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Dueling Master, Master Dueler

Filius was sitting in his office when a knock sounded on the door, a knock that future generations would say shook the very foundations of the wizarding world, a knock that future generations would owe their existence to.

"Come!" the diminutive Professor called out.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Harry said as he walked into the office.

"Have a seat," Filius ordered. He waited till the young man was in his chair before continuing the conversation. "What is it, Mr. Potter?"

"I heard you used to be a dueling champion," Harry said, shooting an intense stare across the desk at his Charms Professor.

"And?" Filius prompted, having an idea of how the conversation was going to go.

"I need to learn enough to destroy Voldemort," Harry said.

"Do you now?" The man stroked his chin. "Are you willing to do whomever it takes?"

"Anything," Harry agreed.

"Very well." The man gave the boy a once over. "I think the first thing we'll work on is your stamina, you need to be able to go all night if that's what it takes."

The little man was a harsh and unforgiving taskmaster. Harry was forced to undergo dozens of odd exercises designed to build both his stamina and to help with the next stage of Flitwick's training routine.

Exercises which ranged from the difficult:

"Five thousand sit ups, Mr. Potter!" Flitwick demanded.

To the dangerous:

"You want me to swim across the lake with you on my back?" Harry asked.

"Yes, and you're only permitted to breath twice," the half goblin agreed. "We need to build up that lung capacity, you need to be able to hold your breath for long periods of time."

To bizarre:

"You want to suspend me from the north tower from a clamp attached to my tongue overnight?"

"To elongate it and build up its strength," Flitwick explained. "You can stop after you're able to lick your eyebrows and do fifty chin ups with it."

"Is that so I'm able to yell out incantations no matter what?" Harry asked, trying to make sense of things.

"Among other reasons."

Until finally, towards the end of the first year, he was ready to move to the next stage of his training. To tell the truth, he was a bit confused when he found out what that consisted of.

"Find some dirt on the managing editor of the Prophet?" Harry asked, mystified by the project.

"Secrets he'd give anything to keep from becoming known," Filius agreed.

"Ah, I get it. Knowledge is power and I need to learn to gather knowledge so that I'll know about my opponents before I face them," Harry said in understanding.

"Something like that," Filius agreed.

It hadn't been easy to fulfill his Dueling Master's latest assignment. The boy had ended up having to spend days following the bastard around before he was able to catch him in a compromising position with a white duck and a black piglet.

The Professor was in the middle of his evening meal of a bowl of rice and two pickles when Harry returned.

"I did it, sir," Harry announced proudly. "I'd show you the pictures, but I don't want to put you off your meal."

"Wouldn't be any great loss," Flitwick stated. "It is much less appetizing than it looks." He was pleased he'd gotten it in trade rather than paying for it.

"What's next, sir?"

"Do you know how one masters dueling, Mr. Potter?" Filius asked.

"How, Professor?"

"The same way one masters any other skill," Filius replied. "Practice. We need you to provoke as many life threatening duels as possible, I've found that the threat of death focuses the mind wonderfully."

"But how are we going to do that, Professor?"

"We'll start you off easy, I think." Filius smiled. "Harry, it's time you learned my greatest secret, something I used to rise to the height of the dueling world."


Things were quiet in the Great Hall the next morning until the morning papers arrived. Then all hell broke loose.

"YOU FUCKED MY MUM, POTTER!" Draco squealed, enraged beyond belief at the photos Harry had blackmailed the editor into putting on the front page of the Prophet.

"Draco, you have to understand," Harry replied. "I grew up in the muggle world, I wanted to do something to make myself feel closer to the rest of wizarding kind, to do something every other wizard in Great Briton has done at least once."

"YOU FUCKED MY MUM!" Draco screamed.

"Like I said," Harry agreed. "Something every other wizard in Great Briton has done at least once."


"I'll meet you outside," Harry said calmly.

AN: Flitwick's method, find someone that'll be a good match that you think you can beat. Sleep with their wife/sister/mother/daughter let them find out, fight them in a duel.

Beta by dogbertcarroll

Disclaimer corrected by edmondb67

Typo corrected by kaosstormreaver