Disclaimer: I'm not the owner of Harry Potter, JK Rowling is.
Guest: Okay ! Now that's a useful review.
Ep: I'm glad you liked the story. Have a great day !
Kageknuser2710: Well, I'll explain the reason why Hadrian didn't just told the Weasleys what was happening in the answer to the review of Koldbones, so read it. Anyway, so yeah, fun fact but Hadrian isn't perfect, as I said 349459 times in answers. I purposefully write him that way. He can be distracted. That's his character. He doesn't take things seriously enough (I mean the pop corn scene wasn't enough to show that ?) and he pays it. Then, about puting the kids at risk, well... the only things that he wants is taking down Voldemort and any future Dark Lords, no matter the cost. Add to that the trust he has in Harry, and you have that kind of actions. There's also another reason that I'll explain in the answer to the next comment, as I said. Thanks for reading.
Koldbones: So, apparently people tend to forget what they read, but that's okay. I'll explain. If you go back to the prologue, and read it once more, you'll see that Hadrian had really really bad relationships with the Weasleys in the end, hating most of them, and that's without counting Ron's mistake. That's why, if you think about it, he doesn't have any encounter with a Weasley in the story up until now. He avoids them because deep down he still hates them. You can also see it by his reaction to the letter of young Harry when the latter told him that he was friend with Ron again. So, you can understand why he doesn't want to enter their house once more. If the kids can do it, without himself needing to intervene, then that's the best for him. And that's exactly what he did. Anyway, sorry if that sounds harsh, but I'm really annoyed at people who doesn't say anything else than a complaint, even though that's something that was already explained before. You have a question ? Ask. Something you don't understand ? I'll try to explain. But neither of us will learn anything if people just come to say "That's bad, because I don't like". That being said, thanks for reading up until there, and take care.
fvdv123: That feels good to read something like that after the long explanation I had to do before. Thank you for the support, I hope you'll continue to like the story. Take care of yourself, and have a great day !
09/06/1992, 22H54, Potter Manor, England:
It had been an eternity since Hadrian had worn his full attire. He meticulously inspected his weapons, ensuring each one was in its proper place. Indeed, these past few days had been dedicated to the meticulous planning of an attack on the horrific prison of Azkaban. He had turned this project over and over in his mind, carefully weighing the pros and cons of his plan. His decision was now irrevocable.
From the moment he began to alter the course of time, he knew that sooner or later he would have to take the plunge. Two options were available to him: to remain in the shadows, strictly respecting the laws in place and contenting himself with providing discreet support to the real Harry Potter of that time. Or, on the contrary, to assume a more prominent role, even if it meant incurring the wrath of the entire world.
"I never thought I would say these words... but it's for the greater good," he murmured, a sigh escaping his lips. He closed his wand case and drew his revolver from its holster with a fluid motion. "Revenge... tonight, it's our turn."
With a precise gesture, he concentrated his magic, creating reinforced bullets that he inserted one by one into the cylinder. His determination was unwavering. For now, the benevolent and honest Lord Potter was giving way to a darker side. After fighting in Mexico, supporting the English Lords against Voldemort's followers and ensuring that his younger self had a loving family, he felt that the character of Hadrian Potter had been suitably shaped.
He holstered his weapon, quickly warmed up his body, and apparated to a deserted island near the prison. The days spent perfecting his plan had given way to action. He had the power to change the course of events, and he was determined to do so.
"Death is coming," a cold voice whispered that he couldn't identify, but which seemed strangely familiar. "It is indeed imminent," he replied firmly.
Tonight, Ghost was rising from the dead.
09/06/1992, 23H00, Azkaban, North Sea:
Having reached as close to the island as he dared without triggering the prison's defenses, he lowered his hood. The enchantment tied to his attire took effect, altering his voice and shrouding his face in a veil of black smoke, revealing only two white orbs, his eyes.
Slowly, his body rose, leaving the ground as if carried by an invisible broom. His solid form gradually fluidized, transforming into a dark, smoky cloud. This transformation granted him an ease of movement far superior to that of a broom.
In this vaporous form, he was indeed impervious to the assaults of wind, rain, and any other hostile element that the capricious weather of this cursed place could unleash.
Focusing his magic in his eyes to sharpen his perception, he spotted the prison and began his approach. He flew over the stormy sea, moving at a speed that few humans could hope to attain. He slipped among the Dementors stationed on the neighboring islands, blending into their ranks as if he were one of them.
Finally, after long minutes of flight over the tumultuous waves, he landed at the entrance of the island, at the small harbor that had welcomed him on his previous visit under the identity of Hadrian.
A violent storm was raging over the prison, icy raindrops crashing ineffectually against his uniform. In the darkened sky, the Moon struggled to pierce through the clouds, playing the role of a wavering beacon. The rugged ground groaned beneath his feet as he strode resolutely towards the prison entrance. With a firm gesture, he pushed back the invisible protections that activated as he approached. Having ensured that they now recognized him not as an intruder but as an authorized visitor, he released his grip on these magical barriers.
A pungent smell of death and a biting cold, emanating primarily from the Dementors, enveloped the atmosphere. Focusing on his happiest memories, he summoned his Patronus. With a swift movement, an ethereal wolf emerged from the tip of his wand.
"Has it changed? Intriguing," he murmured in his altered voice. He shook his head, however, deciding to postpone the analysis of this transformation until later. The wolf, with a powerful wave of raw magic, repelled the Dementors who assailed him, simultaneously warming his heart from the icy cold emanating from these evil creatures.
Confident in his plan, he recalled his Patronus to his side and plunged into the bowels of the prison. With a quick gesture, he cast a Stupefy at the two Aurors guarding the entrance. A more radical choice would have been to eliminate them permanently, as the absence of witnesses was equivalent to the absence of evidence in the magical world, except for his own traces which he could easily erase. But he preferred to avoid depleting the Ministry's ranks. At least for now.
With a flick of his wand, he levitated the two unconscious men and tied them together before concealing them under the reception desk. Eager to act, he cast another spell to knock them out a second time and continued his advance.
This is where his plan truly came together. While a part of him yearned to raze the prison to the ground, he knew it would be a waste of time and energy. Especially considering that if his godfather had been imprisoned without trial, how many other innocents were wrongly suffering the same fate?
His mission was far more precise: to decimate Voldemort's ranks before his return. The most dangerous Death Eaters were conveniently gathered in the high-security zone - the same section where Sirius had been imprisoned.
It was as if they were being served to him on a silver platter. Guided by his Patronus, which illuminated his path, he headed towards his godfather's old cell. His eyes never ceased scanning the surroundings, a Killing Curse shooting from his wand, or a bullet leaving his gun each time he spotted a tattooed Death Eater.
He knew that some of them had only committed minor crimes. Otherwise, their cell would have been located on a higher floor. However, the Dark Mark could not be forcibly received. These men and women had therefore crossed the threshold of initiation, which, as he remembered, consisted of a series of increasingly vile acts culminating in torture, rape, and murder.
The power and light emanating from the Patronus began to awaken several other prisoners, completely unaware of what was unfolding. However, the joy and peace provided by the unknown man's Patronus were quickly replaced by a dull terror when they realized that he was coldly eliminating certain prisoners without even granting them a glance. The coldness emanating from this stranger easily rivaled that of the Dementors.
These same prisoners also quickly noticed that the man was only attacking Death Eaters and tried to alert the prisoners in the more distant cells... in vain.
Indeed, it woke them up. But their awakening did not change their fate. They simply no longer died in their sleep, but in terror, conscious of their impending death.
The craziest among them even claimed to have heard a voice echoing in their heads shortly before being struck by the green spell. It said: "Death is coming."
09/06/1992, 23H42, Azkaban, North Sea:
After a series of deliberate detours to eliminate other marked Death Eaters, he finally reached the high-security perimeter of the prison.
He quickly noticed that all the prisoners in the vicinity seemed awake, in a state of feverish anticipation. What could they possibly be hoping for? Death? Who knew?
Remembering his objective, Ghost approached the first cell. Inside, he saw a weak and pathetic-looking man. Just like Sirius when he had first seen him, this man seemed barely alive, as if a simple breath could carry him away. Yet, against all odds, a smile lit up his gaunt face.
"My Lord, I have been waiting for you impatiently," the man whispered, staring at him. Ghost opened the door with a simple flick of his wand and entered the cell. He immediately understood the reason for this man's joy.
He had been mistaken for Voldemort. Although the idea of being equated with that monster deeply wounded him, he knew that for these prisoners, no one else is powerful enough to break into the most dangerous prison in the world, kill inmates for no apparent reason, and do so without being stopped by the protections or the aurors.
The man, seeing Ghost approach without addressing him, and noting that instead of his master's red eyes, he had before him two powerful white orbs overflowing with magic, began to back away, terrified. "D-Don't get me wrong, Master! It's me, Rabastan! Rabastan Lestrange! Y-You're not going to kill me, are you? Not after everything I've done for you!" the man exclaimed, unwittingly informing the other prisoners that the intruder might not be who they were expecting.
"I am not that miserable creature you call Voldemort, if that's what you want to know. I am Ghost. Consider me simply as... a cleaner," Hadrian hissed, his deep voice distorted by the hood, instilling a chilling terror in Rabastan's body.
"N-No, wait! I have chests full of gold at Gringotts! I can pay you far more than whoever hired you for this job!" the panicked man pleaded, his back pressed against the damp wall of his cell.
"Unfortunately, I possess far more wealth than you could ever dream of. Don't move, Lestrange, I'm going to take care of you... quickly."
With these words, Ghost raised his wand and murmured: "Legilimens." Although he was reluctant to probe the twisted minds of the monsters inhabiting this prison, he knew they undoubtedly held valuable information about Voldemort's inner circle - information he desperately needed.
Grimacing in disgust at what he saw, he decided to revise his plan of "quick and painless death." The whimpering animal at his feet didn't deserve any deliverance.
Once he had obtained the information he sought, he moved away from the inert man, whom he roused with a firm kick. Then, he concentrated and summoned the smallest black flame he could conjure.
"This flame is inextinguishable, and it will consume you slowly, cell by cell, organ by organ, until nothing remains of you. Your very soul will be burned to ashes," he declared in an icy voice as he cast the flame at the man's foot. "I hope this brings you some warmth."
He then turned and crossed the cell, determined to move on to the next prisoner, ignoring the screams of pain and the smell of burning flesh coming from behind him.
Night was falling, and gradually, the screams of the prisoners locked in the depths of Azkaban echoed louder and louder. As new voices rose every minute, others were extinguished forever.
That night, many Death Eaters perished. It was only when he reached Bellatrix Lestrange's cell that things took a different turn. Instead of a terrified woman like her companions, he found a proud woman looking at him with a wide smile. She was the first to face him standing, rather than cowering in a corner. It must be admitted that she had a certain strength, but it would not save her.
"My turn, I guess?" she asked before bursting out laughing. This laughter sent shivers down Ghost's spine, awakening memories he thought were buried forever.
The woman's laughter continued to grow, as if she was taking a perverse pleasure in dying a brutal and painful death. Hadrian, wanting to end it, opened the cell door and began to enter.
At least that was his initial intention. As soon as the door opened, he saw three red jets approaching him at high speed. He deflected them effortlessly and turned around, searching for the source of the attack. "Aurors! You are surrounded, drop your wand and surrender immediately!" voices shouted from all sides.
Ghost sighed. He hoped to avoid this confrontation, not out of fear - far from it - but simply because he didn't want to hurt people whose goals were similar to his: to put an end to the actions of dark wizards.
However, whether he wanted it or not, he had no choice. He couldn't let himself be arrested. The whole world was on the brink of war, a war that only he could prevent. "Bones, Shacklebolt, Tonks... And many others... It would be better if everyone went home. Now."
"I don't think so," Amelia declared, stepping forward, accompanied by the two powerful Aurors. "You have three seconds to drop your wand, otherwise, we will consider this as a refusal to comply and will have to use force," she insisted, raising her wand in his direction.
"I'm watching you, Mr. Ghost!" Bellatrix laughed, curious to see what the man would do.
Ghost let out an icy laugh. "Bunch of idiots, don't you see that I'm doing this for the good of the entire community?! You're all pathetic! You want power? Here it is!" he exclaimed, dramatically spreading his arms.
He didn't know where this would all lead, but for now, he had to play the role of Ghost. The role of an unstoppable wizard. And he intended to play it to the end.
"I AM GHOST! REMEMBER THAT!" he shouted, releasing a powerful wave of magic that propelled all the wizards around him.
Spells flew in all directions, with Hadrian as the target. He danced skillfully around them, deflecting them into the wall or onto other Aurors. This game continued for a few more moments, until the assaults were too numerous, even for him.
With a violent twist of his wrist, he tore the prison floor apart, causing the ground behind him to collapse and taking the Aurors with it. Without wasting any time, he buried them under the rubble and refocused on the opponents in front of him.
A part of him felt bad for the injured, but he quickly suppressed this thought, remembering the uselessness of the Ministry in his time. He slowly let rage build up inside him, retaliating against the attacks of the three wizards in front of him without flinching.
Apart from the trio he was fighting, only two Aurors remained. He saw one of them trying to flank him, while the other repeated the same maneuver on the other side.
To defend himself, he decided to conjure a powerful shield in front of him and began drawing runes in the air. He would have to be quick if he wanted to finish it before his shield fell. He then drew two runes. One conjured lightning bolts whose power would depend on the magic he infused into it, and another to absorb his magic and infuse it into the first rune in case someone left his sight.
The shield he placed fell a moment later, under a spell of Moody, and he was struck in the right leg.
"Damn it, the right leg again!" he exclaimed in rage, violently exploding the ground in front of his three opponents. He heard one of the two Aurors being struck by lightning several times, before collapsing. He sincerely hoped he hadn't killed him.
As for the other Auror, he had no idea where he was. He had disappeared from his field of vision, but had also not been hit by the rune.
'Never mind, I'll figure it out later,' he told himself as he saw the three wizards rush towards him again.
The exchange of spells continued for several long minutes, the prison suffering more and more damage over time. However, while his reserves allowed him to maintain his Patronus for a long time yet, he could already see the light of Amelia's fading.
'They must not die today. Too bad, I'll find another solution for Bellatrix. Retreat!' he told himself, spinning his wand once more. The wizards' spells crashed again and again against his barrier, as he transferred it to his wandless hand. "I'm sorry for today's damage, but it was necessary. Be prepared, because he's still alive, somewhere. He's just waiting for his time," he declared in a cold voice, shocking the wizards in front of him.
He didn't give them time to ask any questions and crushed them to the ground with his gravity spell, immobilizing them. He then retreated towards Bellatrix Lestrange's cell... only to find it empty. Only the corpse of the other Auror who had tried to flank him was waiting for him in the cell.
'Damn it, I made a monumental mistake!' he exclaimed inwardly before punching a hole in the ceiling and flying away without a wand.
He quickly left the prison and, the moment he felt the pressure of the protections disappear, apparated.
The attack had caused many casualties - mainly Death Eaters, or prisoners who had committed atrocious crimes. However, among all these deaths, an innocent Auror had lost his life, many others were seriously injured, and Bellatrix Lestrange was once again at large.
"No plan is perfect," he murmured.
09/08/1992, 07H22, Hogwarts, Scotland:
Harry, worried about Neville's angry demeanor, inquired about his well-being from the other side of the Gryffindor table.
"Neville, is everything okay?" Harry asked in a concerned tone.
Neville, instead of replying, made an inarticulate grunt and threw him a newspaper as a projectile. Harry caught it just in time and read the headline in bold letters:
AZKABAN ATTACKED! NUMEROUS DEATH EATERS KILLED! BELLATRIX LESTRANGE ON THE RUN! WHO IS THIS MYSTERIOUS GHOST?
Harry's eyes widened in shock. An attack on Azkaban? Unthinkable. "Bloody hell... I don't know if this is good or bad news..." Harry blurted out, a part of him secretly relieved that many Death Eaters he might have to face had disappeared.
"That's not the problem, Harry. I don't care what this Ghost did to the other Death Eaters at Azkaban. Deep down, I'm even glad. What annoys me is Bellatrix Lestrange!"
Neville paused for a moment, making sure no one was listening, then asked Harry, "Harry, please keep what I'm going to tell you to yourself. Don't tell anyone, not even Daphne or Hermione."
Harry nodded solemnly, staring at his friend with a serious look. He had an idea of what might have triggered such a reaction from Neville, but preferred to wait for the rest of the story.
Once Harry's approval was obtained, Neville confided in him. As the latter told him his story, the young hero of the wizarding world tried to remain as attentive as possible, not wanting to hurt the boy who was opening up to him. He learned Neville's story with his great-uncle and grandmother, and especially the tragic fate of his parents. Suddenly, he understood Neville's rage. The woman who had tortured his parents to madness - the one who had stolen any chance of him having a happy family - had escaped from Azkaban and was on the run.
Harry perfectly understood his friend. He knew that the mere sight of Voldemort was enough to enrage him, bringing back his childhood nightmares. So for Neville, whose parents were still physically present but absent in every other way, it must have been a real torture.
Harry, aware of Neville's suffering, hastened to reassure him.
"Don't worry Neville, I won't tell anyone. Your anger is completely understandable, believe me. Don't hesitate to take all the time you need. Know that we'll be there for you, with the others. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask us!" Harry declared in a firm and kind tone.
He had borrowed this sentence from his uncle, one day when the latter had offered him the same support during a moment of anger. Harry had deeply appreciated that gesture at the time, and he sincerely hoped that Neville would accept his help in turn.
For now, he didn't know yet what to do about Bellatrix. But one thing was certain: he wouldn't let her go unpunished. For his friend, and for the family she had taken from him.
He would ask his uncle if he could find out more about the fugitive. It couldn't hurt. With a bit of luck, he would learn something new that might appease Neville.
His uncle had given him very little news since the start of the school year. He knew that the latter was now a bounty hunter with the ICW, a job which, he had to admit, had enough to attract a fighter looking for a good salary and the elimination of the worst black wizards of the time.
Following the latest news, Hadrian had gone in search of a colleague who had disappeared on a suicide mission. According to his uncle, she could be a great asset when Voldemort will eventually return.
Harry should have been worried, he knew. But he also knew perfectly well how powerful his uncle was with a wand, and he doubted even Albus Dumbledore himself could defeat him.
'We'll get through this, all of us!' promised Harry with conviction, seeing Hermione, Ron and Daphne beckoning Neville to join them on their side of the table. 'I'm sure we will!'
12/17/1992, 16H01, Hogwarts, Scotland:
For the Boy-Who-Lived, his second year at Hogwarts was far from smooth sailing. While his classes were no problem thanks to his training and learning with his uncle, his concern was growing about the future of the school itself.
Faithful to Hadrian's instructions, Harry had kept a close eye on young Ginny Weasley and ensured the safety of Astoria Greengrass. Initially, he feared reprisals from Draco Malfoy against Astoria, in revenge for the loss of his fiancée. However, against all odds, Malfoy had been rather discreet, contenting himself with a few insults and a failed attempt to attack Neville in Potions class.
Fortunately, Astoria and Ginny had managed to get along thanks to their shared presence in Snape's class. They quickly became friends, and Astoria, taking advantage of her proximity to Harry, used him to get even closer to the ginger girl.
If he were to be honest, Harry would have to admit that this closeness made him rather uncomfortable. The girl seemed to see him as a hero, an image he didn't share. She couldn't even be in the same room as him without blushing and panting.
He didn't blame her for it. Ron had explained to him that her reaction stemmed from years of reading the "Books about the Great Harry Potter," where her mother had praised his strength and courage.
So far, he was indifferent to her feelings. It even suited him, as he could watch over her without difficulty. However, the hostile glances the girl gave Daphne whenever she approached were beginning to annoy him. He didn't understand this attitude.
Daphne was Astoria's older sister, another Slytherin. Since Ginny was friends with her younger sister, it meant that the latter had no prejudices against them. But why then? Was she jealous of the attention he paid to Daphne? If so, there was nothing he could do for her.
Indeed, Daphne, in addition to being one of his best friends, was an ally of the Potter house, which the Weasleys were not. Moreover, outside of a vague friendship with the Weasley twins and his restored relationship with Ron, he had no particular connection to the red-haired family. If he had to make a choice, he already knew who he would turn to.
Beyond his surveillance of Ginny, who showed few physical changes other than deep dark circles, Harry had begun to be more cautious in his movements around the castle.
This decision had been made with his inner circle following a series of recent events. First, Gilderoy Lockhart, aka the worst Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had turned out to be a walking disaster. His lessons were disjointed and had nothing to do with the curriculum. The quizzes were almost entirely about his so-called adventures, and not about the subject matter.
From the beginning, Harry knew that Professor Lockhart would't be a genius. Nevertheless, after having Quirrell the previous year, he still held out hope of finding a professor who was at least coherent. What a mistake!
Even Hermione - who seemed madly in love with the professor at the beginning of the year - had changed her mind thanks to Harry and Lockhart himself. Indeed, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's first classes had been an absolute disaster, with the classroom ending up in indescribable chaos every time. Only their presence had prevented more damage.
To top it all off, Harry had shown Hermione - repeating the same explanations his uncle had given him - the inconsistencies in the dates of Lockhart's adventures. Faced with his friend's implacable logic, Hermione had to admit that the professor was lying.
That was why Harry was trying not to end up in detention. He had learned from his first Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that if someone was lying or hiding something, it was because they had a specific purpose. And if his assumption about Lockhart's true intentions at the school was correct, he didn't want to find himself alone with him.
In addition to this strange professor, Harry had also started to be more careful about his safety in the corridors. A few weeks ago, Filch's cat had been found petrified, along with the message: "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir... beware."
Harry and his friends had stumbled upon the scene on their way back from the Great Hall on Halloween. Unfortunately, the dense crowd had prevented them from seeing more.
Internally, Harry was happy to have celebrated Halloween with his friends. Usually, he had a hard time with this holiday, as it celebrated the death of his parents. But with his new family by his side, he felt less lonely. And if the loss of his parents still affected him, the pain was much more bearable compared to Halloween 1991.
In addition, if he hadn't been with his friends that night, he might have been petrified alongside the cat. After all, he wasn't a pure-blood.
Following this event, Harry had questioned Professor McGonagall and Daphne about the Chamber of Secrets and the "Heir". From what he could understand, the Chamber of Secrets was a hidden place in the school, built by Salazar Slytherin himself to house a fearsome monster.
With Hermione, they had researched fantastic creatures capable of petrification, but none of them matched. So they had abandoned their research, but had decided never to be alone in the school if possible.
The identity of the Heir of Slytherin remained a mystery. Using his logic, Harry had asked Daphne and Astoria to watch the actions of the Slytherin students, but apart from a few boasts about the return of the Heir to "save" them, nothing concrete had come out.
It was after all these adventures that Lockhart, probably to improve his image, had decided to open a dueling club. Students of all years could train there. Harry, out of curiosity, had chosen to go there with his usual group of friends.
The pompous man's entrance was just as ridiculous as usual, followed by that of Professor Snape who played the role of his training partner. Harry had few expectations of the useless professor, and seeing him fly away after the slowest Expelliarmus he had ever seen only confirmed his opinion.
"Merlin's beard, even Ron could have seen that coming!" Hermione exclaimed, ignoring the offended redhead's protest. Harry nodded mindlessly, wondering if he would become rich - well, even richer - if he wrote books about his uncle's adventures. After all, if the puny blonde lying in front of him had managed it, why couldn't he?
Following this farcical presentation and Snape's advice to learn to block spells first, the students were paired up in groups of two. Harry had initially wanted to be paired with Neville, but the latter was taken by Hermione before he could say a word.
Scratching his head, Harry decided to ask Daphne. He had never fought against her, and that was why he had preferred to fight with Neville. He wanted to avoid injuring the young girl unintentionally.
Having no choice, however, he approached the blonde, who gave him a weak smile followed by a dark look when she saw him coming. "I really don't understand girls..." he sighed before shaking his head.
Just as he was about to call her, he was interrupted by the annoying voice of Draco Malfoy calling him from behind.
"Potter, fancy losing to me?" he sneered in his usual arrogant tone. "You know what, I felt like letting off some steam. Let's go, Malfoy!" Harry accepted, determined to settle his score with the idiot publicly once and for all.
They took their positions, facing each other, saluted, and the fight began. The Gryffindor decided to stay back and observe how the blonde fought.
The two had already exchanged spells several times, but had never really fought. All he knew was that Malfoy was much weaker than Nott, and that with his current strength, he could defeat his former opponent in a few seconds.
"Impedimenta!" Draco shouted, before a blue bolt of lightning shot from his wand and headed straight for Harry.
The Gryffindor, anticipating the move, leaned slightly to the side, dodging the spell with disconcerting ease. Then, with a fluid motion, he sent a silent Expelliarmus towards his opponent.
A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd of spectators. Casting a spell without incantation was normally a feat reserved for sixth years, and Harry had just performed it with impressive mastery.
Draco, caught off guard, was disarmed by the attack. He managed to keep his wand, but the force of the spell propelled him backwards, landing him on his backside a few meters away.
Mocking laughter erupted from the crowd of spectators, while Lockhart hastened to remind them that they only had to disarm their opponent, not throw them to the ground.
Harry smiled ironically as he saw Draco's face turn red with anger. 'It's a disarming spell,' he thought. 'It's not my fault if, instead of taking his wand away, my spell tried to tear him from the wand.'
"It's not over! You'll pay for this, Potter... Serpensortia!" Draco exclaimed, furious.
A long snake with menacing eyes shot from his wand and headed straight for Harry. The latter raised his wand, preparing to retaliate. But, not wanting the fight to take a dangerous turn, Lockhart and Snape intervened to make the reptile disappear.
Harry, however, didn't give them time to act. Pointing his wand at the approaching snake, he whispered "Evanesco".
His godfather had strangely insisted that he learn this spell. He had explained to him that in a fight, it wasn't always easy to dodge a spell, but it was even more difficult to avoid a five-meter-high decorated stone pillar. Apparently, Sirius had experienced it himself at some point, if the accuracy of his description was a good indicator.
"If you can't dodge, you make it disappear," he had said with his usual humor. Harry had learned the lesson, and today it was very useful.
The Evanesco spell had been difficult to master. It was a transfiguration spell that required a precise amount of magic to make only the targeted object disappear, and not the ground below it. But Harry had persevered, and he was now able to use it successfully.
Determined to end this ridiculous duel, Harry cast one last disarming spell, this time out loud. Draco's wand flew from his hand and fell to the ground, definitively ending the fight.
'He's certainly not the Heir of Slytherin,' Harry thought. He had briefly suspected Draco because of his beliefs, which echoed those of Salazar Slytherin. But the blonde was far too clumsy to be a descendant of the founder of Hogwarts. Besides, his father wouldn't have failed to brag about it to the entire wizarding world. And according to Daphne's parents and his uncle, no one had sat in the Slytherin seat for some time.
"But damn it," he sighed, "What's going on in this damn school?!"