Harry Potter: Sectumsempra Chapter 05 | Seven Years of Chaos Book 2

Ginny Weasley’s first night in Slytherin is not a welcome, it’s a warning. Still raw from being Sorted away from everything she thought she was supposed to be, she watches the common room turn into a battleground where “tradition” means blood, and backing down means becoming prey.

When Ron is challenged by an older student with a grudge that really belongs to Harry, Ginny is forced to see Slytherin the way Slytherins do: reputation first, pain second, and fear as currency. Ron fights anyway, stubborn as ever, until the duel turns vicious and Harry steps in, not with rules or mercy, but with something colder and far more frightening.

What follows is a brutal lesson in power, loyalty, and consequences, and Ginny’s belief in heroes begins to crack. By the time she escapes to her dorm, shaking and furious, she does the one thing that feels like control: she opens her diary… and writes to Tom.

Transcript

Chapter 5: Duels and Danger

Ginny Weasley was terrified. She feared her parents wouldn’t love her anymore now that she was in Slytherin, even though they still seemed to adore Ron just the same.

She worried that Fred and George wouldn’t talk to her at school. And what about making friends?

The Sorting Hat had told her she’d be “much happier in Gryffindor,” where she supposedly belonged. But she could be happy here in Slytherin.

With Ron. And Harry Potter.

She would be. “Hey!

Pay attention!” The seventh-year prefect, whom Ron had whispered was named Hezekiah Williams, stood at the front of the room, glaring at everyone after Professor Snape had left. Ginny wasn’t sure she liked Williams very much.

Percy was probably a much friendlier prefect. “If anyone wants to chicken out—now is your only chance,” he sneered.

Ginny glanced at Ron, who quickly shook his head at her. A few kids, mostly other first-years, hurried towards what she assumed were the dorms.

“Excellent, the cowards are out of the way,” Williams laughed. “Now, I’ll explain the rules to the little firsties since apparently, they’re fair game for a duel.” Ginny heard Draco Malfoy chuckle, and Ron elbowed Harry with a grin.

“If you’re challenged and you turn it down, you can go cower in your bed, but don’t expect a warm welcome from the rest of us. Once a duel ends—it ends.

I don’t want to hear any whining about a rematch until next year.” He clapped his hands and leered around the room. “No spells are off-limits, except for Avada Kedavra—I’d hate to have to tell Snape if any of you happen to die.”

Ginny didn’t find that very funny, but apparently, many of the other students did, as laughter filled the room.

“Seconds are volunteer only. First challenger can speak up.” Ginny shot another nervous glance at Ron, but he was interrupted by an older boy.

A seventh-year student with a prominent scar down his right cheek stepped forward. “I challenge Ronald Weasley,” he drawled.

Ron, suddenly looking pale, stuck his chin out defiantly and accepted the challenge. Harry hissed and immediately growled, “I’m his second.” He leaned in close and whispered something to Ron, who nodded and gave Harry a light clap on the shoulder.

An older boy offered to be the first boy’s second, and Draco Malfoy quietly informed them that his name was Zachariah Dolohov. “Theo—hold on to Sevvie,” Harry said, carefully cradling his cute little black owl before handing him to the brunette boy standing beside them.

“Alright, let’s do it, mate,” Ron said to Harry before turning to Ginny. “Don’t freak out and don’t be scared, okay?” he whispered.

“What’s going on?” she whispered back, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s just a duel, Gin.

Stay by Blaise and do not freak out,” he said seriously. Ginny nodded and backed over to Ron’s friend Blaise, a dark-skinned boy with light golden eyes.

“Harry won’t let anything happen to Ronald,” Blaise whispered reassuringly. “Lestrange is just looking for an opportunity to hurt Harry for what he did to him last year.” 

Ginny glanced at Harry, who was twirling a knife in his hand and glaring at Lestrange.

“What did he do to him?” she whispered back. Another boy, Theo—the one holding Harry’s owl—laughed and gestured toward his own cheek.

“Cut him open like a Yuletide ham, didn’t he?” 

Ginny shot another startled glance at Harry and the knife he held. She thought he was a hero.

Did heroes usually cut people’s faces open? “If he wants to hurt Harry, why didn’t he say his name?” Ginny asked.

“Because he’d lose,” Theo replied simply. “Harry’s completely mad and wicked powerful.

This way, Lestrange can hurt his friend, win the duel, and get back at Harry for what he did.” 

Ginny looked at Ron, who stood beside Harry, ready for whatever was to come. A stiff smile was plastered on his face.

Did he realize he was about to get hurt because Harry Potter had injured another boy? He looked extremely pale, which made her think he might, but then why was he acting so friendly with Harry?

“Wager on Weasley’s strategy?” Blaise murmured to Theo. “Two galleons that Harry told him to drop out immediately so he could take his place,” Theo replied quietly.

“Alright, but I’ll bet five galleons that Ron fights until he can’t and Potter leaves the room covered in blood again,” Blaise said. “Deal.” The two boys shook hands, ignoring Ginny’s anxious gaze.

“Step back if you don’t want to be hit by spell fire,” Williams barked, startling Ginny into stepping back right onto Theo's foot. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her face turning red.

He waved off her apologies, his eyes fixed on the four boys in the center of the room. Ginny watched closely, feeling her stomach flip as Ron found himself trapped inside a protective dome with the mean-looking older boy.

Outside the dome, Harry paced lightly, glaring darkly at Lestrange’s second. “Begin,” Williams drawled.

Harry immediately growled in anger as a swiftly cast red curse struck Ron in the shoulder, tearing through the new robes he had just bought and drawing blood. “Shame Potter can’t help you,” Lestrange mocked.

“Guess he’ll just have to watch you bleed out instead.”

“Piss off,” Ron shot back roughly before casting a spell Ginny didn’t recognize, which Lestrange easily evaded. Ginny’s heart constricted painfully.

Did Ron even know how to duel? Did he know any advanced spells to protect himself?

“Little Blood-Traitor doesn’t have the same style your Master does, do you?” Lestrange taunted. Ron barely ducked from another burst of light and laughed, which Ginny thought was both incredibly brave and somewhat reckless, considering he was dodging curses that Lestrange hadn’t even spoken aloud.

“Harry’s my friend, not my master. I don’t—”

“Do you even understand what friendship is?” Ron taunted.

Ginny gasped as the next curse struck Ron, causing him to drop to his knees and scream in agony. “Quiet,” Draco Malfoy hissed at her, though his tone wasn’t entirely unkind.

“You’ll just embarrass him.”

“Why isn’t anyone helping him?” Ginny whimpered, her eyes glued to her brother as he writhed in pain. “Watch,” Blaise murmured, casting his gaze toward Harry.

“Ron gives,” Harry snapped, tugging roughly at his dark hair. “He’s giving up.

Put me in, you coward!”

Lestrange lifted the curse from Ron but turned to Harry with a smirk that made Ginny want to slap him. “That’s not how it works.

A second can only enter a duel if one of the challengers is unable to continue—and Ronald clearly can,” he said, gesturing toward Ron, who was groaning but valiantly trying to rise to his feet. “Ron, I’m serious.

Stay down,” Harry hissed. “You’re being reckless.”

Ron turned slightly, rolling his eyes at Harry before facing Lestrange again.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” he scoffed weakly, his voice strained. “My brothers have hit me harder than that.”

Ginny thought to herself that her brothers would never have used a curse like that on him; Mum would have skinned them alive.

Lestrange ignored Ron's bravado and smiled at Harry, a cold, mean smile that sent a shiver down Ginny’s spine. With a swift flick of his wand, Ron collapsed, blood spurting from his chest.

“Ron!” Harry howled, charging through the barrier. “Draco, come help!”

“Lestrange—winner!” Williams called out over the rising chatter of the students.

Ginny rushed to Ron’s side, grabbing his hand. There was so much blood.

His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell weakly. He was dying.

“Ron,” she whimpered, “please don’t die.” 

Harry—who she was starting to question as a hero—let out a laugh after waving his hand. over Ron’s chest, the bleeding stopped immediately.

“I hate you,” Ron mumbled, his eyes fluttering open. “I told you to give,” Harry said coolly, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.

“He’ll be fine,” Malfoy whispered to Ginny as he grabbed Ron by the arm. “C’mon, help me get him to the Healer for a check-up.” 

Ginny shot him a skeptical look.

She doubted the sixth-year girl standing in the corner counted as a healer, but she obediently took Ron’s other arm and helped drag him over. “Quit crying, Gin.

I’m fine,” Ron whispered weakly. Ginny wiped her face and tried to muster her best glare at him.

He wasn’t fine; he had been cut wide open. “Lestrange, as the winner, has the choice to continue with Weasley’s second,” Williams said in a bored tone, as if one of their own hadn’t just nearly been killed.

“I decline,” Lestrange replied, laughing at Harry, who shot him a furious snarl. “Then I challenge Zachariah Dolohov,” Harry said, determination in his voice.

Now Malfoy laughed, and Ginny stared at him incredulously. How could he laugh when Harry had just challenged a seventh-year to a duel?

Why was anyone laughing at a time like this? “Accepted,” Dolohov said, glaring angrily at Lestrange, who shook his head slightly.

“I’ll be his second,” Williams offered. Blaise Zabini stood up and walked over to Harry.

“I’ll be Harry’s second. Even though we all know he won’t need it.

Didn’t Harry throw you into a wall last year, or was that a different sixth year he embarrassed?” 

Ginny thought the Slytherins must be completely mad because half the room chuckled at Zabini’s words. Williams set up a new barrier, and Ginny watched closely, clutching Ron’s hand tightly.

“C’mon, Dolohov, do something,” Harry said softly after they both stood silently for a few moments, waiting for Williams to signal the start. “Ron, he doesn’t have his wand!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Shut up and watch,” Ron whispered back, frustration lacing his tone. “What’s wrong, Potter?

Too scared to make the first move?” Dolohov sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. Ginny couldn’t help but think he sounded a bit scared himself, standing stiffly and twitching every time Harry moved.

“Yep. Terrified,” Harry replied, his voice laced with boredom.

Dolohov swung his wand overhead, sending a dark purple spell hurtling toward Harry. But Harry simply raised his empty hands, and the purple flames vanished into thin air.

A sudden, terrible thought struck Ginny: maybe Harry didn’t defeat Voldemort because he was a hero. Perhaps he triumphed because he was dangerous too.

He certainly looked intimidating as he adjusted his glasses and dodged incoming spells, casually flicking his hand at Dolohov. The older boy's screams of pain echoed around the silent room, making Ginny wince.

She wished she could crawl into bed or even go home. She wanted her dad.

“How long can someone stand a Crucio before they lose their minds?” Harry called out nonchalantly over Dolohov's shrieks. “Eight minutes,” Malfoy replied, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Shame.” 

Harry yawned. “I’m tired and don’t want to do this for that long.” He lifted the curse on Dolohov, who struggled to rise but slowly made his way back to Harry.

Ginny couldn’t hear what Harry said next; his words were too soft. But she saw Dolohov attempt to retaliate with another spell.

“You can thank Lestrange for this,” Harry said loudly, his green eyes flashing as he sidestepped the incoming spell. “Bleed,” he hissed.

For a moment, Ginny thought Harry’s non-spell hadn’t worked, and Dolohov seemed to share that sentiment, his smirk lingering. Then, suddenly, Dolohov shrieked once, as if his body...

The room was filled with chaos as Dolohov crumpled to the floor, moaning in pain. Harry reached down, snatching the wand right out of Dolohov's hand, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Winner—Potter,” Williams spat, quickly dissolving the barrier and dragging Dolohov towards the corner where Ginny and Ron were seated with the student healer. Ginny noticed there was no blood coming from Dolohov and wondered what spell Harry had used.

Hadn’t he said he would make him bleed? “Go get Snape, now,” the older girl instructed Williams after waving her wand over Dolohov.

“He’s hemorrhaging from his internal organs.” 

“Duels are over!” she called to the rest of the students. “Go to your dorms immediately.” 

Ginny watched as Williams disappeared through the portrait door, sprinting toward Professor Snape’s office.

“Ron, you okay?” Harry approached where Ron and Ginny were seated on the floor. Ginny looked up at him with concern.

He didn’t seem worried that Dolohov was hurt badly enough for Williams to fetch Professor Snape. “I’m fine,” Ron grinned at him.

“What’s wrong with him?” He gestured toward Dolohov. “Thought you were going to make him bleed.” 

Harry smirked, looking more like a mischievous boy playing a prank than the cold-hearted kid who might have just killed another student.

“He is bleeding, just from the inside, isn’t he?” 

Ron chuckled, but Ginny had reached her limit. “I can’t believe you guys are so mean.” Percy was right—Slytherin was horrible.

Ron shot her a guilty look. “Gin, Lestrange was trying to kill me.

Harry just got him back for me through Dolohov. It’s fine.

It’s not like this happens every night, I swear.” 

“Is Williams getting Snape?” Harry asked abruptly, his green eyes narrowed and scanning the room. “Yeah, she should be back any minute.

Wanna head to the dorms?” Ron looked uneasy. “Yeah, hold on.

Get ready to go,” Harry murmured before... “Hey, Lestrange!” Harry shouted.

The Lestrange boy pushed himself off the wall where he had been leaning on the opposite side of the room. “Sorry, Potter,” he drawled lazily.

“I’m not interested in a rematch. The rules say we only duel on the first night.”

Harry tilted his head to the side, and Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat.

He looked so powerful, even if he was a horrible person. “Yeah?

Forget the rules, and forget you,” Harry spat, flicking his right hand. A gasp swept through the remaining students in the common room as Lestrange let out a startled yell of pain.

Blood began to trickle from a deep gash that ran from his forehead to his jawbone. “Now you have a matched set,” Harry laughed coldly, completely unconcerned about the bloody disfigurement he had just caused.

“Gin, go to your dorm, now, before Snape gets here,” Ron hissed urgently in her ear. Ginny didn’t need to be told twice.

She bolted up the stairs, frantically searching for the girls' first-year dorm room. She couldn’t remember when she had started crying, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

Doubt filled her mind; she was sure she had made the wrong choice coming to Slytherin. Nothing made sense.

The laughter, the smirks, the way people said one thing while their eyes revealed something entirely different. No one seemed to care about Ron being tortured, or about Lestrange’s face, or the fact that Harry Potter was the reason Ron had been cut open in front of a room full of people.

When she finally wiped the tears from her eyes, she found the girls' dorm and quietly pulled her diary from her trunk. She opened it to a new page, carefully wrote the date, and then fiercely scrawled, “Dear Tom, I hate Slytherin and I hate Harry Potter.”