November 17, 1992.
The Great Hall had been gutted of its domesticity. Gone were the four long house tables where we usually broke bread and debated the finer points of Transfiguration. In their place was an expanse of cold, grey flagstone, dominated by a narrow, raised dueling platform that stretched nearly the entire length of the hall. Hundreds of floating candles drifted lazily beneath the enchanted ceiling, their amber flames casting long, flickering shadows that danced against the ancient stone.
Above us, the "sky" showed a pale wash of autumn clouds sliding across the stars, a silent witness to the tension gathering below. Students from all four houses crowded around the edges of the platform, a buzzing hive of nervous energy and adolescent bravado. The first-years were practically vibrating, craning their necks for a better look, while the older students leaned against the stone pillars with a practiced, casual indifference that was betrayed by the way their eyes tracked every movement on the stage.
My roommates and I had claimed a section of the floor near the center. Tobias had already climbed halfway onto a stone bench, his sandy hair messy, his face lit with a manic kind of joy.
"This is going to be brilliant," he whispered, his voice carrying over the crowd. "Actual spell combat, Orion. Real, live-fire training. I've been waiting for this since the train ride."
Elliot stood beside him, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, tugging nervously at his sleeves. "It's supposed to be an educational club, Tobias. Not a gladiator pit."
Cassian snorted, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes sharp. "In this castle, Elliot, 'educational' is just a polite word for 'someone is about to get hexed into next Tuesday'."
Adrian simply watched the center of the room, his glasses reflecting the candle flames. He was silent, analytical, already gauging the structural integrity of the platform. I stood beside them, a still point in the center of their chaos. I could feel the Starfall Yew wand humming in my pocket, its celestial core reacting to the collective magical static of the room.
Then, a bright flash of lavender robes swept onto the platform.
Gilderoy Lockhart arrived with a theatrical flourish, his cloak swirling like a stage curtain. He spun on his heel, his teeth gleaming so brightly they practically acted as a second light source.
"Welcome, one and all!" he announced, his voice amplified to echo across the hall with a practiced, booming warmth. "To the very first meeting of the Hogwarts Dueling Club!"
A few students clapped—mostly the girls and a few enamored Hufflepuffs. Lockhart beamed, preening as he paced the length of the platform. "Now, I know what you're all thinking! How can we possibly defend ourselves if dark wizards attack? What spells must we learn? What techniques should we master?"
He flicked his wand in a glittering flourish, releasing a shower of golden sparks that rained down on the front row. "Well! Tonight, I shall show you!"
"Lockhart."
The name sliced through the hall like a cold blade. Severus Snape stepped onto the platform from the shadows near the staff table. He moved with a heavy, smoke-like grace, his black robes flowing behind him as if he were an inkblot spreading across the room.
"Step aside," Snape said, his voice quiet but carrying a weight that instantly silenced the hall.
The atmosphere shifted. The lighthearted "club" feeling vanished, replaced by a sharp, predatory tension. Lockhart's smile froze for a fraction of a second—a crack in the porcelain—before he recovered with a loud, forced laugh.
"Uh—yes! Of course! Professor Snape has kindly agreed to assist me with the—uh—demonstrations!"
Snape's dark eyes swept across the students, and for a heartbeat, they lingered on me. "You will observe," he said calmly, "that dueling is not about theatrics. It is about efficiency." He glanced briefly at Lockhart, his sneer deepening. "And discipline."
Lockhart lifted his chin, trying to reclaim his dignity. "Of course! Efficiency and elegance! Now, Severus, shall we give them a quick demonstration?"
They took their positions at opposite ends of the narrow platform.
"Bow," Lockhart said cheerfully. They bowed—Lockhart with a deep, dramatic bend, Snape with a stiff, predatory incline of the head.
Lockhart sprang upright with a flourish. "Expelliarmus!"
The spell burst from his wand in a thin, wavering beam of red light that sputtered and died halfway through the air. Snape didn't even flinch. His wand flicked once—a movement so fast it was almost invisible.
"Rictusempra."
The charm struck Lockhart square in the chest with the force of a battering ram. He was launched backward as though yanked by an invisible rope, his arms windmilling wildly before he crashed onto the floor with a loud, unceremonious thud.
The hall exploded into laughter. Tobias was nearly doubling over on his bench. Lockhart scrambled up, his lavender robes tangled around his legs, his hair finally losing its perfect set. "Yes! Excellent!" he gasped, breathless and red-faced. "Just testing his reflexes, you see! Very important to stay on your toes!"
Snape raised a single, sardonic eyebrow. "Indeed."
He turned away from Lockhart entirely and lifted his wand toward a heavy wooden practice dummy near the platform. "Observe."
His wand moved with sharp, economical precision—a surgeon's movements, not a performer's.
"Stupefy."
A flash of red light struck the dummy, sending it staggering backward. Before the wood could even settle—
"Rictusempra."
The second charm hit instantly afterward, knocking the target clean off its base. The entire sequence had taken barely two seconds. A low, appreciative murmur spread through the Ravenclaw table.
"Speed," Snape said coldly, "comes from discipline. Not from shouting."
Behind him, Lockhart attempted to recreate the demonstration. "Stupefy!" His spell produced a weak red spark that fizzled out like a damp firework. Snape let out a long, weary sigh. "Focus, Lockhart."
More laughter rippled through the hall. Lockhart cleared his throat loudly, his face a deep shade of crimson. "Well then! Students! Let us begin the real dueling! Volunteers?"
Snape didn't wait for a hand. His eyes locked onto the Gryffindors. "Potter."
Harper Potter stepped forward immediately. Whispers ran through the hall like fire through dry grass—the twin of the famous Harry, the girl who had stared down the rogue Bludger. She climbed onto the platform with a confident stride, her wand already in hand.
"And her opponent?" Lockhart asked, looking around.
Snape's gaze swept across the first-years. Then it stopped on me. "Blackheart. Orion Blackheart."
Gasps spread through the crowd. I felt the collective weight of their curiosity. "Professor," Lockhart said uncertainly, "surely pairing a first-year against a second-year is a little—"
Snape's voice was as smooth as glass. "A first-year capable of destroying you, Lockhart. I think he can handle a Potter."
The hall erupted in another wave of laughter, and Lockhart looked deeply offended. I ignored him. I stepped onto the platform without hesitation, my movements quiet and measured. I didn't spin my wand; I didn't flourish my cloak. I simply took my place, my mind retreating into the starry void of my Occlumency.
Snape watched me closely, a flicker of something like pride in his eyes. "Bow."
Harper and I bowed.
"Begin."
Harper moved first. Her reflexes were excellent. "Expelliarmus!"
The red beam shot forward with surprising speed. I didn't use a shield; a shield is a waste of energy if you can move. I leaned slightly to the left, and the spell skimmed past my shoulder, striking the stone floor with a crack.
My wand moved in a sharp, lazy arc. A blue flash burst forward. Harper raised her wand quickly, deflecting the spell with a sloppy but effective block, but the impact forced her back a step. I didn't give her time to reset.
I advanced a single step, my boots silent on the wood. A faint flick of my wand—Harper reacted to the visual cue, raising a shield against what she thought was a direct attack.
But my real spell came a fraction of a second later, timed to hit the moment her shield flickered.
"Rictusempra."
The charm struck Harper squarely in the shoulder, knocking her balance just enough to break her stance. She recovered with a snarl of determination. "Flipendo!"
The pushing charm shot toward me like an invisible fist. I pivoted smoothly, letting the spell pass through the air beside me. My wand snapped upward, the Starfall Yew glowing with a silver, celestial light.
"Levioso."
The soft silver current didn't hit Harper; it hit her wand. It was a surgical strike. The wand was lifted cleanly from her hand, spinning once in the air—and I caught it in my left hand as it fell.
The hall went silent for a heartbeat. Then, it exploded into a deafening roar of applause and cheers. Harper laughed, breathless and impressed, as I handed her wand back.
"Well done, Orion," she said. "I didn't even see that coming."
I gave a small, respectful nod. Snape's eyes gleamed with a cold approval. Lockhart clapped enthusiastically, though his applause sounded hollow and forced. "Excellent! Wonderful technique! A bit unorthodox, but effective!"
Then Snape spoke again, his voice cutting through the noise. "Malfoy. Potter."
Draco Malfoy stepped forward with a malicious smirk. Harry Potter climbed onto the platform opposite him, his expression grim. The tension in the hall sharpened, the "game" feeling gone once again.
"Bow," Snape ordered. They bowed, glares locked.
"Begin."
Draco didn't wait for a defensive opening. "Serpensortia!"
A burst of light exploded from his wand, and a massive black snake slammed onto the platform floor. It hissed, its scales glistening in the candlelight. The students in the front row shrieked and scrambled backward. The snake raised its head, its hood flaring, its fangs bared as it turned toward a petrified Hufflepuff boy.
Then Harry spoke. It wasn't a shout. It was a low, rhythmic sound—a series of sibilant hisses that felt like ice on the skin.
"Leave him."
The snake froze. Its head tilted, its yellow eyes locking onto Harry. Then, slowly, it lowered itself to the floor, becoming calm and obedient.
A wave of whispers swept through the hall like a tidal wave. "Did he just—" "Parseltongue—" "He's speaking to it—"
Draco looked horrified. Harry didn't hesitate. "Expelliarmus!"
Draco's wand flew from his hand, clattering onto the stones. The snake vanished into smoke a moment later as Snape flicked his wand, but the damage was done. The hall buzzed with an uneasy, fearful energy. Snape's eyes were unreadable as he watched Harry.
Near the Ravenclaw group, Tobias grabbed Elliot's shoulder so hard the boy winced. "Did you see that?! Harry Potter is a Parselmouth!"
Elliot blinked rapidly, his face pale. "I—I thought only older students, or dark wizards, could duel like that..."
Adrian watched me as I stepped off the platform. "You aren't an ordinary first-year, Orion. You fought Harper like you've been doing this for decades."
Cassian smirked, his dark eyes glowing. "Not even close to ordinary. He was playing with her."
Luna hummed softly, her eyes on the enchanted ceiling. "Yes... there was a rhythm in your duel, Orion. Like a dance under the stars."
I stood quietly beside them, my heart rate already returning to its baseline. The chaos of the Dueling Club swirled through the hall, but my mind was already moving to the next problem—the Parseltongue, the Chamber, and the "Ending" I could still feel in the air.
Finally, Tobias turned to me, his eyes shining with a new kind of excitement. "Orion. You're teaching us."
I raised an eyebrow. "Is that a request?"
"If you wish," I said calmly. "I could teach you how to move with the current, rather than against it."
"Yes!" Tobias hissed. "Absolutely yes."
I looked at my roommates—the "Alliance"—and felt the Starfall Yew warm in my hand. The year was getting darker, but for the first time, I felt like the shadows were where I belonged.
"Then we begin tomorrow," I said. "In the room with no windows."