Chapter 210: Chapter 210: "Group Stages and Early Victories"
The morning of the first matches dawned bright and clear. Harry awoke early, his nerves tingling with anticipation. After a light breakfast and a pep talk from both Sirius and Flitwick, he made his way to the Palais de Duel.
The interior had been transformed overnight. Where there had been a grand ballroom, now stood multiple dueling platforms, each surrounded by shimmering protective barriers. Spectators filled the stands, their excited chatter creating a constant buzz of background noise.
Harry couldn't help but compare it with the two other dueling tournaments he had attended. Everything was superior; the venue, the audience, and the palpable excitement. He was ready for battle.
Harry's group consisted of four duelists: himself, a stoic Russian wizard named Dmitri Volkov, a flamboyant Italian witch called Lucia Caruso, and a methodical German duelist, Hans Schmidt. As the youngest by far, Harry could feel the skeptical glances from his opponents. They had heard he was an Under-17 European dueling champion who had bested some Death Eaters, but this wasn't enough to deter duelists with over seven years of experience.
Harry's first match was against Lucia. As they took their positions, she flashed him a dazzling smile. "Try not to cry when you lose, piccolo," she teased.
Harry's response was a slight smile and a nod. She wasn't his enemy; there was no need to respond and antagonize his opponent.
The commentator's voice boomed through the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen, our next match pits the young prodigy Hadrian Potter against the dazzling Lucia Caruso!"
As soon as the starting signal sounded, Harry was in motion. Lucia's style was all flash and showmanship, her spells bright and attention-grabbing. But Harry had faced far worse than pretty lights.
With a series of quick, precise movements, Harry dismantled Lucia's defenses. Her spells were showy but lacked power. When Harry applied a little effort, her defenses crumbled.
Harry played around, learning Lucia's spells and assessing their usefulness. When he'd had enough, he decided to end it. A well-timed Expelliarmus, hidden in the wake of a more showy spell, caught her off guard. Her wand flew from her hand and out of the dueling platform.
"Unbelievable! Potter ends the match with a textbook Expelliarmus! Caruso never saw it coming!"
The match was over in less than three minutes. The crowd, initially buzzing with excitement over Lucia's spectacular display, fell silent for a moment before erupting in cheers.
Lucia stared at Harry in shock as she was handed back her wand. "How... that's impossible," she muttered, unable to believe she'd been so easily defeated by a 16-year-old.
As Harry walked away from the platform he could sense more eyes on himself. His status had now been elevated from a lucky kid to a somewhat difficult kid in their minds.
Harry's next match, against Hans, proved a little more challenging. The German's style was the polar opposite of Lucia's – all efficiency and precision.
"Schmidt opens with a barrage of stunners! But Potter's shield charm holds strong!" the commentator shouted over the crowd's roars.
For several minutes, they traded spells, neither gaining a clear advantage. Harry was going easy in the early stages, here to learn and grow, not bulldoze his way to the top.
"It's a deadlock, folks! Neither duelist is giving an inch!"
After a few minutes, Harry saw an opening and decided to end it. As Hans cast a particularly complex shield charm, Harry unleashed a barrage of lightning-fast stunners.
"Merlin's beard! Potter's wand is a blur! I've never seen spells cast this quickly!"
The rapid-fire assault overwhelmed Hans's defenses, and he fell to the platform, stunned.
"It's over! Potter takes down Schmidt with a stunning display of speed and precision!"
The final group match against Dmitri was the toughest yet. The Russian favored powerful, brutal spells that tested the limits of what was allowed in the tournament.
"Volkov's spells are shaking the very platform! But Potter stands firm!"
Harry found himself on the defensive more than he liked, forced to conjure physical barriers to block spells that would shatter most magical shields.
But Harry had an ace up his sleeve. As Dmitri prepared for another devastating attack, Harry appeared to have disapparated with a crack.
"Potter's vanished! No, wait! It's an illusion!"
This was just an illusion spell Harry used to hide his presence. When his opponent was confused, he reappeared behind him. Before Dmitri could react, Harry had disarmed him and bound him in conjured ropes.
"Incredible! Potter wins with a display of magical prowess rarely seen in one so young!"
The crowd went wild. Harry had won all his group matches in spectacular fashion. As he left the platform, whispers spread through the audience.
"Did you see that?"
"He's just a kid!"
"Could he actually win this thing?"
Sirius was beaming with pride as Harry returned to their viewing box. "Brilliant work, pup! You've got them all talking now."
Flitwick nodded in agreement, though his expression was more measured. "Excellent performance, Harry. But remember, the real challenge begins in the knockout stages. Your opponents will only get tougher from here."
Harry nodded, accepting a bottle of water from an organizer. "I know, Professor. I'm ready for it."
As the day's matches concluded, the brackets for the knockout stages were announced. Harry found himself facing a former French Auror in the round of 32, a man with a reputation for cunning tactics and unpredictable spell combinations.
That night, as Harry lay in bed reviewing his performance and planning for the next day, he felt a surge of excitement for the upcoming matches. He had passed the first hurdle with flying colors, but the real test was yet to come. The knockout stages would provide more promising competition.
But as sleep finally claimed him, a small smile played on his lips. He was Harry Potter, and there was no challenge he couldn't overcome. Tomorrow would bring new battles, new lessons, and new opportunities to prove himself on the grand stage of European dueling.
Chapter 211: Chapter 211: "Rising Through the Ranks"
The knockout stages of the European Dueling Championship brought a new level of intensity to the competition. The Palais de Duel thrummed with energy as spectators and competitors alike anticipated the day's matches.
Harry's first opponent in the Round of 32 was Jean-Pierre Dubois, a former French Auror known for his unpredictable dueling style. As they took their positions on the platform, Harry could feel the weight of expectation from the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a treat for you today!" the commentator's voice boomed. "The young prodigy Hadrian Potter faces off against the unpredictable Jean-Pierre Dubois!"
The duel began, and immediately Harry understood Dubois' reputation. The Frenchman's spells came in erratic patterns, mixing standard dueling fare with obscure jinxes and hexes.
"Incroyable! Dubois opens with a barrage of spells I've never seen before!" the commentator exclaimed. "Potter is on the defensive, folks!"
For the first few minutes, Harry found himself purely on the defensive, conjuring shields and dodging spells. But as the duel wore on, he began to see the method in Dubois' madness. There was a rhythm to the chaos, a pattern hidden beneath the apparent randomness.
"Wait a moment... Potter seems to have found his footing! He's anticipating Dubois' moves now!"
Seizing his moment, Harry launched a counterattack. He interspersed his own unpredictable spells with carefully timed lightning attacks, the crackling energy catching Dubois off guard.
"Sacrebleu! Potter is wielding lightning itself! I've never seen anything like it!"
With a final, powerful burst of lightning, Harry shattered Dubois' shield and disarmed him in one fluid motion. The crowd erupted in cheers as Harry was declared the winner.
"C'est incroyable," Dubois muttered as they shook hands, his accent thick with admiration. "You 'ave a bright future, young man."
As Harry and Dubois stepped down from the platform, they were met by a man accompanied by a familiar beauty - Fleur Delacour, who had only grown more enchanting since Harry last saw her.
Fleur's eyes flashed with indignation as she addressed Harry, her English accented but clear. "Why were you not at ze Under-17 championship last year? You ran away from our promised battle. I was waiting to take my revenge!"
Harry replied with a small smile playing on his lips. "Nice to meet you too, Miss Delacour. But as you can see, the Under-17 tournament was no longer a challenge for me. For greater duels and more chances to learn, I began participating in the adult dueling scene."
Before Fleur could retort, the man beside her interjected. "'Fleur, I did not know you were familiar wiz Monsieur Potter," he said, his tone curious.
Fleur tossed her silvery hair, her frustration evident. "I am not familiar wiz 'im, Papa. 'E just defeated me in a duel wiz a sneak attack and did not participate last year when I wanted to take my revenge."
Dubois, still catching his breath from the duel, chimed in. "I am sorry to break it to you, Mademoiselle Delacour, but you are no match for young Monsieur Potter 'ere. As you can see, 'e defeated me fair and square in a duel."
Fleur's eyes narrowed. "Zat doesn't mean I cannot defeat 'im. Even you lost to me one time."
Dubois' face reddened slightly, remembering how he, like many others, had fallen victim to her uncontrolled allure.
Fleur's father, sensing the tension, addressed Harry. "I am sorry about zis, Monsieur Potter, to keep you 'ere. You can go ahead and 'ave some rest for your next battle. Fleur, if you want to defeat Monsieur Potter, you will 'ave a chance later in ze year. Be patient."
Fleur's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Really? Is zis ze secret you are keeping from me? Why can't you just tell me ze secret?"
Harry just smiled and walked away, knowing Monsieur Delacour was referring to the Triwizard Tournament. But Harry's mind was already focused on the events that would unfold around the tournament, rather than the competition itself.
Back at his resting area, he was met with a grinning Sirius. "Who was that, Harry? Have you got your first fan? She's really beautiful."
Harry chuckled. "Not a fan. Just a sore loser from a previous tournament. You remember Fleur Delacour, don't you?"
Sirius' eyes widened in recognition. "The veela who defeated everyone with her allure? But this doesn't look like a coincidence. Maybe she likes you and wants an excuse to talk to you."
Harry shook his head, amused. "Whatever. I don't have time for relationships. Becoming stronger is more important."
Sirius sighed dramatically. "You're boring, you know that, Harry?"
---
The Round of 16 brought Harry face to face with Anastasia Petrova, a fierce Russian witch with a penchant for elemental magic. As they bowed to each other, Harry could feel the air around her shimmer with heat.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have Hadrian Potter, the young lightning wielder, facing off against Anastasia Petrova, the mistress of elemental magic!" the commentator announced, his voice filled with excitement.
The duel began, and Anastasia immediately conjured a ring of fire around herself. Flames lashed out like whips, forcing Harry to stay mobile.
"Incredible! Petrova has surrounded herself with a ring of fire! How will Potter respond?"
Harry countered with jets of water and gusts of wind, turning the platform into a maelstrom of elemental fury. Steam hissed and billowed as water met fire, creating a foggy battlefield.
"It's like watching the forces of nature themselves do battle! Potter and Petrova are evenly matched!"
For several intense minutes, they traded blows, neither gaining a clear advantage. Petrova's fire snaked out in tendrils, seeking to ensnare Harry, while his lightning crackled and danced, threatening to pierce her defenses.
"The air itself is charged with magic! I've never seen such a display of elemental control!"
Then Harry saw his opening. As Anastasia prepared a particularly large fireball, gathering flames between her hands, he made his move.
"Petrova is charging up for a massive attack! This could be the end for Potter!"
In a crack of displaced air, Harry disappeared once again in a duel, leaving the audience gasping in shock.
"Potter's vanished! Where could he be?"
He reappeared directly above Anastasia, his wand already in motion. A powerful water charm erupted from its tip, a veritable deluge descending upon the Russian witch.
"Merlin's beard! Potter's above her! It's raining on the dueling platform!"
Steam exploded outward as the water extinguished Anastasia's flames. In the moment of confusion, Harry struck again. A quick Expelliarmus ended the match, Anastasia's wand flying into his waiting hand.
The crowd was on its feet, roaring with approval. Harry had just defeated one of the tournament favorites in a display of magical mastery rarely seen from one so young.
"It's over! Potter wins in spectacular fashion!" the commentator exclaimed, his voice echoing through the arena. "But wait... what's this? Potter is hovering above the platform!"
The spectators gasped and murmured in awe as they watched Harry floating effortlessly a few feet above the dueling stage. The sight of a wizard suspended in mid-air without a broom was uncommon enough to draw attention, even if it wasn't entirely unheard of.
Recognizing that he might have revealed more than intended, Harry quickly descended to the platform. He had only meant to demonstrate a brief moment of levitation, not to showcase any extraordinary flying abilities. After all, while many skilled wizards could manage a short hover, true flight was a rare and closely guarded skill.
As he touched down, Harry maintained a composed expression, acting as if the brief display of levitation was nothing out of the ordinary. He knew that while impressive, this demonstration wasn't revealing any of his more potent secrets. The ability to actually fly unaided would remain hidden for now, a trump card to be used only when absolutely necessary.
As Harry progressed through the tournament, whispers began to circulate. Some claimed he was the second coming of Dumbledore, others whispered that he must be using dark magic to achieve such feats at his age. But all agreed on one thing: Harry Potter was a force to be reckoned with, and the dueling world would never be the same.
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