A/N: Hey again everybody. Just a small request before you get started. Judging by some of the reviews and PM's I have received, most readers of fanfiction don't read the stories, but just skim through them. I sympathise considering the abysmal quality of a few fics. But there are plenty of stories out there that deserve minute reading. I am bringing this up now because most of the action happens during the description rather than during dialogues. So hopefully you, as a reader, feel that this fic merits your complete attention.

Vertigo

The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade (Sep-2 1994)

Madam Rosmerta dashed from one customer to the next, taking orders and pouring drinks. She hadn't expected the increase in her business until after the Triwizard tournament had started. But luckily for her, people had already started coming to Hogsmeade. Six of the seven rooms she had to let were now occupied, a first since she had taken over the bar. One of them, a reporter with The Daily Prophet, had asked for a room to be set aside for the next nine months. Business at the bar was roaring and it was only going to get better. The lone downside of it was that she was short-handed. She had hired a girl, but she wasn't supposed to turn up for a week.

The sound of the downpour increased briefly as the door opened to admit another customer. The newcomer seemed to survey the bar from under his hood and slowly made his way to the bar. Madam Rosmerta hurried over. "What'll it be?"

Her patron didn't answer immediately, but his hands reached into the shabby robes that he wore and produced ten gold galleons. "Ten bottles of Firewhisky. To go." his voice, which came out as a rasp, emphasised on the "to go" part. Madam Rosmerta collected the gold quickly and peered under the hood nervously. She hadn't been told who to expect. Her eyes widened in recognition and she exclaimed, "Remus! Is that you?"

Lupin flinched internally. He looked around to see if anyone had heard. But luckily the noise in the room had dissipated the sound of Madam Rosmerta's exclamation. No one seemed the least bit interested that he was paying ten galleons for Firewhisky either. Lupin tried to keep his voice polite and curt when he answered, "Hello, Madam Rosmerta. I am sorry, but could you please hurry with the order."

"Right, right, of course." She darted into an inner room, looking flustered. When she came back, she was holding a heavy-looking, albeit grubby rucksack. She heaved it on to the counter with an effort. Lupin threw the rucksack across his shoulder, nodded once to Madam Rosmerta and exited the bar hoping the transaction had gone unnoticed. He stopped outside the door and cursed silently. There was bound to be someone who had heard Madam Rosmerta's exclamation. The one thing that wasn't supposed to happen was him drawing attention to himself. But how was he supposed to know the infernal woman would sneak a peek under his hood. Now, he had to get away from there as fast as possible without notice. At least the weather was on his side.

The wind and rain had combined to form a tempest that made vision a challenge. Lupin could just barely distinguish shapes on the other side of the road. He put his head down and started following the road out of Hogsmeade. He was soaked in a matter of minutes. The wetness crept under his skin making him give an involuntary shiver. A carriage or two trundled past invitingly. Halfway to his destination, he stopped and turned suddenly. He couldn't see anyone following. More importantly, he didn't smell anyone. But just to be sure, he darted into a narrow alleyway and made the rest of the way to his destination on a run.

His objective was sitting next to a lamp post just on the outskirts of the town, scratching his ear with one of his paws. When Lupin was a reasonable distance away, the big, shaggy black dog raised his nose and sniffed. And then without so much as stretching himself, the dog got up and darted into the low bushes behind him, Lupin right behind. The dog made its way up one of the mountains that surrounded the village of Hogsmeade, keeping a healthy pace. Lupin just managed to keep up, the rucksack weighing him down a little.

Lupin turned a sharp corner to see the tail disappearing into a small hole under the trunk of a huge oak. Lupin dropped the rucksack into the hole and hoisted himself down after it. It was a tight fit. He had a wriggle a little before he fell into a dimly-lit cave. It was just big enough to take five full-grown men. Most of the space was taken up by a Hippogriff that he last remembered fighting in the forbidden forest. He bowed tentatively, hoping Buckbeak didn't hold a grudge. He needn't have feared though. Buckbeak bowed readily and went back to munching what looked like a rat bone.

Sirius Black lay stretched on a bed of sacks, grass and random pieces of cloth. His hair was much shorter and much tidier than when they had last met. He was wearing a squalid pair of shorts that could have been any colour between grey to white. He had nothing else on but a grin. "Well Moony, when Dumbledore said he would be sending someone I could trust, I certainly wasn't expecting you."

Lupin squatted down on the floor and pushed the rucksack towards Sirius with his foot. "We figured that the less people who knew about your hiding place the better. That bag has an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. It has some supplies you'll find useful- clothes, blankets and stuff. Dumbledore also said there's enough food to last you for a while. It should make your stay here a little more comfortable."

Sirius, who had already reached into the bag, produced cans of foodstuffs. He promptly opened a can containing bacon and dived into it. Lupin waited for him to finish. "That should be ample for a couple of months. Dumbledore said he will find a way to sneak some more food when you run out."

Sirius emptied a flask of pumpkin juice, opened another can containing dry fruits and tossed a few into his mouth. "What else did Dumbledore say?"

His voice still sounded a little hoarse, but Lupin could make out the voice of his friend from thirteen years ago. "Nothing much. Reminded me to remind you to be careful…said Harry was doing alright. He also specifically asked me to tell you that you are under no circumstance supposed to try and sneak into Hogwarts. Everything else, he plans on telling you in person."

Sirius looked up in surprise. "He's coming here?"

"Not exactly. You see…I got a gift for you too." Lupin reached into his robes and produced a small mirror. Sirius' eyes gleamed in recognition. "Dumbledore has the other one."

"This is brilliant, Moony. It's exactly what I needed."

Lupin allowed himself a smile. "I thought so too. Dumbledore asked you to use it and talk to him when you get the chance. There is something important he wants to tell you about the tournament."

Sirius carefully tucked the mirror into one of the sacks that made up his bed. When he turned to face Lupin there was an air of optimism about him. "I gotta say Moony, you have brought me some much-needed cheer. The only thing that would have pleased me more was if you had added a bottle of Firewhisky." Lupin's smile widened a little. "Anyway…heard anything new about the Triwizard?"

Lupin shook his head. "Nothing more than the official reports. All the weeklies and monthlies are concerned only about who will be attending which event and all that nonsense. The newspapers are repeating the same old news. I don't think there will be any new developments until the other schools get here. I did see the Quidditch stadium though. It looks very different. You won't be able to recognise it at all."

They chatted for a while- the kind of immaterial and pointless friendly banter that comes from years of knowing someone. At long last, Lupin got up. "Well, I better get going Padfoot. The rain has let up a little and I have to be in London tomorrow." He thought he saw Sirius' face fall a little. "Also, I may not be able to visit you here again. It's not safe."

There was definitely a note of sullenness in Sirius' voice when he answered. "Alright then, Moony old pal. Take care of yourself."

Lupin cast around for something that would cheer him up. "I heard the tryouts for the Quidditch tournament were today. Harry will be participating. I hope he does well."

Sirius face brightened immediately and he smiled, the first Lupin had seen since he got there. "That is nothing to worry about Moony. Harry is probably the only one I will admit to being better at Quidditch than James. That kid was born to fly."

Hogwarts, Scotland (Sep-2 1994)

It is sometimes astonishing when the rain decides to come down in earnest. Not thunderstorms, but just rain in all its fury. It is even more astonishing how fast it can happen. Sometimes the shift from normalcy to a raging tempest could happen in a matter of seconds without warning. And that was exactly what happened. The rain came down fast and hard. Harry was faster.

The Firebolt shot into the air with speed unmatched by the pieces of wood around it. Harry felt its smooth, gliding feel a welcome memory. The first hoop came up rapidly and harry leaned just enough so that when he passed through it, he was actually moving in a curve. He did the same with the narrow steel rods and a narrower hoop after that. It worked to his favour. He didn't have to reduce his speed when he neared an obstacle, but the downside of it was that he had to calculate the angle in which he was going to fly through the next obstacle while getting through the current one and then change his line of approach accordingly. It required all of his concentration, but as he kept at it he saw a pattern emerging in the gauntlet. There were openings at just the right places and space to fly freely if you could exploit the smaller loops a little.

So engrossed was he in figuring out the gauntlet, he completely forgot about what he was supposed to be doing. It was only when something yellow flashed past him that he remembered he was supposed get three flags to qualify. He was already halfway up the gauntlet with no flags close by. It was either go back and risk crashing into oncoming players or press forward and hope there were three flags. He made up his mind with the same quickness as always. While he had been standing below, he had spied a number of flags dotting the entire course. He had no doubt that there would be many yellow flags still left to come. Harry accelerated forward.

The first flag was the easiest to get. It was hanging upside down in a hoop that was only a few feet from the ground. Harry dived through the hoop and plucked the flag without effort. Immediately, he twisted the Firebolt around and climbed sharply towards a steel rod that had to be hurdled. He vaulted it, still not having to decrease his speed. The next obstacle was the smallest hoop in the entire course. It was just big enough for a broom to pass through, provided its rider was willing to lean forwards flatly. But stuck just on top of the other side, parallel to the ground, was a flag. No one in the previous group had even tried to take that flag, clearly because it was impossible to grab something on top of you when you are bending forwards and concentrating on getting through the extremely narrow hoop.

It was at that moment that Harry completely figured out the gauntlet. It wasn't meant to just separate the regular fliers from the sporadic ones but also to discern the truly extraordinary fliers from the regular ones. Harry smiled. The rest of the course was going to be a piece of cake. As the hoop approached, he didn't attempt to bend forwards at all. Instead, he let go of the handle and gripping the broom with only his legs, leaned backwards. He reached up and snatched the flag from its post. Harry was sure he heard cheers from the stadium. On the other side of the pitch, a pair of hawk-like eyes observed the move closely.

The last obstacle, the triple revolving hoops contained a flag each. This time Harry leant forwards, pushing the Firebolt to its limit. He was nothing more than a blur as he shot through one of the hoops with the last flag he required to qualify safely in his hands. He saw an assistant rushing towards the red flag where he was supposed to land. It was an open stretch to the red flag and Harry was sure he was going to finish ahead of Malfoy's time, perhaps even the twins.

Maxwell Marlowe looked across his shoulder at one of his assistants who was holding the stopwatch. "Time?"

The assistant looked up with an amazed expression. "Fifty three seconds, sir. This is going to be one of the fastest times on the Gauntlet by anyone." As he said that, the heavens opened up and the rain began to come down in earnest. Thunder rumbled somewhere. Marlowe turned back to see if whoever was riding the Firebolt would manage to finish within the one-minute mark, something accomplished only by a handful of people he had ever trained.

Harry heard the thunder, but somehow it sounded muffled. The dark clouds that hadn't bothered him until a moment ago seemed to close in on him. All of a sudden, the noise of the crowd vanished. He felt nothing but deafening silence. He tried to look around to see what had gone wrong, but all he could see were fuzzy shapes that didn't make any sense. He felt light-headed and sleepy. As quickly as silence had descended, a searing pain shot through his scar and darkness closed in.

Harry realised what was happening not one second too late. If he lost consciousness now, he would plummet thirty to forty feet. The fall may not kill him, but it was more than enough to break every bone in his body. With a will, he pulled himself out of the stupor. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he realised it was a feat of Occlumency that even Dumbledore would be proud of. It didn't help much.

Although he was able to see a little more clearly, the effort it had taken to stay conscious had disoriented him. He wasn't able to distinguish up from down. He felt as if he was tumbling head over heels. The Firebolt suddenly lurched under him and his clouded brain told him to stop moving before he fell off the broom. He braked hard and put his head between his arms, closing his eyes. The pain in his scar had disappeared as suddenly as it had originated. But the nausea he felt now was almost overwhelming. It was all he could do not to throw up.

And slowly, through the fog obstructing his brain, he saw the red flag in the distance. It was now or never. Throwing caution to the winds, he turned the Firebolt sharply and pointed it towards the direction of the flag. He almost slipped off, but managed to hang on and without any further ado, accelerated fast. His head was pounding and he wanted to pass out very badly. But the red flag was getting closer and closer and he could see the assistant standing next to it clearly. Harry shot past the flag and skidded to a halt. The assistant came running and said, "Well done kiddo, yours is one of the fastest times I have ever seen. Why did you slow down at the end though?" Harry realised that no one had noticed something was wrong with him. But now that he was on firm ground, he felt a bit better. His head wasn't spinning so much anymore, but it still felt like it was going to explode. He managed to croak, "I think I need to sit down for a minute. Is it okay if I leave the pitch?"

The assistant, a red-faced, bald man with eyebrows that looked like hedges, looked at him with concern. "Are you alright? Is something wrong? Do you want me to call the medic?"

Harry just shook his head. He tried to get his voice back to normal. "I'm fine. Just forgot to have breakfast, that's all. I'll be fine if I lie down for a minute. Can I leave?"

The assistant nodded understandingly. In his long years of service as a Trainer, he had seen nerves do all sorts of things to an athlete. "Sure…sure…you won't be needed today anyway. But seriously, that was one heck of a performance that you just gave. Well done." Just then, Cho Chang landed in a small puddle of water near the red flag, looking at the assistant with expectation. She had finished almost half a minute behind Harry. The assistant took a pen from behind his ear and asked Harry, "What's your name kiddo?"

"Harry."

"Ok then." He said, ticking off his name in the clipboard. "Be here at ten in the morning tomorrow for the next round. I'll see you then kiddo." He winked and hurried away to take Cho Chang's name.

Harry didn't hang around a second longer. He clutched the broom firmly in his right hand, ignored the now pouring rain and headed directly for the Headmaster's office.

Headmaster's office, Hogwarts

"Just tell me what's going on?" Harry stood behind the comfortable chintz arm-chair that Dumbledore had just conjured, arms crossed and legs spread apart. His head felt normal, but that did nothing to soothe him.

"Unless you managed to peek into the mind of Lord Voldemort or at the least, catch a glimpse of his lair, I am afraid there is very little I can tell you about what he is planning." Dumbledore had been sitting right where he had been almost two hours ago when Harry had barged in.

"Not with him. With me! I almost fell off my broom because I tried to block him with occlumency. How am I supposed to tackle the year ahead if every time…"

Dumbledore calmly interrupted him. "First of all Harry, you must acknowledge that it would have been a lot worse if you hadn't used occlumency. You could have lost consciousness and fallen off the broom for sure. Secondly, a slight amount of discomfort is to be expected when you begin using occlumency defensively…"

"But I never felt like this when I was practicing with you, Professor." Harry said impatiently. "And what I felt was more than "a slight amount of discomfort.""

Dumbledore interlocked his fingers and brought them to rest on the desk. "If you will be patient for a minute and listen Harry, perhaps I can explain. Why don't you have a seat?" He said, indicating the arm-chair. He waited until Harry had sat down on the comfortable chintz arm-chair and then began, "Occlumency, Harry, is the art of protecting your mind by blocking yourself from external penetration. This is what I have been teaching you for the past year too. However, the connection between you and Voldemort seems to be…..internal."

Harry looked at Dumbledore sharply, "What do you mean "internal"? Why would I have a connection with Voldemort at all? You promised to tell me when I was older. I think I can handle the complete truth now. So tell me…what is it that links me and Voldemort together?"

For the first time since he had known him, Dumbledore seemed unsure of himself. He seemed to be teetering on the edge of saying something. But the moment passed and he sighed heavily. "One day Harry, I promise I will tell you at the end of the school year, after the Triwizard tournament is over. But not today. There is much you have to do before you can cross that bridge. I only beg that you trust my judgement and let this go for now."

Harry sighed too. Somehow, he hadn't really expected Dumbledore to answer that particular question. Of all the things they talked about, this was one of the very few topics that Dumbledore was reluctant to discuss. "Fine, but I expect you to be completely honest with me after the tournament ends. If you really expect me to follow your decisions sir, then I don't want there to be any secrets between us. Can you promise me that you won't hold anything back sir?"

Dumbledore nodded sombrely. "Of course, Harry. I only regret that I cannot be as forthcoming to you now."

There was silence in the room after that. All of a sudden, Harry felt drained. The armchair felt really cosy and Harry wouldn't have minded dropping off for a while. He leaned back comfortably and glanced through the glass window. The rain was showing no signs of letting up. He didn't envy those who still had to go through the Gauntlet. On the other hand, he mused, this was the perfect weather for Max Marlowe to assess those who were fighting for a spot on the team. Harry was startled out of his stupor by Dumbledore's next question.

"Do you remember your promise to Minister Delacour?"

Harry was so taken aback by the blunt way in which the question was put, he blurted immediately, "Of course I do."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Do you have any idea what that promise entails, Harry?"

Harry scrambled to collect his thoughts. "I think so, Professor. I am to protect Jasmin and Fleur from being kidnapped again, or the like. Am I right?"

"Not quite, Harry. Pay close attention, because what I am about to tell you is known only to a few and of utmost importance to your mission."

"My mission?"

"That's right Harry. From here on out, I intend to treat you as an adult. I understand the hypocrisy of that statement, considering I have just refused to give you information regarding the connection between you and Lord Voldemort. But, as I promised, with the exception of that one particular topic, I will be fully honest with you. I will also be assigning certain missions to you as of now. You can be rest assured that I will not give you a mission that I feel is beyond your ability in any way. These missions are a vital part of your training and are not to be taken lightly Harry. Is that understood?"

Harry simply nodded. He had agreed to fight and if Dumbledore felt this was necessary, it had to be.

"Good. Back to the matter at hand," Dumbledore continued, "Did anything about either Jasmin or Fleur's behaviour during your abduction and incarceration strike you as…odd?"

Harry replied thoughtfully, "Now that you mention it, they were unusually cold and distant to me in the beginning, but became very friendly towards the end. And Jasmin behaved rather erratically when I touched her arm. There were few other things that I suppose wouldn't be considered normal for girls their age. I just figured they had some kind of traumatic childhood experience."

Dumbledore chuckled happily, "Well done Harry. You have used your insightfulness to find the answer to that question. As to what these experience or experiences might be, I am afraid you will have to ask them. But that was not the unusual behaviour I was referring to, my dear boy."

"What then?"

"Did it not strike you as strange that throughout their ordeal, neither of them saw fit to assume their Hagraven forms?"

Harry had never heard that word before. "Their what form?"

"Hagraven. It is what you call a veela who has undergone complete transformation and has assumed her other form. I believe you saw them during the Quidditch World Cup match."

Harry nodded his understanding. "Well I did wonder. I assumed it was because they were too young or something. Because if they could have transformed, I am sure they would have."

"Ah, I see. Well Harry, for your information, you were half right. Neither Fleur nor Jasmin are capable of becoming a Hagraven. In fact, they will never do so."

Harry just looked at Dumbledore, his question written all over his face. Dumbledore continued, "The reason, however, is not their age as you thought. It is their ancestry. They are, what is referred to as "Highborne". Their blood line through the ages has remained untainted and they are what remains today of pure veelas from centuries ago."

Harry sat up straight in his chair. His mind had just been beset by a barrage of questions. "Untainted? What does that mean? If they are…er…pure veelas, how did the other veelas become…impure? I mean, how did they get the ability to transform into Hagravens?"

Dumbledore smiled empathetically, "Precisely the questions I asked Madame Delacour when she made me privy to this information. She made it abundantly clear to me that such questions by anyone would be considered unwelcome by a veela, Highborne or otherwise. She herself refused to discuss this particular aspect of veela ancestry as it had nothing do with what is expected of you. It is, according to her, a closely guarded secret among the veela community."

"But sir, why all this secrecy?" Harry asked, disappointed. "What does it matter if some veelas are different from others-"

"Because Harry, there are only six surviving lines of Highborne veela left in the world." Whatever else he had intended to say, Harry forgot in his amazement. "Jasmin and her mother Celestine are the last surviving members of their line. Fleur's grandmother was the last of her line and many feared her line would die out with her as she was very…er… resistant to marriage. Fortunately, she did marry and had three children. It is my understanding that Fleur has three cousins, all older than her. There is an important reason for keeping all this secret Harry. You see, most people would think that without access to the Hagraven form, Highborne veela would be weaker. It is not so. Being a pure veela gives them an affinity to particular types of magic that is unmatched by any other veela and even most humans. For example, Jasmin's mother, Celestine is one of the best conjurers in the world. She is particularly gifted in the school of Conjuration and Transfiguration. Fleur's grandmother is a Healer without equal. Their line is gifted in the school of Restoration. Unfortunately, none of her daughters or any of her granddaughters has had enough training. But with time and the right kind of training, both Fleur and Jasmin could blossom into exceptional wielders of magic."

Dumbledore took a deep breath before continuing, "Unfortunately, a Highborne veela who hasn't explored her abilities to the fullest is little short of…helpless. They can be easily exploited, for they have no defence if they cannot transform. Furthermore, Madame Delacour mentioned that there are many ordinary veelas who hate Highborne veelas, enough to even kill them. That is why this information is considered confidential. If it became public knowledge that Fleur and Jasmin are Highborne, there will be attempts on their life. As it stands, there are certain groups that may try to harm them. Don't forget Harry, Klein is still at large and Mr. Delacour has also made many enemies over the years."

"This is where you come in Harry. While Minister Rodin has promised that he will instruct his aurors to keep an eye on them, ultimately Fleur and Jasmin's protection falls into your hands Harry. I've told you this much about them so that you don't get caught off guard at a later date. I expect you to take this mission seriously and keep all this secret Harry, even from your friends. Can I count on you to do that?"

Harry nodded solemnly. He understood why Dumbledore had given him so much information that seemed unrelated to what he was required to do. He was not just being told to do something, but also why it was being asked of him. It was Dumbledore's way of showing that he trusted Harry enough to give him sensitive information, an apology for not telling Harry what he wanted to know about Voldemort. But there was still one question that kept eating at him. He didn't know whether to ask Dumbledore or not. Perhaps it would seem childish. But then again, Dumbledore understood childish.

"Sir, If Fleur and Jasmin are Highborne, is that why they are so much more beautiful than other veelas?"

Dumbledore's eyes took on a mischievous glint almost immediately. "I think you already know the answer to that question Harry. You have seen both of their mothers and they are not all that different from other veelas. I do not think their ancestry has anything to do with their beauty Harry."

Harry had expected Dumbledore to elaborate, but he didn't seem to have anything else on the subject and Harry didn't want to press him. He decided to leave and go find Ron. He wanted to know how Ron and the others had done and who else had qualified for the next round of selection.

"If there's nothing else sir…" he began getting up, but Dumbledore waved for him to wait.

"Would you also ask Misters Fred and George Weasley to come see me Harry? I have something I wish to discuss with them."

Harry looked curiously at Dumbledore. "Why sir? What did they do now?"

Dumbledore chortled, "Nothing, as far as I am aware. Prof McGonagall suggested that we enlist their help with the fireworks for the coming Saturday night when the other schools and dignitaries arrive. Most of the other teachers were of the opinion that we should hire Dr. Filibuster, but I feel that a Fireworks show by our very own students would be a good idea. What do you think Harry?"

Harry was taken aback at being asked his opinion, but his mind immediately wandered to the night when he had returned from France. Fred and George had insisted on celebrating Harry's return with fireworks of their own creation. It had been a night to remember.

Harry smiled, "Give them the resources they need Professor, and watch them put Dr. Filibuster out of business, easy."

The Great Hall, Hogwarts

By the time the rain stopped, evening had rolled in. Such had been the fury of the storm, that even after it had let up, no one dared to venture outside. The other reason for everyone staying inside on that particular evening was the Duelling tryouts that were to be held shortly. Harry leaned against the wall in a corner of the Great Hall, gazing silently at the people milling around. He had been one of the first to arrive so that he could know beforehand who else was planning to participate in duelling. That plan, however, had gone out of the window not long after. Much like the Quidditch tryouts, anyone who had free time had turned up to watch, if not compete. Since the tasks that they were supposed to doing had been distributed in such a way so as to not coincide with any of the tryouts, almost every student in Hogwarts was at the Great Hall. Unlike Quidditch, which required at least a basic knowledge of how to fly, most people seemed to feel that Duelling was not out of their reach.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if people like Colin Creevy, who was waving his wand exuberantly while talking with a few Ravenclaw second-year girls or Neville, who for some reason was squinting at the tip of his wand, could actually hold their own in a Duelling tournament. He shook his head resignedly. He had a feeling that the Hospital Wing, which had already been filled with the casualties from the Quidditch tryouts, was going to require more space- a lot more space. Harry couldn't even bring himself to blame anyone. Everyone at Hogwarts just wanted to be a part of the Triwizard tournament and was participating in all the tryouts, hoping desperately to be selected in something. Now that he felt completely normal, Harry had to admit, he was quite pleased with his performance that morning. His chances of being selected in the Quidditch team were looking good.

Ron, Dean and Seamus had filled him in about how the rest of the tryouts had gone. Cedric, Roger Davies, Angelina had all finished at the top of their groups. Ron himself was ecstatic about the fact that he had qualified, although just barely. Except for a couple of Hufflepuff chasers who had crashed, almost everyone from the house teams had qualified for the next round. Harry hadn't been surprised. The Gauntlet wasn't meant to give experienced fliers too much trouble.

The noise in the room rose drastically as Prof. Flitwick finished explaining the rules and walked off the stage. The rules were the same as the tournament itself with a small exception. Unlike the actual Duelling tournament, which was a team affair, the tryouts were going to be held individually. Those selected would be later grouped into teams by the teachers based on their fighting styles.

The Duelling stage itself dominated most of the Great Hall. Prof. Flitwick had mentioned that it was only for the purpose of tryouts and the preliminary rounds of the tournament, but Harry was still impressed by it. The platform was deep purple and raised four feet off the ground. It was circular in shape with a diameter of forty feet. The most striking quality, however, was the completely transparent dome that covered it. It had taken the combined effort of Prof. Dumbledore, Prof. McGonagall and Prof. Flitwick and the better part of an hour to erect it. It would have been utterly unimpressive to those around if Prof. Flitwick hadn't explained what it did. It allowed all physical beings to pass through without any hindrance, but absorbed charms, hexes and most spells. In his squeaky voice, he had made it clear that there were only a handful of curses that could pass through it and since such powerful spells were banned anyway, that didn't matter.

Harry watched as McGonagall and Snape stepped onto the stage with parchments in their hands. They had been silently moving through the crowd taking down the names of those wanting to participate. McGonagall had seen Harry, noted his name down, given him the slightest hint of a smile and had moved on. Harry got the feeling that she was pinning the hopes and pride of Gryffindor on him. It was just a feeling, but it did nothing to alleviate his nerves. He looked around trying to spot Ron or Hermione. Neither of them was participating, but they had turned up to support him nonetheless. Ron had briefly considered participating, but had backed out when he saw the volume of people in the Great Hall.

Prof. McGonagall pointed her wand at her throat and cleared it loudly. That, combined with the look on Snape's face was enough to silence everyone in the Hall. "We have here the list of everyone wanting to participate in the tryouts. Prof. Moody has consented to be the referee." She said pointing towards the imposing form of Mad-eye Moody who was trudging around the circular platform. His magical eye was a blur as he seemed to be trying to literally keep an eye on everyone.

"We will now be calling you up here for a one on one duel. Whether you win or lose does not matter as much as your performance. Prof. Snape, Prof. Moody, Prof. Flitwick and I will be deciding if you deserve a spot in a team or not. Although," she paused to emphasise her point, "winning your bout will help considerably. Each duel will be for five minutes. That's how long you will have to impress us." She turned to look at Snape, who in turn handed her the parchment he was holding and walked off to join Prof. Flitwick at the judges table near the Duelling stage.

Prof. McGonagall scanned the parchment before saying, "We have randomly decided the pairings. The first match will be between Mr. Wilfried Gardner and Miss. Daphne Greengrass. Make your way up here." She too headed for the judges table. The crowd started cheering and applauding as the flaxen-haired Gryffindor seventh-year made his way onto the platform. Harry recognised him too. He had never spoken to Harry, but had always smiled politely whenever their eyes had met. He was well-liked by everyone in Gryffindor and Hogwarts in general. But the real reason for the prolonged applause he was receiving was due to his reputation as an accomplished duellist.

In contrast, the applause for Daphne was lukewarm at best. Some of the guys around Harry started craning their necks to see her properly. "So, that's Greengrass, is it?" One of the seventh-years near Harry asked his friend. "She's quite a looker. Too bad Willie is going to wipe the floor with her, eh?"

"Don't be so sure. Haven't you heard what she did to Marcus Flint last year when he got a little rough with her for refusing to go out with him? Flint didn't want it to become public knowledge, but apparently that two days he spent in the Hospital Wing wasn't because of a training injury."

Harry turned to take a closer look at Daphne. She didn't seem perturbed by the less-than-warm applause. Her body posture didn't indicate nervousness of any sort at having to fight someone who had three years of experience more than her. Her icy blue eyes were roving around the room, taking in everything. Down below, Moody banged his cane hard on the floor and silence fell. "The match begins when I say 'begin'." He growled. "It ends after five minutes or if I decide to step in and stop it. You can win by taking possession of your opponent's wand or by getting him out of the ring. You will be disqualified if you use any of the banned spells. Do both of you understand?"

Gardner nodded and so did Daphne. "Bow to each other and take your positions." Moody said. It was rare for a Gryffindor and Slytherin to bow to each other, but they both did, properly at that and assumed, what Harry recognised as one of the most commonly used Duelling stance. It was quite clear that both of them had had training from a professional duellist. The interest in the matchup seemed to sharpen a little around the room. Everyone in the Great Hall were either looking at Moody or searching for him, waiting for him start the first duel.

When it came, his voice was clear and loud, "Begin."

Surprisingly, Daphne was faster than her older, more experienced opponent. She had fired a stunner at Gardner with lightning speed. But it hit Gardner's shield charm and bounced off harmlessly and was absorbed by the dome. Not only had Gardner expected a direct offensive spell from Daphne and cast a shield charm, but he had done so non-verbally. And he didn't stop there either. As soon as the danger of the stunner had passed, he dropped his shield and fired a dangerous-looking hex at Daphne, once again non-verbally. But Daphne had fired the stunner and had already moved. The hex missed her by almost five feet.

Daphne grasped the opening. "Baubillious" –she yelled. A ray of white light shot towards Gardner. But Gardner was quick too. He had already used a spell that produced a bunch of thick, opaque bubbles. It consumed Daphne's charm and kept on coming. Daphne countered it with an array of small silver arrows from her wand that promptly burst them. But once again, Gardner's experience and his ability to cast non-verbal spells had gave him the upper hand. After casting the bubble spell, he had silently fired off a stunner right behind. That alone should have ended the duel right there. Somehow, Daphne seemed to have expected it. Once again she wasn't where Gardner had thought she was. She had used the cover of the bubbles to move away. The pattern was clear. She was countering Gardner's superior experience with her footwork. Gardner seemed to realize this.

He fired two spells in quick succession again. This time, he didn't bother with keeping them non-verbal. "Everte Statum" and then "Petrificus Totalus". Daphne parried them both with ease that far surpassed her years and sent another stunner in Gardner's direction before deciding to move again. It was only then she realised her folly. Since Gardner had fired his two spells verbally, she had expected only two. But he had silently fired one more right behind. Daphne had no time to dodge it and it hit her squarely in her midriff. To her surprise, she didn't feel any different. Hoping that the quick succession of spells had depleted the power of whatever spell had hit her, she tried to move again. It was only then she realized what had hit her. Her shoes were stuck to the platform with some kind of adhesive, preventing her movement.

Harry was so engrossed in the duel, he didn't realise Ron had come to stand next to him. "They're both pretty good aren't they? I never knew the Greengrass girl could duel this well. I can't believe she's holding her own against a seventh-year."

Harry watched her movements. She had created an opening and used it to step out of her shoes and was once again dancing around Gardner. None of her movements were wasted. Every moment meant something as she tried to land that one proper strike on her opponent. "She's been trained well."-Harry observed under his breath.

Three minutes into the duel, Gardner was desperately trying to steady himself as his legs refused to take his weight. The jelly-leg jinx had found its mark, but Daphne was starting to feel the duel starting to tax her strength. She hadn't expected such a skilled opponent in the tryouts itself, but defeating him would certainly ensure her a spot on a Hogwarts duelling team. But so far, he had managed to counter every one of her stunners and it had taken quite a bit of effort to land the jelly-leg jinx. But as luck would have it, Gardner's legs gave way and his knees hit the platform. Daphne went in for the kill.

The last three minutes had given her an idea of how Gardner duelled. She fired the first hex that came to her mind, followed it up with a shield-breaker and finally a disarming charm. Gardner fell for it. With no way of moving, he used a shield charm to protect him from the hex. The shield-breaker, which was dark blue in colour shattered the shield charm and the Disarming charm found its mark. Daphne caught the wand in her left hand and for the first time in three and a half minutes came to a complete stop, panting. The Slytherins in the crowd started cheering loudly, while the Gryffindors tried to hide their disappointment.

Daphne walked over to hand Gardner his wand. He took it and got up slowly, dusting himself. His disappointment at having lost to a fourth-year showed clearly, but he still managed a smile. "Good match. I guess, in the end, the better duellist won." Daphne looked at him coldly and for the briefest moment he thought she was going to say something rude. But she nodded and uttered a quiet "thank you" before walking off, her blonde hair swinging behind her.

The next hour was one of the most interesting Harry had ever had at Hogwarts. He had never truly appreciated the sheer multitude of spells that existed. Having trained with Dumbledore, he had always thought he knew rare and unique spells of power that very few people had ever mastered. But duelling was a whole different story. Most of the new spells he saw would have been of absolutely no use in a real fight, but they certainly seemed like an essential part of Duelling. He understood what Dumbledore had meant when he had called duelling an exhibition. It was like sparring.

The duel between Daphne and Gardner remained unmatched. Every duel after that had either been one-sided or ended in a disqualification. So far, the participants had consisted of very good to downright pathetic. In the meantime, the crowd had become increasingly hostile to each other, especially the Slytherins and the Gryffindors. The Gryffindors, still smarting from Gardner's defeat had taken to booing all the Slytherin participants with Fred and George at the lead. The Slytherins, of course, needed no provocation whatsoever. They had taken to singing their favourite song- "Gryffindors are losers". On the judges table, both McGonagall's and Snape's smile had become fixed. There hadn't been another bout between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor after the first duel and both sides were clearly yearning for one. And it came.

Prof. McGonagall waited for the stage to be cleared before announcing the next fixture. Very few people noticed, but there was a small smile playing on her lips as she announced it. "The next bout is between Miles Bletchley and Harry Potter."

A great cheer went up among the Gryffindor supporters as Harry started making his way towards the platform from his corner. Ron and Hermione wished him luck and so did a few others. Hands reached out from everywhere to pat him on his back. He didn't even notice that he was being booed the loudest of anyone by the Slytherins. Miles Bletchley was a seventh-year. He was the keeper of Slytherin Quidditch team and was built much like Wood. Tall as Harry was, Bletchley still dwarfed him by a head and he was muscular enough to make Harry look almost thin. And despite Fred and George constantly comparing him to a troll, Harry knew that he was smart.

Moody banged his cane again, commanding silence. "Bow to your opponents and take your positions." Bletchley's bow was barely discernible and Harry bowed without taking his eyes off him. Harry could only imagine what Wood would have said if he had been there. Bletchley assumed what Harry once again recognised as the duelling stance of someone who knew what they were doing. He smiled. That was fine by him. He knew what he was doing too. He applied pressure on his right forearm and the sheath that contained his wand expelled it into his hands. Bletchley's stance was elaborate. He had his wand arm outstretched and his other arm extended behind him. He was also facing Harry almost sideways. The objective was to provide as small a target as possible.

Harry continued to smile and stood with his legs a little apart, distributing his weight evenly. His wand-arm just hung limply at his side and he tilted his head just a little to his right as if appraising his opponent. An ordinary observer would have thought that he was being over-confident and asking for it. That's what Bletchley seemed to be thinking at any rate. He was smirking maliciously. But down below, Moody's gash of a mouth almost fell open. He had seen that stance before, many times in fact and he was yet to see it fail. After all, it was Dumbledore's stance.

A/N: A million apologies for not updating sooner, but now I get to update the day before Christmas. I guess these things have a way of working out, huh? (Nervous laugh).

I certainly plan on updating quickly this time. It will definitely be sooner than this update, I promise.

And finally, be sure to have a Very Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year.