Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the intellectual property associated with Harry Potter.
Hi all,
Here's the next chapter. The competition begins, and Harry discovers a secret in the castle.
Chapter 80
Harry stood in the castle courtyard, surrounded by contestants, his heart racing with excitement and nerves. He would be competing against all of them. The recognition that came with finishing in the top ten, or even first place, wasn't his primary motivator. He was focused on the prizes, and the Source had provided an added incentive to perform well.
Just before he entered the courtyard, the Source assigned him a new task: place in the top ten of the competition. It didn't specify the rewards but was determined by his final position.
Harry's gaze swept across the courtyard, observing his fellow contestants. They came from all over Europe, and some wore traditional robes, while others, like him, dressed more practically. A mashup of languages filled the air, resulting in a harmonious blend of diverse accents and dialects that mingled and intertwined in a symphony of excited chatter.
He recognised the teenager who had rudely shoved him earlier. The older boy stood not far away, his posture radiating arrogance. Harry made a mental note to keep an eye on him, considering the unnerving encounter with the teenager's master.
Stands had been erected around the perimeter of the courtyard for the spectators. Harry spotted his grandfather and Sheena taking their seats, along with other family members and supporters of the contestants. The atmosphere was electric, reminiscent of a Quidditch match, but with an added layer of intellectual anticipation.
A hush fell over the crowd as a distinguished-looking wizard in ornate robes stepped onto a raised platform at the head of the courtyard.
"Welcome, young artisans, esteemed guests, and honoured judges," the man's voice rang out, magically amplifying to reach every corner of the courtyard. "My name is Anton Paasio, and I'm the head of the European Artisans Guild. It brings me great joy to see so many talented young minds gathered here today."
Anton paused, his eyes sweeping across the sea of eager faces. "This competition represents the pinnacle of achievement for young artisans. For centuries, we have used this event to identify and nurture the brightest talents in our field."
A palpable current of excitement rippled through the competitors.
"Now, let me explain the rules of our competition," Anton continued. "Over the next two days, you will face six challenging tasks. Each task will test a different aspect of your skills as an artisan. You will be judged on creativity, technical proficiency, magical theory application, and the overall quality of your work."
He gestured to a large board that had appeared behind him. "After each task, this leaderboard will show the top twenty contestants' scores. Each task will be scored out of a possible hundred points, with a maximum achievable score of six hundred. This will decide the final positions."
Harry glanced at his competitors. He needed to start strong in the first task and get on the board.
"As for the prizes," Anton's eyes twinkled. "The top ten contestants will receive rare materials to help them with future projects. For the top three, we have something extra special."
He paused dramatically, and Harry found himself leaning forward in anticipation.
"The top three contestants will each receive a mystery prize, hand-selected by our panel of judges. These prizes, I assure you, are items that many master artisans would give their wand arm to possess."
The excitement in the courtyard was palpable now. Harry's mind raced with possibilities. What could these mystery prizes be?
"And now," Anton said, "allow me to introduce our esteemed panel of judges."
He gestured to a group of witches and wizards seated to his right. As each judge was introduced, they stood briefly, acknowledging the applause from the contestants and spectators.
"And finally," Anton said, his voice filled with barely contained excitement, "we have a surprise guest judge. It is my great honour to introduce a wizard whose work has revolutionised the field of magical artifacts, and whose name is spoken with reverence in artisan circles around the globe. Please welcome... Master Andrei Dumitrescu!"
A collective gasp went up from the crowd, followed by thunderous applause.
An elderly wizard with bright, piercing eyes rose from the judges' panel. Harry's eyes narrowed as he recognised the old man he had met earlier. It didn't bode well that the man who made him feel so uneasy was a judge. Harry sneaked a glance at the teenage boy. Wasn't it a conflict of interest to have a judge's apprentice compete in the same competition?
As the applause died down, Anton spoke again. "Contestants, you have the rare opportunity to impress one of the greatest minds in our field. Make the most of it."
"You will find your assigned workstations around the courtyard," Anton continued. "Each station is equipped with a standard set of tools and materials. Additional resources may be provided depending on the specific requirements of each task."
He paused, looking at the sea of young faces one last time. "Remember, young artisans, this competition is not just about winning. It's about pushing the boundaries of your abilities, learning from your peers, and contributing to the noble tradition of magical craftsmanship."
With a wave of his wand, numbers appeared floating above each workstation. "Please find your assigned station. Your first task will begin in precisely ten minutes."
The contestants began to move, finding their places. His station was number seventy-seven. The teenager who had shoved him earlier was at station sixty-two, close enough for Harry to keep an eye on him. The older boy caught Harry looking and sneered.
Harry turned away, focusing instead on his preparation. He carefully examined the tools and materials laid out on the workbench, aware that he could only use those provided by the guild, which may necessitate some adjustments on his part. The first two tasks were supposed to be more theoretical, so he didn't have to worry about it yet.
A loud gong sounded, signalling the start of the competition.
Anton's voice rang out. "Let the 257th Under-Eighteens Artisan Competition begin! Your first task will be to test your knowledge of different types of materials. You must identify and assess the quality of the materials provided to you, using only your eyes. No spells. You have one hour."
As the gong's resonant tone faded, Harry's eyes swept over the array of materials laid out before him. Vials of liquids, chunks of minerals, and samples of various magical substances covered his workbench.
Looking around, Harry noticed the other contestants already scribbling furiously or examining the samples with intense concentration. Returning his attention to his task, he focused on identifying the first material, a shimmering powder. Identifying it was remarkably easy, as it was ground unicorn horn, which he had worked with before. But the quality appeared substandard.
He raised the bowl and examined it carefully. Undoubtedly, the quality fell short of the powder he prepared in the past. It required a special tool to ground the unicorn horn properly, and he always did it correctly. So, he never learned how to do it the wrong way, so he was stumped about how to analyse it.
"It's been cut with powdered moonstone. A common trick to increase profits, but diminishes the horn's potency." A voice whispered in his mind.
Harry's eyebrows shot up. The voice that had first appeared because of Parselmagic had finally returned. He decided to give him a name to try to make a connection with it.
"Why are you speaking to me now, Slyther?" Harry hissed softly.
Slyther didn't answer. Shaking his head, Harry jotted down the analysis, hoping Slyther wasn't steering him wrong.
As he moved through the samples, Slyther spoke again, continuing to provide insights.
"The green liquid is distilled kelpie tears, exceptionally pure."
"That rock? Petrified dragon dung, barely a century old. Practically worthless."
With each revelation, Harry's quill flew across the parchment. He found himself not just identifying the materials, but noting their quality, potential uses, and even methods of harvesting or creation.
As the final gong sounded, Harry set down his quill. The voice had given him some valuable insights, but most of them were things he already knew, so he didn't feel too bad about cheating.
As the judges moved among the contestants, collecting answer sheets, Harry caught sight of Anton Paasio nodding approvingly at some responses. When the head judge reached Harry's station, his eyebrows rose slightly as he scanned the parchment.
"Quite thorough, Mr Potter," Anton murmured, a hint of surprise in his voice. "You're already living up to my expectations."
Harry's brow furrowed. "Sheena mentioned that headquarters intends to use me as a poster boy for your recruitment efforts. I want no part in that."
Anton chuckled, shaking his head. "I think she might have embellished a bit, but we've indeed taken notice of you. Did you know you're the youngest artisan competing here?"
Harry's eyes widened slightly, and he shook his head.
"Most artisans here haven't even created a single artifact," Anton continued, his voice tinged with admiration. "Yet you've already crafted two. The latter is causing quite a stir in the magical community. I'd wager you're already working on another..."
Anton trailed off suggestively. When Harry looked away, he smiled and added, "Or maybe you have already finished the third. Regardless, let me address your concerns about being a poster boy. I will admit that some of the senior guild members are enthusiastic about the idea, which is why we sent Sheena to look out for you, but I don't think it is necessary to go too far."
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked.
Anton leaned in, speaking in a conspiratorial tone. "Your mere presence at the competition is sufficient. We don't need to do anything; you'll be a brilliant advertisement for our recruitment all on your own."
He tapped the parchment with a knowing smile. "If you continue to produce results like this, you're bound for the top spot. But I'd keep an eye out for Ivaylo."
"Ivaylo?" Harry echoed.
"Andrei's apprentice," Anton explained. "He's exceptionally talented. Like you, he has two artifacts to his name, but he only created his second one last year, at sixteen."
As the judges finished their rounds, a hush fell over the courtyard. All eyes turned to the shimmering leaderboard as it flickered to life, displaying the top twenty contestants and their scores. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he saw his name at the top with 93 points.
"Damn, I didn't expect that," Harry murmured, taken aback.
He'd known he'd done well, but to be in first place wasn't something he expected. He owed Slyther for helping him with some of his answers.
Ivaylo was in second place with 87 points, with the remaining eighteen on the leaderboard not far behind him.
"You the man, Potter!" Sheena cheered, rising from her seat and waving at him, drawing every eye to where Harry stood. "The rest of these chumps have nothing on you! Take a good look at him. He's the little boy at station seventy-seven."
Harry's cheeks flushed as murmurs echoed throughout the crowd. Contestants craned their necks to get a look at him, some with admiration and others with barely concealed envy. Up until this point, he hadn't attracted much attention, but thanks to Sheena pointing him out, everyone was now paying attention to him.
He noticed Ivaylo was wearing a mask of calculated indifference. Harry imagined he was seething inside.
Anton raised his hands for silence before the commotion could grow too loud. "Now, let us move on to the second task. This will test your ability to analyse and improve upon existing enchantments."
With a wave of his wand, Anton conjured a stack of parchments. They flew through the air and came to rest in front of the contestants. "Before each of you is a runic schematic. Your task is to analyse the enchantments described, provide a detailed description of their effects, and suggest improvements to enhance their efficiency. You have two hours. Begin!"
Harry unrolled his parchment, taking in the complex array of runes before him. It was an intricate design, but it wasn't much for him to decipher with his experience. This was a schematic for a series of enchantments on a sword. He could see runes for sharpness, durability, and a fire enhancement.
Grabbing his quill, Harry started to write, his hand flying across the parchment as he detailed each enchantment he identified. The first array was basic but functional, providing a sharpness enchantment that would keep the blade keen even after repeated use. The durability enchantment was more impressive, weaving together protections against damage, particularly against wear and tear from the third enchantment.
The fire enhancement was an ingenious bit of work that would cause the blade to ignite when it struck something. However, as Harry studied it more closely, he noticed a flaw.
"The array is inefficient," he muttered, circling a particular section of the schematic. "It's using too much power, which would affect the durability and cause the magic to deplete faster."
With growing confidence, Harry began to sketch out an alternative arrangement. By repositioning the array and adding an extra sequence, he could reduce the power draw significantly without sacrificing anything. If his calculations were correct, it might even enhance the flame's intensity.
As he worked, Harry found himself slipping into a state of flow. The rest of the courtyard faded away as he lost himself in his work. He barely noticed as the minutes ticked by.
Just as he was putting the finishing touches on his explanation of how his changes would affect the sword's function, the gong sounded. Harry blinked, startled out of his concentration.
"Time's up!" Anton called out. "Please set down your quills."
Harry leaned back, stretching his cramped fingers. The judges made their way through the courtyard, collecting the completed analyses. Harry felt his stomach twist in knots as Andrei moved in his direction.
"Fascinating approach, Mr Potter," Andrei commented after reviewing his work. His eyes bore into him. "I expected Ivaylo to easily win first place, but who knew a new star would appear at the wrong time, to steal his thunder."
As Andrei moved on, Harry made a funny face at the man's back. He was quickly growing tired of the man's subtle threats. Andrei wouldn't dare to try anything here amongst all these people, but that didn't make him any less nervous.
He needed to tell his grandfather about the man.
As the last of the parchments were collected, a buzz of conversation filled the air. Harry was drawn into a conversation with a nearby competitor, a friendly witch named Lucia from Spain who wanted to hear his thoughts on the second task.
The leaderboard flickered to life once more, drawing all eyes in the courtyard. A hush fell over the crowd as the updated rankings appeared. Harry's name still topped the list, his combined score now at 187 points. He managed to extend his lead, with Ivaylo now trailing eight points behind at 179.
"Not bad."
He hadn't expected to widen the gap, especially against someone as experienced as Ivaylo. The older boy might be unpleasant, but his skill was undeniable.
Anton addressed the contestants. "Excellent work, everyone. We'll now break for lunch. The third task will commence in precisely one hour."
As the contestants began to disperse, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Sheena, her face split by a wide grin.
"You're absolutely smashing it, Potter!" she exclaimed. "Come on, let's grab some grub. Your grandfather's talking with your grandmother about your progress."
They headed for the buffet set along one side of the courtyard. As Harry filled his plate, he couldn't help but notice the sideways glances and hushed whispers from the other competitors. His performance had certainly drawn attention.
"Don't let it get to you," Sheena advised, noticing his discomfort. "You've earned this. Just focus on the next task."
"Thanks for cheering me on."
Sheena, seemingly oblivious to his tone, beamed. "There's no need to thank me."
They joined his grandfather at a nearby table. Charlus set down a two-way mirror and congratulated Harry. "Your grandmother will speak with you tonight. Make sure to maintain your lead and leave the competition in the dust. Give her something impressive to hear about."
Harry sighed. "No pressure, right?"
Sheena nudged him playfully. "So, what's this I hear about you getting another girlfriend?"
Harry squirmed uncomfortably, acutely aware of his grandfather's intent gaze. "None of your business."
"Hermione is her name, correct?" Sheena pressed on, undeterred. "I've seen her in my class. She's quite handy with a wand, though I don't think Defence is her strongest subject."
"She's still outperforming most of the students in her year," Harry pointed out defensively.
"Oh, I know," Sheena conceded. "I'm just saying she's more suited to intellectual pursuits. She's one bright witch, that one."
Harry nodded, then changed the subject. "Was the sword in the second task one that the Runic Knights use?"
"The sword itself, yes," Sheena replied. "But the enchantments are too basic for us. They were designed specifically for the competition. They'll be removed and the sword reused afterwards."
"Who crafted the swords?" Harry asked. "The workmanship is exceptional."
"A Master Artisan who specialises in blacksmithing," Sheena explained. "He's here at the competition. I can introduce you later if you'd like."
Harry's face lit up. "I'd like that very much."
The hour passed swiftly, and soon the contestants were back at their stations. Anton stepped forward, his voice once again magically amplified.
"For our third task, we're moving to something more practical," he announced. "You will each receive a set of raw materials. Your challenge is to create a magical light source using only these materials and design a basic rune schematic. If time permits, you may add extra features for bonus points, but be warned. If you fail to finish, you will be heavily penalised. You have four hours. Begin!"
Harry surveyed his workstation, now covered with an assortment of items: a clear crystal, various metal shavings, a vial of glowing liquid, and several other curious objects. His mind raced with possibilities as he began to formulate a plan.
Harry became aware of a commotion a few stations away. He glanced up to see Ivaylo arguing heatedly with one of the judges.
"This is absurd!" Ivaylo was shouting, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "These materials are substandard. How am I supposed to create anything of quality with this rubbish?"
The judge, a stern-looking witch, remained unmoved. "Every contestant has been given the same materials, Mr Petrov. It's up to you to use them creatively."
Ivaylo's face contorted with rage. "This is sabotage! You're all trying to make me lose to that... that child!" He jabbed a finger in Harry's direction.
Harry felt his cheeks flush with anger at Ivaylo's words. What was his problem? He tried to focus on his work, but his hands shook with suppressed fury. Pausing, he employed his Occlumency to calm himself.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the courtyard, followed by startled cries. Harry looked up to see that Ivaylo had smashed his crystal, sending shards flying across his workstation. The older boy stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes wild.
"Mr. Petrov!" Anton's voice cut through the silence that had fallen. "Control yourself, or you will be disqualified!"
Ivaylo's gaze snapped to Anton, then to Andrei, who watched the commotion with an unreadable expression. For a moment, it seemed as though Ivaylo might lash out again. Then, abruptly, he slumped back into his seat.
"I... I apologise," he muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes. "It won't happen again."
As the competition resumed, Harry couldn't shake a feeling of unease. He'd seen the look Andrei had given Ivaylo—a mixture of disappointment and something else... something dangerous.
With effort, Harry forced himself to concentrate on his work. He had a competition to win, after all. But as he worked, he kept one eye on Ivaylo and Andrei, unable to shake the sense that something was wrong.
"What are you making, Mr. Potter?" a voice inquired from behind, causing Harry to startle.
He turned to find Anton Paasio observing his work. The man seemed unable to resist checking on Harry's progress.
"I'm developing a light source that responds to magical signatures," Harry explained. "It should intensify when a witch or wizard is in proximity."
Anton's eyebrows arched with intrigue. "Ambitious indeed. How do you intend to achieve this?"
Harry elucidated his concept, indicating the specific runes he'd employed to generate a magical detection field around the crystal. As he spoke, he noticed other judges gravitating closer, listening attentively.
"Most impressive," Anton nodded approvingly. "However, do be mindful of your time constraints. Remember, a functional light source remains the primary objective."
The hours slipped by, and Harry found himself in a race against the clock to complete his design. He'd successfully implemented the basic light function and was now fine-tuning the magical detection aspect. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he meticulously adjusted the final runes.
"Thirty minutes remaining," Anton's voice resonated, triggering a wave of increased activity throughout the courtyard.
Harry inhaled deeply, stepping back to evaluate his creation. The crystal emitted a soft, warm glow that pulsated gently. As he passed his hand over it, the light intensified, responding to his magical signature. A smile tugged at his lips. While not perfect, it functioned as intended.
As he began tidying his workspace, a commotion erupted from Ivaylo's station. Harry looked up to see the older boy engaged in a heated argument with Andrei.
"It's inadequate!" Ivaylo shouted, his face flushed with anger. "I can produce better results if granted more time!"
Andrei's voice was low, but his words carried across the now-silent courtyard. "You've had the same time allotment as everyone else, Ivaylo. Your performance today has been... disappointing."
Something in Andrei's tone sent a chill down Harry's spine. It wasn't mere disappointment; there was an underlying threat in his words.
Ivaylo seemed to sense it too. His anger crumbled, replaced by a look of fear.
"Master, please," he began, but Andrei had already turned away, striding towards the judges' table.
The final minutes of the task passed in tense silence. When Anton called time, there was an almost audible collective sigh of relief from the contestants.
"Excellent work, everyone," Anton announced. "The judges will now evaluate your creations. Please step away from your workstations."
As the judges made their rounds, Harry found himself standing next to Lucia, the friendly witch from Spain.
"That was intense," she whispered, nodding towards Ivaylo's station. "I've never witnessed someone lose composure like that in a competition before."
Harry nodded, his eyes still fixed on Ivaylo. The older boy stood rigidly by his station, his gaze focused on the ground, as a judge examined his work.
"Something's amiss," Harry murmured.
The judging concluded, and Anton called for attention once more. "The scores for this task will be tallied and added to the leaderboard shortly. This concludes today's proceedings, and we will resume tomorrow for the final three tasks. Rest well, for the challenges ahead will be even more demanding."
As the contestants began to disperse, Harry noticed Ivaylo slipping away from the crowd, heading towards a secluded corner of the castle grounds. Without consciously deciding to do so, Harry found himself following at a distance.
He watched as Ivaylo ducked behind a large topiary, out of sight of the main courtyard. Creeping closer, Harry could hear muffled voices. After ensuring no one was watching, he transformed into his demiguise form and turned invisible. He edged closer to better discern their conversation.
"...cannot afford any more mistakes," Andrei was saying, his voice low and menacing. "You're aware of what's at stake, Ivaylo. Failure is not an option."
"I understand, Master," Ivaylo's voice trembled. "It won't happen again. I'll win the competition, I swear."
"See that you do," Andrei replied. "Remember, it's not just your future on the line. Your family's well-being depends on your success."
Harry's eyes widened. Was Andrei threatening Ivaylo's family? He leaned out from behind the tree he was using as cover, but quickly retracted when the voices fell silent. Heart pounding, Harry pressed himself against the trunk, praying he hadn't been detected.
"We're finished here," Andrei's voice came again, closer this time. "Return to the others. And Ivaylo? Don't disappoint me again."
Harry held his breath as footsteps approached his hiding spot. For a moment, he was certain he'd be discovered. But the footsteps passed by, fading as Andrei and Ivaylo returned to the courtyard.
Exhaling shakily, Harry slumped against the tree. What had he just stumbled upon? Why was Andrei threatening his apprentice?
Harry returned to the courtyard, resolving to inform his grandfather of what he had overheard. While there wasn't sufficient evidence to act against Andrei, it would put his grandfather on alert and ready to respond should anything untoward occur.
As twilight enveloped the castle, Harry found himself restless. The day's events and the overheard conversation between Andrei and Ivaylo weighed heavily on his mind. Even conversations with his grandmother and girlfriends failed to quell his unease. After a brief discussion with his grandfather, who counselled caution and vigilance, Harry decided to explore the castle to clear his thoughts.
The stone corridors were dimly lit by flickering torches, casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls. Harry's mind churned with questions and theories about Andrei's motives.
A tingling sensation prickled at the base of Harry's skull. It was a familiar feeling, his instincts were warning him that something was amiss. Without a conscious decision, he transformed into his Demiguise form.
An inexplicable impulse drew him to one of the corridor walls. At first glance, it appeared unremarkable. He pressed a paw against the cool stone, sensing a faint thrum beneath his touch. Intrigued, he began exploring the wall's surface. After a minute of careful examination, his fingers caught onto a small, almost imperceptible indentation. With a soft click, a section of the wall swung inward, revealing a hidden passage.
Harry hesitated momentarily before his curiosity overcame his caution. He slipped into the passage, reverting to his human form as he proceeded. The narrow corridor led to a spacious workshop, unlike anything he had ever encountered.
Worktables lined the walls, each stocked with a variety of tools, materials, and parchments. In the centre of the room was a large, circular table with a glowing runic array etched into the surface.
"This is amazing" Harry breathed,
As he moved deeper into the room, he noticed a few empty display cases and pedestals. Whatever had been displayed there had been removed. Just as he was about to turn away, a glint of metal caught his eye. Nestled on a rich, burgundy velvet cushion lay a peculiar pocket watch.
It was the third pocket watch he had been searching for all this time. Defying his expectations, it wasn't in some random junk shop or among someone's collection. Did this mean that Galahad had once visited this place? Could this workshop have belonged to him?
To confirm that the watch was the same as the other two, he injected magic into it and watched as the familiar rune appeared on the back. There was no doubt that it was the third watch. He could now see what would happen when all three were brought together, but he had left the other two at home. It would have to wait until the competition was over.
He was so engrossed in studying the artifact that he almost missed the distant sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor outside.
Panic surged through him. He couldn't be caught here, especially not with Galahad's artifact in his possession. He slipped the pocket watch into his robes. Quickly and quietly, Harry made his way back to the hidden entrance. He slipped into the corridor, and the secret entrance swung shut behind him.
Ivaylo was standing further down the corridor, his back turned. He appeared to be fiddling with something. Before Ivaylo could turn and spot him, Harry transformed into his Demiguise form again and turned invisible.
Harry was about to slip quietly away, but curiosity got the better of him. He crept towards Ivaylo, wondering what the boy was up to. As he approached, the fur on the back of his neck stood up, sensing something dangerous.
What was Ivaylo up to?
So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry enters the final day of the competition, determined to take first place.
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