Chapter 26: A peaceful term at Hogwarts?
January 5th, 1994
Harry was back at Hogwarts after the eventful Yule holidays. On New Year's Eve, he and Sirius had briefly enjoyed the firework show before taking their leave from the ball. Sirius was enraged that Sebastian Delacour had laid his hand on Harry.
Harry himself was pretty pissed off. He was sure the man would have actually challenged him to a duel, just for dancing with his daughter. Who knows what might have happened?
Sure, Harry was a formidable duelist, but Sebastian Delacour had been the head of the French DMLE for almost ten years now and was still on active duty regularly. It was unlikely that Harry could take him down yet.
Apparently, there had been no repercussions for the Delacour patriarch for attacking Harry like that. The entire incident had probably been swept under the rug.
Everyone in the Castle was fast asleep and he needed to talk to Salazar. Deep underneath his robes, he could feel the cold metal of the Locket, the spells on it were still trying to persuade him to put it on.
Harry entered the Quarters of the Founder:
"Wake up, old man, I am back from the Yule holidays."
Salazar cursed at his heir but interestingly listened when Harry told him about the events at the New-Years-Eve ball and his dance with Delacour.
"You should not have antagonized him further Harry, I hope you did not cross any of your godfather's political plans with your actions. You can't keep making enemies, while he tries to network and spread his political influence at an event like that."
Harry nodded his understanding:
"Also, Sal, I have found something that once belonged to you. I am afraid, Riddle achieved what he had planned."
He pulled out the Locket and it almost broke his heart to see his mentor's eyes tearing up at the sight.
"Is it now, what I think it is, Harry?"
"I am sorry, Salazar. We have to destroy it, it is a Horcrux now."
Salazar just nodded sadly and Harry remembered the story, the portrait had told him: The locket had been a gift to his wife. It must cause the founder unimaginable pain to see it tainted with a foreign soul, like that.
Harry took the fang that had pierced his arm. He had placed it as a souvenir on the wall next to the portrait.
"How do I open it?" He asked the founder.
"I think you already know, Harry." The man smiled sadly and turned around. He did not want to look at it.
"Open." The word came out as a hiss as the golden doors of the locket swung wide open with a little click. Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been.
The point of the fang dangled over the frantically swiveling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing himself, already imagining blood pouring from the empty windows.
Then a voice spoke sibilantly from the Horcrux.
"I have seen your heart, and it is mine."
"I have seen your dreams, Harry Potter, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible..."
"You have no idea, Tom." Harry grimaced as he struck the fang right in the middle of the opened Locket. A high piercing scream came out of it and Harry was thrown backward against the wall.
He got up and ready, pointing his wand at the Locket, but nothing happened. A thick dark substance leaked from the badly damaged jewelry, dropping in the cold stone tiles below it. Whatever part of Riddle had lived within it was now gone.
"It's done, Salazar," Harry told the Portrait.
"Thank you, Harry,'' the man just nodded. "Another one down and who knows how many more to come."
March 2nd, 1994
Two months at Hogwarts had passed since Harry had destroyed the locket. To peaceful months. However, preparations were running high. Due to his continued use of the time turner, Harry's magical 14th birthday was coming up today, March 2nd, already.
It felt weird, having to celebrate his birthday on a different date each day, but their calculation made sense. Last year, Harry's discovery of the time turner led to the shift of his magical birthday from July 31st, two months earlier, to May 30th.
Since Harry had continued using the device over the last year, his next magical birthday was coming up already. Knowing the exact date was important since he will be performing the Mind-ritual.
The sacrifices for the ritual were a lot different than the ones before. To strengthen his mind and improve his mental capabilities, Harry needed to sacrifice something he held very dear in his own mind, his memories. Or rather, very certain memories.
The ritual required him to cast the necessary runes, spill a bit of his blood and activate them, and focus on his happiest memories. After the ritual was done, Harry would be unable to ever recall these moments again or remember the euphoria he had been feeling.
Harry had made a short list of the four happiest memories he would sacrifice.
Consciously using his powers in the hospital bed, after he had apparated to the top of the roof. This had been the moment, he understood that he was special
The first time he entered Diagon Alley and was introduced to the wizarding world.
Meeting Sirius and when he was declared innocent during his trial.
And finally, his first Christmas with Sirius and the memory of them cooking together in the kitchen at Grimmauld place while listening to Christmas music from the small wireless.
Harry honestly thought that he would rather sacrifice, blood, sweat, tears, and all his galleons instead of erasing those memories from his mind.
There would be no way to restore them afterward. He also could not duplicate them or place them in a Pensieve. Magic itself would recognize his attempt at cheating the required sacrifice and the ritual might go horribly wrong.
All he could hope for was that he would make new memories with Sirius and have his godfather tell him about the once he was about to lose.
He frowned as he drew the required runes. They were a lot more complicated and complex this time. No wonder, the mind was hardly comparable to the human body in its complexity. Especially the mind of a wizard.
As always, he powered each corner of the star with a drop of his blood and the ritual started. Harry focused on each and every part of the memories he wanted to sacrifice. The more detail he put into it, the greater his sacrifice and therefore the better the results.
After about ten minutes, the runes around him stopped glowing and Harry sank to the floor. It was done. He felt somewhat empty. He knew there should be something, a memory, something important that happened on those days, but he could simply not remember, as if someone had obliviated him.
Salazar tried his best to improve Harry's mood, but the child simply felt like keeping to himself for the moment.
April 15th, 1994
Six weeks had passed since the ritual. Luckily, Harry noticed that his personality quickly changed to the state it had been before he took it. Perhaps he was a bit quieter and preferred to keep to himself a bit more often, but his friends did not complain about it.
The positive effects of the ritual were clearly noticeable. Harry could half-heartedly listen to the professor's lectures in class and still remember many of the tiny details they talked about.
Also, many advanced Occlumency exercises no longer caused him any problems, even defending his mind in a weakened state, such as right after waking up and after an exhausting training session in the ROR, now felt easier.
He also found himself restless more often, desperate to keep himself occupied with something and learning new and advanced magic. Harry, therefore, focused all his energy on his dueling training with Flitwick and Animagus training with McGonagall.
However, he was slowly getting frustrated at his lack of progress.
"Mr. Potter, you need to calm yourself, otherwise we will not achieve any progress in today's session," McGonagall called him out after he again failed to change the fingertips into whatever Animagus form he might have.
Harry huffed in annoyance: "I am doing everything exactly as you told me to, Professor, it simply doesn't work!"
"Of course, it works Mr. Potter, but becoming an Animagus is not something a student just learns overnight. It took me three years to change into my cat from and back within a couple of seconds.
Even your father, Black, and Pettigrew took over four years to achieve their first transformation. Why would you think it might work for you after only a couple of months?"
Harry was about to reply that he was a greater wizard than any of them but managed to hold his tongue. He respected McGonagall and did not favor any detention due to his already busy schedule.
"Yes, Professor, I will calm my mind and try again." He replied neutrally.
"See that you do, Mr. Potter. Follow my teachings. Concentrate on your core and slowly push your magic towards your fingertips, similar to the exercises you had performed under Mr. Flamel.
Now instead of pushing the magic out of your fingertips, simply concentrate on changing the tissue around it and focus clearly on the intent. Your intent is the most important tool in transfiguration.
Harry nodded and repeated the exercise. He quickly found his inner core and slowly trailed the path to his right arm and fingers, pushing his magic ahead of him. Then, he focused on changing the tissue around him.
This is where he usually grew frustrated. He did not know what form he might have, how should he focus his intent on changing the tissue, if he didn't know what to change it into?
Nevertheless, he continued the exercise and slowly kept pushing more and more magic into the bones, muscles, tendons, and skin surrounding his finger.
Suddenly he felt something.
"Very good, Mr. Potter, now look at that, who would have thought." McGonagall congratulated from behind him.
Harry opened his eyes. And almost shrieked…
His entire right hand was gone. Instead, there was the tip of a wing covered in deep black feathers that were stretched slightly.
"I am a black bird?" Harry asked, unable to hide his disappointment. He was hoping for a strong dominant animal, like a tiger, panther, or bear.
"Of course, you are not just any black bird, Mr. Potter." His teacher rolled her eyes.
"You should be more than happy. A transformation into an animal that can fly is incredibly useful and can be used to tactically retreat in dangerous situations. From the texture of the feathers, I would assume you are either a crow or a raven."
"Sorry, but what is the difference?" Harry asked, confused.
McGonagall huffed at her student: "Both belong to the family of the Corvus, Mr. Potter. They are amongst the most intelligent animals on this planet.
The raven is slightly larger, while crows are supposed to be a tick more intelligent. We will find out once you have completed more of the transformation. Please reverse the changes, Mr. Potter. That will be it for tonight."
Harry nodded and focused on reversing the wing back into his human hand. Now that he could picture what he should transform into and back, he hoped that progress might come quicker than before.
May 1st, 1994
Life at Hogwarts continued peacefully. His electives became more and more interesting. Recently they had started a new project in their Arithmancy class to break down a spell of their choice and prepare a draft for an improved version.
Harry had put a lot of commitment and time into it and thought his idea was quite brilliant. Today he would present it to the class. He stood in front of the other students that eyed him curiously.
Everyone knew that Harry Potter had been working on his project almost every day for the last two weeks. They were curious as to what he might have come up with.
"Hello everybody, today I would like to demonstrate an improved variant of the Stunner. Now, my calculations are not final, but I expect to keep working on them over the next couple of months and then I will hopefully be able to even provide a demonstration.
I am sure you are all wondering, what I have actually been working on. Well, I stumbled upon a huge problem, our magical law enforcement faces on a daily basis and especially in times of war.
The Ministry's Aurors and Hit-Wizards are not allowed to use any lethal curses. Therefore, one of their favorite curses quickly became the stunner, Stupify, due to its simplicity and short-term effectiveness.
I call it short-term effectiveness because a criminal that was stunned can quickly be brought back to consciousness by a simple 'Renervate'. This causes a problem for the Aurors since, during a skirmish, the opposing forces can simply revive their fighters while firing lethal spells themselves.
The Auros not only risk their lives but also risk getting attacked by the same opponent twice, simply because he had been revived by his mates.
To mitigate this problem, I started a design and calculations for a stunner that keys the magical signature of the caster into the integral structure of the spell itself.
What this means in essence, is that any stunner fired by an individual will be slightly different from another. This can be used to the caster's advantage since a normal 'Renervate' will no longer succeed in bringing a downed opponent back to consciousness.
By tweaking the spell, only the original caster of the stunner will be able to revive his opponent. I am sure you all see the potential of this. Please note that I already patented my idea at the Office for Magical Patents. Therefore, copying this idea is worthless.
Thank you for your time, let me know if you have any questions for me."
The class erupted in applause for Harry. Professor Vector could hardly contain her excitement and started bombarding Harry with questions.
She congratulated him for the idea and mentioned that if he was successful, he could easily sell the idea to the Ministry itself and earn a healthy number of Galleons from it. His work might save the lives of many different Aurors.
Harry thanked his professor. The idea was indeed brilliant, but the stunner was simply the first step on a long path. If he could successfully apply this idea to a stunner, what other spells could he key his magical signature to?
The prospect of combining his magical signature with his Parseltongue ability brought also an infinite number of possibilities for future combat and defensive uses. He would definitely continue working on this project.
There were a couple of other interesting ideas and drafts presented around him. Daphne, for example, presented her idea for a new Tempus spell that she intended to combine with a Remembrall to act similar to a muggle alarm clock.
Harry chuckled, purebloods would truly do anything but accept muggle technology into their households. Nevertheless, the idea had merit and both Harry and Daphne earned top marks for their proposals, much to the annoyance of Granger.
Over the Easter holidays, Sirius had found the old communication Mirror that he had used with James. Harry and Sirius, therefore, chatted every other day for half an hour or so and briefed each other on what they each have been doing. It was also time to make plans for the summer.
Sirius and Flitwick would both accompany Harry to Moscow at the beginning of August for the Under-18 Championship. Had would be one of the 100 competitors and all fought for the number one spot. He would be the youngest competitor that had ever participated in an Under-18 dueling tournament, but that was fine for Harry.
He was far more interested in the change in rules. Unlike for the Tournament in Paris, the Russians were a lot more lenient with the sort of spells each competitor may use.
Pretty much everything was allowed, aside from the blood boiling hex, a bone breaker to the head, and a piercing hex to the chest or head.
Much to the uproar of the rest of magical Europe, Russia had also allowed the use of the latter two Unforgivables in a tournament. Harry was not too worried about the Imperius Curse.
It took a lot of concentration to cast successfully and Harry was sure that he could easily shake it off, even if he got hit. The Cruciatus curse, however, was a different story. Sure, it required a very strong intent to cast, but once you were hit by it, the duel was almost certain to be over.
Most people took days to recover from its effects, even if only being held under it for a couple of seconds. Harry himself had decided not to use the curse unless there was no other way around it.
Things would be different this time. He will certainly still be ruthless during his duels and quickly submit his opponents however he would not go out of his way to antagonize them anymore.
He didn't need to rely on childish provocative means to beat them. He had his magic for that, after all. Talking about provocative…
In Moscow, he would see Fleur Delacour again. The beautiful French witch had been swirling through his thoughts a couple of times ever since their dance at the Ball in Berlin. He had quite enjoyed himself if he was being honest.
She had been witty and teased him in a harmless, friendly fashion. A couple of times Harry thought about writing to her again, but each time he stopped himself. Building a closer relationship with one of his future competitors did not sound like a good idea.
Besides, Fleur had not written to him again either. Although, it was probably his turn to write, Harry thought. He would stop any correspondence with the Veela for now. He had enough things to do and would see her soon enough.
It would be a very busy summer, anyways. Soon after the Tournament Sirius would take Harry to the Quidditch world cup. Ireland will be playing Bulgaria and Sirius, as a Qudiidtich fan, would not miss it for the world.
June 1st, 1994
The school year was almost over and Harry only had a couple of exams left. So far things have been going very well. For DADA, Lupin had prepared a sort of obstacle course they needed to go through.
Harry easily defeated the various dark creatures and laughed as the Boggart again turned into the skinny former version of himself in the cupboard. He received full points in both the theoretical and practical exams.
In transfiguration and charms, the students simply had to perform a couple of the spells they had learned over the last year. Harry outdid himself again and surprised even McGonagall, by fully transforming both of his arms into the full feathered wings.
He had practiced a bit by himself and the results were certainly for showing. McGonagall gave him full points for an advanced human to animal transfiguration but reminded him to only practice in her presence.
Both exams in Herbology were quite easy and for potions, the class had to brew a calming draught that Madam Pomfrey would be using in her infirmary. Harry did not struggle at all and finished just after Daphne. She would probably get the number one spot again. He just couldn't beat her in potions.
In Arithmancy, they only had a theoretical exam, since none of them had actually created any spells yet or successfully modified existing spells. Neither the practical exam in Arithmancy, nor the one in Runes, felt any difficult to Harry. He enjoyed writing extensive and detailed answers to questions and was sure he would get the maximum number of points in each.
His practical exam in Runes was a lot more interesting. The students were tasked with showing what they have learned in class on any object in the classroom. Harry asked for Professor Babbling's glasses and carved a series of tiny runes at each side.
"The glasses will now repel water and any other liquid. Unlike the Impervious charm, this is a permanent solution and will not have to be recast, so long as the runes remain intact."
Babbling congratulated him on a piece of work she would normally only expect from her fourth or fifth years and promised Harry full points. Care of Magical Creatures was super easy, as well. They simply had to keep a flubberworm from dying.
Finally, he only had Astrology and History of Magic left. Surprisingly he didn't find himself in need of any notes this year.
Maybe it was one of the benefits from the ritual, but Harry was certain that he could retell about 90% of the events Binns had told them about over the years without any problems. That should be more than enough to earn his Exceeded Expectation.
A week later the results were posted on the blackboard in the Great Hall and Harry could pick up his grade report in the morning, as usual.
Grade Report, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Harry James Potter achieved the following grades in his THIRDyear at Hogwarts:
Astronomy: Exceeded Expectation
Herbology: Outstanding -
Defense against the Dark Arts: Outstanding +
Potions: Outstanding +
Charms: Outstanding +
Ancient Runes: Outstanding +
Arithmancy: Outstanding +
Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding -
History of Magic: Exceeded Expectations +
Transfigurations: Outstanding +
Harry was very happy with his results. He improved himself in almost all the subjects in which there was still room to improve in and held his top grades in the others.
With the time turner and no worries about Basilisk and the possessed teachers trying to kill him, he could finally focus on his classes.
Let's see how the rest of my year has performed, Harry thought.
Top of the year ranks: YEAR THREE
Astronomy:
Hermione Granger
Padma Patil
Daphne Greengrass
Herbology:
Neville Longbottom
Padma Patil
Ernie MacMillan
Defense against the Dark Arts:
Harry Potter
Daphne Greengrass
Susan Bones
Potions:
Daphne Greengrass
Harry Potter
Hermione Granger
Charms:
Harry Potter
Terry Boot
Hermione Granger
History of Magic:
Hermione Granger
Padma Patil
Michael Corner
Transfiguration:
Harry Potter
Daphne Greengrass
Hermione Granger
Ancient Runes:
Harry Potter
Hermione Granger
Daphne Greengrass
Arithmancy:
Harry Potter
Daphne Greengrass
Hermione Granger
Care of Magical Creatures:
Hermione Granger
Padma Patil
Ernie MacMillan
Divination:
Lavender Brown
Parvati Patil
Ron Weasley
Muggle Studies:
Tracey Davis
Lily Moon
Michael Corner
Overall third-year ranking:
Harry Potter
Hermione Granger / Daphne Greengrass
Padma Patil
It seems as if Granger was trying very hard now. Last year, she of course had missed a majority of her classes due to being petrified. The girl was not dumb, just incredibly naive and way too trusting of authority.
However, he was not worried about her being a threat to his academic position. He could imagine Daphne wouldn't be too pleased with having to share the second spot with Granger though, Harry chuckled.
Also, how the hell did Weasley earn top grades in Divination? Harry had no idea what criteria were taken into account, but he was glad he didn't choose the subject if someone like Weasley could perform well in it.
All in all, the school year had been very successful. Harry couldn't wait for the summer to start, to finally spend some more time with Sirius. But first, there was one last thing to do. Dumbledore had once again summoned him to his office for their official end of the year talk.
Harry honestly had no idea what it could be about. But he was about to find out, as he made his way to the headmaster's office.
"Enter" Dumbledore's voice came from within, as Harry knocked on the large door.
The door opened and he stepped inside. Dumbledore's office looked just as it had last year, aside from Fawkes, who seemed to be somewhere else.
"Harry, thank you for joining me. I hope you enjoyed your year at Hogwarts?"
"I did, Headmaster, thank you."
Dumbledore smiled and nodded:
"Well, Harry, with Sirius finally proven innocent, I assume you won't be spending your summer with your relatives?"
"You assume currently, Professor," Harry replied neutrally.
"May I inquire as to where you will be staying, Harry" Dumbledore asked him.
"You may, Headmaster, but I will not share that information with you. You have kept yourself out of my affairs, which I am really thankful for. You even managed to not ask me about the spell I used to kill the Dementors at the beginning of the year.
That tells me that you either knew of the spell, or you tried to learn more about it by using Remus Lupin as a middleman." Harry said calmly.
Dumbledore just gave him the grandfatherly smile and his eyes twinkled:
"Brilliantly deduced, as always, Harry. I have only once heard of a spell like that, Harry, and unlike our friends from the Ministry, I instantly spotted the sign and the similarities to a very certain other spell.
I have encountered it only twice in my life, I am sure you have heard of it-it's called Fiendfyre."
"Nope, can't say I heard that name before, Professor," Harry replied, not letting any emotion show on his face.
Dumbledore's expression became just a bit more concerned:
"I have no idea where you might have learned about a spell like that, my boy. I was truly hoping that by closing the entrance to the Chamber, I could have stopped you from becoming just like him. Alas... I was wrong. You worry me a great deal, Harry.
I also wish you would have been more forgiving with Remus. The man made a mistake, Harry, but you could not possibly understand how difficult his life had been."
Harry's I narrowed:
"The man is a coward and I don't understand how my parents could have ever been friends with him. But I don't expect you to understand my train of thought either, Professor. After all, it was you that placed me with the Dursleys in the first place."
"Harry, you really need to learn how to forgive. There will be a time when you depend on others to support you. You can't conquer the world on your own, my boy. Trust me, I have tried.
Due to your harsh treatment of Remus, the man decided to leave Hogwarts. It seems I find myself in need of another DADA Professor again."
"A topic you might want to discuss with the rest of your staff and not a 13-year-old student. Will that be all, Professor?"
"Yes, Harry, thank you again for joining. I hope you enjoy your summer and best of luck in Moscow." He gave the student a sad smile.
June 21st, 1994
Harry stood within the seven cornered star he had carved into the stone tiles, in a room deep inside the basement of Grimmauld Place. Tonight was the Summer Solstice and another opportunity for a ritual. After the Body and Mind-rituals, he would now perform the Magic-ritual.
This ritual required some of the rarest magical materials known to mankind. In Harry's case, the boy would use a few feet of basilisk skin, the horn of a unicorn, and a couple of Thestral hairs that a very friendly Thestral provided for him when he had made his way to Hogsmeade at the end of term.
And finally, the cloak of a Dementor. Sirius had the brilliant idea to come back to the place where their battle had taken place. He came just in time to save a few patches of Dementor's cloak before the Depart of Mysteries confiscated everything.
All in all, Harry thought that he had gathered some very powerful materials, even though the horn of the unicorn had cost a small fortune once again.
He activated each rune with a drop of his blood and felt deep into his magical core. The ritual will improve his connection to his own core and increase his magical potency. His spells might become more powerful and controlled, he could hold them for longer and his sense of magic might be even more fine-tuned.
It was perhaps the most useful of the rituals he had performed so far, as Salazar had explained to him in the chamber. It would help him in all areas of magic, from transfiguration all the way to runes.
In addition, using the Basilisk skin would further strengthen his connection to Parselmagic, while the Thestral hair will do the same with his wand.
After the ritual, he was exhausted. Now, it was detrimental to rest his magic. The ritual's effects were similar to draining your entire magical core since it would be rebuilt from scratch. Therefore, Harry should not perform a single bit of magic for three whole days.
He had not told Sirius about his rituals yet, so the man was truly confused when Harry did everything the muggle way for three days. However, over the months, he was almost used to his godson sometimes behaving a bit strange, so he didn't even ask the kid.
It seemed as if Sirius tried his very best to make up for the childhood Harry never had. They often took little day trips together, visiting famous sights in England and Scotland.
Harry truly enjoyed the time spent together, but his birthday and the tournament were approaching quickly.
On July 31st he woke up to Sirius, Kreacher, and Dobby singing Happy Birthday while wearing colored paper hats on their heads.
Dobby could hardly contain his excitement at being invited to Harry Potter's birthday party, while Kreacher looked like he would rather prefer his head being nailed next to his ancestors in the hallway, than being in the same room as the over-enthusiastic Dobby.
Harry received a couple of gifts from his friends and a soft package from Sirius. Inside was a set of brand-new dueling robes. They were the same shade of black with some dark green and gray spots and lines at different places.
In addition, these robes had the Black family crest placed right next to the Potter one at the front and the Black's Slogan "Toujours Pur".
Sirius had explained that the slogan actually referred to the honor of a Black. A Black's honor should always be free of any doubt and therefore 'pure'. The slogan did not refer to blood purity, as so many people in the wizarding world were led to believe.
Harry was thrilled at representing both the Potter and the Black House in the upcoming competition.
August 1st, 1993
Harry and Sirius once again found themselves at the International Portkey Terminal. Flitwick had joined them but stood a bit aside to grant the two some privacy.
"You ready, pup?" Sirius asked his godson.
"I am. This won't be as easy as last year, but I will prevail. Nothing will stop me. I have worked harder than anyone for this." Harry replied determinedly.
"You have, Harry. Hold your head up high over there. I know you've got it in you. You make me very proud, and I am sure your parents would be proud too." Sirius said, while affectionately patting Harry's back.
"Thank you, Padfoot. Let's do this."
Flitwick walked over and stretched out his hand. All together they grabbed the Portkey and vanished in a whirlwind of colors.
Chapter 27: Just a single tear
Chapter 27
The three wizards reappeared a couple of seconds later. Harry had gotten used to Portkeys at this point and barely stumbled before finding his balance.
He took in his surroundings: They had landed in, what Harry was sure must have been the inside of a palace. When Harry thought the French had been showing off their wealth, then it was nothing compared to what he now saw all around him.
The entire architecture consisted of white polished marble with gold inlays at certain spots. Sirius and Flitwick seemed equally as impressed. A foreign wizard in elegant formal robes approached them:
"Delegation Potter, we have expected you. Welcome to magical Russia. You are currently standing in a magical copy of the Bolshevik Theatre. This is where you will be spending your time during your stay here. Of course, you are free to explore the city on your own.
Your personal quarters, the dining area, and the dueling platforms are all at different levels in this building. My name is Dimitri, I will be your first contact, should you need anything. Let me now guide you to your quarters."
They followed the Russian wizard who led them through the building that seemed almost as big as Hogwarts. Finally, they arrived at the part of the palace that was reserved for the competitors and their delegation.
Their quarters were just as extravagant as the rest of the building. Sirius, Flitwick, and Harry each had their own large room and an on-site bathroom.
Harry and Sirius decided to explore magical Moscow a bit while Flitwick would be meeting up with some old Russian colleagues that he had studied for his charms mastery with.
The next morning, Harry and his mentors again made their way into the dining hall. Just like many of the other competitors, Harry had already decided to wear his dueling uniform. For now all he needed to do was be declared valid to compete and wait for the dueling to start.
After his first Russian breakfast, they made their way towards the arena and platforms. The Russians had used an expansion charm on the opera. Harry estimated that it could easily hold up to 10.000 visitors.
Where usually a stage for the ballerinas should be present, four dueling platforms now stood next to one another. He walked up to the line of competitors that were getting registered as well.
Here in Russia, Harry noticed that most of his competitors seem to be boys with a similar build to Crabe and Goyle, if only slightly more athletic. Most looked strong and tall. Harry, even though tall for his age, was among the shortest.
He spotted only a couple of females in the line ahead of him. There was no sign of Delacour anywhere so far yet. Finally, it was his turn and he completed the required blood test that checked for any illegal potions in his body.
His wand was also inspected and declared fit to compete with. He received a large stamp on his piece of parchment, proving he was officially admitted as a competitor.
Harry went over to the large magical scoreboard. Right now, it displayed the face and key statistics of each competitor, like age, height, weight, and the number of duels fought and won.
All his stats might be among the lowest, but Harry only cringed at the part when it showed he had won only nine out of his ten fights so far. Apparently, they still counted his duel with Fleur as an officially sanctioned competition.
Similarly, as last time, the tournament would start with a group stage of ten groups, with ten competitors in each group. Each competitor would fight six random opponents from his group. Four duels needed to be won, in order to progress into the next stage, which would be direct elimination.
In a few minutes, the members of each group would be published. Still, Harry had not seen the familiar platinum blonde hair and bright blue eyes in the crowd of competitors. Why was he even searching for her? She probably registered super early to avoid the stares, anyways, Harry thought.
Finally, the groups were published. Flitwick and Sirius had done some research on most of his competitors and let Harry know that he found himself in a quiet and advanced group with strong competitors.
Harry did not care. This was the damn group stage; he would not be leaving this platform as a loser today.
The first duels started, and Harry curiously watched his competitors, taking notice of their strengths and weaknesses. Finally, it was 11:00 am. Time for his first duel.
He had been randomly matched with Yuri Pavlov, a Russian from his group. The large 17-year-old boy had heard the rumors of the British competitor but was certain of his victory.
Both competitors climbed up the stairs to platform three and shook hands in the middle. A magical dome was raised around the platform, to protect the other competitors and members of the audience from any stray spells.
The referee gave the signal to start, and Pavlov instantly opened with a volley of strong spells. He was very powerful, Harry noticed and quickly found himself on the defense. Slowly he found his rhythm and started exploiting his opponent's very obvious spell pattern.
Pavlov's power was impressive, but his accuracy was lackluster. Harry refrained from casting any shields and started dodging the majority of spells. Time and time again he responded with super-fast and accurate piercing hexes.
Slowly the first spells started connecting with his opponent and he drew first blood. Now it was only a matter of cleaning things up nicely. Harry went on the offense and pushed his opponents further down the platform with a combination of stunners, bone breakers, and some more questionable curses from the Black family library.
None of them were considered illegal in the tournament, so there was no way the referee would interfere when a painful withering curse finally connected with Pavlov's wand arm.
The boy dropped his wand instantly and Harry summoned it. He was declared the winner and threw his opponent's wand back to the boy who looked like he was about to pass out.
Harry estimated that he would have about 30 minutes before the curse would cause irreparable damage to the arm. His opponent should better make his way to the medi-wizards.
Harry walked over to Sirius and Flitwick; his first duel was done. He was off to a good start.
The boy enjoyed a snack, while still watching some of the other duels. He had about one hour before his next fight but then he saw her...
It was hard to miss her, as suddenly many heads started turning in the same direction. Fleur Delacour was stepping up to platform one and getting ready for her first duel.
The French witch was wearing light gray, tight-fitting dueling robes and wore her blonde hair in the familiar high ponytail. Harry had not seen her for almost six months but could swear she looked even more beautiful than before.
Delacour would likely make it far in this tournament. Harry started analyzing her entire way of fighting, from her stance, over her wand work all the to her spell repertoire.
Damn was she good though. The Veela was quick, maybe almost as quick as him. She might now have the raw magical power, that Harry possessed, but she was certainly more powerful than her current opponent. The poor Egyptian boy stood no chance against her complex mix of charms and spells.
Fleur was declared the winner after only 30 seconds and floated from the platform, gracefully as ever. Sirius chuckled:
"Checking out the competition, Harry? I must admit I would have loved to see your last duel with her, it certainly looks like it will be an interesting fight, should you two meet each other again on the platform."
Harry frowned. Delacour had improved from the last he had seen her duel, but so had Harry himself. In his opinion, they were still quite evenly matched. But he had to agree it would be an interesting fight.
His second and third duel went by rather quickly. Both opponents did not pose a real threat and Harry only had to rely on quick stunners and even quicker disarming charms to end the duels in a record amount of time.
His fourth competitor seemed to have an affinity for charms work and transfiguration. He conjured all sorts of weapons, like daggers, and banished them at Harry.
Harry simply manipulated their trajectory and collected the conjured weapons to his left and right...
When he had collected well over twenty daggers, he started levitating them all at the same time and banishing them one by one in such rapid successions at his opponents, that the eighth or so dagger painfully penetrated the boy's thigh and remained stuck.
Harry instantly capitalized on his opponent's weakened state and ended the duel by shooting a powerful stunner that connected with the boy's chest.
In the early evening, Harry had his fifth and final duel of the group stage. No matter whether he won or not, he would progress to the elimination stage. Still, he would try to keep his record as clean as possible.
His opponent was Ruben Laguna, a seventeen-year-old Spanish boy. Unlike his other competitor, the boy was quiet and very observant. Harry had seen him duel before, but the boy seemed to only do the bare minimum to defeat his opponents, never showing all his cards.
The duel began, but neither fighter cast a spell, instead, they simply analyzed each other, waiting for a time to strike. Harry had no idea how magically powerful Ruben was. But he knew his opponent was smart.
He decided to test his opponents' food work, chaining three spells in quick succession to test the other boy's dodging skills. As expected, Ruben expertly avoided the spells and went on the offense.
The boy was very accurate. His spells were not very powerful, but he targeted specific parts of Harry's body, making it almost impossible for Harry to bat the incoming spells away.
Instead, for the first time in his dueling career, Harry found himself on the retreat. Ruben's spells were too accurate and quick to dodge. Besides, he needed to keep his eye on his opponent, so as to not miss a single movement.
Harry managed to take a break for a couple of seconds and cast his strongest shield, covering him from head to toe. Ruben was smart enough not even to continue his attack. None of his spells, short of an Unforgivable, could penetrate Harry's shield.
Harry needed a plan. He had not landed any hits so far. Deciding to test his opponent with something more complex, he conjured a ring of fire around him and willed it into a fiery whip.
Now he started repeatedly hammering Ruben's shield with the tip of the whip. Sparks bounced off Ruben's shield as the boy blocked the attack as well as he could.
Harry vanished the fiery whip and shot spell after spell with incredible speed at his opponent. Ruben had no chance to dodge any of them, and soon the first piercing hex connected with his shoulder after a shield breaker tore through his shield.
Blood ran down his opponent's arm, but the boy did not give up yet.
"Serpensortia" Harry hissed and the familiar large Black snape erupted from the tip of his wand, making its way to his opponent.
Dividing his attention between Harry and the snake was too much for the injured Ruben. A bone breaker connected with his wand arm, just as the snake sank her fangs into his leg.
Harry was declared the winner after summoning Ruben's wands and quickly banished the snake. He walked over to his downed opponent and held out his hand.
Ruben shot him a grin and allowed Harry to pull him back up. The boy had won all of his other duels and would still progress far in the tournament, of that, Harry was sure.
He stepped down the platform and wanted to make his way over to Sirius and Flitwick when he almost ran into Fleur Delacour. The Veela's next match took place on the platform Harry had just exited.
Their eyes met and just for a moment, Harry was back on the dance floor, holding the French beauty in his arms and swirling around to the music. Then Delacour broke eye contact and stepped past Harry without saying a single word.
"Good luck, I guess," Harry murmured and took his leave. It was time for some dinner and a nice relaxing bath back in his room. Hopefully without the thought of any more platinum blonde distractions...
August 3rd, 1994
Harry was dodging frantically. It was the second elimination round and Vladimir Rustem had just shot another bone breaker so close to his head, that Harry thought the referee must be on some serious potions, not to notice.
Deciding to no longer take the attack from the older boy, Harry returned with his most offensive spells. The withering curse from the Black library narrowly missed its mark, but the silvery dark arrow pierced through Rustem's thigh, inciting a scream from the boy.
Harry watched, as pure rage took over in the eyes of his opponent. He prepared himself for whatever spell he might be about to attack with, just as Rustem screamed:
"Crucio!"
Harry had not been prepared for his first Unforgivable. He realized that his magical shield would not work against it and quickly dropped it to roll to the side. His opponents kept up the attack, casting another set of torture courses as quickly as he could.
Harry had no other option than to dodge the curses, rolling and jumping from one side of the platform to the other. His opponents started laughing at the sight of chasing Harry like some rabbit.
Harry cursed himself. He literally had no defense against the curse. How could he be so naive and not expect some of his opponents to be able to successfully cast it?
At the sound of the other boy's laughter, something snapped inside of Harry. No one would laugh at him like that and get away with it.
In one fluent motion, he rolled out of his latest dodge and cast the strongest Depulso he had ever attempted. The Banishing charm hit his opponent square in the chest and threw him back against the protective wards of the platform.
Harry could hear multiple bones breaking, as the heavy body crashed against the magical border, and screams erupted from the stands of visitors. His opponent dropped to the floor unmoving and was surrounded by medi-witches within seconds.
They cast a series of diagnostic charms over Rustem's chest and Harry frowned at the panicked whispers between the healers. It sounded almost like the boy was about to die. They levitated the unmoving body off the platform and over to the infirmity.
Since Harry did not break any official rules, he was declared the winner. The surge of magic he had felt when performing the spell had felt very similar to when he had first successfully cast his Inimicus at the beginning of last school year.
How come he could overpower his spells so greatly with negative emotions? Harry would need to think about it later. He received his congratulations from Flitwick and Sirius, though Harry noted that the latter could not quite hide the shock on his face.
After a quick lunch, Harry prepared for his second duel and won after an intense three minutes of trading spells, with a well-aimed stunner to the chest.
His last duel of the day was against Eva Aberg, a girl from Sweden. Aberg possessed perhaps the most extensive knowledge of dark curses Harry ever came across in a duel.
He recognized the organ liquefier and a spell he had read about in the Black library that would slowly turn your skin into stone, thereby painfully petrifying you. There were a couple of other spells, Harry did not even recognize, but he didn't fancy being hit by any of them.
He sent three powerful Confringos at his opponent in rapid succession. As soon as the girl was covered in smoke and debris from the explosion, Harry sent an Aguamenti at the girl.
She managed to shield herself against the strong stream of water, but it still left her trenched, standing in a pawn of water that had collected on the platform below her. Harry distracted the girl with a couple of stunners, before sending a clear, bright lightning bolt at the pond of water she stood in.
The girl realized her mistake too late and was instantly electrocuted. Her limbs still spasmed after a couple of seconds. She would of course survive, but it might take some time to heal the nerve damage from the high voltage.
Flitwick congratulated Harry on his creativity and awareness to adapt to the situation. Even Sirius couldn't hide that he was truly impressed by what he just saw. Flitwick decided to retire for the night, while godson and godfather chose to have dinner in a fancy restaurant in magical Moscow.
Harry changed into some formal robes and met Sirius at the entrance to the Bolsheviks Opera. Just as they were about to leave the building, they ran into three people…
The Delacour patriarch was escorting his wife and daughter through the beautifully decorated entrance to the opera. Fleur Delacour wore a figure-hugging dark green dress that ended just below her knees. Her mother and father were dressed in more traditional-looking long formal robes.
Sebastian Delacour looked like his night had been ruined as his eyes met Harry's. The teen was far from intimidated and returned the icy stare.
"Monsieur. Delacour, it is a pleasure to meet you here." Sirius diplomatically greeted the other man in French. Delacour's eyes left Harry's and he turned towards Sirius.
"The pleasure is mine, how are you enjoying your stay in Moscow so far, Monsieur Black?"
I think it's safe to say that my godson is putting on quite a show. How is your daughter faring?" Sirius replied.
At the mention of his daughter, Delacour's eyes ever so slightly narrowed, but his wife placed a calming hand on his arm. Fleur Delacour, who had ignored Harry during their guardian's conversation, spoke up for the first time:
"I have won all my matches so far, Monsieur Black."
Sirius gave a small smile, but Harry noticed that he did not quite look into her eyes as he did. Maybe his godfather was more affected by her Allure than he had admitted, even after his stay in Azkaban.
"Did you just return from dinner? Can you recommend a restaurant for us?" Harry asked the Delacours, trying to start some conversation with the girl.
Madam Delacour spoke up for the first time:
"The Café Pushkin is an excellent choice, make sure to try out the most excellent vodka selection."
"I am sure I will! This young man, however, has to get up early tomorrow." Sirius joked.
The Delacour females actually gave a small smile at his joke, whether it was fake or not, even Harry couldn't tell. Sebastian gave Sirius a short nod:
"Enjoy yourselves, we will turn in for the night now."
The family took its leave and Sirius raised a questioned eyebrow at his godson:
"Stuck up Frenchmen, he still seemed pissed that his own daughter chose to dance with you."
"Don't worry about it. It's probably better this way. There is no point in being overly friendly with a competitor." Harry replied.
"Yeah, but it makes the victory so much sweeter to celebrate with, I remember Marlene Mckinnon rewarding me after an exceptional quidditch match, your father even…"
"Sirius, I don't want to hear about your romantic escapades!" Harry rolled his eyes.
"It was not even that romantic, Harry, just two teenagers letting off some steam. You should try it sometime. You're almost as stuck up as that French princess."
Harry just laughed: "Alright, let's get something to eat, old man."
August 4th, 1994
Things were starting to get intense and he was now facing tougher competition than ever before. His opponents were now actually using their brains and had watched his previous duels, to learn as much about one another as possible.
They were still cocky, but sadly they backed it up with deadly skill. Harry was watching the first quarter final duel between Delacour and a German, called Emil Springer.
Fleur was not doing too well. her opponent might be a bit slower than her, but he had caught her with a cutting curse to her shoulder and already burned parts of her dueling robes.
Harry frowned and looked over to Sebastian Delacour who was watching his daughter fight her heart out. Both wizards knew that if things continued as they were, Fleur would lose for sure.
Apparently, the Veela noticed the same. Desperate to take no further spells, she conjured her strongest shield and cowered behind it to catch her breath. Springer smiled a cruel smile, almost as if he had been waiting for this:
"Crucio!"
The torture curse connected with Delacour and the girl screamed in pain and dropped to the floor. Harry wanted to jump out of his chair, but Sirius held him back:
"You can't intervene, Harry!"
Harry looked like he was about to protest, but he couldn't reach the pair anyways. They were behind strong dueling wards and there was no way Harry could breach them.
The Veela was still lying on the ground, while Springer stopped the curse to regain enough strength to finish her off. Just as the boy was about to cast his final curse, Delacour turned towards him, tears of rage in her eyes, and shot a bright blue fireball right at her opponent's face.
Springer was caught on the left side of his face, from his hose onwards. The smell of burned flesh and skin filled the rows close to the platform.
Delacour slowly got on one knee and used her last bit of strength to summon her opponent's wand, before dropping back down, panting heavily. She still experienced spasms all over her body.
Springer looked a lot worse, however. The boy was tossing around himself on the floor, the entire left side of his face, including his eye, was burned. There was hardly anything left where his ear should have been.
Delacour was escorted off the platform by her father and a medi-witch. They walked right past Harry, just as another German boy, a friend of Springer jumped before her:
"Dafür wirst du bezahlen, du dreckige Schlampe!" The boy shouted and spat right in her face.
Harry knew enough German to understand what had been said but watching Fleur getting spit on was simply too much to ignore.
Before Sebastian Delacour even understood what had happened, Harry raced towards the German boy and buried his fist in the competitor's face, hitting his nose straight on.
Blood poured out of the boy's nose, as he groaned in pain and dropped to the floor immediately. Harry stood above him, ready to continue his assault when he was pulled back by the security wizards.
A man with a remarkable resemblance to the boy he had just beaten bloody approached him, his face distorted in anger:
"I demand the disqualification of this boy for attacking my son outside the platform!" He shouted.
By now a large mob of spectators had formed around them. Sebastian Delacour had taken the time to clean his daughter's face. Now he addressed the officials and the angry German father:
"If any of you even think about disqualifying Mr. Potter, I will challenge you and your son to an honor duel right now and kill him where he stands. Think about your next words very carefully."
The man gulped and realized his mistake. Harry had only defended Fleur's honor by stepping in. There was no legal ground for his disqualification. He did not provoke the attack and simply came to the girl's defense.
Apparently, the German decided it's better to drop the case and simply helped up his son, whose murderous glare seemed less intimidating as the blood was still leaking from his face.
Harry was about to thank Monsieur Delacour for stepping up for him, but the Frenchmen had taken his daughter and left already.
Well, one hand washes the other, I guess, Harry thought and made his way back to Sirius and Flitwick. It was time for his quarter final against Bjorn Svenson, from Denmark.
Svenson was a formidable duelist. Each fighter landed a couple of hits before the effects of Harry's rituals kicked in and he simply outlasted his opponent.
The Dane was exhausted while Harry still felt well enough to continue. Bleeding from almost a dozen small wounds, Svenson fell flat on his back, after a strong blasting curse connected with his shoulder.
Harry was declared the winner and only two more duels stood between him and the Under-18 trophy. His duel had been the last one of the quarterfinals and the officials were about to randomly draw competitors for the upcoming semifinals for tomorrow.
There were just four competitors left now, Jaromir Kozub from Poland, Erkan Taruf from Turkey, Fleur Delacour and Harry, of course. The officials pulled the first two names out of the bag and loudly shared the competitors with a thick Russian accent:
"The first semi-finals will be held between Jaromir Kozub from Poland and Erkan Taruf from Turkey!"
"This means that the second semi-finals will be held between Fleur Delacour and Harry Potter!" We will continue tomorrow at 11:00 am. Good evening, everyone."
Harry groaned, he had been more than lucky so far and had not met Fleur in any of the elimination matches. No, however, it seemed his luck had run out. He would have preferred to encounter the French witch in the finals but also in a better condition than what she was currently in.
She had been held under the Cruciatus curse for almost ten seconds. It had been a miracle itself that she was able to cast anything afterward, let alone win the duel. Harry would be very surprised if she even managed to stand upright tomorrow morning.
The rest of the evening was spent with Flitwick and Sirius going over different tactics for the upcoming duel. Harry still felt conflicted about facing Fleur tomorrow.
Ever since last summer, he wanted to find out which of them truly was the better dueler. However, the upcoming match was unlikely to answer that question. In any case, Harry would do what he had to.
August 4th, 1994
Harry stood ready at the platform, waiting for his opponent. Two minutes before eleven, Fleur strode into the open, followed by her father and mother.
Harry had known the French witch would never forfeit the duel. She was way too proud for that, almost like him. Harry would rather fight till the bitter end than give up. The situation was only made worse, because of the violent history between the two.
Harry could feel the anticipation around him. It would not surprise him if more people were looking forward to his and Fleur's duel than to the final itself.
He chuckled, there would be no repeat of last year's drama, that much was certain.
As Delacour approached the platform, Harry noticed that the confidence was but a front. She was still in pain, her eyes clear to him even at a distance.
Harry saw how she slightly pulled her leg at each step. Her uniform might be brand new, but Harry could see the half-healed scratches on her face and the way her body seemed to twitch in pain at every other movement. She was certainly in no condition to duel.
Fleur climbed up the stairs to meet him in the middle. Without her heels and after Harry's latest growth spurt, they were now only a few inches apart from each other in terms of height.
Harry met her eyes and they told the entire story, he could almost feel the pain that the girl had suffered during her last duel, himself. Why did she have to be so god-damn proud and continue this?
Harry opened his mouth a couple of times to speak, but no words came out. Delacour simply stared into his eyes, her face blank of any emotion.
Harry gave her a barely visible shake of the head as if to say: you can still get out of this.
Fleur dangerously narrowed her eyes at him. Great, now she probably thought I was implying she didn't stand a chance.
The referee asked both opponents if they were ready and they each gave a short nod, not breaking eye contact.
Fleur turned on the spot and walked over to her side of the platform. Harry sighed, he would try to end this as painlessly as possible for his competitor, but he knew the girl would fight until the bitter end.
He took his familiar stance and waited for the signal
"Begin!"
Fleur instantly attacked him with a spell chain, containing a Confingo, a Depulso, and finally a disarming charm. Harry dodged the first, blocked the second with the strongest shield, and dropped it, to focus his intent and bat away the final charm.
Despite her state, Delacour was still very powerful and quick with her wand work. Harry retorted with his own spells and fired a couple of stunners in quick succession.
The Veela conjured a shield for them, obviously not trusting her hurting body to be quick enough to dodge Harry's spell work...
Her shield effortlessly withheld the first spell, but the knockback of the second pushed her back a couple of feet and the third broke her shield completely.
She was panting already but held her head up high in defiance and returned the attack with her own spells. Her attacks slowly became more lethal, and Harry frowned as a cutting curse narrowly missed his neck.
"Warning Delacour!" The referee shouted, displeased at the use of the spell and aiming at a lethal area.
Delacour looked as if she could care less about it and instantly went on the attack again, right after the duel continued.
Harry honestly didn't know what to do. He wanted to end the duel with as little damage to Fleur as possible, but the French witch was simply too proud. Stunners and disarming charms only enraged her further, as she thought that Harry was only toying with her:
"Fight back already, little boy!" The Veela shouted at him from her side of the platform while gasping for air herself and holding her rips.
Well, if she wants it so desperately, she can have it, Harry thought and finally went on the attack. Spell after spell struck Fleur's shield and pushed her back further and further. She now almost stood with her back to the wards surrounding the platform.
Desperate to get out of her situation, she dipped into her fire affinity and shot a bright blue flame at her opponent:
Harry had learned his lesson and knew better than to let the flame come anywhere close to him. He conjured a dome of water all around him, reinforcing it at the place where the spell was about to impact, and finally froze the entire dome to add an extra layer of protection.
Fleur could not hold the spell for long enough to breach through the thick layer of ice and dropped to her knees as Harry returned to her sight without a single scratch. The girl was almost completely exhausted and Harry knew it was close to over.
Firing one disarming charm after another, Harry walked over to her and closed the distance. Fleur managed to bat away the first and shield herself for the second and third. The fourth charm finally connected with her wand arm and Fleur felt the wood leave the tip of her finger.
The girl now kneed defenselessly on the floor, panting heavily and spitting blood from an internal wound that must have reopened.
"The winner, after a formidable match from both competitors, is Harry Potter!" The referee declared, but Harry had no eyes or ears for anything that was going on around him.
Emerald green was sorely fixed on a single tear that appeared in the most beautiful, deepest blue eyes he had ever seen.
He shook himself out of his trance and held out a hand to help the girl up. Fleur huffed in annoyance and rejected his offer, smashing it away from her while spitting blood again.
Harry was hurt by her gesture but incredibly relieved when her father finally came up the platform to carry his daughter over to the medi-witches.
His adrenaline was all but gone if there even had been any at the start of the duel, to begin with. He just wanted to get the final over with and return back home to England.
This entire tournament had not gone the way he had imagined it in the first place. He had hoped that he and Fleur might reconnect, share stories about their recent term in school, and discuss dueling tactics together.
Instead, the Veela had ignored him at every turn and now seemed to be just as angry with him as one year ago, after their infamous duel. What was her problem?
First, she dances with him and even teased him a little at the New-Years-Eve ball, and now he is not even worth a single look? Was winning really that important to her?
Harry hardly watched, as the second semi-final took place. The main event was all but over for him, he doubted that any of the competitors could put up a decent fight against him, unlike Fleur could have if she hadn't been injured.
Anger surged through his body, anger at her last opponent for using the Cruciatus. Anger at the other German boy for spitting in her face and calling her a whore. And also anger at Delacour herself. Why did she have to be so god-damn stubborn?
A couple of hours later, Harry again found himself on the dueling platform. The anger had not yet vanished, instead, in accordance with his plan he would make the best use of it.
Jaromir Kozub from Poland had won his duel and would now be facing Harry in the final. The boy greeted him with a sneer on his confident face.
"Dis is not the children's game you played last year, Potter. You wanted to play wiz da big boys and now I will teach you a lesson, da?" He grinned at Harry.
"You're gonna regret saying that in only a couple of seconds, trust me, mate." Harry replied neutrally.
The boy gave him one last sneer and took his position at the other side of the platform.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for what we have all been waiting for!"
"This year's contestants for the Under-18 Dueling championship are Mr. Jaromir Kozub from Poland and the youngest competitor ever, Mr. Harry Potter from Britain!"
The crowd cheered all around him. Harry blocked them out.
"On my sign:"
"Begin!"
Jaromir Kozub went on the attack and fired off his first set of spells. Harry dodged the first volley and conjured a cloud of thick black smoke that started covering him and expanding all over the platform.
Deep at the center of the cloud, Harry reached into his magical core and focused on the anger and rage he had felt over the last couple of hours, ever since his duel with Fleur. It was time to find out what else his most powerful creation was capable of...
Channeling his magic intensely, he shouted in Parseltongue:
"ELICIO TENEBRIS INIMICO"
To the audience, nothing was yet visible as the thick dark smoke still hid Harry's position. Jaromir Kozub still failed to find a way to vanish the smoke in front of him.
Sirius and Filius both gave each other a look at Harry's use of Parseltongue. Usually, nothing pleasant followed for Harry's opponents after the use of such a spell.
Inside the thick smoke, the blackish flame had formed into a corporeal Thestral that slowly trotted in front of Harry and looked at his caster with curiosity in its dark emerald eyes.
"Just play with him a little bit," Harry hissed in Parseltongue before waving his elder and redwood wand like a lasso above his head and dispelling the thick smoke in an instance.
Screams and shouts could be heard from various members of the audience at the sight of the ethereal black, winged horse that had taken its position protectively in front of Harry and now slowly trotted to his opponent, emitting black smoke from its nostrils.
The poor boy had never seen anything like this before and fired every spell he could think of at the creature but to no avail. Most simply passed right through, dealing no visible damage to the majestic Thestral.
When there was no more space to flee to, the creature snapped its giant head at the boy's wand arm, almost biting it clean off and Harry summoned the dropped wand, while the boy winced in pain.
Harry felt the taxing effects of keeping the spell up for so long and muttered the counter spell, just as a shocked referee declared him the youngest winner of an Under-18 Tournament in wizarding history.