You're a protagonist Harry
Chapter 18 – Well, how else were we gonna get a katana in here?
…
The room was crowded, felt crowded. The presence of dozens of mannequins holding various forms of sword took up a lot of space with the way they were placed around the room. People wandered between, looking at the assembled accoutrements of stabby death and speaking in hushed tones. It felt crowded, yet oddly not crowded enough.
"Lot fewer Gryffindor than I was expecting."
It was his first duel club meeting since signing up the previous week. After the 'explosive' results of the previous night's education, he had high hopes for his first club meeting. He was a little disappointed by what he found.
The mannequin, while interesting, were covered in dust and cobwebs. The weapons they displayed looked old, not merely antiquated but unused, and unkept. Tarnished and rusted, they seemed in greater danger of snapping than stabbing. And to top it all off Harry found himself vastly outnumbered.
"Don't know him—don't know him either."
Beyond he himself, there were two other Gryffindor's, both from years above his, neither he could name. He couldn't name the six Slytherin either, but that was no comfort. He had yet to see Draco, which was a small one, only so the obnoxious prat wouldn't see how nervous he was.
There was also a quartet of Hufflepuff, none from his year, and a trio of Ravenclaw, one from his year, though he was embarrassed to admit he couldn't name him.
It wasn't what he'd hoped for, and for someone accustomed to being a solo act, he felt oddly vulnerable without his fellow Gryffindor around. Strange the things you can get used to in such a short time.
He was seriously thinking of leaving when fate, and about eighty pounds of overexcited girl intervened… and by 'intervened' I mean knocked him flat on his face.
"This feels very familiar," he mumbled into the dusty floor, "very familiar."
"Oops," said the eighty pounds of fate, "watch out. Hehe, coming through."
"Very familiar."
Peeling himself off the floor, he got a good look at the thing that hit him. It was a half head shorter with tussled brown hair and a pair of brown eyes that seemed to be looking everywhere but him. It didn't take a rocket surgeon to put two and two together, just one apprentice wizard.
"YOU!" he accused with one very loud finger.
"Who?" she asked looking all around.
"You!" he repeated, giving her a good accusatory poke.
"What? No, no, you don't mean me," she said, shifty as a weasel.
But he did. "It was you. You're the one that keeps running over me. That day at the club event, and in Knockturn Alley when you were running from the pet shop owner."
"Thought I hit something that day," she mumbled not quietly enough. "Uh, I mean, don't know what you're talking about, I've never done more than a fast walk, tell him Furiko!"
Her alibi, as it were, seemed to appear out of nowhere, taking only two steps till she was at the other girl's side. The alibi had long, dark hair, tied back in a single ponytail, and was the only person in the room who was carrying a sword.
"I'd like to offer my most sincere apology if my roommate has cause you any inconvenience," she said, punctuating her statement with a solemn bow.
"What! No, Furiko, you supposed to back me up not give me up," the excitable girl protested.
"She really doesn't mean it," the other girl went on, "she just has too much energy for her own good."
"That is a blatant, blatant lie!" the brunette decried, folding her arms petulantly. "I do not have too much energy for my own good."
The east Asian girl considered for a moment, "You are correct," she said, straitening and looking at the other girl, "you have too much energy for at least ten peoples own good."
"But you still love me, right? Right?" she insisted, switching tracks fast enough to give any observer whiplash. "Yeah, she totally loves me."
"Please do not take my silence as acknowledgment."
"She will," said Harry, "she'll take it and run with it, won't ya."
"Lies!"
It was hard to stay mad at the girl, overexaggerated little nutball, even if she did keep running him over. He laughed. She pouted. Her roommate didn't laugh but she did hide a smirky little smile coyly behind her hand. It was an oddly alluring gesture.
"I'm Harry," the introduction directed to the roommate.
"Furiko," she replied with a hint of color in her cheeks.
"And I'm…"
"Trouble."
"RHIANNON!"
This time they both laughed, but before 'Rhiannon' could start pouting again, every torch in the room sprang to life. The various mannequin with their various swords came to life and saluted, the dust and cobwebs vanishing as rich color returned to their cloths, the pedestals on which they stood turning before retreating to the wall, opening the floor and the room as a whole.
"Welcome my young friends," the cultured voice proclaimed as the Spaniard strode boldly to the center of the room. "Welcome, to the duel club."
There was swagger in his step, the swagger of a man in full control of himself and his surroundings. It was an enviable thing, especially to those not yet old enough to even conceive of such control, including those who'd deluded themselves into believing they had it.
One such appeared at the far side of the room where he must have been hiding, "Draco."
Words whispered must still have been heard because he turned to Harry, his face twisting in a superior smirk. They didn't bother with words, not at that distance, but both knew, it would all be settled soon.
"I must say I am glad to see you all here. Saddened by those I do not see, but no point dwelling on that," he pressed on. "You are all here to learn the noble art of the sword. I myself have spent many years in this pursuit, among other pursuits if you catch my meaning gentlemen."
They most certainly did, as did at least two of the females present who appeared hopeful in becoming such a pursuit. Neither were named Furiko or Rhiannon.
"There are many forms of sword around the world, and many forms of dueling. We shall forgo any sort of firearm dueling, one, because bullet wounds are so dreadfully difficult to heal, even with magic, and two, because there is very little skill involved. Point and shoot does not require an excess of skill or training.
"That said, training will be a large part of the duel club. If you look around, you will see the vast variety of swords you might choose from. I suggest you experiment, see what fits you best. These fancy dolls are more than they appear. Not mere mannequin but specialized dueling golems, each skilled in the weapon they are holding. They will be your primary sparring partners."
"So when do we get to duel each other?"
This was the answer they all wanted to know. It didn't surprise him Draco would be the first to ask.
"So eager Mr. Malfoy," the Spaniard chuckled, eyeing the Slytherin knowingly. "I must ask, for those just joining us, how many of you have ever used a sword?"
There was a general dissenting murmur about the room, Malfoy even went so far as to say, "You just stick them with the pointy end, don't you?" This got a bit of a laugh, but it also set Harry's alarm bells ringing. Draco, so far as he could tell, was too much a narcissist to willingly make himself the fool, unless he had some ulterior motive in doing so.
"Perhaps a bit more technical than that Mr. Malfoy. A demonstration then. Since you've volunteered, you can be our first, and who will accept the challenge."
Most around the room were quick to look away, a fact Harry did not miss even when he boldly stepped forward.
"Ah, Mr. Potter. Thought you might."
He should have, he was the reason they were there after all.
Giving a sharp whistle, a pair of swords flew from the wall into the Spaniard's hand. "These are common practice foil," he said, handing each boy a weapon. "They are easy to use, light, and most importantly, non-lethal. Still, that does not mean they cannot do serious harm. I trust the two of you to show the appropriate restraint."
And what is the appropriate restraint, one might ask, for two teenage boys with such a strong yet barely cultivated loathing for one another. Zero is a number. Just sayin.
"Everyone, stand back! Gentleman. Into the ring."
Never losing sight of the other, the two rivals stepped into the dueling ring, eyes flashing, muscles burning.
"When I say go, you may begin. Ready?"
Never more ready in my life.
"Go!"
"Hurk!" And just as quickly as it began, it ended. Harry'd barely time to twitch before the point of the foil was at his throat.
"Very good Mr. Malfoy. Most impressive. I see this is 'not' your first time holding a sword."
Son of a bitch! The cheating little sack of shit!
His warning bells had been right. It had been a ploy, a stupid obvious ploy; so stupid, so obvious. He'd let himself get played and now it was he that looked the fool.
"Would anyone else like to challenge Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps a more worthy opponent."
"I will," a voice said quietly.
The crowd parted around Rhiannon's roommate who handed her own sword off to Rhiannon before entering the ring.
"Well, what have we here," Draco leered. "Slumming it with Hufflepuff. You know I don't usually fight pretty girls."
"Neither do I," she said with perfect calm, "so I suppose we'll both be making an exception today."
The superior sneer turned sour, even without the mocking laughter such an attack to his ego could not go unpunished.
"You made him mad," Harry remarked, handing her his sword, head bowed in shame.
"That is no accomplishment," she said. "But watch closely, and you may see one yet."
Wondering at her meaning, he slouched off to the side, nowhere near where Rhiannon was standing, yet somehow by the time he got there, he found her standing right next to him.
"Hi."
Harry sighed, in no mood to deal with her antics.
"That was pretty bad."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"He's about to get his butt whooped."
"Seriously?" It was hard to believe after he'd so handily had his own butt handed to him.
"Just watch."
"Ready… Go!"
He watched; all attention focused. He still almost missed it.
Her sword moved so fast the eye could barely track it. A single stroke, masterfully executed. Draco's sword flew from his hand and buried itself high in the wall behind him. Stunned or simply shocked, the blonde stumbled back on his arse and sat there staring in absolute terror.
"Told ya."
"Yes you did," said Harry, nearly as shocked as Malfoy, who found his voice again and immediately began making excuses.
Harry wasn't listening though. He was lost inside his own mind, what she'd said, an accomplishment. Just how long had she been training to do that?
"Very good Madam, most splendid," the Spaniard praised, cutting of the babbling excuses and retaking control of the room. "Take note, all of you. If you ever wish to be able to do something like that one day, you must train hard. Here, we will show you the way."
A better sales pitch he could not have asked for, and there were more than a few in the crowd with a look that screamed star struck. Perhaps his own, he couldn't tell, but not Draco. If Draco loathed Harry, then Harry didn't know what word could be used to describe his feelings for Furiko.
"This year just got interesting."
"Ya think so?"
Harry considered the overcharged little battery, "Somehow I get the feeling any time spent with you is probably interesting," and several other less complimentary words beginning with I.
"Aw, and I thought you didn't like me."
"Did I say I did?"
He hadn't, but she was gonna run with it, just like he knew she would.