Hairy Potter-Addams and the Philosopher's Stone: An Altogether Ooky Tale

The Midnight Duel

Ron's eyes bugged out. The bit of steak pie he had on his fork fell to the plate again, forgotten. "Harry, you must be joking. I mean, if you're on the team, you'd be the youngest House player in about--

"--a century," finished Harry. He shoveled a big bite of pie into his mouth. After all the excitement, he was ravenous. "Oliver said so. Oh, stop gaping, your pie's getting cold. Anyone could've done it. I was just brave enough to go after Draco. Anyway, you never heard any of this, capisce? Oliver wants to keep this all on the DL. I start training next week, so I don't know where that leaves us for baseball. Well, Oliver is coming to check us out this Saturday."

George and Fred came into the hall and rushed over to Harry and Ron. Quietly, George said, "Excellent work, Harry. Wood just told us. We play, too. We're Beaters."

"And with the way you train, we'll win the Quidditch Cup this year, I know it," said Fred. "We've lost every year since Charlie left, but we'll be brilliant this year. We saw you practicing on the lawn last week, you're good."

"Yeah, Wood was practically skipping when we saw him. See you for cricket."

"We'd better go. Lee Jordan said he might've found another secret passage out of the school. I bet it's the one we found our first year behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. Either way, it'll be fun. Want to come?"

Hairy made to stand, but found himself detained. "Going somewhere, Potter?"

He turned and gave the Slytherin boys a smile. "Not in a million years. I always have time for you, Draco. Sorry, Fred, George. Keep me in the loop about the next time. I always make time for my biggest fans." He jabbed his thumb toward the Slytherin trio.

The Weasley twins snickered and dashed off. "What can I do ya for, Draco?"

"I came over to see how your last meal was. When are you headed back to your Muggle family in America?"

"My folks aren't Muggles. They both went to Ilvermorny. Or are all Americans equal to Muggles to you? Where I'm from, that's called 'racism' and it's frowned upon in most decent circles." He took a bite of his steak and kidney pie. Swallowing, he said, "And since you asked, supper is delicious." He pointed his fork at Goyle and Crabbe. "You got much braver once your feet were on the ground. Are you scared of heights? Or maybe it's because you've got your little friends with you?"

Under the watchful eye of the High Table and the teachers dining around it, there was nothing the lackeys--who were far from "little"--could do but crack their knuckles, posture themselves, and try to look menacing. Hairy wasn't impressed, and he kept a cool expression.

Malfoy crossed his arms. "I can take you anytime by myself. You know, my schedule is open tonight. Care for a wizard's duel?"

Here was a bit of familiar excitement. "Wands, pistols, sabers, arrows, even good old skin--I like all kinds of duels, and I'm fairly experienced in all of them. Although, Rule Five of the Code Duello technically forbids direct blows between gentlemen. But given that you're not a gentleman..."

When Malfoy's face contorted in anger, Hairy added, "Rule Sixteen says the challenged picks weapons, but the challenger--that's you--gets to decline one weapon, but not the second choice of the challenged."

"It's a wizard's duel," hissed Malfoy. "Wands. Magic. No contact. What's the matter, Yankee Doodle? Never heard of them? I thought Americans liked shooting at each other."

Ron spun on the bench. "Of course he's heard of them. I'm his second."

"Exactly," Hairy said. "Rule Fourteen: Seconds must be of equal rank to the Principal. Who's yours?"