Black Castle, England
The summer sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting the ancient stone walls of Black Castle in hues of orange and gold. The air buzzed with a palpable anticipation.
Everyone had migrated to the expansive grounds behind the castle. Sirius's makeshift Quidditch pitch and dueling arena.
Harry Potter stood on one end, wand in hand, feet set in a classic duelling stance. Relaxed but ready. The stance of a man who'd fought Dark Wizards, survived a war, and spent years teaching combat magic at Hogwarts.
On the other end, thirty paces away, Ariadne Anderson stood with her hands at her sides.
She had shed her casual summer dress for form-fitting tactical gear that looked like it cost more than most cars. She held no weapons. Her posture was loose, almost bored.
Around the edges of the ground, the audience had arranged itself with the natural order of any family gathering. The children had claimed the front row, sitting cross-legged on the grass. The adults stood behind them, drinks in hand, voices carrying in the evening air.
The cheering had already started.
"GO DAD!" James bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth. Regulus was beside him, adding volume if not words. Leo Wang joined in a second later, loyalty to his uncle Harry outweighing any strategic analysis.
On the other side of the crowd, Tristan was on his feet, bouncing.
"GO AUNTIE ARI!"
"KICK UNCLE HARRY'S BUTT, AUNTIE!" Elena added, her eyes glued to Ariadne.
Eleanor Black, to the surprise of absolutely no one who knew her, had crossed enemy lines and was cheering for Ariadne alongside Elena. Lily Potter hesitated for a moment, looked at her father, looked at Ariadne, and quietly moved to stand with the girls.
Harry noticed. "Little traitor," he muttered under his breath, though his lips twitched.
Ariadne smiled.
Behind the children, the adults were doing what adults do when a fight is about to start. Placing bets.
"Twenty Galleons on Harry," Sirius said confidently. "This is going to be quick."
Aurora nodded. "I love you, Ari, but one-on-one without firearms? The wizard has the advantage every time. Hundred pounds on Harry."
Daniel and Margaret also put their money on Harry. The matchup was not fair.
Amelia, Sirius, and Susan all put their money on Harry. It was the logical choice. Magic beat muscle. That was the rule of their world.
"I'll take Ariadne," Arthur said, leaning back in his conjured armchair with a grin that should have warned everyone.
"Me too," Eileen added, sipping her tea serenely.
"Winky bets on Ari too!" the elf squeaked from her stool.
Sirius looked at Arthur, then at the field, then back at Arthur. "You know something I don't. But I'm taking your money anyway. No ordinary Muggle beats a DADA Master in a fair fight."
"Who said Ariadne was an ordinary muggle?" Arthur muttered silently into his cup.
—
On the field, the wind picked up, rustling the grass.
Harry rolled his shoulders and looked across the gap at Ariadne.
"Any rules?" he asked, raising his voice to carry.
Ariadne tilted her head slightly. "No need. Let's just do our best."
Harry nodded. "Alright. On your signal, Padfoot."
Sirius raised his hand. The crowd went silent. Even the children stopped moving.
"BEGIN!"
Harry moved instantly. His wand slashed through the air in a blur of practiced motion.
"Expelliarmus!"
The red jet of light shot across the grass, tearing up the turf, aiming squarely for Ariadne's chest.
Arthur groaned, turning to Sirius. "Really? Even after all these years? Still leading with Expelliarmus?"
Sirius shrugged. "It's his signature. Half of Hogwarts copies him now. The kids call it the 'Potter Opener.'"
"The Potter Opener," Arthur repeated flatly. "Against an opponent with no wand or weapon to disarm."
Sirius opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked back at the field. "Well, it'll still knock her on her arse if it hits."
"If," Arthur said.
While they bantered, the spell closed the distance.
Ariadne didn't panic. She didn't scramble. She stood perfectly still, watching the red bolt approach with eyes that seemed to track it in slow motion.
Just as the crowd gasped, expecting the impact—
She shifted.
It wasn't a dodge so much as a slight lean. She moved her torso three inches to the left. The red spell passed within inches of her ribs, humming with energy, and dissipated harmlessly behind her.
Harry's eyes widened. He had fought wizards who shielded, ducked, or apparated. He had never fought anyone who dodged a spell by leaning.
Then, to his credit, he recovered instantly. No hesitation. No overthinking. He fired again.
"Stupefy! Incarcerous!"
Two more spells streaked forward.
Ariadne took a half-step right. The Stunner missed. She ducked smoothly. The binding ropes sailed over her head.
The audience was stunned.
"How is she doing that?" Susan Bones asked, gripping the railing. "It's like she knows where Harry is aiming before he casts."
"She does," Arthur answered, not taking his eyes off the field. "Watch the wand. Where it points, the spell goes. She's reading the trajectory before the light even leaves the tip."
"From fifty yards away?" Amelia asked incredulously. "That's impossible."
"She has good eyes," Arthur said simply. "And she's just showing off. She could have ended this already."
As if hearing him, Ariadne's demeanor changed. The relaxed look vanished. The hunter emerged.
She moved.
One moment she was standing still. The next she was running, closing the distance between herself and Harry with a speed that sent primal warning bells ringing in every observer's brain.
Harry reacted fast. Years of combat experience compressed into a heartbeat of decision-making. His wand became a blur.
Stupefy. Stupefy. Incarcerous. Reducto.
Spells flew across the shrinking gap in a chain of red and silver light. Rapid fire. No pauses. No wasted motion. Harry Potter at full combat tempo was a sight to behold. His spell work was precise, powerful, and relentless.
But Ariadne didn't slow down.
She ducked under the first Stupefy without breaking stride. Cartwheeled past the second, her hands touching the grass for half a second before she was upright and running again. The binding ropes of Incarcerous snapped through empty air where she'd been a heartbeat before.
The Reducto she sidestepped with a twist of her hips that turned evasion into art.
She was closing the gap. Forty yards. Twenty.
Harry, realizing she was getting too close, slammed his wand down. "Protego Duo! Expulso!"
He cast a powerful shield charm to block her path and immediately followed it with an explosion hex aimed at the ground in front of her, intending to blow her back with the shockwave.
The ground erupted. Smoke and dirt filled the air, obscuring everything.
For a moment, Ariadne vanished behind the wall of debris.
"Got her," Sirius breathed.
Harry held his ground, wand ready, eyes locked on the settling dust. The Protego hummed in front of him, a shimmering blue wall.
Then a shadow passed over him.
Harry looked up.
Ariadne was above him. She'd somehow beaten the explosion, used the blast itself as a springboard, and vaulted clean over his shield wall. She was already descending, already inside his guard, already too close for spellwork.
She landed behind him.
In one fluid motion, she kicked the back of his knee, forcing him down, and wrapped her arm around his neck in a sleeper hold. Her other hand plucked his wand from his fingers before he could even twitch.
"Dead," Ariadne whispered in his ear.
She released him and stepped back, twirling his wand in her fingers before tossing it back to him.
The garden was dead silent. The wind rustled the leaves.
"AUNT ARI WINS!" Elena screamed, breaking the trance.
The kids erupted. Tristan was jumping up and down like he'd just won the lottery.
—
Harry knelt on the grass, breathing hard, staring at his empty hand. He looked up at Ariadne and asked the only question that mattered.
"How?"
It wasn't just Harry asking. The question hung in the air, shared by every adult present.
Aurora stepped forward, her expression caught between pride and disbelief. "How did you do that, Ariadne? That speed at the end. The jump over the shield. You cleared twelve feet vertically from a standing run. That's not... that's not humanly possible."
Ariadne shrugged, adjusting her gloves. "I've been working out."
"Working out doesn't cover it," Aurora pressed. "That was—"
"She's enhanced," Arthur said casually from his armchair. "Physically. Beyond normal human limits."
The word landed like a stone in a still pond. Every head turned to Arthur.
Daniel got there first. His eyes went wide. "Enhanced? Like... Captain America enhanced?"
"Something like that."
"Something like that?" Daniel sputtered. "Arthur, you can't just say 'something like that' and leave it there. How? When? Is it—"
"Daniel." Harry's voice cut through quietly. He was already on his feet, brushing grass from his knees with the unhurried calm of a man who had lost plenty of fights in training and knew how to carry a defeat with grace. "Give me a minute."
He looked at Ariadne. Not with resentment. With the steady, appraising gaze of one professional reassessing another.
"Enhanced explains the speed and the jump," he said. "But it doesn't explain all of it. You read my wand arm. You predicted the trajectory before the spell left the tip. You knew my effective range and you stayed outside it until you were ready to close. That's not strength or speed. That's training and intelligence."
Ariadne inclined her head slightly. The faintest acknowledgment.
"I haven't had a fight like that in years," Harry said. Something quiet and honest moved through his voice. "Everyone I spar with now either holds back because I'm Harry Potter, or they're students who aren't ready yet. You didn't hold back. And you were ready."
He paused. Let the silence sit for a moment.
"So. Now that I know who I'm actually standing across from..." He smiled, spinning his wand. "I'd very much like to go again. Properly, this time."
Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at Ariadne. "What do you think?"
Ariadne's smile was slow and dangerous. "I was hoping he'd ask."
Daniel stepped forward. "Wait, wait, wait. Can we go back to the 'enhanced like Captain America' part? Because I have about forty questions—"
"After the fight, Daniel," Arthur said, settling deeper into his armchair. "After the fight."
Daniel looked from Arthur to Harry to Ariadne. The duel was already reassembling. Harry was rolling his shoulders, a quiet intensity settling over him that was very different from the relaxed confidence of round one. Ariadne was stretching her neck, perfectly calm.
Daniel threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine. But someone is explaining everything to me afterwards."
"I promise," Arthur said.