CHAPTER SEVEN: Against All Odds
Faith.
William stood in front of the mirror and fidgeted with his cravat. He was trying on various dress robes, attempting to pick one for the ball that would be held the following week. Normally, he was not so fussy about what he woreâ”his upbringing allowed him the good fortune of being able to pull off most styles with a casual elegance. However, the champions and their partners would be opening the ball with a dance, and William wanted his attire to match his place on the scoreboard.
That place was second, but very nearly first. Gregorovitch had won the second task in February with a near-perfect 48 points, but William had done a respectable job and scored a 42. That, combined with Georgeâs first place in the first task had left Hogwarts and Durmstrang neck-and-neck. Poor Remy, who had gotten the bad end of a Cantarius flower in the second task, was hovering below them, solidly in third.
As each day passed, William allowed himself to think that he could really win the whole thing. Against all odds, he had succeeded in being named champion and was within striking distance. Could it actually happen? Could he actually overtake Gregorovitch?
He shook his head and picked up another robe to try on. He would do his best, and would merely have to trust in his own abilities to get him through. If he won, excellent. If Gregorovitch wonâŠ
William had not fully made up his mind about his Durmstrang rival. Nearly four months had passed since Gregorovitch had told him that Emil Kerensky had killed George, but William had never acknowledged this statement, and Gregorovitch had not pressed the issue. Nothing else had happened to make William suspect either Gregorovitch or Kerensky, but the tournament was not over yet.
His instinct was to trust Gregorovitch, though he had originally suspected him. After all, if Gregorovitch had wanted to kill him, he could easily have done so during the second task, in the middle of the jungle. Instead, he had helped himâ”telling him to choose the green hellebore instead of the fatal black. Surely that was a sign that his intentions were good?
William glanced at his watch. His father was due to arrive any minuteâ”this time, he had announced his impending arrival with a letter, which was a step in the right direction, in Williamâs mind. Indeed, relations between father and son had seemed to improve marginally since Williamâs solid performance in the second taskâ”at least Jonathan Warrington-Hughes was speaking to his son now, though they had still not addressed their confrontation.
At that moment, William heard a knock on the door to the bedchamber, and his father promptly entered. âHello, Son,â he said, his hands stuck awkwardly in his waistcoat.
âHello, Father,â William dutifully replied, straightening his dress robes. âThank you for the new set of dress robes.â
Jonathan puffed up with pride to see his son look so handsome. âWith the ball approaching, I had to make sure you represented the family well, didnât I?â
William smiled, though he couldnât help but muse to himself that opening the ball by dancing solo would certainly not represent the family wellâ”he had yet to secure a partner for the first dance.
His father was aware of this fact. âTell me, William, have you chosen a partner yet?â
William shook his head and returned to fidgeting with his cravat. âNot yet, father.â
âGood.â
William was confused by the response. Good?
âYou did not mishear me,â Jonathan said with a smile. âThat is the purpose of my visit.â He pointed his wand at a nearby chair, which promptly flew toward him. He took a seat, carefully arranging the many folds of his fine robe around him. âSon, you know as well as I do that the air between us needs to be cleared.â
William was again confused. It was unlike his father to take the first step like thisâ”he thought Jonathan would be content to never speak of the matter again. He nodded, however, and began to apologize for the thousandth time, but was stopped by Jonathan, who threw up a hand. âWilliam, the time for apologies has passed. I do not know if I will ever be able to completely forgive you for the injurious slander you cast upon me, and we will not speak in specifics of that grievous occasion.â
It took everything in Williamâs power to suppress the smile that was threatening to break across his faceâ”here was the Jonathan Warrington-Hughes he knew.
âHowever,â his father continued, âI believe it is my duty, especially with the upcoming ball, to explain my motives that day. You know full well that our familyâs honor was slighted when you were not selected Hogwarts Champion as I was, as your grandfather was, and as his father was.â Jonathan raised his hands again to preemptively stop Williamâs further apology. âImmediately, I realized that something would have to be done to correct such a slight and restore you and our family to prominence and honor. Can you think what that might have been?â He hardly waited for Williamâs response before he continued: âAn engagement, my son. An engagement to a lady from a prominent French wizarding family. Not only would this elevate you in the eyes of British society, but would carry the Warrington-Hughes name across the English Channel. I entered into negotiations on your behalf and everything was nearly final, until Potter was murdered.â
William balked to hear his friendâs name spoken like this, but knew he could not respondâ”not until his father had finished. Jonathan hurdled on: âTragic as that event may have been, it caused many things to happen. Of course, it delayed my ability to announce the engagement, since attention was focused elsewhere, but it also made me realize that perhaps a more lucrative arrangement could be mastered, if you were to succeed in replacing Potter as Hogwarts Champion. After all, who wouldnât want to marry their daughter to the eventual winner of the Triwizard Tournament?â
There was a momentary pause, and William took this as a sign that it was his turn to speak, but it was not so. His father was merely catching his breath. âIndeed, the Warrington-Hughes name became quite the commodity after your announcement as champion, though after your outburst in the courtyard, I found myself thinking that I had gone to so much trouble for an ungrateful and unappreciative son. Fortunately for you, Henry Somerset was able to persuade me that I should not give up on you, and my own investigations found that no one heard you lob those wholly insulting comments my wayâ”be thankful for this, William,â he said, waving a stern finger at Williamâs face. âThe arrangement I had previously agreed to was still in play, and after your success in the second task, they were practically banging down the door to secure the match. Imagine if you had placed first!â Jonathan said good-naturedly, though William could detect a hint of disappointment in his voice.
âAnyway,â he said, leaning forward a bit in the chair. âWould you like to know who it is? Of course you would! Mademoiselle Angeline Laplanche. Are you acquainted with her? What do you think?â
William blinked. There was so much information to digest; he hardly knew where to start. âI⊠IâŠâ he stammered. âThank you, father.â He supposed he did not have a say in the matter. Perhaps the engagement could be discussed at a later date, but for the present, the only thing he could do was express gratitude. His father really did everything in Williamâs best interest, after all, and he should be thankful. He was thankful. Mademoiselle Laplanche was a close friend of Remyâs sister, Josephine, and William had spoken with her a few times. She was quite pretty and seemed to be pleasant enough. Perhaps this engagement would be a good thing after all⊠âYes, thank you, father. I shall ask her permission to escort her to the ball immediately.â
Jonathan Warrington-Hughes beamed.
***
Love.
Josephine was finishing a short essay for her Potions class when Angeline practically floated into the room and collapsed onto her bed. Her face was alight with joy, and she looked bursting with news. Josephine took the bait.
âIt is William,â Angeline said, sitting up in the bed just as swiftly as she had lain down on it. âI am to be engaged to William Warrington-Hughes!â
Josephineâs eyes widened at the news. âWilliam?â she repeated. âWell, congratulations!â At the beginning of the year, Angeline had constantly spoken of this rumored engagement her parents were arranging. She knew it to be with one of the Hogwarts boysâ”her first guess had been George Potterâ”but as the Tournament progressed and schoolwork intervened, the matter was eventually dropped. It seemed that Monsieur and Madame Laplanche had continued to scheme behind the scenes, however.
âYes. He came up to me in the Haute Chambre a few minutes ago and asked if I would dance the first dance with him at the ball next week!â
âThat is wonderful, Angeline, but dancing the first two dances does not mean you are engaged!â Josephine chided playfully. She, Josephine, would also be opening the ballâ”with Aleksandr, of courseâ”but they were certainly not affianced.
âNo, Josie, I am certain of it. There was such kindness in his face, but nervousness in his voice. He knows, and it is only a matter of time!â She beamed and went to try on her dress robes yet again. âOh, and Remy is looking for you,â she added as an afterthought.
Josephine would have chastised her friend for not relaying the message earlier, but she was fairly certain Angeline would not hear it anyway, so she put down her quill and went to find her brother. He was waiting in the great room of the Giriaume wing.
âI have just heard from Father,â he said as Josephine took her seat opposite him. He looked worried, and he held a long letter in his hands. âDo not worryâ”he and Mother are fine, but there has been a Muggle uprising in Paris, near where the Confederation is meeting. Father was there, listening to the delegations, and he saw it all. They stormed the place with torches and weapons.â
Josephine gasped. âWas anyone injured?â
âTwo Muggles were killed. It would have been more, but Bonaccord stepped in and kept everyone in line. Father says it was an awful messâ”Obliviators worked a long time afterwards to modify the memories of the Muggles.â
She shook her head. It was the third Muggle âincidentâ in two monthsâ”there had been a riot in Lyon at the end of April and another near Reims in mid-May. The very idea of Muggles and wizards coexisting peacefully was beginning to seem laughable at best, dangerous at worst.
Josephineâs mind wandered to Pascal. She had not heard from him since before Christmas, and did not suspect she would hear from him any time soon after this recent outburst in Muggle animosity. She felt a tiny pang of regret that the relationship had so languished, and she hoped he was well, though there was really no way to find out. If he was found out to be in contact with a wizard, the consequences might be horrendous.
âAt least itâs not as bad here as in the East,â Remy said. Two wizards had been killed by mobs in Bulgaria the week before, and another in Romania.
Josephine nodded. Aleksandr had told her of some of the horrors that had plagued his region. It was terribleâ”wizards were practically already in permanent hiding from the area Muggles. New charms were being created every day to protect wizarding establishments, according to Aleksandr.
Josephine was due to meet Aleksandr in an hour for a walk before dinner, she happily recalled. Angeline was to accompany them, but Josephine doubted if her blissful self would want to do anything but stay in bed and think of William.
She was happy for Angeline, but news of the pending engagement made her think of her own situation. She had mentioned Aleksandr to her parents, but not in any way to make them suspicious of her intentionsâ”he was merely a friend that she had met in the course of the tournament. What were his intentions, though? Josephine knew that she was an admirable match for any wizard: she came from a solid pureblood family with good connections all through France. Certainly her parents had thought of her engagement prospects before, but they had yet to mention anything to her. Were they, like the Laplanches, working on something in secret? Would she soon be accosted by a Hogwarts boy and betrothed before the end of the month?
At least William was out of the way now. Josephine had some suspicions that Remy was trying to press him upon her in an effort to make her forget about Aleksandr. William was pleasant enough, of course, and it would have been a very agreeable match in the eyes of society, but he was much better off with Angeline. Her own heart belonged elsewhere.
***
Faith, Hope, and Love.
Beauxbatons Academy had pulled out all the stops to decorate the Haute Chambre for the ball. It was a beautiful Saturday evening, and the high windows of the room were thrown open, allowing the sea breeze to waft in. The roomâ”already magnificentâ”was taken to new heights of opulence. Glittering gold fabrics festooned every imaginable surface and magical bird ornaments, carved in an azure stone, floated lazily around the ceiling. The orchestraâ”comprised of both wizard and Muggle instrumentsâ”sat upon a platform at the front of the room and a dancing area was surrounded by dozens of small tables and chairs, each lavishly carved and bespangled with gold stars and other decorations.
The students from all three schools filed into the hall, each looking magnificent in their best dress robes. Most students moved to the edges of the room, claiming seats to watch the first dance, and the Champions and their partners moved to the center of the room. As Host Champion, Remy de Tuileries was at the head of the procession, his fiancée Sophie on his arm. William Warrington-Hughes followed, accompanied by Angeline Laplanche, and Aleksandr Gregorovitch and Josephine de Tuileries brought up the rear.
The first dance would be the traditional, stately Allemande to start off the suite, then the rest of the attendees could join in for the livelier Courante. Once the Champions and their partners were in place, the orchestra commenced. It was a beautiful melody and the couples danced elegantly.
Faith.
William was pleased to realize that Angeline was a fine dancer, and as she grasped his thumbs and walked around him during the Allemande, he could not help but notice she was quite pretty, too. He smiled at her as she passed in front, and his smile did not fade as he took his turn around her.
Hope.
Aleksandr knew he was not as fine a dancer as either of the other two men, but as the dance progressed and Josephine silently guided him, he allowed himself to relax, if only a little bit. He was keenly aware that Remy de Tuileries was keeping a close eye on him, as if he still suspected something terrible was going to happen. No matter, he thought. Josephineâs eye was also trained on him, but in an entirely different manner, and her gaze was all that mattered.
Love.
Josephine loved balls. In a typical school year, Beauxbatons would host many, often attracting prominent members of wizard and Muggle society from around the region. This year, of course, had been very different. Georgeâs tragic death had prevented a fall ball and the traditional Yule Ball. In spring, the International Confederation of Wizards resumed their delegations, and any additional energy was put into preparations for the second and third tasks of the tournament. Finally, on the eve of the final task, Josephine got her ball, and to be dancing at it with Aleksandr made it all the better.
Faith, Hope, and Love.
The Allemande ended and there was just enough time to switch partners before the Courante began. Remy paired with his sister, handing his fiancée Sophie to William, and Aleksandr danced with Angeline.
Now that the floor was crowded with couples and consequently noisier, there would be room to talk and not have conversation be overheard.
âIt is a beautiful ball,â Aleksandr remarked to Angeline, who smiled and looked at William as she responded: âYes, it is.â
âYour fiancĂ© is a good man,â William said to Sophie.
The lady blushed and nodded her agreement: âHe is the best of men.â
âJosie, why have you not heeded my advice to be careful around Gregorovitch? I still do not trust him,â Remy whispered to his sister so the others could not overhear. Her reaction spoke volumes, though.
âRemy, you simply do not understand, and perhaps never will. Aleksandr is a good man, and an excellent wizard. I had hoped you would treat him with respect, but I am determined to continue my association with him despite what you so wrongly believe to be true!â The rules of the dance prevented her from storming away, but the siblings passed the rest of the piece in icy silence.
***
Hope.
An hour of the ball had passed and Aleksandr was tired of it. He did not delight in the courtly dances the way the British and the French did, and he found it amusing that the majority of students sitting and watching the ball were from Durmstrang. He longed to sit down with them, but Josephine loved nothing more than to dance, so dance he did.
Still, as the evening wore on, Aleksandr found himself seized by anxiety. The final task was tomorrow. He was in first place, it was true, but Warrington-Hughes was just a hairâs breadth behind him, and even de Tuileries could make a comeback if the task allowed for high scores.
Plus, there was always that nagging memory of Dragomir. He, too, had made it through the first two tasks and had been in first place going into the finalâŠ
At his side, Josephine let out a small cry of painâ”he had not been paying attention to the dance and had stepped on her foot. He whispered a dozen apologies, but she only smiled. âThe dance is almost over. Letâs go for a walk when itâs through.â
As the rest of the couples clapped for the orchestra, Josephine grabbed his hand and pulled him out through a small, concealed door in the side of the room. They weaved in and out of corridors until she steered him to a small courtyard, far away from the rest of the gathering. They sat together on a bench, little more than the moonlight illuminating their faces. âAlexei, what is wrong?â she whispered, though there was no one else around.
âI am just anxious about the task tomorrow, that is all,â he lied.
She did not seem to accept this, for her brow furrowed. âYet you have never seemed so nervousâ”not before the second task, at least. And you are in first place! No, I think it is something else that is troubling you.â
He smiled, but it was a sad smile. He knew that if ever there was a time to tell her about Dragomir, this was it. âJosephine, what have you heard about my brother?â
She turned her head away, and this time it was she who was lying: âNothing, really.â
âJosephine, please. You can tell me.â
She brought her eyes toward his timidly, cautiously, like a frightened child. âOnly rumors. Rumors that something happened during the last tournament at Durmstrang five years ago. Rumors that he⊠collapsed.â
Aleksandr nodded, and was suddenly flooded with recollections of that day. His mind was whirling with images, sights, sounds⊠Sitting in the stands with the audience, he hears shouts and screams, sees jets of green and red light. Two bodies crumple to the ground, Stunnedâ”the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons champions. Dragomir appears, triumphant but maniacal. The Durmstrang authorities know something is wrong. Novokov himself tries to stop Dragomir, tries to get him to calm down, but he turns his wand on Novokov, too, and runs. Out of the arena, away forever.
âIt was horrible,â he whispered, pressing his fingers to his forehead in an effort to stop the deluge of memories. âIt was as if something inside him snapped. He was not Dragomir anymore. He was⊠something else. I had never seen him behave that way beforeâ”he had always been so quiet and kind. But he cracked under the pressure. Completely cracked.â
âWhat happened then?â Josephine urged, leaning into him.
Aleksandr shook his head. âNo one knows for sure. They found his body outside of Moscow five days later, and they were unable to tell how he died, though they think it was Avada Kedavra. Many people think that he killed three or four Muggles before he died, but I honestly donât know if there is any truth to that. I like to think that my brother could not be capable of such atrocities, but he truly was no longer my brother.â He stopped speaking and looked down at his hands, which were trembling slightly. He had not discussed the matter this way in five years, and had scarcely allowed himself to think of it so, but there was more to say: âJosephine, I am so scared. I cannot help but wonder if the same thing will happen to me. Against all odds, against the wishes of an entire school and of my father, I was named Durmstrang Champion. All year long, I have been haunted by these memories, haunted by âwhat if.â What if I end up just like him? What if I collapse, too? My father would never recover. Durmstrang would fall apart. I cannot⊠I cannotâŠâ
His breath was coming in great, splintered gasps now, and he could not finish the sentence. Josephine stroked the side of his face with her small, cold hand and there were tears in her eyes. âDo not say such things, my love,â she whispered. âPlease. I cannot bear it. You are not like him. You will be fine. You are strong and you will not end up that way. I promise.â
Aleksandr watched as her tears began to fall, then he grabbed her hand still upon his face and brought her palm to his lips, kissing it gently. His breathing steadied and she moved her hand, her fingers delicately lingering on his lips for a brief moment before she smiled and pulled her hand to wipe the tracks of her tears from her cheeks. He could not help but stare at her, softly bathed in the moonlight. What had he done to deserve her? What could he do to make sure she never left his side? âI love you, Josephine,â he whispered. âI love you.â
***
Love.
He loved her.
Josephine was consumed by this happy thought all night long. She woke with a smile on her face and a nervous flutter in her heart, and every time she closed her eyes, she thought of Aleksandrâs face. She was certain she loved him in return, and this feeling led her to realize that whatever she had felt for Pascal was but a trifle compared to what she felt now.
Still, the night had produced another revelation, one that was much more troubling: the story of Dragomir Gregorovitch. Josephineâs moments of bliss were often eclipsed by pangs of anxietyâ”it pained her to think of Aleksandr so nervous, so worried that he would collapse like his brother had. She knew, though, deep down, that he would not. He could win the tournament.
These thoughts, in turn, made her feel guilty. She loved Remy with all her heart; he was the best brother she could ever have asked for. However, she found herself less concerned for his well being in the third task than she had for the first two. Was it because he was in third place? Was it because he, unlike Aleksandr, did not have such a history to mar his concentration in the present? Or was it because he still refused to support her decision to be with Aleksandr? She was torn.
Josephine decided the best course of action was to force herself to feel the same concern for all three championsâ”William, too. She had reason to cheer for each, and not playing favorites would perhaps make the task more exciting to watch.
She and Angeline headed down to the arena at the usual time, flanked by all the other spectators. It was a beautiful June day with hardly a cloud in sight, and Josephine hummed quietly to herself as they filtered into their seats.
Within moments, Monsieur Autrucheâs voice was echoing throughout the stadium. âBonjour, Mesdames et messieurs. Welcome to the third and final task of this yearâs Triwizard Tournament!â A great burst of applause filled the arena, and Monsieur Autruche looked positively beside himself with pride. âBefore you, ladies and gentlemen, you will see a small platform, raised to a height of six meters.â As he said this, a small dais did indeed rise from the center of the arena. It was perhaps a meter and a half wide, and was supported by a pole that rotated slowly upward. âIt is on this platform that our three champions must complete the final task. From all corners of the arena, projectiles will be launched at each of the competitors as he stands on the platform, and it will be his job to defend himself from them. Points will be awarded for each object that is deflected or destroyed, as well as for the variety and difficulty of spells performed. Points will be subtracted for each ball that hits the competitor and also if he should fall off the platform at any time. Spectators be warned and have your wands at the ready: the projectiles could very well veer off course. Be prepared to defend yourself!â He said this jovially and clapped his hands together as the platform rotated back downwards to pick up the first champion.
Josephine glanced to the edge of the arena where the champions would enter as Remy marched out. He stepped atop the small platform and it began to slowly rotate upward, twisting him around as if to display him to the whole assembly. He gave a small wave once the pillar had stopped turning, then assumed a dueling stance and readied his wand.
A hush fell over the crowd as all present awaited the first object. Then, out of nowhere, a large black rock hurtled toward Remy. He deflected it with a quick flip of his wrist, and it fell crashing to the ground. Josephine joined the other spectators in a round of applause, but their celebration was cut short. Two more objects were flying at Remy's head, and one of them was on fire. He shot a jet of water out of his wand to extinguish the ball of flame, and again deflected the other, which careened into the stands, narrowly missing Josephineâs Astronomy professor.
The minutes flew by as Remy teetered atop the pillar. There were a few near misses and close shaves, one including a giant, spectral bird that clawed at his shoulder and almost dislodged him from the platform, but Josephine was overall very pleased, and thought that perhaps his strong performance could lead him to a late comeback in the standings.
Her hopes were dashed, however, in the final moments of Remyâs time: another large bird flew by the platform, clutching something bright red in its talons, which it promptly dropped at Remyâs feet. As the objects burst into flames, Josephine realized what they were: Ashwinder eggs. Remy had nearly caught himself on fire during the first task because of an Ashwinder that had snaked out of one of his volcanoes, and Josephine knew this would shake his confidence. She held her breath and squinted as the flames caught the edge of Remyâs robe and he worked frantically to put it out, hovering dangerously near the edge of the platform. She gasped as he took one step too far and fell backwards, just as the bell sounded signaling the end of his time.
His fall to the ground was slowed by one of the wizards standing by and he appeared to be unharmed, but Josephine wondered if points would still be taken off, since he fell right as his time elapsed.
The scores would not be announced until the end of the task, however, so Josephine would have to wait. She beamed and waved as her brother dusted himself off and strode out of the arena.
Next up was William.
***
Faith.
William listened to the shouts of the crowd as Remy performed the task in the arena. He, William, thought the task sounded a bit silly. Stand on a platform while people hurl things at you? However, he reasoned, he had thought the second task also sounded laughable, and then had been nearly strangled by the Venomous Tentacula, nearly burned by a patch of Fire-Spewing Ferns, and nearly poisoned by black hellebore. Perhaps he should not be so quick to judgeâŠ
Indeed, as he saw Remy stumble back into the tent, looking a little worse for the wear, William started to feel very nervous. âWatch out for the bird,â Remy croaked before taking a seat. William smiled, tightened his grip on his wand, and brushed aside the fabric of the tent.
His first thought was that there were far too many people there watching him. In the second task, he had been concealed by a jungleâ”no one had seen his many mishaps. This time, he would be completely exposed. It would be a strenuous mental challenge to keep his focus despite so many hundreds of pairs of eyes trained upon him.
His second thought was no less comforting: How was he supposed to keep his balance on top of this tiny platform?
His third thought was positively terrifying: How high was this pillar going to climb?
Despite his many misgivings, he attempted to strike a confident pose astride the platform as it rotated slowly upwards. He caught sight of his father in the audience and felt his hands begin to tremble. It was reassuring and encouraging that his father was there to watch, but also made him infinitely more nervous.
The pillar and its wary occupant had been stationary for merely a second or two before the first object came whirring at William. âReducto!â he shouted, and the rockâ”or whatever it wasâ”split into pieces and fell to the ground.
William furrowed his brows in concentration and looked for the next projectile. Soon, they were whizzing at him so quickly, he barely had time to register what they were. All he could think about was destroying them, or at least making sure they did not hit him. Gradually, the sound of the audience faded in his mind and he was able to focus on the task. However, as soon as he was no longer worried about the audience, he began to worry that his spells were not varied enoughâ”surely he had relied on the Reductor Curse too often. How many times had he used it? He racked his brain for another, similar spell, and was so lost in thought that he completely missed a Snitch-sized ball that struck him hard in the leg. He winced in pain and bent down to grab his throbbing shin, only to have another, larger ball come pelting at him. Blocking out the painâ”if only momentarilyâ”he cast a Shield Charm which successfully deflected the ball. Again, however, the relief was only temporary, for two more objects came spinning at him.
As the minutes passed, William found that there were simply too many projectiles coming too fast. He began to vary his spells less and less, and focused solely on preventing anything from hitting him. He knew that this would lessen his score, but falling off the pillar would be worse, and more embarrassing.
Thankfully, blissfully, his time soon ran out, and William had never felt more relieved than when he hopped off the platform and set foot on solid ground. Incidentally, he had also never felt queasier. He gave a brief wave to the crowd before walking briskly into the tent and collapsing next to Remy. âHarder than it sounds!â he exclaimed. Remy nodded, clutching his stomach.
The chime sounded and Aleksandr Gregorovitch lifted the flap of the tent. âGood luck,â William said as the Durmstrang Champion took a step into the arena.
He turned around and smiled. âThank you.â
***
Hope.
After three minutes on the platform, Aleksandr was bored with the task. Though his heart was still beating fast in excitement, he wondered if the task would become more challenging. He had yet to repeat a spell, and still had plenty more in his arsenal. At times, it seemed like his wand was doing the work for himâ”he would barely mutter a charm or incantation and his wand would know what to do.
Another minute passed and finally the pace started to increase. A green ball came toward him, but as soon as it was within Aleksandrâs range, it exploded into a long vine that twisted itself around his outstretched arm and moved toward his neck. It seemed to be some type of Devilâs Snare, so he remained perfectly calm and pointed his wand at his own arm. A lick of flame leapt from its tip, singeing the plant, which quickly shriveled up and uncoiled itself from his arm. Aleksandr looked down to make sure the plant was dead, and looked up just in time to see two large spheres mere inches from his face. In an instant, he flicked his wand arm from right to left in a strong gesture, causing one of the spheres to knock into the other, both shattering at his feet.
He barely had time to smile at the crowdâs applause before another object flew at him. It was large and black, and Aleksandr didnât know how, but he suddenly knew that he needed to cast a Patronus to get rid of it. He concentrated on a particularly happy moment with Josephine and aimed his wand at the object. When a giant silvery bear emerged from the tip and chased away the dark object, the crowd burst into renewed applause.
Aleksandr felt a chill go down his spine as he parried away two more spheres (one made of water, one of glass) with two more spells. He knew, judging from the crowdâs reactions, that he was performing better than the other two champions, and he allowed himself to hope, to really believe that it was all over: he had secured his victory. He had won the tournament for Durmstrang. He closed his eyes for the barest hint of a second, but instantly knew something was wrong. He opened them to see a mass of feathers in his face and a massive white bird claw at his arm, knocking his wand out of his hand, and then turn to scratch at his face. The audience gasped and a few people screamed as Aleksandr threw one arm up to protect himself, desperately thinking about his next move. He looked for his wandâ”it had fallen to the ground, some twenty feet below.
Suddenly, everything became perfectly still and very clear for Aleksandr. It was almost as if he had stopped time. He had never performed wandless magic before, but he knew that this was the moment, and he would be successful. He stood up straight and moved his arm away from his face, aiming his open palm at the bird. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion: Aleksandr whispered a spell and the bird flapped silently, slowly away. Three more spheres came toward him, but again, they seemed to be moving so very gradually. He again pointed his hand at the sphere on his right, still three feet away from him, and swooped his arm to the left. The ball followed the path of his arm, crashing into the other two. He closed his palm into a tight fist and his wrecking ball crumpled as well, falling to the ground below as little more than dust.
Aleksandr could hear the murmurs of the crowd, but they echoed back to him as if from miles away. Everything took on a very hollow sound. He had never felt like he did at this moment, but suddenly he knew he wanted his wand back. âAccio wand,â he shouted, and his wand shot instantly into his outstretched fingers. He caught it and instantly jerked his arm in an upward motion, causing the final rock-like object to careen wildly into the air, then plummet to the ground. As it struck the earth, the bell sounded, and Aleksandr lowered his wand arm, expecting to hear the applause of the crowd, but an eerie quiet had descended over the stands.
He knew they had all just seen him perform wandless magic, and he had a feeling that the silence that now ensued was a result of this. Wandless magic was typically associated with the Dark Artsâ”a branch Aleksandr had tried very hard to disassociate himself from, but now those rumors that Kerensky had spread at the beginning of the year would be weaseling their way into everyoneâs mindsâŠ
He attempted to smile gallantly and wave at the crowd as they finally began applauding. He could only imagine the questions that would bombard him as soon as he set foot on the ground, and wondered if maybe he should have ignored his instincts up on the platform and just dove off while the bird was attacking him. No, he thought. The wandless magic had saved his first place rank, if not his life. He did not regret doing it, no matter what people would imply about him because of it. Still, he wondered how he had done itâŠ
As the pillar twisted slowly downward, Aleksandr was relieved to hear the applause grow louder as people perhaps began to appreciate his difficult feats. He smiled a genuine smile as he caught sight of Josephine amidst the crowd, waving excitedly at him.
He continued to rotate back toward the ground, but as the pillar slowly turned past a gap in the stands, Aleksandr saw something truly dreadful. No, it cannot be, he thought. He spun around on the platform, frantically searching for Professor Novokov, or Monsieur Autruche, really anyone. He had to warn them.
He finally espied Professor Novokov. âProfessor!â he called out, and gestured wildly at the gap in the stands, but the noise of the crowd drowned out his yells. Novokov seemed to see the terror on Aleksandrâs face, for he looked where Aleksandr was pointing, but turned back, confused.
Aleksandr knew the configuration of the arena would make it impossible for anyone in the stands to see what he had seen: a Muggle mob, coming directly toward them.
When the platform was still five feet from the ground, he leapt off, running at full clip to the edge of the arena, and then outside, toward the approaching mob. He hoped someone would follow, but the audience seemed to be overwhelmed by confusion.
Aleksandr stared at the mass of Muggles rapidly approaching the gathering of wizards. Many of them were carrying pitchforks and, he realized with a chill, musketsâ”their metal weapons. He again turned his head and yelled for Professor Novokov, and relief flooded him as he saw Novokov hurrying toward him, flanked by Messieurs Autruche and Bonaccord. He whipped his head around again just in time to see one of the Muggles aim his weapon at the trio of wizards behind Aleksandr. Though Aleksandr knew next to nothing about these weapons, he knew that Professor Novokov was in range of the Muggle aiming at him, though said Muggle was too far away for a spell to work. Even Aleksandr was not close enough.
Aleksandr was momentarily gripped by panic, but thenâ”just as had happened on the platformâ”suddenly he knew exactly what to do. âFirmamento!â he shouted, pointing his wand at the mob. It was the spell Monsieur Mouchet had used at the Weighing of the Wands, but Aleksandr had never used it himself. However, instead of the mild tremble that Mouchet had produced, Aleksandrâs spell rocked the ground, causing many of the Muggles to stumble and fall. The one who had been aiming at Professor Novokov staggered sideways, and then there was a deafening blast and a puff of smoke rose from his musket. Aleksandr felt a white-hot pain in his leg, and he looked down to see his blood-red robes stained with actual bloodâ”the weapon had discharged and hit him instead.
The corners of his vision blurred as he collapsed, but he had to sustain his magical earthquake until the others were close enough to aim their own spells at the Muggles. He rested all his weight on the uninjured knee, but it was too much. He bent over, propping himself up on one arm while the other still trained his wand at the mob, the Firmamento spell continuing to shake the ground, though it sapped every ounce of strength from his body.
The effort soon consumed him, and Aleksandr felt everything drift away as blackness overtook him. The last thing he heard was Josephineâs anguished scream.
These Three Remain by LuthAn
Chapter Notes: Hello, hello! I apologize in advance for the way this chapter ends, but rest assured: I have the final chapter written and ready to go!
Thanks, as always, to the incomparable greennotebook for a superb beta job. Enjoy!