(Word Count: 2,058)
"Wotcha, Harry!" Dora exclaimed as she came in for a hug, and ruffled his hair.
Harry hugged her back. "Hey, Dora! Welcome to France."
They were all in the concourse of the French Ministry building, in the central hall. Dora, Andromeda, Ted, and Arcturus had all just come out from the arrival hall for the international floo network.
Dora looked around. "Yeah, it's pretty similar to our ministry, isn't it? The colors are different, but it still holds that same feeling of bureaucracy."
"Just wait until we get outside. Place Cachée is very beautiful," Harry said.
Arcturus gave a "hmph" of agreement. "Yes, it is. It has been years since I've last visited, but I always look back fondly on my time here. Much better than our ramshackled Diagon Alley, I say."
"I don't know about that," Sirius said, "Diagon Alley has a unique charm about it."
"Unique is a kind way to put it," Arcturus said.
"Well, no time to lose!" Andromeda interjected before the two of them could start arguing. "How long do we have until Harry's match? I want to see if I can squeeze in some sightseeing beforehand!"
"Right!" Sirius clapped his hands. "Harry's match is at 1, so let's get this show on the road, shall we?"
As they left, Dora nudged Harry's arm. "Hey, champ, great job in the tournament so far."
"Yes, we're all so very proud of you," Andromeda said warmly.
"You've always had a knack for dueling, even back when I first started teaching you," Arcturus said. He spoke in the same blunt way he always did, but Harry could hear a bit of pride creep into his tone. "And you've handled the press fairly well. It's good that you stopped giving interviews when you did. The media has just as much filth as it does fame and glory. Too much and you just become seen as desperate, and they turn your image into a mockery of yourself."
"Yeah, I've noticed a few articles about me lately have been…" Harry drifted off, not really sure how to frame it.
"Hmph. Yes, I've noticed as well. Do not worry yourself about it this time. I've taken the liberty to have a talk with the publishers about it already. They've gotten a little too comfortable talking about you, so I reminded them that you're a part of my house, and not something to merely gossip about," Arcturus said. "However, in the future, you will want to handle that yourself. Perhaps I'll bring you along the next time I have to talk with them and let you see how I handle things."
It was a huge weight off his shoulders. "Thank you. They've been relentless."
Dora put an arm around his shoulders in a side hug and gave an encouraging squeeze.
Arcturus smirked down at him. "You're welcome."
From that, Harry could tell that he had likely enjoyed the confrontation far more than he should have. Harry chuckled darkly at imagining the scene. The reporters wouldn't stop pestering ever since day one, so they definitely deserved whatever threats Arcturus made.
They had the entire morning ahead of them, which they put to good use. They went out about the city, not restricting themselves to only Place Cachée. Everyone went and bought Harry a present as well, since they had missed his birthday, and apparently they also had gifts waiting back home for him.
Dora got him a leather jacket. Just a normal, muggle, leather jacket, but it was still cool.
Andy got him a scarf, and Ted got him a lego set.
Arcturus got him an enchanted pocketwatch. It told the time, but also how much time left until his next appointment or "thing" he had to do. Whatever was most pressing on his mind.
"Well, this watch says we have only an hour left, so I think we should head back so I can prepare for my next match," Harry said.
They returned to the dueling venue and made their way to their designated seating for contestants and their families. Flitwick was there. He looked to be assembling some school papers.
"Oh good, you've arrived!" The tiny professor exclaimed. "I was beginning to worry! Welcome, everyone! Lord Black, Mr. and Mrs. Tonks, Tonks." He gave each of them a nod, "a pleasure to see you all again!"
"Wotcha, Professor!" Dora greeted.
"Professor Flitwick, it has been some time," Arcturus greeted, nodding back.
"What've you got there?" Sirius asked curiously.
"Oh, this?" Flitwick straightened out the stack of papers. "Just putting together some last minute syllabus adjustments for the upcoming school year. Summer is nearly over already, and I have to prepare myself for it. Harry, you did finish your summer homework, did you?"
Harry nodded. "Of course, I've finished it all the first week."
"I don't know where I went wrong with him!" Sirius ruffled his hair playfully.
"Hohoho," Flitwick chuckled, "He takes after Lily far more than he does James."
Once the time got closer to 1, Harry went back into the locker room and changed into his dueling robes. When he came back out, Mr. Lazard had just stepped out onto the stage to open the day's matches.
His match was up first, then afterwards would be Fleur's. Since there were so few matches remaining, there was only one dueling platform set up and they were held one at a time now.
Mr. Lazard called them up to the stage. As Harry ascended the stairs onto the platform, he once again wandlessly sent his cape back to Sirius. Several catcalls and whistles rang out from the crowd, as well as flashes of cameras.
Harry's opponent was named Viktor Duvall. He was a student from Beauxbatons. Thinking back to previous matches Harry had seen of Duvall, he knew that he favored more straightforward spells, like Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Flipendo. He avoided the more technical or flashy spells like transfiguration, Glacius, or other environmental tricks. It was a straightforward and predictable dueling style.
However, Duvall made up for it with casting speed. He seemed to have specialized into those small numbers of spells and was able to point-cast them, allowing him to seamlessly transition from one spell into the next in a proper spellchain and overwhelm his opponents, who could only cast with the wand movements.
That was a dead end in dueling though. Duvall may be doing well in the U-15 tournament, getting to the semi-finals, but as soon as he got to even just the U-17 stage he would struggle since most, if not all, of the contestants will be able to point-cast as well. It's why Harry wasn't particularly worried, he trained with Flitwick to break spellchains.
"Contestants to the center and bow!"
Harry and Duvall approached the center and bowed.
"Good luck, Duvall," Harry said politely in French.
"To you as well, Potter," Duvall said. He didn't seem worried, and had a confident gleam in the eye.
They returned to their starting positions and Mr. Lazard hopped off the stage.
"Ready? Let the match… begin!" He called.
To prevent Duvall from gaining an early foothold, Harry went on the offensive. He sidestepped the first of Duvall's spells, cast at the same time as Harry's, and kept on attacking faster than Duvall could keep up. Duvall was forced back onto the defensive, unable to get his own spells in.
"What's this?" Canards announced, "Harry Potter is on the offensive! He seems to be using Duvall's own strategy against him!"
Harry intended to keep it going for just a bit longer then hit him with a surefire Expelliarmus combo to win the match, but Duvall fumbled under the pressure and was hit with a Flipendo.
Duvall flipped end over end all the way off the back end of the platform. He crashed onto the floor with a heavy thud. Luckily, the ground around the dueling platform had already been enchanted with the softening charm so Duvall only had the wind knocked out of him.
'Well… that works for me,' Harry thought. Duvall didn't seem used to fighting against opponents who could out-spell him.
"Duvall's been knocked off the back end! The match goes to Harry Potter! Potter advances to the finale!" Lazard announced triumphantly.
Harry bowed respectfully and walked back to Sirius with a sigh. He hadn't even worked up a sweat.
Fleur's match began soon after.
Her own opponent was a tall, heavyset boy from Durmstrang named Mikhail Raskov. His build wasn't one that lent itself to dueling as his big frame made for an easy target. However, he made up for it with power. In his previous matches, he was able to use Protego to shield from anything his opponents could throw at him. Just like Duvall's point casting, this simple ability to cast Protego allowed Raskov to dominate the U-15.
Unfortunately for him, Fleur knew the shield-breaking charm. Harry had seen her use it against an earlier opponent.
Speaking of Fleur, Harry observed her closely. She was still restraining her allure. He could see she was tense with the strain already.
He could feel Appoline's gentle allure present. He looked, and the Delacours were there watching with worry.
"Let the match begin!" Mr. Lazard announced.
Fleur went on the offensive immediately, casting several Expelliarmus in succession hoping to get a quick win. Raskov merely shielded, which was able to tank all of them. When she paused to catch her breath, he returned fire with Depulso. Depulso wasn't a spell she could dodge around. It was a wave of force, forcing her to use her own Protego to block it. He was trying to turn the match into an endurance test.
Fleur fought with visible effort. The first round went to Raskov when he broke her shield and sent her tumbling to the ground. The next round Fleur was able to make him slip on ice. She tried to end it with an Expelliarmus, but Raskov rolled out of the way and accidentally fell off the side.
The next two rounds were painfully even. Both of them were at two points. This was now a winner-takes-all situation. And it wasn't looking good with Fleur. She was exhausted, breathing hard, and eyes taut in effort.
"You can do it Fleur!" Her sister Gabrielle called, though she was clutching her father's arm anxiously.
"Begin!" Lazard announced, signifying the start of the final round.
Raskov began with another Depulso once again.
"Protego!" Fleur threw up a hasty shield. The wave of force slammed against the shield, successfully blocked, but it took everything out of her. In that moment of fatigue—Raskov raising his wand again to finish her off—Fleur's control slipped. Her allure rolled out of her in a wave, crashing into the minds of everyone in the stadium. Raskov's eyes turned from victorious glee to devotion, and he lowered his wand.
"Expelliarmus!" Fleur cried.
Raskov's wand flew out of his hand, though Fleur was too tired to cast the spell properly, so it didn't fly back towards her.
In the silent stadium, only the sound of Gabrielle's cheers was heard.
Fleur breathed deeply, and reined her allure back in. The crowd shook themselves out of the stupor, and immediately angry shouts filled the room.
"D-disarmed!" Mr. Lazard announced, shouting over the crowd with the Sonorus charm, "The match goes to Fleur Delacour! Delacour advances to the finale!"
The pushback was instant.
"She's a cheat!"
"Disqualified!"
"She only won because she's a Veela!"
Fleur stood frozen in the center of the platform, wand trembling in her hand. The color drained from her face as the noise grew. Hundreds of voices rising in jeers and accusations. Her eyes darted through the crowd and saw only hate.
She turned and instinctively met her mother's gaze. Appoline's expression was stricken with worry, one hand pressed over her heart. Fleur's breath caught, and she turned away, only to meet Harry's eyes across the arena.
In that instant, Harry could see everything: the shame, the anger, the exhaustion, the sheer frustration breaking through her composure.
The moment broke. The crowd's fury crashed down again, and she flinched as if struck.
Without another word, Fleur turned sharply, her shoulders stiff, and walked off the platform, her pace quickening into a run by the time she reached the exit.
Her family quickly descended from the stands and followed after.