Dueling Club
Chapter 11: Dueling Club
Frigid air swept through Hogwarts, chilling the students and staff alike. Hot chocolate became a popular favorite in the Great Hall, especially once the wet, pearl white snow began to fall in large flakes. The grounds were soon covered, creating a soft, untouched blanket.
One week after the potions lab incident, Draco, Theo and Vince were walking up to the Great Hall when they noticed a small crowd gathering next to the doors. As they got closer, the Slytherins could barely make out that it was some sort of sign up sheet.
“A dueling club! Finally something interesting!” A Hufflepuff shouted excitedly. Draco recognized him as Justin Finch-Fletchley from their year. Internally, he scoffed at the other boy’s excitement. The blonde Slytherin sat behind the Hufflepuff in History of Magic and he was a complete dunce. No doubt he’d end up getting sent to the Hospital Wing at some point during the first meeting and never return to the club.
The three Slytherin boys signed their names on the hanging parchment and were soon joined by the rest of their friends. Naturally, Pansy and Millie, Blaise, and Greg all signed up as well. Daphne feigned interest but decided against it until some of the others could tell her how it went first, and Tracey had no interest in dueling in the slightest. They all talked excitedly through breakfast, theorizing how the club would work and what sort of spells they would learn.
“I wonder which professor is going to be moderating it?” Millie wondered out loud.
“Surely we won’t learn much if Lockhart’s moderating it,” Draco pointed out the obvious, and many of his companions nodded in agreement.
“I would hope Dumbledore wouldn’t leave that buffoon in charge alone. Trying to teach that many students how to duel at the same time? We’ll all end up dead or missing limbs!” Theo chimed in.
“Or…,” Pansy smirked devilishly, “we could accidentally hit the Gryffindors with a few hexes—he’s pretty obtuse about the rivalry most days,”
“Oh yes,” Blaise mirrored her evil grin. “You are wicked, and I love it!”
Pansy’s face went crimson, and she averted her eyes from Blaise’s. His friend didn’t seem to care, if anything he looked proud that he had made the girl blush. Draco inwardly applauded his friends for their interaction, and finished the last of his sandwich.
The rest of the day dragged on but eight o’clock seemed to approach so quickly at the same time. The Second-Year Slytherins met in the commonroom before walking up to the Great Hall together.
When they entered the Hall, the four House tables had been removed, and in its stead stood a long, shiny gold stage illuminated by a plethora of floating candles above. The bewitched ceiling was a deep, velvety black, creating a mysterious atmosphere.
The students piled in, creating a large crowd as seemingly most of the school had elected to join the club. They were all gripping their wands somewhat tightly whether with anxiety or anticipation. Everyone was murmuring through the din, wagering bets on who would be teaching them.
“I wonder who’ll be teaching us,” he heard Granger say.
“Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young — maybe it’ll be him,” a Ravenclaw said behind him.
Before anymore guesses could be made, their fears were confirmed. Gilderoy Lockhart took the stage in audacious deep plum-colored robes. Behind him, Professor Snape, looking sour, swept up the stairs with his typical raven black robes.
Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!” He clapped his hands together in delight.
“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.” Lockhart winked at the crowd of students, and a few of the girls gasped and swooned.
“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”
Draco and the rest of the Slytherin students sniggered loudly. The rumors of Gilderoy Lockhart’s acts of fraud had become widespread through the dungeons thanks to one large-mouthed Theodore Nott, although Pansy was quite the gossip herself.
Snape’s upper lip curled into a sneer at his colleague. While the rest of the room slightly recoiled at the Potions Master’s visible sign of brewing wrath, Lockhart remained oblivious.
Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed—or at least, Lockhart did, with an exaggerated flourishing of his hands. Snape, on the other end, jerked his head irritably in reply. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.
“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.” He winked again.
Snape bared his teeth. Lockhart might want to re-think his assumption that Snape wouldn’t attempt to kill him…
“One — two — three —”
Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.
Draco and some of the other Slytherins cheered wildly for their Head of House. Granger, who stood nearby, was dancing on her tiptoes trying to get a good look at Lockhart. “Do you think he’s all right?” she squealed through her fingers.
Jealousy flared in Draco’s gut and he balled his hands into fists, his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. Who the bloody hell cares if that phony is hurt? He’s a liar and a cheat! Since when does the swotty Hermione Granger not look at the man logically and see he’s a right git?!But what do I care? She’s just a stupid Mudblood. She doesn’t even care if I exist anymore anyway…
“Who cares?” Potter and Weasley said together.
Even always-oblivious-Potter and the Weasel agree with me! Draco grunted outwardly, but there was so much noise around him no one seemed to notice.
Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his award-winning wavy hair was standing on end.
“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I’ve lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see...”
Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me —”
They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville Longbottom with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape slithered through the groups, reaching Potter and Weasley first.
“Time to split up the dream team, I think,” he sneered. “Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter —”
Potter moved automatically toward Granger, but Snape had other plans. He made eye contact with Draco.
“I don’t think so,” said Snape, smiling coldly. “Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger — you can partner Miss Bulstrode.”
Draco strutted over, smirking, thinking of what Pansy had said at breakfast. Millie walked up behind him, glaring at Granger. She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively—Granger was easily intimidated by her physical presence but still attempted to give Millie a weak smile that was not returned.
“Go easy on her, Millie, eh?” Draco whispered, making eye-contact with Granger. He gave her a barely visible nod, but if she saw it she made no sign of recognition.
“Face your partners!” called Lockhart, back on the platform. “And bow!”
Draco and Potter barely inclined their heads, strategically not taking their eyes off each other.
“Wands at the ready!” shouted Lockhart. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don’t want any accidents — one... two... three —“
Potter swung his wand high, but Draco had gotten the jump on his—already starting on “two”. His spell hit Potter so hard he looked like he was seeing stars. He stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working, and wasting no more time, Potter raised his wand again and pointed straight at Draco, shouting, “Rictusempra!”
A jet of silver light hit Draco in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing. His insides felt like a thousand feathers and fingers were digging in between his ribs and he couldn’t even laugh from being so out of breath.
“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Draco sank to his knees; Potter had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Potter stepped back in some valiant effort to duel with honor. It was a mistake; gasping for breath, Draco pointed his wand at Potter’s knees and choked out, “Tarantallegra!” and the next second Harry’s legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.
“Stop! Stop!” screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge. “Finite Incantatem!” he shouted. Potter’s feet stopped dancing, and Draco stopped laughing, and they were able to catch their breath and look up.
A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley were lying on the floor, panting. Weasley was holding up an ashen-faced Finnigan, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done. The only people left moving were Granger and Millie—the latter had her opponent in a headlock and Granger was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. Potter leapt forward and pulled Millie off. It was somewhat comical as she was a lot bigger than he was. Once they had separated, Draco sent a scowl at his House mate. So much for taking it easy, dammit Millie!
“Dear, dear,” said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up you go, Macmillan...”
“Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second,”
“I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. “Let’s have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you —”
“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat.
“Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Longbottom’s round, pink face went pinker. “How about Malfoy and Potter?” said Snape with a twisted smile.
“Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing Potter and Draco into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.
“Now, Harry,” said Lockhart. “When Draco points his wand at you, you do this.” He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, “Whoops— my wand is a little overexcited—”
Snape moved closer to Draco, bent down, and whispered, “Don’t worry about blocking. There won’t be any duel if you both are throwing up shields. You will attack on the count of three—nothing physical, just something to surprise him. Throwing your opponent off guard is nearly as effective as using a shield.”
Draco smirked, back at Snape in understanding. It was quite sage advice, and Draco was glad to have Snape there seeing as they wouldn’t be learning anything from Lockhart.
“Scared?” muttered Draco, so that Lockhart couldn’t hear him.
“You wish,” said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.
Lockhart cuffed Potter merrily on the shoulder. “Just do what I did, Harry!”
“What, drop my wand?”
Draco sniggered, but Lockhart wasn’t listening to either of the students.
“Three — two — one — go!” he shouted.
Draco raised his wand quickly and bellowed the first spell that came to mind, “Serpensortia!”
The end of his wand exploded. Potter froze, watching aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.
“Don’t move, Potter,” said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Potter standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. “I’ll get rid of it...”
“Allow me!” shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.
Well, I called that one—the Hufflepuff probably won’t be back to Dueling Club anytime soon.
Potter shouted stupidly at the snake, “Leave him alone!” And miraculously — inexplicably — the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now focused on Potter. Draco was shocked. It was like the snake could understand what Potter was saying.
Potter looked up at Finch-Fletchley, grinning, obviously expecting to see the other boy looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful — but certainly not angry and scared.
“What do you think you’re playing at?” the boy shouted, and before Potter could say anything, Finch-Fletchley had turned and stormed out of the hall.
Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Potter in an unexpected way—it was a shrewd and calculating look. Draco was becoming aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. Then he felt a tugging on the back of his robes.
Weasley came up to the middle of the crowd and grabbed Potter, dragging him out of the hall with Granger hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Draco was overly confused, but didn’t dare say anything as whatever he had missed in that interaction was clearly very serious.
“Well that was a plot twist!” Theo chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Most of the Hufflepuffs that were left shot them angry looks before storming out of the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws closed ranks and quickly left too, leaving a few straggling Gryffindors and most of the Slytherins to whisper.
“Could anyone understand what he was saying?”
“I bet he’s the Heir of Slytherin!”
“But he’s a Gryffindor, you nimwit!”
Draco turned to Theo, Blaise, and Pansy who had all gravitated toward each other after the incident.
“Wait, you guys couldn’t hear what he said?” He asked surprised.
“Oh we heard him, but we didn’t understand what he was saying. Who knew Potter was a Parselmouth?” Pansy replied, finally giving Draco an answer to what had happened.
“A what?” He repeated shocked.
“A Par-sel-mouth. Ya know, snake language?” She rolled her eyes at him and started moving toward the large oak double doors.
“I know what it means, Pansy,” Draco grumbled back at her.
“I don’t know why you’re asking us, anyway. You were right there when he did it. Didn’t you hear him?” She said snootily.
“Well I heard him tell it to leave that Finch-Fletchley kid alone, but I guess I just didn’t hear him say anything in Parseltongue—“ Draco said, unsure of the events anymore.
“Wait, what?!” Pansy and Theo grabbed Draco by his shoulders, shaking him and rattling his brain a bit.
“Not here,” Blaise whispered, eyeing all the curious glances in their direction.
The four Slytherins snuck down a nearby corridor and waited for the rest of the lingering students to pass.
“You understood what Potter was saying to the snake?” Theo asked, concern rippling across his face.
“He just said ‘leave him alone’ and the snake stopped. At the time I thought it was weird that the snake listened to him, but I didn’t even think that he could possibly be speaking Parseltongue,” Draco told them honestly.
Blaise remained quiet, but pensive. Pansy on the other hand looked furious. “Draco Lucius Malfoy, you tell me right now—and I’m only asking once, you hear me? Are you the Heir of Slytherin?”
“N-no!” He stumbled, taken aback by the question. He hadn’t even thought that much into it yet, but he supposed the rest of the school had by now. As much as Draco liked to think he was a few steps ahead most of the time, but this time he was far behind.
Pansy squinted her scrutinizing eyes at him before finally accepting that he was telling the truth, and therefore was not opening the Chamber of Secrets and attacking Mudbloods without telling her first.
“Fine, I believe you,” she stated reluctantly.
“So does that mean Potter is the Heir?” Theo asked what they all had been thinking, until Draco remembered what his father had told him.
“I don’t think so. If Voldemort had opened it the first time, that would’ve made him the Heir of Slytherin. Unless Potter is secretly related to the Dark Lord, I highly doubt he’s the new Heir,” Draco reiterated from previous conversations they’d had over the last few weeks.
“I guess you’re right—it’d almost be more realization that Voldemort was back and he was the one opening the Chamber himself,” Theo said jokingly, “though I’m not sure how he’d get into the castle without anyone knowing.”
Blaise slapped Theo on the back, “I could kiss you, mate!” He exclaimed much to Pansy’s disgust.
“Don’t,” Theo held a hand in front of Blaise’s face to stop any advances.
Blaise rolled his eyes but went on, “it’s Voldemort!”
Three sets of eyes stared at their friend in confusion.
“Think about it—he gave Lucius the diary, right? And Lucius said he had written in there how to open the Chamber but when he checked the diary it was blank,” Blaise explained excitedly, and suddenly it clicked for Draco.
“But when I saw the Weasley girl writing in it, she was corresponding with someone through the diary and the ink kept disappearing! She was writing to Voldemort!” Draco followed through the thought process.
“Wait, what are you three talking about?! What diary? And why are you keeping tabs on a Weasley?” Pansy’s voice was starting to go shrill and the boys all exchanged a glance. She wasn’t supposed to know about all of this .
Blaise took a small step toward the witch, indicating that he would explain to her what had been going on since they arrived back at Hogwarts. Once the recap had finished, Pansy stood in the hallway staring at the three boys in shock.
“And you three have just been playing Sherlock Holmes without me?” She asked accusingly.
“Well, to be honest, Pans, you’re more of the Irene Adler type,” Blaise said smoothly, keeping his eyes on her hands for any sign of an oncoming slap.
Instead, the girl laughed to their surprise. “I guess you’re right, there”
“You’re welcome to snoop with us, but nobody else can know, not even Daph,” Theo said quickly with a slightly pained expression. “Me and Blaise weren’t even supposed to know everything. Snape’ll be pissed if he finds out we told anyone else,” he added in a tone of panic.
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off knowingly, “won’t tell a soul, I swear it.”
“Can we talk about the fact that I can understand Parseltongue somehow? I’ve come in contact with loads of snakes in my lifetime and never heard anything but hissing until this time—“ Draco said nervously.
“Well, maybe you’re becoming the Prince of Slytherin, then, oh wait, you already are,” Pansy mocked.
“It’s Heir of Slytherin, Pansy, and you can’t just become it, it’s Salazar Slytherin’s true bloodline.” Blaise stated and Pansy rolled her dark brown eyes in response and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“Hold on—“ the witch grabbed Draco’s elbow pulling him to face her, “Draco when we were fighting the other day during dinner, didn’t you say you heard a voice?”
Blaise and Theo exchanged worried glances. Hearing voices was never good, even in the magical world.
“Well, yeah, but I had to have been hearing things. I thought I heard someone say ‘I smell blood…’ but it couldn’t have been,”
“I didn’t hear any voice…but wasn’t that right before they found Filch’s cat with all that writing in blood on the wall?” Pansy looked at him intently.
“You think I heard a snake? ” Draco looked at her in annoyance. “Please, Pans, I think we all would’ve seen a big snake roaming around here by now. And how did it petrify the cat? Why didn’t it just bite it or eat it?” He crossed his arms over his chest as the ridiculous idea.
“I heard it another time too and it was nowhere near an attack. I woke up from sleep walking a bit before the first attack and was on the second floor when I heard the same voice say something like ‘let me rip you’ or ‘tear you’ or something along those lines. Basically the voice wanted to kill me, or someone nearby—“
“WHAT?!” All three of Draco’s friends stared at him flabbergasted.
“You’re just now telling us this, why?” Theo was fuming. “You were so angry with me this summer for not telling you guys when I almost died, but you’re more than willing to ignore some strange, mysterious voice saying it wants to KILLYOU?!”
Draco could see the rage flaming in Theo’s eyes. He was furious, and looking back on the situation, he couldn’t blame his friend for his reaction. Draco hadn’t even considered that the voice might actually be more than a figment of his imagination running wild.
“I’m-I’m sorry, Theo, I—well I didn’t think it was real. I thought I had made it up in a bad dream,” Draco hung his head in shame.
Always quick to forgive, the tall, lanky boy put an arm around his shoulder, “it’s alright, just don’t do it again okay?” Draco nodded in a silent promise.
“Enough with all the mushy stuff. What kind of snake doesn’t eat people or can, I guess, petrify someone? Weasley’s magic is nowhere near advanced enough to do it, so it’s a snake or it’s Voldemort just walking around the castle,” Pansy said sarcastically, but it sparked an idea in Blaise.
“The snake is the ‘horror within’,” he said as his eyes grew wide.
“Makes sense for a Slytherin,” Pansy nodded.
“We need to figure out what this snake is and how it’s getting around without anybody seeing it,” Draco agreed, and they all turned toward Theo.
“Why’s everybody lookin’ at me?”