#chrysanthemum

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The news of a just formed Dueling Club spread like fire in the common rooms of all Houses. Someone had pinned a piece of parchment announcing it on the notice boards, but it didn’t say who would be in charge of it. (Y/N) felt a little bit giddy, and a little bit nervous too.

Duels! That would certainly be a challenge; she was curious to see how a wizard duel worked, and if it resembled in any way a muggle sword duel, like the ones she saw in movies. She was also a little bit afraid of the outcome, as she was still getting used to her wand. She was confident it would produce some stable spells (at least), but what if she ended up hurting someone? Her biggest fear was hurting one of her friends, truth be told.

(Y/N) also reflected about why a dueling club. Perhaps, the attacker terrorising Hogwarts was a living person, after all? No monster, and no paranormal stuff. Just a person you could fight off.

But if that was the case, no attacker would challenge anyone to a duel, right? That wasn’t a smart idea if you want to be sneaky and roam around the castle. A duel could mean being uncovered, or being defeated and caught. (Y/N) concluded that an assaulter (an intelligent one) would choose a surprise attack over a combat, and that the idea of a dueling club as such would turn out rather useless for anyone lacking reflexes or simply sheer intuition.

Whose idea was this?!

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That same night, (Y/N) walked into the Great Hall at 8 pm sharp together with a handful of other Slytherins, although the place was already quite packed with students with their wands in hand. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead, and the ceiling was velvety black.

‘Mione!’ (Y/N) greeted, making her way to her friend. The group also greeted the Slytherin, who asked:

‘Any idea of who’ll be teaching us?’

‘Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young — maybe it’ll be him.’ The witch answered.

‘As long as it’s not —’ Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black. Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called:

‘Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!’

‘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.’ He took a little pause to look pridefully at the crowd beneath him, and then continued:

‘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!’ ‘Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?’ Ron muttered in Harry’s ear. (Y/N) heard it too and clenched her fist until her nails dug into her palm, but she said nothing.

How dare he?!

Snape’s upper lip was curling. (Y/N) had never seen Severus letting his thoughts slip so easily. He was looking as though he was planning on killing Lockhart before feeding him to the giant squid.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. 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.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. (Y/N) giggled softly as she watched her mentor as well.

‘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 Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. (Y/N) didn’t, as she was staring too in awe to articulate a sound. She was aware of Severus’ wide knowledge about the Dark Arts, but she had never seen him really do anything with it, let alone cast such a powerful spell.

Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. 

‘Do you think he’s all right?’ she squealed through her fingers.

‘Who cares?’ said Harry, (Y/N) and Ron together. Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his 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…’

(Y/N) could hardly bear with how ridicously unbalanced both teachers were, and she had to do a titanic effort to avoid laughing loudly.

Severus 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 with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.

‘Time to split up the dream team, I think,’ he sneered. ‘Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter —’ Harry moved automatically toward Hermione. ‘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. Miss (Y/L/N)…’ he paused for a second, studying her features. ‘You go with Miss Parkinson.’

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s stomach dropped to her feet, watching her tormentor come closer sporting a cruel smile.

‘Face your partners!’ called Lockhart, back on the platform. ‘And bow!’

(Y/N) barely inclined her head, and so did Pansy, too full of herself to bow in front of (Y/L/N).

‘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 —’

(Y/N) tried to keep a steady pose, but she saw how the point of her wand shaked, unable to aim properly. Her feet couldn’t keep their balance, and her heart thumped hard against her ribcage, trying to escape from the danger. She was sure that Pansy wouldn’t just try to disarm her, that she would try to hurt her. It was difficult to draw air into her lungs, and her tongue felt leathery against her dried out palate.

Pansy attacked first, not waiting for the three. (Y/N) couldn’t quite make out which spell she pronounced through the buzzing inside her ears, but it sent her straight to the floor, landing painfully on her back.

Lockhart was running around and screaming like a headless chicken, trying to restore order in the middle of the havoc he himself had allowed to unleash.

‘I said disarm only!’ Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, ‘Stop! Stop!’ He screamed, but nobody listened, or feared him enough to obey, until Severus’ voice raised:

‘Finite Incantatem!’ he shouted, and (Y/N) looked around.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and his partner were lying on the floor, panting; Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. (Y/N) tried to get up and aid her friend, but luckily, Harry, who was closer, leapt forward and pulled Millicent off with great effort. She then glanced up to look at Severus, who was watching from afar, looking utterly displeased.

‘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, Boot —’

‘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 too, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. (Y/N), on the contrary, glared at the D.A.D.A professor with hatred as she got back up to her feet. Could there be a worse instructor? She didn’t think so.

Then, with Professor Snape’s intervention, Draco Malfoy and Harry were chosen to do a demonstration on whatever Lockhart wanted to teach next. The scene was just pathetic to watch from outside. Lockhart attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action while explaining Harry what he had to do, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up.

‘Whoops — my wand is a little overexcited —’

(Y/N) thought it was rather polite of her Head to avoid laughing loudly at the lame exemplification of Lockhart.

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too.

Everyone gathered around the stage, watching the performance that was about to happen. (Y/N) was sure that Malfoy would win, for the sole reason that he had a competent teacher on his side.

‘Three — two — one — go!’ he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly.

‘Serpensortia!’ He bellowed.The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, 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 Harry 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.

Harry walked forward and his tongue flicked against his front teeth, producing soft hisses. The crowd watched in horror, and Harry grinned at Justin.

‘What do you think you’re playing at?!’ he shouted, and then 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 Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look.

Murmurs began rising in the room, and then Ron steered Harry out of the Hall, and Hermione hurriedly accompanied them.

Severus managed to calm down the students, and the session went on for a while.

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As soon as (Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open the next morning, a smile crept to the corner of her lips, remembering the previous day. She turned around to look at her wand, which rested on the nightstand. In the end, she had been able to cast a potent Expelliarmus that nearly made Pansy backflip, right when Severus was looking.

She stirred her body and reached for it, holding it delicately between her fingers.

The dim light was barely enough to let her see the carvings of her wand, and she finally decided to get up.

First, she grabbed her clothes from the trunk and closed the curtains surrounding her bed for privacy, and then, she took off her pyjamas.

(Y/N) examined her naked skin; new bruises were starting to emerge in places they usually didn’t, probably due to the previous day’s duels.

Fantastic, she thought, observing the mixture of the yellowish older ones, the new blue ones and some of a burgundy tone that were still forming. Those were usually the most painful ones, so she avoided touching them. Once she had her robes on, (Y/N) flung open the curtains with both hands and sat on the bed, with her feet hanging. She had her stockings on already, and she only needed to put on her shoes now.

(Y/N) slid down just enough for her feet to touch the floor, but…

Eh?

Her shoes weren’t where she remembered leaving them last night.

Maybe I left them under the bed….

And she kneeled down, and checked under. There was a small bag with a stock of biscuits she had been hoarding, but no shoes at sight.

Strange… Maybe I put them in the trunk and forgot?

(Y/N) hurriedly crawled to the trunk and opened it… 

Nope.

Just the few scattered clothes she still had from Severus and school stuff.

(Y/N) had been trying hard to suppress her uneasiness, but now it was really getting to her.

Under the bed, I need to check under the bed again.

But the biscuits bag laid in the same place, by itself. Still no shoes.

Perhaps I haven’t looked right.

And she turned around to look at where they should have been.

Maybe someone kicked them? 

She proceeded to look under the neighbouring beds, feeling bad about snooping around, but nothing of hers was to be found there.

(Y/N) stood in the middle of the empty room for almost a minute with a blank stare, inmobile.

That is, until a burning rage switched something inside her brain, and she kicked her mattress with anger once, twice, three times, until it was displaced and her foot hurted.

Then, (Y/N) plopped down on the dismantled bed and felt her eyes swell quickly with tears.

Now what? She couldn’t just run around barefoot! People would notice!

She thought hard of something to obtain a new pair of shoes without anybody knowing.

Maybe… she could transfigure something else into a new pair of shoes?

That might work.

(Y/N) got up again, and searched the dorm for a pair of objects that resembled shoes.

Socks, perhaps? No… as silly as it may look, (Y/N) couldn’t visualise socks as anything else other than socks, which was quite necessary in order to transform something into something else. It was all about focusing, and creating the most detailed model in your mind you could achieve.

She was pacing around, groaning in frustration as she squeezed out her brain for a solution, when a face came to her mind.

It was a face framed by a frizzy mane, and it had a bossy air to it…

Hermione!

If there was anyone in the castle that could help her discreetly, that was Hermione Granger.

(Y/N) put on an extra pair of stockings to protect her feet from the cold stone floors and left the dormitories with renewed hopes.

The Slytherin first checked the Great Hall from outside; the long tables were back in their correspondent place, but Hermione was not there.

Then, (Y/N) proceeded to search through the hallways, but.. nothing.

Last night, a blizzard had started falling, so all classes taking place outdoors were cancelled. (Y/N) assumed that Hermione would be in the Library, catching up in her free time, but she was wrong. At least, Madam Pince seemed satisfied with (Y/N)’s extra muffled steps, because she gave her the tiniest of the smiles. (Y/N) somehow felt privileged, doubting anyone alive or dead in the castle had ever seen the librarian smile.

The girl walked back to the dorm in disappointment. The one time she really needed Hermione, and she was probably in the common room! She sped up her pace, wanting to arrive to arrive to her own common room before the students began emptying the classrooms.

She reflected on the situation; why had her shoes vanished?

She was sure to have left them by the bed’s side, and one does not just go and lose their shoes, right?

Could someone from the dorm have borrowed them? What kind of person borrows your shoes without leaving at least a note?! 

Was this a prank for hanging out too much with the Gryffindors?

(Y/N) bumped right into her answer; turning around a corner in the dungeons, she ran into something big and bulky, but also soft.

When she looked up, she saw Millicent Bulstrode smiling with malice, and Pansy’s ugly pug face popped up from behind her.

‘Looking for something, (Y/L/N)?’

Then, it clicked in her brain.

Of course, who else would be willing to steal anyone’s shoes almost in winter?

Who would feel the imperative need to harass someone that never really wanted to have anything to do with her to begin with? 

Who could be sore with (Y/N)?

Pansy Parkinson.

The answer to all of those questions was Pansy Parkinson.

(Y/N) glared with narrowed eyes at the girl,

‘You! It was you!’ She yelled, and Pansy and Bulstrode cackled in unison.

‘This isn’t funny Pansy!’ (Y/N) moved to the side in order to face Pansy. Bulstrode tried to grab her by the arm, but only grasped air. ‘Give them back! NOW!’

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