{Notes} Thanks for the reviews last chapter.
As for this chapter, if you don't like dueling, then you won't like this chapter, because that's all that's in here. Dueling. And more dueling.
Chapter Twenty Eight
The last time he had seen Lily Potter was at the Department of Mysteries, near the Veil.
She appeared similar to what Izar remembered her as. Yet, it seemed as if she washed her hair today and her skin had more color splashed about her cheeks. There was a healthy flush to her face and her vibrant red hair was tied at the nape of her neck. She was still frail and haunted, her eyes, especially, mirrored the inner demons she harbored inside her. She wasn't wearing her customary heavy black robes. Instead, she had on ivory robes with a bit of crimson accenting them.
Izar would have thought she would be holding on to James Potter for support or comfort. However, the woman was sitting straight on the bench, appearing confident by keeping her hands curled neatly in her lap. Seeing her in daylight like this, Izar believed he was glimpsing at the woman his father had fallen in love with. Despite Dumbledore's hold on her, Izar knew Lily Potter wasn't a woman to underestimate. She carried her own piece of Slytherin underneath her Gryffindor armor.
Quickly glancing at James Potter, Izar noted the shock of messy black hair and glasses. Luckily, the man hadn't worn his Auror robes today and opted to wear a simple shirt and a pair of slacks that showed off his tall and extremely thin stature.
Avoiding both their gazes, Izar tried to focus on his duel and past his burning fury.
Stiffly, he bowed to Cyprien before he took the customary steps to his end of the platform. Rolling his wand between his clammy fingers, Izar turned gracefully, poising his wand above his head in a dueling stance.
He didn't understand the emotions racing through him. It was best not to identify and understand those emotions, especially at a time like this, but it was impossible. His mind was in turmoil, both with rage and uncertainty. The rage was present because he couldn't believe Lily and James had the audacity to show their faces here at the Second Task. And the uncertainty rushing through his stomach was simply because he didn't believe he was prepared enough for this Task.
"Three," Dumbledore's voice boomed from the second set of stands below.
The crowd screamed.
"Two," Dumbledore counted down.
Izar's fingers became wet with sweat. He licked his lips, hating himself for being so full of anxiety. A year ago, silly emotions like anxiety weren't even on his radar let alone distracting him from important tasks.
"One."
Cyprien was an offensive dueler. The redheaded Beauxbatons Champion wasted no time in throwing a disarming charm. Izar stayed rooted in place, watching the colored magic fly toward him with intention to knock him off his feet.
With his heart in his throat, Izar spun, dodging the charm as it burned past his shoulder. Above Cyprien's head, Izar watched the large timer on the screen-like canvas start to run.
Get your head into the duel… idiot, he scolded himself harshly. He felt like he wasn't here. There were too many things running through his mind. What did Sirius say? What had his uncle told him during their lessons to help stop thinking and start cursing? Izar froze once more before doing what any First year would do with a wand in hand.
Izar flicked his wand out, calling forward a nonverbal disarming charm from his wand. It flew toward Cyprien, missing the boy by a good foot. His spell raced toward the stands of spectators, but it hit a solid shield before it could come in contact with any of the students and other adults.
Desperation turned his stomach cold as he was struck in the arm by a spell he hadn't seen coming. His wand flew from his hand and into the water depths below. Izar swallowed his bile as he looked up into the bemused eyes of Cyprien. The redhead hesitated briefly before pushing his wand toward Izar. A current of wind took him around the waist and threw him backward. Only, he didn't hit the stone platform, he continued to fall.
Tipping back his neck, he gave a cry of frustration as he fell toward the waters below. The stands of spectators were just as loud as Izar's cry as they witnessed the conclusion of the duel.
The fall was quicker than he suspected and he was thrust into the cool waters. Before his head was submerged, he caught sight of the timer on the screen-like canvas. Thirty-five seconds. The judges would likely round the time up to a minute.
As his body was submerged under the water, he wondered if he would be awarded at least a bloody point. Unfortunately, Cyprien would be awarded four more points for disarming him.
For early January, it was expected that the water would be chilly. It froze him to the bone and he allowed his body to sink deeper. He didn't even try to kick to the surface as he held his breath in his lungs. There was something incredibly peaceful about being deaf and blind to the world above him. Izar suspected death was something similar to the sensation he was experiencing; a peaceful oblivion, an eternity of peace and sleep.
A grim smile curled his lips as he started to run out of oxygen. Suicide never crossed his mind before and he considered himself too proud to consider committing the act. However, even Izar couldn't deny the temptation of leaving everything behind for an unlimited time of sleep.
Above, on the surface of the water, Izar could see the floating dock come to a stop. Two forms dived into the water, swimming toward him with their crimson robes trailing behind them. From their robes, Izar knew they were the Healers of the Tournament.
He supposed he had sulked in self-pity long enough. Throwing the dark, suicidal thoughts behind him, Izar kicked his legs. His body cut through the water as he swam toward the surface. Shaking off the hold of one of the Healers who had reached for his arm, Izar swam to the surface by himself.
Breaking the surface, his ears were assaulted with the loud volume of the crowd. He didn't try to discern who they were yelling at or for. Instead, he grabbed a hold of the hand that belonged to the third Healer on the floating dock. The crimson-robed Healer hauled him up, instantly casting a drying charm over his soaking robes. As soon as he was dry, a heavy and warm robe was tossed his way. Izar pulled it on, noticing a heating charm was cast on it.
Izar sat on the dock, pulling the hood over his face as the dock began to move. "Your wand, Mr. Harrison," a voice murmured next to his ear.
Charcoal-green eyes turned, eyeing the Healer who had Izar's wand in his hand. "It's Mr. Black," Izar corrected coldly as he accepted his wand back. "Thanks," he murmured. He really didn't know what he felt about carrying the Black family name after such a pathetic duel.
He was sure Regulus was appalled. Sirius, too. His uncle had spent a good term teaching him dueling strategies. And Izar couldn't even imagine what the Dark Lord was thinking.
Once the dock floated toward the stands, he was ushered up to the Hogwarts' box. No one was inside the box but Dumbledore and Riddle. There was five minutes in between each duel and Izar was just happy he had Dumbledore in proximity as a buffer between the Dark Lord and himself.
The Healers abandoned him and Izar calmly walked to the end of the box. Riddle stood stiffly at the opposite end as Dumbledore, avoiding eye contact with Izar. The Dark Lord kept his arms folded across his chest, proof of his frigid opinion on Izar's duel. On the other side of the box, Dumbledore offered a kind smile, but Izar ignored it in favor of sitting down on the bleachers.
Bitterly, he looked at the score. Cyprien had ninety points, Lukas still had eighty, and Izar had a pitiful seventy one. It was impossible to win the Second Task.
He eyed the Dark Lord at the side. The politician calmly stood at the edge of the stands in their box, looking out at the dueling course. The Hogwarts box was situated right behind the dueling platform. It had been at Izar's back during the duel and he was glad for small favors. He didn't have to see the Dark Lord's expression when he had fallen. The man's expression certainty would have been just as chilly as the water.
Back on the stone platform Cyprien was currently being taken down and ushered to the Beauxbaton box.
"A five minute intermission will take place," Dumbledore suddenly spoke up with his wand to his throat. His voice boomed across the entire pitch. "Lukas Steinar of Durmstrang and Cyprien Beaumont of Beauxbatons will be the next Champions dueling."
Izar pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he felt someone's aura approach him from behind. It was similar to Regulus' aura, but Izar knew there was a slight difference with the one he was currently feeling.
"Tough luck, kid." Sirius patted him on the back before sitting down next to him.
Both Dumbledore and Riddle turned as they heard the newcomer's voice. Riddle lifted his lip before turning back to the stands. Dumbledore, on the other hand, raised his eyebrows over his glasses. "Sirius, I'm afraid this box is only for Champions and the judges of Hogwarts."
Before Izar could heatedly defend Sirius, for reasons unknown to him, his uncle beat him to it. With an arm slung around Izar's shoulders, Sirius gave a humored chuckle. "There is nothing that can get between a Master and his student, Albus. I believe he needs reassurance. You want Hogwarts to win, don't you?" Sirius leveled Dumbledore with the same skeptical look the old man was giving him.
The Headmaster's lips twitched before he turned a blind eye to the two Blacks.
Izar glowered at Sirius. "There is nothing to say," Izar murmured. "It was a pathetic display of the art of dueling."
Sirius' eyebrows heightened. "Oh, it was," the man agreed. "I won't deny that. A 'pathetic display' is actually going a bit light to what it actually was, or… what I forced myself to watch through the crack of my fingers." Sirius threw a ruthless grin toward his nephew, his goatee creasking with the wrinkles around his mouth.
Izar turned away from Sirius, angry. "Then why did you come over here?" He questioned, irritated. "You reassurance is heartfelt, really, I can sense the encouragement coming from you in waves," he spoke dryly. Did the man truly think this was reassuring? Izar was already beyond angry with himself. Sirius' words were true, Izar admitted, but he didn't need Sirius to harp on him anymore than what Izar was already doing to himself.
Sirius sighed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I made Regulus stay behind because I wanted to talk to you privately." Here, Sirius' dark grey eyes assessed Dumbledore and Riddle distastefully. The two powerful wizards appeared disinterested, but even Sirius knew they were listening. Sirius turned back to Izar, tapping the Ravenclaw's temple with his fingers. "You were thinking too much, weren't you?"
Izar issued a cool shrug. "I reverted back to my old habits, I suppose. I couldn't keep my mind focused."
Sirius nodded as if he had already known that before the duel had even started. "You were distracted," the man continued softly. "Regulus was an idiot for pointing out that James and Lily were here. He didn't do it intentionally, but you caught his observation of the Potters and you couldn't shake it off. These things happen, Izar. Just be thankful it didn't happen in a real-life battle."
Izar remained silent, his jaw clenched as he stared at the stone platform across from him.
"I find it easy to concentrate on little things about my opponent during a dueling match in order to keep myself focused and to push away outside thoughts and emotions. The Potters' presence should not affect your duel. They are not standing with you on the platform, are they?" Sirius didn't wait for Izar to respond. "You worry about them after the match is over with. In the meantime, absorb yourself with the Durmstrang Champion and pick apart his flaws and weaknesses. And always be aware of your surroundings."
The Ravenclaw nodded lightly. Sirius was right. There was a time and place for everything and James and Lily Potter were not meant to be thought of during a duel.
Sirius placed a hand on Izar's knee, squeezing it. "You have all the skill and creativity in the world, Izar. You just need to clear your mind and apply that gift."
"You're right," Izar admitted softly. "I should be able to focus. I was taken off guard and I let outside forces affect my performance." He turned to look at Sirius. "It doesn't matter anyway. I won't win the Task."
Sirius scoffed. "You're a Negative Nancy."
Izar blinked at the man in response. He never wanted to hear that coming from Sirius' mouth again. Shaking his head at his uncle's chuckling form, he stared at the dueling platform. Cyprien and Lukas were just being transported to the top of the dueling dais.
Dumbledore brought his wand to his throat, repeating the same instructions he had with Izar. Within three seconds, the two began dueling. Both of the two wizards were quick and appeared professional. Izar supposed, because the Goblet had chosen these two, they would be good at many things. He was just surprised to see the two move so quickly.
He noticed that Lukas preferred to stay away from the edge of the platform. The Durmstrang boy kept taking sidelong glances behind his shoulder to make sure he wasn't close to the edge. He always stayed a good five feet from the edge and pressed forward.
Cyprien didn't seem to notice Lukas' discomfort with heights. Instead, he was having trouble defending himself against Lukas. The Durmstrang boy was arrogant in his dueling, but he had every reason to be. He was similar to Bellatrix without the sadistic insanity. The boy was good and he was forcing Cyprien to drop his offensive dueling style and take up defensive.
Two minutes had gone by. Both boys were sweating but neither of them showed signs of slowing down. Izar felt his stomach tighten in anticipation. He was ready to duel again. Hopefully this time, he would be able to last more than thirty-five seconds. As far as Auror and Hit Wizards in the stands recognizing Izar's dueling style, he would worry about that when the time came. Who knew? It was reasonable that they wouldn't even compare a Death Eater's dueling style to the Champion Izar Harrison.
Cyprien was hit with a leg-lock curse. The redhead shouted as his wand arm was thrown backwards. The crowd roared as they knew the ending was coming in sight.
Lukas took no pity on the Beauxbaton Champion. With a cruel line to his lips, Lukas blasted the redhead off the platform.
The cheers were deafening. Izar wasn't watching Lukas celebrate on the platform; instead, he eyed Riddle as the politician nodded. It was a pleased nod, almost as if he were impressed. Something dark curled in Izar's belly as the man continued to nod. "He's a very decent dueler," Riddle voiced his opinion out loud.
Izar saw red and he hated himself for being envious.
He knew, in the back of his mind, that Riddle was putting on the show for Izar. The Dark Lord wanted to twist his buttons and push him harder.
What a cruel bastard…
For the second time that hour, Izar turned to look at the screen-like canvas. Cyprien was still in first place with ninety-three points, but the Beauxbaton Champion was also finished for the Second Task. Lukas ended the duel with a solid eighty-seven points.
Izar leaned back, his mind doing a quick calculation. He would need to get at least twenty-two points in order to tie with Cyprien.
"A five minute intermission before our last duel will take place between Izar Harrison of Hogwarts and Lukas Steinar of Durmstrang," Dumbledore's voice rumbled. The Headmaster placed his wand down, cutting off the Sonorus.
Briefly, Izar considered what it would take for people to start addressing him as Izar Black. He supposed he would need to do announce his acceptance of his surname publicly. He didn't know if he was ready for such a large leap, but because his dearest mother decided to set the pace with the public, he assumed he would need to adjust to the quick relationship he shared with his father.
Sirius touched Izar's right hand, admiring the Black heir ring on his finger. "I remember when I had this ring," the man mused quietly. "I threw it at my mother's head the day I ran away." Dark charcoal eyes looked up at Izar. "She had a notch in her forehead for a good week. Not even magic could get rid of the bump on her head. Regulus told me she blasted a hole through my name on the Black tapestry moments after the swelling began."
Izar's lips twitched. "I could only imagine…" he drawled. He didn't know much about his family history, but Regulus reassured Izar that they would have a summer full of Black history. He was looking forward to it.
"Izar," a voice interrupted Izar's musings.
Without having to look up, he knew Riddle was towering over his seated form. "Let me escort you to the dock."
The kind and persuaded tone was an order in Izar's ears. He glanced up at the transfigured Dark Lord and gave a light shake of his head. "Forgive me, Undersecretary Riddle, but I think I'm going to escort myself down." He allowed it to sink in the Dark Lord's head that he had just snubbed him. With a sugary sweet smile, he added, "but thanks for your generous offer."
There was always something thrilling about slighting the Dark Lord when the man couldn't do anything about it. Izar was sure it was a mistake to do so, especially when he knew other Death Eaters made the mistake of belittling Riddle in public, but it was just so fun.
Riddle's false smile grew larger, a cold edge to the corners.
Izar stood up, quickly leaving the Hogwarts box before Riddle could worm in an insult. Sirius was hot on Izar's heels, snickering lightly. Hearing his uncle, Izar always wondered at Sirius' knowledge. Did the man know Riddle was secretly a Dark Lord in the disguise? Izar knew Dumbledore and Lily both recognized Riddle for who the man was. After all, the two Gryffindors had suspicions about the 'Horcruxes' and perhaps Riddle's past. And how much did Dumbledore's Order know? Who were the members of the Order of the Phoenix? Severus Snape would know, the man was a member of the Order and played a double spy.
Breathing deeply, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. His musings would need to wait until after the duel.
Climbing down the level of stairs, he stood at the edge of the loading ledge where the dock was floated to a stop. Lukas was on his way down from the quick rest at the Durmstrang box, his father, Bjørn Steinar at his heels.
"Good luck, kid." Sirius clapped Izar's on the shoulder again.
Izar took strength from the encouragement Sirius was offering. Somehow, despite his uncle's rather loose head at times, Izar felt comfortable around the man. He didn't feel the need to prove himself to Sirius. The man's expectations were always light.
"Nice cloak," Lukas announced his presence with an arrogant shrug to his shoulders. "The Healers are giving them out after you fall from the platform, correct?" His Norwegian accent was thick today, or maybe Izar had been away from his competition for too long. "Pity I won't get one."
Izar offered a lipless smile. "Don't fret, Steinar, they have one reserved just for you in a matter of minutes."
Cold blue eyes narrowed into slits as they assessed Izar closely. "You don't stand a chance against me."
Turning his shoulder on his competition, Izar nodded sharply to Sirius. "Thanks, Sirius," he gave a pat to his uncle's bicep before venturing on the floating dock. He unclasped the heated cloak and tossed it to his uncle. The man looked down at the warm cloak in his arms before grimacing playfully up at Izar.
"I get this as a thanks? I was hoping for something a bit more…"
Izar grinned at the man as the dock pulled both Lukas and him away. Sirius' words were drowned out with the loud cheering coming from the stands. The Durmstrang students were the loudest as they believed an easy win was in their midst. The Hogwarts students were quieter, horrified by the last performance Izar had put on against Cyprien. The Ravenclaw couldn't really blame them. His first duel had been ridiculous.
The younger Champion was the first to step off the moving dock and onto the circular platform. He pretended not to notice Lukas' trembling legs as the boy leaped off the dock and onto the free-standing dueling area. It appeared, despite the Norwegian's recent win, the fear of heights had yet to be resolved.
Izar's lips creased into a cruel smile. There was nothing quite like playing with his enemy's weaknesses.
He lingered in the middle of the platform, waiting for the five minute intermission to finish. His fingers brushed his blue and bronzed Champion robes as means to give him something to do. It wouldn't do to let his eyes wander where James and Lily Potter were sitting.
Unfortunately, he found himself looking anyway. The two Potters were in quiet discussion. Lily was the one speaking to her husband and Potter was nodding solemnly. Izar noticed Potter had round features, not pointed like most pure-blood families. The man had dark shadows underneath his eyes, but to offset the defeated-like shadows, determination and stubbornness flattened his lips into a hard line. James Potter looked up at Izar, locking eyes, before the younger looked away.
He searched for Regulus, spotting his father sitting next to a silent and brooding Snape. A few rows in front of his father, Izar was surprised to see the shock of silky blond hair. Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa were sitting regally next to one another, their pale eyes observing Izar indifferently.
"Observing the people here to witness your second embarrassment?" Lukas mocked from his position next to Izar. "Memorizing the faces of the one's you need to suck up to in order to get in their good graces after they witness this mortifying duel?"
Charcoal-green eyes averted from the crowd and onto the boy next to him. "My Lukas, aren't you witty today." Izar turned his body in order to face the taller Norwegian boy. Amusedly, he noted the boy had slicked his black hair back for the duel. Usually, there were thick bangs covering half his face. Izar didn't dare comment on the change, fearing Lukas would take it as a compliment.
"Tell me," Izar continued. "Is it the fear of the upcoming duel running your tongue? Or have you missed me?"
They were standing chest to chest. Lukas had his wand out and the tip of it brushed against Izar's chest. Magic sparked and shocked Izar, but he didn't flinch and give the boy the satisfaction. Any of the spectators would see the tension between the two wizards. Maybe that was why the crowd grew louder with anticipation. Durmstrang flags were being waved from the crowd below and a few Hogwarts flags could be seen among the roar of voices.
Lukas breathed through his nostrils, his handsome face twisting with mocking humor. "I wouldn't go so far as to say I've missed you. However, I did find myself longing to see that pretty little face of yours." Lukas tapped his wand against Izar's cheek sharply. "Enlighten me, how is your girlfriend doing? Has her mind recovered from the attack at the Yule Ball? Her mind couldn't be any worse off than it was before the attack. After all, she was dense enough to see something in you."
Izar moved his arm, hitting back Lukas' wand hand in order to direct the boy's wand elsewhere. "Obviously you see something in me to use my face for wanking material."
Lukas' eyes widened a fraction before narrowing into slits. "I wouldn't sink so low."
"The five minute intermission has come to a stop," Dumbledore's voice interrupted the two Champions. "Please bow to your opponent."
Lukas and Izar stared each other, both revolted at the idea of bowing to one another. Nonetheless, Izar decided to be the bigger wizard and gave a regal bow. Lukas, on the other hand, gave a stiff inclination of his waist before stalking to his end of the platform. Disproved cries came from the Hogwarts fans. Izar stayed in his bow, watching Lukas walk away with a slight smirk on his lips.
Pushing his irritation away, Izar turned and gracefully walked to his end of the dueling platform. Pivoting elegantly on his heel, he bent into his dueling position. His thoughts were calm as he gazed across at Lukas. He noted with amusement that Lukas was standing a good distance away from the end of the stage.
"Three," Dumbledore began the countdown.
Unlike before, Izar's fingers were dry. His legs were still and solid.
"Two."
His thoughts were focused and sharpened, already having his first plan of action drawn out.
"One."
As predicted, Lukas took a large step forward and cast his first nonverbal spell. Izar stood up from his dueling position and calmly eyed the oncoming curse. Cries of disbelief spread throughout the pitch as his fans believed him to choke once again.
He held his wand loosely, his eyes sharp. "Bulla," Izar murmured softly. It was a small spell he had invented. The spell was nothing of Dark nature, but it involved his specialty; magic manipulation.
Lukas looked smug as his hex raced toward a seemingly motionless Izar. As soon as Izar had murmured his incantation, a small sphere-like bubble grew at the end of his wand. With quick reflexes, Izar moved his wand toward the oncoming hex. The bubble at the end of his wand absorbed the hex and encased it within.
Izar threw his wand back and then thrust it forward as if he were going to throw his wand at Lukas. Instead, he kept a tight hold on his Thestral wand and allowed the sphere to race toward Lukas. The boy's eyes widened and he quickly set up a shield. Only, Izar's sphere had raced straight through Lukas' guard and continued on its path to its caster.
Lukas gave a yelp as he dived away from the sphere. The Durmstrang Champion barely balanced himself from falling over on the ledge. Meanwhile, the sphere came in contact with the stone platform and exploded. Lukas' arms thrashed to regain his balance when he watched half of the platform crumble away in debris to the waters below. Regrettably, magic re-grew the lost pieces of the stone platform and put it back in complete shape.
So Izar wouldn't be able to destroy the platform they stood upon. But he had done enough to shake Lukas and it didn't mean he couldn't transfigure the stone they stood upon.
Izar blocked Lukas' next curse with a bat of his wand.
For the next few minutes, they traded curses back and forth. Izar kept to Sirius' teachings and remained bent at the knee. It was an Auror reflex and most of Sirius' Auror training rubbed off of Izar. Bellatrix had mocked him because of it during the winter break, but Izar couldn't find any fault in the heightened reflexes the Auror stance offered him.
Three minutes had passed and sweat began to bead across Izar's forehead. They weren't getting anywhere. The upper hand he started off with had been leveled off with the lack of hits he had been able to get. Both Champions were quick and both had outstanding reflexes. Their spells couldn't come in contact with one another.
Apparently it was time for him to up the playing field. Izar growled as he pointed at the circular platform. "Perlucidulus."
The stone dueling ring slowly turned transparent from Izar's spell. Lukas' eyes widened comically as he caught sight of the water far below. The boy's legs bowed and he crouched down, touching the transparent platform with his hands. Izar grinned as he whipped a disarming charm in the boy's direction. Surprisingly enough, Lukas quickly blocked it, his body still crouched down to the platform. His blue eyes were wide, almost deranged.
Izar eyed the water below the translucent platform and grinned. It wasn't unheard of to manipulate water or fire— the elements, really. But the caster who manipulated the elements needed to harbor a considerable amount of power to accomplish it.
Lifting both arms in the air, he twirled his wand in between his fingers as he breathed forcibly through his nose. He knew his nonverbal magic had succeeded, simply because his arms felt as if they were being weighed down by the water's weight. With an exaggerated quickness, he threw down his arms, tipping his head back as he felt his power leak through him.
He heard the sound of water rushing violently. Cracking open his eyes, he laughed merrily as he watched the water curling upward toward the platform. With the translucent platform and the water coming at full force, Izar suspected that he would finally knock Lukas off the platform.
He grunted as he motioned his wand toward Lukas. As quickly as the water came dousing in the Durmstrang Champion, Izar cast a shield over himself to stop the water from taking him down with the other boy.
The crowd was just as loud as the water as it roared on top of Lukas. Izar could see nothing but the crashing waves and hoped that the Durmstrang boy had washed off the dueling circle. A few droplets spit past Izar's shield and got his face and hair wet. With his opposite hand, he wiped his eyes. As he opened them, he was surprised to find Lukas standing.
"Locomotor!"
Izar's legs locked together and he dropped his wand at the sudden attack. Lukas didn't seem to notice the wand lying lazily between them; no, the boy was set on revenge. His clothes were soaking wet and his face was abnormally pale from his fright.
He sent a dark curse at Izar. With his legs locked, Izar had to quickly dip his torso backwards. He marveled at his flexibility before abruptly twisting to the side to avoid another curse. Sweat beaded his forehead and he called longingly for his wand. Wandless magic wasn't his strongest suit; in fact he hardly used it at all.
Nonetheless, it jumped into his hand and he quickly canceled the Leg-Locker curse. Just as he was about to blast the boy off his feet, a sudden movement from the platform caused him to fall to his feet and drop his wand.
Promptly, he looked up at the timer and noticed they had passed the five minute mark. The platform would start moving, attempting to knock off the first dueler.
Izar stared in horror as his wand rolled off the side of the platform. Lukas wasn't dealing so well with the sudden movement either. He watched his wand accompany Izar's off the side of the translucent dueling ring. Blue and charcoal-green eyes met before the two boys scrambled up to stop their wands from falling off the edge.
Lukas and Izar wrestled with each other, both reaching toward their wands. The two rods of wood rolled completely off the platform and into the waters below. The Black heir blinked in disbelief. While he used wandless magic to summon his wand just seconds ago, he knew such a long distance would make it impossible to get his wand back.
Izar grunted as Lukas pushed him hard. The younger wizard rolled before falling off the edge. He hissed as his wet fingers grasped the edge of the dueling ring. Izar didn't have much upper strength, and because his fingers were so wet, holding the edge was turning out to be extremely difficult.
His whole body dangled in midair and his arms began shaking from the tension he was placing on his typically useless upper body. Through his sweaty black hair, Izar watched Lukas grin down at him before slamming his heel down on his left hand. Tipping back his head, Izar howled in pain. With only his right hand left, he watched as Lukas brought back his foot, intent to knock Izar off completely.
Luckily, the platform groaned again as it see-sawed the opposite way. Izar grinned as his side of the platform lifted upward and Lukas' side caused the boy to roll downward. Before the platform flattened out again, Izar straddled the edge before pulling himself up safely.
The platform wasn't doing anything too frightening. For now, the only motion the dueling ring was going through was a see-saw motion. A slow see-saw motion.
Izar and Lukas stared at one another, their bodies finally in balance.
The rest of the duel was going to be a physical one. Sadly, Izar was far less muscled than Lukas but he was knowledgeable in some defense, probably more-so than Lukas. After all, the orphanage had hardened Izar to defending himself against fists.
Lukas grinned broadly, his thoughts probably mirroring Izar's. The Durmstrang boy stood up, bending his knees for balance as the platform swayed softly back and forth. He grinned triumphantly as he held his arms up for his cheering section.
Izar leaned back, smirking as he watched Lukas assume he had already won the duel. The Durmstrang students roared their Champion on.
"Come on, Harrison, can't you stand up?" Lukas challenged as he licked his lips. "Or should I call you Black?"
Not wanting to humor the boy, but wanting to end the duel as soon as possible, Izar stood up, his arms flailing for balance when the platform twisted again. The two Champions were nearing the seven minute mark as soon as Lukas charged.
The Ravenclaw laughed and side-stepped the charging boy. Lukas stumbled, barely holding himself up as he leaned dangerously over the edge. Izar didn't give him time to recover. He delivered a punch to the boy's face. Sadly, Steinar stopped the punch with his palm, grinning as he delivered his own punch straight to Izar's nose.
Izar grunted, holding his nose as he went down heavily. Glowering, Izar watched blood seep in between his fingers. Looking up at Lukas, the Ravenclaw noted the Durmstrang's smug appearance. Charcoal-green eyes then eyed the distance the boy was away from the edge. An idea brightened Izar's expression as he flattened his palms and chest to the platform.
Putting most his weight on his torso, Izar rotated his hips and legs around and side-swept Lukas' legs out from beneath him. The boy went down and Izar quickly jumped to his knees, slamming his fist into Lukas' face as revenge.
As Lukas cried out in pain, Izar pushed the boy off the edge. Even from further above, Izar could hear the Durmstrang boy scream as he fell.
Izar issued an insane giggle and threw himself on his back in the middle of the platform.
From his position on the dueling ring, he eyed the scores. Lukas was now in first place with ninety-four points; one whole point in front of Cyprien's ninety-three. Even with the seven points added from dueling with Lukas and the two points for actually winning the duel, Izar was still in last place with eighty points.
However…
"Mr. Harrison has been awarded nine points for his duel against Mr. Steinar of Durmstrang. However, because he is without his wand, Mr. Harrison has the chance of adding more points to his score. With each thirty seconds he stays on the platform, five points will be awarded." Dumbledore's voice carried across the pitch, reassuring Izar that there was still a chance to win this Task.
Izar didn't get much time to do the math, but he did come to the conclusion that he had to stay on the dueling ring for at least a minute and a half.
And then the intensity of the shifting platform heightened. Izar squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach becoming weak as the world spun too quickly for him to keep up. It not only swayed, but it also spun. The only thing keeping him from vomiting was the knowledge that he would just be vomiting all over himself.
"Thirty two seconds, Mr. Harrison," Dumbledore announced. The old man was actually generous enough to announce the time elapsed. Izar couldn't look at the scoreboard if his bloody life depended on it. However, his celebration of thirty seconds dwindled down when he realized he wouldn't be able to lay in the middle of the dueling ring the whole time. The large stone platform began tipping back and forth, causing his body to roll each way like a rag doll.
Desperately, his fingers clawed at the transparent stone as it tipped him almost at a ninety degree angle. Blood stained the platform as the skin on his fingers tore. He desperately tried to stay within the middle, but it was impossible with the degree the platform turned.
He yelped, falling. His sore fingers caught the edge once again before the platform tipped the opposite way.
"One minute has passed," Dumbledore's voice announced.
Izar flung a leg on the platform, straddling it as he realized a pattern. The dueling ring seemed to tip side-to-side with a sharper degree every few seconds. If he was able to run to the opposite side and grab hold on the top, he would be able to stay on a bit longer.
He sprinted across the platform as it began to straighten out before tipping again. Unfortunately, before he could grab hold on the other end, his foot slipped on the water-slick platform.
His head came in solid contact with the hard stone and his vision blackened and his body turned limp. Fate was cruel as it kept him half-conscious through his fall. He couldn't hear anything, see anything, or move anything.
He continued to fall.
As his body submerged in the water, his first thought was if he succeeded in staying on the platform for a minute and a half…
And for his second conscious thought, he wondered to what extent the damage done to his head.
{Death of Today}
Izar came back to himself slowly. The first thing he noted was the slightly hard mattress he was laying upon and the stiff blanket holding him down. He heard people— a lot of people and the smell of outdoors. Opening his eyes, Izar blinked at the tent above his head. He concluded he was outside, in the Healer's tent. Judging from the sound of the crowd, he assumed he hadn't been out of consciousness very long.
He struggled to sit up, feeling the ache in his entire body. His head throbbed and he had trouble seeing straight. He furrowed his brows, blinking and trying to focus. It was blurry…
A throat cleared next to him. Startled and ashamed he hadn't sensed the magic before the individual announced their presence, Izar turned to the person at his bedside.
Red-hot anger burned the back of his neck as he stared at Lily Potter.
Why couldn't he have just remained unconscious?
