On The Brink of Collapse

by DarkenedHaze

Dragged into the deep darkness of the reality of the Dark Forces, between battling against a much more powerful Dark Lord and his special someone, Harry Potter must somehow manage out of all this, victorious. Harry Potter will have to carry the fallen torch of those once falsely deemed his betters and rescue a world rapidly deteriorating to the brink of collapse. Harry/Fleur

6. Chapter 5 -European Dueling Championship

A/N : This one took much more time than the last one even if it's just a tiny bit shorter. Just a small precision, there is a difference between a duel and a life or death fight. Just something to keep in mind. The last three chapters have been written from late February to early March whereas I created the project folder back in December 2023. I try my best to write about 2-3k words per day and I only have about 2 hours a day to write for this story so expect (unlikely but best be warned) the rhythm of publication of new chapters to be a bit slower. I will do my best to provide chapters on time (about one per week, I think).

I DO NOT own anything, every recognisable character, event, action, incantation belong to J.K. Rowling. Updates may be irregular because of school, among other things. My first language is not English, so to you expert English writers and speakers, expect some mistakes here and there. I will do my best to correct them, though.

This chapter also features a lot of things I've created myself, anything you see that is similar to another author's creations, then all credit goes to them. I am writing this in 2024 after reading a ton of other fics so I can't exactly remember from who I might've borrowed ideas. If you recognise anything you've created, send me a word, I'll credit you without a problem.

This story is rated M for a reason. You may be your own judge but there will be themes in the upcoming future chapters that are not suited for every audience. Consider this a warning.

Hope this one's read is enjoyable!

---

Chapter 5 - European Duelling Championship

Harry pondered whether he should tell Fleur of what he had done at the World Cup. Sure, Dora had said she didn't see him as any less human even after he had killed that Death Eater. But how would Fleur take it? Would she view him after that as a heartless murderer? She was sure to know what had happened, the morning paper had made sure of that. That very same paper was on Harry's desk, unrolled at the front page.

CHAOS AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP

MYSTERIOUS WIZARD IN WHITE AND AUROR INCAPACITATE 21 DARK WIZARDS

Last night, on the 18th of August, at the Quidditch Stadium of England, in the brink of the night, near 11:27 p.m., the camps of Quidditch fans were attacked by several groups of masked Death Eaters. The attempt on the officials' sector was quickly subdued by Auror task force but the other sectors suffered way heavier damages. Lots of personal properties were destroyed and the damages are estimated to elevate at 7.3 million Galleons. Parts of the stadium were destroyed by stray Death Eaters.

The death toll is currently unknown on both sides of the incident. There was one sector that attracted the attention of this reporter in particular. One single Auror - Senior Auror Nymphadora Tonks - and an unidentified white robed individual (picture on p. 2) have been spotted taking down an entire team of Death Eaters. Our sources say that a bright flash initiated the combat. Senior Auror Tonks took down multiple Death Eaters before a large previously unidentified - now known as Thorfinn Rowle - Death Eater caught her attention with unheard words. That was when the mysterious white robed individual appeared and distracted the remaining Death Eaters. Senior Auror Tonks took down the remaining standing Death Eaters before Killing Curses started flying from Thorfinn Rowle.

What happened next is only suspicions and unverified information. Our sources say that the individual in white of large stature Apparated in front of Rowle, who was targeting Senior Auror Tonks at this point. The Killing Curses were blocked by an unknown entity, too dark to be seen in the night. The unknown individual Apparated once more, this time directly in front of Rowle. Rowle was dead before we knew it, killed by a conjured sword. Then, all the information that we have concerning the following few seconds of the event are even less clear. Many reporters only remember seeing a bright flash of light, blinding them for a few seconds before the Senior Auror and the unidentified sorcerer both disappeared.

We, at the Daily Prophet, implore whoever's deed this was, to the unidentified sorcerer, we would very much like to know your identity.

Thankfully for Harry, the article didn't mention anything relatively compromising for him. No reporters had seen the shield, which would've likely caused an uproar had anyone seen that the Unforgivables were actually parryable. People would demand the knowledge be handed over to the Ministry for studying or something like that. I was something Harry had no intention of doing. The Unspeakables were more than likely to wipe his memory of any traces of his own spell after they've gotten the information they needed. Harry wanted his memory intact. Who didn't anyway?

Harry pondered the rest of the article for some time. His identity was still concealed, no one would know it was him unless he decided otherwise and that wasn't happening anytime soon. Dora's identity being revealed wasn't that big of a problem: she'd only been doing her job. There was just a small problem though. If Tonks wasn't seen in public anytime soon, there was a chance the people would start accusing 'the unknown white robed sorcerer' of kidnapping a Senior Auror. 'Oh well,' Harry thought, Dora would certainly like another shopping trip.

In the whiff of the moment, Harry made his decision. From what he understood of Fleur, she wasn't very trusting of other people lest complete strangers. For her to have talked to him in the Quidditch stadium's box consisted of a small miracle in itself. Telling her this one small secret could perhaps increase his standing with her - in terms of trust anyways. How she would judge him after knowing he had killed someone was completely up to her. Harry barely knew her but a small part of him knew he would be very disappointed if not a little heartbroken if Fleur decided she didn't want anything to do with him anymore. Screw it, you only live once. And so, he began penning a letter for his blonde friend.

Dear Fleur,

I am greatly relieved that you and your family made it home safely. Before I continue though, there are some things I think you must know. These aren't pleasant things and I'd understand if you thought me any less than a heartless shell of a man for what I've done.

I am sure you have read the article in the Daily Prophet, of whichever paper you have in France. The 'sorcerer in white', as they put it, well, it's me. If you can bring yourself to accept me as a friend, knowing I've killed before, then I'd be more than happy to call you my friend too.

And if you decide you still want to talk to me, then I will hold you to that Saturday appointment. The date will have to be changed though. I am a contestant in the upcoming European Duelling Championship and the tournament lasts for four days. I can't make it to your parents' place until Tuesday. If it's alright with you, Tuesday is a more convenient time for us to meet, which is assuming I am not fatally injured in the tournament. Anytime in the week after that is also fine by me (once again assuming I am not fatally injured in the tournament).

I hope you are still willing to see me as a friend.

Harry

Hercules made the decision for Harry. The owl stole the letter before Harry had the chance to second guess his action. Hercules, with the letter for Fleur firmly stuck in his beak, flew off towards the horizon, direction France. Harry sighed. It could go one of two ways. One would probably make his year while the other, he'd rather not think about it.

"Dora," Harry whispered whilst climbing up the stairs. "Dora! Wanna go shopping?"

Harry, who had expected an upset response to his early call, was actually surprised when, only two minutes later, Dora came tumbling in the dimly lit hallway, fully dressed, an excited smile on her face. It was seven in the morning. Harry, who hadn't slept at all after the incident of the World Cup, poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Just gimme a minute and we're leaving."

Harry swore Dora was jumping up and down in place whilst not moving at all. It was an impossible feat but Harry was sure that somehow, Dora could make it work. Somehow. He gulped down the last few drops of his cup and held a hand out towards Dora.

"Where to, captain?" he asked the Metamorph, making her giggle a bit.

"Book store, I've read all my stories already," Tonks said. Leaning in, she stage-whispered, "This is all for show right? You're just showing the public that Auror Tonks did, in fact, not get kidnapped, right?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered back to her, grinning. "Read my mind."

"Let's go then!"

It was fairly early in the morning, but most shops around Diagon Alley were already open to customers. It was a week day after all and no matter what festivities or horrors happened the day before, there was no stopping vendors from opening up their boutique. Harry and Tonks appeared in an open space of the Alley. What the two of them did not expect, however, was to be mobbed in a matter of minutes by a crowd of people. Well, Tonks was the one that was mobbed, Harry was just there acting as security, keeping people from getting a little too handsy or close to Dora.

There were a few eager reporters shouting questions at the Auror whilst Harry did his best to shield Dora from the press and continue their trek towards the bookstore. The demands for answers grew in volume, to the great displeasure of the merchants that were still sleeping in their flats.

"How did you take them all out?"

"What was it like, fighting all those bad guys?"

"Who was the mysterious wizard in white?"

"Marry me!"

Harry choked at that shout. Standing to his full height, he yelled, "Auror Tonks will not be marrying anyone today! Watch your mouths!"

Dora was laughing like mad interiorly. This was very funny for her. Maybe less for Harry since he was acting as her bodyguard, sort of, but Tonks was sure he was nonetheless amused by the stupidities some of the crowd of people yelled. On one hand, the whole situation had what it took to be amusing, but on the other hand, it was also a pain in the arse. But it was necessary. The opinion of the public could very easily overturn an entire country.

With difficulty and over half an hour of perilous progress, Harry and Nymphadora finally made it to the bookstore. The owner was kind enough, or had enough presence of mind, whichever it was, to block the press from entering the shop. The reporters and people that were previously amassed around Dora and Harry were now pressed to the windows of the bookstore.

Tonks made a show of herself picking out books, making sure to hide some of the more - scandalous - ones from Harry. Harry didn't know what she read. Not the trashy steamy romance novels at least. Tonks wasn't embarrassed - or maybe just a little - of what types of books she read, but she was hiding those books for Harry's own safety. Tonks didn't want him to have a stroke after seeing what his sister was reading in her free time.

Harry, meanwhile, was hiding one particular book he had found from Tonks. Tout ce qu'il faut savoir sur les Françaises- Everything you need to know about French women, in English. Harry, upon seeing the book, not knowing what hit him on the head, hastily bought it from the shop's owner and asked him quietly to wrap it in craft paper. Dora definitely did not need to see that book. If she did, Harry wondered if he would hear the end of it even after he died. Probably not.

And there she was too. Dora had come back with her own pile of books. Harry eyed the stack of volumes suspiciously. He was sure that there were some illegalities in there. Judging by the light blush on Dora's cheeks, he was probably right. He decided to not make any comments though. Mortification wasn't planned on this shopping trip. Tonks paid for her own books and the shop owner shrunk the purchases before packing them in a small paper parcel. Tonks pocketed the parcel and turned to Harry.

"Ready to face the crowd, Harry?"

Harry groaned in response. The book he was hiding from Dora in his jacket had made him forget all about that damned crowd that was still piled up outside the bookstore. Did people really have nothing better to do than watch the morning paper's front page's Senior Auror shop for books?

"We're running for it. I don't even care at this point. Thank you Mr. Arnold!"

"No problem, young ones," the very old man chuckled. "It is not everyday scoundrels such as yourselves take refuge from the press in my store. Go now, stretch your wings. This old man needs his hourly rest."

The old man unlocked the door, giving Harry and Tonks just enough time to bolt from the shop and through the crowd before the glass panes were closed once more. Harry sprinted behind Tonks, who had morphed her legs to be way faster than humanly possible. The two made it to the top of the Alley in a record time before Harry Faded them back home, leaving behind a disgruntled crowd of reporters and gossipers.

"Well that's one way to wake up!" Tonks said cheerily, walking into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Yeah, you weren't the one playing bodyguard and security," Harry grumbled.

"Hey! This was your idea, dear brother," Dora reminded him playfully.

"There is no need to remind me how terrible of an idea this was and that I was the one that got it," Harry retorted with a little humour.

"Aw, c'mon, come off it, Harry. I don't even understand what's bugging you!"

"Never mind, let's just agree this was the last time that we appear in public to appease it."

"Fair enough."

"Great! Now, I can continue on with this fine morning then," Harry whistled good-naturedly, veering in the total opposite mood of his previous grumpy mood.

"Oh! Great! Since you're in such a good mood now, can you tell what the package you hastily hid from my view in the bookstore was?" Tonks asked Harry evilly. She knew very well that Harry had bought some embarrassing book; she'd seen him hide the package in his jacket.

Dora was actually impressed by Harry's straight face. His acting skills had cranked a notch up, huh. As a Metamorphmagus, Tonks knew all about hiding expression and acting with a fake mask of emotion. Harry's straight face lacked any guilt or blush. His completely stoic face actually made Dora wonder if Harry had heard her question.

"Whatever you mean? What package?" Harry asked her.

"The one you hid in your jacket the moment I came to pay for my own books." Harry's frown could've awarded him an Oscar for best actor of the year. Tonks, if she had not actually seen Harry hide the package, would've been fooled by Harry's poker face. But she knew what she was looking for and Harry wasn't going to escape her interrogation. A Senior Auror at 22 certainly knew exactly what they were doing and Dora knew exactly what she was doing. After all, she was this Senior Auror.

"The one in your jacket," Dora said confidently.

Harry hastily cast a wandless and silent Disillusionment Charm on the craft paper inside his sleeve, making the parcel essentially invisible.

"I dunno what you're talking about."

"So you wouldn't mind me checking your jacket?" Tonks asked, internally smirking as she noticed Harry's face pale by just the tiniest shade of white.

"I wouldn't mind, no, I'm telling you I don't know what you're talking about!" Harry managed to respond without stuttering.

"Alright then, you've said it," Tonks shrugged and she started patting Harry's jacket in the search for his supposedly hidden packet. While Tonks was patting his jacket and looking in and all the pockets, Harry was discreetly levitating the Disillusioned package out from the sleeve opposite to where Tonks was currently looking. He had managed to levitate the thing halfway to the stairs when Dora huffed and turned around.

"So it would seem like you are innoc- HEY!"

'Fuck,' Harry thought. Why did Dora have to turn around when he was so close to hiding the package upstairs? And now, that little triumphant smirk she wore incensed Harry to no end. It was the smile she had every time she caught him in something remotely embarrassing for him.

Dora plucked the still floating package from the air, seeing as Harry made no move to grab it. "Now, now, now, what do we have here?" she said in a sing-song voice. The Metamorph gently tugged the package open and peeked inside. Her smirk grew only more victorious, if that was even possible. "I see, I see. So, Harry, you're gonna put the moves on Miss Française?"

Harry's composure faltered a bit this time. Tonks saw the tiniest spark of red colour on his cheeks. "I am not putting the moves on anyone, alright?" Harry said though he himself knew his words weren't true.

"Uh huh." Tonks nodded seriously, totally believing Harry's lame attempt at lying.

"C'mon, let's get breakfast started. Your little number certainly woke Mum and Dad."

"My little number? You think I'm a circus clown?" Tonks yelled out in faux outrage.

"I don't but if they weren't awake before, that shout sure woke them up," Harry retorted.

Tonks froze and covered her mouth with her hands. Oops. Sure enough, Ted and Andi were walking down the stairs.

---

Dear Harry,

You must know that Veela value loved ones and power over anything else. You have killed because the Death Eater tried to kill Tonks. If you thought for a moment I would stop being your friend because you killed someone, then I must insist you get your head checked. I've told you I never had anyone close apart from family before. No friend, no boyfriend, no mentor. So now that I've got someone to call a friend, I am not letting you go anymore. You can't back out. I'm keeping you. I hope that these words have been strong enough to convince you that yes, we are friends.

As for that Saturday rendezvous that is now moved to Tuesday, how does 10 a.m. sound? And that Duelling Tournament, is there still time to get tickets? Maybe I can come and watch you duel? I'd get a teaser of the things you could show me on Tuesday (wink wink). If you have some kind of document, or brochure, or anything about tickets for that tournament, it'd be great if you could owl me them to me. That is if you want me to come watch you duel.

There is something I must ask, pardon me, but what exactly is the relationship between you and Tonks? I don't think you've mentioned it when we met at the World Cup. Answer quickly!

Amitiés,

Fleur

---

Harry mailed the brochure to Fleur after reading her letter. He found a strange sensation of - pleasure? Ecstasy? Completion? None of those words were right, at least not entirely, but Harry did feel much lighter now that Fleur had confirmed that she would remain his friend no matter what he had done.

And her letter, Harry, for the first time ever, felt his stomach do a little jolt when he read the second paragraph of her letter. The slightly suggestive line, and she wanted to go watch him duel! That itself would've been one occasion for celebration. Harry would've done some sort of happy dance but, unfortunately, dancing lessons with Andromeda had gotten any sort of originality and uncoordinated movements out of his mind. Harry knew all the dances that were custom to Pureblooded society, the ones most stuffy politicians danced at important annual events. Andromeda had made sure Harry learned those dance moves. The woman had tried teaching her daughter too but Dora was adamantly clumsy on the dance floor. The Metamorph had elegance and precision on the duelling stage but on the dance stage, she was desperate. Anyhow, traditions rooted in Harry's mind since he was young prevented him from doing any happy dances.

And then there was that question about his relationship with Dora. Harry, after spending the last few years with female friends, knew quite well how to read them. Not that women made any more sense to him anyways. He was just more capable of understanding the underlyings of their words. Sometimes. Rarely. But there was a hint of jealousy in Fleur's letter. Maybe just a little jealousy. And so, Harry simply told her of his and Nymphadora's status in his reply, the one in which he sent the brochure. They were brother and sister, pure and simple. No weird shenanigans.

---

Dear Harry,

I've managed to snatch tickets! Well, ticket. My Papa and my Maman will both be working during the weekend and Gabrielle, my little sister, is going on a camping trip with her school. So you get me all to yourself! Now, you better make the money worth the show or else! I'm only joking, but I am also looking forward to all the magic that will be on display. I've read the brochure, there will be quite a few popular names in the duelling circuit. I've managed to get a ticket that will cover all four days the tournament will last and I've booked a hotel nearby.

Rooting for you,

Fleur

The short note from Fleur gave Harry just a little bit of extra confidence in his already abundant reserves. The young wizard's mind, though, was turning at crazy speeds. His mind was going over all the silly little things he could subtly do to try and impress Fleur. A part of his mind, the rational part, knew fair and square that it was completely stupid to try and impress someone that had created their own magic but Harry's brain still wanted a shot at impressing the radiant blonde beauty.

---

On Friday, Harry was awake at 6 in the morning and he was going through his wardrobe, picking out his duelling robes. He had initially wanted to wear the white ones but then he realised that those would make people associate him with the sorcerer from the World Cup and that was something Harry definitely did not want. So instead, Harry went with the complete opposite, settling on a supple, short black robe with blue accents. With that robe colour, there were a few tricks he could play with the lighting of the arena at his own advantage.

For the last week or so, Harry had practised all of his own creations and every standard spell there was that he had access to. Every book in the bookshelves at the Tonks household had been read through once more by Harry. He had taken great time and shed gallons of sweat in training and workout. He was ready, that he knew, but he was nervous. What if the other duellists were way more powerful than he was? What if he did not know enough spells? What if his strategies would be seen through directly by his opponents? It was the nerves. Damned things.

Andi was preparing breakfast downstairs already. Ted was checking over the last few details of the hotel he had booked for the family's stay in Sweden, which was where the Duelling Tournament would take place. With Dora's temporary leave coming to an end at the end of the month, it was the perfect time for the family to go on a small vacation while also watching Harry's performance. With only a few hours to spare before the family had to leave, everyone enjoyed their last breakfast in England for the next four days.

As the family appeared in the Swedish Ministry of Magic, after being dropped off by their international Portkey, Harry took notice of the difference between Stockholm and London. Whereas the English preferred a more antique look to their magical buildings, architecture and designs that originated from the Greeks and the Romans, the Swedish favoured a much more modern look. The Atrium, especially, could be described by a single word: futuristic. Well, that is if your definition of futuristic included lots of glass. The Atrium was crowded and bustling with activity from the early workers.

Harry took a glance at his wristwatch - 8:30 a.m. He still had half an hour before the Tournament would start. Dora, seeing Harry's somewhat fidgety demeanour, took his suitcase from him.

"Mum, Dad, let's go to the hotel," Dora said. "Harry has to go check-in right now. Our tickets say the fights only start at 10 a.m. anyway."

Harry relaxed a bit, grateful for Dora's tact. Harry had been afraid at first that he'd be late. But with Dora taking care of the hotel with Ted and Andi, he now had plenty of time to get to the arena.

With a polite nod to the Swedish Auror standing guard at the main entrance of the Atrium, Harry walked out of the large room - if an atrium could be called a room - and Faded out. Harry reappeared in a secluded alleyway of Stockholm, a few minutes away from the arena. At 8:45, Harry was in front of the doors of the arena, as specified by the brochure. Instantly, as soon as he had made it past the Muggle-Repelling wards and other protections that would admit anyone but magical folks, Harry was welcomed by a wizard wearing something of a mix between a tuxedo and an official looking robe. The man noticed Harry's smirk and smiled indulgently back at him.

"Ah yes, I know, quite ridiculous, but it's the attire demanded of the staff for the Tournament," the man said. "Now, your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

The man pulled out a register from inside his robes whilst steering Harry to a room on the side of the entrance hall, in which there were already a few other people of varying ages, all accompanied by someone with the ridiculous robe and tie the man had said was the staff uniform. The man shuffled through the pages of the stapled document, looking for Harry's name.

"Ah! There you are," the man exclaimed after a minute of searching. "Pardon me, I forgot, my name is Carl Johan."

"Pleased to meet you," Harry said politely.

"Same here, same here," the man replied. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, for security and press purposes, if that's alright with you?"

Harry nodded his approval.

"So, erm, wand specifics?" The man asked, a quill at the ready to note Harry's answers.

"Ebony and liquid dragon fire," Harry said, stunning the man.

"Er, right. Could you put it on this device here, son?" The man asked, grabbing an instrument with a metallic plate from a nearby table.

Harry frowned but complied. The power stone got a raised eyebrow from the man, but he made no comments about it. He had no reason to; the device with Harry's wand on it had ejected a piece of paper, on which the components and a large 'approved' were printed. Carl handed Harry his wand back.

"That's some special wand you got there, Mr. Potter," he stated. "Which category did you enter?"

"Adults."

"So 17 and above, alright, alright. Ooh, there are some very well-known names in this category, I wish you the best of luck Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Mr. Johan," Harry said, keeping the eagerness of an upcoming fight out of his voice.

"Very well. You are free to roam the building and talk to family and friends, just make sure you are ready to enter the arena once your name is called."

"Thank you again, Mr. Johan."

With his parting words said, Harry went back out into the entrance hall of the big stadium and walked around for a bit. He found the spectators' seats, a lounging area where some younger duellists were resting, a warm up room and some restrooms.

"'Arry!"

Harry froze. She was here. There was no mistake to be made. This was the voice of the oh so beautiful woman that may or may not have been intruding in his nightly dreams. She definitely did infiltrate his dreams.

"Fleur?" Harry wondered, turning around.

"Oui!"

She looked even more radiant and heavenly than the last time Harry saw her, if that was even possible. Her silvery hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and those damned jeans teased the shape of her long legs. Her Allure somehow seemed to recognise him, leaving him be without battering against his Occlumency. Harry had only glanced downwards briefly to take in her attire for the day. He kept his eyes locked with her azure ones.

A slightly awkward silence followed. It was Fleur that broke it, otherwise she would've lost herself in the mist of Harry's green eyes. Little did she know, had she not broken the silence, Harry would've been locked away forever in her gaze.

"Alors? Aren't you going to say anything?" Fleur said teasingly. That seemed to pull Harry from his staring at her eyes.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it. So, you're here."

"I am."

Silence. Fleur suddenly started laughing, the sound was like the soft music played by a wind chime on a chilly autumn afternoon.

"Désolée," she laughed. "I just 'ad to make sure you weren't immune to teasing. Things wouldn't be as fun if you were."

"Glad to be of service," Harry grumbled. "You're here for all four days of the competition?"

"Oui. I did not come all the way 'ere only to watch you for one day. I will stay at the - I think it is called Bank 'Otel?"

"That sounds expensive," Harry remarked, to which Fleur grinned proudly.

"All covered by my scholarship. Duelling Tournaments are considered academic exploration so therefore, my school covers the expenses for me."

That got Harry's eyebrows raised. He had heard of some of the benefits students from the other magical schools were rumoured to have. Beauxbatons was rumoured to offer a scholarship to the very best student of each year under the condition that they maintain their exceptional rank of first in their year. If the student managed to maintain first rank through all seven years of their education, the scholarship would last for seven years. It would cover any expenses, academic expenses of course, of the student. Rent, food, books, educational trips, robes, wand, everything.

Harry was impressed, or more like awed, by the beautiful girl in front of him. Beauty and brains? Hell yeah! 'Calm yourself, Potter!' Harry hissed at himself mentally.

"'Arry, we should go back to the main hall, it is almost time for the first duels," Fleur said.

Harry checked his watch. Fleur was right. His exploration of the building had taken a bit more time than he had thought it had taken.

"Thanks for the reminder, Fleur."

Fleur smiled gently. "Allez, bonne chance 'Arry."

"Merci."

Fleur smiled at Harry's use of French. It made her a little warm on the inside. The pair walked back into the main hall, just as a magically amplified voice boomed, "First duels of the day! If your name is called, please present yourself at the doors of the duelling arena. Because of the great number of participants for each category, the tournament has been formatted to only select the very best of you. Today, we are proceeding with the qualification rounds for the best of 16. The 16 best scoring contestants will move on to the second round of eliminations tomorrow. Points are scored as so: you and your opponent have 90 seconds to either incapacitate or disarm the other. Disarming and incapacitating will result in the participant being given 10 points, which is the maximum that can be earned in a single duel. If both duellists fail to disarm or incapacitate their opponent after 90 seconds, both duellists will be granted 0.1 point per spell they managed to land on their opponent, even if the spell is shielded. Each participant has 15 duels to score the most points possible. Good luck to all."

Fleur, who was besides Harry, winced a bit at the last announcement. If every spell that connected was for a tenth of a point, it was likely going to push contestants into highly offensive attack flurries. If Harry wanted to qualify, he would need to gain the 10 points for disarming or incapacitating his opponent at almost every one of his duels. 0.1 points given per connecting spell was the officials' way of bringing the scores closer, therefore making the competition just that more tight and difficult.

A witch carrying scrolls of parchment caught Fleur's eyes. The witch walked towards an empty wall of the hall and stuck the rolls of parchment to the wall with her wand. Fleur subconsciously grabbed Harry's hand and led him over to the scrolls of parchment. There were seven of them in total. Each one was labelled with an age group, written in huge black numbers at the top of the parchment. The group for under 16 years old was particularly long. Fleur quickly sought out Harry's name in the adults group. There were a total of 64 other names in that list, Fleur counted. There was one name that jumped out at Fleur.

Filius Flitwick

That was a four time duelling World Champion. Not European Champion, World Champion. Fleur brought Harry's attention to that fact.

"'Arry… There is a four time World Champion in your group."

"Oh really? Filius Flitwick… Right, the Charms teacher at Hogwarts."

Harry was unbothered. Not that he shouldn't be. But Dora had taught him many precious lessons. No matter the opponent, if you believe in your victory, then part of the battle is already won. Harry wasn't sure at all who would come out victorious of that duel. Decades of experience versus unmatched power. One brought balance to the other and vice versa. Hopefully Harry wouldn't have to duel the Charms teacher just yet. There was a small note that was pinned to the adults' list.

Contestants from this group have been separated into two groups of 32, with each participant of the two groups fighting to be first in their respective group. The winner of the adults' category group will be declared in the final duel between the two subdivisions of the group.

"Not to worry, Fleur, I am more than confident in my abilities. I should win."

"Non."

Huh? Harry was confused.

"What do you mean, non?" he asked her, his eyebrows creased. Was she telling him that he was outmatched?

"Non. You should not win. You will win. And when you win, I want that win dedicated to me." Fleur demanded. Harry's smile was back on his face when she said that.

"If that is what you desire, Fleur. One win for my lady, coming right up!"

Fleur laughed. She had noticed a few days ago, when she had just met Harry in that box at the Quidditch Stadium. There was an instant complicity between Harry and herself. A similarity between the two of them that somehow brought them closer than regular new acquaintances. It wasn't anything extraordinary, per se, but Fleur felt infinitely more at ease around Harry than she had felt around anyone else. Maybe it was that strange power radiation that washed off of him like waves. Perhaps it was just because of who he was. Perhaps it was both.

Yeah, it was definitely both.

Something was moving up and down in front of her eyes. Fleur shook her head lightly. It was Harry's hand that was waving in front of her face.

"You alright there, Fleur? You spaced out for a moment."

"Oh. It is nothing, do not worry, 'Arry," she told him.

And just then, Harry's name was called. Harry and some other wizard named Dmitri Novikov. In truth, Fleur was probably more nervous about the whole event than Harry was. When Harry squeezed her hand - that was still holding his - before letting it go, Fleur had to resist the urge to kiss him. She had stopped herself, just barely. 'He might be your only friend, but he is just that, a friend! And you met him not a few days ago! Stop thinking about kissing him! Damned hormones and mating season.'

Three deep breaths later, Fleur made her way towards the stands surrounding the arena.

Harry made his way into the arena though the main doors. Inside, there were already six occupied platforms, on which six pairs of duellists of varying ages were fighting. Harry's opponent, one Dmitri Novikov, was a Russian wizard of huge build that looked about past his twenties. After hasty introductions by the referee, the two wizards were set at opposing ends of the platform. Both bowed customarily before they took their starting stances.

Harry pulled his wand out and so did the Russian. Novikov's eyes narrowed significantly when he was the emerald on Harry's wand's handle. Harry's wand, more specifically, the emerald, as if sentient, was sparking with unconcealed micro-bolts of electricity. Somehow, it was like it knew there was a huge fight coming on.

"BEGIN!" the referee shouted, after he had checked the appropriate detection and protection wards were set up correctly around the platform.

Neither duellists moved a muscle. 'Ah!" Harry exclaimed inwardly. 'So not an amateur. He did not attack immediately, he is waiting to see what I do.'

"Stupefy!"

Harry was out of the way of the spell before it was even launched from the Russian's wand's tip. Harry was thinking inwardly, analysing the duel. Well if you could call a single spell a duel. Audible casting in a Championship? That was unusual. What trick was Dmitri playing at? Or was he simply not capable of silently casting? No matter.

A Cutting curse, a Bludgeoning hex, an Explosion hex and a Leg-Blocker were all sent Harry's way in a chain of spells, all cast with words. So this Novikov guy really doesn't do silent casting. Well that was going to cost him. Harry twisted out of the volley of spells, his wand still idle, not having fired a single spell yet.

Novikov, Harry could feel it, was positively getting frustrated, after his Skin-Peeler, Brain-Washer and Leg-Breaker were all dodged, missing their mark. The public was starting to get bored with the lack of return of fire from Harry. Harry had almost lost himself in his analysis of his opponent's game. This was a duelling championship, not a life or death fight. The people wanted a show. So Harry was going to give them a show.

Harry raised his wand. 'Speculis,' he thought. A giant mirror was conjured in front of him. Two more Stunners from his opponent bounced off the mirror and were reflected back towards Novikov. With an eccentric twirl of his wand, the mirror was liquefied into a shining grey substance. Harry dodged a Disarming spell that was aimed for his head. Brandishing his wand, Harry spun it around his palm once before he flicked it violently towards Novikov.

The liquid mirror shot out at a speed so fast, Novikov barely had the time to dodge. The substance hit his wand arm, encompassing it in gooey grey liquid.

'Glacius,' Harry cast. The freezing spell was used by most people to create ice but Harry thought it more like a drying charm of sorts. A freezing cold, drying charm. The liquid mirror around his opponent's arm solidified instantly, trapping Novikov's arm. His arm was stuck to his side. He had no more means of defending himself other than dodge.

A string of curses in Russian were spat out of the man's mouth, just as the referee shouted, "Fifteen seconds left!"

Harry shot an Expelliarmus towards the man, who somehow dodged it. The man spun on his feet and was met head on with the bright crimson light of Harry's Stunning spell. Novikov prepared to twist out of the spell's trajectory, but his eyes widened ever so slightly when the spell overshot him and curved, impacting his side and knocking him out cold.

Roaring applause rang out through the stadium. 'It looks like the people appreciated the show,' Harry thought cheerily. Harry walked towards Dmitri and vanished the mirror that was trapping the man's wand arm, before waking him up with a muttered 'Enervate.'

The man's eyes opened and when he saw Harry, he gave him a respectful nod.

"You fight good kid. Vere you learn?"

"Taught me myself, but my sister's an Auror."

"Ah!" the man boomed. "It vould explain a lot of things. Vat vas the spells you used, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "Trade secret."

Dmitri grunted with barely a smile on his face. "Da. Good luck."

"Same to you, Dmitri."

The referee came over with a healer who went over towards Dmitri and checked him over. The referee addressed Harry.

"Mr. Potter, you have won your first duel out of 15. Your current score is 10 points and the names list outside the stadium have been updated with everyone's scores. You must leave the arena to leave space for the next duel."

Harry nodded to the man. His eyes scanned the crowds in the stands. He was looking for a head of pink hair, or a head of silver-blonde hair. He found both, not too far from each other.

Harry stepped out of the arena and was back into the main hall. He quickly Disillusioned himself and Faded into the stands, right next to Fleur. People had assigned seats but most were standing, excitement from the event preventing them from sitting down. Harry removed the charm and sat down next to Fleur. Fleur whipped around so fast Harry was scared she might've gotten a whiplash from it.

"'Arry! That was magnificent! And that curving Stunning spell! You're gonna show me that one when you come over in three days, oui?" the Veela exclaimed.

"Yes, yes. I did promise it, and I always keep my word," Harry reassured her.

"Bon. I'm glad I won't be needing more… persuasive ways of convincing you to not go back on your word."

"More persuasive ways, huh," Harry smirked.

"Oh oui," Fleur shot back. "Veelas can conjure fireballs, did you not know?"

Harry paled. That was one critical detail. "Ah."

"Ah indeed. I saw that pink haired woman from the World Cup over there, she's your sister, you said?" Fleur asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, she is," Harry confirmed. "Not biological though."

"You owe me a story, I think."

Harry shrugged. He had already come to terms with that story but he was still reluctant to let people know about it, even if it was Fleur. Sure, Fleur was a friend to Harry already, but he had only known her for a few days. Even though Harry, deep down inside, knew that their friendship, relationship, was one that would last, he was not very pressed to let people into his secrets so directly. His secrets like his spells and all, that was fine, but the more private stuff not so much. Harry would let Fleur know one day, but that day was not today.

"One day, I'll tell you, Fleur."

"Je sais," Fleur said in French.

"So would you like to go meet my family?" Harry asked Fleur a tad bit nervously.

"Yes, let's go!" Fleur said, threading her arm through Harry's.

"Let's get you properly introduced this time, yes?" Harry whispered in her ear. The closeness made Fleur blush a little but she nodded nonetheless.

Harry led Fleur to where Andi, Ted and Dora were sitting. Harry let slip a bit of his Occlumency for the sake of Fleur and Ted.

"Harry!" Andi exclaimed happily. "Who's this lovely lady, Harry? I didn't know you'd be bringing a date."

"Er, Mum… this is not my date, regardless of the, er - Harry gestured to his and Fleur's linked arms. Mum, Dad, Dora, this is Fleur Delacour, the very best student of the French Magical Academy, Beauxbatons. Fleur, this is Andromeda Tonks, my mum. This is Edward - but you can call him Ted - Tonks, my dad. And this troublemaker here is Nymphadora - do not ever call her that - Tonks. Youngest Senior Auror in recorded history and my sister," Harry introduced.

"Enchantée," Fleur greeted each of Harry's family in turn, shaking their hands.

Harry saw the evil glint in Dora's eyes and he already knew he was in for one hell of a grilling session from Hestia and Dora once he was home again. Thankfully Katie didn't know. At least not yet.

"That was a great duel, Harry!" Dora cheered.

"Thanks, Nym. I didn't reveal too many tricks," Harry said.

"Mhm. Good strategy. Always reveal as few tricks as possible. Always keep some last resort flashiness up your sleeve for emergencies," Dora advised.

Harry nodded. Harry's name was called once more and Fleur reluctantly let go of his arm before she sat down next to Andromeda who started chatting with her. Judging by the blush that spread from the pale skin of her cheeks to her neck and downwards, Harry was sure Andi was either telling Fleur something extremely embarrassing or extremely embarrassing.

The rest of the duels of the day went by fairly quickly. Harry managed a perfect score, like four other contestants. The only close call he got was from a Spanish girl, Alejandra Flores, who got within a hair's breadth from making it past the 90 seconds mark. The eighteen years old girl was surprisingly agile and had extremely quick reflexes. She had managed to shield and dodge every one of Harry's homing Stunning spells. She had only lost the fight when Harry managed to sneak in a feint, making her dodge in the wrong direction. A final Disarming spell secured Harry's victory.

Of all the other duellists Harry had faced that day, that Alejandra girl was the most talented. In the end, Harry was quite satisfied with his results. He hadn't been coerced into using any of his more complex tricks - namely the Daybreaker Shield. That was the name he had decided to give to the shield spell he had created though he had previously been against naming the spell. He had thought of the name on the morning he and the Tonks family had Portkeyed to Sweden.

All he used were a few parlour tricks he had developed, like the curving Stunning spells and the homing ones. With a total 150 points, Harry was one of the duellists in the adult's category that would be moving on to the next stage, which would cut the remaining 16 contestants by half, leaving only 8.

---

Fleur was in her hotel room, sprawled all across her bed, her hair splayed all around her head. She was deep in thought, wondering about the recent new developments in her life.

Was she going too fast with Harry, who was no more than a mere friend? She had never had a friend before. She had never let anyone get as close to her in years than Harry got in a matter of days. Had she become too desperate for companionship, desperate to the point that she seized the first occasion she got when a decent wizard extended a hand of friendship to her? She was not going back on her decision to be Harry's friend, she was glad that happened. But her past made her doubt, a history of loneliness, clinging to her like a parasite, refusing to let her go.

Here she was, watching a friend she had met only days before duel in a tournament purely because she wanted to be there. Not because Harry asked her to be there. Not because she thought it was her duty. She was here to watch Harry duel because she wanted to be there. Fleur spluttered suddenly. For the whole day, she hadn't noticed the people's staring, not once! She had enjoyed herself so much watching Harry duel it felt as if she did not possess Veela attributes anymore! No Allure, no unwanted staring, no weak-minded boys trying to get her attention.

Fleur knew it was silly, but she couldn't help but halt herself. For someone that had never had anyone else but family members, Fleur was sure going quickly with her 'new' friend. She had met Harry some four days ago and she had already invited him to come over! It wasn't for something inappropriate, no, it was simply to spend a moment with him, get to know him, and share with him something that was apparently a passion for both of them. Could you really meet someone one day and instantly become friends?

Was that any possible? Was Harry something real and not just some previously undiagnosed manifestation of schizophrenia that had infected Fleur's mind and plagued her vision? No, he was real, that much was certain. And he was very certainly a friend.

Fleur kept reflecting, her hand idly caressing the taut muscles of her tummy. She found herself delving into more obscure waters, the unchartered territories, where unknown dangers preyed and stalked.

Could Harry potentially be more than a friend? A companion? A lover? A Hus- no. That was way too dangerous a thought for now. But Fleur could certainly see herself developing feelings for her very handsome friend. The few times she had dared look him dead in the eyes, she had lost herself in a sea of brilliant emerald waters. And their little complicity! It was like they had met before and had been close friends, yet complete strangers. Fleur knew very little of Harry, yet she felt like she knew everything about him. It wasn't an assumption, it was a fact.

Common interests, good-looking, pleasant and fun, that was what people considered boyfriend material, was it not? And Harry had certainly been very nice to her every time they saw each other - which was a total count of two times - and he certainly seemed devotedly caring to that pink-haired woman - Tonks - and that other raven-haired girl - Katie, if Fleur remembered correctly.

'Urgh,' Fleur thought. 'Who made emotions so damned complicated?' Emotions were like an untidy cluster of bundled up clothing articles, waiting to be sorted through. There was no end nor beginning to it and Fleur couldn't make much sense of her emotions. Whatever she felt for Harry could be considered at a later date. For now, friends suited her just fine.

There was no rush and Fleur certainly didn't feel the need to slow things down. There was no reason to push Harry away, nor was there any reason to act differently around him. Fleur was certainly not against things progressing between them at the current rhythm and that rhythm had made them fast friends.

---

Why am I feeling attracted to Fleur, why her of all my other female friends?

Because she's just so damned pretty and you two have so much in common and you have a complicity and you're almost always flirting and you have this and you have that and - SHUT UP!

Harry rubbed his eyes frustratingly. It was like having a first time teenage crush on a girl all over again. He was 17 for God's sake! If he was attracted to Fleur, then his mind could perhaps make him think like a grownup young adult, could it not? Well apparently not, since he was thinking like a love-struck fourteen year old. And what was he to do next to the radiant beauty that Fleur Delacour was? That woman could simply walk in, make his brain melt and exit the room in 10 seconds, no more. In other words, Harry simply could not resist her. He was getting these feelings way too fast too. Four days and all he was thinking of was Fleur.

Brains, common interests, good-looking - more like divinely goddess-looking, and a flirty personality? That was what people called girlfriend material, was it not? Harry could blame no one but himself for being so sensible to Fleur's charm. Not the Allure, but the person. Her eyes, the bared soul she displayed in her unguarded blue orbs had seemed so lovely, so warm.

They had become fast friends, something that Harry found he did not mind at all for the speed at which it happened. Friends started by meeting anyway, right? The speed at which two people became friends simply depended on their chemistry and Harry found he and Fleur had great chemistry. For now, he'd let things continue as they were, even if some degenerate voice at the forefront of his mind was telling him to progress things past friendship. That voice was the voice of derision, the one that always fucked everything up. Harry had learned very early that that voice was never the one to be listened to. Pushing Fleur into more than friends for now would do nothing more than push her away.

Harry would be damned if those thoughts about a silver-haired beauty kept running rampant in his mind. He had two more rounds of even more intense duelling tomorrow. Frustrated with his confusing thoughts about one Fleur Delacour, Harry raised his hand and conjured a red ball of energy. Sitting on his bed, fully clothed, Harry mashed the Stunning ball of magic on his head and fell backwards, asleep. Well unconscious, but that was one way of falling asleep.

---

Six explosions lit the arena. Harry twirled his wand around, leaving his left shoulder unprotected. That small mistake cost him, a Cutting curse slicing through his skin, opening a somewhat deep gash on his left shoulder. The pain that shot towards his brain was nullified by his impenetrable Occlumency shields. The fire from the explosions had yet to vanish from their mid-air position.

The twirl of Harry's wand gathered the roaming fire into a very small, concentrated inferno. With a forward thrust, an entire wall of flames was sent towards his opponent. Had it not been for the hastily conjured spray of water from his Aguamenti spell, the Belgian fighting against Harry would've been roasted jet black. With the wall of fire down, Harry conjured a stone pike, and flung it with his wand towards the Belgian duellist.

"Warning to Mr. Potter, usage of highly lethal magic," the referee shouted from outside the platform.

Harry ignored him. Blood-boilers raised no eyebrows but a stone pike earned him a warning? Bullshit. This was the qualification matches for the best 8 duellists out of the batch of 16, with the same rules as the qualification matches of yesterday. This time though, the contestants only had 7 matches, still with the objective of scoring as high as possible.

Harry had yet to reveal anything more than what he had revealed on his first day of duelling. Harry had opted for a highly passive and defensive style for the first two days, as a way of surprising his opponents later on - should he make it that far - and make them underestimate him for someone with only pure luck and no real offensive talent.

A sickly yellow spell wheezed past Harry's left side, forcing him to twist out of the way of the spell. That one looked nasty enough. Harry sent a discreet spell towards the floor of the duelling platform. It was what Dora had used against him in their mock-duel two weeks ago. The floor of the platform shifted and swallowed the Belgian duellist's feet, halting his footwork. As soon as Harry saw the man falter in his movement, he released the spell, and with his momentum, the Belgian man tumbled forwards and fell to the hard plastic of the platform. Harry finished the match with a bit of a show spell, making his disarming hex twirl in an complicated spiralling pattern in the air before it connected with the downed Belgian, ripping his wand from his hand.

With three matches left for the day, Harry had yet to face his Charms Professor. Harry had been wreaking havoc within the rankings, tearing other duellists' dreams of winning the championship to shreds. It seemed like Fate had been clement for too long though. Harry's name had been called once more, and this time, his opponent was none other than the short Charms teacher.

Harry bowed respectfully to the old wizard. Filius Flitwick was one respectable duellist. A fierce and smart one. The diminutive man bowed back. Harry sighed inwardly. This one wasn't going to be an easy fight and Harry was probably going to have to use everything he had at his disposal. That meant no more parlour tricks, no more holding back, no more feigning inexperience. For this fight, even if it was going to compromise his future duels, Harry would use all his tricks. And that thought had him positively gleeful. An eagerness that no Occlumency could keep the grin off of his face.

Actually, no, he couldn't do that. He had to save a few tricks to show Fleur.

At the referee's shout of 'Begin!', the whole crowd quieted down and it seemed like all the other duels stilled too. The people turned to watch the four-time Duelling World Champion face off against some unknown entry; an entry that had been tearing other adults that had leagues of experience over him apart.

Harry sneaked his left hand behind his back, palm open. In front of him, Harry's wand was pointed straight at Flitwick, the emerald gem beating its signature pulse. Flitwick's wand was also pointed straight at Harry, though his eyes were staring suspiciously at his hidden arm. The small man shot six Stunners and a Bone-Breaker in a single second, just to test the waters. The speed at which the spells wheezed towards Harry made the younger wizard grin. This was going to be fun!

Harry's black Daybreaker shield materialised before him, absorbing the first Stunning spell, and reflected the six other spells away harmlessly. Harry felt the familiar fire within a specific third of his magical core. The blazing inferno of orange flames growled to life in Harry's left palm. Some people in the crowd 'ohhh'd at the sight. Some of the spectators - though Harry could not see them - had gotten a slightly worried look on their faces. One flash from the camera of one reporter lit up the arena for a split second.

Flitwick had been somewhat dumbfounded when his chain of spells had been blocked off by a single shield. Even if the spells he had shot had simply been to test his opponent - a student of his. And then confusion was blended with his surprise. The pitch black shield had turned completely red, the exact shade of the Stunning spell.

Harry released the Daybreaker Shield. The now crimson shield crumbled on itself and shifted into a Stunning spell that shot back towards Flitwick. Harry whipped his left arm around, bringing it up in front of his and released the burning flames from within his palm. The fire poured freely behind the zooming Stunning spell. Bright hot flames scorched the platform's floor, leaving a large burned line. Flitwick had batted the Stunner away and a dome of water encompassed him, shielding him from the incoming fire.

The man had excellent control over Charms, no wonder, he was teaching them. The flames were of no use, so Harry let them die out from within his hand. Flitwick had yet to release the water dome, probably fearing flames anew from Harry. Harry saw that as a potential opportunity. 'Glacius,' he thought. The dome froze in a matter of seconds but it was instantly blasted apart by Flitwick.

There was fierce determination on the man's face now. Whereas it had only been slightly dismissing before, Flitwick's face now only showed determination. He had underestimated his student and that could cost him the match.

Darkness. Darkness took over, inside of Harry's core. Darkness encompassed the duelling platform. The lights of the entire arena dimmed down, leaving only shadows and oscillating forms. The world took on a slightly green hue in Harry's eyes. The fire that Harry had poured from his palm hadn't been human magic. This darkness wasn't either.

Harry shot thick smoke from his wand, clouding the entire place in darkness. The temporary blindness of his opponent and the rest of the crowd bought Harry enough time to mutter the longest incantation he had ever learned.

"Mirrors of the parallel universe, Mirrors of another dimension, speculis clone."

As Flitwick made the smoke vanish, Harry cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and silently walked to a corner of the arena. He had his wand pointing towards what was now an exact copy of himself that stood at the spot he was previously standing at. A mirror clone. Flitwick, having not noticed the trickery, continued on with the duel as if he was fighting a mortal Harry Potter. Harry, meanwhile, still in the corner, was animating every one of the clone's responses to Flitwick's incoming spells.

Some basic spells here and there, a Stunner, a Disarming hex, a Leg-Locker, a Tripping hex. While spells couldn't exactly hit Harry's mirror clone, the spells the clone shot could be very much lethal. The back and forth between Flitwick and clone-Harry had gone on for more than 30 seconds now and time was beginning to run out for both participants.

Harry made his clone fight in a way that would get Flitwick's back towards him. The man made a small move, using his smaller height to his advantage and ran underneath an incoming bone-breaker from clone-Harry. A Stunning spell shot from Flitwick's wand and Harry deliberately let it connect with clone-Harry. The spell passed through the very realistic image of Harry as if no one was there - well technically that was kind of true.

Harry couldn't see it but Flitwick's eyes widened considerably at that. What kind of magic was his student wielding?

And then clone-Harry faded into thin air as Harry released the spell. Flitwick's reaction was instantaneous. Experienced duellist that he was, he realised the trick he'd been played by. Too late. A shouted 'Expelliarmus' caught him in his back and his wand bounced out of his hand.

Harry let out a breath he had been holding. That cloning mirror spell was so demanding to keep realistic it was surreal how tired it made Harry feel. Flitwick offered an impressed to the now visible Harry.

"I am very much impressed, Mr. Potter," the man whistled.

"Thank you very much, Professor. You are a formidable opponent," Harry said honestly.

"Ha," the man barked, amused. "Not good enough, apparently. I was tricked by the oldest trick in the book. An image so realistic that I believed it was real. Those were some very particular spells, Mr. Potter. I don't recall ever reading about them anywhere…"

"That would be expected, Professor. I created them myself."

"Ah! Strong mind, Mr. Potter. You make a very good Ravenclaw. I am proud that my house hosts students such as you."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry thanked the man again.

"It was a good Duel, Harry. Good luck forward," the Charms Professor squeaked before patting Harry's elbow - it was the highest point he could reach of him - and left the arena. Harry followed suit.

The other two duels for Harry had been much less exhausting than the one against Flitwick. Had Harry really duelled Flitwick - not fight, duel - Harry had no doubt he would've lost. It was only with the guaranteed safety that his clone provided him that Harry had won the duel. Those last two duels didn't require spells needing as much power as the cloning mirror spell.

With only eight people left in the group, the Tournament continued in the afternoon. The time was now for the names' list to be cut in half once more. The first ranking duellist was matched against the last ranking, which, in Harry's opinion, wasn't fair at all, but that was the tournament's officials' decision. Harry theorised that it was perhaps a way of potentially creating major upsets. The rules for these matches had been changed. This time, it was do or die. Either you win and move forward, or you lose and move out of the arena and the Championship.

Harry was faced against Jeremy Adamik, a 25 year old wizard from Poland. That wizard had been the last to make it into the best of eight and had a knack for explosions, it seemed. Harry had dedicated considerable efforts into not being blown up. The public had certainly appreciated seeing him do quite a few strange acrobatics so avoid the zooming Explosion hexes. Adamik was eliminated by Harry by a precise Deflector shield that had sent a 'Bombarda' straight back towards Adamik who had hastily thrown up a shield too weak to absorb the whole impact. He had been blasted back into the protective wards of the platform and had been knocked unconscious by the impact.

Harry was now sitting comfortably in the stands, having guaranteed his spot in the quarter-finals of the group stage. Tonks was gushing excitedly about Harry's performance against her former Charms Professor on one side of the wizard while Fleur was listening along on Harry's other side. Fleur sat just a tad bit closer than friends would but Harry made no comment about it, nor did he really notice it.

---

The quarter-finals and semi-finals would take place today, Sunday the 24th of July 1994. The duels for the quarter-finals were randomly drawn by an impartial third-party official from the International Congregation of Wizards. Harry ended up matched against Flitwick once more. The other duel was of Alejandra Flores against Anton Dalca, a wizard in his thirties from Romania. The time limit of 90 seconds was removed for the quarter-finals in order to give the duellists much more time to fight the win out.

Harry was once again back inside the wards of the duelling platform, with Flitwick in front of him. This duel was likely going to be much, much more difficult than Harry's last encounter with the Charms Professor. Harry took his stance, opting this time for the stance he had practised at home. This stance would give Flitwick as much surface as possible to land potential spells on Harry.

One deep breath, two deep breaths and three deep breaths. Here we go. Flitwick opened the show once more with a volley of Bombardas. 'Someone is copying from my past opponent,' Harry thought, amused. Harry dodged left in a hurry, but was caught by a Jelly-Leg jinx and he fumbled to the floor. Thankfully, his wand was still in his hand. Sticking Charms did do wonders against accidental slips, not that they served any purpose against Disarming spells, but they still did one fine job against sweaty hands and Jelly-Leg jinxes.

Harry's instincts kicked in. He raised a strong Protego shield against an onslaught of spells from the Charms Professor. Harry held the shield, bringing his left arm downwards. Normal duellists were at a disadvantage when they held a shield in a duel, since holding a shield up prevented them from returning fire. Wandless magic had the very useful advantage of completely ignoring that inconvenience.

Harry threw a dark orb of magical energy in the air. The orb exploded into a blinding bright flash, allowing Harry enough time to scramble back onto his feet, his Protego shield still locked in front of him. Harry raised his hand and willed a crackling yellow magical orb into existence. Harry let his Protego shield fall and immediately threw the yellow orb high in the air, just as Flitwick shot a Bone-Breaker at Harry when he saw the shield fall.

The amber coloured ball of magic grew impressively large as it travelled upwards. Harry hastily rolled out of the way of the Bone-Breaker before he shot his own Bombarda at the yellow sphere. Flitwick erected a shield, thinking the Explosive hex was aimed at him. The small man knew he'd made a mistake the moment pain shot through his entire body.

The sipping sound from Harry's Bombarda ripped through the air. The jet of light impacted with the wide yellow ball of sparking magical energy and imploded. Well, that wasn't exactly right. The Explosive hex simply vanished from thin air, right under the incredulous looks from the crowds in the stands. What imploded was the now giant yellow orb. The concentrated orb of yellow electricity imploded from the impact of the Explosive hex and released a massive strike of electricity upon vanishing. The bolt hit Flitwick's left leg, hindering the Professor's movement and considerably reducing the man's energy levels. It was either fight the pain and lose energy or conserve energy and endure the pain.

With Flitwick unable to move, appropriately, Harry went in for the kill. Well, not kill, that wasn't allowed nor did he want to murder his Charms Professor. Harry went in for the finisher. Unveiling a trick whilst disguising it as something else would be worth the show. Duelling was a show of talent, but most importantly, it was entertainment for the public. Harry deliberately made his Fading have a loud cracking sound. Harry vanished to one spot, shot a Disarming spell and Faded to another spot.

Flitwick managed to bat the first few hexes away, but he was soon overwhelmed by spells coming at him from every direction possible. His ageing body and his state of tiredness practically demanded he call it quits. His student was simply too powerful and knew far too many things for him to be able to defeat him. The speed and agility his smaller frame provided served no purpose against someone that knew shields against basically everything.

And now, Harry Potter was - Apparating?! - all over the arena and shooting spells at him from every possible direction. In a matter of seconds, he was overwhelmed and he felt his wand being ripped from his grasp. He had lost. If he had to lose to anyone, then he couldn't have asked for better than losing to a student of his.

"You are a valiant duellist, Mr. Potter. Normally, I would've offered you an apprenticeship, but as the circumstances make it, it would seem that you would be the one that would teach me!" Flitwick said cheerily, his voice only faltering when he winced when the pain from the electrical shock came back in full force.

Harry grimaced a little when he saw his Charms Professor's pained expression. He would've created a counter-curse had he known the damage would be so… painful. "I am terribly sorry about the pain, Professor. But I'm afraid there is nothing anyone can do about it apart from pain relieving potions," Harry said apologetically.

"Not to worry, Mr. Potter. Us Goblins - well half-goblin in my case - greatly value pain gained from battles. There is a saying, yes? No pain, no gain."

"No pain, no gain," Harry repeated, wholeheartedly agreeing with the statement.

Next to them, the fight between Alejandra and Anton was still raging on. The two duellists were quite equally matched and it was only a small mistake in his footwork that saw Dalca lose the match some 19 minutes later.

"I enjoyed our two duels very much, Mr. Potter. I will be watching your career in duelling with great interest should you choose to walk down that path."

Harry smiled a bit. "Thanks Professor. I will have to deceive you, though. I have no interest in a career in duelling. I saw this tournament as, well, something more… casual, a… way of proving myself to the world, of sorts."

Flitwick barked a laugh at Harry's words. "Prove yourself you did, that you certainly did, Harry."

"I am very pleased you think so, Professor."

"It is only the truth. Go now, rest yourself and go prepare for your last group stage fight. I would be lying if I say I wouldn't be disappointed if you did not end up winning this thing after our two duels."

"Thanks for the confidence vote, Professor."

Harry left the duelling ring and walked up to the stands. He had only just arrived at where Andi and Ted were sitting with Dora and Fleur when Dora bolted straight up and unceremoniously dragged the two elders away with a mischievous smirk sent Harry's way. Harry had just barely made out her parting words. Something along the lines of, 'I'm setting those two up.'

Harry had initially frowned at Dora's words, not exactly getting her point when it struck him. Ah. Dinner. Fleur was looking at him. Screw it. What was dinner between two friends anyway? This was only dinner. Not a date. Just dinner. Not a date. Not a date. Not a - for fuck's sake Fleur's eyes looked positively entrancing.

Harry somehow managed to calm himself, nervousness stashed away in a double-locked chest of his mind. "Would you accompany me for dinner, Fleur?" Harry asked her.

Fleur's smile could've lit up the entire arena. "Of course I would!"

Fleur's mind would've been a nervous wreck had it not been for her Veela heritage basically forcing her to act more calmly. This was just Harry being a gentleman, taking her out for dinner, as friends. As friends. As friends. The Veela and the heart didn't want Harry as a friend. The brain wanted Harry as a friend for now. In a two against one uphill battle, the brain won. The brain won, but the battle against the blush was lost. It felt a bit strange to be in a reversal of roles, Fleur decided. Normally she was the one people would look at and blush - or sneer. Now, she was the one that could barely contain her flaming cheeks in front of her handsome friend.

Some of the Veela magic and her heart managed to sneak around the spiked defences or Fleur's brain though, and she looped her arm through Harry's. She was not displeased by the arrangement in the slightest, though. Harry didn't seem to mind either. If Fleur was being honest, she would've said Harry was even quite pleased with her hanging so close to him. She knew she was. Fleur was honestly also a little bit scared. Deep down, she knew what was happening. She knew what this was and she was scared of what might be coming next. Fleur had most probably found her special someone, her only one for life and it was happening way too fast. Who would've known a few days were all that were necessary to potentially seal someone's fate? The court did. Judges did. And now Fleur did too. She wasn't ready just yet and she had yet to make sure her feelings were reciprocal. She knew Harry fancied her and he probably knew she did too, she could see it in his eyes. But now was too early. She wasn't ready. But she definitely wouldn't refuse dinner with Harry.

"And where are you planning to take me, Monsieur?" Fleur asked Harry curiously.

"Well I saw this place this morning, Rolf's Kitchen, I think it's called. It's Nordic food and since we're in Sweden, I thought we could try it out?"

"Perfect. I always wanted to try what people ate outside of France and Italy," Fleur said. Harry gasped.

"You've never had English food?!"

"Non. It compares poorly to French and Italian delicacies," Fleur said, turning her nose up cutely. Except that only made her look directly into Harry's eyes. He was so much taller than her it made her stomach flutter and her heart thunder. Not now!

"I will have to try and convince you otherwise," Harry stated, confidence underlying his voice, promising an eventual success.

"You will do no such thing. You people drink leaves soaked in boiling water," Fleur said, shivering, as if the thought of tea scared her. But Harry had to agree with her.

"You've got a fair point, Fleur. Who thought leaves in water actually tasted good? But don't let Mum hear you say this, she and about every other resident of England would throttle me if they heard all the things I said about their favourite afternoon beverage."

Fleur giggled. "They will not, I will make sure of it. And about dinner?"

Harry straightened. "Right this way, my lady. It isn't too long a walk."

Harry led Fleur outside the arena's hidden building. They walked past buildings that were quite similar in architecture than the ones Fleur often saw in the streets of Paris, or any other big French city as a matter of fact. Fleur was sure it reminded Harry somewhat of England as well. After all, to the outsider's eye, all of Europe's architecture looked the same. But the differences were in the details, the carvings of the marble here, the colour palette used for the woods. Fleur was amusing herself with finding these small details that distinguished the French from the Swedish and pointing them out to Harry.

Harry was only too happy to listen to Fleur chatter about architecture. He found architecture to be somewhat fascinating himself but what he really enjoyed was listening to Fleur's voice. Maybe it was his imagination - it probably was - but Harry swore he could hear an ethereal, angelic echo to Fleur's voice.

"We're here, Fleur," Harry told her when they arrived in front of a small restaurant. The place was small but tidy and it gave off a homely feeling.

As the two walked into the restaurant, they were accosted almost instantly by a waitress, who led them to a small table with two seats facing each other.

"Your Allure, Fleur, it doesn't seem to affect the men here," Harry whispered to her, having noticed the lack of - wrong. People still stared, but Fleur probably - certainly - didn't need an Allure to make heads turn.

"Non, it does not. It is entirely magical, so no wizards means no glazed eyes."

"They're still staring, though," Harry said and he unconsciously grabbed hold of Fleur's hand over the table.

The waitress returned with menus. Fleur and Harry both looked over the card, looking for anything interesting. They ended up choosing a whole variety of the specialities the restaurant offered, all in small portions. Fleur wanted to try a bit of everything, but she ended up blocking Harry from trying the small pot of fish stew. Harry had looked away for just one second to take a peek at an unfamiliar dish before he turned back and the fish stew was all but gone. Fleur sighed contently.

"Excellent," she said softly.

Harry was staring at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Before he schooled his features and gained a teasing grin instead.

"Fleur? What happened to 'try and eat every dish moderately'?"

"Shut up, 'Arry. The fish stew was simply wayyy too good to pass up to you. I simply had my way with it. T'inquète, there is still space for me to try all the other dishes," Fleur reassured Harry.

"If you say so," Harry said, smiling.

"I did."

Harry rolled his eyes. Leave it to Fleur to always have the last words.

"Here," Harry said, pushing a fuming pot towards Fleur. "Try this broth. The spices make it taste incredibly unique."

"Unique?" Fleur said hesitantly, but she still spooned up a little of the soup and carefully blew on it before sipping a little. Harry saw her eyes widen comically before Fleur's hand shot out.

"Give me this pot, 'Arry. You can 'ave, euh, this," Fleur said, handing a small plate of wild rice with steamed vegetables laid on top to Harry.

"Alright," Harry said, highly amused by Fleur's antics, handing her the steaming soup pot and accepting the plate of rice.

As they ate, Harry understood that Fleur had a soft spot for anything that was hot soup and seafood, specifically fish. It was nearing three in the afternoon that both Harry and Fleur finished. The small dishes had proved to be more than excellent but what had really taken time was conversation. Both Fleur and Harry knew the other much better at the end of dinner than they did before.

As the bill came up, Fleur was about to pull her purse out to pay for her part but Harry beat her to it. He shot her a wink as he was handing the notes to the waitress and whispered in her ear, "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let my lady pay on our first dinner together?"

Fleur flushed bright crimson at that. Harry's just being a gentleman. This is just how he is. This wasn't a date. This was just dinner between two friends. This wasn't a date. This wasn't a date. 'Then why the hell does it feel every bit like it?!' Fleur thought. I'm the Veela. If Harry's just going to - flirt? - like that with me, I have to do it right back. It's not like I don't like it. I love it. It's just harmless flirting, right?

Fleur made her decision right there. She'd be more than glad to play along in Harry's game.

"Merci 'Arry," Fleur kissed his cheek. Fleur punched the air in her imagination when she saw Harry's cheek tint pink. The colour wasn't from her lip gloss. 'Point for Miss Delacour,' Fleur cheered inwardly. 'But he made me blush way more times,' Fleur realised.

"I've got… erm," Harry checked his watch. "Two hours before the last match of the day."

Fleur nodded. "I 'ave seen that Alejandra girl duel. She's very precise. But you've already beat her once."

"I did."

"Oui. You just 'ave to make sure you do it again."

"I will try my best," Harry assured Fleur.

"Bon. You do 'ave a lot of explaining to do on Tuesday."

"Noted."

"Let's go then, I want to go see the rivers," Fleur said, taking Harry's hand and leading him out of the restaurant once the bill was paid for. Harry and Fleur walked along the bridge of Stockholm, the one that went by the Nobel Prize Museum.

"Have you had the career talk at Beauxbatons?" Harry asked as the two of them were stopped by a passing photographer. The man was holding a camera, a Muggle one, and snapped a photo of Harry and Fleur, holding hands, standing on the bridge, with the setting sun behind them. Harry paid the man for the photograph and gave it to Fleur who promised to make a copy of it for Harry.

"We didn't 'ave that talk about the careers yet, I think one of my teachers mentioned it 'appening in our last year. But I already know what I want to do," Fleur said happily.

"And what's that you want to do?"

"Tu promets you won't laugh?" Harry asked, eyeing Harry critically.

"Promise."

"I want to write a book, the things I've written in my notebook and the things I created. I want to open a shop too. I think I'll be an Enchantress and a Spell-Crafter. I'll open a shop where people can come see me to enchant their magical items and I'll sell my own enchanted items. And I'll write books about the spells I'll create."

"You write about the spells I've created, as starting content."

"Vraiment? You'd let me do that?" Fleur asked, surprised. Normally, people liked to have their own creations published under their own name.

"Of course, I'll lend you my notebook. After all, I am going to show you the things I've created on Tuesday."

"I'd like that very much. But that is a project for a few years in the foreseeable future. I 'ave to focus on my examens."

"Just make sure you put my name in that book too, deal?"

"Oui," Fleur agreed. "Imagine that title, Mysterious spell creations by Fleur Delacour and Harry Potter. Something like that."

It did sound enticing. Harry had to agree, this was a project he wanted to work on with Fleur.

"We have to head back now, otherwise Mum is going to tear the city apart just to yell at me that I'm going to be late for the semi-finals."

"We aren't going to make it. We walked for nearly two hours, 'Arry," Fleur reminded him.

"I won't tell if you don't tell?" Harry smirked at her.

Fleur frowned at him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Take my hand."

Fleur took his hand. The next second, she saw her body dissolve from the bridge and her vision faded into nothingness before she reappeared inside the building hosting the Duelling Championship.

"Explain. Now," Fleur poked Harry in the ribs.

"This is something I've created, in the stead of Apparition. It takes little to no effort, is completely silent and passes through wards."

Fleur's jaw dropped comically. She wasn't really surprised by Harry's explanation but she was. Even if she had seen him do that against Flitwick in their second fight, she had initially thought Harry was simply extremely good with wards and had somehow taken down the Anti-Apparition wards of the duelling arena. Apparently not.

"You are explaining this to me mardi. Sans faute." Fleur demanded.

"Without fault," Harry repeated in English.

"Bon. Allez, you 'ave a duel now, the last one before the finals. You 'ad better win this entire event. I 'ave to say I am very satisfied with the show you 'ave provided, 'Arry."

"Glad to be of service," Harry grumbled.

"Aw, 'Arry, you look adorable when you're grumpy," Fleur mocked.

"Shut up, Fleur. Stop being annoying."

"Spoilsport," Fleur said, pinching Harry on his forearm before she ran off towards the stands, laughing.

---

Harry winced. Bone-Breakers hurt like hell. A pale green orb formed in his left palm, a Mending Charm. Harry hastily dropped the orb onto his broken shoulder, wincing once more as the broken bone cracked before it was mended. Another Bone-Breaker flew his way, forcing Harry to erect a Daybreaker Shield. The spell was absorbed by the pitch black barrier. The shield shifted from black to the boiling orange colour of the Bone-Breaker.

"Curvum," Harry whispered before releasing the shield.

The Bone-Breaker shot out of Harry's wand, wheezed past Alejandra, seemingly missing its mark before it whirled around and flew right back at the witch's exposed back. Somehow, Alejandra managed to sense that a spell was coming towards her back and banked left at the last moment. The crowd cheered for the brilliant dodge.

Maybe it was time to mix some things up, Harry thought. Darkness overtook his magical core. Three black orbs of magic appeared in Harry's left hand and Harry threw all three high up in the air. The three orbs flew up and exploded into blinding white light. 'Same strategy once more, just more complicated,' Harry thought.

Harry applied a Disillusionment charm over himself and went into a corner of the arena, just like he had done with Flitwick. Harry cast a cloning mirror spell and disillusioned it before he took a deep breath. He was about to try something he had only tried once during training and all there was to say was that that training session ended up costing Harry quite a few medical checks for concussion due to fainting and hitting his head. Another deep breath.

Alejandra had seen Harry's duel against Flitwick because as soon as her vision was back, she started casting spells at all four corners of the ring at random. Harry was forced to silence his feet lest he gets his position revealed by the sounds of his footsteps. Another deep breath.

Harry separated his magical core in two individual magical sources and cast another cloning mirror and also disillusioned this one. Harry felt the immense tug within himself. The two clones of himself - for now invisible, just like him - were pulling very hard on his magical core.

At his mental count of three, Harry released the Disillusionments and Alejandra suddenly found herself cornered by three Harrys. And then all three of them started to disappear and reappear at random areas of the arena, raining spells down on her. Just like Flitwick, she managed to dodge the first few spells the three identical Harrys shot at her before desperation took over and she shot a spell at random.

Harry - the real one - Dissolved to Alejandra's left, rushing to end the fight before he ran out of power. Alejandra's footwork was simply perfect and there was absolutely no fault in how she moved about the arena. That was when Harry was thrown backwards by a Bludgeoner. Alejandra had shot a spell at random and had somehow hit the real Harry. Harry was thrown backwards and his clones faded into nothingness, returning to him his magical core in its entirety.

Harry shook his head to clear the dizziness. The Bludgeoning hex packed quite the punch. Alejandra had used those few split seconds that Harry took to reign himself over to hop onto her feet and unleash a whole stream of endless curses towards Harry. Harry, whose magical core was still adjusting from having powered two clones, wasn't ready to cast a shield strong enough to last through the incoming onslaught.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, it would seem. Harry created a Stunning orb in his left palm and he looked up high, into the space above Alejandra. In one last effort, Harry Dissolved into that space, up in the air. The threw the red orb downwards, not even bothering to take aim, before he cast one last spell, a blue electrical bolt - Micare - at the red orb. The bolt sped into the Stunning spell's red orb making it explode into a wide arc of energy. Alejandra fell, stunned and Harry crashed into the platform, stunned as well.

The referee hastily announced Harry's victory, to the loud cheers of the public in the stands. Healers rushed into the duelling platform's wards and reanimated Harry and Alejandra. The Spanish girl gave Harry a friendly clap on the shoulder and congratulated him for his win in their more than amazing spar - in her opinion. She parted, wishing Harry good luck for the final match against the second group.

---

"Harry! I hope you're dressed 'cause I'm coming straight in!" Dora yelled.

Harry, who was indeed dressed, let Tonks into his hotel room, lest she woke up the whole floor with her yelling.

"What's got you yelling like this at 8 in the morning, Dora?"

"Look!" the Metamorph exclaimed, her hair shifting bright pink, brandishing the morning paper.

"You get your paper delivered here?" Harry laughed.

"That's not the point, you idiot! Look!"

Harry looked at the front page.

FOUR TIMES INTERNATIONAL DUELLING CHAMPION ELIMINATED BY UNDISCOVERED TALENT IN QUARTER-FINALS AT EUROPEAN DUELLING CHAMPIONSHIP

FILIUS FLITWICK OUT OF EUROPEAN DUELLING CHAMPIONSHIP

Filius Flitwick, renowned Charms teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and former International Duelling Champion was eliminated yesterday in the European Duelling Championship by 17 years old duellist Harry James Potter in an incredible show of power, skill and knowledge from the young duellist.

This young talent was previously never spotted in any duelling circuits but nevertheless proved to be incredibly knowledgeable, defeating Flitwick twice in with bouts of unknown spells and magic. Harry James Potter is rumoured to be a master in ward manipulation, having taken control of the Anti-Apparition wards in his second duel against the Charm Professor and managed to defeat the former champion in a chain of no less than 27 Apparitions in a row. Such a feat was deemed impossible but Mr. Potter has somehow managed to source enough power to crack the protocol.

His first duel against master duellist Flitwick was no less impressive than his second, but much more confusing as for the magic he used. Mr. Potter has first managed to literally pour flames from his open palm. Is this a sign of the young man already straying into the Dark Arts? This reporter will try and gather more information in the next few days, in the hopes of keeping you informed. Mr. Potter has also demonstrated control and power way beyond the norm in the terms of wandless magic. It is safe to believe that one Harry James Potter could probably duel as well without a wand than with one.

This therefore begs to the question. Just where has Mr. Potter learned and practised all his prowess? Mr. Potter, if you are reading this, I am imploring you to grant this reporter an exclusive interview.

The article ended there and there was an enormous magical photo of the entire arena with Harry Dissolving and Fading into random spots around Flitwick. At least the article had dragged the viewers' attention away from the fact that Harry's 'Apparating' was, in fact, not Apparating.

"D'you reckon I should take the reporter up on his demand for an interview, Dora?" Harry asked the Metamorph who was busy looking through Harry's hair care products and rearranging them in a seemingly random order.

"Huh?"

"What are you do- No, not the shampoo, please, that one's expensive!" Harry yelled, rushing into the bathroom of his room.

"Whoops," Dora said unapologetically.

"Incorrigible," Harry muttered. "So do you think I should do that interview?"

Nymphadora let go of Harry's now completely mixed up morning routine products and scratched her chin thoughtfully. "I don't think you should. The reporter's likely just going to hound you for answers as to how you did what you did. A good magician never reveals his tricks, right?"

"Right," Harry agreed, seeing Nym's point. "It would make me look like I have a giant head anyways. Look at me! I just beat a four time Duelling World Champion in a duel and my ego is taller than the Eiffel tower now," Harry added sarcastically.

"You've got a point, dear Harry. But I beg to differ, you do indeed have a big head," Tonks said with a teasing smile.

"I clearly don't," Harry said stubbornly, not noticing Tonks had cast a silent spell the moment his eyes strayed for a second.

"You clearly do," Tonks retorted.

"I don't."

"See for yourself, mister."

Harry frowned and looked at himself in the mirror. He was positively horrified when he saw his head had swelled to disturbing proportions. Tonks' cackling laughter instantly made her the main and only suspect.

"I'll get you back for this," Harry promised, reverting the Engorgio spell.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll have you arrested for trying to mess with an Auror."

"You wouldn't!" Harry gasped mockingly.

"I definitely will, mister. You took Fleur out for dinner yesterday, you're taking me out for breakfast today."

---

"You don't belong here, boy," the man sneered as Harry made his way onto the platform for the final duel of the Championship. "Just who do you think you are, barging into a tournament you have no place in? The rest of us earned our spot! What did you do to get yours? Dark Magic and cheating!"

Harry smirked. This ought to be good. He was familiar with this type of person, the type that needed to be knocked down a few pegs and properly shut up.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Harry taunted the man.

"Watch your mouth, kid," he hissed. "I'll obliterate you so hard you will beg for mercy."

"Yes, that, unfortunately, I don't think anyone will live to see that day."

"BEGIN!" the referee shouted.

Harry didn't even bother to bow, instead he merely stared insolently at his opponent as he straightened back up after his mocking bow. The crowd was watching the duel with rapt attention, eager to see the fight unfold.

Harry thought of his match plan on that instant.

"Did they not even teach you respect, boy? You are supposed to bow to your opponent before the duel!"

"I bow down before opponents that I respect, you are neither my opponent nor do you deserve my respect." Harry corrected the arrogant man.

"You dare, you dare," he seethed. "Then duel! Why are you just standing there? Fight if you're not just scared!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. He was about to do something risky. One Chameleon Charm later, 'Stupefy,' Harry thought. Instead of the crimson light of the Stunning spell, a jet of light the sickly green colour of the Killing Curse emerged from Harry's wand's tip. Harry almost burst out laughing when the man before him literally froze in fear at the sight of the green curse and simply let the curse hit him.

Harry waited just enough time for him to drop his wand in his unconscious state before he cast 'Enervate'. Damage control was important for what he had just done. He couldn't afford for the man to fall unconscious and tumble to the ground, lest the public start to think he had actually cast the Killing Curse.

As the man was brought back to consciousness, he started shouting obscenities, demanding Harry be arrested for use of the Killing Curse. It took the referee more than fifteen minutes to make the man stop yelling and point out the fact that if it had indeed been the Killing Curse, then he wouldn't be here ripping people's eardrums apart.

The awards ceremony was a tranquil thing, if you count having over a hundred reporters yelling at seven teenagers - the winners of each category - as tranquil. The prize money mattered little to Harry so he gave it to Andi and Ted for renovations in the house. He did keep the small crystal trophy though. That trophy mattered more to Harry than the money, honestly. One was proof of his accomplishment - despite the somewhat lame final duel - and the other was simply monetary currency that he did not currently need. Harry had yet to receive any updates from his Account Manager at Gringotts, which meant that business was undergoing and well.

"We're so extremely proud of you!" Andromeda exclaimed proudly, hugging Harry tightly once he had made his way over.

"That was one hell of a show you put on!" Ted added.

"Thanks Mum, Dad," Harry thanked them quietly. This meant more to him than any trophy.

"Yeah, Harry! I'm disappointed you didn't try those other tricks in my handbook but people would've asked questions if you did so- Oh what am I saying?! I'm so happy my brother is a European Duelling Champion!" Tonks cheered.

Harry hugged his much shorter sister tightly as well.

"Mum, Dad, I think it's best we give Harry some space here, he's about to ask her out," Dora whispered conspiratorially to their parents as Fleur made her way towards Harry as well.

"Nymphadora, you will stop messing with Harry right this instant," Ted ordered. "Though I think it would be best if we gave them their space," he added, winking at his daughter.

Harry ignored the teasing. He was engulfed in a tight hug from Fleur. The very feminine curves of her body were pressed tightly against his chest - mostly - and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't having, erm, reactions. He did do his best to hide his blush though.

"I am very 'appy for you, 'Arry," Fleur murmured into his neck. Her hot breath blew over his skin and Harry repressed the urge to shiver. They still hadn't let go of each other.

"It means a lot to me that you are, Fleur," Harry whispered back.

Fleur peeked at Harry, her head still resting in the crook of his neck. Harry had to fight harder than he had ever fought in his life to not simply lean down and kiss her. He did stare at her lips.

"I will be coming to kidnap you tomorrow, first thing in the morning," Fleur told Harry.

"I'm looking forward to it. But you know where I live?" Harry asked her.

"Oui. I asked Mrs. Tonks and she gave me your address."

"Alright. Do you have a Portkey home to catch?"

"Oui. It is supposed to leave in about half an hour. We are just on time," Fleur said, taking a look at Harry's watch.

"Do you want me to drop you off at the Ministry?" Harry asked Fleur.

"It would save me great amounts of time. I do not know 'ow to Apparate just yet."

"Alright."

Harry, with Fleur still hugging him close, snaked an arm around her slender waist and the two disappeared from the Championship's hosting building. Harry and Fleur reappeared in the designated area for Apparition in the Swedish Ministry of Magic. Fleur finally let Harry go but she stayed close to him.

"I will be seeing you demain matin, oui?"

"Oui. I will be expecting you."

Fleur gave Harry one last hasty hug before she rushed off. She made it ten metres far before she turned and blew Harry a kiss. Fleur turned back, very pleased at seeing Harry's small, pleased smile and his slight flustering. 'There,' Fleur thought. 'Two points for me now. But he's still made me blush more times. Zut!'

Harry had Faded his family back home. On a shelf in the sitting room, Harry put the small trophy he had won on display. This wasn't just the pride of his own, it was the pride of the entire family.