Harry Potter: The Making of a Dark Lord

September 28th, 1995 – Hogwarts, Room of Requirement

"Enervate."

Harry Potter opened his eyes woozily and peered up at the grinning, freckled face of Ron Weasley.

"Got ya that time, mate," Ron said cheerily, chuffed at having successfully stunned The-Boy-Who-Lived.

The last two weeks had been among the best in Ron's young life. He had satisfied his lifelong dream of making the Gryffindor Quidditch team, taking the open Keeper position. He had consequently risen in the esteem of his housemates, who were in the habit of keeping a wary distance between themselves and Harry Potter. His skills in dueling had improved somewhat during their sessions in the Come-and-Go Room, and he was usually able to take down Harry at least once per session. On top of all that, Lavender Brown and Romilda Vane had been flirting with him all week. Sometimes it was good to be Ron Weasley.

Ron wasn't aware of it, but Harry had almost quit his position as seeker on the quidditch team. Practices took up too much time, and he had more serious concerns this year. But if he quit, Harry had decided, Ron would likely never speak to him again. And the twins would probably leave dead animals in his bed. Enough people hated him already, so he may as well stay on the team.

"Nice one, mate," sighed Harry, as Ron pulled him up from the ground. "I couldn't get out of the way of the last one in time."

In the mock duels they held several times per week, Harry had developed a defensive strategy that relied more heavily on dodging than on blocking. He tired quickly if he tried to cast continuous shield spells, but his superior conditioning and reflexes made him a very difficult target to hit. His defensive skills usually allowed him to defeat Ron, whose gangly stature was a major weakness.

In short, Harry felt like his "condition" was improving. He had worked on his patronus every day, and while it still wasn't as impressive as it had been, it was a marked improvement over this summer. His confidence with basic offensive spells had improved over the past two weeks as well; the trio could now cast several varieties of blasting hexes, the conjunctivitis curse, and a "light bang" curse that would temporarily blind an opponent.

Harry desperately wanted to master some more difficult spells, but the truly advanced ones were still beyond them. One spell in particular—the fire whip—had caught his eye. He had already attempted it a few times—screaming "aduro flagrum" at the top of his lungs—but was rewarded with only a few sparks. That one would have to wait.

So too would the use of transfiguration in combat. Harry had read about using advanced transfiguration to attack opponents and defend oneself, but the importance of the concept eluded him. A true master of magical combat would have viewed Harry's training sessions as hopelessly amateurish, but he was doing the best he could under the circumstances. And he was a 15-year-old amateur, after all.

Hermione had been watching Harry and Ron duel from the sidelines, and now it was her turn to spar with Harry. She too lacked Harry's agility, especially with her recent illness, but she knew the most spells of the three. That advantage was offset by the fact that they had agreed to use no dangerous spells in sparring, and that Hermione simply thought too much during a fight. She did not have the instincts of a fighter, and Harry was usually able to defeat her easily.

Tonight he wanted to experiment on her with a different sort of attack.

"Ready, Hermione?" he smirked at her. "I'm not going to pull any punches."

"Do your worst, Harry Potter," she responded, with more confidence than she felt.

Harry and Hermione took up positions on opposite sides of the Come-and-Go Room. The room had provided them with a large open space littered with small chunks of stone and debris; these could be used as cover if one crouched very low.

"Go!" shouted Ron, and Hermione ducked quickly behind one of the small barriers.

Harry stood still, but kept one eye on Hermione's position as he moved his wand in a slow arc and whispered "serpensortia" three times. He hissed quickly at his conjured snakes and then moved deftly to the right as a stunner was sent his way. His snakes spread out across the room and began to approach Hermione from different directions.

Hermione had heard the incantation and the hissing, and knew what was coming. She rolled hurriedly to her right and fired a stunner at Harry, followed by a blasting curse at one of the snakes. Her aim with the latter was true, and the conjured snake was destroyed.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" yelled Harry, sending two stunners at the now unprotected Hermione.

"Protego horribilis," she responded, sending one of the stunners directly back at Harry and dodging the other one.

Harry dodged his own spell and sent two more stunners at her, forcing Hermione to dive behind some debris.

By then, however, one of Harry's snakes had approached her from behind and was coiling to pounce on her.

Hermione was forced to crouch and turn around before she could blast the snake, and Harry saw his opening.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" he shouted.

Hermione successfully took out the second snake and blocked the first stunner, but she had no time to dodge the second. It struck her in the chest and she crumpled bonelessly to the floor.

Harry grinned and wiped the sweat from his brow. His distractions had worked. It felt fun to use a spell that Draco Malfoy had introduced him to. He was a parselmouth, after all; he might as well use it to his advantage.

"Good job, Harry," Hermione said grudgingly, after Ron had enervated her. "I couldn't deal with you and the snakes at the same time."

"That was the idea, Hermione," he smiled back at her.