Morning came far too early.
Or perhaps it simply felt that way because Sirius spent half the night muttering in his sleep about "traitorous wolf puppets" and "never trusting French performers again."
Cassius rose before dawn anyway.
Getting himself ready as he went through a basic workout and calestenics program to keep himself fit and limber for the days ahead.
By the time Sirius finally stirred—hair a disaster, dignity nonexistent—Cassius was already dressed in his dueling robes, wands holstered, expression neutral.
Sirius blinked blearily. "…You're a demon."
Cassius shrugged. "And you're late."
"Quarterfinals can WAIT until I've had coffee." He paused. "…and a muffin. Preferably something that doesn't remind me of wolves."
Cassius allowed himself a tiny smirk. "Then avoid anything with chocolate chips."
Sirius groaned.
By the time they reached the Grand Duelling Hall, the atmosphere was nothing like the earlier rounds.
The audience was quieter—tighter—leaning in as though they expected every spell to set the arena ablaze.
Because from now on, every match was a true spectacle.
Today there would be eight matches, diving through all the remaining matches from the quarter finals through to the Championship match, but quite unlike the earlier rounds, this would be a best of five match, giving those who'd made it this far a greater chance to fight against their opponents and showcase their true might.
Cassius stepped into the competitor's staging corridor, the announcer's booming voice reverberating through the stone arches:
"QUARTERFINALS—MATCH ONE! CASSIUS SNAPE OF GREAT BRITAIN… VERSUS… FRIEDRICH KRANZ OF GERMANY!"
Sirius froze mid–muffin bite. "Oh you're kidding."
Flitwick squeaked. "K–Kranz? As in the heir of the Düsseldorf Defense Academy?! Cassius, be careful!"
Cassius blinked. "He is sixteen?"
"Sixteen and built like a tank made of German engineering and motherly disapproval!" Sirius hissed. "His nickname is The Iron Gate. Nothing gets through him!"
Cassius simply walked forward.
~
Friedrich Kranz stood in the ring like someone had sculpted him out of granite.
Broad.
Stoic.
Perfect posture.
Not an ounce of wasted movement.
He bowed stiffly.
"Snape," he said in a low, serious tone. "I have reviewed your previous matches. You fight with adaptability. Creativity." A pause. "I will allow none of it."
Cassius inclined his head in polite acknowledgment.
"We shall see."
The referee raised her wand.
"Begin!"
~
ROUND ONE
Kranz did not attack.
He erected a fortress of magical defense.
"EISENWALL."
A shimmering wall of interlocking iron-like plates materialized in a perfect dome around him.
Cassius immediately fired—
"Fractus!"
The spell bounced off like he'd thrown a pebble.
Kranz spoke calmly from inside his shimmering fortress, voice echoing:
"You will not break my defense. Either you tire first… or you yield."
Cassius's lips twitched.
Yield?
Not likely.
He circled, firing off several more precision spells—ricochet, rebound, refracted into harmless sparks.
The crowd murmured.
Sirius pulled at his hair. "He's turtling! Bloody German tortoise strategy!"
Flitwick shook his head. "That shield is the strongest in the under–sixteen leagues. Cassius will need… something drastic."
Cassius inhaled slowly.
He placed the tip of his wand on the dueling floor.
His opponent was simply standing there condescendingly smug, not even bothering to attack, so he had plenty of time to plot his downfall.
And whispered:
"Seismo."
The ground trembled—but not violently.
Rather, the vibrations slithered outward like hunting serpents.
Kranz frowned inside his dome.
"What are you—"
The tremor hit the base of the Eisenwall—
And the entire dome abruptly tilted five degrees.
Almost imperceptible.
But enough.
Cassius snapped his wand upward—
"Vectis Magnus!"
A massive lever-force spell struck the shield at an angle.
The Eisenwall flipped like an overturned cauldron.
The German boy crashed sideways within, losing equilibrium for the first time.
The shield flickered.
Cassius struck again—
"Fulmen!"
Lightning slammed into the dome—creating cracks.
"IMPULSO!"
A concussive blast hammered the weakened point.
The Eisenwall shattered like glass.
The audience erupted—
Kranz, stunned by the sudden breach, barely raised his wand as Cassius finished:
"Stupefy."
The red beam hit cleanly.
Ending the match with an almost predictable end.
Round One: Victor: Cassius Snape.
The crowd thundered in disbelief.
Sirius threw his remaining muffin into the air in triumph.
Kranz, recovering on the ground, stared at Cassius as if seeing him clearly for the first time.
"You… dismantled my strongest defense. No one under eighteen has done so."
Cassius gave a slight, almost respectful nod.
"You left the foundation unguarded."
Kranz exhaled hard.
Then grinned.
A small, sharp, eager grin.
"Excellent. Then I will no longer hold back."
~
ROUND TWO
"Begin!"
Kranz moved instantly—and with terrifying speed.
His wand carved brutal shapes in the air.
"STURMHAGEL!"
A storm of compressed air bullets blasted forward.
Cassius dodged left—right—slid beneath one—
A bullet grazed his shoulder, ripping fabric.
Kranz advanced like a war machine.
"DRUCKWELLE!"
A shockwave exploded outward.
Cassius threw up a shield—
The shield shattered—
He tumbled across the floor, wind knocked from his lungs.
Kranz didn't let up.
"ARRETIEREN!"
A binding glyph formed under Cassius—
He blinked out with a snap of distortion—
Just in time.
Kranz turned—eyes burning with disciplined fury.
"You force me to escalate," he rumbled.
Cassius steadied his stance, breathing sharp.
"Then escalate."
Kranz obliged.
He slammed his wand into the floor—
"GEFAHRZONE."
A massive red sigil spread across the entire ring.
Cassius recognized the spell a half-second before it triggered.
Area denial.
Full perimeter.
He sprinted just as the sigil detonated into a forest of razor-edged magical spikes erupting from every direction.
The audience gasped.
Cassius vaulted between two spikes, rebounded off a third, used the momentum to launch himself upward—
Kranz aimed—
"ENDE."
Cassius twisted midair, wand pointed downward—
"Ventus—Ruptura!"
Compressed wind sliced through the spike forest—
Then slammed into Kranz like a battering ram.
Kranz braced—
But slid backward five meters before regaining footing.
Cassius landed lightly.
Sweat dripped down his jaw.
Kranz looked exhilarated.
"Finally," the German murmured. "An opponent who forces me to adapt."
He raised his wand—
"EISEN—"
Cassius moved too fast to see.
Hyper-Acceleration flickered—
One beat.
Two beats.
Cassius appeared behind Kranz—
Wand at the German's spine.
Soft whisper:
"Dormire."
A sleep charm—simple, gentle—bypassing brute-force defenses entirely.
It hit Kranz before he could turn.
He collapsed…
Peacefully.
The referee blinked.
Then raised her wand high.
"ROUND TWO —VICTOR, CASSIUS SNAPE!"
The stadium erupted, louder than it had all tournament.
~
The match moved to reset except for one problem... Kranz couldnt be woken up, not with a poke, a prod, even a buckets worth of water to his face.
Someone even tried smelling salts but to no avail.
After five minutes of attempts passed the match was declared a victory in Cassius's favor with Kranz being declared unable to continue competing after the 2nd round.
~
Kranz eventually did awake hours later, groggy but unharmed.
He sat up, rubbing his head.
The german was confused but seeing how he was outside the ring he could only accept he'd been defeated.
Not far from him Cassius sat alongside his coaches half meditating, half watching the matches before his eyes.
France had three finalist this year, with one being defeated by a Romanian, while the other was victorious against a Greek, then there was Fleur currently on the stage battling against a Norwegian.
If he was stating anything it would be that Fleur... well she was weak, the only thing she had going for her was the fact that her opponent opposite her was fighting with kid gloves on...
In the end with the situation as it was Fleur won 3-0 afterall if you never strike your opponent how can you possibly expect to win?