Harry didn't answer right away.
He looked at Malfoy, who seemed like a completely different person, then glanced at his friends, each wearing a different expression, before slowly nodding.
"Alright," he said evenly. "I accept."
Ron's mouth fell open, and Hermione's brows furrowed—they both clearly had something to say.
But Harry raised a hand, cutting off their unspoken protests, and added, "However, I want Professor Greengrass to serve as the witness."
"No problem," Malfoy replied immediately, his tone firm and decisive. "But let me make this clear—Professor might only send his Raven to handle the task."
"That's fine," Harry said with a nod.
Seeing that, Malfoy didn't stay any longer. He turned and left with Goyle, leaving the four of them staring at one another in the corridor.
"Harry, you shouldn't have agreed!" Hermione said, both anxious and worried. "This Malfoy is acting way too strange—I even suspect he might be someone else using Polyjuice Potion!"
"Polyjuice Potion?" Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks, speaking almost at the same time. "What's that?"
Neville blinked in puzzlement as well, clearly unfamiliar with the term.
Hermione turned toward them, her worry instantly replaced by disbelief—and then by outrage. "Polyjuice Potion! Snape clearly said in Potions Class that it can temporarily change the drinker's appearance into someone else's!"
Her voice rose involuntarily. "What do you two even do in Potions Class? Don't you ever listen?"
"Oh, Hermione," Ron muttered, shrinking his neck. "In Potions Class, besides listening to Snape, is there anything actually interesting to do?"
"What do you think?" Hermione snapped, glaring at him fiercely.
For a moment, Ron felt that look was even more terrifying than Snape's.
He immediately deflated, shrinking back completely.
Harry had been about to agree with Ron, but the moment he caught Hermione's gaze—something almost as powerful as a Petrificus Totalus—he wisely kept his mouth shut and cleared his throat instead.
"Ahem," Harry said, steering the conversation back. "Hermione, Malfoy... he really is suspicious. But with Professor Greengrass as the witness, he won't be able to pull any tricks."
He paused, absently rubbing the edge of his wand holster. "And come to think of it, he's actually toned down a lot since Professor Greengrass gave him detention."
"How do you know that's not an act?" Hermione shot back. "Maybe he's just putting on this 'reformed' act to trick us!"
The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she became. "He said he defeated all the Slytherin second-years, including Crabbe and Goyle? Then where's Crabbe? Why wasn't he with him today? That's already suspicious!"
"But I've already agreed," Harry said, spreading his hands helplessly—though his eyes remained firm.
"The Raven..." Neville spoke softly, "I heard that Raven is the Professor's eyes. If it really shows up, Malfoy probably wouldn't dare try anything, right?"
...
As the end of term approached, the shadow of exams loomed over Hogwarts. Students buried themselves in piles of books and parchment, frantically reviewing for their final tests.
Yet amid the tense atmosphere of revision, a piece of news quietly spread: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy—the top students of Gryffindor and Slytherin's second year, respectively—would duel in a week's time.
Days slipped by quietly between study sessions and hurried breaks.
Every now and then, bits of lighthearted gossip still drifted through the school: one student had attempted to use a spell to clear up his pimples but accidentally erased his nose instead.
Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey, with her usual miracle-working skill, managed to reattach it perfectly.
Then there was Professor Lumina—rumor had it she had once again modified one of Filch's mops, and hopefully this time it wouldn't end in another disaster.
Even Hagrid had changed. His trademark wild beard was gone, his hair neatly combed—thanks, of course, to a little magic.
Not only that, he was now wearing a well-tailored suit that made his already large frame look even more upright and imposing.
Although his sneaky, muttering-to-himself behavior seemed a bit odd, the students were too busy studying to bother uncovering whatever secret he was hiding.
...
Duel Day
The evening twilight cast a soft golden glow over the ancient stone walls of Hogwarts.
On the raised dueling platform, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stood face to face.
Lower-year students who had rushed to watch crowded around the area, with the gold and red of Gryffindor and the silver and green of Slytherin clearly divided on opposite sides.
Ron and Hermione stood at the very front of the Gryffindor group.
Ron swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists, while Hermione's gaze moved past the two duelists and fixed firmly on the top of a tall bronze lamp post at the edge of the platform.
Noctis was perched there.
It sat motionless, like a sculpture, its calm eyes watching the platform below, utterly expressionless.
In theory, dueling on the platform didn't require an additional witness. But to ensure absolute fairness, Harry and his friends had still invited this special "supervisor."
There was no professor present to maintain order, and no long recitation of rules.
When the Raven's small, black head turned slightly, its gaze focusing on the center of the platform, the crowd instantly fell silent.
[Random scenario!]
The stone floor sank, low walls rose from the ground—and the duel began instantly!
Malfoy didn't hesitate for even a second. He raised his wand with perfect form and astonishing speed.
"Stupefy!"
A dazzling red beam tore through the air, shooting straight toward Harry's chest.
A standard Stupefy opening—but the speed and precision were far beyond normal, carrying a force that seemed almost unstoppable.
Harry reacted the instant Malfoy raised his wand. He slid sharply to the side and swept his own wand diagonally through the air.
"Protego!"
An invisible barrier appeared just in time. The red beam struck the edge of the Shield Charm, bursting into a spray of sparks that made Harry stagger slightly.
"Leg-Locker Curse!"
"Levicorpus!"
Malfoy's spells came one after another, fast and seamless.
Harry moved even faster. He ducked and rolled, the spells flying past the top of his head and hitting the air behind him.
As he came out of the roll, Harry twisted his wrist and fired a spell backward. A streak of white light—Petrificus Totalus!—shot straight toward Malfoy's head.
Malfoy didn't dodge or roll like Harry. He stood his ground and flicked his wand sharply downward.
"Impedimenta!"
A wall of compressed air formed instantly. Harry's spell struck it, leaving only faint ripples before fading away.
The pace of attack and defense between them was dizzying—each movement sharp, swift, and precise.
Malfoy's spell chaining was smooth and on another level, every motion meticulously practiced—executed with an almost academic precision and discipline.
This was the result of his private training with Snape, arranged after he had secretly written to his father, Lucius, who in turn reached out to Snape on his behalf.
He no longer relied on the underhanded tactics of the past, but instead used pure spell combinations to overwhelm his opponent.
Harry's style, on the other hand, was completely different.
His spells came from unexpected angles, sharp and unconventional. Though his technique lacked Malfoy's textbook formality, it brimmed with agility and instinctive daring.
His Seeker's reflexes also played a part—he rolled, slid, and used the low walls of the arena as cover.
Harry's Shield Charms and Obstacle Curses were executed with practiced skill, blocking Malfoy's relentless barrage again and again, his reactions perfectly honed.
On the platform surrounded by the low walls, the flashing lights of their spells intertwined and burst in a storm of sound and color.
The crowd below watched, spellbound—Gryffindor erupted in cheers with every dodge and counterattack Harry made, while the Slytherins, though equally stirred, remained markedly quieter.
~~~~~~~
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