Harry Potter: Sectumsempra Chapter 11 | Seven Years of Chaos Book 2

 After Colin Creevey’s attack, Hogwarts turns paranoid and violent. Harry Potter becomes the school’s favorite target, hunted in corridors by students who think they are doing the castle a favor. He stops fighting back with magic, not because he’s weak, but because he knows he’s being watched, and one wrong move could hand Dumbledore the excuse he’s waiting for. 

 When a group finally corners Harry, things snap. Snape arrives to find blood, accusations, and Harry holding a knife, and the punishment he hands out makes it clear who the real aggressors are. But the damage is already done. Harry is unraveling, thinking about disappearing for good, and Snape is forced to take him somewhere private, somewhere painfully tied to Lily Evans, to remind him that he is not alone and not disposable. 

 Then Lockhart announces his newest “solution”: a Dueling Club. What’s meant to calm the school turns into pure chaos, new injuries, and the perfect stage for Hogwarts to keep sharpening its knives. 

Transcript

**Chapter 11: The Dueling Club**

By Monday morning, news of Colin Creevey's attack and his condition in the hospital wing had spread throughout the entire school. In the weeks that followed, an atmosphere thick with rumor and suspicion enveloped Hogwarts.

First-years began to navigate the castle in tightly-knit groups, clearly afraid of being targeted if they ventured out alone. Severus encouraged his Slytherins to do the same.

Although Harry Potter remained a popular target for suspicion, being associated with the attack was doing no favors for the Slytherin students. Severus felt utterly helpless as he watched Potter shrink before his very eyes.

The boy looked thin, pale, and deeply paranoid, regressing to the behavior he had displayed when he first arrived at the castle last year. He skulked around the corridors, keeping his back to the walls at almost all times.

More than once, Severus noticed fresh bruises on Potter's wrists or face. It was evident that he was being physically targeted by students from the other houses, and it seemed to be happening more frequently since Creevey's attack.

Severus had tried to speak with Potter multiple times, but the boy appeared anxious and agitated. “Nothing’s wrong, Professor,” Potter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s fine.”

Potter's evasive maneuvers in the halls made it difficult for Severus to have a proper conversation with him. He felt a deep pity for the boy, witnessing his favorite pupil suffer at the hands of his ignorant classmates.

Who would believe that Potter was attacking Muggle-borns when he was rarely seen outside of Hermione Granger's company? Severus also reached out to the other professors, hoping for some support.

“If Potter won’t speak up about his attackers, there is little we can do besides monitor the halls,” Minerva said, her expression pained. Albus remained steadfast in his own beliefs.

“It is curious that the students recognize the boy as a threat,” he remarked casually. “Do you believe they have seen more sides…”

“Is it possible they care more about Potter than we do?” Severus thought otherwise.

He believed they had heard Argus accuse the boy on Halloween night, followed by Potter threatening Creevey at what might have been the worst possible moment. He also thought the students were ignorant, despising Potter simply because they didn’t understand him.

“Draco, stay behind,” Severus called out casually one day, dismissing the class after weeks of searching for a way to put an end to the chaos surrounding his students. Potter looked up suspiciously but quickly averted his gaze back to the table, hastily packing his belongings.

“See you in a minute,” Draco murmured to his friends as he approached Severus’ desk. “One moment, please,” he said, waiting for the last of the students to filter out of the classroom.

Draco stood in front of the desk, his expression neutral as they waited for privacy. “Yes, sir?” he asked.

“How are you?” Severus inquired politely, aware that all the students in his house were feeling the effects of the strong anti-Slytherin sentiment in the air. Draco frowned slightly.

“Fine. It’s...

difficult,” he replied slowly. “Everyone thinks Harry is the Heir, so it’s a little tense.” Severus felt relieved that Draco had broached the topic himself so quickly.

“And how is Potter handling that?” he asked. Draco’s frown deepened at the question.

“Not well,” he said bluntly. “He’s getting into fights almost every day.

He’s avoiding us, thinking it’s better not to be seen with us. Even though Susan told him he was being stupid, he still walks by himself.

I know he isn’t sleeping much, and if it weren’t for that weird elf sending snacks up to the dorms, I don’t think he’d even eat.” 

Severus grimaced. He had noticed Potter picking at his food while keeping a vigilant watch on the other students during meals, whenever he made an appearance at all.

It was hard to begrudge the boy his 'acquaintance elf' if it was helping him in some way. Severus Snape made sure that Harry was eating at least a little.

“Why haven’t I heard any reports of Potter fighting other students?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral. Given Potter's daily marks, he had expected to be inundated with complaints from other professors about his student attacking theirs.

“Because Harry isn’t fighting them; they’re fighting Harry,” Draco replied. Severus raised a single, confused eyebrow at his godson.

“I don’t understand the distinction.”

Draco sighed, leaning back slightly. “They’re attacking Harry, and he isn’t retaliating.

It’s even worse now because they think he attacked that Gryffindor kid, so the ‘brave and chivalrous lions’ are being even more hateful,” he finished, venom dripping from his words. This was precisely why Severus chose to speak with Draco instead of Miss Bones, who was undeniably closer to Potter.

Draco was an unrepentant gossip and had no qualms about sharing information with him. “I didn’t think Potter would pass up an opportunity to showcase his silent magic,” Severus said dryly.

“Why is he doing nothing?”

Draco leaned across the desk slightly and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “He’s being watched, Uncle Sev.

Haven’t you noticed?”

Severus had indeed noticed Albus’s continued, steely gaze on Potter during meals. The boy was no fool; he had clearly realized he was the primary suspect in the Headmaster’s eyes regarding the attacks.

“Kindly inform Potter that if he needs to defend himself, it would be best to have Mr. Longbottom as a witness,” he instructed Draco quietly.

“Longbottom?” Draco asked, his brow crinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“Use your brain, Draco,” Severus hissed, though not unkindly.

“Who better to defend Potter against Gryffindors than another Gryffindor? One whose family is firmly aligned with Dumbledore?”

A light of understanding flickered in Draco’s grey eyes.

“You’re brilliant, sir,” he said breathlessly. Severus smirked as he dismissed Draco.

He had spent many years unfairly targeted by Gryffindors. It amused him to think about the karmic retribution that James Potter was facing, as his son was now using Severus’ own tactics against the Gryffindor students.

As Severus was teaching his first-year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class, Cassandra Owens, a fifth-year Slytherin prefect, knocked briskly on his door before throwing it open. “Professor—come quick!” she called breathlessly.

Severus barked at his class to continue and sighed internally as Lovegood immediately began trailing after him. “You have to hurry,” she said softly.

“The Headmaster has spies on the walls.” 

Severus gave her a brief nod of thanks as he quickened his steps. “What happened?” he demanded, directing his attention to Owens.

“I don’t know, sir. I came into the hall and saw a bunch of kids ganged up on Potter, and he just lost it!

I—I think he has a knife; someone was bleeding,” she said nervously. Severus snarled in irritation as he began jogging.

Foolish boy, he mentally chastised Potter. What on Earth was he thinking?

He rounded a corner and saw that Potter indeed had his knife out, surrounded by four students: Davies from Ravenclaw, Towney and Finnigan from Gryffindor, and Taylor from Hufflepuff. “Freak,” Taylor hissed.

“Nobody wants you here.” 

The other boys jeered, and Severus noted that Finnigan was clutching his left shoulder, which had an open gash on it. Potter took a swing at Taylor with his knife, and Severus raised his wand, casting a shield between Potter and the other students.

“What is the meaning of this?” he said sharply. The four boys spun around, exchanging guilty looks before they all began to speak at once.

“It was Potter—” 

“Potter cut me!” 

“He just attacked us—” 

“He’s—”

“Completely mad—” 

“Enough!” Severus snapped, his gaze sweeping over the four boys. Only Finnigan appeared to need medical attention.

“Finnigan—hospital wing, now. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor and two weeks of detention.”

Finnigan opened his mouth, likely to protest, but Severus cut him off before he could say a word.

“Do not test me,” he hissed. “One more word, and it’ll be two months.”

Finnigan snapped his mouth shut so quickly that Severus could hear it.

He shot one last glare at Potter, who snarled back, before hurrying off to the hospital wing. “Davies, Taylor, Towney—twenty-five points from each of you and two weeks of detention as well.”

“That’s not fair!” Davies howled, gesturing wildly toward Potter.

“He attacked us! With a knife!”

“Oh?” Severus raised an eyebrow at him.

“So Potter, a second-year, attacked you without cause?”

“Yes, sir,” Davies replied. “We didn’t do anything!”

“Is that so?

I didn’t receive a report stating that four of you were attempting to attack him?” Davies glanced at his friends before lowering his head under the weight of Severus’ venomous tone. “Get out of my sight, immediately,” Severus ordered the miscreants.

The boys slouched away, not without Towney shouldering Potter on the way out. “Four weeks, Towney,” he called after the boy.

With the aggressors dealt with, Severus turned his attention to his Slytherin. “Potter?” he said softly, “Are you with me?”

Potter, still pale and trembling, abruptly caught Severus’ eye.

He managed to mask his fear so expertly that Severus felt a flicker of envy. “Yes, sir,” Potter replied tonelessly, pocketing the knife that Severus chose to ignore.

Severus noticed Potter glance frantically up and down the corridor, his green eyes wide and vigilant. “Are you injured?” he asked, slowly moving closer to Potter.

The boy looked down and lifted the side of his shirt. Severus hissed between his teeth as he noticed the ugly bruise before it shimmered out of existence.

“I’m fine, Professor,” Potter replied dully, pulling his shirt back down. Severus studied him for a moment, then made a quick decision.

“No, you are not,” he said simply. “Walk with me, Potter.”

“I have Charms, sir,” Potter said, avoiding Severus's gaze.

“I’ll send your excuses to Filius,” Severus told him. “Just give me a moment.” He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill, quickly writing an excuse for Potter before sending it off.

After a moment, he recalled the class he had just walked out on and reluctantly summoned another piece of parchment for one of his Slytherin NEWT students. “Curts, I am currently busy and require your assistance to cover the remainder of my class.

-S. Snape.” 

Curts was a bright boy with aspirations of teaching Potions one day, despite Severus's advice against it.

He would gladly take over the class, as Severus knew he had no class of his own at the moment. “Done,” he said with a flick of his wand.

“Come along.”

“Where are we going?” Potter asked quietly. Severus offered him a small, tight smile.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure.

Your mother did.” 

Potter's eyes sparked with a hint of life, just as Severus had hoped, and he obediently followed alongside him. Severus noticed Potter’s dark hair swinging wildly as he kept turning his head, undoubtedly watching for other students.

“You are quite safe with me, child,” Severus reassured him quietly as they ascended the back stairs. Potter let out a thin laugh—cold, humorless, and tinged with hysteria.

“Sure,” he said, still glancing around the corridors. Safety was something the child had never truly known.

“I was under the impression you owned your father’s infamous cloak,” Severus remarked. “Is there a reason you no longer use it?” Severus asked lightly, recalling how often Potter had relied on it in the halls last year.

Potter glanced up, and Severus was taken aback by the anger etched on his face. “They’d like that,” he spat.

“If I was invisible, then I’d basically be gone, and they’d be happy about it.” He shook his head defiantly. “No, sir, they don’t get to see me disappear.”

Severus hummed thoughtfully, privately believing that Potter was already fading away.

The boy’s humor, his smiles, and the carefree way he had carried himself at the start of the term had all but vanished. He wondered how much more this child could endure before he became nothing more than a shell.

“Stand here,” Severus instructed, pacing in front of a blank stretch of wall as he concentrated on the spot he once shared with Lily. Potter didn’t even flinch when a door suddenly materialized.

Severus opened it and gestured for Potter to enter ahead of him. The boy took slow, measured steps as he crossed the threshold, gasping softly.

“How... how did you do this?” he asked, breathless with wonder.

Severus smirked down at him, pleased to finally elicit a reaction. “Magic,” he replied deadpan.

Potter’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile as he surveyed what used to be a room. It now resembled a much nicer version of the playground Severus had visited as a child—the very place where he had first met Lily.

“Brilliant,” Potter sighed, stepping cautiously toward the silver swing set. “I met your mother at a playground similar to this when we were children,” Severus shared, moving toward the swing himself.

“She would swing as high as she could, then jump off and float gently to the ground.” 

Potter settled carefully onto the swing, kicking his legs lightly. “Did she know she was using magic?” he asked.

“Not until I told her, quite bluntly,” Severus replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “...and rudely, that she was a witch,” Severus said, a fond smile creeping onto his face as he reminisced.

Potter offered a faint smile, gently swinging back and forth. After a few moments of silence, Severus knew it was time to broach what he suspected would be a difficult conversation.

“Why aren’t you fighting back with magic?” he asked, deliberately avoiding looking at the child to ease his own anxiety about the topic. “Can’t,” Potter replied after a moment’s pause.

“It doesn’t listen to me if I’m not listening to it.”

Severus contemplated all he knew about Potter and the hidden power he possessed. “Most Wixen believe that magic works for them,” he said thoughtfully.

Potter snorted. “They also think goblins and elves work for them.

Most Wixen are stupid.”

Severus nodded in agreement. “Indeed, they are, Mister Potter.” 

They continued swinging until Potter surprisingly broke the silence.

“I keep thinking about leaving,” he confessed softly. “I don’t need this, you know?

They can’t take my magic from me. It’s mine,” he emphasized.

“Dumbledore could snap my wand, and I’d still be a wizard.”

“You are not incorrect,” Severus replied slowly, choosing his words with care. “However, because of the prophecy you possess, Albus Dumbledore would fight tirelessly to keep you within his grasp.

I doubt there’s a place in the magical world where he wouldn’t work relentlessly to keep track of you.”

Potter’s legs momentarily froze, and he spoke in a tone that was surprisingly harsh for a child. “Dumbledore needs me as a weapon?” he snarled.

“I guess it doesn’t matter if I get my arse kicked every day until then?”

“Language,” Severus said gently. “But yes, I believe it matters not one whit to Albus what happens to you, as long as you’re alive and strong enough to defeat the Dark Lord if he rises again during your lifetime.”

“I’m not going to have much of a—”

“Lifeline at this rate,” Potter muttered.

Severus regarded him thoughtfully. “You believe the attacks will escalate?” 

Potter stared straight ahead at the trees that the room had conjured.

“Sometimes I just wonder what the point is,” he said quietly. “People here hate me.

People outside of here hate me. I just...” He sighed softly.

“I don’t see the point to it all sometimes.” 

Severus felt a tightness in his chest and a painful flip in his stomach as Potter’s words sank in. What did you expect?

his mind whispered. A lifetime survivor of abuse is bound to wonder why he lives at all.

“When you question what the point is, you come find me,” Severus said evenly. “I will remind you of the many valid reasons for living a long, successful, and happy life.” 

Potter gave him a skeptical look but nodded slowly.

“Okay, sir,” he replied simply. Severus silently prayed to the spirit of Lily Evans that this child would indeed find a reason to live.

Until then, he would remind him as often as necessary. ***

“Severus!

Just the man I was hoping to see!” 

Severus raised an eyebrow at Gilderoy's cheerful greeting. “You are in my office,” he replied coolly.

“Did you expect to find Filius?” 

Gilderoy ignored the sarcasm and chuckled brightly. “Of course not!

I just wanted to invite you to assist me with a little project I started.” 

“Oh?” Severus leaned forward, preparing to deny Gilderoy any favor he might request. “And what project is that?” 

“Well, after the incident with Harry last week, I thought to myself, ‘Gilderoy, how can you help these children channel their rambunctious energy into something more productive?’ And I came up with the perfect solution!” 

Gilderoy was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he rambled.

“A dueling club! I can teach the children how to duel!” 

Severus stared at him, intrigued yet wary.

Severus was momentarily struck silent by the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Your solution to a group of students attacking another student is to teach them how to duel?” he clarified slowly.

“Exactly!” Gilderoy replied, flashing another insufferable smile. “The children need an outlet, you see?

And we can provide that for them!”

Severus raised his eyebrows, reluctantly impressed by the man’s audacity. “We?”

“Yes!

That’s why I wanted to ask for your assistance! Albus approved the project right away, of course, but he said I should find an assistant since it will undoubtedly be very popular with the kids.”

Severus scoffed and turned back to the essays he was grading.

“I suggest Filius; he was the World Dueling Champion for over four years.”

“Oh, he’s busy,” Gilderoy said airily, dismissing Severus’ clear disinterest. “Minerva can’t take on any more duties, she says, and Pomona wouldn’t want to take any attention away from her plants.

Aurora said her sleep schedule wouldn’t accommodate a daytime club.”

Severus reluctantly looked back up, affronted. “I was your last choice?”

“Right-o!” Gilderoy exclaimed.

“So you see why I need you?”

Severus stared at him, once again nearly impressed by the man’s impenetrable thick-headedness. “Yes,” he agreed slowly.

“I can certainly see why you need my assistance.”

“Wonderful!” Gilderoy clapped his hands together. “I’ll see you Wednesday at seven then?

Ta, Severus!”

Severus blinked after the man for a few moments before a sudden spark of inspiration hit him. A dueling club would require a demonstration.

On Wednesday evening, Severus found himself on the side of a makeshift stage, listening as Gilderoy addressed the gathered crowd of students. “Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves, just as I have done on countless occasions.

For full details, see my published works…”

“Now, let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” Gilderoy announced, flashing a wide grin. “He tells me he knows a tiny bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin.” Severus nearly growled at the suggestion that he only knew ‘a tiny bit’ about dueling.

He had learned at the right hand of the Dark Lord, and he could easily dispatch Gilderoy with the same effort it took to conjure a simple Lumos spell. “Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry—you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!” Gilderoy added, giving a jaunty wink to the students.

Severus felt his lip curl in response. He caught Potter’s eye in the crowd and noted the bright smile on the boy’s face.

It might have seemed innocent if not for the bloodthirsty glint in his green eyes. Severus smirked at his Slytherins; they were eager for a show, and he would gladly oblige.

“Now, in traditional duels, we face each other and bow.” Gilderoy performed an exaggerated bow, waving his arms and twirling his body in a theatrical motion. Severus merely jerked his head in acknowledgment; he would never bow to someone as foolish as Gilderoy Lockhart.

“As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart explained to the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells.

Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.” Severus wished he didn’t need Albus’ goodwill to stay out of Azkaban. “One!” Gilderoy shouted, raising his wand.

“Two! Three!” 

Severus waited half a second for Gilderoy to twirl his wand before shouting, “Expelliarmus!” He watched with satisfaction as the man was blasted off his feet and into the wall.

Severus gave a half-smile to the students. As Severus heard his Slytherins cheering, a low whistle caught his attention, and he rolled his eyes in Potter’s direction.

You could take the child off the streets, but decorum was clearly still a much-needed trait. This was the most lively Potter had been in months, Severus thought to himself.

Only Potter would come alive at a display of violence. Gilderoy was unsteadily getting to his feet, his hat fallen off, leaving his wavy hair standing on end.

“Well, there you have it!” he announced, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I’ve lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape.

But if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been all too easy; however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…”

Severus considered what his next demonstration might be, contemplating showcasing some of his own creations — spells that had once been popular among the Death Eaters.

Perhaps Gilderoy had finally noticed the look on his face because he hastily added, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs.

Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me—”

Severus made his way towards his second-year students, ignoring the wide berth most of the others were giving them. “Draco with Weasley.

Zabini and Bones. Nott and Granger.

Longbottom and Lovegood.” He quickly paired off Potter’s group. Potter stared up at him, mouth slightly open, eyes narrowed.

“And me, Professor?” he asked curtly. Severus smirked at him.

“Do you believe you require yet another lesson in disarming an opponent?” he replied, reminding the boy of his own instructions from the summer before his first year. Potter returned a small smirk, even as he shuffled slowly toward the edge of the room.

“No, sir.” 

Severus hated seeing the child so visibly on edge, even with the spark he had. Severus noticed a spark in Potter's eyes, as if the boy's entire demeanor had adopted Alastor Moody's infamous screech of “Constant Vigilance!” 

“Walk with me, Potter,” he said, clearing his throat lightly.

He shot a dark glance at the students eavesdropping nearby. “You clearly need no instruction.

You may assist me in helping your less fortunate classmates.” 

Potter inched closer, his eyes darting around anxiously. Severus suspected that if the boy didn’t already have an anxiety disorder—one of many he imagined Potter must be dealing with—he would soon develop one at this rate.

“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart shouted. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents—only to disarm them.

We don’t want any accidents. One...

two... three—”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as noise and chaos erupted around them.

“The moment you graduate, I am going to retire,” he sighed quietly to Potter. The boy just scoffed.

“If I graduate,” he mumbled. Severus shot him a sharp look, ready to comment on that morbid thought when he noticed a physical fight breaking out between Bulstrode and Longbottom—who weren’t even supposed to be partnered.

He quickly moved to their side, yanking Bulstrode backward, who had Longbottom in a headlock. “What is wrong with you?” he hissed angrily.

“Longbottom, explain yourself immediately.”

“Nothing,” Longbottom spat, his anger evident as a bruise began to form on his cheekbone. “Bulstrode insulted Hermione’s parentage, sir,” Bones chimed in, rolling her eyes at Longbottom.

Severus typically refrained from publicly disciplining his own students, but Potter was looking up at him with a curious expression. “Bulstrode, you will serve detention for what I can only assume was a prejudiced slur against a classmate.” 

Bulstrode glared at him, but Severus noticed the corners of Potter's lips curling up slightly.

The terrifying heir of... Slytherin—champion of Muggleborns.

Severus thought the rest of the students must be utterly clueless to believe that Potter was behind the recent attacks. “Dear, dear,” Gilderoy tutted as he skittered through the crowd, surveying the aftermath of the duels.

“Up you go, Macmillan... Careful there, Miss Fawcett...

Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot—” 

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in blatant irritation. Gilderoy’s so-called ‘perfect idea’ had turned into an absolute disaster.

All he had managed to do was gather a crowd of students nursing minor injuries. “I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” Gilderoy said, flustered in the middle of the hall.

He glanced at Severus, whose black eyes glinted with a narrow-eyed glare, and quickly looked away. “Let’s have a volunteer pair—” His gaze swept around the room before predictably landing on Potter.

“Ah, yes! Harry!” he announced cheerfully.

“We’ll just have Harry and... Mister Malfoy!” 

Draco’s groan of dismay was audible through the crowd.

“A poor idea,” Severus muttered, guiding Potter onto the makeshift stage beside him. “Draco’s father would undoubtedly bring the castle to ruins once Potter sends his son to St.

Mungo’s.” 

Severus scanned the room, noting the looks of fear and loathing directed at Potter. The boy needed a chance to prove his strength now that he had an opportunity to do so without facing punishment.

“How about... Mister Weasley?” Ronald’s head snapped up quickly, and Severus could practically hear his gulp of fear.

“Mister Fred Weasley,” Severus clarified with a smirk. Potter straightened beside him, his interest piqued.

Severus spotted the gangly fourth year laughing alongside his twin in a group of Gryffindors. “Do not react,” he whispered quickly to Potter.

“As I am confident in…”

“...showcase your abilities without holding back,” Severus said. Potter glanced up at him, tilting his head slightly before giving a small nod.

“Bring your brother. Let’s showcase a paired duel,” Severus called out, prompting the Weasley twins to abruptly stop their laughter.

“Uh, Severus? I don’t think that would be quite fair to Harry, would it?” Gilderoy chimed in with a light chuckle.

“Won’t he need a partner as well?” 

Severus shot him a bored look. “I believe I understand the abilities of my students better than you do,” he replied coolly.

The Weasley twins joined them on stage, bowing theatrically to the crowd. “Now, I don’t want any of you to worry—” one of them began.

“—you’ll still have your Heir of Slytherin when we’re done with him!” the other added, causing the students, aside from Potter’s friends, to jeer and laugh. “What’s off limits?” Potter hissed, his back straight and his shoulders tense.

“Nothing illegal or anything that could cause long-term injuries. Other than that, I think it’s time you had a chance to prove yourself,” Severus replied quietly.

Potter gave him an appreciative look, clearly grasping Severus’ intent. Severus guided Potter to one end of the stage while Gilderoy directed the Weasley twins to the other end.

“You cannot be formally disciplined for accidentally injuring students during a school-sanctioned dueling club,” Severus whispered to Potter as he noticed Gilderoy talking to the twins. “I won’t be expelled—no matter what?” Potter asked quietly, his eyes darting around the room, taking in the watching students.

“As long as you keep your attacks legal and avoid serious injury,” Severus clarified. “I want these students to see how capable you are in a fight.

Don’t hold back.” He flashed Potter a small grin. “I believe the Weasleys are responsible for your recent hospital stay, correct?

Feel free to…”

“Pay back the favor,” he murmured. Harry nodded and turned to face the Weasleys.

Severus could hear students in the audience whispering about Harry's lack of a wand. He felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that they would witness Harry's power firsthand.

Hopefully, this would put an end to the relentless bullying of the boy. “Ready, boys?” Gilderoy called out cheerfully.

“Harry, Harry, Harry, there’s no shame in backing down,” he winked. Harry tilted his head slightly and offered Gilderoy a thin smile.

“I think I’ll survive, sir,” he replied politely. Severus briefly gripped Harry's shoulder before stepping back, preparing to enjoy the spectacle.

“Three, two, one, go!” Gilderoy shouted. Harry immediately raised his hand and shot a silent purple spell toward one of the twins.

Severus cast a steely gaze around the now shocked and silent crowd. Wandless, silent, fast, and lethal, he wanted to shout.

Leave the boy alone. Harry seemed to revel in the duel, skillfully dodging spells from the twins.

Severus believed he was toying with them; it wouldn’t take more than a few moments for him to incapacitate the two Gryffindor troublemakers. The Weasley twins, for their part, were a formidable duo in battle.

They worked seamlessly together, one defending while the other attacked. Although they spoke their spells aloud, no fourth-year could match Harry’s silent incantations.

Still, the twins communicated effortlessly without words. Severus watched their expressions and noted when they decided to change tactics.

“Serpensortia!” one of them shouted, clearly hoping to catch Harry off guard with a long black viper. The crowd screamed and backed away swiftly, clearing the floor.

“Don’t move, Harry,” Severus commanded. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“Allow me!” Gilderoy shouted, rushing forward before Severus could intervene.

He brandished his wand at the snake, and with a loud bang, instead of vanishing, the snake soared ten feet into the air before crashing back to the floor with a thud. Enraged and hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley, a second-year Hufflepuff.

The snake raised itself up, fangs bared and ready to strike. Severus was just about to dissipate the serpent, and perhaps curse Gilderoy for his impulsiveness, when Harry made the worst possible decision he could make, considering the terrible prejudice against him—he revealed that he was a Parseltongue.