Harry potter and the Time of Retirement
Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR
Chapter 22
'Slowly... slowly...' thought Harry, while pouring his now completed potion into a couple of vials he 'borrowed' from school supplies and closing them. It had certainly taken a long time, but it came out as he wanted – or so it seemed.
In fact, Harry had already completed a small test-run, in which he left some of the poison near a conjured pig. It falling soon unconscious, and Harry remaining awake, showed also that his antidote would protect him against any leftover gas.
'Maybe I should have also tested it against a real being' considered Harry, thinking of Hagrid's chickens. In theory there should be no difference between the conjured animal and a real one, but… he mentally shrugged. He did not in the end, and that was it. Besides, he lacked more poison for another test run.
Once completed the sealing, Harry walked to another corner of the room: there, on a table kindly set up by the Room of Requirements, the Marauder's map was on display completely open and activated: Harry had spent several evenings analyzing various scenarios and locations where his imminent confrontation with Quirrell could or should happen. His objective was to capture Quirrell after all, not to kill him, so he needed a place with specific characteristics.
'Hopefully, no one will interfere' he thought, examining the chosen location once again. He needed a quiet, isolated place where to set a trap: a space where no one would just barge in, where he could find and secure his target and where he could contain and fight him if needed. Soon, it was obvious to him how the best place would be the temporary classroom for Defense against the Dark Arts itself.
'It should also be protected already against collateral damages or noises from aggressive spells' thought Harry. He was not sure of that, of course, nor could he simply test his theory by entering and casting random Bombarda around, but it seemed reasonable enough. 7th year spells could be quite destructive already, and yet the class was mostly pristine and not particularly loud during school hours.
'Placing my vial should be easy, too' he added mentally. He, like all students, had free access to the room and a time-spelled tap on the vial would ensure it would release its content at the right moment, neither sooner nor later. Maybe he could stick it under a desk?
'My backup plan is ready too' thought Harry, glancing at a red piece of parchment on the table next to the map. A modified howler, charmed to unseal and release a call for help in its typical loud volume if activated by the Protean-charmed coin he had added to a makeshift necklace. Truly a last-resort measure, just in case if he was one step away from being killed.
Harry stood next to the table for a while, focused, thinking again how he hoped the confrontation would go, and how he feared it actually would. Best scenario, a knocked out Quirrell – and his parasite - would be placed under each and any restrictive spells Harry could think of, and more, with a nicely written letter explaining in details their situation, how and why to keep him unconscious and hints on how to restrict Riddle's ghost too according to his now valued, and never returned, book taken from the forbidden section of the library. Harry's Patronus would call for the headmaster while Harry himself could, courtesy of his Mantle of Invisibility and his father's map, escape to his common room and consider this 'case' closed.
'Best scenario' thought grimacing Harry. Inside himself, he had only moderate hopes it would work. Quirrell was no problem, the potion would knock him out easily but would a poison – even one tailored to work on magical beings – works on Riddle's ghost? Would the fact that it was now living inside Quirrell help?
'Best scenario' repeated mentally Harry, while walking in circles inside the room. The worst scenario was, of course, a failure of the poison and an unwanted, unneeded fight with Quirrell – made even more complicated by Harry's desire not to kill the man. Having Riddle escape was an acceptable disaster, but killing Quirrell was truly the worst outcome. Would he be able to overpower him, if needed? Harry was full of confidence about his superior talent and experience, but an 11yo body was NOT good dueling material. All his spells would be weaker, the most destructive he could not even cast yet without feeling ill, and everything else would tire him quickly.
Finally, he stopped walking and took a deep breath. No use in surrendering to nervousness.
'I did my best. I really did' he thought, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
The chosen moment for his trap would be the first night of the exams. Which, if is memory served him correctly, happened before the attempt to steal the stone.
All the professors, Quirrell included, would be in their personal rooms or classrooms correcting essays or being otherwise occupied. Most of the older students, being busy studying, would not violate the curfew. The Marauder's Map was there for any last minute problem, anyway, and to track the movement of any relevant person, from Flitch to Dumbledore to Harry's own objective.
It had been years now that Harry had been involved in a hands-on operation, and much more since he felt so worried at the idea of facing another wizard in a fight.
'Being a young idiot had its perks' he thought sarcastically, remembering the many, many times he threw himself in danger on a wave of emotions, anger and stupidity during his school years. At the time he had so much to lose, and yet was mostly fearless – up until the last meeting with Riddle, where he was literally convinced he would die.
'I did die, actually' he thought, sitting down at the table and feeling all those years that his body did not show anymore. What has changed, since then? It's not like he had a whole life in front of him now. Or a wife and kids to leave alone should he be killed, the reason he gave himself during his years as auror, if he felt particularly nervous before a dangerous operation.
Shaking his head, Harry tried to focus himself once more. There was nothing wrong in fearing for one's own life. Needless risks were for excitement addicts, young reckless boys… and madmen. Like Riddle. Maybe he should have really dumped the problem with this time's aurors or Dumbledore, like he considered many times, but in the end he did not – and it was quite too late to change his mind. Bitching over his own choices was not worth of him anyway.
Quickly, Harry collected the map, the sealed owler and the two vials of potion. While still nervous inside, he forced himself to forget about his fears and get out of the room. Bad consequences meant nothing in front of duty, and Harry knew his. Closing behind him the door to the now empty Room of Requirements, he started walking towards Hufflepuff's common room.
Only a few days more.
"It's oveeeeeerrr!" shouted happily Justin while entering Hufflepuff's common room, as most of the older students turned to see the enthusiastic group of first year walking in and sitting down in a couple of large couches.
"I still have a head ache" said grouchily Hannah.
"Yes, that happens when you spend the entire night awake" said Susan.
"She was not the only one" said an also tired-looking Megan "Stupid Snape."
"Did it help, at least?" asked Ernie.
"It's quite unfair to ask ingredients for a potion we haven't practiced in months" commented Zacharias.
"Help, it helped" said Hannah.
"I hope this will be the hardest exam" said Sally-Anne.
"Come on, it wasn't that bad" said Justin smiling.
"And, we won't have to deal with him until next year" added Wayne.
"Yes. Say it again, please" said Megan, lying down on her couch.
"No more Snape for a year?" repeated Wayne.
"It sounds so nice" said dreamily Megan, while the other girls giggled.
"If only it was really a year and not just summer" said casually Harry.
"Don't ruin our moment, Potter" said Zacharias.
"You should be the happiest, you hate Snape" stated Justin.
"I don't hate him" said Harry rolling his eyes "It's more a mix of irritation and pity, really."
"What?" asked Wayne.
"Weird. Anyway, Potions is done. Charms, too" said Susan.
"That test was way easy. 'Make it dance', really?" said Megan.
"Yes, I expected worse" said Sally-Anne.
"Piece of cake" stated Ernie.
"We did practice that spell a week ago, didn't we? In our study group" said Harry.
"Oh, yes. You see that it was a good idea, Harry?" said Hannah.
"Who ever said the contrary?" countered Harry.
"I don't actually remember you practicing it" said Zacharias.
"He showed it to me that evening, a couple times" said Sally-Anne, smiling at Harry.
"Whatever. Any idea on what the next exams are going to be about?" asked Ernie.
"Well… we have History tomorrow morning" said Justin, noticeably less happy now.
"I should be worried, but I just don't care about that" said Megan, shaking her head.
"Yeah – Right – No one does" was the chorus of answers.
"I can survive even with a 'Troll' in history" said disdainfully Zacharias.
"A Troll?" asked Sally-Anne.
"The lowest grade possible… no one ever gets it" answered Susan.
"Are there summer classes if we fail something?" asked Justin.
"Honestly, I don't know" said Ernie.
"I never heard of summer classes, so I would say no" added Wayne.
"Hogwarts may be nice, but I am done with it" said Hannah.
"Yeah. I wouldn't mind going home for a while" said Justin.
"I haven't seen mom and dad since Christmas" said Sally-Anne, sadly.
For a couple seconds, none of the kids said anything.
'Homesickness' stated mentally Harry. His own kids had been a tornado of hugs and chatter the first years they were back from Hogwarts. 'Only the first years' thought Harry, nostalgic.
"It's almost over, anyway. A couple more weeks and we are back" stated Ernie.
"Where are you all going for summer?" asked Justin.
"Home, where else?" answered Zacharias.
"I know, smart ass. I mean, for the holidays" said Justin. The kids around him started watching each other, but none answered.
"You can't all be staying at home!" said Justin.
"We are certainly going to Diagon Alley, Justin" said Ernie, perplexed.
"Yes, me too" added Hannah.
"I would love to visit you all!" said happily Susan, watching the other girls.
Justin, puzzled, just looked around himself – finally stopping at Harry's face.
"Summer trips are not common for wizards, Justin. Nowhere as much as is for muggles, anyway" said Harry.
"Really? Even though we can just teleport somewhere?" wondered Justin.
"Apparate. To Diagon Alley. Or Hogsmeade. What else?" said Zacharias dismissive.
Justin seemed ready to say more, but in the end just fell down into his couch, shaking his head.
"Not this again" he stated tiredly.
"What else was appropriate" added Harry smiling "Travelling by ministry portkey is expensive, and it's not like we have your muggle hotels to sleep in."
"Just use those, then, how hard can it be" countered Justin, exasperated. The reaction in the various couches was... cold.
"Justin" started Ernie.
"It's not going to happen" said Susan.
"You are welcome to lower yourself with them. You" said Zacharias.
"Sally, doesn't your family travel?" asked Justin but Sally-Anne, after looking panicked for a second, didn't answer.
"Harry, you?" asked Justin.
"Rarely, I was mostly left behind" said Harry in a neutral tone.
"And?" insisted Justin.
"And, the hotels were nice but I would find them weird now."
"After one year at Hogwarts? Come on" said Justin.
"Leave Potter alone. He is even way too polite" said Zacharias.
After a brief pause, Justin restarted.
"Yes, I won't mind having a break from this place" he said, before sulking down in his couch.
The mood seriously dampened, all the other kids started reviewing their books for the coming day's exams. Harry, nervous for his own reason, closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.
'Soon' he thought.
'Almost midnight… bah' thought Harry, annoyed by the involuntary cliché. He had waited and waited in the common room, while the other first year kids slowly trickled down to their bed, claiming he wanted to study his notes a little more for the next day's exams. Finally, not even the older years remained in sight and, as the Marauder's Map testified, all noteworthy people were placed as they should be.
Dumbledore and Filtch were in their offices, most of the faculty members in their personal rooms and Quirrell in the 'temporary' class for Defense Against the Dark Arts. This considering how Harry's vial, placed that very same morning, was time-spelled to open at 10:30 PM should have reassured him but still it did not. Harry's pessimism, a remnant from his time as an auror where only situations turned bad were remembered, just made him more fearful of whatever could have gone wrong.
Quirrell, in fact, had remained still at the center of his classroom for the last hour which unfortunately could be explained by either Harry's potion working and knocking him out or Quirrell – with or without Riddle's help – resisting the effect and now setting a trap for whoever tried to poison him.
'It's not like I can turn back now' thought Harry, crashing down on his nervousness. He had prepared, he had planned, it was time to act. Picking up a large pouch, he extracted his Cloak of Invisibility and wore it; then he opened the vial filled with his hand-made antidote for the gas that still filled the classroom, immediately swallowing it.
Without hesitation, he crossed the common room's door and walked out into the castle. Out of paranoia, that evening he had checked his route for any additional spell trap since his first and only curfew-violating outing to the Forbidden section of the Library – 'By the way, the book' thought suddenly, and amusedly, Harry – but he found nothing new. The fact that the temporary class was placed on the ground floor also helped: it took barely a couple of minutes for Harry to reach the middle courtyard, and the classroom itself.
Slowly, while still being protected by the Mantle, he placed his modified howler on the ground and disillusioned it, before casting a feather-light charm on the door to prevent any kind of squeaking. Finally, Harry entered inside the class.
Everything seemed as it was supposed to be: wooden benches in the back, luckily no charmed portraits on the walls, the central pedestal surrounded by four pillars and over which instead of the usual cauldron was the desk where the professor had tested the examined students. A desk over which, completely knocked out, Quirrell was lying down surrounded by essays.
Everything seemed as it was supposed to be – but that was not enough for Harry. In the same instant his Cloak, unlaced, fell to his feet he was already casting the strongest Stupefy he could muster without hurting himself. A red haze left violently his wand, crossed the classroom – and passed through an apparently untouched Quirrell.
Desperately, Harry jumped to his left while casting around him a barely formed Protego. An unrecognizable spell crashing on his shield showed how that had been quite the best reaction, but a series of ropes – probably the Incarcerous spell - flying from the same direction the first enemy attack had come left Harry no time to think. Acting on long, painfully trained reflexes Harry cast an unfocused Finite on them, finally retreating towards the left wall of the classroom while noting how the image of Quirrell in the central pedestal, probably a mere illusion, was already fading away.
Seeing no other threats arriving, but also no sign of his attacker, after a second of guarded hesitation he casted Homenum Revelio on himself and became finally able to pinpoint Quirrell, the real one, which was now casting on the door a spell quite similar to the Imperturbable charm.
Be it him, or even Riddle, they just did not want to let him escape apparently. 'Eh' thought sarcastically Harry, before retaking the initiative and moving towards the center of the room.
Due to the distance now separating him from his enemy, Harry started to use Locomotor on all the benches and chairs nearby the professor, throwing each of them at him and abandoning control right before moving to the next object. Quirrel casted a series of spells, from Finite to Reducto to Obliterate, stopping them in their tracks but not – unlike what Harry half-hoped – moving his eyes away from Harry. He was obviously waiting for the right moment to counter, and that worried Harry.
Being able to keep one's own focus on an enemy while under a barrage of threats meant being already one step ahead of the average wizard, typically limited in casting single, loud and flashy spells. Obviously, something more elaborate would be needed to take him down.
Moving his aim slightly lower Harry casted a Confringo on one of the desk that Quirrell had only stopped and that, therefore, was laying intact next to him. The object exploded in small pieces of wood on fire, but that was just the start: immediately, he followed by casting Oppugno in their general direction, and he was more than satisfied to see them rushing towards Quirrell, obscuring his sight and – more importantly – distracting him.
One could not cast Finite and Protego at the same time so Harry, already in the motion of casting a strong Expelliarmus, hoped that this would be the final spell needed for the night and that his plan could still be salvageable. Unfortunately, something bumped him in the back making him fall to the floor, and it was only a mix of reflexes and luck that made Harry place his left arm between a wolfish-looking ravenous animal and his throat.
Harry's mental scream might have not been intelligible, but it was certainly full of anger and frustration: Quirrell must have used that couple of seconds between Harry's own Confringo and Oppugno to transfigurate the desk on the nearby pedestal.
Desperately ignoring the pain, Harry casted the Homorphus Charm restoring the beast back to harmless furniture and turned to look at the professor, but it was already too late: Quirrell must have had the time to rid himself of the enchanted pieces of firey wood, as a sinister-looking brown spell was already flying towards Harry. Rolling on the floor, he avoided it – and the small hole it left on the ground – by no more than a couple inches and stood up, ready to attack again but a series of conjured arrows first, flying chairs aimed at his head then and finally the debris from a Bombarda aimed at one of the columns kept him pinned down: basically, the same position Quirrell had been in moments before, with the difference that Harry was bleeding from his now useless left arm, and his young body was getting more and more exhausted by the second.
Right when he was considering some extreme measures, like activating his necklace and calling for help – damn the consequences - the barrage of spells stopped. This did not calm Harry though, as Quirrell was staring at him, his wand obviously ready to cast again. Slowly, using his free hand, he removed his turban until it fell off…. Harry knew already what was going to happen now. And yet, he noticed with dark satisfaction how Quirrell was not turning his back this time.
"Harry Potter" said the never forgotten voice of Tom Riddle "I wonder, do you know who I am?"
Harry's eyes immediately narrowed. Not at Riddle certainly expected appearance - Quirrell was dueling a little too well for what was supposed to be a young and unexperienced professor, even if of Defense Against the Dark Arts – but at being dismissed so easily. Talking during a duel was something one did only if the adversary was not feared… or to show off one's own stupidity and love for drama.
Smirking acidly at the idea of how it could easily be the latter, between ridiculous choices as Lord Voldemort and snake-filled skulls, Harry decided to swallow the bait and his pride, and accept whatever break time he had just been offered. It was painful to admit, but he was in dire need of it.
So, it was with the most hostile tone he had that Harry decided to answer:
"Say what you have to say, Parasite."
Author's note: 100% of the spells used were taken from the PotterWiki list of HP spells. Also, the "temporary room for Defense" is, as the wiki states, the room where the class had been kept while the normal room (placed along the third floor forbidden hallway) was unavailable.
Unsurprisingly for this story, my objective was to create a realistic duel while still respecting the canon from the books. Therefore, I left here and there some hints about the perks an experienced duelist would have.
Keeping focus is one. Even a Hogwarts student is able to cast spell after spell after spell: at one point, if they are aimed to another average guy, they will get one trough and the fight is over. So, that way of fighting makes sense at a low level, as does taunting or talking, because it is a simple matter of who, by luck more than talent, strike first. Even the 7th book duel between McGonagall and Snape remain at this stage.
Against experienced fighters, though, it is only marginally useful: they will parry them all, and use the extra time you are actually granting them to think of a countermeasure. Both Quirrell and Harry showed that ability, while at worse being tired out by the barrage they had to endure. For those who tried boxing or any kind of martial arts, it is not dissimilar: single punches takes you nowhere against someone who knows how to guard himself. The next level then is to use the secondary effects of your spells to force in a second, or even third attack. That is where a veteran auror like Mad-Eye Moody, or my story's Harry, would be "placed": much better than the average wizard, but his advantage is such that 4 or maybe even 3 'common' wizards would be able to take him down. There are no deus ex author invincible characters, in my story.
The final rank is the "Dumbledore (and Riddle)" one, seen in the books during their fight at the ministry: using spells so powerful and obscure that most wizards would not be able to stop them, no matter how guarded they are – and those who would, like maybe Harry at his peak, would be so distracted by them that they could not resist the follow-up attack. An overwhelming number, something hardly available in the small wizardly world, is necessary to take wizards of that caliber down. Harry has never reached that level – neither Quirrell, luckily. Or Sirius, Lupin, Bellatrix, Malfoy Sr., all the other characters. There must be a reason if those two are so universally feared and no amount of willpower, training and (small) teamwork – let alone ridiculous perks like "power of love" - can help you overcome them and their mix of ancient lore applied to an exceptionally high natural talent.