Miscalculation - Chapter 15

Harry watched as Dumbledore moved around the Ministry lobby. The old man hadn't been avoiding him exactly, but their paths hadn't crossed since the party the other day. He had come up with a dozen different approaches to deal with Dumbledore. Honestly, he could simply wait for his popularity to overpower the Headmaster. He could work through the years he could improve his political standing while subtly undermining other seats of power that support the old man.

That sounded boring.

He saw Dumbledore step to the side. The old man seemed to be checking something in his robe. Harry quickly approached him.

"Professor," Harry said as he approached.

"Mister Potter," Dumbledore greeted him. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like my wand," Harry replied easily.

"Pardon?" Dumbledore glanced at the wrist holster that Harry wore. "Correct me if I'm wrong, your wand is currently on your wrist."

"Technically, you are correct," Harry said with a nod. "I'm talking about the one you have tucked in your robes."

Dumbledore went pale.

"It's mine," Harry stated dropping the good humor in his voice.

"I don't know what you mean," Dumbledore said evenly.

"The Elder Wand," Harry pressed. "You won it from Grindelwald and have had it ever since."

"I am remiss to tell you this," Dumbledore put on his best Grandfather voice. "The Hallows are a myth. I spent years of my life searching for them."

Harry willed the Peverell ring to appear on his finger. Most people couldn't see it. He had discovered that those close to the Hallows could. It helped that he had taken the Resurrection Stone from the Guant Ring after destroying the Horcrux.

"That is strange," Harry held his hand up to show the Headmaster. "I seem to already have one."

Dumbledore froze for a moment. Harry could almost see lost years of obsession spark to life once more.

"What do you say?" Harry smirked. "Wager your Hallow against mine."

Dumbledore gave a small nod.

"Since I challenged you, it is your right to choose the terms," Harry said.

"We will duel until one of us is disarmed or unable to continue," Dumbledore stood straighter as he spoke; his grandfatherly persona slipped away to show the powerful wizard he truly was.

Harry couldn't hold back the smile that crossed his face. The magic rolling off of the Headmaster was impressive. This was sure to be a good duel.

"Time and place?" Harry asked.

A loud gasp sounded from nearby. Harry turned toward the noise to see the familiar, though definitely younger, face of Rita Skeeter. The news of their duel would be on the front page as early as tomorrow morning.

"A duel between two of the strongest wizards in our day?" Rita practically yelled.

Her words caused a noticeable ripple through the crowd.

"There is an Official Ministry Dueling Arena," Minister Bagnold added as she rushed over. "We would be honored to host a duel between two titans."

Harry looked at Dumbledore. He raised an eyebrow in question. Dumbledore gave a nod in reply. His usual composure overruled by his obsession with the Hallows. The Minister led the two wizards deeper into the Ministry. A crowd began to form and quickly grew in size as they neared the Dueling Room. Thankfully, Rita did not hear what exactly the duel entailed.

The dueling arena was larger than he had expected. There was plenty of seating for the entire crowd and the platform appeared to float in the center of an open void. Harry continued on, taking his place on one end of the platform. A sheen of protective magic encased the void.

<The Elder Wand can only be won in a true contest,> a familiar female voice whispered into Harry's ear. <Your protection from the wand will not work for this duel.>

Harry nodded at the whisper. Death hadn't spoken to him since the initial arrive in this world, but he recognized the voice.

Dumbledore stood on the opposite side of the platform. They both patiently waited for the crowd to file in. The group now had a few reporters. People that looked to have come straight off Diagon Alley, including a few clerks and shop owners, arrived just in time before the doors closed. The stands were absolutely packed to capacity to see the two wizards to have defeated a powerful Dark Lord.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Minister Bagnold stepped into the open space between the stands and the void. "Thank you for coming. Today we have the honor of seeing two titans of our time, Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, duel. The terms of victory are disarm or surrender and have been agreed upon by both parties." She paused for the crowd to applaud. "To Judge we have decorated duelist and Auror, Amelia Bones."

Another pause for a round of polite applause.

"Duelists, are you ready?" Amelia asked.

Harry and Dumbledore nodded.

"Begin," Amelia yelled.

The two stared each other down, letting the moment hang. A tense silence settled in the arena. The air began to grow thick with ambient magical energy of the two duelists.

Both read the minute changes in stance, grip, and eye movement. Dumbledore was a known Master of Transfiguration but that wasn't his only branch of study. The man had years of knowledge and skills that hadn't been truly put to the test in a long time. Even Voldemort didn't fight the old man unless there was no other choice. On the other side, Harry was an unknown. His legend grew every day as people whispered about him. Truth had little meaning as the stories spread. Seeing him in action was too good to pass up.

Harry felt Dumbledore's magic bump against his. The heat made sense with Fawkes as his familiar. An intense, deathly chill cut through the power marking the effect of the Elder Wand. His roots in Transfiguration gave his magic a constant shift to it.

Just as he did, Dumbledore felt his own magic. Instead of the common sensation of continuous shifting from a Transfiguration specialty, or the sharp edges of Charms, Harry's magic was completely still. The only thing Dumbledore found was the chill of death. Harry had spent years with all three Hallows. He had attuned to them in a way that none had ever before. As a result, his magic was tightly interwoven with death. The subtle tones were hidden under the chill.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in question. Harry smiled.

The Headmaster launched an attack. A cloud of stone, shards of ice, and a swirling bolt of fire rocketed toward Harry. Another chain of spells zipped at him. They were a mixture of common dueling spells charged to an insane degree and the occasional esoteric twist thrown in.

It displayed the vast knowledge the Headmaster held. Each spell was completed expertly with the perfect amount of motion and completely silent. Even the common dueling selection were altered as Dumbledore dipped into schools of magic from around the world. A stunner from Libya, disarming charm from New Zealand, and a cutter that originated in Brazil. Each variation made the usual defenses lose their potency. The crowd cheered at the display.

Dumbledore slowed his casting. He ended his show of power with a fine flick of his wand cleaning the debris, smoke, and bits of detritus vanished leaving the dueling area. The air cleared to reveal a completely unscathed Harry still standing in his original spot.

Harry was extremely disappointed. His travels after the war had allowed him to delve into magic from all over the world. The search for obscure knowledge to fuel the ritual made it easy to identify, nullify, and counter whatever Dumbledore threw at him. Training with Moody was more challenging than this. He guessed it made sense. Dumbledore was not a fighter. The old man could fight when pushed, but he was a scholar at the core of things.

He sighed and started to walk toward the Headmaster. Dumbledore didn't waste time. The platform shifted to quicksand, which solidified as Harry stepped onto it. Dumbledore clenched his jaw and continued to fight. Fierce gusts of wind broke against an unseen barrier around Harry. Ice spread out along the platform, shifting and changing shape in a continuous flow. Patches cleared to allow Harry to continue forward. The ice melted into mist and floated up to chest height. Lightning cracked through the air, striking the mist and essentially turning it into a ball of electricity.

Harry came to a stop in front of Dumbledore. His hair floated around his head in a halo. Electricity arced along the strands. He held out his wand and silently adjusted Dumbledore's glasses from where they had slipped down during the spellcasting.

"Do you yield?" Harry asked calmly.

Dumbledore met his gaze for a moment. Harry could feel a sneaky thread of magic attempt invade his mind. His own magic gripped the thread and ripped it away. Dumbledore screamed, gripping his head as he dropped to his knees. The sound of wood clattering against stone sounded like an explosion in the silent arena. Harry leaned over and plucked the Elder Wand from the platform.

"Stay out of my mind," Harry growled.

He closed his eyes as the Elder Wand settled into the grip of his hand. Its power harmonized with his magic. Harry spun the wand along his fingers and stored it in his self-contained storage pocket. He left Dumbledore clutching his head, kneeling on the platform.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Harry gave a humble smile and waved at the people. A familiar hint of red hair caught his attention. Aurors, led by James and Sirius, cleared the way as Lily Potter walked over to him. The woman sighed.

"You don't call this overt?" Lily asked rolling her eyes.

"What can I say?" Harry shrugged. "I saw a chance and took it."

"And what chance was that?" James glared at his son. "You humiliated Dumbledore."

Harry gave a sigh that sounded just like Lily.

"I thought it would be more of a challenge," Harry replied.

James would have lit Harry on fire if he glared any harder. The moment was broken when Sirius snorted in barely contained laughter. Lily smacked the wizard on the shoulder, but the damage was already done.

"I don't want to fight you," Harry said.

Harry stepped closer to James and dropped his voice low.

"Dad, please," Harry whispered. "I'm doing everything I can to prevent it."

Harry stepped around the two Aurors and his mother. He didn't get far before he was flooded by reporters with a young Rita Skeeter at the lead.