CHAPTER 5: DUEL WITH DRACO
Harry arrived in the common room after his discussions with Madam Hooch and Professor Snape. Spotting Daphne engrossed in her Transfiguration homework, he settled beside her, prompting her to glance up.
"Everything okay, Daph?" he inquired, his concern evident in his tone.
"Yeah, all good," she replied casually, choosing not to dwell on the fact that Harry had taken the liberty of calling her 'Daph.' "Where were you?"
"I was talking with Snape and Hooch about the flying lesson," Harry explained. Leaning in closer, he whispered the next part into her ear, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He awarded me fifty points for saving a classmate's life, and... he told me to try out for the Quidditch team during the tryouts."
Daphne's eyes widened in astonishment as she processed Harry's words. She hadn't expected such recognition from the professors, let alone an invitation to try out for the Quidditch team. Despite her initial disbelief, a sense of pride swelled within her for her friend's accomplishments.
As Harry leaned back with a grin, Daphne couldn't help but gasp, her shock evident on her face.
Harry chuckled at her reaction, thoroughly enjoying her surprise. Truth be told, Daphne's opinion on the matter didn't concern him much; he knew first-years rarely made it into the tryouts, and even if he did participate, the odds were stacked against him. But for now, he was content to revel in the moment and share the news with his friend.
"Oi." A familiar annoyance interrupted their conversation. "What do you think you're doing?"
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Having a nice conversation."
Daphne suppressed a smirk, knowing full well that their presence was enough to irk their unwelcome visitor. Harry's casual response only added to the amusement dancing in her eyes.
"I wasn't talking to you, Potter," Malfoy spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "I was talking to Daphne. What do you think you're doing letting another bloke get this close?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by Malfoy's possessive tone. "Letting him whisper in my ear," she replied coolly. "What's your problem?"
"My 'problem' is that you're supposed to be my betrothed and shouldn't be this close to another boy, especially Potter," Malfoy retorted, his tone laced with irritation.
"Aw, is baby Malfoy jealous?" Harry teased in a mock babyish voice, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Show some respect, Potter!" Malfoy snapped, his patience wearing thin.
"Why should I respect you?" Harry countered, his expression serious.
Before Malfoy could respond, Daphne intervened, her voice firm. "Listen, Malfoy, I'm not marrying you, and who I allow to get close to me is my business, not yours."
Malfoy bristled at her words, his pride wounded. "Don't waste your time, Greengrass! My father is negotiating the contract as we speak."
"Good Merlin, you're pathetic," Harry shook his head, unable to hide his disdain for Malfoy's arrogance.
"What did you say?" Malfoy's voice was low and dangerous, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"I said you're pathetic," Harry repeated, his tone unwavering as he met Malfoy's gaze head-on.
"What kind of boy tries to court a girl by relying on his father's name?" Harry retorted, his voice laced with disdain. "I could've courted almost any girl I wanted by saying I'm the Boy-Who-Lived's brother, but I didn't. If I choose to court a girl, I'll use my intelligence, my looks, and my personality. But since you lack these qualities, it makes sense you rely on your father and his name."
Malfoy's face contorted with anger, his grip tightening on his wand. "That's it," he declared, drawing his wand. "It's time, Potter. I challenge you to a wizard's duel tonight."
Harry stood up, his resolve evident in his stance. "No," he countered. "Now."
"What?" Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise.
"I said now," Harry repeated firmly, stepping closer to Malfoy and flicking his wand out of its holster. "If you want a duel, it'll be now, not later when you can run away."
"W... well," Malfoy stammered, attempting to regain his composure and salvage some semblance of control. "Let's duel then, and if I win, you stay away from Daphne."
Harry didn't dignify Malfoy's challenge with a response. Instead, he turned to face Daphne, his expression earnest. "Scared, Potter?" Malfoy mocked, hoping to rattle his opponent.
"No, you blonde idiot, I'm requesting permission," Harry shot back, his tone firm.
"Permission for what?" Malfoy demanded, his frustration evident.
"When Daphne's involved in the stakes, I'm requesting her permission to involve her in the stakes," Harry explained calmly, his eyes never leaving Daphne's. "Daphne, may I make stakes for our duel, one you'll be involved in?"
Daphne paused, caught off guard by Harry's consideration for her well-being. She nodded slowly, a hint of admiration flickering in her eyes. "Hmm, okay," she replied, her voice measured. "At least you asked. Unlike a certain blonde idiot."
A flush of embarrassment spread across Malfoy's face, and Daphne couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at seeing him flustered. She appreciated Harry's thoughtfulness in seeking her permission before involving her, a gesture that spoke volumes about his character and earned him a newfound respect in her eyes.
"Very well," Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on Malfoy, unwavering in his determination. "If I win, I can punch you in the face, and Daphne can curse you, and you can't complain to anyone except Madam Pomfrey if you need medical help, and you won't tell anyone we did it. Do you accept, or do you need to ask your father first?"
"I accept, Potter," Malfoy snarled, his lip curling into a sneer. With determined strides, they both walked to the center of the common room, where the rest of the Slytherins watched with bated breath.
Malfoy made the first move, casting an extremely weak cutting hex, which Harry easily blocked, though it hardly posed a threat. In response, Harry swiftly unleashed a series of spells: a tickling charm followed by a disarming spell, and finally, a full-body bind. The result left Malfoy on the floor, writhing with laughter, his wand rendered useless in Harry's grasp.
"I think it's safe to say I've won," Harry declared to the common room, his voice ringing with confidence as he released Malfoy from the bind. "Now, Malfoy, I've won the duel, and I could easily knock your teeth out."
"That's impossible! I couldn't have lost to a half-blood!" Malfoy protested, his face contorted with disbelief and indignation.
"Wow, nice words you've got for the guy who's allowed to punch you in the face," Daphne remarked, her expression unimpressed. Internally, she was already contemplating which curse to use, relishing the idea of Harry delivering a well-deserved blow to Malfoy.
"Now, Malfoy," Harry said, his grin widening into a wicked smirk, "you accepted the terms of the duel; you can't back out now. How would it look if the Malfoys didn't honor their agreements? It would reflect badly. For your father's sake, you have a choice now: you can either uphold your end of the deal, or you might cause trouble for your father as people start doubting the trustworthiness of the Malfoys."
A ripple of amusement spread through the Slytherin ranks, including Daphne, as they watched the unfolding drama. This was a tactic straight out of the playbook of Salazar Slytherin himself. If Malfoy reneged on the agreement now, it would not only damage his own reputation but also tarnish the standing of his esteemed family. Such a misstep could have far-reaching consequences in their future dealings, whether with the elder Malfoy or with Draco himself as he matured into adulthood.
Draco's expression twisted with anger as he cursed Potter under his breath, his pride wounded by the predicament he found himself in. However, after a moment of seething resentment, he seemed to regain his composure, fixing Harry with a steely gaze.
With a calculated calmness, Draco rose to his feet, his eyes locked on the grinning green-eyed boy before him, a simmering undercurrent of hatred burning in his gaze. Yet, despite the animosity brewing between them, Draco's resolve remained unshaken as he met Harry's unwavering stare head-on.
"Fine," sighed Draco, resigned to his fate. "Get it over with then, Potter."
"Get what over with?" Harry replied innocently, a playful glint in his eyes.
"You know exactly!" snapped Draco, his frustration evident.
"Oh no, Malfoy," Harry shook his head, amusement dancing in his gaze. "I'm not going to hit you, at least not yet."
"What?" Draco's confusion was palpable.
"The deal was I could punch you in the face while Daphne could curse you, but when and where, we never agreed upon," Harry explained, his grin widening into a truly wicked smirk. "I won't hit you now, Malfoy; I'll give you time. Know that when the time is right, I'll find you and punch you. In your stupid, stupid face. But until then, I want you to remember that I will do it someday."
Draco paled at Harry's words, realizing the depth of the predicament he had unwittingly landed himself in. Many of the Slytherins looked on with a newfound admiration for Harry's cunning. He had outmaneuvered Malfoy once again, leaving him powerless to object. Whether it was tomorrow or seven years later, Draco would live in fear of Harry's vengeance until the fateful day arrived.
Turning to Daphne, Harry spoke softly, "What about you? Do you want to wait too?"
"No," Daphne shook her head, her expression determined. With a flick of her wand, she cast a minor freezing spell at Malfoy, causing him to fall to the ground in agony, clutching between his legs. "Just a little freezing charm my mother taught me. He'll be fine in about an hour."
"Brilliant," Harry exclaimed with genuine admiration in his voice. "You'll have to teach me that."
"Perhaps someday," Daphne replied with a smile, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"Um, what's the deal with him?" A Slytherin jabbed a finger in Malfoy's direction.
"Keep him quiet if he starts causing a ruckus," Harry commanded, his tone firm. "Personally, I couldn't care less what you do, just don't disrupt my peace."
"Crabbe, Goyle," Daphne chimed in, "escort him to his quarters and ensure he stays put." The two hefty boys nodded in agreement, hoisting Malfoy up and guiding him away.
"Nicely handled," Harry nodded approvingly at Daphne before settling beside her.
As the others dispersed to attend to their own affairs, Harry and Daphne engaged in a conversation that stretched on for a while. The following day, they caught up with Tracy over breakfast, filling her in on all the recent events. Tracy marveled at Harry's boldness in provoking the confrontation, was impressed by the spectacle of the duel, and chuckled along with them when they recounted Malfoy's misfortune.
Malfoy himself, looking decidedly sheepish, entered the Great Hall just as they were discussing him. Tracy and Harry struggled to suppress their laughter, while Daphne attempted to maintain a semblance of composure, though a hint of pride danced in her eyes.
Spotting Snape at the head table, Harry excused himself abruptly and made a beeline for the professor. Fortuitously, the table was deserted, affording Harry the opportunity to converse with Snape without fear of eavesdroppers.
"Excuse me, Professor," Harry began, approaching Snape with a respectful tone. "I have a request to make."
Snape arched an eyebrow, his dark eyes scrutinizing Harry. "What is it, Potter?"
"I would like your permission to leave the school premises for a few hours this coming weekend," Harry replied earnestly.
Snape's expression remained impassive as he inquired, "And why, may I ask, do you require such an excursion?"
"I wish to visit my parents," Harry explained, his voice carrying a hint of longing. "I've recently learned that they're currently at St. Mungo's Hospital, and I feel a strong urge to see them."
Snape's skepticism was evident as he pressed further, "What do you mean by 'recently learned'? Are you implying that you had no prior knowledge of your parents' whereabouts?"
Harry nodded, his honesty unwavering. "Yes, sir. I had always believed them to be deceased until Blaise Zabini informed me otherwise not long ago. The absence of any information about their condition led me to assume they were no longer with us."
Snape found himself at a loss for words, grappling with the notion that one Potter twin could be so uninformed about his own family while the other navigated the wizarding world with confidence and knowledge. It was a perplexing enigma that Snape wasn't sure he wanted to unravel.
"Very well," Snape conceded after a moment of contemplation. "I shall accompany you this weekend. Meet me at eight o'clock sharp in my office."
"Thank you, sir," Harry responded gratefully before making his way back to the Slytherin table.
As Harry walked away, Snape muttered to himself, a hint of frustration in his voice, "What in Merlin's name have you done, Albus?"
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