Chapter 12

The Midnight Duel

The common room had far less empty chairs than when they left it. The fifth and seventh years were crumbling under the pressure of their looming examinations, and it was them flipping feverishly through textbooks or dangerously waving wands around each time they found the common room full. Subash's sadistic pleasure in watching them, while relaxing on a couch, was easily blown away when Roger said that they had four more years before they would be looking exactly like that, with beautiful black circles under the eyes. He received a scowl.

"Just stop thinking about that and experience the deep bliss in watching them study like they were dogs who would be skinned alive the next day and made to watch Professor Slughorn's moustache waltzing with Dumbledore's beard at the same time, while Professor Binns would be lecturing them on the Hinkypunk Wars of 1456."

Even Perce looked up from his book to stare at him. Roger burst out laughing, while Subash smiled innocently.

"That was awfully accurate, Subash. Except, I don't think Hinkypunks ever had a war." Perce put in.

Subash sighed. "Oh I don't know, maybe humans don't consider waving lanterns at each other as war. I bet it was pretty brutal for any Hinkypunk."

"How — how do you know they had a — a 'lantern war'?" Roger interrupted, chuckling, trying to imagine floating, ghost-like one-legged creatures ferociously waving lanterns at each other with bared teeth.

"They must have at some point. Who knows?"

"Who knows, indeed?" Said Perce absent-mindedly, engrossed in his book.

Perce jumped when someone clapped him on the back. Then he turned to see Robin Selwyn, and smiled.

"I heard you met my dunghead of a brother today?" He remarked, slipping into a nearby chair.

"Oh yes," said Subash. "Yes we did." His voice carried no expression.

"Don't mind him, he's just a bad egg. He wouldn't hurt you though, he keeps out of trouble. He loves a little sadistic bullying, though, especially those who aren't pure-blood." He sighed.

"And Perce duelled him!" Said Roger, smiling at his friend. Perce raised his eyebrows, peering out of his book at the mention of his name.

"Duelled?" Asked Robin, turning to Perce with a look of incredulity. Perce looked around.

"Duelled?" Perce parroted. "Who?"

Subash let out a grunt of irritation. "Why can't you stay out of those ruddy books for a minute and listen?" He snapped. Roger raised his eyebrows cautiously. Then, looking at Perce's even more confused face, Subash added, "We are talking about Garold."

"Oh. Garold." Said Perce. "Well, that wasn't a duel, was it? He tried to disarm me once, and then used the Impediment Jinx, both of which I could easily block. From him, I had expected Dark Magic in the least. If he didn't want to stay out of trouble, I wouldn't be here right now." He laughed.

"Imped- what, again?" Subash asked.

"Impediment Jinx. It —"

"It freezes the opponent for a while, and it's especially effective against Magical beasts." Finished Robin, and Perce nodded.

"And how do you know that?" Subash asked Perce, his mouth half open.

"Oh, I learnt it in these - ah - 'ruddy books'," said Perce, smiling widely.

"I see. Well, that makes sense, he wouldn't want trouble. But you put yourself in trouble, now, Perce. He's got an ego that could produce gravity." Added Robin.

Perce simply shrugged, and turned to his book again. Then something else stirred in his memory at the mention of 'duel'. The image of Drake flowed into his mind, and it screamed: "MEET — MIDNIGHT — TOWER —" and Perce sighed.

"Anyway, Robin, how is she doing?" Roger asked, with a hint of a smile.

Robin looked, for a moment, as if he was about to enquire. Then, suddenly, he closed his mouth, and blushed furiously.

"Oh — well — um... She's doing great and err..." Robin stuttered. The topic apparently sprouted a completely different person in him. Roger and Subash, and to their surprise Perce, joined in to take the opportunity and humiliate him till the extent where he was forced to weave a loose story of having to meet Mr. Pringle for some books. Showing great mercy, they released him, though they were left to wonder when Mr. Pringle decided to abandon his care-taker duties and start handling books.

Just then, two jets of light shot past Perce, and his fellow first year Slytherins were blown out of their chairs, to fall unconscious. Many heads turned, and a rumble of confused voices began.

"What —" he gasped.

Perce drew out his wand with admirable agility and turned around to see a now familiar face carrying a maniacal grin.

"Pleased to see me, Jordan?" Garold said, his voice laced with pure venom. That put an end to the murmurs.

Perce shot a spell at him, his teeth bared. There was a sharp intake of breath by the room. The sixth year simply laughed, and blocked it with a flick of his wand. Two more jets of light flew towards Garold from Perce's wand, and the former blocked both of them at once, chuckling again.

"You are too weak to fight me, Jordan."

Both of them cast spells at once, and saw them clash mid-air, causing a shower of sparks to the audience of the common room.

Garold merely laughed and slashed his wand. A purple jet of light sprouted from the tip of his wand, just as Perce uttered the incantation for a shield. There was a swoosh as the curse cut through the air, and Perce screwed up his eyes.

A short boom was heard as the jet of light broke through the shield, and Perce's eyes widened, and his eyebrows rose. It hit him squarely in the chest as the smirk on his opponent's face widened. The former fell on his back, and his wand clattered on the floor.

Garold looked around the room. "Well?" His voice boomed. "Did anything happen here?" He asked, lowering his voice, pure venom showing in his eyes. Everyone shook their heads hastily. Garold smirked yet again, and stormed out of the common room.

"Well?" Said a voice as Perce blinked open his eyes, again washed in the familiar smell of potions and bedsheets. There was no doubt he was in the hospital wing.

"You woke him up, you bumbling baboon!" A loud whisper said.

Subash and Roger were sitting on either side of the bed.

"Well, now that you're awake, we'll get back to the Transfiguration class... Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep you here longer." He sighed. Perce nodded, feeling a painful, throbbing spot in his chest. Roger got up, raised his eyebrows at Subash. The latter affirmed that he would follow, and Roger slunk out.

"You — You had to pick a fight with him, did you?" Subash blurted out. He then looked away again, at the floor.

"What d'you mean, you wanted me to just stare while he hexes your head off?" Perce asked, an incredulous smile forming on his face.

"Oh forget it," muttered the other, and got up.

"Won't you tell me what's bothering you?"

Subash froze, and turned around again. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

Perce grinned, and looked at his friend thoughtfully. Subash frowned and turned away again.

"There's nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"There were many great wizards and witches from Slytherin, and a lot of them were half-bloods." Began Perce, and Subash turned to look at him, now pale as a lily. "Nothing says that a half-blood isn't fit to be in Slytherin. Only a few rotten, brainwashed fools believe in that. You'll make a great wizard, Subash. Don't let any of those people put you down."

There was silence for a long while, during which Perce decided to examine his palms. Subash kept opening his mouth, only to close it back, and shuffled his feet awkwardly. When he couldn't take it anymore, he simply said:

"Thank you. I — I need to head to Transfiguration now."

And he simply strolled out without another word.

Perce lifted up his shirt slowly, glancing around if anyone else was present. There, to his surprise and slight annoyance, was a faded purple mark, spread out like paint splashed on a canvas. He gasped as he touched it, and lowered his shirt again, letting out a groan.

He lowered himself, his head sinking into the pillow, surveying the ceiling, but not quite looking at it. He felt everything become unreal. And instead of the ceiling he began seeing cloaked figures around, as he drifted off to sleep.

He had very unusual dreams. He was first the Transfiguration professor, teaching a class full of trees, who were paying the fullest attention. Professor Sprout then angrily barged in with a whip and started whipping the trees, deaf to his protests, until Professor McGonagall came in, dressed as a clown, pouring water on him for taking her post. The water turned into fire, melting the clown-McGonagall — it was wax after all. The wax then reformed, taking the shape of a very familiar, grumpy looking plump first year. It screamed — "MIDNIGHT — TOWER — MIDNIGHT..." and he felt a stabbing pain in his chest.

And he woke with a jerk, his eyes flying open, as though he had just closed them. The pain in his chest disappeared, and he turned his head to see the enormous clock. It was half past eleven, and the room was dark, except for the rays of moon-light that crept in through the magnificent windows. He slowly sat up, ignoring the protests from his numb hand, and sighed.

Should he do this? He doubted whether Drake would really arrive, and also considered the possibility of this being a trap. He knew which tower alright, there was no doubt about that. The only tower hardly visited was the Astronomy Tower.

After many more prolonged minutes of thought, he stood up, holding his wand.

"Let's do this," he whispered to himself.

There was very little to plan as to how he would reach the Tower without being caught. He slipped out of the wing cautiously, looking in anticipation for dangers. Mr. Pringle's awful, off-key humming could be heard from an appreciable distance away, so he needn't have any worries about him.

Except a narrow escape from Peeves the Poltergeist, the walk was uneventful. He then pushed the door open, and was greeted by a gush of cold wind blowing on his face. Taking a deep breath, he walked out towards the rails and stared into the dark canvas of the sky, that had enchanting dots of twinkling white stars, and was adorned by the glorious, bright moon. The forest below, at the edge of the expanse of grass, swayed graciously, bathing in the gentle moon-light.

His chest underwent another spasm of sudden, piercing pain, and he gasped, unable to clutch it for that would only encourage the pain. He dropped down, gripping his wand in one hand and the cold iron railing in the other, as it passed. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes, regaining his composure. 'Damn me for deciding to actually come out here,' he thought.

He opened his eyes as he heard the door opening again, and caught sight of the familiar, plump figure, dressed precisely and neatly even at the hour of midnight.

"You filthy rat, get ready." Drake said. Perce felt all his energy come back to him, accompanied by a fresh surge of rage. His nostrils flared and his eyes steadily looking at him, a blaze reflected in them, he stood before him.

"Let's not jump to conclusions that quickly." Retorted Perce, his voice cold. "The sharper your tongue gets, I promise you, the worse your situation will be."

"Titillando!"

"Protego!"

And so, rather unceremoniously, they began. Drake, who seemed to have spent quite a lot of time learning new spells and practising them, continued to surprise Perce by the minute, by the amount of spite he displayed. Rather soon, Perce took control of the situation, using to his advantage all the knowledge he had gained over the year. Drake was especially baffled when his opponent started using Transfiguration in the duel, and fought hard, though slowly realising the truth of the situation.

Drake attempted a fire, which was easily defeated by Perce. The latter then gritted his teeth, and slashed his wand, almost screaming the incantation. A nearby twig stirred, cracked, and stretched infinitely. Drake tried blasting it away, and Perce used the opportunity to disarm him, his eyes blazing. He seemed unstoppable, his teeth bared, and wand raised.

The twig, now a rope, slithered in the air, and tied itself around Drake. His eyes widened in terror, and he opened his mouth wide as the rope tightened around him. He let out a scream — and stopped almost immediately. Perce lowered his wand hand, and stared in shock.

Drake had his mouth open, looking like a perfect imitation of someone screaming, except there was no sound. Perce knew immediately this wasn't something he did, and turned around, raising his wand again, his eyes wider.

The emotions he felt at that moment he knew he would never forget.

A/N Thank you, as always, for reading it patiently. I read all of your comments and reviews, so please do give more. Ideas are always welcome. And yes, I decided to take the name of a chapter from the original series. Thank you again!

P. S. I really love cliffhangers