Junior Dueling League

Before he knew it, the Christmas holidays had arrived. Between his experiments and schoolwork, time seemed to pass quickly.

"Sal, what are you doing for Christmas?" Tulip asked as the three of them settled into a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. The train rumbled gently beneath them as snow flurries danced past the window.

Sal leaned back, adjusting his scarf. "I'm spending the holidays at home. It's been a while since I've seen my friends and mentor. I'm looking forward to catching up. What about you two?"

Tonks grinned. "Same here, but my cousin Sirius should be there. He always makes the holidays more interesting."

Tulip shrugged. "Holidays with my family are usually uneventful, but it'll be good to see everyone. A quiet break isn't so bad."

Sal glanced at Tonks, curiosity finally getting the better of him. "Tonks, I've always avoided asking, but how's Harry? You've never said much about him, other than Sirius being his godfather."

Tonks' expression softened. "Harry's doing alright. Sirius is protective, though. Being the Boy Who Lived means he doesn't get much freedom. Sirius only lets family or people he trusts around him."

Tulip leaned forward, lowering her voice slightly. "He survived the Killing Curse as a baby… you're good at magic, Sal. Do you have any idea how that happened?"

Sal's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I suspect Riddle tried something and the spell backfired. What that was, I can't say for sure—probably some kind of dark magic."

Tulip's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Wait… who's Riddle?"

Sal glanced at her. "Tom Riddle. That's Voldemort's real name."

Tulip blinked. "You say his name like it's nothing. Most people either flinch or outright panic when they hear it."

Tonks nodded. "Yeah, it's a habit. Fear of him runs deep. Our parents feared him, and they passed that fear down to us."

Sal smirked. "Well, it's a good thing I don't share that problem. Fear of a name only gives power to the person behind it."

The train ride continued with idle chatter, the three friends enjoying each other's company until the train finally came to a halt.

After saying their goodbyes, Sal and his mother stepped through the Eluvian, returning to Albion for the holidays.

The moment Sal stepped through the portal, he was greeted by the crisp winter air of Albion. Snow dusted the rooftops, and the streets glowed with festive lanterns, enchanted to twinkle like stars.

"It feels good to be back," Sal said, inhaling deeply as he took in the familiar sight of the capital.

His mother smiled warmly beside him. "Home has its charms. I know Julius and the others are looking forward to seeing you."

As they walked through the market square, Sal noticed familiar faces waving to him—old friends from his earlier studies and missions. Albion had always been more than home; it was a place where he had grown not just as a wizard but as a person.

Their first stop was the grand library, where Julius Novachrono, the Wizard King, awaited them. The towering shelves of ancient tomes and glowing crystals surrounded him as he sat casually, flipping through a book.

"Sal!" Julius beamed as he looked up, setting his book aside. "I was wondering when you'd return. How's Hogwarts treating you?"

Sal grinned. "It's been incredible. I've learned a lot, but I missed the kind of magic we study here. It feels more... connected."

Julius nodded knowingly. "There's something unique about magic here in the Clover Kingdom. It has deeper roots, tied to the land and history. And I heard you've been experimenting."

Sal handed him a journal filled with notes from his latest magical theories. "I've been developing techniques using elemental manipulation. It's still rough, but I've made progress."

Julius flipped through the pages, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Sal, this is impressive. Your understanding of elemental magic is advancing quickly. I see traces of Merlin's philosophy here."

Sal's eyes widened. "Really? I've been trying to blend Albion magic with the elemental foundations we use."

Julius smiled. "You're on the right track. We'll have to set some time aside during the break for you to demonstrate. I have a few ideas that might help refine your process."

Over the next few days, Sal split his time between training sessions with Julius and reconnecting with old friends. The festive spirit of the holidays blended with magical sparring, intense study sessions, and hearty meals with those he considered family.

One evening, as the snow fell gently outside, Sal stood on the balcony of his family's home, watching the lights of the town below. His mother joined him, wrapping a warm shawl around his shoulders.

"You've come a long way, Sal," she said softly. "Your magic, your knowledge… it's growing faster than I expected."

Sal smiled. "I've had good teachers—both here and at Hogwarts."

His mother's gaze lingered on him thoughtfully. "Remember, balance is important. Don't forget to take moments like this to appreciate how far you've come."

Sal nodded, the warmth of home settling in his heart. Albion was more than just a place—it was part of who he was, and it grounded him no matter how far his studies or ambitions took him.

On Christmas morning, Sal was greeted by his mother, Lindsey, holding a small envelope with a knowing smile.

"Sal, I got this for you for Christmas," Lindsey said, handing it over.

Sal took it eagerly. "Thanks, Mom. What is it?"

Lindsey folded her arms playfully. "You won't know until you open it."

Tearing open the envelope, Sal pulled out a flyer and a registration form. His eyes widened in surprise. "The Junior Dueling League? You mean it?"

Lindsey chuckled. "Yep. There are tryouts, but if you get in, you'll be dueling in the summer."

Sal grinned ear to ear. "Best mom ever!"

Lindsey held up a finger. "But you have to promise it won't affect your schoolwork. Deal?"

"Deal!" Sal said, nodding enthusiastically.

Later that day, Sal made his way to the stables where his bodyguard and tutor, George, was training his men. Sal approached quietly, trying to sneak up as George addressed the soldiers.

Without turning, George called out, "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to sneak up like that?"

Sal groaned. "I thought I had you."

George finally turned, grinning. "You're years away from doing that. Since you're here, let's see if you remember anything I taught you."

Sal shrugged. "Okay, but I should warn you—I haven't had much chance to practice."

George raised an eyebrow. "Even more reason to start now."

They moved to an open training area. George tossed him a wooden practice sword, and Sal caught it awkwardly, fumbling with the grip.

"You've forgotten everything already?" George teased.

Sal grinned sheepishly. "It feels different without magic."

George stepped behind him, adjusting his stance. "Swordsmanship isn't just about strength. It's about balance, precision, and understanding your opponent. Magic won't always save you. Now, let's start with the basics."

For the next hour, George drilled Sal on simple strikes and footwork, correcting each misstep with the patience of someone who had done this many times before. By the end, Sal's arms ached, and his shirt clung to him with sweat.

George nodded approvingly. "Not bad for your first day back. But you need to practice daily if you want to keep up."

Sal wiped his forehead. "I promise. But… I need a favor."

George raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I want to learn how to forge weapons. Do you know anyone who could teach me?"

George's eyes lit up. "I think I know just the man. His name's Sam. Follow me."

They made their way to the bustling market district, eventually arriving at a smithy filled with weapons, tools, and armor. A stocky man with soot-covered hands looked up from his work.

"Well, if it isn't the Lord Protector himself. Come to browse my wares?" Sam greeted them with a grin.

George shook his head. "Not today. I believe you know Salazar."

Sam's eyes flicked to Sal, and he gave a respectful nod. "Your Grace, how can I help you?"

Sal stepped forward. "George said you could teach me how to forge."

Sam leaned on his anvil, eyeing Sal carefully. "I could… but I'm not looking for an apprentice. And forgive me, but I don't think you have the time to commit."

Sal nodded, not wanting to push. "I understand. But could you at least show me the basics?"

Sam scratched his chin. "I suppose I can't say no to that. I've got some extra materials. Let's see what you can do."

Sal spent the rest of the afternoon hammering heated metal under Sam's watchful eye. By the end, his hands were blistered, and his muscles screamed with exhaustion.

Sam wiped his hands and grinned. "Well done. You learn quickly, but your muscles aren't used to this. You'll need to build your strength if you want to keep at it."

Sal wiped his brow. "Thanks, Sam. I'll keep that in mind. Merry Christmas."

As they left the smithy, Sal glanced at the bustling market. "Before we head back, I want to pick up something for my friends."

George smiled. "I guess we can make a quick stop."

Sal browsed through the stalls, stopping at a small shop filled with enchanted trinkets and handcrafted items. A pair of enchanted hairpins caught his eye—one with a small shifting gemstone and the other shaped like a delicate feather.

"These would be perfect for Tonks and Tulip," Sal thought, paying the shopkeeper and tucking the gifts into his bag.

On the way back, George glanced at him. "Thoughtful gifts. They'll like them."

Sal smiled. "They're my best friends. It's the least I can do."

As the snow continued to fall around them, Sal felt the warmth of the holiday settle in his heart. Home, friends, and new lessons awaited him—and he couldn't ask for more.

Sal carefully packed his new books and practice sword into his trunk, alongside detailed instructions on forging techniques that Sam had written for him. The notes even included physical requirements—how strong one needed to be to properly work at a forge.

"If you write it down for me, I'll pay for the instructions," Sal had told Sam. The blacksmith chuckled but agreed, handing him a stack of notes by the end of the day.

Sal and his mother were set to leave early to ensure he could submit his registration form for the Junior Dueling League. Before they left, Sal sent enchanted hairpins as gifts to Tonks and Tulip, attaching small notes wishing them a Merry Christmas.

Upon arriving at the registration office, Sal approached the front desk, his form in hand. A friendly-looking witch peered over the counter. "Can I help you?"

Sal nodded. "I'm here to turn in my registration for the Junior Dueling League."

The woman took the form, scanning it carefully. "Let's see… Salazar Cross? It says here you attend Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I'm a first-year," Sal replied politely.

Her eyebrows lifted. "A first-year? I didn't think Hogwarts taught first-years much dueling magic. That's why we don't usually get applicants so young."

Lindsey stepped forward with a reassuring smile. "When I read the form, I checked. He's old enough to apply."

"Technically, yes," the woman admitted, "but let me get my manager. Please wait here."

It wasn't long before a tall, athletic witch appeared. Her hair was tied back in a practical braid, and she carried herself with the confidence of a seasoned duelist.

"Hi, I'm Willow, the manager of the league. I was told about your situation. So, Salazar, do you have a recommendation from your professors?"

Sal glanced at his mother before shaking his head. "No, I don't."

Willow crossed her arms, sizing him up. "In that case, would you mind demonstrating your dueling skills? I'd like to see what you can do."

Sal's eyes lit up. "No problem."

They made their way to the league's training field. The open-air space was lined with practice dummies and targets, all charmed to withstand advanced spells.

Willow gestured to the field. "Whenever you're ready."

Sal took his place, drawing his practice wand. He focused, summoning a controlled burst of magic as he engaged the nearest target. His movements were fluid but restrained, holding back just enough not to reveal everything he could do.

Spells arced through the air—Stupefy, Expelliarmus, and a shield charm in quick succession. Sal's form was solid, his transitions smooth. After a few minutes, Willow held up her hand.

"Alright, that's enough." She lowered her arms, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Are you sure you're a first-year? I felt like I was watching someone closer to fourth-year level."

Sal shrugged. "I've been told I'm advanced for my age."

Willow chuckled. "That's an understatement. You're definitely new to dueling, but no more than the others who join at your age. Welcome to the league. I look forward to seeing you compete this summer."

Sal smiled, shaking her hand. "Thanks! I can't wait."

As they left the field, Lindsey placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Sal. Just remember, balance your studies with dueling."

"I will, Mom. I promise," Sal said, already envisioning the summer ahead.