FREAK
by
Hawa D.L.
The Duels
(A peak at Severus Snape's clipboard:)
Death Eater skill levels:
Level 1—Inner Circle
Level 2—Senior Members
Level 3—Junior Members
Level 4—New Recruits
Generals in order of seniority:
1) Alastor Moody
2) Aberforth Dumbledore
3) Olympe Maxime
4) Filius Flitwick
5) Amelia Bones
6) Kingsley Shacklebolt
7) Igor Karkaroff
8) Minerva McGonagall
9) Augusta Longbottom
10) Sturgis Podmore
11) Nymphadora Tonks
12) Arthur Weasley
13) Dirk Cresswell
14) Remus Lupin
15) Molly Weasley
16) Edward Tonks
17) Hestia Jones
18) Nathaniel Westernberg
19) William Weasley
20) Viktor Krum
Round 1 matches and section assignments:
S. 1 – A. Moody VS A. Dumbledore
S. 2 – O. Maxime VS F. Flitwick
S. 3 – A. Bones VS K. Shacklebolt
S. 4 – I. Karkaroff VS M. McGonagall
S. 5 – A. Longbottom VS S. Podmore
S. 6 – N. Tonks VS A. Weasley
S. 7 – D. Cresswell VS R. Lupin
S. 8 – M. Weasley VS E. Tonks
S. 9 – H. Jones VS N. Westernberg
S. 10 – W. Weasley VS V. Krum
Minerva McGonagall hated to admit it, but she was getting old.
The only thing that made her feel better about this fact was that her opponent, named Igor Karkaroff and an entire decade her junior, was tiring even faster than she was. This was fortunate, as they were fairly evenly matched otherwise. As strong as his defenses were, it was clear that offense was his strong suit. In fact, Minerva was almost positive that he was putting too much power into his curses, hence his lagging energy. Instead of firing off a barrage of spells like Karkaroff, she threw curses at her opponent only when she thought she would get a hit, and thus spent most of her time dodging, even though she kept a shield up at all times. The reason for this is because shields themselves take next to no energy to maintain. It's when they're attacked that they start leeching magic like mad. And so it was that Minerva spent most of their duel prancing about the field as though she were in her animagus shape (and puffing like the aging lady she was), and Karkaroff spent it trying to hone his aim.
Finally seeing Karkaroff's wand movements slow down significantly, Minerva thanked her lucky stars once again that he was running out of magic faster than she was running out of air, and went for endgame. Having kept in mind Potter's rules (namely: "Cause your opponent no injury the medic assigned to you can't heal on the field"), Minerva had transfigured a number of pebbles all over the field into small needles and imbued them with her magic. She couldn't help the smirk on her lips as with a swish and a flick they went flying toward their target.
Tired as the poor man was, Karkaroff spent several invaluable moments glancing around for the source of the sudden whistling noise, which he did not find until all thirty of them embedded themselves in his right knee simultaneously. Too shocked to even scream, Karkaroff tumbled to the ground and was quickly struck unconscious by Minerva's Stunner.
Primly, Minerva pivoted and returned to the sidelines, smug and satisfied, while the Section Four medic levitated Karkaroff up to the stands. So this is how the cat feels once she's caught the canary.
Round 2 matches
Winners of R. 1:
S. 1 – A. Moody VS F. Flitwick
S. 2 – A. Bones VS M. McGonagall
S. 3 – A. Longbottom VS N. Tonks
S. 4 – R. Lupin VS M. Weasley
S. 5 – H. Jones VS V. Krum
Losers of R. 1:
S. 6 – A. Dumbledore VS O. Maxime
S. 7 – K. Shacklebolt VS I. Karkaroff
S. 8 – S. Podmore VS A. Weasley
S. 9 – D. Cresswell VS E. Tonks
S. 10 – N. Westernberg VS W. Weasley
Sturgis Podmore was pissed.
Why was he pissed? is the natural question to follow this statement.
And the answer is this: Sturgis Podmore had just had his arse handed to him by an old lady. Damn near ancient, as far as he was concerned. Never mind the fact that the brothers Dumbledore were in fact much older and he would no doubt pale at the thought of dueling them.
Alas, welcome to the mind of the macho man.
The only thing worse than that would be what his present opponent, Arthur Weasley, had suffered—that is to say, to have been beaten by a woman less than half one's age, in this case a fiery pink-haired lass named Nymphadora Tonks. Be she former Auror or not, the shame would surely be tough to bear. However, despite this sympathy he bore Arthur, Sturgis was still pissed-off in the extreme, and the only outlet for his anger was the current duel. He and Arthur had similar styles: mostly relying on a quick variety of chained curses, maximum use of silent casting, and dodging, only shielding when necessary. Neither he nor his opponent had an area of specialization, he knew, and nothing in the repertoire of one would be a surprise to the other. Thus, theirs was a battle of wits and skill. Sturgis was confident he would win.
He poured every ounce of his fury and shame into his attack, chaining a handful of schoolyard jinxes with an Expelliarmus, two Stupefies, and a Reducto, the last aimed at the ground before the Weasley patriarch's feet. The ground exploded with a bang, a thick cloud of dirt rising up and obscuring any attempt at visual confirmation that his other spells had struck their target. Sturgis had his answer, however, when a flurry of curses shot through the dust straight at him. Half of them were Tarantallegras, so he focused most of his attention of dodging the Stunners.
And thus failed to see the Diffindo following that series of spells until he came out of a spin and caught the brunt of it in the abdomen. The spray of gore had him frozen, then the blooming pain felled him, and finally, as his attacker came into view, the fierce return of his fury had him trembling.
He glared balefully up at Arthur Weasley, spat at his shoes. "Fuck you."
But the older man only offered a small, sad smile. "Sorry, my friend." And he raised his wand.
Then everything went black.
Finals
Dueled 1 at a time in center 2 sections
Match 1 – A. Moody VS V. Krum
Match 2 – A. Bones VS R. Lupin
Match 3 – N. Tonks VS winner of M. 1
Match 4 – winner of M. 2 VS winner of M. 3
"Да еба! Fuck!"
Viktor Krum was well and truly screwed.
His battle against Bill Weasley had been won through skill, though the two had, admittedly, been closely matched. His battle against Hestia Jones, on the other hand, had been won through sheer bloody-minded determination. He'd been severely out-classed, brute force against an elegant citadel, but even Rome fell. The fight had been over the second he'd wormed his way behind her shields and struck her down with a Stunner. He'd walked away wounded and bleeding heavily, but victorious.
This battle against Mad-Eye, however, left him floundering, completely out of his depth. The likelihood of Viktor walking away at all was rapidly diminishing; instead, he was becoming more and more certain that by the time it was over the medis would be levitating his unconscious body up to the stands and out of harm's way.
But Viktor Krum wasn't going down without a fight.
At present, Viktor was crouched behind a transfigured slab of stone, nursing a broken wrist and a twisted ankle and trying to come up with a tentative plan of action. However, everything he came up with in his brief seconds of respite was immediately dismissed as futile. Curse that damn eye of his. Everyone knew that Moody's enchanted eye could see through physical blocks and most forms of deception. Viktor, though, was coming to understand that it did a helluva lot more than that. He was pretty sure that it offered some perverted sort of Mage Sight, showing all the threads of intent, power, causes, and effects woven into Viktor's spells. In addition, it probably allowed rapid processing of visual information. Thus, Moody didn't have to run around because he always adapted his shields so that the specific points of impact with incoming spells always had only just enough power to either dispel or repel them. Such a feat would be impossible for anyone else Viktor knew of; they'd all end up wasting their power and passing out before too long. To top it all off, the other man's spell-casting was naught but a blur to Viktor's eyes. He would dodge one spell only to narrowly escape another just to fall into the path of the one Mad-Eye had really wanted to hit him with all along.
Yeah. Viktor Krum was fucked.
He sighed. Damn it. Guess I'm winging it. Having healed his ankle and numbed his wrist, Viktor darted out from his hiding space, a curse on the tip of his tongue, wand moving, ready to strike.
And got a face-full of red stunner.
Match 3 – N. Tonks VS A. Moody
Nymphadora "Do not call me Nymphadora!" Lupin née Tonks was feeling oddly feminine at the moment. Well, she supposed it wasn't too odd really considering the fact that the cause was right before her. He was attractive and kind and gentle, so gentle, especially with her, his touch so soft, almost as though she was made of glass. But now that genteel face was twisted, fierce and ferocious, beaded with sweat as he fought with all his might, and those lean muscles, a safe haven that housed her late in the night, were taut and ready to injure, to maim, to kill. He was precise and sure of foot, damn near graceful in fact. And he was hers.
Unconsciously, a sensual smirk kissed Tonks' lips. Watching Remus Lupin duel had always been a sure way to get her hot and wet. After the congregation was dismissed, she would see if her mother would mind picking Teddy up from the daycare and watching him for the night. Though her husband was clearly losing to Amelia Bones' superior skill, she felt he deserved a bit of a reward for putting up such a good fight.
Later that night, when they were both alone with one another and at peace, Remus would ask her what it was for.
And she'd say, "Just for being you."
Match 4 – A. Bones VS A. Moody
Fleur Delacour was bored senseless. Once the duels had been limited to being fought one at a time, there'd been little for her to do. Most of her time had so far been spent dodging attempts to speak with her by the younger male medis. One Dennis Creevey was particularly persistent. The other women (Spiteful bitches, the lot of them.) merely watched on in amusement, sneering and jeering and snickering at the spectacle. Thankfully, Andromeda Tonks took pity on her plight and rescued her from the dumb hounds hot on her tail (Ha! In more ways than one.) and engaged her in conversation instead.
The words they exchanged were meaningless, of this they were both well aware. Nevertheless, it killed the time, and so they persisted. By the time the final duel came around, however, they were fishing for fresh topics, having run out some minutes before. But then the duel began, and by Merlin! was it vicious. Fleur shrugged slightly to herself as she turned to her interlocutor and asked, "Who you think will win this duel? They are both quite fierce and have plenty of experience."
Andromeda nodded, seemingly thankful for a break in their awkward silence. "Yes, and their skill is unparallelled by many of the other generals. Bones was Mad-Eye's first pupil and thus far is his greatest. The fight will surely be close, however, I think Moody's magical eye will give him the advantage he needs."
"True," Fleur agreed. "Though it is impressive how well Amelia Bones must know him to be able to push him so far. Abe and Professor Flitwick were the only other duelists to land a hit on him, and those were minor at that."
At this, Andromeda gave a thoughtful hum. "You're right. They must be good friends, though I've never noticed them together before."
"Oh?" laughed Fleur. "And how often do you see them when they're conscious?"
Her companion sucked her teeth and aimed a swat at her arm of which she artfully danced out of the way. Andromeda made a face. "You know what I—"
The sentence ended on a choked sound, and Fleur's smile faded as she saw the look on the older woman's face. She turned to face the sight of the duel just in time to see Alastor Moody collapse to the ground, a small hole clearly through the left side of his chest. Amelia Bones was covered in his blood, face fixed in shock and dawning horror. The air between them was still colored with the red mist.
And all was silence.
But then Fleur's heart gave a beat that could be heard around the world, and all hell broke loose.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series belongs to one J.K. Rowling. Cover image is "Wasteland" by atomhawk on Deviant Art. I make no profit from this.
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