Disclaimer: characters and settings still belong to JKR.

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Chapter 75: The Duel

He re-emerged a little late for the promised lesson with Dumbledore and Flitwick. He went straight to Dumbledore's office. Flitwick was already there talking to Dumbledore. A large, juicy-looking green apple was centred on Dumbledore's desk, acting as a paperweight. Harry had the feeling he'd interrupted a rather intense discussion – several books were being levitated back onto the shelves as he came in – and expected it had something to do with their planned attack on Voldemort.

"Do you know anything about the bell by the gates?" Flitwick said without preamble.

"Er… you mean the one Tonks was going to set up?" Harry asked. "Draco said you only need to touch the clapper to alert an Auror."

"Yes. Which side of the gates was she going to put it on?"

"I don't know. What's the difference?"

"The difference is that when one is travelling at speed on an animal not completely under one's control, it is tiresome to have to go back and look for a bell when you have Death Eaters watching out for you," Dumbledore explained.

"Oh. Best ask Draco, I guess. But it's not a certainty that the bell is going to be there." Although he and Draco were hoping it would be – if they could 'ring' the silent bell on their way through they would have the extra help they so sorely needed. Of course, it was more likely Dumbledore and Flitwick would be going, Harry reminded himself. Simon would be co-operative: he liked those two. It wasn't like Remus was going to ride him or anything. "By the way, how is the potion going?"

"Ah, well, the good Mr Elmsworthy has set up a mechanism for succussion, which is proceeding with satisfying rapidity," Dumbledore said, clearly pleased with at least one aspect of the project. "Miss Granger is keeping an eye on things at the moment, and we will set up a rotation to watch for the change. It should be finished later this evening."

"That soon?" Harry could hardly believe it. "I guess I'm so used to things being last minute," he explained when they asked why he was so surprised.

"No, that would be your homework," Flitwick remarked, smiling.

"Only when Hermione's too busy to tell me all the answers you want," Harry said candidly, making the professors laugh. Ron would have said it was funny because it was true. "Do you want me to take a turn?"

"Frankly, Harry, I want you to concentrate on helping myself and Filius with our riding," Dumbledore told him. "Simon is the key to all of this. Even if we cannot kill Voldemort tomorrow night it is vital we alert Hogsmeade to its danger."

Harry nodded, sensing Dumbledore's underlying message: don't try anything foolish, Harry. Lives depend on this.

Harry would not risk them. But he wouldn't let Dumbledore risk them, either – and Harry realised with an odd lightening of the invisible burden which seemed more and more intrinsic to his life that the final decision would be Simon's. Only the horse could determine who would ride it through the barrier tomorrow night.

How odd that this should come as a relief, he reflected.

"Are we waiting for Draco?"

"As a matter of fact we were waiting for you." Dumbledore smiled. "Young Mr Malfoy is already up at the paddock – there." He gestured out the window and Harry could see the small figure with unmistakable blond hair walking up the hill towards the little stable at the top. "He agreed to go ahead and, as he put it, 'tack up Simon'. We trust no actual nails will be involved in the process."

Harry made a mental note to check Simon's shoes today. Silver wasn't as hard-wearing as iron. "No, he just means he's going to put the saddle and bridle on him. On Simon, that is."

"Excellent. Although I hardly think telling his father Draco is coming along nicely as an ostler would help our cause."

"Oh, I don't know…" It would be worth it, thought Harry, just to see the look on Lucius' face. "Maybe we could have Dobby tell him."

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Draco met them up at the paddock with a shrug and a frown.

"I can't catch him," he complained.

Harry had a momentary frisson of horror, picturing Simon floating away over the mountains, through the barrier, ending up in Scandinavia or Canada, depending on the wind.

But no – there was Simon, in the shadow of the little barn on top of Squirrel Hill, solid and earthbound.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Draco gave him a dirty look. "You try," he said, folding his arms.

Harry sighed, shook his head, and trudged up the hill. He whistled for the horse.

There was no encouraging whinny, although Simon did lift his head for a moment to establish that it was Harry and not some other person. Unfortunately, even this fact didn't appear to put him in a friendlier mood.

"Simon? Hey, boy. What's wrong?"

Simon, of course, did not answer. Not in English. But the shift of the hindquarters in Harry's direction followed by a stamp of a back foot was a clear message in Equine: Come any closer and I'll kick you.

Harry paused.

He hadn't seen this side of Simon in a long time (well, figuratively speaking, because he'd just brushed the horse's backside this morning). "Simon?"

"What's wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore called out. He and Flitwick had come from the castle with Harry but decided to wait at the bottom of the hill. Flitwick had said something about how if he'd meant to be a mountain climber he'd have asked McGonagall to transfigure him longer legs.

"I don't know, sir," Harry called back. "He's – I don't know. He's in some sort of bad mood."

Draco was walking up the hill, making his way zig-zag fashion up to Harry and Simon. He appeared to have his attention on Harry. "You see what I mean, Harry?" he was saying as soon as he came level with them. "He was like that for me, too. Keep trying to get his attention, will you?"

"Huh? Er… Simon? Hello, Simon… Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. Come on Simon, there's a good horse… look, I've got a carrot for you…"

"That's the one, Potter. Just keep talking to him and – there we go."

Slytherins really were quite sneaky, probably even more so by horse standards. It must have been a surprise to Simon as well as Harry when the horse was caught by Draco, who had appeared to be walking towards Harry. But despite (or most likely because of) his apparent indifference to Simon, Draco managed to get close enough to clip the leadrope under Simon's chin as he walked past the horse's shoulder.

Simon put his ears back and Draco caught the leadrope under the horse's chin just in time to stop the horse biting him.

Draco pretended not to have noticed that, either.

"Did you read that one in the book?" Harry asked, mightily impressed and not bothering to hide it.

"No," Draco replied loftily, leading the surly Simon down the hill towards Dumbledore and Flitwick. "From Hagrid."

"Oh. Right." Harry remembered now – that day they'd caught Simon, Hagrid had pretended to ignore the horse as he went about his business checking the unicorns. Good trick, and one Harry should have remembered.

They made it down to the flat, although the horse made an awkward job of it and kept walking crab-wise. That was when Simon made some sort of decision and reared up to his full height.

Harry and Draco scampered back, and Dumbledore and Flitwick, who'd been following at a small distance, made it a larger distance. "Simon!" Harry said, jerking the leadrope. "Down!"

Simon came down, shaking his head unhappily.

Harry and Draco exchanged a glance.

"What's wrong with him?" Draco muttered.

Harry shrugged. He was keeping a tight grip on the leadrope, but the sight of Simon looming over him had been an unnerving one.

"Steady, boy," he said, holding out a hand, ready to jerk it back if Simon snapped.

Simon reared again, trying to turn around, and only Harry's tight hold stopped him from breaking free and galloping off back to his paddock. Harry was jerked forward and pushed himself off Simon's shoulder, using his own momentum to yank on the leadrope and pull Simon's head around, putting the horse off balance and letting Harry regain control.

All that in less than three seconds.

Harry grabbed the leadrope under Simon's chin as the horse tried to bite him. It wasn't one of Simon's nips for being cheeky – this was a serious snap of the teeth.

Harry was breathing hard, and not from only exertion. "Has that potion Luna gave him turned him mental?"

Draco shook his head, but he didn't look convinced.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and, before Simon could react, the horse was blindfolded.

"He was worse when the sun was in his eyes," Dumbledore explained softly. "Please keep your voices down." He flicked his wand again and a silver phoenix shot off towards Hogwarts. "I think we need Madam Pomfrey."

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Poppy Pomfrey arrived swiftly and ran her wand over the still-blindfolded Simon. She sighed and pulled out a dropper bottle. "Let's find out if this works on horses," she said. She held it next to Simon's head and murmured in what sounded like a chant, phrases repeated, although she spoke so softly it was hard to make out exactly what she was saying.

The dark glass bottle glowed blue.

"Ah," she said with satisfaction. "That's a good sign." She squeezed the bulb in the lid then untwisted it, revealing a glass dropper half-full of a thick brown potion."

"Er, what is it?" asked Harry, unwilling to let anyone experiment on Simon again today.

"A simple anti-migraine potion," she said, but her attention was fixed on the horse. "If I put it in his mouth, will he bite the glass? I've never treated a horse before. It's not like that many are enrolled as students…"

"He has a migraine?" Harry asked. "Oh – of course he does."

Draco gave him a look, and Harry explained: "I had a headache earlier. Not a scar-induced one – they've stopped since the barrier went up. But I think it might have been Luna's potion. Simon got the full wallop so he's the one who'd have been the strongest hit by any headaches going around."

"Well, if you had half the headache this horse has right now, I wish you'd come to see me," Pomfrey said sternly. "The poor beast is in agony. That was well thought of, Headmaster, the blindfold. His eyes must be very sensitive to light."

Dumbledore said, "Well, soonest cured, then. I don't think he'll deliberately bite at the dropper. Do you need to insert it between his teeth?"

"The potion requires sub-lingual application. It is absorbed best under the tongue, although if a little gets down his throat it will still help. Cheek membranes will also work, but more slowly."

"How many drops?" Harry asked. Draco was stroking Simon's neck.

"Just shoot all of what's in the dropper into his mouth. The dose doesn't require the greatest accuracy."

"May I?" Harry took the dropper from Pomfrey. Simon twitched his head when Harry tried to put the end of it into the corner of his mouth, but Draco, guessing what Harry was up to, held tight to the cheek pieces of the headcollar and Harry was able to insert the dropper into the corner of the horse's mouth, where there was a gap between incisors and molars – the gap the bit fitted into when Simon was wearing a bridle. Once he guessed he'd poked it far enough he squeezed the rubber bulb, squirting the potion under (Harry hoped) Simon's tongue.

Simon shook his head more strongly, and Draco let go. Still blindfolded, the horse chewed at the air then marked his protest at the strange taste by curling back his upper lip and breathing in strongly. The first time he'd seen it, Harry had thought it was a sign of disgust, but Mr Python's book said it was the way horses pay strong attention to important smells. Harry patted Simon on the neck. "Good boy, Simon. You'll feel better soon."

Madam Pomfrey took out her wand again (what with the blindfold they hadn't bothered telling her Simon was allergic to the sight of them and tended to come out in a violent case of violence). She ran it over his head and down his spine, paying close attention to the muscles holding skull to spine. Blue light spilled down the black hide. "Getting better already," she said with satisfaction, putting her wand back in her apron. She stepped closer to the horse. Harry had never thought her a coward, but he was impressed now when she wrapped her arms around Simon's head in a way only Luna had ever tried, and began massaging around his eyes, working up towards his ears and then down his forehead and around again, not letting the blindfold get in her way. "Sometimes the best remedies are the old ones," she told them. "Look – he's happier already."

Pomfrey wasn't a healer for nothing. Simon's ears, formerly at a very tense angle, a tension Harry identified with from his own dealings with the Dursleys (although Harry didn't have the whole 'mobile ears' thing), twitched as Pomfrey's fingers massaged away some of the knots around them, then the whole horse sagged, leaning into Pomfrey's hold.

Harry and Draco glanced at each other in astonishment. In less than one minute Simon had gone from powder-keg to putty.

He yawned.

"Er," Draco began "I think he's going to –"

"Whoopsy-daisy!" Madam Pomfrey made the mistake of holding onto Simon's head as the horse's knees and hocks trembled, bent and buckled; and as the horse hit the ground, so did she, skirts and layers of starched petticoats billowing up to show a surprisingly pretty pair of white stockings rising out of her sensible shoes. They seemed a world away from her grey hair and wrinkles. As did her current patient from those she usually tended.

Simon's head was lying in her lap. He lifted it for a second, but the blindfold was still firmly in place. Perhaps the horse decided it was night, because down went the head again with a hollow sigh and as far as the onlooker could tell, Simon went to sleep.

The mediwitch looked up helplessly at Dumbledore, even as her fingers continued rubbing around the horse's ears and eyes. "My goodness – now what do I do?"

"He seems to be enjoying that."

"Well, yes," she said softly but acerbically, "but he's rather heavy and I do have other patients, Headmaster. Surely you aren't considering that I stay here for the rest of the afternoon?"

Dumbledore seemed to be considering it, yes. A cloud gathered on Pomfrey's brow, and he said hurriedly, "Of course not, Poppy. How about ten more minutes – how long does it take for the potion to take effect?"

She looked down and made a moue. "It seems to have done so already. Sleep is the best medicine. Is he –? My word – I didn't know horses snore! I suppose with noses like that they don't have a lot of choice in the matter." She patted the nose fondly. Harry was starting to suspect she was rather taken with her latest and most unusual patient.

ooOOoo

They woke Simon. It wasn't really practical to let him sleep with his head in Pomfrey's lap for the afternoon. As she pointed out, there were others back in the Infirmary who were counting on her being back before they suppurated, splinted, screamed or sprouted. He submitted to waking with a heavy sigh of resignation that was almost human. Harry and Draco both pulled on the leadrope and the headcollar to convince him that yes, now really was a good time to be standing up. And when Dumbledore whisked away the blindfold with a wave of his wand (quickly stuffed up his sleeve before Simon could catch sight of it), Simon blinked his dark eyes and yawned again, then dropped his nose to scratch it against a foreleg. The nose stayed down at knee height and there was a soft snore. Simon had gone to sleep standing up.

"I wish I could do that." Pomfrey patted him on the shoulder. "Wakey, wakey, Mr Simon. There we are. All better. But in need of a good rest. Do you have a blanket to put on him?" she said to Harry and Draco. "It's going to get cooler and he wants to go back to sleep – after such a beastly headache his nervous system will be a little bit slow to react to stress, and we don't want him lying down on the cold ground and getting a chill."

"Potter and I'll fix that," Draco assured her. "When will he be all right again?"

"Hmm, he'll probably be fine later this evening after he's had a sleep. Tomorrow morning is the earliest you'll get any work from him though, I expect."

"I'll check on him later this evening."

"After dinner?" Harry asked. "I'll come up, too."

Draco nodded.

"Best see him home now," Dumbledore said heavily. "The riding lesson is postponed until tomorrow morning." For a moment he looked worried.

Harry nodded, not liking seeing Dumbledore upset, especially when Harry and Draco were planning on taking matters into their own hands the minute it looked like Simon wasn't going to let anyone else ride him. "Any time you want, sir," he said. "Well, let's get you back to the paddock," he added to Simon.

Simon yawned. Pomfrey was bold enough to give him a pat on the backside as he went past.

"What a sweet animal," Harry heard her saying to Dumbledore as they parted.

"I guess that means she hasn't seen that he's dribbled half that potion over her skirt," Draco whispered to Harry out of the side of his mouth as they led the sluggish horse home.

ooOOoo

They went up to check on Simon after dinner. Simon was awake and, if not alert and friendly, he was approachable and so wrapped up in himself he didn't bite anyone when Harry and Draco began to disagree over what was, in their opinion, a vital point regarding the fight against Volde- He Who Must Not Be Named.

They carried on the argument all the way back down the hill to the castle, where they shut up about it by mutual consensus.

The argument had become serious. So serious, in fact, that the only thing they could agree on was that they would meet later this evening, up at the paddock, to fight it out. Now that Simon was feeling better, Harry and Draco had something to settle. It was more than the fight against Voldemort now – it was about pride.

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Two hours after dinner, as the clouds faded from red and orange to more tranquil shades of dove grey and lavender and the rest of the castle settled down to finish the last of their assignments in dormitories or the Library, Harry and Draco had returned to Squirrel Hill to battle it out fair and square. There was only one way to settle this: a duel.

In the paddock they stood twenty paces apart facing each other, wands in pockets but fingers flexing as if ready to snatch them out and start flinging curses.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco sneered.

"You wish." Harry considered a moment. "Oh, and I'm a Parselmouth. So if you throw another snake at me I'll tell it to bite you."

Draco snorted. "On the count of three… One – two – three."

"Here, Simon!"

"Simon! Come here, Simon! Good horse, Simon!"

Two hours after dinner, this time with the two boys on their way back to Squirrel Hill, the argument from earlier had restarted almost exactly where it had left off, with Draco saying just as soon as they had walked far enough away from the castle to be out of earshot:

"He likes me best."

"No," Harry snapped back, his blood already beginning to pound in his ears. "He likes Luna best. After that, he prefers me to you. So I'll ride him and you can take the broom."

"Rubbish. He's my horse – he likes me best. So I'll ride him and you can take the broom." But Draco wasn't stupid enough to argue about Luna.

"He came and got me from the Glasshouse."

"Luna sent him. I don't see Luna around right now. And when we were in the Forest when the spider bit me, he came for me."

"He came for us. And maybe because he really hates spiders. So I should be the one who –"

"– Who he doesn't accept as his rider. Right. I can't argue with that," Draco said in the lofty manner which reminded Harry why he'd hated him all these years. "He's already taken me through and he knows I know where I'm going."

"Hah. You took him into a swarm of Dementors. Reckon he'll have forgotten that?"

They had continued bickering all the way up to Squirrel Hill, albeit with superficial good-nature. But Harry didn't fool himself that Malfoy wasn't serious about winning this argument. Just the same as how Harry refused to lose. And now with his opponent facing him down only a score or so metres away Harry was beginning to wonder if maybe he'd underestimated Simon's affection. Because the horse hadn't immediately come trotting towards Harry, as Harry had hoped.

Simon's expression was, if anything, a little puzzled. He could go to Harry. He could very well go to Malfoy. Or he could bugger off and see if Hagrid had left him any hay recently.

Draco was going pink with the intensity of willing an animal's actions without magic. "Good boy, Simon – come here! You're a Slytherin horse – come to me!"

"He's not a bloody – Simon! Come here!" Harry forced himself to sound calm (although if he got angry maybe Simon would come just to give him a nip for bad behaviour – but as strategies went that one needed fine tuning to minimise bruises). "Good horse, come on…"

"Simon – come along, my horse."

"You're not his horse, Simon. Come on, don't give in… yes, that's it, look at me… come on, Simon, best, smartest, handsomest of horses!" Harry exhorted. "If anything you're a Gryffindor horse – if you go to him he'll only continue to slander you. And he'll put Hello Kitty bobbles in your mane."

"Bloody well will not. Go to Potter and he'll ride you over the roof of the castle again. Come on, Simon… Yes, that's it… very good horse!"

Simon had pricked his ears in Draco's direction. Draco beamed.

"Simon… he's evil. He likes Dementors."

"Well, Potter likes werewolves. You remember how he's friends with a werewolf, don't you, Simon? Of course you do – you're an absolutely brilliant horse…"

"Stop talking bollocks, Malfoy. Come on, Simon. Simon! Don't even look at him… Come to me – I'm a much nicer person. And a Gryffindor."

"Good boy, Simon. You know you love me best. Plonker Potter's barely an afterthought in your vastly clever equine brain. You know you're a Slytherin at heart."

Simon's attention was definitely on Draco.

"See – what did I tell you? More slander. Simon! No, don't go to him, he'll just chop you up and serve you as horse dervies. Whore derves. Whatever you eat at parties."

"Hors d'oeuvre, you pleb. You've got excellent breeding, Simon – you know you're my horse, you don't belong to someone three social rungs below you."

Simon swished his tail and began to saunter towards the Slytherin.

"Simon, come on… oh, no, stay away from him… Simon! No! Come back! Si- MALFOY, YOU FUCKING GREAT CHEAT!" howled Harry as he realised that Simon was going towards Draco because Draco had a paper bag in his pocket and was rustling it.

Draco looked defiant. "It's not cheating when you were the one who bought the peppermints in the first place," he said.

Harry stomped over and grabbed Simon's halter before the horse could reach Draco.

"It's cheating, you arsehole!" he shouted. "Ow!"

Then Draco got a nip when he laughed at Harry getting bitten. It was lucky Simon was the arbiter of justice, otherwise the Slytherin might have been wearing his nose on the other side of his head.

As it was, Draco got a far nastier bite when an outraged Simon discovered the bag was empty.

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