In other circumstances, Liz might be pleased. The trios were organised by the participants' rating, like the other events, and Liz and Katie were both new — but the combination of the boost to their initial rating they got for being on the Hogwarts team and being further weighted up by Cynfelyn's personal one had managed to put them in one of the upper brackets. Perhaps some fluke of how things had been organised, making sure trios from the same school weren't in the same bracket, Cynfelyn had been surprised at the assignment. He hadn't been confident they'd do too well, had reassured Liz and Katie ahead of time to not feel badly if they lost early.
But they'd won, they'd cleared the whole thing. Some of the fights had been seriously tough, eking out a win by the skin of their teeth, but they'd done it. Cynfelyn was a pretty brutal duellist, though best one on one, and Katie had trained her conjuration up to a point it was useful for all kinds of things — and they didn't normally even start conjuration at Hogwarts until fifth year, hardly any of their opponents used any at all, they'd heard the judges were very impressed. Planning ahead for trios, she'd specifically learned how to conjure snakes, so Liz could then order them around, which was kind of cheating. Between Katie's conjuration and Liz's quick-step, they'd so far managed to stop the other teams from coordinating as they planned, leaving Cynfelyn to take them out one at a time while they were distracted. Sometimes it hadn't worked quite as well, a few times Liz forced to lean on mind magic to get them through the worse ones
Liz hadn't used her mind magic much, and not just because she didn't want to — after all, actually beating someone in a fight was way more fun than just compelling them to drop their wand or whatever. A lot of the kids had surprisingly good occlumency, not excellent by any means but enough to shrug off a passing compulsion, and with a fight going on around her she usually didn't have the attention to spare for anything more involved than that. Liz had noticed a baseline of competency was especially common in countries with significant veela populations — the weird emotion-based influence they had wasn't technically mind magic (having felt it for herself, Liz suspect it was actually soul magic), but occlumency still helped people ignore their influence — but it was also considered a basic battlemagic skill, if only to deal with illusions and charm-based compulsions and the like. She had fallen back on it a few times, reflexively lashing out when a fight was going particularly badly, which normally didn't accomplish much more than a temporary distraction, but sometimes that was all they needed to turn it to their advantage.
Of the four Hogwarts trios (two junior, two senior) Liz, Katie, and Cynfelyn were the only ones to clear their bracket — Adrian's trio was the closest, losing in the semifinals. So they were the only ones to move onto the championship round, playing against trios who'd also cleared out the brackets they'd started in. Apparently, scheduling all this could be a pain, especially since people still had their own singles matches to get in, sometimes needing to hold teams and trios well into the night to catch them all. And since there were far too many people here, there were actually multiple championship brackets, and they didn't actually narrow down to a single winner, but a collection of teams and trios that were all said to have "won" collectively.
Hogwarts occasionally had winning teams and trios, but it didn't happen all the time. Their last trio in the winners' circle had been Phoebe Ingham's, just last year — the captain of the senior team in Liz's second year, she'd placed really high in singles too — but the teams hadn't won since the mid 80s. From the research into this stuff Liz had done, the Hogwarts teams had always had at least one winning team from when the event restarted after the Revolution in the 50s all the way through the early 80s, which was a large part of why Hogwarts was so high in the ratings. Their recent decline was blamed on the war — Hogwarts' big advantage was in all the noble kids who got training in battlemagic outside of school, and the birthrate in the nobility specifically had sharply declined during the war, a lot of commentators assumed there'd be an upswing as kids from the baby boom started getting old enough to participate. In these years in the middle, there'd been enough noble kids kicking around to occasionally win in the trios, but it didn't happen nearly as often as it used to.
And it wasn't going to happen this year either. In the couple days since they'd swept the first bracket, a lot of her teammates had been hopeful. The senior team had even come over that evening to congratulate them — bringing along a few bottles of liquor to celebrate properly, because of course (Liz hadn't had any, wary of duelling through a hangover) — discussing the other winners and wishing them good luck. But even at the time, Liz had been certain they wouldn't make it. She hadn't known why at the time, she'd just known it — one of those Seer things, the others had mostly just brushed her feeling off as pessimism. (Liz was sharply reminded of Lily's letter, talking of people not taking her intuitions seriously, and realised this sort of thing was probably going to happen a lot.) Once the organisers had put their bracket together, a copy sent up to their room in the morning, Liz immediately knew what was going to happen.
And she was right. They'd made it as far as the semifinals, only two rounds away from victory — some of the hardest fights Liz had had here in Romania so far, her chest still kind of stung when she took deep breaths, and Katie kept rolling her shoulder, trying to work out a sore spot. Cynfelyn had managed to avoid taking any nasty hits, mostly just seemed tired, and all of their uniforms were showing signs of damage, but they didn't have time to send them out for repair. They might have two more fights in them, it was theoretically possible...if they weren't fighting Artémisia Cæciné's trio.
They were doomed.
The walk from the waiting room up to the arena passed mostly in tense silence — on the Hogwarts students' part, anyway. Cynfelyn had gone stern and silent, shoulders squared, staring straight ahead as he walked up the stairs at a firm, regular pace; Katie was fidgeting more, kept shooting glances at the Aquitanian trio walking alongside them. Particularly the other two, Liz noticed. Cæciné had for her trio partners a veela boy (Évariste Delacour) and a lilin girl (Alexis Torralba, who was actually their team's captain), and British mages could be very racist. Though, Liz didn't think that was what Katie was thinking — if Liz had to put a word to the flittering in Katie's head, she'd guess maybe curious, but she couldn't guess what about without looking. They didn't have any veela or lilin in Britain, and Katie hadn't travelled much, it could be as simple as that. Liz would say it was just because all three of them were annoyingly pretty — though she honestly had no clue if someone who actually liked boys would like one Liz thought looked nice, being gay and all — but it didn't feel like that, so.
Thankfully, Liz was too distracted by how they were about to have their arses kicked, so she wasn't noticing that so much herself. Well, maybe a little, but. She was a bit tense on top of that, because of Torralba and Delacour — not for racist reasons, just, veela and lilin were uncomfortable to be around sometimes. They were pretty much constantly... It wasn't a compulsion, exactly, it didn't quite feel like mind magic, but it was very similar to a compulsion, pressing a feeling into other people's minds. Except it didn't feel like it came from outside to Liz, the first time she'd run into one, feeling the warm, tingly excitement bubbling away, it'd taken a good fifteen seconds before she'd realised the feeling wasn't hers — and it didn't feel like other people's feelings did to her either, it was very confusing.
Though on the plus side, Liz was pretty sure what happiness was supposed to feel like now.
As far as she could tell, veela and lilin were pushing out whatever they were feeling at everyone around them pretty much all the time, like an extra level of communication they had going on. Once she'd realised what was going on, it hadn't taken her very long to figure out how to ignore it — it felt less like blocking something out, and more like focussing on channelling light magic, but inverted, consciously not channelling the veela/lilin magic around her — though it did take constant attention. She was doing it right now, but she could still feel their magic on the air around her, like a hot-cold electric haze — it wasn't unpleasant, exactly, just made her tense up a little, as though anticipating something, it was distracting. But, she had the feeling it was reflexive, that they couldn't stop themselves any more than Liz could stop herself from feeling the minds around her all the time, so.
The Aquitanians, of course, seemed perfectly unbothered. After all, why shouldn't they? It wasn't like they had anything to worry about. Their uniforms were in black, sunny yellow, and a pale robin's egg blue — Beauxbatons colours, apparently — the same trousers and jacket that was common in the west and the north, though tailored rather more loosely than Hogwarts's was, enough for the cloth to flutter just a little as they moved. (Veela and lilin were uncomfortable with enclosed spaces and restrictive clothing, it was a whole thing, and it seemed Beauxbatons got enough of them on the duelling teams that they'd gone out of their way to accommodate them.) Cæciné also had a sash tied around her waist, red and a darker blue, mostly hidden under the jacket but the tails draping down along one leg — according to the sport magazines and shite, if you unrolled that it would be her family's colours, which was apparently something participants from noble families were allowed to do, due to the rules having been written ages ago (though most didn't bother). The Cæcinés weren't legally nobility anymore — they'd peacefully surrendered their titles and shite when Aquitania had made democratic reforms a century and a half ago — but they had been for millennia, the family literally predating Rome, so nobody ever made a fuss about it.
While the Hogwarts team was obviously a bit tense, the Aquitanians were cheerfully chattering — by the giggles and the occasional sly slant in their heads probably teasing each other about whatever, one comment had Torralba giving Delacour a shove, nearly making him trip on the stairs, raising an exaggeratedly whiny hey, what was that for? Liz assumed, anyway, she couldn't really follow it. The language the Aquitanians were speaking was vaguely similar to French, but in the same way that Saxon was vaguely similar to English. She'd pick up a word now and then, but it was mostly nonsense. It didn't have the funny R that French (and German) did, and was much less nasally, making it sound maybe halfway to Spanish or Italian...which did make sense, considering Aquitania was between French-speaking France and Spain and Italy (Genoa, whatever). Beauxbatons mostly taught in French, but that was because it was an international school, with a lot of students from other countries, and French was the big international language and all — the locals spoke a completely different language, which their primary school programme was actually taught in. Which seemed unnecessarily complicated to Liz, but what did she know.
The difference in the mood between the two teams was very obvious, enough that Liz almost thought it was funny. But only almost, because they were doomed.
As much as the Aquitanians were chattering among themselves, neither group spoke to the other until they were upstairs. The stages had been removed at some point, the trios now fighting on the open floor like the teams — they'd gotten through enough of the events by this point that they didn't need to cram three trio fights in at once anymore. They lingered for a moment in the covered causeway ringing the floor, waiting for them to be called out to start. There wasn't anyone fighting at the moment, though a couple staff were out there — cleaning blood off the ground and replacing those spots with fresh dirt, by the look of it — but they still had a couple minutes until their fight was scheduled to start, so. None of them moved for the benches along the wall, tense with anticipation, even the Aquitanians had quieted, gathering themselves for what was to come.
Just like last time, Liz felt Cæciné approach before she saw her — her presence was louder than most people, mind magic projected out around her, smooth and cool against Liz's skin, specks of glitter to her eyes. This time it was a little more rigid, Cæciné's mind sizzling with eagerness. Liz had already known Cæciné enjoyed fighting — Liz hadn't been able to catch any of her matches, but she'd seen pictures, and she seemed to smile the whole time — but if she hadn't just being around her in the moments before a duel would have given it away. Not like Liz had any right to judge, she wouldn't be here if it wasn't fun, just saying. "Elizabeth," she said, some curl to her voice Liz didn't know how to read.
Oh shite, what had Cæciné said to call her again? Um... "Artèmi," that was it.
"Would you like to lose another bet?"
Liz forced out a scoff — the first time they'd spoken, Cæciné had predicted Liz wouldn't get far in the singles event, and Liz had been a bit over-confident about it. She hadn't really thought Cæciné was wrong, just playing around, you know. Cæciné had been spot on — she'd said Liz would win the first few matches, but lose well before the finals, which was exactly what had happened — but, "I don't remember making any bets."
"No, I suppose not. Our day off is tomorrow, and I wouldn't wish to ruin it for you with a hospital stay — so I'll try not to hurt you too badly." Probably assuming that Liz's job was to stay on Cæciné, because mind mage, which was another completely accurate guess. Clever bitch.
Liz wanted to argue the point, a little irritated by Cæciné's certainty, but she knew exactly how this match was going to end too, so. "I appreciate it," she drawled, sarcastic.
"If I understand correctly, my final year in the senior division will be your first. You'll have to give me a rematch."
...Okay, then. "You know, you're being bloody weird, Cæciné."
The other girl just smiled, amused.
The announcer said something — Liz didn't understand it, they must be under some other section — one of the staff people down here waved them on, so they all started out. The two trios walked at slightly different angles, opening up a bit of space between them, Cæciné drifting back toward her teammates. Liz looked up and, woah, the stands were rather more full than they'd been for her previous matches. She guessed it was getting late in the evening, and there weren't that many other events going on at the moment, the spectators had rather fewer places to be than normal. Thankfully, the same wards that protected the stands from stray spells also stopped the press of far too many minds from reaching Liz, so she turned her eyes ahead, ignoring the crowd.
Sidling up closer to her, Katie asked, "What was that about?" It took Liz a second to realise she was talking about that moment with Cæciné — Liz didn't have any better idea than Katie, so she just shrugged.
Before too long, they reached what was roughly the middle of the arena — it wasn't marked in any way, just plain reddish-brown dirt, but it looked close enough — the six of them coming to a halt. They were starting several paces apart, but at a sign from where the judges were sitting (they couldn't hear the commentary in here), Cynfelyn and Torralba stepped toward the middle, did the bowing and all. Not for the first time, Liz wondered why Cæciné wasn't the captain of their team, being famously skilled and all — in fact, she'd assumed she was, it wasn't until she found the Beauxbatons teams flipping through the Book that she'd realised it was Torralba instead. Torralba wasn't bad, of course — she'd placed pretty damn high in the singles this year too — just not on Cæciné's level, and not nearly as well known. It was odd.
But also not her business. The formalities done with, Cynfelyn and Torralba both retreating to their teammates, Liz's heart pounding in her throat and her skin tingling, tonguing her lip ring and practically bouncing on her toes from nerves, she took one slow, deep breath after another, trying to focus. She would need to quick-step past Cynfelyn toward Cæciné, try to keep her occupied while Katie and Cynfelyn tried to peel away Torralba and Delacour. Which was going to be annoyingly difficult — from her previous matches, it seemed Cæciné hadn't learned quick-step yet (it was rare even in the senior division), but veela and lilin had their own weird teleporting magic thing, so they'd be able to move all around the field easily. But they were more concerned with Cæciné teaming up with one of her people, using mind magic to distract while the other downed them, so while Cynfelyn and Katie couldn't keep them pinned down, necessarily, hopefully they could keep them off Liz while she kept Cæciné distracted, and they just had to hope they could win their fights, because there was no way in hell Liz would last alone against Cæciné and one of her teammates for even two seconds — honestly, she seriously doubted she'd last against Cæciné one on one for very long, she just had to hope Katie or Cynfelyn could finish up theirs quickly and come back her up...but Torralba and Delacour were also excellent duellists, and had cheater veela/lilin fire magic on their side, so the chances of that weren't great.
Yeah, they were doomed.
Liz could feel the beginning of the match coming, a tension on the air about to snap — because being a Seer was cheating sometimes — she started gathering herself to quick-step. So when a loud, low bong rung out, intense enough the ground seemed to vibrate under her feet, Liz was able to move instantly, her surroundings smearing as she flew forward, zeroing in on a spot a few metres to Cæciné's back. She landed more or less smoothly, her boots skidding on the dirt just a little bit, twisting around, "Verveikt!" the dark stunning hex lanced out and—
There was a flash of black-purple flames just as the first syllable passed her lips, only a couple steps behind Cæciné, Torralba appearing out of them, a shield charm a sharp red-black appearing in a blink — and it must be a dark shield charm, because it caught Liz's hex no problem. Grimacing, "Cumfulmine lacera!" magic searing hot and painful down her arm — shite, too much power that time, ow ow ow — the blue-white spellglow leaping out toward Torralba, but it didn't reach even halfway there, exploding against a conjured shield of bronze. Liz reared back at the too-bright strobing of light, the air booming around her, cursing through her teeth, though thankfully the fingers of lightning didn't reach anywhere near her.
She ducked under a reddish spellglow aimed right at her head — stunning charm, maybe — started the wand motion for a slicing curse but switched to a shield when she saw more lilin fire coming in, the dark flames held back by an arc of pale glimmering orange. She didn't wait for the fire to disperse, instead sinking into a quick-step, flying back and to the side to avoid the fire, her arm swept with the numbing prickles of backlash as the shield charm was wrenched out of her grip. Her aim hadn't been great this time, not looking at where she was going, her heel hit awkwardly and she stumbled for a couple steps, shot a bludgeoning hex in Cæciné's direction once she got her balance back. Another hex was coming in from Torralba, Liz hopped out of the way — Cæciné sidled a step to the side, her hex sliding right past her and then missing Cynfelyn by only a couple metres — dipped around a cutting hex — Torralba had aimed the slash a little high, probably not used to fighting someone so damn short — Liz retaliating with a string of a slicing curse and then a blasting hex and then a stripping hex and then a bludgeoning hex, but Torralba easily blocked or dodged all of them, more black-purple fire gathering around her, clenching and condensing as she spun out of the way of the stripping hex...and then zipping straight toward Liz, the fire magic somehow transformed into a rain of glimmering needles.
Liz had no clue what the fuck that was, but she wasn't a complete idiot, she didn't have to recognise it to know getting hit with it would be very, very bad — a quick wind charm threw most of them off course, Liz cast a shield charm and ducked, the rest either plunking against her shield or sailing over her head. As each hit the ground there was a little puff of flame, dozens of little staccato explosions, the temperature around her seeming to drop several degrees in seconds. (Lilin fire was a variety of anti-fire, drawing heat out of things as it burned, because magic was neat.) Another stunning charm from Torralba, Liz hopped out of the way, retaliating with a stripping hex, a shield-breaker, and then another complex blasting curse — aimed not at Torralba, but right in front of her feet. She didn't wait to watch it land, whirled around until she spotted Cæciné — still fighting Cynfelyn, a flash of spellglow and white-gold veela fire not far away, Katie and Delacour — she shot off a bludgeoning hex and threw herself into another quick-step, aiming to land toward Cæciné's left.
In slow-motion, delayed by the effects of the weird nature magic shite, a jet of black-purple began to slash out in head of her, her nerves sizzling with panic, but she didn't know how to stop, she didn't really think about it, acting on instinct, reached out to the magic carrying her and shredded it apart, the way she might a compulsion acting on her, the magic convulsing, a shudder carried through her bones. The magic broke with a hard lurch, like taking a sharp kick-turn at speed, some kind of interference crawling over her skin, the world abruptly snapping back into clarity around her, but she hadn't lost her speed, immediately tripping over herself, tumbling to the ground...
...and through the band of lilin fire. Because of course.
Suddenly terribly cold, like stepping out of the quidditch changing rooms in the dead of winter, Liz forced herself to keep rolling, coming out the other side. All of her exposed skin turned numb and stinging — she'd only been in it for a second, not long enough to get frostbite — tipped up onto her knees, she could see she was through, the flames already dissolving into wisps as Torralba let them go, but the cold clung to her, growing even more intense, she didn't— Her bloody hair was on fire, for fuck's sake, a quick water-drawing charm took care of that — the water poured over her back and her neck, stinging a bit against her skin (she was cold enough the room-temperature water felt very warm), she thought she'd gotten all of it. A spike of warm, sizzling excitement from Torralba — very loud, because lilin — Liz forced herself up to her feet, her legs stiff and aching, she managed to dodge the hex, stumbling a couple steps, water dribbling across her face, fuck. A quick warming charm chased off the rest of the cold, full feeling coming back in an unpleasant prickling wave, the piercings lagging a couple seconds behind, the metal like ice in her skin.
Torralba was already sending another hex at her, Liz blocked it with a grimace, retaliated with a quick string of hexes — "adure deprime incide comminue haldist" — halfway through smoothly dodging out of the way of a spell from Torralba, a tangled snarl of dark magic — some kind of blasting curse, she thought. Even as she cast the last hex, she started turning toward Cæciné, preparing another complex blasting curse—
There was a flash of fluttery, giggly dark magic behind her — right behind her, only a few steps away — quickly followed by a gust of cool wind, a muttered incantation. From so close, the spell struck instantly, Liz didn't even have a second to react — warm bands of sticky magic lashing out, wrapping around her, clawing at her limbs, a binding hex. Liz had learned her lesson from the tournament at Hogwarts, instead of forcing a wandless dispel she pushed her mind out, reaching toward the binding hex — sinking down toward it, pulling it up toward her, making them more like each other, stealing ownership of the magic away from Torralba — and tore it into pieces, the scattered remains drifting to the ground as glittery silver-red sparks. (She probably could have subsumed it, but that would have been too distracting for the middle of a fight, it was safer to just let it go.) Her teeth grit with frustration, she turned to Torralba — standing even closer than Liz had thought, if they both reached out their hands their fingers could probably touch — and just glared.
Lilin not-mind-magic thick in the air around her, warm and soft and almost cosy, a self-satisfied, smug sort of amusement bubbling in Liz's chest, Torralba smiled.
They must have planned out how their strategy too — Torralba wasn't going to let her at Cæciné. And the lilin magic was fucking cheating, with Katie and Cynfelyn pinned down there was no way Liz was going to get around her on her own. Liz hoped Cynfelyn's occlumency would hold up, because he was on his own.
They were so doomed.
Liz tried to get off a stunning charm at point-blank, but Torralba saw it coming — probably felt it coming, since Liz's mind was so bloody loud — catching it on a partial shield charm. (Like a contege, but the colour was off, must be an equivalent spell they taught at Beauxbatons.) Torralba retaliated with a hex of some kind, but Liz caught it with her own contege, the instant it landed her wand swishing down in a cutting hex aimed at Torralba's leg — a weak one, but she didn't have time for the incantation — but Torralba just took a half-step out of the way, shot back with a pinkish nightmare curse, which Liz just ignored, giving her the opportunity to get off an overpowered stripping hex. Taken aback by Liz letting herself get hit with the curse — but, mind mage, when the compulsion hit she just tore it apart into harmless ticklish dark energy, no problem — didn't recover in time to do anything about the stripping hex. Liz might have overpowered it a little too much (the joints in her hand and wrist were burning, as all too easily happened when she pushed herself after Valérie), the hex shredding Torralba's jacket where it landed, but the important thing was that Torralba's wand went spinning out of her hand. Liz repositioned her wand to start casting a stunning hex...
...and at the same time, black-purple flames roared to life in both of Torralba's hands, the air around her dropping ten degrees in a blink. Well, shite.
Liz lept into a quick-step, picking a spot well behind Torralba, opening up some distance. By the time she landed, spinning around on her heel, Torralba had cast two streams of dark fire, doing that weird condensing thing again, not so distracted by whatever that was she couldn't dance around Liz's stunning hex. And then two long curved blades were flying at her — like the visible band of an overpowered cutting curse, but made out of some glinting purplish crystal instead of spellglow. "Krustallinon," gritting her teeth at the burn in her wand arm as the wall of blue-white ice appeared a few metres in front of her, "adure." The weird lilin-fire blade things hit the wall first, with a booming and ear-splitting crackling of ice, and then the scorching hex an instant later, with a flash of fire and a hissing of steam. "Steðjinn detti, rḗtte!" The stormhammer charm flew out in an almost-visible arc, slammed into the curling smoke and steam hiding the remains of the wall, Liz didn't actually see the result before the too-bright flash of white light from the lightning curse temporarily blinded her, her head ringing from the noise.
This lightning curse was pretty useful, powerful, and basically real lightning, so it moved a lot faster than normal curses and was harder to block, but it was also just unpleasant to use sometimes. There was a blotchy afterimage in the middle of her vision now, and she was probably going to have a headache for the rest of the fight...
That'd made a hell of a boom, electricity crackling harshly in the air, but Liz didn't trust that to actually take Torralba out — she was very good, after all — but she couldn't see a damn thing through all the steam, Liz quick-stepped forward and to the side, giving her an angle around. And good thing she did: just after landing, lurching around a step, the spot she'd been standing a second ago was struck with black-purple lilin fire, exploding like a blasting curse on impact, even at this distance Liz squinted against the ice-cold specks of debris stinging at her exposed skin. There was a flash of more lilin-fire a few metres to Liz's right, Torralba stepping out of it, leading with a blasting curse, then a sizzling dark spell Liz didn't recognise, Liz caught the blasting curse on a shield (the spell resolving with a sharp boom-hiss, her shield cracked but held), sidled around the second spell, her wand flipping with a practised string of "incide comminue haldist," twitched a little at the cutting hex flying at her — looked like Torralba had tracked down her wand — quickly shielded it, immediately dropped the shield at a line of lilin-fire racing across the ground toward her, she skipped out of the way, the fire leaving a strip of frost in its wake, her skin tingling from the cold. And then there was another dark hex (binding, she thought), Liz dipped out of the way of that, fired off a stripping hex, shielded a binding hex, "verveikt," quick-stepped to avoid another rush of lilin fire, "Cumfulmine lacera!" grimacing at the painful hot-cold pins and needles that followed the magic rushing down her arm, her chest aching and that spot at the base of her skull pounding, but she couldn't stop, "comminue haldist privetur, verveikt." The hexes flying off, she paused for a second, taking a shaky breath.
She felt Torralba's shield shatter, surprise and frustration burning in her stomach and pounding behind her eyes — not hers, she wasn't keeping Torralba's shite out very well — she was positive something landed, but there was a burst of cold wind and a flickering of black-purple flames, an angry shout audible from here. Torralba somehow burning off the hexes, Liz thought. Only a few metres away, there was enough smoke and shite between them that Liz could actually feel Torralba's glare better than she could see it.
Despite herself, Liz felt a smirk twitch at her lips — someone was getting angry.
The lull only lasted for an instant, Torralba firing off a hex, Liz casting a cutting hex at more or less the same time, twisting out of the way and then jumping straight into a quick-step — surprised herself a little by how smooth and quick that was, but she didn't have time to congratulate herself just now. Landing behind Torralba to her right, spinning around, hexes falling past her lips, "incide comminue haldist privetur verveikt," she leaned out of the way of a curse, powerful enough the air crackled around it, a swirl of her wand and "gemmeam" stopping another blast of lilin fire, "ventum" shoved the hissing frigid flames off to the left, skipping around them. "Adure, irritati." A curse was flying at her head, so Liz quick-stepped a metre forward to the right, as she landed smirking at a yelp from Torralba — she must have gotten hit by the pain hex, the dark spell slipping through whatever she'd used to shield the scorching hex — "incide comminue privetur," she skipped forward a step, ducking a cutting hex again aimed a little high, leaned hard into "cude!"
Cut off-guard while casting the cutting hex, the shield Torralba had frantically thrown up to catch Liz's cutting hex was shattered by the shield-breaker, the force of it sending her stumbling out of the way of the stripping hex — but the instant Liz had to adjust her aim sent the overpowered bludgeoning hex flying straight at her. It struck her in the stomach, folding her over and knocking her off her feet, Torralba flopping down to the ground with a pained cough. Stiffly pushing herself onto her knees, one arm wrapped around her middle, she didn't have time to react to Liz's frantically-cast "verveikt!"
Of course, she didn't need time to vanish in a gout of black-purple flames — for fuck's sake...
Liz quick-stepped off a few metres in a random direction, a blasting curse sailing through where she'd been standing a second ago, continuing on to explode somewhere behind her. Following the not-mind-magic on the air back to its source, shot off a couple hexes, Torralba visibly limping, barely shielded a stripping hex, sidled out of the way of a stunning hex, and disappeared in another flash of fire—
At the same time, Liz felt a burst of cold wind coming from right behind her. She whirled around, her wand twisting to cast a cutting curse, Torralba was right there, she grabbed Liz's free hand by the wrist, her mind sharp and hard and determined crowding against hers, and—
She was really pretty.
Liz hadn't noticed before, preoccupied with her dread over the coming fight and then the fight itself, but. Round-cheeked face, skin smooth and blemishless, a bit of a flush from effort clinging to her cheeks and her forehead, eyes a deep green split with obvious flecks of an odd orange-gold — very inhuman-looking, but Liz guessed lilin were technically big bloody birds, so that was appropriate — tousled hair a deep, vibrant red, almost like Lily's, a colour normal people's hair wasn't really supposed to be, though maybe a few shades darker. Beads of sweat were visible along her neck, Liz followed them down, the hole from her overpowered stripping hex had gone all the way through her uniform, the tattered strips showing patches of skin beneath, along the bottom of her ribs down her side, nearly reaching her hip, Liz leaned forward, a surge of tingly warmth dropping through her, she—
Something slammed into her hip, hard, pushing her back, going dizzy for a moment Liz limply fell to her knees, her shoulder twinging, Torralba still holding her up by the hand. Stomach fluttering with anticipation, Liz lurched herself over to the side, tipping over one knee to land on her bum, ticklish dark magic — stunning charm — splashing against the ground only inches away, Liz wrenched her hand away, her head spinning, ended up ploughing into the ground chest-first, her cheek scraping against the dirt. She really didn't want to move right now, her hip belatedly beginning to scream at her, but she forced herself into a roll, avoiding another hex, though it didn't feel as close — by the lurch of surprise, she must have pulled Torralba a little off-balance yanking her hand away. Getting a knee under her, waving her wand vaguely in Torralba's direction, "Expulsa."
By some miracle, the banishing charm actually hit Torralba, flinging her tumbling backward to the ground — but in the instant before it did, she'd managed to get off a cutting hex. Her heart jumping into her throat, Liz surged up to her feet, to the side, trying to get out of the way, but it didn't work, hot pain slicing along her ribs and clipping her arm near her elbow, she nearly dropped her wand on reflex, gritting her teeth hard enough her jaw hurt. Even through the pain, she still felt flushed, her legs shivering and her pulse pounding in her throat and fingertips and her— She sucked in a deep breath, focussed, shrugging off the remains of Torralba's not-compulsion as best she could — distracting her by pushing intense lust on her was just fucking cheating...
Liz's free arm awkwardly clamped to her side, her fingers wet with blood, Torralba was clumsily getting to her feet, a yank of Liz's wand and a muttered "abstrahe" sent her falling again, the tripping jinx pulling her ankle up making her flop face-first into the dirt (which was only fair). Her wand crashing back down, "adure, comminue—" Even prone on the ground, Torralba managed to get a shield up, the scorching hex exploding into life hot on Liz's face, standing too close, she couldn't see a bloody thing, but she felt the shield-breaker hit an instant later, sympathetic numbing prickles of interference crawling over her skin. "—verveikt!"
The purplish spellglow of Liz's favourite dark stunning hex disappeared through the smoke and last wisps of flame...and Torralba's too-loud, intrusive mind abruptly went silent. Liz waited for a moment — her hand growing wetter and wetter with her own blood, the dull ache in her hip pounding in time with her heartbeat, an irritating burn at the base of her skull and through her wand arm (also, she was still a little, er, aroused, but she was trying to ignore that) — but she didn't feel anything. And after a moment, the smoke dispersed, revealing Torralba laid out on her back, unconscious.
...She'd won.
A hard surge of glee shooting through her head to toe, Liz threw her hands up (nearly dropping her wand again), practically bouncing on her toes and grinning — ha, she fucking did it, she beat the captain of Beauxbatons's Sirius team! Fuck, she couldn't—
Ow ow ow... "Ĭoto, ĭoto," her hip hurt worse, but the cut in her side was probably the bigger problem, "ĭoto, ĭoto, ĭoto," oh shite, that was more blood than she'd thought, not good, "ĭoto, ĭoto..."
Liz suddenly wished she knew better healing magic. Maybe Severus would teach her some dark stuff, the light ones most people studied would probably make her ill...
Focussed on casting the one decent healing charm she knew on herself over and over — the ache in her hip diminished somewhat, the blood trickling out of her side tapering off — she wasn't queued into her surroundings again until there was a massive bloody explosion, surprise swooping in her stomach and her skin crawling with what she knew was someone else's pain. Katie's pain. Liz ducked on instinct, but none of the debris was flying at her, whirled around to see, maybe a quarter of the way across the arena, red and white flames scatter into wisps and dissolve away, leaving behind a sizeable cloud of smoke. The smoke entirely blocked everything behind it, but there was one figure on this side: sunny blonde hair, the ends of a red and blue sash dangling down one leg, smoothly advancing with little flicks of her wand with each step, one, two, three. The spellglows vanished into the smoke, and the pulsing of panic and pain from Katie abruptly winked out.
Cæciné swished around with a flourish to face Liz — shoulders turned at a forty-five degree angle, knees only slightly bent, hands hanging low but ready at her sides, her mind held coiled and ready to spring into motion. It was hard to be certain from this distance, but Liz suspected there wasn't a mark on her, her uniform as impeccable as it'd been at the start, hardly even a hair out of place. Injured and tired, her arm and head already aching from channelling too much magic too many times, Liz grimaced.
She was definitely doomed.
Cæciné's wand rose, Liz snapped off, "Rḗtte!" and immediately jumped into a quick-step, coming out toward Cæciné's right. She'd apparently conjured a wide metal mesh of some kind to catch the lightning, a good half of it glowing from the heat — ugh, conjuration was cheating — slipped around the stunning hex from Liz even as the metal swirled and shifted, and then a rain of needles was falling in toward Liz...some of them still glowing with heat from the lightning, because of course. Rather than try to block or banish them, Liz just quick-stepped, coming out to Cæciné's back — or what had been her back, by the time Liz got properly turned around Cæciné was already facing her, wand swishing as she cast some kind of charm, an orangeish band racing across the air toward Liz. "Sideream aegida," Liz grit her teeth at the frigid burn of light magic, but the glittering silvery shield appeared properly, Cæciné's spell blinking out against it, she dropped the shield, "adure, comminue, hal—" ducked around a searing light curse she didn't recognise, twitched at a torrent of blue-white flames rushing at her, jumped into a quick-step.
While she was flying, there was an odd, ticklish tingle, a tendril of magic pushing in toward her, and as she landed there was a hard yank at her ankle, and before Liz could react she was slamming into the dirt, scraping at her face again and bruising her nose. She pushed herself into a roll, a light hex of some kind barely missing her, teetered unsteadily up to her feet, lurching around another light hex, blocking a more neutral one with a shield. Her wand started moving to cast a blasting curse, but Cæciné was too bloody fast — Liz was close enough to see her face, so she could tell she was hardly using any incantations — another spell flying in at her, and then another, and another, doding the first and blocking the second, her shield shattering with the third, Liz quick-stepped again despite the risk.
This time she managed to land just fine, a twisting jab of her wand, "Cumfulmine lacera!" the bright blue-white spellglow lancing out, Cæciné's wand flicked, sending another hex at Liz, but she didn't seem to be moving to dodge or shield, her free hand coming up and—
...
She deflected the curse with her bare hand. Just, backhanding the thing, pushing it off course to sail past her, and... That was possible, of course — there were several different charms needed to deflect spells, depending on the kind of envelope the spell in question used, but none of them were particularly complicated, and didn't take much power — and it was almost even easier than doing it with a wand, since you had a larger surface to deflect with and the timing was less sensitive. It was a pretty common skill in professional duelling circles, so they could deflect a hex while casting their own at the same time, you see. A barely fifteen-year-old girl doing it, though, was completely insane.
Wandless hex deflection was plain not fair.
Just, dumbfounded, Liz barely managed to get a shield up in time, dropped it to sidle around Cæciné's follow-up hex, using her momentum to push into a cutting curse, snapping up another shield, grimacing as Cæciné's next spell sent cracks through it — Liz had noticed she'd actually muttered the incarnation for that one, a strong bludgeoning hex, she thought — skipped out of the way of the next, cast an orangeish hemispherical shield around herself to hold back another deluge of blue-white fire, roaring in her ears and even through the shield the heat stinging at her skin, light magic so thick it was making her a little nauseous, ducked and dropped to a knee as a bright white light curse of some kind slipped right through the shield—
Fuck, she was so fucked...
Dropping the shield, throwing out her dark stunning charm, she jumped into a quick-step before the flames (which Cæciné still hadn't let up on) could fall on her — she had to quick-step through the fire, but while it was unpleasantly light it didn't hurt her...which meant she probably could have just flown right through the lilin fire before, for fuck's sake. Since she'd been kneeling to start with she landed on her knees, her momentum bringing one palm slamming into the dirt, pushed herself up to her feet, with a swish as she rose cast an imperturbable charm on a patch of dirt under Cæciné's feet — which was possible but difficult to do from range, groaned against the searing in her wand arm — "excide, adure, steðjinn detti, cumfulmi—"
Cæciné deflected the piercing hex, snapped off a bludgeoning hex, but it went wide as her feet slipped under her — the imperturbable charm shored up physical objects from being penetrated, like by water or lockpicks or whatever else, but also made surfaces practically frictionless as a side-effect, which was a neat trick — and she completely failed to do anything about the stormhammer charm, the full force slamming into her and sending her tumbling backward. But then the wind sent whipping off in all directions had Liz teetering back, her hair flapping around and her aim completely fucked up, for fuck's sake...
Stormhammer charm: very cool, not meant for use at close range, you fucking idiot...
Liz sent a scorching hex in Cæciné's general direction, but she did something to make the thing just fizzle out — the hex landed, but it didn't explode into fire like it was supposed to, Cæciné must have cast some kind of charm on the spot to stop it from resolving properly. (Also theoretically possible, though she'd have to be familiar with the specific spell and pick the right counter in an instant, and again absurd for a fifteen-year-old.) Cæciné was already on her feet again, a long narrow arc of spellglow flying at Liz, she quick-stepped closer to help with the aim, which was apparently exactly what Cæciné was counting on, because she landed right into a trap hex, twining bands of sticky binding magic starting to snap up her legs, ugh, for fuck's sake! Liz dispelled them before she was completely trapped, but that took a second, another burning light hex flying straight for her heart, she barely managed to hop out of the way, caught the follow-up on a shield, but the curse was strong enough the thing instantly shattered, sending Liz stumbling backward, sizzling interference crawling up her arm, and another hex was coming, Liz just let herself fall, her momentum carrying her rolling over her shoulder as the spell passed overhead, there was a surge of magic and a sharp flash of light, she barely got an orange dome of a shield up before a wave of red-white flames were crashing down on her, gritting her teeth against the heat, the magic burning in her wrist—
She felt Cæciné's thoughts narrow in focus, preparing to cast a hex; Liz, pinned down and unable to quick-step away due to the risk of walking into another trap, unthinkingly, lashed out with her mind. Clenching in and leaping outward, a dozen hot knives plunging into—
Like Liz had thrown a punch and Cæciné had grabbed her wrist and pulled, yanking her off balance, Liz's attack reached Cæciné's mind and then accelerated as it pierced through, slipping out of her grasp as Cæciné ran fingers through the energy, smoothing out the jagged edges — like how Liz might set a compulsion by forcing a shape she liked on someone else's mind, but forcing her pattern on Liz's intrusion, stealing control of it. But then the transformation continued, Cæciné's influence racing up the tendrils leading back to Liz's mind, Liz cringed away as she felt alien thoughts ooze into her head, flailed to slap it away—
That was a bad idea, Elizabeth.
Liz pushed, as simple and blunt as a bludgeoning hex, pushing Cæciné's influence out of her head, searing angry claws shredding the remaining magic apart. And then she pushed out further, in a blink reaching Cæciné's mind, the surface cool and smooth and opaque. Acting on instinct, Liz pushed herself against the occlumency barrier — gradually sinking into it, like water into soil — and then shredding it apart when she had a good grip, reaching deeper into Cæciné. Even as she started pushing for Cæciné to drop her wand and sit down, a surge of magic pulsed up from deeper in her head, Liz sent rearing back by the force, a cool tingling wave rushing at her, Liz barely managed to hunker down before it hit — but since Liz was shite at closing herself off, she didn't manage it very well, Cæciné seeping in like smoke. But Liz just stole her trick, sinking into the alien magic in her head, forcing her pattern onto it, making it more like her than Cæciné. It didn't actually work, Cæciné fighting back, but it did make it very clear where the boundary between them was, Liz dug in her feet and pushed her off, the remains of Cæciné's attack gusting out like a burst of steam.
Liz struck out at Cæciné again, hot-cold spears lancing deep into her, but Cæciné's hands were immediately all over it, again tugging Liz off balance, following the connection all the way back in a blink. When we met, I noticed at a glance that you haven't any grasp of occlumency. Cæciné slipping into Liz's mind, her presence strangely gentle, smooth and cool, Liz tipped back to sit, her wand toppling out of numb fingers, she hadn't even noticed the compulsion, shredded it apart as soon as she did. Not bothering to reach for her wand — Cæciné would hex her before she could even pick it up, she had to keep her distracted — Liz forced out a compulsion, burning and jagged with anger and desperation (unpleasant even from her perspective), forcing onto Cæciné pain and weakness and—
Cæciné's occlumency blunted it, but didn't stop all of it, a grimace crossing her face and her step hitching. Of course, she came right back with her own attack, cold and sharp, Liz slapped it aside only for it to dissolve into sparks, cringing as a separate tendril of thought wormed its way inside, Liz scrambled to slap it away — a feint, how the fuck had she done that...
If you cannot even control your own mind, how can you possibly expect to handle another's?
Liz could do that just fine, okay, it wasn't her fault Cæciné was unreasonably good at everything.
Against muggles and untrained children, perhaps. Liz stabbed out at Cæciné again, but she seemed to duck out of the way — she couldn't actually, minds couldn't move independently of the body like that, but that was what it felt like, Liz stumbling, overextended, as the attack failed to actually hit anything. Cæciné again scrabbled at it, yanking it around, and sent it right back at Liz — though blunted a bit, cooler and smoother, slipping right through the hand Liz raised to slap it away, ugh, how did she do that?! You are a more powerful mind mage than me. But I was trained by my great-uncle — I'm accustomed to fighting more powerful mind mages.
...Liz was suddenly wondering if she should have asked Severus to actually teach her this shite. It sounded like that might be, er, unpleasant — whenever either of them won one of their practice bouts, they'd probably see things — but this wasn't the first time Liz had had it rubbed in her face how surprisingly terrible she was at mind magic.
That would be wise. The foreign thought reminded Liz that she was in the middle of something, Cæciné slowly advancing toward her step by step, she shredded apart the fingers Cæciné had in her head and then lashed out, quick and sharp, magic hot and cold and furious whipping out at Cæciné with a snap. This bloody girl just let the thing expend itself against a shield, Liz left disoriented as the magic fizzled out — like a bloody moron, she already knew committing that much to an attack that might not even land was idiotic, but she never learned her fucking lesson — before she could recover Cæciné was reaching into her mind again.
It could be worse, at least Cæciné was being much gentler than the last bad mind magic fights Liz had been in. The Dark Lord's attacks had really really hurt, but while Cæciné's presence could be a bit cold — Liz assumed that, like her own mind was tinted dark, Cæciné's was light — it was generally soft and smooth. Liz didn't like having someone else in her head, always tensed up and scrambled to shred it apart or slap it off (like bugs crawling on her), but it wasn't that bad.
Liz picked up a shudder of surprise from Cæciné. Thank you, Elizabeth, I'm certain my mother will appreciate the confirmation that your Dark Lord is not so dead as is claimed. Realising Cæciné must have seen the memory somehow, Liz squared herself up with a breath and pushed, clinging fingers of mind magic so gentle Liz hadn't even noticed them sent flying away, dissolving into wisps. Cæciné immediately pushed another compulsion into her head, thinking, It is extremely difficult to use mind magic on a third party via a possessed subject, there is simply no way you would have gotten the upper hand otherwise. In case you were wondering.
Stop that! Liz flailed, again pushing her out, again reaching out to Cæciné's mind. Again, Cæciné intercepted the attack, moving to tear the magic away from Liz — and in that instant, Liz pushed feelings and memories through the probe and straight into Cæciné, pain and horror and humiliation all jumbled together. The piercing curse from the winter duelling tournament at Hogwarts, her chest burning, panicking when Pansy had stolen her clothes on Hallowe'en, trapped, her heart pounding and her chest so thick she couldn't breathe and Petunia rattling the door, screams and cries strangled by the gag in her mouth as Severus cut upon her back, the agony so intense she was hardly even aware of anything else, the shower curtain wrenched away and Petunia dragging her out by the hair, Ellie pulled to her cupboard naked and dripping and crying, Dudley watching and sniggering, sitting in her dorm room alone, viscerally terrified of her inability to stop thinking about blowing her own head off, the feel of her wand in her hand making her nauseous, her pants sliding down around her heels somehow louder than anything else, the soft cotton bright and sharp against her skin—
Cæciné reared back, fully retreating from Liz for the first time in what felt like bloody forever, Liz's head spinning from the sudden absence. Sitting on the dirt, her vision blurred and unsteady, Cæciné was standing over her only a couple steps away, shuddering, her hair shifting, seeming to physically shake off the memories. Liz groped for her wand, finding it after a second, and—
It came too fast for Liz to react, bright and cool and determined, slipping right into Liz's mind and—
—bundled together under the blankets with her cousins, Artèmi hugging her cup of cider close, slow snowfall held back by the paling glittering in the night, half-listening to the story from one of the grown-ups burbling in her ears—
—Estèvo's practice blade clattered against the floor, Artèmi grinned, giddiness bubbling in her chest and bouncing on her toes she—
—and exhausted, the burn on her shoulder still stinging, Mother standing over her, Good enough, Artèmisia, with a rare smile of approval, so light and warm she barely held in a giggle—
—brows dipping in a vague frown, pert nose screwing up a little (adorably), Yeah, well that's 'cause they're stupid, relieved despite herself that Gabbí was taking her side—
—light and warm and soft and slow, Artèmi's breath catching in her throat, all but drowning in the wave of glee and affection the veela was broadcasting, Gabbí was pleased with herself, Artèmi a little amused despite herself, hand slipping around her—
—huddled closer, Dad warm against the cold of the night, his arm tightened around her, the stars winking bright overhead, the night still and quiet, like they—
Liz came back to herself, flushed and gasping. Her fingers shivering a little, her chest clenching too tight, enough her throat hurt a little, her face hot and her eyes stinging, she was trying to get it under control (Uncle Vernon hated it when she cried), but it— It was too much, fragments of Artèmi's memories swirling around in her head, compulsions forcing the feelings into her, warm and soft and– and– and overwhelming, just too much, she could barely think straight...
You did quite well for your first time, Liz, Artèmi thought with an odd smirk, something shifting and ambivalent in her head. That trick with the impermeable charm in particular was clever. Maybe you'll have better luck next time we meet.
Liz glared up at her. Her voice thick and hoarse, her throat not quite cooperating, she hissed, "Fuck you."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly. I wouldn't want to make Miss Greengrass jealous."
...Wait, what?
Dumbfounded by that comment, Liz completely failed to respond to the point-blank stunning hex aimed right at her face.
Aw, poor Liz, getting her arse kicked. Better luck next time.
Which I'm sure definitely won't be until the ICW's winter tournament in sixth year — it's not like I'm introducing Artèmi now for a reason or anything.
Not super happy with how this one turned out, but I guess it'll do. This was supposed to be the first half of a chapter, but I just crossed the 20k mark today, and there's still a good bit left, so I guess I'm splitting it. Depending on how my writing goes, I expect it'll be one or two days before I finish the second scene. That's one or two writing days, I mean — writing has been unreasonably difficult lately, so who knows how long that'll be in real terms, we'll see.