Magical Karma

Draco tightened his grip around his wand and pulled himself up off the ground. Once back on his feet, he wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow and assumed his dueling stance.

Potter, for his part, was already standing at the ready, his face creased and serious, black hair even more pointy and disheveled than the normal tousle he sported daily.

Draco narrowed his eyes and tried to look as threatening as possible while his mind, still wobbly from Potter's most recent hex, sifted through spells. He wanted to wound, even maim. He needed to think of a curse that would sidestep the club rules, while skirting the looming suspension promised to the rule-breaker. Draco cursed as his mind went blank.

One of the horrid Weasley twins leaned over from the surrounding crowd and whispered something into Potter's ear, the result of which caused an evil grin to creep across his face, tipping the round glasses perched precariously at the tip of his noise. The pit of Draco's stomach lurched and he knew he was doomed.

Snape, eyeing the exchanged, shot Potter a quick, stifling glance, before assuming his position in the center of the circled audience, just to the side of the dueling mats. He was accompanied by McGonagall who was beaming in Harry's direction. "Are both parties ready?"

Draco felt Snape's eyes on him and solemnly nodded. He marched up to Potter and sneered accordingly. They raised their wands like tiny swords, spun 180 degrees and began their ten paces. Come on, think of something! Potter already has a hex up his sleeve. And it's a Weasley hex, so I must hit first.

His mind spun wildly, frantically searching for a hex that would toss or spin or crush. Maybe there was a spell that would accomplish all three. Draco was sure of it, if only he could remember. He needed to hurt Potter, smash against that Gryffindor pride he toted like an insufferable badge.

"Three, four, five..." Draco felt himself slip into his enveloping hatred for Potter, his absolute loathing for the boy, "the-boy-who-lived", the boy who risked his life to save others on what was becoming a regular basis. It seemed, to Draco, that Potter had no fear, at least no visible fear. But he knew it had to exist, hidden from view, locked away and Draco wished for the key.

From somewhere outside the recesses of his thoughts, Draco heard a dark, silky voice utter, "Eight, nine, ten." Realizing he had hit his spot, and without a hex handy, Draco jumped onto his toes, readying to spin around and deflect whatever incoming Weasley-induced curse Potter was about to spew forth. He hadn't even finished his practiced pivot when the spell was released.

"Rubra Caesaries," Potter exclaimed in an overexcited timbre, his wand pointed higher than usual.

Draco twisted around in time to be hit. He felt the spell strike the top of his head and crack, like an egg, leaking sparks and stars down the back of his hair, ears and neck. It was the strangest sensation Draco had ever felt. It didn't hurt at all. Instead, each star whirled madly through his soft, white tendrils, tickling and pinching softly. He reached up, running a shaky hand through the neatly combed strands. There wasn't a hair out of place. Everything felt normal.

The noise of the crowd instantly dissipated and all faces turned toward Draco. Snape and McGonagall were staring, too, mouths slightly open. Potter was standing between the twins, giggling madly while receiving sharp, congratulatory slaps on his back and shoulders. Once again, Draco knew he was doomed.

Snape spoke first. "The dueling club is finished for the evening. All houses are to head straight to the Great Hall for dinner." He looked from Draco to Potter, still sniggering alongside the twins. "Except for you, Mr. Potter. And, you, too, Mr. Malfoy. You two will come with me, immediately."

The crowd did not move. Everyone's eyes were still locked on Draco who stared back blankly, unsure of what else to do. What was wrong? And, why had Snape cancelled the dueling club for the night? He felt absolutely fine, minus a few remaining stars still tickling the nape of his neck, and the dying need to hex Potter burning at his throat. He deserved that right. Surely, Snape understood that much. Instead, he helplessly watched Snape, aided by McGonagall, quietly usher each student out the door, throwing threatening looks at the stragglers, the Weasley twins specifically, whose eyes still craned in Draco's direction.

When every student had finally filed out of the room, chaperoned by McGonagall, Snape closed the door. He whirled around, eyes locking on Potter, his sallow face sporting a malicious glare usually reserved for Longbottom during double Potions. He had just begun a predatory stalk, when the room was jolted by a loud, thunderous sound from the hallway. The crowd of students had burst into laughter, the noise of which bounced off the cavernous walls and ceiling, creating a deafening echo. It was immediately followed by jumbled voices screaming "Oh, did you see?" and "Wasn't that hysterical?" and "It serves him right!" After a few prolonged moments, the laughter began to slowly dissolve, and McGonagall could be heard curtly hushing students while pushing them along the vast hall and out of earshot.

The effects of the laughter had worn on Potter, and a grin tugged at the corners of his cheeks. He audibly cleared his throat, pursed his lips together and looked at his feet. From the short distance between them, Draco could see another hidden smirk creeping across his lips.

Snape switched his strategy and crossed to Draco, tightening his mouth into a forced scowl. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. I don't understand what's wrong. Sir." Draco wanted to punch someone. He couldn't understand why no one would enlighten him as to his affliction. He checked his hands, (ten fingers), he wiggled his toes (ten). He reached up and trailed his fingers against the angular planes of his face (eyes, nose, mouth, ears). He nervously ran a hand through his hair again (still there, not a strand out of place).

Snape scowled in Potter's direction, "Would you like to tell him? Or shall I give him the news?"

Draco turned toward Potter whose eyes were still pointed downward. He noted the grin had vanished.

"Do you know the curse, Professor?" The green eyes flitted up, momentarily meeting Malfoy's, before plunging back down to stare at the cold, stone floor.

"I do, Mr. Potter. Do you? Or do you always spurt unknown curses at the request of Fred and George Weasley? I'd say that's a bit dangerous. Wouldn't you agree?"

Potter's did not glance up, and his eyes darkened. "Yes, sir." He hesitated a moment, before continuing, "Do, um... you know the counter-curse?"

Snape's eyes narrowed around Potter's thin frame. "Actually, my dear boy. There isn't a counter-curse. This spell must wear itself out the natural way. In time."

Draco, who had been listening intently, almost forgot they were discussing his fate. But, Snape's last comment jarred him, propelling him back to his state of unknown misfortune, and sending a shudder down his spine. He looked at Snape whose eyes were still vehemently locked on Potter. His throat was dry and his skin felt clammy. Maybe the spell was finally taking hold. Was he going to live? Was he going to die? He was desperate for answers and livid that no one would speak to him. What was wrong with him?

"Um, Professor Snape, sir." Draco's voice was shaky. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "What's wrong with me? What did Potter do?"

Snape whirled back at Draco, eyes still filled with hatred, which immediately emptied when they flitted right above Draco's head. "Maybe the best thing to do is to get you to a mirror." Snape cocked his face in Harry's direction, "Come along, Mr Potter."

Draco followed Snape's billowing black robes as they exited the classroom, wound down the hall and up the stairs. He was aware of Potter's footsteps behind him, but refused to turn around for fear of how he might react should he be greeted by a lop-sided smirk. He breathed deeply and walked onward.

As Snape ascended the stairs to the first floor, the rumbles of conversation and laughter from the Great Hall penetrated their silence. Draco turned in the direction of the sound, but was swiftly greeted by a hand on his arm. "This way, Mr. Malfoy. It's best if you come this way."

Draco followed Snape who turned against the noise and entered another, darker corridor. He could hear the scraping of Potter's inexpensive shoes and smiled to himself. He will pay for whatever has happened to me. If I live through this, he will pay dearly.

Snape abruptly stopped in front of a large, wooden door. There was a sign perched near the top and Draco strained to read its worn letters.

"It reads `Wizards'. And, I'd like the two of you to enter together. I'll be waiting just outside." Snape smirked viciously, showing yellowed, crooked teeth. "Oh, and Mr. Malfoy... You are banned from hexing or cursing Potter in any way, shape or form. I will deal with his punishment. Is that understood?"

Draco nodded quickly. He didn't care about anything except getting to that mirror. He wrenched open the thick door, grabbed Harry by the arm and ran inside, dragging his companion behind him.

There were few candles in this bathroom. Clearly it was rarely used. Draco desperately wished for more light, and momentarily looked for unlit candles, before mentally smacking himself in the forehead, lifting his wand and muttering Lumos. Bright light shot from the tip of his wand and illuminated the small space. He turned and looked at Potter whose eyebrows were knitted and lips tightly pursed. Draco thought Harry looked petrified. He smiled to himself and raced to the mirror. What he saw there, staring back at him, was the most dreadful sight imaginable.

Draco's perfect hair was scarlet red and as bright as a blazing fire. As he continued to gaze, eyes locked on his crimson-image, a horrifying realization hit him: he looked just like a Weasley. And, against his pale skin, his hair seemed to glow even redder than normal, tilting toward fluorescent orange. His beautifully groomed, pure-blood, well-bred hair was gone, replaced with a vibrant hew resembling a flaming orb.

Potter released a giggle that reverberated around the small room and quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

Draco whirled around, red tendrils slapping against his forehead, grey eyes hot with hate. He raised his lit wand into the air. "Did you understand the curse when they whispered it to you?"

His green eyes danced from Draco's hair to the tip of his wand. "Um, well, they just told me to say it if I really wanted to win." He suppressed another giggle and looked away from Draco as if that was the only way he could carry on the conversation. "I guess I really got you, didn't I."

"Yes, you really got me. I look ridiculous. I look like the Weasel! You are extremely lucky that Snape is outside this door right now. Just wait until my father finds out..."

Potter was doing his utmost not to break down, "Listen, Malfoy, it will just take time. Just time. It will eventually grow out. He glanced downward and kicked an imaginary pebble. "Plus, I think you look rather dashing. Or..." He quickly ran a hand through his own, unkempt hair, "You could just shave it off."

Snape, who had been listening intently through a charm, barely had enough time to jump sideways as Malfoy threw open the door, and ran down the hall, screaming "Nooo!"