As a cold wind swept across the open field Daphne snuggled into her charmed coat. The snow had retreated from Hogwarts, but it was still far from warm. Thank Merlin for warming charms. Her ancestors might have left Greece for the British Isles generations ago, but her body still refused to adapt to the Scottish weather.
A small smile crept across her features as her fingers subconsciously brushed against the betrothal ring on her left hand. Harry had given it to her a year ago and they had been together for far longer, but a tiny part of her brain was still surprised how lucky she was.
A crack like the breaking of a lake's frozen surface slapped through the air and brought Daphne out of her musings. The smell of ozone swept against her nose just before the small wave of displaced air hit her.
A few feet in front of her a woman had appeared in the designated apparition area, elaborately done blond hair topping sharp aristocratic features. Clad in an intricately embroidered periwinkle coat she emanated poised elegance and inborn superiority to anyone of lesser status.
Daphne curtsied, just as it had been drilled into her since before she could walk. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mother."
Margaret Greengrass gave her a nod in return and strode past her. Daphne hurried to follow, doing her best to exude the same effortless grace her mother possessed.
"It is good to see you, daughter," her mother said. "Where is your sister?"
"Off with Euphemia, most likely. I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to sneak into the champions' tents."
A frown marred the older woman's face but vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "It seems I must have words with Astoria then. Again. Why she could not be more like you I will never understand."
Daphne suppressed a sigh and remained quiet as they walked. It was no secret her mother found herself displeased with Astoria's more rebellious tendencies more often than not. Daphne agreed that it was no behaviour worthy of a daughter of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but she still loved her younger sister dearly.
Thankfully her mother did not dwell on the subject. "How long until they begin?"
"The duels will begin in a little over an hour, Mother. Harry will be fifth, against Plantier from Beauxbatons."
Her mother had arrived earlier than most of the other visitors, so there wasn't much activity yet on the Hogwarts grounds. Once the guests from all over Europe began arriving that would change quickly however. The quadrennial European School Championship was nearing its end with only three tasks remaining and attendance numbers had been a record high so far, despite all the conflicts in continental Europe.
"Your betrothed has proven himself several times now, I have little doubt he will perform admirably."
Daphne gave a slight smile at that. Harry had been fascinated with duelling since he was a little boy and his godfather had taken him to many a tournament on the continent. He'd even gone so far as getting himself one of these Mensur scars that were the height of fashion in Germany. Only men could come up with things like that, but Daphne had to admit it looked quite dashing.
"I have the utmost faith in him," she answered. "Mother, if I may ask, where are Father and James? Another emergency session?"
Her mother nodded at that. "Yes, the Minister has called for the Wizengamot in view of the Azkaban breakout and the war in Spain. But let us not discuss such matters under these circumstances."
"Of course." It was true. Matters as sensitive as these were best discussed under the protection of family wards, not on the Hogwarts grounds.
She worried however. Breaking out of Azkaban was unprecedented. With the current troubles and weak Minister it could easily prove to be the match that lit the proverbial fuse. Discontentment ran high in the colonies and Fudge had repeatedly proven himself to be too indecisive against the Italians in the eyes of the French and Germans.
Add to that the rising demands of the muggleborn for more political representation and the Empire's future could look quite bleak. And they would be right in the middle of it. Harry had made it repeatedly clear he was interested in a partner, not a submissive broodmare. It was good their interests aligned in that area.
Other guests began to arrive and they mingled for a while. Daphne's mother had left her in a dreadfully boring conversation with the Parkinsons when she spotted Astoria and Euphemia making their way towards her.
She excused herself as politely as she could and joined the younger girls.
"Daph!" Astoria called as soon as she saw her and Daphne inwardly cringed.
"You know not to call me that in public, Astoria. Mother is already cross with you."
She turned towards the other girl and gave her a smile. "And hello to you too, Euphemia."
Euphemia Potter, the spitting image of her mother, returned the smile immediately. She could be just as lively as Astoria but thankfully knew when to behave. Most of the time. "Hi Daphne."
"So, what were you two up to when at the very least Astoria was supposed to join me?" Daphne asked the pair. There was no heat in her tone, she could never bring it upon her to be angry at her younger sister for long.
Both girls blushed a little at the question. "Well," Euphemia began, "we tried to sneak into the tents – "
"Tried? We succeeded!" Astoria interrupted her.
"And then we were discovered because you messed up your silencing charm!"
Astoria crossed her arms across her chest and turned away from her friend, though Daphne had witnessed enough of their arguments to know it was nothing serious. "Pff! Who needs charms anyways? Transfiguration has always been the better subject!"
"It's not! Charms are just as important if not even more so! Harry always says –"
"Just because you can't get over your hero worship of your brother – "
"I'm not –"
Enough was enough. They were beginning to attract attention. Besides, the duels were going to start soon. "I hate to interrupt this lovely spat, but we should make our way to our seats."
"Besides," she turned to Euphemia with a teasing smile on her face, "you wouldn't want to miss your brother's fights, would you?"
The younger girl glared at her but gave it up when her pale features began to redden slightly. Astoria grinned victoriously at her friend and Euphemia was just about to speak again when Daphne's glare silenced the two.
Together they made their way up the stairs towards their private box, passing one of the many Auror patrols. It didn't take long for her mother to arrive as well. The constant buzz of tens of thousands of conversations was beginning to reach a fever pitch until Bagman's voice mercifully cut through it, courtesy of the Sonorus charm.
"My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the fifth task of this incredible tournament! I dare say that today is going to be the most exciting task so far. We all loved the debates, potion brewing and broom racing, but today the champions will have to prove their mettle in nothing but pure combat!"
He paused and the crowd cheered. Nothing drew as much attention as barely civilized bloodshed after all.
"First the champions will be divided into pairs to prove their individual abilities. Once that is done the true test will begin however when each school's team faces off against each other in the melee!"
The cheers grew louder and Bagman had to try several times to regain control.
"I'm as excited as you are, so I'll just announce the first pair! My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Neville Longbottom, Earl of Harddlech and heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom, The-Boy-Who-Lived, representing Hogwarts and Great Britain!"
The British spectators went wild. Fireworks bathed the sky in red and gold. Thousands of hands clapped together and thousands of feet stamped down, sending waves of tremor through the entire stadium. Onto the duelling court stepped Neville Longbottom, dressed sharply in perfectly fitting red and gold duelling attire.
Daphne didn't know him too well. They were in the same year, but rivalries between Gryffindor and Slytherin ran hot and they'd never been close to begin with. She'd heard of his exploits of course, but she always maintained a healthy suspicion about such things. Still, nobody would deny his prowess with a wand.
"And on the other side, Adrastos Mavrocordatos, Count of Chios, representing the Lyceum and the Kingdom of Greece!"
The cheers were noticeably quieter as another boy entered the duelling court from the opposing side of the arena. Harry had told her once he was an excellent dueller – of course, such were the bare requirements to partake in this task – and she knew that his rise to Head of his family was more than a little suspect. There were some very distant relations between him and the Greengrasses, but not to any degree that it actually mattered.
Mavrocordatos gave a brilliant performance, but in the end it mattered not. Half-sunken into a conjured swamp and surrounded by poisonous vines and man-eating plants he conceded defeat. The next two duels were a bit longer and less flashy and Daphne took careful note how the duellists interacted with each other when no spells were flying. Almost all the participants were nobles or otherwise highly connected and influential, and all knowledge was useful.
Anton von Schaffenburg was dignified even in defeat against Fleur Delacour and the two appeared to be on amicable terms, but she didn't know enough about them to discern whether that was genuine or merely political games – France and Germany were working together closely to counter Italian influence after all. Showing that they stood together even in this was to be expected.
In the middle of the fourth duel – Romania against Sweden – the familiar beat of a cane announced the presence of James Potter and Hector Greengrass, patriarchs of their respective families.
She stood up and turned towards the newcomers. "Father," she curtsied. "James."
Protocol demanded to greet her soon-to-be father-in-law by his proper titles, but the Head of Houses Potter and Black, Duke of Kernow and Colchester, Earl of Jersey and Viscount of Guernsey had never been one for protocol and had told her early on to call him by his first name.
James smiled at her in return and pressed a kiss against her cheek. "Daphne. You look lovely as always."
Her father gave her a curt nod and sat down next to his wife.
"Dad!"
A redhaired projectile shot past her but slowed down considerably on the last part of its journey. Two appendages extended from its core and wrapped themselves around James.
His smile grew larger as he hugged his daughter back and kissed her forehead. "It's nice to see you too, Euphemia."
The two separated and James greeted the others while Euphemia retreated back to Astoria where the two went back to whatever world-shattering secrets only teenagers could share.
James was holding the cane with his left, so Daphne took his right arm and helped him to their seats. James Potter was a stoic man, but she could see his features relax when he sat down. The battle with Bellatrix Lestrange had left him with grievous injuries – although he'd been much more fortunate than his wife. Harry had taken her to his mother only twice so far, but it had been hard to see her in such a state each time.
"Thank you, Daphne. Harry's lucky to have you."
She smiled and put her hands into her lap. "I think we're both lucky."
Down in the arena, the fourth duel was coming to an end. They'd both opened with big, flashy spells but were beginning to get exhausted. Daphne could make out several openings in both of their stances by now, and it didn't take long for one of them to yield. Victory for Romania.
Bagman's voice rang out again soon after. "I announce Harry Potter, Earl of Scilly and heir to the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Potter and Black, representing Hogwarts and Great Britain! Opposing him is Sébastien Plantier, representing Beauxbatons and the French Republic!"
Again, the spectators cheered for their champions. She wouldn't be surprised if Astoria and Euphemia were among the loudest of them. If her sister would ever act as her station demanded she'd never know.
When she was sure the two weren't looking at her she threw a kiss at Harry. Ever the romantic, he caught it and closed the hand over his heart. Their brief second of eye contact was interrupted when the judge ordered the two champions into position.
The rules were simple in these duels – nothing outright lethal or otherwise forbidden in the Vienna Articles. Everything else was fair game. There was a reason Daphne had never been interested in participating herself, even if the wards prevented most deaths.
The dueller were standing roughly fifty metres apart, ready to spring into action as soon as the signal was given. A loud gong erupted from the referee's wand and the fight was on. Both of them were moving fast so as to not give the other the opportunity to take careful aim.
Spells flew through the arena, far too fast and numerous to discern their kind. The air glowed brightly wherever any stray spell hit the wards that protected the spectators.
"Merlin, what an opening!" Bagman began to comment the fight. "Potter is already pushing Plantier hard, will it be over so soon?"
A second voice joined the conversation, deep and calm where Bagman wasn't. The two contrasted each other nicely, and it showed. Bagman and Turner were a well-known duo in their scene. "I doubt it Ludo. Plantier has always favoured the defensive. We might indeed have a case of an unstoppable force against an unmovable object on our hands."
"And what a spectacle that would be! I've watched their duel last year in Paris, and let me tell you, it was glorious. We might very well see two of our generation's greatest duellers right now!"
The two continued their commentary, but Daphne tuned them out after a while and focused more on the duel itself. By now impact craters riddled the ground and had turned most of the arena into treacherous terrain. On the left side of the arena Plantier was raising earth walls out of the ground to provide cover. Thick clouds of conjured smoke were beginning to make it hard to watch the duel, so Daphne reached inside her handbag for a pair of viewing glasses not dissimilar to those used in opera. Keyed into the wards, they were designed for cases just like these and the enchanted lenses easily cut through the smoke.
From somewhere deep in the smoke something let out a deep growl. Daphne spotted a shape – no, two! – moving towards Plantier but she couldn't make out what kind of animal it was. The glasses only worked on people already keyed into the wards, and whatever creatures Harry had conjured obviously weren't. High-pitched howls now reverberated through the arena as well and Daphne drew her coat tight around her as a shiver ran through her body.
Now Plantier was moving backwards while conjuring strong winds to dispel the smoke. His motions were frantic, but she couldn't blame him. Streaks of light flashed across the field towards him and he only narrowly evaded them. Harry was on the offensive again.
The intensity of the assault was overwhelming, even the earth walls Plantier had raised earlier were beginning to crumble. Plantier was dashing from wall to wall, desperately trying to prepare his own counter offensive behind their protection. But the terrain slowed him down and the conjured animals were getting ever closer.
It appeared he noticed it as well. A fiery whip emerged from his wand and cracked through the smoke. Something screamed terribly. Another swipe elicited more screams. The whip had cleared a lot of the smoke and Daphne could make out three horribly burned corpses. Two looked like wolves or maybe dogs, but it was hard to make it out even with the glasses' magnification. Even with half of his body missing, the third was still the largest by far. A bear, if she had to guess.
The animals still alive were spreading out, making it harder for Plantier to hit them all in one good swing. Daphne felt no small amount of pride, her and Harry had worked hard on improving their conjuration to these levels. Conjuring lifeless husks was easy enough, but to instil actual – even if rudimentary – tactics in them? That was a guaranteed Outstanding in their NEWTs right there.
Even as spread out as they were, the animals were dying. Harry's assault had stopped and she wondered where he was until her glasses picked him up again. While Plantier was busy focusing on the animals, Harry had cast a disillusionment charm on himself and was making his way through the network of wards his opponent had cast on the ground. It was difficult work even without trying his best to stay hidden, but it looked like he was making good progress.
He'd need to, getting caught while he was in the middle of a minefield was a bad idea.
With a large explosion the last animal died. Plantier looked around frantically and, apparently seeing nothing, quickly dropped into a nearby crater. One of the animals had gotten close and he was bleeding heavily from his leg.
He landed badly, right on his injured leg. He only partly bit down on a scream, but what looked like a numbing charm quickly took care of any pain and he fell silent again. Harry was on the final layer of the wards, but it appeared Plantier still hadn't noticed him. Right now he was busy scribbling down a series of protective runes around his crater. A quick healing charm followed and Plantier carefully put some weight on his leg.
Apparently satisfied he began conjuring a small orb. It was a fairly standard spell used for battlefield observation, relying on the same basic arithmetic principles as the messenger modification to the Patronus spell. The orb shot out in the sky, but before it could find anything a barrage of spells flew out towards Plantier.
The wards took the brunt of it but quickly went down in a massive detonation. Even this high up in their box Daphne could feel her hairs stand up. Despite their absolutely basic materials and how quickly he had made them, Plantier's wards had to be potent to give that kind of reaction.
Plantier himself quickly threw up a shield of his own and began moving out of the crater into a better position. The spells quickly shifted trajection to the now moving target. Plantier dodged them and let go of his shield. Again, thick smoke appeared between the two. Harry didn't let himself be deterred and switched to larger, area-affecting spells. That'd cost him more power, but he likely didn't want this to draw out for too long.
One of the explosions finally managed to clip Plantier, right in his bad leg. He went down, but managed to catch himself in the last moment. Rolling to the side, he managed to evade the next spell and even brought up a shield, but then it was over. A bludgeoner broke the shield, followed by a disarming charm, a stunner, and – for good measure – a set of conjured ropes that quickly wrapped himself around Plantier. Nothing like overkill.
For a brief moment, silence reigned in the stadium. Then the masses cheered. Bagman's voice was barely audible over it all. Astoria and Euphemia leapt to their feet and joined in, much to the chagrin of Daphne's parents. James had the biggest smile on his face she had seen on him in a long time. Daphne herself stood up perfectly dignified and clapped politely. She'd congratulate Harry later when there was no one else around.
Many thanks to RhysThornbery for his help.
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