lxxiii. dueling club

"A Dueling Club?" Elara muttered as Daphne Greengrass nodded her head. "He can't be serious."

They sat together in Transfiguration, a pile of glossy patterned buttons on the desk before Elara, several tired beetles fleeing the idle motions of Daphne's absentminded wand. "It was officially put on the board this morning in the common room," the blonde girl said. "It's going to be held at the beginning of the month, and apparently Lockhart's got an assistant helping him with actual demonstrations."

Parkinson, seated in front of them, turned in her chair when McGonagall walked away and leaned her elbows on their table. "Are you talking about the Dueling Club?" she asked in an undertone. Again, Daphne nodded. "It's so exciting! Who do you think is going to assist him?"

"Not Professor Slytherin," Daphne said, poking at a beetle. "I heard from Morag MacDougal in Ravenclaw that she heard Mr. Lockhart talking with Professor Slytherin after their lesson on Tuesday, asking if he'd be up for supervising the club—and Slytherin apparently all but threw Mr. Lockhart out of his classroom."

"Can you blame him? Anyone who has to assist the Gilderoy Lockhart is going to be humiliated." Pansy sighed, and Daphne did the same. Elara just stared at the pair.

Not for the first time, Elara wondered if there was something wrong with her—because she felt none of the nervous, twitterpated energy the other girls did when discussing Lockhart. She knew Harriet didn't either, but that was because Harriet was one of the youngest in their year, and far more interested in adventure stories, snakes, and curious bits of magic. Elara was aware of Lockhart in a way Harriet was not, but only in so far as to recognize him as a wizard, a dunce, and a source of constant, gibbering gossip.

It seemed almost every girl near enough to thirteen and above turned into a moon-faced fool whenever Lockhart came up in conversation, and it baffled Elara, who felt very much like the only person at a party who hadn't sipped the spiked punch.

"Miss Parkinson," Professor McGonagall snapped as she paced up the aisle again. "I'm sure you're only discussing the best way to go about turning your beetles into buttons, but turn your attention back to your own desk now."

Pansy grimaced, then wiped her face clean as she sat forward. "Yes, Professor McGonagall."

The professor narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in a thin line as if contemplating a point deduction, but she eventually moved on to the desk behind Elara, where Harriet had managed to turn her beetles in buttons about the size of dinner plates. She quickly tried to fix the problem with a Shrinking Charm. "I saw that, Miss Potter. You should be getting the spell right on the first try, not correcting it with another."

"But what does it matter, professor?" Harriet complained. "So long as the buttons are the right size in the end?"

"Because I would be remiss in my teaching if my students had to supplement all their half-baked Transfiguration attempts with Charms, and in the future you will come across far more complex magic that cannot be hedged in such a fashion. Now—." She flicked her wand, and the buttons turned back into regular-sized beetles. "—try again, Miss Potter, and concentrate."

xXxXx

Classes continued as they always did, and December descended upon the castle with subtle morning frosts and thick storm clouds lingering just beyond the mountains. Soon everyone knew about the Dueling Club, and it was impossible for go anywhere without hearing someone whispering speculation on what they'd encounter. No one knew for certain what kind of talent Lockhart truly had for dueling since his books only held vague references to any actual battles between the wizard and the forces of darkness, but the more Lockhart toted his skills, the more Elara doubted he had any at all.

She was certain Professor Slytherin was going to hex him bloody any day now.

By the time the first meeting arrived on a cold, brisk evening at the end of the first week, Elara had grown tired of hearing about it, and only conceded to attending because Harriet—for all her disdain of Lockhart—was eager to learn more about dueling. She and Hermione dragged Elara out of the dungeons by the arm, joining the flood of students headed toward the Great Hall.

The room had been adjusted to suit the meeting's needs. The House tables hemmed the walls, a long, narrow platform now occupying the middle of the hall, around which everyone pushed and jockeyed for the best viewing position. The watching portraits squawked in indignation as neighbors and other painted people squeezed into their frames, a woman beating a pushy knight over the head with her washing board after he nudged her into the tub of sudsy water. No adults had arrived yet.

The trio of Slytherin witches looked for good spots but found themselves shuffled toward the back with the other first and second-years. Harriet grumbled when she ended up stuck behind a sixth-year almost double her height.

"Here, Harriet, stand here…."

Hermione and the shorter witch switched places, and more students came trickling into the hall, jostling the others around. Elara turned to look deeper into the hall itself, and so she didn't see who Harriet bumped into before she heard her let out a brief, pained hiss.

"Oh, hello, Luna and Ginny," Hermione said to the pair of first-year girls, frowning at Harriet. Ginny followed Hermione's look with a nervous smile.

"Hey," she replied. "Sorry about that, Pot—Harriet."

The bespectacled witch waved the apology away, though she had a bit of a pinched expression, scratching at her shoulder.

"How are you both doing?" Hermione asked. "Are your classes going well?"

They exchanged brief chatter—well, Hermione and Ginny did, while Luna hummed softly and Elara gave the girl a skeptical look. She was…odd. They were related through Elara's mother, the McKinnons and Lovegoods being cousins, close enough that Elara sometimes wondered why she hadn't been sent to them when she was an infant. She often ruminated on all the possible reasons she'd landed in a Muggle orphanage instead of with a magical relation. Uncle Cygnus never gave her a clear answer beyond thinking she had been dead.

Maybe they just didn't want to house the madman's daughter.

"Hello, hello!" Elara jerked herself out of her wandering thoughts as Mr. Lockhart came bounding up the steps onto the platform. She said bounding because that was exactly what he did; the foppish wizard lifted his knees high and affected a slightly breathless air, dressed in a high-collared duelist's coat, a frilly pattern printed into the light fabric, his boots heeled and buckled along his narrow calves. He looked something like the Christian knights in St. Giles' nursery stories, golden and boisterous and clean, chest thrown out, smile bright. The inadvertent comparison made Elara uneasy. "Can you all hear me? Good, excellent! I'm so glad you could attend this little Dueling Club of mine the Headmaster and the Ministry have allowed me to set up!"

By now, most of the student body had filtered into the hall, and though the few hundred students usually fit quite well in the space, the platform crowded the room's middle and everyone jostled for better spots close to the front. Claustrophobia needled her, and Elara forced herself to stand up straight and stop wringing her gloves, breathing in a sharp, quick breath. Harriet glanced at her, curious.

A flicker of black in the corner of her eye turned Elara's head. True, the majority of the crowd wore their dark school robes and so a bit of black cloth shouldn't have held her attention, but no one could match the seething pillar that Snape resembled as he came gliding up the steps after Lockhart, still dressed in his teaching robes and wool coat. He stood there in stark contrast to Mr. Lockhart, looking very much like the celebrated author had dragged him out of his dungeons just for this event, and Snape had gone unwillingly.

Lockhart continued to prattle, and Elara heard him say, "And of course you know my assistant! Professor Snape has gallantly offered his services tonight, but never fear! I'll leave your professor in one piece, I swear it! Thanks for being a good chap, Severus!"

Snape—the wretched misanthrope—fairly oozed discontent, his arms crossed, eyes glinting, though Lockhart either didn't notice or didn't care. Elara could think of a few things to call the wizard, and none of them were "good chap."

"Can Professor Snape duel?" whispered a first-year Hufflepuff, turning her head toward her friend, who shrugged.

Expression grim, Ginny muttered, "He'd have to."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked.

"Because he was suspected of—you know."

"I know what?"

"That—err, never mind."

Elara blinked, curious but unwilling to follow through with their conversation. Know what? Harriet, for her part, acted as if she hadn't heard a word spoken, and was peering intently at Snape and Lockhart, craning her neck to see between the bodies of the taller students in front of her.

"Now! The first spell I'll be showing you is an absolute necessity in a master duelist's repertoire: the Disarming Charm. The incantation is expelliarmus. Everyone got that?"

A few of the older years scoffed, obviously knowing the spell already, while others repeated the word to various success under their breath. Snape continued to stand immobile at one end of the platform, jaw set, and Elara would have thought him Petrified if not for the impatient tapping of his index finger against his arm. Lockhart pranced—pranced, honestly, even Hermione with all her infatuated hero-worship was beginning to look chagrined—to his own side of the platform and spun about, yanking his wand out of the blue sash slung about his hips. Striking a pose, he pointed it at Professor Snape.

"Are you ready, Professor?"

Snape didn't look ready, since he hadn't shifted from his stiff, indolent stance with his arms crossed. He hadn't even taken out his wand. He sneered, and in the answering hush, softly said, "Get on with it, Gilderoy."

Mr. Lockhart faltered for a moment, an uneasy shift pulling at his arms and causing him to shuffle his feet. Snape did nothing. "Ah, all right, then. If you're certain. Prepare yourself! Expelliarmus!"

He gave his wand a jaunty little jab and it expelled a burst of crimson light. The spell moved…not slowly, but Elara had anticipated something quicker than what she saw, something worthy of being a disarming Charm. It flew toward Snape at a steady clip—and, without ceremony, Professor Snape simply stepped to one side, like a vulture shuffling over on its branch, and the spell continued until it hit the Great Hall's doors with a light smack. Lockhart blinked, dropping his pose. "I, uh—?"

Snape's sneer morphed into a smirk, and the wizard finally uncrossed his arms, his black wand descending into his pale fingers when he flicked his wrist. From one second to the next, he stepped forward, lifted his hand, and snarled, "Expelliarmus!"

The red light streaked down the platform and Lockhart didn't have time to blink before it struck him in the chest, throwing the wizard back and right off the edge of the platform into a group of watching witches. They shrieked and squealed, but they did manage to break Lockhart's fall before he split his head like an egg on the stone floor. Dazed, winded, and disheveled, Mr. Lockhart stumbled to his feet with the help of his overeager audience, and his voice came out in a thready whine when he spoke.

"Yes, yes—thank you, Professor Snape! Of—of course, I knew what you meant to do, and I could have easily countered it, but it's always good to give a demonstration."

"Oh?" Snape lifted a brow. "Shall I demonstrate it again, then?"

Lockhart's eyes widened, and he finally noticed the other wizard meant him sincere bodily harm, because he chortled a rather high-pitched laugh and shook his head. "No, no! That won't be necessary, Severus. Ah—why don't you all split into pairs and practice now? Yes, that'd be good…."

The students in the hall turned to their friends with excited grins, finally putting distance between themselves and the overcrowded edge of the platform. Malfoy oozed out of the crowd like the irritating pond scum he was and challenged Harriet to a duel, but the bespectacled witch merely rolled her eyes and turned away. Annoyed by the lack of response, Malfoy focused his attention on Longbottom—who was near enough with his Gryffindor friends—instead. Luna and Gina paired off, as did Crabbe and Goyle, Finnigan and Thomas, leaving Elara to face Hermione and Harriet with Ronald Weasley.

The redhead shrugged, then lifted his wand. Elara narrowed her eyes when she noticed the Spell-O-Tape wrapped about it in clumsy, uneven layers, the tip crooked, and a fission of alarm went through her when sparks dribbled from the wrong end. She'd seen his dismal work in Defense all term, of course, but she hadn't seen his wand from this proximity before. It looked liable to burst into flames at any second. Is that unicorn hair poking out of the side?!

Elara didn't have a chance to say anything, because Snape came swooping over and snatched Harriet back from Weasley by the scruff of her neck. Harriet balked and probably would have lost her balance if Snape hadn't held her upright. "Put that worthless stick down before you blind someone, Weasley," he snapped, shunting Harriet over to a single, first-year Hufflepuff, who paled when confronted with an irked Slytherin witch. "Have you even written to your mother yet about having that replaced, boy?"

He harangued Weasley for a bit, the boy's ears going red, and Elara let her attention wander back to Hermione.

"Is everyone prepared?" Lockhart called from the platform, his hands on his hips and his attire returned to order, though a fresh bruise colored his cheek. "Excellent! Now, on the count of three, you will attempt to disarm your opponent! One, two—."

Loud bangs and shouts drowned out the remainder of Lockhart's count as students fired spells at one another. "Expelliarmus," Hermione said with perfect pronunciation, and Elara's wand slipped from her fingers. She fumbled for it while all around the Great Hall different hexes and jinxes bounced against the walls and floor, portraits fleeing, a paltry yellow haze spilling into the air, and Lockhart had to duck before a stray spell could clip his head.

"Stop—stop!" he cried.

Snape's eyes flicked toward the other wizard and narrowed. Though Elara couldn't hear it, she saw the man take in a visible, aggravated breath before shouting, "Finite Incantatem!" louder than she'd ever heard him speak before. The various bursts of light and sound died when Snape swept his wand around the hall, nullifying the active hexes and jinxes and banishing the ugly haze. His glare alone proved sufficient enough to part the Weasley twins, whose duel had quickly devolved into a wrestling match. Silence descended, uneasy eyes turned to the professor.

"Perhaps, Gilderoy," Snape said as he slid his wand back into his sleeve. "It would be best if you selected a single pair for another demonstration instead of unleashing the ill-behaved horde upon one another."

Lockhart cleared his throat and nodded along with what the Potions Master said. "Yes, of course—splendid idea. Took the words right out of my mouth! Let's see here—ah, yes! Neville! Why don't you and your partner come on up here and show us how it's done?"

Longbottom shot Mr. Lockhart an easy, practiced grin, and replied, "Sure, sir," before starting toward the steps. Draco, his partner, followed after the Boy Who Lived with his pointy nose in the air, though he looked less confident than he had earlier once he found himself on the platform facing his opponent. Neville, for all that he was a fake, exasperating twit, was still second in their year for Defense, lagging behind Harriet alone—who was currently on her knees apologizing profusely to the teary-eyed Hufflepuff she'd thrown off her feet with the Disarming Charm.

Stepping off the platform and out of the line of fire, Lockhart called out, "All right, gentlemen! On the count of three, you will attempt to disarm each other! Disarm only, now! Nothing else! One, two!"

"Flipendo!" Malfoy yelled before the count came to an end, hoping to catch Longbottom unprepared, but Neville was quick to use a Shield Charm. His feet slid a few inches from the impact, and then he retaliated.

"Locomotor Wibbly!"

The Jelly-Legs Curse clipped Malfoy when he tried to dodge, and the blond collapsed onto his backside among loud cheers from the Gryffindors. Longbottom smirked, bowed, and the cheers became laughter. Growing red in the face, Malfoy canceled the curse on his lower half and scrambled upright, scowling something fierce as he thrust his wand toward the bowing boy's back. "Serpensortia!"

A collective gasp went through the students as a blur erupted from the tip of Malfoy's wand, and that gasp morphed into spooked shrieks when the blur solidified into three feet of hooded snake, the creature landing on the platform as Longbottom whipped around, his eyes wide and frightened. The cobra hissed and coiled in upon itself. Neville didn't move.

Scoffing, Snape yet again found his own wand and waded forward, shifting aside students so he could reach the platform's edge. "Allow me, Longbottom—."

"No, no! I have it!" Lockhart called, and Elara didn't quite hear what spell he used, but she flinched like everyone else when the snake ascended several yards into the air, then came down with a loud thwap! The cobra writhed, body rolling—and it abruptly rose, hood wide, hissing with menace as it looked at Neville and bared curved fangs.

Eyes locked on it, Harriet stepped forward—and dread filled Elara's heart.

Sometimes she pondered why Harriet had landed in Slytherin. The bespectacled witch had all the qualities upheld by the House of Serpents, certainly—but what Elara thought most people failed to understand was that everyone had all the qualities of every House to varying degrees, and the Sorting Hat sought that which would best define and complete its wearer during their years at Hogwarts. For all her cunning, her perseverance, pride, and those spots of gleaming ambition, Elara often couldn't understand how Harriet didn't wind up in Gryffindor when she could be so utterly, completely, and stupidly reckless.

Reckless as she was being right now.

Elara didn't think; she pushed past Snape, grabbed a handful of Harriet's robes, and yanked the shorter witch back while everyone else stared at the scene unfolding on the platform. A sound of protest escaped Harriet, and Elara slapped a gloved hand over her mouth, dragging her until she brushed the stone wall. "Don't you dare!"

The cobra darted toward Longbottom—and Snape lunged, snarling "Vipera Evanesca!"

The Boy Who Lived shouted as he fell back, and the snake vanished in a whisper of smoke and ash.

Harriet pulled Elara's hand away from her face and spun on her heels, real anger in her green eyes as she glowered at her friend. "What the hell, Elara!"

"I only stopped you from being an idiot," Elara retorted, her own temper prickling in her tone as the volume rose in the hall and the so-called Dueling Club started to dissolve. Lockhart had no control now, and no one else wanted to get on the platform after watching Longbottom almost get bit by a venomous snake. "You need to think before you act sometimes, Harriet!"

"He could have died!"

Snape—having witnessed Harriet's lapse in judgment—set upon them immediately, bending at the waist to bring his furious face lower and speak for their benefit alone. "What part of your imbecilic little brain doesn't understand the concept of keeping a secret?" he demanded of Harriet, baring crooked teeth. "Do you have any idea the kind of retribution that would have been unleashed upon yourself had you revealed that ability in the school's current climate?"

Elara knew. Had Harriet exposed herself as a Parselmouth, the school would have turned on her in an instant. She couldn't be certain what Professor Slytherin would do, but merely imaging his possible reactions made Elara queasy.

"I was—I just wanted to help!"

"He was in no danger and did not need your bloody help!" Snape spat. Both girls jumped when he swore. "You would have been ostracized—targeted by simpletons and those of superstitious minds, and Merlin only knows what would have occurred when—when, Potter, not if—the Ministry caught wind of this! They would have hauled you in for an inquiry, twelve-years-old or no! They would have turned your dorm upside down and found that wretched serpent of yours. They'd throw you in Azkaban, Potter, Azkaban!"

By now, people had started filtering out of the Great Hall, but some paused and looked back as Snape's voice rose in volume. The Potions Master noted their audience and forcibly calmed himself, seeming to count under his breath while Harriet's face reddened and she swallowed the urge to cry. Guilt and rage and fear flickered across her scrunched features, and Elara reached out to touch her arm, wanting to comfort her—but Harriet jerked away.

"I didn't! I didn't mean to!"

Snape straightened to his full height and crossed his arms, not a single ounce of pity in his harsh expression. Hermione still lingered, but she didn't approach, as she hadn't seen what Harriet did and didn't understand what was happening. Longbottom—shaken and sweaty, leaning on Ron's shoulder—was still in the Great Hall as well, and he cast a suspicious look in their direction that Elara met with a foreboding scowl until he moved away.

"And have I not told you time and time again you must master your instincts, girl? Whether or not you meant it is immaterial. Does a disaster need to occur before it sinks in that you are not expected to act in these situations? That your responsibility is to yourself first? Have a care with your damn safety, Potter!"

Harriet stared at her shoes as she trembled and tried to hide the tears welling behind her lashes. Snape gave no mercy.

"Go back to the common room. Get out of my sight."

Elara tried to grab Harriet's hand again, but the other witch bolted before she could, disappearing into the dwindling throng without a backward glance. Snape turned his simmering attention to Elara and flicked his hand after the fleeing girl. "Go. Find her before she lands herself in more trouble than she already has."

"You didn't have to be so cruel," Elara muttered in response. Snape's lip curled.

"You're just as thick-headed as she is, Black. You and your cohorts must keep your heads down and think. Given you stopped her before she could make such a monumental mistake, I assumed you cared more for the ungrateful brat's well-being than my perceived cruelty. Maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps you can both find a nice cell in Azkaban near your father's if you carry on with this negligent attitude."

The Potions Master departed with those cutting words, his robe billowing in his passage, leaving Elara to stand enraged and frustrated with what few students remained. Lockhart sat on the platform's edge fielding comments and questions from his fawning admirers, and the sight only served to further irritate Elara. Several of the nearest floating candles guttered and dribbled wax before going out. She clenched her jaw and tried to stop her fists from shaking.

Hateful git.

"Elara…?" came Hermione's tentative question. "What was that all about? What happened?" She bit her lip. "Is Harriet all right?"

Letting the anger go, Elara breathed in, and the candles stopped burning themselves to nothing. "We should go back to the common room and find her," she said. There was nothing else they could do, really. Everything Snape said was true, whether or not Elara or Harriet wanted to believe him. Hogwarts was not safe at the moment, especially not for a Parselmouth Slytherin in possession of an illegally obtained Horned Serpent, an inquisitive Muggle-born, or the Heiress of a Dark family with far too many dubious journals tucked inside her school bag. They needed to be careful. They needed to think. "Come on, I'll explain on the way…."


A/N: I can't remember exactly how the Dueling Club went and I haven't got my books with me, but oh well xD I don't like repeating canon scenes verbatim anyway. I know Snape's a bit of bastard at the end, but he probably had a mini-heart attack when Harriet almost outed herself as a Parselmouth in front of the whole school. That would have been very, very bad.

Hope everyone stays healthy and safe out there!