Duelling for life

Author's notes: I've been an avid reader of for some time now and I've decided to throw my hat into the ring as well. :) This is a longer story and it will develop slowly. There will be mature content and original characters. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I am not profitting from this and am simply playing around with the characters and established world of J.K. Rowling for fun. Don't sue me. It ain't worth it. ;P

Chapter 1

The campus of the Salem Wizarding University was uncommonly empty. Yes, it was between semesters, but normally students would stay over the holidays to study or to work on extra projects. Lionel Jameson took this in with sad eyes. His old alma mater had changed. In his day, the campus was alive at all times of the year. The decline of the institution had begun a decade after he'd gotten his degree. One of the major, distinguishing courses had been the duelling team. Regularly the team had won championships throughout the country. This had led to the university receiving attention and donations. After the coach had quit under suspicious circumstances rumoured to be the machinations of a new dean, the team's performance had slipped. The new coach not even approaching the level of the old one. The new dean, Henson, also managed to antagonise half the professors at Salem, leading to them all quitting almost at the same time. The new ones Henson hired didn't have the same expertise or standing. Within eight years, Salem University had fallen from grace in the eyes of most heavy-weight donors and as such, had been removed from the list of the top five universities in the country. This obvious failure to lead, had led to Henson being fired from his position by the board of directors. The new dean was why Lionel was here. In his eighteen years away from university he had made a name for himself in the field of Astronomy. Lionel didn't envy the new dean, Anthony McPherson, his job. The board expected him to once again bring Salem on the map. And that within a few years. For that to work, almost all professors had to be exchanged with competent ones, since Henson had mainly hired old friends of his, who barely fulfilled the requirements necessary for teaching. Amazingly McPherson had made tremendous progress. Only two or three professors from Henson's reign remained. Among them the duelling coach.

Today Lionel had been asked to assist McPherson in finding a replacement. Lionel wondered why, since he had no experience in duelling. He wouldn't know a good one from a bad one. With this in mind, he entered the dean's office. McPherson was seated behind his giant rosewood desk, which was barely visible under all the documents upon it. The dean was a slim, almost gaunt man, with brown hair, greying at the temples and modern glasses with steel rims. His robes were austerely black and conservative. Lionel preferred muggle clothes. They were easier to wear and easier to blend in when he left the wizarding districts.

"You asked for me, sir?" Lionel asked while taking a few steps into the office. McPherson looked up from his paperwork and indicated for Jameson to take a seat in one of the comfortable leather chairs in front of his desk.

"Yes, Professor Jameson. Please take a seat. You are surely wondering why I asked you to come." Lionel nodded.

"Yes, sir. That thought had crossed my mind." He admitted and arranged himself within the chair. McPherson leaned back and steeped his fingers.

"It is easily explained. Your family is well-known and you are a member of the Jupiter Gentlemen's club. I have heard from reliable sources that likely candidates for the post of duelling coach are also members there. Though I know that you have no interest in duelling yourself, I would like you to do some research and keep an open ear. Have a look around, if you will. Nothing untoward, I assure you. I would simply like to know if there is someone there, who would be interested in the position and has the necessary qualifications." Lionel nodded slowly, a plan already forming in his mind. He had a friend at the club, who he met regularly for a game of chess. This friend was also an avid duelling fan. The rankings and championship results were as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He was an ideal consultant, since Lionel had no idea if a duellist was good or simply had luck on his side.

"I believe I can help. Though I do not understand much about duelling myself, I have an acquaintance at the club, who will be happy to assist me. He has been trying to get me interested in duelling for years." McPherson and Lionel shared a smile at that. "But don't you think that Giles will attempt to counteract your replacing him?" This had both their smiles vanish. Giles had been Henson's boyhood friend and both had been in the same fraternity. Throughout school they had always stuck together. Ever since Henson had been fired, Giles had made it his mission to give McPherson as much grief as possible.

"Maybe, maybe not. However as things stand right now, I will have to run this risk. The duelling team was once the very best in the country. Now it's nothing more than an excuse for bullies to band together. The team hasn't won a single tournament of any importance in the last years. The board has made it one of its stipulations that the team be brought back to its former glory. This is why I need a replacement for Giles. The very best I can possibly get."

This discussion was what led him to a part of the Jupiter club he'd never visited before. Greg was overjoyed that their weekly meeting was to take place in the observation lounge of the duelling hall. A little uncomfortably Lionel sat at a cafe table in front of the big panorama windows. Below several duelling carpets held men duelling as a form of sport. There was also a duelling arena to the side for freestyle duelling. It was rarely used, since the members of the Jupiter club prided themselves on their traditional duelling. Lionel had come early to watch and get acclimatised. He'd also read up on duelling not to appear completely ignorant. As he listened in on the conversations around him, he felt progressively uncomfortable. Everyone around him seemed to be experts on duelling. They knew the moves the men below executed and the magic they worked. Lionel hadn't even heard of the hexes they discussed. Sinking a little lower in his chair, he turned his glass of bourbon with two fingers, hoping that Greg would turn up soon.

As if summoned by Lionel's thoughts, Greg bounced up to the table, taking a seat opposite Lionel.

"Hello Lionel. Man! I never thought I'd see the day you would finally show an interest in duelling. It's kind of weird actually. Since you like chess and all." With a wave of his hand Greg flagged down one of the waiters, who seemed to know him well, since he didn't come over to take an order, but brought a filled glass. "Thank you, Thomas." Lionel waited until the waiter had gone, before leaning closer to his friend.

"It's...not exactly that, Greg. Sorry. Dean McPherson is looking for a new duelling coach and he knew that the Jupiter club has a tradition of duelling. I'm however not an expert in duelling and wouldn't know a good one from a bad one. That's where you come in. You're an expert, Greg. You know everything there is to know about duelling. I need your help and expertise. Will you help me find a good duellist for the university?" Grinning Greg sat back, rubbing his hands.

"So this is like a spy mission? How exciting!" Lionel could only smile at his friend's enthusiasm.

"Not that James Bond, I fear. We sit here, watch the duellists below, have a bite to eat and you tell me, who is worth more than a look." Huffing Greg sat back, obviously a little disappointed.

"Fine. Be that way." He took a look out the window. "The ones down there aren't really worth looking at. The better ones will come later. Let's get that bite to eat you spoke of." And with that, he once more flagged the waiter.

For the next two hours they sat watching and talking. Duellists came and went and Greg did his best to point out the finer points to Lionel. It still didn't make much sense to Jameson, but he was once more impressed with his friend's knowledge. With time, Lionel had relaxed. It was obvious that no one would make fun of him not being privy to the intricacies of duelling. In fact, some others were receiving similar introductions from their respective companions. This relaxation fled Lionel immediately, when Greg sat up straight in his chair and practically pressed his face to the window.

"Wow! What the heck is he doing here?!" Greg almost whispered to himself. Lionel tried to spot what had excited his friend so. It was quite obvious, since there also was a commotion going on among the duellists below. A group of men had entered the hall and front and centre stood a tall man with a gaudy, golden cloak and haughty expression. The men around him were wearing cloaks similar to his.

"Who is that?" Lionel asked silently. Greg turned to him with wide eyes.

"That is just about the most successful duellist of the last two years. He's never lost a duel. That, my friend, is Gordon Jenson. Uncontested duelling world champion." Confused Lionel creased his brow.

"What's he doing here then?" Greg's face stretched into a smile that seemed almost manic.

"He's looking for a 'worthy opponent'. In my opinion, he's lost his touch with reality. But on the other hand, he's never been defeated, so I guess a little hubris is understandable." Tilting his head, Lionel studied Jenson. The longer he watched the man, the more he got a feeling that Jenson was bad news. A man so convinced of his own invincibility was dangerous. Especially if he was defeated sometime around.

"I bet he's here because of the Brit." Lionel sat back.

"The Brit? Who're you talking about?" Greg chuckled and turned back to his friend.

"Boy, you never look around much when you're here, do you? The Brit! You can't miss him. He practically oozes money, is always accompanied by a squib butler...All the guys owe him money! My God, Lionel. You had to have heard something. He's about six-one to three, elegant clothes, hair almost seeming white it's so blonde." Waving with his hands, Greg waited for Lionel to finally get it. At last, a light ignited in Lionel's eyes.

"Oh him! Yeah, I've seen him from time to time. Didn't really seem all that approachable." Greg shook his head and chuckled.

"All that stargazing has made you soft in the head. He's reserved, as most Brits. I've heard from Murray that he comes from old money, which increases his reticence to speak to others. And he's the best traditional duellist I've ever seen. I bet Jenson has heard about him somehow and has come to challenge him. Bad only for him, that the Brit never accepts challenges. And he's very picky about who he duels with. Some of the guys down there have been asking him for years. Almost every duellist worth his salt is itching to go a round or two with him. He's never lost. In fact, he's training with the former world champion almost every week and Holbrook has yet to get the drop on him. Two reasons for Jenson to show up. One, the champion who has a better track record than him and two, the great unknown duellist, who's never competed, but can easily defeat anyone on the carpet. It would only increase his ego tenfold." Lionel shook his head.

"Wow. I never thought there was this much going on here at the Jupiter." Greg chuckled.

"You have no idea, old boy. Let's get a little closer to the window. This is going to be good."

Jenson looked around with a practised sneer. It wasn't that the duelling hall wasn't up to scratch or anything. In fact it was much better equipped than most he'd seen over the years. The darkly gleaming wooden floors and the glittering, heavy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling spoke of the club's long tradition and the amount of money necessary in your account to become a member. This, among other things, was what had Jenson sneer. He'd grown up in a higher middle-class family with a decent income, but they'd never been rich. Not as rich, as Gordon wanted to be in any case. And he still wasn't. This was why he had started duelling. It was by far the easiest way to get rich and famous fast, without having to actually work for it. He'd soon realised that he had a talent for duelling and he'd used it to his advantage. Despite his titles and all the money he'd made, he still wanted more. He wanted to be known as the best of all time. The undisputed champion, whose record would never be broken. To realise this goal however, he had to defeat the former champion. Holbrook had quit duelling, before Jenson had been high enough in the ranks to challenge him. He'd fumed when the news of Holbrook's retirement from duelling had come. It meant that he would never be able to defeat Holbrook officially. That was his current mission. To make it absolutely certain to anyone that he, Gordon Jenson was the undeniable number one. His manager had told him not to make too much of it, but Gordon was a man on a mission. He was going to be a legend by the time he was thirty. Walking confidently, he approached one of the members of this 'club'.

"You. Where is Holbrook?" He demanded. The older man raised his eyebrows at the rude mode of address.

"Excuse me? Why exactly should I tell you anything?" He asked and dabbed his neck with a towel. Jenson hated men like the one across from him. Entitled, rich asses. They had what he wanted. Money and power.

"Because I am here to defeat the undefeated champion." He answered smugly. The older man chuckled and shook his head.

"You're too late for that, boy. Holbrook regularly gets his ass handed to him. Not that he minds. Comes back every week for more." This puzzled Jenson. He'd never heard about this. A man who defeated Holbrook on a regular basis? Why had he never heard about this? It should have been all over the news. For that matter, his staff should have known. With an angry glint in his eye, he turned to one of the men standing behind him. He swallowed, but otherwise didn't let anything on about his failure. It wouldn't do for anyone to notice dissension among them. They needed to portray a united front.

"Who is this man then, who defeats the former champion on a regular basis?" Gordon asked snarkily. The club member grunted and grinned.

"Don't waste your time, boy. He wouldn't fight you. He's quite picky about it. Most of us here are waiting for our opportunity to get beat, so get in line." This answer angered Gordon even more and his aides had to hold him back, before he challenged the wrong man. No use to waste his energy. His attention was quickly redirected to the duel hall entrance. His target had just arrived. James Holbrook was received with greetings from all sides. He seemed to be well-liked among the other members of the club. They didn't rush up to him, asking for autographs or anything, but seemed much more like casual acquaintances. He seemed like one of the guys and Holbrook seemed to like it. Gordon could only sneer at this. What was the point of being famous, if no one treated you accordingly? Striding confidently through the hall, Gordon placed himself squarely in Holbrook's path.

"Hello? Can I help you?" Holbrook asked confused. Grinning haughtily, Gordon flipped his cloak over his right shoulder.

"I am Gordon Jenson and I have come here to challenge you, James Holbrook." Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Holbrook put his arms akimbo.

"Listen...Gordon. I'm not interested. I stopped duelling for any kind of fame or money a long time ago. I am only duelling now to keep in shape and keep sharp. Sorry. Also, I am meeting a friend and I don't intend to waste any energy on anyone else. I may have some time later in the week. Ask me then." He clapped Gordon's shoulder and simply passed him by. As if he was some of the other people present and not the reigning world champion. Gob-smacked Jenson couldn't move for a minute. Shaking his head he turned angrily towards Holbrook. His anger only increased, when he heard some of the other men chuckling openly.

"Now wait just a minute!" Jenson exclaimed and followed after Holbrook, who had started to stretch. A fact which had Jenson and his men stop in his tracks. Was this some kind of joke or distraction tactic? Judging from the reaction of the other duellists within the room it didn't seem so. Some of the other duellists were stretching as well. What in blazes was that about? This distraction stopped Jenson long enough for Gordon's partner to arrive. Clothed in spotless duelling garb; a white, cross-stitched chest piece with golden monogram, black sleeves and high collar, along with black slacks and rubber-soled boots. Right behind him was a middle-aged man in a conservative pinstriped, black suit, carrying a bag, also monogrammed with his master's initials. Jenson watched this with envy in his eyes. Without any effort on the Brit's side, all other duellists made way for him. Jenson didn't know whether it was his forbidding mien or the almost royal stance, but he wanted that kind of influence himself. Before Jenson could initiate a conversation, Holbrook saw the Brit as well.

"Mr Malfoy. On time as always." With a smile, he extended his hand for a shake. The now named Malfoy shook the proffered hand and his manservant set the bag down and started to set up refreshments, a chair and folded towels onto the bench. The towels were also monogrammed beautifully in gold thread, complete with an elaborate family crest. All this had Jenson's envy only increase.

"Mr Holbrook. How do you do? I hope you did not have to wait long?" Smiling widely, Holbrook shook his head.

"I am doing fine, thank you and no. I just arrived myself. Will you be ready in twenty minutes?" Malfoy inclined his head.

"Very well. I had carpet two booked for us. Is this agreeable to you?" Holbrook smiled, while shaking his head. His partner's old world manners and charm had Holbrook always a little self-conscious. His manners weren't nearly as polished, but then, others had an easier time approaching him than Malfoy. In fact, he couldn't remember seeing Malfoy with anyone else. Sure, many approached him, asking favours or wanting to be seen with him. None just wanted to know him. Not like Holbrook. He was fascinated by the Brit and wanted to come to know the person behind the money and the influence. It was an almost constant uphill battle, but James could understand Malfoy's reticence. Nevertheless he thought that the trouble was worth it. His technique was sublime and his style was absolutely perfect. Something Holbrook was attempting to copy. He was training almost every day, even though his wife didn't like that all that much. He'd stopped duelling because he wanted to spend more time with her. Especially since their son was growing so fast and he'd missed them immensely while on the road. He now had a cushy job at his brother-in-law's book shop and was home at regular hours. It had improved his family life greatly and he was enjoying all the small moments with his son, he'd previously missed. Shaking his head a little, he looked over to his partner. Malfoy had done a split and was bent over one of his legs, his nose touching his knee. James was amazed at the man's flexibility. It had taken him weeks of training to just get a split done. Grinning he continued with his own exercises.

Soon the other members of the club gathered around the two of them. James didn't mind. He was used to an audience and Malfoy didn't even seem to see them. This was also something that James admired. Malfoy could be standing in the midst of a crowd and act as if he was completely alone and on his own. At some of the club functions he actually ignored most people walking up and talking to him. It was almost as if Malfoy didn't give a damn about what others thought of him. An attitude James had never been able to adopt. It would probably have been healthy in view of his very public career, but he'd always worried what others might think of him. It had almost bent him out of shape, constantly thinking of what others might perceive from his actions or his words. After meeting Malfoy, he'd tried to assume some of the same attitude, but James was too sensitive a man to carry through.

Out of the corner of his eye, James could already see bets being exchanged. They were not betting on who would win, since it was par for the course that James lost. No, they were betting on how many spells he got off, before Malfoy blew him off the carpet. He had one of the serving boys place bets for himself. There was no reason why he couldn't make a few bucks while getting his ass whooped.

"Are you going to duel sometime today?" Jenson's anger-tinged voice cut through the friendly, low-key conversation going on around them. Malfoy raised his upper body from touching his toes. The calm, superior glance he threw Jenson was crippling. It had all Jenson's lackeys take a step back, while Jenson could feel his legs turning shaky.

"And who might you be?" Malfoy asked in his distinguished British English. This comment had anger once more flaring in Jenson's chest, solidifying his stance.

"I happen to be the reigning duelling world champion." He stood tall, puffing out his chest. Malfoy took a long look at him from top to bottom.

"Truly?" He looked over to James. "It seems the standards have been slipping since you quit the circuit, Mr Holbrook." At this the other club members started chuckling. Even the servers had smirks on their faces. This angered Jenson even more. How dare they?! James sensing a confrontation coming decided to intercede.

"I do not know about that, Mr Malfoy. Shall we?" He indicated the platform with the duelling carpet, before getting up himself and getting into position. Malfoy brushed past Jenson as if he wasn't there and got into position himself. Facing off, both presented their wands and bowed. While James simply tilted his upper body, Malfoy executed an elegant, elaborate bow. Malfoy's manservant raised a muggle camera to tape the duel. The club members were used to this by now, but at first, this had been met with confusion. By now it was an adopted practice among most of the members of the duelling section of the club, to tape duels and to analyse them later. Jenson and his lackeys however didn't seem familiar with this and were snickering. This earned them head-shakes and derogatory comments. Before Jenson could react to this insult, Holbrook started his first attack. His attack was a flawless Kurov opening. Strong and quick. Three spells in quick succession were fired from Holbrook. The first was more of a flim-flam to distract, then a stunner, followed by a fireball. Jenson had to grudgingly admit that Holbrook indeed was good. Of course not as good as him, but good nonetheless. Grinning he turned to the arrogant British bastard, expecting him to be at the end of the carpet. He wasn't. In fact, he didn't seem to have moved an inch. His wand arm was relaxed at his side, as if he hadn't moved it at all. Jenson was gob-smacked Such an attack, executed this quick and without any mistakes, would even have put him a few steps back. Malfoy inclined his head a little, while Holbrook seemed to pale a little, gripping his wand tighter.

"An excellent opening, Mr Holbrook. I see that you have been practising. My turn." For the first time since he'd entered, a smile broke out on Malfoy's face. It wasn't a nice one though. It was an aggressive one. Holbrook steadied his stance and then his opponent seemed to explode into movement. One moment he was perfectly poised and still, the next he was flowing along the carpet. There was no other way to describe it. Jenson could only stare. He realised with a sinking feeling that he wouldn't be able to even scratch this man's talent. His ego however wouldn't let this realisation take. Holbrook was out of form. This had to be why Malfoy had such an easy time. After two more switches, the duel was over. Holbrook was sweating profusely and seemed completely exhausted. Malfoy on the other hand seemed not even out of breath. He sat in the folding chair his man-servant had set up for him, dabbing his neck with one of the pristine towels. Holbrook sat slumped down next to him on a bench. One of the servers had draped a towel over his shoulders, while another member of the club offered him sips from a cold drink. Servers were distributing the wins from the numerous bets. When Holbrook received his own share, Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Betting on yourself now? You may want to watch who sees it. Some may infer that you fix the duels so that you win." Both men chuckled.

"I don't think any of the others mind. Getting beat every week has to have one positive aspect." The other club members listening in laughingly agreed. The server next to Holbrook smiled excitedly.

"It was a good duel, Mr Holbrook. I believe Mr Malfoy had to work to win this time." Holbrook nodded at the young boy. Among the servers straws were drawn to choose, who got to work the floor when Holbrook and Malfoy were duelling. The tips were great and they got a cut from the bets, since they collected them, kept the scoreboard and handed out the wins, off which they received a portion for their services. The server attending them was rudely shoved to the side by Jenson, who felt he had been ignored enough.

"If the two of you are done congratulating yourselves, I want my duel now. A challenge has been made by me in front of witnesses. Get up Holbrook and let's get this over with." The server got back up and stood his ground in front of Jenson.

"I am sorry, sir. As you can see Mr Holbrook just finished a demanding duel and is in no condition to answer your challenge. Please enjoy the other comforts our club has to offer and I am sure that Mr Holbrook will get back to you concerning a new date and time for the duel." Jenson's anger exploded at how this kid dared to speak to him. He was the world champion! How dare this insolent little whelp address him in this manner?! With a swish of his wand and a quickly spat incantation, the server was flung across the room. Impacting with the opposite wall hard. If some still had been occupied with their own business, now all had their attention on Jenson. And not in a good way.

"Do I have your attention now? I will not wait. I have come all this way from Los Angeles and I will not leave before I haven't had my duel! Is that clear?!" He demanded in a loud voice. Holbrook's face had darkened considerably. Forgotten were the little aches all over his body and the fatigue. Allen was a good kid. Forget that everything he'd said was true. Jenson was going to pay for this.

"That was very unwise of you." The coldness of the voice had everyone stop. Holbrook turned to Malfoy. What he saw had him take a step back. Never in his life had he seen anyone with a look in his eye as his duelling partner. Malfoy looked forbidding on a normal day, but now, he looked positively frightening. Jenson seemed also to realise that he had unleashed something none of them possibly knew how to deal with. The room's temperature seemed to drop a few degrees and the light started to dim. The darkness seemed to coalesce around Malfoy, while the silver in his eyes grew in intensity.

"You wanted to duel, then let's duel. I doubt that anyone will interfere." He spoke in a low voice, but it carried into every corner. Lithely he jumped up onto the duelling platform he'd just used. Jenson looked unsure and threw the others around him glances.

"Get up here!" The thunderous demand was made even scarier by Malfoy's facial expression. It was hard and forbidding. There was no indication of mercy there. "You wanted a duel. I, Draco Lucius Abraxas Malfoy challenge you, Gordon Jenson. Fight me, or forfeit your title!" This challenge quick started Jenson's ego. No one spoke to him like that. No one! Clenching his jaw tight, he shed his cloak and jumped onto the platform himself.

"You will regret this, Malfoy. I am not champion for nothing. I'll end you!" Malfoy's mouth twisted into a cruel smirk.

"Is that so? Less talk and more action, cretin." Both men approached each other with long strides. They met in the middle and stood nose to nose, staring into each other's eyes. The room was charged with hostility and all were raptly watching the two duellists. After getting into position, Jenson immediately fired off several strong hexes, which would end this farce and he would finally be able to duel the man he'd come here to beat. When the smoke cleared however, Malfoy was standing in the same spot, waving his index finger.

"Sloppy. Truly sloppy." He smiled diabolically and his face seemed to change. "My turn." The grin he now wore was almost demonic in its glee and expectation of violence. His attack was just as flawless as before, but much more vicious. The spells and hexes he threw were coming too fast for Jenson to block them. Battered Jenson tumbled back step by step. With a last flourish, Malfoy practically shot him off the carpet. Not stopping, Malfoy jumped down off the carpet and practically stalked Jenson, who was now desperately trying to simply defend himself.

"What's the matter, Jenson? I thought you were the duelling champion." In helpless anger, Jenson tried to get back to his feet.

"I am!" He screamed hoarsely.

"Then get on your feet! Get up and fight like a man! Or can't you fight when you are faced with an equal? Do you need to push others around to make you feel like a man?! Is that it? Are you that pathetic?" Malfoy was progressively losing his cool. The members of the club and Jenson's lackeys were too stunned to act. Malfoy's manservant however wasn't. Calmly he stepped between Jenson and his master.

"Sir? I believe Mr Jenson has learned his lesson. Also, you have an appointment in twenty minutes. I would suggest that we take our leave." For a moment it seemed as if Malfoy would attack his own servant, but then he breathed deeply through his nose and the sinister atmosphere seemed to vanish.

"Of course, Jarvis. You are right." He threw a devastating glare at the cowering Jenson. "We are done here." He spat and turned away. Quickly Jenson's companions rushed up to their fallen employer, who was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily and completely shocked. He seemed not only shocked, but broken. All made way as Malfoy left the hall. Hesitating in the door, Malfoy looked down at his boots, as if self-conscious.

"Mr Holbrook. Will we be meeting next week?" He asked. His voice curiously low, as if he didn't expect James to want anything to do with him again. James took a step forward, sensing that something from his partner's troubled past had come to the fore. Everyone had feelings like these. Experiences of darkness, which could pull one down again.

"Of course Mr Malfoy. Same time, same place." He assured his partner in a soft voice. Nodding and with a sad smile, Malfoy threw Holbrook a thankful glance. The clap of the door was unnaturally loud in the normally busy duelling hall. One of the members turned to Jenson and his team.

"You just had to provoke him, didn't you? I just hope you got what you came for." Jenson shakily got to his feet and managed a few steps.

"That lunatic could have killed me! I will sue him and every single one of you, for not stopping him!" He spluttered in a shrill, panicky voice. One of the older members chuckled and slung a towel over his shoulder.

"Good luck with that, kid. I'm a judge for the high wizarding court and all I could see was a highly accomplished duellist teaching an insolent whelp a lesson. Anyone else agree?" All other members nodded, along with all the servers, who were tending to the one Jenson had pushed around while throwing the champion hostile glances. "Get lost, kid, before something worse happens to you."

Please comment and let me know what you think. :)