Hello there, again! And finally, after years of waiting and pouring words into the story, this moment came.

This world has seen much violence. Mainly because we, humans, took to heart the duty to master the art of killing and hurting. Some did it for a good cause, the so-called heroes and champions, and their names were written into our memories for the ages to come. Others, those so-called villains and monsters, did it for a selfish purpose, and their names were repudiated, often mentioned in dark tales to put children to sleep.

Among them all, a certain folk stood out. Known as the Alazthi lords of old, these ancient and extinct people, lords and ladies as proud as we will ever know, were so well versed into the art of killing they ended up wiping out themselves. In fact, legend has it that the most adept of them could fall into a trance of witless rage, in which a friend was no different from a foe for them. Perhaps because of this, they led mankind in their war against the Nightmares, and without them none of us would be here today. Still, I can but feel grateful they got to meet their demise. Even if their blood still runs through a few Great Houses of the present.

Fortunately, such a trait was lost in the Doom, as their long descendants have been unable to manifest this trait of their forebears.

Lawrence the Third, in 'History of the Wizarding World', chapter 5.

Chapter 57 - And the eagle flew anew

It was a peaceful evening that they enjoyed, far from the noise and chaos of Silverbay and its people.

The night was calm; cloudless and almost windless, with a full moon crowning the sky. And its bright rays fell upon the large park in which Ron and Daphne enjoyed one another's company. A road of flattened dirt surrounded by a sea of well-cut grass, not so far from Oakheart Palace. The few families that had accompanied them had gone home a few hours ago.

They were sitting on a wooden bench atop a little hill, with great views to the dark sea and its endless blackness. It was cold, also, so Ron wrapped himself tighter in his cape. Unlike Daphne, who had come prepared, dressed in a brown coat, he'd been fooled by the day's warmth.

"And Tracey, well, you should have seen the way she flew in her first game," Ron said, a fond smile on his face as he remembered a day which felt like ages ago. "She destroyed everyone. Hell, her teammates got to trust her in the first game. Mainly because of Graham Montague, I think. He's the only clever one in the team, for sure."

"She got called for the European team, right?" Daphne cut in, a smile also on her face. "And Harry, too."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, there's this boy, Spencer, who's a year older and also got called. He came to me with questions about Harry, Tracey and Katie Bell. Don't forget that to make it into the team, they need to compete against one another for what few spots there are."

"But… That boy, isn't he American?"

"He lives here, but he was born in England. Actually, I think he can play for both continents, but he wasn't chosen to represent North America, so… Well, one gotta take their chance, right?" A shrug of her shoulders proved how little she cared about Quidditch and all related to it. "Anyhow, talk to me about Hogwarts. You've barely made any mention of Dolores Umbridge, despite the fact she managed to sack Albus Dumbledore. Is she as bad as I imagine her to be?"

Ron could but snort at such a question, "Think of the worst, then go beyond that and further and further away. And there you have Dolores bloody Umbridge. She's a cruel bastard, with a talent to gather the worst lot to her side. Folk like Flint, Meads and Goyle, they love her. More so after she granted them so much power when the Disciplinary Party was created. But let's not get into that. I'm not in the mood to talk about that hellish toad-woman."

Daphne stared at him keenly, just as she'd done plenty of times today; to a point in which it made him nervous. "What's with that look? Have I said something I shouldn't?"

She just shook her head, "No, you did nothing wrong. It's just that I… Well, today I realised how much you've changed. And I'm not even talking about that impulsive and hot-heated boy who got sorted into Slytherin three years ago. Last year, before you got…, petrified, you already were a much prouder and confident person. But it was the kind of confidence akin to arrogance; similar to Malfoy's before Hogwarts. I didn't like it much, honestly. Nor did I think it suited you, by any means. But now…"

She took a moment, as if to gather her words, "The way you move around, the way you hold yourself, it speaks wonders of your self confidence. And there was respect in the way you treated each one of your rivals. Even toward Nott, whom you refused to humiliate when we both know, had it been the other way around, he would have done so. When I look at you, I still see the same Ronald Weasley who became my friend three years ago. Yet I also see a different person."

For a reason he could not understand, Ron opened himself to her. "I was the Heir of Slytherin, you know?" She could but blink to those words, having no idea how to react. "Well, more like his puppet. A bloody ghost of the past living in a cursed diary, and it fell right into my hands. He was kind to me, this ghost. He talked sweet poison into my ears. That I was better than my brothers and my friends; that I had so much potential; that I could do great things. I believed him, of course, so fool I was back then. Damn it all! It was me who attacked Hermione and Penelope Clearwater. It was me who almost killed Harry."

The colour drained from her face until it became a pale mask. She did a good job in concealing her horror and surprise, but her eyes, they couldn't be silenced.

"Oh, but don't worry about that," Ron gave her the hint of a mirthless smile as he leaned back into the bench. His eyes rose into the sky—it truly was a beautiful night, so full of stars. "I have yet to forgive myself, of course. I don't think I ever will, in fact. But Harry and Hermione, they never came to blame me. Can you believe it? Also, as I dwelled into slumber, I had a lot of time to ponder about many things. I guess that's where I really begin to change."

Her blue eyes were set on him, so deep and piercing. "And are you happy with the person you have become?"

Ron's head turned sharply toward her. He'd expected many things after the confession. For starters, her sympathy and distress. Soft and kind words, too, in order to soothe his regret. But such a simple question, it broke all the schemes within his head. And it took him a few minutes to find his answer. A time in which she remained silent, by his side.

"Am I happy?" he mused at last. "Yes, I think so. I'm very different when compared to the person I was a year ago. Even more different to the person I thought I would become before coming to Hogwarts. I miss many things about that little bastard, not gonna lie, and I'm sure he would hate many aspects of who I've become. Still… Yes, I'm happy."

"Well, then it's all settled," Daphne hummed as she stood up. She then offered her arm, which he gladly took—it was the way a man should walk with a lady, she'd argued before. "I've also changed a lot, I think. And I, too, am quite happy with the person I've become. Now, you better don't ask my father for his opinion."

"Well, with all due respect, I don't care about his bloody opinion," Ron said with a shrug as they began their way back. "I'd take this current Daphne Greengrass over the snooty girl who believed herself to be Slytherin's princess. You really made an art or having your chin up and eyeing others above your shoulder, really."

She softly slapped him in the arm, "Oh, do shut up! I don't wanna remember those times. Merlin, I was such a jerk back then, wasn't I?"

"I'd rather keep my opinion for myself, I think," Ron grinned. "I appreciate my limbs very much, thank you."

Their walk became a silent one after that. But it was a good kind of silence; that which filled conversations and people took delight in it. And the cold breeze of the night, it certainly felt good to his tired and bruised body. Because of that, it took them a while to reach her hotel.

And it was only under its doorsteps that Daphne untangled herself from his arm.

"I will root on you tomorrow," she said. "Alexander is also one of my best friends. But he already has quite the opinion on himself. He doesn't need anyone to raise his spirits."

"I'd also be extremely arrogant if I was so incredibly talented," Ron confessed. "Hell, the Heir of Slytherin managed to fire me up with so little. Still, mightier towers have crumbled. And all it takes it's a single hit on the right place and time."

Daphne could but blink at his words. "Oh, Merlin!" she mused, then. "You truly believe you can defeat Alexander!"

Ron gave her half a smile, way too amused by her awed reaction. "I truly do. He's a more skilled and talented wizard than I, that goes without saying. But I have strengths of my own. What I lack, he does have. What he lacks, I do have. It will be hard, undoubtedly. Almost impossible, in fact. But tomorrow I will stand in front of Alexander Shawn as a rival, not as a prey."

Ron turned around with a last snicker as farewell. And it was halfway through the street when he halted after his name was called.

"I too believe you can defeat him!" Daphne exclaimed, a wild grin on her face. "If there's someone who can do it, that's you, Ronald Weasley!"

It amused Ron to see how she stormed into the hotel, as if trying to disappear before anyone could associate her to such screaming. But her words had fueled him, that he knew. And it was something Gerd noticed; and which filled her with mirth.

"Now you have another reason to win tomorrow."

"Which one?"

"To not disappoint the girl. Ah, to be young again!"

Ron spared her a funny glance, "You make no sense, Gerd! Anyhow. Who cares? Come on, let's go back to the hotel so we can think of a strategy for tomorrow. There are many aspects of Shawn's game I want to dismantle. And we got ourselves a long night to do so."

Ron rose up way earlier than he thought.

The night was still dark and silent outside, as he observed through the window. He felt strange; if there was a word to express the way he felt, he knew none. Not nervous, but still relentless. Eyes heavy and aching limbs, but fresh and active. He wanted to storm outside and go in search of Shawn so they could be done with their duel as soon as possible. And still he feared going against him.

"I've lost my bloody head, definitely," Ron huffed as he sank his head into the basin. The cold water did wonders to perk him up.

The room was a great improvement when compared to that he'd been able to buy with his small savings. Large and bright and cosy. With a thick carpet of red wool to warm the room, a large and soft bed and with a luxurious chandelier to light it up. Still he allowed the moon's embrace to be all light he needed.

"Have you ever felt like this?" Ron asked suddenly as his eyes fell upon the mirror's reflection. There was a faint trace of blue in the white of his eyes, he noticed. His hand rose as if to touch it, but thought otherwise and instead ruffled his damped hair.

"Plenty of times," Gerd hummed as she appeared within the room. "Far too many to count. And not only prior to a battle. It is a state of tension to which our body falls when either seeking survival or in face of danger. Without it, we would be long dead."

Ron got dressed as fast as he could, to then walk out of the room without even drying his hair or tidying his uniform. All he did was to make sure the cape was firmly clasped to his shoulder. The hallway was silent, and there was nobody around. It was a quick walk through the hotel, and he finally made it outside. There, by the sea's embrace, so close to it the smell of salpetre became all he could smell, Ron finally allowed himself a calming breath.

And he let his legs take him wherever they wanted. It didn't surprise the boy that he ended up in the docks, where he took a seat at the end of the wooden walkway, his legs dangling above the water. And he remained like that for several minutes; surrounded by a calm silence, one neither Gerd nor him felt the need to disrupt.

But then came footsteps from behind, and he was quick to turn around as his hand gripped his wand under the robes.

It was Ousmane Diop, his head hooded under his red and black robes. He came to stand not so far from Ron, eyes also set into the endless horizon. "Couldn't sleep?" he suddenly asked.

"You could say so," Ron replied with a shrug. "And you?"

"Nights are too long in this city," the boy said, giving the redhead a similar shrug of his shoulders. "I grow tired of them easily. Also, I like to come here, to the sea. It's a rare sight to me."

Ron let go of his wand as his eyes returned to the ocean. Diop took a seat by his side, a few metres away from him, with his legs crossed underneath. And silence reigned for several minutes, each boy to their thoughts.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go on."

"What do you fight for, Ronald Weasley?" Ron could but turn his head toward him, just to find Diop's eyes still firmly set on the sea. "I find our fellow challengers a funny lot. Proud and arrogant folk, most of them. The perfect image of pureblood aristocrats, so rich and tired of their easy lives they can but seek an exciting challenge to make them more bearable. They are just like I was told they would be; boring, too busy trying to give a semblance of perfection. But you are different. So is your friend, Benjamin Lepenant. He fights for a good reason, as I came to learn yesterday. Now, what about you?"

Ron took his time to answer. On the one hand, the nature of the question had greatly surprised him. On the other hand… Well, he knew what he fought for: to protect his people from the looming end. But that was an answer he could not give.

So he settled for a half truth, "To become strong enough. That's what I fight for."

Diop's gaze finally upon him. His dark eyes were an indecipherable cloud, more so under the night's veil. Still there was a glint in them which did not go undetected. Could it be, by any chance, understanding?

Either way, he found in his plain answer all he sought. "I see," Diop hummed as he stood up. "Good luck today, Ronald Weasley. You are to face a true monster in the body of a boy. I don't envy you." And he left, his footsteps so silent he seemed to move like a shadow amidst the night.

Ron, on his behalf, also stood up after a few minutes. He stretched his limbs and body, then drew in a deep breath. "I'm to face a monster in a boy's body, he says. Ha! As if he wasn't a monster himself. Come on, Gerd. I want to be there early. Before Jakob gets there. I reckon I could use some of our banter to calm my mind."

There was noise, but faint. Tum, tum, tum… An incessant drumming. And voices, too; like whispers from afar. There was light, also; bright and blinding, coming from the end of the passage, as if led into heaven itself.

And Ron stood impassible to it all.

So did Alexander Shawn, who waited by his side for the official to bid them entry to the arena. He looked as calm as Ron did, though far looser. The gold touches in his azure uniform shone even brighter than the fire of the torches. And the golden phoenix of Shawn, with its two black swords crossed beneath, gave him an aura of royalty Ron's brave eagle could but mimic; not one to be left behind.

No word was shared between the two boys before, during and after the official came to them. And when they stepped outside, Ron discovered the noise wasn't faint, as the colosseum itself seemed to rumble. No, it was him who had closed himself to it. And it all seemed to go so slow; the crowd's chants, his name being screamed louder and more frequently, their faces, the flapping of the banners…

And still it all happened in the blink of an eye. He had just stepped out of the passage, and now he stood on one end of the pit.

Alexander Shawn had taken the other end for himself; wand ready at hand and with a very confident expression on his face. He stared at Ron with a keen eye; like a hawk would eye a prey. Not like a rival. Never like a rival.

All around them, the crowd became silent as their shuts turned into whispers, their eyes set on the two challengers who would give their best in pursuit of a spot in the finals. There was no nervousness within Ron, even if all he could feel were those many eyes on his figure. No, it didn't matter anymore.

Gerdnyaram's warmth helped to soothe him. It started from the shoulder, where she was seated atop of as if an ethereal guardian, and it expanded through every muscle fibre down to his toes.

"At last we meet in the arena, Ronald Weasley," Shawn said as the referee hopped onto the pit. "You've become a fan favourite, it seems. They want you to win, and I cannot blame them. Your story sells way more than mine; everyone loves underdogs, after all. A shame, truly. Today isn't the day you win. Not if I'm the one standing in front of you."

All the answer Ron gave him was a curt nod of his head as he tightened the grip on his wand.

"Truly, the blood of the Alazthi lords of old run through his veins," Gerd observed. "Such arrogance and pride is only proper of them, let it be known."

"We go all-in from the very first second, right?" Ron asked her in a whisper. "Against him, even the subtlest mistake means defeat. It doesn't make sense to hide our cards anymore."

"That we do," Gerd hummed. "Remember my teachings, Ronald. Focus on your breathing and try to enter that zone of pure calm as you discard all those Futures which feel less probable to happen."

Ron put his mind blank; a task he'd always found nearly impossible yet today seemed to finally accept his effort. Gerdnyaram's courage flowed into him, and so did her confidence. Then, the golden silhouettes did appear. Countless of them, and they pierced through the void of his closed eyes with ease.

"Begin!" the referee exclaimed.

As of that moment, there only was one Future to be considered by Shawn.

Ron opened his eyes in shock, just in time to see how a sphere of blazing, blue light formed in Shawn's hands. Time seemed to still as an unbelievable amount of raw magic condensed in such a spell. And for such a small size, the ball held a power equal to that of a hundred spells.

"Blue!" Shawn chanted. The energy sphere got launched toward Ron, a trail of destruction and heat after it.

Ron remained motionless for an instant. "Snap out of it!" Gerd hissed, and so he did.

Three possible Futures were linked to the sphere; those commands Shawn may give to it. In all of them his hellish spell behaved differently. And there was no way to tell which one could benefit Ron the most. Screw it! That thing is gonna kill me if it hits! He waited until the last second, and just when the blue sphere was about to swallow him, its heat so fierce all his pores seemed to cry in pain, Ron pointed his wand at the ground.

"Depulso!"

With the sole idea to survive in his mind, Ron's spell came out with a fierceness never seen before. And he rocketed away, to the left. Though the sphere managed to grace his dark cape. It was combusted into ashes in the blink of an eye. And, having missed its target, the sphere remained alive, going in search of a new prey to devour.

Which he found in the crowd.

There, a tall wizard of golden hair stood up with a smirk on his face. A simple gesture of his hand was all he needed to dispel it under a rain of blue sparks.

Ron, however, could but look at what little was left of his cape with horror in his eyes. "Bloody hell! That was meant to kill me! The hell is he doing!?" The crowd was quick to echo his opinion; though most remained silent, as shocked as Ron himself was, many did start to boo Shawn.

Despite that, none of the judges nor the referee did a thing to stop the fight.

"If you couldn't dodge it," Shawn started, "I wouldn't have used this spell of mine" Although his eyes refused to look at the public around them, it was rather obvious their reaction had angered him. "For fuck's sake, we are supposed to be the best among the best… If I cannot go all out here, then where?"

"That spell…" Gerd mused. "Its signature was unique. There was no malice in it, not one which I could detect, at least, and yet it was sheer destruction what it harboured. A spell created with a sole purpose, that of destroying."

Ron readied himself with a deep breath, but he paid no second thought to her words. How could he, when all his focus was put into the Anticipation? Shawn remained motionless as of this moment, eyes and frown set upon Ron. Even so, from time to time, countless Futures would appear around him; just for them to banish a second after. He had known this duel would test his skill and resolve like no other, but to think Shawn could have so many tricks up his sleeve…

Thirty seconds into the battle and his head was already crying in pain.

And his hands, they trembled so much his wand almost slipped from his grip. Get a hold of yourself! And it was with a quick resolve that he did so. One by one, many spells came out of his wand, delving into his repertory as deep as it went. Flashes of every colour brightened the arena, but just into one direction.

On his behalf, Shawn remained calm on the defence, a single drop of sweat yet to appear on his face. He either parried or dodged each and every of Ron's spells. And he made it so simple, so effortlessly, that it hurt Ron's pride. And, as he'd done before against other rivals, he put an end to his offence when he felt like it.

Shawn then flicked his fingers, and Ron's spell started to banish as they got close enough. Here it was, his mighty defence; a barrier of Finite around him, as he'd come to decipher after a lot of thinking. A hundred Futures appeared suddenly, which made the redhead not only miss his step, but also made him unable to follow his strategy.

"Shield, now!" Gerd ordered.

"Protego!" Just in time did his Shield rose, yet it was barely able to contain the Exploding Curse which shook it to its core. And he was swallowed by a cloud of dust which blinded his sight.

Ron managed to regain his balance just in time, as the cloud of dust was dispelled by a twist of his wand. And then he glanced around, in search of his rival. And then his mind gave up once more. For he was surrounded by countless golden silhouettes yet again, borne from the many spectres of magic which were about to swarm him.

"He's right behind!" Gerd exclaimed.

Out of instinct did Ron step aside, and it was by a mere inch that Shawn's fist missed his face. From it came a burst of magic which blew away the hair from his forehead. They now stood so close even a gust of wind would have trouble finding its way in between.

"Solem!" Ron chanted in a rush, his two hands pointed at the pureblood wizard as his eyes closed. A blinding light, akin to that of the sun in a clear sky, was born within him. It was all he needed to escape. "Depulso!"

The spell hit the ground, and he was rocketed backward.

Ron landed far away, still in shock. Yet it wasn't enough for his body to not act on its own. And it was a very powerful Lux Aeterna which borne from his hand and wand alike; and the awed gasps of the crowd became its choir. This was his mightiest spell, his most powerful weapon.

Even so, it got dispelled the moment Shawn slapped it with the back of his hand, his eyes still tightly closed. And a rain of white sparks fell all over him, so bright and wide it resembled a curtain of light.

"He's a bloody monster," Ron mused, horrified, as he took a more defensive stance.

"Focus on the battle," Gerd grunted. "If you had kept your calm and used the Sense, you could have known that he would come from behind. He became invisible to the eye and casted some of those spectres of magic he likes so much. But they all were cheap copies. His magical aura is so unique he cannot replicate it. Use that in your favour whenever he starts that silly game of his."

As Gerd lectured him, Shawn remained rooted to the spot, his eyes still half-lidded but now set on his hand. The back of it had been charred, its skin red and blistered. "I have underestimated you," he just said. "That spell, it was incredible. It ploughed through my barrier as if it didn't exist. And had I not been so quick to react, to imbue and protect my hand with raw magic, I would have lost it. So confident I was that I committed a fatal mistake. I will do it no more."

Shawn then thrusted his wounded hand forward, toward Ron, and it was a sword of flames which was born out of it. A long and sharp blade, its edge made of blazing fire waves of a dark shade. "Ah, it feels so good to finally face a rival worthy of my talent and effort. Do not let me down, please."

With a simple slash, a storm of fire was set upon Ron.

But this time he kept his calm, "Aguamenti!" Water clashed against fire in a fierce battle, and borne from such an encounter was a thick cloud of steam, announced by a loud whistling. A shadow came from it, yet Ron did not trust his sight now. Instead he expanded his magical aura forward, and the ruse was unveiled.

So his eyes rose up, "Confringo!"

Shawn fell down upon the redhead as the violent curse went up in search of him. His azure eyes opened in surprise, yet he didn't hesitate, for there was a Shield around him by the next instant. It felt as if punching a wall, Ron reckoned as his spell broke against the Shield.

Still his offence met no end.

Spurred by a sudden flash of ingenuity, Ron transfigured part of the steam into a thick mass of ice, and then he moulded it into a huge hammer. It was only fitting, he thought with irony, as hammers were meant to break walls. Yet the wall did not break, as Shawn's Shield withstood the assault with ease. Still he was sent flying away, toward the other end of the arena.

Timing needs to be perfect! Time seemed to slow down as Shawn fell down, his Shield about to expire. And Ron waited for it to happen, knowing all he had was one chance. Wait, wait, wait… Now!

It was Ron's second Lux Aeterna; a mightier and more perfected one, this time. It seemed to burn his body as it went out. And his hands, where the magic gathered, felt as if they were about to melt down. But it was a painless euphory. And the perverse warmth of the spell found too mighty a barrier in his calm mind. So Ron did not lose himself in the roar of battle this time.

To say there was fear in Shawn's eyes might result in a false claim. Because fear led to a loss of will and wit. Perhaps he did feel an ounce of it, an emotion so unknown to him. But, whatever he felt, it was not enough for his body to give up.

The instant his feet touched the ground, he seemed to shrink in size as he crouched down. And the way he jumped away from the spell, it spoke of a physical prowess nurtured by years and years of work. Thus the beam of light missed its target by mere inches. But it did cause a kind of damage which couldn't be seen by the eye, for the seeds of doubts had been planted in a boy who had believed himself to be untouchable until now.

And when Alexander Shawn stood up, he remained wordless as their eyes clashed in a silent duel; bright-azure against dark-blue. And the crowd rose up and bursted in cheers and claps.

"That was much better," Gerd said. "He tried to fool you once more, but you did not fall for his ruse this time. Also, yours was a perfect way to counter-attack; calm and effective. That sword of flames, and the storm of fire it unleashed, was more of a distraction than an actual weapon, I believe."

Ron gave her a faint nod as he tried to regain his breath—would there be a second of rest in this duel? However, the odds weren't in his favour.

Ron managed to refrain a shudder as he stared into Shawn's eyes, for it was a look of sheer rage that they expressed; as if fire devouring a forest. Around him, his many Futures came and went with each blink of his eyes. Oh, oh… I can already smell trouble coming in my way.

Shawn took one step forward, wand now pointed at the sky, "Red!" He was suddenly surrounded by a storm of crimson blades which spiralled around him as if he was the core of a whirlwind. Far too many to count them, far too quick for the eye to follow them.

Ron resorted to the Sense once more. They were made of pure and raw magic, it seemed.

"The hell are those spells and why are the name of colours their bloody incantations!? Is he a bloody painter, or what!?" Ron grunted, his focus set on the many Futures which laid ahead. One of them would become true, therefore become the present. All others would be discarded, to become an instant that never was.

But, again, there were too many of them.

It all happened at the same time. As Gerd shouted, "Shield up!" Ron was already casting it. For those hellish blades came at him like a flock of crows to carrion. But they all shattered against his Shield one after the other. It held on for a while, but it started to crack under the constant onslaught.

And Ron kept fuelling it with his magic, too stubborn to accept that every Future led to his defeat.

As that happened, Shawn closed the distance with a calm stride, "Why is it that you always manage to react in time, as if you knew about my intentions beforehand?" he asked coldly. "No one has ever witnessed my spells before this battle, yet you managed to dodge Blue and to take cover from Red as if you knew of them… How?"

Ron, unfortunately, was far too busy to answer those well-founded doubts of his. Do I push my Shield forward? That might be my only way out of this situation. If so, I need to make it far larger than any other Shield I've casted before, in order to engulf all those hellish blades. To fail, it meant defeat. To doubt, it too meant defeat.

Even so, Ron postponed his decision, and he made a risky bet that his body would prevail for long enough. Because, as Shawn walked toward him, there only was one Future he considered. It would be better to wait until he doubted. Just an instant of doubt; that was all Ron needed.

"Come on, send your damn Shield forward!" Shawn growled. "That's a card you've already shown, so there's no point in trying to take me by surprise." Still Ron waited for his chance, pushing aside his great exhaustion. "If you don't make a move in the next five seconds, your Shield will shatter. And I can keep this onslaught for far more time than that, you know it."

Ron knew it, indeed.

He felt exhausted, he felt scared and frustrated. And still did two emotions rise above all others: admiration and envy toward his opponent. There he was, using all his magical prowess to withstand for as long as he could, his aura roaring in pain so punished it was, so uncontrolled use he was making of his magic. And there it was Shawn, his magic flowing like a calm river, not a single ounce of it being wasted despite the high tensions of the duel.

"Have it as you will!" Shawn hissed, at last.

The speed of his blades increased, and so did the dents they created in his Shield. No, it will not shatter! I will hold it because I say so, and the word of a Weasley is sacred! And the five seconds passed, to then become ten and to later become thirty. And the Shield held on, stronger than before.

At last his chance came.

Betrayed by a lack of patience, and perhaps by his wounded pride, Shawn only considered one Future yet again: to end Ron with Blue as his Red kept him under pressure. But this was a Future that Ron could use in his favour. Because, despite the enormous potential for destruction Blue harboured, it needed a certain time of preparation. A few seconds in which Shawn was rendered defenceless.

And before Shawn could gather enough magic, it was Ron who took the lead of the duel.

With a push of his two hands, his Shield was pushed forward as it grew to the size of a large wall. It was launched at such a speed the blades stood no chance. And when Ron made it burst by closing his hand into a fist, the Shield exploded into a rain of magical shards which kept the blades busy for long enough.

It was then when he came up with a crazy idea.

Ron kneeled down, and his left hand managed to get a hold of a little rock; borne by the trail of destruction caused by the first Blue. It felt heavy, but not so much. It would need to be enough, he sentenced.

And the play began.

"Stupefy!" His spell travelled so fast that Shawn was obliged to use his uncompleted Blue in order to dispel the potent stunner. And then, as the spells clashed under a rain of sparks in a stalemate, Ron bolted up and threw the rock with all his might. It flew across the arena, with only a faint whistle to announce it. And it did so through the sparks and heat of the spells. And with extreme accuracy, too.

It hit Shawn right in his left temple. For a moment his eyes turned white as his legs wobbled. He fell to the ground, down on one knee. And there was silence within the colosseum. Breathing and heartbeat became all Ron could hear as he, too, stood motionless; for it was one thing to come up with a desperate plan, and another to see it work.

But Gerd, fortunately, was there to save him once more, "Move, now!"

And that's what Ron did. His wand rose with no hint of doubt, a red gleam already on its tip. And feeling victorious already, victory slipped from his very fingers as the referee jumped in between the two challengers as she casted a mighty Shield.

"Time out!" she exclaimed. "Called by Alexander Shawn!"

Ron dispelled his stunner and took in a deep breath. Only then did he realise how incredibly tired he was. "Fuck me!" he grunted in a whisper. "I was far too slow. I could have ended him, yet I hesitated."

Ron's gaze fell upon Shawn, who lay face up amidst the destroyed arena, arms opened in the form of a cross. His eyes remained wide open as he stared up, into the blue sky. But his breath, it came out raggedly, in short and quick inhalations. And despite it all, he wore an emotionless mask on his face.

On his behalf, Ron walked toward his corner, where Lord Covan awaited; just as they had discussed he would in case of a time-out being called. But it was with a low and pained stride that he did so, as if seeking every bit of rest there was to collect. His mind, however, just grew relentless. It pondered about the chance he'd lost. A chance he'd sought and found thanks to his wit, skill and opportunism.

"That was incredible," Lord Covan said as Ron let himself down in the chair he was given. "Your ability to think ahead is astonishing. It allowed you to predict each of Alexander's moves. Still you doubted when all you needed to do was to step forward and reap the rewards. Those mistakes, they are the kind to cost one a duel, Ronald."

Ron gave the man a curt nod, and although his ears were quick to take in those words, his mind refused to acknowledge them. For his eyes were still set upon Shawn, who had yet to move from the spot where he'd fallen down.

He then came to a decision.

"I mean no offence, my lord," Ron started, "but I would rather not have any of your advice for this fight." Such foolish words made the lord frown. Still he said nothing and allowed the boy to finish. "Shawn came here all by himself. No one stands in his corner, and no one came to his aid when the time-out was called. I want to beat him fair and square, with my skill and wits alone. I know it's quite the stupid thing to say, proof of my pride and ambition, but I need to do this myself. I hope you understand my reasons."

Covan stared right into his eyes for a while, then said: "And you shall be granted a fair chance to do so. It is not the way I would have done it, but my name is Covan Redfield, not Ronald Weasley. As your master, it is my duty to give you advice and help, not to take you on a leash through the path I believe to be the best. Nurgon will not cut your wings. Not today, nor in the future. Go there and follow your heart, Ronald."

Ron remained silent for as long as the time-out lasted. He did take a few gulps from the water he was offered, even a few bites from a cereal bar. Then he stood up, and realised he hadn't shut down the Anticipation for a second. And yet he'd managed to put all those golden shadows around him to the far end of his mind.

By the time he made it back to the arena, Shawn was already back on his feet. He had not bothered to heal the cut on his temple, and the blood remained in his face. Though almost dry by now, like a crimson river through a shallow valley.

"How?" Shawn just said. A question to which Ron knew not how to answer. "For as much as I try, I cannot believe what I have just witnessed. You, a Weasley, a nobody, did not knock me out only thanks to sheer fortune. Here I stand, so well versed into the field of magic I thought of myself invincible. Just to almost be defeated by a little rock." He shook his head in disbelief. "I am the heir to the Great House of Shawn, and the blood of the Alazthi lords of old, some of the mightiest warriors in history, runs through my veins… I shall not disappoint them. Not more than I already did."

There was an icy calm to his words which awakened a sense of dread within Ron. There had not been fury in his speech, nor any other emotion. Nothing but a cold touch of purpose. And it was the look his azure eyes showed, so devoid of any warmth, that made him almost cower in fear. For a slight glint of red could be seen in the depth of his gleaming irises, like blazing ashes of a fire.

Gerd was quick to seize it, too. "I have seen this before," she mused. And there was a tingle of an emotion akin to concern in her voice. If not fear. "You shall not lower your guard for an instant, Ronald. I'm afraid we have awoken a wounded beast, though by pride."

Ron saw it plainly and clear, for this one Future took the present for itself.

Shawn raised his hand, then pointed two fingers at Ron, "Green!" he mused coldly.

Even when he could see into the future, it was impossible to act upon what he knew when his body refused to move so scared he felt. This spell was but a green flash, one so sharp and fast it seemed to be casted right upon his flesh. It landed right under his eyes, and a bloody smile was drawn there. A warning, he reckoned, but one followed by countless more in the blink of an eye.

"Protego!" Ron took cover behind a Shield as fast as he could, his sight clouded by a mix of sweat and blood. But those green flashes, they just pierced through his Shield as if it didn't exist. And there was pain, and pain, and more pain. Countless stabs all over his body, as if daggers cleaved into his flesh. So he fell down to his knees, legs far too numb to withstand his body's weight.

He managed to raise his eyes as the assault continued, and he was able to see through the red curtain which blurred his sight. And Ron saw nothing—else, he saw so much that it felt the same. For there were thousands of Futures; far too many to even understand where he stood amidst the rivers of Time.

And the pain… Oh, it was too much!

But amidst the storm of pain and confusion Gerdnyaram did stand. And her presence was far brighter than that of a full moon on a cloudless night, and as warm as a mother's embrace. "If you trust me, grant me your strength, Ronald," she mused with an enraged touch in her ever-clam voice. "And I will grant you my wisdom and experience. For I will not be defeated by a child, much less to one who fell prey to such primitive instinct."

But it was her last words all he really heard, "And he will hurt you no more…"

Ron granted her wish with a blind trust. The reason behind such a decision was of no importance to him. Perhaps he did it to not feel so much pain anymore, or maybe because he, too, just refused to lose.

Either way, the next minutes became some to be spoken of for the years to come.

Spurred by a sudden clarity, by a sudden perception of brightness and resolution, Ron stood up amidst a rain of blue sparks. Such a sight was enough to surprise Shawn, whose eyes opened in awe and whose technique, Green, met an abrupt end. And the crowd gasped above them, of course, but neither of the challengers had ears nor eyes for them.

The absurd amount of Futures did not change, but Ron now felt wise enough to dive into such a violent sea. No, I'm not myself. And it was a most precise guess, indeed. For he had never moved with such confidence, his body and mind one. This was Gerdyaram—and it was also Ronald Weasley. It is us. Our union, never so perfect before, their voices echoed in their one mind. I am her. She is I.

It was Gerd who took each and every decision; every parry, every Shield and curse, every roll and jump. And it was Ron who followed her command, as the sun obeyed time itself when it told the fiery star to hide so the moon could rise. Nothing of what she did made sense to him, but Ron took delight in the safety his dear friend granted him. And he was quick to share that sentiment through their Link.

He became a spectator to the duel. One which could feel all there was to feel, yet one to also understand nothing of those actions he took; neither the whats nor the whys nor the whens. And it all seemed to happen in slow motion; a river of afterimages flowing with a torrential strength.

Soon enough, it felt as if he could count the many Futures which danced around Shawn. And there weren't so many now. And they decreased with each blink. "To be one with the Future, you must keep a clear mind," Gerd mused as the boy parried a Green, her voice almost a soothing lullaby. "The Future is not to be conquered by us, certainly, but neither it is set in stone. We can change it through our actions. For the better or the worse, but we can change it. Alas, the flick of a stone may cause an avalanche."

All across the arena Shawn shuddered in fear, for none of those spells and tactics he cherished so much seemed to work on a commoner like Ronald Weasley was. And that rain of ethereal, blue particles which stormed out of his body made him think for the first time in his life that, perhaps, he was not so unique.

So, what started as a sea of endless Futures became a thousand, and then a hundred to at last remain a dozen, as fear and desperation took grip of Alexander Shawn's heart. Though he did not fear the boy of fiery hair who had pushed him to the utmost limit; that boy whose eyes and face were so calm they resembled those of a man in a slumber. No, he did fear the mere thought of defeat. A concept he had always associated with the weak and the ordinary.

And only one Future was left alive to become the present, finally.

"Stupefy!" the two boys shouted at the same time, wands so close to one another their tips graced each other.

Yet the spells did not come to touch. And Ron allowed himself an ironic smile as his world became void dark.