Hey, y'all. I've got a new chapter for you! I meant to put this up last night but...well, I got drunk. Sorry?

Anyway! Rising action, falling action. We're back to rising action. I'll get to work on the next chapter when I get home from work - I've already outlined that one.

Enjoy.

Chapter 10: The Dueling Tournament

"Wow…there are so many people outside," Cedric said, opening the door to peek outside. Blaise scoffed.

"What did you expect, Diggory? Empty stands? This is the first time Britain has hosted this tournament in thirty years."

Cedric turned his head from the doorway, looking mildly at the other boy. "It's still mighty impressive."

Blaise shrugged, clearly unimpressed. "To someone unaccustomed to large crowds, I'm sure."

"It's cool," Fred Weasley defended.

"Wicked cool," Added George.

Blaise rolled his eyes, looking towards Harry. "And who invited the Gryffindors to this, again?"

"Harry invited us, of course, Zucchini," George said somberly.

"Linguine."

"Panini."

"Fettuccine."

"Martini!"

"You're too young for those," Fred sighed, patting George on the head. "So am I, come to think of it."

Blaise appeared quite agitated. "Are you two quite – "

"Blaise!" George chirped, pointing two fingers at Zabini.

"Glaze!"

"Malaise!"

"Appraise!"

"Guys," Harry muttered softly. Everyone fell silent except for his godfather Sirius, sniggering softly in the corner of the room. Harry had his eyes closed as he squatted on his right leg, reaching down to clasp the opposite ankle. His hamstring stretched pleasantly and he let out a long exhale.

Harry's first duel of the Tournament of European Battle Wizards was about to begin – his friends, therefore, needed to shut up and let him concentrate.

They all had arrived at the Ministry early in the morning – Dumbledore had allowed Harry's friends to leave the school so they could watch the tournament. Harry had been introduced to the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports Ludo Bagman and several other officials. Bagman was a jolly bloke who had formerly played Quidditch, though the few years he had been off the pitch were catching up to him, if the man's belly were a sign. Harry had even met the referee: an older wizard with salt and pepper hair. Then, Harry had been shipped off to a room across from the dueling arena. A witch would stop by periodically to let him know the schedule.

"You'll be in the thirteenth duel, lad," The woman has said. They would not tell him the name of his opponent, and that was fine with him.

The dueling arena was on the bottom floor of the Ministry along with the courtrooms. It made sense: In the old days, dueling was a form of trial – trial by combat, it was called. Now, the arena had been renovated and improved, acting as a makeshift stadium.

How would they fit all the spectators in there? Magic, silly.

It was interesting, though, the impact power could have on one's confidence. Harry knew that he was more powerful than everyone in the tournament. It was not arrogant to believe as much, either. Had he not taken steps that no one else had, gone to lengths no one else would dream of doing in order to get to where he was? Others were reactive – Harry was proactive. No one else was driven like him.

Still…this was a single elimination tournament, and power was not all that mattered; if any of Harry's opponents were able to catch him off guard for the merest of moments, he could lose.

Harry did not want to lose. He really did not want to lose. Harry looked down for a moment, down at his arms; he was wearing a sleeveless grey undershirt that did nothing to hide the runes on his forearms. They glistened merrily on the innards of each forearm, providing Harry a gentle reminder of his past.

He would not lose – he could not let it happen.

"Sirius – pass me my shirt?"

Sirius grabbed the thin, green garment with a lopsided grin and tossed it through the air toward his godson. Harry snatched it and smiled in thanks before slipping it over his head. Narcissa had taken Harry to see a tailor once she had heard about the tournament – all of his clothing was specifically made for the tournament; all of his opponents would probably be wearing restrictive robes, but not Harry.

Instead, Harry had a pair of black trousers made from a very durable material – it stretched a bit, too. The shirt he wore was long-sleeved and had no collar. It was unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest. Harry waved his arms back and forth, grinning. He felt ready.

A tentative knock sounded against the door.

"Come in," Harry called. Minister Fudge peeked in, blinking in surprise.

"Er…hello, boys," Fudge said distractedly, nodding swiftly to Harry's friends. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Just fine," Harry smiled. Fudge was looking nervous –it always made Harry feel a bit better, knowing he had Fudge off guard.

"Uh…good! I must say, you're looking good, young man! Looking ready!" Fudge chuckled sheepishly. "It's not quite the normal…erm, attire, but you look ready nonetheless!"

Harry bounced on the balls of his feet – he was wearing low-top trainers, or at least the wizarding equivalent – before reaching for his goblet of water. He took a slow gulp.

"It's what I'm used to. I'll be able to move better," clarified Harry, setting the goblet down with a dull thud. "How's it looking out there?"

Fudge smiled weakly. "Just fine, my boy. Quite the crowd – all ready to see you, at that! But listen, Harry, I wanted to speak with you briefly about your godfather's monetary compensation – I've got the slip right here. Perhaps you'd…be willing to give it to him? Things are terribly awkward, you see – "

Harry raised his eyebrows in amusement, examining the slip of parchment that Fudge handed to him. 658,000 Galleons – quite the sum of money. Fudge had come through, alright. Harry smiled patronizingly as he handed the parchment back to the Minister.

"Wow," Harry remarked. "I'm impressed, sir. Thank you – if you'd like, however, you can just hand the slip to my godfather. He's right behind you, after all…"

Sirius grinned broadly at Harry's mischief and quickly made the decision to play along; he adopted a fierce scowl.

Fudge squeaked, swiveling around before smiling sickly. "Mr. B-Black! Hello, sir…how are you?"

Sirius leered at the Minister for a moment before tapping his cane heavily against the ground and raising an eyebrow. "How does it look like I'm doing, Fudge?"

Fudge cleared his throat helplessly, forcing a smile. "Erm…well, h-here you are, sir! Just take this by Gringotts and the goblins will be more than happy to reactivate your accounts and transfer the gold over."

Sirius took the slip without a word, not even looking at the sum. He simply stared at the Minister.

"What was that article about, Fudge?"

Fudge looked alarmed. "I-I beg your pardon?"

"Skeeter," Sirius barked. Harry grinned at his friends. "That rubbish write wrote that stuff about Harry a few weeks ago. What was that all about?"

"Mr. Black, Ms. Skeeter does her best – "

"She is pretty rubbish," Harry threw in innocently, pulling his elbow above his head. The look on Fudge's face was priceless.

"Come now, Harry, Ms. Skeeter is not all bad."

Professor Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, peeking his head inside the door. The Headmaster was wearing the most ridiculous robes Harry had ever seen; the robes were silver. Silver. Not grey. Silver…and with green floral patterns.

"Do you like them?" Dumbledore asked with a chuckle. "Normally, I am not in a position to show favoritism. However, with only two of my students in this tournament, I can have a rooting interest. It's a refreshing change of pace – ah, there you are, Cornelius!"

"Oh, h-hello, Albus," Fudge stuttered, blinking. "I was just dropping by to…to speak with Mr. Black, here. Harry – best of luck, lad."

Fudge took Dumbledore's look of surprise as the opportunity to scurry out the door. The Headmaster's attention was trained on Sirius. Sirius shifted in agitation.

"Going to say something?" Sirius growled. "Or are you going to just stand there looking at me all day?"

"Sirius Black," Dumbledore's face appeared pained. "Regrettably, you appear much, much older than the last time we met. How have you been adjusting, friend? Did you receive my letter?"

Sirius looked insulted for a moment. He glanced to a pensive Remus before scoffing. "Yeah, I got your ruddy letter. Friend? I've been in prison for a decade, I've been crippled, and I've been betrayed. I think our friendship is a thing of the past."

Professor Dumbledore frowned sadly. Harry, for his part, stayed silent. This was Sirius' fight – if it was even a fight. "Indeed. We all made mistakes during the previous war, and there are none I regret more than how accused Death Eaters were treated. You deserved better, Sirius – "

"Then why didn't you give me better?" Sirius barked angrily.

Dumbledore raised a hand in acknowledgement. "Truthfully, I did not have the power to do anything. However, I should have tried. Many of us overlooked the entire ordeal. Voldemort's –"

All of Harry's Slytherin friends flinched, causing the twins to snicker.

" - original demise was sudden and led to a temporary loss of common sense," Dumbledore continued softly. "Sirius, would you grant me the honor of a private discussion later? There is sensitive information that I should share with you – hopefully, we can also start to repair our relationship."

Sirius eyed Dumbledore with distrust. Harry folded his arms.

"Fine," Sirius muttered in annoyance. "We'll talk. Later, though; my godson has a tournament to win."

Sirius flashed Harry a look of fondness. Harry grinned and ducked his head.

"Indeed he does," Dumbledore smiled. "I believe you have a fair shot in this tournament, Harry. I have faith in you."

Harry smiled. "What? No pep talk? No last-minute advice?"

"You have everything you require. Have fun," The Headmaster patted him on the back. "And perhaps stay away from Rita Skeeter between rounds."

Harry chortled incredulously. "Just between rounds? I'm staying away from her forever."

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are nearing the halfway point of the opening round of this year's junior dueling tournament, and our next duel will certainly be a treat!" Ludo Bagman shouted. "Introducing first from Finland: she has been dueling since the age of nine and recently won a regional dueling tournament Alicia Margot!"

"It's Harry's turn – this is Harry's turn, right?" Sirius muttered nervously to Remus. Remus smiled, glancing patiently at his friend.

"Yes, Sirius. He'll do fine – I'm not worried in the slightest. I do teach him every day, you know."

"Not worried – okay, yes I am. Not just about the tournament, though," Sirius admitted gruffly, ignoring the puzzled look Remus threw him. How was he supposed to share his worries with Remus? He loved Harry to bits, but Harry was in with Voldemort. He was…Harry was just like his brother.

Regulus had always been a good kid. He was kind, polite, empathetic...he was everything Sirius had not been. However, Sirius had escaped the family mantra. He rebelled against his family's darkness. Regulus, like the good son he was, stayed in line.

Now, Regulus was dead. And, in Regulus' shining moment, he had betrayed Voldemort.

The similarities were uncanny, Sirius thought. Harry was everything Regulus had been – strong, caring, kind…but Harry had not had the best influences on him, either. Goodness would win out, Sirius was sure. However, the implications of that were even more worrisome.

Sirius missed his brother.

Sirius sighed, looking around the arena. It was fairly large and circular – much like an old gladiatorial arena. The stands were raised high above the action, protected from stray spells. They were near the front row of the stands. The Weasley boys and Cedric Diggory sat on the row in front of him; Remus and the Harry's Slytherin friends sat on the row with him. Only a few hundred or so were in the arena at the moment, it seemed. There would be more people for the adult's bracket of the tournament.

"What spells do you think he'll use?" Harry's friend Blaise asked eagerly. Another one, Theo shrugged, not looking over. That made Sirius frown for a different reason; Harry had asked Sirius specifically to pay attention to his friend Theo. Harry had said that the boy was acting a bit off.

Well, he certainly seemed sullen.

"If I had to wager, I'd bet that this won't take long, Blaise," The Malfoy boy smirked. "Harry will end this quickly."

"Very confident in your friend, yes?"

A deep, accented voice had the entire group turning around; a man was sitting two rows above them, peering down curiously.

The man was very tan, wearing a dark-colored, well-tailored, pinstriped Muggle suit. The man had his hands wrapped around one knee, revealing the white cuffs of his dress shirt, a gleaming, sliver watch on his wrist, and a single burgundy dress shoe. He had a goatee as well, which made his face seem almost pointy.

"…Yes," Draco said eventually, sizing up the man. "Harry's awfully good at dueling."

"And, her opponent," Bagman rumbled dramatically from the press box. "This competitor needs no introduction! He's the only competitor under the age of sixteen in the tournament - he is thirteen, folks! More than that, he is the only known survivor of the Killing Curse! He is the Boy-Who-Lived! Ladies and gentlemen, Britain's own…Harry Potter!"

The crowd roared as Harry stepped out from the tunnel on the ground floor of the arena. It made Sirius blink – perhaps there were more people here than he had first estimated.

"Ah, this is the boy who survived the Killing Curse?" The man spoke again, leaning forward to peer inquisitively at Harry. "We've heard of him in my country - quite the story."

Sirius coughed. "He's my godson." The man's brown eyes jumped to him.

"I chose quite the fortunate place to sit, then!" The man said with a crooked smile. "I apologize, my name is Tommaso Mucci."

Sirius shook the hand offered to him. "Sirius Black. You're Italian, yes? What brings you to Britain?"

"Well, the tournament, naturally," The man laughed softly. "Due to my ties with our Ministry, I was needed here."

"Ah," Sirius muttered awkwardly. "…You know any of the kids in the tournament?"

The man raised an index finger, smiling once more. "Just one."

The roar of the crowd stung Harry's ears and as he stepped out from underneath the canopy of the tunnel. The tournament workers had briefed him on how the arena would change during the duel before taking him down an elevator to get to the arena floor. If what they said was true, the floor of the arena could morph into different environment. That was a cool feature, Harry supposed, but now really was not the time to think much of it. Magic sizzled beneath his skin as he looked around; the crowd had filled in nicely – it was not quite a full house, but it was still a ridiculous amount of people.

"Go Potter!"

"Ha-rry! Ha-rry!"

"Go get them, Harry!"

"Look, Margaret! It's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Daddy, pick me up! I can't see!"

Harry looked to the left and right, taking it all in; he could see his friends and godfather off to his right. Harry strode forward toward the center of the arena. The wizarding official and his opponent – a pale girl with fair hair – stood, waiting for him. Harry stopped short, sizing up Alicia Margot.

The girl had alert eyes and shifty feet. She seemed the type to duel defensively. Harry smirked boastfully, enjoying the girl's look of uncertainty.

Honestly, it was fun to act cocky – people did not know how to deal with it.

"Standard junior dueling rules," The official wizard said. His words carried out through the entire arena. "No Dark curses, no spells considered illegal by the European Board of Magic. You both received your lists beforehand, yes?"

"Kyllä," The girl murmured. Harry simply nodded.

"Good. This will be a duel to one fall – not best two of three. You must disarm your opponent and disable them to be ruled victorious. The environment on the arena floor will change once I start the duel. You may use anything produced to your advantage. Are you ready?"

They both nodded.

"Good! Back to back…and pace – "

Harry turned on the spot and took the steps slowly, in time with the referee's cadence. At seven, he halted, looking down at the sandy dirt below him. Harry gripped his wand tightly; the wood seemed to heat up in his palm.

"Begin!"

"Bombarda Maxima!"

Harry whirled on the spot. The dust morphed to grass beneath the balls of his feet and Harry watched the red spell race after him. He could hear the crowd grow quiet -

Harry batted the spell away with his left arm. The girl was watching him warily, shifting closer to a tree near her left. Harry grinned predatorily.

Harry flicked his wand, directing it to the leaves in the tree overhead. He transfigured them; the leaves grew heavy and fell upon the girl as stones.

The girl hastily waved her wand, knocking them to the side before raising a shield in defense…but no one was in front of her.

The crowd gasped as the girl whipped her head from side to side. Harry gave her no chance to recover.

"Expelliarmus."

The girl whirled around, but it was too late; the spell knocked her off her feet, her wand lying several feet away.

Harry smirked – stealing Voldemort's moves was fun, too. Alicia Margot watched him with wide eyes, her hands clenching the grass below her tightly. Harry did nothing. He wanted to see what she would do.

She lunged for her wand and Harry bit back a laugh, summoning the stick inches before she reached it.

"Incarcerous."

Ropes wound around the girl tightly, tying hands to feet and feet to hands. A siren sounded as soon as the girl stilled.

"And your winner, ladies and gentlemen…Harry Potter!"

Harry smiled and nodded once more as a witch congratulated him, but continued taking the steps two at a time. The crowd roared as one of the duelists dove out of the way of a nasty spell. Harry had a bit of time to burn between his duels and he wanted to speak with his friends.

That first duel had been fairly easy, but Harry supposed the girl had not expected him to be as capable a duelist as he was. It was disappointing, really – Harry had expected a bit of a challenge from the girl.

"Hey, guys."

"Harry!"

The two twins vaulted past a sniggering Cedric as Harry's eyes grew wide. Suddenly, the twins each had an arm around his neck, forcing him to lean forward with the weight, stabilizing himself by putting a hand on each of their sides.

"It was such a marvelous display – simply splendid," George sniffed regally.

"- You defeat damsels so emphatically!" Fred added, swooning.

"Cedric – you've got to help me," Harry whispered hastily as he stumbled – the twins were holding on way too tightly. Cedric looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Harry, I had them sitting on either side of me – you're on your own," Cedric informed him.

"You didn't give that defenseless girl more than a second before you incapacitated here – such a hero -"

"Ahem…okay guys, I get it," Harry patted them both on the shoulder. "So? How was it?"

Remus and Sirius were more amused than he'd ever seen them.

"Very well done," Draco spoke up, ignoring the Weasley twins pantomiming worship at Harry's feet. "It was what we expected, of course, but impressive nonetheless."

"You kicked ass," Blaise said helpfully. Theo nodded, his arms wrapped around his midsection.

Harry smiled, waving the twins to their seats before sitting down with them. "Thanks. I don't think she really took me seriously."

"I would tend to agree with that thought," A man sitting behind Remus and Sirius said. Harry glanced over.

"I beg your pardon, sir – who are you?"

"Tommaso Mucci," He smiled. "I'm here to watch the tournament and I was lucky to run across your godfather, here. As for your duel…my, my. Very impressive. You're a natural out there – who is mentoring you, boy?"

Harry winced. "I don't like to think of it as mentoring, sir, but the Headmaster of my school, Albus Dumbledore, has taught me some stuff."

"I can tell," Mucci supplied. "Dumbledore has always had a noticeable Transfiguatory streak in his dueling style. It has rubbed off, I daresay. Clever, using the tree in the way you did."

Harry shrugged in thanks. "I just try to be aware of my surroundings."

"Awareness is good!" The man chuckled. "Preparation is, too. Are you prepared, boy?"

"Harry," Harry supplied.

"Are you prepared, Harry?" The man corrected himself.

Of course he was. "I think so, sir. I was for my last opponent, at least."

Mucci scrutinized him. "Not all opponents will be like your last opponent. You will be tested before the day is done."

"…I – Okay," Harry faltered. Who was this bloke? "Say, Theo – you want to come look at the leaderboard with me? They said we'd be reseeded based on how we perform. I bet my next opponent will be up there."

Theo looked up, frowning, but he nodded. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood up. Harry rose as well.

"We'll be back in a few," Harry informed them, putting his hand on Theo's shoulder. Was it his imagination, or did Theo twitch when Harry touched him?

Neither boy said anything until they had walked up to the top row of the arena and through a double door. Buzzing met Harry's ears as they stepped out into the lobby. Harry took in the bustling scene with a bit of surprise – he had been brought down to the dueling arena a different way this morning. Makeshift vendor stalls lined one of the walls, offering food and other goodies. On the other wall were booths, housing some of the competitors for the adult division dueling tournament. Harry watched impassively as a grizzled-looking bloke with a partially shaved head signed a little girl's autograph.

The last wall was lined with fireplaces, flashing green as more witches and wizards across Britain arrived. The crowd was growing even more boisterous, waiting for the start of the real tournament. In the middle, the standings of the junior duel were levitating in midair. Names were moving to and fro in the brackets – the reseeding process was still occurring, after all.

"So…you doing okay?" Harry asked tentatively, glancing over to Theo.

Theo shrugged. "I'm fine. Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

Harry almost winced. He had tried to take Voldemort's advice and speak to Theo, but Theo would do this every time – get dismissive and almost confrontational.

"…I wanted to spend time with a friend that I haven't gotten to spend much time with," Harry measured his words. "Part of that is trying to catch up. I've noticed that you have not really been yourself lately and I just wanted to say that if there's anything I can do – "

Theo snorted derisively. "I'm fine," He reiterated. "And there's nothing you can do, regardless. So, are we spending time together or what?"

Harry stared at him for a moment before smiling tentatively. Just being a friend was the best he could do, right? "Of course! What do you think? Should we get some food? I'm a bit famished, personally – they didn't feed me anything when I got here! Bloody –"

"Oh my god, Daniel, it's Harry Potter! Grab Billy – hurry! Harry Potter, I can't tell you how honored I am to meet you! This is Daniel, my husband – and here's are little Billy! You're his idol…"

"I'm going back to my seat," Theo declared, turning on a Sickle.

"N-no, wait! Theo!" Harry cried helplessly, sidestepping the toddler that was being held out to him and running after his friend. "We're getting something to eat, remember? Food? Bollocks…"

Theo was lost to the crowd before Harry could catch him. Fuck. That had been going tentatively well, too…

Harry looked up, frowning at the leaderboard in the middle of the lobby. Perhaps he could find his name on there…?

There were many names floating about, each gleaming and glittering with magic. Some names were charred, though. The losers, Harry supposed. Some names were brighter than others and some looked to be barely alive with any magic at all.

At last, Harry found his name, colored an intense gold. His name was one of the stationary ones, slotted in one spot as other names rose and fell around it. A name, almost black it was so dull, caught his eye. The name lagged through the air, wobbling like a bird with a broken wing. The name came to rest at last, under Harry's own name.

Marcus Flint.

Harry blinked. He blinked again.

Then, he laughed.

People around him were staring but Harry didn't care. Flint was the other Hogwarts competitor in this tournament? How did he even get in?

It must have been the boy's father, Harry supposed.

"Ah, speak of the devil," Harry called out suddenly, spotting Marcus Flint around the other side of the leaderboard. The older boy stopped in his tracks. "Marcus! How are you doing, mate?! It looks like the two of us are dueling in the next round against each other!"

Poor Flint – it looked like he was about to faint, right by his father's side. Harry frowned.

"What's wrong, Marcus?" Harry asked, miming puzzlement as he walked towards the seventh year. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Flint was trembling. The boy would not look him in the eye. Ah, the feeling – pure bliss.

"I won't hurt you," Harry emphasized. "…Yet. It'll be just like old times, eh, Marcus? Cheers, mate."

Cheerfully, Harry patted the boy on the shoulder, savoring Marcus' whimper as he walked away. Harry hated feeling helpless. With Theo, he felt helpless. With Marcus, however…well, it was the exact opposite.

He may be pants at talking with Theo, but at least he knew that he had the next round of the tournament in the bag.

Harry stayed in the lobby for a bit longer, getting something light to eat and chatting with some of the less idiotic friends. He smiled easily and did not scowl when Minister Fudge came over to wrap his arm around him. Today, it seemed, everyone was in a good mood.

Harry looked lazily to the other side of the lobby before his eyes became alert, focusing in on a target. A woman with dark hair made a sushing motion with her finger before laughing silently, slipping through a door, and disappearing.

Harry looked back to Fudge, forcing a smile. Well, everyone was in a good mood…for now.

They probably would not be, soon. Bellatrix Lestrange was here.

So! Did that get you all worked up? Ready for the next one, right? Fuck...I've got work to do.

Tommaso is the name of my former Latin teacher. He's Italian and one of the best fucking teachers I've ever had. Funny dude. Anyway, that's where the Italian name came from. Can you guess why he's at the dueling tournament?

Follow me on Twitter if you want at BrigadeEitD. Ask questions, send me silly stuff, whatever.

See you all soon.

Brigade