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The following afternoon, everyone was stunned to see Teaching Assistant Gellert limping into the Great Hall for lunch, his arm in a splint, one eye swollen like Neville's toad, and his leg dragging with a noticeable hobble.
"What happened to him?" Ron asked with concern, genuinely fond of the assistant who always offered him pointers.
"No idea," Harry replied, equally puzzled. He knew Veratia must have been the one to rough Gellert up, but the reason why eluded him.
Still…
That guy probably had it coming. Last time at Nurmengard, it was clear he'd gotten off too lightly.
Just then, Gellert turned and flashed Harry a sinister grin.
Scarhead, what did you whisper in my sister's ear this time?
He genuinely couldn't wrap his head around it. Just that morning, he'd been happily munching on baked beans and humming a tune when, out of nowhere, his sister had laid into him…
Jack the parrot, spotting Gellert's sorry state, flapped over and perched on his shoulder, meticulously preening his disheveled hair with its beak.
Truth be told, the moment Veratia landed her first blow and saw her brother's innocent, bewildered expression, she realized she'd gotten it wrong.
But so what if she'd made a mistake?
Stealing from my vault, threatening to end the family line… Didn't that Snidget-like pest deserve a thrashing?
With that thought, her strikes on her brother grew even fiercer.
Newt and Tina, seated nearby, leisurely observed the heartwarming sibling interaction, their appetites apparently whetted. They each polished off two tuna sandwiches in one go.
If this had been the Dumbledore brothers brawling, Newt would've jumped up to intervene.
But…
This was the Grindelwald siblings' spat, with the sister demonstrating her deep (and rather physical) love for her brother…
Respect. Blessings.
Alas.
That afternoon, Harry sought out Newt to borrow his space for the evening, planning to train the students in the Duelling Club.
Newt had no reason to refuse. In fact, he was curious and decided to tag along to see how Harry trained his peers.
Veratia, however, seemed in need of rest and declined Harry's invitation, retreating to her dormitory for a nap.
"She looks exhausted lately," Hermione remarked to Harry. "I heard she's been using a Time-Turner to save time. Is that really a good idea?"
"I've tried talking to her, but it didn't work," Harry said helplessly.
Hermione picked up Veratia's notebook, her eyes drawn to the letters "A.E.I.O.U." scrawled on the cover. The five dots following the letters clearly indicated an acronym, not just random vowels.
"What does this mean?" Hermione asked, pointing to the letters.
Harry didn't know either. He'd seen the same letters in Veratia's notebook before but had never asked her about their meaning.
"No clue," he admitted honestly. "You'd be better off asking Veratia herself to see what she says."
"Alright." Hermione tucked the notebook under her arm. "I'll head to the Slytherin common room now and return it to her."
For the first Duelling Club session after the winter break, Harry decided to bring in his star employee: Farina, the dark witch from Knockturn Alley.
Farina, invited once again by Harry, didn't hesitate for a second. She followed him out of Knockturn Alley without so much as a fuss, no Imperius Curse required.
When it came to knowing which way the wind blew, dark wizards had a knack for it.
After all, those who didn't rarely survived.
At dinner, Draco sidled up to Harry.
"Harry," he said, "can I join? Your Duelling Club—"
"You want in?" Harry asked, grabbing another German sausage.
"Yes, I'd love to," Draco said eagerly, nodding. "It'd be an honor to train under you."
Ron let out a muffled "pfft" of laughter from the side.
"What's so funny?" Draco snapped, embarrassed.
"I'm laughing because you're such a brown-noser, Malfoy," Ron teased, waving a chicken drumstick.
To everyone's surprise, Draco didn't bother to argue.
A brown-noser? Fine.
If it meant learning magic from a legendary wizard, what was a little groveling?
"I'm not opposed in principle, but you'll need to get their approval," Harry said with a grin. "If more than half the Duelling Club agrees to let you in, I'll welcome you."
After all, Draco was Cassandra's descendant, and he seemed to have a decent sense of loyalty… For her sake, Harry was willing to give him a chance.
"Fine, if you say so," Ron said with a shrug. "I'll reluctantly agree—but if I catch you bullying Hermione again, Malfoy, I'll kick your arse."
Draco shot Ron a disdainful look.
To avoid Hermione vetoing his membership, Draco swallowed the retort about "defending your little girlfriend" that was burning on his tongue.
But holding it in clearly wasn't easy—he looked like he was choking on his own words.
That evening, Harry led the group to Newt's tent.
He sat in a chair, Draco standing beside him.
"Let's vote," Harry announced. "Those in favor of admitting Slytherin's Draco Malfoy to our Duelling Club, raise your hands."
Hands shot up across the room. Even Neville didn't object to Draco joining.
"In that case, the motion passes," Harry declared. "Today's focus is practical combat—real combat. I've hired a dark witch from Knockturn Alley to spar with you. But first, I need you to brush up on duelling basics… Pair up. Draco, you're with Ron."
"Alright," Draco said, his eyes blazing with determination.
Ron mirrored his intensity.
The two clearly couldn't stand each other.
"You two will duel first," Harry instructed, sending them to the stage. "Best of three, like a game of Wizard's Chess. Got it?"
At the mention of Wizard's Chess, Draco's face visibly fell.
That game had been his downfall, leading to an embarrassing confession to Snape and even getting his parents involved.
Getting sent to wash a teacher's hair? Even the most lenient parent would've given their kid a thrashing on the spot.
But Harry wasn't referring to the game itself—he just didn't want Draco to feel cheated.
"Best of five," Ron suggested eagerly. "Three's too boring."
Clearly, beating Draco once wasn't going to satisfy him.
As the saying goes: To kill a man, crush his spirit.
"Nice one, Ron!" Seamus shouted. "Don't let Gryffindor down! Kick Slytherin's arse!"
"I must point out, Mr. Finnigan, snakes don't have arses," Gellert called from the back.
The room froze.
Harry glanced at Gellert…
Alright, Austrians were basically Germans, rounded up. German humor—those who got it, got it.
Since this was a duel, Ron stuck to non-lethal spells, opting for the lightning-fast Disarming Charm.
The two took their places on the conjured duelling platform, ready to begin.
Draco couldn't resist a taunting eyebrow wiggle at Ron, looking utterly smug.
As Cedric announced the start, Ron fired off his spell.
"Expelliarmus!"
A flash of red light, and Draco's wand spun through the air, landing neatly in Ron's hand.
Three rounds, three losses—each time, Ron's Disarming Charm sent Draco packing.
Draco was starting to question his entire existence.
He stumbled off the platform, his steps unsteady.
"You alright?" Neville asked, concerned.
"I hate Disarming Charms…" Draco muttered.
"Hate them?" Neville asked, confused. "Why? I think they're pretty great…"
"Let me tell you," Draco ranted, "people who use Disarming Charms all the time? Dull-eyed, cripplingly insecure, IQs dropping year by year until they're complete idiots. They ruin their bodies, get all sorts of incurable diseases. Once you start using that spell, it's proof you're low-class in brains, character, looks—everything! You're doomed to grovel in the gutters for life!"
He wasn't done. "Wizards who use Disarming Charms have serious anti-social tendencies. They're a threat to public safety and endanger the lives of normal wizards!"
Neville's mouth fell open.
Really? It's not that serious, is it?
It was just a few disarms—did it warrant this meltdown?
Draco's unhinged tirade sent the room into fits of laughter.
No one expected a single Disarming Charm to inspire such… creative nonsense.
"You just need practice," Cedric said consolingly. "Join the losing side and get better. Disarming Charms are fast and accurate, but your description… It's not that bad. It's not like it's the green curse."
"Which green curse?" Draco asked, looking baffled.
Cedric's face froze.
"Well, not Lumos, that's for sure," he said. "Get up, we've got more duels to watch."
Emboldened by his three victories over Draco, Ron decided to challenge Hermione, determined to prove who was tougher in their dynamic.
"Expelliarmus!"
Ron dodged to the side, throwing up a Protego to block Hermione's next spell.
Watching Ron's strategy, Gellert winced in exasperation.
"Do you have to use Protego?" he groaned. "Keep disarming! Offense is the best defense. Are you planning to shield every single spell she throws?"
Flustered, Ron fired off a Disarming Charm, rolling awkwardly to dodge Hermione's counter.
"Where are you aiming, Mr. Weasley?" Gellert shouted. "You're off target! You nearly hit Professor Newt over there!"
Sure enough, Hermione's Disarming Charm struck Ron.
"Is that how you duel?" Gellert said, exasperated. "This approach won't cut it, mate. Real opponents aren't training dummies—they won't give you time to think."
Mate?
Harry shot Gellert a curious look, then glanced at Ron.
Gellert was getting chummy, calling Ron "mate" now.
Whatever. Mate it is.
If anyone else had said it, Ron might've argued—but since it was Teaching Assistant Gellert, he took the critique humbly and let Gellert drag him off for extra training.
Harry didn't bother with them. He brought out Farina.
"Farina?!"
At the sight of the dark witch, Newt and Tina leapt to their feet.
"You know her?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"Of course," Newt said, pointing his wand at Farina. "This is Farina, consistently in the top five of the Auror's most-wanted list. I can't believe you caught her…"
Then it hit him—Harry had brought her here.
Sheepishly, Newt lowered his wand, looking a bit embarrassed.
"I'm starting to question the competence of British Aurors, Professor Scamander," Harry said, shaking his head. "Farina lives in Knockturn Alley. Does the Ministry just skip thorough searches every time?"
"Heh heh—ha!" Farina cackled, tilting her head. "Guess what, Mr. Potter? After You-Know-Who fell and the Death Eaters were rounded up, the Aurors stopped bothering with thorough sweeps of Knockturn Alley. That's why it's a haven for dark wizards now—a lawless land."
"No wonder," Harry said, nodding. So, after Voldemort's defeat, the Ministry had started curbing Auror authority.
What could he say?
Harry didn't even know how to judge it.
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