Harry Potter's revenge.

Daphne blanched, turned, and stalked away without a backwards glance. At least she now knew why this portrait was so well hidden.

On the other side of the castle, Hermione waited awkwardly outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. This wasn't exactly Slytherin home turf and the looks from passing Gryffindors were decidedly hostile. It was probably only the presence of a yellow and black Hufflepuff tie on Justin's very obviously muggleborn school uniform, looking so different from her own traditional styled robes, that stopped glares turning into something more confrontational.

Eventually, the portrait swung open.

"Hi, Dean." Dean Thomas looked surprised. "Hey, Hermione, long time no talky. So you're the snake that wants to see me?"

"Well, me and Justin here." She gestured towards the Hufflepuff.

The two boys exchanged introductions.

Dean leaned against the wall. "So, what's up?"

Justin stepped forward. "Malfoy was trying to pull some stunt with me earlier and I nearly fell for it. Me and Hermione are putting together a group to teach all us who are new to this world how it works so we don't get trapped by people like Malfoy."

The dark skinned boy chewed his lip. "Doesn't sound like a bad idea, although I'll need to be careful. No offence, Hermione, but Slytherins aren't exactly liked in Gryffindor."

Hermione waved it away.

Justin nodded. "So you're in."

Dean nodded back. "Sure, just don't tell any of my classmates, especially not John Potter. He leads the Slytherins-aren't-to-be-trusted brigade." He kicked off the wall and turned to Hermione. "I really don't want to know what he'd do if he found out."

John Potter lounged in the middle of the Gryffindor common room's largest sofa, Lily Moon, on one side, Fay Dunbar and Lavender Brown on the other. Across from him sat Ron, Parvati, Neville, and Sally-Anne. John was buried, nose-deep, in an advanced defence against the dark arts book, only occasionally looking up to way-in as the discussion bobbed and flowed from school work to holidays to quidditch and duelling.

The portal opened and Dean stepped back in.

John frowned. It didn't look like there'd been trouble.

The boy passed halfway between the portrait and John's sofa.

"Hey, Dean!" he called out. "Who was the snake, then? Need any help with anything?"

Dean got to the couch and shrugged. "Nah. Yeah there was a snake, but it was mostly about the puff with her. A homework help thing I'd agreed to. You know, gotta help the puffs out, right?" He grinned, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and left, heading for the spiral staircase to the boys first-years dormitory.

John glanced behind him to see Dean vanish from sight. He turned back to his book, eyebrows furrowed. Something about that conversation seemed off, although he couldn't put his finger on what. The last time that happened he'd almost missed the troll and he couldn't afford any more near misses like that. He'd better keep his eyes and ears open. Especially with the first quidditch match this weekend and the Gryffindor duelling tryouts the day after tomorrow.

He put his book back down and stared into space.

Of course, the Slytherin tryouts should be happening today, shouldn't they? Who competed last time? Nott wasn't it? But Harry beat Greengrass in defence, and his draw wasn't bad at all. His face hardened. If Harry somehow slithered his way onto the duelling team, he'd annihilate the bastard.

The Hogwarts duelling arena stood, proud and firm, a round colosseum of solid oak, far away from the normal hustle and bustle of the school, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Its complex sets of privacy and safety wards made it ideal for the violent sport held within. The roof could be closed and opened at will, to better accommodate the ever changing and volatile Scottish weather. In three years time it would be used to host the first event of the triwizard tournament, but it wasn't dragons that Hermione Granger, standing as she was in a group of other Slytherins, would be facing today.

No, today she would be facing Harry — her lord, her best friend, the boy who had introduced her to the wizarding world, the most amazing person in the world, and the wizard who she knew would triumph over evil and usher in a bright new age… his age.

Oh, and Nott too.

Romulus Volf walked up to a raised platform and turned to look down at the group. "Alright! Listen up!"

The group stopped talking among itself and gave Volf their attention.

"I only take the best, so just because you made the team last year, doesn't mean you'll make it this year! And don't think that just because you have powerful friends that means you're going to get a free pass!" Volf glared at her.

She blanked her face and stared back. "The duelling team will be made up of one person from each year. In the tournament, the first years will face off against each other and the winner will then face the other team's second year duellist, and so on, until one side has all seven team members defeated."

The eyed.

assorted

Slytherin's

watched, stony

"Each year's slot will be decided by a straight knockout tournament. We're going to work our way down from the top. Since the seventh and sixth year slots have already been decided, fifth years will be first."

Some of the older boys straightened, fingered wands, and generally gave the impression of chomping at the bit. "One last thing." Volf's eye's became hard. "Memories of the tryouts are not to be gifted or traded to anyone! Not even your lord or head of house. If I find anyone has done so, they'll be kicked from the team, the club, be in detention for the whole year, and be liable to have an accident."

The group collectively nodded their heads.

"Right, fifth years! Let's go!"

Hermione made her way up the rows of seats that lined the lower arena. A moment later, she was joined by Heir Nott, much to her surprise. Nott hadn't taken the news of her being a muggleborn well. It was hardly surprising, given the games she and Daphne had played with him on the Hogwarts Express.

"Feeling confident, Mudblood?" She turned her head to look into the boys eyes, then turned back to arena where the first bout was about to start. "That depends on what you mean."

Nott growled. "I mean, do you really think that a faking mudblood like you stands a chance against a real heir of a noble house?"

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