Nobody ever asked my birthday

Chapter 32

Harry Potter was running full tilt towards Snape, his mind thinking of three or four much smarter ways to be playing this. However, this was a battle, and faint heart was rarely the optimal solution. The instant Harry saw Snape's half-smirk, he knew he was in trouble. Instead of slowing, or stopping, he accelerated, hoping to be at Snape's hand before the spell was fully formed.

Alas, Snape snapped, "Hevia," and a white shield extended in a dome around him. Harry felt like cursing, quickly incanting, "Bai Kunglong," as a whisper of wind started to roll through the room, thickening and starting to roll the ball that snape was trapped in. Not quickly enough for Harry to not run full into the ball, of course - although his jump onto it left him more flying up and into the ceiling. Harry hit the ceiling with his arm, dumping enough momentum to fall downward, tucking his body into a roll that fell straight into one of the wooden chairs, breaking the back off it. Harry Potter crawled under a desk, and looked cautiously out, the entire room rife with blowing papers and other flotsam (a clock went flying by). Off someplace, Snape was cursing, and Harry idly wondered if one could use a curse as a spell.

Snape cast "Ignis fortuo," and it was as if the entire room lit with ribbons of fire, criscrossing the entirety.

"Typhoon Tazumuddin" Harry snapped, straining to put enough magic into the spell, as it would completely fizzle without the precise amount. The room turned into water and wind, as Harry struggled to his feet. He saw Snape in the middle of the room, and his heart sunk. He's favoring a leg, Harry thought, seeing the offbalanced man straighten to greatest effect. "Finite Incantem" Snape said, pushing as much of his power as he dared into the spell - it didn't always work, but for most light spells, it was a good shot. The whole place calmed, and Harry Potter started, "Expel-"

Snape raised a roiling, blue-purple potion and smirked at Harry Potter.

Oh, shit. This isn't good.

[a/n: Well, it's not good if Harry wants to win. Which Harry does, because he's a competitive boy. Leave me a review!

I'm using more "native" spells, as I knew I wasn't going to find rubber in a Latin dictionary.

Harry has been learning some rather advanced "field of play" spells.]