"Ah, Potter and his entourage. You lot truly never separate, do you?" remarked Flitwick with an amused smile as he watched them from behind his desk in the cozy office, which was filled with books and small artifacts crackling with magic.
"By the way, I heard what happened during the Dueling class… truly magnificent. If Madam Hooch hadn't already awarded you points, I'd be giving you quite a few more right now," added the tiny professor, his eyes shining with pride.
"It was nothing, Professor," Harry replied modestly, wearing a calm smile.
"Then, what brings you here?" Flitwick asked with genuine curiosity, folding his hands atop the desk.
"Professor, we wanted to show you something and also ask for permission to found a sort of club," Harry explained quickly. "We know it requires supervision from an older student and a teacher's approval, but what we're doing is technically new… so I don't think any older student would know enough to oversee it."
"Is that so? And what exactly are you planning?" Flitwick inquired, leaning forward with growing interest.
The four of them exchanged glances and nodded. Carefully, they lowered the trunk from their backs and dragged it in front of the desk. When they opened it, they revealed several golems of different sizes, each marked with inscriptions and set with small embedded gems.
"Are these… golems?" murmured Flitwick, stepping closer, eyes wide as he took in the delicate enchantments and runes traced across the figures' surfaces—clearly crafted with alchemy.
"You have a good eye, Professor," Harry said proudly. "They're combat golems we created. You might know our families have entered into a business partnership. Actually, that's how this all started. We're trying to develop a competition of golem battles controlled by witches and wizards, similar to traditional dueling, but without putting the duelist at risk."
"In fact, the idea and the blueprints for these golems—we studied and adapted them ourselves. That's why we'd like to found a club for creating and dueling with them," he concluded eloquently.
The mere mention of the word duel made Flitwick's eyes light up with enthusiasm. "Could you show me a demonstration?" he asked in a voice that tried to sound composed, though it was clear he was thrilled.
"Of course," they answered in unison. Without wasting a moment, they cleared a space in the office and set up two golems facing each other. Draco took control of the one with a sword and shield, while Harry chose the one wielding twin short swords.
"Praeceptum Golem," they both pronounced firmly, their wands releasing a nearly invisible thread of magic that linked to the nape of each golem. As soon as the connection was complete, the figures began to move with surprising fluidity, walking across the stone floor with almost human coordination.
Harry's golem advanced smoothly, its movements precise and fluid, while he stood there calmly, as if it required no effort at all. Draco, on the other hand, clenched his teeth, and though his golem didn't make mistakes, it executed a few exaggerated gestures and awkward swipes that looked rather comical.
Feeling a bit confident, Harry made his golem twirl one of its swords in its hand with an arrogant flourish. The design only had three fingers for easier control, but it still moved with undeniable grace.
That little display pricked Draco's pride, and he immediately commanded his golem to charge forward at full speed, shield raised, straight toward Harry's.
Unfazed, Harry had his golem roll aside, dodging the attack. Draco reacted quickly, swinging a downward slash.
Harry's golem dropped to one knee, raised both swords, and blocked the strike with a clean cross of steel. Using the momentum, it sprang up, throwing Draco's golem off balance for an instant. With precise timing, Harry delivered a double lateral strike intended to knock Draco out of the match, but the shield came up just in time with a decorative spray of sparks.
Draco didn't back down and directed a thrust straight for the opponent's chest. Harry countered by having his golem pivot on one foot as the blade grazed the shoulder armor. Without pause, the left-hand sword flashed upward, aiming for the neck. Draco ducked his golem's head just in time to avoid it.
With a quick push, Draco's golem slammed its shield into the rival, sending it flying backward. But Harry, ever composed, controlled his golem to break the fall by rolling across its back. Then, in one fluid motion, it planted both hands against the floor, flipped over, and landed on its feet, immediately resuming a guarded stance with both swords at the ready.
Opposite it, Draco's golem waited, shield raised and sword poised defensively.
All of it had happened in mere seconds, leaving Flitwick gaping in amazement. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of fascination and wonder as he took in the fluidity of the combat and the level of mastery the boys had achieved.
"Fabulous… simply fabulous!" he exclaimed suddenly, breaking the silence and startling Harry and Draco, who for a moment had forgotten it was only a demonstration. "Truly spectacular! I've never seen golems like these… you're absolute geniuses. And that spell—where did you find it?" he asked, hurrying over with quick, excited steps.
"My mother helped us," Harry explained simply.
"I see! Truly marvelous. If you told me you'd captured ancient Muggle warriors and trapped them inside, I'd believe it, the control is so complete. I will approve this club, absolutely. Don't worry, I'll handle it personally," Flitwick declared, his voice filled with enthusiastic conviction.
"Thank you, Professor, but we don't think that will be necessary," Hermione interjected politely.
"No, no… it is necessary. Every spark of creativity must be supported when something this wonderful comes along. You're incredible. I'll take care of the paperwork at once. I'm sure Minerva will back me up," Flitwick said, and he hurried out of the office with an energy that seemed impossible for someone his size.
The four of them watched him go, slightly stunned.
"Well, it looks like this will be easier than we thought," Daphne commented with a satisfied smile.
"Brilliant," she added happily, while Harry and Draco exchanged a look in silence.
Without saying another word, both of them resumed control of their golems, ready to continue their improvised duel.
...…
After quite a while, Flitwick returned to the office, followed by Professor McGonagall, who maintained her usual serious expression and dignified bearing.
Meanwhile, Draco and Harry had already finished their duel. From the victorious, slightly mocking look on Harry's face and the defeated, annoyed glint in Draco's eyes, there was no need to ask who had won.
"Professor Flitwick has told me about something you've created. Could you show it to me?" McGonagall requested in her measured, stern tone.
Without delay, Draco and Harry presented the golems again. Draco's now bore several red marks running across half its body—evidence of the hits it had taken during their earlier match. They used those marks to indicate critical points that would have destroyed the golem in a real fight, thus avoiding the need to rebuild them every time they trained. If they let them battle to total destruction, the cost would be enormous, especially if they planned to market them.
They had developed an enchantment that, when it detected a mortal wound or decisive damage, created a glowing mark on the material to indicate defeat without dismantling the entire structure. Of course, each confrontation still left nicks and wear, but at least it prolonged the models' lifespan.
After a brief demonstration of the basic functions, a few defensive maneuvers, and a light sparring match, McGonagall watched intently. She nodded in understanding and, for a moment, seemed to be weighing her thoughts.
"It really is a pity we don't teach Alchemy as a subject at Hogwarts," she remarked with a touch of regret in her voice. "It would no doubt be of great help to creative young people like yourselves."
She turned her gaze to Flitwick and continued in a firmer tone, "Very well, Filius. I will support you in this."
But then her clear eyes settled on each of the four with a measured, thoughtful expression.
"By the way…" she began, in a tone that made all of them hold their breath, "you wouldn't happen to know what might have attacked Professor Quirrell? I recall that you have… a rather particular pet. A creature created through advanced transmutation that many find… interesting."
Hermione swallowed hard and took a cautious step forward, a little nervous.
"Are you talking about Red?" she asked carefully.
"I am talking about… Red," McGonagall confirmed with a faint sigh.
"Yes, I'm almost sure it was him," Harry replied before anyone else could speak, leaving his friends and both professors momentarily speechless.
The surprise on McGonagall's face was clear. Even Flitwick's mouth dropped open, as if unsure whether to laugh or be alarmed.
"But I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt," Harry continued with absolute composure. "After all, a professor who smells like garlic, wears a strange turban… and a silly dragon who can't tell his own tail from a snack… it's quite likely he mistook him for some sort of weird food. Red is always chewing things he shouldn't."
McGonagall regarded him silently for several seconds, her lips twitching slightly as if she were trying not to smile.
"Besides," Harry added quickly, "Red gets along perfectly well with all the Ravenclaw students. Even when he escaped and, for some reason, ended up in Gryffindor's common room… with help from the Weasley twins. Apparently, they were having a great deal of fun together."
That comment made the professor raise an eyebrow in a mix of resignation and mild exasperation. Harry knew perfectly well that mentioning the twins was striking at Gryffindor's weak spot. With that, any direct reproach was, at the very least, left on shaky ground.
"Very well. For your honesty, I can't punish you," she finally said, regaining her composure with graceful dignity. "However, I will deduct ten points for the recklessness. And see to it that your dragon does not approach Professor Quirrell again."
"Of course," Harry replied, with his usual calm smile that, somehow, always managed to soften the moment.