Order of the Phoenix
The Second Lesson
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Nine
~ The Second Lesson ~
"Order of the Phoenix?"
Harry nodded as he sat on the edge of his desk, his eyes sparkling with triumph. Ginny was more than a little confused by what he had said. She had never heard of any Order of the Phoenix, and now she was already a member? Was Harry a member?
"Are you also member?" she asked, putting her thoughts into words.
"It would explain a lot if you think about, Gin," he told her, nodding again.
And, thinking about it, Ginny realized that it was true. Harry certainly had changed a great deal over the summer and being part of a secretive Order of the Phoenix would explain most of it. For a moment she had a horrible thought that suddenly being a member of this Order would entail her going through similar changes. The image of becoming a hulking, muscle-bound amazon was enough to make her teeth wiggle.
Then she looked at Harry and decided that fate was unlikely to befall her.
"But why didn't you tell us?" she asked, voicing the thought that overrode all others. She felt that Harry was her friend now, that he trusted her. He certainly had to; after all he had given her the full details concerning Sirius and all manner of other secrets.
Why not this one?
"That's the thing about secret Orders, Gin," Harry smiled playfully. "If you tell everyone about them, then they're not exactly a secret anymore are they?"
He does have a point, Ginny was reluctantly forced to admit.
*Of course he does.*
Harry jumped up from his desk and offered her a hand, helping her to stand. With a hand on her elbow he guided her towards the centre of the stage. "Besides," he told her, "there's no way to conclusively prove the existence of the Order unless you're a member."
Ginny frowned trying to understand his meaning. "What do you mean?"
He smiled and stepped behind her, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Close your eyes," he whispered in her ear, his closeness sending shivers up and down her spine. Drawing a shaky breath Ginny did as Harry said and closed her eyes, trying not to tremble as his hands slipped down from her shoulders to her upper arms. "Now, feel it."
"Feel what?" she asked, focusing in on his voice.
"The world around you. Not the world you see and hear and feel every day, but the world beneath that. Where everything we are, everything we do, can be seen. Open your eyes."
And then Ginny's world exploded in a wash of colour, sound and feeling.
"Holy shit," she whispered in shock.
"I know the feeling," agreed Harry, coming around to stand in front of her.
He was encased in an aura of flaming red, white and gold, shining brightly in the subdued light of the auditorium. The flickering energy surrounded his body, giving off a soft, melodious note that she could both hear and feel throughout her body. It sounded like phoenix song.
All about the room Ginny could see the magic that was such an integral part of Hogwarts castle. She could just make out where some of the more talented students had been sitting the previous night. Here and there remained faint evidence of the teachers that had attended, the brightest of all being the traces where Dumbledore had sat during the presentation.
The stage was a showcase of energy, telling the tale of the short demonstration Harry had staged. Ginny followed the lines and waves left by Harry and his "volunteers" when they had used their wands to shoot spells about. Each spell was different in some way, be it the colour or the sound or the feel of the lingering signatures. It was like watching a ghostly re-enactment of the class, with faint glimmers of what happened telling the tale.
Thinking back, Ginny located the places where she, alongside Ron and Hermione, had been sitting and tried to make out the remnants of their magic. Hers were soft red and orange wisps, next to the faint blue and purple shadows left by Ron and the gentle pink and emerald swirls surrounding where Hermione had been.
"Normally you won't be able to detect such faint traces, especially after nearly an entire day, however I placed a spell on the room that enhances magical signatures," Harry explained to her as he came over and stood by her side. "It'll make my teaching easier I hope."
"It's beautiful," she gasped, watching the trails winding their ways about the room, glimmering and glowing like some magnificent artwork, hidden away from the world where only she and Harry could see it.
Harry nodded. "That it is. Look down at your hands, before the effect fades."
Ginny glanced down at her hands and jerked in surprise. She could see her aura of magic, just as she could make out Harry's but it was different from what she had expected. Unlike the faint and slowly fading wisps of warm red and orange that remained where she had sat the previous night, her aura was instead blazing with vibrant red, gold and white - just like Harry's, and just as brightly.
"It only lasts a minute or so if you're not concentrating on it," he told her, "but that's long enough for you to identify any Order members. The aura is pretty much unmistakable, like the Death Eaters'."
"Death Eaters?"
He nodded to one side. "Look where Snape was standing during the presentation."
Ginny looked and could make out the faint remnants left by the Potions Master. Despite herself, she shivered and quickly looked away; the faded traces of Snape's aura were as black as the very depths of nothing, highlighted with sickly green and midnight blues. Worst was how it seemed to writhe and play about like a living thing, filled with evil malevolence.
"Well..." she said after a moment to regain her composure, "at least we won't have any problems finding Voldemort's spies. You've checked for others?"
"Naturally," Harry agreed. "Fortunately the only spy we have to worry about at the moment is Snape, and he's on our side. Don't ask if that's a good thing or not."
Ginny nodded and looked about the room, where the signs of past magic were beginning to fade away as the spell wore off and her vision returned to normal. "So making me a member allowed you to take the piece Riddle left in me out?"
Harry shook his head and led her back to his desk, where Ginny was surprised to find plates of food waiting for them. She had been so preoccupied with the magic that she had failed to notice the house-elves delivering their... it looked like dinner.
It can't have been that long, could it?
"It's easy to put power into somebody," Harry explained as they sat down, but paused when he saw her incredulous look. He smiled apologetically and shrugged. "Well, easier at least than taking that power out. The only person that can remove the pieces of Voldemort inside of us two is Voldemort."
"So... he's still inside me?" Ginny asked, the buoyant feeling inside deflating.
He sighed and grabbed a sandwich from a platter. "I'm afraid so."
"I don't understand." She shook her head. "Harry, what did you do?"
"There's a piece of Voldemort inside you, right?"
"Right."
"Well, now there's a piece of me as well."
***
Whatever Ginny had been expecting him to say, that was not it. He tried to hide a smile as she blinked and stared at him and then blinked again. She shook her head and continued to stare at him with a look of complete consternation on her face.
Yes, she was definitely not expecting that.
*Neither were we. Do you have any idea how much our heads hurt?*
As I keep reminding all of you, you're dead - You don't have heads anymore!
"You... put a part of y-yourself in... in me?" asked Ginny after finally finding her voice.
Harry nodded and gave an apologetic shrug. "That's why it took so long. Making you a part of the Order only takes a few minutes, but I was channelling some of myself into you along with it."
Ginny shook her head again. "How long did it take?"
He took a bite from the sandwich he was holding, watching as Ginny piled some odds and ends onto her plate before answering. "Dinner started in the Great Hall fifteen minutes ago."
"You mean I was out for the entire day?!"
*Kind of like you were, when you tried your animagus transformation.*
That was your fault.
*Ours? How did you come to that conclusion?*
For one thing, you didn't tell me that trying to change would end up with me flat on my back, barely conscious for a whole day.
"Pretty much," he answered Ginny's question.
"We missed lunch."
"And breakfast was rather short as well," he agreed. "That's why I called Dobby in the kitchens while you were recovering, and he brought us this sumptuous feast that's laid out before you."
Ginny chewed a bite of food, absentmindedly tapping her fingers against the hard wood of Harry's desk while staring off into space. She was obviously assimilating everything that had happened to her over the course of the day. Harry sat quietly, watching her take it all in, wondering if she, too, had felt the searing pain he had when the Order had bonded itself to him.
But that was an act of necessity, he thought to himself. this was... something else.
*What, exactly?*
If you people are to be believed, love.
*You don't sound all that certain about it.*
Love is something of a foreign concept for me, Isis. I mean, I know I love Ron and Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys, but I don't think I've ever experienced the kind of love you're talking about. If this is love, it's the kind that cannot be described by mere words.
*That, Harry, is the best kind of love.*
*And the most powerful.*
He was snapped out of his musings as Ginny's eyes settled on him, their warm brown depths full with questions. Harry only hoped he could answer as many of them as possible. After all, he knew first hand what it felt like to have unanswered questions haunting him.
"Don't think I'm complaining," she said. "In fact I find the idea rather... kinky, but how will having a piece of you inside me help?"
Kinky?
"I'm not really sure what the full effect will be," Harry admitted. "I've been told that nobody has ever tried something like this. I have a few ideas, theories, but nothing grounded in fact."
Harry stood up and began pacing back and forth, trying to gather his thoughts. Instructing his Practical Fighting Techniques class was easy compared to this. Of course, his first real class would not be starting for another hour or so.
"It's not just a matter of 'putting a piece of me' inside you," he said, stroking his chin with his hand as he paced. "I didn't just take a part of me and stick it in you."
This conversation could be taken so out of context.
*Oh, it is. Trust me, it is.*
Shut up, Loki.
"I... bonded... a part of myself to you." Harry stopped pacing and looked at Ginny, trying to gauge her reaction. "What I gave you is no longer identifiable as having ever not been a part of you to begin with. It's like…" He grasped for an adequate analogy. "It's like taking a sugar cube and putting it in a cup of tea. It will dissolve into the tea, you can taste it if you drink the tea, but you can't physically see the cube anymore."
"It's a part of me, now," Ginny said, looking strangely pleased with the idea.
Harry nodded. "What Voldemort put in you is still separate, definable. If you strained the tea, you'd be able to see the part of him."
He watched as Ginny settled back into the chair, steepling her fingers in front of her as she once again paused to consider the situation. It wasn't a perfect solution, he knew, in fact it wasn't much of an imperfect solution either, but it was the best he could do. He hoped it was enough. He hoped she wouldn't condemn him for it.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
Ginny smiled shyly and visibly fought a blush, but kept her soft eyes focused intently on Harry. "You were going to answer another question of mine before this all started."
Oh, yeah. I forgot about that in all the excitement.
*You're not old enough yet to start forgetting things like that.*
"Indeed I was," he said, proud of the calm and confident tone his voice had. Truth be told, his mouth had suddenly gone dry and the bottom had fallen out of his stomach.
"And?" she pressed. "What's the answer?"
Trying not to lick his lips, Harry grinned back at her. "That depends."
"Depends? Depends on what?"
"On whether or not you say 'yes'."
***
Hermione, along with Ron, the twins and a few of Harry's other friends, thought she had some idea of just what to expect for their first proper Practical Fighting Techniques lesson. After all, she reasoned, nobody knew Harry as well as she and Ron did. However, upon entering the auditorium a few minutes after dinner, she was forced to admit that all her ideas of what to expect had just been thrown out the window.
Considering the Practical Fighting Techniques classroom had no windows, that was saying something.
At first glance it appeared very much as if Harry and Ginny, both of whom had vanished after the incident with Nagini that morning, were trying to kill each other.
At second glance it still seemed as though the pair were trying their damnedest to eviscerate the other with the long, gleaming swords twirling about in their hands.
"Sweet Merlin," gasped Ron. "He pissed her off!"
Hermione swatted her friend on the arm and looked closely at the battling pair, aware all round her of the surprised gasps being made by the other students coming through the door. Surprisingly well over half of those eligible for PFT had chosen to take the class. Now, they all stood just within the boundaries of the auditorium and watched as Ginny tore into Harry with all the force of a raging storm.
The petite redhead was easily a foot shorter than Harry and barely half his weight, but she was going after him with a grim determination that made Hermione wonder just what the hell Harry had done to, as Ron had said, piss her off so.
The ringing clang of blade against blade filled the air, as Ginny feinted and lunged with a fast one-two that Harry parried calmly and effortlessly. It was only now, as Hermione got closer to the stage where the pair were duelling, that she noticed the focused and intense expression on Ginny's face and the coolly evaluating look Harry was watching her with.
"They're sparring," she breathed, barely loud enough for those around her to hear.
Now that she mentioned it, the others could clearly see it too. Harry was for the most part just standing there, letting Ginny throw everything she had at him, while he deflected her blows with such consummate ease he almost seemed bored.
"You're dropping your left shoulder a bit," they heard him tell Ginny as he deftly blocked a series of slashes towards his face and chest.
Ginny growled and dropped into a low crouch, arcing her blade around in a swing that would have taken Harry's knees off had he still been there. Instead, the sword cleaved through empty air as Harry had leapt into the air the moment Ginny moved and performed an amazing feat of acrobatics as he back flipped away and out of danger.
Great Maker, Hermione wondered, I didn't think anyone could do that.
He landed lightly on his feet five yards back from where he had been standing, his sword held protectively in front of him in his right hand. Somehow, during the back flip he had reached into his robes and pulled out his wand with his left hand. Hermione knew that Harry's right hand was his wandhand, but still he levelled his wand at Ginny and fired a curse with deadly accuracy.
Ginny barely ducked in time, rolling clumsily to one side and drawing her own wand with her free hand, shooting a curse of her own back as she came out of her roll. It missed Harry by nearly a full yard. He did not even flinch or acknowledge her counterattack, but started to slowly stalk towards her.
He must be using magic to enhance his physical abilities. That's very advanced magic. I wonder where he learnt it. Not to mention how he can seem so relaxed about it.
Realizing that she would not be able to curse or hex Harry while her wand was in her left hand, Ginny switched her wand and the sword about, but it was too late. Harry was already upon her and his sword sliced at her stomach. Ginny jumped back a foot, the tip of Harry's blade missing her abdomen by scarce inches. Now she found herself in the exact opposite situation to what she had just been, unable to effectively use her sword now that it was in her other hand.
"Good. Good," commented Harry as Ginny spun around, deftly switching the sword back to her right hand and coming out with a flurry of swift strokes. "But," he continued, pivoting on the ball of one foot and then the other, bringing himself behind her just as she made a wide slash that now missed him completely. "You're overextending yourself."
He finished off his observation by giving Ginny a push between the shoulders with his free hand, causing the redhead to lose her balance stumble forward. To drive his point home, he slapped the flat edge of his sword against her butt.
"Ouch!" Ginny exclaimed, awkwardly spinning about to face him, hand reaching back to massage her posterior. She mock-glared at Harry and asked. "How did you get to be so good with a sword?"
"I'm curious about that myself," Hermione whispered to Ron, her eyes not leaving the stage.
Ron snorted softly, also watching the stage closely. "I'm curious about how Ginny suddenly got just as good."
Harry slipped his sword into a sheath attached to his belt and shrugged. "It pretty much happened overnight. It's like flying a broom; comes naturally."
"Sheer luck."
Everyone turned to look at the person who had spoken in a sneering drawl. Draco Malfoy, amidst the scarce few Slytherins that would be continuing with Practical Fighting Techniques, lounged in his seat, the sneer on his lip matching the one in his voice. Everyone glanced from the pale Slytherin boy to Harry, waiting to see what his reaction would be.
"Luck, Malfoy," lectured Harry, "is sometimes the most important asset a person can have."
***
Ron watched as Harry silently made his way to the front of the stage, just before where the seats for the students started. His friend's attention was firmly fixed on Malfoy, who was sitting back and looking inappropriately smug.
Especially after Harry turned him into a ferret last night, thought Ron.
"He must be trying to make up for it," murmured Hermione beside him, causing Ron to realise that he had whispered his thoughts out loud.
"I hope Harry feels like giving a repeat performance," whispered Neville, standing behind the two of them, alongside the other Gryffindor fifth-years.
Reminded of Neville's presence in the PFT class, Ron took a moment to survey the other students present. Unsurprisingly, most of the Gryffindors had decided to continue, including Neville, which was somewhat unexpected. Even Lavender and Parvati were present, which Ron had been expecting even less than Neville's participation.
His brothers were there, claiming that they would not rest until Harry told them the secret to the transformation he had put them under. Already the twins were planning a line of sweets that turned the victim into 'puddy tat' saying Tweety birds. Joining them was their usual accomplice in crime, Lee, as well as the three Chasers from the Quidditch team. Even the diminutive Colin Creevey was present, camera in hand, meaning that every single Gryffindor from fourth to seventh year was there.
Oddly enough, Ron realized as he looked across at the other houses, the six "volunteers" from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, were amongst those present. He had been expecting most of them to be too intimidated or petrified of Harry to continue. As it was, roughly half of both those houses had shown up, despite their reputations of Ravenclaw being bookworms and Hufflepuff being... well. He could see Cho Chang, alongside Roger Davies and Barbara Yeager, and there was Justin Finch-Fletchley, with Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott.
Quite a mixed crowd altogether.
The Slytherins on the other hand were by far the least numerous of the houses, less than a full dozen students Ron counted. The only Slytherin fifth-years other than Malfoy were Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini. The rest were a motley crew of fourth- and sixth-years, with no seventh-years at all. Apparently being taught by not only a Gryffindor, but none other than The Boy Who Lived, was too large a bite for them to swallow.
"Have you ever heard of Napoleon?"
Harry was standing where one of the aisles radiating out met the stage. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes, made all the more evident for his recent lack of glasses. Ron, who counted himself Harry's closest friend along with Hermione, knew the look all too well. He had seen it often enough, usually right before Harry charged ahead to do something massively unwise.
Everyone's attention was on the two boys as Malfoy cautiously considered Harry's question before answering in a bored and disdainful manner. "He was the emperor of France a few centuries ago. Just a simple Muggle."
The dangerous gleam in Harry's eyes was growing brighter, Ron noted. "A simple Muggle with great ambition," he said. "Surely a Slytherin can appreciate such a trait."
"What's your point?" Malfoy seemed to be starting to realise that Harry was setting him up.
"There's a story about Napoleon," Harry explained. "Some officers of his were discussing the virtues of a young, up-and-coming soldier. Napoleon was only interested in one thing."
Malfoy tried to seem uninterested. "And what was that?"
"He wanted to know," Harry smiled wickedly, "'is he lucky?'."
"And was he?" The Slytherin's eyes narrowed. He had to know now that Harry was setting him up, he just didn't know how. In the utter silence prevailing over the room as the two spoke, Ron had to admit he was curious about what Harry had in mind.
Harry smirked, the look of a kneazle that had cornered a mouse. "Napoleon certainly wasn't; look at Waterloo. What about you, Malfoy?"
The question seemed to unnerve the blonde. "What about me?"
With a flourish Harry had drawn his sword, twirling and sweeping it about in a display that drew squawks of alarm from those sitting in the first row. The light glittered on the keen blade as Harry held the weapon up for Malfoy to have a good look.
"This is a Japanese long-sword, a Katana, one of the finest blades in the world." as Harry spoke he began to slowly back to the centre of the stage, but always keeping his eyes on Malfoy. "It can cut your head clean off and not even notice the obstruction. So, tell me; do you feel lucky?"
"Oh, honestly," Ron heard Hermione mutter. "He thinks he's Dirty Harry."
Puzzled over why she was so suddenly interested in Harry's hygiene, Ron shook his head and gave her a whispered reply. "No, I'm sure he had a shower this morning."
Harry in the meanwhile had taken Ginny's sword in hand and was holding it out, pommel first, to Malfoy "Well, do you? If you do, come on down and take this sword." His eyes narrowed and his voice was practically dripping contempt. "We'll see if your luck is better than Ginny's."
"Oooh," breathed George, looking as though Christmas had come early, "Harry's baiting him."
"I had planned to devote this lesson to evaluating you all," Harry announced, glancing over all the waiting students. "But now I think an impromptu lesson in the art of sword fighting would be appropriate enough instruction. After all, it always pays to be able to handle a blade, whether it's for a duel..." His eyes turned back to Malfoy. "…or a knife in the back."
A faint flush of pink burned Malfoy's cheeks as he hastily pulled himself out of his seat and began to make his way down onto the stage. His lips were drawn into a thin line and Ron could actually hear his teeth grinding as he walked passed.
"The Malfoys are an old and influential family," he drawled, stepping out onto the stage. "Of course my father has formally tutored me in the art of sword fighting."
"Malfoy's having an ego trip, again," Hermione observed dryly.
"How can you tell?" retorted Ron, earning stifled guffaws from his brothers and all those sitting around them.
Malfoy was now standing only a couple of yards from Harry, hands crossed over his narrow chest and the customary sneer in full evidence. Harry smiled at the Slytherin's posturing and lightly tossed the weapon in his hand to the other boy. Malfoy nimbly caught the blade in midair, but almost immediately the weight of the sword caused his arm to be jerked downward, almost losing his hold on the grip.
He could only just make out Malfoy's expression, but Ron could tell that the blonde was surprised by the weapon's weight. He stared down at the sword, his mouth dropping open, before he looked up and gaped at Ginny in disbelief. Obviously he must have thought Ron's sister had been using a light, feminine sword. With visible effort Malfoy raised the sword into a fighting position, his arm trembling under the strain of holding the weapon up.
"You aren't using a practice sword," noted Malfoy with a quiver in his voice as Harry, casually and with almost indecent ease, drew his gleaming blade in a wide arc and into a ready position.
Harry's wolfish smile made even the twins shiver. "I'm not practicing."
***
Ginny Weasley had never before felt sorry for Draco Malfoy, but during the course of the second Practical Fighting Techniques class, she was sorely tempted. The pale-haired Slytherin, who made it his mission in life to insult her family and friends, had been so hopelessly outmatched, it was all Ginny could do not to burst out laughing.
Oh, this should be fun, she thought. Harry versus Malfoy in a sword fight.
*'S going to be like watching Cerberus going after a mouse.*
Harry saw a dog like that in his first year, Ron told me about it, she replied to the whisper, one of the soft voices that had coached her earlier.
To start off with problems Malfoy was experiencing, his sword was far too heavy. As Harry tossed the blade to him, Ginny had caught him casting a bit of wandless magic. He hadn't said anything, but it looked like a special charm that more than doubled the apparent weight of the object it was cast on. The only reason Ginny knew Harry had done anything was the Order's power, which allowed her to perceive magic as it was cast.
"I'm not practicing," she heard Harry tell Malfoy and enjoyed watching as the blood drained from the other boy's already pale face.
It took several moments, during which time Ginny found a seat with the Gryffindors, but finally Malfoy recovered and sneered tauntingly at Harry. "Good, because neither am I!"
After that the duel began and was such a one-sided affair that it was actually comedic. Malfoy spent nearly ten minutes doggedly attacking Harry, throwing himself behind his swings, slashes and thrusts with nearly maniacal determination. In hilarious counterpoint, Harry had circled around the stage, allowing Malfoy to pursue him, blocking, deflecting and avoiding the attacks, often without even watching to see what his opponent was doing.
Malfoy jabbed at Harry's face, but it was only a feint, a moment later his sword was slashing down at Harry's thigh. With a deft downward swipe and a twist, Harry diverted the blow to one side and almost caused Malfoy to topple over.
He did not press his advantage however, but merely rested the blade on his shoulder and calmly waited for Malfoy to recover. Malfoy staggered some, but remained upright, throwing his weight towards Harry behind a swinging backhand.
Harry met the blow with one of his own and spiralled Malfoy's sword and arm about in a wide circle, leaving his opponents body open and exposed. His right leg snapped up, knee high and his foot shot out, landing a powerful side kick to Malfoy's chest.
"Far too predictable, Malfoy," Harry noted, not moving from where he stood as the other boy struggled to stay on his feet as he was knocked backward.
Harry had actually spent most of this first stage calmly lecturing the watching students on the virtues of different types of swords, fighting styles and techniques. His knowledge, the sheer breadth and depth of it, seemed impossibly vast. Finally he stopped Malfoy's persistent, yet fruitless, attempts to skewer him.
"Apparently the right, honourable, Lucius Malfoy neglected to teach Draco here how to fight an opponent straight up," observed Harry. "I'd offer to turn around and expose my back, but somehow I doubt that would improve his chances any great degree."
With an inarticulate roar Malfoy threw aside any form or reason and simply charged straight at Harry, clearly intent on trying to skewer Harry on his sword, which he held out in front of him like a spear. But Harry stepped to one side at the last instant, reaching up with his free hand to cup the back of Malfoy's head and give it a shove. It was enough to put the Slytherin off his balance, causing him to stumble over his own feet and fall flat on his face.
"Overextending yourself is a dangerous thing to do," Harry mentioned, calm as could be. "Any experience opponent can easily take advantage of it."
As Malfoy pushed himself to his feet and whirled to face Harry once again, Harry looked up to where Ginny was now sitting and winked. "Perhaps, since Malfoy's offensive technique is clearly flawed, he will be kind enough to demonstrate his defensive technique. If any."
Malfoy froze where he was standing, sword held shakily in both trembling hands as Harry's words slowly sank in. When the realization finally hit him the blood once again drained from his face and his mouth opened to try and protest, but it was too late. Harry proceeded, over the course of another ten minutes, to put Malfoy in the hospital wing under the dubious care of Madam Pomfrey.
Even after only a few strokes it was obvious that Malfoy was about to take a licking, but after Harry turned his attack up a few notches, it was frightening. His katana flicked out and back, cutting Malfoy's robes before the Slytherin could even begin to react. By the end of the first minute Harry was moving so fast his movements could not be easily followed.
Harry's sword licked out like a striking serpent, and suddenly there was a thin red line across Malfoy's cheek. Harry spun about, his blade whipping through the air and there was a matching line on his other cheek.
Within a very short time Malfoy was looking much the worse for wear, dozens of tiny nicks and cuts covering his face, body and limbs. His robes hung from his lithe frame like rags, he was barely able to hold his sword up and was swaying heavily on his feet. Like an ancient oak tree being cut down the Slytherin dropped to his knees, the sword falling from his numb hands. His breathing was ragged and all he could do was shake his head as he collapsed bonelessly to the stage floor.
"Money. Power. Fame." Harry bent down and stared into Malfoy's panicking eyes. "None of them are worth jack shit when your balls are on the butcher's block."
Smirking, Harry reached into his robes and withdrew a small stone, about the size of a Snitch. Holding it in his hand Harry muttered under his breath and then pressed it into one of Malfoy's hands before standing up and sketching a mock salute to the prone boy.
"See you in the morning, Malfoy."
With a swish of displaced air Malfoy's figure swirled about and vanished into thin air with a faint pop.
"That was a specially designed Portkey," Harry explained, moving to centre stage, where the lecturing podium had risen up. "In the unlikely event of any of you sustaining a serious injury, we have a plentiful supply on hand. They will transport you directly to the infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey will be waiting."
"Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted..."
TBC...