Interlude: Dueling Tournament, Stage 1
October 9, 1993…
Dark skies loomed ominously above the Quidditch Pitch as raindrops fell to the earth below. The place was uncharacteristically silent, despite the fact that hundreds of people were present. They all stood in rapt attention, refusing to allow anything to distract them. At the center of the field, a long table was erected, upon which sat three people. One of which was Albus Dumbledore.
The aged Headmaster stood, involuntarily commanding the gaze of everyone present. "Students," he addressed them, extending his arms wide, "welcome to the 1993 Edinburgh Dueling Tournament, Youth Division!" He paused as polite applause met his announcement. "This, as I have said before, is not only one of the preliminary challenges for the Triwizard Tournament Champion of next year, but is also an official, Ministry-sanctioned event! The winner of this Tournament will be awarded five hundred galleons. In addition, the top three finalists will be invited to compete in the National Dueling Tournament next year."
"All of you," his gaze extended from left to right, including everyone, "have made your school proud. As the Headmaster of this Institute, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and one of the presiding judges, I wish all of you the best of luck. With that, let the 99th Edinburgh Youth Tournament begin!" He flicked his wand sharply, and several domes of light appeared throughout the field, segregating it into different sectors. He continued. "May I have the pleasure of introducing my fellow judges? To my left is International Dueling Champion and Head of Ravenclaw House, Filius Flitwick." Cheering and yells of approval broke out among the students in support for the popular professor. "And to my right is Defense against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart." There was noticeably less general enthusiasm at the announcement, although the avid shouts from his fan girls more than made up for the male population's silence.
"This Tournament, following the International Dueling Protocols, will be using the Dual Swiss System. There are one hundred and ninety eight of you, and each must compete in a series of seven duels. A win counts as one point, a draw is considered half a point, and a loss gains you no points. The top eight finalists will then be entered into an elimination round format. You may use any weapons, be it sword or wand, so long as you declare it before hand to the official presiding. Duels strictly forbid the use of Unforgivable Curses, and any Dark Curses so decreed by the Ministry. Artifacts that are charmed are also forbidden. A duel ends when one duelist yields, or is unable to continue." Dumbledore flicked his wrist with practiced ease, and hundreds of scraps of parchments flew out, one for each participant. "Your match ups." He explained.
Harry deftly snatched his parchment from the air with his left hand, skimming through it.
#71 Harry James Potter VS #89 Neville Longbottom, Arena 81 – Referee Jonas White – Auror
He began walking along the Arenas until he came to the one marked as "81". The referee nodded to him in acknowledgment. Harry looked around, to see duels beginning around him. His own competition had yet to arrive. It took another five minutes before Neville arrived, panting heavily.
"Sorry for the delay." He managed to get out between his gasps for air.
The Auror nodded. "It's quite alright, Mr. Longbottom. Are you ready to begin or will you need a moment to collect yourself?"
"I'm fine." He said, reigning in his breathing
"Very well, anything to declare, gentlemen?" Jonas asked.
"I do." Neville spoke up first. Harry looked at him with eyes wide. "I have a sword."
The Auror nodded. "That is acceptable. What about you Mr. Potter?"
"I have a second wand." Now it was Neville's turn to look surprised. Harry smiled at Neville while brandishing the second wand to show the Auror.
"That is also acceptable. Take your stances." He motioned to them to move to the opposite ends of the platform. "Now bow. 3…2…1…Begin!"
Harry quickly moved to one side, barely dodging a spell that had been sent his way. Another quick step allowed him to evade another stunner. "Why aren't you casting, Harry?" Neville asked, all the while trying to land a hit on the nimble boy.
"I can't really expect to win matching you blow for blow can I?" He remarked dryly as he ducked another stunner. "Weak magical core remember?"
"Oh, I suppose so." Neville paused to reply. It proved to be a critical mistake.
Seeing the lull in his casting, Harry seized the chance. He channeled his magic to his feet, allowing him to shoot forward faster than normal, closing the gap between them in seconds. To compensate, Neville brought up his sword, expecting to engage in close combat. It was only when Harry smirked that Neville figured out he had been tricked. Without missing a beat, Harry brought both his wands to bear, blasting Neville with two stunners. The two spells broke through Neville's hastily cast shield with ease, ending the fight in under a minute.
Harry took a step back and glanced at the Auror referee. "Neville Longbottom has been incapacitated. First round goes to Harry Potter. Prepare for round two!" The Auror announced, reviving Neville as he did.
Harry returned to his end of the platform and took his stance. Neville did likewise. "Bow to your opponents." The Auror instructed. "3…2…1…Begin!"
Unlike the previous round, Harry did not dodge the spells sent towards him. Instead, he shielded himself against them with one wand. With the other, he began drawing runes in rapid succession.
"I thought you couldn't match me blow for blow!" Neville hollered, blasting away at the shield with impunity. "You're smarter than this, Harry! Trying to outlast me with a shield won't do you any good!"
Harry smiled at him cheerily. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'Never interrupt your opponent when he is making a mistake?"
"I haven't. Who said that?"
"Napoleon Bonaparte, I believe."
"Sounds like a wise man to me." Neville remarked. "But you're not stupid enough to trap yourself like this."
"Who says I'm the one trapped?" Harry asked innocently, finishing another rune. Jabbing his wand, the rune chain shimmered in the air, before vanishing with a bright flash.
"What was that supposed to do?" Neville asked, refusing to let up on his barrage.
"You'll find out soon." Harry replied cryptically. "Right about…now." Every spell in the air fizzled out of existence instantaneously. Neville glared at him accusingly. "I learned a few things from Dumbledore's class. Creating the magical disruption field was one trick I picked up." Harry shrugged.
Neville brought the tip of his sword to chest level. "But you are still at a disadvantage. I am armed for non-magical combat. You are not."
His confidence was shattered when he saw the amused sparkle appear in Harry's eyes. "That would be true. But, you've already lost, Neville. See while you can no longer use magic while in this field, I can." He flicked his wrists expertly, and sent a spark out of his wand, just to prove his point. "This is just me hoping you'll step out without having to experience getting stunned again."
"You're good at this, Potter." Neville admitted aloud, sheathing his sword. "I pity whatever poor sod meets you in the next round. Well played, nonetheless."
Harry nodded diplomatically at him. "You weren't so bad yourself. If it hadn't been for my advanced knowledge of runes, I wouldn't be able to beat you."
Neville grinned at him. "Next time, I might just bring a mandrake or two to fling at you. Or perhaps summoning some plants to strangle you." He said thoughtfully.
"I look forward to that." Harry replied with a grin of his own. "And just so you know, this totally proves my assassin school theory.
"Whatever." He scoffed, waving dismissively at him. "Referee, I yield." He called out.
"Very well, Neville Longbottom forfeits the second round. Victory of this duel goes to Harry Potter. The next round will begin in thirty minutes." A slightly bemused Auror announced. Never had he seen a duel that was so...civil.
"Come on, Neville, let's go find the others." Harry beckoned to his friend.
They walked past several platforms, all of which were still subject to use. "Seems like we finished rather quickly, even though we started late." Neville said.
"It does seem that way. All the better, I suppose. Gives us more time to rest."
"What do you think your odds are of winning this thing?"
"Be serious, it's me we're talking about here. Any outcome other than me winning is highly improbable." Harry said haughtily, puffing up his chest.
Neville snorted. "Aren't we cocky today?"
"He's always cocky, Neville. What are you talking about?"
The two boys turned their heads to look for the newcomer. "Why, hello to you too, Hannah." Harry drawled. "How did your match turn out?"
Her face fell. "I got beaten by a fourth year Slytherin. Won two straight rounds against me in under five minutes."
"That's nothing. Potter here took me out of the match twice in under three minutes." Neville said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "At least someone more experienced beat you. Besides, we're third years, underdogs of the competition remember? No one expects us to seriouslywin." He shot a not so obvious glance at his cocky friend.
"Harry managed to beat you?" She squeaked. "How?"
"I stunned him the first time. The second time I made him yield instead." Harry answered offhandedly, looking around. "Do you think they have some food around here? I'm starting to get hungry."
"Don't underestimate him. He's as cunning as a snake this one." Neville piped.
"Don't encourage him Neville. He has this strange belief that somehow the name of our house sounds like a marshmallow. And that it's better to be a snake than a fluffy muggle treat."
"What a strange lad..." Neville commented, rubbing his chin.
"Strange is an understatement." Hannah replied, watching their raven haired friend, who had quite suddenly been struck with a case of selective hearing, look for food.
Four excruciatingly long and painful hours filled with excessive violence later...
"Welcome to your seventh duel today." The referee said. "Harry Potter and Archie Montague, anything to declare?"
"I have a second wand." Harry offered.
"Nothing to declare, sir." The seventh year Ravenclaw, Archie, barked.
"Please go to your respective ends. Bow to your opponents." The referee instructed. "Ready? 3...2...1...Begin!"
Spinning to his right, Harry managed to evade the customary first shot his enemies loved to throw at him. He eyed his opponent cautiously, well-aware that his own magical core was depleted. He would be lucky to get four spells off in this round. He just hoped his opponent wouldn't recognize it.
Unfortunately, he had no such luck today."You're core is depleted Potter." Montague stated confidently. "Your movements show your fatigue. You were a lotfaster two rounds ago."
"It only takes me one shot to end this match." Harry retorted. "Besides, you show signs of weariness yourself."
Archie snorted disdainfully. "I have fifty spells in me left. I think that's more than enough to take you down." He sent a silent blasting hex at Harry. "Make that forty nine spells."
"I can keep dodging all day long if I have to." Harry replied.
"You have been doing this all day. I've been watching your other matches. That last round against the Slytherin nearly got you. Your slowing down, getting sloppy. Face it, you can't win this."
Harry didn't reply, leveling both of his wands. "You think you can beat me? I am a Montague. My family has been training for duels for hundreds of years." He snarled. "You cannot hope to prevail." Archie lashed out with his wand, creating a flaming whip with it.
"Funny thing about that. The Potters just happen to be a family of Duelists as well." Harry winced as the flame lash nearly singed his face. "You see, instead of focusing on combat magic, my mum taught me something else entirely. Tell me, Montague, have you ever heard of Mage Sight?"
"Of course I have. Mage Sight is the ability to accurately read the magical core."
"I'm so glad you know. Because I'm here to inform you that I just so happen to be blessed with that. Interesting thing really, allows me to micromanage my magic to an insane degree." Harry's eyes flickered. "And from what Ican see, your estimate is a bit off. You have less than thirty spells left before you collapse."
"Thirty or three hundred, it doesn't matter. I still have more magic than you!" Archie growled, incensed.
Harry said, ducking to avoid the flame lash again. "That's true, but you're also using far more magic than I am. Mr. referee, please ask for Madame Pomfrey. He may need her services soon."
Archie whipped his wand around, willing the fiery lash to do the same. "This is over!" The lash came within inches of Harry's face before it dissipated. "What! What's happening? What did you do?"
"I lied." Harry replied dryly. "You actually had ten spells left in you. The lash burned up that last bit quite quickly, I imagine. Oh well," He sighed. "Stupefy."
"Archie Montague is no longer able to continue with the next round due to magical exhaustion!" The referee exclaimed. "This duel automatically goes to Harry Potter. Congratulations on your seven wins, Mr. Potter."
Harry nodded. "Much obliged, sir." He jumped off the platform, and waited for Dumbledore to announce the results.
"Students, I would like to congratulate you all on surviving the seven duels demanded of you. With that said, the top eight finalists are as follows: Alexander Zabini of Slytherin with seven points," Some polite clapping was heard. "Harry Potter of Hufflepuff with seven points," The stadium was filled with shocked gasps and loud cheering from the Hufflepuffs and third years. As the youngest contestant in the finals, he was the favored underdog. "Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff with six and a half points, Marcus Flint of Slytherin with six and a half points, Katie Bell of Gryffindor with six points, Archie Montague of Ravenclaw with six points Darren Peregrine of Slytherin with six points, and lastly, Oliver Wood of Gryffindor with six points. Congratulations, finalists. The second part of the tournament will be held in the Great Hall, two weeks from now." Dumbledore said.
AN: After studying some statistical data, I have discovered that while the chapter's length may increase the number of reviews one gets, the amount of begging (no matter how pathetic it may be) is actually a greater factor to determine the number of reviews one gets. In more relevant news, I know I said this would be a 25k to 35k story, but I'm honestly having too much fun writing it to stop...
