Dawn broke over the Paris dueling complex like the opening crack of a transfiguration spell—sharp, brilliant, and completely unforgiving.
The moment sunlight touched the wards above the roof, the enchantments flared awake, bathing the main hall in a white-blue glow that made every wand shimmer like polished steel.
Cassius was already dressed.
Already stretched.
Already waiting.
Sirius, by contrast, was half-asleep on a bench with a cup of something that was either burnt coffee or an illegal potion meant to replicate coffee.
Flitwick paced in front of the dueling rings like a general waiting for the drums of war.
Being a seasoned world class dueler himself he was in his element being on the scene once more, even if it was only as a coach for a student.
All around them, the vast arena was filling with youth duelists—some nervous, some excited, most posturing.
672 entrants aged sixteen and under.
The most gathered in a decade for a national level event.
The observation stands were quickly filling up while the contest grounds were swamped with contestants and their coaches but by the end of today, these number would be filtered down to only sixty-four while the rest were free to remain and watch or go home in shame.
~
A flash of red light drew everyone's attention as the enchanted bracket board came alive above the central rings.
Hundreds of names rearranged themselves like a giant sentient crossword puzzle, slotting duelists into the twenty-five preliminary rings.
Sirius nudged him. "Moment of truth, kid."
Cassius folded his arms, watching the glowing script scroll.
Then his name landed in place.
RING 3 – MATCH ONE
Cassius Snape (Great Britain)vs.Adrien Rousseau (France)
The ring didn't matter but seeing who he was placed with for the very first match... well Cassius honestly expected it... Adrien Rousseau last years runner-up, returning as a sixteen year old to take the championship since the previous champion was now ineligible due to being seventeen.
Sirius choked on his drink.
Flitwick stopped pacing mid-step.
"…Well," Sirius muttered. "Someone paid a lot of gold for that."
Flitwick sputtered, "This—this is outrageous! Opening qualifier against last year's finalist? He should be seeded for the later rounds—not thrown at the number two duelist on day one!"
Cassius slipped on his gloves.
"It doesn't matter, one way or another we would wind up fighting anyway."
Sirius groaned. "Oh Merlin, you sound more like James than Sniv-Severus pup."
"I'll take that as a compliment" Cassius quipped back.
~
The dueling rings activated one by one—flat surfaces rising from the ground, encased in glowing containment wards that flared with blue light showcasing the shield spells in place to prevent stray spells from striking other participants or viewers.
Spectators filled the stands in waves, cheers erupting like thunder.
Cassius had arrived at Ring 3 along with about sixty or so others children and their trainers.
As the first match participant, Cassius stepped up into the fight ring, each footstep quiet against the polished stone.
His opponent, Adrien Rousseau, was already waiting at the opposite end of the ring—tall for Sixteen, hair tied back, wearing the tipped-collar duelling uniform of Beauxbatons' elite.
Rousseau gave him a look halfway between smug amusement and pity.
"A twelve-year-old," Rousseau said in accented English. "They must think very little of me this year."
Cassius tilted his head. "We'll see."
The referee raised her wand. "Duelists, prepare—"
Rousseau flourished his wand dramatically, sparks trailing.
Cassius didn't move.
"—Begin!"
~
Match One
Rousseau shot forward with immaculate form, firing a double-chain spell meant to overwhelm immediately.
"IGNIS—FALLAX—!"
Twin spirals of flame curved inward like closing jaws—
Cassius flicked his wand once.
"Fractus."
The flames shattered midair into harmless red dust.
Rousseau froze for half a second—too long.
Cassius was already stepping forward, wand steady.
"Festinatio."
A burst of controlled momentum launched him across the ring like a bullet.
Rousseau barely got his shield up—
Cassius's stun hit like a hammer.
The French boy flew backward, tumbling across the ring boundary—wards flaring red.
It was a ring out, Adrien had been sent flying, and before he was able to do anything about it the almost adult had rolled right off the platform into the crowd surrounding the ring below.
Silence.
Then disbelief.
Then an eruption of whispers rising through the stands.
Flitwick pumped his tiny fist.
Sirius howled with delight.
Cassius simply walked off the ring as Rousseau stared up at the ceiling in shock.
His dream of winning the national tournament had come to an end in a literal instant... to a snot nosed child no less.
As for cassius all he could think was.
One match down.
Three to go.
~
He was barely off the arena when his next match was called.
The board above shifted, pairing winners in rapid-fire succession.
No breaks.
No recovery time.
Preliminaries were survival by endurance the quicker you finished your match the better you'd be for your next fight.
Cassius stepped into Ring 6 next—a German duelist, a fifteen-year-old with perfect posture and a wand style taught with strict military-like discipline.
The duel lasted longer than his first but his opponent just like the first did not expect him to survive the first blow.
As he sent an overcharged German piercing spell that was met by an equally overcharged British shield charm, only to receive a stunning spell as soon as his own offence faded away.
Cassius didn't even sweat, as he jumped down from the ring once more.
~
The third opponent attempted trickery—illusions, smoke screens, even throwing flashbangs to try disorienting him.
In the end all his attempts failed as Cassius with his eyes closed turned, cutting through the illusions and gimmicks before sending out a simple Expeliarmus to disarm the wizarding clown as Cassius thought of him.
This was a dueling tournament and this opponent had advanced so far relying on tricks to win?
Hopefully there were some real duelists in this thing or he wasted his time in coming here.
~
Being one of the faster to finish their matches Cassius was seeded into a fourth Preliminary match, this would be his final match of the day.
The final match before the 64-entrant cutoff occured.
His opponent this time was a Romanian fourth-year duelist, stocky, broad-shouldered, known for brutal close-range combat and shield-breaking physical hexes.
Sirius muttered, "Now this one is going to try to maul you."
Cassius stepped into the ring.
The Romanian cracked his knuckles. "Little one. I hope you do not break easily."
Cassius looked him up and down. "I don't."
The referee's wand went up.
"Begin!"
The Romanian charged immediately—no spells, just raw physical speed enhanced charms to boost his speed cast upon him before the match even began.
Cassius stepped back once.
Twice.
Measured the timing.
Then—
"Retrahere."
A gravitational pull snapped the Romanian's legs out from under him.
He hit the floor hard—but rolled, slamming a breaking curse into the stone.
Cassius twisted away, hair brushing the air as the stone cracked.
Then he struck with a clean, merciless chain:
"Fulmen.Accelerare.Stupefy."
Lightning cracked, momentum surged, before impacting a hastily erected shield charm, but within a second the shield fractured and the remaining spell energy slammed into his chest blasting the Romanian across the ring.
Given a ten count to recover before being declared knocked out, but even while his eyes were open and moving he dare not stand back up.
Victor Cassius Snape.
The arena roared.
Even the organizers stared.
Some whispering in French sounded suspiciously like curses at whoever rigged the opener.
Cassius dusted off his gloves, leaving the ring with the same calm he entered it with.
Sirius met him immediately.
"Kid—KID—that was incredible!"
Flitwick actually had tears in his eyes. "My boy… that was textbook. Better than textbook!"
Cassius only nodded.
All around him the remaining participants and coaches eyes were on him, here he was a twelve year old boy and yet, he was among the first to qualify for the real tournement, more than that he'd made his four duels look easy almost sweeping each one without any real effort.