The dueling club, and Ariana's stunning, back-to-back displays of effortless superiority, became the new topic of conversation at Hogwarts, briefly eclipsing even the fear of the Heir of Slytherin. In the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron rehashed the events endlessly.
"I still can't believe how fast she was," Harry said, shaking his head in awe. "My wand was gone before I even finished the incantation."
"Yeah, but who do you reckon would've won between her and Hermione?" Ron mused, a thought that was clearly circulating amongst the students. "It's like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object."
The two girls in question, seated by the fire and deep into a discussion about the theoretical links between alchemy and transfiguration, were completely oblivious to the debate. The concept of a duel between them was, to their minds, utterly absurd. Their partnership was not built on competition, but on a collaborative pursuit of knowledge.
The idea of turning their wands on each other was as alien as willingly failing an exam.
The talk of duels, however, soon gave way to the much more immediate and pressing excitement of the first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The rivalry was at a fever pitch, exacerbated by the fact that the Slytherin team was now flying brand-new, top-of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, a "gift" to the team from Lucius Malfoy that had secured his son, Draco, the position of Seeker.
Last year, Ariana had treated the Quidditch matches as background noise, an illogical and chaotic sport she had no interest in. This year, however, was different. Her mind, constantly processing variables and potential threats, flagged the upcoming match as a high-risk event. She recalled the story from her past life: a rogue Bludger, enchanted to target Harry relentlessly, resulting in a broken arm, followed by Gilderoy Lockhart's disastrous attempt to mend it, which resulted in the complete removal of all the bones in said arm.
It was a predictable, dangerous, and entirely preventable sequence of events. The day before the match, she approached Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team's intense and slightly fanatical captain. She found him in the common room, obsessively polishing his broom handle.
"Captain Wood," she began, her tone polite and professional.
"Ariana," he said, looking up, surprised. "Didn't take you for a Quidditch fan."
"I am a fan of ensuring our Seeker remains fully functional," she replied coolly. "I have reason to believe that tomorrow's match may involve… outside magical interference, specifically targeting Harry."
Wood's expression darkened. "You think the Slytherins will cheat?"
"I believe a single player is at high risk," she clarified. "Given the nature of the potential injury, and the… questionable competence of our current Defence professor, I would like to propose a precautionary measure." She paused, letting him process her words. "I would like permission to be on the pitch during the match. Not in the stands. I will require a clear line of sight to Harry at all times. I am proficient in basic medical charms. If an incident occurs, I can provide immediate assistance before Professor Lockhart has an opportunity to 'help'."
The request was unprecedented. But Wood, who had heard of her take down a mountain troll and humiliate Malfoy in a duel, had a profound respect for her capabilities. He also shared her deep-seated mistrust of Lockhart. The idea of having a magical medic on standby, especially one with Ariana's reputation, was an offer he couldn't refuse.
"Alright, Dumbledore," he said after a moment's thought. "You can stand with Madam Hooch near the team benches. But stay out of the way of the players."
"That is all I require," she said with a nod.
The day of the match was cold and blustery. The entire school trooped down to the Quidditch pitch, a sea of scarlet and gold versus green and silver. Ariana, dressed in warm, practical robes, took her place on the sidelines as promised. Hermione, having been briefed on Ariana's concerns, joined her, her own wand at the ready. She didn't fully understand Ariana's certainty, but she trusted her friend's analysis implicitly.
The match began, a frantic blur of speed and aggression. The Slytherin team, powered by their superior brooms, was fast and brutal. But the Gryffindor team had heart, and they had Harry. He darted through the air, his eyes scanning for the glint of the Golden Snitch.
It didn't take long for Ariana's prediction to come true.
A Bludger, one of the two heavy, black balls enchanted to knock players off their brooms, suddenly changed its trajectory. It ignored all other players and began to pursue Harry with a vicious, unerring focus. It was sentient, malevolent.
"That Bludger's been tampered with!" Lee Jordan, the commentator, roared from the stands. The Gryffindor Beaters, Fred and George Weasley, did their best, flying escort for Harry and repeatedly hitting the rogue Bludger away. But it was relentless. It curved through the air, spun with unnatural speed, and always, always, came back for Harry.
Hermione, standing beside Ariana, raised her wand. "I can try a counter-jinx…"
"No," Ariana said calmly, her eyes never leaving the sky. "The enchantment is complex and powerful. A failed counter-jinx could make it explosive. We must wait for the inevitable."
Harry, meanwhile, was leading the Bludger on a wild chase, trying to find the Snitch at the same time. He spotted it. A tiny glint of gold hovering near the ground by the Slytherin goalposts. Draco Malfoy saw it too. They both went into a steep dive, the rogue Bludger screaming after Harry. They were neck and neck. Harry pushed his Firebolt, urging every last ounce of speed from it. Just as his fingers were about to close around the fluttering Snitch, the Bludger struck. It slammed into his right arm with a sickening crunch. A wave of white-hot pain shot through him, but his fingers, through sheer force of will, closed around the Snitch.
He hit the ground hard, tumbling across the muddy pitch, the Golden Snitch held triumphantly in his good hand. The whistle blew. Gryffindor had won. But Harry was writhing on the ground, his arm bent at an unnatural angle. A crowd of players and
concerned teachers began to gather. And pushing his way through them all, his teeth gleaming, was Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Not to worry, Harry!" he announced grandly. "I'll have that arm of yours fixed in a jiffy!"
He never got the chance. The moment Harry hit the ground, Ariana was already moving. She strode onto the pitch, her wand in hand, a field of invisible force parting the gawking crowd before her. She reached Harry's side just as Lockhart was pulling out his own wand.
"Stand aside, Professor," she said, her voice quiet but ringing with an authority that stopped him cold. She knelt beside Harry, her eyes quickly assessing the damage. It was a clean break, but a nasty one. She placed her left hand gently on his arm, just above the break, feeling the chaotic, painful energy of the injury. Then, she raised her Elder wand.
She didn't use a simple mending charm. She used the knowledge she had gained from the Flamels, the deeper magic of healing and restoration.
"Episkey Maximus. Recreo Ossium." The incantations were soft, almost whispered, but they hummed with a power that made the very air around them vibrate. A warm, golden light emanated from the tip of her wand, enveloping Harry's arm. He felt not a jolt, but a soothing, penetrating warmth. The jagged ends of the broken bone flowed like warm wax, aligning themselves perfectly. The hairline fractures sealed. The torn ligaments and bruised muscle tissue mended themselves. The entire process took less than ten seconds.
When the light faded, Harry tentatively moved his arm. It was perfect. There was no pain, no stiffness, not even a lingering ache.
While Ariana was healing Harry, Hermione took care of the other problem. The rogue Bludger, its target now on the ground, was hurtling towards them for another strike.
"Finite Incantatem Totalus!" Hermione shouted, aiming her wand at the speeding black ball. She poured all her power and focus into the general counter-spell. It wasn't elegant, but it was powerful. A bolt of blue light struck the Bludger. The dark magic animating it sputtered and died.
The Bludger, suddenly just a heavy ball of inert iron, dropped from the sky and buried itself in the mud with a final, definitive thud. The crowd was silent, stunned. They had just witnessed a second-year student perform a healing charm with a level of skill Madam Pomfrey would have envied, while another had single-handedly destroyed a powerfully cursed object.
Lockhart stared, his wand held limply, his jaw slack. His moment of glory had been stolen with an efficiency that was both breathtaking and deeply insulting.
Ariana helped a shaky but completely healed Harry to his feet. "You should still go to the hospital wing for observation," she said calmly. "Internal bruising is still a possibility."
She had done it. She had identified a problem, created a plan, and executed it flawlessly.
The rogue Bludger was dealt with, Harry was unharmed, and Lockhart's incompetence had been neatly bypassed. As the triumphant Gryffindor team lifted Harry onto their shoulders, carrying him off the pitch as a hero, Ariana simply nodded, satisfied. Another variable had been controlled. Another disaster neatly averted.