's chess in one corner.

"Salazar, Hadrian. Where have you been?" Harry was pulled into a hug from behind, as it turned out, by Zabini. The git wore that devious look on his face telling him he's up to something no good again. "We've been looking for you, mate," he prattled. "Thought you were drowned in the Black Lake or something. Where were you and what took you so long to get back here?"

Harry gaped at him as if he had grown an extra head.

"I spent half an hour waiting for you lot, you cowards!" The raven-haired boy blustered. "If you weren't such a bunch of wusses, I could've flown from London and gone back instead of sitting on a bloody broom watching the giant squid wrangle a passing muggle boat!"

Not seemed bothered by his tongue-lashing, Zabini steered Harry into a nearby couch and maneuvered him to sit relaxingly in the lounge. He even straightened his robes to try to make him feel more comfortable.

"Now, now. No need to be so cross. There are problems that can be resolved peacefully without spitting wildfires like fiends," he said, sounding diplomatic. "Very well, I should probably be direct in narrating the incident before your temper reduces me to ashes, eh?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "why don't you start talking then? Go on. I'm listening."

"As you wish, good sir." said Zabini waving a hand. "See, while you were preoccupied relishing your precious moment leading the rest of us in that bloody race, we were caught in a little… crossfire as we say with those irritable lions. Our beloved Draco over there, pissed the hell out of Weasley when they collided in midair. Of course, the collision resulted to an exchange of heated words. We didn't expect the ginger blood traitor had such a colorful language that the intensity caused a lot of restraint from hexing the bloody git into next year and instead, we settled for a Wizard's Duel."

"A what?!"

"A wizards duel," the boy repeated casually. "It's an ancient tradition among wizards who—"

"I know what that means! What I don't understand is how you screwed up really big and got yourselves into trouble like this one!" Yelled an astonished Harry into his fellow Slytherin's face.

Blaise raised a finger wriggling it smirking at him, "nah-uh-uh. Didn't get myself involved there. I was calm and collected the whole time they were arguing about sabotage and all that nonsense — but you, Mr. Black, oh – yes, you great pride of our house seems to have been looped in though."

Harry frowned, "can you explain this more in a language I could understand?"

Zabini heaved out a dramatic sigh as he gestured a hand at Draco who was strutting his way toward them. "Oh, there he is. The man of the hour. Honorable Draco Malfoy who took the challenge from a Gryffindor. A bloody Gryffindor, Harry, for Merlin's sake! And here I am considering pushing him to become the next Slytherin Prince in about two years!"

Draco's eyes narrowed at the boy who seemed to be mocking him. "You've been grilling me for the last thirty minutes already, Blaise. There's no way to repeat it over and over on my face," he seethed.

"But Black here has the right to know!" Blaise insisted then turned to Harry afterward. "You could've seen the part where Weasley the pathetic rat began spouting nonsense about Slytherins being sons of snakes and evil wizards and all that stuff. Drakey was so valiant in manhandling him, if I was a girl, I could've proposed right then and there!"

Harry is definitely going to have an aneurism after this. "What I don't understand is how in Morgana's tits was my name dragged into this mess. I wasn't supposed to be there!"

"Oh, that… well, after Draco took the challenge, Thomas volunteered to become Weasley's second… and Drakey picked you."

"And why on earth not you?!"

"If I chose Zabini, all of us could be turned into bits way before the duel starts," said Draco lazily. "I couldn't think of anyone competent enough to match those idiots' prowess and your name just came into mind."

"Oh, dear Merlin, so help me," Harry threw his hands in frustration. "Why can't we just skip this whole thing and warn Filch instead about two Griffindors wandering the castle after curfew this evening?"

He was sure he could've heard the blonde boy gasp.

"As much as I'd like to say how commendable and Slytherin-worthy that idea is, this is a Wizard's Duel we're talking about, Harry. No proper Lord of the House would ever back down from a duel if it's the honor and dignity of his house at stake."

Harry threw him a pointed look. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know because I've never been in an idiotic situation where I have to end up cutting someone else's throat out of a simple argument," he said with a tone of sarcasm.

Two arseholes are now talking in the middle of the Common Room.

"You will watch out that tongue of yours, Black. Consider yourself lucky that I am upholding the rules my godfather had imposed in this house that I will let this pass without driving your sorry head against that wall!" Draco warned him.

"Wait, Snape was your godfather?" Harry asked wide-eyed.

"This is not where I want this conversation to be heading but if it would satisfy your curiosity, then yes. Professor Snape is indeed my godfather."

"No wonder he favors you a lot!"

"That's not the point! We have a duel to face at midnight and you will be accompanying me as my second!"

"Why are you dragging me into this again?"

"Slytherins back each other, remember?"

"I don't remember backing up your classmate on a stupidity was part of the rule!"

"This— is an exception to the rule." Draco said firmly.

Harry could only keep his mouth slightly open in disbelief. All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to his day, he'd thought as he lay awake much later listening to Crabbe and Goyle falling asleep. Zabini spent all evening giving him helpful advice such as 'if those idiots try to curse you, you can use the liplock curse – that would stop them from casting any more spells and you win'. Then there's the very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Draco's pleading face kept looming up on the other bed next to him much to his annoyance.

"It's half-past eleven," Draco muttered at last, "we'd better go."

They pulled on their dressing gowns, picked up their wands, and crept across their room into the Slytherin common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the entrance when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

A lamp flickered on. It was Blaise Zabini grinning wickedly in an elegant green bathrobe.

"What are you doing here?" Harry gnarled.

"I thought you could use another hand," said Blaise casually. "Wizards Duels can go pretty nasty at times."

Draco, knowing the git since childhood rolled his eyes, "you just want to take advantage of this situation to roam the castle at night."

"My, my, Drakey. You do know me well," Blaise said, clicking his tongue. "Why not? It would be a foolish move for someone who appreciates history and art – someone like me to let this opportunity pass. Think about the ancient magical artifacts the trophy room held in their lovely glass displays for me not to feast my eyes on."

"Whatever," said Harry impatiently who went for the common room entrance right away. "Just don't be a menace on our way," he added with a stern warning.

"I won't be. Promise."

The trio flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. All three boys sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room where the duel was agreed to be held.

Weasley and Thomas weren't there yet. Blaise was busy admiring the crystal trophy cases muttering inappropriate noises at the glimmering cups, shield, plates, and statues winking silver and gold in the darkness. Harry and Draco edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case one of those lions leapt in and started at once.

The minutes crept by.

"They're late. Maybe they chickened out," Harry whispered.

Draco scoffed, "for lousy Gryffindors, that can be possible."

Then a noise from the next room made the three of them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak – and it wasn't the Gryffindors.

"Are you sensing something my sweet? Students, eh? How many are there?"

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other two to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Blaise's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They must be in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others, and petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Draco suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run where he tripped, grabbed Harry around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were loud enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Blaise yelled, and the three of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following – they swung around the doorpost and galloped down from one corridor to another, Harry in the lead without any idea where they were or where they were going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Blaise was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"Tho— those scums!" Draco gasped, clutching the stitch of his chest. "— Cowards!"

"You forgot morons," Blaise added.

"We've got to get back to the dungeons," said Harry, "quickly as possible."

"Trust me. Tomorrow, I'll make sure to strangle them before they can even say, 'breakfast'!"

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled, and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves— please — you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut… naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered menacingly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Allow me." Blaise lifted his wand and muttered, "denseo!" In an instant, Peeves quivered and cascaded into the floor turning into a puddle of goo.

Eyes widened, Harry and Draco gawked at him in horror. "What did you do?"

"It's only temporary," said Blaise shoving his wand back into his bathrobe's pocket. Peeve's agonizing gurgles are still loud enough for them to be seen. "We have to leave. Now!"

Stepping over the pool of ghost or poltergeist whatever he is, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed themselves into a door— and it was locked.

"Oh! This is it," Blaise moaned throwing his hands out as they pushed helplessly at the door, "we're done for!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward where Peeve's eerie noises had come from.

"Step aside," Draco Snarled, grasping the lock. "If this wouldn't work, I'll shove your dicks into the keyhole."

He pulled what looked like a hairpin from his pocket and began prodding the keyhole with it. Much to their relief, they heard a click and the door swung open— they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"How did you do that?" Blaise couldn't help but ask in amazement.

Draco smirked, "had a lot of practice back home," he said. "The manor contained a wide array of chests and drawers that housed some of the most important family heirlooms. There are quite a few… interesting things I found there when I was a kid."

Harry was about to make a comment of his own when all of a sudden, the moment he turned around, he saw what he thought was a nightmare he'd walked into.

The trio screamed on top of their lungs in unison.

This was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor— the forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes: three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that— there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the door lock— between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

All three boys fell backward— Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, although they hardly cared. All they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the part of the dungeon where the stone sculpture of the serpent and dragon met.

The boys scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, in the armchairs.

It took a while before any of them said anything. Draco, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing? Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" wailed Blaise finally. "If any dog needed exercise, that one does."

Harry had got both his breath and his bad temper back. "You didn't see it, did you? Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Draco suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet. I was too busy looking at its heads— or maybe you didn't notice there were three?!"

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It was obviously guarding something." Harry stood up, glaring at the other two. "Well, I hope you guys are pleased with yourselves," he admonished. "What did we get from all these?"

"That those Gryffindors are cowards who doesn't know how to keep a word?" said Draco.

"Or maybe that Hogwarts is not as safe as how people claimed it was." Blaise added.

Harry gaped at him. Come to think of it, he was right.

Bloody damn right!