His furious gaze clearly promised murder no matter what Aran said.
"I-- I--"
"Answer me, you knave!" roared Snape. "Answer me or I swear by Merlin's beard I'll silence you now and forever!"
"Of course I wasn't the source!" said Aran in a shaking voice. "I wouldn't do that to Hogwarts. Albus, tell him I wouldn't do that!"
The instant Aran denied Snape's accusation, Harry could feel magic tingling in the air. A rush of icy wind flew through one of the high windows in the Great Hall. Instantly, the temperature in the large room dropped several degrees. As visible as a dense fog, the gust of wind swooped down and looped itself several times around Aran and Snape both, binding them together in a sort of hazy cocoon.
"No," gasped Aran, his mouth dropping open in unmistakable horror. "No."
"Yes," said Dumbledore quietly as the icy wind stopped moving. "The elements themselves have spoken." A crackling sound accompanied his words. Harry saw icicles beginning to form on the strands of his father's hair and on Aran's fringe.
"What the bloody hell is going on?" Harry asked, his voice pitched to a low whisper.
It was Ron who answered. Harry hadn't even realised his friend had followed him to the front. "It's a duel, it is!" he said, bobbing his head up and down. "I don't think there's been one in ages. Harry, your father's going to wipe the floor with that git."
Harry frowned. There were duels all the time at Hogwarts, but they didn't usually come accompanied by freezing winds. Clearly his confusion was written all over his face, since Draco took it upon himself to explain.
"It's a formal duel, Potter," the other boy drawled. "This isn't a game, or sport, or practice. This is the real thing. See that fog? It means that Aran has accepted. Now, he has to fight Severus, like it or not. Because if he won't . . ." Draco's grin was positively evil in delight. "Severus is allowed to kill him outright, and not even the Ministry could do a thing about it. Ancient magic."
Harry's mouth dropped open just as Aran's had the moment before. "Why on earth would Aran accept a challenge like that?"
"Challenge spell accepted for him," said Ron in a voice that said Draco wasn't the only one who understood pureblood customs. "'Cause he lied, see? When a wizard invokes a duelling challenge against you, he has to lay down specific charges. You can admit your guilt and avoid a duel, if you like, but if you deny a charge that's actually true, the spell will make you go through with the duel. That way, the challenging wizard gets satisfaction, one way or another."
"But why would he be stupid enough to lie, then?"
"Because he's Aran?"
"And because he doesn't know any more about ancient wizarding law than he does about Defence," added Draco. "He's probably just as confused as Harry. No offence, Harry."
By then, the Headmaster had made his way over to the wizards bound by the challenge spell. Looking at the icy strand joining them, he nodded brusquely. When he spoke, his voice rang out with authority. "A challenge has been issued and accepted."
"I didn't accept!" squeaked Aran, beginning to shake all over. Small shards of ice rained down on the floor as they broke free from his hair.
Dumbledore ignored him completely. "A challenge has been issued and accepted," he said again. "The spell is cast and cannot be recalled." Lifting his wand, he cut through the foggy strand with a sharp chopping motion. Instantly, the noise of a gong reverberated through the hall.
The challenge spell fell to Snape and Aran's feet, the icicles vanishing clean away.
"Before this time tomorrow, the combatants must face one another in a wizards' duel," pronounced the headmaster. "All those present are called upon to serve as solemn witness!"
His voice changed then, to one far less formal as he glanced from side to side. "Might I suggest the Quidditch pitch? Things are bound to get messy and the house-elves really do already have tasks enough."
Harry almost burst out laughing.
"But, but, this is barbaric!" Aran stammered. "Headmaster, you can't let this happen!"
Dumbledore shook his head and raised his hands as if in defeat. "As you must surely have realised by now, Professor Aran, the matter is completely beyond my control. Powerful magic is at play, and it must be satisfied."
Aran's looked like he might pass out, by then. "But it'll be murder!"
"Oh, surely not," said the headmaster, his kindly blue eyes twinkling. "I have great faith in my Potions Master." Dumbledore's voice grew deadly serious, then. "And contrary to your allegations, he is not by any means a dark wizard."
"Indeed not," drawled Snape. "Though that should hardly ease your mind, Aaron. After all, one needn't be a dark wizard to follow through on the ancient form of the duel."
"To the death," whispered Draco. Harry shot his brother an irritated glance. He could have figured that one out, himself.
Aran visibly gulped.
The Headmaster spoke up one more time. "All sections of Defence Against the Dark Arts will be dismissed for today so that the professors might have time to prepare. The duel will commence tomorrow morning before breakfast. Please, everyone, continue your meal."
Aran definitely wasn't going to continue his. In fact, he looked rather green.
Snape turned in a swirl of robes, his dark gaze studying the crowd below the high dais on which stood the head table. He was looking for his sons, Harry felt sure.
But something stopped him from coming down to them straight away.
"Oh, Aaron," said Snape in a sneering tone as he whirled back to face the other teacher. "One more thing."
As soon as the Defence professor looked up at him, Snape punched him squarely in the face.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Ninety-Six: A Fitting End
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight and Mercredi
Chapter 96: A Fitting End
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=96
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
and Mercredi
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Chapter Ninety-Six:
A Fitting End
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After Snape swept out of the Great Hall in a majestic swirl of billowing robes, Harry and Draco were left gaping at one another.
"So much for revenge being bad for you," the Slytherin boy finally whispered in an awed voice.
Harry flicked a glance to where Aran lay unconscious. "Yeah, but just think of what Dad could have done."
"Think of what he will do," said Ron, rubbing his hands together.
Draco huffed, ever so slightly. "Well if he does what he just threatened, I'm never listening to his lectures on vengeance again, am I?"
Personally, Harry thought that factor was probably what would stay Snape's hand. Then again, the man had done some pretty awful things in his life, hadn't he? He felt bad about them, though. Harry still remembered his father's anguished voice from months ago.
I can't save them, Harry . . .
So how likely was it that he'd kill Aran in cold blood, and in front of a school full of children, no less, including his own sons? Harry nodded to himself. Probably that theory explained the punch they'd just witnessed. Snape had a temper, after all. He had to do something about that horrible newspaper article.