Originally, Harry Potter hadn't planned on being present for the 'tournament.' He was banned and figured that as a sort of 'screw you' to those who had made the decision he would find something else to do during that time.
He even considered asking for extra Potion lessons from Snape, just to rub it into Grace's face. In the end, however, he opted to watch, if for no other reason than it would be decent insight as to the abilities of other students as well as what format would win. He had only seen part of one competition and likely there would be distinctions between that one and one hosted by Hogwarts.
The turnout was even larger than he had expected, with students from all four houses present along with some of the staff. With varying degrees of skill, knowledge, and even age. It looked as though anyone would be able to pull out a victory.
Harry knew better though. The students in the dueling club would, naturally, outperform most others. Still, there seemed to be good camaraderie and spirits were, for once, high.
It was a bracket format, with single elimination allowing them to go through the students quickly to reach those who stood a chance at reaching the upper echelons.
After a few quick rounds Harry was joined in the observation area by both Ron and Neville, who nodded in greeting before taking offered seats.
"Your uh, sisters thought it might be better to have some boys to talk to right now." Longbottom said, earning a shrug from Harry. It wasn't as if he were mad at them or anything, and certainly wouldn't have been upset if any of his friends or family had joined him.
Still, he didn't spend as much time as he should with those of his own gender, especially considering how outnumbered they were.
The redhead spoke up next, glancing about and frowning as he noticed his own sisters' present. "So, who do you think will win?"
He wasn't entirely sure. The boy-who-lived did have a solid guess on who would be in the top four or so but as for who would take it entirely?
A lot could happen in a duel, and he was quick to note this. "Probably one of the dueling 'stars' from the club. Delphini," and here he scrunched his face at the thought, "has a good chance despite only being a sixth year. She duels way above her age bracket but there are also one or two other seventh years who could beat her if the duel goes properly."
Ron nodded while Neville still looked more worried than anything else, though he wasn't quite sure as to why.
"Nev? Are you okay?"
Harry could practically see the shiver that went through the boy. "I just… having to go on a date with Delphini Black? It sounds terrifying."
He couldn't help the snort that emanated. Even Ron was wide-eyed in shock at the response, clearly both had heard enough about the heiress to at least fear her.
How utterly ridiculous.
"Delphini Black might be a stuck-up bigoted brat but she's not scary."
There was so much… awe in Neville's eyes it was as if Harry had just told him he had survived the Killing Curse launched by a Dark Lord.
"Y-you don't think so?"
"Nah, she's just a stupid teenager. There are scarier things to be afraid of, trust me. Sure, she has a reputation, a nasty personality, and is talented but that's about it. Everything else is just… normal to be honest."
Ron glanced back to where the next duel was about to begin before resetting his attention, "Harry… who do you want to win?"
It brought the raven-haired boy's thoughts to a halt.
Want?
He didn't really care… right? None of the girls really stood out to him, at least as far as going on a date with him. Sure, some of them were nice enough but most of the nice ones he could say 'Yeah I would enjoy going out with her' had already been eliminated or were going to be in the next set of rounds.
"I… don't really know."
The other two boys share a, almost worried, glance, "But you told people you would go with the winner, on a date, right?"
He nodded slowly, unsurely, and Ron picked up where Neville left off, "So you must want someone to win."
No, no that wasn't true. He was doing this to make sure whoever won didn't end up with hideous scars and injuries. He was making this 'sacrifice' to protect others, he didn't care who it was.
"I guess I just want the best person to win, someone who wins fairly."
Another look flickered between the two. "Does that sort of thing, I mean, is it exciting for you?"
Shit
He hadn't really considered what others would think, and normally didn't care either, but he couldn't exactly explain to the two boys what he was planning, at least not completely. "I just want to get out of the castle for an evening, you know? I'm feeling a bit too stuck. Even if it means dealing with an asshole for an evening it would be nice to just stretch my legs a bit."
****
Why?
Why was she doing this? What was she fighting and struggling for? There had to be a reason, it was the first lesson taught by professor Riddle.
Always have a reason.
Those who fought without cause, who dueled and hurt others just to do so were sociopaths, did not belong in society, were dogs needing to be put down. She was not a dog, she was a champion, and champions always had an end goal. They did not enter tournaments without something to achieve, did not start a duel unnecessarily.
For a while it had been her pride, to prove she was the best, to show others she was the best. Her mother, her professors, her classmates both younger and older. She wanted them to look at her with astonishment, to be envious of her talents, to wish they were half the duelist she was.
She wanted her mother to do more than give a slight nod in her direction at her achievements.
But this? Why this? Why now? What did she hope to prove in victory here?
An opportunity to go to Hogsmeade? Not worth the time or effort of either the challenges or the reward. She had more important things to do.
The gratitude of the Minster? Ridiculous, her mother spoke often of how weak-willed Cornelia Fudge was, how two faced, how useless. A favor from such a person would be more trouble than it was worth.
Perhaps it was for the publicity, so everyone could see her success, her talent. The papers would write about her, the others would glare and curse but, in the end, acknowledge her talents.
But deep down she felt it wasn't true, deep down she felt there was something... more.
" I would be very willing to go on a date with whoever wins the dueling tournament, if they are interested."
No, no that wasn't it, couldn't be it. He wasn't worth her time or her effort. It didn't matter if he had defeated her in the previous year. Didn't matter if he hadn't gloated or bragged. Didn't mean anything if he continued to help others, both younger and older, with hints and suggestions without so much as a request for something in return.
He was weak, men were weak. Her mother preached this; her family preached this. They were good for one thing and one thing only and nothing further than the continuation of the family line.
So why did she watch him so closely when they were in the room together? Why did she find herself copying his movements, analyzing him so closely, and studying his life?
Why were her dreams so often haunted by blazing green eyes?
"Both parties ready? Begin!"
Oh right, she was on the stage facing off against one of her classmates, some Gryffindor who was foolish enough to sign up because 'their parents bought them a book on dueling last summer'.
It was stupid, they were stupid, and she effortlessly parried the low-level spell they had thrown before a flick of her wrist and a muttered incantation sent them flying to the edge of the platform. She didn't want to win via ring out, didn't want them to make up an excuse on why they were beaten so easily.
"Winner, Delphini Black!"
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