CH91 - Duelling Styles

Edmund's body flew through the air, colliding with the translucent shield surrounding the duelling platform he had been standing on only a moment prior. He slid down the blue barrier with a wet squelch before landing on the hard, unyielding floor.

He blinked, weakly bringing up his left hand to wipe away the blood dripping into his eyes. His blurry vision sharpened, allowing him to see Barty Crouch Jr. smugly looking at his prone form across the dais.

"Again," Edmund rasped out.

Crouch tilted his head to the side patronizingly. "Are you sure? It looks like you could use a moment to—"

Edmund's wand hand twitched imperceptibly, and the belt holding up Crouch's trousers was transfigured into a thin, green snake—the buckle transforming into the creature's fanged mouth.

§Bite!§ Edmund commanded with newfound strength as he rolled over and up into a crouched position.

The creature obliged instantly, its maw rushing down toward Barty's crotch. With a panicked wave of his wand, the older man reverted the transfiguration before it could snap its mouth shut, barely saving himself from untold amounts of pain. Crouch snarled in his direction, but Edmund gave him no time to express his wrath further.

"Bombarda!" Edmund hissed, leaping over a sickly pink-coloured spell that he did not recognize. "Confringo! Diffindo!"

Crouch dodged the latter two spells easily, not realizing that the first one was not targeted at him in the first place.

The stone floor burst open, erupting into chunks of rubble and a shower of dust. Taking advantage of the chaos, Edmund turned the loose stone into a cete of badgers, each of which rushed at Crouch's unguarded legs.

Growling in frustration, Crouch's eyes locked with his own, causing the man to suddenly grin.

Edmund watched his lips move silently.

'Legilimens.'

He lost control of the badgers instantly, his entire attention drawn inwards. He waited, anticipating the attack to hit him at any moment. However, other than the initial probe, nothing came.

His forehead wrinkled in confusion, smoothing out in understanding just a moment too late. 'A feint.'

Crouch cackled victoriously as spell after spell pelted Edmund's still form, sending him flying again, this time riddled with cuts, gashes, and lacerations.

As the world around him began to turn black, he could only think of one word. 'Shit.'

*-*-*-*

- (Scene Break) -

*-*-*-*

Crouch chuckled, harsh and grating, as he wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his robes. He dropped into a seat opposite Edmund, watching him heal himself with interest. "You fight without honour."

Edmund raised his eyebrows, his deadpan expression making his response clear. 'And?'

"It was a compliment," the man reassured. "In battle, there are no limits, no boundaries that cannot be crossed. Mercy is a courtesy you will not be given; there is no reason to grant it to anyone else. Ruthlessness from your enemies ought to be countered with more of the same. I'm glad it's a lesson I won't have to teach."

"Oh?" Edmund grunted, pausing to cast an Episkey on a shallow cut on his flank. "I didn't think you had it in you to say anything positive about me."

Crouch shrugged. "I tell the truth. Don't get used to it, though. That's about the only thing you've got going for you."

Edmund grimaced. "Right then. Lay it on me."

"You cast without intelligence or nuance," he said bluntly.

"Meaning?" Edmund prodded with a frown.

"Your style, rudimentary as it is, focuses on explosiveness," Crouch elaborated. "You know your strengths, and you capitalize on them, pressuring your opponent into making a mistake—if they can keep up long enough to do so, that is."

Edmund nodded.

"That kind of approach might have worked for you till now, but it will only become a hindrance in the long term," Crouch held up his hand to prevent him from asking questions. "I can understand the thought process behind it. Most battles are no longer than a few exchanges of spells—short but brutal. However, what if your adversary is an equal, if not someone better than yourself?"

Edmund waited, understanding that the question was a rhetorical one.

"Currently, your bread and butter are Transfiguration. You've used transfigured constructs to trip, blind, pierce, shackle, and do a whole plethora of other things. Occasionally, you sprinkle in the odd spell, a Diffindo or a Confringo, to mix it up a little," Crouch summarized.

"Those are the fields I'm most familiar with," Edmund explained.

Crouch hummed. "And that's fine. But at the end of the day, battle Transfiguration is not intended to be a jack-of-all-trades. Surprise can be handy, but there's a reason that every duellist has techniques that can be traced back to common roots."

"What are they?" Edmund asked interestedly. He had anticipated that lessons with Crouch would give him plenty of experience, but this sort of theoretical knowledge was an unexpected boon he would not pass up.

"There is a multitude of 'cards,' I suppose is the best word to use, that a good duellist should keep in their pocket—things they should be able to do during battle. Offence, specifically that which is quick and targeted, is usually achieved through traditional martial magic. That includes cutters, explosives, and much of the dark arts. Area damage, suppressive fire, and a good deal of defence are typically relegated to Transfiguration, whether through constructing animals, walls, or weapons," Crouch lectured.

"That sounds..." Edmund hesitated.

"Rigid?" Crouch completed with a grin. "That's because it is. What I've told you are guidelines and general trends that appear time and time again. But as I said before, everything depends on the duellist you are facing and the setting in which you are doing so."

"The dark lord is a master of the dark arts. If he had his way, it would be the only type of magic he would use. After all, hordes of Inferi can cover the battlefield, simultaneously attacking, defending, and taking hits without issue. Fiendfyre can eradicate hundreds of enemies at once. The killing curse—especially used by someone of his ability— can be cast for hours on end effortlessly. Yet..." Crouch paused. "Inferi demand countless time and resources to raise and maintain. Fiendfyre requires the utmost concentration, even for a master, to control without backlash. Avada Kedavra mandates its caster to maintain feelings of hatred, which can be detrimental in battle, and taxing on occlumency shields."

"So, for me..."

"You have to think about what magic works best in which situation," Crouch finished. "Moreover, you need to develop a greater repertoire of spells that can fill in the gaps that make you stuck."

"On a duelling platform like this one," he gestured to the stage behind them, "Conjuration is too magic intensive, and creating rubble to transfigure is normally too much of a waste of time. Transfiguration, for the most part, is out of the picture."

"So what can I replace it with?" Edmund questioned.

Crouch snorted. "That's for you to figure out, depending on what your forte is. My job, thankfully, is just to beat you black and blue until you do."