Fencing and Reflexes
Chapter 52: Fencing and Reflexes
The Great Hall hummed with excitement. Rows of students lined the sides of the vast chamber, eager for the start of the Dueling Club. Word had spread quickly after breakfast, and by evening, nearly every third-year and older student had shown up, their faces filled with anticipation.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered together, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. The Hall had been transformed for the occasion. A large dueling platform stood at the center, marked with chalk lines for positioning. The four House banners hung proudly, swaying gently as the students murmured amongst themselves.
“Blimey, look at this place,” Ron muttered, taking in the scene. “It’s a bit more serious than last time, isn’t it?”
Harry nodded, remembering the chaotic disaster that was their second-year Dueling Club, run by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. The memory of the dueling disaster, with unleashed serpents and reckless spells, still made Harry cringe.
“This time, it’ll be different,” Hermione assured them. “I heard Professor Flitwick organized it with Dumbledore himself. He’s a former dueling champion. They won’t make the same mistakes.”
“I hope not,” Ron said with a grin. “I’d rather not be dodging another snake.”
As they found a spot near the edge of the platform, Harry noticed the professors lining up on one side. The Heads of House—Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick—stood ready, their expressions serious but composed. And at the center, Dumbledore himself stood, his usual calm and serene presence commanding the room.
A hush fell over the students as Dumbledore stepped forward.
“Welcome, students,” he began, his voice warm yet firm. “Tonight, we gather not just to practice magic, but to hone our skills in defense, strategy, and discipline. In these times, the ability to defend oneself and one’s friends is as important as it has ever been.”
He paused, his bright eyes scanning the room. “Tonight, you will see the true art of dueling. Our esteemed professors will demonstrate proper technique, control, and discipline. Watch carefully, for the lessons here will be invaluable.”
Dumbledore stepped back, and Professor Flitwick took center stage, wand raised. “Let the demonstration begin.”
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The first duel was between Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. The two stood on opposite ends of the platform, their wands at the ready. McGonagall, poised with the grace of years of experience, faced Snape, whose dark eyes gleamed with intensity.
“Bow,” Professor Flitwick instructed, and the two bowed to each other.
In an instant, the duel began. McGonagall was the first to move, sending a sharp jet of light toward Snape, who deflected it effortlessly. The spells flew back and forth—quick, precise, and controlled. McGonagall favored Transfiguration, using spells that temporarily turned Snape’s shield into a stone wall, while Snape responded with swift, strategic strikes that required McGonagall to stay light on her feet.
Harry watched, mesmerized. There was no reckless flinging of spells, no wild incantations. Every move was calculated, every step deliberate. It was a dance of magic, where one misstep could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
“Merlin’s beard,” Ron whispered, eyes wide. “They’re so fast.”
Next up were Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout. Where McGonagall and Snape had relied on precision and power, Flitwick’s duel was marked by agility and finesse. He darted around the platform, using charms to disarm and disable, while Sprout summoned creeping vines and defensive plants to shield herself.
The students gasped as Flitwick nimbly avoided a tangle of vines, flipping through the air and sending a series of precise stunning spells toward Sprout’s shield. It was like watching a master in motion, his wandwork almost too fast to follow.
“Now that’s something,” Harry said, impressed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
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But the true spectacle came when Dumbledore stepped forward to face all four Heads of House. The Hall grew silent as the Headmaster bowed to his colleagues, his wand held loosely at his side, a serene smile on his face.
The four professors spread out around him, forming a circle. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, in a blur of motion, the duel began.
McGonagall struck first, sending a wave of blue fire toward Dumbledore, which he extinguished with a flick of his wand. Snape followed with a barrage of hexes, while Sprout summoned vines that shot toward Dumbledore like whips. Flitwick, ever quick, added to the chaos with a series of disarming spells.
But Dumbledore moved through it all like water. Every spell that came his way was effortlessly deflected, transformed, or neutralized. At one point, he turned a jet of fire into a flock of birds, which flew harmlessly into the air. He deflected Snape’s hexes with ease and turned Sprout’s vines into flowers.
The duel ended with a final flourish—a wave of Dumbledore’s wand that sent all four professors’ spells gently back to their wands, ending the duel without a single explosion or harm.
The Hall erupted into applause, the students clearly in awe of the display.
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After the demonstration, the students were left to practice dueling in pairs, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves in a smaller group with a few other half-blood and Muggle-born students. The conversation naturally shifted to what they had just witnessed.
“That was amazing,” said Michael Corner, his eyes still wide. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I bet half of that would be illegal in Muggle fencing.”
“Fencing?” Harry asked, curious. “You’ve fenced before?”
Michael nodded. “Yeah, it’s like dueling but with swords. It’s all about quick reflexes, predicting your opponent’s moves, and controlling the distance. Watching them duel reminded me of it.”
Harry’s mind clicked. “You’re right. Dueling is a lot like fencing—timing, anticipation, even how you stand and move. The way you handle a wand is almost like handling a sword.”
Dean Thomas chimed in. “Same with table tennis, actually. You need fast reflexes and quick thinking. It’s all about reacting to what’s coming at you before it hits. I bet that helps in dueling too.”
Harry grinned, thinking of how reflexes, balance, and precision played a role in both sports and magic. “It makes sense. The faster you react, the better your chances of blocking or countering a spell. And it’s all about control—whether you’re hitting a ball or casting a spell, you’ve got to stay focused.”
Hermione, listening thoughtfully, added, “There’s probably something to that. We’re taught to think of magic as this mystical thing, but in reality, a lot of it comes down to physics. Movements, reflexes, control—it’s not so different from sports, really.”
The group continued to chat, and Harry found himself even more convinced that his background—living in the Muggle world and being exposed to things like fencing and table tennis—was an advantage. The skills he had learned growing up might just give him the edge he needed, not just in dueling but in everything that lay ahead.
As the night wore on, Harry reflected on the day’s events. The dueling demonstration had been impressive, but it was the conversation afterward that stuck with him. There was something about blending the knowledge of both worlds—Muggle and magical—that felt right. Maybe that was his path, using both his Seer abilities and his broader understanding of the world to become something more than just a student at Hogwarts.
He was ready for whatever came next.