"Now then, shall we begin?" I said, turning toward Flitwick with my most dazzling smile. "And how better to begin than by learning the language of dueling itself?"
He nodded enthusiastically, eyes bright. "A splendid idea, Gilderoy."
Of course it was a splendid idea, it was mine after all.
"First-years," I announced, projecting my voice with the crisp authority of someone used to holding a crowd, "we start simple. Verdimillious Duo and Trio, useful for creating sparks, revealing hidden foes, and disorienting opponents. And of course, the Flipendo charm, your best friend when you want someone on their back but not in the Hospital Wing."
A ripple of laughter swept through the rows of eager faces. I performed a graceful flick of my wand, sending a nearby dummy tumbling backward in a perfect somersault. The crowd gasped appreciatively. Ah, that sound, adoration mixed with awe. A melody I never tire of.
"Second-years," I continued, strolling the stage with a practiced ease, "you've already learned Expelliarmus, the Disarming Charm. Simple, elegant, effective. Remember, an opponent without a wand is just a startled pedestrian."
That earned a few laughs, even from the Slytherins. From the back, Snape's eyebrow twitched upward by approximately one millimeter, his version of applause.
"Third-years, Filius?" I gestured gallantly.
Flitwick stepped forward, his high, bright voice carrying well across the hall. "You'll be learning a smaller variant of the Shield Charm today. It's weaker than Protego, but easier to cast, a good foundation for the stronger version."
"Fourth-years," I said, picking up where he left off, "by now you should be comfortable with small animal transfigurations, as well as the Banishing and Summoning Charms. You'd be amazed how effective a well-aimed chicken can be in a duel."
The laughter this time was uproarious. Yes, humor and brilliance, a devastating combination.
"Fifth-years, Protego and Stupefy. Shield and Stunning charms. The bread and butter of every professional duelist."
"Sixth and seventh-years," Flitwick added, eyes sparkling, "you'll begin exploring the fusion of Charms and Transfiguration. Quite the advanced pairing."
I turned back toward the students, spreading my arms theatrically. "And now, for a proper demonstration."
Flitwick hopped lightly onto the platform beside me, his grin infectious. "Don't go easy on me, Gilderoy."
"Never," I said, drawing my wand in a flourish so smooth it drew a collective sigh from several Ravenclaws in the front row. "It would ruin my reputation."
We bowed formally, his polite and precise, mine perfectly balanced between grace and grandeur.
The room fell utterly silent. Even Dumbledore leaned forward slightly.
"Begin!" his voice echoed through the hall.
At once, the air came alive. Flitwick moved first, a blur of motion; a chain of spells erupted from his wand so fast it looked like a single streak of light.
I countered with shimmering illusions, three copies of myself scattering like mist while my original body was desillusioned. His spells tore through the clones harmlessly, painting the air with flashes of green and gold. The students gasped as the illusions winked out one by one.
Time to dazzle. I revealed myself as I swept my wand upward, and the marble beneath our feet surged upward in elegant, twisting arcs, solidifying into an ornate barrier. The light from the chandeliers danced across its surface like liquid silver.
Flitwick vaulted over it, nimble as a sprite, laughter bubbling from him.
"Incredible form, Professor!" I called, sidestepping a burst of light that singed the air where I'd stood a second earlier.
"Likewise!" he replied, firing a volley of Stupefy spells that rippled the floor with shockwaves.
I dissolved the barrier into motes of light and reformed it behind him, transfiguring it into a marble griffon that pounced with a majestic screech. Its eyes glowed gold as it struck.
The hall erupted in awe.
Flitwick spun, wand flashing. "Depulso!"
The griffon shattered into a thousand fragments of golden dust. He's better than I imagined, I thought, half impressed, half annoyed. Still, every great story needs a worthy co-star.
I conjured a flock of radiant birds next, their wings glowing softly as they swirled through the hall. Hidden among them was a single Expelliarmus, cloaked in light.
Flitwick raised his wand a heartbeat too late. The charm struck home, sending his wand spinning into the air. Victory bloomed on my tongue, until I felt a faint red pulse at my feet.
Snap.
His earlier Disarming Charm, clever little rebounder, ricocheted off the marble floor and struck me square in the chest. My wand flew from my hand in perfect synchrony with his.
For one suspended moment, both wands spun lazily in the air between us. Then, pure instinct took over. I caught his wand; he caught mine.
A perfect, mutual disarm.
The Great Hall erupted in laughter and thunderous applause.
We turned toward Dumbledore. He was chuckling quietly, eyes twinkling with unmistakable amusement.
"Well," he said, "I believe that's what we call… a tie."
Flitwick gave a low bow, mock solemn. "Excellent duel, Gilderoy."
"And to you, Filius," I replied, returning the bow with just enough flair to earn another round of laughter. "Though next time, I'll be the one catching both wands."
"Confidence suits you," he said, still grinning.
"Confidence defines me," I replied.
As the students broke into excited chatter, first-years practicing their tentative sparks and bursts of light, I let myself bask in the glow of admiration that filled the room.
The Fight Club was officially alive, and if I had anything to say about it, Hogwarts would never be quite the same again.
And perhaps, when The Daily Prophet comes calling, I'll make sure they spell "Lockhart" in full capital letters this time.
…
After our little display of brilliance, the next step was obvious. The students were practically vibrating with anticipation, wands twitching in their hands, eyes alight with excitement, and a little terror. The good kind.
"Now," I declared, clapping my hands once, "since time is limited, tragic, I know, we'll divide the stage in two. Two duels at a time. Efficiency is the mark of genius."
Flitwick conjured a neat line of glowing wards across the middle of the platform. "First-years up front!" he called.
They came forward in a nervous little cluster, clutching wands far too tightly. The first match on my side was a pair I hadn't expected to see facing each other, Luna Lovegood and a Hufflepuff boy whose name I had already forgotten.
Luna stood barefoot, dreamy-eyed as always, her wand held at an odd angle as if she were listening to it hum. When I gave the signal, the boy immediately fired off a clumsy Verdimillious Duo.
Luna tilted her head, murmured something under her breath, and cast three sparks in quick succession. The air shimmered as they ricocheted like Flitwick's spell from earlier, except hers split into three and came back at the poor boy from different angles. He yelped, flailing as green sparks danced across his robes.
The students gasped and applauded. I glanced at Flitwick, who was clearly delighted. "Copying the master," I murmured, smiling. "Impressive control for a first-year."
He nodded proudly. "A natural spellcrafter, that one."
The next duel drew even more attention: Ginny Weasley against a Slytherin girl whose name I didn't quite catch, but she had the unfortunate arrogance typical of her House.
The duel began politely enough. Then Ginny's face hardened, her expression, for a moment, almost not her own, and she unleashed a flurry of Stinging Hexes so fast even I blinked. The Slytherin girl shrieked and stumbled backward, wand clattering to the floor as she began to cry from the pain.
Flitwick stepped in immediately, ending the duel with a firm, "That's enough, Miss Weasley!"
Ginny blinked, looking startled, as though waking from a trance. I frowned. There it is again, I thought uneasily. That… presence. Subtle, but cold. Tom's influence, no doubt. And so soon, too.
Still, I smiled for the crowd. "Excellent display of control, Miss Weasley, though perhaps next time, we'll aim for finesse over fury, yes?"
She nodded quickly, cheeks red.
The second-years were next, and things quickly became… unpredictable.
Hermione Granger faced Daphne Greengrass, a serene-looking Slytherin with pale blonde hair and an expression so unreadable I half wondered if she practiced in the mirror. Hermione attacked with quick, precise spells, but Daphne parried each one effortlessly, until she abruptly shifted tactics.
Hermione was hit by a lightning-fast Flipendo and went sprawling backward, Daphne still calm as ever as she lowered her wand.
"Winner: Miss Greengrass!" I announced. "And extra points for grace under pressure!"
Hermione descended from the stage with her head bowed, while Daphne remained as placid as a marble statue.
Then came the match that attracted the most attention, Ron Weasley versus Draco Malfoy.
"Try not to burn the stage," I murmured as they squared up.
They bowed, sort of, and immediately began flinging spells. Draco's movements were all showy flicks and flourishes; Ron's, blunt and hurried. But when he cast Verdimillious Trio, aiming not at Draco's chest but at his face, it caught everyone off guard.
Draco ducked, but a few sparks caught his hair. And as it turned out, his hair had been… heavily fortified.
A faint hiss, a pop, and then whoosh. His head burst into blue-tinted flames.
The hall erupted into chaos as Flitwick dashed forward, dousing him with a quick Aguamenti. Draco was left gasping, drenched, and most tragically, half bald, with singed patches scattered across his once-pristine coiffure.
The laughter was immediate and merciless. Even Snape had to turn away, lips twitching dangerously.
"An impressive victory, Mr. Weasley," I declared, barely keeping a straight face. "And perhaps, a valuable lesson on the dangers of overusing Sleekeazy's Hair Potion."
Harry's duel followed, a quick match against Justin Finch-Fletchley. The crowd leaned forward, whispering excitedly.
"Begin!"
Harry's wand barely moved. "Expelliarmus!"
Justin's wand shot into the air and landed neatly in Harry's other hand before he could even blink.
Silence. Then thunderous applause.
I raised my hands for quiet. "And that, my dear students, is what we call efficiency."
By the third-years, things had turned into a full-blown spectacle. The best match came between Katie Bell and Cho Chang, both quick, agile, and fiercely competitive.
They traded spells like seasoned duelists, light flashing between them in elegant arcs until, by sheer misfortune, they cast at the same time.
Twin beams of light met midair, crackled, and exploded. When the dust settled, both girls stood frozen, rigid as statues, wands still raised.
Flitwick clapped his hands together with a sigh. "Simultaneous Petrificus Totalus. Remarkable synchronization."
We revived them, both red-faced but smiling, and declared it a tie.
For the fourth-years, the highlight, or perhaps the disaster, was, unsurprisingly, Fred and George Weasley.
They insisted on dueling each other, and within thirty seconds, the entire hall was roaring with laughter. They'd managed to hit each other simultaneously with Colour-Change and Hair-Growth Charms, ending up with towering, rainbow-colored afros that bounced with every step.
It didn't end there. After a brief handshake, Fred muttered something about payback, George lunged, and within seconds they were wrestling on the floor, trading punches between bursts of pink smoke.
It took both me and Flitwick to separate them, though neither of us kept a straight face doing it.
By the time we reached the fifth-years, the afternoon light had faded. Dumbledore rose, smiling warmly.
"I believe that's enough excitement for one day," he said, eyes twinkling. "Perhaps we'll continue next Sunday?"
The students groaned good-naturedly but began to file out, still chattering about the duels, the laughter, and of course, poor Draco's hair.
I surveyed the hall, the lingering shimmer of spells still hanging in the air like golden dust.
The Fight Club's first meeting had been a triumph, a little chaotic, yes, but what is greatness without a touch of spectacle?
I glanced at Flitwick, who was still beaming, and thought, Yes… Hogwarts hasn't seen anything quite like this in years.
But now, it was time to face the music.
Aurora had been watching me for the last thirty minutes, eyes fixed, as if daring me to flee.
And unfortunately… she knew me well enough to know that I just might.
…
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