Harry Potter: A Tale of Revenge

Harry stood, tall, powerful, robes whipping around his feet in a swirl of barely contained magic. Time to see how much all that battle time camped in Voldy's head translated to actual duelling instincts.

"Standard European Duelling Rules," called Lord Greengrass from the far side of the huge, warded duelling room.

"Standard? How about Extended Class B?" he countered. "We are the Gray faction after all."

Greengrass looked at him for a long moment before offering a small smile. "Very well, Extended Class B Rules. Joint countdown from three — starting on one."

Lady Sunny stood to the side, fidgeting incessantly with the cuff of her robes.

They both raised their wands.

"Three, Two, One!"

"Three, Two, One!"

A flurry of spells shot towards Harry, all intending to take him out, but he swatted them out of the air before they reached him. One particularly nasty looking purple spell felt unswattable, and he dodged it, bringing up a shield to absorb the stunner his opponent had hidden in it's shadow.

Nice and steady.

A stun, shield-breaker, stun combo failed as Harry conjured a rock to block the shield-breaker, and let the stunners splash, uselessly, on his wordlessly cast protego.

Lord Greengrass, seeing that Harry wasn't attacking him, started casting more complex spells. Transfigured animals fell to his mid-range flame whip, magical fog was blown away with a miniature hurricane, and illusions totally failed to fool his magical sensing ability.

Going well.

Then, Jacob Greengrass struck.

All at once, Harry found himself boxed in by a banish, shield breaker, stun combo on one side, a transfigured animal attack on another, and a delayed firewall activation on the third. It was a masterfully executed pincer movement, and left no normal escape route.

The brief look of victory on his opponent's face died when Harry shot upwards and floated some ten feet above the ground.

He grinned. His turn.

...

Jacob realised he was being humoured less then thirty seconds into the duel. He'd been a high ranked duellist on the international circuit earlier in life and was used to the back and forth rhythm of a good solid duel. This guy though… this guy was simply more powerful than him. Slytherin wasn't even trying to conserve energy. He shielded against spells instead of dodging them, made no effort to move around the duelling arena, choosing instead to just stand in one spot, and he left huge holes in his casting lineup, in which he should have been attacking.

Okay, so that's how Slytherin wanted to play it, was it?

Conjured rocks became a pack of attack dogs charmed with a confundo.

Magical Merlin, had Slytherin just used a flame whip?

Conjured fog surrounded Lord Slytherin and was moments away from freezing solid.

Damn! Jacob struggled to maintain his footing as a blow-him-away wind shredded his fog.

Two copies of himself sprang from his body and started casting, rapid fire, which Slytherin just ignored and allowed to pass through him.

How. The. Hell? Right, enough pissing around.

After several more failed attacks, he sprang his trap, the one that had earned him his highest ever rank in competition, and watched as a brief moment of shock passed across Slytherin's face.

HAH! Yes, that's right! Got yo—.

He gaped. His infuriating opponent had somehow, inexplicably, flown up into the air, completely dodging his best shot at winning.

Lord Slytherin grinned at him.

Ohhh shit.

Barely twenty seconds later it was all over and had mostly been an exercise in showing off. He was now trapped, helpless, in the coils of a live, giant snake, and surrounded on all sides by conjured swords, all pointed straight at him.

"Do you yield?" Slytherin asked, descending to the floor like an avenging angel descending from heaven.

He looked at the man who'd just completely over powered him with incredulity. "Yes, I yield."

Slytherin hissed a command at the snake and it slithered away, releasing him as the swords all disappeared.

Jacob shrugged. After everything he'd just seen, that Lord Slytherin was a parselmouth was possibly the least surprising revelation.

He briefly shared a look of understanding with his wife, who'd been standing off the side, staring at the young man in the middle of room with undisguised awe.

"I hope you're convinced of my abilities now, Lord Greengrass."

"Certainly, and please, call me Jacob."

Slytherin smiled, "Then please call me Harry."

They shook hands.

.....

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