TheFanficGOD
patreon
HP435- Still Lost
🕑 Added 2025-05-28 17:14:11 +0000 UTCHarry tilted his head, mildly amused. “Using my own tactics against me now, Weasley?” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching.
Everyone knew what he was referring to... third year, Umbridge, and the complete shambles that had ended in her humiliation. Harry had goaded her into a public mess with that same “prove it” bait Ron was trying to repurpose now.
Draco, who’d been slouched against the wall pretending not to listen, perked up. “Weasley’s embarrassing himself, obviously,” he said, smirking. “But I’d like to see you show off a bit. What do you say?”
Harry gave a shrug. “Fine. No more than fifteen. Pick whoever you want.”
Daphne, Tracey, and the rest of the close circle were already sitting out before he finished the sentence. None of them looked remotely interested in brawling their best mate or putting themselves in the line for a show match. Astoria had pulled out a tin of sweets like it was theatre.
Ron glanced around, realising he now had to put together a team without looking like a total berk. The twins were already shaking their heads.
“Don’t drag us into your nonsense, Ronnikins,” Fred said.
“We enjoy walking upright,” George added. “Can’t do that if we’re thrown across the room.”
“Besides,” Fred added, nudging a passing third year, “we’ve got stock to test later.”
Ron looked mildly betrayed but moved on. Dean Thomas gave a shrug that might’ve been agreement, and Seamus Finnigan stepped forward, wand twirling in his fingers. “Alright, I’m in. Let’s see if he’s still got it.”
More stepped up. A Ravenclaw from the year above, two seventh-year Hufflepuffs who probably fancied themselves solid duelists, even one of the Slytherin joined with a quiet nod. In under a minute, Ron had cobbled together a squad of fifteen. None of them looked sure of what they were doing. Just eager for the spectacle.
Draco strolled toward the outer edge, wand tapping his palm. “I’ll sit this one out,” he said casually. “Already know how this ends.”
Pansy found a bench and crossed her legs like she was waiting for the entertainment to begin. Theo leaned against the pillar near the warded boundary and muttered, “This should be interesting.”
Blaise took up a seat beside him, lazily summoning a box of popcorn.
Harry stepped into the center ring, rolled his sleeves, and glanced over. “You all set? Anyone need a headstart?”
That got a chorus of laughter and nervous shifting. Susan and Hannah exchanged looks near the sidelines, both shaking their heads. Ron moved to the edge of the group, clearly not planning to join the first wave. Maybe thinking he’d pick up scraps after someone got a shot in.
Harry raised his wand. “Right. Let’s keep this tidy. No bones broken, no crying, and if I hear someone yell ‘mummy,’ I’m calling it early.”
That got a few laughs. Tracey called out from her seat, “Don’t vaporise them. We’ve still got essays due.”
“Understood,” Harry said, stepping forward.
One of the Ravenclaws moved first... classic opener, Disarming Charm. Neat, fast, predictable. Harry ducked sideways, flicked his wand, and sent the boy spinning backwards into a padded mat with a soft thud.
“Don’t aim centre mass unless you’re sure of your stance,” Harry called over. “You hesitated halfway, threw off your angle. Clean casting, though.”
A Gryffindor sixth-year tried next... Shield Charm up first, then a stunning hex tucked behind it. Decent tactic. Just not fast enough.
Harry dropped under the hex, let it pass, then fired back a silent banisher that knocked the boy’s legs clean out. He landed flat, boots in the air.
“Don’t layer spells unless you can manage the pace,” Harry said, turning as a Hufflepuff sent a chain bind his way. “Otherwise, it’s just extra steps before I floor you.”
This one came from the left, a double-spell, one aiming to trip, the other to bind. Not bad. Harry pivoted, threw a disruptor hex mid-air, snapped the second spell apart, and sent the caster sliding across the polished floor.
A murmur passed through the crowd.
He turned in time to catch another hex with a shield, the spell breaking harmlessly across it with a sharp pop. He didn’t bother with a counter-charm... just swept his wand across the floor, and the tiles in front of him surged up, folding into a waist-high table of solid stone that intercepted the next two spells clean. Before anyone could adjust, the table cracked apart, transfigured mid-air into a small flock of iron-feathered birds that shot forward like darts. Two Hufflepuffs hit the floor with squawks of alarm as the birds whizzed past their heads.
Harry flicked his wand again, muttering, “Silencio.” One of the Ravenclaws suddenly found his voice gone mid-spell and flailed backwards, trying to gesture out the rest of the incantation before a harmless stun knocked him off his feet.
“Don’t mumble spells unless you want to end up miming your surrender,” Harry said, stepping around a stunned leg and batting aside a jinx with a lazy backhand.
The next witch came in too quick, a seventh-year from Hufflepuff with a good stance and a fast wand. She fired three curses in quick succession- Trip, Confundus, then a Blasting Hex. Harry ducked the first, dispelled the second mid-air, and absorbed the third with a charm that turned the ground into sand under his feet. The blast landed, but all it did was kick up dust.
“Nice combo,” Harry said, raising a brow. “Shame you aimed too high. Blasting Hex works best at the feet.”
He sent a ripple through the sand, and it surged forward like a wave, knocking her legs out from under her. She landed flat with a puff of grit and an audible groan.
Three more tried a group pincer from behind. Harry spun, wand sweeping in a tight arc. The air shimmered, then snapped... the carpet rose up like a net and flung itself over them. One tripped, the other two tangled, and all three hit the ground in a heap.
From the bench, Blaise offered a slow clap. “You might want to start offering lessons, mate.”
Tracey, watching from the corner with one eyebrow arched, said, “This is going to ruin them. They’ll think they’re rubbish for weeks.”
“They are rubbish,” Astoria called, perched on a nearby table with a sugar quill between her teeth. “But it’s entertaining rubbish.”
Ron finally stepped forward, wand raised, trying to look casual about it. He flicked out a Disarming Charm... too quick, no power behind it.
Harry caught it mid-flight and transfigured it, wand slicing through the air with a tight motion. The spell turned into a ribbon mid-path, wrapped around Ron’s wrist, and yanked the wand clean out of his hand before launching it across the room.
Ron blinked. “That’s not even-”
“You never brace your wrist,” Harry said, catching the wand as it flew back to him. “It’s like duelling a coat rack.”
Ron scowled, rubbing his arm. “This isn’t a real duel.”
“No,” Harry said, turning back toward the others. “This is a demo. Real duels don’t give you this much room to miss.”
Someone threw a petrifying spell from the side. Harry side-stepped, then pointed at the floor. The flagstones cracked open, and thorned vines surged up, coiling around the caster’s legs and dragging him off his feet with a startled yelp.
“That one was decent,” Harry said. “But if you’re going to throw sneak attacks, don’t do it from a crowd. You’ll get caught in the rebound.”
With more than half of them down, and the rest backing off, Harry tilted his head, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Anyone else feeling lucky?”
Seamus, one of the few still standing, held up both hands. “I’m Catholic. I know when to quit.”
Harry gave a quick nod. “Good lad.”
From the benches, Pansy called out, “You didn’t even break a sweat.”
“That’s because I haven’t had to move yet,” Harry replied, flicking his wand once more to clear the vines. The floor reassembled behind him with a clack.
Daphne stood, arms folded, watching the whole thing unfold like she’d already expected it. “Alright,” she said, stepping down onto the floor. “Your ego’s had its fill. Let’s do real drills now.”
Harry grinned. “Gladly.”
The students still lying flat groaned, some sitting up with dazed expressions. Ron hadn’t moved from his bench. Probably reconsidering his entire week.
Harry walked past him, casually returning the wand with a flick of his wrist. It landed in Ron’s lap without a word.
Ron muttered something under his breath, probably not polite.
Draco passed behind him. “What was that, Weasley? Speak up. It’s rare we get comedy during drills.”
Nigel chuckled in Harry’s head. “If they knew you once crippled both your arms and legs, gouged out your eyes and still fought three Death Eaters in the Simulations, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to step up.”
Harry gave a short laugh. “I lost that one.”
Nigel snorted. “You killed two and nearly ended the third.”
Harry shrugged. “Still lost.”
