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Hermione Granger didn’t much care for melee days. She knew why they were held, and even agreed that they were practical, but that didn’t mean she had to like them. They were just… messy was the best word she could come up with. The very definition of a melee duel, and despite the limitations on the practice room, there were always a few injuries.
Worse, some of the seventh years had stopped taking them seriously and just did whatever they could to cause as much mayhem and confusion as possible, which was completely ridiculous in Hermione’s opinion. They were still scored based on how many hits the gave versus received but, since she was only a fifth year, perhaps she just didn’t understand the apathy all of the seventh years had.
Melees were a Professor Lupin specialty. Ever since he had taken over as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher two years ago. He said it reflected a real battle and honed their skills better than one-on-one dueling ever could.
“Rarely will you ever duel another wizard one-on-one. Someone is always going to have backup, so it’s best if you’ve actually practiced it that way,” Professor Lupin reminded them at the beginning of every melee day. Hermione was just glad they only happened every other week. It was stressful and she never felt entirely prepared, despite how much practicing she did. They were too unpredictable. Like a real battle would be.
Hermione struggled to relax enough to make a good showing of it most melee days. It wasn’t that she couldn’t perform the spells, she could, it was that she got distracted by everything else going on around her. Melees were held with all of the upper years, which meant that the special arena Professor Lupin had devised had over a hundred students participating. The arena changed each week to different environments, some of which were wide open battlefields, others were close-quarter fighting, like in a house. Once, a fairly accurate replica of Diagon Alley had appeared.
That had been too eerie for Hermione’s taste. It was bizarre and unsettling to imagine herself really dodging curses in Madam Malkin’s, even if the curses were relatively benign.
With the end of the year, fast approaching, the seventh years had begun caring less and less about melee days. Two weeks ago, a group of them had set off fireworks throughout the arena. And when you attempted to vanish them, more were produced. Hermione had a feeling Fred and George Weasley were behind those. It just made melee days even more unpredictable, leaving Hermione more stressed out than usual.
“You’ll be fine,” Harry said to her quietly as they waited outside of the arena doors. The arena was built deep in the bowels of the castle. It had reinforced walls that the professors touched up prior to each melee day. It wasn’t just Professor Lupin who administered melees, Professor McGonagall and Flitwick also helped. Having a good charm or transfiguration spell could earn extra points in their respective classes. Hermione liked to use the time to perfect spells she was having issues with when she wasn’t being directly attacked.
She was practically vibrating with nerves. “Yes, I’m sure it will be,” she agreed vacantly, rocking on the balls of her feet. For someone as orderly as Hermione, the anticipation of the mayhem that waited within was enough to drive her batty.
“You’re fine every week,” Ron reminded her from the other side. “You haven’t even been injured!”
Hermione slapped his shoulder. “Well, now that you’ve jinxed it, today is going to be the day, isn’t it?”
Harry made a face at Ron above Hermione’s head, but she ignored them. Ron had to go and open his mouth, jinxing her for sure.
A soft green light emanated from behind the door and the group of students surged forward to see what awaited them this week.
Hermione groaned at seeing the flat block. It was three stories high with three flats on each floor. The front was entirely open for the professor’s view, but there were rooms hidden in the back that Hermione was sure contained plenty of surprises.
“Alright, you know the drill,” Professor Lupin called out.
Hermione hurried after Harry and Ron, hoping to claim a decent, hopefully quiet, spot to begin. Melees lasted for three hours, or until only one person was left standing. That had only happened once. A seventh-year Ravenclaw, named Roger Davies, right around the Christmas holiday had been victorious. It hadn’t happened since, and Fred and George had mentioned it only happened a few times a year. It was just too difficult, knocking out almost 120 students in three hours.
The melee worked similar to Muggle paintball, but unlike Muggle paintball, each student was allowed three hits. Once a student was hit three times, a red light would appear above their head and they had to exit the arena. A huge scoreboard was set up at one end that tracked what was happening within the arena. Hermione glanced at it seeing that it was mostly seventh years near the top and hurried after Harry and Ron.
They found a place on the third floor in a small, back bedroom just before the buzzer went off.
“I’m going to stay here as long as possible,” Hermione told the other two as sounds of spellfire and shouted curses began.
“Fine,” Harry replied, “just keep your head down and you’ll be alright,” he reiterated. Someone was creeping through the flat, just outside the door. Harry and Ron burst through it, shouting curses as they went. At least one of the boys was hit, but Hermione wasn’t sure which one. She hid behind the door taking deep breaths to try and calm her heart rate.
It wasn’t that she was afraid, it was just that it was all so overwhelming. And if she could last out the beginning portion, when most of the injuries happened, then she would fare better overall. And the bonus was she would likely survive the melee uninjured, which was always her goal.
The first item that zoomed out of the room, through the door that was left open didn’t phase her. Items were summoned all the time during melee for all sorts of reasons. It wasn’t until the third and fourth items went that she realized that someone was summoning them specifically from where she was hiding. She frowned and peaked her head around the corner of the door. The corridor between the bedrooms was clear. She frowned and was about to head back into the room to wait a little longer, the melee had only been going on for an hour or so at this point when suddenly, she flew through the air. Just like an object being summoned.
She didn’t mean to scream, but she couldn’t seem to stop it as she whipped around corners. She was thankful that whoever had cast that spell had the control not to have her fly through walls and doors. The spell might be powerful enough to make it happen, but she was pretty sure it would kill her.
She tucked her arms and legs as best she could, she dropped her chin to her chest and prayed that whatever was happening would end soon.
It finally did end, when she collided right into someone’s chest. She would have fallen to the floor if the person who summoned her hadn’t caught her in his arms.
“Rowle?” she asked, opening one eye once she realized she wasn’t flying through the air anymore. Rowle was a seventh year who she only knew because he played for the Slytherin Quidditch team.
“Finally got you out of your hidey-hole, Granger,” Rowle said with a grin.
Hermione frowned up at him and hit his shoulder. “Put me down you brute. I can’t believe you summoned me. Were you trying to kill me?” She struggled in his arms, but Rowle refused to drop her.
“I tried luring you out first.” His arms tightened around her as she struggled harder. At some point, she must have dropped her wand, because it wasn’t in her hand anymore. “Besides, I didn’t summon you, I summoned your robes.”
“My robes? You were trying to kill me! You’re lucky I don’t have my wand on me,” she grunted, giving up on her struggles.
“I can help you out there,” he said proudly, “Accio Granger’s wand.”
It came flying through the air and Rowle caught it with the hand that was under her knees. Hermione made to grab for it, but he kept it just out of her reach.
“It’s a fourth year spell. You needn’t be so proud you’ve finally mastered it.” Her sneer was ugly, she knew, but who just summoned someone by their robes? It was completely bonkers.
“Ah, but you see, if I survive the melee only using Accio I win a whole bottle of Firewhisky.” Rowle grinned down at her, still unwilling to give her up.
“And you’re planning to what? Use me as your shield?” Hermione asked, lifting an eyebrow. She knew the seventh years played ridiculous games like this, but honestly? Accio? How in the world was Rowle supposed to survive with the Summoning Charm?
“Too pretty to be a shield,” he told her with a wink.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “If I’m not a shield than what am I?”
“Protector,” Rowle replied, puffing out his chest as if he were placating a small child. He finally set her on her feet and handed her wand to her.
A whistle of an incoming projectile sounded and instinctively Hermione muttered, “Protego,” under her breath, protecting both her and Rowle from a hale of dining room furniture headed their way.
“See, protecting me already,” he smirked at her.
“What do I get out of it?” Hermione asked, turning her back to him and scanning their surroundings. They were still on the third floor but in a kitchen. She wasn’t sure which flat, but it didn’t really matter. Sounds of battle were mostly below them, but there was at least one wizard on their floor.
“I’ll share my Firewisky with you,” he offered. She wrinkled her nose at that.
“Try again,” she said as the kitchen door burst open and a sixth year fell through onto his back. She cast the shield charm again, blocking the stunning spell that came in after the sixth year. He wasn’t quite so lucky and a third red light lit up above him.
“You’re out, Jenkins,” the disembodied voice of Professor Lupin sounded in the room.
Jenkins let out a curse and slunk out of the room.
“Come on, Granger, the battle is below us.” Rowle nudged her forward with a hand on her back.
“First, we haven’t agreed to terms and second, wouldn’t it make sense to let the battle rage a little bit longer before we go join it?”
“We’ll figure out terms afterward. Maybe I can lend you a book or something.”
“What kind of book?” Hermione asked.
“A very old one from my family’s library,” he assured her. “And we need to actually participate in most of the battle to actually win the bottle of Firewisky. No Firewisky, no book,” Rowle said as he nudged her forward again.
“Fine,” Hermione sighed. “No idea why you chose me. I hate the melee.”
“Exactly. You’ll want it to end soon and do everything in your power to make it happen,” Rowle replied.
“Wait, you expect me to end it? To take out everyone? I mean, the Accio on my robes was mad, but that?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“There’s only an hour and a half left,” Rowle said after checking his watch. We really need to get moving and join the fighting if I’m going to get that firewhisky.”
“Do you just have to survive or be last one standing?” Hermione asked, refusing to budge until she as clear on the terms.
“Survive.”
They slowly began making their way out of the flat and checking the others before moving toward the second floor.
“Fine, but it’s going to cost you way more than one book.”
“Deal,” Rowle agreed as they began inching their way forward.
Hermione was fierce as she made her way through the battle ahead of her. She wanted access to the Rowle library. She was hoping she could negotiate some sort of semi-permanent arrangement, which meant she had to win this thing. She was like a whirling dervish as she took on opponents.
About ten minutes in, she allowed a stinging hex through her near-constant shields, giving her one glowing numeral above her head.
Rowle helped where he could, summoning objects away from where people were hiding, allowing Hermione to then send those objects back into others, which helped knock out groups who were working together like she and Rowle were. Part of her knew she should feel bad about the injuries she was surely causing, but she really wanted access to that library.
She barely ducked out of the way of a gilt-edged mirror that sailed toward her and Rowle. She glared at him over his shoulder as it crashed into the wall behind them, sprinkling glass everywhere.
“Sorry,” he shrugged at her, that smirk lingering around the edges of his lips. That’s when she was hit with a second jinx, this one Tarantallegra. She cast the counter-jinx quickly and scowled at Rowle. She hadn’t planned to get hit again so soon. She needed to be careful.
“Tell me next time you plan to summon something this way,” she hissed at him as she restrengthened the shielding spell around them. They were slowly making their way through the rest of the flats on the second floor and to the first floor where the rest of the combatants were.
She was reasonably confident that they had cleared both the third and second floors, so while she spent a few scant moments checking behind them, she didn’t focus on it. There were definitely more people on the first floor than the second. She was sweating now and more determined than ever when Rowle yelled from behind her.
“Duck!”
She didn’t think, just dropped to the floor, as a dining room table sailed over her head.
“Little help here, Granger,” Rowle shouted and she whirled around to see Cho Chang and Marrietta Edgecomb battering at her shield.
“Summon items from behind them,” Hermione whispered to Rowle as she redoubled her shield. “And do so quietly.”
He snorted at her but said nothing else as she worked to try and take them down. This was not what they needed if they were going to get out of this thing on top.
Marietta had two strikes above her head and Cho had one, that at least meant she only needed three hits. Rowle somehow still had no strikes, while Hermione had her two. It meant they were likely going to be gunning more for Rowle than her. Or at least, she hoped so. She hoped they’d see him as the stronger opponent and tackle him first. Leaving her openings where she could go after them.
That’s exactly what happened for all of two minutes, until she was hit with a stunner from the back.
When she was revived she could just make out Professor Lupin’s voice calling for her to leave the melee. She didn’t even see Rowle as she made her way out of the fake building and to the sidelines.
Harry and Ron were both there waiting on her with congratulations. “Merlin, what did Rowle want? Why an allegiance with you?”
“No idea,” Hermione shook her head. “Doesn’t matter though, the deal was he had to survive. No way he’s going to make it with thirty minutes left,” she added glumly.
“Tough break, stunner to the back,” Harry said, clapping a hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah,” Hermione agreed. She settled in to watch the rest of the melee.
Rowle accosted her on her way back from the library later that evening.
“Granger,” he hissed, motioning her into an alcove a few corridors away from the library.
“What?” she asked as she ducked inside with him.
He held up an unopened bottle of Firewhisky.
“I’m surprised you survived.”
“Ah, my detailed use of the Accio charm also earned me extra points in Charms. I would have gotten a case had I actually won only using a summoning charm.” He grinned down at her. “And since I won the Firewisky, that means you get to pick a book from my library.”
“I thought we agreed it would be more than one book,” Hermione responded. She wasn’t about to let him get away with just one book when she took on the bulk of the work that afternoon.
“Ah, I had maybe hoped you’d forgotten about that,” Rowle chuckled quietly.
“Not a chance,” Hermione responded. “I think for all the work you put me through, perhaps you should just invite me over some time this summer so I can have a proper look through.”
“Alright,” Rowle agreed readily.
“Wait, really?” Hermione asked. “I thought we were just negotiating.”
“We are, but I don’t find your terms onerous, so yeah. I’ll owl you to come around this summer.”
“Early summer,” Hermione insisted. “No later than the second week of July.”
“Consider it done, Granger,” Rowle responded. “Sure you don’t want a nip?”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head no. “Enjoy,” she replied before ducking out of the alcove and heading back toward the Gryffindor common room. She’d at least gotten what she wanted out of the melee of the day, even if she couldn’t explain Rowle’s inexplicable behavior towards her.
~Fin~