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"I'm sorry," Harry blurted out after being asked to stay behind in the first Charms lesson of the year.
Flitwick removed his glasses and sighed, rubbed his nose.
He looked decades older than he had before the events that had transpired.
Harry felt guilty.
Many of his most recent nights had been spent tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about what he could have done better.
"If you don't want to tal-" Harry started, before being interrupted by Flitwick raising a hand.
"No, Harry. I'm the one who should be apologising!" the man said sternly. He put his glasses back on, looked at his office, filled with textbooks and random knick-knacks as it was, and sighed again, seemingly disappointed. "I was the adult in the situation, so any blame, rightfully so, falls on me."
Harry kept his mouth shut, refraining from mentioning that he was pushing 40 himself if you counted everything together.
"I let my instincts dull during my time as a teacher. Everyone knows you have to avoid going to the bathroom where other people might be waiting in ambush before competitions," Flitwick said.
"Ehhh," Harry muttered. That was a bit extreme. But, well, it had actually happened. "I'm not sure everyone knows that."
"I should have known," Flitwick repeated. "Especially with the suspicious circumstances surrounding Hamburg's other wins."
"Would have, could have, should have," Harry eventually sighed.
He could have thrown the match, not made a spectacle of himself. He could have warned Flitwick more about the attack on his mind, which would have likely made the man behave more cautiously.
"An assailant in the bathroom stall and another sticking to the ceiling of the bathroom under an invisibility cloak, who then drops," the professor complained. "The most basic of ambushes. Textbook pincer tactics. You find the guy in the stall, and you think that's it, then the other one nails you from above." He paused. "I'd have almost preferred it if there were three like that one time in Madrid, then I wouldn't be so embarrassed."
"It's the Habsburgs' fault," Harry determined. "We should stop blaming ourselves."
It was interesting how he'd only come to that realisation when he'd seen someone else blaming themselves unjustly. Not when he'd been doing the same thing to himself.
"Well, obviously, but really, we should all exert a bit more constant vigilance in our lives," Flitwick muttered. He leaned back in his raised chair. "I'm sorry for not reaching out sooner. Dumbledore assured me he'd handle conversing with you. I was busy running damage control the whole summer. I still have some pull with the committee."
Harry awkwardly scratched his head. "So everyone was busy running interference for me, huh?"
"Indeed," Flitwick replied. "It seems you've made some powerful friends. Or rather, that you gained the interest of some powerful parties. Last I heard, Fudge quelled all domestic discontent like a snake with an iron fist. He was seen all over Britain, at all the events to which the proper people were invited, saying how happy he was that Britain had produced another talent, and that the country would benefit greatly from the boost to its reputation in terms of educational ability."
"Dumbledore handled the ICW," Harry muttered.
"Dumbledore handled the ICW and everyone else," Flitwick corrected. "The man personally visited a lot of old war veterans who are in positions of power these days and reminded them about the danger of leaving the sort of politicking Habsburg was committing unchecked. I spent a lot of my summer contacting my duellist friends and the committee."
"I probably won't be allowed back into that circle," Harry muttered. Not that he really wanted to. He was a good fighter now. There was no real point in continuing that path, especially when Snape would teach him some more direct combat skills.
Flitwick blinked in surprise before rapidly shaking his head, moustache flying. "What do you mean!?" he nearly shouted. "They'd love you back! You're invited to compete in the adult competition starting next year, in fact."
"Huh?"
"The tickets for next year's U17 tournament are already half sold out." Flitwick shrugged at Harry's confused look. "People love a scandal; they're hoping for a repeat performance." He paused tactfully. "Although perhaps next time they won't be bringing their children."
"And the other duellists?" Harry asked. "Didn't I come over a bit… psychotic?"
Flitwick wagged his finger at him. "You underestimate the number of people who want to grow their reputation by beating the next… well, let's not get into that… before you grow too powerful to be bested. You're a golden goose of reputation right now. Whoever beats you gets to brag about it for the rest of their life."
"So, what, there are no negative consequences to my actions?" Harry asked.
"Oh, there are," Flitwick said dismissively. "But it's the same sort of issue that you would have faced had you won normally, which you would have had Habsburg not cheated." Another pause. "Although we did discuss not winning, eh?" he asked.
"I actually was thinking of simply losing in the finals," Harry argued, even though he'd been more conflicted than he now claimed. "But what Habsburg did. I wanted to… hurt him."
"You more than just hurt him," Flitwick scowled. "He's ruined, his father is in a mental hospital, his name is disgraced, and everyone knows the achievements he was bragging about earlier, those supposed potion inventions, were faked."
"What are the consequences that I would have faced even had I won normally, though?" Harry asked, curious.
"Pure-bloods don't like uppity half-bloods with too much power," Flitwick explained. "There's nothing specific to fear unless you get into politics, but let's just say that if a staunch purist finds you fighting off a criminal in a forest, they're more likely to join hands with the criminal than you. Also, well, if you end up marrying one of their daughters, one of those rebelling against the family values, they might use the access that gives them to slip you a little… You know."
Harry nodded numbly. "I see."
"Yes, I'm sure you do," Flitwick remarked. "My suggestion. Keep your fingers off the pure-blood ladies; not worth the cost. Had to learn that one the hard way." He looked out of the window with a faraway look in his eyes. "Had to learn that one the hard way…"
"I don't think I'll keep competing," Harry decided, a decision that had been brewing in his mind for weeks now, but that he hadn't shared with anyone yet.
Flitwick nodded slowly. "I understand completely. The debacle. It leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, doesn't it?" He shook his head. "Well, I can't say the same, however."
It took Harry a few seconds to register the context. His eyes widened and he gasped. "You mean you will?"
"Yes, the circle has become too corrupt. This was a clear indication. You won't be winning the adult competition for a few more years, but I have a chance. Maybe a half-goblin raising that trophy will once again shake things up a bit. Perhaps they will settle down into a more egalitarian and fair environment after," Flitwick said decisively.
Silence settled into the office.
Both the duellists were happy that they'd taken the time to talk and hash out some of the details.
Another minute passed before Flitwick spoke again.
"In fact, I'll be sharing the same duelling partner as you this year," the man explained briefly. "Severus has become rather accomplished, I'll admit. He came to resolve that pickle I was in back in Helsinki, wand blazing. My two assailants were quite helpless against him. We talked after, since you ran off. After he decided to come teach at Hogwarts for a year, I tested his mettle. I was curious." He blushed a bit. "I'll admit that he truly showed me the meaning of the phrase 'the student has become the master.' he knocked my socks off." He clapped his pants. "But! That means he'll be the perfect sparring partner to get the rust off."
"I did not expect the direction this conversation was going," Harry said with a blank face, before a grin split it apart. "So you're back. The fastest wand in the west will be taking names again?"
Flitwick waved him off. "I'm old now. I doubt I'll be able to even get to the semi-finals. But, I'll try."
"I wish I could help, but Professor Snape will likely be of greater assistance," Harry said with a sigh and his arms crossed.
Flitwick is going back to the duelling circle… One of the least expected things of the year. He paused. "You'll still be a professor, right?" he asked urgently.
The half-goblin frantically shook his head. "I wouldn't give up my professorship for the world!" he promised, hand on heart. "But, well, having a chance at the title requires a full commitment. It's likely the reason I won't make it back all the way to the top." He paused. "Unless…"
Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Unless what?" he asked.
Flitwick coughed into his hand. "Well, Dumbledore doesn't invest a lot of time into practising duelling either, but he could absolutely obliterate every duelling champion of the last decade, at once."
"Well, that's, Dumbledore," Harry said, and in a way, it did explain everything. He'd been trying to become a competent fighter for years now, and Dumbledore could still likely take on a thousand of him.
"Dumbledore is who he is not because of his reflexes, although they are certainly great," Flitwick explained, "but because of his incredible understanding of magic. It's basics, but almost its most esoteric aspects. In fact, I see a lot of him in you."
Harry blinked in surprise.
Some had made the rather unflattering comparison to Grindelwald recently, but this was the first time anyone had compared him to Dumbledore while actually being serious.
"I don't see it," he eventually admitted. "I don't even use transfiguration."
"Dumbledore is known for his transfiguration, yes," Flitwick started. "However, there are many skills, rarer, just as complex, that truly make him into the wizard that he is." He raised a finger. "Firstly, his mastery over the mind arts is impeccable. Occlumency is not a tool with which to raise mental alacrity. It is primarily there to defend the mind against intrusion. However, to use something, one must first understand it. The effect is not easily quantifiable, but a mastery of occlumency makes one think faster, react quicker, reason better and remember more."
"Just because I know occlumency, I hardl-" Harry muttered before Flitwick interrupted him with a second finger.
"Albus also has a finely tuned magical sense. It allows him to never be surprised. For example, he never would have been ambushed the way I was. Additionally, it makes him able to often tell what an opponent will cast before they have even done so. And if that wasn't enough, a strongly developed magical sense never allows an opponent to play tricks against you. You always know what they did, no matter how much they try to obfuscate their intentions." The professor raised a third finger. "Thirdly, Albus has some control over wandless magic, allowing for surprises and double casting when someone would least expect it."
Harry huffed. "He also has decades of experience, a depth and breath of knowledge that cannot be replicated without a hundred years of investment and a history of fighting not one, but two dark lords, from whom he's likely learned more than his fair share of dirty tricks."
Flitwick raised both his hands. "All I'm saying," he started calmly. "Is that with Dumbledore's skills, he could dominate the circuit anytime he wanted with essentially no competition. I'll be lagging behind in comparison and wouldn't even be able to win under normal circumstances. But if someone were to help me with the more esoteric parts of magic, the ones I've never been able to understand on an instinctual level…"
"Wait," Harry said. "You mean."
Flitwick blushed. "You do owe me," he eventually said.
"You want me to teach you?" Harry asked, aghast.
"It would be a shame to stop our sessions. It would be more of an exchange. Your training is far from done, even if you never step into the arena again."
Harry considered it briefly, but there wasn't much to consider. Flitwick had been helping him for two years now, no questions asked. He owed it to the man. In terms of free time, this was also probably the best year to do so anyway.
"It won't be easy. The methods I used to attain the skills I have," Harry put on a dark mien. "Could be considered… unconventional…"
"Well, nothing will be weirder than when that African wizard smeared me in honey and had me manually deflect each bee in an entire swarm with immobilisation hexes," Flitwick answered. He shuddered. "Not fast enough, and the first one unfreezes; the entire fun starts from the beginning. What a mess."
"What?" Harry asked abruptly.
Flitwick laughed. "In other words, you're a thousand years too early to shock me," he joked.
"Alright," Harry said with a sigh, already deciding on what to show, how to show it, and how to teach it. "This Friday evening work?" he asked.
Flitwick nodded happily. "Friday it is. Right after the first year, I get terribly bored after those sessions."
"Then it's a deal," Harry said, extending a hand over the table.
"It's a deal," Flitwick replied and shook it. Then he looked at the time and shooed him off.
"Go off now, I'm sure you have better things to be doing than inhaling the dust in my office," he muttered.
"Always a pleasure," Harry replied and stood up.
"One last thing," Flitwick suddenly said.
"Yes?" Harry asked.
"Fudge did the domestic, I did the duelling committee, Dumbledore did the progressive internationals and the ICW, but Severus was the one who destroyed the Habsburgs and kept the international pure-bloods off your back. He has a lot to teach, but don't get too involved with him. Nobody has a network like that if their plans aren't complicated and overly ambitious."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said simply. It was the same situation as with Quirrell last year.
Get the stuff, don't commit.
"Good night then," Flitwick said with a satisfied nod.
"Have a good night," Harry replied.
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AN: Does Harry have commitment issues? Read ahead by 43 chapters on Patreon!