Ring A Bell?

June 3, 1944

It was day three of the 847th Wizarding School Dueling Championship. Tom was the first off the boat that morning, though it was unsurprising: the violent waves that swayed the ship all night made it impossible to sleep. Clearly Durmstrang could have done a bit better in terms of guest accommodations. Nevertheless, he was having a rather enjoyable time. It was a much needed reprieve from the drama of Rosemary's family, not to mention the fact that Dueling was one of his favorite hobbies.

They had easily beaten Koldovstoretz and Beauxbatons in the initial rounds and triumphed over Mahoutokoro in the semi-finals. But today was the true test: the duels against Durmstrang for the champion title. Admittedly, it had come as a bit of a surprise that they had even made it that far. Hogwarts hadn't qualified for the competition in years, until Tom was made captain. And, even in the past few years that they did qualify, they had been eliminated in the first couple of rounds. Seeing as he had been made Captain at such a young age, it had taken him some time to learn how to effectively lead and instruct the team. But now, he finally seemed to be hitting his stride.

He wandered to the castle for his breakfast of pumpkin juice, as he was too nervous for the duels to eat much of anything else. Not that he was worried about his duel; it was his teammates that he was worried about. They had improved markedly, but their performance was the one thing he couldn't control. Unfortunately, as it was a team duel, the points from each individual match would accumulate and determine the champion. Even if Tom won, there was a possibility that Hogwarts would place second. At least Dippet hadn't complained that Tom had brought the Slytherin members almost exclusively.

"You're Tom Riddle, aren't you?" Konrad Ljunggren, Durmstrang's dueling captain, sauntered up and sat down across from him at the table. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Ljunggren. I saw your duel against Tanaka yesterday. It was quite impressive, especially considering you're from Hogwarts."

Tom could sense the clear condescension in his voice and it didn't come as much of a surprise. Durmstrang offered mandatory classes in dueling, whereas it was a mere extracurricular at Hogwarts. Still, he couldn't help but feel defensive of the team he had cultivated.

"It's rather funny you mention that, because I seem to recall that Hogwarts is currently in first place," he said snidely. Granted, Durmstrang was only trailing them by a narrow margin, but theywere beating them nonetheless.

"I meant no offense," Konrad smirked with arrogance. He most certainly did mean offense. "I am quite looking forward to our duel later. You've proven yourself more than a worthy opponent."

As the captains of their respective schools, they were the only pair that was certain to be matched against each other. And, after meeting Ljunggren, he couldn't wait to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face. Durmstrang's captain would be in for a bit of a surprise: Tom hadn't even begun to employ his best dueling efforts in any of the matches so far and there were plenty of darker spells he had up his sleeve if necessary.

"I'm certainly looking forward to it as well." Tom smirked just as arrogantly and stood to leave. "I'll see you at one."

By the time they were facing each other on opposite ends of the dueling platform, the first and second round of duels had already taken place. Hogwarts was still in the lead, but Durmstrang had caught up slightly. While third round duels were still finishing up around the room at the same time, nearly the entire audience had gathered near the captains' platform. There were at least a dozen reporters in the first row and the flashes from all the cameras were blinding.

Admittedly, Tom was quite enjoying his moment in the spotlight. But, at the same time, there was a large part of him that was disappointed Rosemary wasn't there to experience the excitement. She would have loved it and it made him feel guilty for not inviting her. However, as there were only limited spots on the team, he needed to fill it with those who were truly dedicated to the sport. He had learned over the months that Rose certainly enjoyed watching him duel and wanted to improve her own technique, but had little interest in the competitive side of it.

Thinking of her inevitably led to thinking of her parents, and he wondered briefly how they would react when they saw his picture in the paper following the championship. Perhaps he would be one step closer to convincing them of his suitability for Rosemary. Or, perhaps more realistically, they would merely toss it in the fireplace and pretend they hadn't seen it.

Basil's words from the last Slug Club get-together were still haunting him. What if she did change her mind and everything they had been through, every moment of stress in the past several weeks, was for nothing? He thought of this daily. As much as he hated to admit it, it was changing him, just as he had begun to change after the first encounter with her father. Tom was becoming increasingly possessive of her, growing more jealous than ever before whenever she spoke to any of their male classmates. Especially if they were of pureblood heritage. There were constantly thoughts of paranoia flying around in his head that made him wonder if she would simply give up on trying to be with him and see someone else. It would have been so much easier for her and he couldn't even blame her if that was what she wanted. He knew that she truly loved him and wanted things to work out (at least for the time being), but there was nothing he could do to stop his fears, especially when he thought in the longer term.

His emotions were spiraling out of control and each time he attempted to rein them back in, it seemed to get worse. He had come to realize that he had never really dealt with genuine feelings before her and had yet to learn how to fully control them. The only time he felt entirely at peace was when they were alone together: even through everything that had happened, she had retained her inexplicable ability to calm him.

But even that would soon become a luxury he no longer had. He and Rose both knew that during the summer, her parents would make it near impossible to see each other. Neither of them had any idea what to do about it, but school was quickly approaching its end. They had to figure out something, and fast.

He told himself that now wasn't the time to dwell on such matters. Allowing himself to pull back to the present, he noticed that the announcer had begun to speak: "As the third round has concluded, we will soon begin the final match between the Hogwarts Dueling Club Captain, Tom Riddle, and the Durmstrang Student Dueling Captain, Konrad Ljunggren. Final point tallies of each team and the winner of the 847th Wizarding School Dueling Championship. will be announced following the final match, due to a fair number of penalty deliberations."

There were cries of protest that filled the room; usually, the cumulative points for each school were reported after each round finished. If they were going to wait until the captains' duel was finished to announce them, there was no way of knowing that the winner of the final duel had actually won the school the team or not. It was a bit unsettling to know that if Hogwarts had fallen significantly behind Durmstrang, there was a chance that Durmstrang would still win if Tom beat Konrad.

He could have taken a good guess as to who was in the lead if he knew the source of the penalties, but he had taught his team to duel just as aggressively as Durmstrang's. Unfortunately, he had been too busy preparing for his own duel to watch any of them in the third round. As Tom had no concept whatsoever of the totals, he would just have to earn Hogwarts as many points as he possibly could.

The cries of the students began to subside and the announcer cleared his throat to speak once more: "As you know, the first to disarm will win their school one hundred points. The judges will assess if there any additional points that are earned throughout the match. Wands at the ready, gentleman!" As he began to count down, the crowd chanted with him: "Three! Two! One! Go!"

Tom was more than ready for the first few spells that Konrad fired at him, easily deflecting them and sending back plenty of his own. However, things began to escalate a bit more quickly than he had anticipated. Konrad was beginning to use darker jinxes and charms, some of which Tom had only read of and had yet to practice. It was rather refreshing, really, to duel someone that was at least somewhat close to matching his own abilities. He knew that it would make defeating the other captain even more enjoyable. Even so, he couldn't help but feel a shred of envy for the Durmstrang students, with the school's emphasis in teaching the Dark Arts. That certainly didn't change the fact that Tom had his own extensive knowledge of spells, though.

As per the rules of the championship, both of them were only allowed to perform twenty-five spells during the duel. If there was to be a winner of the match, it would need to be soon, as they had already expended nearly twenty spells each. It was shaping up to be his longest duel ever; he rarely cut it this close. Finally, after the multitude of spells that failed to make contact with the other, Tom partially hit the Durmstrang captain with an advanced binding jinx. It only affected Ljunggren's right leg, but it was enough to make him lose balance and begin to topple over on the platform. What Tom didn't expect, though, was when Konrad sent back another spell while he was in mid-fall. It was only a modified and slightly developed version of Incendio, a simple fire-making charm. But, as Tom's robes caught fire at the hem, it was enough of a distraction to give Ljunggren time to remove the jinx on his leg.

There was an easy extinguishing spell he could have performed, but didn't want to waste one of his few remaining spells if he didn't have to. His trousers hadn't even caught fire, so Tom simply slid out of his robes and tossed them on the side of the platform. He was vaguely aware of the surprised commotion as the burning cloth landed in the laps of a few observers in the first row, but he was too focused on the duel to pay it much mind.

For the split second of time before either of them resumed their aggressive battle, Konrad gave him a look of pure, smirking amusement. He was clearly pleased that his ploy to buy time had worked. Their remaining spells dwindled to one each and Tom rapidly searched his brain for some way to defeat the other captain; he knew he couldn't settle for a tie. He knew Konrad's weakness was in defensive magic, but that was generally a more difficult weakness to exploit in dueling.

Unless…

A realization suddenly dawned on him: during the entire duel, Ljunggren had used the same few, rather elementary, defensive spells. Each of these required him to have knowledge of the spells that Tom was casting in order to receive protection from them. He had invented several spells in his free time; what if he used one of those? Konrad was sure not to have heard of them, after all. It was risky, though: he hadn't tried any of them on humans yet, so it was difficult to predict exactly what might happen.

Nevertheless, his desire to win was far outweighing any reservations he had. He was quickly running out of time and needed to act before Konrad did, so he chose the first spell that came to mind.

"Frangerous!" Tom said with a violent flick of his wand.

The curse was supposed to break the other wizard's hand, forcing him to release his wand, but Tom watched with glee as it did one better. His prediction of Durmstrang's lack of defensive teachings had been proven correct. Konrad's mouth fell open and he stared down at the platform, where the top half of his wand was now laying. The room was silent for a moment as everyone seemed to be processing what had just occurred, but an eruption of cheers and applause from the crowd, with the exception of the Durmstrang students, began soon after.

"What a way to end the final match!" the announcer exclaimed.

Even though everyone else seemed to think he had won, Tom glanced at the nearby judges table, awaiting their verdict. His approach had certainly been rather unorthodox…Did breaking a wand in two constitute disarmament? For a fleeting moment, he thought he may no longer care if they disqualified him. Perhaps the satisfaction of seeing the way Konrad looked dumbly at his fragmented wand as he picked up the top piece off the ground, examining it in sheer disbelief, was worth it alone.

What a ridiculous thought, he inwardly scoffed at himself. Of course he wouldn't be happy unless he won.

The five judges leaned their heads together and the rest of the crowd broke into whispers, apparently picking up on the fact that his victory had been uncertain. Finally, one of the judges, Bartek Maxim, stood and walked to join them on the platform, carrying with him an impressively large medal that Tom so wished would be his.

Bartek stood between the two contenders and gestured for them to join him in the middle. Tom's heart beat rapidly and the room quieted once more as their decision was declared: "Congratulations to Tom Riddle, the 847th Wizarding School Dueling Captain Champion!"

Tom was immediately filled with such a superb, triumphant feeling. He glanced at Konrad, who was glaring at him intensely, and sent him his most arrogant smirk. There was another bout of applause and Bartek presented him with the medal, sliding it over his head so it rested around his neck. They shook hands and the cameras clicked and flashed. His eyes scanned the crowd for Rosemary's beaming face and he had to remind himself again that she wasn't there.

He stepped from the platform and into the swarm of reporters, where he was immediately bombarded by their innumerable questions. They seemed to want to know anything and everything about him: where he learned his final spell, his favorite class, his plans after graduation. He might have stayed and entertained some of them, basking in his own glory a bit longer, but the announcer cut things short.

"The judges have also concluded their point deliberations!"

He worked his way through the crowd to the place where his fellow teammates were standing. When he joined them, several of them clapped his shoulder and said something along the lines of: "Excellent job, mate!"

The other judges had joined Bartek on the platform, carrying several medals and a gigantic, gleaming trophy.

"The winning team earned a whopping 1045 points over the course of the championship, with the runner-up earning 975. Without further ado, the winner of the 847th Wizarding School Dueling Championship is-"

Avery leaned toward Tom and said, "There's no way Durmstrang beat us. They were getting penalties left and right in the third round."

Tom smirked at him, still reeling from the thrill of his own success. At this point, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Hogwarts had won.

"Durmstrang Institute!"

The host school cheered heartily while the Hogwarts team erupted into chaotic protests. Tom did nothing, standing there in complete shock. Surely, he had misheard.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"How in the hell-"

"It's rigged!"

"What happened to the penalties?!"

The uproar from the team intensified as the Durmstrang students joined the judges on the stage. Tom realized that there, in fact, hadn't been a mistake and fury welled up inside of him. He stormed out of the castle; there was no way in hell he was going to stick around and see Ljunggren hold the trophy that should have been Tom's.

He walked briskly across the lawn, refusing to stop when he heard someone call after him. "Riddle! Riddle, wait up!"

Dolohov ran up beside him. "Those bloody wankers didn't deduct points for any of Durmstrang's penalties. That's the only reason they won."

"Fuck off, Dolohov."

"The whole thing was fixed. There's nothing any of us could have done-"

"I mean it. Fuck off."

Once again, he didn't listen: "Riddle, your duel was bloody amazing. I hope you don't think-"

"Get. Out. Of. My. Sight." Tom stopped walking and turned to him, utterly seething. His eyes narrowed dangerously. He didn't know what Dolohov had been about to say, but it didn't matter. Tom didn't have a damned clue what to think.

Dolohov swallowed nervously and nodded. He didn't dare to follow Tom as he continued to walk toward the docks at the edge of the lake.

He reached the docks and felt like screaming, but he bit it back. When he leaned against the wooden railing, his medal clanked against it and he ripped it off his neck, throwing it as far as he could into the lake. He had hoped the action would make him feel at least marginally better, but it failed to do so. Then a sudden desire to hit something overwhelmed him, so he punched the railing as hard as he could.

"Oh, fucking hell!" he swore, looking down at his now-bloodied knuckles.

If anything, injuring himself had only served to make him even more irate and violent. He saw a fish swim out from underneath the dock.

Without thinking, he reached for his wand and pointed it at the creature. "Crucio," he said hoarsely.

The fish immediately began to squirm and flail about, clearly in too much pain to swim away. Tom was still enraged, of course, but oddly enough, seeing it struggle calmed him ever-so-slightly. It was an old trick to calm himself he hadn't used in years, before he even came to Hogwarts. But, of course, he hadn't known the spell as a child. Back then, long before he knew what he was doing was magic, whether or not he could create such a result was rather hit or miss. There was a bit of a comfort in knowing that his ability to cast certain spells had become a constant in his life, even though nothing else seemed to be.

As he continued to watch the fish writhe in pain, he began muttering to himself. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he would likely look insane to any onlookers, but everyone was surely still inside anyway. At the award ceremony. The award ceremony his team should have been a part of.

"Fucking Durmstrang scum…"

But as he said it out loud, he paused, realizing that he wasn't merely filled with hate for the other team. The fact that they had won wasn't actually the problem, when he really thought about it. No, it wasn't that simple. What he truly felt was a crushingly disheartening loss of pride in his own school. It was jarring, really; he had loved Hogwarts. But, perhaps that was only because it had genuinely never occurred to him that there could be a superior magical institution.

"It shouldn't come as much of a surprise, really," he continued speaking to himself. "How could a school that admits mudbloods possibly out-duel one that doesn't? Hogwarts' entire curriculum was impaired at the get-go."

It was true; if mudblood students weren't allowed, he and his peers surely would have been taught more advanced magic by now. It was their fault for dragging down the advancement of the rest of the school with their lack of ability.

"And Hogwarts can't possibly teach Dark Arts, of course. That would be much too damaging," he scoffed.

The administration at Durmstrang clearly understood a few things that Hogwarts' didn't. Tom wished that he had known all these things about Durmstrang before, as he knew essentially nothing about the school before the championship. If he had known all this years ago, he would have just transferred schools. It had become obvious that Durmstrang was the place he truly belonged. Now, it was too late; he would begin his seventh year in the fall and the disservice of attending Hogwarts instead had already been done.

At least he had taken it upon himself to delve into the Dark Arts, albeit through the surely limited Hogwarts library. Even so, it bothered him to think that there were so few of his peers at Hogwarts that would ever be exposed to it. The Dark Arts was such an underappreciated, and frankly quite useful, branch of magic. It was a tragic waste not to provide students with such knowledge.

Tom had been so lost in his own thoughts that the sound of a board squeaking behind him startled him greatly. He whipped around and flicked his wand to end the Cruciatus Curse on the fish, hoping that whoever it was hadn't seen what he had been doing.

Tom's glare rested on a broad-shouldered man with Italian-cut robes. He looked important and wealthy, but Tom wasn't fooled. He remembered the man sitting in the front row during his duel, amongst the journalists.

Well, he certainly was not in the frame of mind to answer questions any longer.

"Tom Riddle, yes?" The man had a French accent. "You dueled impressively."

"I do not wish to comment on my duel," he spat.

"You would do well to learn how to accept a compliment a bit more graciously," the man smirked, bringing a cigarette to his lips and lighting it. "Tell me, where did you learn that spell, young man?"

"Didn't I just say that I wasn't going to comment?" His previous anger had not even begun to subside and this reporter's persistence was not helping matters.

"Tom, I'm not a reporter," he laughed in amusement. "My apologies, I should have introduced myself. My name is Raoul Beaumont."

He didn't know whether or not the man was lying about being a reporter. If he was, that would mean he was probably the lousiest reporter in existence, as he had no pad of paper or camera to speak of. Either way, it mattered little. Tom just wanted to be left alone. "Doesn't ring a bell," he said snarkily as he began to turn and leave.

"Does the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament ring a bell?"

Tom paused and looked at Beaumont. Of course he had heard of it. It was possibly one of the most prestigious dueling competitions in the world. He had only dreamt of attending for years, but couldn't as the tickets were outrageously expensive.

"I am an investor of sorts. I sponsor and serve as a mentor to a group of ten well-trained competitors. My job is to provide everything they need leading up to and during the tournament, such as training coaches and sessions with previous tournament champions. I've always loved dueling, but never quite had the natural talent, so this has been an enjoyable hobby for me." Raoul was apparently satisfied with Tom's newfound attention, as he continued to explain: "With the muggle war still dragging on, things have become increasingly complicated for a few of my contestants, and one of them will no longer be competing. I suppose that brings me to why I am here. I have to admit, it is extremely rare for a sponsor to add an underage wizard to their team, but I believe in taking risks. I also believe you have what it takes. The competition begins in a month's time, so I am aware that it is a bit of short-notice, but I will have a trainer meet with you as frequently as your schedule allows. Your earnings would be twenty galleons per match that you win and my cut would be 5% of your total earnings. Am I presumptuous to assume that you'd be interested, Mr. Riddle?"

"No, not at all. I'm very interested," Tom said breathlessly, attempting to recover from the sheer shock of the offer.

"Excellent." Raoul smiled. "You know, Hogwarts should have won it today. Durmstrang is constantly touting their dueling abilities, but the truth of the matter is that they are not nearly as well-rounded as Hogwarts. The ones with more comprehensive knowledge, those are always the ones that go the furthest in the larger tournaments. Your style is obviously more on the offensive than the defensive side, but the point is that you don't have any glaring weaknesses."

It didn't completely negate all of Tom's thoughts from before, but it certainly helped.

"If you would like some time to think before joining the tournament, I would just ask that you inform me within a week so I can secure another contender if necessary."

As if such an opportunity required actual thought to accept. "It would be such an honor to join," Tom said quickly, as though Raoul would somehow change his mind and revoke the offer if he took more than a few seconds to reply.

He stepped out his cigarette and extended his hand. "Welcome to the Beaumont team, Tom Riddle."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized." - Sun Tzu

I am sooo sorry I haven't updated in so long! I was crazy busy moving to a new apartment and settling in. BUT to make up for it, I promise I'll update again within two days!

We are officially over 100 favorites! I'm so happy thankful for every single one of you that have favorited, followed, and reviewed. :D

Speaking of reviews, thank you to Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, RosiePosie15, I thought I was the only one, and CharlotteBlackwood for reviewing last chapter!

I apologize again for the update delay, but I will see you again within 48 hours.(;