Still Got It
Sal smiled as he listened to his teammate's excitement. He hadn't been back in the dueling circuit for long, but the energy in the training hall was electric. It was good to be back.
"Hey, Sal, is it true that you killed a basilisk?" one of his fellow duelists asked, clearly in awe.
Sal sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, but what conveniently gets left out is that I had help from two Aurors, one of them being Mad-Eye Moody."
"Still, it's impressive," another duelist chimed in.
Sal waved a dismissive hand. "I appreciate it, but honestly, I just want to duel and enjoy myself for once."
A few of his teammates chuckled, but one of the veterans leaned forward, a sly grin on his face. "Since you've been away, that witch Fleur Delacour and a new contender, Viktor Krum, have been climbing the ranks."
Sal raised an eyebrow. "I see. Well, I guess it's good I kept up my training."
Before anyone could add more, the coach strode into the room, his booming voice silencing the chatter.
"Alright, listen up! First, welcome back, Sal! You've been missed," the coach said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now, I know you all have been itching to prove yourselves, and this year, we're taking that trophy back. No more near wins—this time, we dominate! So, who's with me?!"
The training hall erupted into cheers, and Sal couldn't help but grin. He had missed this—the competition, the camaraderie, and the thrill of battle. This was going to be a good year.
As the cheers settled, Sal glanced around the training hall, his eyes landing on his old teammates.
"Alright, alright, settle down," Coach Magnus Blackthorn barked, his grizzled voice cutting through the noise. A former dueling champion himself, Magnus had a no-nonsense attitude and a knack for pushing his duelists to their limits. "Salazar, it's damn good to have you back. Hope you didn't get too soft playing professor at Hogwarts."
Sal smirked. "I don't think you have to worry about that, Coach."
"Good. Because I expect you to be at your best. This year, we're coming for that trophy. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum may have had their moment, but we're reclaiming our place at the top."
"That means you too, Sal," a voice chimed in. Sal turned to see Tristan Vale, one of the circuit's rising stars. A tall, broad-shouldered duelist with a sharp wit and a love for showmanship, Tristan had always been one to test Sal's limits in a fight. "Word is, you're still a prodigy, but let's see if you've kept your edge."
"Tristan, if you want to find out, we can spar after practice," Sal shot back with a grin.
"Don't tempt him, Sal," another voice added. This time, it was Evelyn "Evie" Hawthorne, a skilled duelist known for her speed and precision. With her short auburn hair and piercing green eyes, she was one of the most technical fighters in the circuit. "You know he won't shut up about it if he gets even one hit on you."
Tristan feigned offense. "Come on, Evie, give me some credit. I plan on getting more than just one hit."
Magnus rolled his eyes. "Enough chatter. Training starts now. I want spell drills, precision exercises, and full-contact dueling rounds. Sal, you're in the first match—let's see if you've still got it."
Sal cracked his knuckles, stepping into the dueling ring. He could feel the magic thrumming in his veins, the anticipation of battle settling in.
"Let's see what you've got, Vale," he said, as Tristan grinned and took his place across from him.
The match was about to begin, and Sal was ready to remind them why he was still one of the best.
As the announcer's voice echoed across the packed stands, Sal stepped into the ring, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. Across from him, Viktor Krum cracked his knuckles, his sharp eyes analyzing Sal with a predator's patience.
"To start the tournament off, we have Salazar Cross from Hogwarts and a new rising talent, Viktor Krum from Durmstrang!"
The crowd roared with anticipation. Sal had heard about Krum's dueling prowess—raw, unrelenting power. His style was aggressive, designed to crush defenses and overwhelm opponents before they could react. But Sal had no intention of playing Krum's game.
He would fight this duel his way.
The referee raised his wand. "Duelists, bow."
Sal dipped into a respectful bow, eyes never leaving his opponent. Krum barely nodded, shifting his stance as the ref's hand came down.
"Begin!"
Krum wasted no time, launching a barrage of spells at Sal—Confringo, Expulso, Depulso—high-impact curses meant to obliterate defenses. Sal twisted his body, sidestepping one blast, ducking under another, then raised a hand—without his wand.
With a flick of his fingers, a shimmering barrier of golden energy absorbed Krum's next attack. Gasps rippled through the audience.
"He's using wandless magic!" someone shouted.
Krum hesitated for just a second, startled by the display. Sal capitalized on the opening, raising his hand again. With a quick gesture, he cast Expelliarmus—but instead of the traditional red light, an invisible force yanked Krum's wand from his grip.
The crowd erupted.
Krum's eyes widened as his wand landed outside the ring. But to his credit, he didn't freeze—he threw a punch instead. Sal barely managed to dodge it, feeling the air shift as Krum's fist passed an inch from his face.
"Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way," Sal muttered.
Krum lunged, but Sal was faster. Using a burst of Momentum magic, he slid back and thrust both hands forward, palms glowing faintly. A gust of force sent Krum skidding back, giving Sal enough time to shift tactics.
He began weaving magic into the air around him—forming something new. A serpentine shape emerged from conjured water droplets, twisting into the form of a dragon. Sal spun his hand, commanding the liquid beast to coil in the air before launching toward Krum.
The moment it struck, a tidal wave of force sent the Durmstrang champion flying backward.
Ring out!
The stands erupted into cheers. The referee pointed at Sal. "Winner: Salazar Cross!"
Sal let out a slow breath, his hands tingling from the exertion. He walked to the edge of the ring, offering a hand to Krum, who was just pushing himself up.
Krum hesitated before taking it. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable. Then, to Sal's surprise, the Durmstrang duelist let out a low chuckle.
"You fight differently," Krum admitted. "Not like others."
Sal smirked. "I take that as a compliment."
Krum nodded. "It is. Next time, I von't let you take my vand so easily."
Sal clapped him on the shoulder. "Looking forward to it."
As he left the ring, his teammates swarmed him.
"You've been holding out on us!" Tristan laughed, slapping Sal on the back. "Wandless magic? That water dragon? Where the hell was that last season?"
Sal shrugged. "Figured I'd try something new."
Evie crossed her arms, smirking. "If this is you holding back, Fleur doesn't stand a chance."
Coach Magnus strode over, arms crossed, his sharp eyes analyzing every detail. "Good work, Sal. You controlled the flow of the fight, adapted to your opponent's strengths, and showed them why we're Hogwarts duelists. Keep it up, and we're bringing that trophy home where it belongs."
Sal nodded, but his mind was already on the next fight.
Fleur Delacour was still in the running. He had studied her style—graceful, fluid, powerful. She fought like a dancer, using elegant precision over brute strength.
He would need more than raw talent to beat her.
But for now?
He let himself enjoy the victory.
After Sal's victory against Krum, the Hogwarts dueling team was fired up. Each member had their own fight to win, and Sal was eager to see how they fared. He knew his teammates well—each had their own unique strengths, honed through years of practice.
Now, it was time to see them shine.
1. Tristan Vale vs. Ivan Petrov (Durmstrang)
(A Duel of Speed and Deception)
Tristan was the fastest duelist on the team, known for his ability to cast rapid-fire spells before his opponents could react. His opponent, Ivan Petrov, was a powerhouse from Durmstrang who relied on sheer force to overwhelm his enemies.
"Begin!"
Ivan launched a Bombarda Maxima right at the start, aiming to knock Tristan out of the ring. But Tristan vanished in a blur—Apparition.
He reappeared behind Ivan and fired off a Stupefy, but Ivan spun around, casting Protego Maxima just in time.
Tristan grinned. "Let's see how fast you really are."
He flicked his wand, summoning multiple illusions of himself that scattered across the arena. Ivan cursed under his breath and began blasting them apart with Reducto, but none of them were the real Tristan.
Then, from above—Expelliarmus!
The real Tristan had Apparated onto a high column and struck just as Ivan dropped his shield. His wand flew out of his hand and landed outside the ring.
"Winner: Tristan Vale!"
As the crowd roared, Tristan jumped down, smirking. "Durmstrang's all about brute strength, huh? You guys should try thinking next time."
2. Evelyn "Evie" Lancaster vs. Sofia Duval (Beauxbatons)
(A Duel of Precision and Grace)
Evie was a duelist who fought with elegance and efficiency—every movement calculated, every spell precisely aimed. She was facing Sofia Duval, one of Beauxbatons' most graceful duelists.
"Begin!"
Sofia started with a rapid Petrificus Totalus, but Evie countered effortlessly, dodging with a pirouette and returning fire with Confundo.
Sofia's movements became sluggish, and Evie pressed her advantage, sending a volley of spells—Expulso, Depulso, Rictusempra—forcing Sofia to retreat.
Sofia, desperate, summoned a Whirlwind Jinx, sending a tornado of magic across the arena. Evie stood her ground, focused, and then—
Finite Incantatem!
The whirlwind dissipated instantly. Before Sofia could recover, Evie flicked her wand.
Stupefy.
Sofia crumpled.
"Winner: Evelyn Lancaster!"
Evie walked away without looking back, twirling her wand between her fingers. "If you rely too much on flash, you forget about substance."
3. Magnus Reed vs. Pietro Russo (Beauxbatons)
(A Duel of Power and Endurance)
Magnus, the team captain, was built like a Beater but fought with the discipline of a strategist. He was facing Pietro Russo, one of Beauxbatons' strongest duelists—someone who, like Krum, relied on raw power.
"Begin!"
Pietro wasted no time launching a Confringo, forcing Magnus to dodge sideways.
Magnus retaliated with Expulso, sending a shockwave toward Pietro, but the Beauxbatons duelist countered with a stone barrier.
Then, Magnus did something unexpected—he charged.
Closing the distance, he knocked Pietro's wand arm with his shoulder, breaking his stance. Before Pietro could react, Magnus fired Levicorpus, sending him dangling upside down in mid-air.
Then came the finishing blow.
Stupefy.
Pietro hit the ground hard.
"Winner: Magnus Reed!"
As Magnus helped Pietro up, he smirked. "Durmstrang uses brute force, Beauxbatons uses style. I use both."
4. Amelia "Mia" Rivers vs. Nikolai Zima (Durmstrang)
(A Duel of Intelligence and Adaptation)
Mia was the team's best tactician. She never went into a fight without a plan. Nikolai Zima, however, was unpredictable—wild, chaotic, and erratic in his casting.
"Begin!"
Nikolai cast a Blasting Curse without warning, forcing Mia to leap backward. He kept throwing unpredictable attacks—Oppugno to summon attacking birds, Tarantallegra to throw off her footing, Ventus to knock her back.
Mia stayed calm. She wasn't playing his game.
She raised her wand and traced a pattern in the air. A Shield Charm formed—not just around her, but as a sphere.
Then, she used her ace.
Protego Horribilis!
The next spell Nikolai fired was reflected straight back at him.
It was over.
"Winner: Amelia Rivers!"
She smirked. "A good defense is the best offense."
As the Hogwarts team regrouped, Magnus clapped Sal on the shoulder. "We're doing good, but the real fight is still ahead."
Sal nodded. He could see Fleur watching from across the arena, her cool blue eyes unreadable.
They both knew their match was coming soon.
Final Match: Salazar Cross vs. Fleur Delacour
(A Duel of Mastery and Willpower)
The stands were filled with eager spectators, all waiting to see the two champions clash once more. Fleur Delacour, the reigning champion of Beauxbatons, stood poised on her side of the dueling stage, her wand raised with effortless grace. Across from her, Salazar Cross adjusted his stance, his eyes focused on Fleur with unwavering determination.
"Duelists, take your positions!"
Sal shifted his weight, analyzing Fleur's stance. She was fast, graceful, and precise—traits he had always admired. But he was no longer the same duelist she had last faced. This time, he was coming for his title.
"Begin!"
Fleur moved first, her wand a blur as she summoned a barrage of blue flames—Lames de Danse—enchanted fire that moved like whips, dancing through the air toward Sal.
Sal flicked his wand, countering with Aguamenti, sending a spiraling jet of water to intercept. The flames hissed and steamed upon contact, but Fleur had already moved.
"Confringo!"
A Blasting Curse ripped toward him. Sal barely had time to react before he vanished—Apparition.
He reappeared behind her and fired Expelliarmus, but Fleur was already dodging, her robes billowing as she twirled mid-air, casting Protego.
"You're faster than last time," Fleur called, smirking as she sent a Reducto at the ground near Sal's feet, forcing him to leap backward.
Sal grinned. "And you've improved your offense."
He flicked his wrist, switching tactics. He had kept his strongest weapon hidden—his wandless magic.
With a simple gesture, the ground beneath Fleur froze. The audience gasped as Fleur's movements faltered for the first time, her footing momentarily thrown off.
"Ventus!"
A blast of wind from Sal's outstretched hand sent Fleur sliding back, but she recovered quickly, digging her heel into the ice.
"Impressive," she admitted, but her smirk widened.
Before Sal could capitalize, Fleur vanished in a swirl of blue mist.
Féerie Brume—Veela Mist.
The mist spread rapidly, engulfing the arena, obscuring both duelists.
Sal immediately switched to defense, his senses heightened. Fleur was playing smart, using deception rather than brute force.
"Accio Fleur!"
Sal's Summoning Charm aimed to pull her out of the mist, but Fleur countered immediately.
"Protego Totalum!"
The mist rippled, distorting the air as her defense held.
Sal knew he had to shift the momentum. He took a deep breath, focused, and whispered,
"Tempestas Draconis."
From the swirling mist, a storm dragon formed, its translucent shape crackling with energy. Fleur barely had time to react before the spectral beast lunged, dispersing the mist with a gust of thunderous wind.
Sal saw her.
With a flick of his fingers, he launched his true attack—Incarcerous!
Ropes shot forward, aiming to bind her, but Fleur's instincts were sharp.
"Diffindo!"
The ropes slashed apart mid-air, and with a final flourish, Fleur twirled her wand and cast Stupefy!
Sal deflected it with a casual Protego, then called upon his final move.
"Incendio Draconis!"
The dragon from before returned—this time, its form igniting with blue fire as it spiraled toward Fleur. The crowd roared as the spell neared her, but instead of dodging, Fleur did something unexpected.
She ran toward it.
At the last second, she spun, redirecting the energy of the attack with Finite Incantatem, causing the dragon to disperse into glowing embers.
The crowd gasped. Fleur charged, wand raised.
"Expelliarmus!"
A perfectly timed Disarming Charm sent Sal's wand flying—but he had expected this.
As the wand left his hand, he caught it midair with wandless magic, spun, and fired back—
"Stupefy!"
Fleur had no time to counter.
The spell struck her, and she was flung backward, landing hard on the platform.
Silence.
Then—
"Winner: Salazar Cross!"
The arena exploded with cheers. Sal exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he walked over and extended his hand to Fleur.
She took it, breathing hard but smiling. "You are stronger than last time."
Sal smirked. "And you're still the toughest opponent I've faced."
The crowd continued to cheer as Sal reclaimed his title—but all he could think about was how close that match had been.
Fleur Delacour was not someone to underestimate.
And this definitely wouldn't be their last duel.