May 21, 1998

If there is a thing you got to love about over the top American events of every kind, is the black market so closely tied to the betting pool. I thought.

I was deep into my trunk, caressing the Greek chimaera's egg I traded with the debt of an idiot that bet more than he could afford. I hadn't envisioned that the tournament would be so lucrative. I simply had to bet a bunch of transmuted gold on Fleur. She started in January as the underdog and scorched her way to the top during the six months long tournament.

I also had a lot of business in the black market. All 13 liters of dragon blood and a basilisk fang that I had crafted into a knife. I still had three Golden Snidgets. I bought four Horklumps and three Pogrebins. Traded a sphinx eye perfectly preserved for a couple of Nogtails. Six Billiwigs in exchange for the remaining dragon egg I had. The guy was being followed and those had clearly been stolen, so it had been quite the steal, in my opinion. I purchased an Ashwinder. And I traded an ebony and Basilisk eyestring wand for three Occamy eggs. All the creatures found themselves under time stopping enchantments in a new compartment of my trunk. Project Chronos, while far from being complete, had produced several of this very complex but very useful enchantments. The beasts would be fine until I made my way back to Wonderland.

Oh, and an unregistered Animagus traded me a whole liter of uncursed unicorn's blood, for only one vial of basilisk venom. She gave me a discount. Only because she could become a python, and after reading my and Minerva's book she had been able to learn parseltongue, and found a Runespoor that was now her familiar. She seemed to be alright to me, I just hoped she wouldn't become the States' next Dark Lady. But I didn't really care, we had a little chat and we both considered the Statute to be necessary for our survival. Sam (that's the only name she gave me, and she kept her face hidden the whole time) was a healer and was working on recreating the Caduceus. We started exchanging letters about permanent enchantments, and since March we had a constant flow of information running between us (Fleur was obviously included, since she was better than me with enchanting.). So, I made a shady new parselmouth friend.

The first month had people dueling every day, all day long. The proper tournament started with several duels each week since February (weekends off). The preliminaries left us with 40 duelists, in February we had five duels in each week, and ended up at the beginning of March with 20 duelists. April halved the 10 winners, leaving us with 5 contestants at the beginning of May. One from Japan got a bye to the semifinals.

In May things started to get intense, an American named Smith, original name that one, faced a Russian witch with an impossible surname, and lost by a narrow margin. There had been some questionable curses thrown around, and some impressive transfiguration work.

Fleur faced a strange wizard from the mountains of the Moon, in Uganda. She was the worst possible adversary he could have met.

I asked around, finding out that Uagadou students are famously skilled in Astronomy, Alchemy and Self-Transfiguration. While astronomy had some curious application in magic that influenced dreams and apparently allowed things like astral projection, it didn't really have any applications in duels. Fleur had dueled against me for more than a year, and I was an extremely competent Alchemist, who preferred elemental manipulation to transfigurations, charms, or conjuring, without however disdaining them. Her fire had been more than able to meet each of those schools of magic throughout the entirety of the tournament, and her blue flames did not let her down, burning summoned animals, scorching the ground upon which runes had been inscribed, swallowing stunners and bone breakers alike. It was her original and unique brand of cursed fire, a strange mesh of her enchantment that manipulated oxygen, Fiendfyre and Gubraithian Fire. It was beautiful, versatile, and difficult to contain by anyone that hadn't achieved the Perfect Eternal Flame. Everyone knew by then what she could do with it. So? It was still almost impossible to counter.

Since wands were a Roman invention, even if African wizards had adopted them as useful tools, Uagadou students preferred and were able to cast spells by pointing their fingers, even if only simple ones. The wizard had been able to use them effectively through the tournament. That didn't even ruffle Fleur's feathers since I made use of wandless magic in one way or another since we first met. And when the African wizard sprouted an impressive snake as a tail, trying to gain an advantage in close quarters, Fleur clawed her way through it without batting an eye. Quickly capitalizing on the surprise, she gained showing off her Veela heritage, she wrapped the duel up in few seconds, disarming and stunning her adversary for the fourth consecutive time.

The semifinal between her and the Japanese wizard that got a bye was about to start. I put the chimaera's egg in a crate under a stasis spell, hiding it in the new room designated for storage of all what was illegal. Not that I would ever let anyone but me or Fleur to come in my trunk, but detection charms could be very specific at times, and having to go to war with the MACUSA only because they loved to poke their nose in my business was a very no fun situation.

The Americans knew how to organize an event, but they were also a tad bit paranoid about smuggling of every kind. Not that I could blame them, I managed to acquire several unregistered wands with either Nundu's whisker or Wampus Cat's tail hair, trading them for some of the ones I crafted with the Basilisk I harvested from the Chamber of secrets. With its heart I had been able to craft six wands, paired with a lot of different woods. And I had still more heartstring to use, honestly that heart had been at least half meter long. I made sure to match the heartstring with woods that directed its 'will of the king' toward absolute protection, or mastery of healing, or warding. I hoped to prevent another Voldemort. Ollivander dropped the ball with his yew and phoenix. I could relate to following only instinct and the wish to create a work of art, but you didn't see me trading redwood and basilisk's venom wands around, did you?

I had to go through some scuffles with guys that either didn't want to keep their word or wanted me to convince Fleur to lose on purpose. It had been very shady, very typical mafia-thriller movie. But I tossed the thugs around like ragdolls, tracked down the one who sent them and cut off his arms. I was a very powerful wizard, after all, and trying to intimidate me was something that very few could do.

I made my way out of my trunk, closing it and wearing it as a necklace, before exiting the room me and Fleur had been using as 'headquarters'. We refused to live in whatever place the MACUSA told us to, having our movements monitored was unacceptable. So, we found a single room in a motel, following our modus operandi of confunding the muggle in charge and warding the accesses to the little place. It was only needed to host my trunk after all, in the same way we used the shack in the Alps before Dawnshard was ready.

I walked near the train station, using a very delicate legilimency probe to look into the minds of those that were loaded with baggage. I pushed a bit further looking into minds of people that looked to be somewhat rich. I was looking for a big place after all. In half an hour, I found a family of four that was leaving for a two months' vacation. Digging a bit, I learned their address: they had a whole floor in a condominium, perfect. I apparated there, presenting myself at the reception as a friend of the family, counfunding the clerk at the reception. I made sure he couldn't talk about me or any of the people that would be coming to the apartment in the next two months. I reached the floor without issues, produced an enchanted wooden box in which I stored all the personal effects of the family that just left. I took a page out of Slughorn's book. It was a very comfy floor, there were several rooms for visitors, a piano, a food storage reasonably full, windows with panoramic view over the neighborhood. In short, a fantastic place for what I had in mind. I warded it thoroughly, from notice me not, to anti apparition and anti portkey, I silenced the alarm system and unplug the phone. It took me half an hour. I think I saw Raven stealing an earring.

I opened my trunk once more, calling for Milky. He was one of the young elves that was born at Dawnshard that Fleur freed so that I could bond it. An elf could properly work in a house only if he were bound to its owner after all and going around with a house elf in my trunk without having absolute control over it was something I didn't want. I gave orders to the young elf to clean up the house, since there will be guests in a couple of weeks and warning him that Fleur and I would be living there for the next two months.

I finally apparated to the participants rooms that had been reserved to Fleur. She should be arriving shortly. "Another thing I don't like about this obsessive control they insist to have is that Fleur has to spend the day before each of her duels in isolation. Like they couldn't check for potions and rituals with half an hour of careful examinations before a match." I whined. Raven croaked a laugh, enjoying my displeasure, feeling vindicated since I apparated us both, and she still hated it. "But the imperius is a thing, so I guess I can see their angle. And she signed a contract in which she promised fair play, so it's done more to avoid the whole 'I'll make you an offer you cannot refuse' thing than for anything else." I added.

Fleur chose that moment to enter the room. I smiled at her. She was stunning, like always, and the dueling suit she wore, while mandatory, since it would have been hardly fair letting her participate in a basilisk hide armor, managed to flatter her unforgettable features. And I loved seeing her win against opponents that despised her for being either young or French. Strangely, nobody seemed to have problems with her being a Veela. That kind of racism survived only in the most isolated communities (read British ministry). There had been another half giant, and a couple of werewolves. Nobody looked like it troubled them in any way. She was nervous, I could tell. Nothing obvious, she wasn't biting her lip or anything like that, but she felt like a bottled raging flame. And that was not the right mentality to have in a competition of this level. She wanted to win it, and she could, but the guys left in the tournament didn't get there because they were lucky. Each of the two remaining could have held Flitwick to a standstill. Sure, my old professor was not in the shape he was as the dueling champion of his youth, but he knew some mean tricks.

Without giving her time to talk, I kissed her, conveying my support, and trying to let her unwind a bit. While undoubtedly safer, keeping the contestants isolated on the day before the matches was hardly relaxing. She tensed at first, but I soon felt her shoulders relax.

I soon stopped myself, she needed to focus, and a quickie just before the match, while extremely satisfying, was unwise. Arriving so far only to fall because she had her head somewhere else or she was too relaxed to keep a proper level of awareness would have greatly irked both of us.

"He likes illusions, and will probably look for a close combat situation, but I bet he kept his best cards close to the chest. I saw him almost lose three weeks ago, he transfigured into smoke his own leg to avoid having it crushed. Don't leave him the initiative and don't overstep yourself. Guard up until the match ends, he's a trickster." I gave her what I think was a good pep talk. "You are ten times the wizard he is in a straight fight, but he won't let himself be cornered, he's a cunning little bastard, but you can probably outsmart him with enchantments all over the arena, keep your fire close, to defend. I don't think he will let you sing him into an illusion, if you manage to work on his internal ear however, it could work." The bell ringed, signaling the participants they had one minute to reach the arena. I hugged her once more, before holding her at arm length, she had never let herself be anything but headstrong and confident, so her smiling gratefully at me for a talk she would never have admitted she needed was a nice sign of trust. Her smile melted in a focused expression, and I let her walk into the arena before reaching my seat.

I watched the judge panel; this was remarkably like how boxing worked.

The duels were held into a circular arena with a diameter of more or less 20meters. There were a few trees on the sides, and even a creek running quietly along the walls. Each match had a referee who was able to stop the fight in any given moment for whatever reason or a foul (magic forbidden during the tournament) or even ending it declaring the winner of the round if he saw one of the contestants as unable to continue. After three fouls the contestant was disqualified. Magic that caused lethal injuries was forbidden, so Fiendfyre, cutting and killing curses were off. Bone breakers and overpowered banishing charms were frowned upon, but ultimately allowed. Each round lasted thirteen minutes, the first to win four of them won the duel. There was also a panel of three judges, that debated who won a round when the referee couldn't. They based their decision on points they gave during the fight to each of the duelists. They gave those in function of how many and what kinds of hits a duelist sustained or landed. But more importantly they judged the magic shown in the arena. Complexity and difficulty were two of the criteria, but effectiveness was another. And I noticed that they liked the flashier stuff. They examined the technique and the planning shown by each duelist. They also loved to see original pieces of magic. However, it was something subjective to each judge, and their opinion was ultimately unquestionable.

Someone sold my idea from the Triwizard of mirrors recording the duels, so you could buy a mirror with a recording (starting September, the tickets otherwise would lose value) simply through owl service with the sports department of the MACUSA. So, my impromptu speech to shame Bagman brought someone to craft the Wizarding World version of VHS. Talk about butterfly effect. I sat in the honor box; Fleur reserved a seat for me for each of her duels. And I already booked four more for the final. Her family and Filius were already invited to the finals that would be held on the 21st of June, not that she knew it, but I knew what she was capable of.

This tournament was good for her, she could get a taste of different styles and break in her ability against someone that wasn't me. I expected her to win, she knew it, and felt a bit of pressure from my expectations. But I knew that the truly scary witches and wizards had better things to do than show off in a tournament. Seven thousand galleons price or not. You would hardly see here Dumbledore or Voldemort, hell you would hardly see here a random defense or dueling professor from Hogwarts, Ugadou, Ilvermorny, Beauxbatons or any of the good schools of magic. And I assure you, they would have climbed to the top. But I thought that Fleur was one of the few that could face Flitwick and actually hope to win. One of the only two that could do it while being so young. Well, the only one since I had cheated with RoR and Time manipulation. The more I thought about it, the scarier her growth looked. She was only 21, and she hardly dedicated herself to magic so completely before meeting me. Her ability with fire was something else. Gubraithian fire in less than two years? Meshing it with Fiendfyre in a working combination in less than ten years of work? Give me a break. She probably could learn to be fire in less than 10 years. But it wasn't something I could realistically predict. I hadn't been able to be lightning yet, and so I had no idea how long it would take.

So, when the duel started, I paid the due attention, but I lacked the apprehension that marred the faces of the Japanese wizard' family and friends.

Fleur ended the first round with a thunderclap and a blinding light, followed by a quick stunner. Stealing a page from my book. I laughed when she looked at me from the arena, but I clapped along with the rest of the crowd. It was something I never saw her do before, and she kept it a secret only to catch flat footed her adversary. That also sent a powerful message to the Russian witch she would be facing in the finals: 'You have seen nothing. I am not predictable.'. She gulped down a cup of water in her boot, where a healer checked her over before giving the ok to the referee.

The second round had been more balanced, Takeda (I'm calling him that because I can't be bothered to remember his real name) managed to soak the whole arena in his illusions, making it look like a snowy clearing in a bamboo forest. Hidden in that illusion he managed to nick Fleur's shoulder with a thrown knife he summoned, and since it could have been aimed to her neck, he was declared the winner but also got a foul on his record. My witch didn't like that. Her assigned healer closed the cut without difficulties, confirming that the knife had been conjured and did not carry any curse.

The third round ended when a towering pillar of blue fire encased Fleur, before becoming what I recognized as Madara's multi-faced Susanoo. It obviously wasn't as smooth and big, but it easily reached the four meters of height, and his arms turned into flaming whips that swiped ground and sky alike, leaving her opponent with nasty burns and a scared face.

That break lasted more than the first two, since even a healer needed some time to properly heal Takeda. I was smiling widely; the Susanoo was another trick she had never showed me. I made up the name, probably she called with a name from the Greek mythology, but in my head it clicked.

The fourth round was a bit less one sided and turned into a very simple looking charms-shields exchanges, in which Fleur managed to sneak a punch into Takeda's face after a compress-ward-release routine, knocking him out cold. I clapped and laughed once more; I didn't know she had picked that up.

During the fifth round Takeda once again swallowed the arena in his illusions and became smoke at the same time. Fleur stood still, encasing herself into a dome shaped shield with runes glowing golden over it. She conjured a flock of swallows that started flying in circles outside of her shield. Half a second after Takeda had returned tangible, the swallows were on him and Fleur rained fire over the area, unraveling the transfigured rock that looked like her opponent. Her shield sounded like a gong when something hit it, but it didn't even tremble. She watched her opponent impassively behind her defense, once more, the wizard became smoke and vanished into the mist that didn't exist. She had basically warded the area around herself in the time Takeda called forth his illusions. She had all the time she needed to cast even the most complex spells. She was probably thinking of a way to win without showing more of the tricks she had been keeping secret. Fleur crouched behind her protection touching the ground with the tip of her wand. A few different spells hit the dome giving off loud gongs or twinkling bells. She didn't seem to care. It was then that the ground shook, with cracks suddenly crisscrossing the arena's floor. An impressive hiss of vapor blasted a chunk of dirt up into the air, that then fell on Fleur's dome, sliding off it without damaging it. Maybe she doesn't care about keeping secret her other tricks. I sure as hell did not think she would bring out the Hecatoncheires. Another sudden geyser shot through the mist in a place where I could distinguish the Takeda-smoke, who ended up flowing upward, twisting around a column of vapor that left him floating at seven meters of height. He suddenly turned back into his corporeal form, covered in blisters, and burns, before falling on the ground with a dull crunching sound.

The referee was quick to call the match. Uh, the Hecatoncheires did not make it in time. I mused.

Fleur won, and she would be participating in the final on the 21st of June, so that the two witches had the opportunity to devise a strategy and polish up new tricks.

There was a short commentary, during which Fleur and a very sour-looking Takeda gave their thoughts about the duel, before leaving space to the judges that talked about what they had recognized or guessed among the spells used in the competition. I spotted the commentator giving an 'end of the semifinal speech'. I toned everything out, before reaching Fleur as soon as she was freed from the press. She summoned her bag and I hugged her in triumph, smoke-apparating us into the new apartment

June 21 1998

I hugged Filius when his portkey arrived. He was still a bit wobbly from the trans-continental travel, but I didn't let that stop me.

"You arrived!" I was enthusiastic, a bit desperate too. Two whole weeks with only your girlfriend family as mandatory company would have done the same to anyone. Particularly since Fleur enjoyed far too much remembering everyone of when I smoke-apparated us away from the Beauxbatons dueling tournament so that I could have my wicked ways with her. Her father and I didn't enjoy that memory. At all. But Gabrielle and Apolline loved it, so the men wishes had been taken into consideration and ignored.

"I did!" answered my old professor and colleague. "I must say your invite came as a surprise, but thank you for having forewarned me in March, I had the time to organize the end of the year exams and put my prefect in shape to keep order in my House. And I may have bribed the other professors to keep an eye on my ravens." we laughed together.

I was just happy to see him, it wasn't something I expected to feel so strongly, but since we started working together, we started becoming friends. And his suggestions for both the Lookfar and Dawnshard had led us into a magnificent journey over the most complex aspects of enchanting.

"I didn't think you would ever spend your time watching a tournament! And you managed to get tickets, I am astonished!" he went on talking while I was leading him out of the no-apparition area.

"Well, it's more a Fleur thing, I could hardly leave her to sit through it alone." I smirked, already tasting his surprise when he saw her in the dueling robes with Delacour written in gold over their navy blue.

"Ah, so you are still together! I'm glad to hear it David, she's good for you. Leave the being alone to study magic for when you are more than a hundred years old." Filius quipped. "But where is she?"

"Well, her family is here too, she can't exactly abandon them, can she?" I answered "It's a pity Minerva was too busy to take off before the end of the schoolyear. And Luna is having fun with her father in Canada's forest, I met with them in April, I believe. A dueling tournament is not exactly their thing."

We arrived in an area that allowed apparition. I asked Filius to forgive me, and apparated us in rapid succession six times, using a portkey halfway through and ending the trip with a smoke-apparition.

Filius slumped into an armchair, too breathless to reprimand me.

"Sorry Filius, but the Americans are a tad bit too much obsessed about where I stay, what I do, and where I go. I like my privacy. Do you have some luggage? I can show you your room before going to meet Fleur, she's already at the arena."

I led him through the muggle home I redecorated, and I had him meet with Milky. I let him refresh himself in three and half seconds with a spell he created exactly for that occasion and we were off.

When we apparated into the competitor's waiting room, he was flabbergasted. I started laughing, and Fleur joined me after having hugged the diminutive professor. In the short summer we spent at Dawnshard we managed to bond over various aspect of magic we were fascinated with. It was really a pity that Minerva couldn't be there. The Delacour family came over to say hello, and Raven left Gabrielle's shoulder after giving a croaking laugh. It was likely that she had just won again in her obsessive riddle contests.

We mingled for the following hour, and surprisingly that helped Fleur obtain a state of mind between relaxation and determination. When the bell rang, we left Fleur to her duel, leaving the room looking for our seats. I spotted Sam the parselmouth among the crowd, I was surprised to see her, but we exchanged a polite nod. When we were seated, I started giving Filius a summary of Fleur's performance so far. He was impressed just as much as me and was eager to see her blue fire. Everyone was expecting it, it was her signature move, however, predictability was not exactly a problem in this case. The Russian witch knew she was going to use it. So what? She still had to face it, and a proper counter did not exist. Sure, if you mastered Gubraithian fire you had a chance to redirect the flames, but you had to fight Fleur's control over it anyway. In the safety of my own thoughts, I freely called it Overpowered. I saw her learning it, but I had no idea what she could do, the applications were virtually endless. A month before I shared with her that for the most complex but specific spells, even if they were elemental manipulations, having an incantation helped. We both knew that 'incantation' was a fancy way to call a word that in our heads was linked to the result we were trying to achieve.

While we were waiting for the presentations to end, mirrors started floating around the arena, showing some recordings of the most interesting duels of Fleur and Smirnov Natasha both.

I looked at Filius, I mean really looked at him. While he was still jovial and had still his springy step, his wrinkles had a depth that was not due to age, or tiredness.

"How are things back home?" I asked.

He watched me funny, if it were for my sharp change of topic or for the sudden interest in something I never really cared before, I couldn't tell.

"Better than the first time." he answered slowly. "With Madam Bones at the helm the ministry is not that instrument of pureblood propaganda it once was, and somehow miss. Granger rallied behind her an impressive number of muggleborns. From what I understand, she is following what Gandhi did in India, in the meantime however, they train themselves as a militia."

He gave me an ironic glance: "Yes, the irony is not wasted on me." He said with a dry chuckle.

"Mr. Potter got them started during the last month of summer and keeps checking on their progress every time he visits Hogsmeade. No doubt on miss. Granger request. Albus is against it, but not even the Chief Warlock can order around a free citizen that does not break the law. And a 17 years old man who practices magic among other adults does not give the headmaster any handle. I don't know what you told to the students that went at the ministry, but they are the head of the movement. The Weasley twins have been applying their natural talents to great effect for hiding, smuggling, crafting potions of dubious content, among other things. I have no doubts that the two youngest Weasley will join their ranks as soon as they finish their NEWTs. The 'group of concerned citizens', as miss. Granger calls it, still does not have a proper name, but it looks more and more like the Knights of Walpurgis before they started going on rampages. There are death eater attacks, but the population is slowly reacting. Five civilians get killed for every Death Eater that dies during you-know-who's raids, but they start feeling like it's the only way." He concluded.

I sighed, pouring him a glass of white wine that the Delacour's brought with them from home. French. I scoffed.

"People learn when they are forced to. Humankind does not enjoy 'change', unless forced. Oh, little changes, yes. But this looks like the revolution France had in 1789." Apolline Delacour butted in.

It was surprisingly insightful. Too often I forgot that Fleur parents, while not on the same level of their eldest daughter, were sharp.

I nodded my assent; the parallelism was obvious. A culture in which knowledge translates literally into power over reality is naturally disposed toward secrecy. Stonewalling knowledge meant also keeping those that would change the laws that enforced that process from positions in the government from where they could. Not that the purebloods did it consciously, they obviously did it for personal gain, but the only aim of the Wizengamot, like every other government, had always been preserving said culture, along with the status quo. A culture that would have been swept away in the last century because the demographic boom of the muggle population also had meant an always climbing number of muggleborns. I could already see it: Égalité, Liberté, Fraternité. Equality, Freedom, Unity. Shout from the roofs by muggleborns that had just exterminated the 90% of Magical Britain aristocracy. Roughly a fourth of the population. Another Government of Terror. And its leaders would be young witches and wizards, drunk on their victory over the corrupted government that oppressed them. They would be sure of their decisions, and their government would become draconian very fast. They would start burning every book that explored a 'dark' branch of magic, legally invading private homes in search for artifacts. They would do it 'for the good of the people'. And worst, they would honestly believe it. Winning a government over with violence produces fanatics as its leaders. The image in my head looked more and more like a mesh of Stalinism, Mao's China and 1984 by Orwell. The new government would end up pushing for the removal of the Statute of Secrecy, since as wizards and witches we could help muggles, and so we had to. And if we didn't, then we were supporters of Magic is Might and were a threat to everything they had fought for. Utopias had a way to get out of the hands that birthed them very quickly. And Magic Britain population knew nothing of the genocides that 1900 had seen. They wouldn't even see the death they would be bringing everywhere with smile. In the meantime, the governments would enter a race to gain the biggest number of wizard and witches, that would be the perfect weapon for discrete operations, killings, kidnapping, smuggling, sabotage. A wizard with an imperio could kickstart the Third World War. I was worried. I was terrified. Wonderland could survive a nuclear holocaust, but hiding in there for thousands of years, waiting for the world to settle? Radiations wouldn't give me cancer, nor mutate me since the Stone provided a perfect mythos is, but the planet would turn into a wasteland.

So, worst case of future events: Lord Voldemort defeated during the next year or so, muggleborn revolution and in ten years the complete break of the Statute.

Other option: Lord Voldemort wins in few years (I somehow doubt it). If he does not break the Statute during the war, he will after he won in Britain.

If the Statute survives the war, we have the best possible combination of events: Lord Voldemort and the Ministry cripple the muggleborn movement, and Potter dies in killing the Dark Lord, bringing Britain back to the status quo.

However, I came from 2019, and I knew the kind of technological boom muggles were going through. The Statute would fail in 30 years. 50 tops.

I needed solutions and insurances for every single situation.

I started thinking furiously. Plots of post-apocalyptic fanfictions running in my head. I was so lost in thought that I ended up missing the beginning of the duel, along with the raised eyebrows around me due to the air suddenly smelling of ozone and rain.

When the duel started, I was not looking at my opponent. Which is, in hindsight, a stupid thing to do. However, I couldn't miss his magic twirling the air, nor the emotion hidden beneath it. Fear.

I was flabbergasted, I never once felt fear from him. And I knew it wasn't fear of something that he could resolve with magic, since there would only be determination and joy in face of a challenge. Maybe he's fearing for me? I wondered. But no, the witch I was about to face was ruthless and did not shy away from bone breakers and piercing hexes, but hardly a real threat. And while sometimes difficult to nail down, my opponents were ultimately unable to outright win, or truly harm me. He knew that. So, it must have been something else.

I awoke surprised of being on the ground. He distracted me! I wanted to yell. And I disliked being made fun of by the crowd or giving that pitiful show in front of my little sister. I ignored the healer questioning me and made my way to my starting point in the arena, throwing a glare to David, who smiled sheepishly and mouthed 'later'. "Oh, you can bet your sorry arse that we'll talk about it later." I grumbled. He couldn't read lips, but I saw him smile, and it stopped feeling like it was about to start a storm.

I turned my face into a blank mask, ignoring taunts in Russian that I couldn't understand from the witch on the other side of the arena. I compressed my annoyance into a thin blade, coating it with the shame for my pitiful showing.

When the referee signaled, we could start, I uncoiled my magic, and the ground in front of my opponent exploded, sending the smirking witch into the wall. She was lucky it was cushioned. The referee called my win, adding a foul to my spotless record. Fifteen minutes later, we were ready to go.

She opened with a chain that included water whips that sprouted ice shards when they got close. She had the gall to throw at me those shards, no doubt hoping that I would dodge in the path of another of her spells. I flexed my will, bringing forth my blue fire with the same effort one would exert to rise his arms over the head. The water evaporated and the ice sublimated. I raised a shield behind the cocoon of fire that hid me from sight. I placed an illusion in my place before turning invisible. My invisibility was not perfect, David theorized that a part of me refused to go unseen, ruining the delicate control required. But I didn't need it for long. I let the following shield breaker shatter my defense, and I let my flame start dying from my left. From there the illusion of me started running away, looking almost dazed, with hair in disarray. I sniffed, like I would ever end up looking like that against anyone.

Still hidden behind my dying blue flame, I guided my illusion in an acrobatic series of tumbles and jumps, circling around my opponent. When she gave me her back, I nailed her with a stunner.

Another two and I'm done. I thought. He still felt... nervous. Like there was something he had to do but couldn't because he was forced to stay. I knew he didn't particularly enjoy watching others duelling, even if I was an exception. He and I would both prefer duelling each other, but he also knew that sometimes I liked to show off. And why shouldn't I?

I had no doubt that while he found that trait endearing, he also had used it to manipulate me in accepting this travel in the new continent. It would have made more sense keeping going east from Greece. It was possible that he didn't even know why he wanted to come into the USA, maybe it was one of his ' it just felt right' moments. It was actually maddening sometimes. I sighed, then smirked. He managed to make the travel on the Lookfar interesting anyway. A literal interpretation of rocking the boat. Also, being able to throw every kind of fire everywhere had been wonderful, and that time on the sea had made it possible to experiment freely with Fiendfyre, just like he had promised.

I centred myself, using one of the mental images David suggested more than a year ago. He told me he found it in a book and laughed when I asked which. He joked and refused to answer, saying that if I ever saw it, I wouldn't glance at The Dragon Reborn twice. I did, however, notice that manipulating fire with that mental image was not only easier, but also more... natural? David believed it was the first step toward becoming fire. But that honestly had gone over my head at the time, the book on souls now gave me another perspective. And while I would agree that in theory, it was possible becoming an element, the practical aspect of it, however, seemed impossible.

Noticing that once again the Russian witch was on her feet and we were about to begin, I channelled all the subdued frustration and my other thoughts into a flame that I imagined into a void. White fire, with a blue core, burning eternally into the darkness. Like Gubraithian Fire maybe. And I started feeling... detached, and... warm, like tanning on the white sand of Sardinia.

When a volley of spells came barreling at me, I barely reacted in time. And by 'reacted' I mean that I snapped open the eyes I didn't notice I had closed when I felt her charms fizzling a few steps in front of me. Like moths burnt by licks of a bonfire. I shook my head deflecting another with a flick of my wand. That had been different. I often used that mental image, but it had never been so... enthralling? I put away that thought and used one of the first occlumency exercises mother taught me when I was still learning to control my allure.

I focused on the ongoing duel, absent mindedly taking notice of the scream of frustration that my opponent had let out. I guess my implied dismissal of her abilities irked her a great deal. I thought amusedly.

I sent at her another wave of my blue fire, using it as a cover to quickly encase the arena in a modified bubble-head charm. I kept dodging or batting away her spells, piercing her transfigurations, all of that while I was enchanting a portion of the ground.

Three minutes later the Russian witch had fallen to oxygen deprivation.

One left. I thought. I looked at the honor box, seeing Gabrielle waving at me frantically and shouting her praise for the world to hear. Filius and David were talking quickly among themselves, probably analyzing every piece of magic they had seen or felt. But they were also clapping, so I let it slide. I knew that I was hardly a duelist, stances and chained spells sequences were not my thing. And why should I lower myself? Fire worked perfectly well for every occasion. I started thinking about a possible strategy for what I intended to make the last round, when I noticed David mouthing at me while making grand gestures with his hands. Something big?

I tilted my head, mouthing what I had understood. As an answer: he clapped and shouted loud compliments. I'll take that as a yes. I thought.

When the referee gave us the go, I gave my all to defence. I raised up a dome: it looked like cracked glass, but there were golden runes sliding over it in a languid manner. A curse breaker could break it, but it would require a seven-minute-long process, and that time was enough for me. David could break it faster, as his Atlas was overwhelming and a static kind of defence wouldn't make it, but I highly doubted my opponent could perform something on that level.

I looked at her: through my dome and her volleys of spells designed to break it, transfigure it, uproot it and setting it on fire? Is she serious?

Anyone could tell that she was somewhat on the petite side, with short black hair and a tattoo that crept up from her shoulder to her neck. I could only look at her, and all I could see was that she was unremarkable. Fast on her feet and true with her aim. Inventive, but only in the way she tied together different chains of spells. In that moment I truly understood why David had always refused to participate in duels with anyone but me, Filius and Minerva. And the British Dark Lord, but let's not touch that topic.

I shaped my will into my fire, summoning it deep underground.

It was far more interesting facing a master of his or her craft. Seeing things that you could begin to explain only to recognize halfway through your speech that you had no idea how someone could pull it off. I had a vague idea about how Atlas worked, but applying that to a real situation? It was like asking a guitarist if he could play the piano as well just because there were strings in it.

Without runes to tie my will to it, my construct wouldn't last long, but it would be far more than enough, I just had to keep its fire resonating with me.

From inside my dome, I opened my eyes, taking in that the rest of the arena's ground had been split open along lines that almost draw a spider's web, with me as its center. There was superheated vapour hiding out of the fissures in a slow rhythm, almost mirroring my breathing. I felt myself frown in concentration. Making sure that the stone would bend to the Flame always resulted difficult to me.

With a rumbling from below and a mighty crack a giant stone hand rose from the ground, quickly followed by the arm. But it wasn't just rock, oh no. Among the little fissures on its surface, lava flowed like blood. The arm was four meters long from the tip of the fingers to the shoulder. The air started being distorted by the intense heat, and a second arm followed the first. I needed to let go of the defensive dome; it was becoming suffocating. The heat was not a problem, since it was mine, but I breathed much more easily once my defense was gone, it had started to feel confining, almost smothering.

With a mighty push of the two arms, a head made of rock rose from the ground, followed closely by an immodest chest. Blue flames behaved like long flowing hair, weaving themselves in tresses before coming undone and opening like a mane. She stopped rising at the beginning of the belly. She was beautiful and terrible.

Eyes were molten pools of magma, slowly pouring out tears that left incandescent trails on her rocky cheeks. The tears meshed with the slow flow of melted rock that split at the beginning of the eagle's beak she had instead of nose and lips. From her jawline lava fell in drops each as big as a pony, or it kept flowing down her neck and on the breasts. Even if somewhat rocky, conveyed a feel of smoothness beneath the torrid heat. She opened slowly her beak, like she was attempting her first breath. Instead of a tongue, fire. Fire so white and fierce that it was like having the sun dawn at a meter from your face. She slowly inhaled, preparing herself to...

A familiar hand clamped down on my wand arm, disrupting my focus and making me want to burn whoever had the sheer gall to dare touch me. And my breath stopped. The hand that was touching me was on fire, and belonged to David, who still didn't let go. Only then I saw that he was talking to me, gritting words through teeth clenched by the pain. But when I looked him in the eye, I suddenly felt him. Like slow rain in a day without wind, like little, warm waves from the Mediterranean Sea, like a cloudy day that made you only want to sleep.

The sounds returned suddenly with a pop.

I noticed something was different from the other times only when she caught on fire. That was somewhat something worth worrying over, but listening, the song I came to link with her presence still played its tunes, with a slight vibrato maybe? But with magic this complex it was hardly surprising. The referee almost called a stop, but when he noticed the flabbergasted expression of the Russian duelist, he correctly summarized that it was Fleur's doing. She wasn't screaming in pain and it was widely known that Veela held a strong kinship with fire, this one even more than the rest of her kind. So, the referee said nothing, and the duel kept going.

The lava monster caught me flat-footed. I thought she was going to shape the ground into a three meters tall golem with fifty arms. Maybe with a flame component since she was on fire. She was probably resonating with her Gubraithian Fire to bypass the necessity of stabilizing enchantments tied to runes.

"I had no idea she could actually do that." I grumbled, half awestruck and half envious. It was something we speculated on board of the Lookfar, during the crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. Raven, that had been uncharacteristically silent for all the duration of the last round, suddenly croaked:

"I am always there; I flow with time.

I break all bonds, and forge those anew.

I'm the rising tide, and the crumbling cliffs.

I let you learn, and rule all in the end.

Who am I?"

I remember that. "Change." I distractedly answered. The last time she told it, she pushed me to enter the Triwizard. Why would she utter that riddle during that duel I had no idea.

I guessed that she wasn't so in control as it looked like when she shattered her defense to avoid suffocating. Fire in an enclosed space consumed air like you wouldn't believe. Filius and I were fascinated by her display, even more than the rest of the crowd, since we knew the bare bones of what she was doing. She was using her blue flame to collect oxygen from the air and constantly combusting it in a flow to keep the lava going. At the same time animating a giant rock golem, in which she had summoned another original and unique variation of Gubraithian Fire.

When her opponent fell to her knees and let her wand slip from her fingers the referee declared Fleur the winner by forfeit. The crowd was roaring their approval, but some people were staring at the construct with worry in their eyes. I noticed the four wizards in charge of keeping up the shield that protected the people from stray spells had started sweating. It was then that the rock-lava-fire-giant-Veela started opening her beak. "This could go very bad, very quickly." I mumbled, before throwing myself through the barrier. I didn't have to find a way to bypass it, since in case of emergency outside help was considered a blessing. Rock-lava-fire-giant-Veela and organizers actually competent, will the wonders ever cease? I thought distractedly.

I dared not to hit her with her magic because it was possible it would kickstart the rampage of a Fiendfyre monster with a Gubraithian Fire core and limbs made of solid rock. Bad image that one. Let's think about relaxing, cool things. I thought while running toward her. I started channelling the heat around me in the Stone that rested in my left orbit. It was a slow process, but I would take all the help I could.

I reached Fleur when she started inhaling, like she was about to spit a river Mississippi's worth of white fire on everyone. I didn't dare smother her in any way and she clearly wasn't listening, but I tried anyway.

"Fleur let go." I tried to convey all my trust in her ability to do so with my tone. It was calm and did not show any of my fears. She didn't even twitch at the sound of my voice, so I grabbed her arm. I just hoped it was only covered in fire and not made of fire, since I would just phase through it winning a fourth-degree burn on my arm in the process.

"Fleur." I called her again. Thank Morgana, Merlin, and Yoda she's only covered in fire. She snapped her head in my direction, looking at me with blue fire in the place of her eyes.

"Fleur, you won! Now let it sleep." I gritted through my clenched teeth. The second-grade burn was quickly escalating to third grade when she realized it was me.

I saw her dedicate her focus to contain the construct she brought to life, not exactly battling with it, but redirecting its will somehow. I applied occlumency to isolate the pain of my burning hand in a corner of my mind, helping her shaping the heat around us into a river flowing into the sky.

I fought with the physics of it, hardening parts of the construct as soon as lava stopped flowing into them, and cooling it down. The Philosopher's Stone helped a bit, but it was the passive aspect of swallowing heat and I could hardly enhance that process properly without showing it to the world. It was a secret I intended to keep close, letting everyone think my left orbit was empty was a wonderful and effective way to do it.

We finally reached a critical point, after which the fire on her body was snuffed away, leaving behind a very naked Veela. I covered her with a conjured long white and blue trench coat. It had been a reflex, I didn't really have to think about it, all of me did not like the idea of Fleur flashing a crowd. So, it had been easy.

The whole process of stopping the Rock-lava-fire-giant-Veela? It needs a shorter name. Lasted barely five seconds, but it had been taxing on our minds, and my body too. So, I hid my burnt hand, and after having put away my hand, I used my unmarred limb to lift one of Fleur's arms in triumph. Only then I noticed the smoking rosewood wand in her hand, to my wandmaker senses it felt... dead.

She could have burned through the core. I analytically noticed.

Her family reached us when the referee came over to give her a shiny trophy, along with a consistent bag of galleons.

I didn't pay much attention to it however, since I distanced myself and I was busy redirecting elixir of life through my hand so that my cells would regrow the holes between my bones. I had to resort to necromancy at the beginning of the healing process to identify the dead tissue and remove it. It was painful, it was an agony. Thank you occlumency. I thought when I started working on the nerves.

I noticed that while Fleur was being hugged by Gabrielle and asked questions by the reporter assigned to follow the tournament, Filius had reached me. More surprisingly, Sam had done the same. Yes, Sam the parselmouth, who was looking at the now-dead cold giant stone golem-like it was about to come to life again. Paranoid parselmouths, maybe is really a genetic trait. I snorted.

"Filius you know a lot of very smart people, right?" I asked. When he looked at me funny, I lowered myself to elaborate: "Since you were a famous champion, and you have taught at Hogwarts for years, you know a lot of smart people all around the world. People that care about magic. I'd like to meet them while I travel around, so if you could write letters to the ones that you think could be interested in my project..."

The half-goblin looked lost in thought for a few seconds, before he answered me: "I dare say I know a lot of people that would enjoy a chat about magic with you, David. And after today, with miss Delacour too. But it would be easier if I knew what your next project will revolve around."

He was teasing me, but in a very Ravenclaw-ish way, digging for information. Sam, while trying to not look like he was eavesdropping, had assumed a posture that screamed 'I am curious about this'. Looking at her, I grinned. "Don't worry, you will probably be on board of this one." I told her.

"If we are lucky, the Statute is going to break in fifty years. If we are not, in less than five. So, I want to find a way to make it last as long as possible, while preparing insurances for when it will fail." I started explaining.

"One of which is colonizing the moon."

Raven landed on my shoulder, and croaked:

"I am always there; I flow with time.

I break all bonds, and forge those anew.

I'm the rising tide, and the crumbling cliffs.

I let you learn, and rule all in the end.

Who am I?"