The Grand Colosseum of Duels in Paris was fully illuminated. Thousands of torches floated in the air, suspended by spells, while the ceiling was enchanted to reflect a night sky covered with bright stars, even though it was still daylight outside. The air vibrated with the murmurs and applause of the audience and the sound of dozens of languages constantly mingling.
Aurelian entered alongside Flitwick through one of the side corridors, dressed in the official robe of Great Britain. The stands were packed: wizards and witches from Europe, Africa, Asia, and America, all gathered to watch the most promising duelists in the under-14 category. The youth tournament was not only a prestigious event, but also a political and economic showcase: wand manufacturers, sponsors of magical items, representatives of each government, all seeking talent and securing alliances.
In front of them, the central arena was divided into circular sections with glowing runes engraved on the floor, ready for duels. On the main stage, the Master of Ceremonies, a French wizard in a beautifully adorned purple robe, raised his wand to call for silence.
"Mesdames et messieurs, welcome to the International Youth Dueling Tournament," he proclaimed, and a thunderous applause echoed through the coliseum.
One by one, the names of the participants were called. Each country had its moment in the spotlight, accompanied by its banner floating above the arena. The competitors walked toward the center, briefly greeting the audience before joining the circle where the others were waiting.
When Great Britain's name was called, Aurelian stepped forward with a confident stride. He made no exaggerated gestures, only bowing his head slightly, but his direct and calm gaze pierced the crowd, capturing the attention of more than one. In the stands, he recognized Fudge sitting next to French and German delegates, all watching him intently.
As he joined the other competitors, he noticed a young blonde witch with delicate features and a confident gaze: Fleur Delacour, representative of France. Although obviously younger than in the books, she already projected that magnetic presence for which Veelas were known. Fleur held his gaze for a second, gave him a slight smile before refocusing on the Master of Ceremonies.
The presentation continued. There were duelists from Japan, Egypt, Brazil, Russia, South Africa, and Australia, each with personalized wands and clothing that reflected the magical traditions of their countries. Some wore protective amulets, others carried wands made of exotic materials that Aurelian had never seen up close.
After the official presentation, the magic demonstrations began. These were not real duels, but brief exhibitions to show the average level of the competitors. Defensive spells, precision enchantments, quick wand movements... some rivals stood out, others confirmed what Aurelian had already sensed: most were not prepared to face him.
But what really caught his attention were not the competitors, but certain spectators. Among the audience, he saw figures who could not be mere onlookers. Magicians in robes that looked ancient, representatives of international magical clans, and in a discreet but well-protected box, a group that seemed to be observing rather than enjoying themselves, as if the tournament were a simple evaluation. He immediately recognized the emblem embroidered on one of those robes: that of Marianne Elsenburg, the European archmage known for her intricate political games.
Flitwick, who was standing next to him, muttered without taking his eyes off the spectacle.
"Don't underestimate the importance of who is watching you, Aurelian. Here, every move counts."
He nodded. This wasn't just a juvenile game. It was a showcase... and every gaze that fell on him could be a future ally or enemy.
The tournament had finally begun, with palpable excitement in the air. The arena floor had been magically modified to expand its capacity and offer different terrain configurations: from smooth surfaces to obstacle courses, ranging from simple stone walls to marble columns. The duels would be conducted under strict referee supervision, with advanced protections to prevent permanent damage, although everyone knew that temporary pain was inevitable.
Aurelian remained in the waiting area, watching the first competitors cross the arena. Spells lit up the air: bursts of Expulso, flashes of Stupefy, shields forming and breaking in a matter of seconds. The audience applauded enthusiastically with each successful hit, but he showed little interest. Waiting for his turn to come soon.
When his name was called for the first match, he was paired with a young Austrian with good technique but very predictable moves. Aurelian calmly walked to the center of the circle. The referee signaled the start, and his opponent immediately launched a series of minor curses, clumsily strung together. Aurelian dodged the first, blocked the second, and with a single, precisely executed Expelliarmus, disarmed the Austrian, sending the wand rolling across the floor. The duel was over in less than ten seconds.
The audience murmured, some impressed by the speed, others disappointed by the brevity of the encounter. Aurelian simply bowed his head in respect and returned to the waiting area without celebrating.
In the following rounds, he repeated the same tactic: minimal movements, precise attacks, impeccable defense. He defeated a young Spaniard with a Petrificus Totalus after dodging just a couple of spells. He beat a South African competitor by deflecting her attacks with a well-calculated Protego before disarming her, and he knocked out a Canadian boy with a quickly executed stunning spell.
The important thing was not victory, which he took for granted, but not revealing his best cards, his most devastating repertoire, which he should not show unless it was really necessary. In the meantime, he limited himself to giving the impression of being an efficient duelist, self-confident and in perfect control, but without revealing the depth of his magic.
Flitwick watched him from the stands with a smile. He knew exactly what Aurelian was doing, and deep down, he approved of the strategy.
The audience, however, began to murmur. Some applauded him as a genius for his precision, others accused him of being too cold, of not putting on a show. Aurelian listened to these comments without giving them much importance. For him, this was nothing more than a game of chess, and his moves were calculated so as not to let his opponents see his next move.
The announcement of the semifinals aroused excitement among the audience. The names of the finalists were projected in the air in golden letters. When he read his name next to Fleur Delacour's, Aurelian noticed a slight increase in the crowd's excitement. It was clear that Fleur had her own entourage of admirers: partly because of her skill, but mostly because of her Veela heritage.
The arena set up for the duel was a large space with marble pillars and shaded areas to hide in. Aurelian walked to his mark, feeling Fleur's gaze run up and down him, evaluating him.
"It's a pleasure, Monsieur Gaunt," she said with a seductive French accent, accompanying her words with a smile that seemed to invite him to let his guard down.
As soon as the referee gave the signal, Aurelian felt the change in the air: a gentle warmth, an almost imperceptible attraction that sought to invade his thoughts and numb his fighting instinct. The veela aura unfolded, subtle at first, then more intense, accompanied by a gaze that sought to trap him like so many others before him.
Aurelian watched her calmly, his eyes showing none of the response Fleur had hoped to elicit. Internally, he could only think of how ineffective that tactic was against someone with his level of control and mental strength.
"Nice trick," he said coldly.
She frowned, a moment of confusion that was enough for Aurelian to raise his wand. A single powerful Expelliarmus spell was enough to defeat her, shooting toward her with the force of a cannon. Fleur didn't have time to conjure a shield, and the impact threw her several meters backward, crashing her into one of the marble pillars.
The protective spell cast on the arena activated immediately, cushioning the final blow, but the duel was over. Fleur, stunned, dropped her wand, and the referee raised his hand toward Aurelian to declare him the winner.
A murmur ran through the stands. Some applauded the overwhelming effectiveness of the move, others booed the anticlimactic nature of the match and because they had hoped to see more from the French witch. Aurelian simply turned on his heel and left the arena, without even looking back.
In his mind, the duel had been nothing more than a formality. Fleur had shown some skill and better reflexes than her rivals in her previous duels, but she was still far from testing him.
In the break area, Flitwick greeted him with an approving smile.
"Too fast, but effective. Although I think several people were expecting a longer duel."
"I'm not here to put on a show, Professor," Aurelian replied calmly. "I'm here to win."
He had barely finished drinking a glass of water in the rest area when he heard quick footsteps approaching. A blonde girl with intense eyes and features similar to Fleur's burst in front of him with an angry frown.
"How dare you treat my sister like that?!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with childish indignation, clenching her fists. "You didn't have to hurt her so much!"
Aurelian raised an eyebrow, looking at her calmly.
"I didn't come here to play with dolls," he replied dryly. "It was a duel, and I won."
Before the girl could reply, an elegant figure appeared behind her. A woman of extraordinary beauty, with silver hair and blue eyes that looked like ice in the sun, placed a protective hand on the little girl's shoulder. She was undoubtedly the girl's mother.
"It's impressive to see someone so young act with such coldness," she said in a sweet tone, although the venom in her words was evident. "Perhaps, monsieur, you lack a certain..."
As she spoke, the air around her changed. A wave of her veela aura spread out, like a perfume seeking to cloud the senses and dominate attention. The girl imitated her mother's gesture, innocently trying to add strength to the reproach.
Aurelian took a deep breath and released a wave of pure magic, invisible to the eye but so intense that it made the air vibrate. The power expanded like a heartbeat, as if space itself receded in his presence.
Both mother and daughter fell silent immediately. The veela aura dissipated like smoke in a gale, and silence reigned for a moment. The girl stared at him with wide eyes and an expression of fear. The mother, although maintaining her composure, had completely lost her desire to argue.
"Don't try to play games with me," Aurelian said in a low but authoritative voice. "It's not in your best interest."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the two French women standing motionless in the middle of the hallway, while the echo of his power slowly faded away.
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