Sirius had chosen to live in Avalon for a little longer, helping with the renovations and practicing duelling with Mordred until the public excitement about his release died down. But whilst the excitement about Sirius died quickly, the fervour of the upcoming duel only grew. It had quickly made the papers, which had taken the liberty of explaining just how the duel worked and the consequences involved.

Preparations had been made - there was a duelling room in the depths of the dungeons and the elves had cleaned and repaired it. Banners had been made, depicting the crests of each house and students were suddenly taking sides and sporting the relevant house colours as though it were a quidditch match. Luna Lovegood, a classmate of Ginny's, had created a hat with a colossal white hound on top which howled convincingly and at ear splitting volume every couple of minutes.

Word got out soon enough that she'd chosen a champion to duel in her stead and immediately the mystery sky-rocketed. All anyone could talk about was who, from her family, Hermione had to duel for her. Lots of people seemed to think that she'd somehow managed to adopt Gellert as well as Harry, and that he would be coming to fight whilst others thought that she'd performed some dark ritual to give her muggle parents magic.

All in all, it was a relief when the day of the duel finally arrived. They woke up early to meet McGonagall in the entrance hall, where she would take them down to the gates to let her party into the castle. Malfoy and his party would be arriving by floo slightly later, and both would be led to special preparation rooms either side of the duelling arena.

The dementors were gone, but they'd left a mark on the landscape around the castle gates. It looked almost like some kind of apocalyptic wasteland; a deep permafrost melted from barren soil, coiling around their ankles like insidious fog. The trees were stricken, trunks blackened and branched hanging over the track like skeletal fingers, reaching for the soul of any who dared to pass below.

'They're coming.' Theo announced, peering between the jagged iron gates. Hermione listened intently, hearing the unmistakable drum of hooves against the dirt road. Not long after they came into sight. She'd expected Mordred to borrow Katana, but he was mounted on an entirely different horse. A warhorse, certainly, with savagely glowing crimson eyes and a coat so dark that it could have been cut from a shadow. Mordred was mounted astride, already dressed in his dark chainmail and a voluminous Gorlois cloak.

Anneken rode beside him on her Granian, silvery ghost to Mordred's nightmare steed, in matching blue robes with an icy white fur trim. Surprisingly, Lady Longbottom was also present, riding sidesaddle just behind Anneken on her orange Abraxan. Sirius loped at the horses' hooves in dog form and Cavella barked excitedly when she saw him. Berg rode his Hippogriff and Lord Nott flew behind them on his comfortable broom. There was also a skeletal guardian riding one of their equally skeletal horses at the back of the party and Hermione recognised her as Mordred's wife, Cwyllog, from the massive round shield she had strapped over her back, holding her cloak in place.

McGonagall opened the gates, eyeing Mordred warily as he reined in his horse before them, bowing low over his saddle and pushing his hood back.

'High Priestess.' Mordred dismounted smoothly and the others followed suit; Lord Nott climbed off his broom and swung it up over his shoulder whilst the other ran up their stirrups. Sirius morphed back into a human, greeting McGonagall irreverently.

'Are you ready?' Hermione asked nervously. Mordred flashed her a savage grin.

'Have I been taught all the stupid rules? Yes.'

'He's good.' Sirius assured her confidently. McGonagall cleared her throat, garnering Hermione's attention. The young witch quickly realised that she hadn't introduced her to her companions.

'Oh, Professor McGonagall, you've heard of Lady Krum, Lord Nott, Lady Longbottom and Lord Black. This is Sir Mordred, Witch King of Camelot and Breton and High Priest of Gorlois, who will be my champion and his wife, Lady Cwyllog or Gorlois, Queen of Camelot and Breton, Shield maiden of Morgana.' Mordred and Cwyllog bowed and curtsied respectively and McGonagall squeaked slightly, but managed to recover her composure quickly.

'Sir Mordred, Lady Cwyllog, it's a pleasure.' McGonagall didn't curtsy or bow, but that was expected considering she was certainly not traditional.

'The pleasure is ours.' Mordred replied. 'Hermione tells me that you are one of her favoured instructors.'

'Hermione is a very advanced student. I often suspect she already knows what I'm teaching.'

'Is there someone who can care for our horses?' Anneken interrupted.

'Hagrid can.' Harry offered quickly.

'Mr Potter is correct. I dare say Hagrid would be more than happy to look after them. I must ask what manner of creature you ride, Sir Mordred. I have never seen anything like it.'

Honestly, Hermione hadn't either and she considered herself reasonably knowledgable when it came to mounts. She'd thought it might be some crossbreed with a diomede's mare when she'd noticed that it was smoke coiling from his nostrils rather than steam, but hadn't been able to figure out what his sire might have been.

'Morvarc'h is an unseelie horse, gifted to me many years ago by one of the Sídhe.' Mordred ran a hand down the muscular neck of his horse and the beast huffed a small flame, as if daring any of them to think that he could possibly have originated on the mortal plane.

Hagrid's hut was close enough to the gate that nobody needed to remount. McGonagall sent her patronus skipping ahead to make sure the gamekeeper was awake and a moment later they were being greeted by the enthusiastic mingling of Fang and Cavella. Hagrid emerged from the forest a moment later, a thick brace of pheasants swinging from his massive fist.

'Professor McGonagall!' Hagrid greeted cheerfully, his eyes shifting almost immediately and with great interest to the array of beasts. 'Ye'll be wanting me teh look after them all then?'

'If you would, Hagrid.' McGonagall replied, seeming amused by his enthusiasm.

'Cwyllog's horse would appreciate a dry chest. He'll break himself up once his bridle is off, and all the bones need to be in one place for him to rest.' Hagrid nodded eagerly as Mordred instructed him on the care of the undead horse. 'Morvarc'h can be a little foul tempered, he'll probably get along reasonably with you if you've got giant blood, but keep him clear of the students. He wouldn't complain about a cup of honey either.'

Hagrid eagerly took the reins of the two beasts, waiting as the two undead warriors unloaded their saddles. Hermione had been on the wrong side of the beast to see the tall staff that Mordred had brought with him. It was bone, she'd been told, from a Nidhogg, like the dragon heartstring in her wand, dyed black with the venom of the beast. The stone at the top was clear, and roughly the size of her fist.

Cwyllog could have passed for human, swathed in the thick material of her Gorlois cloak and with her too-thin shoulders obscured by the large shield over her shoulders. She'd pulled a large saddle bag off her mount, and Mordred quickly took it from her. One skeletal hand reached out from the cloak and took his briefly, spoiling the illusion. Then the hand disappeared and the illusion returned.

They were an odd party making their way up to the castle; a mixture of school robes, and Gorlois blue in styles ranging across the centuries. If the Hogwarts Alumini had expected some expression of awe from the two Gorlois ancestors, they were sorely disappointed. Mordred glanced at the large windows and muttered a comment to his wife in Pictish; something about the drafts, although she hadn't caught every word.

They were taken almost immediately to the small room beside the duelling rooms, down in dungeons of the castle. Although, in this case, calling it small may have been incorrect. There was a large screen separating the majority of the room from a small area to allow the champion to dress, a large fireplace with comfortable chairs and a massive table which groaned beneath a selection of breakfast items. Everything had been redecorated in Hermione's house colours, though the symbolism was still that of Hogwarts; snakes, badgers, eagles and lions. A banner had been hung over the far wall, above the screen, with her crest on it. An elf popped in to serve them, taking their cloaks and hanging them on a stand near the door, then serving hot tea and announcing that the headmaster would be by shortly.

'Please tell me you brought your crown.' Ginny begged Mordred once they were all seated. Cwyllog was busy fiddling with the taps in the attached bathroom, clicking in shock every time something unexpected came out of one of the spouts.

'Cwy did, but I didn't know if it would be appropriate.'

'Please do.' Theo agreed eagerly. 'Malfoy is such a peacock, but you're actual royalty.'

Mordred glanced at Hermione, who considered the matter for a moment. Mordred had very right to wear his crown, and it would be proof of his identity and her lineage, it would shake Malfoy and there were almost certainly powerful protective spells on the artefact. But at the same time, she was wary of portraying herself as too aristocratic. She didn't believe in many of the ancient concepts of divine right; a leader had to earn their place, not just inherit it, and she worried that the crown might bring back the negative associations with the old dynastic covens.

Yet, the urge to utterly trump Malfoy was too great. She nodded her permission.

Cwyllog must have returned to the main room at some point, because she strode over to the saddle bag that she'd brought and reached in far deeper than was physically possible to pull out a large, square chest. It was incredibly ornate, with every hinge and strap engraved and decorative friezes of battling armies in every space. Cwyllog hefted it to the table, solving aside a platter of bacon and depositing the box with a dense thud. One skeletal finger sketched a rune over the keyhole and the lock clicked open. Everyone craned forwards in their seats as she lifted the lid open, then reached in to lift out the crown.

It was dark, made of the same strange material as Hermione's family ring that was neither metal nor stone and much more impressive than her own crown had been. Four points marked the cardinal directions, the one over his brow slightly larger than the other three. On each apex was a large white rock crystal, intricately engraved with a tree of of life and studded around the band were sapphires as big as her thumb nail. Predictably, every inch of space space was filled with intricately crafted knots and stylised animals. As Cwyllog placed the crown on Mordred's head, the dormant magic seemed to spark to life, runes rippling across the knotted engravings and the gems glowing with power.

'Brilliant.' Harry breathed, grinning.

'It matches your staff.' Neville observed, then; 'I want a staff.'

'A staff would suit your magic better.' His grandmother agreed, squinting at the shadowed corner where the staff was propped up next to their cloaks. 'Have some bacon, Neville, or you'll end up as thin as Harry.'

Cwyllog gestured something with her fingers, which Mordred quickly translated for them.

'Cwy says he won't be skinny for long. Gorlois will be training him over summer.'

'Training him in what?' McGonagall demanded sharply, returning to the room with the headmaster in her shadow.

'Swordcraft.' Hermione replied for him, eyeing up the headmaster without rising from her seat. His eyes flixated on Mordred, taking in the way he sat in his chair like it was a throne, casually at ease in his chainmail and armour and the crown on his head. The knight's eyes narrowed in return, his magic flaring to test the magic of the man that he already considered an enemy. Dumbledore's magic, trained to respond through his wand, failed to respond.

'Headmaster, the Gorlois Matriarch and her champion.' McGonagall said shortly.

'I don't believe we've met.' Dumbledore said, failing to pay heed to any formality.

'We haven't.' Mordred replied, pointedly not giving his name and reaching across the table to spear a sausage with a small knife. He deposited it on the closes platter and began slicing it up, occasionally eating a small portion. Once the sausage was finished, he pushed his plate away and used the closes napkin to wipe his blade clean, sliding it back into the sheathe at his waist. Dumbledore waited patiently, perhaps under the impression that Mordred was trying to play some form of power game and that if he remained undefeated, the dark knight might introduce himself. Hermione knew that Mordred had no such intentions; he was perfectly happy to continue ignoring the headmaster until the duel.

'Are the Malfoys here?' Hermione asked firmly, adopting a brisk and professional tone.

Dumbledore didn't answer and Hermione wrinkled her nose.

'Did you need something?' She asked after a moment, when Dumbledore still said nothing. The Headmaster glanced at her.

'Forgive my ignorance, but I thought it had to be a member of your family who duelled?' He wore a mask of perfect concern and if Hermione hadn't already known that he hated her, she would have believed that he was concerned for her wellbeing in the duel.

'He is.' Lord Nott drawled. Like Mordred, he was tucking into a breakfast, but he at least knew how to use a fork. 'Unfortunately, this "barbaric duel of an adult against a school child" can not be used in your attempts to quash the rest of the old laws.

'Pardon?' Hermione demanded sharply, twisting to look at Lord Nott. The elderly Lord had drawn Mordred's attention too, and the dark knight finally put down his knife and sausage.

'Yesterday, Albus lodged a proposal to review and update the old laws to ensure that they couldn't be used to circumvent current legal procedure.'

'Justified, I believe.' Dumbledore replied firmly. 'The modern law exists for a reason and we cannot have a small number of people able to circumvent it on a whim.'

'You would deny magical guardianship?' Mordred demanded coldly, finally granting Dumbledore his full attention.

'I would deny anyone who places tradition above the wellbeing of any human being.'

'Tradition above well being?' Lady Longbottom demanded incredulously, 'do you not understand the obligations and consequences of a magical oath?'

'Of course, Augusta, but the sanctity of the law must still be upheld.'

'Don't give me that.' Sirius spat from behind Hermione. 'If you believed in the sanctity of the law, you would have seen that I received a fair trial, you wouldn't have tried to keep the Grindelwald and Potter rings.'

'I cannot apologise enough, Sirius, but you must understand that I thought you truly were guilty.'

'It should have been decided by a court, not one man.' Hermione snarled. 'You have no respect for the sanctity of law, only the removal of those laws that are based around magical oaths, and can not be manipulated to suit your ends.'

'Miss Granger...'

'Gorlois.' Mordred slammed his hand against the table with enough force to rattle the silverware. 'Hermione is the High Priestess of Gorlois, and she has asked to be known as such. I have been told of your insults, but I am sworn to her and I shall not stand by such disrespect.'

Dumbledore eyed the warrior, taken aback by the venom in his voice.

'Same here.' Harry announced resolutely, standing from his seat and moving to stand next to his godfather at Hermione's back. Dumbledore eyed him, a note of sadness in his eyes, as if he had just announced that he was terminally ill.

'Very well.' Dumbledore acquiesced, 'But I must ask how you can truly believe a set of laws that allows a fully grown, adult wizard to challenge an underage witch to a duel with the future of every member of the family on the line can be just.'

'The old laws allow me to have a champion stand in my stead.' Hermione pointed out. 'And I have named a champion who is overage. I could have apologised to the Malfoy family for the sleights and then asked the wizengamot to agree recompense. I chose to duel.' Hermione pointed out, tossing her head. Dumbledore hadn't known that, she could tell. The old laws were almost always conveyed by word of mouth, passing from father to son, mother to daughter. They were written down in the ministry and many of the old families owned an original copy, but even Hermione, who spoke Futhark almost fluently, would balk at trying to read anything from the Nott's copy.

'Now please, headmaster, unless you have something of importance, please leave. We must prepare for the duel. As you so aptly pointed out, the future of the family hangs upon it.' Anneken moved for the door with a rustle of her thick, silk skirts and pulled it open, gesturing for Dumbledore to leave. He did, with great reluctance, and Hermione took great pleasure in the knowledge that he had never received Mordred's name.

'He reminds me of Merlin.' Mordred informed them, as soon as the door was closed behind him.

'Because of the beard?' Theo asked, still scowling at the door.

'Because he's manipulative and powerful and the whole world believes that he's a saint, when he's actually manipulating them for his own ends.'

'Not quite.' Lady Longbottom denied, sipping delicately at her tea. 'For all his failings, Dumbledore does believe that his actions are for the greater good, but he forgets that his definition of the greater good is not always other people's definition of the greater good.'

'He's an arrogant sod.' Berg grumbled. 'He believes that he alone can engineer a positive outcome and that everyone else who receives one is merely lucky.'

'Is that bitterness?' Anneken chided, poking at his shoulder on her way back her seat. 'He did veto your application for human testing for the fourteenth use of dragon's blood.'

'No.' Berg replied mutinously, glowering at his porridge. Hermione glanced at her wrist watch quickly.

'We've got an hour.' She informed the group, receiving several nods.

'Let's go over the rules once more?' Sirius suggested, pulling out his wand to levitate his breakfast from the far end of table. Lady Longbottom looked on disapprovingly, but said nothing and Mordred began to reel off what he was and wasn't allowed to do. Most banned spells wouldn't apply to Mordred because he rarely used actual spells, and those that he did were almost all so obscure these days that they'd never though to ban them. They were focused instead on the rules of spell creation for tournaments; what types of spells were considered acceptable and which weren't. Hermione quickly realised that she might have asked more of Mordred than she anticipated - her duel had had no rules beyond what they were allowed to wear, but modern British duelling was far more complex, with all sorts of rules. He could forfeit if he stepped outside of the outermost sun and there were all sorts of ridiculous penalties that meant he wasn't allowed to use certain stances.

'Are you going to be okay?' She asked, concern tinting her voice.

'I'll be fine.' Mordred promised. 'These rules allow for very little and Lord Black will be watching to ensure Malfoy does not break any either.'

'Can you win though?' Neville asked, looking nervous as he poked at his breakfast.

'I hope that Malfoy's unfamiliarity with my style of casting will help to offset my unfamiliarity with the format.'

'Do you want to use my wand?' Hermione asked, wondering if that was something that she should have offered earlier.

'His staff might actually be a benefit.' Sirius suggested, 'a good staff can channel much more power than a wand and he wields it better than most would be accustomed to.'

Still not entirely happy but resigned to the fact that she had little choice and their fortunes now rested on Mordred alone, Hermione pushed away her breakfast and offered to help him warm up.

Just under an hour later, McGonagall arrived to tell hem that they needed to go to the duelling arena. As she opened the door, the roar of the spectators echoed through the corridor like the crowd at a football match. Hermione doubted that anything less than the entire school and half the wizengamot were gathered. There hadn't been a family honour duel in years, and considering Malfoy was one party and Hermione's rapidly emerging power was the other...

They pulled their cloaks back on and Mordred picked up his staff as Hermione belted her goblin forged sword to her side. She'd been reluctant to wear it, but it would be a considerable sleight to the goblins to not wear the weapon to such a major combat event and their cooperation was worth too much to not carry the weapon. Mordred's own sword was slung across Cwyllog's back, hilt protruding between the shield and her back.

They arranged themselves into a sort of procession, Cwyllog at the front like a guard and Hermione just behind with her champion beside her. Harry came next as a member of the family with Sirius at his side as their adjudicator. Anneken and Lord Nott then Lady Longbottom and Berg, Theo with Ginny on his arm and Neville at the back with Cavella.

Malfoy had already entered as the challenger and he called his challenge to the crowd, cold voice cutting through the jeers and cheers. Cwyllog unslung her shield and drew the sword that held Mordred, hefting both in front of her as the doors opened. An excited hush fell as she drummed the bare blade against the heavy wood. The large swath of crowd dressed in blue quickly took up the tempo, drumming their feet and hands against the stands. Luna Lovegood's hat howled piercingly and Cavella joined in with her own mournful call. It was only when the terrible cry of the grim finally cut off that Cwyllog took her first step into the room. The noise built into applause, drowning out the drumming as Hermione's party fanned out behind her and they made their way to the large stage.

The duelling arena was massive, as though a Quidditch pitch had been built underground. It was lit by witchlights which hovered against the ceiling and flooded the stage in the middle of the room with light. Stands for the audience reached up into the gloomy heights of the room, packed with people. Many seemed to have chosen a side and were supporting it but the larger portion, mostly adults, wore plain black in the middle of the room.

'The Line of Gorlois answers your call for justice.' Hermione answered as they halted across from the Malfoy party. Silence fell across the room as Dumbledore raised his hands. There were more members of Malfoy's party than she'd anticipated. Lucius Malfoy and his wife were front and centre, with Draco hovering just behind them. Flanking the powerful couple were two massive men and their spouses, judging by their similarities to Draco's henchmen, they were Crabbe and Goyle senior. At the far end of the line was a tall man with an excess of gel in his honey blond hair.

'Avery.' Sirius informed her beneath his breath. He'd taken the spot beside her when they'd fanned out. 'He used to be a death eater, escaped Azkaban because he was active on the duelling circuit and claimed the offensive spells on his wand were from a recent bout in the arena.'

'Should I win this duel, I shall claim your honour and the Gorlois Family shall cede guardianship of Harry Potter to the Malfoy Family, the Gorlois Family shall withdraw their agreement to host the World Cup ball and the Gorlois Family shall withdraw their claim to the title of an ancient family. Finally, the Castle of Avalon shall be donated to the Ministry of Magic as a building of National Significance.'

Across the room there were sharp intakes of breath; Malfoy was demanding a high toll, particularly when one considered the mild sleights that he'd pulled together to demand the duel. If Hermione deferred to the wizengamot, she would probably pay a fine and have to give up the World Cup. She'd never have to give up her castle, Harry or her claim to being an ancient family.

Beside her, Mordred was probing at Malfoy with his magic and she glanced at him, checking to see how confident he was feeling. He shrugged, then nodded.

'The Line of Gorlois accepts your terms.' Hermione replied, her voice carrying away from the stage on some unknown amplification charm. 'Should my champion win, the House Malfoy shall publicly acknowledge the Line of Gorlois as an ancient house and withdraw their claims of sleights.'

Malfoy glanced over Mordred, taking in his cloaked form, chainmail glinting beneath the shadowed cowl and the unmistakable youth of the hands clasped around the tall staff. The blond Lord sneered and accepted the terms.

'Terms have been agreed.' Dumbledore announced gravely. 'I invite Professor Filius Flitwick, duelling champion, to adjudicate on my behalf.'

Flitwick stepped forwards and bowed to both parties.

'The rules shall be the standard duelling rules as specified in the 92-94 Dark Force Defence League Rules, Appendix 6; non-competition. Do you have your own council?' Flitwick squeaked. Hermione noticed that like her, Flitwick had a goblin forged sword at his belt, along with a ceremonial hammer like many of the goblin kings had wielded.

Avery stepped forwards from the end of Malfoy's line, bowing to Flitwick and Dumbledore. The sneer on his face marked his dislike for the two professors.

'I, Alexi Avery the Second of house Avery, shall adjudicate on the behalf of House Malfoy.'

Sirius stepped forwards next and bowed deeply, determined not to be outdone by his fellow pureblood.

'I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, Patriarch of the Ancient and most Noble House of Black, shall adjudicate on behalf of the Line of Gorlois.'

Avery's lip curled and Sirius smirked at him as they took places to Flitwick's sides.

'Lord Malfoy, will you duel in your own name?'

'I shall.'

'Lady Gorlois, will you duel in your own name?' Flitwick turned to her, but his eyes flickered over to Mordred.

'I am underage, and so shall name a champion to duel in my stead. May I introduce Sir Mordred of Lot, Witch King of Camelot and Breton and High Priest of Gorlois.'

At her words, Mordred unclasped his cloak and let it fall to the floor, revealing himself to the crowd. His armour glittered darkly, but his crown shone on his head. She could almost feel the power that hummed within it, daring anyone to challenge his claim to kingship. An excited roar of voices met her words, the people in blue were cheering and whooping, the people in green booing and calling that it was impossible. Malfoy took a half step backwards, concern flickering across his features whilst his wife had gone completely white behind him. Mordred bared his teeth at the lord, then inclined his head to Flitwick. That half goblin looked rather excited by the turn of events but Avery had an ugly snarl decorating his features. It took Dumbledore several minutes to regain order in the room, using his wand to set off several blasts like a firework.

'I, Sir Mordred of Lot, shall duel on the behalf of my matriarch, Hermione of Gorlois.'

'So it shall be. Join hands.'

The two combatants stepped forwards, clasping their hands. Mordred's grip was firm, but she could read Lucius' reluctance from the slackness in his fingers.

'On my magic, I, Lucius Malfoy, shall abide by the rules of this duel.' A band of golden light would around their conjoined hands.

'On my magic, I, Mordred of Lot, shall abide by the rules of this duel.' A matching band of golden light would down Mordred's hand and the two flared brightly before fading.

'Combatants, take your positions.' Flitwick ordered. The crowd began to chant the name of their chosen fighter as Hermione and her party skirted around the sage, filing into the box across from where the three adjudicators would sit. The Malfoy family took seats on the other side and she was gratified to note that Draco Malfoy looked considerably less confident than usual. Once they were all seated, the two duellists climbed up onto the main table, positioning themselves over the five point stars. The chanting only built as they bowed; Mordred's bow was formal and respectful whilst Malfoy barely bent his neck. On a command from Flitwick that was lost to the excited yelling of the crowd, the two man turned and paced outwards from the star, stopping when they reached the crescent moon and turning to face each other again.

The noise dropped as the two took positions. Malfoy had drawn his wand and stood with his arm carved up over his head. It was an offensive posture, and Mordred responded with an equally offensive posture, staff pointed towards Malfoy like a lance and spare hand raised in preparation to cast a shield.

Anticipatory silence gripped the room, everyone leaning forwards in their seats as they waited for the duel to begin.

'Best of three, match one. Engarde.' Flitwick ordered. The tip of Malfoy's wand lit up purple and Hermione felt Mordred's magic flood into the air, concentrating around Malfoy.

'Three, two... one!' As soon as the last word left his lips, Malfoy's wand slashed down through the air and the bolt of purple light shot towards Mordred. He blocked it with the tip of his staff, an accuracy born of decades on physical combat training. The crystal sparkled purple, then flashed as Mordred swiped it towards Malfoy. The same spell shot from the end and sparkled against Malfoy's shield. Malfoy followed up with a duo of red spells, forcing Mordred to cast a shield. It shimmered, brighter than Malfoy's but much noisier as the spells imploded across it with a sound like a church bell. Malfoy's face lit up with a grin of delight as he realised the weakness in the shield, launching several spells against it in quick succession. Mordred barely kept up, his staff much slower to wield than the wand and his off hand busy manipulating the air around Malfoy, scouring for anything that he could use.

Malfoy's supporters cheered as Mordred was forced back a step by a nasty blasting curse, whilst Hermione's grew noticeably quieter as the knight failed to mount any significant offence.

'What's going on?' Ginny demanded nervously. 'Why is he losing.'

'He can't cast as fast, and he's stuck on the defensive.' Berg explained, his own hands white against the balustrade. Across from her, Draco Malfoy smirked.

Three more times, one of Malfoy's spells hit Mordred like a gong. Then finally, Mordred flexed his magic. It was a clumsy move, inefficient but necessary as he punched forwards with his off hand. The air mirrored his move, surging forwards and smashing an an unsuspecting Lucius Malfoy in the chest, forcing him back several feet as he frantically tried to counter the unexplained magic. Quick as lighting, Mordred dropped his shield and surged forwards with his staff, regaining ground with every step forwards and shooting bolts of emerald light. It was too dark to be the killing curse, but she heard the shocked cry of Narcissa none the less. Lucius ducked underneath it and the spells slammed into the protective pile of rock behind Malfoy, transfiguring several into toads. With a flex of his hand, the toads launched themselves at Malfoy. They weren't damaging, but whenever he stepped on one, the conjured entrails would smear across the floor and with a wave of Mordred's hand, the blood was transfigured into lethally slippery ice.

Snarling furiously at the trick, Malfoy launched his own spell, taking advantage of his wand to flick four spells at the knight. Mordred shouted something in Pictish and a black cloud shot from his staff, swallowing up two curses and engulfing Malfoy's shield, eating away at the silvery surface like a swarm of angry locusts.

Malfoy dropped the shield and went purely on the offensive, forcing Mordred back with a series of powerful blasting curses, each deflected by a shield that struggled to keep up. He was forced back with every curse, at first only inches, then feet. For almost ten seconds he held his ground on the outermost sun, then with a blasting curse so strong that it was almost illegal, crackling with red sparks, forced him backwards and out of bounds.

'Forfeit Gorlois!' Flitwick called.

Hermione's supporters howled in dismay, their voices drowned by the victorious cheer of Malfoy's supporters. The blond patriarch sneered at Mordred, then bowed deeply to the crowd. An expression of smug satisfaction graced his features.

Hermione bit her lip and stood abruptly, taking the pitcher of water and goblet from the elf and crossing to Mordred herself.

'What happened?' She demanded as soon as she was close enough to not be overheard.

'There's nothing to use here. The air is dry and there's some kind of temperature control enchantment, perhaps to deal with this many people in one room and whatever spells are cast.' Mordred replied, his lips pursed.

'So it's down to casting.' Hermione concluded bitterly.

'I'll strike first this time. My reactions are faster and my curses stronger. I know a couple that should go straight through his shield.' Mordred glanced over at the other pair. She opened her mouth to wish him luck but he pressed a finger against her lips to silence her. 'Don't wish me luck, I don't need it. I will uphold your honour, Priestess.'

She sniffed, nodding to Flitwick as he gestured for Mordred to retake the stage and headed back to the box.

The far side of the arena were chanting Malfoy's name. It was sickening.

'Best of three, match two. Engarde.' Flitwick called. Mordred readied himself, Malfoy taking the same offensive stance. Instead of casting his magic outwards, Mordred channeled it into the staff, convalescing in the crystal at the tip, changing the colour to the same inky shade as the fire of his magic.

'Three, two... one!'

Mordred's reaction was so fast that Hermione barely caught it. The bolt of purple power shattered the spell that Malfoy had been trying to cast and hit the hasty shield with a thunderous boom, shattering across the arena in a shower of deadly light. Malfoy stumbled backwards, caught off guard and Mordred's staff pulsed again. The earth shook with the strength of the deflected spell and Mordred grinned with savage glee as a desperate Malfoy managed a weak stunner that Mordred absorbed, amplified with his staff and then sent back. Malfoy's shield shattered, and a silver spell from Mordred's offhand slammed straight into his torso. Blood spattered from his nose, spilling over the silver embroidery on his battle robes.

Above her, people screamed Mordred's name. His staff arched over once more, breaking the paltry shield that Malfoy managed to erect and a final wave of his hand sent him flying backwards, clear over the sun. He landed against the stone backing with a sickening thud.

Mordred turned and saluted Hermione with his staff whilst healers rushed to Malfoy's side. Flitwick announced the match had gone to Gorlois and in the stands, people cheered his name.

Hermione picked up the water jug again, unable to contain her grin as she approached and poured him a goblet.

'Does that please you, My Lady?' He asked, grinning.

'It does.' She replied, then sobered a little as Malfoy was helped to his feet by his wife. 'But that won't work again.'

'It doesn't need to. This fight is the last.' Mordred pointed out. 'I can afford to lose my off-hand, so I'll risk using it for a shield.'

'I won't wish you luck... but I don't need to tell you how important it is that we win this.'

'I'll do my best.' Mordred promised with a bow, returning to the stage as Hermione walked back to her seat.

'They're asking if Malfoy wants to forfeit.' Harry informed her unnecessarily. 'And look at Malfoy, I don't think he expected that.' Harry pointed to the younger Malfoy, who was white in the face and leaning anxiously around the burly figures of Crabbe and Goyle senior to watch as his father was fed a couple of potions. The healers discussed something with him for a moment, then headed over to speak to Flitwick.

'Lord Malfoy will not forfeit.' The half-goblin announced. Cheers and jeers met his words. Mordred leaned casually against his staff and adjusted one of his metal bracers as the Lord Malfoy got to his feet and made his way to the stage. Unfortunately, it appeared that the potions had done their job. Their opponent was stead on his feet and he held murder in his eyes.

'Best of three, match three. Engarde.'

Malfoy took a different stance, defensive rather than offensive, wand held in front of him like a sword. Likewise, Mordred turned his body sideways, staff aloft and hand held out in front of him, palm spread towards his opponent. A ball of silver light glowed in his palm and his staff tip lit up with crimson light.

'Three, two... One!'

Both cast a shield, Mordred had the advantage of being able to cast with two hands, so his offensive spell connected first, bright red flames which spilled like lava across Malfoy's shield. The patriarch gritted his teeth and flicked his wand with a bellowed incantation, then was forced to sidestep as the lava splattered the ground.

Mordred switched to verbal casting as well, his shield becoming a kite shield to waste less energy as he shot off another spell. Malfoy ducked it, firing off a duo of nasty green spells that hissed against Mordred's shield rather than neatly deflecting.

The knight countered with a thundering blow to his left side and Malfoy snarled a blasting wardbreaker curse. Mordred jumped sideways, ducking beneath the jet of purple light. The stone wall behind him erupted, jagged splinters of stone flying like knives through the air. He swept his hand forwards, abandoning the shield. The stone projectiles changed direction, knifing towards Malfoy instead. With a twirl of his staff, flames licked along each one. Malfoy swiped sideways, deflecting the projectiles to the side and into a shield that Avery had hastily conjured.

'Objection, physical projectile!' Avery cried.

'Objection. Malfoy started it!' Sirius bellowed in return. The crowd roared in support of their side, as the duel continued unbroken by the argument. Mordred's shield shimmered back to ice under an onslaught of sparks that exploded with nasty impacts. The knight retaliated with equal fervour, casting as quickly as his staff would allow and deflecting a number of the sparks when it wouldn't.

'Penalty Gorlois. No offence, three seconds.' Flitwick cried. Hermione's side of the stands booed but Mordred didn't complain. He stopped casting with his staff, gritting his teeth as Malfoy took advantage of the break to cast two more jinxes, then risked a wardbreaker. The power of the curse left his wand glowing a concerning red at the tip but shattered Mordred's shield like glass, sending shards of broken magic scything towards the adjudication seats. Flitwick deflected them with a slash of his wand, his chair swaying backwards under the impact. The shards burst into black flames of raw magic when they hit the ground.

'Penalty taken.' Flitwick grunted, trying to extinguish a stubborn flame that was encroaching on his chair.

Mordred immediately retaliated with a wardbreaker of his own, rolling underneath Malfoy's next spell and springing up barely within the forward bounds without breaking the channel of his wardbreaker. The bolt of light hit Malfoy's shield like lightning, crackling across the surface like electricity.

'Nasty.' Lord Nott commented, leaning forwards in his seat. Hermione copied him, her hands wrapping around the balustrade as she tried to peer through the field of sparking light.

'His wand isn't going to hold much longer.' Anneken warned, her face scrunched.

It didn't. A breath later, the shield gave way from the inside with a resounding boom. A shockwave of force rippled out and sent Mordred skidding backwards. With a flash of magically enhanced steel, Mordred drove his knife into the floor. It sliced through the stone and wedged, arresting him before he could slide past the sun. Malfoy chucked his wand at Mordred; the woode had splintered, crimson light shafting through the cracks with increasing intensity.

'Objection, physical projectile. Objection, disallowed magic.' Sirius bellowed, his wand in hand as he prepared to do something. Flitwick was already casting something, but Mordred slammed his staff down on the wand, shattering it into powerless sticks and a limp string. The crystal tip lit up with crimson light.

He slashed the staff towards Malfoy and the red light shot from the end, erupting against the ground with a cataclysmic boom.

'Objection...' Avery's words were lost as the shockwave shredded the shield that Flitwick had erected and threw him backwards.

'Protego!' Hermione cried, whipping out her own wand and pointing it towards the duel. Silver light roared form the tip, washing up and over the crowd. Her sect responded, bolstering the magic and a moment later the others joined her. Harry's own not insignificant magic surged out of his wand and Berg's hand closed on her shoulder, his earthy magic flowing through her and steadying the wild magic of her sect.

The shockwave hit with a force like a freight train, vibrating down her wand with the force of a wardbreaker. Barely visibly behind the wash of fiery light, Mordred's shield glowed like a star, Hermione's sect magic flowing into it as her future coven supported the shield protecting the audience.

As quickly as it began, it ended. The shields collapsed easily, shimmering into nonexistence.

'They really, really should have a blood ward on the arena.' Hermione panted, lowering her wand. From behind Mordred's shield, Flitwick emerged, dragging Malfoy.

'Blithering idiot.' Flitwick muttered, depositing the stunned patriarch back onto the arena floor. 'Advantage Gorlois for defending the adjudicators, competition and crowd. Penalty Malfoy for physical projectile, Penalty Malfoy for disallowed magic. Match goes to Gorlois without contest.'

Malfoy groaned.

After a moment of stunned silence, the blue clothed supporters behind Hermione cheered.

'Her-mi-one, Her-mi-one!' Theo led the chant, which shifted quickly to, 'Gor-lois, Gor-lois!'

She ignored them all, darting out of the box and crossing the singed stars and moons to check on Mordred.

'Are you okay?' She demanded.

'Fine. Fine.' He soothed. 'Avery was stunned, and didn't see me fade out when it hit.'

'That's how you crossed the hall so quickly.' Hermione breathed, pulling the knight in for a relieved hug. 'And you won.'

'Malfoy is an idiot.' Mordred scoffed, but he looked rather pleased with himself as he stepped back and offered a short bow. A moment later, Cwyllog was there, chattering madly with her hands on her hips.

'We won!' Harry exclaimed gleefully, charging into her. Ginny was conducting the crowd in their chant of Hermione and Mordred's names. Across the room, a group of healers were huddled around Malfoy for the second time. His wife and son hovered nervously, glancing at Hermione's jubilant party whilst the two henchmen cracked their knuckled. The knight was unfazed by the threatening actions, confident that he was a better fighter than both men. Hermione was too, so she waved at them and turned back to Mordred. Cwyllog was fussing over all the stone chips stuck in his chainmail and Theo was being allowed to inspect the staff, probing at it experimentally with his magic.

Dumbledore raised his wand into the air, letting of a bright gold flash and forcing the room into silence. It fell reluctantly, spreading as people realised that something had yet to happen.

Draco Malfoy hovered in front of him, wearing an expression as if he'd just been forced to eat rotten fish. Hermione schooled her expression to not show her glee, deciding that it would be immature to rub the decisive victory in, and stepped up opposite him.

'The duel had concluded and the Line of Gorlois has established supremacy.' Dumbledore announced, inclining his head to Hermione. He was meant to have bowed, but she ignored it. Until she was of age, Hermione wasn't foolish enough to duel him for his sleights.

'On behalf of my father, House Malfoy acknowledges the Ancient Line of Gorlois and rests their claim.' Malfoy bowed, clearly reluctant but deeply and respectfully. Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, dipping her head in acknowledgment.

'Is the Line of Gorlois satisfied?' Dumbledore asked, as if it pained him to say those words. For a brief moment, Hermione considered saying that they weren't. Malfoy had put everyone in the room at risk when he'd allowed his wand to shatter and she would have been well within her rights to demand compensation. Then she decided that she'd rather hold it over his head... she'd have to check, but the Malfoy patriarch probably owed Mordred a life debt and that could be very useful in the future.

'We are.' She finally said, just before the pause became awkward.

'Then this matter is closed.' Dumbledore concluded. Hermione nodded and spun on her heel, striding out of the room with her family and friends to the cheers of the crowd.

'I've asked Professor McGonagall and she said that you could all spend the rest of the day at Avalon and floo back after dinner.' Lord Nott announced, appearing at her elbow. 'I had the elves prepare a traditional celebration.'

Hermione gaped at him.

'With a bonfire?'

'With a bonfire.' Lord Nott confirmed. 'The guardians helped me get the details correct.'

'Let do it.' Theo agreed eagerly. 'I'd rather not go to the common room after this.'

'Yes. Let's.' Harry agreed. Hermione shrugged, hurrying ahead to catch up with Mordred and let him know the plans, asking if he had the energy for it. The knight agreed enthusiastically and followed the Hogwarts students out of the castle.