First battle

As the morning's haze gave way to the crisp clarity of midday, the tournament grounds, bordered by the lush forests of Ilvermorny, brimmed with an air of expectancy. The crowd, a mosaic of excited faces from all four houses, sat perched like birds ready to witness the spectacle of duels. Among them, I stood, wand in hand, my heart a rhythm of calm and controlled beats.

I stared down at the thin piece of wood nestled between my fingers. It had been a long time.

My opponent, a boy from Wampus house, known for his agility and quick spells, Jenna recited to me earlier, faced me with a smirk that barely concealed his nerves. He was a dancer on the battlefield, swift and unpredictable. But I had my own strengths, unspoken secrets that gave me an edge. Or several.

As the starting signal echoed through the air, his wand flickered to life, casting a barrage of spells. I dodged with ease, my wand responding in kind, sending streams of light across the dueling platform. It was then, in the heat of the moment, that I reached for it, calling upon a skill seldom seen in duels – wandless magic.

With a subtle motion of my free hand, I whispered an incantation, my voice barely audible. From the ground, a stone fist emerged, its form rough and unyielding. As my opponent nimbly moved to sidestep my spell, the stone hand shot up, gripping his ankle with a startling swiftness.

His eyes widened in surprise, a gasp escaping his lips as he toppled over, his wand skittering away. In an instant, more stone hands emerged, wrapping and coiling around his body, rendering him immobile. The crowd gasped, a murmur of awe and disbelief rippling through the stands.

I stood there, relaxed and confident, my wand still raised but now unnecessary. The duel was over as quickly as it had begun. The referee, a stern-faced professor with an eye for detail, declared me the victor. My opponent, released from the stone's grasp, stood up, brushing off his robes, a look of respect replacing his initial smirk.

As I walked back to my friends, their cheers and claps filled the air. Jenna's eyes sparkled with analytical appreciation, Abby's grin spoke of unspoken admiration, and even John, ever the critic, nodded in begrudging approval.

"That was brilliant!" exclaimed Percival, his usual flamboyance taking a back seat to genuine praise. "A blend of traditional and wandless magic! Who would've thought?"

Or was it sarcasm? I thought.

Fred, quiet as always, offered a thumbs-up, though his eyes told a story of terror. Deep, shivering terror. Our days of training had taken, it seemed. Good.

"I always knew there was more to you than just big fancy spells and bravado," Jenna said, her voice laced with excitement.

Abby, ever the duelist, leaned in close. "Teach me that wandless trick sometime, will you?"

As the tournament continued, whispers of my unconventional technique spread like wildfire. Some were curious, others skeptical, but all were undeniably intrigued. In the world of magic, where the expected was often celebrated, I had introduced a ripple of the unexpected.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the tournament grounds. The excitement had not waned; if anything, it had grown, feeding off the day's earlier duels. Now, it was Percival's turn to step into the arena, his moment to shine. With his blonde hair gleaming like spun gold in the sunlight, he strode forward, the embodiment of confidence.

Percival's opponent was a girl from Thunderbird house, known for her precision and strategic thinking. She stood across from him, her stance measured and her eyes sharp. The air was thick with anticipation, the crowd's chatter subsiding into a hush as the duel began.

From the outset, it was clear that Percival's style was unlike any other. He wielded his wand with a flair that bordered on theatrical, his movements exaggerated yet fluid. His spells were not just casts; they were performances, each accompanied by a flourish or a bow, as if he were on stage rather than a dueling platform.

The girl countered with a disciplined approach, her spells sharp and focused. But Percival, ever the showman, turned each encounter into a spectacle. He dodged a jet of water with a pirouette, deflected a stun spell with a twirl of his wand, and even managed to wink at the audience while narrowly escaping a binding curse.

His spells were as flamboyant as his movements. A burst of colorful sparks to distract, a stream of ribbons to entangle, and even a spell that transformed the ground beneath her into a slippery, ice-like surface. The crowd was enthralled, their cheers and laughter fueling Percival's performance.

But beneath the showmanship lay a keen mind and a strategic thinker. Each of Percival's flamboyant spells served a purpose, gradually wearing down his opponent's defenses. His theatricality was not just for show; it was a carefully crafted tactic to unsettle and distract.

The turning point came when Percival, with a dramatic gesture, conjured a blinding flash of light. In that moment of disorientation, he launched a series of rapid spells, a whirlwind of light and motion that left his opponent struggling to keep up.

And then, with a final, elaborate bow, he cast a spell that gently lifted her off her feet and set her down outside the boundaries of the dueling platform. The duel was over. Percival stood victorious, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion, but his grin wide and triumphant.

The applause was thunderous, a testament to not just his skill, but the sheer entertainment he had provided. His friends rushed to congratulate him, their faces alight with pride and amusement.

"That was incredible, Percival!" exclaimed Jenna, her voice tinged with laughter. "You turned a duel into a performance!"

Abby shook her head in disbelief. "I've never seen anyone fight like that. It's like you were dancing with your spells."

"You may be a clown, but you're a least a talented one," John added, a half smile lingering on his lips.

Fred, who had enjoyed the duel in his quiet way, simply clapped Percival on the back, a silent gesture of respect.