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“And…begin.”
The referee, a sixth-year whose reluctance was clear to all in the room, didn’t sound like he expected much. Rishe blew out a breath, jittery. She tried to remember all the principles of dueling that had been hammered down into her by her seniors: don’t flinch, look at your opponent head-on, try to make the first move.
She didn’t flinch. She did look at her opponent—”a third-year, with fluffy red hair and tired golden brown eyes—”head-on. Rishe got out one syllable of a spell before light flashed, the world flipped over, and suddenly she was flat on the ground, cheek pressed into the cold tile. In that moment of shock, her spell came out too late and with its original intent gone. A bouquet of flowers popped out and fell to the floor, petals and leaves rustling.
“The victor is Joel. Ten points to Ravenclaw!”
General applause echoed through the chamber. Something in Rishe’s chest pulled tight. It hadn’t taken any time at all for her to be defeated. What would her parents say? The thought of the howler she would receive made her breath catch in her throat.
No, she told herself sternly. She still had time to get better. And if she did, then she could continue the class! Roused by the thought, she lit her binds on fire and shed them, stamping out the flames. Joel was already disappearing into the crowd, and Rishe chased after the flash of a blue-hemmed sleeve, the wisps of red between shoulders and heads. As the referee announced another match, she ducked beneath someone’s elbow and called out, “Senior Joel!”
“...hm? What?”
“Please help me get better at dueling!”
“No.”
He didn’t even hesitate!
Rishe chewed on her lower lip. Of course, no one would offer that kind of thing for free. Ashamed at her own ridiculous impulse, her ears went red. What was she supposed to do now? Joel was the best in the whole school, no one could be a better teacher than him.
“What would you like in return? I’m good at cleaning, or herbology! I might have something to trade y-”
“I don’t want anything,” Joel grumbled, “cause I’m not doing it.” He scrunched his nose at her. It was rude, but Rishe could hardly get mad.
“I notice that you often fall asleep during lectures. I could give you all of my notes.”
“You’re a year younger than me.”
At that, Rishe grinned smugly. “I’m in third-year herbology, potions, and charms,” she declared. Were there ashes on her robes? She needed to look confident no matter what. Her parents had told her that plenty of times. “And I’m nearly top of my class in all three. I can prove it, too.”
Joel gave her a measured look, golden eyes unblinking. He was studying her, sizing her up in a way he hadn’t before. But she was used to it after all of the events her parents had dragged her to.
“Three lessons.”
“Pardon?”
“You get three lessons, but if you’re not good enough, I get to end them early.”
Rishe didn’t think. She stuck out her hand, and when he didn’t immediately reach back, took his in her own. Shoulders straight, stand tall, look your opponent in the eye and don’t flinch: she shook his hand and said, “Deal!”
“I’ll send you an owl when I have time.”
“Of course! Thank you kindly, Senior Joel!”
_____________
“Arnold!” Rishe called out, sliding into the open space next to the young Hufflepuff during breakfast. “You won’t believe what happened!”
Arnold didn’t respond verbally, instead lifting a silent brow as he ate the eggs and sausage on his plate. Rishe leaned her elbows on the table.
“I was able to convince Senior Joel to teach me how to duel,” Rishe said, puffing out her chest.
At that Arnold set his fork down, turning to face her fully. “Is that so?”
“Yes! I just have to give him my lecture notes.”
“For how long?”
“Huh?”
“You did set a limit on it, correct?”
A blush bloomed across Rishe’s cheeks as she attempted to stutter out some excuse. Arnold only blinked at her, and when it was clear that she had no good answer, put another forkful of eggs inside his mouth. He chewed, still staring down the young girl with a blank look.
“It’s not a big concern,” she said at last, and looked down at the wooden table grain. Then she looked back up, clasping her hands. Sitting straight and neat, Rishe reminded herself: “I’m close to mastering the duplicating spell. I can give him all the notes he needs.”
Once again, Arnold raised his brow as if to say, ‘You still think you can get away with lying?’
“I am!” Rishe insisted. Shoulders straight, not hunched. Arnold just rolled his eyes.
She wasn’t that far-off. Though she couldn’t perfectly replicate an object, she could at least recreate its general form, and roughly half its details. The doubt needled at her heart, but what was she to say? Arnold was better than her in most of her classes.
Keep smiling, she reminded herself. Rishe took a deep breath, and with it came all sorts of savory and sweet aromas. She let it out, easing back into calm, and then sprung out of her seat. Her hip knocked into the table and some of the diningware rattled: hastily, Rishe steadied a wobbling pitcher of juice.
“Where are you going?” Arnold asked. “You haven’t eaten.”
“I’m going to go practice!”
Before she could leave, Arnold grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down. “Eat first. You’ll only exhaust yourself if you don’t.”
Rishe glanced at a platter stacked high with toast: it was the closest thing. She grabbed a piece, folded it down into a square dripping with butter, and ate the whole thing in one, prim bite. It went down with two swallows and tasted generally pointless.
Ignoring Arnold’s aghast stare, she scampered away before he could do or say anything else to stop her from her goal. She was going to be even better than Arnold one day, and then he’d have to come to her for advice!
_____________
“Alarte Asce-”
“Confringo.”
A billow of flames roared in her direction. Rishe didn’t have nearly enough time to counter the spell, and hastily ducked back so as to avoid being struck by the fire. Squinting against the white glow, she spotted the tail end of his shadow and aimed.
“Stupefy!” Rishe called out, but Joel blocked the simple spell in one swift move.
“Confundo.”
Light flashed at the edges of her vision. The spell had struck her, leaving Rishe confused and disoriented; unsure of what she was supposed to be doing. Rishe grit her teeth and swayed away from a spell. Her knees gave and she shoved at the ground, tumbling away from a flash of red. In her mouth, her tongue was deadweight. “Avis!” she managed to yell. Blue spots filled her vision. The squawking left her dizzy, but it gave Rishe enough time to raise a shaking hand and slap herself. Pain bloomed over her cheek and palm. Her ears rang.
“Incarcerous.” The sound of birds falling to the ground echoed around her, all forced to lay motionless on the ground. Rishe dodged the swarm, her vision sliding back in pieces. She raised her wand.
“Lu—”
“Petrificus Totalus.”
Every joint locked up, gone stiff as wood boards. Her stomach swam with vertigo as she fell, tipping over on her heel and toppling into a pile of birds. With that final spell, Rishe felt as her body was forced still against her will, as if there were invisible ropes holding her down. She at least had a marvelous view of the wall, and of Joel’s shoes approaching, stepping around all the birds.
“Liberare,” Joel yawned. With a sensation not unlike that of being submerged in hot water, the paralysis was released.
Rishe gasped for air. She was sure her air flow hadn’t been restricted, but the feeling of being so constrained had her on edge, making her breaths come out in short bursts. Her arms felt shaky and her legs were about as sturdy as dandelion stems. She ground the palm of her hand into her temple, willing back steady movement, until she felt as though she could stand without folding over.
“Did I do well?”
“You did fine. Better than most I’ve gone against, I guess.”
It was, if anything, at least half a compliment. Rishe tilted a perfect, toothy smile his way. “So I get to continue, Senior Joel?”
Joel gave her a tired stare, as if thinking about his answer, before dipping his head in a small nod. “Sure. We’ll just see how well you do next time.”
“I won’t disappoint!”
With renewed strength, Rishe leapt to her feet. The conjured birds, now that they had no more use, dispersed in a flare of blue sparks.
“Yeah, yeah.” Joel threw her a lax wave as he stumbled out of the room.
Rishe stared at him with starry eyes, biting back the large, genuine grin that threatened to reveal itself.
“Your spells are too long.”
Rishe startled. Turning, she came face to face with Arnold. She hadn’t even noticed him in the room—when had he even arrived?
“That, or you’re taking too much time to say them,” he stated flatly. “Speed is worth more than power in a duel most of the time: especially against that one.”
“Oh.” Rishe reflected on the battle, going over her every move, and like usual—though she would never admit it—Arnold was right. Her best spell had been summoning those birds. “I need the power, though. Senior Joel is just too strong otherwise.”
“You need to be faster, then.”
“Okay.”
But, what if she could just shorten the spell name instead? Mostly ignoring Arnold, Rishe raised her wand and said, “Agua.”
A weak spurt of water shot out of her wand and soaked into the floor. She didn’t need to look to know that Arnold was thoroughly unimpressed.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” Rishe said petulantly. Then muttered, “Apologies.”
She simply didn’t want to lose her normal power. If she could just make the shorter name act like a complete incantation, then wouldn’t that work just fine?
The thought stuck with her for the rest of the day.
Joel didn’t send word for their next duel for another two weeks which gave Rishe plenty of time to practice in private and during classes. Now it was time to really see if all her hard work would pay off.
Rishe bowed respectfully before Joel, with him mimicking the action half-heartedly before taking ten paces back on the mat.
Breathe.
Once she reached ten, Rishe turned and snapped out, “Ascend!”
Their spells ricocheted off of one another. Beneath the static crackle, Rishe could make out Joel’s voice. The temperature dropped and Rishe threw herself down, rolling away from a torrent of water.
Speed. I need to be faster!
“Impede!”
In her panicked shout, the spell had barely any effect on Joel. Nevertheless, she managed to call out another hasty incantation. “Verdi!” Green sparks strafed the area, clashing against the barriers. Rishe skidded away from the returning flare of red sparks, targeted towards her legs and wrists. No sooner had she regained her footing did Joel fire off another spell, black ropes snaking through the air.
Panic jolted her heart into triple-time. If Joel got even the barest of holds on her, then Rishe had no chance. “Ventus!” she shouted. A gust of wind buffeted away the first three ropes, but not the fourth, which latched around her ankles. “Diffindo.” She was quick about it, severing the rope in half, but it cost her precious time.
“Everte Statum!”
Thrown up, Rishe twisted and pointed her wand at herself. “Ventus Max!” Joel’s spell grazed the hem of her sleeve. She was sent hurtling right back down.
“Expelliarmus!” Rishe shouted on her way down, the word strangled.
Joel danced away without missing a beat. “Confundo,” he said, sounding almost bored.
“Avis!”
Half the birds spiraled into the floor. Rishe aimed through the mess of feathers, heartbeat ringing in her ears, coiled and tense.
“Incarcerous!” Rishe fired.
“Diffindo.”
The ropes severed before they could reach Joel, as did many of the birds.
She was running out of options. She needed something unexpected, something that Joel would never expect. Then it hit her. She was unsure how effective it would be against him, but it was worth the risk. “Titillando.”
Joel had already begun chanting by the time she snapped out her hex. One paralysis spell dropped her to her knees. The second whizzed by Rishe’s ear and a bird went down with a soft thump. Rishe’s hex had been mostly deflected, but she could see the strain of laughter showing in the tense line of his mouth.
Before Joel could muster up a spell on account for holding back laughter Rishe followed up her spell with, “Langlock,” hoping that Joel wouldn’t be fast enough to counter her tongue locking spell.
“Avis,” Joel uttered, the syllables brusque. Birds flooded the space once more, and though Rishe fired another tongue-locking spell his way, he still managed to get off a jinx that she was able to shield away. The birds swarmed her.
Bracing herself, Rishe plunged into the horde and grasped for her wand, dragging her useless leg. “Ventus Max!” Between the swirl of feathers and screeching animals, a third paralysis spell was sent her way, far too fast. She switched her wand to her other hand. “Glace!”
Rishe barely got out the spell before Joel countered it with two of his own. “Incendio. Lumos maxima.” The sheer intensity of the light left her briefly senseless. When Rishe managed to open her eyes again, her upper body was wrapped up in ropes, leaving her only one working limb.
“This match is over,” Joel decided, staring down at her prone form with curious eyes. “You lasted longer this time.”
Rishe was panting for breath, sweat dripping down her brow. Despite that, she couldn’t help but feel proud at her advancement in the last few weeks since she worked with Joel.
“Did you shorten the spell names?”
“Yes!”
“How does that work?”
“It’s like a different path,” Rishe said. Her throat stung. The area behind her eyes pulsed with pain. “If you jumped out the window, you would get down to the ground, like how you would if you took the stairs. Just force open a different path.” Her lower lip was split open in several places, she realized. Blood dripped down her chin.
The sound of the door opening filled the silence, the echo of footsteps pounded into her head. “Rishe!”
Oh, it’s Arnold.
Rishe wanted to turn her head to look at her friend, but her body was still held down by the paralysis curse.
Arnold sent Joel a sharp glare as he began casting counter-curses, removing the paralysis from her body and cutting the ropes. “You need to go to Madame Pomfrey,” Arnold demanded when he was done. He could remove the hexes just fine, but he knew little about healing magic.
“It’s not that bad!” Rishe rasped, aghast. The taste of iron smeared over her mouth.
“Is this from—”
“Senior Joel didn’t do anything.”
Arnold let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t doubt that. Just—infirmary. Up, Rishe.”
“Wait!” Rishe squeaked as Arnold pulled her to her feet. Turning to Joel, who was watching the two with a slight frown, quickly she asked, “Was I good enough to get our third lesson?”
“Rishe.” Arnold chided.
“Yeah, why not.” For a moment, as the door swung open, Rishe thought that he was about to keep talking: then the door closed with a decisive thunk, and she didn’t get to hear what it was he wanted to tell her.
“Hear that Arnold? Senior Joel thinks I’m good enough for another lesson!” Rishe cheered, leaning against him.
Arnold didn’t respond, though the crease in his brow told her that he was not pleased with this development. Nevertheless, he did not comment on it.
“It’ll be good for me,” Rishe defended. “If I don’t exceed mastery in this skill, then my parents will force me to drop the class!”
“You shouldn’t have to get hurt for that.”
It wasn’t as though she enjoyed being paralyzed or injured! Rishe resisted the urge to glare at her friend. “Well, it’s not severe,” Rishe justified.
Arnold let out a tired sigh, pushing open the door to the infirmary. “That’s not really the point, Rishe. Now go talk to Madame Pomfrey, I need to get to potions before I’m late.” And with those final words Arnold disappeared around the corner before Rishe could even respond. Empty-handed, she found herself adrift, staring after where Arnold had disappeared and unable to speak.
She had upset him, that was clear. It would be okay though, she told herself. Once I find a way to beat Senior Joel, Arnold will see why all of this was worth it and congratulate me on my achievement. It would all be worth it in the end. It had to be.