Deep in the glades of the Forbidden Forest, an acromantula scurried through dense undergrowth stopping occasionally to slip above the dense undergrowth and feel the air. It would take hours for a human to push through what the oversized arachnid did in minutes, thorny ferns and strangling creepers easily far easier to negotiate on eight legs than two.
It had no name, save for a series of unique pheromones that were used by the others of the nest when they needed to attract its attention. This wasn't unusual- in the entire nest, only those few Hagrid-friends had names, and then only because he had given them one. Aragog and Morag, of course, and those few spiders that were occasionally sent out of the forest to liaison with the outside world.
This particular acromantula was one of many sent out into the deep woods to search for the missing Dementor- a creature so reviled among the nest that it was referred to only with a series of fang-clicks that would be considered vulgar in the extreme to anyone that could translate them. The news that a dreaded soul-eater was going to be roaming the Forest had not been well-received by any of its inhabitants. Indeed, it was one of the few times that the centaur, acromantula and troll populations all agreed about anything. No-one had bothered to ask the native goblins what they thought about it.
Then, the cursed creature went missing- an event that should have been cause for celebration- and Aragog had been personally asked to help look for it. Some twenty of their number had been sent out to look for the soul-eater, none of them happy about it, but none of them willing to defy the patriarch.
Whatever had happened to the soul-eater, there was little chance of recovering it now. The forest was gigantic, far larger than most realized, its innards constantly expanding and warping even as its outer dimensions remained static. In truth, the only thing that the acromantula expected to find was a meal- perhaps a wild deer or, if he was lucky, a stray goblin.
Unfortunately, it seemed the acromantula's streak of bad luck was continuing, as it hadn't seen any sign of anything edible being in this part of the forest. The trees were eerily quiet, and nothing moved save for the occasional breeze caressing the leaves and shrubbery.
Just as the acromantula was about to start heading back to its nest, disappointed in the lack of prey and cursing a wasted day, it caught a flash of silver in the edge of its considerable field of view. Curious, it scurried over in the direction of the light, and found something wholly unexpected.
The entrance to a dark and steep tunnel, ringed with black, reflective stone embedded in the side of a low hill. Beside it lay a massive disc, made of the same material, seemingly designed to fit perfectly over the tunnels entrance, but now discarded uselessly to the side. Deep in the inky blackness of the passage, the acromantula could just barely make out a glowing circle of silvery light. It seemed to be calling, faintly but persistently, to the acromantula, in a voice both alluring and impossible to fully understand.
Excitedly chittering about this strange discovery, it crawled into the passage, noting with detached interest that it was almost perfectly the same temperature as the warm cavities of its home nest. The passage gradually sloped down, more and more, the shimmering light growing closer with each step. There was a faint, persistent smell that was intoxicating, like someone had opened up a human and let the scent of their juices waft up the tunnel. The whispered call of the light grew louder, until it was irresistible to the simple, insect-like mind of the acromantula.
Moments later, a panicked hiss echoed up through the passage, an acromantulas closest approximation of a scream.
At Hogwarts, days quickly turned to weeks in a whirlwind of class, quidditch, and study. Harry found that while the workload slowed down after the first month, he was still kept busy. Between duelling club, quidditch practice, and homework the hours seemed to melt away. Harry found himself envying both Ernie's carefree coasting along, and Susan's studious get-it-straight-away attitude towards assignments.
With absolutely no news about Sirius Black, most people had seemingly forgotten all about the convict. Given the borderline hysteria that had possessed everyone in the first month of school, Harry was quite happy for the Hogwarts rumour mill to move onto other topics. He never thought he'd be happy to hear about how Sam Buccady was dating Veronica Enright despite him being in seventh year and her being in fourth year, or about how Snape was definitely a secret vampire, but at least there was some variety now.
However, the restrictions surrounding the forbidden forest hadn't eased by November, even as the Halloween feast came and went without incident and the Christmas break began looming, just a few weeks away. It seemed most of the student populace was still ignorant of the missing dementor, and the school staff kept up their story of a 'dispute with the centaurs,' never elaborating beyond that.
It began to seem like Harry would never find out what had happened, and the year would come and go without any further incident. He couldn't hope to know just how thoroughly wrong he was.
"I'm beginning to think Muggle Studies is mostly a load of bollocks," Ernie said, sitting down heavily next to Harry at lunch. The loose group of Hufflepuff's- joined by Luna, who was circling bits of Charms: The Fundamentals with a red-inked quill - were sitting in the Great Hall.
"I did try and warn you," Justin replied. The elective classes the third years had to take had been a topic of much contention in the group. After all the debates, arguments, and last-minute changes were finished, Harry thought the choices made more-or-less summed up each of his friends.
Susan had, predictably, taken Arithmancy and Ancient runes, the two most difficult electives. Hannah faithfully followed her into Runes, but had given up one of her choices to take an extra Herbology class with a few of Sprout's more dedicated students- apparently her and Neville Longbottom, a diminutive Gryffindor that Harry had never heard speak in two years of class, were the only third-years in the group.
Ernie had taken the exact opposite approach, taking the two easiest classes possible- Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures, the latter of which Justin and Harry joined him. Unfortunately neither of them were actually in Hagrid's class, but professor Fornia kept the class interesting, even if she didn't have the groundskeeper's infectious enthusiasm.
Justin had opted for the advanced Transfiguration class, while Harry, reluctant to join Ernie in completely slacking off, joined Susan and Hannah in Arithmancy. He'd actually been considering the advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class, but was dismayed to find it didn't exist- apparently two DADA professors weren't enough for all the extra work involved.
"Cheer up," Harry replied, "You could be doing bloody arithmancy."
The class was proving to be just as complicated as its reputation, as well as crushingly boring- to actually do anything interesting with Arithmancy, one had to have a solid and thorough understanding of the base principles. This involved memorizing the symbolic nature of each and every number, then studying how they interacted with other, then how they interacted with the world- all assessed using multiple several feet long essays each week. Harry suspected that the only reason the class was even taught as early as third year was because there was so much to study it had to start early.
He was doing it for a reason- the subject's difficulty meant there were very few arithmancers in Britain, and apparently most of the top duellists had at least a rudimentary understanding of the guiding principles of arithmancy.
"No, I really couldn't be," Ernie said, helping himself to a pile of bacon, "because I'm not a complete masochist, and I want to actually enjoy school."
Harry grinned. "Only chose it because I thought Susan would do all my homework."
The redhead in question just rolled her eyes. A moment later Hannah leaned over and whispered something in her ear and they both burst into laughter. After two years, Harry had stopped bothering to ask.
"Speaking of," Ernie continued, making absolutely no effort to quieten his voice, "got any more news about 'the big secret?'"
Harry shot him a glare for his lack of subtlety. "Hagrid doesn't know anything, so neither do I. Besides, I still don't want to piss off the Aurors by snooping around."
"Bah," Ernie said dismissively, "where's your sense of adventure? We should have snuck into the forest weeks ago. Get in, rescue the missing dementor, get out to the accolades and celebration of the whole school. We'd be heroes!"
"It's astonishing to me how you managed to survive this long Ern'," Justin said. "I'm not entirely convinced you aren't huffing luck potion when no-ones looking."
"Unlike you I couldn't afford to drink super-expensive potions every morning."
"Could be brewing it yourself if you weren't so pants."
Harry turned from their familiar bickering, before something caught his eye. One of the Aurors was striding through the great hall, heading for the teachers table. He seemed to be in a hurry, clearly trying to not break into a sprint around the students, and quickly made his way around the table to Headmistress McGonagall, bending over to whisper something in her ear.
McGonagall looked up sharply, before standing up abruptly and striding outside, the Auror following closely behind, talking quietly. As soon as they were gone the buzz of conversation immediately turned as the Hogwarts rumour-mill began turning.
Harry shared a look with the other Hufflepuffs- Luna was still engrossed in her work, completely unaware of the commotion.
At that exact moment, by co-incidence or something greater Harry couldn't tell, a speckled-grey Owl winged through the open roof and landed with an undignified squawk- directly in Harry's bowl of soup.
Five minutes, a lot of creative cursing, and several cleaning charms later, Harry finally managed to retrieve the letter- thankful that wizarding envelopes were charmed to be waterproof- and opened it. Harry read it quickly before quietly passing it over to Ernie. The letter made its way around the group, even Luna, who briefly looked up from her work to glace at it, circle several seemingly random words in red ink, and then wordlessly pass it to Hannah.
Harry,
DONT GO NEAR THE FOREST. Dangerous things are happening- more Aurors coming into the school soon, and some 'specialists' I'm not supposed to know about. Keep your head down and STAY AWAY FROM THE FOREST.
Writing quickly, they're gonna start going through my mail soon- if you really need to know more, come down to the hut in 2 weeks, under the cloak, at midnight. Should know more then.
Hagrid.
"Right," Ernie said with an air of finality once he'd finished reading it, "That's decided it. We definitely have to go into the forest now."
Justin and Susan simultaneously opened their mouths to argue, but Harry silenced them both with a sharp wave. The whole business with the Dementor was still technically a secret, after all, and between ghosts, house-elves, and a variety of ways to turn invisible, you never knew who was listening.
"We can discuss this later," Harry hissed. "Somewhere less crowded."
With that, the group got up and left, slightly awkwardly, for class, each inwardly speculating about what exactly Hagrid had been talking about.
'Later' ended up being in the Hufflepuff common room that night- Harry had promised to update Luna later. Under the protection of a silencing charm, they could finally talk in peace.
"Really Harry," Susan said when he was finished, "I don't understand why it has to be a big secret."
"Hagrid could get in serious trouble for this," Harry replied. "I don't want to see him get carted off by the Aurors if someone finds out."
Susan huffed. "I don't know why he even needs to keep us updated about all this. It's none of our business."
Ernie shot her a disbelieving look. "Where's your sense of adventure Suze'! We might be the only students in the whole school who know about what's really happening."
"Yes, and I don't see any reason to get involved beyond that."
"Any reason," Ernie spluttered, practically jumping out of his seat "Since when do we need a reason? Justin, you tell her, she'll listen to you."
"Ernie,' Justin said thoughtfully after a short pause, "is an idiot, but surely you're more than a bit curious about all this?"
"Curiosity doesn't mean we need to go meddling in things that are dangerous."
"What's dangerous about it?"
Hannah finally piped in. "It's a bit dangerous to go into the forest Ernie, especially since Hagrid said not to."
Harry interrupted the brewing argument before they started going around in circles. "No-one's talking about going into the Forest, except maybe Ernie, but Justin's right, he's an idiot- 'Oi!'-. We're just going to Hagrid's. Besides, it's not like all five of us will fit under the cloak anyway."
"Exactly, Susan and Hannah can cower back in the castle while us men go out and do the hard work, just like nature intended- Ow! I was just joking Suze' calm down."
Putting away her wand, Susan stood up to leave with a huff, Hannah following behind a second later, leaving the boys alone in the common room.
"Right," Harry said, shooting Ernie a mock glare, but secretly relieved- breaking rules was always easier without Susan's entirely too reasonable presence. "That's that then-us three will go down to Hagrid's in two weeks and find out what's happening."
Justin looked like he wanted to argue further, but curiosity had clearly won over caution, and Ernie's enthusiasm was impossibly infectious. Before long the three were throwing theories back-and-forth about what Hagrid was going to tell them. They were there so late the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff's house ghost, had to politely come tell them curfew was approaching, and they really should be getting to sleep tomorrow.
Reluctantly the three retreated to their dorms and ended their conversation, unwilling to attract suspicion from their dorm-mates.
Clandestine meetings aside, duelling club continued as it had for the last month, with Harry avoiding Draco in the square, instead matching wands with a wider variety of opponents.
To Harry's surprise, he found himself consistently at the top of the unofficial rankings within the third years, alongside Malfoy and a couple of Gryffindor students. Harry knew his rivalry with Malfoy, as well as frequent mock-duels with Ernie and Luna would put him ahead of a lot of the more rules-minded students, but that edge didn't seem to be disappearing as the meetings continued. It was, he reflected, quite nice to be at the top of the class for once.
"Expelliarmus!" he yelled during the latest of the club meetings, catching Susan off-guard and sending her wand spinning out of the square. The redhead was far from the best duellist in the grade, despite being one of the best students. She seemed to compensate for her lacklustre reflexes by overpowering every spell. Against some of the club's members it was enough, but Harry had quickly worked out sometime in second year that simply hurling spell after spell was enough to overwhelm her wand-work.
Susan shook her head ruefully. "Don't know why I bother, really."
"You're a good friend and I need practice," Harry said cheerfully in reply, clapping her on the shoulder as he jumped out of the arena. "Besides, we haven't done this since last year, you might have snuck up on me over the hols'."
A new voice cut in. "You're seriously overestimating the aptitude of the average Hufflepuff, Potter."
Harry turned to see Draco had been watching the display, alone for once, with a bored expression painted on his face.
"Malfoy," Harry said warily. "I don't really need to hear you gloat any more."
The blonde Slytherin just smirked. "Please, Potter, a Malfoy is taught to always be gracious in victory. Really, I was just bored. It gets tiring, winning so much."
Harry shot him a glare, but before he could speak Susan interrupted. "Didn't you get thrashed by Tanner last lesson? I think you're just scared to get back in the Square."
"He just got lucky," Draco said haughtily, but his face went bright red.
"Hah!" Susan crowed, going for the kill, "More like he challenged you to a fair fight where you couldn't use daddy's secret spells, and you were stupid enough to accept."
Draco snarled and drew his wand. "If you're so eager for a 'fair fight' how about you get in the Square?"
"You're not worth my time Blondie. How about you take on Harry instead? Same rules as the Tanner duel- or are you afraid someone else will 'get lucky?'"
"Nope." It was Harry who interrupted this time. "Can't do that. That'd be breaking the rules."
Draco sneered, though Harry could see a mote of relief in it. "Yes, it'd ruin the whole game if I came at him half-drawn. Really Susan, I would have expected a pureblood like yourself to have more of a sense of honour than a half-blood."
Susan just harrumphed and flounced off to go find the rest of the Hufflepuffs with a muttered 'don't have to listen to this rubbish.'
Harry watched her go and then turned back to Malfoy. "Oh fuck off, you oily ponce. Like you'd know anything about 'honour', your lot cheat in every Quidditch match you play."
The Slytherin looked genuinely offended. "Yes but that's quidditch, not duelling. It's expected there. I wouldn't expect you to understand, what with your 'upbringing'.
"I'm not going to defend the Dursley's any time soon, but you're still a twat."
Draco just shrugged. "Talk to me when you can beat me."
With that he also stalked off, presumably finding someone his fellow Slytherins and gloat about how he'd so thoroughly outwitted his rival yet again.
Harry decided then and there to get help in how to beat Malfoy's spell.
It turned out to be significantly more complicated than that, and by the end a decent portion of his Saturday was spend walking around Hogwarts looking for teachers.
Harry first tried asking his head of house, Professor Sprout, if she knew how to counter the strange magic Draco had used. To his surprise, she was as clueless as him as to the nature of Draco's spell, and had sent him off to Professor Flitwick, claiming charms were his area- although neither were sure it was a charm. The diminutive man also had no idea, and referred him to Prewett, who seemed vaguely aware of the existence of the spell, but nothing specific, and finally Harry had found himself directed to Professor Carrick's office, where he belatedly realized he should have just gone to in the first place.
"Come in."
Harry cautiously entered, finding the grizzled professor sitting at his desk, next to a perilously tall stack of papers that dwarfed Carrick himself. He seemed to be marking them, class essays most likely, and Harry wondered if one of them was his. As the professor finished with one of the papers and set it down to his right, another would flit down from the unmarked pile and settle in front of him.
Harry couldn't help but notice that the pile of finished papers was minuscule compared to the mountain of unmarked ones.
The rest of the room was cluttered, filled with shelves of trinkets and artefacts, arranged with seemingly no thought given to organisation or ease of movement. Puzzle boxes and brass contraptions piled up around what looked like a dragon's skull, sat comfortably alongside an Egyptian sarcophagus and a rack filled with exotic, rattling weapons. In the back corner of the office was a black, padlocked trunk, chained to the floor with thick chains.
However, most of the space was taken up with bookshelves, packed full of tomes and scrolls. Each wall was taken up with them, and in several places there were more books piled up on desks or the floor. From the spines, many seemed to be written in foreign languages, and a few in languages that looked distinctly non-human.
The entire room felt lived-in, as though Carrick had been here for years rather than only months.
"Ah, Harry, I heard from Professor Prewett that you might be visiting," Carrick said cheerfully as he entered, before gesturing at the mountain of paper beside him. "Don't mind this- I always leave my work to the last minute, just like when I was a student."
Not quite sure how to respond to that, Harry just paused in the doorway for a second before unsteadily walking up to the professor's desk- navigating around the clutter- and sitting down in the offered chair.
"I was wondering if you could help me with something, professor," he said hesitantly. "About the duelling club."
Carrick sat back in his seat, looking pensively at Harry. "I was wondering when you would finally ask for help about that. Young Draco has been quite outspoken about his victory."
That's one way to put it. "I was hoping to figure it out on my own."
"Perfectly understandable, but at a certain point there's no shame in admitting defeat." Carrick replied. "Especially at such a young age."
Harry swallowed, finding nothing else to say and instead cutting straight to the point. "Do you know the spell he used, professor? I looked in the library and talked to just about every Professor at this point, but no one knows exactly what he used. At this point I'm starting to think he invented the bloody thing- er, sorry Professor."
Carrick raised as eyebrow at the mild profanity, but otherwise ignored it, instead standing up and pacing across to his window, peering out through the glass at the grounds below. "I'm not surprised that no-one has been able to identify Mister Malfoy's trick- I doubt anyone not well-versed in magical theory would be able to. The spell he used is extremely obscure, likely old family magic."
"After your duel I did some research of my own- some friends of mine specialize in this sort of thing. The etymological roots of the incantation are simple, and they were able to trace back the coloration and thaumaturgic signatures with a Silvascope," he said. "A subject that I can see you are just as fascinated by as me."
Harry, who's eyes had thoroughly glazed over at the explanation, gave a sheepish shrug. "I'm sure it's interesting if you know what any of that means. I'm a little out of my depth."
Carrick just chuckled and went back to his seat. "And to answer your next question- yes, we worked out a simple counter-spell easily enough."
Harry waited expectantly, but the professor simply sat back, fingers splayed together as he smiled across the desk at him. After a few moments, Harry, slightly awkwardly, spoke.
"Can you teach it to me?"
"I could. The question is if I should."
Harry blinked. "Um... should you, sir?"
"Magic," Carrick continued, cheerfully ignoring the question, "has a tendency to balance itself in curious ways. Mister Malfoy's charm cannot be blocked, or shielded against, at least not without a deep knowledge of obscure magic. This is exceptionally rare, and such spells tend to be limited in scope. I assume you are not able to cast the spell yourself?"
Harry shook his head. "I know the incantation- Contrarius Mutatio- but don't remember the wand movement well enough."
"Contrarium, actually," Carrick said, drawing his own wand, and causing Harry's face began burning in embarrassment at the simple mistake. "Watch closely. It's quite complicated, I had to use a pensieve to work it out myself."
Harry mutely watched him perform the movements, then again slower, before trying it himself. A swift figure-of-eight, followed by sharp flick and a half-circle. The last bit was deceptively difficult- the wand had to stop exactly at the bottom of the arc, or the spell wouldn't work at all, and it was deceptively difficult to make a perfect half-circle. After ten minutes of practice, guided by Carrick's sharp eyes, he had it worked out well enough to actually cast it.
Carrick gestured encouragingly for him to try, and Harry noticed a mischievous glint in his eye that made him nervous. Harry hesitantly raised his wand and began the incantation.
"Contrarium Mutatio!"
With a lurch, Harry's world was turned upside-down, and he immediately felt his knees collapse under him yet again. The effects were identical to what he'd felt in the duelling square. I cast it on Carrick- why did it reverse back on me again!?
The professor roared with laughter, waving his wand and muttering something Harry couldn't quite make out. The world returned to normal in an instant, Harry fighting to keep the contents of his stomach from leaping out of his mouth.
"What," he managed after a few seconds, "did I do wrong?"
"Nothing," Carrick said, grinning, "In fact, I'm extremely impressed you manage to cast it perfectly on your first try."
Harry looked up, confused. "But the spell affected me, not- oh."
Carrick nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Balance, didn't I say? If a spell can't be blocked, deflected or dodged, then it must have another weakness. In this case..."
"It effects both the caster and the target. Which means when I duelled Draco, he was dealing with the same effects I was."
"Exactly!"
"And he must have practiced with it through the whole summer, adapting to it! Which means..." Harry trailed off.
"You'll have to do the same." Carrick finished.
"Or you could just teach me the counter-spell you just used?" Harry said hopefully. He was no stranger to hard work, but Harry couldn't see any reason why the professor was making it so difficult. Was sensory inversion really so common that he needed to get used to the effects? Surely it was a waste of time when the situation might never come up again.
Carrick drummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully. "That would certainly be easier, but as an old friend of mine likes to say- doing what is easy and what is right are often very different. Knowing one-more counter-spell is useful here and now, but all you would actually learn is knowledge, and knowledge, can only take you so far. Tell me- you've beaten more than a few students in the club that are doing far better academically than you. Why do you think that is?"
It was something Harry had thought about plenty. Harry was never the best students in class when it came to writing essays, or the fastest at learning new spells, but even before the club he'd always been able to beat any of his friends in their mock-duels. In fact now that he thought about it, the only one in their group who ever came close in a one-on-one was Ernie, who had never even pretended to care about his grades.
"Speed and instinct, I guess," Harry said, shrugging. What does this have to do with Draco?
"Yes, perhaps, but both of those are derived from the same fundamental quality, one that all great duellists- all great wizards, really- have. The quality of willpower."
"Willpower?" Harry said, confused.
"The muggles-" Carrick waved dismissively- "don't really have a proper idea of it, they categorize things all wrong. Without magic, they have no idea the power that be extracted from a powerful will, the abilities mental mastery can grant if wielded properly. It's a force that turns merely competent wizards into great wizards."
"I'm not sure I understand what that has to do with duelling, sir," Harry confessed, slightly resentfully- he didn't particularly like the disdain that seemed to coat Carrick's voice when he talked about muggles. It was the same tone that Draco sometimes had, when his friendly mockery became cruel. "Although that might be my upbringing speaking."
The scarred professor gave him a long, silent look, face for once devoid of humour, and Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking at all. Before he had the chance to say anything more Carrick spoke up again.
"I forget, sometimes, that you were raised by Muggles. A great crime." he murmured after a long moment.
Harry sat uncomfortably, not used to this side of Carrick. The man was rarely silent and seemed to usually have a permanently cheerful demeanour that offset his scarred appearance. What had come over the professor so suddenly?
After another beat, Carrick seemed to shake off whatever dark mood had briefly taken him and managed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Enough of my rambling, I'm sure we both have plenty to do," he said, gesturing to the pile of homework beside him.
Harry nodded readily and stood to leave with a quick, "thanks for the help, professor."
In truth, he still didn't entirely understand what Carrick had meant by 'willpower.' How was that concept different from bravery, or simple discipline? He would ask another time. The strange mood that had taken the professor had shaken Harry more than he was willing to let on, and he suddenly wanted to get out of that cluttered office as quickly as possible and into the sunshine.
Carrick watched him leave, tapping his wand against the table thoughtfully. After a few minutes he stood up, walking to the far corner of his office to a fireplace, all but obscured by a bookshelf, throwing a small handful of green powder in it.
The boy had promise- he would need to talk to the benefactor about his potential.
"Contrarium Mutatio!"
Just as Carrick had said, the spell didn't just affect the target- it also effected Harry himself. Immediately, Ernie- who had bravely volunteered to be the test dummy- yelped and collapsed onto the ground, gripping the damp grass with both hands. It was probably a good thing they were doing this next to a large body of water to throw up in.
Harry had at least remained standing this time, but faced once again with the effects of the spell he couldn't even begin to work out how to actually do anything while so completely disorientated. Drawing his wand, Harry realized that even more damaging than the effects of being upside-down were the directional changes that he hadn't even full realized were happening the first time around. Holding his wand in the left hand, each movement of a spell having to be inverted, it seemed impossible to get used to. Then again, Malfoy had managed.
"How long does this thing last exactly?" Ernie said weakly, his face rapidly changing colour to match the grass around him. "I don't think the giant squid will like me puking in his nice lake."
Harry chuckled, waving his wand in an unsteady pattern and murmuring the incantation for a simple stunner. "About two minutes, give or take."
The attempted charm hit the ground a few meters away from Ernie. Aiming was still almost impossible, but at least it was progress. He kept trying to cast a series of simple hexes, jinxes and charms into the hillside, succeeding about half the time, while his friend staggered around. It's just a matter of muscle memory, Harry thought to himself. The thought was comforting, but not particularly helpful as his success rate kept failing.
After only a minute and a half- Susan had been appointed to keep time- the spell wore off and the world returned to normal with another lurch. That finally tipped Ernie over the edge, and he staggered over to the edge of the lake to puke noisily. Thankfully, the giant squid decided not to make an appearance.
"Right," Harry said, "I think I can probably cast it on myself from now on."
Ernie coughed one last time and then stood up, casting a quick cleaning charm. "You bloody well better, I'm not doing that again. Bugger Draco."
Harry laughed, but inwardly he was remembering Carrick's words. Was this what he meant when he talked about 'willpower?' Was all that separated normal wizards from 'great' wizards- whatever that meant- the ability to push through and do things that made them uncomfortable?
If it was that easy, Harry was pretty confident he could indeed be a 'great wizard,' although he didn't tell Ernie that- he didn't want to seem as arrogant as Draco.
Stretching, Harry got ready for a very queasy afternoon. If repeatedly cursing himself really was the only way to get a one-up on Malfoy, then so be it- Harry was determined to be ready by the next session of the duelling club. He'd wipe the smug smirk off the blonde Slytherins face even if he had to spend the whole week upside-down and back-to-front.
