Brace yourselves. It's everybody's favorite arc.
(Word Count: 1,743)
The next day, it was finally time for the dueling tournament. They had met up with Flitwick early that morning and made their way to the venue.
It was a large open building that contained several small stadiums. Each stadium contained two dueling stages parallel to each other a decent ways away. Then there was the main central stadium, which was reserved for the adult dueling circuit when it was hosted in France. It was like the Olympics in a way, with several different countries taking turns hosting it. Though, of course, it was nowhere near the scale of the actual Olympics. In fact, the dueling circuits were held together like this because no country had enough contestants on their own to have their own tournaments before coming to the international scale. So they skipped the lower level tournaments altogether and pooled together everyone for a large month long tournament.
This was only feasible because of how much easier it was to travel with magic. In the muggle world, such a small sporting scene would remain as local events with maybe 5-10 people and be over by the end of the day.
"The U-15's here in this room," the attendant that was showing them the way gestured to one of the smaller stadium rooms. "You'll need to check in at the desk to get your number. The first rounds begin in one hour. Though, the first rounds are over the course of this next week, so don't be surprised if you have to wait a couple of days before you get your turn."
With that, she walked away, leaving them to their own devices.
Sirius pushed the door open, and entered the stadium. The stadium was filled with people from all over the world. Harry could pick out people from India, Egypt, Bulgaria, even some groups from East Asia. Most were up in the bleachers, guests who came to watch, but even with the worldwide audience, the bleachers were still half empty. It really was a dying sport.
However, perhaps not so surprisingly, for the crowd that was here there were very few wrackspurts around. The people here were filled with anticipation and excitement, so there weren't very many emotions that appealed to them.
Right in the entrance, there was a welcome desk with several attendants. It looked like there was someone from each participating country at the desk, so language barriers weren't an issue.
When they approached, an English looking attendant spoke. "Welcome! Visitors or participants?"
"Participants! One Harry James Potter-Black," Flitwick answered.
At Harry's name, he lit up. He excitedly rose to his feet and grabbed Harry's hand, shaking it warmly. "So it's you! It really is an honor, Mister Potter! An honor! I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that you had enrolled! I'm sure you'll do great!"
"Um… Thanks. I'll do my best," Harry said, awkwardly pulling his hand away.
The man smiled proudly. "Of course! You're the Boy-Who-Lived after all! And you're trained by the famous Professor Flitwick himself! It seems like we're finally going to have a win, after all this time!"
Flitwick spoke up. "Ahem, would you mind giving us Harry's number and schedule? We wouldn't want to keep you for too long."
"Ah! Right, sorry. I got a bit… carried away." The man rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and sat back down. "Right, Harry Potter. You're number 13, unlucky that is, and here's your schedule. Your first match is actually today! When the organizers saw your name, they wanted to put you up front and center first thing. Actually, you should be expecting one of them to come talk to you pretty soon. I'm sure they're going to want you to do some interviews for them. Knowing them, they've already reached out to any newspapers they can get to promote you." The man leaned in conspiratorially, "Between you and me, I think they're hoping your presence can revitalize the sport. Not that I can blame them! I mean, just look around. It's a tragedy. I'm sure they're going to be a bit pushy, Mister Potter, Lord Black, though I hope you can forgive them."
Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Yeah, I sorta figured this would happen. Don't worry, I don't mind doing an interview or two. As long as they don't go overboard."
"Yes!" The man cheered. "Thank you, Mister Potter!"
They hurriedly left the overly excited man and went to the back locker rooms. "Well, that was something," Harry said.
"Don't stress yourself too much, Harry," Flitwick said, "We knew this would happen."
"I know," Harry said. "Watch my trunk for me? I need to get changed."
"Sure thing, Harry," Sirius said.
Harry pulled off his shrunken trunk and enlarged it on the floor and climbed into his wardrobe room. When Arcturus learned he would be participating in a dueling tournament, he had insisted he get a proper dueling robe. He hated the muggle sports clothes Harry always wore in his training, and didn't want him representing House Black looking like that.
At first, Harry felt like Lockhart, dressed up as a show pony. But when he first tried them on, he couldn't help but feel confident. Dueling robes had a bit of a military cut to them, so he felt like he was ready for war. It even came with a cape that came down on one side. Both on the cape and over his left breast were the sigils of House Potter and House Black.
He laced up his boots and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a bit messy, but in a good way. He looked princely.
He exited the trunk and put it back around his neck.
"How do I look?" Harry said cockily, doing a slow spin for them to see.
"Like you can take on the world!" Sirius grinned and whistled. "The ladies won't be able to take their eyes off of you!"
"Those interviews won't pose a problem with you dressed up like that!" Fliwick said.
They made their way back outside the locker room and sure enough, just as the welcome desk attendant had said, there were several people waiting for him. Several of them were reporters, with floating quills ready to write down every word and a camera guy behind them to capture the moment. They were already snapping pictures, sending bright flashes and bursts of smoke
The one that looked to be in charge stepped forward with an eager smile. They shook hands. He was obviously French, but surprisingly he spoke with barely any accent at all. "Mister Potter! It truly is an honor to welcome you to the dueling circuits! My name is Elise Lazard. I am the head organizer of this small event. I hope, if you don't mind of course, that you would be welcome to say a few words for the newspapers? Don't worry! I've told them to be quick, so you'll have plenty of time before your first match!"
"I don't mind, Mr. Lazard," Harry said. "I can answer a few questions."
Immediately the reporters surged forward, and the camera men snapped off a new round of pictures. They fired off a bunch of questions, but they were speaking over each other.
"One at a time, please! Let's start with you, on the right, then we'll work our way over. Alright?"
The lady on the far right stepped forward. "Mister Potter, why did you join the dueling circuits?"
"I joined the dueling circuits because when learning self defense from my godfather, Sirius, I found that I really enjoyed it, so I thought why not? I know dueling isn't the most popular sport, but I don't mind," Harry said. He turned to the next reporter. "Your turn."
"How do you feel about your chances of taking first place?"
"I've trained long and hard for today, under the guidance of Professor Flitwick here. With his advice, I feel very confident that I'll be able to win. Next."
"Are you using this as a way to train to become an auror?"
"I have no plans to become an auror. I plan on taking up my family's seat on the Wizangamot when I turn 15."
"Any comment on the competition?"
"I haven't had the time to see who else is in the running, so the only name I know of is last year's U-15 winner, Fleur Delacour. From the looks of the schedule, we'll be facing each other in the finals. I look forward to facing her then."
Speaking of Fleur Delacour, he hadn't seen her yet. Though considering they were on opposite sides of the brackets—It seemed like Mr. Lazard wanted them to only face each other in the finals itself—it's likely she wouldn't be showing up today.
The interview went on for another 10 minutes, with them asking a wide range of questions from how he trained to his favorite spell.
When it was done, they made their way to the seats nearby. A few moments later, Mr. Lazard hopped onto one of the dueling tables in the center. He held a wand to his throat, "Welcome! Welcome one and all to this year's tournament! I'm your host, Elise Lazard! Today, we welcome our judges and spell experts, Messieurs Robards, Gaseling, and Arjun, as well as the lovely lady, Madam Nefertiti Fahmy!" Lazard gestured to one of the side entrances and four older wizards, and one old witch came in. It looked like they had a judge from the different countries, each one knowledgeable of the spells commonly used in their own country.
"And, of course, we can't forget about our friends from Wizarding Wireless! We have our commentator, Mr. Canards, with us today. Let's give them all a warm welcome!"
Mr. Canards was already sitting at a side table, where he was fiddling with five old timey microphones set out along the table, one microphone for each person. The four judges went to sit next to him.
"The match schedules are posted over by the front desk. If you haven't gotten one already, be sure to grab one. Now, without further ado, the very first match will begin! One of the contestants is someone many of us have heard already, Harry Potter!" Many in the crowd burst into cheers, the rest murmured excitedly. It seemed his reputation went beyond just the UK and France. "Let's welcome him onto the stage!"