Duelling: Part Three
A/N
Another for you guys :)
This week, I had the pleasure of hosting both Darkness Enthroned and ACI100 on the podcast where we answered fan questions and offered, for what it is worth, advice we would give to any budding writers. So, head over to m £ 0 n page and check that out.
I have also recorded a podcast with Teufel1987 ( Rise of the Wizards) that will be uploaded next Friday. Tomorrow, I will be recording with CatsAreCool ( A Marauder's Plan) and will also be doing the same with, Zaxaramas ( Barefoot), Rorschach's Blot ( Lord of Caer Azkaban and Make a Wish) and TheEndless7 ( Letters and The Pureblood Princess) in the coming days and weeks .
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Anyway, that is enough plugging, do enjoy the latest offering. For those of you on my other page, the third task and aftermath have just been uploaded.
TBR
To say that Harry had been humbled by his conversation with Fleur and Sebastien would be an understatement. Not since he had been a young boy had he been so thoroughly chastised and left speechless they way the girl had managed, though albeit in a very different way. The Dursleys had shouted, had even beaten him when they believed the occasion called for it, but Fleur Delacour had done neither. She had simply put across her point in a tone that left no room for argument. Did he respect her for it? Yes, but he did not like how easily she had chided him and made him feel a fool.
" That is what a strong woman will do," Tom had commented gleefully.
Perhaps it was something he needed or perhaps he had not been prepared to counter what she had said. Regardless, he had apologised, and she had merely given him a smile and a nod before taking her leave. He too had left shortly afterwards, confused as to what had transpired.
He had replayed the event over in his mind several times and had yet to come up with any argument to the contrary of them spending time together, not any that she would accept at least. What he had learnt was that Fleur Delacour was a girl that had no issues with speaking her mind and was stubborn to a fault, something he certainly admired and something her father was seemingly proud of.
Sebastien had escorted him to the carriage door and offered him nothing but a knowing shrug as he was sent on his way.
Throughout his years at Hogwarts, he had avoided dating or spending time with the opposite sex beyond academic pursuits or to check on Luna to ensure she was okay. It seemed now his inexperience of such encounters was coming back to haunt him in the form of the determined French Veela.
He shook his head as he exited his room.
Had anyone told him before this school year that he would be somehow involved with her or any other of her kind, he would have scoffed despite the unpredictable and unlikely events that had befallen him.
If only it had been Fleur, he had to deal.
Shortly after the second task, he had received a letter from Madame Giselle thanking him for his kind words in the prophet and for pointing people in the direction of her book on veela. According to the woman, the weeks that had followed the publishing of the article had seen the sale of her work increase dramatically in Britain. The public had apparently taken his advice, albeit given in a less than friendly manner, and decided to educate themselves.
Now, however, he was heading towards Professor Flitwick's office, having been summoned there for an appointment.
Knocking, he waited to be bid to enter.
"Come in," the voice of his head of house instructed.
Pushing open the door, he was greeted by the sight of both Professor's Flitwick and McGonagall.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked curiously.
"Indeed," the transfiguration mistress answered, gesturing for him to take a seat. "We along with Professor Dumbledore have requested the presence of an examinations officer from the Ministry for this week. We thought that you should take this opportunity to complete some more of you OWLS and even some NEWTS, should you feel ready, of course."
Harry frowned.
"Don't all exams take place at the end of the year?"
"Ordinarily, yes," Flitwick answered. "However, given your current position as a champion in the tournament, it has been agreed that certain caveats can be made to the usual practice as not to interfere with your preparations."
The boy nodded thoughtfully. He was confident he could pass his OWLs without too much difficulty, the NEWTS, however, he was uncertain of.
"What exams will I be sitting?"
"Well, as you have completed your OWLS in both our subjects, we believe you more than able to complete the NEWTS. As for the others, Professor's Babbling and Vector are happy for you to sit your OWLs in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, as is Professor Sprout and Professor Moody in Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Snape has reluctantly agreed for you to take your OWL but has been clear that you will not sit your NEWT exam this year," Flitwick explained with a sigh.
"So, two NEWTS and the other OWLS?"
"Correct. It seems that the time is right for you to sit the remainder of your OWLS. As a school, we would only be holding you back if we were to delay them any longer. It is clear to all of us that you are beyond ordinary wizarding level and we would hate for you to stagnate unnecessarily," McGonagall answered candidly.
"What will happen next year?"
"That depends entirely on your results. Should you prove to be as competent as we believe, we will discuss what options are available to you."
Harry released a deep breath.
"It's going to be a long week, isn't it?"
"Indeed, Mr Potter. Are you up to the challenge?"
(BREAK)
He had opted to complete the theory aspect of the exams first and had come to regret the decision by the third day of scratching away with a quill. Not only did his wrist ache, but he was mentally drained from the exertion of drawing out the information he had accumulated over his years of schooling. By the time he had sat to take his History of Magic OWL, he was exhausted from his efforts.
He wanted to succeed more than anything and he had never lost sight of his aim to give him as many options as possible he could pursue when his time at the castle came to an end. It was this need that saw him through, gave him the last burst of needed focus to complete the dull writing for the one subject he had been revising for all week. He didn't despise History per say, but Professor Binns' droning voice made it difficult to engage with the subject.
" What kind of name is Bogrod anyway?" he grumbled internally as he left the Great Hall.
He had an hour to rest before the practical portion of his subjects would commence, pleased overall with how he had done on the written.
" Not one you will likely have need of remembering in the future. It is not your knowledge they are looking at, Harry, but the skills it takes to be a Historian."
" I don't think I'll be taking that road."
" No, but the skills acquired can be used for many other things," Tom countered.
Harry nodded as sat by the edge of the lake. He would sooner sit five more NEWTS in Transfiguration or Charms than he would one more History OWL and they had proven difficult enough. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was challenged by the theory work for both.
He snorted at the memory of sitting the former.
Flashback
He arrived at Professor McGonagall's office to find herself and Madame Marchbanks waiting for him to present himself, both appearing more formal than they had been the previous time he had found himself in this situation. Saying nothing, the examiner gestured for him to take a seat and placed a thick stack of parchment before him along with a quill and some ink.
"This is the theory portion of your Transfiguration OWL. It is my understanding that you have decided to sit the theory for all subjects before taking the practical's?" Madame Marchbanks questioned.
Harry nodded and the woman hummed approvingly.
"For this paper, you will have four hours to complete it. Should you require anything, myself and Professor McGonagall will be present. However, before you begin, you must be checked to ensure that you have not consumed any banned potions or have any items on you that are not allowed in sanctioned examinations. Please stand."
Harry did so with a frown and the woman waved her wand about him, muttering under her breath. When she was seemingly satisfied, she offered him a nod and he resumed his seat.
"Your time begins…now."
Harry opened the parchment to find a series of questions, each one more complex than the one that preceded it, all what he would consider to be very niche topics within the subject. If this truly was NEWT level Transfiguration, the exams had earned their name.
" How does the disease known as Lycanthropy relate to Transfiguration? Use a minimum of three sources as references throughout your work."
" The difficulty of Transfiguration has certainly increased since I took the exam," Tom commented.
Harry frowned and pondered the question, ignoring the voice.
He had read up on lycanthropy when he realised that Remus suffered from it, though each author of the work didn't seem to have a clue as to what branch of magic it related to. At the time, he had felt that it closely resembled transfiguration more than curses as each book had surmised, all seven he had read having concluded similarly.
With a shrug, he began to note down his thoughts, ones that were not so complimentary of the writers he knew of, none of which having spent much time with werewolves nor understanding just how the disease worked.
Harry did. As with anything he studied, he had ingested as much information as he could lay his hands on until he knew enough to satisfy his curiosity.
End Flashback
The paper for charms had proven to be as difficult also and he had left both surprised at how much he had known about the intricate details of the branches of magic. He had studied them meticulously being his favourite subjects, but he hadn't realised just how much he understood them until he was confronted with such in-depth questioning.
" It is a testament to your efforts, Harry," Tom praised. "You have truly devoted yourself to the study of magic since you were seven. Albeit for me to say, but you are an exceptional talent."
" Thanks to you."
" No, Harry. Thanks to all the work you have put in. I have merely guided you when needed. At what point did I have to remind you to practice or study? At what point during your exams have you asked for my assistance?"
" Not that you would have given it," Harry pointed out.
" I would not have," Tom confirmed. "I wish for you to succeed on your own merit. You are intelligent and gifted enough to do so. Would you have been satisfied with my help?"
Harry shook his head. He would have felt like a fraud were Tom to help him during his academic endeavours.
" Take pride in what you achieved. I couldn't be prouder of you than I am."
Harry smiled as a sense of warmth filled him. It was not often Tom would bestow such praise. He would only do so when he was exceptionally pleased with what Harry had done. He was a harsh critic for the most part and expected unwavering effort in the pursuit of what he deemed to be worthy of acknowledgement.
Knowing that his respite was at an end, he stood and headed back towards the castle to begin the final leg of his assessments, pleased that he would no longer need to be seated for hours at a time.
Having passed through the Great Hall, he entered the antechamber where Madame Marchbanks was waiting for him. Since he had left, the furniture in the room had been swept aside leaving only a desk between himself and the woman who beckoned for him to join her.
"Today, you will complete your practical assessments in Defence Against the Dark Arts, potions and Astronomy later this evening," she explained as she reached into a bag that hung from her shoulder and began withdrawing items.
Placing them on the desk, she drew her wand and pointed it towards a glass container filled with what could only be a quart of blood. She hesitated for a moment before lowering it and nodding thoughtfully.
"It is usual practice for me to cast a curse and have you counter it. This time, however, I would lie you to cast it. I am curious to see just how seriously you are dedicating yourself to your studies, Mr Potter. I would like you to cast a blood-boiling curse and then the counter."
"Isn't that heavily frowned upon?"
Madame Marchbanks snorted.
"Most things are frowned upon these days. If the Ministry had their way, you would be taught nothing of magic beyond the most mundane of spells. Humour me, Mr Potter. Prove to me that you are as dedicated as I believe."
Warily, Harry drew his wand and began casting diagnostic and identity spells to ensure that nothing else was afoot and the woman nodded satisfactorily and began taking notes on his approach.
"It's pigs blood contained in glass," he confirmed. "There are no hidden curses and the container has not been conjured."
"How can you tell?" Marchbanks asked with a slight frown marring her features.
"Magic always leaves a trace," Harry answered simply. "The only magic on here is ambient and from whatever else has been in that bag. It has been in contact with a compulsion charm that was not cast directly onto it and a curse that induces fever and one that causes an outbreak of boils."
Madame Marchbanks smiled at him, her eyes gleaming with surprise.
"Those curses were all removed at the end of last year's examinations. You have quite the keen sense for magic if you are able to still identify them after so long, especially as you so rightly pointed out that they were not placed on this at all. Proceed when you are ready."
Harry cast a cleansing charm to remove all traces of the curses. It was not likely that they would affect his own magic, but he was not taking any chances. When he was satisfied, he pointed his wand at the blood once more and unleashed his spell causing the viscous liquid to begin gently bubbling.
Madame Marchbanks held up a hand to prevent him from countering it so that she could inspect his work.
"Excellently done," she praised. "You cast with finesse and efficiency, using only the needed amount of magic. It takes a skilled practitioner to be able to do so. Far too many people throw magic around pointlessly believing that it will solve any shortcomings they have when it comes to skill."
Harry shook his head.
"Only a fool would do so," he agreed. "If you practice enough, there is no need to waste energy. It will only tire you quicker, especially during combat."
Marchbanks grinned as she nodded.
"Unfortunately, Mr Potter, our world is plagued with them. It makes a change to meet one as sensible as yourself. Now, do be a dear and show me the counter."
With a flick of his wand, Harry complied, his light-blue spell ceasing the heating of the liquid.
"As expected, very well done," Marchbanks offered as she scribbled a few more notes onto her piece of parchment. "Next, I would like you to identify the curses that have been placed on this coin," she instructed, pointing towards a Galleon she had placed on the table.
Identifying different types of magic was something Tom had been teaching Harry since he had arrived for his first year. The magical world could be a very dangerous place and he wanted Harry to take no chances if her were to be around things that could potentially cause him harm, which was almost anything he could come across according to the voice. Harry had at first felt that he was being overprotective but had come to respect the vigilance. Though he had yet to encounter much need for it, it certainly made him feel safer and his increased sensitivity to magic since his final ritual had certainly made tasks like this easier.
He slid his wand into his holster, having no need of it. If anything, he felt the magic better without it.
He hovered his hand a few inches above the coin and closed his eyes, feeling for what presences could be identified. After a few moments, he nodded.
"There is a searing curse, a blindness curse and a well-hidden hair pulling hex. The coin is also fake but has been enchanted to deceive people into believing it is real. It is a sickle that has been enlarged and transfigured. Whoever did it went to the length of coating it in a thin layer gold."
Madame Marchbanks shook her head and chuckled.
"Given your performance thus far, I should have expected nothing less from you. Enchantments are notoriously difficult to detect. There is a reason that it takes years of practice to master. It is amongst the most difficult branches of magic to become competent in. Tell me, Mr Potter, what is it you plan on doing when you finish your schooling?"
Harry shrugged.
"I have no idea," he answered honestly. "For now, I want to make sure I have options available to me."
Marchbanks nodded.
"I believe that there is very little you could do," she returned seriously. "Now, for your final test, I have heard from a very reliable source that you have developed your own way to defend yourself against Dementors. I would like for you to demonstrate that."
Harry slid his wand into his hand before giving it a flick and releasing one of the orbs of dark energy.
Madame Marchbanks shivered as an unpleasant chill filled the room.
"Fascinating," she muttered as she walked around the hanging ball of energy. "It is both an offensive and defensive spell. It acts as a barrier but also a driving force. That is quite the feat of magic, Mr Potter, but I must ask, why not the patronus charm? I doubt that you do not have the capability."
"I wasn't able to master it until recently," Harry sighed. "I was able to conjure a shield for a while but not a corporeal one."
"And you can now?"
Harry nodded somewhat shyly.
"Perhaps you will be able to demonstrate that for me during your charms exam," the woman responded thoughtfully. "Now, we will move on to your potions assessment. I would like for you to brew a strengthening solution for me," she instructed as she removed a plethora of ingredients from her bag along with a cauldron.
(BREAK)
Minerva McGonagall took a sip of her tea as Griselda bit into one of the ginger newts from the tin that sat between them on her desk. Over the decades she had taught, the two had cultivated a close friendship. Both were very busy in their roles and it was not often they had the opportunity to spend time together like this, but they made sure to stay in touch regularly and get together when they could.
"He truly is something else," Griselda commented. "It is one thing to have exceptional talent in one or two branches of magic, but Mr Potter has proven himself in everything I have seen thus far. Not only is his practical magic excellent, he has a very keen mind. His NEWT paper for Transfiguration was incredible. I must say, I did not expect such depth in his work."
Minerva nodded her agreement. Griselda had shown her the exam and how Harry had completed it. His citations were above what she had expected but his counter to each was far beyond NEWT level. He truly was proving to be a prodigy in the art.
"Is it selfish of me that I want him to take my place?" she asked.
"No," Griselda denied, "but whether he will or not remains to be seen. He would be an excellent teacher, an excellent duellist or auror. Hell, the boy could be our minister within ten years if that was what he decided to do."
Minerva smiled proudly. If Griselda Marchbanks believed in him so much, he must have truly impressed her.
"I am at a loss of what to do with him for the remainder of his years here," she sighed. "I fear that he will become bored when his exams are finished and no longer have anything to work towards within these walls."
"Then apprentice him," Griselda advised. "If he proves himself during his practical, then I will sign it off without question myself. I would advise Filius to do the same."
"I would love to, but it will attract a lot of attention to him. He will not want people around him trying to curry favour more than they already do," Minerva replied. "You know better than any what viper's nest awaits him from those that would wish to exploit him."
"I do," Griselda mumbled, "however, I'm sure that it would not take much effort on my part to keep it under my hat. Fudge may be the Minister, but it is me that oversees the Hogwarts exams and curriculum. It is me that signs off apprenticeships. So long as we keep it quiet, Potter should face no issues until he reaches his seventh year."
"That is if he chooses to remain here," Minerva said with a shrug. "Already his Godfather wants him out of the castle, and I can't blame him. Harry has faced danger here more times than any should."
"It is something that should be discussed with the boy. Ultimately, it is his decision," Griselda replied. "It is a conversation I would have with him sooner rather than later."
Minerva nodded her agreement.
It would be a shame if Harry Potter were to be lost to them. Even if he decided that he did not want to teach, wizarding Britain would be worse off without him.
(BREAK)
With only his NEWT practical's to complete in Transfiguration and Charms, Harry was granted another respite in the form of the announcement of the next round of duels that would begin the following week. So far, combatants had not known whom they would face until it was time to do so. Now, they would be granted time to prepare for their opponent.
To Harry, it mattered not but it could prove to be beneficial for the others who would have time to reflect on the style of the person they would be paired against.
He found himself seated at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall with Terry who had also managed to earn his place in the final thirty-two, the only other in his house to do so. Fleur sat opposite them with her two friends and she gave him a bright smile causing him to shake his head. She had been rather smug since he had apologised and still a little irritated with him.
"Who do you think you will get?" Terry questioned.
"Well, if it isn't you, I wouldn't mind if it was her," Harry said loud enough to be heard as he nodded towards Fleur.
She raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed with his statement.
"Do not be silly, 'Arry. It would be a shame if you were eliminated so early."
"In your dreams," Harry returned, crossing his arms.
"Maybe," Fleur replied with a wink causing him to huff.
She had worked out that when she openly flirted, he didn't know how to react. His inexperience with girls really shone through in these moments.
"Shut up, Terry," he grumbled when the boy had the audacity to laugh. "You never know, you might get her."
"No thanks," Terry replied.
"And what would be wrong with facing me, Terry?" Fleur questioned the quickly reddening boy.
"Yeah, Terry," Harry probed.
"D-don't drag me into whatever is going on between you two," Terry bit back.
Fleur giggled.
"There is nothing going on between us. Isn't that right, 'Arry?"
Harry sighed as Dumbledore stood at the front of the hall. Even though fleur said she forgave him, he wasn't convinced. There was something bothering her, and he had an inkling as to what that was. He had purposely avoided talking about what had happened the night of the Yule Ball and had even steered conversations away from it when it was close to being brought up. Truly, he knew not what to say. He may have apologised for distancing himself, but it was not a conversation he was ready for; not that it would lead to anywhere good. For both, it was better left as it was.
He liked the girl and cared for her, that he could admit. If he didn't, he would not be reticent despite how little free time he had. No, he cared for her and had started to deeper than he would voice. He simply could not fathom her returning what he felt nor putting her in the position where she would undoubtedly decide to step away from him.
He needed only to survive until June and then she would be gone. She would soon realise that being around him was not a good idea and they could both move on, anything they may have shared the night of the ball fading to what would become nothing but a distant memory.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore greeted them. "You have been gathered here today so that the duels for the next round can be decided. The format of such will remain as it has been thus far. Without further ado, would you kindly begin the draw, Mr Bagman?"
Ludo nodded the same way an excitable toddler would as he tapped the sorting hat with his wand.
Two pieces of parchment flew from the hat and Dumbledore snatched them out of the air before passing them to Bagman.
"Our first duel will be between Karlos Smolka of Durmstrang and Viktor Krum, also of Durmstrang," the former beater announced.
"No guessing who will win that," Terry muttered from next to Harry.
"Up next will be Draco Malfoy of Hogwarts taking on Terry Boot of Hogwarts," Bagman announced when he had retrieved the next pieces of parchment.
Terry glared balefully at his opponent who returned the gesture in kind.
"Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons will face off against George Weasley of Hogwarts."
The Gryffindors clapped loudly for the redhead who stood and offered his housemates an elaborate bow.
"Harry Potter of Hogwarts will take on Stephan Laurent of Beauxbatons," Bagman announced next, eliciting a grin from Fleur.
The boy who would seemingly be his opponent frowned and mumbled under his breath in French as he stared at Harry who shrugged. To him, it did not matter who he would face.
The announcements continued until there were no other competitors left to draw and Harry left the Great Hall with Terry. He needed to prepare for his final assessments and the students were keen to leave meaning he found himself amongst a sea of robes of varying colour.
"Boot will be easy work," an arrogant voice declared to his left causing Terry to still. "Personally, I would have preferred the chance to put the veela whore in her place. Never mind, there is always the next round."
Malfoy shot Terry a smug grin as he pushed his way through a group of first years with his usual lackeys in tow.
Harry felt his own anger begin to simmer as he caught Terry by the back of his robes to prevent him attacking the Slytherin.
"Come on," he instructed as he pulled the boy away.
"Why did you stop me?" Terry grumbled as he gave up the struggle.
"Because little shits like that always get the last laugh if you attack them first. Save it for the duel."
"Come off it, Harry. I know I'm getting better, but I can't beat him."
"You can and you will because I'm going to help you."
"You're going to help me?" Terry questioned disbelievingly.
"I am," Harry confirmed. "Because if I get him in the next round, I can't promise I won't kill him."
Terry's eyes widened as Harry led him away, both being watched by a pair of blue eyes that had dimmed at the comments of the Malfoy boy. Now, they were full of gratitude and Fleur Delacour revelled in the warmth she felt that Harry was going out of his way to make sure the boy would get what he deserves.
(BREAK)
"That was very well done, Mr Potter," Madame Marchbanks praised as the suit of armour she had provided danced an Irish jig around the room. "Now, I would like to see your patronus charm."
Harry had hoped she had forgotten that little detail and that he would not be asked to demonstrate. As much as he was happy that he had managed it, the circumstances of which both irked and teased him so.
Flashback
" Why do I even have to try? What will it prove?"
" It will prove that you are capable of conjuring it and that you are lying to yourself, Harry," Tom answered candidly. "If it does not work, I will never mention it again, but I want you to really try. I will know if you are not."
" Promise me that you won't mention it," Harry demanded.
" You have my word."
Harry huffed as he drew his wand. Closing his eyes, he revisited the memory he had been pointedly ignoring since the event had occurred. Unwittingly, he swayed on the spot in time with music that had never played as he held the French girl in his arms by the lake. In only a few moments, he had once again danced the night away, remembering the way she felt against him, her unforgettable scent and the warmth of her breath on his neck.
It was as intoxicating as it had been as he'd experienced it and he released a slow breath as he pointed his wand, lost in something he would unlikely never experience again.
" Expecto Patronum," he whispered.
Everything he felt rushed from his body and through his wand leaving him shaking and mournful at the loss. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of a feathered creature of which he knew not.
"What is that?" he asked.
" I do not know, Harry," Tom answered softly
End Flashback
Releasing his wand into his hand, he conjured the memory with practiced ease as he had done so a dozen or so times since the first time. To his detriment, it had drawn him in, and this memory was the only one he had that could bring the creature forth. He had tried others, but to no avail.
" Expecto Patronum."
As he already knew, the human-like body adorned with white feathers emerged from his wand, the smile on the familiar lips and gentle crinkle around the eyes greeting him as she always did, her appearance equally warming as it was a burden.
Madame Marchbanks stared at the creature wide-eyed, her mouth moving in questions she could not vocalise.
"She is a Gamayan," Harry spoke quietly. "She is a mythical creature said to be what veela are descended from."
The room had provided a book with that information. It had been quite the revelation for the teen and Tom, who had kept his promise. He had not mentioned Fleur since. Not that there was any need to. Anytime he cast his spell, it was her he saw, her face not one he could ever forget.
Madame Marchbanks could only nod.
"I would really appreciate it if this could be kept between us," Harry added as he took his leave.
"Of course," Madame Marchbanks muttered as the creature faded from view.
(BREAK)
"Are you sure about this?" Terry asked nervously. "Don't you think it's going too far."
"Doesn't the little git deserve it?" Harry returned.
Terry swallowed deeply as he nodded and took to the duelling platform where Malfoy was waiting for him with a smirk tugging at his lips. The expression irritated Terry. Malfoy had spent the past few years of school throwing his weight around, bullying students who dare not defend themselves against him and being an all-round annoyance to anyone he could get away with it with. He never picked on anyone he didn't know he could get the better of. He was the definition of a bully personified and Terry despised him for it. However, were it not for the opportunity to duel him, to his shame, he would have continued to ignore the boy. It just wouldn't be worth the trouble his father could bring down upon him.
He shot a final look of questioning towards Harry who nodded encouragingly.
"BEGIN," Karkaroff instructed.
For the first minute or so, Terry found himself on the defensive as Malfoy unleashed several streams of curses to finish the duel quickly. His work, however, was sloppy. To his credit, he was fast, but his accuracy was found to be lacking, many of the spells he cast easily avoided or not a threat to him at all. As such, it gave him time to look for the opening he needed.
When he noticed that Draco overreached when implementing impact spells, he watched for a pattern. Harry had insisted people like Malfoy would have one. Again, it did not take him long to identify it.
" Curse, hex, jinx and…impact," he reeled off internally as each spell was sent towards him.
As Malfoy drew his arm back to cast the final spell in the chain, Terry struck, his own spell not wanting for accuracy as it collided with his opponent's off arm.
Draco stilled, a frown forming as he tried to move his arm, only for his own hand to ball into a fist and be driven into his own face.
A loud crunch sounded as his nose was broken and blood began to pour from his nostrils. Still, he tried to regain control of his limb, with little success.
Another punch, this time to his eye causing him to curse loudly before he wheezed and fell to his knees as he seemingly pounded himself in the groin repeatedly. The wheezing turned to whimpering as the assault continued until his wand dropped from his hand and Terry summoned it, bringing the bout to an end.
"WINNER, BOOT," Karkaroff announced, surprised by what had happened.
Terry offered a bow to his downed competitor before taking his leave and joining Harry once more who was highly amused by what he had seen.
"I couldn't have done it better myself."
Terry grinned feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction at taking the boy down a few pegs, though he could not help but wonder what the repercussions would be. He hoped Harry was right and that Draco would be too ashamed to act, but he had his doubts. The idiot did not know when to quit.
"Watch out, your lady is up next," he commented to Harry who merely scowled in reply as Fleur stepped on to the platform to face of with one of the Weasley twins.
(BREAK)
Fleur found herself in good spirits as she stood opposite her redheaded opponent. The Malfoy boy being humiliated had been a joy to witness. He was a bigot and she'd had enough of those in her life. She reminded herself to thank Terry for what he'd done, and Harry for helping him. She smiled at the thought of the green-eyed boy. She was still mad at him for his stupidity, but he was always there for her when she needed, even if he didn't know how much that was.
"BEGIN!"
Fleur immediately dodged a pair of bright orange hexes that would have changed the colour of her hair and sent a stream of doves with razor-sharp beaks and claws towards the boy who put an end to them with a stream of fire. Without pause, he unleashed a torrent of what appeared to be slime in her direction, though it fell short and covered the platform between them.
Ensuring she kept an eye on it, she avoided the next three spells that were sent in quick succession. Ducking under two and twirling away from the third as she fired a rebuttal in the form of a concussion hex that was intercepted by a shield.
Unwilling to allow him to gain any further momentum, her onslaught continued with a trio of cutting curses that were avoided and a bludgeoning curse that hit its mark, crashing into the boy's stomach.
He doubled over in pain as he flicked his wand at the jelly-like substance still clinging to the platform and it immediately began to move, folding over itself as it headed in her direction.
The stream of fire she sent did nothing to slow its progress nor did any other spell she attacked with. Slowly but steadily, it continued heading towards her.
Distracted by the descending slime, she was lucky to avoid another attack, the spell whistling past her ear as she continued her efforts to rid herself of the gunge still intent on reaching her.
She had never seen anything like it and had no idea what it would do to her. What she did know, however, was that she was not keen on finding out.
Thinking quickly, she conjured a stone wall between herself and it, if anything to give her enough time to finish the duel before it could get too close for comfort. Turning her attention back towards the redhead, she fired a plethora of pink sparks that whizzed towards him, a few managing to reach him before his shield halted the rest, though the damage was already done.
His hair lengthened, pooling around his feet in a matter of second before it attacked him, wrapping itself around his body as though he was being mummified. He fought back but it only made the struggle worse as his hair double in the effort to smother him. Eventually, he succumbed to the spell and found himself wriggling about the platform, unable to offer any further offense or defence as his arms were pinned to his side and swallowed up by his hair.
"WINNER, DELACOUR," Professor Snape declared.
Fleur gave a final look towards the slime that was attempting to scale over her wall before she took her leave and headed towards where Harry and Terry were looking on.
"What was that?" she asked.
Terry shook his head amusedly.
"With the Weasley's, you never know," he replied, nodding towards the platform.
Fleur turned to see the other twin and their friend whom Harry had defeated attempting to physically wrestle the slime into submission, the former pummelling it with his fists whilst the other held it in what would be a headlock if the thing had one to speak of.
"Bloody hell, George, get over here!" the punching twin demanded.
Having been freed from his hairy prison, her opponent sprinted across the platform and dived on top of the slime, much to the joy of the crowd who cheered them on and laughed.
Fleur giggled also as she faced Terry once more.
"I wanted to thank you, for what you did to that pig."
Terry flushed as he waved her off.
"It was Harry that showed me how to do it."
The other boy shot him a look of irritation as Fleur nodded knowingly.
"I know. I was there when 'e said what 'e did," she answered, "but thank you anyway."
She wrapped her arms around the boy who stiffened, the redness of his cheeks deepening considerably. When she released him, he was nearly catatonic, his mouth opening and closing as he looked towards the floor to try to compose himself.
"And thank you, 'Arry," she added quietly. "You should watch out for Stephan. He is a pig also but 'e is much better with 'is wand."
Having said what she wanted to, she gave him a final smile as she headed back towards her own seat, chastising herself under her breath.
More than anything, she wanted to hug him too but had lost her nerve when the moment had come.
She missed him and cursed herself for what had happened at the ball. Had it not, she would not be in the predicament she found herself in. As much as she wished it hadn't, she did not regret it. For once in her life she had felt more than just a veela, more than just a trophy that would be paraded around like a prize. She had felt normal, had experienced what it would be to be held by someone other than her father and by one that cared not what she was.
She wanted that feeling back, and though she would only admit it to herself, the person she wanted to make her feel that way was Harry Potter.
(BREAK)
He turned his head and watched as a bright blue spell passed him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from it. This opponent was different from any other he had faced. Laurent was very well trained, his casting precise and purposeful and his movement crisp but fluid. Within the next five years, he would be a true contender, likely amongst the best his country had to offer. Now, however, he was still learning, and Harry had figured out his conventional style. Though trained well, he had no flair, no personal touch of which to speak, very much like the training dummies he faced off with within his room.
With this in mind, he flicked his wand and a sound like a gunshot sounded as an enormous bird of fire erupted from the end. With an audible screech, it took to the sky above them and flew in circles, an ominous yet threatening trail of fire left in its wake.
Laurent watched the bird cautiously for a moment before focusing once more on Harry who had not been idle in the interim. Whilst his opponent had been distracted, he had created two more creatures; a wolf made of water and a bear he had carved from the ground and animated.
With a roar, the latter bound forward, his feet thudding heavily against the wooden platform. Though his eyes widened, Laurent did not panic as he pushed it back with a powerful banisher, sending the beast sprawling.
Undeterred, the bear rolled to its feet and charged once more, followed by the wolf that quickly overtook its ally in only a few, powerful thrusts of its legs.
Again, Laurent sent a banishing charm, knocking the wolf out of his path. He readied himself to do the same to the bear only to turn away as it exploded, leaving him covered in a layer of dirt.
With only one beast left attacking him, he dispatched it quickly with a stream of fire, the ice melting into a pool of water.
His eyes met those of his opponent who seemed unperturbed by the destruction of his creations. In truth, he seemed to be entertained and relaxed as his wand hung limply at his side.
Seeing an opportunity to strike, Laurent aimed his wand, only to pause as another screech sounded and the bird dived towards him.
With his eyes widening, he created a wall of water in front of him, hoping it would fend the flames off.
Harry nodded in satisfaction as his avian conjuration barrelled towards the boy, the flames fading as it transformed from fire to wind, becoming a barely visible streak until it burst through the water and slammed into his opponent's chest, knocking him to the ground. Before he could stand, the dirt that covered him burst in to flames and he rolled to put them out. So distracted by the fire that was spreading, he rolled off the platform, the flames doused only a moment later when a large wolf made of water ploughed into his prone form.
He shook himself as he stood, the pool of water left behind on the platform no longer there and he snorted at the genius of the attack. Though he was unhappy, he had not been prepared for such a series of events.
"WINNER, POTTER," Madame Maxime declared.
Harry offered Stephan a nod of acknowledgement as he left the platform to a thunderous round of applause. The boy was a very good duellist, but he lacked experience against people like him and if he was as much as a git as he had shown himself, he deserved to be humbled.
Terry merely shook his head at him as he retook his seat, relaxing but in anticipation of whom he would face the next day.
(BREAK)
Fleur's arms bucked as another blasting curse smashed against her shield. Krum was proving to be much more powerful and ruthless than any other she had faced thus far. Not that she could blame him. She too wanted to prove herself above her competition in the tournament in all things.
She had been excited by the prospect of facing him when their bout had been announced. For a moment, she had thought Harry had been chosen when Bagman had said that it would be contested between two of the champions. She was not ashamed to admit that she had been relieved that it hadn't. She of course would have given it her all, but she was under no assumption that she would revel in facing off against him. Their relationship was already frail and tentative. She did not want anything to jeopardise that further, though if she were to beat Krum, being pit against Harry would only become more likely. Much to his amusement, he had been drawn to battle Terry in this round, who had paled at the announcement.
Avoiding a strangulation curse, she produced a thick cloud of white fog that drifted towards Viktor. Even through the mist, she could see his thick brows settle into a frown as he pondered what his next move would be.
Fleur grinned as he tried to clear it with a gust of wind, only for the speed it moved towards him to increase. Out of sheer desperation, Krum conjured a silver, opaque shield around himself just before it reached him.
Fleur's spell work continued as she began layering more spells on the fog. It was a difficult thing to do, needing both balance patience to achieve. So long as Krum took refuge, the outcome of the duel would remain in her favour.
After a few moments of further work, she cheered internally as she added her final spell to the fog and the shield around Krum began to crack, deep fissures forming as her freezing charm took effect.
With a final groan, the shield gave way revealing a heavily panting and sodden Bulgarian who pushed himself to his feet just as the cloud surrounded him.
After a few moments of confusion from the crowd, Fleur cleared it with a wave of her wand and they were greeted by the sight of a dry and gently snoring Viktor Krum, her sleeping charm having taken the desired effect.
"WINNER, DELACOUR," Flitwick announced, impressed by what he had seen.
Fleur offered a respectful bow, exhausted from the efforts it had taken to defeat Viktor. He had been a worthy opponent, much more powerful than she had expected. Had any of his spells broken through her shield, she would have been left in a bad way.
(BREAK)
"That was impressive," Harry commented as he clapped politely for the girl.
"How would you have countered it?" Terry asked curiously.
"Well, the cloud was a variant of the obscuring charm. You can tell that it was a variant by the wand movement. Instead of a swish at the end, she circled it, protecting it from the natural defence which, as Krum demonstrated, would be a gust of wind."
Terry snorted.
"Only you would notice a difference in wand movements."
"Only a competent duellist would notice it," Harry corrected. "I don't think Krum even considered Fleur had that type of skill. She's bloody brilliant at charms."
Terry nodded his agreement.
"I suppose we'd best get this over with," he grumbled as his name was called.
"Terry?" Harry called as the boy began to walk towards the platform.
He turned and gave him a questioning look.
"Give it your all. If I think you've given up to soon, I will kick your arse around this stadium."
Terry chuckled as he nodded.
Harry knew that the boy would not present much f a problem for him but that didn't mean he wanted to humiliate him. Terry was one of the very few people he had ever met that he could tolerate being around. He would go as far to say that his housemate had grown on him somewhat.
He took his place opposite the boy and returned the bow offered with one of his own.
"BEGIN," Karkaroff growled, likely annoyed that Krum had been eliminated.
Terry opened the proceedings with a salvo of bludgeoning curses and even a bone-breaker aimed at his wand hand.
Harry batted them aside and grinned. Terry's form was excellent, and his casting had improved tenfold since the opening round a few months prior. For someone who had not seemingly invested much time in the practice, he was good, likely better than most at Hogwarts already.
Taking the boy a little more seriously, Harry set fire to the centre of the platform and ripped it away before launching the searing wood towards his foe.
"Bloody hell," Terry huffed as he threw himself to the ground to avoid it. "Alright, Potter, I've got something for you."
Harry's eyes widened as a very questionable slicing curse was sent his way. Were it to hit, he would be saying goodbye to a limb, permanently, though it splashed harmlessly against a luminescent, green shield he conjured.
Nodding appreciatively at the advanced curse, he delved into a branch of magic he had recently been practicing under the tutelage of Tom. It wasn't necromancy per say but it was related to a degree that most would be uncomfortable with.
Ensuring that he was safe behind his shield, he began muttering under his breath in a tongue that would take him considerable effort to master. Luckily for him, it was seemingly made for people who spoke parseltongue. The rhythm of the speech being similar and some phonics also.
He dropped his shield and raised his arms in an upwards motion as Terry looked on in confusion. As he did so, a dozen ghostly figures emerged from the ground, clad in armour and wielding an array of weapons. They gave an almighty battle cry as one approached Harry and took a knee in front of him.
" How may I serve you, my lord?"
" Surround him only. There will be no need to attack. You may block any spells he fires."
" Very good, my lord," the man complied, smashing his fist against his mailed chest.
Harry watched in amusement as the silver-eyed man led the rest and surrounded a dumbfounded Terry.
It was certainly not something that Harry would implement in any fight, but he wanted to put on a show. Not only did it take time, it was a draining spell, one that was difficult to cast let alone maintain.
Shaking himself from the incredulity of what he had witnessed, Terry did his utmost to ignore the intimidating spectacle that was the gathering of ghosts around him and fired a stunning spell towards Harry.
To his surprise, one of the spectres dived in front of it and fell limp to the ground. His comrades gave a collective shout of displeasure as they took a threatening step forward, their weapons pointed in his direction.
Baffled, but undeterred, he fired of a bludgeoning curse next that was once more intercepted by one of the figures who grunted as he was sent crashing to the ground. Much to his surprise, this one got up and retook his position, shaking his head in discomfort.
He did not get another chance to fire another spell, however. As the formation was again whole, other than the one unconscious being, he was forced to erect a shield as several spells were sent his way.
He managed to endure three of them before his defence collapsed and he was sent sprawling from the platform, feeling as though he had been kicked by a horse.
"Merlin, that hurt," he grumbled, coughing from the tightness that had formed.
"WINNER, POTTER," Karkaroff snarled before he stomped away.
"What the hell was that?" Terry groaned as Harry pulled him to his feet.
"Just something I've been working on," Harry replied cryptically.
Terry shook his head.
"Well, thanks for not making it worse," he offered. "Those things could have killed me, couldn't they?"
Harry nodded.
"They could have torn you limb from limb if I wanted them to. Believe me, it was quite tempting."
"You don't mean that," Terry denied with a chuckle. "Now, help me to Pomfrey. I think my ribs are broken."
Harry huffed as he pointed his wand at the boy and hissed gently.
The throbbing of his torso ceased, and Terry released a deep breath, no longer wincing in pain.
"Aww, you do care," he mocked.
"Shut up, Terry," Harry muttered as he led the way back towards their seats.
"So, what happens now?"
Harry shrugged.
"I suppose they will do another draw to see who we will face next."
His guess proved to be right as Dumbledore took to the platform, his questioning, concerned eyes meeting Harry's briefly before he placed his wand to his throat.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LET'S HAVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THOSE THAT HAVE REACHED THIS STAGE OF THE COMPETITION."
The crowd clapped accordingly with a few whistles ringing out across the stadium in recognition of the competitors.
"NOW, IT IS TIME ONCE MORE TO DRAW NAMES FOR THE NEXT ROUND. ONLY EIGHT DUELLISTS REMAIN. MR BAGMAN? IF YOU PLEASE."
Bagman stepped on the platform clutching the sorting hat that had seemingly had the name of the victors recently added.
"OUR FIRST DUEL WILL SEE CEDRIC DIGGORY OF HOGWARTS TAKING ON ALBRECHT DUVAL OF DURMSTRANG."
Diggory would have his work cut out for him against Duval, he was exceptional with curses and elusive. Cedric would need to find a way to pin the other boy down if he wanted any chance of winning.
"OH HO, OUR NEXT BOUT WILL CONSIST OF THE REMAINING CHAMPIONS AS FLEUR DELACOUR OF BEAUXBATONS WILL TAKE ON HARRY POTTER OF HOGWARTS."
Harry felt his stomach sink at the announcement. He knew that it could be a possibility that he would face her, but he hadn't expected the feeling of dread that was settling in his stomach. He certainly didn't fear her but more what could happen.
He blocked out the voice of Bagman as he pondered his predicament.
He couldn't simply let her win. It was not in his nature to lose and she would see through it immediately. Yet, he couldn't comprehend doing anything that would harm her, such a thought made him feel sick to his stomach.
" Bloody hell," he groaned internally.
He was pulled from his musings by someone nudging his shoulder.
He looked up to see Terry giving him a look of sympathy as he nodded in front of them. He turned to see a rather subdued Fleur in front of him. He stood automatically, not knowing what to say.
"We both knew this could 'appen," she sighed sadly.
Harry nodded.
"It doesn't mean I don't want you to give me your best," he replied with a tight smile. "I'll tell you the same as I told him. If I think you are holding back or give up too easily, I will kick your arse all over this stadium."
Fleur raised an eyebrow at him before turning her nose up.
"Not if I do it to you first."
Harry chuckled at the girl.
" Good luck, Fleur," he offered in French.
Her eyes widened.
" You have been learning?"
" A little," he responded. "You did tell me I should expand on my linguistic abilities."
Fleur huffed.
" You are a silly boy," she sniffed as she pulled him into her arms. "Good luck, 'Arry," she returned before kissing his cheek and taking her leave.
A familiar warmth spread throughout him and he reached up unwittingly to touch where her lips had been, cherishing the feeling she had left him with.