AN: I"M SO SORRY!!! I have all the way up to chapter 13 written, but I'm writing on a computer with no internet, so I always forget to post. A new chapter should be up

Harry Potter

The Founders Four

Chapter Nine: Wizard's Duel

Harry stepped off the transportation stones and into the training room proper, rolling his head and stretching his arms. The Training Room, as they called it, was really much more than merely a room for keeping fit. The colors of the four Houses each adorned a separate wall of the big, square central room. Each wall had a large recessed area with a personal penseive, a large desk and specialized work station tailored to the abilities and Masteries of each Founder. Godric's nook had curtains to darken it for crystal gazing. Helga's niche was lined in shelves filled with Healer's instruments, as Rowena's shelves were filled with rare texts and ancient scrolls. Salazar's alcove included a full potions lab. There were also two ornately carved oak doors set in each wall, one on either side of the work space. The first door on the Ravenclaw wall led to a large common room with plush couches and a stone fireplace; the second hid a long passage that led to a password portrait in the school's library. Across from these, behind the doors on the Hufflepuff wall, there was a small scale hospital ward and a sunny greenhouse. The western Gryffindor wall held a door to the stone staircase leading to the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw private quarters, as well as a war room with maps of Hogwarts, England and Europe. Another staircase down to the Chamber of Secrets was hidden by a door on the Slytherin wall, and a large room with a sort of two way mirror that could be used to observe any part of the castle or the grounds. There was a heavily warded dueling stage in the center of the main hall, and in a corner, stairs led up to a dining room and a full roman bath.

Harry smiled as he looked around. The heavy, constant use of magic in the upper floors had preserved all the furniture and décor, and not a single thing was missing from its place. Ron glanced up from his work table with a grin, looking peculiar with blood and bile up to his elbows.

"Looking a bit Christmas-y, are we?" he inquired, turning back to the bloody mass on his table. Harry looked down at himself, frowning, but grinned when he saw what Ron meant.

"It's not my fault I haven't had time to tailor all my old clothes to this new body, you know," protested Harry in a mock-hurt voice, drawing his green dressing gown tighter around him over his red and gold Gryffindor House pajamas. He walked across the room and peered calculatingly into the mess that Ron was all but swimming in. "Bird entrails?"

"Yup," muttered Ron distractedly, digging deeper into his intestines.

Harry leaned in closer, wrinkling his nose. He lifted a single coil of the bowel in his fingers, rubbing it slightly. "Some kind of parrot?"

"Sulfur Crested Cockatoos, actually. Three of them," said Ron, squinting closely at about three centimeters worth of innards. "Huh. Gonna have lightning tomorrow. Good Quidditch weather next week though." And with that he dove, headfirst, into his pile of cockatoo guts.

"Ah, Ron?" asked Harry, a little concernedly, watching what he supposed was Ron squirming around with the entrails. "Where'd you get three Sulfur Crested Cockatoos?"

"Summoned 'em," said Ron, his voice muffled.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "You do realize that the London Zoo will probably report three missing cockatoos tomorrow, right?"

The pile of bowels made a noncommittal noise. Harry sighed again. "Well did you at least remember to save me the central nervous system this time?"

"Damnit!"

Harry tsked in annoyance and looked around, noticing the conspicuous lack of fur and feathers. "Geiror?" he asked.

"Sleeping, the lazy oaf," grunted the vitals. "Although, according to this, he's about to be woken up by Raethiel in about five minutes."

Harry laughed. "What are you looking for anyway?"

"Differences between this universe and ours."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "In bird guts?"

"Sure. Not very many people bother with them anymore, animal rights activists and all that, but they really are one of the more accur—Aha!" Ron pulled out of the pile, a tiny piece of innard clasped firmly between two fingers, his red hair matted down and slimy. He peered at it, squinting, but shook his head. "Damn. Figgy pudding tonight. I hate figgy pudding."

Harry grinned. "You could just look in the library, you know."

Godric looked at him. Not Ron, Godric. And it was the look, too. "Sans-sanity Salazar," he said, as he shook his head, using one of his numerous old nicknames. "Why in Magic would I look in the library when I've got research-riveted Rowena to do it for me?" Ron grinned suddenly. "You're absolutely brilliant, Harry," he crowed, vanishing the innards with a wave of his wand and coming out from behind his table to the main floor of the training room. "And for that, I'll have to punish you."

Harry sent a silent 'Scourgify!' at Ron with a flick of his wand, and Ron glared at him, mounting the steps of the sparring platform. Harry grinned and followed. He really did enjoy Ron's idea of punishment.

Ron swept his wand up in a salute so that its tip hovered directly between his eyes. "Harry James Potter," he intoned in an extraordinarily formal voice. "I hereby challenge you to a Wizard's Duel, sir."

Harry smirked and mirrored Ron's stance. "Ronald Bilius Weasley," he said, equally ceremonial. "I accept your challenge."

Together in perfect unison, they snapped their wands down to their sides. "As the challenger, I reserve my right to name my terms," said Ron, playfulness gone from his voice now. "Standard magic, allowed. Divination, allowed. Discernment, allowed. Parselmagic, allowed. Gobledecharms, allowed. Dark Magic, or Veiled Arts—" Ron stared hard at Harry "—not allowed."

Harry inclined his head slightly, revealing nothing. He knew exactly what Ron was up to, and it didn't surprise him in the slightest. Both Ron and Godric before him had been dead set against Harry's and Salazar's easy use of the Dark, or Veiled, Arts. "I accept your terms," Harry said solemnly, and inwardly smirked when Ron failed in hiding his surprise.

"As the challenged, I reserve my right to name my weapons," said Harry, grinning outright now. He left a long pause, and Ron just stared at him, expectant. Harry took pity on him.

"Both wands."

Ron let a small telepathic +Brilliant!+ escape, but his expression remained neutral save for a slight quirk in one corner of his mouth. He lithely sprang into his assault stance; body turned perpendicular to his opponent, but face turned toward, Redwood wand in the right had pointed downward on the left side of the face, arm bent over the top of the head, and Willow wand in the left hand pointing upward from below the chin on the right side of the face. "I accept your weapons. Shall we duel?"

Harry cocked a single eyebrow. "Gladly," he said, and assumed his starting position; feet spread at shoulder width, wrists crossed tight over the chest, the tips of his equal-length Holly and Ash wands directly at eye level, framing his face.

"Men," came Ginny's carrying whisper. Harry glanced her way, and noted appreciatively that she had managed to find time to tailor her old nightclothes to her new body. "Going through with a full out Wizard's Duel at five thirty in the morning. And wearing Quidditch slippers, both of them! They're mental!"

"Pajamas and duels. So completely typical," agreed Hermione, much louder, stepping into the room from the door in Godric's wall, drawing her wands from within her clingy nightdress. "The least they could do is make it a four-way?" She raised her eyebrows at the last, sending the question to Ron. Ron, who had been staring rather dumbstruck at Hermione's outfit, grinned, and nodded.

"Terms modified," he said, watching as Hermione mounted the stage and jumped into combat attitude; lunged forward on her left leg, Mahogany and Maple wands crossed above her head. "Save the Dark or Veiled Arts, all branches of magic are allowed."

Ginny flicked out her wands and assumed her customary battle posture; weight supported on the back leg, leaning away from the fight, right hand holding her Birch wand like a quill, wrist flexed backwards to allow full use of her Healer's Runes, while her left hand held the more powerful Ebony wand arced over her head like a scorpion's sting.

"Let's Duel."