ꜱᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ | ᴛᴏᴍɪᴏɴᴇ

Whispers from the Past, ch. 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Harmony joined the others as they stood at the edge of the stage, close enough she could smell the sweat pouring from the dueler's brows. Next it was Mag's time to go on. Marek found Harmony in the crowd and stood at her elbow. Harmony imagined he and Mag made an agreement not to leave her side the whole night. She faced forward, not giving Marek the satisfaction that she was very much aware of his overbearing presence.

Mag was a skilled dueler, which was expected from one who spent their life fighting beside the most feared and powerful wizard in the world. When he walked toward his opponent to bow, he found Harmony in the crowd and winked down at her. He didn't wait for the other dueler to cast the first spell; he pummeled them with a torrent of curses until his opponent collapsed to their knees, holding their hands over their head for protection. Mag laughed at their easy submission. Harmony could tell he was the kind to serve quick and long bouts of pain, and enjoyed watching the aftereffects. He was going to be a challenge to duel, as well.

Snape encouraged Harmony and Draco to stick together throughout the night. She wasn't sure why, perhaps for protection in case they ran into trouble with other wizards, but she loathingly accepted. Draco followed her around, sulking, with Narcissa stuck close to his side.

Harmony had to duel a few others until she had a chance to take a much needed break. Each dueler was as different as the last. A few people in the massive crowd cheered when she made her way back on stage. Her next dueler was a middle-aged woman, well past her prime, and she trembled as she was pushed up the short flight of stairs to the stage. Her shoulders were hunched, as though hoping to protect herself by letting her body fold in on itself. The small woman glanced up at Harmony like she thought she was looking into the eyes of Voldemort himself.

In a way, she is, Harmony mused.

The woman tripped when she had to walk towards Harmony to bow. Her behavior was almost unbearable to watch, and Harmony cringed when the middle-aged witch whimpered in fear as they took their dueling stances.

Like before, Harmony held back from being the first to cast. But the woman wasn't quick to act. She tried very hard to flick her wrist to conjure, but it looked more like her body was convulsing into spasms. Harmony's eyes glanced around. What should she do? This witch was so out of her mind in fear; she could hardly make herself conjure a simple spell. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but her breath was raspy and useless. Harmony's cheeks actually felt warm with embarrassment. The two of them had already stood on stage, doing nothing to satisfy the crowd for the past minute. She had to do something, so she slowly stepped out of her attack stance, and very calmly—as though facing a quivering baby rabbit—she whispered a small spell.

"Expelliarmus," the weak red light flew down at the woman and shot her wand out of her trembling hand.

This little bit of magic sent the woman into a fit of tears. She spun around and scuttled down the stairs, pushing her way past the people blocking her at the bottom. Harmony shrugged with uncertainty when her name appeared in the sky and some onlookers laughed at the spectacle.

Her next opponent was substantially different to the middle-aged woman. He was a tall, broad shouldered man and bald with fierce green eyes that were full of contempt. Trouble was written in every crease on his stern face. Harmony regarded him with unease, and she didn't let her eyes leave his. He clenched and unclenched his fists, a sign that told her he was rash and quick to act without thinking. When they walked toward each other, he reached her in four strides and nearly bowled her over. His tall form blocked out the light above.

Harmony swallowed anxiously. She bowed, as usual, but he hardly nodded his head, showing her little respect. That got him a few boos from her fans.