Library Encounter

Sitting in the dimly lit library, surrounded by towering bookshelves and the soft rustling of parchment, I found myself reflecting on the past few weeks. The ambushes had become something of a routine now. Slytherins, in their infinite wisdom, seemed to think this time would be different—that this time, they'd finally get the better of me.

Spoiler alert: they didn't.

If anything, these little encounters had only strengthened my confidence. The third and fourth years were no problem, even when they came in groups. Occasionally, a rare fifth-year would appear—like some particularly unfortunate Pokémon—and, well… let's just say he wasn't super effective.

The aftermath had been glorious.

Three of the four houses had taken to enjoying a morning laugh at Slytherin's expense, and at this point, even the dimmest of them had realised it was me who had been dealing out the justice.

I smirked to myself as I closed a thick tome on sixth-year charms, stretching my arms before standing up. My fingers brushed over the worn leather cover as I made my way toward the shelves to return it.

As I turned the corner—

BAM!

I walked straight into someone.

Blond hair. Green robes.

Slytherin.

Instinct kicked in immediately. My wand was in my hand before my mind had fully processed the situation, tip aimed directly at the person's chest.

"Never knew you'd be daring enough to attack me inside the library," I said coolly.

The girl blinked at me, and it was only then that I got a proper look at her face. Sharp blue eyes, refined features, and an unimpressed expression.

Daphne Greengrass.

A notorious ice queen, if the rumors were to be believed.

She raised an elegant eyebrow, glancing at my wand with mild annoyance before looking back at me.

"Relax, Dawson. I'm not here for you. If you haven't noticed, this is a library. Other people come here to read too."

I exhaled slowly, lowering my wand. "Ohhh… my bad, then."

Daphne huffed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, you really have your knickers in a twist."

"Who's to blame for that?" I shot back dryly.

"Not me," she said without hesitation. "Now step aside. I don't want to be associated with you."

I made a sweeping gesture with my arm, stepping aside with mock courtesy. "After you, your highness."

She didn't dignify me with a response, only flipping her hair over her shoulder as she walked past.

I let out a breath, shaking my head slightly. Well, that was unexpected.

Turning back toward my table, I reached into my robes and pulled out my map.

With a practiced tap of my wand, ink lines began to spread across the parchment, revealing the familiar, detailed layout of the castle.

And there—just outside the library doors—two fifth-years.

Lurking.

Waiting.

Clearly not here for an evening read.

I smirked.

"Well, look at that."

I packed up my things.

Looks like my night wasn't over just yet.

Stepping out of the library, I barely had time to take a breath before I heard a voice .

"Oi, Dawson."

I sighed, already knowing what was coming. I spotted the two fifth-years I'd seen lurking on my map earlier.

Both of them had the standard I'm-a-pureblood-and-you-should-be-scared look plastered on their faces. One had slicked-back black hair and a hooked nose, while the other was broader, built more like a Beater than a duelist.

"Let me guess," I said, slipping my hands into my pockets. "You lot want to redeem Slytherin pride ?"

The taller one sneered. "You think you're untouchable, don't you, Dawson?"

The other scoffed. "You've been embarrassing Slytherins left and right. It's about time someone puts you in your place."

I gave a slow nod. "Right, right. And the two of you think you're up for the job?"

Neither of them responded—just raised their wands at the same time.

Typical.

They were about to fight me like traditional wizards.

Wands out, slow movements, trading spells like it was some formal duel.

Problem was—I didn't fight like a traditional wizard.

The instant I saw their wands rise, I moved.

Not to them—around them.

They fired. "Expelliarmus!" "Stupefy!"

Both spells whizzed past where I'd been a moment ago, but I was already shifting, my footwork fluid, calculated. They weren't aiming where I was going—just where I was.

That was the problem with most wizards. No proper combat training.

They relied on spells hitting their target, not on making sure their target couldn't dodge.

I flicked my wand.

"Confringo!"

A small explosion erupted at their feet, making them stumble. The Beater-looking one lost his balance, and I capitalized on it.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

His body locked up mid-motion, and he toppled to the ground like a felled tree.

One down.

The other snarled and fired a blasting hex.

I leaned out of the way—just barely—before sending a countercurse that knocked his wand from his hand.

A moment later, I closed the distance and jabbed my wand forward.

"Stupefy."

The red bolt struck him in the chest. He hit the floor hard.

I exhaled. This was easy.

Then—

"Sorry, boys. Took me a bit."

A new voice.

I turned just in time to see a sixth-year Slytherin stepping into the hallway, rolling his shoulders like he'd just finished taking a very satisfying piss.

Then he saw me.

And I saw him.

A brief pause.

"Oh, shit."

He dove to the side just as my stunning spell shot past where his head had been.

Mid-roll, he whipped out his wand and fired back.

"Depulso!"

I barely had time to react. The force of the spell hit my shoulder, sending me stumbling backward. He was fast. Stronger than the other two.

He didn't hesitate.

"Bombarda!"

The floor exploded where I'd been standing. I rolled to the side, feeling the heat against my skin.

Alright. This one was actually a challenge.

He was moving—not just standing there trading spells like an idiot. He wasn't waiting for me to attack. He was pressuring me, keeping me on the defensive.

Not bad.

But I wasn't just dodging.

I was placing my traps.

Subtle wand flicks between dodges. A transfigured tile. A carefully directed blast.

He kept pressing forward—firing hex after hex, matching my speed, my intensity.

Then—

His foot hit the wrong tile.

And it shifted.

For half a second, his balance was off.

That was all I needed.

"Flipendo!"

A forceful knockback jinx sent him sprawling. His wand clattered across the floor.

He tried to scramble for it, but—

"Expelliarmus."

His wand flew into my hand.

I twirled it once before tucking it into my pocket.

Looking down at him, I smirked. "Not bad. You're better than the rest of them."

He groaned, glaring up at me. "Piss off, Dawson."

I chuckled. "Night, mate."

Then I turned and walked away, leaving them all lying there in ladies underwear .