Chapter 211: "Rising Through the Ranks"

The knockout stages of the European Dueling Championship brought a new level of intensity to the competition. The Palais de Duel thrummed with energy as spectators and competitors alike anticipated the day's matches.

Harry's first opponent in the Round of 32 was Jean-Pierre Dubois, a former French Auror known for his unpredictable dueling style. As they took their positions on the platform, Harry could feel the weight of expectation from the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a treat for you today!" the commentator's voice boomed. "The young prodigy Hadrian Potter faces off against the unpredictable Jean-Pierre Dubois!"

The duel began, and immediately Harry understood Dubois' reputation. The Frenchman's spells came in erratic patterns, mixing standard dueling fare with obscure jinxes and hexes.

"Incroyable! Dubois opens with a barrage of spells I've never seen before!" the commentator exclaimed. "Potter is on the defensive, folks!"

For the first few minutes, Harry found himself purely on the defensive, conjuring shields and dodging spells. But as the duel wore on, he began to see the method in Dubois' madness. There was a rhythm to the chaos, a pattern hidden beneath the apparent randomness.

"Wait a moment... Potter seems to have found his footing! He's anticipating Dubois' moves now!"

Seizing his moment, Harry launched a counterattack. He interspersed his own unpredictable spells with carefully timed lightning attacks, the crackling energy catching Dubois off guard.

"Sacrebleu! Potter is wielding lightning itself! I've never seen anything like it!"

With a final, powerful burst of lightning, Harry shattered Dubois' shield and disarmed him in one fluid motion. The crowd erupted in cheers as Harry was declared the winner.

"C'est incroyable," Dubois muttered as they shook hands, his accent thick with admiration. "You 'ave a bright future, young man."

As Harry and Dubois stepped down from the platform, they were met by a man accompanied by a familiar beauty - Fleur Delacour, who had only grown more enchanting since Harry last saw her.

Fleur's eyes flashed with indignation as she addressed Harry, her English accented but clear. "Why were you not at ze Under-17 championship last year? You ran away from our promised battle. I was waiting to take my revenge!"

Harry replied with a small smile playing on his lips. "Nice to meet you too, Miss Delacour. But as you can see, the Under-17 tournament was no longer a challenge for me. For greater duels and more chances to learn, I began participating in the adult dueling scene."

Before Fleur could retort, the man beside her interjected. "'Fleur, I did not know you were familiar wiz Monsieur Potter," he said, his tone curious.

Fleur tossed her silvery hair, her frustration evident. "I am not familiar wiz 'im, Papa. 'E just defeated me in a duel wiz a sneak attack and did not participate last year when I wanted to take my revenge."

Dubois, still catching his breath from the duel, chimed in. "I am sorry to break it to you, Mademoiselle Delacour, but you are no match for young Monsieur Potter 'ere. As you can see, 'e defeated me fair and square in a duel."

Fleur's eyes narrowed. "Zat doesn't mean I cannot defeat 'im. Even you lost to me one time."

Dubois' face reddened slightly, remembering how he, like many others, had fallen victim to her uncontrolled allure.

Fleur's father, sensing the tension, addressed Harry. "I am sorry about zis, Monsieur Potter, to keep you 'ere. You can go ahead and 'ave some rest for your next battle. Fleur, if you want to defeat Monsieur Potter, you will 'ave a chance later in ze year. Be patient."

Fleur's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Really? Is zis ze secret you are keeping from me? Why can't you just tell me ze secret?"

Harry just smiled and walked away, knowing Monsieur Delacour was referring to the Triwizard Tournament. But Harry's mind was already focused on the events that would unfold around the tournament, rather than the competition itself.

Back at his resting area, he was met with a grinning Sirius. "Who was that, Harry? Have you got your first fan? She's really beautiful."

Harry chuckled. "Not a fan. Just a sore loser from a previous tournament. You remember Fleur Delacour, don't you?"

Sirius' eyes widened in recognition. "The veela who defeated everyone with her allure? But this doesn't look like a coincidence. Maybe she likes you and wants an excuse to talk to you."

Harry shook his head, amused. "Whatever. I don't have time for relationships. Becoming stronger is more important."

Sirius sighed dramatically. "You're boring, you know that, Harry?"

---

The Round of 16 brought Harry face to face with Anastasia Petrova, a fierce Russian witch with a penchant for elemental magic. As they bowed to each other, Harry could feel the air around her shimmer with heat.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have Hadrian Potter, the young lightning wielder, facing off against Anastasia Petrova, the mistress of elemental magic!" the commentator announced, his voice filled with excitement.

The duel began, and Anastasia immediately conjured a ring of fire around herself. Flames lashed out like whips, forcing Harry to stay mobile.

"Incredible! Petrova has surrounded herself with a ring of fire! How will Potter respond?"

Harry countered with jets of water and gusts of wind, turning the platform into a maelstrom of elemental fury. Steam hissed and billowed as water met fire, creating a foggy battlefield.

"It's like watching the forces of nature themselves do battle! Potter and Petrova are evenly matched!"

For several intense minutes, they traded blows, neither gaining a clear advantage. Petrova's fire snaked out in tendrils, seeking to ensnare Harry, while his lightning crackled and danced, threatening to pierce her defenses.

"The air itself is charged with magic! I've never seen such a display of elemental control!"

Then Harry saw his opening. As Anastasia prepared a particularly large fireball, gathering flames between her hands, he made his move.

"Petrova is charging up for a massive attack! This could be the end for Potter!"

In a crack of displaced air, Harry disappeared once again in a duel, leaving the audience gasping in shock.

"Potter's vanished! Where could he be?"

He reappeared directly above Anastasia, his wand already in motion. A powerful water charm erupted from its tip, a veritable deluge descending upon the Russian witch.

"Merlin's beard! Potter's above her! It's raining on the dueling platform!"

Steam exploded outward as the water extinguished Anastasia's flames. In the moment of confusion, Harry struck again. A quick Expelliarmus ended the match, Anastasia's wand flying into his waiting hand.

The crowd was on its feet, roaring with approval. Harry had just defeated one of the tournament favorites in a display of magical mastery rarely seen from one so young.

"It's over! Potter wins in spectacular fashion!" the commentator exclaimed, his voice echoing through the arena. "But wait... what's this? Potter is hovering above the platform!"

The spectators gasped and murmured in awe as they watched Harry floating effortlessly a few feet above the dueling stage. The sight of a wizard suspended in mid-air without a broom was uncommon enough to draw attention, even if it wasn't entirely unheard of.

Recognizing that he might have revealed more than intended, Harry quickly descended to the platform. He had only meant to demonstrate a brief moment of levitation, not to showcase any extraordinary flying abilities. After all, while many skilled wizards could manage a short hover, true flight was a rare and closely guarded skill.

As he touched down, Harry maintained a composed expression, acting as if the brief display of levitation was nothing out of the ordinary. He knew that while impressive, this demonstration wasn't revealing any of his more potent secrets. The ability to actually fly unaided would remain hidden for now, a trump card to be used only when absolutely necessary.

As Harry progressed through the tournament, whispers began to circulate. Some claimed he was the second coming of Dumbledore, others whispered that he must be using dark magic to achieve such feats at his age. But all agreed on one thing: Harry Potter was a force to be reckoned with, and the dueling world would never be the same.