CHAPTER 12:

CURBSTOMPING MALFOY, COMFORTING MYRTLE

Dumbledore had asked Harry to reconsider. Snape had asked Draco the same thing. Harry said he would reconsider if Draco did, and Draco, filled with confidence that his wandwork would beat those stupid little baubles, refused. Harry didn't fail to notice the wince on Snape's face when Draco refused to back down. For all his snideness and acid tongue, Snape had better Slytherin qualities than Draco: at least he could be subtle when he put his mind to it. Whereas Draco had all the subtlety of a Behemoth charging at its prey.

Dumbledore, when he saw neither would back down, reluctantly appointed Flitwick as an adjudicator. Harry was relieved. With Dumbledore or McGonagall adjudicating, Draco or Snape would claim favouritism, and Harry knew that Snape would favour Draco, despite his promise to protect Harry. Part of the Great Hall was transfigured into a duelling ring.

Harry followed the forms, and bowed. Draco did so. Neither had any sincere respect for their opponent, but the forms should be followed regardless.

But why had Draco challenged Harry to a duel in the first place? Harry considered it, and remembered what Draco had said. Tonight. He had probably just attempted to get Harry to break curfew, and fall into a trap.

Nice try, Harry thought. Maybe Draco has some small Slytherin cunning after all.

He briefly considered using wandless magic. Sirius had taught him to use Expelliarmus without a wand after all. But that would be a last resort. No, he wanted to show Draco the power of Materia.

Flitwick stood between them. Gone was the cheerful Charms teacher. Harry had heard that the diminutive man was a famous duellist in his youth, which was probably why he was chosen to referee. The small man in front of them was now deadly serious. "Now, remember the rules. On the count of three, you cast your spells, and not a moment sooner. Nothing lethal or seriously damaging to the opponent. No physical contact either. The duel ends when one of you is completely incapacitated, or forfeits."

With that, Flitwick withdrew, and counted to three. The instant the count finished, Malfoy fired a spell at Harry. "Tarantagella!" he yelled.

Harry leapt to the side, before touching the Enemy Skills Materia. He had a variety of spells to choose from, but if he wanted to make sure Malfoy was defeated without being harmed, there was only really one he could use. "Frog Song," he said.

Malfoy had enough time to yelp, "What?!" before he suddenly shrunk, becoming a frog with a startled expression on its face.

"Magic Hammer," Harry said, and a giant mallet seemed to appear above Malfoy, before whacking him on the head. Amazingly, he didn't seem to be harmed. As Harry repeated it, Flitwick asked Harry what he had used.

"Frog Song is a special Transfiguration spell with the results you see there," Harry said. "It's easily reversible: I just have to use the same spell again. But he can't use magic, unless he knows a similar spell to reverse the effects, and his physical attack power is down. Magic Hammer doesn't harm the one hit by it physically, but their magical reserves are depleted. You said no spells with any lethal or truly harmful effects. Magic Hammer," he concluded, whacking Malfoy again over the head with the mallet.

The frog glared at Harry, and tried to wave his wand, only for nothing to happen, beyond a croak that was presumably meant to be a spell incantation.

Harry turned to Flitwick. "He's unable to continue, Professor. Frog transformations do wear off over time, but it will be some time before it does. I can reverse the transformation, but I'm not doing so until the duel is over."

Flitwick frowned, before turning to the High Table and the teachers. Harry noticed that Snape had a sour expression on him, but nodded. "Then I declare Draco Malfoy to be incapable of continuing. The winner is Harry Gainsborough!"

Harry winced at the applause. As much as he wanted to bring Malfoy down a peg or two (and doing so publicly), the plaudits were another matter entirely. He heard some boos from the Slytherin table, but they were drowned out by the applause. He touched the Enemy Skills Materia again, and said, "Frog Song." Standing there, looking startled, was Draco.

Harry, observing the forms, went over to shake his hand. But Draco merely sneered. Harry, suddenly feeling not anger or hatred, but a sheer tiredness, turned and began walking back to the Gryffindor table, the duelling ring transforming back.

"Serpensortia!" Draco suddenly yelled(1). Behind him, he heard a bang, and a hissing. He wheeled to find a massive snake slithering at him. And judging by those fangs it was baring at him, it was lethally poisonous.

He knew that he could, potentially, use Parseltongue to command it. But of course, that would not end well. Instead, he touched the Enemy Skills Materia, and yelled "Beta!(2)"

The snake seemed to be consumed by a nuclear explosion in miniature, crumbling to ashes in the blood-red mushroom cloud. Harry then glared at Draco, before shaking his head and returning to his seat, putting his head in his hands as the applause erupted once more. It got to be too much, and he left his seat almost as soon as he had sat on it, and strode out of the Great Hall, ignoring the voices crying out his name.

When he was a little over a year old, Harry, or rather whatever protections his mother placed on him, had saved his life, and defeated Voldemort. For that, he had become famous. Harry Potter became known as the Boy Who Lived.

When he was ten, he saved an entire world from the predations of Sephiroth. He had helped reform both Jenova and the Shinra Corporation. While not as prominent as Aerith or Cloud or Rufus or Barrett or many others, still Harry Gainsborough was famous.

And what had Harry just done? What had he just gained unwanted plaudits for? Putting an eleven-year old punk in his place. He already had unwanted fame for things he didn't do and did do. And now, he had gotten applauded for beating Draco Malfoy.

Okay, he had taken the boy by surprise, but Draco was nothing, really. The main danger of Draco Malfoy was his lack of scruples, and his similarly principled father. Rufus, for all his snideness and cruelty, could at least hold his own. Harry knew that Rufus could probably kick his arse in a straight battle, especially where Materia wasn't involved. Even with the wandless magic Sirius trained him in, Rufus was a more seasoned fighter, and more willing to finish things. Whereas Draco…

Harry needed somewhere to sort himself out. And when he saw a bathroom with an 'Out of Order' sign, he ducked inside. It might be a girl's bathroom, but if it had an 'Out of Order' sign, he doubted anyone would be using it in the next little while. Not with the water leaking from underneath the door.

Harry wasn't yet versed with much of Hogwarts lore. Otherwise, he might have been wary of entering this bathroom.

It was rather gloomy and depressing, rather like Harry's mood. A bit too damp, but frankly, he wasn't really caring about that.

He had barely started to mope about things when he heard a shriek. He wheeled to find a girl in Hogwarts robes, rather glum-looking, with dark hair and glasses, staring at him. She was also definitely a ghost, being pale and transparent. "What are you doing here?!" she yelped. "This is a girls' bathroom!"

"But I thought it was out of order! I just…I just needed somewhere to think," Harry said.

"So do I!" the ghost retorted. "This is my bathroom!"

"Your bathroom?" Harry demanded incredulously. "It's Hogwarts' bathroom!"

"Nobody cares about what I think," the girl wailed. "Nobody cares!"

"Welcome to the real world," Harry muttered sullenly, with perhaps more bitterness than he meant. Then, he realised what he was saying. God, he was sounding like Cloud did at times. Calming himself with an effort, he said, "Sorry, I was…in a bad mood. I needed somewhere to hide, to think. Look…what's your name?"

"Myrtle…Myrtle Warren(3)," the girl said, sniffing, though she seemed amazed that anyone bothered to ask her her name.

"I'm Harry Gainsborough," Harry said. "You might have heard of my original name, Harry Potter?"

Myrtle nodded. "Well, yes. Every ghost in the castle knows. Just as they know me, Moaning Myrtle."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked, though he was now beginning to wonder whether consoling the ghost was a good idea. He wondered what he could say to the girl. Eventually, he asked, "Well, how did you come to haunt this place? How did you die?"

He winced, wondering whether asking how a ghost died was some sort of faux pas. Nearly Headless Nick had willingly demonstrated how he had died at the Welcoming Feast, from a botched execution involving an axe, but Harry didn't know whether it would be rude to ask any of the others. However, Myrtle lost her glum expression, which was replaced with a kind of morbid glee.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with a grin, clearly relishing telling the story of her death. Probably few people asked her. "It happened right in here." She floated over to a cubicle and pointed to it. "I remember it so well. Olive Hornby had been teasing me about my glasses, so I was hiding in here. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then, I heard someone come in. They said something funny, like it was in another language, all hissing and things. But it sounded like a boy, so I opened the door, about to give him a piece of my mind…and then, I died."

Harry frowned. "How?"

"No idea," Myrtle said with a shrug. "I do remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of just seized up, and then I was floating away…" Myrtle then gave a malicious grin. "But then, I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. I wanted to make her sorry she laughed at my glasses."

"And now you haunt a bathroom?" Harry asked.

"Mostly. I sometimes leave it. Sir Nicholas invites me to his Deathday parties sometimes," she said. "I can't leave Hogwarts or its grounds anymore, though. I haunted Olive Hornby all the way to her wedding…and, well, the Ministry stepped in.(4)" She got a profoundly sulky look on her face at that.

"Could be worse," Harry said, remembering the time when he was living at the Dursleys, when he was forced to remain in the cupboard for up to days at a time.

"What could be worse than being dead?" Myrtle demanded.

"Well, at least you're a ghost. At least you can speak with people," Harry said. "Besides, I've heard tales of Azkaban and the Dementors."

Myrtle shivered. "You have a point there. I wouldn't want to meet a Dementor, would you?"

Harry shook his head. Leaving aside the horror stories that Sirius had told him about Azkaban, the fact that a Dementor could consume someone's soul was even worse. Okay, Jenova could do the same thing, if what she did to the horcruxes was any indication, but she at least was not the monster she used to be. Whereas the Dementors…only the Ministry had any semblance of control over them. You either blasted them with a Patronus, or else ran like hell away from them.

Actually, that was one thing he needed to practise with Sirius, or perhaps he could ask Dumbledore, or even Snape to help him in that regard. A Patronus was useful for things other than a counter-measure against a Dementor. You could use them to send messages if necessary in an emergency.

Harry looked at Myrtle. "You know, Aerith, my big sister, said she was thinking of going to the Deathday this year, and taking me and the others. Maybe I might see you there."

"Well, you're always welcome back here," she said. "You seem nicer than most."

"Uhh, thanks. See you later, Myrtle," he said. But as he walked out of the bathroom, he had to wonder…when Myrtle said something about hearing hissing, why did that sound so eerily familiar?

He was on the way back to Gryffindor Tower when he ran into someone he wasn't sure whether he wanted to deal with. Snape was striding down the corridor towards him, his robes sweeping out like bat wings. "Gainsborough!" he called out. It was hard to tell whether he was angry, but the commanding tone was there, and Harry didn't want to get into any more trouble than he was in already.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" Harry asked, as Snape bore down upon him.

Snape, in response, opened a nearby door, to an empty classroom, and gestured curtly for Harry to enter. Harry did so with no protest, dreading what would happen if he did, but dreading Snape's response if he defied him.

"Sit!" Snape snapped curtly, indicating a chair behind one of the desks. Harry did so. Snape stood over him, looking down at Harry with his pitiless, dark eyes.

Eventually, Harry, unable to stand the silence anymore, said, "Sir, if this is about Draco…"

"Of course it is about Draco, Potter…Gainsborough," Snape corrected himself with a grimace. He visibly calmed himself with some breaths. Eventually, he said, "That spectacle…that farce…that was very dangerous, Gainsborough."

"How so, sir?" Harry asked. Not with any arrogance, but with genuine curiosity.

"Use your brain, Gainsborough! I know you have one, aside from rote learning!" Snape hissed. "You managed to turn Malfoy's ploy against him! But in doing so, you may have made an even greater blunder!" He reached forward, and grabbed Harry's sleeve, exposing the bangle with the Materia embedded in it. "Giving you these may give you protection, Gainsborough, but they are also a double-edged sword. Such Transfiguration as you did with the Frog Song spell is advanced. I would go so far to say that it would impress a NEWT examiner! And that Magic Hammer spell…not to mention Beta, that powerful fire spell. These are too advanced spells for a child to have in his possession."

"Are you saying that I shouldn't have them, sir?"

"That is not the point I am trying to make, Gainsborough! Five points from Gryffindor, and I will take more off if you interject again," Snape snarled. "The point I am making, Gainsborough, is that most, if not all of the school saw you not only defeat and humiliate Draco Malfoy, the son of one of the richest and influential men in this country, but you used unusual magic, based on unheard-of magic foci. No doubt many of them are licking their chops, coveting the Materia already."

Harry's eyes widened. In other words, someone might consider stealing them! And of course, there was Malfoy's father to consider.

"I see you understand the gravity of the situation at last. And I will admit, you handled Draco better than your father would have," Snape conceded, his voice becoming less harsh. "But you have also exposed abilities that will have people whispering about you. The only way it could have been worse is if you spoke to that snake in Parseltongue. Your fame was already at Olympian heights even before that duel."

Harry looked down at the floor, before saying, quietly, "I hate it. The fame, I mean. You said in the first Potions lesson, 'fame isn't everything'. And you're right. I know that. I've known it for a long time. But they don't. They're going to think I'm either the next Voldemort, or the next Dumbledore. I've beaten worse than Voldemort myself, but…fighting Sephiroth…I wouldn't wish that on anyone. That's why I left the Great Hall, Professor. I just didn't want to hear the applause any more. All I did was defeat Draco Malfoy. He isn't a dark lord, or a would-be god. He's just a spoiled brat with a rich father." He sighed. "How do I get them to see me for being me? Not the Boy Who Lived, but…me?"

"I am the wrong person to ask, Gainsborough," Snape said quietly. "I have not had to deal with fame. However, I am glad of it. I am not one who enjoys attention."

"But haven't you ever wanted to be acknowledged for your own achievements?" Harry asked.

Snape was silent, at least briefly, before he said, "Acknowledgement is one thing, fame is another. But I understand what you mean. But also remember to rein in your impulses. You may hate Slytherin, but you could take a lesson from a Slytherin: never reveal everything that you are capable of. Always have something to surprise your enemies."

"I don't hate Slytherin," Harry said quietly, and noting Snape raising an eyebrow at that. "I just hate the blood-purists. But thank you for the advice. May I go now, sir?"

Snape nodded. "Just remember what I said, Gainsborough. And keep an eye on your Materia."

As Harry made for the door, he stopped, and turned to Snape. "You do know…my mother bitterly regretted that day? The day your friendship broke?"

Snape was impassive at first, and Harry wondered whether he had made a mistake. But Snape finally inclined his head. "Minerva allowed me to speak with her," he said quietly.

That was all that needed to be said between the two. Harry left the room. And soon, Snape followed, knowing that things were going to heat up very soon. And it wasn't just because of Malfoy. After all, there was a certain rat to deal with…

CHAPTER 12 ANNOTATIONS:

Well, Malfoy just got his arse handed to him by Harry. The meeting with Myrtle wasn't planned, but as I had Harry leaving the Great Hall so that he could get away from the applause, I thought of him trying to find somewhere isolated to think, and had this notion that he meets Myrtle. A bit contrived, but yeah. I also thought that Snape lecturing Harry about the consequences of his actions was a good idea. This Snape is evolving into a better character, slowly but surely.

In case you're wondering why Harry's being so emo after beating Malfoy, well, think about it. He accepted Malfoy's challenge on the spur of the moment, but twisted it around. But not only did he beat him easily, but Harry knew it would piss him off even further. The applause he got also told him his star was rising again, and Harry is allergic to his fame, particularly that in Magical Britain.

By the way, a lot of Myrtle's discussion of her death is transcribed from The Chamber of Secrets.

1. In The Chamber of Secrets, it's vaguely implied in the book that Snape was teaching Malfoy to use that spell just before his second bout with Harry. However, I think it's more likely that Snape taught Draco that as part of his privately tutoring his godson in the Dark Arts, and was just telling Malfoy to use it against Harry. Here, Malfoy uses it on an impulse rather than with Snape suggesting he do so.

2. I decided to have Harry use Beta against the summoned snake as a bit of irony: you learn Beta from the Midgar Zolom, a big frigging snake.

3. I used Myrtle's surname, as divulged by JK Rowling (according to the Harry Potter Wiki). I've heard other surnames, like de Winter and Hart.

4. I don't know whether this is canonical, but I have read it in at least one fanfic, and I liked that concept enough that I used it.

CHAPTER 12 SOUNDTRACK:

Curbstomp Battle: Battle Theme, from Final Fantasy VI, composed by Nobuo Uematsu

Myrtle's Theme: Forever Rachel, from Final Fantasy VI, composed by Nobuo Uematsu