Ron was sitting with his head lying on his desk, his eyes following the movement of Snape pacing back and forth. He was barely listening to the former Potions Masters words.


“Those of us who have progressed beyond the amateur idea that dueling is about casting spells to gain another way to win a duel. The Dark Arts do not allow spells to be thrown at it. Therefore, you must be able to read its mind and tamper with it. Name one way to achieve this, Mr. Weasley.”


Brought back to life by the sound of his own name, Ron desperately tried to remember the lecture.


“Er… I think that dueling is a very, er, effective weapon in the fight against the Dark Arts.”


Ron waited with baited breath, hoping that he had hit the mark.


“Detention,” Snape smirked, “six o’clock, my office. I am afraid that your little excursion at the Ministry does not exempt you from paying attention in my class. Now, who would like to answer the question that has been paying attention?”


Ignoring Hermione’s hand, Snape called, “Mr. Thomas.”


“Well, sir, if you can force your opponent to perform a certain type of spell, you can defend against it easily, and therefore leave your opponent open for another attack.”


“Yes, that idea is very common among beginners,” said Snape dismissively. “It sounds plausible, but is very hard to pull off in real life. The subtle science of magic only allows for subtle subtlety to be subtly accounted for. If the subtle nature of…”


He continued in this vain for a while. Harry looked at Ron, but he was already asleep. Lavender Brown let out a small giggle. Even Malfoy raised a skeptic eyebrow. Hermione, however, looked at Snape with rapt attention.


“And so,” Snape said, not noticing that his class was not paying attention, “homework tonight is to write fifteen inches discussing one of these ten principles.” Snape tapped the blackboard with and the words appeared. “Copy them down. Now.”


There was a scurry of quills as everyone started to copy the ten principles of psychology in dueling. Ron, however, remained fast asleep until the bell.





Applying Psychology to Dueling
By Ronald Weasley


When dueling, it is in a person’s best interest to tamper with their opponents mind. The best example is to lull a person into a false sense of security by using weak spells and purposefully missing. However, this approach is idiotic, as the person’s opponent can easily attack without having to worry about being hit with a spell.


Ron reread this paragraph, his nose screwing up more and more as he progressed down the page. Finally, he crumpled it up and fed it to the crackling fire. He drew another piece of parchment and started fresh.



Duels do not necessarily measure a wizard’s magical power, but his ability to manipulate his opponent. By using simple spells that force his opponent to act in a predictable manner, he can easily defend himself. However, if your opponent happens to be unpredictable, you are pretty much screwed.


This piece of parchment soon crinkled into a black nothingness, except the smoke that was filling the Gryffindor Common Room. It was almost midnight, and everyone had gone off to bed.


Ron sighed. It was bad enough having to write an essay for Snape, but why did it have to be on something that was not in the book? It appeared Snape prided himself above the author of Confronting the Faceless. Hermione was no help either because her essay was safely tucked away in the girl’s dormitory. There was no way he was going to attempt to snag it. Harry had written his essay with apparent ease, getting to bed by ten. But, Ron argued, he did have that stupid Potions book to help him. And he has been through a lot more than me.


But, had he? Ron remembered their trip to the Department of Mysteries last year, and his excitement grew. Knocking Confronting the Faceless to the ground, he grabbed a new piece of parchment and began to think about the lessons he had learned in dueling the Death Eaters.



Applying Psychology to Dueling
By Ronald Weasley


Remember to duck.



Grinning, Ron sat back in his chair, feeling relieved and light-headed. Then he remembered what Snape had said at the end of class: “I expect a minimum of fifteen inches."


Ron got a ruler out and measured. He had half a centimeter. Knowing full well that Snape would take points off if he attempted to write in fifteen-inch letters, Ron scribbled out his sentence and started fresh.



The victor of a duel is usually the strongest, in both the physical and mental sense of the word. A person must be able to overcome the fear of an antagonist attempting to harm them, especially if that antagonist is a greasy, slimy nosed git.


Wondering whether Snape would catch the subtle reference to him, Ron scratched the end of his nose absentmindedly with his quill. Deciding not to risk it, Ron disposed of this essay too, thinking glumly that at least the fire wouldn’t go out.


Perhaps he was going about it the wrong way, he thought. Perhaps he should go about it in a more creative way. Well, I’m not going to get anywhere the way I’m going, Ron reasoned. He started again.



Oh, you can keep your fancy spell
With an absurd incantation
All I need is psychology
Let me give you an explanation.



Wondering how he though this was a good idea, Ron threw the crumpled-up paper behind his back, no longer caring where it landed. His eyelids were beginning to droop, and he thought it best just to do the essay in the easiest way possible, and not worrying about the grade.



Well, I think that spells aren’t really that important, ‘cause you need psychology to win and stuff. Like, it would be stupid to just throw spells at each other, and--



Ron, apparently only just realizing what he was writing, dropped his quill as though it carried a contagious disease. Perhaps going out with Lavender had affected him somehow.


Sighing, Ron looked up at the clock. It was almost one. He had to get to bed soon, or he would be too tired to play Quiddich. He pulled out schedule, looking for a free period. His eyes hit the top of the page: First Period: Defense Against the Dark Arts.


Ron swore. There was no way he could finish this during breakfast. His only hope was to finish it tonight. But how?


Ron cursed Snape, he cursed the essay, and Dumbledore for letting Snape teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He cursed Slughorn for becoming Po....


Suddenly he grinned. It was so obvious. He could get this essay done before breakfast easily.


Elated, Ron walked up to the boy’s dormitory. Pointing his wand at the floor, he muttered “Mollioso” This was another little Prince charm that softened the floor so Harry wouldn’t hear Ron walking in. Then Ron bent down and slowly undid the zipper on Harry’s trunk. Naturally, the Half-Blood Princes book was on top. After a moment of rummaging, he found what he needed and slipped it inside the robes he planned to wear tomorrow. Then he collapsed on the bed.


He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and he dreamt of dueling Snape. Whenever Ron attempted to cast a spell, a huge shield bearing the name Psychology would deflect the spell back at him. Ron awoke with a cold sweat. He looked at the clock. It was four in the morning. He stared into space, thinking about what he was going to do. These thoughts stopped as he drifted gently back into sleep.





“Did you get your essay done?” asked Hermione brightly the next day at breakfast.


“J-just have to do the conclusion.” Ron lied, yawning.


“Well, you’d better get going, or you won’t finish,” said Hermione briskly. She turned and walked to the other end of the table, smirking.


“What’s up with her?” asked Ron grumpily.


Harry, who had a strong suspicion of what Hermione was upset about, said untruthfully “No idea,”. He stuck his fork into a nearby platter. “What do you reckon this is?”


Ron shrugged. He was picking at his bacon, still contemplating his plan. Suddenly, he let go of his fork and it fell to the floor.


“Damn,” Ron said casually, as he bent down to pick up his fork. Once out of sight from Harry, he unscrewed the little bottle of golden liquid he had swiped from the trunk last night. He took the tiniest swallow of liquid possible, barely dipping his tongue into the bottle. It had the strangest taste Ron had ever tasted, a mixture of fresh grass and cold metal, mixed with the smallest hint of garlic.


Grinning, Ron slipped the Felix Felicis back into his pocket and ducked out from under the table. Harry had apparently given up on the unidentified food and was unwrapping a blueberry muffin. Taking out a blank piece of parchment and quill, Ron began to scribble on his parchment, the quill dancing back and forth across the parchment. It stumbled a few times, for the quill was stiff with misuse, but Ron straightened it every time. Harry watched in amazement.


“You…er… do know we have DADA in fifteen minutes, right?” He asked hesitantly.


“Mmm…” Ron muttered inaudibly.


“And, um, even Hermione took an hour to write fifteen inches,” Harry said, as though stating the obvious.


“Well, she’s Hermione, isn’t she?”


“Ron,” Harry said slowly, “I don’t know where you’ve been for the last five and a half years, but Hermione is the smartest in the class,”


“You don’t have to be smart to write this essay,” Ron stated dismissively.


Shaking his head, Harry returned to his bacon. Every now and then, he looked up to see Ron’s quill still moving back and forth across the parchment, stumbling and falling along the way.


“Done,” Ron said a few minutes later, rolling his essay up.


“What?” Harry said incredulously, “Let me see that,”


He reached for Ron’s essay, but Ron quickly put it back into his bag.


“Did you..?” Harry began, but he was interrupted by the bell ringing.


“We better get going, or we’ll get another detention,” Ron said, running down the Great Hall.


Sighing, Harry left his bacon alone and followed Ron into another torturous hour listening to Snape waffling on about dueling





“Please take out your essays on dueling,” Snape said icily. “Please note that this essay is of extreme importance, and no student may continue this course without achieving at least an E,” His eyes lingered over Ron and Harry for a few seconds, and then he collecting all twenty-five essays with a wave of his wand.


“As you undoubtedly know, or should know,” Snape said, “the theory of dueling is very hard to put into practice. I will allow you to practice dueling over the course of this period, but I doubt any of you will be able to successfully use psychology against your opponent. The only spells you may use are stunners and shield charms. I trust,” His eyes glinted maliciously, “that you all have all mastered these spells."


Neville gulped.


Snape looked at the class for a few more seconds, before saying, “Please prepare to duel with the person sitting beside you.”


At once there was a scurry of hands searching for wands and of chairs scraping against the floor. Ron stood up across from Harry, who gave him a look that clearly said: "We got lucky."


Looking around the room, Ron realized that Harry was right. Crabbe and Goyle were paired with Hermione and Neville respectively. Neville looked as though he was about to faint, and Hermione was turning green. Both Crabbe and Goyle were jabbing their wands into air repeatedly, and smiling at the silver sparks coming out of them. Pavarti Patil was looking determinedly into the pale face of Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson was towering over Dean Thomas.


“On the count of three, you may begin to duel,” Snape said lazily. “One…two…three,”


A blinding flash of light filled the classroom. It was not just red, but green, yellow, orange, purple, and white. When, it cleared, the room was deadly silent, except for the grunts of Crabbe and Goyle, who were now on top of Hermione and Neville. Dean Thomas had sprouted large boils all over his face, and Pansy Parkinson was clutching her stomach.


“Finite Incantatum,” Snape roared. At once, all the victims returned to their normal state. Crabbe and Goyle reluctantly stepped away from Neville and Hermione. Everyone stared at Snape, not willing to break the silence. Finally Snape spoke, in barely more than a whisper.


“It appears as though many of you forgot my instructions. I would advise you to remember them. If you are unable to, I will happily give you a Memory Draught in your detentions tomorrow,”


“Git,” Ron mumbled to Harry.


“We will try this again,” Snape said slowly. “One, two, three.”


Flashes of red bounced around the classroom. Ron merely put up a Protego shield and let the constant red bullets that flew from Harry’s wand bounce off of it. He did not care about psychology or Snape, or even his grade.


“Fight back,” Harry roared. He turned into a totally different creature when dueling, he was now a cold-hearted lion. Ron kept his shield up.


After a few minutes, Harry’s stream of stunners became more and more lazy. At times, the stunners missed the shield all together, and a crash indicated that a vase had been hit.


Ron waited until Harry was hitting Snapes precious instruments more than his shield before he withdrew his shield and triumphantly pointed his wand at Harry’s chest.


A jet of red light hit Harry and he flew backwards a few inches, hit the desks, and crumpled. The sudden crash had brought the class out of it’s dueling dream-like state. All eyes were on Ron. Even Crabbe and Goyle had ceased in their pounding of Hermione and Neville.


“Weasley!” Snape yelled, his voice losing some of its subtlety.


“Yes, sir?” Ron asked, his insides melting.


“Might I ask you what strategy you were using? You were using a strategy, correct?” Snapes lip curled upward slightly.


Ron sighed and recited, as if from memory, "I was going for the strategy of being defensive for a long time so that my opponent would be caught by surprised when I switched to offense.”


“And is this a strategy that you have learned from me?”


“No, sir. I apologize. I know that the only way to learn is to take in the words of a professor and apply them to life without trying to stretch myself beyond the skills of that professor.”


Snape raised an eyebrow. “Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?”


“Oh, no sir. I wasn’t being sarcastic at all.”


Ron heard the words leave his mouth without knowing who put them there. Everyone around him gasped, except for a few people.


“Hang on,” Crabbe said, frowning. “I thought he was being sarcastic.”


Goyle shrugged. He was still trying to remember what sarcasm was.


Snape remained in front of Ron, no emotion passing his wooden face. Finally he spoke:


“Detention. Same time, same place.”


Ron stared at him, fury boiling in his stomach. After a few minutes, the bell rang.


“Fifteen more inches on dueling due tomorrow,” Snape called.




Applying Psychology to Dueling
By Ronald Weasley


Psychology has nothing to do with winning a duel, as long as you have an arsenal of powerful spells.


Snape stared down at Rons essay, disbelieving. It was not what he had requested, and it was not even an inch. And yet, something about it was refreshing after all those essays with his own words spewed back at him.


Snape hesitated for a full minute before drawing an O on the top of Ron’s essay.





Ron sat in his favorite chair in the common room, staring at blank piece of parchment. Exhausted, he put his head down on the parchment. Déjà vu he thought, before drifting off into a land of dreams.