A/N So here's chap 3, hope you're enjoying, thanks to for the positive reviews. The rest of you, if you are enjoying, let me know, if you're not, let know too! Cheers!
Harry Potter, Duelist Extraordinaire
Chapter 3
Harry woke to the bright rays of sunshine peeking through his curtains. He smiled to himself, he'd had a rather nice dream about a rather nice French girl he'd met at the shop down the road. Harry hoped he saw her again, the way she wiggled her hips as she walked was devine. He felt on top of the world as he walked to his en suite to get washed for the day ahead. As he was washing he remembered what today was, it was his first tournament, and he began to grow nervous. Thoughts of failure flying around his head. Sure, he knew he was fast, very fast and very powerful. But these French wizards had a reputation of, while being very lower on the power and speed scale, they were deadly accurate and tricky. It may not have been a big tournament, in fact only an amateur, but he could see the headlines in the Daily Profit should he fail miserably, 'Poorly Performing Potter Flops Against French'. With a groan, he finished up cleaning, and got dressed and headed for breakfast.
Harry sat down at the table as Rupert served breakfast, keeping an eye on Harry's face which was getting paler and paler by the second, before he blurted out, "I cant do it Rupert! I'm going to bloody fail!" Ruperts only answer was to draw his wand, quick as a flash and fire off a stunning spell at his rising star, who batted it away without even looking up. "Harry, you need to stop being a ponce. Look, if you can do that when you aren't expecting it, think what you can do in this tournament!" The rest of breakfast passed in relative silence, with Harry trying to fire himself up. He knew that he'd need to be ruthless, and finish the duels off quickly, to convince himself more than anything that he deserved his title of, 'best fighter in ministry history'.
After breakfast, Rupert, and Harry headed out to apparation in the large garden and with a crack, disappeared. Reappearing in a quiet side street in Clermont – Ferrand, just off the place-de-jaude. "Right Harry, we need to go to the cathedral, the tournament is being held under it." Harry followed where Rupert's finger was pointing, and was stunned. Stunned by the beauty of the Cathedral looming over the bustling city. It's spires pointing out above everything else, strangely reminiscent of bat ears Harry thought. The dark, volcanic rock that it was built out of, standing out against the bright cloudless sky. 'I've got to come back sometime and take a proper look at this' Harry thought to himself. After letting his mind wander very briefly, he snapped it back onto the task at hand. They set off on the short walk through the town to get to the magnificent structure, casting glamour charms on their robes first so as to blend in.
Under the catherdral, it was surprisingly light and airy, 'I love magic' thought Harry, not for the first time in his life. Around the edges of the huge chamber, were stands for any crowds that may come to watch, and in the middle, were five dueling platforms all adjacent to each other. The chamber was slowly filling up, with both competitors and the audience. Harry's nerves were starting to come back to him. Sensing this, his old mentor rested a hand lightly on his shoulder in support, to which Harry gave a grateful nod. "Harry, Harry, is that you?" Harry recognised that voice and immediately turned around, a huge grinning splitting his face. "Neville! Good to see you mate, how are you? Hang on, what the hell are you doing, don't tell me I'm going to have to fight you?" Shaking hands, Neville replied, "Nah, you're safe mate" he winked, "Well for today anyway, I'm just watching for today, but I'm fighting in the Paris open next month, just sizing things up, I heard a rumour you were competing today, couldn't miss that could I?" Neville Longbottom had changed a great deal. He'd gone from being a short, plump boy, petrified of his own shadow, into a hulking 6ft 4 mountain of pure muscle, and if the tales of his bounty hunting had any substance, a ferocious fighter. Even though Neville had never been in Harry's 'inner circle' particularly, in a way, Harry valued this man over any other, he was always there when Harry needed him, no matter what. "Why d'you look so nervous, you're 'the-boy-who-won' remember, if a Dark Lord can't bring you down, what's a few poxy Frenchies gonna be able to you soft twat" Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, gone was the timid shy Neville, here was a young man, who was confident, and didn't care what he said. "True Neville, true. Anyway mate, I'm going to go and register, this is Rupert by the way." Harry said, gesturing to the wrinkled man, who nodded his head, "I'll introduce you properly later if you want to grab a drink after this. It may be in celebration, or commiseration, who knows. But, I know, either way, I could fucking kill a pint after. This old sod's not let me touch a drop" Rupert just laughed. "Yeah sure thing Harry. Good luck mate, I'll be rooting for you!" With that Neville headed off and took a seat in the stands, leaving Harry, once again, with his thoughts, although much brighter now, and far more confident after Neville's mini pep talk about 'Poxy Frenchies' he thought internally and let out another chuckle.
Harry's first opponent, was a young Frenchman, about 25, who had previously won the under 18 european championship, but Rupert, who was an avid follower of dueling of any standard, knew it would be easy for Harry. "Harry, yes, he was good, but not great, not like you. Bear in mind, when he won that tournament, there were no young prospects around, he practically walked to the trophy unhindered. Also, since then he hasn't done anything, look at him, you can tell from the way he moves, he's gone to seed already. He's got fat and slow. Don't worry about power, save that, just really on pure speed. Make that prick dance, pepper him with nuisance spells. Aim blasting curses around his feet, wear him out. As soon as you see gap, a nice simple expelliamus, no point showing all your tricks early ey lad?" Harry nodded, stretching his arms and shoulders as he stepped onto the platform, wand held loosely in his hand, ready, and now confident.
"Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! We are honoured to present, in zee red end, zee savior of zee wizarding world, Monsieur Potter! And in zee blue end, Clermont's favourite son, and former European champion, Monsieur Thauvinl!" The two competitors met in the middle of the dueling platform, bowed to one another, bowed to the referee, and took twenty paces each away from each, and turned, adopting their stances, waiting for the whistle to signal the start.
With the sound of the whistle, they were off. Harry firing a blisteringly fast volley of spells, three blasting spells, one to the left, one to the right, and one in front, effectively pinning Thauvin in place. Immediately followed by torrent of water to his opponents feet, freezing it, the same trick he'd used on his tutor previously and finally "Expelliarmus!" Harry cried. The next thing the crowd knew, Thauvin's wand was arcing down the platform, into the waiting left hand of 'The chosen one'. Thauvin didn't even have a chance to think of a spell, let alone defend the ones that came at him at unbelievable speeds. He had to admit, it was rather special. The crowd was the same as they erupted into applause at the performance they just witnessed. Only three people in the whole building knew that that was slow by Harry's standards. Harry himself, Rupert, and Neville. Neville knew he was holding back, 'He was faster than that in school, this is going to be a walk in the park for him.' He thought to himself. And it was.
In what seemed like no time at all, Rupert was giving Harry his final pep talk of the day. Harry's path to the final had been almost laughably easy. Admittedly, it was only an amateur tornament, but even so, these guys (and gals) were supposed to be, either rising stars, or ex champions who fancied a work out, not push overs. 'Poxy Frenchies' Harry thought, remembering Neville's earlier words. "Harry, are you listening to me?" Rupert snapped, dragging Harry's attention back to him, "Now you're opponent, Thomas Ducourtial, is very good, you may have to be a bit nastier with this one, he was the other wildcard into next years World Championship. He's good, I'm not going to tell you how to fight him other than be careful, don't get complacent, he can take a lot of punishment and keep on coming back. Like I say, get nasty if you have to, remember, the only thing you cant use are the unforgivable. Go get 'im kiddo!" Harry nodded, and closed his eyes, visualizing the fight to come.
Five minutes had passed when he heard his name called by the referee, announcing that the duelists were required on the center platform. He stood, opened his eyes, which were glowing, and strode to the platform, robes billowing behind his tall, strong frame. Looking to all watching, the most powerful wizard on the planet, which, he most probably was…
A/N So that's chapter 3 done, I know there's not much action here again, but I promise in the next chapter, in the final, there'll be a lot. I'm just struggling to get it out how I'm seeing it in my head. So I thought, instead of rushing it, get this out for you guys, and then work on the final for chapter 4. Nex chapter will also see a bit of humor with Harry, Rupert & Neville getting very intoxicated. Also, absolutely no offence meant to any french readers. I love the French! Thanks guys, as always, review please!