Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

Ron's lips were pressed together into a thin, tense line as a deep red flush crept up his cheeks and engulfed his ears. He knew exactly what Malfoy was mocking him about, but couldn't utter a word in response. Malfoy's taunts had struck a raw nerve, something that had been bothering Ron for quite some time.

"What Ron does is none of your business, Malfoy—" Harry interjected sharply, swiftly positioning himself between Ron and Draco.

For a fleeting moment, he had the notion that perhaps Malfoy had undergone a change for the better, but now he silently criticized himself for his naivety. Some people were simply rotten to the core from birth, taking pleasure from belittling and demeaning others— that would never change. Harry stood firmly; his face solemn.

Draco's lips curled into a disdainful smirk as his gaze shifted to meet Harry's stare. "I bet you're absolutely thrilled, aren't you, Potter? Your faithful sidekick has finally seen the light and decided to put in some effort. What's the matter? Hoping Weasley might actually prove himself worthy of a spot on your little dueling team?"

He paused as a malicious glint appeared in his pale eyes. "Oh, who am I kidding? Your taste in teammates is truly abysmal. I daresay he's probably even more hopeless than that bumbling oaf, Longbottom!"

Draco's voice took on a mocking, falsely thoughtful tone as he continued. "Come to think of it, Weasley, what was it that finally made you come to your senses? Was it the sight of a lowly blood witch showing off her meager skills in the Triwizard Tournament that finally got under your skin and pricked your fragile pride?"

At the mention of "showing off," Pansy Parkinson, who had been hovering behind Draco like a wicked shadow, let out a loud, sarcastic snort that sounded remarkably like the snorting of a cow.

Ron's breathing quickened, his chest heaving with barely suppressed rage and humiliation, but Draco was far from finished. "Tell me, Weasley, did you go crawling to Professor Watson, begging him to let you back into the class? Or maybe you already did, and our magnanimous Professor took pity on you and graciously allowed you the privilege of cleaning the classroom for the rest of us?"

Unable to contain herself any longer, Pansy clutched at her stomach, doubling over as shrill laughter burst from her lips.

"At least Ron has come to the realization that hard work and dedication are essential, Malfoy. Where are your faithful lapdogs, Crabbe and Goyle?" Hermione retorted bluntly, her voice sharp and unkind.

"Probably still stuffing their faces in the Great Hall, I imagine," Harry added, his tone low and sarcastic too. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I mistaken? Haven't they been glued to their seats since the moment they rolled out of bed this morning?"

A muscle twitched in the corner of Malfoy's mouth, and the smirk that had been plastered across his face faltered slightly.

Pansy Parkinson, her eyes locked on Hermione's face with a mixture of loathing and disdain, couldn't resist the opportunity to deliver another barb.

"Has anyone ever told you, Granger," she drawled, her voice dripping with venom, "that you bear an uncanny resemblance to a female monkey, jumping and screeching about at the tournament?"

Hermione, who had emerged from the grueling first task of the Triwizard Tournament battle-hardened and resilient, was no longer fazed by such petty verbal jabs. She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but before she could utter a word, Harry cut in, his voice cold as ice. "And what about you, Parkinson? More like a mad cow, wouldn't you say?"

"How dare you speak to me that way, Potter! You'll pay for your insolence!" Pansy's face contorted into a hideous mask of rage as she whipped out her wand, leveling it at Harry with a trembling hand. Her eyes blazed with a frenzied light, and it was clear that she was wobbling on the brink of unleashing a torrent of spells.

For the students in Professor Watson's PE class, the act of drawing one's wand during a confrontation was an incredibly serious matter. As much as Harry yearned to put Malfoy and his cronies in their place, he mustered every ounce of his self-control to refrain from retaliating in kind.

"Then I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Parkinson!" Harry snapped sternly.

Hermione spared only a fleeting glance for Pansy, who stood with her wand brandished in a white-knuckled grip, before fixing her gaze on Draco. Her brown eyes flashed with suspicion, her mind racing as she attempted to decipher his true intentions.

It was inconceivable that Draco could have forgotten the dire consequences of using a wand in such a manner, yet he remained indifferent in the face of Pansy's aggressive stature. So, what exactly was he up to?

Hermione didn't keep her doubts to herself. She pulled Harry back from his altercation with Pansy and looked straight at Malfoy, asking bluntly, "What are you really after, Malfoy? If you're here to train, then, by all means, don't let us stop you. We were just about to take our leave—"

"Why the sudden rush to depart?" Malfoy's sneer made him look very much like his father, Lucius Malfoy. Seizing upon Hermione's question, he redirected his verbal assault back towards Ron. "Were you, perhaps, engaging in a bit of dodging practice with dungbombs, Weasley?"

"And what if I was, Malfoy?" Ron shot back, his cheeks still blazing with humiliation as he met Malfoy's gaze head-on. However, as he stared into those pale, gray eyes, he felt an inexplicable flicker of unease in the pit of his stomach, a sensation he had never experienced in their previous encounters.

"Perhaps you need some pointers, Weasley?" Malfoy inquired, his tone dripping with mock concern.

Once again, Hermione intervened, preventing Harry and Ron from rising to the bait. She had grown weary of their never-ending, meaningless bickering. The countless hours spent honing her dueling skills, coupled with the traumatic experience of facing a dragon in the tournament, had instilled Hermione with an aura of chilling, commanding presence when her expression turned into one of utter solemnity. Even Draco couldn't help but narrow his eyes when facing a completely solemn Hermione.

"In that case, Potter, why don't we settle this with a match?" Draco finally revealed his true intentions, pointing his chin towards Harry in a clear challenge. "We'll follow the rules set out in class, just as we do when training with Professor Watson. Team mode. Let's see which of us is the superior team!"

Draco's proposal took even his own teammates by surprise. Although Pansy had drawn her wand, it had been little more than an intimidation tactic. She, too, had no desire to incur Professor Watson's wrath and risk expulsion from the PE class.

"Don't forget, Malfoy—" Hermione began, her tone stern, but Draco cut her off before she could complete her thought. "Professor Watson is currently absent from Hogwarts. We just saw him leave the school. As long as we secure the classroom door and don't let anyone in, no one will know we dueled here. What do you say, Potter?"

'A real duel with Malfoy?' Harry's emerald green eyes glinted.

Up until this point, their training in PE class had consisted solely of sparring against Professor Watson. Facing off against a wizard hailed as the strongest of the new age, they had never stood a chance of gaining the upper hand in practice, always finding themselves on the receiving end of a crushing defeat.

This was to be expected, of course, but as time wore on, the students' desire to test their mettle against more evenly matched opponents in private grew increasingly intense. They yearned for the thrill of an exhilarating battle, one in which the outcome was not a foregone conclusion.

Harry was no exception to this sentiment. And if Malfoy was to be his opponent, so much the better. He relished the opportunity to knock this arrogant git down a peg or two.

"Don't fall for it, Harry!" Hermione warned, her voice tinged with anxiety. As Harry's constant companion and closest friend, she had sensed his temptation the moment it had taken root. She gave Malfoy a solemn stare and said. "Have you forgotten, Malfoy? I am the teaching assistant for this class. I will not permit you to engage in unauthorized duels, in direct violation of Professor Watson's orders. And I certainly won't be participating myself!"

"Very well, then—" Malfoy replied, unsurprised by Hermione's objection. His eyes never left Harry's face, and he gave a casual shrug, his lips twisting into a mocking smile. "I always knew that Gryffindors were all talk and no—"

"I accept," Harry said abruptly, his voice cutting off Draco mid-sentence.

"Harry, don't be foolish!" Hermione exclaimed, her tone sharp with anger and concern. "You know full well the consequences if Professor Watson discovers what you've done!"

"Take it easy, mate—" Ron chimed in, his voice low and urgent as he attempted to dissuade Harry too. He desperately wanted Harry to give Malfoy a sound thrashing, but if the price was Harry and Hermione getting kicked out by Professor Watson for breaking the rules, he'd rather endure Malfoy's insults.

"I know Malfoy—" Harry said coldly, his gaze never wavering from Draco's face. "This isn't a trap, not this time. He genuinely wants to duel. Well, that suits me just fine—"

Despite his resolve, Harry was not blind to the risks involved. He narrowed his eyes, studying Malfoy's delighted expression with a mixture of suspicion and determination. When he spoke again, his words were slow and careful. "I'll duel you, Malfoy, but I have a condition."

"And what might that be?" Malfoy asked, his demeanor suddenly serious.

"The duel will only be between the two of us alone, not as teams." Harry's mind was clear, unclouded by anger or impulsiveness. While he believed that Malfoy's desire to duel was sincere, he refused to risk Hermione facing the consequences if Professor Watson discover their behavior.

"Furthermore," he continued, "we will both swear upon the honor of our respective Houses that, regardless of the outcome, neither of us will breathe a word of this duel to anyone else. If you agree to these terms, then let's do it!"

Harry's growth and maturity were evident in his careful consideration of the potential fallout. His desire to face Malfoy in a duel was genuine, but he also didn't want to get himself or his friends kicked out from Professor Watson's class.

*******************************

For More Chapters; patreon.com/FicFrenzy