The Order of the Black Cat

by xWolfx93

During his first year at Hogwarts, Harry befriends Daphne Greengrass and encounters Jingles, a magical cat. Their revelations help Harry see the world isn't just black and white and give him what he always wanted: a family. Together, they form a secret society to better the wizarding world. The OC will be a brotherly figure to Harry. No SI. This is a longfic.

47. The Duelling Tournament

AN: To address the Guest Review on Chapter 46, as I cannot PM Guests (or answer directly in any other matter): I loved your comment, as that is very much what is going on. Though for Harry to grow a spine there will be a different event acting as catalyst. But that is sometime off for now. When they start acting as the Order of the Black Cat, Rigel's differing viewpoint/methods will become more obvious to the others, especially Harry. But this too will be a slow development. Thanks for your comment! 😊

Chapter 47 – The Duelling Tournament

In the Great Hall, the usual clutter of tables and benches had been transfigured away, leaving the vast chamber more open and imposing than ever. In the heart of the room, a duelling ring had been conjured, its boundary lines shimmering slightly with magical energy. The space around it had been transformed into an arena of sorts, with raised spectator stands erected on all sides, providing an unobstructed view of the impending magical confrontations. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable buzz of excitement that resonated through the stone walls of Hogwarts.

The stands in the Great Hall were filled to the very edges, a sea of students from every house, competitors eager for the challenge and spectators buzzing with excitement. Their conversations and laughter intertwined, creating a lively ambiance that resonated with the spirit of anticipation and unity. The air was electric, charged with the collective energy of youth and the sheer love for the magic that was about to unfold on the field below.

Sirius Black, with a dramatic flourish, stepped into the centre of the duelling ring, his teaching robes billowing around him. He raised his wand, and the chatter of the Great Hall hushed in anticipation. His voice, magically magnified, filled the space with clarity and command.

"Students of Hogwarts," Sirius announced, his tone brimming with the excitement of the occasion. "Welcome to the Duelling Tournament, a showcase of your magical skill and strategic minds. Remember, this event is as much about sportsmanship and learning as it is about competition. Treat your opponents with respect and honour the spirit of the duel."

With a flick of his wand, Sirius conjured numbers to float above the heads of each participant. The soft glow of the digits illuminated eager faces, eyes darting around to identify their match.

"These numbers," Sirius explained, "pair you for the first round of the tournament. Find your match, prepare yourselves, and when your numbers are called, step into the ring with courage and focus."

As the hall buzzed with the movement of students seeking their counterparts, Sirius stepped back, his eyes gleaming with pride and a hint of nostalgia. The tournament was about to begin, and the Great Hall thrummed with the energy of anticipation and the promise of magical duels to come.

Harry, standing amidst the throng of competitors, craned his neck to see the glowing '1' hovering above his head. A sense of relief washed over him as he quickly spotted the numbers above Daphne and Rigel - '16' and '5' respectively. At least he wouldn't be facing these two in the first round, a small blessing in the fierce competition that lay ahead.

As he turned, scanning the crowd for the other '1', a familiar figure approached him with a sheepish yet determined smile. It was Neville, his number matching Harry's. The realisation dawned on both of them; they were to be opponents in the very first duel of the tournament.

Despite the nerves that were evident in Neville's posture, the slight tremble of his hands, Harry clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture both comforting and encouraging. "Remember what we promised, Neville," Harry said, his voice firm yet kind. "We give it our best. You've got this. Just focus."

Neville nodded, drawing strength from Harry's confidence in him. He attempted to steady his breathing, his eyes briefly closing as he summoned his resolve.

Sirius's voice, still magically amplified, cut through the hum of the crowd. "The numbers will also dictate the order of the duels. Would pair number one please step into the ring?"

With one last reassuring glance at Neville, Harry led the way to the duelling ring. The murmur of the crowd faded into a hush of anticipation. They took their positions, facing each other, wands at the ready. Despite the competition, their friendship remained unshaken, a testament to the bonds formed within the walls of Hogwarts. The duel was about to begin, but regardless of the outcome, their mutual respect would endure.

Harry and Neville stood facing each other in the duelling ring, their wands at the ready and their expressions a blend of determination and mutual respect. Around them, the Great Hall was silent, every eye fixated on the pair in the centre. They bowed to each other, a traditional gesture of respect amongst duellists, and then turned to face Sirius, who stood at the edge of the ring, ready to commence the duel.

"Three... two... one... go!" Sirius's voice cut sharply through the tension.

At the call, both Harry and Neville sprang into action, their wands a blur of motion as they unleashed their first spells. Harry, experienced and sharp, sent a series of quick, precise jinxes towards Neville, expecting to take early control of the duel. However, Neville, with a newfound confidence, deflected them effortlessly, his wand movements smooth and practised.

Neville's counter-attack was swift and unexpected, a torrent of spells that Harry had to dodge and deflect. Neville, usually hesitant and unsure, was duelling with a fierce intensity Harry had rarely seen in him. He sent a well-aimed Disarming Charm, which Harry barely avoided, rolling away just in time.

The crowd gasped and murmured, witnessing Neville's surprising prowess. Harry, now on the backfoot, felt a surge of pride for his friend – Neville was indeed formidable when he found his focus. But there was no time to dwell on emotions; the duel was in full swing, and Harry had to respond.

He parried another of Neville's spells, a cleverly cast Leg-Locker Curse, and countered with a non-verbal Stinging Hex. Neville winced as it grazed his arm but didn't lose his stride.

The duel was a dance, a dynamic exchange of spells, counterspells, and swift movements. Harry's respect for Neville's skills grew with every spell he had to dodge or counter. It was clear that Neville had not only improved but had also come into this duel with a strategy and a determination that was truly impressive.

The Great Hall echoed with the sounds of their duel, the crackling of spells, the shuffle of feet, and the occasional sharp intake of breath from the spectators. The duel was far from over, and as Harry and Neville continued to weave and cast, it was clear to everyone watching that this was a display of not just magical skill, but of the growth and resilience of two young wizards who had come into their own.

Amidst the whirl of spells and the intense focus of the duel, Harry's mind was a battleground of its own. Pride swelled within him as he witnessed Neville's prowess, yet intertwined with that pride was the unyielding drive not to lose. He had made a promise to Rigel, a commitment to face him in a duel where they both would be pushed to their limits. Losing here, to Neville, was not an option he could entertain.

Amidst the cacophony of the duel and the roar of his thoughts, a small, insidious voice began to whisper in the back of Harry's mind. Sinister yet alluring, it slithered through his consciousness like smoke, wrapping its words around his resolve with a tempting hiss.

"Just a flick, Harry," it murmured seductively, "a mere gesture, and this duel ends. The power of your fire is a gift, a tool waiting to be used. Why prolong this? Why risk defeat?"

The voice was like velvet, dark and smooth, enticing Harry with visions of a swift, decisive victory. "Imagine it," the voice coaxed, the words curling around his doubts, "a burst of flame, a spectacle of your might. They all know you hold back. Show them. Show them the true force of Harry Potter."

It promised ease, a path devoid of obstacles, a display of strength that would ensure his progress in the tournament, and more—respect, fear, control. "One small spark, and he's out of the ring. One small spark, and your path to Rigel is clear," it whispered, the allure of power, of certainty, in its tone.

But Harry knew the cost. Unleashing his fire affinity was not just a show of strength; it was a force untamed, capable of harm far beyond the bounds of a friendly duel. He could visualise it, the burst of flame, the heat that could singe, burn, and push Neville out of the ring—or worse. The thought of causing real harm to Neville, his friend, his schoolmate, was abhorrent.

With a determined shake of his head, Harry pushed the voice away, silencing the tempting call of raw power. This was a duel of skill, of strategy and technique, not of overwhelming force. He refocused, his resolve hardening. The duel needed to end, yes, but not like that. Not with fire and fear.

Gathering his wits and honing his focus, Harry anticipated Neville's next spell, seeing the pattern, the opening. With a swift, precise movement, he cast a Disarming Charm, the spell striking Neville's wand and sending it clattering out of his hand.

The duel was over.

The Great Hall erupted into applause, but Harry barely heard it. His mind was still racing, the echo of that tempting, dangerous voice lingering in his thoughts. He had won, but at what cost? The presence of that voice, its dark allure, left a chill in his heart. What was it? A manifestation of his own fears, his own power? Or something else, something more sinister?

Harry pushed the disconcerting whispers of the voice to the back of his mind, the urgency of the tournament pulling his focus outward. His gaze shifted from the duelling ring to the crowd of participants, curiosity driving him to ascertain the match-ups, especially those involving his friends.

His eyes quickly landed on Astoria, Ginny, and Luna, who stood together in a tight-knit group, their numbers clearly visible above their heads. Astoria's '15' was distinct, but it was the matching '2's above Ginny and Luna that drew his attention. A ripple of excitement passed through him; the next match would be between Ginny and Luna, a duel that promised to be captivating. He was especially excited to see how their newest Order members would fare.

Scanning the crowd further, Harry spotted Hermione. Her number '9' hovered above her, solitary and unpaired for the moment, her opponent yet to be found in the sea of faces.

His attention then drifted to the Weasley twins, their identical grins making it impossible to tell which twin sported the '6' and which bore the '10'. Harry couldn't help but smirk, imagining the chaos those two could bring to the tournament, regardless of their opponents.

Then he noticed Susan and Hannah, their numbers '6' and '8' respectively. Susan's number matched that of one of the twins, an interesting pairing that was sure to be a crowd-pleaser.

A sense of unease settled over Harry when his gaze found Tracey, the number '5' hovering ominously above her. The realisation that she was to face Rigel in the first round sent a wave of concern through him. The outcome seemed a foregone conclusion; Rigel's prowess in duelling was unmatched, a fact well-known and undisputed. Harry knew the strength and the sheer intensity Rigel brought to each duel, an intimidating prospect for any opponent.

Despite Tracey's talent and the determination she carried like a shield, Harry couldn't shake off the worry that clung to the edges of his thoughts. It wasn't the fear of physical harm that troubled him – both were skilled enough to avoid that – but rather the potential impact on Tracey's spirits. A duel with Rigel, especially in such a public setting, could be disheartening, a blow to one's confidence if not approached with the right mindset.

Harry hoped, with a quiet intensity, that Tracey would hold her own, that she would see this duel not as a measure of her worth but as a challenge to rise to, an experience to learn from.

As Harry's survey of the tournament participants progressed, his attention fleetingly settled on Pansy and Millicent. He noted their respective numbers - '16' for Pansy and '7' for Millicent, sealing their fates in the first round. Harry couldn't claim much insight into either girl, his interactions with them having been minimal and mostly indirect.

However, the realisation that Pansy would be facing Daphne, as indicated by their matching '16's, piqued his interest, albeit briefly. He didn't know much about Pansy's capabilities in duelling, but he was well-acquainted with Daphne's skill and finesse with a wand. There was a part of him, perhaps influenced by his loyalty and the high regard he held for Daphne, that was almost certain Daphne would make short work of her opponent. It wasn't a thought born of disdain for Pansy, but rather a testament to the confidence he had in Daphne's abilities.

Before Harry could delve deeper into the potential match-ups and strategies, Sirius's commanding voice called the attention of the hall to the next duel. "The second pair, numbers '2', please step into the ring," he announced, and the crowd's focus shifted.

Harry, his thoughts still clouded by the presence of the mysterious voice, decided it was best to focus on the present, on the spectacle of magic and skill that unfolded before him. As Ginny and Luna stepped into the ring, their wands ready and their spirits high, Harry knew that watching their duel would be far more than just a distraction; it would be a display of the strength, determination, and camaraderie that defined Hogwarts and its students.

As Ginny and Luna squared off in the duelling ring, the atmosphere in the Great Hall shifted, the air charged with anticipation. At Sirius's signal, the duel erupted into action, both girls launching into a barrage of spells with a ferocity that had the crowd on the edge of their seats.

In between the rapid exchange of spells, Harry caught glimpses of the duel's rhythm. Ginny's techniques were straightforward and bold, much like her personality, her attacks well-aimed and relentless. Luna, on the other hand, was an enigma. She moved with a peculiar grace, her wandwork as whimsical and unpredictable as her thoughts. Even in the heat of the duel, Luna's expression remained distant, her gaze seemingly unfocused, as if her mind was partially elsewhere.

Harry watched, fascinated. Luna's unorthodox approach was disconcerting, her dreamy detachment serving as an unexpected layer of defence. He couldn't help but admire the strategy, whether intentional or just a natural extension of Luna's unique perspective. A duellist facing Luna would have to contend not just with her spells, but with the challenge of deciphering her true focus, a task that could lead to overthinking and mistakes.

But as the duel progressed, it became apparent that Luna's ethereal style, while unsettling and ingenious in its own right, lacked the decisive force necessary to overpower Ginny. Ginny's spells grew more aggressive, her determination palpable as she seized control of the duel. Luna's responses, though creative and well-crafted, began to falter under the weight of Ginny's relentless assault.

In a final, dramatic exchange, Ginny's spellcasting intensified, her focus narrowing as she sought the decisive moment. Luna, ever enigmatic, wove a tapestry of spells that seemed almost too intricate to unravel. But Ginny, her determination etched in every line of her stance, waited for the perfect opening.

It came in a fleeting moment, a split second when Luna's guard dropped ever so slightly, her concentration momentarily caught in the web of her own complex spellwork. Seizing the opportunity, Ginny's wand traced a swift, decisive arc through the air, her voice ringing out clear and commanding.

"Depulso!" she shouted, the spell erupting from her wand with a force that seemed to shake the very air of the Great Hall.

The Banishing Charm struck true, its unyielding energy meeting Luna's slight frame. Despite Luna's quick reflexes and an attempted Shield Charm, the power behind Ginny's spell was overwhelming. Luna was propelled backward, a look of surprise crossing her features as the force of the spell carried her. Her feet lost their purchase on the ground, skidding helplessly across the polished floor of the duelling ring until she crossed the boundary line, the invisible barrier marking the end of the duel.

The hall fell silent for a heartbeat, the conclusion of the duel settling over the spectators like a spell of its own. Then, as if released from a charm, the silence shattered into applause and cheers, the students and faculty alike acknowledging the fierce determination and skill displayed by both duellists. Luna, though bested in this match, wore a serene smile, her respect for Ginny's victory evident in her gracious demeanour.

As the next duel was being prepared, Harry's gaze once again swept across the Great Hall, his eyes scanning the participants to discern more of the upcoming matchups. The atmosphere was still buzzing from Ginny and Luna's duel, the excitement palpable and contagious.

His eyes landed on Malfoy and his usual entourage. Malfoy and Goyle both bore the number '3' above their heads, while Crabbe displayed a '4'. A smirk tugged at the corner of Harry's mouth; Malfoy and Goyle would be the next to duel. The thought of those two facing each other was an interesting twist, though Harry doubted it would provide the same level of intensity as the previous match.

His attention then shifted to Ernie and Justin, who were sporting the numbers '8' and '10' respectively. That meant Ernie was set to face Hannah, and Justin would be up against one of the twins. Harry considered both of these duels as foregone conclusions – Ernie's solid spellwork would likely secure him a victory over Hannah, and whichever twin faced Justin was almost certain to come out on top, their penchant for mischief matched by their surprising proficiency with magic.

A chuckle escaped Harry when he spotted Lavender, her number '9' floating above her head. She was to duel Hermione, and Harry couldn't help but see the outcome as predetermined. Hermione's dedication to her studies and her natural talent with a wand made her a formidable opponent. Poor Lavender was in for a challenging duel.

Before Harry could spot more pairings, Sirius's voice echoed through the hall, calling in the pair with the numbers '3'. Malfoy and Goyle stepped into the ring, an odd sense of hesitation between them that was almost palpable.

Harry watched with mild interest. He knew Crabbe and Goyle to be rather lacklustre when it came to magical duels, their physical presence far outstripping their skill with a wand. Malfoy, on the other hand, was a different matter. The training he had received from his father, Lucius Malfoy, was evident in his confident stance and the precise, calculated movements of his wand.

The match unfolded much as Harry had expected. Malfoy's superiority was clear from the outset, his spells sharp and well-targeted. Goyle, try as he might, couldn't keep up. The duel was decidedly one-sided, and it wasn't long before Malfoy saw his chance. With a swift, fluid motion, he cast a Disarming Charm, "Expelliarmus!" The spell hit its mark, and Goyle's wand flew from his hand, clattering to the floor of the ring.

The duel was over almost as quickly as it had begun, with Malfoy standing victorious. Harry's initial lack of interest in the match was validated by its predictable outcome, yet he couldn't deny the efficiency and skill Malfoy had demonstrated. It was a reminder that, while Malfoy's companions might not pose much of a threat, Malfoy himself was not to be underestimated.

Sirius, keen to keep the tournament moving along at a brisk pace, announced a change in procedure. "As one duel concludes, I'd like the next pair to prepare," he instructed. "Let's maintain our momentum, everyone. Pair number 4, please step into the ring."

The call for pair 4 brought Crabbe and Montague, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, into the ring. Harry's interest piqued slightly at this match-up; he had seen Montague in action on a broom, but never with a wand in hand.

The duel started, and it quickly became evident that Montague was in a different league compared to Crabbe. His spellwork was precise and efficient, his movements fluid and confident. Crabbe, on the other hand, struggled to keep up, his spells either missing their mark or being easily countered. It didn't take long for Montague to gain the upper hand, and soon after, he landed a clean Disarming Charm. Crabbe's wand flew out of his hand, signalling the end of another quick duel.

As Montague exited the ring, victorious, Harry's attention shifted to the next match – Rigel versus Tracey. He spotted Rigel sharing a tender moment with Daphne, a quick kiss followed by whispered words, before turning towards the ring with a calm, almost serene demeanour.

Harry quickly stood and made his way to Tracey, intercepting her just before she reached the ring. He wanted to offer her his support, to bolster her spirits before she faced such a formidable opponent. "You've got this," he said, his words filled with genuine encouragement. He leaned in for a deep, affirming kiss, followed by a comforting hug.

Tracey, true to her nature, didn't seem nervous or troubled. She radiated her usual charm and confidence, her flirtatious energy undimmed by the challenge ahead. Harry felt a swell of pride watching her; she was resilient, undaunted by the prospect of duelling Rigel.

As Tracey stepped into the ring, Harry's eyes found Rigel. His brother looked calm, his confidence bordering on nonchalance. Rigel's ability with a wand was well-known, and his relaxed attitude was a testament to his skill and self-assurance.

Harry and Rigel locked eyes briefly, a silent exchange passing between them. They nodded to each other, an acknowledgment of the duel's significance and of their mutual respect. Then Rigel turned his attention to Tracey, waiting for Sirius to start the match. Interestingly, he didn't adopt a traditional duelling stance, standing casually as if to underscore his confidence. Harry watched, his heart a mix of apprehension and anticipation, as the next duel of the tournament was about to commence.

The tension in the Great Hall was palpable as Rigel and Tracey faced each other in the duelling ring. The air seemed to hum with anticipation, every eye fixed on the two combatants. Sirius's voice, firm and clear, broke the silence. "Begin!"

Rigel, with the casual ease of one who has known victory often, initiated the duel with a flick of his wand, sending a simple Disarming Charm towards Tracey. It was a move not meant to harm, but to test, perhaps even to patronise. Tracey, however, was no longer the girl to be underestimated. With a fluid motion, she dodged the spell, her counter-attack a rapid succession of curses that had Rigel stepping back, his expression shifting from nonchalance to surprise.

Harry watched, his heart thudding in his chest. Tracey's spellwork was more than just improved; it was inspired, a blend of precision and creativity that turned the duel into a dance of flashing lights and moving shadows. The crowd murmured, the excitement building as Rigel found himself on the defensive, an unfamiliar position for the skilled duellist.

Spell after spell, Tracey pressed her advantage, her determination etched in every line of her stance. Rigel, forced to acknowledge the threat she posed, began to fight back with a more serious intent. His spells, sharp and calculated, met Tracey's with a clash that resonated through the hall.

For a moment, the duel balanced on a knife-edge, Tracey's relentless assault pushing Rigel towards the edge of the ring. The spectators were on their feet, the air crackling with the collective tension of a hundred held breaths. Harry felt a surge of conflicting emotions, pride for Tracey's strength clashing with his concern for Rigel.

But then, with the poise of one who knows his own capabilities, Rigel shifted the momentum. His stance changed, his spells morphed from defensive to decidedly offensive. The duel transformed, Rigel's magic weaving a complex web that Tracey fought valiantly to evade.

The Great Hall watched, spellbound, as Tracey parried and countered, her resilience and skill shining through even as Rigel's experience began to tip the scales. With each spell, Rigel pushed harder, drove deeper, his intent clear and uncompromising.

In a crescendo of magical force, Rigel unleashed a series of spells that left Tracey little room to manoeuvre. She dodged, deflected, but the pressure was relentless. In a final, desperate exchange, Rigel's wand traced a complex pattern, his spell a burst of raw power.

Tracey, her energy flagging but her spirit unbroken, raised her wand to counter. The spells met in a maelstrom of light and sound, the impact echoing like thunder through the hall. For a heartbeat, it seemed as though Tracey might hold her ground.

But the force behind Rigel's spell was overwhelming. It broke through her defences, its energy propelling her backwards. Her feet lost their purchase, her balance faltering, and then, with a mix of defiance and shock, she crossed the boundary of the ring.

The duel was over. Rigel stood victorious, his expression a complex tapestry of relief, respect, and a touch of astonishment at how close the match had been. The Great Hall erupted into applause, the sound rolling like waves against the walls. Tracey had been formidable, her talent and tenacity shining brightly for all to see. And Rigel, ever the skilled duellist, had been taken aback because of Tracey's unexpected prowess pushing him to the brink.

Harry released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, a wave of relief and immense pride washing over him. The duel, a breathtaking display of magic and mettle, had showcased not just the capabilities of the competitors, but their immense growth and unwavering spirit. Tracey, in particular, had shone brightly, her performance a testament to her strength, determination, and the depth of her magical prowess.

As the applause reverberated around the Great Hall and the next pair was called into the ring, Harry's thoughts lingered on Tracey's remarkable showing. Her resilience in the face of such a formidable opponent filled him with admiration.

As the tournament progressed, the duels seemed to unfold in rapid succession, each match a unique display of skill and determination.

Fred squared off against Susan, his characteristic mischievous grin firmly in place, signalling the start of a duel that promised to be both entertaining and enlightening. As the spells began to fly, it was evident that Susan had adopted a defensive stance, her spells focused more on protection and countermeasures than on taking the offensive.

Harry, observing from the sidelines, quickly discerned the flaw in Susan's approach. By prioritising defence over offence, she allowed Fred to dictate the pace and direction of the duel. Without the pressure to defend constantly, Fred was free to experiment, weaving together spells in a manner that was both ingenious and unexpected. It was clear to Harry that Susan's strategy, while safe, offered her no clear path to victory. Instead, it provided Fred with the opportunity to set up his spells, layering them in complex sequences that showcased his creativity and deep understanding of magical duelling.

Susan's defences, though solid and reflecting a commendable level of practice, soon began to falter under the weight of Fred's relentless assault. Harry watched, a mixture of admiration and concern flickering within him, unsure how Susan hoped to emerge victorious when she had ceded so much control to her opponent. Fred's ability to craft spells that worked in tandem, creating effects that were both surprising and effective, was a testament to his ingenuity.

As the duel reached its climax, it became apparent that Fred's strategic freedom and flair for the dramatic were insurmountable. His final spell, a masterstroke of magical creativity, elegantly bypassed Susan's layered defences, effectively ending the duel. Harry couldn't help but appreciate the brilliance behind Fred's approach, recognizing the blend of experience and a natural inclination for the unconventional that led to his victory. Susan, despite her strong defensive tactics, was ultimately outmanoeuvred by Fred's superior strategy and unpredictability.

The next match, Millicent versus Collin, lacked the intensity of the previous duels. Both competitors, while earnest, didn't possess the same level of skill or finesse. Their spells were basic, their movements slightly awkward. The duel meandered to its conclusion with Millicent eventually gaining the upper hand, but the crowd's reaction was muted, the excitement of the tournament momentarily dimming.

Then came Ernie and Hannah's duel, a match Harry found himself particularly invested in. Ernie, a steadfast member of the DA, had always been reliable and earnest, but now, with Hermione by his side, he seemed driven by a newfound purpose. His every spell was cast with precision and power, a clear indication that he was pushing himself to new heights.

Hannah, brave and determined, had indeed made great strides during their DA sessions. Her improvement was evident in the way she anticipated and countered Ernie's spells, her wandwork fluid and confident. But as the duel progressed, it became clear that Ernie was in a league of his own.

Harry watched, impressed and a little awe-struck, as Ernie's spells wove a tapestry of light and energy around the duelling ring. Each incantation was not just a display of magical ability, but a statement, a testament to Ernie's resolve to protect, to be strong for those he cared about. His determination was palpable, almost tangible in the air.

Hannah fought valiantly, her every spell a defiance, a refusal to yield easily. But the gap in their abilities was too wide to bridge. Ernie's spells gradually broke through her defences, his focus unyielding, his intent clear. The duel, though spirited, tipped inexorably in Ernie's favour.

With a final, decisive spell, Ernie ended the match, his victory a culmination of his dedication and his silent vow to be a protector, a strength to be reckoned with. The Great Hall, recognising the intensity and the personal stakes of the duel, erupted into a heartfelt round of applause. Harry joined in, his respect for both Ernie and Hannah deepening.

After the conclusion of his duel, Ernie, still riding the high of his victory, made his way over to Hermione. Their eyes met, and without a word, their connection was palpable. Ernie leaned in for a quick, tender kiss, a silent exchange of support and pride between them.

This display of affection didn't go unnoticed. Lavender, watching from the sidelines with a knowing smile, let out a snicker. Her gaze flitted between Ernie and Hermione, amusement dancing in her eyes. The moment, however, was fleeting, as it was time for Lavender to step into the ring, her opponent none other than Hermione.

The duel that ensued was a stark contrast to the previous matches. Hermione, her stance firm and her concentration absolute, was the epitome of focus and determination. From the moment Sirius called for the duel to start, it was clear that Hermione was in her element.

Lavender, brave but evidently outmatched, attempted to maintain her ground. Her style was haphazard, spells thrown in quick succession without much thought to plan or strategy, a stark contrast to the meticulous approach of duelling. Harry couldn't help but notice the sloppiness in her technique; it was as though her spells were more about the flourish than the effect, valiant efforts that ultimately fell short against an opponent as seasoned as Hermione.

Hermione, on the other hand, was the epitome of duelling grace and precision. Her spells were sharp, counters swift, and her movements a testament to both innate talent and relentless study. It was clear to Harry that Hermione held a significant advantage, not just in skill but in the way she approached the duel with a clear, strategic mindset. In contrast to Lavender's scattershot approach, Hermione's methodical, thoughtful casting was a demonstration of her superior understanding of magical combat.

This disparity between their styles underscored a fundamental truth in the world of magic: not everyone was cut out for duelling. While Lavender's courage was commendable, her lack of a cohesive strategy and her tendency to cast spells almost impulsively put her at a natural disadvantage. Hermione's polar opposite approach, characterised by careful planning and a deep understanding of her magical arsenal, made it clear why she would easily dominate the duel.

The duel, though quick, was a testament to Hermione's prowess as a witch. Each spell she cast seemed to have a counter for Lavender's, each movement a step ahead of her opponent's. The inevitable conclusion came swiftly, Hermione's final spell gently but firmly disarming Lavender without a hint of malice.

The tournament's pace quickened as it progressed, offering a showcase of duelling skills honed over months of practice. The next matchup featured George against Justin, a duel that promised to highlight the fruits of their labour in the DA sessions. Justin, significantly improved and brimming with confidence, charged headfirst into the duel, his strategy clear: full offense from the outset.

However, George, ever the tactician and blessed with a natural creativity, was well-prepared for such an approach. He adeptly navigated Justin's aggressive onslaught, using his skill to not just defend but to manoeuvre Justin into increasingly difficult positions. Harry, watching closely, couldn't help but question Justin's strategy. Going all in with offence left little room for adaptability, and against a dueller like George, flexibility was key.

Justin's spells were powerful, yes, but they were predictable, and George capitalised on this predictability with ease. With each spell Justin cast, George countered, not just with defence but by setting up his own spells that worked in concert, a testament to his ingenuity. These spells, layered and complex, created scenarios Justin was ill-prepared to tackle, his single-minded focus on attack leaving him vulnerable.

The turning point came when George, with a flair typical of his mischievous nature, executed a series of spells that not only neutralised Justin's latest attack but also cornered him, both literally and figuratively. With Justin's options dwindling and his defences stretched to their limits, George seized the moment to disarm him, ending the duel in a display of magical finesse.

As a few more duels unfolded, the atmosphere in the Great Hall remained charged with excitement and anticipation. Finally, it was time for pair number 15: Astoria against Seamus. Prior to the match, Seamus had been making quite a show of his intentions, telling Dean and others that he would 'hold back' so as not to hurt 'the little lady.' Astoria, though small and petite, carried a presence that belied her stature. Anyone who had seen Daphne duel knew better than to underestimate the capabilities of a Greengrass.

As the duel commenced, it quickly became evident that Seamus's bravado was misplaced. Astoria's approach was methodical and deliberate. She wasn't just duelling; she was outthinking her opponent at every turn. Her small frame proved to be an advantage, not a weakness, as she nimbly dodged Seamus's spells, often positioning herself in such a way that Seamus was left exposed and vulnerable.

Astoria's spells were sharp and precise, each one strategically cast to exploit the openings she had manoeuvred Seamus into revealing. The duel was a dance, and Astoria was leading. Seamus, for all his earlier talk, found himself struggling to keep up, his spells becoming more frantic as the match went on.

As the duel reached its climax, it became evident that Astoria's mastery over strategy was dictating the pace. Despite Seamus' natural inclination towards offensive duelling, he found himself ensnared in a defensive struggle. Each of his attempts to assert control and unleash his preferred aggressive spells was expertly neutralized by Astoria's calculated responses. Her precision and calm, strategic approach not only countered his attacks but also subtly shifted the dynamics, compelling him into a defensive role that was alien to his style.

Astoria exploited every opening with a blend of sharp intellect and tactical spellcasting, demonstrating her ability to anticipate and adapt to Seamus's manoeuvres. The audience watched, captivated, as Seamus, renowned for his bold and aggressive duelling, was methodically outmanoeuvred. Forced into a defensive posture, he scrambled to deflect Astoria's relentless assault, his usual dominance in duels reduced under the weight of her strategic superiority.

In a decisive moment, Astoria saw her opportunity. With a swift, precise movement, she cast a powerful Expelliarmus. The spell struck Seamus's wand, sending it spiralling out of his grasp and clattering to the floor of the duelling ring. The finality of the gesture was unmistakable – Astoria had won, not with brute force, but with a quiet dominance that spoke volumes of her skill.

As Seamus stood there, wandless and defeated, the reality of his loss sank in. The earlier arrogance and bravado had vanished, replaced by a sobering silence. He retrieved his wand and exited the ring, his lesson in humility learned the hard way.

Meanwhile, Harry glanced over at Daphne, who wore an expression of proud satisfaction. Rigel, with his arm around her, shared in the silent celebration of Astoria's victory.

As the day's duels wound down, anticipation rippled through the Great Hall for the 16th and final match. Daphne versus Pansy. The atmosphere was charged, a mixture of excitement and tension hanging in the air.

Before stepping into the ring, Daphne shared a brief, tender moment with Rigel. A quick kiss, a silent exchange of encouragement and support, and then she was ready, her poise and determination evident in her every move.

Pansy, on the other hand, entered the ring with visible apprehension. Her eyes darted nervously around the gathered crowd, her posture tense as she faced her opponent.

The duel commenced, and it was immediately clear that Daphne was not one to dawdle. With a single, fluid motion, she cast a powerful Depulso. The spell struck Pansy with unerring precision, sending her stumbling backwards, out of the ring, in a matter of seconds. The duel was over as swiftly as it had begun, Daphne's efficiency and skill leaving no room for doubt.

Sirius stepped forward, his voice once again filling the hall. "That concludes the first day of our tournament," he announced. "The first 16 rounds have taken place, and I must say, the talent and determination on display have been remarkable."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "The next 16 rounds will take place tomorrow, same time, same place. I advise all duellists to get some rest. You'll need your strength and wits about you."

He then revealed the matchups for the following day, each pairing eliciting murmurs and whispers of anticipation from the crowd. "Harry versus Ginny, Draco versus Montague, Rigel versus Fred, Millicent versus Ernie, Hermione versus George, Katie versus Angelina, Theodor versus Blaise, and Astoria versus Daphne."

With a final nod and a warm smile, Sirius concluded, "Good night to you all. Rest well, and I look forward to seeing you back here tomorrow."

The crowd began to disperse, the day's excitement gradually giving way to a collective weariness. Even Harry's group of friends decided it was best to call it an early night, the anticipation for the next day's duels already beginning to build.

But as Harry lay in bed, the quiet of the night did little to calm his restless mind. The voice that had whispered to him during his duel against Neville lingered at the edges of his consciousness, its sinister allure a troubling presence. He tossed and turned, the memory of its urging unsettling him deeply.

As he finally drifted towards sleep, one hope echoed in his thoughts: that in tomorrow's duels, the voice would remain silent, that he could face his friends and competitors without the shadow of its temptation looming over him. Harry knew the true challenge lay not just in the ring, but within himself, and he braced for the battles to come, both seen and unseen.

~~~o~~~

As Rigel and Daphne entered their suite, the weight of the day's duels seemed to lift slightly, the comfort of their private space allowing them to finally unwind. The room, with its elegant furnishings and soft lighting, was a haven away from the buzz of the tournament and the constant vigilance of the outside world. But their moment of respite was short-lived as Kreacher, the ever-diligent house-elf, appeared with a soft crack.

"Master Rigel," Kreacher began, his voice carrying a solemn note, "I brings news."

Rigel straightened, his attention immediately focused on the house-elf. "What is it, Kreacher?"

"Firstly," Kreacher said, his tone grave, "Madame Umbridge's health is declining fast. Kreacher is not sure he can keep her alive much longer."

Rigel's expression hardened slightly. "How long does she have?"

"A couple of weeks, at best, Master," Kreacher replied, his gaze lowered.

Rigel exchanged a look with Daphne. "After the tournament, we need to pay Umbridge a visit," he said, the decision firm in his voice.

Before Daphne could respond, Kreacher spoke again, producing a letter from the folds of his attire. "Also, Master, a letter for you."

Rigel took the letter, nodding his acknowledgment. "Thank you, Kreacher. Is there anything else?"

Kreacher shook his head. "Kreacher has done all that Master asked. May Kreacher do anything else for Master and Mistress?"

Daphne, who had been following the exchange silently, offered Kreacher a small, appreciative smile. "No, Kreacher. That will be all for now. Thank you."

With a final nod, Kreacher vanished, leaving Rigel and Daphne alone once more. Rigel broke the seal on the letter, his eyes quickly scanning the contents.

"It's from Tonks," he said, summarising for Daphne. "The Order of the Phoenix has intel about a Death Eater gathering. New recruits, mostly. They're planning to strike a deal with the Werewolves. But the Order isn't planning to act on it."

Daphne's lips curled into a frown. "Spineless. They have good information and do nothing with it. We could sabotage the meeting."

Rigel nodded, his mind already turning over the possibilities. "We could, but we should recruit Tonks officially first. She's been invaluable."

"And the masks," Daphne added, her tone practical. "We'll need them for this. We can't afford to be recognised."

"Agreed," Rigel confirmed, folding the letter and setting it aside. "We'll bring it up the next time we meet with the others. For now, let's focus on the tournament. We have our own battles to win before we can turn our attention to this."

As they settled into the quiet of the night, the challenges of the tournament loomed large, but so too did the larger, more dangerous game that was unfolding beyond the walls of Hogwarts. Rigel and Daphne, united in their resolve, were ready to play their part.

~~~o~~~

The buzz of anticipation for the second half of the duelling tournament permeated Hogwarts, making even the longest of classes seem to pass in the blink of an eye. Conversations flowed around yesterday's duels, with speculations and predictions for today's outcomes dominating every discussion. The excitement was tangible, an electric current that connected every student and teacher within the castle.

Amidst this whirlwind of anticipation, Fred and George Weasley found themselves at the centre of a storm of bets and wagers. With a mischievous glint in their eyes and an ever-present stack of parchment, they took bets on not just the overall winner of the tournament but on the outcomes of individual duels as well. Their entrepreneurial spirit added an extra layer of excitement to the event, making the tournament the sole topic of conversation throughout the halls of Hogwarts.

As the appointed time drew near, students and faculty alike made their way to the Great Hall, the spectator stands filling up with eager viewers. The air was thick with anticipation, every whisper and laugh a testament to the community's shared excitement.

For Harry, the prospect of going first in today's lineup brought a surge of adrenaline. His opponent was none other than Ginny Weasley. In the DA sessions, Ginny had proven herself to be not just a talented witch but a fierce one, her determination and skill evident in every spell she cast. Harry knew that facing her in a duel would be a true test of his own abilities. Her prowess on a broom was well known within Hogwarts, and if she brought even a fraction of that intensity to their duel, he knew he was in for a challenge.

As the buzz of conversation in the Great Hall gradually subsided, Sirius Black took his place in the centre of the duelling ring, his eyes sweeping over the crowd of students and faculty with a warm, commanding presence. The room fell into an expectant hush, all eyes fixed on him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, students of Hogwarts," Sirius began, his voice amplified magically to reach every corner of the vast hall. "Yesterday, we witnessed the beginning of what promises to be one of the most memorable tournaments in the history of our school. The skill, the courage, and the spirit of competition you've all shown were nothing short of remarkable."

He paused, allowing his words to resonate, a smile playing on his lips as he noted the eager faces before him.

"Today, as we continue with the second half of our tournament, let us remember that while victory is a noble goal, it is the spirit of camaraderie and the lessons we learn from each other that truly define this event. Compete with honour, support one another, and most importantly, enjoy the experience."

Turning then to Harry and Ginny, who were ready at the edge of the ring, Sirius gave them an encouraging nod. "Now, let us begin today's duels. Harry, Ginny, please enter the ring."

With a final, sweeping glance at the audience, Sirius stepped back, his role as the arbiter of the tournament clear in his steady, confident demeanour. The Great Hall, now alight with applause and cheers, watched as Harry and Ginny stepped forward, their faces alight with determination and a shared eagerness to begin.

Facing each other across the duelling space, Harry could see the excitement mirrored in Ginny's eyes. Her smile was one of pure anticipation, a clear sign she was as eager as he was to test her mettle in this friendly confrontation. It was a moment of mutual respect and shared excitement, a perfect representation of the spirit of Hogwarts.

The Great Hall was alive with anticipation as Harry and Ginny squared off in the duelling ring. The initial buzz of the crowd settled into a hushed silence, all eyes fixed on the two competitors. Harry, feeling a mix of excitement and determination, raised his wand, ready to begin.

"Ready?" Sirius's voice echoed through the hall, and at their nods, he dropped his hand. "Begin!"

Harry decided to start with something simple, to test Ginny's defences. "Expelliarmus!" he called out, the Disarming Charm shooting towards Ginny in a burst of red light.

Ginny, quick on her feet, dodged to the side, the spell missing her by inches. She countered with a swift, "Impedimenta!" aiming to slow Harry down.

Harry, anticipating the counter, quickly cast "Protego!" to shield himself. The spells collided, unleashing a shockwave of magical energy that rippled across the ring, testament to the intensity of the clash.

As the duel progressed, Harry found himself impressed by Ginny's agility and inventiveness. She wasn't just defending; she was actively looking for openings, her spells becoming more varied and challenging. "Rictusempra!" she shouted, aiming to catch Harry off-guard with the Tickling Charm.

Harry blocked it, but the effort took more concentration than he'd anticipated. It was then, in the heat of the duel, that the sinister whisper returned, urging him to use his fire affinity. "Just a small burst," it coaxed, "end it quickly."

But Harry couldn't—wouldn't—risk it, not against Ginny. The thought of harming her, even accidentally, was intolerable. He pushed the voice away, focusing instead on the duel, on matching Ginny's skill with his own.

"Densaugeo!" Ginny tried another tactic, aiming to disorient him with the Tooth-Growing Spell.

Harry, thrown by the unexpected choice, narrowly avoided it with a roll to the side. "Locomotor Wibbly!" he countered, aiming to temporarily jelly Ginny's legs and gain the upper hand.

Ginny, with a determined glint in her eye, leapt into the air, casting "Levicorpus!" in an attempt to catch Harry off-guard by suspending him by his ankle. Harry, however, was ready for her move. As he uttered "Liberacorpus!" to counter the spell, a part of his mind marvelled at Ginny's execution. It was only in the last DA session that he had introduced "Levicorpus," a spell from the copied Halfblood Prince's book, known for its complexity and requiring a deft touch. Ginny was among the few who had grasped it quickly, which didn't surprise Harry given her natural talent and determination. But to see her deploy it with such confidence in a duel suggested she had taken her practice far beyond their sessions. Her spell, cast with precision and assurance, was a clear sign of her dedication, and as Harry's counter-jinx neutralised the threat, he couldn't help but acknowledge the impressive strides Ginny had made.

The duel was a dance, both of them pushing their limits. Harry, despite the ongoing battle against the voice in his head, maintained control. He admired Ginny's tenacity and skill, her every spell a testament to her strength as a witch.

Finally, seeing his chance, Harry decided it was time to end the duel, but safely. "Petrificus Totalus!" he aimed carefully, not wanting to hurt Ginny but to conclude their match.

Ginny, caught mid-cast, couldn't dodge in time. The Body-Bind Curse hit, and she froze, unable to move.

"Finite," Harry called softly, cancelling the spell as he rushed over to help her up. "You were amazing," he said, genuine admiration in his voice.

Sirius, announcing Harry's victory, couldn't hide his pride. The Great Hall burst into applause, but Harry was barely aware of it. The voice, that temptation to use a harmful power, had disturbed him deeply. He knew this was something he would have to confront, but for now, he was just relieved the duel was over without any harm done.

Ginny, smiling despite the defeat, nodded. "Next time, Harry," she promised, her spirit undimmed.

As they exited the ring, Harry's thoughts were tumultuous, caught between pride in their duel and concern over the voice. This battle might be over, but a different kind of struggle was just beginning for him.

As Ginny made her way to sit beside Luna and Astoria, Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for her. She had truly given him a run for his money in their duel. Making his way over to Rigel and the others, he tried to shake off the residual tension and the unsettling whispers of the voice in his mind.

Rigel clapped him on the back, a wide grin on his face. "That was a fantastic duel, Harry!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm unmistakable.

Harry attempted to maintain a casual demeanour, not wanting his inner turmoil to be visible. "Thanks, Ginny did really well too. Wasn't easy to get the upper hand," he replied, his voice steady but his mind racing with the memory of the voice's temptation.

Rigel chuckled, shaking his head. "You're too humble, mate. You both were brilliant, but you had the edge."

Not wanting to dwell on the subject and risk revealing his struggle with the voice, Harry quickly changed the topic and focused on the next duel.

Draco versus Montague was next, and the duel was intense from the start. Both competitors were fierce, but Draco's skill and strategy ultimately won him the duel. Watching Draco's hand being raised in victory, Harry realised his next opponent would be none other than Malfoy himself.

The thought filled Harry not with fear of losing, but with dread at the potential return of the voice. Draco's knack for taunting and provocation was well-known, and Harry feared the voice would find fertile ground in the heat of their duel. The possibility of losing control, of giving in to the voice's dark temptation, was something Harry knew he couldn't allow.

As the anticipation for the next duel built, Rigel stood, his confidence palpable in every step. After sharing a brief, affectionate kiss with Daphne, he turned towards the ring. Harry, watching his brother's assured demeanour, called out a supportive "Good luck!" though he knew well that Rigel hardly needed it.

Rigel and Fred faced each other across the duelling ring, the atmosphere charged with excitement and a hint of curiosity about how the duel would unfold. With a nod from Sirius, the duel commenced.

From the outset, it was clear that Rigel was in control. Harry, having duelled his brother on numerous occasions, recognised the signs. Rigel was not merely duelling; he was assessing, toying with his opponent much like a cat with a mouse. His spells were measured, not aimed to disarm immediately but to challenge, to probe Fred's defences and reactions.

Rigel's approach was one of calculated patience. He allowed the duel to continue longer than necessary, a testament to his desire to test Fred's mettle, to push him and see how he would respond. Fred, for his part, fought valiantly, his spells inventive and spirited, a reflection of his personality.

However, the outcome seemed inevitable. After several minutes of intense back-and-forth, with the crowd fully engrossed in the spectacle, Rigel decided it was time to conclude. With a swift, precise spell that caught Fred off-guard, Rigel executed a powerful "Depulso," forcefully pushing Fred out of the ring. The decisive move ended the duel, securing Rigel's victory in a clear, undeniable manner.

The Great Hall erupted in applause, acknowledging not just Rigel's skill but also Fred's courage and tenacity.

The tournament proceeded at a brisk pace, the excitement in the Great Hall undiminished. The next duel, Ernie versus Millicent, was anticipated to be a quick match, and it lived up to expectations.

Ernie, demonstrating the skills and determination he had shown in his previous match, quickly gained the upper hand against Millicent. His spells were precise and tactical, leaving little room for Millicent to counter. The duel ended swiftly, with Ernie emerging as the victor, much to the satisfaction of the watching crowd.

As Ernie exited the ring, he caught Hermione's eye and shot her a quick wink. The gesture, full of confidence, caused Hermione to blush, a reaction that didn't go unnoticed by Tracey, who was sitting next to her.

The anticipation for the next duel built as Hermione stepped into the ring to face George. Her demeanour was calm, a stark contrast to the energy that surrounded her. Hermione's confidence was not unfounded; her prowess in spellwork and strategy was well-recognised. She knew George would be a formidable opponent, his ingenuity and creativity on full display in every match. Yet, she also knew her own strengths, her dedication to her studies and her practical experience shaping her into a duellist of notable skill.

As Sirius signalled for the duel to begin, George wasted no time in showcasing his unpredictable and creative approach. With a flourish of his wand, he launched a series of non-verbal spells, each one more inventive than the last. Coloured sparks flew from his wand, transforming mid-air into a flock of birds that dove towards Hermione.

Hermione, ever methodical, maintained her composure. With a swift incantation of "Protego," she erected a shield charm that deflected the avian assault, the birds vanishing upon contact. She countered with a precisely aimed "Stupefy," which George narrowly avoided with an acrobatic leap, a move that drew gasps and cheers from the audience.

The duel was a clash of styles. George's spells were laced with mischief and creativity, each one a testament to his unique approach to magic. Hermione's responses were calculated and efficient, designed to counter and control rather than dazzle.

As the duel progressed, Hermione began to take the initiative, her spells becoming more aggressive. "Expulso!" she cast, targeting the ground near George's feet, the force of the spell designed to knock him off balance.

George, caught off guard by the intensity of the blast, stumbled but quickly regained his footing. He shot back with a "Tarantallegra," hoping to force Hermione into a dance. But Hermione, undeterred, quickly countered with "Finite," halting the spells effect before it could begin.

The turning point came when Hermione, spotting an opening, decisively cast "Levicorpus." George, lifted into the air by the spell, struggled to free himself. Hermione then followed up with a calm "Expelliarmus," and George's wand flew from his hand, signalling the end of the duel.

As George was gently lowered back to the ground, the Great Hall erupted into applause. Hermione's victory was a testament to her methodical approach and deep understanding of magic. George, though defeated, smiled broadly, acknowledging Hermione's skill with a gracious nod.

Hermione, her victory secured, offered George a hand to help him up, a gesture of mutual respect between two competitors who had given their all.

The tournament continued with the momentum of excitement still high from the previous duels. Next up were Katie Bell versus Angelina Johnson, a matchup that promised to be as dynamic and spirited as their Quidditch matches. True to form, both competitors brought their A-game, their spells reflecting the enthusiasm and competitiveness they usually reserved for the Quidditch pitch.

The duel between Katie and Angelina was a lively display of skill, with spells flying back and forth in rapid succession. Both witches demonstrated not just their magical prowess but also the deep camaraderie that came from years of playing together. In the end, it was Angelina who managed to clinch the victory, her final spell cleverly outmanoeuvring Katie's defences.

The excitement in the Great Hall didn't wane as Theodor Nott and Blaise Zabini took their places in the ring for the next duel. Harry, watching from the sidelines, realised he knew very little about the duelling styles of his year-mates, making this match an intriguing prospect.

The duel between Nott and Zabini was intense, a testament to the depth of talent within their year. Both duellists showcased a range of spells that were both aggressive and defensive, their duel a chess match of magical strategy. In the end, it was Theodor Nott who emerged victorious, his cunning use of a well-timed "Impedimenta" giving him the opening he needed to disarm Zabini.

As the crowd applauded the conclusion of these matches, the tournament continued to be a highlight of the Hogwarts year, each duel adding another layer to the rich tapestry of the school's magical tradition.

As the final duel of the second round was announced, a hush fell over the Great Hall. It was a match unlike any other: Greengrass versus Greengrass. Sisters, Daphne and Astoria, were about to face each other in a duel that promised to be as much about their familial bonds as it was about their magical skills.

Stepping into the ring, the sisters shared a smile, a testament to the strong bond that had only grown over the years. Their mutual respect and affection were palpable, even as they prepared to duel.

Sirius, acknowledging the unique nature of this match, called for the duel to begin. Both Daphne and Astoria adopted calm, calculated stances, their initial spells reflective of a deep understanding of each other's tactics. However, it quickly became evident that Daphne held the upper hand.

Daphne, with her greater experience and refined skill, was able to counter every spell Astoria cast. Her deflections were smooth, her counters precise. Astoria, determined and spirited, gave her all to keep pace, her spells creative and varied, but Daphne's prowess was undeniable.

The duel was a dance of spells and counters, with Daphne leading. She anticipated Astoria's moves, responding with spells that were both defensive and offensive, always keeping Astoria on her toes. Astoria, for her part, displayed remarkable resilience, her determination shining through even as she struggled to find an opening.

In the end, Daphne's superior skill prevailed. With a perfectly timed "Expelliarmus," she disarmed Astoria, the spell executed with such precision that there was no question of the outcome. The duel was over, and Daphne emerged victorious.

The moment the duel concluded, the competitive atmosphere dissolved into one of warmth and sisterhood. Daphne quickly stepped forward, returning Astoria's wand with a gentle smile. She then pulled her sister into a hug, her words of compliment on Astoria's skill and determination sincere and proud. "You've grown so much as a witch, Astoria. I'm proud of you," Daphne said, her voice soft but filled with admiration.

Astoria, despite the defeat, hugged her sister back, her respect and love for Daphne evident in her embrace. The Great Hall erupted into applause, not just for the display of magical skill, but for the display of familial love and respect that had defined the duel.

As Daphne and Astoria graciously exited the ring, Sirius stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. "That concludes round two of our tournament," he announced, his voice filled with pride. "We've witnessed some exceptional duels, a testament to the talent and dedication of our students. Let's carry this spirit forward as we begin the quarterfinals."

The hall buzzed with anticipation as Sirius called the first pair of the new round. "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, please enter the ring."

Harry exhaled deeply, feeling a mix of determination and apprehension. As he made his way to the duelling platform, he focused intently on his Occlumency, building mental barriers to block out the sinister voice that had troubled him earlier. He couldn't afford it tempting him, not with Draco as his opponent.

Once in the ring, Draco wasted no time in starting his psychological warfare, his taunts sharp and aimed to provoke. "Ready to lose, Potter? Or will you run away like a coward?" he sneered, his smirk widening with each word.

Harry, however, remained unfazed. His practise in Occlumency had given him control over his emotions, allowing him to ignore Draco's provocations. He stood calm, his focus solely on the duel ahead.

Sirius, noting the tension between the two, called for the duel to begin. Draco, seizing the initiative, launched into an aggressive offensive. "Serpensortia!" he shouted, conjuring a snake that slithered rapidly towards Harry.

Harry, quick to react, countered with "Vipera Evanesca," vanishing the snake before it could reach him. Draco's smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, casting a series of spells designed to disorient and overpower.

"Tarantallegra!" Draco aimed at Harry's feet, trying to force him into a humiliating dance. Harry narrowly dodged it.

Not missing a beat, Draco followed with a "Furnunculus," aiming to cover Harry in boils. Harry's shield charm, "Protego," deflected the curse, sending it harmlessly into the ground.

Throughout the duel, Harry found himself mostly on the defensive, his concentration on maintaining his Occlumency barriers making it challenging to launch his own attacks. Draco, sensing Harry's hesitation, pressed his advantage, his spells growing more daring and borderline harmful.

"Diffindo!" Draco cast, the Severing Charm slicing towards Harry, a clear intent to startle rather than injure seriously, yet still a dangerous move within the confines of the tournament's rules.

Harry, forced to divert his focus, managed to sidestep the spell, countering with a non-verbal Stinging Hex, a light counter-attack aimed at regaining some ground.

As Draco sent another Severing Charm towards Harry, the intensity of the duel escalated. This time, the spell grazed Harry's upper arm, leaving a shallow cut from which blood began to drip slowly. The pain was sharp, a stark reminder of the stakes of their duel.

Draco, seizing the moment, taunted Harry further. "Not so untouchable, are you, Potter?" he sneered, his words sharp as knives.

The combination of pain and Draco's words shattered Harry's focus on Occlumency. The sinister voice, which he had managed to keep at bay, surged back with overwhelming force, its presence more pronounced and demanding than ever before.

"Do not hold back, Harry," it whispered darkly, its tone seductive and malicious. "He has wounded you. It's only fair to return the favour. Show him, show them all what you are capable of."

The voice's temptation was intense, appealing to a part of Harry that he rarely acknowledged. "Put Draco in his place, beneath your foot. A little fire, perhaps? A burn to remember you by," it suggested, its words dripping with malice.

Harry's heart raced, his mind a battleground between his innate sense of justice and the dark urgings of the voice. "He's always been a thorn in your side, Harry. You know it's true. Teach him a lesson. Make him think twice before he dares to cross you again."

Harry's internal struggle intensified. Part of him recoiled at the idea of using such potentially harmful magic, but another part, fuelled by years of rivalry and frustration, found a cruel sort of logic in the voice's words. The duel continued, with Draco pressing his advantage, unaware of the turmoil within Harry.

As Draco launched another series of spells, keeping Harry on the defensive, the voice in Harry's mind grew louder, more insistent. Harry teetered on the edge, the voice almost convincing him to give in to his darker impulses.

Realising he needed to end the duel before he lost control, Harry mustered all his focus. He needed a spell strong enough to end the duel but not harm Draco seriously. In a moment of clarity, Harry found his answer.

In the heat of the moment, with Draco's taunts echoing in his ears and the sinister voice urging him towards retribution, Harry's control wavered. The voice's insidious whispers coiled tighter around his resolve, pushing him towards a decision he might not have made under different circumstances.

"Enough," Harry thought, his frustration boiling over. With a surge of magic fueled by anger and the voice's urgings, he aimed his wand directly at Draco. He casted a full-powered Bludgeoning Hex.

Draco, quick to react, raised a "Protego" shield, but the force behind Harry's spell was unprecedented. The hex, charged with more magic than Harry had intended, crashed into the shield with a thunderous impact. The protective barrier shattered under the assault, the spell breaking through to hit Draco squarely in the chest.

The force of the hex lifted Draco off his feet, sending him flying backward. He landed hard outside the ring, the breath knocked out of him, pain radiating from his chest where the hex had hit. The silence that followed was deafening, the Great Hall stunned into stillness.

As Harry watched Draco struggle to catch his breath, pain and realisation dawned on him. Draco had certainly suffered injuries from the spell, his laboured breathing and pained expression indicating bruised, if not broken, ribs.

The victory was Harry's, but it was hollow, marred by the knowledge of the harm he had caused. The voice, having pushed him to this point, fell silent, leaving Harry with the weight of his actions. As he exited the ring, the applause from the crowd felt distant, overshadowed by the concern for Draco and the internal battle Harry had just faced.

As Harry returned to his seat amidst the cheers and applause, his friends gathered around, offering their congratulations. He managed a smile, using Occlumency to mask the turmoil that churned within him, not wanting to burden them with his concerns during the tournament.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall shifted as Sirius called for the next duel: Ernie Macmillan against Rigel Black. Harry noticed Hermione's expression tighten with nervousness. It was understandable; Ernie, her boyfriend, was about to face the strongest student in the tournament, in Harry's opinion.

The realisation hit Harry then: if Rigel won this duel, he would be Harry's next opponent. The thought was daunting, yet Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of determination. He remembered his promise, to give his all, to push Rigel to use his full strength against him.

The duel between Ernie and Rigel started, and it was clear from the outset that Rigel was in a league of his own. Much like his previous match, Rigel seemed to be assessing Ernie, his moves deliberate, almost as if he was evaluating Ernie's worthiness. To Harry, it appeared Rigel was also indirectly judging whether Ernie was a suitable match for Hermione.

Ernie fought valiantly, his spells a testament to his courage and determination. But against Rigel, it was a mismatch. Rigel easily dodged or deflected Ernie's attempts, his counterattacks sharp and precise, yet seemingly effortless.

The duel reached its inevitable conclusion when Ernie couldn't evade one of Rigel's calculated counterattacks. The spell hit with enough force to send Ernie flying out of the ring, landing with a hard thud.

Immediately, Hermione rose from her seat, concern etched on her face, and hurried over to Ernie. From a distance, Harry could see that while Ernie might not have been physically injured, his pride certainly was.

As Rigel exited the ring, the applause was thunderous, a recognition of his undeniable skill and prowess. Harry watched, the weight of his upcoming duel with Rigel pressing heavily on him.

Sirius's voice called out once again, filling the Great Hall with anticipation. "Next duel, Hermione Granger and Angelina Johnson. Please, take your positions."

The crowd quieted as Hermione and Angelina stepped into the ring. Harry watched, curious to see how this match would unfold. Hermione, typically known for her methodical and defensive style, surprised everyone by taking the offensive from the very start. With a determination that seemed fuelled by her recent conversation with Ernie, she launched a series of spells at Angelina, pushing her back.

Angelina, caught off guard by Hermione's aggressive approach, scrambled to defend herself. It was clear she hadn't expected this kind of onslaught from Hermione. The duel was intense, Hermione's spells relentless and precise.

In a move that took everyone by surprise, Hermione ended the duel with a masterful "Expelliarmus," disarming Angelina with such skill that the match was over almost before it had begun. The Great Hall erupted into applause, Hermione's victory marking one of the quickest duels of the tournament.

As Hermione made her way back to the stands, her friends' faces were alight with pride and excitement. Harry was the first to greet her, "Hermione, that was amazing! You were on fire out there."

Hermione's smile, wide and genuine, was her response. As the rest of their friends joined in with their congratulations, her smile only broadened, a silent acknowledgment of their support and admiration. The intensity of her performance in the duel, a departure from her usual style, had not just surprised them all, but had also showcased the depth of her talent and the strength of her resolve.

With the conclusion of Hermione and Angelina's duel, the atmosphere in the Great Hall remained charged with anticipation. Sirius, taking centre stage once again, called forth the final pair for the quarterfinals: Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott. As they entered the ring, Harry couldn't help but notice the visible anger on Nott's face directed towards Daphne. He wondered about the source of such animosity.

The duel commenced, and Nott's anger translated into a fierce offensive. Spell after spell, he launched at Daphne with a vehemence that was startling. Yet, Daphne stood her ground with an impressive calmness, her defence seamless against Nott's barrage. Her skill in deflecting and countering his attacks spoke volumes of her prowess.

Amidst his onslaught, Nott spat out the word "traitor" with venom, aiming to unnerve Daphne. However, she gave no outward response, no sign that the accusation had reached her. Instead, she remained focused, her eyes searching for an opening in Nott's relentless attack.

Finally, Daphne found her moment. With a precise flick of her wand, she cast a Severing Charm at Nott's left foot. "Diffindo!" she intoned sharply. Nott, caught off guard, moved but not quickly enough to avoid the spell entirely. The charm grazed his foot, causing him to stumble. Seizing the opportunity, Daphne followed up with a powerful "Expelliarmus," which struck Nott squarely, disarming him and knocking him to the ground.

The duel was over, and Daphne stood victorious, her superiority in the duel undeniable. As Nott struggled to his feet, clutching the site of his injury, Daphne regarded him with a look of cold disdain.

As Daphne gracefully exited the ring to the sound of thunderous applause, her poise and skill were undeniable. Taking her seat, the pride in her performance was evident, not just in her demeanour but in the reactions of her friends and spectators alike.

With the conclusion of Daphne's duel, the atmosphere in the Great Hall was electric, anticipation for the semifinals palpable. Sirius, with a commanding presence, addressed the gathered crowd, lauding the participants for their exceptional performance in the quarterfinals. "You've all shown great skill and determination," he praised. Without further delay, he announced the first semifinal match, causing an immediate surge of excitement: "Harry Potter versus Rigel Black."

The announcement was met with thunderous applause, a clear sign of the high expectations and excitement for the duel between the two brothers. As Harry and Rigel stepped into the ring, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of momentous anticipation.

Upon making eye contact, Harry noticed a shift in Rigel's expression—a look of concern. It seemed Rigel had sensed Harry's inner turmoil, possibly the struggle he had been facing with the sinister voice in his mind.

Sirius began the countdown for the match, and Harry adopted an offensive duelling stance, ready to engage. Rigel, in stark contrast, remained relaxed, his arms crossed, his wand still not in hand. He observed Harry with a scrutinising gaze, as if trying to decipher a puzzle.

As Sirius's countdown reached its climax and the duel officially began, Harry immediately launched into his offensive. Rigel, however, continued to dodge Harry's spells without drawing his wand, an action that struck Harry as dismissive. Why wasn't Rigel fighting back? Was Harry not considered a worthy opponent? The thought irked Harry, fuelling his determination to prove himself.

It was then that Rigel, still evading Harry's spells, asked, "What's going on with you, Harry?" His voice carried a genuine concern, but Harry, caught in the heat of the moment, found no words to explain his inner conflict.

Finally, Rigel deemed it necessary to engage more directly, drawing his wand to shield and counterattack. Yet, even as he defended, it was clear Rigel was not exerting his full effort. He was holding back, assessing Harry, much to Harry's growing frustration. The realisation that he was receiving the same cautious, almost patronising treatment Rigel had given Fred and Ernie before him ignited a furious anger within Harry.

"Why are you holding back?" Harry demanded, his spells becoming more aggressive, his frustration boiling over. "I'm not Fred or Ernie. You know I can take more than this!"

Rigel dodged another spell, his expression unreadable. "It's not about what you can take, Harry. It's about understanding why you're so agitated," Rigel responded calmly, his words only fuelling Harry's anger further.

Harry's spells became more erratic, his control slipping as his emotions took over. "Fight me like you mean it, Rigel!" he shouted, his voice laced with a mixture of betrayal and challenge. He couldn't fathom why Rigel, of all people, would underestimate him, would not afford him the respect of a serious duel.

The more Rigel continued to dodge and shield without mounting a significant offensive of his own, the more Harry felt diminished, his worth as a duellist questioned. This wasn't the acknowledgment he sought, not the fierce, all-out battle he had promised himself to give Rigel.

The sinister voice seized upon Harry's anger and frustration, whispering seductively, "He doesn't see you as an equal. Show him. Show them all. Let me help you."

Harry's fury reached a boiling point, the temptation to unleash everything, to force Rigel to acknowledge him as a worthy opponent, was almost overwhelming. The duel had ceased to be just a competition; it was now a battle for recognition, for respect, and against the dark urgings that threatened to overtake Harry's sense of self.

The voice, sensing Harry's vulnerability and anger, intensified its efforts, promising power and greatness. "Let me help you, Harry. Together, we can show them all. We can make you great. You deserve to be seen, to be respected," it whispered, its tone both enticing and insidious.

Overwhelmed by his own fury and the relentless temptation of the voice, Harry felt his resolve crumble. In a moment of weakness, fuelled by his desire to prove himself and his frustration with Rigel's perceived lack of seriousness, Harry surrendered to the voice. He allowed it to take control, to guide his actions and unleash the full extent of his power.

Almost immediately, Rigel noticed the change in Harry. The shift was subtle at first, but to someone who knew Harry as well as Rigel did, it was unmistakably alarming. Harry's stance became more aggressive, his eyes glinting with an unfamiliar intensity. The spells he cast were sharper, more powerful, and carried a weight that they hadn't possessed moments before.

Rigel's expression shifted from one of calm assessment to concern. He could sense the dark energy that now coursed through Harry, an energy that was foreign to the brother he knew. The playful, testing nature of their duel vanished, replaced by a palpable tension as Rigel realised the gravity of what was happening.

Rigel, now fully alert to the dangerous turn the duel had taken, prepared himself for what was to come. The duel was no longer a friendly competition; it had become a battle to reach Harry, to pull him back from the brink of a darkness that threatened to consume him.

As the duel between Harry and Rigel intensified, the air within the magical ring became charged with an electric anticipation. They launched spells at each other non-verbally, their magical prowess evident in the shockwaves that vibrated through the atmosphere, challenging the integrity of the protective barriers encasing the duelling area. Amidst this maelstrom of magic, Harry found himself an observer in his own body, the voice within him taking command with a malevolent intent.

Harnessing Harry's inherent fire affinity, the voice unleashed a series of fire attacks. First came a whirlwind of embers that spiralled towards Rigel like a fiery serpent seeking its prey. Without missing a beat, Rigel countered with a powerful blast of ice, turning the whirlwind into a cascade of steam that momentarily blinded Harry. Not deterred, the voice through Harry summoned a barrage of fireballs, each one arcing through the air with deadly precision. Rigel, with a display of remarkable control, conjured a wall of water that met the fireballs, creating more steam and obscuring the battlefield in a thick fog.

As the steam began to dissipate, Rigel stood firm, his posture exuding confidence, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy that had just enveloped them. His clothes were damp from the water magic he had employed, but his expression remained undaunted, a silent challenge to the voice controlling Harry.

Then, seizing a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, the voice directed Harry to tap deeper into his fire affinity. With a surge of power, Harry conjured an inferno that seemed to dance at his fingertips before it transformed into sinuous tendrils of flame. These tendrils, glowing ominously in the dim light of the Great Hall, shot towards Rigel with a predatory speed. Rigel, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, attempted to dodge, but the tendrils were too fast.

The Great Hall, collectively holding its breath, watched as the fiery tendrils wrapped around Rigel, binding his wrists and ankles with an unyielding grip. The display of Harry's raw power, fuelled by the sinister voice within, was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Sirius, sensing the danger, called for the duel to stop. "Harry, enough! This is too dangerous!" he shouted, his voice laced with urgency. To Harry's surprise, and horror, Rigel shouted back, "It's fine, Father! I can handle this!" His calmness in the face of danger was unsettling.

As the fiery tendrils tightened, burning through Rigel's school uniform and searing his flesh, Harry felt a surge of panic. Rigel, however, remained eerily composed, his eyes sharp, calculating his next move despite the visible burns.

The voice within Harry's mind chuckled darkly, its tone dripping with malice as it observed Rigel's predicament. "Watch closely, Harry," it murmured, a sinister whisper in the depths of his consciousness. "He's about to do exactly what we expect. Rigel thinks he's clever, but he's so predictable. He'll try to freeze the tendrils. It's a desperate move, one that will expose his weakness. And when he does, we'll strike. The ice will be his undoing."

True to the voice's prediction, Rigel, ever the strategist, conjured a spell to encase the fiery tendrils in a sheath of ice, attempting to neutralise the immediate threat. "Glacius!" Rigel shouted, his voice calm but strained under the intensity of the moment. The tendrils froze upon his command, transforming into icy shackles that gleamed ominously in the dim light of the Great Hall. The voice in Harry's head laughed, a sound devoid of joy, filled instead with anticipation of the next move. "There, you see? Just as I said. Now, while he's distracted, proud of his little trick, we'll shatter his defences. Aim for the ice, Harry. Let's show him the price of predictability."

Without hesitation, Harry cast a Severing Charm at the iced section of a tendril binding Rigel's right wrist. The charm was ruthlessly efficient, slicing through the ice and, horrifyingly, through Rigel's wrist. Rigel's hand, along with his wand, fell to the floor, blood spilling out in shocking abundance.

The Great Hall erupted into chaos, screams of panic and disbelief filling the air as spectators witnessed the unthinkable. Sirius, along with several teachers, sprang into action, rushing towards Rigel to provide immediate aid.

Harry, trapped within his own mind, watched in abject horror as the consequences of his actions, driven by the voice, unfolded. The reality of what he had done, the irreversible harm inflicted upon his brother, crashed over him with crushing weight.

In a twist that caught everyone off guard, Rigel, with an eerie calmness, called out to the professors rushing towards him, "Stop! This duel is still under my control." His voice echoed confidently across the Great Hall, halting everyone in their tracks.

Harry, bewildered, stared at the Rigel before him, who was seemingly clutching a bleeding arm, the severed hand a stark testament to the duel's intensity. But something didn't add up. The voice, Harry realised with a jolt, seemed to be emanating from behind him, not from the wounded Rigel in front. In a flash of understanding, Harry recognised the illusion for what it was—a mere deception.

Compelled by the voice, yet now questioning its intent, Harry spun around to find the real Rigel standing unharmed, wand at the ready. "Confringo!" Rigel shouted, casting a powerful Blasting Curse aimed directly at Harry.

Harry managed to raise a shield just in time, but the force of the explosion sent shockwaves pulsing through the duelling ring. Debris and loose rocks flew past him, and flames, born from the spell's explosive impact, danced around him. Despite being enveloped in fire, Harry felt no pain—only a fleeting warmth that spoke to his unique affinity for fire, a reminder of his elemental bond that did not harm but instead, for a moment, empowered him.

"I didn't consider him using illusion magic," the voice within Harry hissed, its tone laced with an uncharacteristic hint of frustration. "He used the steam to mask his trickery." It was a rare admission of underestimation from the voice, acknowledging Rigel's cunning use of illusion magic to create a decoy. When the steam had filled the air, blinding them momentarily, Rigel must have cast an illusion of himself, a clever diversion that allowed him to counterattack unexpectedly.

Rigel wasted no time, his spells becoming more aggressive, each one a challenge to the voice's hold over Harry. "Expulso!" Rigel shouted, sending a blast towards Harry that threatened to knock him off his feet.

Harry, struggling internally, found his resolve strengthening with every spell cast against him. "I don't need you," he muttered under his breath, a declaration of war against the voice. "I can defeat Rigel on my own terms."

The voice, sensing its diminishing influence, became desperate. "You're a fool, Harry! Without me, you're vulnerable. You're weak!" it snarled, trying to claw back into control.

But Harry's will was iron. "No, I'm stronger than you think," he countered, feeling the voice's grip loosen with each word. He managed to deflect Rigel's next spell, a well-timed "Protego" shielding him from the brunt of the impact.

Rigel's relentless offensive continued, a barrage of spells that tested Harry's limits. "Impedimenta!" Rigel cast, attempting to slow Harry down. But Harry, now fighting with a clarity he hadn't felt since the duel began, dodged, the voice's influence receding further into the background.

"You're losing, Harry. You'll regret rejecting my power," the voice threatened, its tone now laced with desperation.

Harry, feeling the tide within him turn, focused on Rigel, his brother and opponent. "I don't need your power to win," Harry declared, both to Rigel and the voice. With a newfound determination, he launched his counterattack, "Stupefy!" aiming directly at Rigel, not with the intent to harm, but to prove he could stand on his own.

Rigel, ever the formidable duellist, effortlessly deflected Harry's Stupefy spell back towards him, infusing it with a surge of his own power, magnifying its intensity. The voice, sensing imminent danger, frantically urged Harry to evade. "Dodge it, Harry! That spell is too strong; it'll break through anything you put up against it!"

But Harry, having reclaimed control from the voice's influence, refused to be swayed. "Shut up," he muttered with resolve, focusing all his energy on his defence. "Protego!" he shouted, conjuring a shield with all the magical strength he could muster.

The amplified Stupefy spell collided with Harry's shield, unleashing a torrent of magical shockwaves. The Great Hall trembled as the force of the impact resonated from the epicentre of their duel. Harry, gritting his teeth, struggled to maintain the integrity of his protective barrier, the shield flickering as it absorbed the brunt of the spell's power.

Despite Harry's efforts, the shield began to fracture, spiderweb cracks of light breaking through the magical defence. And then, with a final, resounding crack, it shattered.

The spell struck Harry squarely, the force of the impact overwhelming. His world turned to black as he was knocked unconscious, his body collapsing to the floor of the duelling ring. As consciousness slipped away, Harry's last coherent thoughts were tinged with regret and a deep concern for Rigel's disappointment. He lamented his folly in yielding to the voice, even if only momentarily, fearing the consequences of his actions and the potential rift it might cause between him and his brother.