27

27: The Third Task (September 13, 2003 to September 16, 2003, September 19, 2003 to September 20, 2003)

Voldemort had arrived. Whispers had gone around all of Durmstrang for weeks before his inevitable arrival. No secrets were made of the third task. It was well known that it involved dueling. But against who? Not Voldemort, not him? Dumbledore had also arrived. Rumors had spread of his coming much like that of Voldemort's. Was it possible that they were being asked to duel against the two most powerful wizards of their time?

It was chilling thought, especially to Harry. He couldn't go against Voldemort. He couldn't. If Priori Incantatum happened, as it invariably would if he went against Voldemort, even more questions would be raised. Even more murmurs about him and Voldemort being similar would arise. It was already nearly unbearable the comparisons that were running amok around the school. It was enough to make him grit his teeth together.

For fuck's sake, he was NOT Voldemort. He was NOT a Dark Lord.

The only one in the Durmstrang crowd he knew that wasn't speculating and whispering about him was Sahar Lestrange. If anything, once they'd gotten the whole Sirius Black issue cleared up she was rather nice to him. She greeted him whenever she passed and whenever partners were required in any classes that they shared she offered to be his. It left Hermione and Draco out of a bind since they wanted to partner with each other. Overall the situation was working out quite well.

It wasn't as bad at Durmstrang as he thought. The History of Dark Arts was a good deal more interesting than the class Professor Binns taught. Other classes like Maguistics (a class on how to predict by wand flicking, wrist movement, body demeanor, facial language which spell a wizard will cast), Cursology (a class on how to create curses), and Dark Magic (a class on the theory of dark magic, how a different level of thinking was required to perform dark spells, including general application and usage) proved fascinating.

In their Maguistics class, they always needed partners to try and put theory into practice. As was usual, when Professor Nott called for partners Hermione and Draco immediately partnered up and Harry was left grateful when Sahar moved over to the empty seat next to him. The more he worked with her, the more he realized that the awesome rumors going around Durmstrang really were accurate about her.

She was an amazing witch. He didn't know if she was any better than Hermione, but she definitely was as smart of a witch as Hermione. Her forte was different since Durmstrang classes were distinctively different. Really, she knew so much on magical theory it was like she was a walking encyclopedia like Hermione. He really thought that Sahar and Hermione would be great friends, but for the fact that Hermione was muggleborn and Durmstrang students had a strong prejudice against them.

"Do you want to go first or shall I?" she asked, her wand already withdrawn and ready.

"You can go first," he offered amicably. "You're ready after all."

She smiled and nodded, pointing her wand at him she got herself in a proper spell-casting position. Slowly she began to move her wrist and flick her wand in such a way that gave Sebastian enough time to truly judge what spell she could be casting to counter it with the counter spell. His eyes paid attention to every detail and frantically he searched his mind with what these movements reminded him of.

"Wingardium leviosa!" she cried out, her wand movement swift and sure.

His counter curse came a second too late and he found himself hovering a few feet in the air before she gently set him down. His impediment counter spell had been a bit too slow to stop her levitation spell. Instead it had ended up stopping Ron in the middle of trying to cast the Jelly Leg Jinx on Susan. "Nice try," Sahar commented. "You guessed right."

"Still too slow though," he muttered.

"You're getting better."

"Not as good as those two," he remarked, tilting his head over to where Draco and Hermione were flinging and countering every spell thrown at each other. It was simply incredible how they were able to read each other's mind. Not only was Maguistics important for predicting an opponent's next move, but it also could be highly vital to a coordinated magical effort. Cooperation and coordination.

"It's because you don't know me that well. I'm sure you could predict what they're doing."

Harry shrugged. He didn't know that for certain. Draco and Hermione spent a lot of time together whenever he was busy with his medimagic and dark arts studies. It kept him away, and during those times they did spend an awful lot of time together. It was no wonder that they knew each other so well. He would too if he had the opportunity. Maguistics was definitely a useful class to have, and he wondered why they didn't teach it at Hogwarts. Having wizards work together would be an invaluable skill, especially to Aurors.

Hogwarts certainly turned out more than its fair share of Aurors. It was rather remarkable they didn't have a class that would be so instrumental. He blinked and refocused his attention so that his spell wasn't too easy for Sahar to predict. She had too easy of a time blocking his spells. It was like she could read his mind. Then again, she had been taking the class longer than him. She should be better.

"Expelliarmus!"

He almost had her. She put up a shield specific spell that blocked the disarming spell. It was impressive how she was able to guess what he was going to do. While there were some general shield spells that would work on minor hexes, generally a wizard needed to know the specific curse being cast to effectively protect himself against them. Another reason why of all the new material he was being introduced to, he found Maguistics the most practical. Why hadn't he been taught this back home?

Occlumency had it's uses but this was so much more important. At least, he thought so. Occlumency was much harder to use since one had to actually dig deeply into another person's mind, but Maguistics used other external forces as a predicting factor. Expression, movement, intuition. Stuff that Harry had loads of, had to. If he didn't trust his gut, he would have been dead by now. Maguistics was more of his cup of tea.

{Where have you been?} Signy hissed with much impatience, not liking the fact that her Sebastian had once again left her napping underneath the warm sun. While it had been a comfortable rest, she'd much rather go wherever he went than to laze around. He might be considerate, but the principle of the matter was that she went anywhere he went unless she didn't want to go! {You've been gone a long time.}

{I'm sssorry,} he responded with the proper amount of apology saturated in his voice. He kept the smile that was threatening to appear on his face inside. He knew she wouldn't appreciate it. But Signy was such a vainglorious basilisk. Domineering as well. But her intentions for him were pure and good willed. She wanted the best for him. It was like she was child and mother and sister wrapped into one sleek package. {Did you have a nice nap?}

{Nice enough,} she replied. {What have you been doing all day?}

{Classssssessssss,} he answered, lowering his arm so that she might wrap herself around his wrist and eventually slither up around his neck. It was her preferred perch. {I know you think they are boring, that'sss why I decided to let you sssleep.}

{Don't presume,} she chided him. Sometimes he wondered how she knew so much about the world already. Of course when he'd asked her about it, she had simply said that Asta had conveyed a lot of the world to her when she was still in the fetal stage. {You need to asssk me.}

{Yesss, Sssigny.} As he thought, whenever he patronized her teasingly like that it always seemed to please her. Even though he might be her 'Master' she liked getting the best of him. It was nice though, to have someone that was loyal only to him. He knew that for a fact. She absolutely refused to be carried by anyone else and it was hard to get her to back down when she felt he was being threatened.

Ron had to learn that the hard way. He thought he'd made progress with Ron earlier, but the parseltongue incident had erased all the improvement between them that had been made. The close-minded Ron was back to thinking he was the next Dark Lord in the making and treated him as such. After Signy had nearly bitten him, he was a bit more cautious of what he said around Sebastian. And Harry had only just managed to stop Signy from fatally poisoning Ron.

She might be young, but her venom was still lethal. It would just take longer to kill Ron, more painful actually. The swifter the kill, the less painful it was. Thank goodness he'd managed to stop her in time. Even if this Ron was a gigantic git, he still didn't deserve to die from a basilisk's bite. And he would die, since he didn't doubt that Signy would find a way to kill him if she was really determined. Stubborn little thing that she was.

Absentmindedly he stroke the underside of what could be term a chin since it was underneath her jaw. He smiled affectionately when she started hissing with delight. {What would you like for dinner, Sssigny?}

{A ssskinned rat will do,} she answered primly. {I want it baked thisss time. The meat isss more tender that way.}

He suppressed the urge to chuckle. Signy was amusing and he knew that she knew that; however, that didn't mean she liked getting laughed at when she was being perfectly serious. She was serious this time. The house elves here really spoiled her. It was curious, Harry would have thought everyone would be afraid of her, but she was Durmstrang's darling.

If it had been in his world and if he had been at Hogwarts, things would have been an entirely different story. It was bad enough he was a parselmouth, but if he had also had a basilisk as a familiar? Good Merlin, who knows what rumors would have spread about him if he had? The next coming of another Dark Lord. They'd already thought that of him, but then they really would have.

Funny thing was he had been the furthest away from the dark arts then, not the case here. It made him wonder at times what Dumbeldore really wanted from him. Why put him in a situation where he'd be so visible to Lord Voldemort? One would think the Headmaster would want to hide him, since he was an asset. But he wasn't kept hidden, he was being displayed quite prominently.

And now they were both here. Dumbledore and Voldemort. The last time he had seen them together in his world, they had confronted each other with Voldemort coming out on the losing side. The situation wasn't going to be like the last. Voldemort was the Dark Lord of Europe, he was almighty- all powerful. It sent a shiver of anticipation down Harry's spine. What would Voldemort look like now?

He wouldn't be a skulking snake, then again he wouldn't be a young diary preserved Tom Riddle either. Harry wasn't going to have to wonder much longer. It was almost time for dinner. They would be there, and he would see Voldemort. He would see the man that had killed him and his parents here, that had killed his parents back home. His parents' murder in more than one dimension.

He should be enraged. Furious. Filled with hatred. All he felt was a strange emptiness, detachment. Why? Maybe he'd used up all his emotions already. It wasn't like this Voldemort was actively seeking to kill him. Actually, this Voldemort could give a damn about him. Even with the parseltongue and the basilisk, the Dark Lord had not even acknowledged him. What a sweet relief. The whispers from the Durmstrang student body was enough. More than enough.

{Sssebassstian,} Signy hissed his name sharply, trying to recapture his attention. She did rather dislike it when he wasn't focusing entirely on her. {It'sss time. Draco isss calling for you.}

Yes, Draco was. He heard the distinctive voice shouting his name: "Bast! Come on! It's time for dinner, and you shouldn't be late when the Dark Lord is attending! We've only got a few minutes, Bast!"

He took a deep breath. It was time.

He noticed immediately the different atmosphere in the Grand Hall. It was reserve and solemn, a respectful silence filling it. He and Draco were some of the last stranglers to arrive. It wasn't his imagination that he felt the considerable weight of Dumbledore's and Voldemort's gazes on him when he entered into the room. Part of him didn't want to meet their eyes, but he forced himself to.

His eyes drifted over to Dumbledore's and stayed on those twinkling blue eyes for a fraction of a second before being sucked into the paralyzing gaze of Voldemort. It was eerie how those blood red eyes latched on to his in such a way he found that he couldn't turn away. Other than those crimson colored eyes, there was nothing remotely similar that this Voldemort shared with that Voldemort.

They were as different as night and day. This Voldemort was magnetically compelling. Even those his dark hair was streaked liberally with a steel gray, it didn't mar his appearance. It gave him this regal and noble bearing that suited his impossible presence. Despite being close to 70, Harry didn't think he looked any older than Lucius Malfoy or Severus Snape.

Magnetically compelling. Harry could see how he'd gathered such loyal and devoted followers. It was hard to turn away from Voldemort, and he knew what kind of monster that the Dark Lord could be. If he was given the chance, after all he'd been confronted with the knowledge that Voldemort had killed his parents twice in both dimensions! Yet it struck him as ironic how such a beautiful person could be so tainted.

Tainted by the blood spilt of innocents. The hands that hung limply at his side balled up into a fist at that thought. This was his parents' murderer. It didn't matter which reality it was, this was still his parents' murderer- this was his murderer. He met Voldemort's stare head on, not caring about the scene they were making. Two parselmouths gazing each other rapturously.

The longer they held each other's stare, the more time it gave the occupants in the room to notice the dramatic similarities between Voldemort and Sebastian. They had the same dark hair, the same slender and lean built, and the same average height. Lucius and Severus were the ones to particularly note that Sebastian's vivid green eyes had been the exact same shade of Voldemort's when he'd been Tom Riddle.

Abruptly Draco grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to their seats at the back of the hall. Enough was enough. "I thought you didn't like having attention drawn toward you," Draco whispered fiercely. "That was as much of an attention getter, staring at the Dark Lord like that than if you'd spoken parseltongue everywhere you went!"

Draco was right. He'd been blatant about it. But he couldn't help it. It'd been hard to look away from Voldemort's deep eyes; it been hard to think about anything else but why he should hate this man sitting calmly before him. And how he wanted to be absolutely filled with fury but instead he was more awestruck by the Dark Lord. He didn't want to be; he didn't want to be impressed. But he was. Simple as that.

The rest of the dinner past like a whirlwind. Harry didn't remember much of it. All his ability to concentrate had gone up in smoke when his eyes had first been compelled by Voldemort's. Those crimson orbs had been searching, peering into his being. It was unnerving. What did Voldemort want from him? He wanted something, and he got the distinct feeling it wasn't his death anymore.

He was jolted from his thoughts when Draco elbowed him sharply. He was about to ask what Draco wanted when he noticed that Voldemort was standing up about to make a speech. Despite himself, he found his ears tune in with a high level of interest. How would this Voldemort's voice sound? The other Voldemort had a raspy and harsh voice, would this Voldemort prove as different as his appearance?

"Good evening," the Dark Lord greeted them civilly in a voice of liquid warmth. Yes, the voice was as changed as the appearance. "It is my privilege to again be sponsoring the Triwizard Tournament for the sixth time since I reenacted it 1983. And for the first time, I will be presiding over as a judge with the esteemed Headmaster Dumbledore from Hogwarts. We will both be standing in stead for Headmaster Karkaroff and Professor Snape, both of whom will be honored to represent their schools in the final challenge, the duel."

That settled the speculations of why Dumbledore and Voldemort had arrived. It was not nearly as dramatic as everyone had whispered about it. It was almost a disappointment. "The duelist that will be representing Beaubaxton is their former champion, Fleur Delacour," he gestured to the lovely part veela witch that sat near the end of the table. "And as everyone knows, the Third Task will begin tomorrow. The lots will be drawn at dawn. I wish all the champions the best of luck."

Their eyes met. A sensation swept down Harry's spine. What did Voldemort want?

He had drawn last. Sahar had drawn first. Gabrielle was second. He was curious to see the duels, to see how the other fared but he couldn't. He was last and sequestered away so he wouldn't have an advantage in seeing dueling strategy. Not that it would have mattered that much. Dressed in the black cloaked and hooded robes it wasn't like their forms were that distinguishable. Height could be deciphered but Severus and Karkaroff were nearly the same height, and Fleur wasn't that much shorter than them either.

The only hint he could tell that there was something happening was the dull roar of the crowd when one of the duels ended. There was a brief noise that he heard every few minutes, he couldn't tell if they were for success or failure. There was just a faint sound, so distant and so far away. It grated on his nerves, the not knowing anything. He wondered how Sahar stood it.

Minutes rolled by but it felt like it was taking hours. Time was creeping by at a snail's pace since he was waiting and he was anxious. When would he be able to go? It was as he thought this for the hundredth time that the magical spell that shielded most of the boisterous response of the audience was taken down and he heard the full cries of the crowd.

Someone had certainly succeeded. Had Gabrielle finally done well? He hoped so. She was a sweet girl and was a talented witch despite the fact that she hadn't succeeded in any of the tasks. It wasn't like a normal witch's education encompassed fighting dementors and basilisks. She might not have been done well in the tasks but she was still quite powerful. Her glamour charms were impressive and done with such intricate detail!

Everyone had their talents. Look at Hermione. She was incredible. It was amazing what a brilliant witch she was, the most brilliant witch Hogwarts had ever seen. She was the only Animagus that Professor McGonagall had ever taught whose form wasn't a mammal. Then there was Draco. Draco could do some of the most difficult charm spells that Professor Flitwick threw at him. He even outdid Hermione, and that was saying something considering what her brain could hold.

"The last to take to the stage is the Hogwarts Champion, Sebastian Biggerstaff," the announcer commented. "He certainly will find the playing field has taken several steps up from the other tasks. Let me reiterate for Biggerstaff that each duel is only over when one of the duelists has been disarmed. He will face the representing duelists based on lots drawn and if he's lucky he'll have drawn the Beaubaxton duelist first.

"None of the champions have managed to last more than two rounds yet, let's see what Biggerstaff has in him," the announcer continued. "To continue to the next round, the champion must win the duel. If the duel is a draw where both wizards lose their wands, then the duel will restart until there is a clear victor." A momentary pause as the announcer gathered his breath. "Let the final round of the final task begin!"

His breathing escalated. It was another thing to be performing magic in front of an audience, but circumstances dramatically changed when he was casting spells before Voldemort. What was he suppose to do? Impress? Not impress? What? Did he dare to make an even greater impression than he already had on the Dark Lord? He was sure his parseltongue had caught Voldemort's attention, why else was he here?

There was no other valid reason. Sure, Voldemort might have restarted the Triwizard Tournament and it was a significant event- Harry had heard rumors especially from the Durmstrang section that the Tournament was basically a Death Eater recruit- but to actually appear at the Tournament was something else. The Tournament champion might be a good wizard or witch, but nothing outstanding enough to command Voldemort's presence. There had to be a reason, and he'd hate it to be him.

Parseltongue was a rare ability, and it was said to only run through the Slytherin bloodline. Harry had always assumed that he was parselmouth because somehow Voldemort had transferred his magical abilities when he'd left him the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Was it possible? That he and Voldemort were relatives? He shook his head violently. No, he couldn't be related to his parents' murderer. He couldn't be.

He shuddered hard. There was the uncanny resemblance, especially when Voldemort had been known as Tom Riddle. But it couldn't be since his mother didn't have dark hair and it was only the green eyes that he'd inherited from his mother that was the most startling similarity to Tom Riddle. The dark hair was from his father, and his father was most definitely not a Slytherin.

"You're up," a loud voice interrupted his thoughts as one of the wizard attendants that kept the Triwizard Tournament running smoothly shook him a bit to get his attention. "Biggerstaff, didn't you hear the announcer? You're up!"

His mind went blank. He was up. It was time to go. It was time to make up his mind. Did he dare? It would be nice to win this tournament fair and square and not because he'd been given the victory in a devious plan to resurrect his parents' murderer. But because he'd actually earned it. If anything, the odds were tilted in Sahar's favor.

"You need to wear this," the attendant commanded him, shoving a long black hooded robe that covered everything head to toe that he'd seen Sahar and Gabrielle put on earlier. "Hurry. You're already late, Biggerstaff."

After he'd slipped the robe on, he was shoved by the attendant toward the center of the massive stadium that had been erected specifically for the last task of the Triwizard. It was an impressive arena, built for dueling. A large raised platform dominated the middle of the arena, raised high enough so that the audiences could get a clear view even without magically enhanced binoculars recording every movement.

This was what Harry stepped up onto, the elevated platform with nerves that were beginning to haywire from the expectations he felt from the crowd. He almost wished he hadn't left Signy in his room napping underneath the warm sunlight. She would have known what to say to take his mind off these wasteful thoughts. They were not helpful, and she didn't understand why he let anything make him anxious. Her blatant absorption with herself was a pleasant change from all the pretense around him.

With her, everything was straightforward and he appreciated that in his increasingly complex world. It was a breath of fresh air. He gathered himself as he saw a figure cloaked in the same obscured robe that he was wearing stepped onto the platform from the opposing end. Everything in his instincts told him that this wasn't Severus. The commanding and confident strides weren't there. It was Karkaroff or Delacour. But which?

According to the rules of proper dueling, both participants needed to bow formally to their dueling partners. When the starter gave the signal, they both walked toward each other 'til they stood within reach and bowed properly. After they had bowed, they slowly moved approximately ten paces away from each other until they were a measurable distance apart.

They could start at any moment. After they had bowed, they could theoretically attack but most honorable duelists waited until they had reached a far enough distance apart being launching an assault. Harry waited beyond it. He was sure that everyone expected him to immediately attack, that which was a Slytherin move to do. The problem with that assumption was that a part of him was still Gryffindor, and he'd always shown more nobility than was expected from one in his house.

He was also positive that the other duelist was Fleur Delacour. It wasn't a particularly nice thought to think, but he knew she wouldn't be challenging which was why he was letting her make the first move. He saw her hesitation and that confirmed without a doubt that it was the Beaubaxton representative and not Karkaroff. Karkaroff wouldn't have hesitated.

As soon as he saw her wand flick, his mind began analyzing the wand movement furiously. His Maguistics class was coming in handing as he was almost certain that she was going to perform a disarming spell on him. Even as he heard confirmation as her strong voice cried out, "Expelliarmus!" he was already moving out of the way. That specific spell was effective at disarming a wizard, but it also was easy to avoid since it was directionally explicit.

It was equally easy to counterattack since it took complete focus to apply the spell, and while she was watching her spell progress in the wrong direction he shouted the command for the Jelly Leg Jinx. Juvenile to use, but effective nonetheless. It got the job done, and it didn't look that impressive. While he grabbed Fleur's wand out of her hand, he turned his face toward the judges' stand and saw only an up-raised eyebrow from Voldemort.

But Harry sensed that Voldemort was amused by the minor level spell he'd chosen to use instead of something more spectacular. He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to amuse the vindictive and evil dark wizard! He wanted to annoy, infuriate, madden Voldemort- not entertain his parents' murderer! Voldemort was crazy, even if he looked perfectly sane. Anyone that killed anyone couldn't be sane. He didn't understand killing someone, he only understood the giving of life.

"Biggerstaff takes down Fleur Delacour with a simple jinx, but his next challenger will prove to be more challenging. Either the Hogwarts or the Durmstrang representative have already proven victorious over one champion each," the announcer commented as the next black robed and hooded individual took to the stage.

It wasn't Severus, that Harry was certain of. No one moved quite like Severus, graceful yet imposing. It had to Karkaroff. If his Maguistics and empathy was ever going to come in handy, this was it. He had no idea what to expect from the Durmstrang Headmaster, prediction was going to be key. While it was true, his empathy skills were getting more finely tuned- they still weren't up to the level Poppy thought that he might attain.

Since he was pretty sure Karkaroff was going to attack him immediately, after they'd formally bowed to each other he had his wand drawn ready and his eyes keenly alerted to any moment of Karkaroff that would have allowed him to predict. His suspicions were more than right. "Crucio!" cried out Karkaroff just as Harry read with stunned eyes a scant second before what spell the Durmstrang Headmaster was casting. Weren't Unforgivables forbidden?

He was brought down to his knees as the intense pain swept over him. It wasn't as bad as when he'd been scorched head to toe when he'd tried to go back to his world, but it was still agonizing pain. However, since it wasn't nearly as bad as what he had experienced he was able to force himself to cast, "Petrificus totalus!"

Harry didn't know how effective it'd be, but it hadn't hurt that Karkaroff was making his way to him and had been close enough to really be hit hard with the spell. If Karkaroff had been standing further away, the spell probably wouldn't have worked. It was lucky that it had, he thought as he began to see black spots as he cried out, "Finite Incantatem!"

Relief swept through like a flooded river through his body as the pain disintegrated. He took a deep breath to give his fried nerves a chance to desensitize. He didn't allow himself anymore time as he saw that Karkaroff had almost wiggled his wand arm out of the binding curse. This was a wizard that hadn't even let him get his wand out properly before attacking him. No mercy would be given. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted forcefully, enough power behind the spell to throw Karkaroff off balance and land hard on his back while his wand floated toward Sebastian.

"Biggerstaff has defeated Igor Karkaroff!" the announcer exclaimed with an excited voice like he couldn't believe it. "The difficulty of the Tournament has already been upped as Karkaroff used an Unforgivable on the Hogwarts champion, and next up is the last representative… Professor Snape of Hogwarts who has not been defeated yet in the task thus far."

That result didn't surprise Harry. It meant that Sahar had lost to Severus Snape. It proved she wasn't as strong as everyone thought she was, even if Severus was one of the strongest wizards that he knew. He was relatively sure that Severus knew who he was facing; he was certain that Karkaroff wouldn't have used the Unforgivable on him if he thought it was Sahar Lestrange.

He was surprised that Sahar Lestrange hadn't defeated all the duelists considering how the Death Eaters favored her. Then again, the Severus he knew wasn't going to cut anyone any slack if it meant compromising the results. Severus was rather fair and impartial when it came down to it. Against Gryffindor it was another story since Severus felt that every other Head of House favored that house in such a way that he would not especially since Slytherin was so persecuted.

A thrilling sensation went down his spine as he saw Severus swept onto the stage with his commanding presence. How he yearned for this man when before the sight of him would terrify him. How things had changed here. While there were some things he missed about his home world, Snape wasn't one of them. He preferred the Severus here. The Severus here that accepted him and respected him- that desired him too.

There was without a doubt inside of him that Severus knew who he was facing, he could tell in the hesitation in the older man's demeanor. He knew that Severus didn't want to hurt him, but he could hardly show his favor for Sebastian in front of Voldemort could he? And he certainly couldn't use a simple disarming spell like Fleur Delacour had attempted. Karkaroff had upped the difficulty and Harry was prepared for anything that Severus might throw at him.

If there was one person who he knew was capable of beating him easily in a duel, it was Severus. Severus knew him well enough, had taught him enough that he knew Harry's weaknesses. The question was would Severus use them against him? What was Severus going to do? His mind was running frantically through all the possible scenarios and he had no idea what Severus was going to do.

The starter gestured for them to bow. They bowed deeply, showing great respect between the two of them. Both of them knew whom they were dueling. Did the thick concealing robes matter anymore? No. Harry pulled his off and threw it aside. What was there to hide? Nothing. He raised his eyebrow in a challenging manner at Severus. Did he dare take his robe off too?

He dared. Severus shrugged the robe aside. Backing up slowly, their wands still held downward at their sides, they faced each other in clear view of each other- nothing hindering them. Facial expression was an important concept in Maguistics, but there was nothing Harry could read on Severus' face to give him any sort of advantage. A blank face was the ultimate weapon in a duel, something he still had to concentrate hard on- schooling his features into stoicism.

The tension in the air was distinct. Who was going to make the first move? He ought to. He had yet to make the first move, but he was interested in what Severus was going to try. He'd rather wait and let Severus go first. Again, he saw Severus hesitate. Not a good sign in front of Voldemort, if he saw it- he was sure those keen crimson eyes saw it as well. Mentally he urged Severus to make a move, any move- it didn't matter.

When he saw Severus' lips begin to move, he sighed inside with relief. "Imperio!" Severus cried out vigorously, putting all the strength of his willpower behind it. Harry was hit hard by it, he felt the Unforgivable wash over him, compelling him to obey whatever Severus might say. "Bring your wand to me!" Severus ordered him sharply. "Bring your wand to me!"

Harry's eyes rolled back into his head as his body wanted to obey the summoning, but his mind rebelled like it always did against this dark curse. He would not. But if he did- his eyes glanced away from Severus and briefly gazed over to Voldemort- it would draw even more attention to himself. It was just anyone that could throw off an Imperius curse just like that.

Did he dare?

"Come here now, Biggerstaff!"

He would not. He would not. He would not go.

It was not in his will to give in. It was when he made his decision that his body stopped moving ever so slowly to Severus, and he realized that he had been making his way to the Potions Master unconsciously. He jerked away like he'd been burned, raising his wand quickly he cast the first spell to come to his mind- the last one he'd heard, "Imperio!"