Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy-Chapter 135: Pride Ruins Lives {2}

"Cool." Cedric Diggory let out a sigh of admiration, but before he could say more, Harry yanked him into the dueling cabin.

Once inside, Harry turned to Cedric and said, "Welcome to the Dueling Club. Let me introduce you first—these are the core members from last term, all from Gryffindor: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville Longbottom."

"Hello, everyone." Cedric flashed a radiant, sunlit smile and introduced himself to the group. "I'm Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff, and this is my good friend Megan Jones."

The group clapped in welcome. After the applause died down, Harry cleared his throat.

"We're all here to push each other, help each other, and get better at dueling," Harry began, delivering his opening remarks. "The point of practicing duels isn't just to sharpen our skills in this one area—it's to prepare for the day we might face Dark wizards in a real fight."

"So, Cedric, Miss Jones," Harry continued, "which one of you would like to step up and demonstrate a duel with me?"

"I'll do it." Cedric drew his wand and strode onto the dueling platform.

Harry stepped up as well, turning to Ron. "Ron, you'll be the referee—you know the rules of a duel, right, Cedric?"

"I get it." Cedric gave a formal dueling salute. "We start after the referee counts to three, yeah?"

Harry returned the bow, nodding at Cedric.

Ron raised his hand high.

"Three..."

"Expelliarmus!"

Before the count even finished, Harry flicked his wand, sending a spell streaking toward Cedric. Cedric's wand flew high into the air and landed neatly in Harry's hand.

Cedric stood there, momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected Harry to flout dueling etiquette so blatantly—casting a Disarming Charm before "three" had even fully landed.

"As I said, Cedric," Harry handed the wand back to him, "this Dueling Club is more about preparing for encounters with Dark wizards. They're a cunning, shady bunch by nature and couldn't care less about manners. Sticking to the rules like a textbook could easily be your downfall."

"I get it." Cedric nodded earnestly. "Again!"

"Alright, this time we'll count to three properly." Harry raised an eyebrow at Cedric.

Ron lifted his hand once more.

"Three..."

"Expelliarmus!"

This time, Cedric struck first, but Harry deflected his spell with a flick of his wand, sending a Disarming Charm right back at him.

Cedric scrambled to react, hastily casting a Protego to shield himself with magical armor against Harry's counterattack. But Harry showed no mercy—his spells came fast, almost too quick to follow. Cedric floundered under the onslaught, and soon enough, a spell struck his hand, sending his wand flying into Harry's grip once again.

"You're really strong," Cedric said, undeterred, his eyes blazing with determination.

Harry smiled. "It's just some basic dueling tricks. We don't exactly get this kind of knowledge in school—probably because most of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professors have been rubbish."

"Yeah," Cedric mused with a sigh. "You know, since I started at Hogwarts, we've gone through four Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. And aside from Lockhart, none of them could really be called competent."

"Why does that job change hands every year?" Hermione suddenly piped up, spotting the oddity.

"Because the position's cursed by You-Know-Who," Ron explained with a groan, filling Hermione in. "Back when he came to Hogwarts, he asked Dumbledore for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. Dumbledore turned him down."

"Ever since then, You-Know-Who's held a grudge. He put a curse on the position so that anyone who takes it ends up leaving for one reason or another—death, accidents, you name it."

"Good heavens, that's awful," Hermione huffed indignantly. "Just because he couldn't have the job himself, he made sure no one else could either. That's so selfish!"

"Who're you telling?" Ron shrugged.

Harry quirked a brow. The story of Voldemort failing to snag the Defense Against the Dark Arts gig...

If you looked at it strictly, Voldemort did sort of become a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts in his own twisted way—not just by latching onto Quirrell's head, but also through that one-on-one "tutoring" session with Harry at the end of last term. At least Harry thought that practical lesson had been pretty solid.

"That's why we need to take this class seriously—dueling's a big part of it," Seamus chimed in. "Last year, training with Harry taught me a ton of spells."

"Like blasting a ghoul's eyeball onto a Slytherin's forehead," Ron added with a gleeful cackle.

Seamus couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing too. Anything that made Slytherins miserable was a win in their book.

"So, are we learning any new spells today?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Last term, we picked up stuff like Expelliarmus and Stupefy. We should learn some new ones this term, right? Oh, Harry—what about that Summoning Charm you mentioned in Charms class with Professor Flitwick? Can you teach us?"

"You mean that one," Harry said with a hum. "The Summoning Charm's taught in fourth year, but it's honestly not that hard."

With that, he pointed his wand at Cedric nearby.

"Accio!"

Cedric had been standing there, waiting for Harry to say something, when suddenly a spell came his way. He felt a tug, like an invisible hand pulling him, and drifted lightly over to Harry's side.

"This—" He blinked in shock, and Megan behind him looked just as startled.

"If I remember right, the spellbook says you're not supposed to use this on people?" Cedric stammered, wide-eyed.

He glanced at Harry's wand, then patted his robes as if checking himself over.

Was there really such a gap in magical talent between them?

"You're right, Cedric," Harry said with a grin. "But have you considered this: while the spell can't target a person directly, it can target their clothes? If I summon your robes, doesn't that pull you along with them?"

Cedric fell into thought.

Then it clicked.

"Oh! That's how it works!" He smacked his palm in realization. "By targeting the clothes with the spell, you move the person too. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because it's not in the textbook," Ron said with a cheeky grin, hands on his hips.

Harry traced the path of a Summoning Charm in the air with a Marking Charm, beginning his lesson. "Like this—watch the motion of my wand," he said, addressing the group. "Picture the object you want to summon in your mind, then say the incantation loud and clear: Accio!"

As he finished, a chair from across the room zipped over to him.

He pushed it back and demonstrated again. "Or like this: Accio Chair!"

The chair sailed back to his side once more.

"See?" Harry patted the chair. "It's that simple. You lot can start with something small to practice."

Cedric and Megan exchanged a glance. They hadn't learned the Summoning Charm yet—it was slated for mid-term in their year. But Harry's explanation made sense to them.

"Accio Chair!" Cedric waved his wand, tugging the chair away from Harry.

Harry clapped, praising him. "Nice one, Ced. Well done."

Cedric gave a shy smile, basking in the compliment.

"Accio!" Ron wasn't about to be outdone and successfully summoned the chair away.

Truth be told, the Summoning Charm wasn't some advanced spell—it was about as basic as the Levitation Charm, simple and easy to pick up. Harry couldn't figure out why it was held off until fourth year. The order of spell lessons at Hogwarts had never made much sense to him, something he'd realized long ago.

Even Neville, after a few tries, started getting the hang of it. After the group had practiced gleefully for a while, Harry crossed his arms and said, "Since you've all got the basics down, let's move on to the next step—pair up and practice."

Seamus instantly teamed up with Neville, while Cedric naturally paired with Megan, the friend he'd brought along.

"Looks like it's just us two," Ron said helplessly, glancing at Hermione.

Hermione huffed but didn't reply.

"Well then," Harry smirked inwardly, turning to them. "Why don't you two give it a go first?"

Ron didn't object. He tapped his wand and said, "Don't worry, Hermione, I'll go easy on you—"

"Oh, thank you so much, Ronald," Hermione shot back, rolling her eyes.

Ron raised a brow, giving Harry his classic exasperated look. "Harry, trust me, I'm always a gentleman—"

"Sure, I believe you," Harry said, stifling a laugh.

The other five stood on the sidelines, watching Hermione and Ron.

Hermione raised her wand first, aiming at Ron.

"Accio Ron!"

However, the spell took effect on Ron without eliciting the slightest reaction. Hermione couldn't manage to drag Ron's body with the spell at all.

Ron felt a surge of relief in his chest—he reckoned his dignity was at least preserved.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted loudly. "Remember what I told you? Don't pull Ron himself—pull his clothes instead! Alright, Ron, it's your turn!"

Ron took a deep breath and raised his wand.

"Accio!"

In a flash before everyone's eyes, a gray shadow streaked past...

Hermione felt a sudden chill at her feet. Looking down, she realized the shoe and sock on her right foot had vanished without a trace. When she lifted her head again, she saw Ron holding her gray cotton sock, staring at her in a daze.

A flush crept up Hermione's cheeks, followed by an explosive roar.

"Ro! Nald! Wea! Sley!"

Her anger made her hair flare out, resembling an enraged lion.

The Room of Requirement fell into a momentary silence—everyone was stunned by Ron's antics.

Then, a wave of raucous laughter erupted.

Seamus's laughter rang out the loudest.

Harry was somewhat taken aback. He hadn't expected Ron to pull a "sock-off" on Hermione.

The familiar scene reminded him of fifth year, when he'd angered Cassandra that one time.

That incident had also involved the Summoning Charm. Sebastian had discovered its clever utility and had everyone practice it on each other.

It just so happened that day, only Harry and Cassandra were alone in the Room of Requirement...

"Oh? Potter?" Cassandra had tilted her head up, her eyes brimming with haughty disdain. "So in the end, you still came to the Room of Requirement to practice the Summoning Charm with me."

Not long before, during a dueling practice, Harry had taken a spell from Cassandra square to the cheek, leaving it sore for ages. Subconsciously, he'd started avoiding facing her in duels.

But without Harry's company, Cassandra didn't seem keen on dueling with anyone else either. Instead, she watched Harry spar with others from the sidelines with keen interest, hurling sharp-tongued critiques to point out his flaws in combat.

"Potter, too slow—"

"Potter—sloppy and hesitant, how can you manage like that..."

"Potter! What are you even thinking! Is your Shield Charm just for show? You dimwitted little troll!"

Harry was utterly exasperated, especially when he caught that smug, lofty expression on Cassandra's face from the sidelines—it infuriated him to no end.

But he couldn't exactly pick a fight with her. Whether he admitted it or not, he was, in truth, Cassandra's little sidekick—even his good mate Gareth thought so.

"We're both the ones left after everyone else paired up," Harry said helplessly. "It's not that I want to practice with you—it's just that I don't have a choice—"

"Hmph." Cassandra flashed a triumphant smile, the mole at the corner of her eye accentuating her proud grin.

She flicked her wand toward Harry.

"Accio!"

Harry felt a tug at his clothes, like the times Cassandra had grabbed him by the collar in the past...

Then, he felt himself being yanked right in front of her.

That slender hand seized his collar once more.

"It seems..." Cassandra's lips curved upward, "this spell suits me perfectly."

"My turn!" Harry protested, unwilling to back down.

"Fine." Cassandra chuckled lightly as she released his collar. "Go on, then. Let's see how much talent you've got with this charm."

"Accio!" Harry aimed at Cassandra...

In an instant, a dark blur flashed before him.

A soft, silky sensation brushed against his hand, warm to the touch.

A faint fragrance wafted to his nose, lingering for a long while.

"Potter!"

Harry had never seen Cassandra so furious. The silky sensation vanished from his hand as the item was yanked away by another Summoning Charm.

The next second, he was struck by a spell and knocked to the ground.

When he came to, Cassandra was long gone. Standing before him was Veratia, the transfer student, looking at him with concern.

"You're awake?" she said gently. "When I got to the Room of Requirement, you were lying here—I didn't dare disturb you."

Harry rubbed his head; it felt like it was splitting apart.

"It's nothing—where's Cassandra?" he asked.

"When I arrived, it was just you in the room," Veratia replied softly. "Do you need me to find her? She seems to be sulking in the dorms right now."

"No, it's fine." Harry waved a hand and staggered out of the Room of Requirement.

He planned to apologize to Cassandra later, but that evening in the Great Hall, she took a detour the moment she saw him.

For days afterward, it was the same. Harry even cornered her after class to apologize.

"I didn't mean it, Miss Malfoy, I—"

"You're truly insufferable, Potter," Cassandra said, her bright eyes filled with disgust. "Stay away from me."

Harry felt a pang in his chest. He really hadn't meant it—if only Cassandra would just hear him out.

She shot him a lofty glance, turned on her heel, and left him standing there, at a loss.

She really despised him now. Harry was overwhelmed with regret. He wanted to smack himself—why hadn't he been more careful while practicing the spell?!

Now look what he'd done—Cassandra loathed him.

What he didn't notice was that, as Cassandra reached the corner, she paused for quite a while.

Only when she was sure he wasn't chasing after her to keep apologizing did genuine anger flare in her eyes.

Potter! Potter, Potter, Potter!

Shameless! Disgusting! Infuriating! Dimwitted little troll Potter!

It wasn't until after Christmas that Cassandra spoke to Harry again.

Lost in memories of those tumultuous days, Harry watched Hermione roaring at Ron while gripping his collar. He couldn't help but think—if only Cassandra had been like Hermione back then?

Cedric noticed Harry's dejection and approached with concern. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Oh, nothing." Harry pulled himself together and gave Cedric a small smile. "Just reminiscing about some old times. Youth, eh?"

"I reckon Hermione must like Ron," Cedric whispered, low enough for only the two of them to hear. "Merlin's beard, if she hated him, she'd have hexed his face off the moment her sock came off—or just ignored him entirely instead of blowing up like this."

Hearing Cedric's words, Harry felt even more downcast.

Right... so...

Did that mean Cassandra really hated him that much?

Harry had long suspected as much, but having Cedric spell it out made his heart ache a little.

Not that he'd ever expected Cassandra to like him—let's be real, he was just an orphaned, penniless kid relying on a scholarship, while Cassandra was the lofty Miss Malfoy.

The faint spark of hope he'd felt when Cassandra had crossed time to find him was quickly snuffed out by Cedric's words, plunging him back into a tangle of emotions.

He'd just have to ask Cassandra himself later—what she really thought.

After all, Cass had abandoned her beloved family for him.

"But Ron's a right git," Cedric added with a chuckle. "I mean, how many young wizards would use a spell to yank off a witch's sock?"

"True," Harry nodded emphatically. "A proper git."

He wasn't talking about Ron, though—just himself.

It took a while before Hermione finally released Ron from her furious grip.

He rubbed his bruised arm, wincing and sucking in sharp breaths.

"Look at this!" He rolled up his sleeve. "Look here! It's all purple! She's bloody vicious!"

The group crowded around. Sure enough, Hermione had left seven purple marks on Ron's arm—the pattern looked oddly familiar.

"Hang on, isn't that Orion?" Seamus suddenly pointed at the seven purple splotches. "Look—four stars around the edges, three in the middle for the belt..."

Now that he mentioned it, it did look remarkably like the constellation.

"Didn't expect a Gryffindor girl to have such an artistic flair," Cedric quipped. "Hufflepuff girls, on the other hand... well, they're a gentle lot."

"Yeah, Ravenclaw girls are all refined and elegant, Slytherin girls are poised and aloof—" Seamus chimed in.

"What about Gryffindor then?" Neville asked innocently.

"Gryffindor girls hit like bloody bludgers!" Ron blurted out without hesitation, still hissing from the pain radiating through his arm.

At Ron's blunt assessment, the group burst into uproarious laughter—even Hermione couldn't hold back a grin.

No surprise there—Ron's comment was the truest review, fresh from his firsthand experience of a Gryffindor girl's wrath.

"Hope you find yourself a Gryffindor girlfriend someday," Hermione said, raising a fist. "Let her pound you daily with that Gryffindor iron fist!"

Ron sniffed and shot back, "Oh, look at yourself, Hermione. A violent girl like you—who'd ever want you as a girlfriend?"

They locked eyes for a moment, mutual annoyance crackling between them.

Finally, they turned away from each other with a synchronized "Hmph."

Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud again.

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After that little interlude, they practiced in the Room of Requirement until past nine. The dueling club's first official meeting after recruiting new members came to a close.

"There's class tomorrow," Cedric said. "Potions first thing in the morning—Merlin help me, I dread that class."

"Hufflepuff's not Gryffindor, after all," Ron remarked. "Snape's got it out for Gryffindor most of all, not you lot."

"In his eyes, our heads are stuffed with gillyweed," Cedric said.

"In his eyes, we're talentless little trolls," Ron added, then pointed at Hermione. "Except Hermione—she's Miss Know-It-All."

"You've got it wrong," Harry said, grabbing Ron and mimicking Snape's oily, drawling voice. "It's more like this—Hermione raises her hand and says, 'Professor, I know this one,' and Snape goes, 'Miss Know-It-All answers first—ten points from Gryffindor.'"

The impression was spot-on, dripping with Snape's signature tone.

Everyone burst out laughing at Harry's mimicry—even Hermione joined in.

"Merlin's beard, Harry," Hermione said, clutching her sides. "If Hogwarts held a Snape impersonation contest, he'd come in second."

"Who'd take first?" Neville asked curiously.

"Harry, obviously," the group chorused.

Harry gave them a slight bow, smiling modestly. "Thank you all for the vote of confidence—"

Good thing they were in the Room of Requirement—mocking Snape here wouldn't get them caught by the greasy git himself.

After leaving the Room, Cedric invited them to grab a bite in the Hogwarts kitchens.

But Hermione pointed out it was getting late and they'd best head back to the dorms—she didn't want to risk getting caught sneaking around at night and losing Gryffindor points.

Miss Know-It-All's house pride was legendary, and everyone knew it.

Besides, they weren't hungry, so they politely declined Cedric's offer and returned to the Gryffindor common room together.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed. "What happened today—I forbid you from telling anyone! And the rest of you—keep it under wraps, got it?"

"Don't worry, I won't even tell my mum and dad!" Ron nodded like a pecking chicken.

"What's the big deal?" Neville glanced nervously at Hermione's furious expression and swallowed hard. "I won't even tell myself—"

"Let's hope so, Neville," Hermione huffed in warning before turning toward the girls' dormitory.

Neville gulped again and turned to Ron. "Blimey, Ron, you're dead right—Gryffindor girls do hit bloody hard!"

"I never lie!" Ron rolled his eyes and lifted his sleeve again to show off Hermione's Orion masterpiece. "Look at this—it's still purple! Merlin's beard, I'm starting to wonder if these seven stars will even fade by Christmas..."

"Alright, Ron," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Time to sleep. Don't forget—Potions tomorrow morning."

At the mention of Potions, all three of their faces fell.

Potions, ugh...

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