Chapter 21: Flames of Glory - Day Two of the Under-17 European Dueling Tournament
-----
The second day of the European Under-17 Dueling Tournament dawned crisp and golden, with a light breeze rustling through the marble flags of the French hosting grounds. Excitement thrummed in the air as the semifinal duels approached, the chatter of magical dignitaries, professors, and students mixing in an electric murmur.
Harrison Strange Potter stood in the preparation tent, his shoulders relaxed but his amethyst and sapphire eyes focused. Cloaked in his sleek dueling robes trimmed in starlight silver, he was every bit the champion. Around him, nervous tension buzzed from the other semifinalists, but Harrison remained silent, centering himself through measured breaths and quiet incantations of Egyptian and eldritch origin.
Outside, the enchanted stands were packed to capacity. Penelope and Clarissa sat at the front, hands clasped tightly in excitement. Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Luna, Daphne, Astoria, Harry, and Neville waved a magically conjured Gryffindor flag that bore Harrison's name in glowing red letters. Beside them, Professor Flitwick, Sirius Black, and even Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons had come to watch.
"First match of the semifinals: Harrison Strange Potter versus Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons!" boomed the announcer, a retired French champion with a magically enhanced voice.
The crowd roared.
Fleur stepped into the dueling ring, her silvery hair cascading behind her like a moonlit waterfall. She wore blue and silver robes that shimmered with enchantments, her face the picture of ethereal beauty. The Vella charm radiated off her in waves.
But Harrison didn't flinch.
He stepped into the ring with quiet grace, offering a respectful nod. Fleur blinked, slightly surprised by his lack of reaction. Most boys melted under her charm. This one barely noticed.
"Ready?" the referee—a senior auror from the ICW—asked.
"Oui," Fleur said smoothly.
"I am," Harrison replied with calm finality.
"Begin!"
Fleur moved fast, conjuring a stream of blue flame in a sinuous arc toward Harrison's chest. Harrison dodged with the agility of a trained swordsman, his wand cutting a sigil in the air. The flame met a mirror-like eldritch barrier and dissipated harmlessly.
Then, he struck.
A silent spell—an ancient Egyptian binding chain—shot from his wand, wrapping Fleur's arms. She severed them with a flash of wind, but Harrison was already mid-incantation. A circle of cosmic runes shimmered beneath her feet and launched her into the air.
Gasps filled the arena.
Fleur corrected her fall with a levitation charm but barely avoided Harrison's next spell—an explosive arc of Eldrich starlight that turned half the dueling stage to crystal.
She landed, panting, eyes narrowing. "You are... resistant to my charm."
"It's not personal," Harrison said coolly. "Just focused."
She growled and unleashed a flurry of lightning bolts, but Harrison turned and drew the air around him into a protective vortex. With a flick of his fingers, his wand glowed violet. He whispered a single word in Ancient Tongue—"Restituere."
A spectral hawk of Horus materialized above the arena, diving with precision. It struck Fleur's wand arm, sending her wand clattering across the marble.
The crowd froze.
The referee stepped in. "Match over! Harrison Strange Potter advances to the finals!"
A roar of applause shook the arena.
Fleur stormed to her wand, cheeks flushed in anger. "You... you were unaffected by me!" she hissed.
Harrison shrugged. "Vella charm doesn't compare to the will of a sorcerer who's already bound to a goddess."
"You think you're better than me?"
"I know I'm stronger," he replied, not with cruelty, but with unshakable certainty.
Fleur stared at him, a mix of fury and intrigue battling in her eyes. She turned on her heel and left the arena, hair whipping behind her.
Back in the stands, Penelope grinned. "Well, that was satisfying."
Clarissa laughed. "I've never seen someone shut down a Vella tantrum that fast."
Harrison rejoined his group in the stands, greeted with cheers and hugs. Sirius clapped him on the shoulder.
"That was the best display of raw magical dominance I've seen in years."
Professor Flitwick wiped a tear from his eye. "Marvelous technique! The hawk spell! Brilliant use of inter-magical integration."
"Thanks," Harrison said, modestly, though a slight grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
They turned their attention to the second semifinal.
A boy from Durmstrang stepped into the ring. Tall, pale, with a hawk-like nose and eyes filled with arrogance—Viktor Taranov. He easily dispatched his opponent with brutal efficiency, using fire whips and chained hexes. He barely broke a sweat.
"That's your opponent tomorrow," Sirius noted, nodding to Viktor. "He's not subtle. Power brute."
Harrison observed quietly. "He'll be easy to manipulate. He's all emotion, no discipline."
As the sun set over the dueling grounds, the first day ended in triumph. Harrison sat beneath the stars later that night, his friends around him. Penelope nestled close on his left, Clarissa on his right.
"You weren't tempted by Fleur at all?" Penelope teased.
"No," he answered simply. "There's no illusion that can match the truth of what I already have."
Clarissa smiled, leaning her head against him.
Tomorrow would be the final challenge. And Harrison was ready.