Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
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The schoolchildren cheered on as the Quidditch game commenced, the Quaffle being released signalling the official start. Most of the faculty had also made an appearance for the first game of the season which had originally been scheduled for the previous weekend. It had been postponed however with the Gryffindor captain Oliver Wood declaring that they had still been searching for a competent Seeker. In the end he had had to go with Cormac McLaggen, a second year student whose father had sent him a brand new Cleansweep Seven to celebrate his son's success. Considering two of the other three applicants had fallen off their broom during tryouts and the other declared how they were scared of heights, Wood hadn't had much difficulty with his choice.
Albus Dumbledore allowed himself to relax as he watched the game unfold, not truly caring about the result of the game but rather was watching it for the competition. He had heard of how young Harry Potter had turned down the chance to follow in his father's footsteps and in doing so turned away the chance to become the youngest Seeker in quite a number of years. He merely had to hope that when he watched the game today and were Gryffindor to lose than Harry would sign himself up or be pressured into the position. If he knew of the legacy he would be living up to then there was no chance that he would turn down the opportunity.
The incident with the troll had troubled him deeply; Harry was already delving into knowledge and spells far beyond what he was ready for. Speaking with a number of his professors it seemed as if he was already cruising through his schoolwork with as much gusto as possible, likely so that he could continue his extracurricular studies. The main issue was that he wasn't following any guidelines, nobody was ensuring that he didn't start looking into forms of potentially Dark Magic. But there was no real way to dissuade the child. Hopefully his most recent stint in the Hospital Wing would have shown him of the potential dangers, nearly losing an arm was bound to do that to a young boy's psyche.
It was a shame that Ron Weasley hadn't made any more progress in making friends with Harry, though from what he had heard the boy's twin brothers had visited Harry in the infirmary. Informing Harry of how his father had been a bit of a practical joker back in his day was also another way he could go about getting Harry to loosen up a bit. The boy clearly was far too serious for his age. He hated to think what had caused such a thing but knew better than to pry into that hornet's nest. For now he could only wait until such a time in where it was appropriate for him to step in as either the Headmaster of Hogwarts or an elderly vizier. When Harry next injured himself would be opportune.
Ignoring the action going on in front of him for a moment, Albus focused his attention on the Gryffindor cheer squad, the children shouting their support for their House. While he couldn't spot him from his position, he knew that amongst the sea of red and gold Harry was cheering on amongst his peers, likely from a place where his disfigurement wouldn't ostracize himself. Competitive sport was always a good way to get people to ignore the problems right in front of them.
It was a shame however that Harry Potter wasn't in attendance.
Tucked away in a corner of the library like always were Harry and Hermione, diligently reading through advanced duelling tactics. Neville wasn't with them this afternoon, having felt that at least one of them should make a show at the match. He was acting on their behalf as the interested party, showing that if the rest of Gryffindor were willing they would join in.
Neither Hermione nor Harry particularly cared about the outcome of the game. Hermione had sat through enough of her father's football matches to honestly say that sport didn't particularly interest her. Perhaps on an international level she could find some pride in supporting her country but for a school House tournament there really wasn't anything to go by.
"Most of these texts have the same spells in them," summarized Hermione as she put down her third book, nearly two feet of notes written out in front of her.
"I think that's deliberate," said Harry as he looked up at Hermione. "Nearly all of these books were written in Britain and as such everyone one of the authors grew up with a very similar background. If we wanted to look up a bigger variety we'd almost have to send Hedwig halfway across the world to pick up something from Bulgaria, India or maybe even Japan."
"So why are we…oh, I see," said Hermione, figuring out the answer to her own question before she even asked it.
"Exactly, for the most parts the spells are identical but there's always a touch of difference in the wording or explanation," said Harry. "Each of these authors were able to take a simple stunning spell and make it best suit them. Other than the incantation, you can see how the tiniest of changes can affect everything. Since we're still first year students and our magical strength really isn't that high at the moment we should be focusing on how to use speed to our advantage. If you and I were to fight and we shot the same spell but you were able to cast yours off half a second earlier you'd win regardless."
"That's very hypothetical," retorted Hermione. "I can see your point however. I read in 'Gauging One's Magical Potential,' that we shouldn't reach our peak until sixth year and after that it's more a matter of sharpening our skills than using full force every time."
Feeling that no more needed to be said, Harry closed his book and went to scrounge through the nearby row for another one to delve through. The treasure trove of knowledge in front of him was almost unbelievable but it came with the unfortunate problem of being difficult to find. While he could potentially ask the librarian for assistance he feared that news would then spread back to Dumbledore. At the moment that was the last thing he wanted. He didn't need nor want such an overbearing figure in his life, he simply wanted to live life the way he wanted.
A quick glance out the nearby window showed a vast number of students making their way back to the castle. Grabbing a book off the shelf, one 'To Shield or Avoid,' he returned to the desk. "Neville should be on his way, game's finished," he announced before taking his seat. Hermione didn't even bother replying, merely content with knowing that the third member of their trio would be joining them soon.
Thus they continued their work and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
"He must have gotten tossed off course by the stairs," said Hermione. "He'll be here soon."
"Of course, he'll be here shortly," said Harry, his voice betraying him as he couldn't help but feel that something was wrong.
His nerves were stilled however as he heard footsteps coming towards them, both Hermione and Harry shooting their gaze in the direction, both of them growling in anger of who they saw. "Before you start hexing, I've just come as the messenger," said Gregory Goyle as he sauntered up to the table, the contents in his left hand hidden by a white cloth.
"Deliver your message then," said Harry, his fingers almost instinctively reaching for his wand.
"Malfoy is challenging you to a duel," announced Goyle. "The rumours surrounding the troll incident have gone well overboard and as such he feels that it is necessary to gauge your own strength against his own."
Hermione felt that this sounded far more scripted than what Goyle was verbally capable of.
"I don't need to prove anything," said Harry, his eyes sharpening dangerously as Goyle began to sweat a touch. He had heard the rumours like everybody else in the school and still wasn't sure what was true and what was false. If half of it was true then chances were he would be in the Hospital Wing before the hour was up.
Especially with what was about to happen.
"Malfoy believed that this gift he offers would be enough to get you to agree," said Goyle as he placed the hidden object on the table. It was common knowledge that throwing spells around in the library would land you in serious hot water. He merely hoped that the two Gryffindor students knew that.
Hermione lifted up the cloth and the contents underneath caused Harry's anger to boil. "Neville's wand," said Hermione in realization, the artefact that had been passed down to their friend having been snapped in half.
"Where and when?"
"What?" asked Goyle, unable to hear the words Harry had spoken.
"Where. And. When!" stated Harry, his eyes burning with rage as he twisted his head to glare at Goyle.
"Forbidden Corridor, dinner time," answered Goyle as quickly as he could.
"Tell Malfoy I accept. Go!" Harry nearly shouted, sending the young Slytherin student scampering towards the exit far quicker than he had entered.
"Harry, you need to calm down," said Hermione as she leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Surprisingly, Harry did manage to reign his anger in. Or at least did a really good job of keeping it hidden. "Thanks," he said as he took a deep breath. "We've got a couple hours up our sleeve then. Firstly, pen a letter to Neville's gran and state that he needs a new wand as soon as possible and that I'll pay for it as a good show of faith between our Houses."
"Are you sure Harry?" asked Hermione, recalling how much her own wand had set her parents back. Being a young witch wasn't cheap.
"Trust me Hermione, I can afford it," said Harry only just realizing that he hadn't actually told Hermione of the inheritance left to him. "If you ever need anything school orientated just tell me and I'll sort it out for you."
"As generous as that sounds, you need to focus, Harry," said Hermione as she stood up and walked over to where the librarian was sitting behind the counter. Harry simply watched before Hermione was directed down several aisles where she shortly returned with another book clutched in her hands. "This should give us a lowdown on etiquette and the formalities. I know you can destroy him Harry but if you're going to do it you're going to do so properly."
Harry couldn't help but smile as he took the book from Hermione, the young witch beginning to construct the letter to send off to Madam Longbottom. For the first friend he ever had he felt like he had made the perfect choice.
…
Draco stood in the Forbidden Third Corridor, flaming torches illuminating the hallway. He had designated this spot simply because nobody would dare question Dumbledore's rule. Nobody was allowed in this corridor, therefore nobody would look in this corridor.
Simple.
Standing on either side of him were Crabbe and Goyle, his bodyguards of sorts ready to assist in showing Potter that he wasn't the top kid that everyone proclaimed he was. While this was issued as an official duel Malfoy had no intention of honouring it as such. As good as Potter thought he was, all three of them had been taught their family magic from a young age as well as many duelling techniques. While their theory work could only get them so far, practically there was not a child in their year or likely the following grade that could take them on by themselves.
Perhaps even a handful of third year students.
For now though they only had a single student in mind.
Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed down the corridor causing Malfoy to smirk and look over his shoulder at where Longbottom was tied up with rope that he'd earlier conjured. "Hear that Longbottom, your friend is marching towards his defeat," said Malfoy with a confident smirk.
Neville managed to gaze through a his least swollen eye towards the end of the corridor. He didn't know why he had gotten lax with his safety and he had paid the price for it, mostly for the fact his father's wand had been snapped. A precious family heirloom, destroyed. All for the sake of stroking one's ego.
He simply hoped that Harry could extract revenge for him.
The three Slytherin students had managed to spot their target striding towards them, each step taken with purpose. What Draco found more surprising however was the fact that his Mudblood whore had decided to tag along. Like the pathetic Mudblood could do anything if she got caught in the fight.
"Heir Malfoy," stated Harry as he stopped in front of Draco and his cronies, roughly ten metres separating them. "I have arrived at the allotted time at the appointed place for the duel you requested. Hermione Granger has offered to be my second should the need arise but before she steps foot in this duel upon my honour I swear to battle you with all my strength."
Draco, for one, stood in shock at the somewhat informal duelling greeting that had been given. The mere fact that one had been offered was what had him perplexed. From what he had heard, Potter had only rejoined the Wizarding World when he had stepped foot into Diagon Alley to collect his school supplies. There was no way that he should have been able to comprehend the situation he was in.
"Potter," he said through a scowl, his rage getting the better of him. "Everte Statum!" he shouted as he sent the vindictive spell towards Harry. Unfortunately for Malfoy, Harry wasn't blown back several paces but rather had nothing happen to him, Potter having put up an adequate shield to stop the duelling technique.
"Heir Malfoy, you have cast without the start of the duel being signalled," said Harry, prepared for another sneak attack. "If you do so again I…" Harry didn't get the chance to finish his declaration before Malfoy attempted the same spell once more. His shield however was more than sufficient. "Having shown no honour, I declare this duel with Heir Malfoy officially over." Harry took a moment to inhale deeply before focusing on the three students standing between him and his friend. "Now that that formality bullshit is over and done with, are you going to run and save what little honour you have or am I going to have to kill you?"
Draco wasn't sure if that was what Potter had meant to say, but intimidating it was. Potter had managed to block both his spells and he himself had had no prior knowledge on how to defend against an offensive attack. "Petram Bellator!" shouted Crabbe from his side during abrupt wandwork, showing just why he deserved to be Malfoy's right hand man as he caused the bricks in front of him to break apart and form a stone golem-esque warrior. Malfoy knew though that casting such a spell would have drained his ally of almost everything he had and the best he could expect Crabbe to do from this point would be to send off tickling curses or perhaps even a tripping jinx if he was lucky.
Malfoy watched with a hint of joy as Crabbe's summon ambled forward, the Mudblood reacting by sending some manner of curse at the creature only to watch as it was unaffected in the slightest. Draco couldn't help but feel worried as Potter watched on with minimal expression before stepping forward, closing the distance between himself and the golem.
Goyle seemed to understand that this was an opportune moment as he aimed his wand at the Mudblood. "Rictumsempra!" he shouted as he sent his attack towards the filth. By the shock in her eyes, it was clear she hadn't been expecting this and she could only raise her arms to defend herself, like such a pitiful tactic could actually have any effect.
It mattered not. Potter, in what one could only describe as grace, shielded the whore from the attack before gliding underneath a cumbersome swing from the golem. The blow had enough strength to likely punch a hole in a pillar of granite but it didn't matter for barely a second after it had swung it would move no more, the construct having been encased in ice.
Draco could count his remaining options on a single hand and still have fingers left over as Potter strode ever closer. Before he had even had time to come up with a plan, Potter was no more than three feet away, his scar-ravaged face glaring directly at him.
"Boo!"
Pride, ego, honour, it all meant nothing as he fled for his life, Crabbe and Goyle chasing behind him. Sprinting towards the safety of the dungeons, he couldn't help but bite the inside of his lip harshly enough to draw blood. This was meant to be so simple and while he didn't expect Potter to bask in his victory, and the likelihood of anybody else learning of this was minimal, it didn't help him in the slightest. Three on one, the Mudblood didn't even come into consideration. Crabbe had summoned a golem out of the stone surrounding them, a spell which even he had no idea the imbecile was capable of. The whiteness of his skin showed that the spell had nearly drained everything from the boy, had he attempted to cast another spell he very well may have collapsed.
He needed to inform his father of these developments immediately.
Slowing down close to the Slytherin Common Room, Draco turned to face his two comrades. "This day never happened," he said with authority. Thankfully it looked as if his prior stint had lost no following with his two allies. "We don't mention Potter, Longbottom or that Mudblood bitch, none of that ever happened!"
Crabbe and Goyle merely nodded in agreement before they were ferried through the hidden entrance. Little did any of them realize however that their conversation had managed to be overheard by another student.
"I am soooo getting the gist on this," said Tracy Davis as she made her way back down to the Great Hall. It only took a minute before she stepped foot through the majestic hall and headed straight towards the Slytherin table. Hopefully the information she had would be able to get her friend out of her slump.
Plomping herself next to Daphne, Tracy took a moment to actually look at her friend. Ever since her attempt to get to know Harry Potter during their Potions class, the Greengrass heiress had become a completely different person. The ice cold persona she had previously held onto like a lifeline had been shattered to the point where Daphne had yet to touch the food on her plate. Sharp and witty comments had been reduced to nothing and she barely took the time to make conversation with anyone, even her.
"C'mon Daph, you need to eat," said Tracy trying to egg on her friend.
"Not hungry," replied Daphne.
"Bull, since that day I've barely seen you eat more than a slice of bread, that's not healthy!" exclaimed Tracy.
"I said, I'm not hungry," said Daphne, her body betraying her moments later as her stomach rumbled its discontent.
"That explains everything," stated Tracy before forcibly grabbing Daphne by the shoulders and forcing her friend to look at her. "Eat half a decent meal and I'll tell you what I just heard from Malfoy and his cronies. It involves Harry…"
"Harry!" said a startled Daphne.
"Eat!" commanded Tracy pointing to the plate of food that was in front of Daphne.
Tracy had never seen her friend eat so fast.
…
"How are you feeling Neville?" asked Hermione as she along with Harry and the recently released Neville made their way back to the common room. They had taken a momentary detour in order to get some salves to reduce the swelling Neville had experienced.
"Honestly, like absolute crud," said Neville rubbing at his wrists, glad they were no longer bound by rope.
"If it's any help, we've already sent off word to your Gran about getting you a new wand," said Hermione as they finished climbing the set of stairs.
"Really, you didn't tell her why though right?" asked Neville as they stood in front of the Fat Lady portrait.
"We merely said that it was the result of an unavoidable accident," said Hermione, silently hoping that the grandmother bought into her excuse, or lack of.
"I see," said Neville nervously before he saw that Harry was still looking down at the floors below. "Are you alright?"
"Just…thinking," said Harry.
"About Malfoy?" asked Hermione.
"Kinda, I get the feeling that he's not going to be the last one to get under our skin, especially if word spreads," said Harry. "The other thing that is worrying me is about that forbidden corridor."
"What about it?" asked Neville.
"What's forbidden about it?"
Neither Neville nor Hermione could answer.
…
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