Draco Malfoy was already waiting there, flanked by his two bodyguards.
"I thought he'd be too scared to show up," Ron whispered. "Maybe even snitch on me to Filch."
"You're being a bit harsh on Malfoy, don't you think? Wasn't he the one who challenged you to this duel?" Hermione said, feeling that Slytherins couldn't be that bad.
"Who knows? Slytherins are always sneaky and dishonorable, especially this lot. They'll do anything to win. George and Fred have told me plenty about them. Didn't you hear the Sorting Hat's new song this year? Slytherin's full of people like that…" Ron trailed off.
But to their surprise, Malfoy had shown up earlier than Ron, proving himself unexpectedly honest. "I'm starting to see him in a new light," Ron admitted. "Maybe he's got some guts after all."
Harry wasn't so sure. It depended on the situation. If there hadn't been a bet on the line, Malfoy might've bailed on Ron entirely. Still, Harry had misjudged people at Hogwarts before, so he couldn't be certain. Maybe Malfoy did care about honor.
Since Malfoy was also wary of getting caught by Filch, he was cautious, and the duel was rushed. It wasn't at all like Harry had imagined—no dramatic exchange like:
"You came."
"I'm here."
"You shouldn't have come."
"And yet, here I am."
Instead, Malfoy gave Harry a curt nod, and the duel began.
"Confringo!" Ron shouted.
"Avada Kedavra!" Malfoy countered.
The duel between Ron and Malfoy was, to put it mildly, a complete mess.
It was far from what Harry had pictured, even though he knew Ron tended to exaggerate his abilities. Harry was well aware that young wizards' spellcasting skills were generally subpar, but this was worse than expected. There wasn't even a proper spark—Ron's Blasting Curse was so weak it barely fizzled, and Malfoy's attempt at the Killing Curse? It made Lord Voldemort's failed attempt on Harry look like a masterpiece. Voldemort's spell at least produced a flood of green light; Malfoy's didn't even muster a wisp of green smoke. He was just shouting the incantation to sound intimidating.
Seamus Finnigan's Lumos was more impressive than this.
Harry had half-expected them to get carried away, maybe even unleash some forbidden dark magic from their family grimoires. He'd been ready to jump in and save them, knowing Hogwarts' protective enchantments might not stop a student-on-student killing. But there was nothing like that—just a few pathetic, barely competent hexes. Weren't they both pure-bloods? Where were the secret family spells? Did those even exist, or had Harry been overthinking it?
In the end, it devolved into a fistfight.
"Charge!" Ron yelled, swinging his fist after tossing his wand aside, gaining the upper hand and barely managing to subdue Malfoy.
It was like a boxing hex and a grappling curse all in one.
Wands were useless in a brawl, and neither Ron nor Malfoy was like Harry, who could turn anything—wood, stone, or blade—into a weapon. Naturally, they'd ditched their wands early on.
Harry sighed. This was where an ancient Greek-style great wand or a sword-wand mage would've had the advantage—those could still pack a physical punch. If Malfoy had brought one of those, he might've won. Bare hands versus a weapon? There's a wall between them.
Or, more straightforwardly, a pistol would've done the trick.
Goyle and Crabbe, standing by as Malfoy's seconds, considered stepping in when Malfoy went down. But one glance at the referee—Harry "Thunderbolt" Potter, whose fists were the stuff of recent Hogwarts legend—made them think better of it.
Before the duel, Ron and Malfoy had reiterated the rules: no assistants, wands only, no physical contact. Strictly speaking, Ron had broken the rules by throwing punches without a wand. If Professor McGonagall were judging, she'd likely have declared Malfoy the winner—though she'd have stopped the fight long before it got to this point.
But the referee was Harry.
"The winner is Ron Weasley," he started to say.
Then he caught Malfoy's almost pleading look. They were still kids, and rigging the outcome felt… wrong.
"A draw," Harry amended. "No winner. This place is too risky for overtime. You both win. Malfoy, you owe Ron a new wand—call it a favor for my friend."
"Potter… Mr. Potter, are you saying you'll be my friend?" Malfoy's face lit up, stunned by the unexpected turn. The cost of Ron's wand was pocket change to him.
"A friend on probation," Harry clarified. "We'll need a long trial period. We haven't exactly had the best history. This is just part of the bet. And… I don't think you're a bad person."
Malfoy's face flushed, and he waved a hand awkwardly, unsure how to respond. Avoiding Harry's gaze, he turned to Ron. "Weasley, you got lucky today. Next time, I'll beat you."
With that, he and his cronies scurried off, looking like comedic villains from a play.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed back to Gryffindor Tower.
The duel had taken place on the fourth floor of Hogwarts. This time, with Ron and Hermione in tow, Harry walked more slowly. As they passed the forbidden corridor Dumbledore had mentioned, Harry sensed an extraordinary magical aura emanating from it.
His instincts told him there might be an opportunity there to boost his magical power—equivalent to ten bronze attribute points. In the mortal world of A Song of Ice and Fire, his two points of magical power made him formidable. In the wizarding world of Hogwarts, though, he wasn't as standout. If he could gain more power, Harry wasn't about to pass it up. He'd never think he had too much power.
But common sense told him it was probably Dumbledore's.
It had to be the item Hagrid had—very unsubtly, practically openly—retrieved from Gringotts.
Dumbledore was far more formidable than any Gringotts goblin. If it was his, Harry couldn't just blast open the lock with a spell and expect to get away with it.
First, he'd need to figure out what it was. Hagrid didn't seem like the sharpest tool in the shed—Harry could probably get more information out of him. But manipulating Hagrid felt… wrong.
Still, if Hagrid knew about it, and Dumbledore was as clever as everyone said, maybe Dumbledore was hinting that Harry should pry?
This was too complicated. Harry didn't want to overthink it.
Maybe he should talk it over with Ron and Hermione and come up with a plan to steal Dumbledore's treasure.
…By the Seven, that sounded absurdly reckless!
Harry told Ron everything about the small package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, stored in the fourth-floor forbidden corridor. They spent a long time speculating about what could require such secrecy and protection.
"It's either incredibly valuable or incredibly dangerous," Ron said.
"Or both," Harry added.
The only thing they knew for sure was that it wasn't large—it could fit in a small package, though it might have an extension charm. Harry could also sense it radiated powerful magic.
There were too many possibilities, and without more clues, they couldn't narrow it down.
Hermione didn't seem remotely interested in what was hidden in the forbidden corridor. At Harry's request, she agreed to check some extracurricular books during study breaks to research powerful magical artifacts.
She was currently ignoring Ron entirely, convinced he was a bad influence on Harry.
Harry didn't bother trying to force a reconciliation between his two friends. As long as it didn't interfere with their plans, it wasn't a problem.
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