THE DUELING CLUB
Careful there, Miss Fawcett. . . . Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in
a second, Boot —
“I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” said
Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at
Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. “Let’s
have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how
about you —”
“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” said Snape, gliding over like a
large and malevolent bat. “Longbottom causes devastation with the
simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to
the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Neville’s round, pink face went
pinker. “How about Malfoy and Potter?” said Snape with a twisted
smile.
“Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy
into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them
room.
“Now, Harry,” said Lockhart. “When Draco points his wand at
you, you do this.”
He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wig-
gling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly
picked it up, saying, “Whoops — my wand is a little overex-
cited —”
Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered some-
thing in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at
Lockhart and said, “Professor, could you show me that blocking
thing again?”
“Scared?” muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn’t hear him.
“You wish,” said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.
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