Harry Potter's revenge.

Hermione didn't look back at him. Instead, the lights and shouts of the combatants below, now fighting for the coveted year slot, held her gaze. "Yes," she answered. Nott didn't reply for a moment. "If you didn't have Lord Slytherin protecting you, you'd be nothing."

She again slowly turned to Nott and smiled. "But I do, which must mean I am something."

Nott scowled. confident then?"

"So

why aren't you

all

Hermione frowned and let her eyes travel past Nott to where Harry sat a third of the way around the arena, alone and isolated.

Nott turned to follow her gaze. "Potter?" He sounded incredulous. "What in Merlin's name are you worried about him for? He was raised by muggles! The Potters thought he was a squib! He hasn't been to a single duelling club meet-up!" She raised an eyebrow.

Nott rolled his eyes. "You're different. Everyone knows you and Heiress Greengrass receive secret training from Lord Slytherin."

"And yet, he beat Daphne in defence."

Nott frowned.

Hermione turned back to the duellists below. "I have my suspicions about Potter. Something about him feels different. Maybe you've missed it, caught up in the drivel that Professor Snape spouted at the start of year."

Nott said no more and turned forward to watch the older duellists, occasionally shooting furtive glances towards Harry.

Eventually, the first years were called down. Volf motioned to them. "Granger and Nott first. Then Potter versus the winner."

Hermione couldn't fail to notice the look of intense dislike on Volf's face when addressing both her and Harry, although more for her than her lord. She walked back until she and Nott were approximately twenty to thirty metres apart, turned, and waited.

Volf held up a hand. "Standard duelling rules… Begin!"

Hermione moved left.

Nott ran right.

Spell chains flew between the two, flashes of lightly shaded reds, blues, pinks, and greens dancing between the two combatants, combatants who skilfully dodged and shielded to avoid the hostile magic.

Nott tried to quickly close the distance, but Hermione kept running further away, occasionally making use of an arena obstacle to frustrate the Nott heir.

All too quickly, Nott's casting speed slowed, and now Hermione went on the attack. For a full three seconds, Nott was pummelled by an opponent twice as powerful as himself, barely able to hold on, before Hermione too slowed, and the match became a war of attrition, a war that Hermione had the clear advantage in. Not only was there a mild power difference between herself and Nott, it was also clear she was superior, not only in skill, but also in physical endurance.

Less than a half dozen spell chains after she'd exhausted the magic in her wand and body, and started drawing magic straight from her core, Nott fell to the ground, and didn't get up.

Volf raised his hand, scowling. "Winner, Granger."

Hermione let out a breath and turned to the stands to rest up.

"Where do you think you're going, Granger?" She turned. Volf was grinning, while Nott, now revived, nursed a bruised arm.

Behind Volf, Harry shrugged apologetically. Oh, so that's how it was.

She turned back and sighed. It wasn't like she had any real chance to win anyway, but it would've been nice to duel Harry on fair terms. Apparently Volf wasn't as confident in Harry as she was.

She retraced her steps to position.

the starting

Harry faced her, holly wand at the ready.

Volf raised his hand. "Standard duelling rules. Begin!"

Hermione sprinted towards Harry, throwing spell chains as she went. She knew full well that to beat a more powerful opponent you had to close the distance quickly or be defeated in a drawn out struggle like Nott had with her.

She didn't have very long. Eighteen seconds, exactly. That was how long she could cast at full power for. During that small timeframe, she could go toe to toe with a full adult wizard, and be at no handicap. In fact, given the high attunement she had with her wand, against many, she'd even be at an advantage.

Harry however, didn't retreat like she'd done with Nott. He matched her spell for spell, and when she got within the duelling dead zone, the range at which dodging became nigh-on impossible, Harry flicked his wand at one of her invisible tripping hexes, and swatted it back at her.

She didn't even have time to curse. The hex hit her, she tripped, red filled her view, and she knew no more.

When she came to, Harry offered her his hand. She took it, looking annoyed on the outside, but secretly cheering within. Volf raised his hand, looking very smug. "Winner, Potter!"

Harry nodded. "—And now!" Volf continued without missing a beat. "I distinctly remember you, Potter, saying you could take on the ENTIRE Slytherin duelling team."

The other Slytherins who'd secured their places ambled over. One idly twirled his wand.

"Time to put your money where your mouth is." Volf turned to the assembled group. "You've heard it people! Potter here thinks he's better than us! He's been boasting for months!"

The group scowled.

"He's going up against the lot of us, extended class B rules, one after the other, no breaks, if he faints, we revive him, if he gives up, he's off the team. We stop only if it looks like he might die!"

Hermione looked to Harry who was smiling. She barely succeed in not smirking herself.

A little while later, in the Slytherin common room, Daphne sat in the armchair that was the unofficial throne of the Gray. In front of her, two sofas sat at acute angles to her, producing a long diamond shape with a low table in the middle and her at the tip.

On the other side of the room, Draco Malfoy sat with the Dark in an almost identical set-up. Their armchairs were such that she and Malfoy could see each other with a turn of their heads but weren't looking at each other all the time.

In front of her sat Tracey, Blaise, Flint, and a few other children of the Gray, spread out over all seven year groups. One spot on Tracey and Blaise's sofa was conspicuously empty.

Occasionally, Daphne shot a glance to the Slytherin common room door. No one had come through it for a while now. The duelling trials should have finished by now. Soon, it would begin. Any moment now.

Tracey wrung her hands. "You could at least look a little worried, Daph."

Daphne looked up from her transfiguration homework. "Hermione will be fine. You saw the troll thing in the paper. Nott won't stand a chance."

Tracey looked at her. Her face betrayed a hint of exasperation. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?" "Potter!"

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "What about Potter?"

"Have you seen him all evening?"

"Well, no."

"He could be at the duelling trials! He beat you, Daph. Did you forget that? He might be able to beat Hermione too."

Blaise looked over his charms book. "You know Tracey, you seem to keep quite an eye on Potter. Is there something you want to tell us?"

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