At least Alastor isn’t given to the dramatic, Severus decided as he mounted the platform. The entire pre-duel speech had consisted of, “Professor Snape and I are going to duel now; keep your eyes and ears open and maybe you’ll learn something. And keep back from the barrier if you know what’s good for you.”

Severus wasn’t certain if Alastor had put more spells on the barrier besides the standard shield-and-deflect or not, and upon reflection decided that there was no reason to ask. He wouldn’t have put anything damaging on it—at least not permanently damaging; if one of the brats ended up in the infirmary for a day or two he suspected that it would be considered earned—and at this point Severus had other things to think about. At a slight nod he mounted the platform. Though not with each other they both had done this before, so after saluting and pacing out the appropriate distance their wands came up in unison.

No theatrical stances here, Severus had already decided…they might look impressive in a duel, but no wizard in his right mind would even think about using them in a real fight. Stand sideways to minimize target area, feet shoulder-width apart for balance, dominant arm towards your opponent. He had a spare wand held in his clamp tucked inside the other sleeve—not a particularly good wand, unfortunately, but not one that anyone else knew about either since he’d ordered it from a shop in Knockturn Alley secretly years ago. It was a bad match for him, but if Alastor managed to disarm him it might buy him at least a few minutes to get his proper wand back. Or possibly end the duel if the other wizard wasn’t careful about a ‘disarmed’ opponent, but Severus wasn’t going to waste his money betting on that scenario. The fact that he no longer had a right eye was irritating, but it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t have turned his head anyway, and in the moments before the duel began he studied the older wizard. Alastor didn’t use the side-stance, but since he wouldn’t likely present any less of a target sideways than he did face on it didn’t make a great deal of difference. Most of his weight seemed to be on his good leg, which might be something that Severus could use. Although it could easily be a ploy, as well, if he expects me to concentrate on that side.

Severus checked his grip on his wand. He’d thought about doing an early cast—it was a tried-and-true Slytherin trick, after all—but Alastor would be expecting it and in a duel very nearly the last thing that you wanted to do was something that your opponent would expect.

“Expelliarmus!”

Well, that’s insulting. Severus sent out a Deripio, a whip-charm intended to snatch a wand from a person’s hand, at the same instant, and then switched his attention to deflecting the Expelliarmus. It wasn’t a spell that was any real threat to a wizard ready for it—provided that there was only one person casting it at the time—but there had been enough force behind it that he suspected that he’d have ended up flat on his back if he’d tried to simply block. With a glare he followed up the Deripio with a two-pronged zapper. It wasn’t particularly dangerous, even if you didn’t block it—rather painful, but not dangerous—but it was distracting and a good way to put an opponent off balance. He’d done some basic planning before the duel, nothing definite since you had to adapt to the wizard you were facing, but enough to give him a basic framework. The zapper was supposed to be followed up with a similar-looking hives-hex…again, not particularly damaging, but bloody annoying and it tended to keep a wizard’s full attention until it was cancelled which giving him time to cast something heavier. Although maybe I’d be better off using something with more—

A shield he’d never seen before absorbed the zapper, and he had to rush to raise his own shield before a whirlwind struck. He felt his hair move as some of it slipped around the edges and gritted his teeth. This is not the time to get distracted! He sent out two muted Sectumsempras at Alastor’s arms in quick succession, but both were blocked, and something bright and hideously flashy shot towards him in return. Generally the more dangerous spells weren’t the flashiest and he raised a standard square-block to meet them. It did the trick, but there were still flashes of light in front of his eyes. “Langlock!” Granted forcing wordless magic wasn’t anywhere near as limiting as forcing wandless, but at least it might slow Alastor down.

He blinked hard as Alastor shot off a choking curse in return and then had to leap out of the way as it slid partially around his block. He’d thought he’d gotten it up cleanly, but that bloody flashing spell from a moment ago was graying his—Merlin! The flashing was a distraction; the bastard hit me with a Conjunctivitis curse! Wordlessly, too, damn him. Maybe the Langlock wouldn’t do as much as he’d hoped. He needed a moment to cancel the spell, but his vision was nearly completely blocked now….

“Watch it, Professor!”

Severus made a mental note to explain the concept of discretion to the young Mr. Potter at some point in the near future and perhaps mention how when one was being discrete he didn’t cheer for a professor he was supposed to hate. For the time being, however…he flared his shield just enough to feign a firewall and absorb the incoming Relashio and then dropped it and sent out the heaviest Deprimo he could manage in Alastor’s general direction. With that much force coming down from above it should at least make him stumble even if it misses. Such a nice equal-opportunity weapon. From the sound of splintering wood and the snarled oath—apparently Alastor had managed to unstick his tongue—that followed, he’d come close enough with his targeting. A flick of his wand at himself relieved the coating over his eye, and then he brought up the strongest block he had. That was not going to have gone over well.

Even with the block up, he was knocked backwards by the power of the hammer-hand curse that struck in return and only quick footwork kept him more-or-less upright and on the platform. And then he caught sight of the other end of the platform and winced. Perhaps I put a bit much force behind it. Either he’d missed or Alastor had deflected the blow—or some combination of the two—but he’d actually managed to break off the far end of the dueling platform. Someone’s not going to be pleased about that.

Behind the hammer-hand came a pinwheeling fire charm he’d only seen in use once before, back during the first war when he and several other Deatheaters had come upon a group of Aurors they hadn’t expected. Goyle hadn’t had the sense to duck and had been badly burned.

Severus batted the wheel aside, making sure that it dissolved against the spell barrier rather than being deflected back towards him. “Accio wooden leg!” It didn’t move—no real surprise there; what kind of idiot wouldn’t use a sticking spell?—and he aimed a hammer-hand of his own at the platform top. Just because he couldn’t take the leg didn’t mean that he couldn’t knock the other wizard off balance. Besides, it’s not like I can do much more damage to the platform at this point.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

“Arachnia Oppugno!” That one worked better if your opponent was actually afraid of spiders, which it didn’t appear that Alastor was, but even so very few wizards cared to have hordes of arachnids swarming them and it took time to banish—or stamp—them all. Severus tried another Deripio while Alastor was distracted but he saw it coming and twisted enough to take the blow against his shoulder rather than letting it hook his wand.

“Obscuro!”

Because the Conjunctivitis curse wasn’t enough…could you bloody well leave my eye alone?! “Concussio!” He was ready for the trembling platform while the other wizard wasn’t, but unfortunately Alastor recovered more quickly than he expected and Severus winced as a cutting curse—low-power—sliced into what was left of his left arm. “Tarantangulla!”

The dancing jinx got through—probably because it was so unexpected—although Alastor cancelled it almost immediately and deflected the hex that had been sent on its heels. And then Severus ran through half-a-dozen blocks before he found one that could handle the…well, he’d seen in before, but he didn’t know the incantation. Some kind of restraint spell involving being encased in an amorphous blob that he had no desire to experience firsthand. Incarcerous followed almost immediately, before he had time to retaliate, and he dodged aside rather than waste time cutting the ropes up. Three Flagrante curses shot from his wand in quick succession, aimed at three different locations. Two were deflected although from a muttered curse the last had struck, and then a jet of water hit him in the chest and knocked him backwards. He slipped a bit in the puddle that formed on the dueling platform but stayed on his feet, and in return he shot a gouging spell at Alastor’s false leg.

“Avis Oppugno!”

Alecto! The flock of birds was coming right at his face, and he summoned a Fiendfyre to take them without a second thought. He threw a Sectumsempra with as much force behind it as he could manage in the direction the curse had come from in the hopes of disabling Carrow. He had to get out of here—there were too many Deatheaters to fight and with that damn spell barrier in the way there was no way he could apparate. His legs felt solid enough…maybe if he could cut his way to the door he could run away. He discarded the idea as quickly as it had come; he wouldn’t make it through the doorway. And if I have to die, I’d rather die fighting.

Something struck him in the chest, but he barely felt it, twisting to see if he could locate the Dark Lord. If nothing else, he could at least damage the creature. Or kill him and save Harry the trouble. There was shouting in the background and he dimly noted that the fiendfyre was still circling, but there were plenty of Deatheaters to hold its attention. Besides, the possibility of a few burns was the least of his worries right now. Another spell came at him and he deflected it and returned Dolohov’s curse. Be bloody difficult for whoever he was facing to keep casting at him with that kind of internal injuries, although Merlin knew there were plenty of others to take his place. At least Alecto must be down; I haven’t heard her again.

His wand arm burned suddenly, and he gritted his teeth. They’d already gotten one wand away from him this evening, and if he let them get this one there was no way he’d be able to Accio another.

“Incarcerous!”

The ropes snagged his right leg but didn’t manage to trip him…he couldn’t think why anyone would be trying to take him alive at this point, but it probably mean that the Dark Lord wasn’t done with him. He’d be better off if he forced them to kill. Not that I want to die, but better quickly while fighting than slowly by torture. “Conglacior!”

“Professor!”

Students. The Dark Lord was recruiting students, initiating them today. And that one was off to his side—out of his field of vision—so he wasn’t sure where to aim. Not that it really mattered; this bastard in front of him wouldn’t go down, wouldn’t stop firing curses, and he couldn’t afford to let himself take the time for even a blind shot. I have to get rid of him. “A—”

“What is going on here?!”

The shriek brought him up sharply, and then his arms and chest were encased in some kind of jelly-like substance and he couldn’t move his arm anymore. He could still twist at the waist to aim, but….

“This was supposed to be a duel, not a common brawl!”

Confusion distracted him from trying to figure out how to continue to fight partially disabled as he was. He knew that voice—knew that tone, too. He’d heard it often enough as a student, and more than once or twice since as well. Minerva? Was she captured? How? When? But…. He blinked, suddenly aware that he wasn’t in any dark, dingy room; he was in the Great Hall. At Hogwarts. And there were no adults in masks surrounding him, there were only students in school robes off to one side and an ex-Auror looking more than slightly worse for wear in front of him. His breath was coming in shaky pants he realized abruptly, and he focused on calming it enough to let him think clearly.

“Students, I believe the excitement is over for the afternoon,” Minerva was continuing in a much calmer voice as she flicked her wand in a complicated pattern to banish the barrier and stepped up onto the platform to address the crowd. “I suggest that you all return to your rooms and make certain that you’re ready for the upcoming holidays. Those of you that are leaving, please remember that if you forget something you won’t be able to retrieve it until you return so make certain that you have everything.”

Severus caught a flash of messy black hair and green eyes as the students began to disperse, but Harry was dragged away by the Weasley boy before he did more than make eye contact. Draco lingered longer in the back of the hall, but eventually Minerva’s glare drove the last of the students out.

“Now what in Merlin’s name is going on?” she demanded, head swiveling back and forth since there was no way to glare at them both at once from her current position. “And you can release him now.”

“Not sure I should just yet,” Alastor disagreed.

“Excuse me?”

It wasn’t overly wise to disobey her when she was in this particular mood, Severus knew, but apparently Alastor wasn’t aware of that fact. “I’m…fine.”

“There’s a load of rubbish.”

“Neither of you look ‘fine,’” Minerva added on the heels of Alastor’s muttered comment. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the infirmary.”

It wasn’t precisely a suggestion—or, for that matter, a conversation—although the blob pinning Severus’ arms did slide away after a moment. His breathing was back under control now, at least, although…. Well, the trip to the infirmary was mostly a blur, and it wasn’t until Poppy suggested that he put his wand away that he became conscious of spikes of pain shooting up his arm. His fingers were clamped down so tightly that his entire hand had cramped.

“Gashes, cracked bones—and that one has minor internal injuries,” Poppy said with a wave at Alastor. “What in Merlin’s name were you two doing?!”

“Brawling,” Minerva returned. “It was supposed to be a duel, but you’d never have known it looking at them…not a mediator in sight, no curse restrictions….” She shook her head. “Merlin help us when the students start repeating what they saw.” The glare was back. “You do realize that we’re here to teach them, not give them concrete examples of what not to do, correct?”

She was right about that much, Severus knew…he didn’t want to think what would happen if a couple first years—or even seventh years—mimicked anything he’d sent out in those last few minutes. “It’s not…it’s my fault. I was…I don’t know.” He swallowed, still trying to sort out what had happened. One minute he’d been holding his own against Alastor, and then the next he was…well, somewhere else.

“You either had a flashback or were possessed by a homicidal maniac,” Alastor offered, examining a deep gash on his wand arm. “Not sure I’d care to wager which.”

Flashback. Bloody hell. He had neither the inclination nor the energy to come up with an appropriate rejoinder at this point.

“A flashback to—oh.” Minerva closed her mouth abruptly and her glare faded into a look of dismay.

“Well, whatever happened, you two certainly managed to do a fair bit of damage to each other,” Poppy said in the silence that followed, producing several vials of potions for each.

Severus downed his without question although he didn’t care for the look in her eyes when she handed it to him—unless he missed his guess, there was going to be a suggestion of mindhealers in the near future. Probably the very near future. Alastor glared for a bit, considering the two vials he was handed from all angles before he finally took them. Perhaps St. Mungos offers a two-for-one special.

“I’d prefer if you both stayed here for the night just to make certain that you’re healing properly,” the mediwitch continued. “It’s unlikely that the students will be doing themselves grievous harm this close to the holiday so you should have the place to yourselves.”

Joy. Just what he wanted; to be trapped in a room alone with a paraniod ex-Auror he’d just done his level best to if not kill then at least severely injure. “I’m sure we would recover just as well in our own rooms.”

“And you will—tomorrow.”

“If nothing else we can use what happened to you two as an example of what happens when duels get out of control,” Minerva said after a moment. “Saying that you’re recovering in the infirmary makes much more of an impression than you simply returning to your rooms as usual.”

Severus shrugged but didn’t have any real opinion on the matter—well, about using them as an example, anyway; he wasn’t at all interested in remaining in the infirmary. He doubted that either version would do any good as far as preventing hexing in the halls anyway, but since very nearly the entire student body had just seen him go mad it wasn’t as though it was going to damage his reputation any more either.

“You should both get some rest,” Poppy cut in. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

Minerva took that as her cue to leave, and Severus leaned back uncomfortably on the bed.

“You think she’ll notice if we leave?”

“Not only will she notice, she’ll hunt us down and then chase us back.” He shifted a bit more, and then twisted again. He was on the wrong side to easily keep an eye on Alastor while keeping his weight off the injuries he’d taken. And he’d gotten off lightly—most of the spells aimed at him had been meant to incapacitate rather than mangle.

“Stop twitching, lad,” Alastor growled after a few more minutes of shifting about. “I’m not going to hex you for a bloody flashback.”

So you say. I think I need to see about that eye sooner rather than later.

“Especially not in front of a witness.”

That’s comforting. Although…. “Harry?”

Something rustled a few beds over and then Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak. “Hello, Professor. Professor.”

“What are you doing here?” Severus demanded. Bad enough that he’d already put on a show in the Hall, he didn’t really want visitors while he was recovering from the experience. How is it that the last few times I’ve been injured his is one of the first few faces that I see? It’s not as though he doesn’t spend enough time here on his own merits.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” The boy shrugged uncomfortably. “I mean everything looked like it was going all right, and then all of a sudden it was just…vicious. Ron said Professor McGonagall stopped it just when it was getting good, but I thought someone was really going to get hurt.”

“We’ll both be fine,” Severus assured him. “Unfortunately it seems I’m not as recovered from my last encounter with the Dark Lord as I might have hoped.”

“What? Like post traumatic…whatever it’s called? Stress something, I think.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.” Although traumatic and stressful are accurate, I suppose.

“That’s what muggles call it when people get hurt or see something really bad and have a hard time getting past it. I saw a news show about it once.”

By that definition he should have been suffering from whatever it was called for the last twenty years considering the things he’d seen and done in the Dark Lord’s service. Not that he was particularly interested in pursuing the subject. “Hm.”

“Anyway, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am sure. Now you’d best go before Poppy catches you in here and chases you out. Or decides to treat you for something.”

“Yes, sir. Happy Christmas. Happy Christmas to you too, Professor Moody.”

“Hmph.”

Severus raised a hand as he turned. “Mind you, no one hears about—” Perhaps the rest of the little dunderheads were of the same opinion as the youngest Weasley boy…that the duel was simply getting ‘good’ rather than that one of their professors had temporarily lost his mind. I’d rather a few be suspicious than have all of them spreading that kind of gossip about. It was one thing when they’d done it to Umbridge; Severus had no desire to experience it himself.

“I wouldn’t tell.”

“Go on then. Happy Christmas.”

There was a snort from a few beds over as Harry slipped his cloak back on and the door opened and closed. “Devoted little shadow you seem to have acquired.”

Another thing I have no desire to discuss. “Excuse me, I’m suddenly feeling quite tired.”