Chapter 51: You won't be so lucky next time, Potter

Gemma grabbed Harry's hand and used it to steady herself as she stood up.

“Do you really think they’ll listen to you?” Harry asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of curiosity. “I mean, you just lost to a first-year. Won’t that hurt your reputation in your house?”

Gemma smiled faintly, her composure unshaken.

“If it’s to the great Savior himself, no. After all, you defeated the Dark Lord,” she replied smoothly.

With that, she turned her head, her voice commanding as she called out, “Alright, Parkinson, Flint—go apologize to Miss Granger!”

Pansy and Marcus exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions pleading for leniency. But Gemma’s gaze was firm, leaving no room for argument.

To Harry’s surprise, the two Slytherins, under Gemma’s orders, obediently walked over to Hermione. They bowed slightly and offered their apologies, their voices carrying a sincerity that seemed out of character.

Harry couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt. Were these truly the same people who had been so defiant moments ago?

Draco Malfoy stood in the background, his face briefly betraying a flicker of disappointment.

“Not all Slytherins are hopeless,” Harry murmured to Gemma. “At least there’s someone like you—a worthy opponent, Miss Farley.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Potter,” Gemma replied with a graceful curtsey.

The duel was over, and with the agreement fulfilled, the crowd began to disperse. The students, still buzzing with excitement, chattered about the unexpected turn of events.

The sight of Slytherins bowing and admitting fault left many in disbelief. Some whispered theories of a hidden agenda, a cunning scheme orchestrated by Gemma Farley to exact revenge later. After all, Slytherins admitting defeat? That was unheard of.

***

On the way back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron muttered, “They’re definitely up to something. That’s just how Slytherins are. Still... this Farley girl—if Percy praises her, she must be something. Honestly, she doesn’t seem like a typical Slytherin.”

No, Harry thought, this is what a true Slytherin looks like.

Slytherins of the past—the ones from a century ago—had been different. Ruthless, yes, and unyielding, but they confronted their opponents directly. They didn’t rely on cheap tricks or schemes to win.

But today’s Slytherins? Many were the children of Death Eaters. What could you expect from students raised in such households?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Miss Farley is indeed a respectable prefect,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “But won’t her actions provoke backlash from the other Slytherins?”

“Not a chance,” Ron said with certainty. “Farley isn’t just a prefect. She’s the top student in her year—beat out the older ones to earn her spot.”

Hermione looked wistful. “I hope I can be as strong as her someday...”

“Not as strong as Harry?” Ron teased, grinning mischievously.

“Oh, honestly, Ronald.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m not even aiming to match him...”

Someone like Gemma, with her spellcasting prowess, seemed like an attainable goal. But Harry’s level? It felt so far out of reach, it was almost suffocating. Even Hermione, brilliant as she was, felt the gulf between their abilities.

“I’m just average,” Harry said modestly. “By the time you’re in fifth year, you’ll probably have caught up to me.”

Everyone laughed, but as the laughter subsided, Neville spoke up timidly.

“Um, Harry, I heard you’ve been helping Ron and Hermione with spells. Do you think you could... maybe help me and Seamus too?” He hesitated before adding softly, “I know I’m not very good, but I really want to learn...”

A warm hand rested on his shoulder.

“Why not?” Harry said with an encouraging smile. “We’re all classmates. Helping each other is what we’re supposed to do—learning from one another’s strengths.”

“Exactly,” Hermione chimed in. “Look, I’m good at subjects that require memorization, like History of Magic. Harry is amazing at spellwork. And Ron... well, Ron is very funny.”

“Hey!” Ron protested, indignant. “What do you mean, just funny? I work hard too, you know!”

“Sure,” Hermione said, giving him a pointed look. “Except when practicing spells, you always stop at ‘good enough.’ And in real battles, you’re always ‘just short.’ Didn’t you notice? It took you two tries to disarm that big guy next to Flint.”

Ron pouted but didn’t argue. He knew Hermione was right. If she hadn’t pulled him out of the way of a spell during the duel, he might have been hit.

Watching their banter, Harry’s mind drifted to memories of Cassandra.

----

During his first two years at Hogwarts, he’d been carefree—playing wizard chess with Gareth, sneaking snacks from Professor Howin, and petting magical creatures with Poppy. Spellwork had been a secondary concern, something he only practiced enough to get by.

Then Cassandra had dragged him into the Dueling Club. She humiliated him relentlessly, disarming him, suspending him in midair, or forcing him to dance uncontrollably during every duel.

“I was this close to beating you!” Harry would shout indignantly, dangling upside down.

Cassandra would poke his cheek with her wand, smiling warmly—at least 37 degrees warm—while delivering words as cold as -37 degrees.

“You always settle for ‘good enough,’ Potter. And when the time comes, you’ll always fall ‘just short.’ When will you grow up?”

At the time, he’d hated her for it. But during their first encounter with poachers in the Forbidden Forest, her training had saved his life.

“Next time, we won’t be so lucky, Potter,” she’d snapped after deflecting a spell meant for him. Her tone was sharp, but her movements calm as she cast a quick-healing charm on her arm.

----

“Harry? Harry?”

Hermione’s voice pulled him back to the present. She waved a hand in front of his face.

“Huh?” Harry blinked.

“You seemed distracted. Is something bothering you?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Harry said with a smile. Then he turned to Neville and Seamus. “I hope you two won’t give up after just a few days of practice, complaining about how hard it is.”

“We won’t!” Neville and Seamus said in unison.

“Alright, let’s vote,” Harry announced. “I propose we welcome two new members to our dueling club. I’m in favor.”

“So am I,” Hermione said, raising her hand.

“Count me in too,” Ron added.

“Three to zero.” Harry extended his hand. “Welcome aboard, Neville and Seamus.”

----

you can read more advance chapter on my patreon:

pat reon.com/windkaze