The announcer's voice rolled across the stadium, magically amplified so that every spectator could hear the result clearly.
"BELLATRIX BLACK WINS!"
The crowd erupted. Thunderous applause surged through the enormous arena as witches and wizards rose to their feet, some clapping, others shouting praise for the duel they had just witnessed. The wards surrounding the marble dueling platform rippled faintly as the lingering energy from the battle settled.
At the center of the stage, Bellatrix Black lowered her wand. Her breathing remained steady, and a faint glint of satisfaction gleamed in her dark eyes.
Across from her, Lei Ling lay sprawled on the platform, her body twitching slightly from the electric strike. The shock had left her muscles rigid and unresponsive, and the protective sheath of air that normally cloaked her had been disrupted completely. A loose strand of hair clung to her face, damp with sweat, yet her eyes flickered briefly in acknowledgment of Bellatrix's skill. A faint, frustrated smile crossed her lips.
The duel had been close—closer than most had anticipated. For a few seconds, the two duelists simply regarded each other. Lei Ling inclined her head slightly, conceding the match, and Bellatrix responded with a brief, measured nod.
The tension in the arena slowly dissolved as officials stepped onto the platform to prepare for the award ceremony.
Healers hurried forward, attending first to Lei Ling, whose body still twitched from the lightning strike and whose face showed the faint sting of the shock, her hair frazzled. Bellatrix, too, bore the marks of the duel—a noticable cut on her lip and sections of her robes scorched where Lei Ling's spells had landed. Both witches were tended to carefully, though the crowd's applause continued, a testament to the sheer intensity and skill displayed in the final match.
Not long after, the formal presentation began. A small procession approached the center of the stage while the crowd settled back into their seats. At the front walked Camille Rousseau, the French Minister for Magic, her ceremonial robes embroidered with silver thread that glinted beneath the floating lanterns above the arena.
Bellatrix stood tall as the minister approached, an assistant carrying the golden trophy forward. The cup gleamed brilliantly under the stadium lights, its polished surface reflecting the enormous audience surrounding the platform. The engraved handles curled elegantly outward, while the base bore the year of the tournament.
The minister lifted the trophy for all to see before placing it into Bellatrix's hands. A fresh wave of applause echoed across the arena. Then, with deliberate ceremony, the minister produced a small gold badge and pinned it carefully to her robes. The inscription read:
World Duelling Champion 1979
Winning the final of an international dueling tournament marked the victor as one of the most formidable young duelists of her generation. Bellatrix accepted the recognition with unmistakable pride.
From the stands, Filius Flitwick watched the ceremony with a thoughtful expression before nodding approvingly. "Miss Black is truly worthy of being the champion,"
Beside him, Gilderoy Lockhart observed quietly, his gaze lingering on the dueling platform where the final had taken place. Flitwick glanced sideways at him.
"And you did more than I expected," the professor continued. "Just three months of training, and you still reached the semifinals. That was outstanding."
Lockhart inclined his head slightly, outwardly modest, though internally he understood the truth. The ritual he had performed earlier that year had subtly sharpened his stamina, and his Animagus transformation had improved his agility far beyond that of an ordinary student. Those advantages had played an undeniable role in his performance. Without them, reaching the semifinals would have been far more difficult.
Still, the experience had been valuable. Observing Bellatrix and Lei Ling's duel had offered insight into the level of combat he would eventually need to surpass.
Gradually, the ceremony concluded. Spectators began leaving the stadium while officials wrapped up their duties on the platform. The atmosphere shifted from intense focus to relaxed excitement, the sense of a concluded event settling over the arena.
Later that evening, Lockhart and Flitwick returned to their hotel to collect their belongings. Their luggage had already been packed in preparation for departure. Lockhart closed the final clasp on his travel trunk while Flitwick checked his pocket watch.
"I managed to secure another Portkey approval," he said. "We leave in about an hour."
Lockhart nodded. That left enough time to reach the portkey location without rushing.
They stepped outside, walking through the streets near the tournament venue. The magical district remained lively, with visitors from various countries filling the cafés and shopfronts along the cobbled streets.
Snippets of conversation drifted past them—Bellatrix's relentless spellcasting, Lei Ling's aerial maneuvers, the moment the final electric strike landed—the duel had clearly left a lasting impression.
As they exited the main plaza, Lockhart noticed a familiar figure near one of the stone pillars marking the entrance to Place Cachée. Lei Ling. She seemed to be speaking with a few competitors casually. As the group dispersed, Lockhart stepped forward.
"You were great, Lei—even if you lost."
She turned immediately, a grin spreading across her face.
"Oh It's you, Thanks," she said, the thrill of the match still in her expression. "We can owl each other, right? Since we're acquaintances now."
Lockhart smiled.
"Of course."
"Please do, Lockhart," she added lightly. "I'll be waiting for your owl."
They exchanged a brief farewell, and she headed off to meet her escort. Lockhart continued toward the large stone pillar at the center of Place Cachée, where Flitwick was waiting. The professor watched him approach with a faintly amused expression.
"Made a few acquaintances, have we?"
Lockhart cleared his throat.
"Ahem… no, Master. I mean—she's just a friend."
Flitwick's smirk widened slightly.
"Of course."
Without pressing further, he gestured toward the enchanted statue that served as the hidden connection to the nearby Muggle streets. Together they activated the passage by touching it and stepped through.
The transition was subtle. One moment they stood among enchanted architecture; the next, they emerged onto an ordinary Parisian street, the distant sound of traffic faintly audible. Flitwick reached into his pouch and withdrew an old, worn boot.
"Portkey."
Lockhart touched the upper part of the boot with a single finger while Flitwick checked the activation time.
A sudden tug struck behind Lockhart's navel, and the world blurred into a whirl of spinning colors. Wind roared past, space itself twisting and folding.
Moments later, their feet hit solid ground. They had arrived at the towering gates of Hogwarts. Evening sunlight bathed the castle in warm golden light, the towers and ancient stone walls gleaming above the grounds. The quiet majesty of the castle felt almost peaceful after the chaos of the tournament stadium.
Flitwick adjusted his robes.
"I'll be heading to Hogsmeade for a short errand. We'll part ways here."
Lockhart nodded.
"Understood."
The professor disappeared down the road leading to the village, leaving Lockhart standing alone near the gates. For a moment, he simply gazed up at the familiar silhouette of the castle. After weeks away, it carried a quiet sense of comfort.
Gilderoy wanted to fly towards the castle but he remembered he still had his luggage with him so instead chose to walk across the grounds, enjoying the cool evening air and the faint scent of grass and lake water. Students wandered along the paths in small groups, some glancing curiously as he passed. Tall trees in the forbidden forest swayed gently, and the castle towers reflected the fading sunlight.
Eventually, Lockhart reached the entrance and stepped inside, making his way toward the Great Hall in the hope of catching Amy. Luck was on his side.
Just as he approached the hall doors, Amelia stepped out. She froze for a brief moment, then her face brightened.
"Gil!" she called, rushing forward. Before he could respond, she pulled him into a deep kiss, wrapping her arms tightly around him. The sudden embrace nearly lifted him off balance.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes shone.
"You're back."
"Yes, I'm back," he replied softly.
"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the corridor.
"Where are we going?" he asked, letting himself be led along.
"You'll see" she answered, a mischievous glint in her eye.
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Surprisingly, We reached the 60 stones goal last week. Thank you for that!❤️
I hope to reach 100 stones this week. This fic has 600+ readers so please make it possible.
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