Charlie raised an eyebrow. "So what does your dad actually do?"
Anthony leaned back against the desk. "He was an Auror. Retired after Voldemort fell."
"He picked up a lot of injuries over the years. And from the way my mom mutters sometimes, I think he was pretty pissed at some of the Ministry's decisions back then."
"Decisions?"
"Yeah. If I'm reading it right, Mom meant how the Ministry let the Malfoy family and their crowd walk away clean."
"You already know what I'm talking about. Those people were Voldemort's lapdogs. After he went down, they didn't get punished. They just claimed they were under the Imperius Curse and got off scot-free."
Charlie let out a slow breath. "That never sat right with me either."
Anthony shrugged. "According to Mr. Crouch, it was a necessary compromise."
Charlie's head snapped up at the name. Barty Crouch. He knew that one.
"Barty Crouch," Anthony said, filling in the blank. "Dad's old friend. He always respected the man. Said Crouch was the only one who actually gave a damn about real justice."
Anthony glanced at Charlie, expecting some big reaction. Charlie's face stayed blank.
Anthony sighed. "Crouch's own son was a Death Eater. And Crouch personally sent him to Azkaban. For justice."
He kept going. "Crouch's take was that there were too many Death Eaters. If they locked up every single one, the whole wizarding world would've collapsed. So the powerful ones got to walk. Because they were still part of the system. An important part."
Anthony shook his head. "That's why I can't stand Malfoy. And that's why Dad only cared that I threw punches on the train instead of using magic like a proper wizard. He doesn't like the Malfoys, but he still thinks fist-fighting is beneath us."
Charlie nodded slowly. "Makes sense when you put it like that."
He paused. "Still, I don't think jumping straight into a duel is the smartest move right now."
Anthony's face fell a little. "If you don't want to—"
Charlie cut him off. "No, you're misunderstanding me. I'm not saying I mind. I'm just warning you—if you're not ready to get hurt, maybe we skip this."
Anthony went quiet for a second, then let out a short laugh. "If my dad heard you say that, he'd probably smack me for even asking."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "And you're right. Hitting training dummies and hitting a person are two different things. Just because you know a lot of charms doesn't mean you're guaranteed to win."
Charlie smiled, stood up, and tightened his grip on his wand. "I never said it was a guarantee."
He walked over and faced Anthony. "So how do we do this properly? Any rules? Trash talk before we start, like cowboys?"
Anthony rolled his eyes. "It's a gentleman's sport. No trash talk."
"We face each other, bow, then turn and walk away from each other. When the clock chimes, we turn and cast."
"Sounds like a Western showdown."
"Whatever. You get the idea."
Charlie nodded. Anthony adjusted the old wall clock so it would chime in exactly one minute, then hurried back to his spot. They bowed, turned, and started walking in opposite directions across the wide room.
Charlie counted the seconds in his head. Ten left. His whole body tightened with focus. The joking was over. This was real now.
Anthony looked just as locked in, eyes fixed on him.
The clock chimed.
Anthony's wand came up fast. "Tarantallegra!"
But Charlie was already moving left before the spell even finished forming.
At the same time he sidestepped, he raised his own wand and fired two spells in quick succession.
"Tarantallegra—Leg-Locker Curse!"
Anthony's brain short-circuited for half a second.
Then his legs betrayed him.
His calves slammed together like they'd been magnetized. His ankles knocked hard enough to make him wince. At the same time his thighs started twitching and jerking like they wanted to dance. The combination sent him toppling sideways.
He hit the floor hard. His wand flew out of his hand.
The dancing and locking kept going. Pain shot up both legs as the conflicting spells fought each other.
"Ow—ow—ow— I yield! I yield!"
Charlie canceled the spells immediately. Anthony's face was already bright red. He lay there breathing hard for a long minute before he could even sit up.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Who the hell thinks to combine the Dancing Feet Spell with a Leg-Locker Curse?!"
Charlie looked a little sheepish. "Just an idea I've been sitting on for a while."
Anthony kept rubbing his legs. "And why the hell were you so fast?"
"I had both spells ready in my head before the clock even rang. I went over the wand movements and incantations a few times while we were waiting."
Anthony stared at him. "So why didn't you just blast me the second the chime hit?"
"Because dodging was also part of the plan. No matter what you did, I was going left first. That way I didn't have to think about it. I could put everything into landing the combo clean."
Anthony kept staring. "This was really your first duel?"
Charlie nodded. "Yeah."
He added, almost as an afterthought, "Street fights probably don't count, right?"