Chapter 36: The Opening
Early in the morning, we stood before the dueling platforms, and I watched with considerable interest as dozens of Veela from the Moscow coven performed something wild and exhilarating. Their dance, combined with the allure they were projecting, was enough to cost me a small measure of control, though it did not take hold the way it did in some of those around me, who looked ready to charge the performers. In my case it simply settled into a wide, rather contented smile.
"Do you like it?"
"Hmm... I would be lying if I said no."
I shrugged at Fleur's question. She was standing to my right; Penny was to my left, shooting sideways glances of obvious displeasure in Fleur's direction. I caught them, and Fleur caught them too, responding with a cool, faintly mocking look that said plainly: I know exactly what you are thinking, and I have no intention of stepping back.
It left me mildly unsettled, though on the other hand, two striking young women competing over you was rather pleasant, truth be told.
"And it does not concern you that those... that they can reduce a man to a drooling, obedient pet?"
Penny did her best to stay polite as she said it. She had clearly swallowed whatever she had actually wanted to say, and I was grateful to her for it.
"Pff!"
Fleur scoffed.
"And ordinary witches cannot do the same?"
"Well,"
"Don't be hasty..."
I shook my head, stopping Penny before she said something she would regret.
"...the fact that it takes quite a bit more effort and time for you doesn't mean you can't manage it. How many cases are there of witches dosing their chosen men? Some do it with care and subtlety, but others..."
I sighed.
"...others go too far and reduce the man to something barely human, nothing left but instinct, all of it focused on one girl. If you don't believe me, look up how many people are admitted to St Mungo's each year for love potion overdoses. Or submit a request to the Auror Office. They don't often respond to that sort of thing, but if they do, they'll tell you how many spiked potion cases are investigated every year."
"But they..."
Genuine uncertainty had crept into Penny's voice. Fleur, for her part, was watching me with quiet surprise and something that looked like gratitude.
"What about them? They are living, reasoning beings just like the two of us. No doubt plenty of them use their gift to better their circumstances, but consider: right now Fleur has her influence focused on me, and her mother and sister are very probably directing theirs at Mr. Delacour."
"That is true..."
Fleur confirmed it with a nod, catching my questioning look.
"...it gives us no pleasure when people start drooling over us. Not that I would hesitate to use it in a duel, but in ordinary life..."
She shook her head.
"...it grows thoroughly tiresome when the person you are speaking to suddenly turns into an idiot. So I am genuinely glad to have met Draco here, someone who can withstand my influence. I could push harder, of course, but that would be... ungracious."
"Ha! Ungracious indeed. His mothers would pull your hair out by the roots."
"Pff! As if that would stop me, if I were the sort of foolish girl who chases after a comfortable life and admirers..."
Meanwhile the dancing continued; the Veelas kept stoking the crowd to a fever pitch while the event's security held the audience back and kept anyone from breaking through to the performers.
"Hmm... I must arrange a small donation..."
I tilted my head slightly.
"...look how hard they are working. And still holding themselves together among the ones who have already lost all restraint. You can see on some of their faces how much they hate it."
"Well, they came here of their own accord..."
Fleur shrugged.
"...no one compelled them. As a rule it is fairly inexperienced girls from the communities who take on this kind of work. Afterwards they tend to go one of two ways: either they want to find that one person who can withstand their allure, or they go entirely the other way. Though there are always some who simply enjoy the attention and keep coming back to it."
"Oh, it looks as though they have finished..."
I noted that the Veelas had made their exit with impressive speed, and a young-sounding male voice filled the air.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the latest International Dueling Tournament!"
The crowd erupted.
"Now, we could of course get straight to the action, but the organizers have asked me to go over the basic rules for those who have competed before, and to explain them to those who are attending for the first time. The first and most important rule: no Unforgivable Curses! Remember, you have not come here to wager your life. You have come to demonstrate your skill, or your superior power. I trust you will all abide by this."
The crowd signaled its loud agreement.
"Rule two: no steel! We are well aware that certain tournaments permit the use of bladed weapons to deflect an opponent's spells, but we believe that mastery of steel is an art in its own right, and here we have gathered specifically to see how you wield magic!"
The crowd was divided on this one. It was a rule that varied from country to country. In some places steel was permitted only for deflection, in others for attack as well, and in others still, as here, it was forbidden entirely.
"Rule three: no artifacts! Before you step onto the platform, you will be searched. You are permitted only your wand and your dueling costume or its equivalent. The costume may be made from any material, but may not be enchanted."
The crowd was nearly unanimous in its approval of this one.
"Rule four: movement is restricted! Almost restricted, to be precise. Each platform will have a chalk circle marked on it, within which you may move freely. For those competing for the first time, this circle will be fifteen paces in diameter. For returning competitors, it will grow progressively smaller, and participants in the oldest age group will have a circle of only two paces across."
Another rule that shifted depending on the country. I had heard that a few years ago, there had been a tournament where competitors were forbidden to move at all, not even to sway to dodge an incoming spell. Rules of that kind tended to be drawn up with an eye on whether steel would be permitted; it would be rather absurd to allow bladed weapons and then confine the duelists to a two-pace circle.
"And the most important rule of the tournament: give us everything you have! On that note, let the first duels begin! In a moment you will see your names and your opponents' names appear above the platforms. Would all participants in the youngest age group please take their places?"
The first bouts were soon underway, but my name was not listed yet, so I settled in to watch one of the fights.
"Studying your opponents?"
"Well..."
I gave a small shrug at Fleur's question.
"He does not need to. Given the abilities of eleven-year-olds who have been studying magic for a full six months, some of them a little more, none of them have the slightest chance against Draco."
"If steel had been allowed, I would agree. I have already seen how he handles it. Not a professional, but considerably better than most of his age, and better than several of my own peers who have devoted themselves to the blade."
I just smiled at that.
"I doubt they had the same advantages I did. Or you..."
I glanced briefly at Fleur.
"...dedicated instructors, wizards who helped with fatigue management, basic restorative potions with no side effects..."
"Most people would just say: muscle-enhancement potions."
Fleur smiled, one corner of her mouth lifting.
"Oh, I wanted them..."
I saw no reason to pretend I hadn't seriously considered the easier path.
"And what stopped you?"
"My mother's."
I said it with a light shrug.
"They forbade it?"
There was a faint edge of sarcasm in Fleur's voice.
"No. They simply sat me down, put the potions I wanted right in front of me, and laid a pamphlet beside them. It explained, in plain language, that the effect of those potions depends enormously on your baseline condition going in. So if I took them when I was already at peak physical condition, the results would be dramatically better."
"Well... not many are prepared to wait and grind themselves to the bone first."
She shrugged.
"I am. It will have a direct bearing on how long I live, among other things. Oh, there's my name."
I nodded toward one of the platforms and walked over without any particular urgency.
I stood before the platform and waited for my opponent, who was making his way to his side with slow, deliberate steps, obviously playing to the audience. He wore an elaborately decorated robe, clearly expensive and, to my mind, entirely graceless.
"Draco Black, Great Britain, instructor Filius Flitwick, versus Pavel Krakow, Poland, instructor Aleksei Tikhiy. To the platform."
I stepped up, watching my opponent carefully. He was patently not taking me seriously.
Once we were both on the platform, examiners approached us in turn and checked us briskly for concealed artifacts.
"Clean."
"Clean."
Both examiners reported in Russian, and the referee raised his wand. A green flame appeared above the platform.
"Duelists, ready."
I settled into the open, easy stance I favored.
My opponent struck a rather theatrical pose, a winner's smile already on his lips.
"Begin!"
"Protego."
"Sbros!"
He was clearly casting in his own language. I grasped the general meaning immediately, but he was weak. Drastically so. I had been fairly certain I would outclass my peers with ease, and the fact that his spell didn't so much as ripple my shield confirmed it. He wasn't an opponent worth worrying about.
With a flick of my wand, I gestured mockingly for him to try again.
"You...!"
I didn't bother to respond. I simply repeated the gesture.
"Sbros! Sbros! Sbros! Vzorvi!"
He began pelting me with spells in rapid succession. I tilted my head slightly, studying his technique. After two minutes of this, I flicked my wand with quiet indifference.
"Expelliarmus."
His wand flew from his hand, and with a second gesture, I dropped my shield and caught it neatly.
"Winner: Draco Black, Great Britain, instructor Filius Flitwick!"
The referee came over at once. I handed him my opponent's wand, bowed politely first to my opponent, then to the referee, then to the audience, and stepped off the platform.
"Not bad at all..."
Fleur gave me a respectful nod.
"I am counting on your bout being equally entertaining."
"I cannot promise that..."
She shrugged slightly.
"My age group contains far more experienced duellists who have been at this for years. All I can say is that I will give it everything I have."
"That will be enough."
I gave a nod, and then Fleur, my friends, and I settled back to watch the remaining bouts. Fleur herself was called up very early in her group's session, and she performed admirably. We did not leave after that; she wanted to study her potential future opponents, and unlike my age group, this bracket was showing markedly higher levels of preparation.
"Well..."
I shook my head as we left the venue.
"...this tournament is going to be very straightforward for me, I suspect."
"That would not be entirely surprising. Your preparation is impressive, and your mentor... Flitwick would not take on an apprentice, let alone put him forward for a tournament of this kind, if he were not capable of winning it."
I shrugged slightly at Fleur's observation.
"I was hoping to find something new here. Something worth learning, or at least something surprising. But..."
I waved my hand in mild resignation.
"Moose!"
The shout made our whole party turn. Before us stood a disheveled man, no longer young, staring at Harry as though he'd seen a ghost.
"You invited him after all?"
"Well... he is Harry's godfather. We felt they both had a right to meet each other."
"Godfather?"
Harry looked from one of my mothers to the other, bewildered.
"Harry, allow me to introduce our rather wayward brother, Sirius Black. He is your godfather. For certain reasons, he has not been able to be part of your life, but that can change now. This is a start, at the very least..."
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