Friendly duelling

When Harry, Neville, and Hermione stepped into the arena, they realised how different it felt compared to the first task.

The massive stands loomed around them, still scorched in places where dragons had once breathed fire.

Now, however, the open centre of the field had been transformed into a duelling space.

Bright banners—silvery blue for Beauxbatons, crimson for Durmstrang, and the gold-and-black crest of Hogwarts—fluttered from conjured poles.

"That's why they didn't take the arena down!" a Gryffindor exclaimed to a friend, gazing at the grand structure.

The three Gryffindors joined the throng of excited students filtering in through the main gates.

Professors Flitwick, Makarov, and Faure stood at the centre of the field, each sporting an air of eager anticipation.

Around them, clusters of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students mingled with their Hogwarts counterparts.

"Blimey," Neville muttered, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as a chill breeze swept by. "At least it's not dragons you're facing this time, Harry," he said, earning a smile from the aforementioned teen.

Hermione's eyes swept over the lines of conjured practice dummies and the freshly painted duelling circles. "It's brilliant, isn't it? This will be our best chance to try and catch up with you, Harry!"

Harry mock-scoffed. "No amount of training will make you as good as me."

Colin Creevey scampered over, camera bouncing against his chest.

He snapped a shot of the new setup, nearly colliding with a Durmstrang boy in the process. "Wow, Harry, look at this! Professor Flitwick's actually set up wards along the stands—safe for spectators. It's going to be amazing!"

His enthusiasm echoed the mood of the crowd.

Up front, Professor Flitwick took a polite step forward, raising his wand to enhance his voice. "Good afternoon, everyone!" he squeaked, and the chatter fell away in a hush. "Welcome to our inaugural session of the Tri-School Duelling Exchange! We thought it fitting to host our meetings in this very arena as it's familiar to many of you, but perhaps not quite in this capacity."

A small ripple of laughter spread through the Hogwarts populace.

Professor Makarov inclined his head in greeting. His thick Durmstrang cloak flapped as the breeze caught it. "I am here to introduce you to the discipline of silent casting," he announced in his clipped accent, eyes roving over the young witches and wizards. "You shall learn to focus your intent inward, that your wand may respond more swiftly and stealthily."

Many of the younger students seemed to jump with delight at that, while the older ones smirked.

Normally, silent casting wasn't taught until the sixth year, as it was a difficult technique to grasp and an impossibly hard one to master…

A swish of turquoise robes drew attention to Professor Faure of Beauxbatons.

She smiled, stepping forward. "Bonsoir, mes chers étudiants. I'm delighted to share with you our tradition of spell choreography—combining refined wand movement with precise incantations. It is as much an art as it is a skill."

Finally, Professor Flitwick, short of stature but brimming with enthusiasm, clapped his hands together. "Indeed! Now, if we might have everyone form groups of two—preferably someone you've not partnered with before. We'll begin with the basics."

With a flick of his wand, Flitwick conjured shimmering lines across the arena's centre, dividing it into neat sections for pairs to practise safely.

A new kind of excited tumult broke out as students scrambled to team up, carefully stepping into the circles.

Hermione almost dragged Neville away, and Harry tried to find Fleur.

'She said she'd be here,' Harry thought, scanning the crowd for her silvery hair.

He spotted Viktor Krum among the Durmstrang students, but Fleur was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe she was running late.

"Alright, now form seven larger groups according to the youngest pair's year!"

The students shuffled around again, merging into larger assemblies based on year levels.

Harry found himself swept into a group of fourth-years, including several Beauxbatons students he didn't recognise.

Fleur was still nowhere in sight, and a Durmstrang boy with close-cropped dark hair gave him a challenging grin as Professor Flitwick began demonstrating the first exercise for the first years.

"What's your name?" Harry asked, studying the boy with curiosity.

"Anton Petrov, fifth-year. It's nice to meet you," the boy replied with a thick accent, twirling his wand between his fingers. "I heard you're cheating and taking the spotlight from the other champions, Potter."

Harry wanted to laugh at the accusation. 'How can anyone believe such a rumour? They literally saw me competing during the whole first task.'

"You're wrong," he replied firmly, maintaining his composure despite the provocation. "I suppose you'll find that out by yourself, though." Anton's expression wavered slightly, but he didn't respond.

They remained silent until Professor Makarov stepped into their section of the arena.

His cold grey eyes swept over Harry, Anton, and the rest of the group. "For the advanced students, we shall demonstrate an elementary nonverbal exchange," he said in a clipped tone.

"Potter, Petrov, you'll demonstrate a friendly duel for the rest. The rest of you: watch, learn, and prepare to attempt it yourselves."

A few Beauxbatons girls whispered excitedly behind their hands, and Anton Petrov simply raised his eyebrows at Harry, as though daring him to back out.

Harry, unbothered by the Durmstrang boy's attitude, nodded curtly.

"Excellent," Makarov said, motioning for them to stand in one of the outlined duelling circles. "Bow, then take your positions. And remember, silent incantations only—if you can manage."

Harry and Anton faced each other. They bowed stiffly—Anton's form a little too crisp, Harry's almost casual—then stepped back, raising their wands.

A hush fell over the nearby onlookers, and Hermione, stationed across the field with Neville, craned her neck to see. Colin had spotted the brewing duel and was manoeuvring for a good camera angle.

Professor Makarov gave a short nod. "Begin."

Anton flicked his wand, lips pressed together.

A sharp, greenish blast shot from the tip—some sort of stinging jinx, by the feel of it.

Harry reacted.

He slashed his wand diagonally, forming a shimmering shield that sprang to life instantaneously.

The jinx clashed against the barrier, dispersing into harmless sparks.

Swiftly, Harry thrust his wand forward, and a streak of red light flashed towards Anton—a simple Disarming Charm.

The Durmstrang boy managed to cast a hurried shield, but Harry's spell punched through it with startling ease, and Anton's wand flew from his grasp.

Anton let out a frustrated growl as it clattered to the arena floor.

A rustle of awe spread through the watchers, some gasping in surprise. The whole exchange had taken less than three seconds.

Professor Makarov's mouth was a flat line, but he inclined his head in grudging approval.

"Not bad," he acknowledged, flicking his wand to retrieve Anton's, which soared through the air back to the boy's hand. "Mr Petrov, while your proficiency in nonverbal casting is abysmal, it's surprising you can even cast without chanting. Mr… Potter?" The Durmstrang professor's stern gaze turned to Harry. "You are clearly more advanced than many of your year-mates."

Professor Makarov then stepped forward to demonstrate silent casting.

He began by demonstrating proper wand movements, emphasising the importance of focus and intent. "The key is to visualise the spell forming within your mind before releasing it," he explained, executing a perfect Shield Charm without uttering a word.

The students watched in rapt attention as he showed them the subtle differences between verbal and nonverbal casting techniques.

Harry simply stood there and watched as Neville and Hermione tried to cast nonverbally.

Professor Faure also came by and showed them an elegant, dance-like approach to duelling.

At first, Harry was quite intrigued by the art, but as the Professor continued instructing them, he concluded that the dance was purely theatrical and stopped paying attention.

When Professor Flitwick finally signalled for everyone to pause, the arena was alive with excitement.

Several students were breathing hard, wands still in hand as they grinned at each other.

"Brilliant first session!" Flitwick declared, voice carrying over the crowd. "You've all done marvellously for a start. Remember to sign up if you haven't yet, and note your practice schedule before our next exchange." He beamed at Professors Makarov and Faure in turn. "All three schools have much to learn from one another."

Professor Faure's turquoise robes shimmered as she stepped forward once more with a soft smile.

She raised her hand delicately, and the murmur of conversation died away.

"In light of the impressive demonstrations we have witnessed today—and to further foster the spirit of camaraderie and excellence between our schools—I am delighted to announce the Tri-School Duelling Tournament."

A wave of excited whispers swept through the crowd, and Harry could see students from all three schools exchanging eager glances.

'And I was beginning to think coming here was a waste of time,' Harry thought with a smirk.

The tournament would be the perfect opportunity to teach some of his fellow students a thing or two about proper duelling.

"It will be a classic tournament with rounds of elimination leading to a grand final," Professor Faure elaborated, her eyes gleaming as she surveyed the arena. "You will each have the chance to prove not only your skill in duelling, but also your ability to remain composed under pressure. I trust you will all rise to the challenge with both vigour and grace."

Professor Makarov stepped forward, his stern expression unchanging. "The tournament will commence next month. Those wishing to participate must submit their names to their respective school heads by Friday evening."

As the overexcited students began filing out of the arena, Harry caught sight of a flash of silvery-blonde hair near the entrance.

Fleur was standing there, looking apologetic as she waved to him. He made his way over to her, curious about why she had missed the session.

Fleur, as it turned out, had missed the first duelling practice because of her father…

She explained that her father had made an unexpected visit to Beauxbatons to discuss the Prophet's article, which had also appeared in the French daily newspaper, La Gazette du Sorcier.

The French article had portrayed her father in a rather unfavourable light, more so than the British one.

Sebastian had been particularly concerned about how the articles might affect his position at the French Ministry. Needless to say, Fleur couldn't care less.

His response only diminished both teens' opinion of him further.

.

.

.

Discord Link... [https://discord.com/invite/NJ3WV9RVgR] -> Come and talk with us!

Patreon Link: [https://www.patreon.com/Mr_0ne] or do a Google search of 'Patreon Fake Violinist'

Chapter 82: Why do you have a horcrux in your house?

Chapter 83: Horcrux Abomination

...

Chapter 90: Two Malfoys in one day—definitely more than enough

WALL OF FAME:

ahmarijah, Caden Skvarcek, Caesar, DOOLEY, Floori, Gapir58, Jeremy Odum, Justin Timothy, Lape99, Logan Petersen, Lucas Clausen, Matthew Haight, NaYati, Nicholas McNamara, Niko, RedStart, Rogue5k, Ryan, Ryan, Sebastian, terrance smith, Zyeith

Immense thanks to all of my patrons because if it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here now <3