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HRHL# Chapter 155: You Really Deserve to Die, Harry {3}
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 18:28:48 +0000 UTC“I think I should let Professor Flitwick explain to everyone what a wizard’s duel entails,” Professor Lockhart said, raising a hand to quiet the room. “After all, though I’m quite knowledgeable about dueling myself, I must admit I still fall a bit short when facing a true dueling master.”
Professor Flitwick stepped forward, his high-pitched voice ringing out as he addressed the group. “Listen carefully—dueling consists of the following steps: first, you bow to each other, then grip your wands and step to opposite sides. After counting to three, the duel begins. During the duel, absolutely no physical contact is allowed—I hope you all understand this clearly.”
“Now, Professor Snape and Professor Lockhart will demonstrate for you how a wizard’s duel is conducted!” Professor Flitwick announced again.
As his words fell, Lockhart and Snape took their places on the dueling platform, facing each other and exchanging a bow.
Then, they raised their wands like arrows before their chests and stepped backward.
They walked all the way to the edges of the platform, and under Professor Flitwick’s countdown, the duel officially began.
Professor Snape struck a flamboyant pose and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”
A dazzling burst of red light shot from the tip of his wand, speeding straight toward Professor Lockhart.
In an instant, a hemispherical, transparent shield materialized in front of Lockhart, deflecting Snape’s spell.
“Expelliarmus!” Lockhart countered, refusing to be outdone, and unleashed his own spell.
The two went back and forth, evenly matched. Under the rules Lockhart had set, they were restricted from using any spell other than Expelliarmus.
The duel stretched on for four or five minutes, with neither showing any sign of faltering.
“Very well, I declare this duel a draw!” Professor Flitwick called out loudly. “An excellent performance! If you two were still students, I daresay I’d award points to your respective Houses!”
“It’s not too late for that now, Filius,” Professor Snape said, tugging at the corner of his mouth, clearly displeased with Flitwick’s playful jab.
Professor Flitwick gave him an irritated chirp but said nothing more.
“Now, now,” Professor Lockhart interjected with a smile, extending a hand. “I think you’ve all seen how it’s done. Next, I’d like to invite a few students to the stage—any of you eager to challenge each other? Don’t worry, you can challenge anyone you like up here!”
Ron was the first to step forward, declaring loudly, “Professor, I want to challenge my brother! Fred!”
“Oh, heavens, little Ronniekins!” Fred replied with a theatrical wail. “I’m truly hurt—” Laughter erupted from the crowd, everyone eagerly anticipating Fred’s response.
True to his reputation as a prankster, Fred would never pass up the chance to publicly give his little brother a good thrashing.
He strode onto the platform and beckoned to Ron with a grin.
“Come on, Ronniekins—don’t go easy on me just because I’m your brother!”
Ron let out a huff and stepped onto the platform.
“I must say, Ron,” Professor Lockhart said with a frown, “you’re only a second-year student. Is it wise to challenge a fourth-year? I’m certain Fred won’t hold back just because you’re his brother.”
“Don’t worry, Professor,” Ron replied, his eyes blazing with determination. “Today, I’m going to beat my next-door neighbor—”
No one quite understood what he meant by “next-door neighbor,” but Ginny burst into loud laughter.
Percy, standing nearby, lowered his head, struggling to suppress a grin as if it were some hilarious inside joke.
A few curious students sidled up to ask him what it meant, but Percy remained tight-lipped, refusing to spill the beans.
Following Lockhart and Snape’s example, Ron and Fred stood close together, facing each other and bowing.
Then, they raised their wands to their chests and turned to walk backward.
They reached the edges of the platform, and under Professor Flitwick’s countdown, their duel began.
“Expelliarmus!”
Ron struck first, firing a spell straight at Fred.
But Fred, ever the agile prankster, dodged it with a move so unscientific—and unmagical—that it defied explanation.
“Not bad, Ronniekins!” Fred laughed heartily, pointing his wand at Ron. “Rectumsempra!”
Ron ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding Fred’s spell.
“Fred! Only Expelliarmus is allowed!” he shouted.
“Yes, Fred,” Professor Lockhart chimed in. “I completely understand your urge to teach your brother a lesson, but a duel is a duel. Only Protego and Expelliarmus are permitted—no other spells!”
Fred shrugged, disappointed. He’d been planning to follow up with a Tooth-Growing Charm to teach his foolish little brother the consequences of crossing him.
But Ron didn’t give him time to think, firing off two consecutive Expelliarmus spells that forced Fred to scramble, barely dodging.
Finally, Ron launched another Disarming Charm, and Fred’s wand spun through the air, landing neatly in Ron’s hand.
“I win, next-door neighbor Fred,” Ron said with a cheeky grin. “Your wand’s mine now!”
Fred couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t upset—truth be told, he was even a little proud.
“Well done, Ronniekins,” he said.
The crowd below erupted into applause. They could tell Fred hadn’t gone easy on him—Ron’s skill was genuine. To be fair, those last few Disarming Charms had been cleverly angled, nearly impossible to evade.
“There you have it, everyone!” Professor Lockhart announced loudly. “That’s the Disarming Charm in action—as you saw, Fred lost his wand, and it flew right into Ron’s hand.”
“This was just a friendly duel,” Lockhart continued. “But imagine a real combat situation. Most wizards, once disarmed, are worse off than Muggles—because they’ve lost the wand they depend on.”
“But a rare few,” he added with a smile, “have mastered the most difficult skill in the wizarding world: wandless magic. And as far as I know, there’s one such master right here at Hogwarts. Can you guess who it is?”
“Who?” the crowd murmured, curiosity piqued.
Someone piped up from the side, “Oh, come on, who else could it be but Professor Dumbledore? He’s the most powerful wizard in the world!”
“Perhaps,” Lockhart said, neither confirming nor denying it. In his mind, though, Dumbledore certainly wasn’t the greatest wizard alive.
Of course, he kept that to himself—after all, the wizard he considered the best was currently locked up in Nurmengard, counting ants for entertainment…
“Now, let’s move on to more groups. Anyone else want to step up for a challenge?” Lockhart clapped his hands, though he added thoughtfully, “I’d advise against challenging Mr. Finnegan, however. His spells seem to have a particular fondness for explosions, and unless you fancy losing a hand, I’d steer clear of him for now.”
“Professor!” Seamus protested indignantly.
How could anyone think his Expelliarmus would blow up someone’s hand? After months of practice, he’d fixed that little issue.
Of course, his Disarming Charm still had a slight side effect—it disarmed opponents through explosions. Not necessarily their hands, mind you, but it definitely made them drop their wands with a bang.
Draco stepped forward.
“Weasley?” he called, gesturing to Ron. “How about it—a duel?”
Ron didn’t refuse. At a time and place like this, turning down Draco would mean Gryffindor bowing to Slytherin.
That was something no Gryffindor could stomach. They’d bow to anyone else before they’d ever bend to Slytherin.
He stepped onto the platform, facing Draco.
“Don’t take it too hard, Weasley,” Draco said quietly. “It’s just a friendly duel—no hidden agenda.”
“You’d better mean that,” Ron huffed, giving Draco a bow.
After their bows, they moved to opposite ends of the platform.
But just as Professor Flitwick reached “three,” Draco flicked his wand and fired off a spell.
“Expelliarmus!”
Smirking triumphantly, Draco thought he’d clinched it—only to see Ron deftly sidestep the attack.
Cedric, watching from below, darkened. He remembered how Harry had drilled it into him: even if you follow the rules, always expect your opponent might not.
After all, you only get one life—too much formality in a duel, and your loved ones are left weeping.
“Malfoy!” Ron roared. “Expelliarmus!”
A streak of red light struck Draco’s arm, and his wand sailed gracefully into Ron’s hand.
“You lose,” Ron said, grinning as he tossed the wand back to him.
Draco slunk off the platform, sulking. He’d thought he could finally beat Weasley this time.
Clearly, he’d been wrong—even bending the rules hadn’t secured him a win.
Unbeknownst to him, a flicker of disgust flashed in Pansy Parkinson’s eyes as she watched from an unnoticed angle.
“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”
Cheers erupted as the Gryffindors chanted Ron’s surname, celebrating his back-to-back victories.
Fred and George leapt onto the platform, gyrating like Veela cheerleaders at the Quidditch World Cup, tossing winks and shaking their hips to crank the energy even higher.
Those two clowns…
Harry shook his head with a wry smile. The twins’ personalities really were a dead ringer for Gareth’s.
Gareth was the same—playful, mischievous, always up for a laugh or a prank.
If Gareth were swapped in for them, he’d probably fleece Cassandra and Veratia for commissions without a shred of guilt.
“Anyone else up for a duel?” Professor Lockhart called out again, raising a hand and waving it at the crowd. “Any more volunteers?”
Just then, someone from Slytherin stepped forward and took the platform.
“Granger, I challenge you,” she said.
The crowd looked up—it was Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin.
“Parkinson?” Draco muttered under his breath. “When did she get up there? Merlin’s beard, does she really think she can beat Granger?”
As much as he hated to admit it, Draco didn’t think Pansy stood much of a chance against the Muggle-born Granger.
It wasn’t just him—even the other Slytherins didn’t rate Pansy’s odds highly.
Miss Know-It-All’s reputation was well-known in Slytherin, and for good reason. For one, she’d managed to snag twenty points from Professor Snape as a non-Slytherin. For another, the girl truly lived up to her nickname.
On the train in their first year, she’d already mastered Petrificus Totalus to hex a classmate—a spell many upper-year students still couldn’t pull off.
Miss Farley frowned, sensing something off about Pansy.
She edged closer inconspicuously, grabbing Harry’s sleeve and pulling him aside.
Harry noticed her move and whispered, “What’s wrong, Miss Farley?”
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Miss Farley murmured. “I can’t figure out where she’s getting the nerve to challenge Miss Granger. Aside from her dueling skills being a bit green, Granger knows more spells than most fourth-years.”
“Let’s just watch,” Harry replied, unconcerned. Maybe it was just pureblood stubbornness.
Pansy could be nursing a grudge from last term when Hermione showed her up, brushing up on dueling skills to even the score now. It made sense.
Nearby, Hermione looked up, unsure why Pansy had singled her out.
But she couldn’t back down—not with her pride as a top student on the line, and not after all the practice she’d put in at the dueling club.
So she stepped onto the platform, facing Pansy Parkinson.
“Splendid! Splendid!” Professor Lockhart said, beaming at Pansy and Hermione. “At last, our dueling platform welcomes two ladies—Miss Hermione Granger from Gryffindor and Miss Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin! Let’s give them a round of applause!”
Amid the clapping and cheers, Pansy shot Hermione a strange, unsettling smile.
Hermione felt a twinge of unease. That grin… it didn’t seem to hide anything good.
Sure enough, she heard Pansy’s voice.
“Mudblood, I’m going to teach you a lesson,” Pansy hissed under her breath.
Hermione looked up, stunned that Pansy would stoop to such a provocation.
“Then I’ll be waiting,” Hermione replied with a cold smirk.
They bowed to each other—or rather, they barely nodded before turning to take their places at the platform’s edges.
But before Professor Flitwick could even call the start, Pansy’s voice cut through.
“I’d think you’d know some manners, Granger,” she sneered. “Didn’t Professor Lockhart and Professor Flitwick just teach you the basic etiquette of dueling? I said bow!”
Suddenly, Hermione felt an overwhelming, irresistible force pressing down on her back, forcing her to bend.
She fought against it with all her might, refusing to yield and bow to Pansy.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
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