Professor Volanthen was perhaps the most formidable Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts had ever had. He was almost fifty years old but he looked to be thirty. Tall and heavily muscled, he wore thick leather boots with rusted buckles and a wand holster on his left arm. His hair was silver, almost white and he had a long puckered scar that ran from his left earlobe down to his collarbone. Professor Volanthen often wore a long green robe, which, as was revealed in a story he had recounted several weeks ago, was made of leather cut from the wings of a crazed dragon he had slain in Hungary some years back. The leather was mottled in colour and paper thin. It rustled and whispered as he walked through the hallways. He always smelt of ash and cinder.

Everyone strove to impress him. In his classes alone, the boys always toed the line and the girls all listened carefully.

So far up until today, he had merely assigned them various readings and essays on the use of Dark magic in Europe, particularly in the 14th and 15th centuries. "It's important to understand the history, ladies and gents." Shaking back his silver mane, he had continued, his gaze shifting over to the Slytherin tables, "To understand and to defeat what is happening today, in Europe and abroad, we must understand the history of Dark magic."

But today, he reminded them, was the day they began lessons in the art of duelling.

There was a sudden buzz in the air.

"Certain wands favour duelling, but all wands," he continued over the quiet excitement, "and their owners, are capable of it."

They learnt that wands made of aspen wood had previously been prized for their strength in martial magic. Those made of applewood often were found to be particularly inconsistent for duelling. However, the wand is only as powerful as the wizard, as Volanthen reminded them.

He divided them into pairs and they would each take turns on the duelling stage in front of the class. When he made no distinction between the sexes, Abraxas Malfoy couldn't help himself.

"But sir. Surely, it wouldn't be fair, boys against girls."

Hermione bristled internally. Volanthen's response made Malfoy almost shrink back into his chair. "What's that, boy? Are you daft? Duelling is a battle of magic, not brawn." He promptly paired Malfoy with Charlotte Quimby, a six foot tall Ravenclaw who winked at him maliciously. Malfoy seemed to pale.

Biting back a smirk, Hermione was wondering who'd she be paired with until she realised there were only two people left. Herself, and …

"Granger. It'd be a pleasure." Riddle smiled sweetly, innocently at her.

The rules of duelling were simple. "Rule number one: respect your opponent. Before beginning, you must bow to each other. Wand at your side." Volanthen barked.

"Two! Act with honour and respect the conditions of the duel. These are usually agreed upon before a duel is to commence. For example, whether or not there is to be a second, a back up in case you die or become incapacitated. Whether or not certain curses are forbidden. For our class today, the conditions are of course, non-lethal spells only."

He glared at the class. "And three: if I say stop. You stop."

The first duel was between Abraxas and Charlotte. The duel lasted merely seconds. After the customary bow ("From the waist, Malfoy!"), Abraxas made the first move. He whipped his wand up and shot a tripping jinx at Charlotte. She blocked it effortlessly and moved as if to cast petrificus totalus, which had a tell-tale beginning hand motion of an 'X'. Abraxas blocked it but it was too soon. She had merely feinted the spell. Instead, with a mischievous grin, Charlotte dispatched him with a swift Jelly Jinx which landed on his wand arm. Abraxas' wand clattered on the floor.

"Stop! Next!"

Scowling, Abraxas left the stage, accompanied by a triumphant Charlotte.

The class took turns until finally, it was Hermione's turn.

She wasn't nervous at all. Obviously. She recalled their first duel in the Room of Requirement. It had ended in a stalemate. Riddle was clearly highly competent. But here was her secret: so was she. Ever since the beginning of Grindelwald's assault, ever since she had read what had been carved into the girls' bathroom walls the beginning of term ("Burn the Mudbloods"; vandalism was never usually creative), she had decided that she couldn't ever let herself feel helpless. Thereafter, she had read books after books on self-defence, not just duelling but spells to get out of precarious situations, spells to confuse and to craft handy magical artefacts. She had practised the wand movements but unfortunately had not had the opportunity to cast all of the spells that she had learnt. But learnt them she had, completely to heart.

They bowed, but their eyes never left each other. Wands at their sides, they turned and walked the required steps to each end of the duelling stage. The class had become silent, there was a noticeable tension that hadn't been there before.

As soon as they turned, Riddle let her cast the first spell.

"Incarcerous."

He blocked it swiftly, as expected. Their eyes met again and he winked.

With an almost lazy flick of his wand, he calmly cast his first spell.

"Langlock."

She blocked it also.

"Levicorpus!"

"Rictusempra." A first year tickling charm. He was toying with her, she realised.

They went back and forth. As soon as one cast a spell, the other blocked it. They were simply too fast for each other. Each could predict what the other would cast based on the wand movement and cast the appropriate shield at the right time.

It was too easy but Volanthen had not called for them to stop yet.

Hermione decided to cast the next spell wordlessly. She sent a bright red jet of light towards Riddle, who blocked the Stunning spell with no less ease. He raised an eyebrow but he still had that annoying bored look on his face.

The next series of spells were wordless. Hermione decided to play dirty. Screw Rule Two.

She conjured a live snake. It slithered out of her wand with a bang, landing angrily on the floor. It took one look at Tom and began to advance, hissing.

His smirk grew. Just before the snake struck he whispered to it. The snake shot away from him and began to slither towards her, its long fangs glistening. But the snake had been merely a distraction. Hermione cast two silent curses in rapid succession.

Riddle's eyes widened. He didn't have time to block both. Instead, he sidestepped one and sent his own curse back. Their curses landed at the same time.

Riddle's face was suddenly obscured by black flapping wings and Hermione, who hadn't been expecting such a quick counter attack, suddenly felt as if her neck was being constricted by a powerful force. She staggered and dropped to her knees, gasping.

Volanthen roared, "STOP!" With impressive proficiency, he reversed the spells as they both collapsed on the stage, panting. Hermione was only semi-conscious, bruises mottling her throat. Riddle's face was covered with scratch marks and his nose was bleeding heavily.

"I SAID NON-LETHAL!"

Volanthen then let loose a string of choice expletives. He walked over to Hermione and waved his wand over her face. Something cold brushed over her senses and she opened her eyes, sitting up, her hands at her throat.

Heaving a disappointed and angry sigh, he finally said, "Alright. You both get detention, of course. A week's worth. Miss Quimby, please escort them to the infirmary."

The journey to the infirmary had been quiet and sullen. Charlotte didn't attempt to talk to either of them but she gave Hermione a small smile before she left them in Madame Pomfrey's hands.

Madame Pomfrey had not been pleased. They sat in adjacent beds as she fussed over them, muttering about irresponsible teachers all the while.

When she had left, Riddle cleared his throat. Startled, Hermione looked over at him. The scratches on his face had all been healed, his nose repaired. All that was left was to wait for the blood replenishing potion to take effect. Apparently, he had lost quite a lot of blood on the way.

"Was that your own variant of the Bat Bogey Hex?"

"Mm. Maybe." She gestured to her throat. "You cursed me with something far more Dark."

He leaned back against the wall. He still had this amused look on his face that Hermione wanted to just … punch off.

"Oh, it would have killed you, most definitely."

She imagined how much damage she could do to his face before alerting Pomfrey.

He must have seen the look on her face as his laughter echoed around the empty infirmary.

Professor Slughorn had heard of their duel. As class ended, and the students filed out of the classroom, he gestured to Hermione to stay. She noticed Riddle lingering, uncharacteristically slow in packing his books away.

"Miss Granger," he smiled widely, extending his pudgy ringed hands towards her, as if they were old acquaintances. "Our Slytherin in disguise. I am most glad that you will be staying in my class for the rest of the year. My, my, I am lucky to have such brilliant students this year. You and my Tom, are such treasures." Slughorn rubbed his hands together, shining with pride. He winked at Tom, who was still behind her. "Would you care to join me and some friends this Friday evening? Tom will be there. I'm hosting a party with some very special guests. The Assistant Minister of Magic will be attending and a certain renowned and," he dropped his voice to a cheeky whisper, "dashing international Quidditch player."

Ignoring the comment about being a Slytherin in disguise, she replied, smiling back, "Thank you for the invitation, Professor. I'd be honoured to attend."

Quidditch was of no interest, but if there were to be plenty of free food and drinks, that was sufficient.

"Brilliant! 8 o'clock at my office. Dress sharp!"