The wizarding world did not have a single moment to catch its breath. The printing presses of the Daily Prophet and other local newspapers worked overtime, churning out special late-night editions that flooded the skies with owls. The headlines practically burned the fingers.
« DUEL OF HONOR: WEASLEY VS. MALFOY! »
The premise was as ridiculous as it was explosive: the patriarch of the Malfoys against a second-year Hogwarts student. In a futile attempt at damage control, the Ministry had ordered a total media blackout regarding any mention of the cursed diary for the duration of the official investigation. They knew it was a temporary fix and that gossip from the officials present in the Atrium would inevitably leak, but to me, this censorship was a gift. It granted me the exact window of time I needed.
At Hogwarts, the news hit like a meteor. When the owls swooped into the Great Hall during breakfast, the room fell dead silent. Most of the students—children who barely grasped the political and legal implications of a Duel of Honor—viewed it as a morbid spectacle. The few who actually understood magical law and bloodlines sat waiting for a second bulletin announcing the cancellation of the match by intervention of either the Ministry or Dumbledore.
But there would be no cancellations. The duel was real, and one of the combatants was sitting right there.
I had taken a seat at the Slytherin table with an almost insulting composure, interrupting my girls' breakfast. I wanted to see them, talk for a bit, and, as much as possible, grant them a final shred of peace. My mere presence caused a chaotic buzz throughout the entire hall; hundreds of eyes locked onto me. If the girls hadn't formed an implacable barrier around me, glaring down anyone who dared take a step forward, the table would have been overrun by a horde of hysterical students. Of course, they weren't doing it to protect me, but because they weren't about to let anyone overwhelm me with questions before they got their turn...
The real interrogation was happening inside our circle. Questions rained down on me like rapid-fire spells, overlapping one another in a chorus of panic and frustration.
"Red!? What on earth are you going to do?" Padma exclaimed, her eyes wide.
"How could you be so stupid?! Daphne told us everything! This is madness, it should be illegal! We should go to Dumbledore's office right now, appeal to the school board, and..." Hermione was on the verge of a neurotic breakdown, waving her hands in the air as her mind processed a million regulations that were entirely useless in the face of the current situation.
"You can't fight Mr. Malfoy!" Parvati interjected, pale-faced. "He was a Death Eater, Red. He will kill you."
"You have to flee the country!" Lavender suggested, with an urgency bordering on the melodrama of a romance novel. "We can escape in secret tonight, cross the Pyrenees under false identities, and..." she purred, making it obvious where her fantasies were heading.
"What happened with Hannah?" Susan asked.
"Why the hell did you have to challenge him?" Tracey demanded, slamming her hand on the table.
"Where is Ginny?" Luna murmured, in her usual detached tone but with an unusually sharp gaze.
They were all speaking at once, unable to articulate an orderly thought. The tension was so thick that some shifted from fear to insults, loudly berating my recklessness while slamming the newspaper against my face. On the front page, a magical illustration of two wizards crossing wands in an ancient engraving seemed to mock our predicament.
I looked at them all, holding my teacup halfway to my lips. The calm in my eyes was the worst insult I could offer their worry. I continued spreading cheese on my slice of bread with slow, deliberate movements before taking a bite, ignoring the chaos. My lack of reaction to the gravity of the situation clashed violently with what the girls expected from me; for most, my attitude was fuel that fed their hysteria, though for others, seeing my imperturbability began to drain the stress from the group.
To keep the situation from spiraling out of control, I released a subtle pulse of my [auras], modulating the frequency of the environment to force an artificial calm. They perceived it immediately; after spending so much time by my side, such an indiscreet use of my power was impossible to ignore, but none of them complained. On the contrary, they allowed themselves to be swayed by the comfort of that induced stillness.
With the circle now under control, I gained the necessary time to address their doubts. The rest of the Great Hall was another story. Students from all houses and years craned their necks and shoved one another, devouring with their eyes the "scheming" student who had just returned from Brazil only to drag the Malfoy patriarch into the arena.
"I would appreciate it if you would keep quiet and let me eat my breakfast in peace," I called out to the most curious onlookers, raising my voice just enough. "I have a duel at noon and I need the energy."
I managed to hold the crowd at bay with those words, at least the more reasonable ones... but the true test arrived when the real trouble walked through the doors: my brothers and Malfoy.
Fred and George came running in, knocking over benches and practically vaulting over the Slytherin table to confront me. As much as they tried to maintain their facade of incorrigible pranksters, the paleness of their faces betrayed legitimate anguish.
"Red! What the hell have you done?!" they exclaimed almost in unison, their voices a pitch higher than normal.
I let out a sigh. They were already part of the group that was beginning to see the world with the maturity of adults; their worry was transparent, painful. I could feel their nerves, see how their minds were working overtime to find a logic to the matter... and an escape route.
Having no sincere reasons to offer them without dismantling my strategy, I turned to the same balm I used with the girls: soft words, half-truths, and a feigned confidence. It worked with the twins because they desperately needed to cling to any hope, but I wasn't able to fool everyone. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the skeptical looks of Daphne, Pansy, and Penelope... and even Lavender seemed to doubt my performance.
Even so, my brothers insisted, searching for a legal loophole to get me out of Great Britain before noon.
"There is no escape, nor do I want one. Malfoy deserves a lesson," I said, flashing a light smile to take the weight off the room. "Besides, it's just a Duel of Honor. I don't think Lucius would dare kill me in the heart of the Ministry; at worst, I'll have to go live abroad."
It was a half-truth. A Duel of Honor did not necessarily equate to a death sentence, as the victor had the authority to spare his rival's life. However, the alternatives were hardly a walk in the park: forced exile, stripping of one's magic, or the seizure of all the loser's possessions were common fates. Still, eliminating the specter of immediate death allowed the group to breathe a little easier.
The prospect of exile without magic immediately set the gears turning for some of the girls. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Pansy already calculating the logistics of keeping me as her secret lover, hidden away in some forgotten Parkinson property, while Lavender immersed herself in a heroic and excessively graphic fantasy about us fleeing the continent together.
Behind the twins, Ron and Harry appeared. It was much simpler with them; they lacked the maturity and political knowledge to gauge the scale of the disaster, so it was easy to dismiss them with a couple of evasive answers and focus back on my girls, who were still not satisfied.
It was then that the shadow of Draco Malfoy fell over the table.
"Here you are! What's the matter, Weasley? Hiding at Hogwarts?" Draco arrived with heavy steps, crossing his arms and raising his chin with his signature arrogance. He didn't dare confront me directly, but knowing I was going to face his father had restored his courage. He felt that, finally, the universe would deliver the punishment he believed I deserved. "I can't wait to watch my father humiliate you! You should have never challenged the Malfoys."
With him, I applied a tactic even simpler than with the rest: I ignored him completely. I continued my conversation with the girls as if he were nothing more than the buzzing of a fly.
"Hey! Didn't you hear me?!" he yelled, his face flushing with rage at my indifference. Getting no reaction, he directed his venom toward the circle. "And what are you lot doing? Can't you see he's doomed? Why are you still talking to him? I want to see what you do when he's gone... They'll all abandon you when you lose, Weasley. You won't have anything left."
Without looking at him, I executed a subtle flick of my wand. Instantly, Malfoy's lips sealed magically, fusing together into an invisible line. He tried to scream, but only a muffled whimpering of panic escaped his throat, causing several onlookers to step back.
The Great Hall fell into a tense silence. That demonstration of non-verbal, precise magic intimidated the crowd. Even some Slytherins who shared Malfoy's resentment decided to take a step back; they considered my fate sealed at Lucius's hands, but they didn't dare provoke a monster who still held a position of absolute superiority. A frightened Crabbe and Goyle ended up dragging Draco toward the hospital wing under the relentless jeers of Fred, George, Harry, and a handful of Gryffindors celebrating my anticipated victory, even if deep down they doubted it was possible.
Oblivious to the commotion, I turned my attention back to the circle. I drew Hermione into my arms, hugging her to comfort her as she buried her head in my neck, wetting my skin with tears of anguish and demanding explanations I couldn't give her. Pansy looked to be on the verge of breaking character to do the exact same thing, though in her own way: less mournful and much more violent. For her, this felt like a deliberate demolition of all our future plans.
I managed each of them differently, adapting to what they needed. During the process, I spotted Percy among the crowd surrounding the table. My older brother tried to approach, but the dense barrier of worried girls blocked his path, and he soon ran out of time.
"Mr. Weasley!" The authoritative voice of Professor McGonagall cut through the air.
She threw herself through the mass of students with firm strides. Her face reflected a rigid mixture of reproach and a contained fury that threatened to overflow. She was furious, yes, but above all, she was terrified by the danger I had walked into. The only reason she didn't explode right then and there was to maintain decorum in front of the school.
"I am surprised to see you here. I did not expect your return from Brazil so soon... nor under these circumstances," she stated with a hint of sarcasm. "The Headmaster requests your immediate presence in his office. And he has made it very clear that this time, you do not have the opportunity to escape."
I nodded calmly. I stood up and proceeded to say goodbye to my girls one by one, allowing myself to be considerably more affectionate than usual. They were prolonged hugs, kisses on the cheeks, on the forehead, and a deep kiss on the lips for Hermione. With those with whom I shared a more intimate bond, I slipped my hands discreetly, making them shiver. For them, it carried the tragic weight of a final moment before an execution; they knew that after my visit to Dumbledore, I might head straight to the Ministry... though some hoped the headmaster would prevent it.
Through a series of [messages], I assured Penelope, Pansy, and Daphne that everything was under strict control and there was nothing to fear, but uncertainty continued to eat away at them from the inside.
I began to walk, following McGonagall's lead, leaving behind a group of girls, some with their eyes misting with tears, waving goodbye as if I were marching off to a war from which I would not return. Perhaps I should have softened the scene so as not to make it so agonizing... but I would be lying if I said I don't enjoy the drama. Making their emotions boil was part of the game; if they came to terms with the possibility of my death first, it would be much easier for them to accept and process what would come after.
With that final look over the Great Hall, I crossed the double doors alongside the professor, ready for the meeting with the Headmaster.