The distance had become so small that we defended ourselves not by seeing the spells, but by anticipating them through the direction of the opponent's wand and body movements. I used my ability to redirect spells to its fullest and employed various feints: creating sparks, blinding with Lumos, using telekinesis to push away.
She was also somewhat skilled in redirection, but relied more on her agility and creating small defensive charms that only covered part of the body, but were quickly conjured.
She saw through another of my feints, but it cost her a fraction of a second — and I used that moment to unleash a wild Diffindo. Another cutting curse today hissed through the air, but she sensed it from the barely perceptible movement and dodged, only… not entirely. Her training robes had clearly acquired a new slit.
She responded with even greater ferocity. Shockwaves, stunning spells, and unusual curses sent me sliding across the floor, barely keeping my footing. Another attack flew dangerously close to my body, and I miraculously managed to dodge by spinning on my heel.
At that same moment, I felt a powerful blast behind me, and I was jerked forward as if struck in the back. The roar deafened me, and an unpleasant ringing began in my ears. Apparently, she had pinned me against the wall, and the spell, hitting the wall, had caught me as a secondary effect… This was bad!
I thought about this as I flew forward, trying to turn the fall into a roll and conjure a Protego in mid-air, but she didn't give me a moment to recover. Some spell slammed me into the ground, but I used telekinesis to push off the ground with my free hand. Luckily, during my brief time in the air, I managed to let a Stunner pass by and, nearly falling, got back to my feet.
She didn't give me a second to think, once again closing the distance. A powerful air ram from her wand knocked back my opponent, who felt more comfortable at close range, at least against me.
At that same second, I finally managed to see the nearby objects and the broken chair lying not far away. I sharply lifted the debris into the air and prepared to send these chair parts straight at my opponent, but at that moment, she shot not a spell at this pile, but a cloud of magical interference, which only I, with my heightened magical senses, could so clearly perceive.
This was a spell she had created. A real spell, not crude manipulation of magical energy like mine. The telekinetic connection broke, and the large pieces of the chair fell to the ground.
By the way, she had invented this spell specifically against me, and after my lengthy requests, she even taught it to me. Now, I had again lost sight of her behind a curtain of smoke, which soon enveloped me as well. She could release smoke directly from her hand without spells.
She decided to change tactics, which meant I would too. Instead of large objects, I lifted everything small that my magical "probe" could sense. Dust, tiny fragments of stone and wood, pebbles I had scattered. In short, I began spinning and swirling all of this around me, trying to hit her. I was sure she was close and closing the distance.
But a shockwave swept away my entire tactic, nearly sending me flying. Barely managing to stay on my feet, I noted that the smoke around had cleared for a couple of meters, and then an elbow strike came, very sharp and painful. I protected my head with my shoulder, and my free hand sharply dived towards her leading hand, straight for her wand.
Grabbing her wrist, in a real fight, you could say I had won, for I could tear the wrist apart in an instant. But this was a sparring match, so I simply used brute force to direct the wand, from which Incendio fire was already shooting, upward.
The fire painted the space above us in a beautiful stream. She, seizing the moment's respite, had already grabbed my right hand, trying to do the same, but I was stronger, and a Flipendo from my wand, which she so desperately wanted to point elsewhere, hit the girl's body, who was slightly taller than me.
Somehow, she didn't release her grip, and the spell, powerfully pushing her away, sent us both to the floor.
Merula didn't make a sound as I fell directly onto her. Instead, her free hand shot up, and a short, wandering electrical discharge erupted from her fingers. Her desperate wandless attack coursed through my body. My body convulsed. But I managed to keep my wand in my hands.
And then, I didn't even understand how she managed to throw me to the side with her leg and now loom over me herself, pointing her wand tip directly at my face. My wand rolled across the floor.
Silence abruptly fell over this chaos. Only our heavy breathing accompanied the settling dust.
She squatted down beside me, pressing her wand tip slightly against my neck.
"Surrender, Prince of Slytherin?" her voice was hoarse, but with a clear note of gloating and a smirk.
I, still feeling the tingling from the electrical discharge running through my body, continued to look at her slightly disheveled face, full of a triumphant grin. The pain receded, pushed out by the thrill of the fight and anger at myself for not being able to win.
My empty palm lay on the stone floor. I just needed to turn my wrist slightly and unleash a powerful air thrust, which I did.
But my smile gave me away.
"Not yet, Most Powerful One."
The powerful thrust and magically compressed air, with a deafening crack, should have thrown her back a couple of meters. Which didn't happen as I had planned — she managed to react and create a protective barrier. But she was distracted, and the wand at my neck was no longer an obstacle for me.
Triumph turned to instant reassessment. That was enough.
My other palm, directed at the floor, released an air thrust of similar force, giving me enough momentum to turn the situation upside down… metaphorically and literally.
In the short flight from the impulse, I could throw my whole body onto her and, grabbing her shoulder, topple my opponent, who was distracted by her defense. Now I was over her.
We looked at each other — bruised, in torn clothes, in a cloud of dust, and very close together — and it became somewhat awkward.
There was amazement in her eyes, and in mine too. The position was strange, especially when I spread both her arms upward, holding her wrists to prevent her from doing anything with wandless magic. Only now did I realize that I was looming over a girl.
"Now," I said, "you can surrender."
The words were meant to break the awkwardness, but instead, she decided to make it worse and heaped on the Spanish… that rich, shameful feeling…
"You're still too young for this kind of thing, Malfoy," Merula said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow in condemnation of my cunning tactics.
"What was so hard about not leading us both into such awkwardness… Alright, let's move on."
In the end, we took a ten-minute break to catch our breath, but instead of simply resting, we began practicing attack spell combinations, switching roles. We trained like this for two more rounds, and with a score of two to one in her favor, we ended our training session, not forgetting to practice attack combinations longer at the end.
But… how I hate this hormonal surge… My mind sees innuendo everywhere… and it's not helped by an upper-year girl making hints just to troll me.
Overall, Merula was an extremely corrup… strong opponent, and the fact that, for obvious reasons, I even held back against her, didn't give me any hope, because she also held back a great deal. But she held back more in wand magic; what she demonstrated in wandless magic was her limit. Though the electrical discharges were still unattainable for me, as were other elemental transformations, which either didn't work for me at all or worked with such difficulty that I could barely light a small fire.
But I mustn't lose heart. Merula is four years older and considered the strongest among Hogwarts' female students. The fact that I could fight her on equal terms and sometimes win was already beyond any "talented student."
What a whiner I am… constantly comparing myself to fictional heroes from my future knowledge, and even understanding the stupidity of it, I get angry. In those stories, some simple protagonist would achieve in a couple of years what no wizard in history had ever accomplished… How stupid is that. Stupid to think that we wizards, who have studied magic for thousands of years, are idiots who haven't figured out the "simple solutions" that come immediately to the minds of characters who don't even understand its basics…
Alright. These two defeats have upset me. I hate losing!
We silently put the entire classroom in order, as much as magic allowed, and were now gathering our things to go to the common room. We spent over an hour on the entire training session; it was a shame we couldn't train with her often. After all, she had her NEWTs soon. And seventh-year exams are no joke.
"So, 'Most Powerful One,'" I began casually, wiping sweat from my forehead as we walked through the deserted corridor towards the common room, "where are you headed after graduation? The Ministry with its Aurors doesn't appeal to you, I remember."
She threw me a sideways glance full of suspicion.
"I don't know yet myself. What's it to you? Suddenly decided to start a career as a career counselor?"
"Just curious," I shrugged, pretending to examine the wall. "With your talents in practical magic… The Guild of Spellwrights would be happy to accept such a mind. Or, alternatively, mercenary work — they say the pay is good, especially for someone with your… direct way of doing business."
Merula snorted, but a flicker of thought crossed her gaze.
"The Guild is boring, though useful. But I need action! That thing… sit, pore over scrolls, prove to old farts that your formula won't blow up half the street… boring, basically. But mercenary work… yeah, that's closer to my heart. Freedom, fights, money! And then, with a name and experience, you can hire yourself out to some rich person in your old age. As a personal guard or… uh… a specialist in…"
"Solving delicate problems?" I finished the sentence.
"Reading my mind, Malfoy."
I allowed myself a slight smile.
"Speaking of some rich person… How about working for me?"
She stopped and stared at me as if I had just suggested she go dancing with goblins.
"For the Malfoy family? Are you serious?" bewilderment sounded in her voice.
"Specifically for me," I confirmed, maintaining complete seriousness.
A pause ensued. Then Merula Snyde burst out laughing. She even clutched her side from the continuing laughter.
"Oh, Prince of Slytherin… Are you already distributing your inheritance? Or did Daddy let you hire personal security from among your favorite female students?"
I remained silent, letting her get it out of her system and preparing my revenge for such disrespect. When the laughter subsided, she wiped her tears and looked at me with curiosity now.
"Alright, alright. Jokes aside. What exactly did you mean?"
"You're apparently not ready yet… you'll understand later," I answered evasively, hiding a smile, and started moving again.
"What do you mean 'later'?!" she immediately caught up with me, walking beside me. "You cast Accio and now you're silent! Not fair, Malfoy!"
Curiosity gnawed at her, and it was visible to the naked eye. For the rest of the way to the hidden entrance, she grumbled, nudged me with her elbow, and demanded explanations.
With a smirk, I sometimes replied, getting away with mysterious phrases like "All in good time" or "Wait a couple of years, you'll grow up, then we'll talk," which only provoked her further. Her giggles and grumbling became a kind of soundtrack to our procession through the dungeons. It was… amusing.
After such a conversation, already sitting in the Slytherin common room over a chessboard with Marcus, I inwardly laughed at myself. Sometimes I am still susceptible to childish pranks and entertainment… No matter how much I deceive myself with maturity and plans, I am still growing. And sometimes I just need to allow myself to tease a corrup… an upper-year girl.
"Your move, Ark," Marcus reminded me, moving a rook. "And let's discuss your plan in more detail. The one for if someone does snitch to the Head of House."
I nodded, moving a pawn.
"No matter how hard we try, almost all Slytherins already know about the council, and our entire year knows about the meeting room. Chatter from our younger ones about our meetings could reach them any minute, if they don't already know where we meet. Which is unlikely."
Pragmatic and observant Avery grunted, looking at the board.
"Yeah, you're right. I've been watching them. After his 'disappearance,' they clearly haven't calmed down. And also, as you said, they've been crossing paths too often lately with… you know who, or rather whom. And clearly not just to have tea. Smells dangerous…"
I stared at the chessboard, but I didn't see the pieces; I saw dots on an imaginary Marauder's Map converging in abandoned classrooms. Yes, we needed to prepare, because the games at Hogwarts don't end… they just move to a new level.
***
POV. Adrian Vance.
1990, December 1st.
Behind the desks pushed together in the center of the empty classroom sat those who, just a year ago, would have fought over any pretext. In this classroom, as on five other occasions before, gathered Jacob Farmus, a former Gryffindor prefect and simply a stocky guy with a stubborn chin, and his best friend, Martin Higgs, similarly stocky but with an eternally distrustful expression on his face.
Opposite them sat two Slytherins. Torbin Rookwood, an extremely important sixth-year for Slytherin's sixth year, and concurrently the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Apart from his unruly hair, the guy didn't stand out much: dark hair, a rectangular face. Not a handsome man and not ugly; the only thing was that he was fit in build, but due to his height, he seemed thin. He sat leaning back in his chair.
Next to him sat another lanky guy, but a blonde this time, by the name of Crone. He wasn't sociable and therefore always remained inconspicuous. But his calmness was icy, which made him dangerous. He was the one who was friends with Adrian Vance, who was the only constant, without whom such a company from opposite camps would quickly fall out again, even with the common goal they shared.
These Slytherins were former acquaintances of Benedict Answorth, now missing without a trace (and if rumors were to be believed, long dead). The rumors were of the kind you could be sure of, but couldn't prove anything, just as you couldn't prove who was responsible for the massacre of the entire Answorth family. Everyone who needed to seemed to know who and why, but there was no proof, and no one was particularly eager to prove anything.
At least, Vance, who kept his finger on the pulse of events and, in his opinion, had good sources outside of school, knew this.
What the Head Boy didn't know was that every lowlife in Knockturn Alley could recite these rumors by heart. The gossip, started back in the day, had spread like the plague: it had taken root well in the lower strata of society, not just at the very top. Ironically, the only ones left in ignorance were part of the middle stratum of magical Britain — the very ones no one had bothered to spread rumors to, as there was no need to cause unrest.
His family, generally, was not part of noble circles — although they tried very hard to fit in.
He wanted to be even higher. And for this, he had been trying since school. Indeed, he was the one who became Head Boy this year, and the Ravenclaw with impeccable robes and an eternally composed appearance had become very interested in the problem of his so-called "friend" from Slytherin and acquaintance from Gryffindor.
In character, he himself was a Slytherin, which is why the Sorting Hat, in his first year, had wanted to send him there. But knowing the atmosphere there and how many like him were there, Adrian sensibly decided not to limit his options for friendly relations with Gryffindors and not to enter that serpentarium. So he ended up in Ravenclaw.
Fortunately, the experience of his older brother, then studying in Slytherin, served as a lesson. And he quietly, peacefully made connections with everyone: with Farmus from Gryffindor, and with others. But his efforts, which had led him to the title of Head Boy, were suddenly devalued in his own eyes. He had long been planning how to become a high-ranking official in the Ministry in the future, ideally even Minister. But one small detail irritated him.
The reason for his self-disappointment was the initial conditions, which had more or less suited him until the cause of disappointment became him. Aggressive in his recruitment policy, the young but impudent and self-confident little snake — Arcturus Malfoy — whom Vance had hated with all his heart from the first words he heard about him.
There were many reasons, but they all seemed so petty that sometimes the Ravenclaw himself was surprised at himself. The truth was that he was jealous of the Malfoy heir's position. Yes, Vance was pure-blood, and in the next generation, his children would be considered so-called nobles — however, this wouldn't give them a title or a seat on the Wizengamot, but their status in the eyes of other non-ancient families would increase.
But if he were the heir of the Malfoy family… Vance was sure that in the place of this third-year, he would have achieved a great deal with his long and careful game. But as it was, even applying all his efforts, he would still need incredible luck to reach the coveted pinnacle of power in magical Britain. He had many plans at that pinnacle, but for that, he needed to become Minister — and no other way.
No one would deny the surprising similarity in the desire for supreme power between Vance and Malfoy, if they knew their thoughts. But anyone would understand that the breadth and depth of the concept — supreme power — desired by each of them differed as much as the fortunes of these two families.
Adrian couldn't even fully comprehend what that simple third-year planned to become. He had no idea of the breadth of the annoying third-year's ambitions. But his thoughts soon turned in the right direction, and he calmed down a bit, noting that the little snake wouldn't be walking around unpunished for much longer. The Head Boy sat at the head of the table between the upper-year students sitting opposite each other. On one side sat the Slytherins, and on the other, the Gryffindors. And also, today they were joined by another Hogwarts student, not even an upper-year, but a third-year Slytherin who would help finally reach a common decision. A classmate of this very Malfoy, one Alistair Yarwood.