A/N – Okay, so I've never done anything like this before, so please review, any criticism (constructive) is appreciated. This will be a one-shot, sort of prologue to a longer story that I kinda have planned in my head, depending on how this one goes.
As much as I wish, I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters, locations, fantastic beasts etc, I'm merely moulding them to my own imagination, for my own (and hopefully your) entertainment.
Cheers! Oh and a pre warning for naughty language and violence.
Harry Potter and the drunken duel
It was the two year anniversary of the end the war. Two years since I finally killed that evil bastard, Tom Riddle. Two years since I was free to do as I pleased. Free my arse. A week after the war, I was straight under the ministry's thumb, thrown into auror training before I could so much as say "Expelliamus".
So, here I am, in the last place you'd expect to find the assistant head of the auror department, The Crooked Wand. A seedy little bar down Knockturn Alley. Ordering another of Ogden's finest firewhiskey, I take a minute to check my surroundings out for the first time properly. The paint is flaking, the tables and stools look like they've been on the receiving end of one too many reparos and the floor is so sticky, it's harder than walking through one of Weasley's portable swamps. Quite frankly, it's a fucking dive, only fit for the group of werewolves and other riff raff gathered round a large table having a heated debate about vampire clans.
Why am I here? It's the only place free of the lively, and frankly over the top celebrations in aid of the two year anniversary. Luckily the group at the table on the other side of the bar haven't noticed me yet, no doubt they'd have something to say about such an 'upstanding member of society' being here. Arseholes.
I drain my glass and my throat burns. "Potter, take it easy will you, I don't wanna have to carry you out of here like I did that bar in Columbia last year." I look up signal to my tumbler for another "Shut up Dean and fill my glass, infact, just give me the bottle, I know my limits". Dean Thomas, is actually a fellow auror in the intelligence corps. The Wizarding equivalent of MI-6. Of course no one knows this, that would defeat the object. Auror Thomas often gets planted in seedy, dark bars around the world, gathering intelligence, for aurors to act on. It's down to him we caught the remaining known death eaters. "Well, it was thanks to me in Columbia that you didn't get your arse kicked by a lot of pissed up trannies". I lightly chuckle at the memory and find I have no come-back so settle for the age old favourite of the middle finger and a quick "Fuck-off". I was celebrating the capture of Rabastan Lestrange, he was actually a walk over. Having said that, who isn't after taking down darkest dark lord in history.
Lighting a cigarette, I pour myself my 8th glass, the volume at the table with the werewolves is rising, and a particularly grizzly one calls out "Oi you! Billy-no-mates!" I turn my head, "Well, well, well, if it isn't big bad Auror Potter, what brings you to this shit-hole? Thought you'd be basking in your glory, or getting a blow job off one of your groupies. Especially seeing as your little red-head bitch ran off with Krum" Ouch, that was a low blow. "I hear they're unveiling your statue at the ministry. You'll get knocked off your perch one day, you realise that don't you? You pompous prick". I've heard enough, I rise off my stool, cigarette still hanging out my mouth and flick my wand out of its holster on my fore arm. "Is that a threat werewolf?" I growl out, sounding almost wolfish myself. "Because I am not in the mood tonight". Dean looks concerned, he know the destruction I can cause when pushed, and knows, the last thing I need, is another investigation against my self for 'unnessecary' force, "Easy mate…" I ignore him. The werewolf draws his own wand, standing to his full height, quite an intimidating sight to most, not to me, after all, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. "I don't make threats, I don't waste them on scum like you", 'good' I think to myself, I need to get rid of some of this aggression, and this prick is just ideal.
We begin circling each other, checking for any weaknesses, he's good, a good solid stance, smooth footwork, the alcohol clearly hasn't dulled him too much. He's good, but I know I'm better. Waiting for him to make the first move so I can claim self defence, I continue circling, keeping half an eye on the rest of the group, but they look relaxed, clearly confident in their friend's ability. "What's your name werewolf, you know mine it's only fair" besides, I like to know who I'm beating. "Greyback, Fenrir Greyback the second. Just so you know who you're begging to when I put you on your arse, auror scum." Ah, Greyback, not a death eater, but a horrible bastard none the less, and son of one of Voldecock's enforcers, this is going to be fun.
All of a sudden, Greyback launches a lighting fast spell chain of bone breakers, cutters and even a decapitation curse. But he's not fast enough, I spin, duck and flip out of the way of them all, and he continues with the onslaught, not even getting close. There's a break in the stream of spells after only 2 minutes, poor stamina. "tut tut, worn yourself out already, even your father lasted longer than that" I taunt him wanting him to start throwing unforgivables around, that's when I really open up, people get careless with those, they make the caster feel invincible so their defences slip. He doesn't disappoint. With a howl, he moves into action again "Crucio, crucio, crucio, crucio, crucio". Once again I dance around all of them, only this time I fire spells off myself, A basic spell chain, "Expelliarmus, rictusempra, stupefy, incarcerus". It's over already, that was almost too easy. I banish him out of the door like the garbage he is. "You lot" I say pointing at the table. "Go after him, tell him, to train, and come back to me when he's better than a third year hufflepuff. That is of course, unless any of you want to try your luck?" I give them my most menacing stare, making my eyes glow, and hair fly around in a non-existent wind, magic pouring off me in waves. As they leave, a hooded figure in the corner starts clapping. How didn't I see him? "Mr Potter, I haven't seen speed like that for the longest time, not since the days of Albus Dumbledore in his youth. You know, you remind me of him when he was younger." I level my wand at his head, "You have 5 seconds to tell me who the fuck you are before I blow you through that wall". The man lowers his hood, and I'm presented with an impossibly old face, "Many apologies Mr Potter, my name is Rupert, Rupert Underhill. You young sir, are exactly what I'm looking for." I'm stunned, what am I supposed to say to that, I haven't been speechless for a long time. "Wh-What do you want?" The man, Rupert, grins. "Simple Mr Potter, I want you. Here's what it is, I'm a trainer, a dueling trainer to be precise. I trained Dumbledore on the world circuit, and you are exactly what I'm looking for. I want you to compete in The World Dueling Championships, next year, with me as your trainer. I believe that together, we could go all the way"….
To be continued (maybe)
Okay, well thanks for reading, like I said, it's my first one ever, and just something that's been in my head and wanted to get down, tell me if you think I should carry on. I'm not convinced with the first person format, so if I did, it would probably be in third person. I also promise, if I do carry on, a lot more action and more detail. Cheers!