Chapter 332. The Agreed Duel
According to the headcount, Gryffindor was docked forty points, and Slytherin thirty.
By the way, Malfoy also got detention from Snape.
On the way back to the castle, Harry found it a bit unbelievable.
"Snape actually docked Malfoy points," he said, thoughtful. "That's odd. Do you have any idea why?"
Hermione and Neville both shook their heads.
Ron, however, looked as if his soul had gone missing; he seemed completely hollowed out.
Seeing him like this, Harry felt a bit helpless.
"Don't take it so hard, Ron," Neville quavered, trying to comfort him. "Even though you lost, b-but Malfoy didn't exactly come out well either, and—"
"That's not what anyone calls comfort." Harry nudged Neville lightly with his elbow, cutting him off.
Neville hunched his shoulders and shut his mouth.
Before they knew it, they had reached the middle of the courtyard. A few untimely snowflakes drifted down, and the wind was picking up.
To Harry, the scene felt rather bleak.
Just then, a cluster of blue figures drifted past in front of them.
"A blizzard's coming, girls!" came a familiar voice from within. "Back to the castle, or to the carriage. I imagine you're all longing for a toasty fireplace… oh, I must be off—have a lovely day. See you tomorrow, Roskin."
Only then did Harry notice they were a group of Beauxbatons students, and the one speaking—moving along with them—was Adrian Wesson.
By now, Adrian had also noticed them.
After seeing the Beauxbatons students off, he came up to them and smiled. "What are you doing out here… Ron, why do you look so bedraggled? What have you been up to? You look as if you've just lost a duel to someone."
Adrian had expected a witty retort.
However…
None of the four answered. Ron lowered his head even further, so far his face couldn't be seen at all.
A few seconds later—
"I'm going," Ron said hoarsely, his voice rough. "Goodbye, Professor."
With that, he ran towards the castle alone.
Adrian raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "What happened?"
"You poked him right where it hurts, Professor," Hermione replied helplessly.
Harry stepped forward and told Adrian everything that had happened.
Adrian was silent for a moment.
He swore it had been a throwaway remark, but it had hit dead on.
Still… he's just a child; it's only natural to be fragile inside.
Adrian sighed softly. Teenagers were such trouble.
"I suppose I ought to go and console him," Harry said, worried. "Or give Malfoy a proper thrashing for him."
"As a professor, I can't recommend violence," Adrian murmured, giving him a wink. "All right—do as you please, just don't go overboard."
At that moment, Hermione suddenly spoke.
"We shouldn't take revenge on his behalf," she said evenly. "Ron has to defeat Malfoy himself. Unless he's lost all his self-respect and confidence."
Harry was a little surprised Hermione would say that now.
He frowned. "Honestly, that isn't a simple thing to do."
"I know," Hermione sighed. "Which is why we have to think of a way to help him."
"I thought you didn't want to deal with him lately," Harry said, surprised.
Hermione curled her lip. "I just can't stand how lazy he's been."
Harry raised his eyebrows. So that was why Hermione had been out of sorts lately?
Girls' thoughts were really hard to read.
Still, as long as they weren't quarrelling, it was fine.
Ron and Hermione were both dear friends of his.
"I think you're right, Hermione," Harry nodded. "First we need to find Ron some motivation…"
Watching from the side, Adrian felt relieved.
It seemed he no longer needed to worry about Ron's state of mind.
"Hate is the best motivation," he said with a smile.
He glanced up at the sky. "Ah, a blizzard. I don't like the sound of that. Time to head back, children."
Once back in the common room, Harry and Hermione immediately started looking for Ron.
Soon, it was lunchtime.
They still hadn't seen so much as a shadow of Ron.
At the Gryffindor table,
Harry sighed quietly. "Where do you think Ron's gone? I checked the boys' dormitory—he's not there. Not in the tower, either."
Hermione frowned. "I checked the library—though I can't imagine he's in the mood for reading—and the Owlery. No sign."
"He hasn't gone to find Malfoy on his own, has he?" Harry suddenly sat up straighter, worry in his voice.
That wouldn't be a good choice.
But given Ron's reckless streak, it was entirely possible.
Just as they were discussing Malfoy, the person himself appeared.
With Crabbe and Goyle in tow, Malfoy swaggered past the Gryffindor table, the silver-and-green scarf at his chest swaying with smug pride.
"Oi, Potter," he jeered. "Where's your sidekick? Don't tell me he's hiding in some corner having a good cry?"
Harry knew he meant Ron.
His grip tightened on his fork, but under the table Hermione pressed his wrist and shook her head slightly.
Then she stood up, perfectly composed.
"Malfoy," she said, her voice unnervingly calm, "since you're so fond of duelling, do you dare have another go with me?"
Malfoy blinked, then let out a contemptuous laugh. "You sure you want to humiliate yourself? Haven't you seen enough of Weasley's fate from last time? However… I don't duel with a Mudblood."
Hermione's expression didn't flicker. "What's the matter—don't even dare accept a challenge from a Mudblood?"
Harry kept silent beside her.
Malfoy shook his head. "I've no time to waste on a Mudblood. If you want payback, have that red-haired boy come to me. I'm always available."
He gave a cold little laugh. "But next time he won't be so lucky. I'll record the whole thing—what do you say to that, Potter?"
Harry had just opened his mouth to respond when an angry, all-too-familiar voice cut in from the side.
"Malfoy!"
Ron strode up, his flaming red hair blazing under the lights, and stopped in front of everyone.
"Since that's how you want it, we'll have another match," he said, his voice a steady drumbeat. "The day after the next Triwizard Tournament task concludes—before all the students as witnesses."
Harry had half a mind to point out that the professors would never allow such a match, but now was clearly not the time to butt in.
At Ron's words, Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "If you're that keen to make a fool of yourself again, I'll oblige. I accept."
Ron let out the faintest of breaths.
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