Harry Potter's revenge.

Daphne turned to see Malfoy start in his chair.

Hermione nodded, rose in her chair and descended to the wide open area at the front of the classroom, joined a moment later by Heir Malfoy.

In front of her, Harry had his wand in hand, casually pointing forwards.

"This will be a standard duel with standard rules." Quirrellmort looked them both over. "I trust you both know them?"

Hermione and Malfoy both nodded.

"Then begin on my three. One. Two. Three."

A flurry of spells erupted from both pre-teen's wands and ten seconds later it was all over.

Hermione stood over Malfoy's stunned form, picked up his wand, and cast a series of spells on him in quick succession. A series of coloured numbers rose from the downed boy. She nodded and turned back. Quirrellmort raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating. It would seem your lord has trained you well, Miss Granger. I must admit, I did not think it possible…"

Hermione nodded and rapidly retreated.

Tension drained from Daphne's body as Hermione climbed back up the inclined steps to their bench.

"Next will be Miss Greengrass"—She spun her head forward—"and Mister Potter."

She stood.

"Not you, Boy-Who-Lived." Quirrellmort waved John to sit back down. "I mean the other Potter."

A minute later, Daphne found herself facing off against Harry at the front of the classroom. She found it hard not to shake standing so close to that thing.

Focus! She shook herself. Harry looked into her eyes and she could feel the assurance in them. She calmed and thought about what to do next. Should she go full out? Harry surely wouldn't, but then, Harry would easily flatten her if he wanted. She gripped her wand tighter. Best to give it her all and let Harry determine what he wanted to happen.

"On three. One. Two. Three."

She lunged to the side, put up a shield, got two spells into her chain, saw red… and knew no more.

…

The world faded back into view. "…is how it's done."

A hand appeared in her view. It was Harry's. She gripped it.

"And notice the quick adaptation to the new shield position."

She allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, felt the sore where she'd landed on her bum, and gave Harry the warmest smile she dared, given the audience.

"That is why Mister Potter here is currently leading this class."

She looked around. Everyone in the packed lecture theatre stared at Her and Harry with interest.

Quirrellmort paused in his monologue to wave the two of them back up the stairs. "Please now turn to page 210."

The rustle of pages filled her ears as she climbed the last few steps. She shot a surreptitious tempus under the desk. Still fifty minutes to go until the start of the Halloween feast. She sighed. Hopefully she could get some food in before whatever was going to happen, inevitably happened.

Far off in the distance, the faint rumble of the Halloween feast arrived in the ears of John Potter, lurking in a shadowy corridor alcove, waiting for telltale thump thump of distant troll feet and the unmistakable stench that announced them.

His training with Flitwick was going well and he was sure he could now take the beast on. Whatever Quirrell said, he knew who was really top of defence against the dark arts. Figures a dark wizard favouritism to his dark twin.

He shifted on his feet.

would

show

Having said that, no one could deny that Harry could duel. And that was worrying on many levels. Harry shouldn't be that good. Either someone was secretly training him… or… or… he shook his head. Harry couldn't actually have come back in time too… could he? Even if he had, he should be a total weakling. Future Harry would be an Azkaban wreck with two years of Hogwarts education and two years of will sucking hell.

This Harry wasn't that. And how would the little slime have done it? Maybe, because Harry was his twin…

*klap* *klap* He gripped his wand tighter. Something was coming. It was faint, but getting louder.

*Klap* *Klap* *Klap* *Klep*

He relaxed slightly. Footsteps — far too light to be a troll, or even an adult human. A figure darted around the corner.

"Oh!"

It was a Ravenclaw girl. "Hi." He waved. Sophie Roper, a muggleborn.

"Um…" The girl drew a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't suppose you could tell me which way the bathroom is could you?"

He blinked. "Yeah sure, it's just up that way, turn right, and you should see the sign." The girl beamed. "Thanks mister hero!" and off she went.

John watched her turn the corner and stared after her. Something about what just happened didn't feel right. He looked at the wand in his hand. Something about a …bathroom?

His eyes widened. Oh shit!

"Imperio."

And every concern was swept away.

Harry crouched by the corner of the third floor corridor, invisible under the Potter's deathly hallow. A half dozen spells hid his other tells. In the distant he could hear the faint murmur of several hundred voices, faint through several floors of solid stone. If events happened like they did last time, Quirrellmort would soon show up to take a swing at the stone. He wanted to see that. Whatever you could say about Voldemort, the man was a planner. Before he struck a target he did all the recon he could, mapped out a line of attack, then ruthlessly executed it. How many times had he been forced to watch ministries and castles fall before the Dark Lord's strikes?

Harry shifted on his feet, feeling the hard stone floor through his cheap but neat muggle shoes.

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