(Summary of CHP 26: Harry tries to train Hermione for her duel, Neville offers some advice, Gates offers assistance, and finally, we discover that Rita has been acting as a sort of messenger between Voldemort and the interloper in Hogwarts.)
From what Harry later heard, the Aurors extracted no additional information from Rita using legal means. The Death Eater, whoever he was, put layers of Confusion and Obliviation spells on her, making her essentially useless to the ministry. When Harry asked what was to be done with her, the Aurors shook their heads and said they were not permitted to say. Even Mr. Alverton, who was normally generous with information, remained tight-lipped.
"You think they sent her to Azkaban?" Ron wondered aloud.
"I dunno," replied Harry. "If she was helping Voldemort, then they just might have. But then why wouldn't they want to tell us?"
"What do you think Voldemort would do if he found out where Rita was being kept?" asked Hermione quietly. "If they revealed where she was being kept, Voldemort would have her killed."
If she's lucky, that's all that will be done, said Pseudo-Snape darkly.
"Well, it's not like she knew anything," muttered Ron. "They're still no closer to catching that freak than they were before. If the parents ever found out there was a Death Eater actually hiding in Hogwarts there'd be an uproar."
"And there are enough students missing as it is," said Hermione sadly, looking up and down the table in the Great Hall. A few of the more zealous parents had kept their students home. It was a small minority, but significant nonetheless.
"If they can't keep us safe at Hogwarts," said Harry. "I don't know what they expect to accomplish at home. We have Aurors and everything here."
But as soon as he said it, a sinister thought struck him. The difference would be that he would not be there to act as a magnet for Voldemort's Death Eaters. Of course, he had still not told Hermione or Ron of the prophecy, and the dangers associated with being near him. If he had not known them so well, he would have told them long ago to keep a distance, but he knew that neither of them would do that. They would only get closer. That fact was simultaneously his greatest comfort and greatest pain.
"Don't worry about it mate," said Ron, misreading Harry's troubled expression. "He can't hide forever. He'll be caught eventually, and then we'll really find out what's going on. If Gates ever gets his hands on that Death Eater..." Ron made a motion with his hand as though he was cutting his own neck. His eyes rolled back in an overly dramatic fashion and his tongue lolled out.
Harry snorted with laughter, but despite himself, he felt slightly better. If there was one benefit of having Gates nearby, it was the fact that Gates hated Death Eaters more than anything else, except Voldemort. He would track down the Death Eater with unmatched diligence. And when he finally got his hands on him...
"I suppose there's always a good part of having a psychotic madman on your side," said Hermione lightly.
Yes, but it's best to always having that madman busy, said Pseudo-Snape warningly. Alex can be just as dangerous to us as to the Death Eaters.
Hermione's Club S.P.E.W. meeting went relatively well, as nearly all the members showed up, though Harry strongly suspected many of them were mislead by the contents of this meeting. Hermione gave a lengthy speech detailing what they had done so far this year, and what she hoped to accomplish before the year ended.
Winky had turned into a reluctant poster child for Hermione, as she was continually referred to as an example that they could, through strong effort and diligence, persuade the house-elves to enjoy freedom. Harry did not mention that, in Winky's case, it happened by itself.
It was finally the day before the duel between Hermione and Malfoy, and the day was going rather well. Hermione assured Harry that she was well prepared, and that she had been taking time away from her studying to practice her curses and hexes in the Room of Requirement. This mollified Harry somewhat, but he still could not be completely comfortable. He had the sneaking suspicion that Malfoy would try something underhanded to sabotage Hermione's efforts, and, with as much discretion as he could muster, he kept an eye on her throughout the day, even when in Potions he was supposed to be working on his solution rather than monitor every movement Malfoy made at his table.
"Is there something interesting about my back, Potter?" taunted Malfoy when he caught Harry scrutinizing him. "Or are you planning on letting Granger do all the work like usual since you're too stupid to do it yourself?"
The Slytherins in the class laughed uproariously. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him humorously, and this took the edge off of his rising temper.
Stupid to be taken in by Malfoy, he thought. He should be more careful.
When the laughter abated, Snape said in a tone that made him sound as though he was reciting from a textbook, "Now, Mr. Malfoy, you should always respect your peers."
"Sorry, sir," replied Malfoy with mock sincerity.
You're forgetting the wormwood, Potter, Pseudo-Snape drawled. It took Harry a moment to realize which Snape was talking, and when he did, he quickly complied. You're becoming sloppy.
Pseudo-Snape had a point, he decided. He was concentrating specifically on Malfoy, not liking the Slytherin's proximity with Hermione, and his potion work was suffering because of it. If he was not more careful, his cauldron would overheat and then he would have a real disaster to clean up.
Harry sighed and began stirring his cauldron's contents, settling instead for casting a furtive glance in Malfoy's direction every once in a while rather than setting up a constant surveillance.
Though Snape had not said a word to him, the Potions master often addressed the class as a whole, warning them to focus on their potions. Harry knew, of course, that these were directed solely at him. He caught Snape shooting him glares whenever he leaned back to ensure that Malfoy was not straying from his table. Hermione, who was deeply engrossed with her work, did not notice Harry's actions, much to his relief. He was sure that she would urge him to focus on his Potions rather than worrying about her.
At the end of the period, Snape stood before the class, his expression giving Harry the feeling that the Potions master was preparing to deliver a nasty announcement. Clearing his throat, Snape said, "I gather from your performance today that you all need more practice before we can move on. The majority of you, I sense," -he glanced briefly at Harry- "also need to form a sense of respect for the solutions you are brewing. These potions demand your full attention, and they are not receiving it. For these reasons, I am going to assign you all some extra work. Tonight's work is for you to write a thirty inch report," -scattered gasps came from around the classroom- "on the history of the Prophetic Potion, and then list and describe the practical and mystical purposes of this solution. It will be due tomorrow, of course." He slowly went behind his desk and pulled out his grade book, looking as though he had said nothing that warranted any sort of surprise or shock. "Failure to turn it in will result in the loss of half your grade as well, so do not skive off this essay. That is all."
An excellent example of Slytherin cunning, said Pseudo-Snape. Devious, mean, and inconspicuous.
For the first time in the history of Snape's Potions class, no one made a move to leave after dismissal. Everyone sat in a stunned silence, as though they were expecting to wake up at any minute. Malfoy, Harry noticed with growing suspicion, was very carefully and deliberately putting his books away, smirking the entire time. Something was wrong, but Harry could not place it.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" asked Snape sharply. "Don't expect to receive any passes for being late to your next class. My second years will be here any moment."
Slowly, the class filed out, still stricken from what was just imposed upon them. Dull, rebellious murmurings broke out, which grew steadily in intensity. Harry saw Malfoy walking ahead of the class, still smirking, a new bounce in his step.
"This is going to take all night!" Hermione whispered in a panicky voice. "I've got Charms and Transfigurations to study for already! If I have to write this essay..."
Suddenly everything came together. Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and looked into her eyes. The rest of the class slowly went past them. "That's what this is all about! Malfoy got Snape to assign us this huge essay so you would be so overworked that you wouldn't be able to duel tomorrow! That's what this is!" He was becoming angry. Malfoy had just gotten away with cheating.
"But that doesn't make any sense," Hermione said, biting her lip. Harry could see that she was considering it. "Malfoy has to do it too."
"What if Snape just gives Malfoy the grade?" Harry said. "He does it all the time anyway."
Hermione was looking more and more convinced, but she said, "No, Professor Snape couldn't- shouldn't do that. That's-" She sighed.
He put his arm around her, holding her close. "Maybe Dumbledore-" He stopped. Dumbledore would not interfere for a Dueling Tournament, especially with only a weak assumption as evidence. They lapsed into silence.
"I'm going to have to stay up past midnight, but I'm going to get it done," said Hermione quietly.
"And I'll stay up and do it with you."
She grinned. "Are you trying to find a way to copy my essay?"
"Well, if you don't mind..." Harry said playfully.
"Dream on," she said. "But I'll check it."
"Deal," Harry replied, and let go of her as she moved away.
"I'm going to have to go to Arithimancy now," Hermione said when they came to a stairwell.
"I'll see you at dinner, okay?"
"Alright," said Harry. "And Hermione-" She paused at the first step. "Don't worry about the duel. I've been putting a lot of stress on you over it, but it's only because-" He hesitated. "-because I care about you."
Hermione smiled. "I know. But just because I have to do this Potions essay doesn't mean I'll lose to Draco. I've learned plenty about duels from books and the D.A. Draco shouldn't come unprepared."
As Harry turned to leave, she added, "And Harry-" Like Hermione, he paused and turned. "I care about you too."
Blushing, Harry watched her go up the stairs, and when she was gone he began winding through the corridors to the Gryffindor common room, a bemused expression on his face. For a few blessed minutes, he had totally forgotten that Gates was not far behind him, a silent form in the shadows.
***
To Harry's knowledge, Hermione had slept for less than four hours. It was difficult to tell because, as he struggled with his essay, he repeatedly fell asleep while resting his head on his hand. Hermione woke him up every time, of course, but he passed the time in more or less a dream-like state, his mind not functioning, staring blankly at the illegible text he had scrawled onto the parchment. The last clear thing he remembered that night was being shaken awake by Hermione, who then told him they had to go to sleep if they planned on going to classes tomorrow.
So it was no surprise that, at breakfast, Hermione sat next to him in a slumped manner, her eyelids drooping, poking disinterestedly at her eggs. He himself scarcely felt better, but he figured he had taken quite a few naps that night, as well.
"You feeling all right?" Ron asked, staring at her untouched food with a look of amazement. "Maybe you should eat some of that. To feel better."
Harry was not sure Hermione had even heard Ron, as she did not answer.
"Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said quietly.
Hermione instantly perked up. "No, I'm fine," she said cheerily, reaching over and pouring herself a glass of orange juice. She cut her egg and ate a piece. It looked like she was chewing glass. "It's good."
"Well, you should get a little more food in you," said Ron wisely. "It wouldn't do for you to go into that duel on an empty stomach. Or without any sleep, for that matter," he added, scrutinizing her closely.
"I had to get that essay finished, Ron," said Hermione heatedly. "I couldn't just brush it away. It's going to be the biggest grade so far this year! Harry and I stayed up for most of the night, and really I'm surprised we managed to finish it." She thoughtfully turned to Harry. "And I still need to check over yours, Harry. I forgot to read it over before I went to bed."
Harry broke into a fit of coughing. While he had made great progress on his essay, he had not quite completed it. Frankly, he was amazed by the amount he had managed to get done. Between his naps, he had apparently written several inches worth of text. With any amount of luck, he could finish it before Potions class today, but it certainly was not ready to be checked by Hermione yet.
Squeezing in a session at the library between his Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures classes, Harry finished writing a very crude essay. The several ink splotches on the paper betrayed his hastiness, and would surely lose him points. He relied heavily on Pseudo-Snape's knowledge of the subject, as well as a few reference books that Madam Pince had directed him to. It would not earn him an Outstanding, but he thought it was worth at least an Acceptable.
When Potions class began, he saw that many other students had suffered a similar plight. Many were even now making finishing touches, while others, who looked to be in a state of panic, had only written half of the required amount. Hermione, Harry noticed, had her parchment neatly scrolled up and on her desk, though she still looked like she did this morning: exhausted. Malfoy pointedly turned in his seat, glanced over her once, smirked, and then turned to the front again. Harry swore that that smirk was meant for him.
Snape stalked in with his usual long strides, slammed the door, locked it, and then faced the class with a self-satisfied expression. This, however, was only evident by the slight tilt of his lips. Slowly, he approached the nearest desk and picked up a ragged, sloppy essay. The Ravenclaw shook uncontrollably as Snape began reading it. He put it back down and then moved on, doing the same to the next few students. When he came to the desk before Harry's, he paused, evidently reading the parchment with particular care.
At last Snape said softly, "This is what you are all planning to hand in?" He waved the essay around and then tossed it back onto the student's desk as if disposing of trash. "You expect me to waste my time reading this? I remind you all that you are in N.E.W.T. Potions class, and we are now approaching the conclusion of this year. The papers I have read so far would all earn Dreadful's , and only that because there is nothing lower. As this is worth a large portion of your grade, this would, of course, lead to most of you failing." He took a deep breath, as though what he had to say next pained him greatly. "The headmaster beseeched me to give you more time, citing that none of you are masters at this craft. I am compelled to comply."
A restrained silence broke out, and Harry could tell most of the class were forcibly stopping themselves from cheering. Hermione, however, looked horrified. She had spent all those long hours at the study table for no reason.
Snape went back to his desk, but not before casting a small, almost imperceptible smirk at Malfoy. Draco smirked back.
All of Harry's guesses had been confirmed with that tiny gesture. Snape was helping House Slytherin in the Dueling Tournament by using Hermione's studious nature against her. Malfoy, obviously in on it, knew that the essay would not have to be turned in, and so did not even start it. He received a full night's worth of sleep, while she did not. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had actually intervened, or whether it was merely an excuse for Snape to extend the deadline without warning. It was a despicable, blatant act of cheating, and Harry doubted that he could even prove it to the headmaster.
Draco had better hope that Hermione beats him, Harry thought. Because if she doesn't, he'll be dealing with me.
***
"Don't take any of this personally, Harry," Terry Boot whispered to him on the raised, circular platform in the middle of the Great Hall.
"Of course I won't," replied Harry amiably.
It was evening, and the Dueling Tournament had commenced in the Great Hall, all the students and staff in the school in attendance. A the same shimmering blue dome that was used in Gates' duel with Snape encased them both, shutting them off from the outside. Upon closer inspection, Harry noticed little waves in the wall that gave the impression of liquid. This, combined with the muffled sounds of the audience, made it seem as though they were underwater. Gates stood directly on the other side, ready to spring into action, his figure distorted from the dome.
Hermione and Ron sat in the front row, looking tense. Hermione's anxious expression was clear despite the blue barrier, and Ron was sitting clear to the edge of his seat. Malfoy, unsurprisingly, was smirking and whispering something into Crabbe's ear. The two of them laughed, and Harry forced himself to turn away.
Terry was standing across from Harry, his wand at his side, his face furrowed with concentration. Terry, Harry knew, was one of the more advanced members of the D.A., and would prove to be a worthy adversary. While Harry felt confident, he inwardly reminded himself that he could make no mistakes. Terry's specialty was exploiting his opponent's errors and making them fatal.
Harry's hand securely grasped his wand, his eyes focused on Dumbledore. Soon, he knew, the headmaster would rise and give the signal to begin.
After what felt like several minutes, Dumbledore stood and bellowed ritually, "Let the duel commence!"
The Art of Dueling stated that one must either strike at his opponent the first instant, or wait longer for a clear advantage. Harry's strategy was the former, and he wasted no time in whirling his wand and shouting, "Stupefy!"
Red light streaked across the dome, whizzing past Terry's chest just as the Ravenclaw leapt away. The power and strength concentrated within that single curse was such that it singed Terry's shirt, making his eyes widen with surprise.
Harry was about to throw another curse when he hesitated. It was unwise to become greedy in a duel, especially with one as quick-witted as Terry.
"Infligo!" Terry countered quickly, which in turn made Harry's eyes widened. He had no idea that the Ravenclaw had learned that spell.
Harry, knowing there was no way he could conjure a shield charm strong enough to resist it, dived out of the way, but not soon enough. His legs were caught by the curse, and he spun around wildly before collapsing to the ground. With practiced speed he leapt back to his feet and parried an oncoming Stunning Spell.
"Impedimenta!" Harry shouted. Terry, who had not expected a counterattack so soon, tried to dodge the spell but was struck in the leg. His movements immediately slowed.
"Incarcerous!" Harry shouted, elation entering his voice, but even as the incantation left his lips, he knew it was a mistake. Terry was a seventh year, which meant he knew-
"Discerpo!" Terry managed, and a disc of light shot out of his wand and sliced the ropes to ribbons. They fell to the floor, worthless. He directed his wand at his leg. "Finite Incantatem!"
Harry knew he needed to end this duel quickly. The longer it took, the more of a chance he would slip and make a fatal mistake. "Expelliarmus!" he bellowed, hoping to catch Terry unawares.
"Protego!" Terry incanted, barely speaking the words before the oncoming spell smashed into the newly-formed shield. It ricocheted backwards, and Harry sidestepped to avoid it. It crashed and burned away with a sizzle on the wall of the dome.
Harry wanted badly to use some of the curses he had learned from Gates, but understood that most of them were banned from being used in the tournament. He was limited to whatever was taught in classes.
"Infligo!" Harry shouted. He had a stroke of luck. Terry, whose shield charm apparently had not blocked the entirety of the Disarming Spell, was recovering as the white cone of light sped to him. He was only able to look up as it slammed into his chest, sending him reeling backwards. When his back hit the dome's amorphous wall, it repelled him violently, and he landed on the ground with a sickening thud. Harry felt a twinge of regret. He had not planned on the reaction to be so strong.
"Expelliarmus!" said Harry, and the jet of light struck the floor just as Terry rolled away. It left a small scorch mark in its wake.
Terry reached under his body and drew his wand, almost grunting the incantation, "Stupefy!"
Harry ducked down to avoid the curse, and then leapt aside completely when Terry sent a second Stunning Spell his way. His breathing was becoming heavy, and his hands were slick with sweat. It took him a moment to realize that Terry was already back on his feet, and it was too late for him to act when the Ravenclaw raised his wand and bellowed, "Arcesso!" His eyes closed and he began murmuring something under his breath.
Realization crawled up Harry's spine and jolted his mind awake. Terry had just used the Conjuring Charm, and he would undoubtedly soon be faced with a summoned creature that Harry was unsure he could deal with.
You're becoming sloppy, Pseudo-Snape warned. You should've never let him up. No Slytherin worth his wand would've let him return to his feet. And did the Sorting Hat not want you in Slytherin?
Harry could not issue a retort, as he was instead focused on the newly formed gorilla before him. It was hunched on its legs, its massive arms flexing in the empty air, bristly hair covering its body, with patches of skin that shone with a black light. As though recognizing Harry for the first time, it leered dangerously at him, and he had to remind himself that behind those dull eyes there was the controlling force of Terry Boot. The beast was merely an extension of the Ravenclaw, and could not harm him without conscious thought on Terry's part. At least, that is what Harry kept telling himself. It did little to relieve the fear that he felt upon seeing the gorilla intently advance upon him, its great arms helping to thrust its heavy bulk forward.
Harry jumped away when the gorilla leapt at him, its hand stretching out to grapple at Harry's shoulders. It missed and instead fell and rolled on the ground. With an abrupt, jerk-like movement, it scampered to its feet and bared its teeth in an unmistakably primal gesture. Harry suddenly understood Terry's plan. The gorilla was trying to pin him to the ground.
With a cautionary air, the gorilla circled Harry, its beady eyes transfixed onto its target.
Harry crouched slightly as he went into his general dueling stance. While the gorilla was nothing more than a wisp of magical energy, it would still react to spells and curses just like any other living creature.
You're missing the point Potter-
Harry shut Pseudo-Snape out. He needed all of his concentration, and he could not spare any for a false voice's sarcastic remarks.
The gorilla suddenly pounced, its muscled legs pushing upwards with astonishing force. Harry's reaction was instantaneous. He shouted, "Stupefy!"
A red light shot out of his wand and struck the beast square in its chest, causing it to grunt and its aim to go awry. The gorilla landed on its legs, surprisingly, and brought its arm up to its chest, as though trying to rub away the pain. Harry stared at the tip of his wand incredulously. The Stunning Spell would have easily knocked out a full grown wizard.
The Stunning Spell doesn't work on animals, said Pseudo-Snape scornfully. His voice overrode all other thought. Different brain patterns- different nervous systems-
With another effort of will Harry ignored Pseudo-Snape, but the voice persisted.
Pseudo-Snape roared out in his head. Missing the point entirely! Get the wizard, not the familiar!
Harry's eyes went wide as he realized that Pseudo-Snape was right. He whirled around, temporarily forgetting about the recovering gorilla, and raised his wand towards Terry Boot, who was deep in some sort of trancelike state synonymous with summoning.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry bellowed, and the curse soared at its vulnerable target with a speed that matched the urgency in the caster's voice.
Terry Boot's body locked up immediately, as though invisible rope had suddenly contracted around his form, and he toppled over onto the floor. The summoning connection snapped, and the gorilla, just as it made to leap at Harry's back, disintegrated into a smoke. Harry turned to see a vague outline of the primate before it swirled away from a draft.
The blue dome vanished with a wave of Gates' wand, and Madam Pomfrey came up to remove the curse that had been placed on Terry. Harry let out a long, rattling breath. That had been close, he realized. Terry was finally unbound, and went to shake Harry's hand.
"And the winner apparent of the first round of the finals is Harry Potter!" said Dumbledore's resonating voice. Harry vaguely thought that the headmaster must be using Sonorus. "Judges, if you would please finalize the results."
Professor McGonagall raised a nine for Harry and a seven for Terry. Professors Flitwick and Sprout gave similar scores, with Harry still strongly in the lead. When it came time for Professor Snape to announce his scoring, Harry's breath hitched in his throat.
Snape grudgingly raised a six for both of them, a sour expression on his face. He apparently had hoped that Terry and Harry would somehow have knocked each other out.
A cheer erupted from the Gryffindor section of the Great Hall, and, to his slight confusion, he felt nothing at all. The only thing he could feel was the warmth emanating from his wand, and a bit of cool air rushing in from some unseen opening. There was no sense of accomplishment or victory. When his eyes fell on the silent Slytherins, he understood. His real rival - Malfoy - was as of yet unbeaten. There would be no triumph until he saw Hermione strike him down with a well-placed curse. She could defeat Draco. Harry was sure of that.
He stepped down from the platform amid more cheers from the Gryffindors. Several hands patted him on the back, but he locked eyes with Hermione, and he slowly eased his way through to crowd towards her.
"That was really great Harry," Hermione said, her eyes gazing into his. She still seemed tired, but there was a certain intensity about her that told him that she remained a formidable witch. They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Ron broke in.
"Yeah mate," agreed Ron. "I reckon the only reason they took points off of you was because you didn't use enough advanced spells. Snape gave you both the same score because he's a git, but that's a given."
"I suppose you're next," Harry said, looking once more at Hermione.
A sort of mutual understanding passed between them, and Hermione nodded and stepped up to the platform as Dumbledore announced the next pair. Harry felt the connection - always indistinct yet strong - tug at his chest. He did not want her to go up there. Draco had almost used the Killing Curse on Neville. If things became desperate, he might end up using it on Hermione.
Several rows over, Harry saw Malfoy's slickly blond head make its way to the platform. Malfoy cast a knowing smirk in the Gryffindors' direction, a gesture of superiority, and then climbed onto the platform. He wore a formal dueling robe especially made to prevent the normally bulky clothing from interfering with spell work. It was black and sharply cut, with the outline of a Slytherin serpent over the breast. Hermione showed no reaction, her eyes watching him warily as though expecting him to strike at any second.
"Tectum!" Gates bellowed, and the blue dome flowed down like water around them, curtaining them off from the rest of the school.
"May your wand betray you," said Malfoy ritually.
"And may yours as well," said Hermione, completing the exchange. But to Harry, there was a hint of exhaustion. Whatever her outside appearance, she needed sleep.
Silence fell over the Great Hall, and everyone looked expectantly at Dumbledore as he stood at the staff table. Then tension was skyrocketing. Here, before them, was the embodiment of the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Hermione, the brightest witch in Gryffindor and the school, was dueling Malfoy, a Slytherin if there ever was one.
"Let the dueling commence!" Dumbledore said, though his tone suggested that he was somehow disquieted.
Before the last word had even left Dumbledore's lips, Malfoy threw the first curse. "Fumo!" When the curse shot out from his wand, an earsplitting boom accompanied it, as though it was a cannon firing. The entire Great Hall instinctively crouched and covered their ears.
Hermione, who had been preparing for such a move, shouted, "Protego!" at the same moment, deflecting Malfoy's curse so that it shot back towards him. His eyes widened and he dodged aside, just missing it as it smashed and sizzled into the blue, gel-like dome wall.
Must've been one hell of a Shielding Charm to stop that kind of magic, said Pseudo-Snape appraisingly.
"Infligo!" Hermione incanted quickly, taking advantage of Malfoy's brief surprise. Her wand let out an explosive boom as the spell flew at the Slytherin.
Draco did not move. In fact, he stared at the ever-slowing cone of white light, a grin growing on his face. Suddenly, he waved his wand and bellowed, "Protego!"
Harry almost snorted with laughter. A Shielding Charm would not be able to stop such a strong curse.
But, when the cone met the shield, it slid around it, like a river does when it meets a particularly sturdy boulder. A shimmer of impressed murmurings ran through the audience, even affecting some of the teachers. Harry scarcely believed his eyes, and, from Hermione's agape mouth, similar thoughts were running through her mind.
That's impossible, said Pseudo-Snape in a strangely uncertain voice.
"What's wrong?" Malfoy gloated, twirling his wand in his hand. "Never seen a real pure blood wizard duel before? Stupefy!"
Hermione just managed to dodge the oncoming red light. Her reactions were slow, delayed.
"Where you going?" taunted Malfoy. "Stup-"
Hermione had whispered a Full Body-Bind Curse under her breath, and would have incapacitated the Slytherin had he not seen it. It whizzed past his right ear, smashing into the blue dome with a crackle.
Malfoy ground his teeth. "You little m- Protego!" He had just managed to deflect yet another curse Hermione had sent his way.
Another folly of the Slytherin, said Pseudo-Snape. Cannot keep from gloating in a duel. It's still better than insufferable Gryffindor arrogance, however.
"Fumo!" Malfoy shouted angrily, the curse seeming to reflect his emotions by coming out a shade of black instead of the usual gray.
Hermione was not able to erect a Shielding Charm nor was she able to dive away before the curse struck her left shoulder, making her cough hoarsely. Clouds of smoke spewed out of her mouth with each spasm.
Fear coursed through Harry and he nearly stood up from his chair. Malfoy was especially brutal to opponents whom were disabled.
"Stupefy!" Malfoy said gleefully.
Hermione managed to duck. She pointed her wand at herself and said, "Finite Incan-" More coughing.
"Come on Hermione," Harry murmured under his breath. His hands were tightly gripping the arms of his chair.
Malfoy's lips pulled back into a sneer. "Petrificus Totalus!"
"PROTEGO!" Hermione incanted through another fit. It was barely intelligible, but apparently it was enough to create a rudimentary barrier. The curse ricocheted across the platform, and Hermione fell to her knees, coughing and heaving. She gasped throatily. "Finite Incantatem!"
"Yes!" Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor section, and groans from the Slytherins.
"What!" Malfoy spat furiously. His face was flushing deeply. "I'll show you- Infligo!"
Hermione, who had just clambered to her feet, dived gracelessly to the side, the rush of air whipping around her feet indicating that the curse had passed harmlessly.
"Infligo!" Hermione shouted as she fell. A sound like a cannon resounded through the Great Hall, and when the cone of light fired out of her wand, Malfoy scrambled to prepare a Shielding Charm.
He was too late.
The curse smashed into his chest, knocking him back and sending him sprawling to the ground. His wand skidded a few feet away, out of arm's reach. He grunted as he strained to reach it, but to no avail.
"Stupefy!" Hermione incanted.
Malfoy rolled, and Hermione's spell struck the spot where he was laying just a second earlier. The Slytherin groped desperately for his wand, crawling, and at last he managed to grasp the end with his fingers. He pulled and brought it firmly into his grasp.
"Stupefy!" Another miss on Hermione's part. She must be really tired, Harry thought.
"Blimey," Ron said next to him. "There's her chance. All she needs to-"
Before Ron could finish his sentence, Malfoy rolled onto his back and shouted, "Everbero!"
There was a crack and Hermione reeled and stumbled as though physically hit. Harry squinted and saw that there was indeed a scarlet splotch on her cheek as though she had been slapped.
Malfoy grinned and leapt to his feet. "What's wrong Granger? That's right. Go ahead and take it like a-"
"Everbero!" Hermione shouted.
Malfoy grunted and reeled, clutching his stomach, wheezing as though he had been hit hard in the gut. The flush in his cheeks quickly spread to his neck, and he glared up at Hermione with unrestrained hatred. He raised his wand, and then paused, as though unsure of what to do next. He held it as though it was a sword above her head. From the way his entire body was shaking, it was apparent that he was fighting in some internal struggle. There was a glint in his eye that Harry had seen once before.
Harry pushed his seat back and went for his wand, getting ready to put a stop to the duel. Unless he was greatly mistaken, Malfoy was about to use an Unforgivable, but just as he left his seat-
"Everbero!" Hermione incanted again. Malfoy's head jerked back from the sudden force of the curse. His jaw was bruised badly, and his lip was cut. Almost as badly as Neville's, Harry thought with a degree of satisfaction.
"Sit down mate," whispered Ron, tugging at his robes. "You're blocking their view." He gestured to Seamus and Dean, who were staring at Harry questioningly.
"Right," Harry said. "Sorry." He went back to his seat, considerably relieved that Hermione had reacted. He looked towards the staff table and saw that Dumbledore too was watching the pair keenly, as though ready to spring at any moment. Perhaps Dumbledore and him shared the same fears.
Malfoy whirled his wand, shouting, "Stupefy!"
"Protego!"
The curse ricocheted off the shield and went over Malfoy's shoulder, making a few threads of his robe sizzle and curl. Malfoy angrily spat a bit of blood from his cut lip on the floor. "This-is-a-pure-blood-tournament!" he snarled ferociously. "Expelliarmus!"
His spell hurtled towards Hermione with a devilish speed, and the Gryffindor's eyes went wide and she shouted, "Protego!"
The spell deflected and shot back at Malfoy, and the Slytherin attempted to leap away, but was struck in the arm by his own magic. His wand flew from his fingertips, and he tried in vain to snatch it back. It was, of course, completely beyond his reach.
Hermione caught it in the air with her free hand, raising them both at the unarmed Slytherin. The entire Great Hall, with the exception of the Slytherins, erupted into a cheer. Harry shouted loudest of all. She suddenly looked very tired, as though she was ready to fall asleep while standing. Harry caught her eye, and she managed a little smile.
Malfoy, however, did not seem excessively troubled. His pointed face was sour and angry, but he was not in the type of mood that Harry would normally have associated with the Slytherin when he lost. He seemed to be holding out for something, though Harry had no idea what.
The blue dome collapsed, and Madam Pomfrey rushed up to attend to the duelers' wounds. The nurse tenderly healed Hermione's injury on her cheek, while Draco flatly refused her aid, despite a freely running cut on his lip and several bruises.
"And the winner apparent of the second round of the finals is Hermione Granger!" announced Dumbledore. "Judges, if you would please finalize the results."
Professor McGonagall, unable to keep an unnatural-looking grin off her face, held up a ten for Hermione and a seven for Draco. Flitwick gave a nine and a six, and Sprout an eight and a five. Lastly, Dumbledore gestured towards Snape, and the Potions master slowly stood up from his seat and held up his first card. It was Hermione's score.
And it was a zero.
An angry rumble rolled through the Great Hall's attendance. The other judges stared at Snape with disbelief written across their face. Professor McGonagall looked enraged. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was wearing a very faint smile, as though he was amused. Draco stared at Hermione with a gloating grin.
Snape raised a second card. It was for Malfoy. A perfect ten.
"WHAT!" Harry and Ron shouted. Several Gryffindors were already on their feet, while the Hufflepuffs looked simply bewildered. The Ravenclaws, however, were the least surprised. Those the quickest at math were able to figure out that Hermione had twenty-seven points, and Malfoy had twenty-eight. She had lost by a single point.
Must be the Ravenclaw intelligence, said Pseudo-Snape. They foresaw it. Perhaps even Miss Granger herself did as well. You see, Slytherin always comes first in Slytherin. Another admirable house trait.
"That's an absurdity!" Professor McGonagall shrieked, now on her feet. Her face was covered with angry splotches, and her glasses were slightly askew. "What reason could you possibly have-"
"Judges need not give reasons, Minerva," said Snape coolly. Smoothly. He seemed pleased at the reaction it was getting.
Harry looked at Dumbledore. Surely the headmaster would intervene at a blatantly biased score. But Dumbledore had not moved since the judges began delivering their scores, and he made no move now. At last, he spoke. "It seems the result has been overruled. Draco Malfoy is the winner of the second round of the finals."
No cheering this time. While the Slytherins all wore smug expressions, not one of them clapped. Finally Draco took his wand back from Hermione, whispered something to her, wiped the wand on his robes, and then sauntered down from the stage and went back down the narrow aisle, the entirety of the Great Hall devoting all of their attention to him. He cast Harry a smirk, and then took his seat by Crabbe.
Hermione still stood on the stage, looking disappointed but not shocked. She had been expecting this, he realized. His heart sunk in his chest. She knew Malfoy would find a way.
When they were dismissed, Harry quickly intercepted Hermione and put his hand on her shoulder. The last of the students filtered out, and they were alone. Only Gates infringed upon their privacy, standing further down the corridor, half-enveloped in a shadow.
"I beat him, you know," Hermione said quietly. "It doesn't matter what Professor Snape says. I beat him."
Harry was not sure how to respond, so instead he stood there, his hand still resting on her shoulder.
"It just shows me," continued Hermione, shifting slightly into lecture-mode. "It shows me how deep the division in Hogwarts run. It doesn't matter what Dumbledore does. He could dissolve the houses right now and it wouldn't make an ounce of difference. Professor Snape reminded me how strongly the lines between the houses are etched."
"S.P.E.W.," Harry said.
Hermione nodded. "It isn't about Malfoy or anybody. I'm not upset so much at not being able to make the final round but at the fact that Professor Snape adamantly refuses to forget about house loyalties."
"Well, on the bright side of things, it does save us some awkwardness, doesn't it?"
Hermione laughed. "I suppose it does," she said, turning to face him for the first time. Gently, slowly, they kissed.
When they heard the slapping of feet coming down the marble stairs, they split apart. Harry turned to see Ron just coming through the archway.
"Hey," said Ron. "I was wondering where you two were."
"I just needed a minute," Hermione said.
Harry nodded in affirmation. He looked into Ron's eyes, guilt hitting him once more, the intricate deception himself and Hermione were performing before the entire school. One step away from outright lying. And then there was the ever-present burden of the prophecy, which he had disclosed to no one so far...
Should get used to it, Potter, said Pseudo-Snape. If this is the biggest betrayal you ever commit, you'll be a saint.
"Well, come on," said Ron eagerly. "They're breaking out the Butterbeer, even though you were overturned. We figured you gave the ferret a good enough beating to merit it."
Together they laughed, and together they proceeded up through the hallways and together they went through the portrait hole. As one the entirety of the Gryffindor common room raised their mugs and chanted, "To Hermione!"
***
At the end of the evening, Harry, feeling rather warm and content from the Butterbeer, bid Hermione a good night and slowly climbed the steps into the boy's dormitories. A chorus of snores greeted him as he creaked open the door. He was one of the last to go to bed.
After dressing into night clothes, he crawled into the comforting folds of the bed and set his glasses on the nearby nightstand. Ignoring Ron's constant tossing and turning, Harry closed his eyes and buried his head in his pillow, feeling only a fraction of the troubles he had experienced earlier in the day. He heard Gates slowly move into position at the end of the bed, standing like a sentry over him. But Harry did not really mind. Maybe it was the Butterbeer, or maybe it was just the company, but he felt more relaxed at that moment than he had for several days.
So when he woke up the next morning, he stretched his arms and threw his legs over the side of the bed, feeling energetic. He could sense that it was going to be a good day. He glanced towards the window and saw that the sun was just barely creeping over the horizon. He was the first one up.
Suddenly, Harry realized that something was wrong. Very wrong. Something was missing. Ever since his wand became jinxed, Gates had vigilantly stood watch over him while he slept. For some reason, Gates was no longer there. He leapt out of bed and took two tentative steps forward. His foot hit something both soft and warm. Like velvet. He looked down and realized that he had just bumped into the motionless body of Alexander Gates.
(A/N: That cliffhanger was evil; probably the most evil one I've ever used; but that only makes it better, right?!
Anyway, hope the duels didn't disappoint anyone; especially the results for Hr vs Malfoy. I didn't really think that Draco would be able to defeat Hermione, so I had to have him cheat somehow, and I figured that subverting the judges would be a very Slytherin thing to do.
Next Chapter: Title: Monsters and Men. Title says it all. Harry will be dueling Malfoy (in, probably, the best duel I've written so far), and all hell breaks loose. Harry confronts monsters, both literal and figurative, and at last finds out the Death Eater in Hogwarts. The only thing more shocking that his deeds is his identity. Includes the death of a major cannon character.