CHAPTER 6 - Destinations, In E Major (Act 2)
25 July 1994, 7:12AM
Excitement and tension were thick in the air, and Harry and co. were quite pleased to be in the midst of the hubbub that marked Day 1 of 3 of the dueling competition.
Under the comforts of a Muffliato and other privacy charms, their group was currently seated in La Troisième Grande Salle within the Hôtel. The hall was fashioned into a massive auditorium featuring bleacher-style seats, floating banners bearing the crest of the Junior League, in addition with the respective flags of each competitor's representative country. The wall closest to the entrance featured a mini-buffet of delicious breakfast pastries and freshly prepared coffee, tea, and juice, courtesy of the hotel's elves.
A large 40x15 platform stage in line with the French rules dominated the room's center, emblazoned with the crest of the Junior League. The judges table stood about six feet on the left side of the platform, perfect for an unobstructed view.
Neatly arranged behind the table were five seats for five judges; three of their number were Julian Montmorency, Bojana Krum, and Slavna Krum, the current Aurum, Wolfram, and Cuprum Champions of the European Open League - the analogous competition to the Junior League and open to contestants 17 and older. The fourth judge was a representative of the host country per the Tournament's bylines, and this year's choice was the ever-haughty Nadège Volant - the Office Head for the Bureau de Coordination des Affaires Magiques Internationales within the French Ministry of Magic.
The last judge was Elias Klausner, a rather distinguished-looking gentlewizard from Switzerland, whom, on the 'Necessary Neutrality Clause' written into the rules of engagement of the tournament, was present to fulfill his duties.
Apparently, magical Switzerland was as emblematic of impartiality as its muggle counterpart and thus would help balance the scales of the judges' votes.
Healer Marie Paré was present to provide medical care as needed, especially in the event of life-threatening injuries. The kindly-looking witch was content to read through her copy of the day's issue of Le Cri de la Gargouille as she sipped her café, currently seated on her designated chair some feet away from the judges' row.
Sitting some feet away from her was the scowling form of Gregoire Toubeau, a retired Senior Auror for the Bureau de la Justice Magique who would be serving as referee. While he looked as though he would have been doing anything else than this, the true nature of his mood concerning the day's affairs couldn't be gauged given his standard glaring expression.
"Care to wager on who will be the winner?"
Draco snorted at Blaise's question. "I know for a fact it won't be Giles-buggering-Yaxley." He sneered in the boy's direction, blue-gray orbs flashing angrily.
Heir Yaxley was currently chatting it up with fellow Housemates Ahsan (who'd insisted on being called 'Ash' by Harry and friends), Eudora ("call me Didi!"), and Nolan, the lattermost looking primed and ready to go.
Giles suddenly stiffened before turning in Draco's direction, returning the blonde's scathing glare as the two scions held a wordless faceoff.
It wasn't surprising considering the previous night saw the two wizards devolve in a fierce exchange that nearly resulted in fisticuffs.
Giles strutted over to their table, coyly wondering if they would be competing as he oscillated between sneering at Anthony for being muggleborn and glowering at Harry for being the halfblood Lord of House Wilkes, all while Ash struggled to contain his reflexive eyerolls. They'd replied in the negative with as much politesse as they possessed, further spurring Giles' snide remarks.
Draco, nearing the end of his rope, snidely commented that "those in 12th place glasshouses oughtn't throw stones". Naturally, that led to a discourse regarding the 'quality' of company one kept, commentary on magical ability and its relation to their respective families, and ultimately a tit-for-tat regarding fathers and their duties to their bloodlines and 'proper' wizarding society.
Accusations of "turncoats fraternizing with the enemy!" inevitably arose, which then led to a mutual unholstering of Giles and Draco's wands in a would-be faceoff.
Until Lord Wilkes calmly and coldly reminded Heir Yaxley that he was behaving in a "blatantly antagonistic manner" towards a higher-ranking Lord, Heir, and fully recognized Noble Lord of the Wizengamot along with their respective guests-of-honor in an event that could, technically, constitute a diplomatic reception for international relations.
"I have no qualms calling a special session to raise the issue at hand… that is, if it is an issue at hand… Giles." The older boy paled at both the possibility and the rebuke obvious in Harry's tone, though he didn't loosen the grip on his wand as he glared hatefully into chilling Avada-green orbs.
The arrival of Albert shifted the tension as the younger scion deftly diffused the situation, making apologies for any "unintended misunderstandings" whilst showing the appropriate deference to his higher-ranked peers. Once complete he led his still-fuming brother away, sparking Harry's curiosity about the true nature of their sibling dynamics.
"I think Olga might take it this time around." Harry shook from his reverie at Anthony's statement.
"What makes you say that?" asked Theo curiously as he nibbled on a croissant. The witch-in-question sat off to the side chatting with her coach Luminita Zedescu, her paternal cousin once-removed and a two-time Aurum Champion during her heyday. The Bogatyr alumnus currently worked as a Senior Auror for the Romanian Department of Defense and the Auxiliary Auror Guard of the ICW. Luminita was of a similar build to Olga, though her eyes were a noticeably intense shade of blue in comparison to her cousin's hazel.
"Well statistically speaking," Anthony continued. "She would come in second based on prior performance. But, I think that will be the ultimate motivation she needs to clinch first place."
"Fair enough," stated Blaise. "I'd rather her than Borys, though I can only begin to imagine what fresh hell the little psychopath will unleash. Hopefully the wards used around the stage are breach-proof."
His friends balked at the suggestion, casting wary glances at the Rising Fifth Year as he performed a series of over-the-top stretches to demonstrate his physical dominance.
"What about the Americans?" Harry's question successfully diverted the conversation from Montessi-related drama.
Five heads swiveled in the direction of the group from across the pond.
All seven were seated in their section, chatting with each other or reviewing pregame strategy with their respective coaches.
Quinn Fontaine-Burke was a definite favorite, placing 6th-place in the previous competition. She'd been eliminated in the finals by Olga, who'd cast an overpowered Bubblehead Charm before transfiguring the air within the bubble into nitrous oxide. As the Wampusian burst into unexpected laughter, the Bogatyr successfully bound, disarmed, then Stunned her for good measure.
Another favorite was Devon Hicks, who'd placed 7th-place in his last showing. He'd been taken out of the finals by Nolan, who'd transfigured every bone in his body into gelatin before disarming him. Hicks had to spend the remainder of the week in the hospital wing of the Pitié-Salpêtrière Institute, moreso at the insistence of his horrified parents than a serious medical emergency as Skele-Gro succeeded in making him right as rain.
"What about Fleur?" Theo was less than subtle as he stared at the blonde who sat inconspicuously to the side and far away from her Beauxbatons peers, quite a few of whom were content to glare at her profile. She quietly hummed a tune under her breath whilst flipping through a copy of the latest Witch Weekly, seemingly oblivious to the intense stare leveled at her by Heir Tkachenko as his aunt Slavna stared daggers.
"Probably the same as last time," snorted Blaise. "Not honestly sure why she bothers, but I reckon she gets bored like the rest of us." He shrugged before looking away, though Harry still wasn't entirely convinced of the blonde's ditziness.
'I imagine we'll see once she gets up on the stage.'
His musings were interrupted by the sudden sound of Blaise viciously swearing in Italian.
"Language," quipped Snape, not bothering to look up from his newspaper. Zabini blushed and muttered an apology to their smirking Potions professor.
"What?" asked Harry curiously. "What is it?"
Zabini grimaced whilst subtly not looking in the direction of the newest arrival - Enrico Montessi. His arch-nemesis paused to cast a menacing glower, subtly baring his teeth in aggression before marching on to his sister's side who rolled her eyes at the exchange.
"...Guess he's not a fan of yours?" Though Anthony's tone was playful, he was rather startled at their mutual reactions.
"You have no idea." And with that, Blaise provided a brief synopsis regarding his future inheritance within the Florentine Black Hand and the resulting feud between he and his eldest Montessi cousin.
"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Theo, gazing at Enrico in a new light as he chatted with his sister. Draco was of a similar mind though he didn't verbalize his thoughts, staring curiously at his fellow Slytherin.
"You're the only Italian wizard I know who just so happens to be the… what, future godfather of the magical Italian mafia who was almost murdered by his cousin in a staged coup?! Unbelievable!"
"Lower your voice!" Blaise hissed at a scandalized Justin, causing the others to snort out laughs. Granted, none of their conversation could be heard but still.
Subtlety and all that.
"He sounds utterly insane," quipped Draco, gray-blue orbs narrowed in Enrico's direction.
Blaise snorted. "He is. Ruthless as all hell and frightfully gifted with a wand. He was the former Aurum Champion in his Seventh Year before Nolan defeated him. Hasn't competed since, though I imagine his efforts are focused on trying to kill me."
"What about his sister?" interjected Harry. "Fiammetta you said?"
"Yeah, that's right," replied Blaise. "She's not half bad, at least compared to her brother. From what I've been able to glean, she wants to pursue an Aurorship or a DADA Mastery. I imagine that might be hard to do given the conflict of interest with the 'family business' and all that."
"...And what exactly would that family business entail?" Blaise blinked rapidly at Harry's question.
"...A bit of this and that." Despite the glibness of the answer, Prince Potter recognized the note of finality in his fellow Slytherin's voice, opting to not push the topic. He noted Draco readying to retort, quelling the attempt with a subtle look.
The boys chatted amongst themselves for some minutes before Draco's attention was diverted by the arrival of Lord Parkinson, who marched straight over to his son for a brief yet manly hug and a few words of encouragement. Andrew's pride was readily obvious as he spoke with his Heir, who looked quite pleased to see his father.
"Andrew!"
He turned at the sound of his name, returning the blonde's wave. Exchanging a few more words of encouragement with his eldest, Lord Parkinson made his way over to their group, exchanging greetings and pleasantries before seating himself next to Severus to observe the upcoming events. It gave Harry the chance to observe the Consiliarius Emeritus in a more unguarded moment.
"Oh darling Andy!" Delilah's raspy coo echoed through Harry's thoughts. "Ever a Prince Charming if I ever saw one, and not just towards the witches either! Little flirt could sweet talk his way into and out of anything."
Though Lord Wilkes hadn't thought it possible, he could have sworn the cheeky boomslang wiggled her eyebrows at him.
"He was quite clever and cunning when he needed to be, unconventionally so." Mara's husky sibilance whispered within Prince Potter's mind. "Reminds me of those stunts those Lion Marauders would pull, albeit infinitely more useful as it served at utterly humiliating Prince Malfoy's enemies. Even better that he never got caught."
Harry's musings were once more interrupted by Monsieur Toubeau as the gangly man ambled to the center platform, casting a Sonorous on his person:
"Welcome to the 375th Session of the European Student League Championship!" He launched into a brief history of the tournament, thanking its founders, sponsors, and organizers. "Today we will witness magical displays of fifty students from our most esteemed magical institutions face-off in a battle of talents and wits. Twenty-four of their number who succeed will qualify for the afternoon's quarter-finals, twelve will qualify for the semi-finals tomorrow, and the qualifying six from that group will be eligible for Wednesday's finals match."
That was followed by an introduction of the judges and the attending healer, all of whom received considerable applause.
Harry's curiosity was piqued by the dynamic between Bojana and Slavna; the latter ever-so-subtly flinched when Toubeau listed her younger sister's accomplishments both within and out of the dueling sphere. Coupled with the slight clenching of her jaw and slightly narrowed eyes, strongly suggested the Storm Queen was quite jealous of her little sister.
The Slytherin thought it ridiculous considering the haughtily beautiful witch was rather accomplished in her own right; a high-ranking Senior Auror for the Bulgarian Department of Magical Law Enforcement, decorated dueling Champion, and sole Gold Medal Winner as an épéiste, fleurettiste, and sabreuse for five years running in the European Magical Fencing League.
But then Lord Wilkes recalled the moments when his elder brother had been irrationally jealous of him despite being Heir Potter and the famed Boy-Who-Lived celebrity when the brothers first crossed paths.
Then Harry recalled all the moments he'd been jealous of his elder brother, before wincing the realization away.
He focused on Toubeau's rundown of Julian Montmorency, comparing the referee's speech to the dossier Blaise provided as he took in the man's boyishly rakish visage of wind-ruffled salt-and-pepper speckled hair paired with sparkling ocean blue eyes.
The eldest son of Alphonse Montmorency and an unnamed muggleborn witch, Julian was an exceptionally accomplished wizard that served as the current DADA Professor for Beauxbatons and ad-hoc consultant for the BDLJM. La Famille Montmorency was an old French Pureblood house known for its excessive material opulence and affinity for the Darkest of Arts. Much like La Famille Delacour, the Montmorencys enjoyed the favoritism of French kings and queens via politicking and intermarriage, rising to become entrenched members of the muggle and magical Ancien Régime.
Like most of their highborn peers, the Montmorencys were feared more than loved.
That reputation compounded upon the reveal of Gilles de Rais' dabblings in ritualistic serial killing of children, draining their life force to bind the strength of high demons in order to boost his own magical power. The grotesqueness of the murders and blatant partaking of demonomancy resulted in his execution, which by some great miracle, did not ruin the reputation of House of Montmorency.
Of course, all good things come to an end.
The dawn of the French Revolution forced the remaining members of the family that weren't executed to flee to Wizarding Britain and magical Scandinavia. Most of their wealth was seized by the Assemblée Magique, including their ancestral manse which was repurposed to house the current Beauxbatons Academy.
Time did serve to heal some wounds, and the dawn of the Grindelwald Conflict saw Alphonse, Vivienne, and a few of their Montmorency cousins move from Norway back to France, bringing with them Alphonse's son Julian - merely 14 years old but already considered a prodigal magical talent.
The Montmorencys saw the advent of this war as a means to restore dignity and honor to the family's reputation. They played a vital role in organizing the combat forces of the French Magical underground to supplement the forces of the Bureau de Aurors in pushing back the threat of Grindelwald and his Acolytes.
(Rumors abound that Alphonse was initiated into Légion d'honneur of L'Inconnu, and it was through their efforts in destroying Grindelwald's support forces in Nurmengard Castle that allowed Albus Dumbledore to finally defeat the Dark Lord.)
Concluding the judges' intros, Gregoire used the Pyrologos Charm to write a small list of spells. The flaming words spelled out the three Unforgivables, Fiendfyre, and a small list of curses.
"These spells," Gregoire stated, "are the only offensive spells not permitted for competitive dueling at the Advanced Level under the rules set forth by the Western European Dueling Association." A few seconds passed before he slashed his wand and dispelled the flaming letters.
"Our competitors will be playing jusqu'à la mort, or 'to the death'. Now, this doesn't mean their physical deaths of course, but rather, to the conclusion of their respective matches. Each will have 20 minutes to disarm their opponent three times. Whoever first succeeds within that time frame wins the match. Each judge will award up to 5 points for spell choice, technique, and speed of disarmament."
The referee then leaned down and tapped the platform three times with his own wand and cried out "CERTAMEN!" A glimmering shield appeared and wrapped itself around the perimeter of the platform before fading into transparency. Specifically designed competition dueling, the Certamen Shield would prevent any missed or deflected spells from hitting anyone in the audience.
"As is standard," continued Gregoire, "the pairing of students were chosen at random for the initial elimination round by Mr. Elias Klausner per the neutrality guidelines set forth by the tournament rules."
The judge deftly removed a golden parchment from his inner robes pocket, which floated to levitate by the referee. Much like a Howler, the parchment self-formed into a large mouth and bellowed the names of the first set of duellists.
Toubeau slashed his wand downward once the pair met on the platform and completed the customary greeting.
"Let the games begin!"
Victoire vs. Barteo (4 Eliminated)
"FULGARI!"
Luminous serpentine cords sprung from Victoire's wand and raced towards Barteo's form.
The cords froze in mid-air with a non-verbal Arresto, wiggling before they were non-verbally transfigured into a kaleidoscope of butterflies that faded into non-existence.
The witchling growled in frustration at being thwarted again as her opponent smirked. Both were 2-for-2 in disarmament, and she could not afford to lose the current round. She was surprised Barteo Fisnik was even participating at all given that those of House Taltos - despite their predisposition to irascibility - were generally considered lovers and not fighters.
Barteo was no exception, opting for advanced defensive magicks in lieu of Victoire's more offensive repertoire.
The sound of rumbling earth diverted the Bogatyr's attention, eliciting a growl. A mighty dome of impenetrable rock sprung around the Falcon's form, eliciting murmurs of awe from their audience and a vicious scowl from his opponent.
'Guess he plans on bloody waiting it out!'
With a snarl Victoire cast a rapid slew of Bombardas, barely chipping away at the rocky fort. With barely five minutes left on the clock, she had to think fast.
'Bingo!'
"DEFODIO TRIA," she softly incanted, marking three long burrows into the platform that raced towards and under her target. A whispered Aqua Eructo Tria filled them with water, flowing to fill the grooves. She poured more magic into the water spell, pleased to hear Barteo's squawk of indignation as his dome started to fill up. He quickly rushed to dispel his fortress to escape drowning.
Victoire was ready.
"COLLOSHOO! GLACIUS!"
His legs stuck to the floor as the water surrounding his legs froze, rendering him immobile.
"BRACHIABINDO! EXPELLIARMUS!"
Glowing cords wrapped around Barteo's arms and upper torso as his English oak wand sailed out of his hand to smoothly land in hers.
"WINNER, VICTOIRE ROUSSEAU!"
She pumped a fist in the air at the referee's declaration, beaming at the applause from her friends and some of the gathered audience. Her recovered opponent approached the middle of the platform, prompting her to do the same. She handed his wand back to Toubeau who gave it back to Barteo as was standard with the rules of engagement.
"Well played, Gingy."
The witchling scowled instinctively at her most hated nickname before her expression smoothed at Barteo's warm booming laugh at her reaction, fondly rolling her eyes as he clapped a friendly arm around her shoulders.
Matthieu vs. Marceau (8 Eliminated)
Narrowly avoiding the gout of Incendio levied at his head, Matthieu Kama focused on staying the course against his opponent. Each had disarmed the other twice, and it was time to make it count.
Despite his angelic features Marceau Beauchamp lived up to the reputation of House Zmeyevich, as charmingly devious as he was dangerous. Dragons were notorious for their coy natures in all that they said and did, and that seemingly applied to dueling. Marceau's spells were of the jinx and hex variety, spells aimed at distracting and annoying in order to tire one out, allowing for the ultimate kill.
A cry of "MUTATIO SKULLUS!" sounded, spurring the Bogatyr into dodging.
'I don't have bloody time for this!'
"AVIS OPPUGNO!"
A descent of sharply-billed woodpeckers burst from Mattheiu's aspen wand and raced towards his startled opponent.
While clever enough to cast Vestamentarum on his person towards the beginning of their face-off, it didn't do enough to stop the relentless birds from pecking on Marceau's face, neck, and arms as he struggled to clear the flock.
It was the perfect opportunity for Matthieu to cast "IMMOBULUS!", causing the Dragon to freeze in his ministrations as he was unable to move his arms. He soon felt the effects of a Silencio render him mute, before his wand was sent sailing out of his hand for the third and final time with a bellow of "EXPELLIARMUS!"
"WINNER, MATTHIEU KAMA!"
Fiammetta vs. Toshiko (12 Eliminated)
Deftly tucking into a roll, Fiammetta barely escaped the Blasting Curse that her opponent shot at her, cursing under her breath. She re-oriented her form into a low crouch, Protego at the ready.
It was a sensible gambit as the shield successfully rebuffed the salvo of Bonebreakers aimed at her person, feeling the heat of one that ruffled barely past her ears.
A relative newcomer, the Third Year Mahoutokoro student was already making her mark, having placed Top 10 in the Far East Dueling Championship - a most impressive showing. Toshiko Senju's chosen arsenal was aimed at disorienting then thoroughly incapacitating - a debilitating strategy that demonstrated not only her skill with advanced charms, but also her desire to completely annihilate her enemy.
"OBSCURO! LANGLOCK!"
The Bogatyr deftly blocked the spells with aid of Averto, before having to recast her Protego as a buffer against the torrent of fireballs lobbied at her courtesy of an overpowered Igneorbis. She successfully staved them off, even parrying a handful back.
Growing frustrated at her inability to overcome her opponent, Toshiko decided to change course.
A nonverbal Colloshoo sped from her cherry wand, causing the Bogatyr's dragonhide boots to stick to the platform. It was followed by a cry of "RICTUMSEMPRA!", followed by a nonverbal Incarcerous.
Without hesitation, Fiametta cast Engorgio Duo on her ruined shoes, watching them expand to twice their size to create more than enough room for her to expertly cartwheel from the Tickling Hex. Landing a few feet away, she succeeded in parrying the conjured ropes away.
Flicking her wand, Toshiko bellowed "ACUS VENENATUS!", successfully transforming the ropes into multiple silver needles that raced towards Fiammetta.
"ARRESTO! APISIFORS!" cried the Bogatyr, watching as the frozen needles blurred into a swarm of bees she directed towards a horrified Toshiko whom, unbeknownst to Fiammetta, was apiphobic.
"MIMBLEWIMBLE!"
Toshiko's terrified screams were cut short as her tongue tied, forcing her to emit panicked gargles.
"INCARCEROUS!"
Rope bound her flailing arms, though she was seemingly oblivious as she surrendered to a full-blown panic attack at the unyielding BUZZZZZZ of attacking bees.
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
"WINNER, FIAMMETTA MONTESSI!"
A squeal of excitement escaped the witch as she jumped up and down in celebration of her victory, beaming at the excited whoops from her elder brother and her friends.
Her excitement was briefly tampered as she saw Healer Paré rushed towards a beestung Toshiko who'd long since passed out.
'Oh well,' she shrugged internally, beating back her initial flare of concern. 'All's fair.'
Fleur vs. Janvier (14 Eliminated)
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Fleur feigned a fairly convincing squeak of fear whilst waving her wand erratically, her non-verbal Averto parrying away the bevy of Furnunculus lobbied at her face by Janvier Trouche.
Her fellow Beauxbatons classmate's choice of spells had all been aimed at disfiguring her in some way, indicative of his lingering upset of her rejection of all his ridiculous attempts at wooing her.
Though Fleur wasn't entirely sure how him bumping into her in the library indicated that she held some form of attraction for him, she'd long given up rationalizing the irrational.
Especially when it came to entitled wizards.
"FURNUNCULUS!" cried Janvier once more. It took considerable effort for Fleur to not roll her eyes at his persistence. It was followed by a bellow of "MUCUS AD NAUSEUM!" and "CALVORIO!", his face reddening from his efforts as he glared hatefully at the witch.
'Time to end this nonsense.'
Pretending to crouch down in fear at the magic levied her way, Fleur once more used Averto to parry all three spells back towards Janvier, eyes closed as her wand waved about in a convincingly haphazard manner.
His indignant squawk signaled the Hair Loss Curse connecting, rendering her opponent completely bald.
Taking advantage of his momentary shock, Fleur lobbied Langlock, Obscuro, Ventus, and a non-verbal Epoximise and Incarcerous, making a big show of screaming the first three spells. She aimed the last two further to the left as though missing her target.
She had not.
All witnessed the Sixth Year's eyes widen as his tongue magically stuck to the roof of his mouth just as a blindfold covered his vision, immediately followed by a gale of wind that pushed his body to the left…
…Right into the grips of the Sticking Charm and almost immediately bound in thick rope, rendering him completely immobile.
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
The 14-inch ash wand was wrested from its owner's grasp and into the blonde's own, signaling the end of the match.
"WINNER, FLEUR DELACOUR!"
Ignoring the varying jeers from the Beauxbatons faction amidst the smattering of applause in the audience, Fleur jumped up and down and excitedly clapped her hands in full ditz mode, internally crowing to be proceeding to the next round.
From Harry's vantage in the audience, he observed that despite the blonde's so-called fear and lack of polished technique (or any real technique at all), she had not been disarmed once by her opponent.
Giles vs. Aurélie (16 Eliminated)
"BRACKIUM CONFRACTUS!"
The Bonebreaker ricocheted from Giles' yew wand and hit Aurélie dead-center, hitting her right ribs and emitting a series of loud snaps.
She cried out in pain, before screaming as a series of non-verbal Laceros saw large gashes open up all over her body, staining her robes red.
"VERTIGO!" cried Giles, followed by a silent Oculus Caecus.
Blind, dizzy, and woozy from blood loss, Aurélie Dumont barely registered her acacia wand fly from her grasp, signaling her ultimate loss.
"WINNER, GILES YAXLEY!"
Covering her mouth as though shocked beyond repair, Fleur giggled in amusement at one of her bully's finally getting a fitting comeuppance, even if it was at the hand of a trou du cul like Heir Yaxley.
Borys vs. Piper (20 Eliminated)
Knowing and experiencing were two different things, and having experienced the wrath of Borys Tkachenko's magic, Piper Jauncey now knew why the rising Fifth Year was as feared as he was reviled in the dueling circuit.
The Black Wolf had her well surrounded with a pack of seven feral wolf-dogs, maws dripping with acidic saliva and barking like mad, ready to attack her should she make any move.
Racking her brain, she searched for a possible solution to not be mauled to death.
'He already sent Bradford Avery to the hospital, no need to end up sharing the bed next to the poor guy.'
A bellow of "MACTASSES!" redirected Piper's attention, successfully using Averto to divert the Bludgeoner into one of the dog's. At the sound of its whimper, the witch softly incanted "VERMICULUS DUO", targeting the pair who looked closest to lunging.
Their forms shivered before transforming into thick worms that flopped about uselessly.
Unfortunately for her, she moved ever so slightly.
It was enough for the remaining three beasts to leap hungrily at her, jaws wide open.
Borys took a few seconds to bask in the sound of Piper's gut-wrenching screams as the conjured dogs tore through her flesh, before disarming and Stunning her out of her misery.
"WINNER, BORYS TKACHENKO!"
The applause wasn't nearly as boisterous as he would have liked, ignoring the weary looks many cast at him. Healer Paré rushed towards the unconscious girl's side, casting a less-than-subtle look at Borys who was too busy preening at his performance.
He caught the cold glare Eudora Fenwick sent his way, no doubt in retaliation for violently incapacitating her dear cousin Bradford.
Despite sneering on instinct, not even Borys could suppress the cold shudder of apprehension that crawled up his spine in response to his fellow Black Wolf's inevitable reprisal.
Olga vs. Taylor (24 Eliminated)
Tightening her grip on her wand, Olga easily shifted her form into A-Tiger-As-It-Leaps, the 20th Step Fire Path Kata allowing her to effortlessly bound above the multiple pits of quicksand Taylor O'Brien conjured around her side of the platform. The American's goal had been to box Olga in on her 'side' of the platform before disarming her.
Both the audience and her opponent were amazed, not expecting such a physical reaction. Unfortunately for Taylor, she would pay for her moment of distraction almost immediately.
Eyes widening, the Ilvermorny Sixth Year didn't have enough time to shield or dodge as Olga leapt directly dead-center, somehow twisting her form midair to aim her feet at Taylor's chest, knocking her several meters backwards.
Landing on her feet Olga cast Incarcerous and Expelliarmus in quick measure, binding and disarming a visibly dazed Taylor.
"WINNER, OLGA ZEDESCU!"
The Bogatyr allowed herself a small smile amidst the audience's cheering, knowing she was that much closer to the ultimate prize.
Gringotts Cairo, 12:23PM
As gently as he was able, Mr. Camembert placed the two shroud-covered papyri in front of Tom, drawing the man's visible amusement.
"Am I getting presents?"
The goblin snorted out a laugh. "No, old friend. Though given the tripling of your quarterly returns, you won't be needing any presents from anyone anytime soon."
Lord Gaunt laughed at Camembert's coy tone, not at all disagreeing with his assessment. The two had spent the past few hours reviewing his expansive portfolio, and the combined returns on his magical, muggle, and interdimensional investments would see him obscenely wealthy at worst for a very long time.
Slow flicks the goblin's wand saw one of the charmed linen covers fall away, revealing the gilded papyrus to the wizard.
Tom's expression wrinkled curiously as he read through the golden text.
"Do you recognize it?"
Riddle hummed. "I do… Ancient Kemetic, I'd wager from the Sixth Dynasty given the syntax form. Much more poetic than I would expect, though I cannot be certain the overall context. It doesn't resemble anything I've read in the Funerary Texts as I am unable to recall any reference to the 'Primeval Light-Giver of the Eternal Flame'. I can infer that it may reference Amun-Ra or Horus given the heavy symbology of light and fire. Or perhaps both with 'Ra-Horakhty' mentioned thrice."
Camembert nodded with a smile, confirming his friend's conjectures. "It is a passage from the fabled Golden Book of Amun-Ra, retrieved by two of our Cursebreakers approximately ten days ago."
He further expanded with a brief summary of Weasley and Magdy's adventure, though per the employment oaths he was unable to divulge their names to Tom.
"Additionally," continued Camembert. "They also succeeded in retrieving… this." With a more trepidatious flourish he revealed the second document.
Oddly enough, Tom felt the basilisk symbol on his cuff slightly thrum in subtle warning.
This scroll was just as golden as the other, though it was offset by the serpentine-shaped hieroglyphs that looked to be moving of their own accord.
Eyes narrowed, Tom focused on the strange text… before stiffening as his expression became startlingly blank.
"Where did you get this?"
The Vice-President for Occult Espionage froze, never having heard his friend use such a harsh tone.
"...Do you know what it is?"
"Where. Did. You. Get. This?!"
Camembert's shock compounded, inwardly startled at the man's tone as he haltingly answered the question.
Crystalline blue orbs gazed intently into light gray, as though the Master Legilimens were weighing the truth of his words.
It was subtle, but Tom's form infinitesimally loosened as the tense moment passed.
The goblin was surprised to register the softest sigh of relief escaping from his own body.
"This is written Apophic Parseltongue, and you and I both know that you're well aware of that language's existence. I am able to read and understand this by virtue of self-tutelage through a small myriad of sources that includes the research of a handful of my ancestors."
That was certainly an understatement.
He recognized the spell outlined in the Forbidden Tongue of the World-Encircler as the exact same one painstakingly scrawled in Priscus Gaunt's blood, nestled beside its Verbis Diablo counterpart within the pages of the Gaunt Anathema Codex.
The Feast of Shadows.
The anathemagic spell could cause the complete destruction of all Reality by a 'Great Leviathan Shroud composed of the festering collective æther of Those-Who-Lay-In-Darkness', which, if released into the world, would devour all living matter.
Tom had been aghast upon discovering the spell, though that meant quite little in the face of his horror upon discovering the truth of anathemagic bound within the pages of his House's Codex, learned under the strict tutelage of Morsus Gaunt's portrait.
It'd also piqued his curiosity regarding the nature of Priscus' research during his tenure as the Director of Death with the Unspeakables. The bulk of his projects were Level 13 Classified even posthumously, and thus was only knowable to Control, Croaker, and Thirteen. Even in his recently elevated stead as 009, Tom would not be able to access the information unless all three of the aforementioned deemed it a Need-to-Know.
"Can you provide a translation?" his friend asked with a note of impatience. "We are working on a deadline for-"
"No."
"... I beg your pardon?!"
Tom blinked. "Let me expand on that statement. Yes, I can provide a translation, but I will only do so if you and all the relevant members of the Gringotts Interdimensional Board agree to swear a reciprocal Unbreakable Vow to never use, sell, or trade the translation. Ever."
The VP sputtered in outrage, though he felt an uncomfortable swoop of fear deep in his belly at his wizard-friend's reaction.
"Camembert… on the basis of our long-term partnership and friendship, I will be perfectly upfront with you. The magicks described in this inscription along with that of the language it's written in are dangerous. It possesses the capability to unravel any and every Reality should it be unleashed, and yes, that includes treading across the known and unknown dimensions. None will be safe, and despite the many magitechnical advancements of your great nation, neither you nor any other goblin would be spared."
The suddenly pale goblin staggered backwards to land heavily in his seat, absorbing the latest revelations amidst a racing heart.
It took a few minutes of uneasy silence, but Camembert gathered enough of his wits to nod once in his friend's direction.
"I'll summon the Board at once."
1:20PM
Nodding towards the judges, Monsieur Toubeau made his way to the middle of the platform as he cast a Sonorous on his person.
"We are now in the quarterfinals with the qualifying twenty-four contestants. They will continue to play jusqu'à la mort, but l have 15 minutes to disarm their opponent three times, with whomever succeeding first winning their respective match. Likewise, each will award up to 5 points for spell choice, technique, and speed of disarmament. Monsieur Klausner, if you please."
Another golden parchment floated from the man to float right above the middle of the platform, announcing the first set of competitors.
Giles vs. Deacon (3 Eliminated)
Forced on the defensive, Giles maintained his modified Protego whilst looking for an opening to eliminate his opponent.
Deacon Graves - great-nephew of the erstwhile Percival Graves - was quite gifted a wand. Shielding his person were a series of conjured curved mirrors, two-feet long and about twenty in number. They would seemingly absorb whatever offensive magic was cast at them, before deflecting it twice as fast towards the caster.
It was an impressive feat of magic and one Heir Yaxley hadn't been able to surpass, having to use emergency first aid on his own person after his Bonebreaker rebounded and snapped his left clavicle in half.
Giles tried a few darker but perfectly applicable curses and got the same results, having to leap out of the way of his own Suffocatio hurtled back towards him.
Taking a few moments to catch his breath, Giles was suddenly struck by an idea.
Focusing on a mirror he softly whispered "AVIFORS", concentrating his magic on changing the mirror itself.
It took a few seconds and much more effort than he thought possible, but the mirror shivered before transforming into a vicious-looking raven. It didn't hesitate to sharply descend on a startled Deacon, who began screaming as the avian tore strips off his face and arm.
Smirking, Giles repeated the spell thrice more, eliciting more screams and the perfect opening for the perfect strike.
"PETRIFICUS! EXPELLIARMUS!"
"WINNER, GILES YAXLEY!"
Fleur vs. Olga (7 Eliminated)
It was times like this that truly emphasized how much La Fou loathed the terms of her Conscription.
Instead of engaging with the Bogatyr utilizing the breadth of her combat abilities against a worthwhile opponent, she was cowering behind a rock barrier being pummeled by an unrelenting volley of Defodios interspersed with Bombardas.
Olga was damned good, and Fleur was thoroughly impressed by her utilization of combat magic and the Mayavani Technique. The Chevalier would have loved a proper faceoff where she could demonstrate her mastery of Savate, posing a true challenge to the Bogatyr.
But alas, the terms of her Conscription mandated that she play the dumb blonde to the very end, convincing others of her purported stupidity whilst committing her special brand of espionage in the name of the French magical government.
'And I bet Le Moustique is mucking about here somewhere, hidden under a Glamour Charm to report on my comings and goings, cet enfoiré!"
(She would be right of course, as the Chevalier was currently watching her performance under his regular identity to report back to Le Garde-Chiourme, who'd strictly forbade her from advancing to the semifinals as that would be pushing the limits of her 'staying under the radar'.)
Fleur groused over the possibility of defying her uncle's will for a few moments, before cringing at the realization that if she were to disobey Gabriel, she'd be punished for at least a month with backbreaking physical training under Le Sergent's less than tender mercies.
A shiver ran through her.
La Fou spent a few more seconds chewing over her options, before making up her mind with a tired sigh.
Wordlessly casting a Defodio against her own shield, she watched as a fissure appeared before it exploded in a shower of rocky debris she cleared away with a wordless Evanesco.
Shrieking dramatically, Fleur ensured she dropped her wand before Olga's cry of "STUPEFY!" rendered her world black.
"WINNER, OLGA ZEDESCU!"
Nolan vs. Borys (11 Eliminated)
It was one of the most anticipated battles of the Tournament; the first showoff between the reigning Aurum and Cuprum Champions, both battle-tested and ready to destroy their respective enemy.
Heir Tkachenko's will seemed to be greater than Heir Parkinson's, bombarding the boy with an unrelenting barrage of Bonebreakers and Bludgeoners interspersed with Acid Curses and Flagrantes. Borys' intent was to overwhelm Nolan with unrelenting brute force to force him on the defensive, taking him out with grievous injury.
As they were tied 2-for-2 for disarmament, it seemed Heir Tkachenko's strategy was partially working.
A nonverbal Pedis Offenda slipped past Nolan's defenses, causing him to trip.
The whir of two Brackium Confractus spells impacted his ribs and shoulders, forcing a groan as he skillfully switched to his right hand, parrying back a rapid-fire flurry of Stingers.
An unforeseen Acid Hex slipped past through, singeing the side of Nolan's head and eliciting a loud hiss of pain.
Impedimenta and Depulso stalled Heir Tkachenko for a few moments, allowing his opponent to growl out an "AEGIS MAXIMA!". A massive stone shield rose from the platform to ensconce Nolan, granting him enough reprieve to apply necessary first aid.
Furious, Borys pelted the shield with explosive magicks, determined to breach his enemy's sanctuary to destroy him.
He succeeded a few moments later, but a mostly healed Nolan was ready for him.
"MACTA-"
"ABRACADABRA!"
Both Borys and the audience froze in horror (some of the latter actually screamed), thinking the Aurum Champion had actually cast the Killing Curse!
Their worry was for naught.
In lieu of the soul-cleaving eldritch green light, a thick emerald-green ball of gas hurtled from the beech-wood apparatus straight towards his still-frozen opponent, dispersing into a thick cloud of shimmering stardust fog that obscured Borys' vision as it slowly rose to fill the space.
Under the temporary cover, Nolan waved his wand to-and-fro at the fog, softly incanting "LAPIFORSEMPRA".
POOF… POOF… POOF-POOF!...POOF!-POOF!-POOF!-POOF!-POOF!
The cutest wee white rabbit fell onto the stage…followed by another…and two more…then several more, all jumping around the stage and wiggling their fluffy white tails. Sweeping his beech wand in wide arches saw one rabbit fuse into another…then another…then another… coalescing into an almost 7-foot tall giant rabbit.
At this point, Borys had succeeded in clearing the mist, before once more halting at the sight of a ginormous hare leering directly at him.
"LACER-"
"PRESTO CHANGO!"
POOF!
Gasps echoed through the auditorium as the heads of the rabbit and Borys were switched! The change was not only visually comical, but resulted in magically induced discombobulation.
Borys screamed bloody murder at suddenly having his head stuck on a gargantuan bunny's body, causing his actual body now bearing the massive rabbit's head to start running around in a blind panic.
"GET ME O-"
"ALAKAZAM!"
WHOOSH!
The rabbit's body with Borys' screaming head was sent sailing into the Certamen shield, audibly thwacking into the barrier before passing cold. That caused the wizard's actual body to drop like a puppet with its strings cut, though the bunny head was still awake.
A nonverbal Expelliarmus sent Tkachenko's 14⅘-inch hornbeam wand into Nolan's waiting hand, signaling the match's end.
"WINNER, NOLAN PARKINSON!"
The crowd went wild.
6:38PM
Though he'd never experienced heaven before, Borys Tkachenko was certain he was living it right now.
Tucked in the cozy sheets of the hotel's infirmary recovering from his humiliating showdown with Nolan, he was curled into the warm and sweet-smelling embrace of Fleur Delacour, the delightful French witch he couldn't get out of his mind. She tutted, cooed, and fussed over him, cobalt blue orbs tender in her worry as she tenderly held his head against her surprisingly ample bosom.
His aunt Slavna had been less than impressed, muttering "half-veela trollop!" under her breath whenever the two were together. It'd amused Fleur as the older witch muttered it in Bulgarian, thinking she wouldn't be understood.
"Mon beau, 'ow long do you 'ave to be in zis awful place?!" The blonde laid the accent on thick, fluttering her eyelashes as she forced her eyes to become teary as though she were genuinely distressed.
"Not too long darling," he replied. "I should be right as rain in no time, that little mudak Parkinson could never keep me down." Despite the furious snarl when mentioning Nolan's name, Borys smiled dazedly at Fleur, wishing he could touch her. Fleur had foreseen that prospect, subtly casting a Sticking Charm to the sheets to ensure he wouldn't be able to touch her.
Pleased that her security and alarm wards were still unperturbed, La Fou decided to up the ante.
Keeping her touch light as a feather, she traced seemingly nonsensical patterns on his right cheek whilst lowering the threshold on her allure. Not enough to overwhelm and trigger an outright Occludic response, but enough to convince his conscious mind that he wanted to do nothing else but spend all his time gazing into those gorgeous cobalt blue eyes.
With an adoring smile Fleur continued her ministrations, softly humming a gentle tune under her breath. Borys felt his breathing slow and a sense of contentment wash over him, skin pinking as he felt his blood warm.
"What… what is that song?"
She smiled, watching detachedly as Borys smiled with her. "It eez a lullaby mon papa would zeeng to me as a leetle girl when I became ill." She continued her ministrations, ever so slightly increasing the volume of her veela-song. "I adore my papa, he eez ze best!"
Borys hummed. "My papa too… great man… will be even greater once he achieves The Goal…"
"...Ze Goal?" whispered Fleur confusedly, allowing her breath to tenderly brush over a besotted Borys. "What kind of goal eez it?"
Three Hours Later…
Back ramrod straight, La Fou completed her in-person update of her mission, expertly repressing her own unease at her news as she peripherally took stock of Le Garde Chiourme's stonily blank expression.
"Thank you," stated Gabriel once she was complete. "He will be attending the finals match, correct?"
"Yes," nodded Fleur. "I convinced him that it would be in his best interest to do so."
"Excellent, you will remain by his side. You are dismissed."
Nodding once, the blonde took her leave.
As soon as his door clicked shut, Gabriel unholstered his wand and sent a Patronus missive.
A rhythmic knock sounded on his door a few minutes later, opening upon his verbal consent.
Gabriel blinked once in acknowledgement, rolling his eyes at seeing his identical doppelgänger strut in.
"If you are meant to be me, you should know that I would never wear anything as ridiculous as a pinstriped cravat."
Not-Gabriel burst into boyish laughter, before shivering as he transformed into a perfectly nondescript man.
"I have a new mission for you, starting within the hour." The Chevalier mock-saluted his superior, eliciting another eye-roll.
Le Drôledetête had always been fond of provocation.
AN 1: Apologies for the long wait, I've been on a much-needed extended holiday, back to our regularly scheduled upload.
AN 2: Trou du cul and enfoiré mean 'asshole' and 'motherfucker' respectively. Our little Fleur has quite the potty mouth! We won't see La Fou in full tactical action until the very end of Book 4, more than likely the start of Book 5.
AN 3: Drôledetête is an amalgamation of 'drôle de tête', which means 'funny face'. And yes, he is a metamorphmagus and no, it is not Cassie or Regulus. Though infiltrating a government agency for a bit of personal fun would not be too far out of Cassie's personal purview. More on this Chevalier later.
