After Malfoy left, Harry sat back down across from Ron.
"What's a wizard duel like? Is it more like the knightly or noble duels from some Muggle era? Can you wear full armor? Does the wizarding world have anti-magic armor or magic steel armor? And by the way, I didn't see him throw a glove at you," Harry asked.
Ron rambled on at length. "A long, long time ago… I don't think so… probably not… and you don't need to throw a glove."
But he knew next to nothing about Muggles, so his answers were vague and off the mark.
His knowledge wasn't as vast as Hermione's. At this rate, Harry would soon fall behind even Neville!
"I heard Malfoy say he didn't want me to be your second. What's that about?" Harry asked.
"Oh, if I die, my second steps in," Ron said casually, finally digging into his now-cold pie. "If you're my second, Malfoy's as good as dead."
Harry thought to himself, So it's that serious a duel. I regret agreeing to this. If it comes to it, I'll have to step in to stop it before someone actually dies…
Ron caught the serious look on Harry's face and quickly added, "But you know, people only die in proper duels with real wizards. I was just boasting. Malfoy and I can, at best, shoot some sparks at each other. We know too little magic to actually hurt anyone… probably."
"Oh, so that's how it is. What if you wave your wands and nothing happens? Who decides the winner? Me?" Harry asked.
"That's right, Harry. Even Malfoy would probably accept your judgment."
"Sorry to interrupt," a voice cut in.
They looked up to see Hermione standing there.
"Can't a person eat in peace around here?" Ron grumbled. He'd never liked Hermione, not since the first time they met.
He thought she was too showy, a bit pretentious, always meddling without being provoked. If it weren't for Harry, Ron wouldn't give her the time of day.
Harry, on the other hand, rather liked Hermione's confidence, her refusal to back down, and her tendency to help the underdog. She reminded him a bit of a righteous lady knight.
Sure, she could be a bit overbearing, and her attitude wasn't perfect—a minor flaw. She was like one of those characters who sets up a ton of flags only to get defeated and captured by a troll early in the story, the classic proud heroine archetype.
But everyone has flaws. Even Jaime, with his incest, adultery, and child-murdering, could barely pass as a normal person… if you compared him to certain less normal people.
No need to name his son, Emperor Joffrey, here.
Even someone like Tyrion, who merely frequented brothels, could be considered a good person. And Harry himself, who'd killed countless enemies on the battlefield, was still hailed by many as a saintly ruler. So Hermione's little quirks? Hardly worth fussing over.
Hermione turned to Ron. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were talking about—"
"I knew you'd eavesdrop," Ron muttered.
"—and you absolutely cannot go sneaking around the school at night. Think about it! If you get caught, how many points will Gryffindor lose? And you will get caught. You're being so selfish."
"Nobody in Gryffindor cares about those points," Ron shot back. "If I get caught because of a duel, no one will be upset. They'll cheer me on. You're the only one who'd care!"
"Enough, both of you. Not at dinner," Harry said to Ron and Hermione, picking up his knife and fork to cut a slice of apple pie. "Give me some face here."
This kind of scene was nothing new. Back when he led a mercenary band, his men brawled and sparred daily.
Harry could even promote them to advanced ranks when they'd had their fill of fighting.
Even as a king, he'd seen ministers, nobles, and knights squabble in court, sometimes escalating to full-on fistfights. Harry was no stranger to such chaos.
If it weren't for his awe-inspiring power, someone might've even dared to throw a punch worthy of Emperor Robert himself.
But meals were for eating, and good food deserved respect. Hogwarts' fare was surprisingly excellent—not at all like typical British cuisine.
"Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to ruin your meal," Hermione said, reining herself in for the moment.
Midnight
"It's half-past eleven," Ron whispered at last. "We've got to go."
They threw on their dressing gowns, grabbed their wands, and made their way through the dormitory, down the stairs, and into the Gryffindor common room.
A few embers still glowed faintly in the fireplace, and the armchairs loomed like shadowy lumps in the dim light.
They were just about to head for the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the nearest chair: "I can't believe you're actually doing this, Ron."
A lamp flickered on with a soft pop. It was Hermione Granger.
She stood there in a pink dressing gown, frowning.
"You!" Ron said, exasperated. "Go back to bed!"
"I almost told your brother," Hermione shot back sharply. "Percy's a prefect. He'd put a stop to this."
Ron couldn't believe anyone could be this meddlesome.
"Come with us, then," Harry said to Hermione. He'd already guessed she'd show up—Gryffindors were just that stubborn.
They pushed open the Fat Lady's portrait and climbed through the hole.
Hermione followed Harry, hissing at Ron like an angry goose, her voice low. "Don't you care about Gryffindor at all? Only about yourself? I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup again, and I don't want you throwing away all the points I earned from Professor McGonagall with my Switching Spell. And Harry, you're letting him drag you into this!"
"Get lost. I'm not like you, always preaching about what's best for everyone while bossing people around. Harry wants to see a wizard duel," Ron snapped.
"That's only because Harry's humoring you. You're nowhere near his level. A real wizard duel? Harry might not even bother with one, let alone care about the pathetic duel you and Malfoy are planning."
"I can't reason with you. Harry, we need to go. We're going to be late."
Hermione glanced at Harry. "Then I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not!"
"The Fat Lady's off visiting, so I can't get back in. Did you think I'd just stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us, I'll tell him the truth—that Harry and I were trying to stop you. Harry can back me up."
Harry frowned. "I get along with Filch, but I'm not selling out my friends to save my skin. If we get caught, we face it together."
"You've got some nerve—" Ron started loudly.
"Shut it, both of you!" Harry said sharply. "Keep talking about Filch, and he'll show up."
Harry could sense people's presence, and Mrs. Norris had long been charmed by him. The trio took a few detours, avoiding Filch without making things awkward for him. Along the way, they ran into Neville, who'd forgotten the password and was stuck outside. Finally, they reached the spot for the duel.
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