"Excellent blood," Charles Nott said approvingly, causing Augusta to snort.
"My good Lady," said Professor Quirrell, sounding grave. "Do not wrong your daughter so. That is not mere talent which you see." His voice grew a little dryer. "Rather, it is what happens when children put their competitive efforts into a game which involves actual spellcasting."
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Draco, trying not to let his voice crack as he simultaneously dodged the blazing red stunbolt that Hermione Granger had fired at him, his muscles twisting with the need to dodge in the wrong direction - she'd pointed to his left, and then with a mysterious twitch fired right -
Hermione dodged the fast-moving dueling hex, and cried with hardly another moment's pause, "Steleus!", a wide-angle Hex that Draco couldn't avoid, but he managed to point his wand at his own face and cry "Quiescus!" before the sudden urge to inhale could devolve into a sneezing fit that would've ended the battle.
Draco Malfoy was already half-exhausted from all the Locking Charms and Transfigurations earlier, but his confusion was beginning to give way to a sense of his own blood boiling, he didn't know why Granger was attacking him so angrily all of a sudden, but if she wanted a fight he'd give her one -
(The Dragons and Sunnies weren't stopping to watch the duel of their Generals, the Dragons were too disciplined to stop and watch and that meant the Sunnies had to go on fighting too; but the gaping audience in the Hogwarts Quidditch stands were being distracted even from Neville and Daphne's spectacle, shifting their eyes to the duel of two Generals as Malfoy and Granger fired hex after hex and jinx after jinx at each other, casting more rapidly than any other student in their year could have managed, the Dragon General's trained dueling dance matched by the Sunshine General's frantic energy, the combat between them beginning to resemble an adult duel as the two most magically powerful first-years resorted to spells more exotic than the usual Sleep Hex.)
- although, Draco was beginning to realize, when he and Harry and Professor Quirrell had dismissed Miss Granger as having as much intent to kill as a bowl of wet grapes, they'd never seen her angry.
Daphne lashed out with her Ancient Blade, again not trying to hit hard but just moving the Blade as fast as possible, at the same time Hannah cried "Somnium!" and Neville leapt back again, but it had been another bluff and Hannah was moving in to fire a real spell almost point-blank -
- and Neville Longbottom did exactly what - he would explain afterward - Cedric Diggory had trained him to do if he was fighting Bellatrix Black, which was to spin around and kick Hannah really hard in the pit of her stomach.
The Hufflepuff girl made a sad little sound, a gasping cry of pain, as she was knocked off her feet by the hard shoe sinking into her abdomen with the force of Neville's whole body behind it.
For an instant the battlefield stood still, everything halted except Hannah's falling form.
Then Neville's face turned to absolute dismay and he lowered his wand, the Chaotic Lieutenant starting instinctively toward his House-mate as he reached for her with his other hand -
Even as Hannah turned her fall into a roll and came out with her wand raised and shot him.
A fractional second later, Daphne, who hadn't hesitated either, sank her Most Ancient Blade squarely into Neville's back, causing the Chaotic Lieutenant's muscles to jerk convulsively with the stunning magic discharging into him even as Hannah's Sleep Hex took effect, and then the last scion of Longbottom was sprawled still on the ground with a look of total surprise frozen to his face.
"Today Mr. Longbottom has learned a valuable lesson about his feelings of pity and remorse," said Professor Quirrell.
"And chivalry," said Amelia, sipping her tea again.
"Are you all right?" whispered Daphne, as she stood protectively over where Hannah lay on the ground clutching her stomach. The girl didn't give anything back in reply except more retching sounds that sounded like Hannah was trying not to throw up while trying not to cry.
Somehow, even though it might not have been good tactics - it would've been better if Hannah had been hexed outright, than for other soldiers to be tied up protecting her - a number of Sunnies seemed to be standing in front of Hannah with their wands clutched tightly, staring angrily at the Chaotics. Someone had thrown up a Prismatic barrier between the two groups, Daphne couldn't see who.
And for some reason the Chaotics didn't seem to be pressing the attack. Even Tracey had completely dropped the grim look on her face and was shifting her weight nervously from one foot to another, as though she was having trouble remembering which side she was on -
"Hold!" shouted a voice. "Hold battle!"
There wasn't much battle going on anyway, but it held.
General Potter, looking every inch the Boy-Who-Lived, strode out from the trees with something large and camouflage-cloth-covered held under one arm.
"Is Miss Abbott breathing all right?" General Potter yelled.
Daphne didn't look back. She didn't trust that this wasn't a trap - it was absolutely certain that if the Chaotics took the opportunity to attack, Professor Quirrell would not only rule it legal but also award them extra points afterward. But Daphne could hear the answer well enough with her ears, it wasn't like Hannah was trying to breathe quietly, and so she said, "Sort of."
"She should get out of here and to someone who can use healing Charms," Harry said. "Just in case that broke something."
From behind Daphne, a small gasping voice said, "I - can - still - fight -"
"Miss Abbott, don't -" Harry said, just as there was the sound from behind Daphne of someone collapsing back to the grass after trying and failing to get to her feet. Everyone winced, but Daphne didn't turn her back on Harry.
"Why haven't the teachers stopped the battle?" said Susan, her voice angry.
"I expect it's because Miss Abbott is in no danger of permanent damage and Professor Quirrell thinks we're learning valuable lessons," Harry said in a hard voice. "Look, Miss Abbott, if you go, Tracey will also retire from the battle. You already outnumber us, so that's a very good deal for your side. Please take it."
"Hannah, just go!" said Daphne. "I mean, just say you're out!"
When Daphne glanced back she saw that Hannah was shaking her head, still curled up in a ball on the grass.
"Oh, screw this," said Harry. "Chaotics! The faster we stun them, the faster she's out of here! We're going to do this very quickly, even if we take casualties! End truce! TUNAFISH!"
Daphne's political hindbrain had only an instant to admire how Harry's few words had just made the Chaotics the good guys, and then in almost perfect unison, the Chaotics were plunging their hands into the pockets of their uniforms and drawing out green sunglasses in an unfamiliar style. Not like anything you would wear to the beach, more like goggles for advanced Potions -
Then Daphne realized what was about to happen and snapped up her other hand to shield her eyes, just as Harry ripped the cloth off the cauldron.
The fluid that spilled forth as Harry Potter threw the cauldron's contents into the air was too bright to be seen, too brilliant to be imagined, incandescent like the Sun magnified a dozen times -
(which was exactly what it was)
(the sunlight which had been invested to create the acorns, the bright energy that had fueled a tree rising up from the bare dirt)
(blazing a searing purple, the color of the mixed blue and red wavelengths that chlorophyll absorbed)
(with almost none of the green wavelengths that chlorophyll reflected to create the green color of leaves)
(which was the color of the Chaos Legion's sunglasses, made to pass through green wavelengths, blocking red and blue, reducing even the most incandescent purple glare to something bearable)
- the violet light blazed on and on, Daphne tried dropping her arm from her eyes but found that she couldn't look directly at anything, even the secondhand purple glare was so bright she had to squint; and she had only time to cry one Finite Incantatem, which didn't work, before a
Sleep Hex took her.
What was left of the battle didn't take very long after that.
"NOW!" bellowed Blaise Zabini, formerly of Sunshine, now commanding a detachment of Chaos Legionnaires. "I mean, TUNAFISH!" The Slytherin boy's hand grasped the cloth shielding the cauldron from the triggering touch of daylight, already beginning to move it aside.
"NOW!" bellowed Dean Thomas, formerly of Chaos, commanding a consignment of Dragon Warriors. "DO WHATEVER THEY DO!"
The Chaotics of Zabini's detachment plunged their hands into their uniform pockets, and came forth bearing green sunglasses -
- an action almost perfectly mirrored by Dean and the Dragon Warriors, who drew forth green-colored Potions goggles, and quickly drew the straps over their own heads, even as the Chaotics put on their sunglasses and the violet incandescence blasted forth.
(As General Malfoy had explained, if Mr. Goyle reported that the Chaos Legion was wearing green-colored Potions goggles, you didn't have to know why to Transfigure some copies.)
"THAT'S CHEATING!" shrieked Blaise Zabini.
"THAT'S TECHNIQUE!" Dean yelled back. "DRAGONS, CHARGE!"
("Pardon me," the Lady Greengrass said. "Could you stop laughing like that, Mr. Quirrell? It's unnerving.")
"FINITE THEIR GOGGLES!" shouted Blaise Zabini, as the two armies ran headlong toward each other through omnipresent eye-searing purple glare. "WE CAN STILL WIN!"
"YOU HEARD HIM!" bellowed Dean. "GET THEIR GLASSES!"
Blaise Zabini's reply to this wasn't anything articulate.
That battle went on a lot longer.
"Stupefy!" shrieked the Sunshine General.
Draco didn't dodge, he didn't counter, he didn't have enough energy left for either, all he could do was whip his left hand into position and hope -
The red stunbolt dissipated again on Draco's Colloportused glove, which he'd Transfigured and spell-locked to his hand the same as the rest of Dragon Army. It was all that was saving him now, that shield.
It should have been a time to counterattack, but Draco could only catch his breath, as the two of them danced backward and forward beneath the trees in the never-ending movements of their duel. Across from him, General Granger was panting hard, the young girl's face glistening with sweat like dew, her chestnut hair wetted into brown plaits. Her camouflage uniform was stained with damp spots, her shoulders visibly trembling with exhaustion, but her wand was still steel-steady where it stayed level on Draco through all their motion. Her eyes glaring, her cheeks flushed with rage.
So, little girl, why're you pretending to fight like a grownup today?
The taunt came to mind, but he didn't really think he needed Granger any angrier; so instead Draco just said - though he could hear his own voice cracking - "Any reason you're feeling mad at me, Granger?"
The girl was gasping for breath herself, her own voice wobbling as she spoke. "I know what you're up to," said Hermione Granger, her voice rising. "I know what you and Snape are up to, Malfoy, and I know who's behind it!"
"Huh?" Draco said without even thinking about it.
That only seemed to increase Granger's fury, and her fingers whitened on the wand she held leveled on him.
And then Draco got it, and it boiled his own blood in his veins. Even she thought he was secretly plotting against her -
"You too?" Draco yelled. "I helped you, you bucktoothed bint! You, you, you," - stuttering past all the Dark curses that came to mind until he found something he could actually cast at her - "DENSAUGEO!"
But Granger flashed and whirled around the Tooth-Lengthening Hex, and then her own wand came around and leveled at almost point-blank range, even as Draco brought up his left hand like a shield, placing the magic-locked glove between himself and whatever she was about to fire, and the Sunshine General's own voice rose to a shriek audible across the whole battleground -
"ALOHOMORA!"
Time should have paused.
But it didn't.
Instead the padlock clicked and fell off the glove.
Just like that.
Just like that.
The screens showed it all very clearly, to the entire watching Hogwarts stadium.
And the bone-dead-silent hush that fell over every bench in every bleacher said that everyone understood quite clearly what it meant, that the scion of House Malfoy had just had his magic overcome by a Muggleborn.
Hermione Granger didn't pause in her fight, gave no sign that she even knew what she'd done; instead her foot snapped out in a Muggle-style kick that knocked Draco's wand cleanly out of his hand, his shocked mind and body moving just a little too slowly. Draco dove after his wand, scrabbling frantically on the ground, but from behind him a girl's cracking voice said "Somnium!" and Draco Malfoy fell and didn't rise again.
There was another moment of frozen silence. The Sunshine General was wobbling on her feet, looking like she might faint.
Then the Dragon Warriors screamed at the top of their lungs and charged forward to avenge their fallen commander.
Mr. and Mrs. Davis were shaking as they stood up from the comfortable chairs of the faculty Quidditch box; they couldn't quite clutch each other while walking, but they held hands tightly, pretending hard to be invisible. If they'd been children young enough for accidental magic they probably would've spontaneously Disillusioned themselves.
The elderly Charles Nott said nothing as he stood from his chair. The scarred Lord Jugson said nothing, as he stood from his own chair.
Lucius Malfoy said nothing as he stood.
All three of them turned without pause and strode toward the stairwell of the elevated bleachers, moving in eerie unison like an Auror trio -
"Lord Malfoy," the Defense Professor said in mild tones. That man was still seated in his own chair, looking upon his parchment-like screens, arms limp at his side, as though for some reason he didn't feel like moving.
The white-haired man halted just before reaching the exit archway, and the elderly man and the scarred man halted as well, flanking him. Lord Malfoy's head turned, too slightly to be any form of acknowledgement, but in the Defense Professor's direction.
"Your son performed exceptionally well today," said Professor Quirrell. "I must confess that I underestimated him. And he has earned his army's loyalty, as you have witnessed." Still very mild, the Defense Professor's voice. "Speaking as your son's teacher, it is my opinion that he will not benefit if you interfere in his -"
Lord Malfoy and his compatriots vanished down the stairs.
"A fine try, Quirinus," Dumbledore said quietly. The old wizard's face showed small lines of worry; he hadn't risen from his own seat either, staring at the parchment screens as though they were still active. "Do you think he will listen?"
The Defense Professor's shoulders twitched in a slight shrug, the only movement they'd shown since the battle ended.
"Well," said the Lady Greengrass, as she rose up and cracked her knuckles, stretching, her husband silent beside her. "I must say, that was quite... interesting..."
Amelia Bones had risen from her own cushioned seat without any fuss. "Interesting indeed," said Director Bones. "I do confess, I find myself disturbed by the skill with which those children were fighting one another."
"The skill?" Lord Greengrass said. "Their spells didn't seem all that impressive to me. Except for Daphne's, of course."
The old witch did not move her eyes from where she was gazing at the Defense Professor's balding head. "The Stunning Hex is not a first-year spell, Lord Greengrass, but that is not the skill I had in mind. They supported each other with those simple spells, they reacted at speed to surprises..." The Director of the DMLE paused, as though searching for words that a mere civilian could understand. "In the midst of battle," she said finally, "with spells flying in every direction... those children seemed quite at home."
"Indeed, Director Bones," said the Defense Professor. "Some arts are best begun in youth."
The old witch's eyes narrowed. "You are readying them to
become a military force, Professor. To what end?"
"Now hold on!" interjected Lord Greengrass. "There's plenty of schools where they teach dueling in first year!"
"Dueling?" said the Defense Professor. From behind it wasn't visible if the pale face was smiling. "That is nothing, Lord Greengrass, to what my students have learned. They have learned not to hesitate in the face of ambushes and greater foes. They have learned to adapt when combat conditions change and change again. They have learned to protect their allies, to protect more those who are more valuable, to abandon pieces which cannot be rescued. They have learned that to survive they must follow orders. Some have even learned a little creativity. Oh, no, Lord Greengrass, these wizards will not hide in their manors and wait to be protected, when the next threat comes. They will know that they know how to fight."
Augusta Longbottom loudly clapped her hands together three times.
We won.
It was the first thing Draco heard when he woke up on the battlefield, Padma telling him how his soldiers had rallied after he fell. How, thanks to the Dragon General's foresight, Mr. Thomas had led his detachment to victory over Chaos. How General Potter had defeated the portion of the Sunshine Regiment that clashed with him. How Mr. Thomas's Dragon Warriors had rejoined the main body of soldiers bearing both their own goggles and the sunglasses of the defeated Chaotics. How, only moments later, General Potter's remaining contingent had attacked both other armies with a potion that emitted searing purple light. But Dragon had held the numerical advantage over Sunshine and Chaos both, and enough sunglasses for their warriors; and so Padma had managed to lead her inherited army to victory.
From the light in Padma's eyes and her arrogant smile that would have done proud to a Malfoy, she was expecting congratulations. Draco managed to grit out some form of praise from between his clenched teeth, and couldn't have said afterward what it was. The foreign-born witch, it appeared, hadn't any idea what'd happened, or what it meant.
Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality Page 131
