The announcement changed Hogwarts almost overnight.
One day, students had been complaining about essays, unfinished homework, and upcoming exams. The next, none of that seemed to matter. Everywhere Helios went, he heard only one topic of conversation.
Dueling.
The notice had appeared simultaneously throughout the castle. Copies were pinned to every major notice board, hung outside classrooms, placed beside the library entrance, and even displayed prominently inside the Great Hall itself.
The announcement was surprisingly brief.
European Under-17 Dueling Championship
Selection Trials in Ten Days
Six Students Will Be Selected
Three Teams of Two
Individual and Team Categories
Professor Flitwick Supervising
That was all it took.
Within hours, the castle was in complete chaos.
Students crowded around notice boards during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Arguments erupted in corridors. Friend groups immediately began debating who would make the team. Some students confidently predicted champions while others insisted their House would dominate the selections.
Even students who had never shown the slightest interest in dueling suddenly became experts.
This wasn't some inter-house competition.
Real competitors. Real champions. Real prestige.
And for the first time in years, Hogwarts is going to participate.
Everyone knew exactly why.
Helios Black.
The connection was so obvious that nobody even bothered pretending otherwise. Before Helios arrived at Hogwarts, organized dueling had barely existed outside occasional classroom demonstrations. Students learned spells, certainly, but few took practical combat seriously.
Now the situation was entirely different.
The Defense Club had become the largest student organization in the castle. Students practiced almost every evening. Informal duels happened between classes. First-years argued over shield charms. Fourth-years discussed counter-curses over lunch. Even older students who normally ignored extracurricular activities found themselves watching practice matches.
Naturally, Helios became the center of attention, much to his eternal frustration. Everywhere he went, someone stopped him.
"Helios, can you watch my duel and tell me where I need to improve?"
"Helios, which shield charm works best against dark cutting curses?"
"Helios, do you think I have a chance at making the team?"
"Helios, can you teach me that spell combination you showed Rose?"
At one point, a determined second-year Hufflepuff chased him through two separate corridors while asking questions about wand movement techniques. The poor boy only gave up when Professor Snape unexpectedly appeared around a corner.
One evening, he entered the Defense Club meeting room and nearly turned around immediately. The moment they noticed him entering, half the room rose from their seats.
"HELIOS!"
He froze.
Then immediately turned around and headed for the door.
"No."
Unfortunately, Rose had anticipated this exact reaction.
She grabbed his sleeve before he could escape.
"You are not leaving."
"I suddenly remembered I have homework."
"You finished your homework three days ago."
"I'll find more."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Get inside."
Reluctantly, Helios allowed himself to be dragged into the room.
Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick was having the time of his life.
The tiny professor seemed rejuvenated. For the first time in decades, students genuinely wanted to learn advanced dueling. They weren't attending because they had to. They attended because they wanted to improve.
Every practice session became a spectacle.
Flitwick organized practice arenas, ranking ladders, challenge matches, and evaluation sessions. Students began tracking victories and defeats. Spectators appeared simply to watch.
The Defense Club slowly transformed into something resembling a miniature dueling academy.
Flitwick personally supervised most matches.
"Excellent footwork, Miss Fairburn!"
"Mr. Jenkins, if your shield gets any slower, I shall need a calendar to measure it!"
"Stop posing dramatically and cast the spell properly!"
His enthusiasm proved contagious.
The closer the selection trials approached, the more serious everything became.
Unofficial rankings began forming naturally.
Several names appeared repeatedly whenever students discussed likely candidates.
Rose Potter.
Marcus Vane, a talented sixth-year Ravenclaw.
Emily Fairburn, a seventh-year Hufflepuff with exceptional defensive skills.
Several strong Slytherins.
And, naturally, Helios Black.
Helios occupied a strange position. Technically, he still needed to participate in the trials.
Realistically, everyone knew he would make the team.
Even Professor Flitwick openly admitted it.
"If Mr. Black somehow fails to qualify," the professor announced during one practice session, "I shall personally retire from teaching."
Even Helios couldn't completely suppress a smile.
Unfortunately, another problem quickly emerged.
Everyone wanted Helios as their practice partner.
Rose wanted to spar against him.
Neville constantly asked for defensive advice.
Hermione wanted explanations regarding advanced spell interactions.
Ravenclaws approached him with theoretical questions.
Slytherins challenged him to practice matches.
Within a few days, it became completely impossible.
Eventually, Helios solved the problem in the simplest way possible.
He stopped helping individuals.
Instead, every question became a lesson for the entire club.
If someone wanted advice about shield charms, Helios conducted a lecture on shield theory. If someone asked about disarming techniques, everyone received a demonstration.
Questions about positioning became lessons on battlefield movement. Questions about spell combinations became practical workshops.
The Defense Club grew even larger.
Students who had no intention of competing still attended simply to listen. Others came for entertainment. Practice matches attracted spectators from every House.
People cheered during particularly impressive duels.
Arguments about rankings became common.
Fred and George Weasley even started selling prediction sheets listing likely championship candidates.
Professor McGonagall confiscated the first batch.
The twins simply printed more.
One evening, after a particularly intense series of practice matches, the club finally began dispersing. Students slowly filtered out while discussing tactics, arguing over rankings, and debating possible team compositions.
Helios remained behind, repairing damaged training dummies with a series of quick spells.
Professor Flitwick stood nearby watching him thoughtfully. Eventually, the professor cleared his throat.
"Mr. Black."
Helios looked up immediately.
"Professor?"
Flitwick folded his hands behind his back and stared across the practice arena.
"I have been teaching for many years."
Helios immediately became suspicious. Whenever a professor began a conversation that way, something was coming.
"And?"
A smile appeared beneath Flitwick's mustache.
"And I believe Hogwarts finally has a chance."
Helios paused.
"A chance at what?"
Instead of answering immediately, Flitwick looked around the room. At the repaired practice dummies. At the marked dueling circles. At the students still lingering in small groups discussing strategies.
"The championship."
Helios returned his attention to the training dummy he was repairing.
"Let's qualify first."
But neither of them truly believed qualification would be the difficult part.
For the first time in many years, Hogwarts wasn't traveling to a championship simply to make an appearance.
They were traveling with a genuine chance of winning.
And judging by the excitement spreading through every corridor in the castle, the students knew it too.
The Ministry of Magic hated the Defense Club.
That much had become obvious to everyone paying attention.
Ever since the club's creation, various Ministry departments had attempted to interfere with it in one way or another. At first, they questioned its safety. Then they argued that students were being exposed to dangerous spells. When that failed, they claimed Hogwarts professors were encouraging violence among the student body. Every few days a new complaint appeared, dressed in different language but carrying exactly the same message.
Shut it down.
At the center of nearly every complaint stood one woman.
Dolores Umbridge.
The former High Inquisitor had not forgotten her humiliation at Hogwarts, nor had she forgiven the students who had openly rejected her authority. Every few days another owl arrived at the Ministry carrying fresh reports, recommendations, and demands. She complained that the Defense Club promoted anti-Ministry sentiment. She argued that practical combat training encouraged reckless behavior. She insisted the club undermined educational standards established by the Ministry.
The letters never stopped.
Normally, that might have been enough. In Britain's magical government, persistence often mattered more than competence. Unfortunately for Umbridge, something happened that changed the situation entirely.
The announcement of the European Under-Seventeen Dueling Championship became public.
The moment that happened, the entire conversation shifted.
The Ministry of Magic could be incompetent. It could be corrupt. It could be blinded by politics and bureaucracy.
But the Ministry loved prestige.
Prestige meant influence. Influence meant power. And power almost always meant money.
Cornelius Fudge understood that better than most.
The Minister sat alone in his office one afternoon, reading through a stack of reports from Hogwarts. One detailed the explosive growth of the Defense Club. Another discussed student participation levels. A third contained projections regarding the upcoming championship and public interest surrounding the event.
By the time he finished reading, a smile had appeared on his face.
Not because he cared about education. Certainly not because he cared about student development.
He smiled because he saw opportunity.
International competitions attracted attention. Magical businesses sponsored competitors. Newspapers covered events. Foreign investors arrived. Visitors traveled from other countries. Betting houses operated around the clock.
And if Hogwarts performed well, the Ministry would receive the credit.
If Hogwarts won, the Ministry would receive even more credit.
If a British student became champion, Cornelius Fudge could practically see the newspaper headlines already.
British Dueling Excellence Restored.
Youth Development Flourishes Under Fudge Administration.
The articles almost wrote themselves.
More importantly, Fudge understood something else.
His position was becoming unstable.
The Sirius Black situation refused to disappear. The Daily Prophet had become increasingly difficult to control. Rumors about Voldemort's return continued spreading despite official denials. Every month brought fresh scandals, new criticisms, and growing political opposition.
Sooner or later, somebody would replace him.
Fudge wasn't blind enough to ignore reality forever.
But if his time as Minister was limited, then he intended to profit from it while he still could.
The interruption came shortly after lunch.
The door to his office burst open and Dolores Umbridge marched inside carrying another stack of parchments.
"Minister!"
Fudge immediately closed his eyes.
He didn't even need to ask.
"What is it this time, Dolores?"
"The Defense Club."
Fudge resisted the urge to sigh.
"It continues to grow," Umbridge said sharply.
"Yes."
"They are teaching practical combat."
"Yes."
"They are openly undermining Ministry educational policy."
"Yes."
"They need to be stopped."
Fudge stared at her for several seconds before asking a completely unrelated question.
"Do you know how many schools are attending the championship?"
Umbridge blinked.
"What?"
"The championship."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Fudge leaned back comfortably in his chair and tossed a parchment across the desk. Umbridge caught it automatically and glanced down.
Almost immediately her expression darkened.
"Minister—"
"No."
"But—"
"No."
"The club stays."
Umbridge stared at him.
For perhaps the first time, she realized something important.
Fudge wasn't ignoring her because he disagreed.
He was ignoring her because he no longer cared.
The Defense Club had become profitable.
And Cornelius Fudge had always loved profitable things.
The Minister rose from his chair and walked toward the window overlooking the Ministry atrium below.
"Think about it, Dolores."
He gestured broadly.
"Hogwarts competes."
He smiled.
"Hogwarts wins."
His smile widened.
"We haven't enjoyed this kind of publicity in years."
Umbridge clenched her jaw.
"But Black is involved."
Fudge paused briefly.
"So?"
The answer genuinely shocked her.
"Helios Black is dangerous."
"Perhaps."
"He challenges authority."
"Most teenagers do."
"He embarrassed me."
Fudge looked unimpressed.
"Half the country is embarrassing somebody these days."
Returning to his desk, he casually dropped her newest complaint onto a large pile of parchment. Only then did Umbridge truly notice the size of it.
Every document carried her signature.
Every complaint.
Every recommendation.
Every demand.
Completely ignored.
Fudge had not even bothered reading most of them.
"The club stays," he repeated while reaching for another report. "The championship proceeds. And if Hogwarts wins something, then Britain wins."
A greedy smile slowly appeared on his face.
"And if Britain wins, everyone benefits."
Umbridge knew that expression. She had seen it countless times throughout her career. It was the look Cornelius Fudge always wore whenever money entered the conversation.
For several long moments she simply stood there.
Then she turned and left.
Furious.
As she walked through the Ministry corridors, one realization continued echoing through her thoughts.
The Defense Club wasn't going away.
Helios Black wasn't going away.
And worst of all, every passing day seemed to make him more popular.
Author's Note:
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