Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Phoo. Phoo. Phoo.

Harry's breaths came in rhythmic huffs as he continued his morning run around the Great Lake. The uneven terrain beneath his feet tested his balance, and the random assortment of twigs, dirt, and rocks made a satisfying crunching noise as he jogged his way through the fauna.

[You've gotten faster.]

It really doesn't feel like it, Rowena.

[Take my word for it. I time all of your runs, after all. Well, do that later, I suppose. For now, you should keep focusing on not tripping.]

What?

Harry's confusion was short-lived as his foot hitched on an overgrown tree root. The front of his sneaker bent and scuffed against the ground, and his entire body tilted like a ship at sea.

For a brief, scary moment, Harry was facing the mix of dirt and grass in front of him, almost certain he was going to eat a face full of it.

God, I hope there aren't any worms in there.

[It's their home, Harry. You'd be invading the privacy of their space and threatening to destroy all they've ever known. Don't be so obtuse.]

Through sheer concentration, he maintained his balance, and after a few stumbling skips, was able to settle back into stride.

Not cool.

[Sorry. Maybe.]

This kind of behavior is completely unbecoming of a Hogwarts founder!

[Oh, please. You should've seen the pranks Godric used to play on his house.]

Shaking his head, Harry turned his attention back to the task at hand. As had become customary, Harry found himself running around the Great Lake, early in the morning.

Why there? Well, for starters, the Great Lake was a surprisingly perfect place to run.

The scent of damp earth mingled with the faint hint of freshwater, creating an oddly intoxicating aroma that hung in the morning air. There was this headiness to it that put Harry at ease—it reminded him of quiet summers in the garden back at Privet Drive when Petunia would force Harry outside and he could avoid the rest of his family.

The lake's proximity to the Forbidden Forest lent an enchanting quality to the landscape, and sometimes, if Harry listened hard enough, he could pinpoint exactly where the grassy terrain met the gentle lapping of the water.

The dense canopy of trees loomed in the distance, their emerald leaves rustling in the breeze like a collection of jewels. Harry ran underneath the furthest curtain of trees, so he got the benefit of shade without being lost in the maze of the forest.

Besides, magical animals prowled in the foliage, so Harry had to constantly check and make sure he wasn't getting too close.

Outside of the scenery of the place, the grass surrounding the lake was a runner's delight. It wasn't like the flat, perfectly manicured lawns of the Quidditch pitch, but rather a wild, uneven terrain that challenged every stride. It kept things interesting without being overly difficult.

All in all, it was a decent experience. Even though he hadn't originally been a huge fan of the practice, Rowena had chastised him enough to the point where gave it a try.

Harry was originally against the idea for a couple of different reasons. For starters, in Harry's mind, he already had Quidditch, which was a grueling sport in its own right. A grueling sport in which he excelled, mind you.

Why wouldn't he just continue with that, instead of something he'd never done before? And, even then, why run in the morning? What was so special about it?

Of course, Rowena had the perfect reply to everything: [Being the youngest seeker in history doesn't mean you've mastered it completely. If you'd mastered it already, you would be a professional player.]

Aside from the veiled insult, according to Rowena, Quidditch didn't necessarily give the same degree of a holistic workout as running. While it was a good exercise, no doubt, she believed that running was the more effective way to engage and work out multiple muscle groups throughout the body.

Most people—including Harry—were under the impression that running only targeted the muscles in the lower body. Things like the quadriceps, hamstrings, calves, and glutes—but what he didn't know was that it also involved the muscles in the core and upper body to provide stability, balance, and support during the movement.

In other words, running would help him develop the skills needed for his summertime trip with Professor Flitwick. Plus, improving his stamina was good practice, anyway.

And the mornings, those early awakenings, they were a discipline in themselves. Rowena's insistence on seizing the day became a mantra, pushing him forward even when fatigue crept in, and there was no better way to drive that home than waking up early and banging out a run.

Like Ron always said, it was like killing two phoenixes with one stone.

Kind of a weird saying, since they'd just come back to life later like Fawkes did last year, but Harry understood the gist of it. At least, he thought he did. It was hard to tell with Ron, sometimes.

To make the deal sweeter for him, Rowena promised that becoming an active runner would make him a better seeker. And, if he was good about it, she said she'd show him a cool spell he wouldn't find anywhere else.

It was a done deal after that.

Eventually, though, Harry just ended up liking it for what it was. Even though he still didn't like waking up early, he had to admit there was a certain calm about Hogwarts that didn't exist during the daytime. Running helped him feel more in tune with nature, too. Kind of.

Or, maybe, a week of running and waking up early had simply eased him into the habit. Either way, he didn't mind.

[Ah, look. The sun is rising.]

Harry turned his attention over to the horizon, where the sun had begun rising over the mountains of the countryside. The dark blanket of navy and black in the sky had been breached, and splintery cracks of red and pink were beginning to show.

Being Rowena's student, even for the week, had opened Harry's eyes in a way he hadn't expected. Rowena's willingness to answer even the most trivial of questions had ignited a sense of curiosity in him—all the while, serving as a reminder of how he'd wasted his time at Hogwarts so far. There was so much to be learned, so much of the world to be seen, and he'd spent most of his time not caring about anything.

In a lot of ways, the sunrise represented that. In the same way the early morning now beckoned to him with its beauty, it felt like he was viewing the wizarding world with a brand new set of goggles on.

All my years at Hogwarts, I never paid attention to any of this stuff. I can't believe I missed it.

[I've found that most people don't gain a deeper appreciation of nature until they find themselves in their twilight years. Being young is about going and exploring; introspection can always come later, Harry. Don't let your perceived notions take away from what you have yet to accomplish. Now pick up the pace, you're slowing down.]

As Harry's chest and arms began to burn with exhaustion, the first light of dawn tiptoed over the horizon, awakening the Great Lake from its slumber, and shrouding it in a delicate veil of ethereal mist. The water's surface mirrored the soft pastel hues of the sky above, reflecting a tapestry of rose, lavender, and gold.

Pick up the pace. I can do that.

Harry pushed himself harder, his feet pounding against the ground with renewed determination. The misty morning air enveloped him, cooling the sweat on his brow as he weaved through the path he'd grown used to running around the Great Lake.

Today was the day. All of his exams had been taken and submitted, the school year had wound to a close, and today marked the start of the final week of the term. Normally, Harry would've spent the week playing pickup Quidditch and hanging out in the common room, but this afternoon was his first dueling lesson with Professor Flitwick.

Normally, the thought of doing anything academic in his free time would've been a bit annoying, to say the least, but yesterday after his exam, Professor Flitwick had informed Harry that Professor Dumbledore had given them the go-ahead to compete in the circuit!

So, if he was good enough to keep this dueling circuit going, he might not have to go back to the Dursleys at all this summer. That thought alone had given him all the motivation in the world.

It was like the Great Lake knew it was a good day, too.

The air was laced with a subtle coolness, and the scent of dew-kissed grass infused the atmosphere. Birds of various sizes began to stir, their melodic calls and songs blending harmoniously with the lapping of gentle waves against the shore. A gentle hush enveloped the landscape. It was quieter than usual. Prettier than usual.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its golden rays pierced through the fog's delicate web, creating brilliant rays of light that played peek-a-boo with the shadows. Harry's run came to an end as he reached the front of the lake—the whole loop was about five kilometers.

The post-run feeling was the best part of running, Harry decided. His muscles all ached pleasantly. Sweat caked his face, turning a bit cool as the breeze of the lake blew just right. He was ready to shower, eat enough food to put Ron to shame, and take a long nap before lunchtime.

[A personal best, if I counted correctly. Well done, Harry.]

Thanks. I was a bit iffy about spending money on a pair of trainers, but I'm glad I made the investment. I couldn't imagine running in my dress shoes.

[Well, I would've taught you how to transfigure them, but I agree, nonetheless. Best leave it to the professionals, for now.]

Leave it to the professionals, indeed.

Firebolt, the brand that made Harry's broomstick, had a flagship company, Firebolt-OTB, or Firebolt Off The Broom, for exercise equipment. Top-of-the-line stuff, really.

Firebolt-OTB had enchanted running and training clothes that were charmed to be temperature-controlled and withstand most weather conditions, as well as sneakers that were charmed to be soft on the inside yet still rigid while running.

It was almost pure luck, actually, that one of Professor Flitwick's old students was in charge of the research and development division. He'd gotten Harry in touch with them.

It wasn't huge in the wizarding world just yet, but they were more than willing to fit Harry with a pair after he reached out. They even made him an ambassador. All Harry had to do was wear their clothes while working out and playing quidditch, and Firebolt-OTB would send him free gear every month.

For once, his fame was benefiting him in a way he enjoyed. And, truthfully, in a way that he felt he earned. Or could earn, rather. Being Harry Potter, for once, felt like more than hollow attention and pity; it was a gateway to opportunities.

"Harry Potter?" A voice broke him out of his reverie. Standing in front of the lake was a girl. She seemed oddly familiar, though Harry wasn't entirely sure how.

Long, glossy black hair cascaded gracefully down her shoulders, framing a delicate, heart-shaped face. Her dark eyes were captivating, reflecting both a hint of mystery and a glimmer of warmth. Harry found himself drawn to her smile, a smile that seemed to radiate a charm all its own.

She was wearing a comfortable-looking sweater that was a few sizes too big for her and a long skirt. It looked a little sloppy, though—like she'd just rolled out of bed.

As Harry walked over to the girl, he couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervous excitement in his chest. "Uh, yes?"

"Hi! I'm Cho. Cho Chang," Cho identified herself, and Harry remembered why she was so familiar-looking. She was the seeker for the Ravenclaw team. Harry could recall flying against her a few times. "Professor Flitwick said I might find you around here. Um, can we talk?"

"Yes?" Harry said, his voice an octave higher than usual. He cleared his throat, "I mean, yes. Of course. Is there, um, do you need help with something?"

"Not help. More like permission," Cho gave Harry another sweet smile. Harry wagered his observation from earlier was right—her voice had a scratchy quality to it that all but guaranteed she'd just woken up. She wrung her hands. "I heard from him about your little trip, and I wanted to ask you if I could tag along."

Harry tilted his head. Droplets of sweat fell off his forehead as he placed his hands on his hips and caught his breath. "I thought he said he could only bring one student."

"Well, Hogwarts only had the budget for one student," Cho clarified as she fell into stride next to Harry, and the two of them embarked on the winding trail up to the castle. Cho smelled like broom polish and peppermint. Harry felt dazed just talking to her—or was it because of the run? "My parents offered to pay for the summer. When I told the professor, he was overjoyed, but he said he'd only be okay with it if you were. Something about splitting his attention between two students."

"Oh. Well, I mean, if they're paying for you to go, I don't have any problem with it. It could be fun," Harry replied as their shoulders unintentionally brushed. Even if Cho thought he was stinky after his run, she didn't give any outward reaction. He didn't mind sharing Professor Flitwick, though. Not that either of them had any way of knowing, but Harry had a built-in teacher, now, anyway. "Besides, Professor Flitwick is nice and all, but I won't complain about having another student there."

"You mean it? Awesome!" Cho pumped her fist. Their footsteps made small squelching noises in the dewy grass. Cho's smile was contagious. "This is going to be so much fun. Plus, I'll bring my broom. Maybe we can get some flying in, too."

"That sounds great," Harry agreed. His chest tingled—the competitiveness inside of him was making itself known. He turned back to the Great Lake, which, now kissed by the early streaks of dawn, shimmered with a mesmerizing glow. Cho looked at him expectantly as he continued, "I mean, if you don't mind losing, that is."

Cho gave Harry a coy look and tapped her chin. "Hm. Losing in dueling or flying?"

"Both."

"Oh, you're on," Cho laughed. By this point, they'd reach the entrance of the west wing of the castle. The aged archway towered over the both of them, casting a shadow over the duo. Harry realized it was barely seven in the morning. Had Cho really gotten up that early just to find him? "Granted, I've yet to catch the snitch with you out there, but you'll slip up eventually."

"Maybe if there are some more dementors out there again," Harry suggested, and Cho snorted.

"We'll see, Potter. You're a lot more chill than I expected. Listen, I'm going to go back to bed. I have no idea why you get up at such an ungodly hour. Thanks again for letting me join you guys," Cho smiled and held out her hand. Half of it was covered by her sweater. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Same, Cho," Harry shook her hand. Cho's touch infused Harry with a mix of nervousness and excitement. She smiled and headed back inside the castle, her long curtain of hair shimmering in the sunlight.

[She seems nice.]

Yes, she does.


The end-of-term festivities were in full swing, and the Great Hall buzzed with a kinetic energy; it was basically a living entity in its own right. Voices spoke loudly. Cutlery clinked against plates. Goblets filled with jewel-toned potions and shimmering beverages were raised in toasts, their contents sparkling and effervescent, like liquid magic.

A profusion of color danced in the air, from the red and gold banners that fluttered overhead (was there ever any doubt Gryffindor would win?), to the robes of the students that shifted like petals of a fantastical garden. Dumbledore, in particular, was feeling extra festive, with his red and gold robes that sparkled with an animated lion chasing a trophy.

Sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor.

It was such a beautiful scene. Hogwarts was the epitome of elegance—there was a reason it was so highly regarded in the magical community. Everything about it screamed prestige, even the conversations that could be heard in the storied halls:

"Cho Chang is one of the fittest birds in the castle, mate," Was the first reaction Harry got once he told his friends the news. Of course, it was followed by Hermione smacking Ron in the back of the head, but it was still the first reaction he got. "Ow! Damn it, Hermione, I'm calling it like I see it! I'm happy for him! Our little Harry is growing up. Look at him traveling the world, spending time with Cho—"

"This is an educational opportunity!" Hermione interrupted Ron, fuming. Harry hadn't seen her this mad in a while. She was heaving like she'd just run a race, and her eyes had this gleam to them that made Harry and Ron exchange a wide-eyed look. "Stop being crass! Sure, I wish I could just throw some money and join, but…"

Things were still a bit weird with Hermione. She hadn't originally taken the news very well. Even though Rowena had assured Harry he hadn't done anything wrong, Harry certainly felt like he did.

Anyone would've thought the same if they'd witnessed Hermione go through every stage of grief as he had.

At first, Hermione had simply laughed at Harry—she thought he was joking, or covering up what Professor Flitwick really said.

Then, once Professor Flitwick corroborated what Harry said, she was absolutely furious. She kept talking about how it was unfair that Harry got to go on a trip just because he got one spell right while she'd been churning out amazing spellwork for three years.

In all fairness, Harry agreed—he actually thought Hermione's anger was understandable; she had worked tirelessly and demonstrated remarkable skill in her studies, so he thought it was only natural that she felt that she deserved such an opportunity as much as anyone else if not more. Least of all someone like Harry, who, up until a week ago, hadn't demonstrated any desire to learn outside of the curriculum.

Somehow, his understanding only served to make things worse, so he bit his tongue and let Hermione try to get it all out of her system.

After a while, that anger had slowly dissipated, and she'd begun saying all kinds of outlandish things to try to distance herself from the trip—no, she didn't even want to go. No, she didn't even care about dueling, and no, she didn't care about being a part of something led by the ICW. Even though almost everyone in Gryffindor knew she was bluffing, Harry took her at her word.

And now, well, they were at this weird stage where everything felt strained. Talking about the trip was enough to put her on edge. When she found out Cho was invited, now, it was enough to shove her off the edge, and the fact that Ron was literally drooling over her didn't help, either.

"You'll tell me all of the new spells won't you, Harry?" To her credit, Hermione was giving it her best effort. It assured Harry a bit that even though Hermione personally wasn't happy, she was still trying to be happy for him. Granted, the strain in her tone and the fake smile on her face didn't help sell the image, but Harry figured it was the thought that counted, right? The fake expression melted as Hermione sighed, "Oh, you'll probably learn so much. You should keep a log of stuff—oh! A notebook, yes, please write down the highlights in a notebook for me so I can read them!"

"You think they'll let you come back in time to come to the Burrow before the summer's over, mate?" Ron tried to steer the conversation away from the finer points of the trip. Even though he had the reputation of being a bit thick-headed, Harry had to admit Ron's situational awareness had improved in leaps and bounds recently. "I reckon no one's going to stop you on your Firebolt in backyard Quidditch."

"I don't need my Firebolt to fly circles around you, mate," Harry said as he sipped some pumpkin juice from his goblet. Seamus chortled from across the table, and Ron gave Harry a playful shove. "I'll take your Cleansweep and still show you up."

"Speaking of Quidditch," Ron remembered suddenly. He dropped his fork and knife back on the table and grabbed Harry by the shoulders. His eyes were wide and frantic. "The World Cup is this summer! Blimey, Harry, you better be done with your circuit by then. We have to go watch Viktor Krum play! You could definitely get his autograph if you played the Boy-Who-Lived card!"

"I'm not sure how long it'll take," Harry replied honestly, munching on some bread as Ron throttled him. He had to put his goblet down; Ron was shaking him so hard, some of his juice spilled out. "But I promise I'll try my hardest."

"Yeah, the family would be really…" Ron trailed off, his grip on Harry loosening. He sat up straighter all of a sudden, and when he spoke, his voice was definitely deeper than before. "Um, hello…miss."

Harry turned, and Cho was standing behind him. She was dressed in her uniform this time and looked decidedly more awake than she had earlier. Her bright smile was still present, though. "Hi, there. I don't think we've met. I'm Cho!"

"Yes," Ron said, and a blush crept up his neck. Harry snickered quietly. Even though he'd been talking a big game not even five minutes ago, Ron was basically slack-jawed. Hermione just glared, as if it was Cho's fault she wasn't invited to the dueling circuit. "Me, um, I'm Ron."

"Awesome. Cool to meet you," Cho turned to Harry. She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned a little closer like she was sharing a secret. Her hair fell around his shoulder. "Professor Flitwick was wondering if you'd want to start a bit early. He seems really excited about all of this."

"Yeah, of course," Harry said, standing up. He downed the rest of his pumpkin juice and grabbed a roll of bread, which he waved goodbye to Ron and Hermione with. Ron just stared at the two of them, and Hermione turned a lively shade of red which Harry figured had nothing to do with embarrassment. "I'm okay with that. See you guys!"

"Your friends seem nice," Cho commented once they were out of the Great Hall and began walking up the stairs to Professor Flitwick's classroom. The staircase shifted and groaned, turning to face them.

"They are," Harry agreed, sneaking a glance at Cho, whose eyes were glued to the moving staircase in front of them. He vocalized the question that had been bugging him, "Are you excited to learn how to duel?"

"It's a dream come true honestly," Cho sighed. "My dream is to become an SSS-ranked dueler. They get all the good stuff, Harry; endorsements, money, fame! One of the reasons I pushed to be in Ravenclaw was so that Professor Flitwick would be my head of house. We've talked about dueling before, and he kept me in touch with his status as an instructor. I just didn't pass his test as fast as you."

"Was he really that good?" Harry wondered aloud, and Cho gave him a surprised stare. "What?"

"Was he that good?" Cho repeated, disbelief written all over her face. She shook her head. "How do you think he got hired here?"

"By being good at charms?"

[Nothing gets past you, Harry.]

"You're not wrong, I suppose…but yes, Harry he was. He ran the circuit as a kid and performed pretty admirably as an adult. He kind of dropped off toward his fifties, but that's just how it goes. Wizards who duel that late into their lives can do some crazy things. It wasn't a bad career at all, though. In his prime, they called him the Monolith of Light."

"That's a cool nickname," Harry said. He tried to imagine his vertically-challenged professor as a monolith of anything, but he kept falling short. No pun intended. "Is that…why did they call him that?"

Cho and Harry began walking down the corridor to Professor Flitwick's classroom. "Well, the duels aren't televised or recorded at all, so a lot of it is just hearsay, but apparently he developed a brand new form of magic just to even the playing field because of his height."

"Whoa," Harry breathed. To him, a lot of the professors at Hogwarts were just that; professors. Sure, he knew Dumbledore was famous and stuff, but for some reason, he'd never stopped to consider that the rest of them could be famous, as well. "That's pretty impressive."

"It is," Cho agreed as she pushed open the door to the Charms classroom."Professor? I brought Harry."

"Oh, splendid, just splendid! Welcome, welcome, welcome!" Professor Flitwick squeaked excitedly from across the room. "Please come in!"

"Hey, professor…" Cho suddenly trailed off, her gaze fixed on the middle of the Charms classroom. Harry followed her gaze and couldn't help but gasp at the sight before them.

The Charms classroom he'd been expecting to see, usually arranged with neat rows of desks and workstations, had undergone a dramatic transformation.

All the desks had been pushed to the sides of the room, creating an open and spacious area in the center. In the middle of the room stood a perfectly circular platform, slightly elevated from the floor, enclosed by a shimmering, translucent barrier. The platform itself was intricately decorated with swirling patterns of silver and gold, forming an enchanting design that seemed to dance and shift with the light.

"Whoa," Harry said for the second time as Professor Flitwick beckoned them forward. His legs felt like they were moving on autopilot. He couldn't shift his eyes away from the circle. "This is amazing."

"Isn't it?" Professor Flitwick agreed with a nostalgic sigh. "It brings me back. Now! Sorry to bring you here earlier than we agreed upon, but I simply couldn't wait to get started. Apologies for making you get up so early to find Harry, Cho, but your efforts were most useful. I've been in and out of floo calls all day, but the good news is that both of you were accepted into the summer circuit!"

"That's great!" Cho answered. She raised her hand and touched the barrier. It rippled from her touch, kind of reminding Harry of the ripples in the lake when birds would dive-bomb fish. "They didn't have a problem with my age?"

"No, you just barely made the cut-off," Professor Flitwick assured her. Harry finally tore his gaze away from the barrier as Professor Flitwick held up a piece of paper. "I've gotten the names of your mentors, too. Before we get into all of that, I want to give you guys a big-picture overview of how the circuit works."

Professor Flitwick snapped his fingers, and a chalkboard wheeled itself beside him. A piece of chalk began writing, all by itself, like it was transcribing for him. "For starters, everyone in the tournament is required to participate in all of the legs, barring injury. That means that this will last well until August. Are you both okay with that?"

Cho nodded, and Harry had to stop himself from jumping up and down. No Privet Drive for the whole summer! He wanted to do the circuit every year! "Yes, professor."

"Splendid. The ICW Dueling Circuit ranks dueling participants on a scale from F to SSS, representing various levels of dueling proficiency. The ranking system is designed to encourage participants to improve their skills and compete at higher levels," Professor Flitwick explained patiently. Cho raised her hand, and he said, "Let me finish, Cho. There's a lot of information to get through, so I'd rather just put it all out there now and take questions at the end. Anyway, to progress through the rankings, duelists must accumulate a specific number of points at each level. The more points earned, the higher they climb in the rankings. Additionally, the ICW Dueling Circuit organizes tournaments and championships, where participants can earn bonus points for exceptional performances. The rankings are updated regularly, keeping participants motivated to improve their skills and compete at increasingly challenging levels. Duelists who reach the SSS level are considered legendary, with their names forever etched in the annals of dueling history. You both will have the opportunity for rapid growth, seeing as this is the summer circuit, and international."

He raised the piece of paper again. "Each competitor gets an instructor and a mentor. I'm your instructor. To be an instructor, you have to have at least forty years of ICW experience, and at one point, you have to have been a top fifty dueler in the world. I'm kind of like your sponsor. I'm responsible for your well-being outside of duels, your travel, and your safety. Outside of that, the primary role of the instructor is to provide one-on-one coaching and training to the duelist. They focus on refining their spellcasting techniques, improving their strategy and tactics, and strengthening their dueling mindset. Instructors design personalized training programs based on the duelist's strengths and areas for improvement, tailoring the training to suit their unique needs. They provide constructive feedback, share their own experiences, and offer valuable insights to help the duelist progress through the ranks. I'll be doing all of this, and more, for you two."

[This is incredible, Harry. We never had anything like this when I was a founder. You've unintentionally managed to secure yourself the opportunity of a lifetime.]

It's all because of you. I just got lucky. Really lucky.

[Be that as it may, all this means is that I'll expect even more from you moving forward.]

Harry smiled as Professor Flitwick continued, "Mentors are a little different. The criteria for being a mentor, while still selective, is a lot easier. You just need to currently be an S-ranked dueler. Mentors act as guides and role models for the duelists. They offer advice, share their personal experiences, and impart invaluable tips and tricks they have learned throughout their dueling journey. Mentors often hold regular sessions with their mentees, providing them with opportunities for open discussions, reflections, and support. They inspire and motivate the duelists to reach new heights and maintain a positive attitude even in the face of challenges. The hope here is that mentor-mentee relationships will extend beyond the dueling circuit, creating lifelong bonds within the dueling community, and bringing us closer together than ever. Now then, any questions?"

Cho's hand went back up, "So, we can't lose the tournament? Even losing games means points, right?"

"Correct," Professor Flitwick nodded. He scratched his beard. "A loss still nets you points. Points are determined by the panel of judges, so if you display great spellwork, you can, in some cases, still get the same amount of points as you would if you win."

"Interesting," Cho replied. Her nose wrinkled and she asked, "So, do our mentors choose us? How does that work?"

"Yes, actually. As a part of my duties, I'm required to provide profiles for you two. Things like your grades, extracurricular activities, and other notes I think prospective mentors could benefit from," Professor Flitwick's voice held a note of excitement as he retrieved a piece of parchment from his desk, revealing the carefully handwritten names. "Cho, your mentor is Aparna Devi. An Indian witch—we've had a few conversations. She's gained a reputation for being not only an outstanding duelist but also exceptionally kind and patient. Aparna is also known to be a master of wandless magic, a skill that could open up new possibilities for your dueling techniques."

Cho's eyes lit up at the mention of her mentor's expertise, and she exchanged an enthusiastic glance with Harry. Professor Flitwick's eyes twinkled as he continued, "Harry, your mentor is Alexander Monroe. I've never had the pleasure of meeting him personally, but he's relatively young and has taken the dueling scene by storm. From what I gather from the recent newsletter reports, his dynamic and innovative approach to dueling has garnered quite a following. I'm certain the two of you will hit it off. He might bring a fresh perspective to your training."

Harry's mentor, on the other hand, had an air of mystery around him. While Cho's mentor seemed a bit more clear-cut, Harry had to admit, he was intrigued by the possibility of having a younger mentor. Especially if what Professor Flitwick was saying was true. Their first matches, Professor Flitwick revealed, were scheduled to take place in just a week's time, all the way in Copenhagen, but Harry was still a bit confused about the role of a mentor.

Harry raised his hand. "So, you're more in charge of our actual training, like spells and stuff, and our mentors are more for emotional support?"

Professor Flitwick paused for a moment and then shook his head. "Well…more than that, your mentors are your friends. They're wizards and witches who are currently trying to break through the final barrier between being really good duelists and being some of the greatest duelists ever. They're bound to have tips and tricks that will help you elevate your spellcasting and much more. Old fossils like me have little to offer in terms of ranking up, as we've been highly ranked for so long."

"Now, let's dive right into your training," Professor Flitwick declared, his voice animated. "Harry, if you'll follow me into the ring."

Harry climbed up the stairs and passed through the shimmering veil. His skin felt cool—it kind of felt like he was running around the lake.

"And the best way to figure out your styles is practice," Professor Flitwick said, brandishing his wand and holding it in front of his face. The tip glowed white. The excitement in his voice melted away, and his tone became flat and neutral. "When it comes to practice, dear boy, nothing beats natural inclination. So all I'll say is: defend yourself."

"What?" Was all Harry had time to say before Professor Flitwick blurred into action, sending three bursts of white-hot light careening toward Harry. The spells glittered against the floor, bathing the room in a twinkling light. From his vantage point, the bursts of white light looked like tiny hexagons, brimming with gaseous magic.

Rowena screamed in his head: [What are you waiting for? This is not the time to admire his spellcasting! Move.]

The bursts streaked toward Harry, each one faster than the last, prompting an instinctive surge of adrenaline. Harry dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, and the streaks of light fizzled harmlessly against the shimmering barrier.

"Good, good. Being light on your feet is important, but be sure to be aware of your surroundings," Professor Flitwick replied. He jabbed his wand. The floor rumbled, and a sudden drop in temperature was his only warning as a spike of ice materialized next to Harry, who was forced to sidestep out of the way. The tip glinted wickedly, and cold air fell to the ground around the frozen spire. "Sometimes, dodging isn't the right move! Observe!"

Red balls of light filled the space between Professor Flitwick and Harry, bubbling to life. Harry felt like he was staring at the surface of a boiling cauldron. They hummed in the air, constantly changing size and shape like blobs of clay in an oven. He waved his wand, and the dozens of balls began hurling at Harry, who desperately tried to dodge.

A few of them nicked Harry, exploding into waves of heat that did little more than make him feel toasty. A particularly large one slammed into his ear, and the sudden searing sensation knocked Harry to a knee.

"If that was a malicious spell, you would have been forced to yield. I admire your tenacity, Mr. Potter! Yet, if you continue to rely on your feet, I'll have no choice but to remove that option for you!" Professor Flitwick flicked his wrist, and his wand swished in an hourglass shape. The floor underneath Harry shook, and he scampered to his feet.

What's happening?

Harry's hair was blasted backward as a geyser of wind erupted at his feet.

The explosive torrent of wind seized him, lifting him off his feet and hurtling him forcefully backward, his form enveloped by the tumultuous and overwhelming force of nature's fury.

[You need to fight back! Just running isn't going to help!]

Harry struggled to hold his wand in the torrent of wind. He snapped his wand at Professor Flitwick and roared, "Flipendo!"

A silver burst of magic curved out of the wand, careening toward the half-goblin, who deftly spun out of the way.

[You're letting your emotions take control. Think of a way to get down, first.]

Okay.

Think, Harry, think.

Harry's brain ran through a few options. Even though Harry's repertoire of spells wasn't as large as he'd like it to be, Rowena had hammered home the idea that how many spells you knew wasn't what mattered, it was how you used what you knew.

Focus and intent. If you had focus and intent, you could do anything.

I want to get down. I will get down.

Eventually, he pointed his wand up to the ceiling and called out another Flipendo. This time, the force propelled him down to the ground, snapping him free of the windy prison.

I want to turn the tides. I need to get some ground back against him.

As Harry landed back on the platform, amid Professor Flitwick's praise, he rolled, channeling his desire into another spell.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried, the image of Snape banishing Lockhart across the room flashing through his mind. A golden arc of magic erupted from his wand, glimmering toward Professor Flitwick like a crack of lightning.

"Excellent!" Professor Flitwick laughed, batting away Harry's spell like it was nothing. The tempest died down as he pocketed his wand. "Absolutely wonderful, Mr. Potter!"

Wonderful? He'd been tossed into the bloody air and toyed around with. As Harry's chest burned with exhaustion, he wondered how any part of what had just transpired had been wonderful.

"I believe we've nailed down your defense style," Professor Flitwick continued, not even slightly out of breath. "You prefer to be limber on your feet, and you enjoy counter-attacking. Your grasp of situational awareness is higher than expected for a new dueler, and you have a creative mind. You're an absolute gem of a student!"

"What?" Harry asked between huffs. Spit was falling out of his mouth, and he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "How? I didn't even land a hit!"

"Harry, if you'd landed a hit on me with no experience, I wouldn't be very deserving of my instructor title. On the other hand, the reason I'm impressed with you is that a lot of young duelers tend to think of attacking and defending as two separate things. The fact that you have no problem mixing them is excellent news," Professor Flitwick said with a smile, trying to comfort Harry. "Now, if you'll kindly step off the stage, we'll test Cho."

"You did really good, Harry," Cho said with a smile. She patted his shoulder and moved into the barrier.

Her battle with the professor was far shorter, mainly because she didn't possess the same quickness Harry had. Professor Flitwick instantly nicked her with a series of spells that forced her to the ground.

From there, Cho summoned a shield around her—a circle of translucent magic, but the professor simply cried, "Ruptura!" and a hammer of golden magic shattered the shield like it was made of glass.

"Cho, your defensive spell is admirable, but if you're going to be shielding, there are a few basics we'll go over," Professor Flitwick said kindly. "Now, Harry, get back in here. I'm going to go over some of the basics of moving around in a dueling space with you. One, do you see the barrier? That barrier is your friend. If you ever feel like you need to…"


AN: It was awesome to get some reviews! I'm glad you guys are liking the story so far. It's been a whole lot of fun to write, and I definitely foresee a fun time with this one. I've been cranking out the rest of the story outline, so I'm very excited to keep this going.

Just some reviews I'd like to answer:

Speedster1014: That would be telling! I'll say it's more than a talking mirror, but I won't delve into how esoteric just yet. It'll come in bits and pieces.

AvidReader2425: This is exactly how I feel. For all the hate that Indy!Harry stories get- some of it deserved, like who the heck is actually listening to a teenager, even if they're head of a trillion different houses- one thing they get right, from time to time, is the idea of mentorship. That's something I want to tackle with this story, and basically just ask the question: how far could Harry go with the right guidance and motivation?