The selection trials continued until the castle clock struck noon.
By then, the excitement inside the Great Hall had reached its peak.
Brilliant flashes of magic illuminated the enchanted ceiling as duel after duel concluded across the raised platforms. Students packed every available space around the arena, cheering loudly whenever a particularly impressive spell combination or clever strategy decided a match.
Professor Flitwick stood on the central platform, acting as the chief referee while Professor McGonagall carefully recorded every victory.
One by one, the strongest competitors emerged.
Rose Potter continued to impress everyone. Her spell chains were fast, disciplined, and relentless. Ever since Helios had begun training her, she no longer relied solely on Stunning Charms and Disarming Charms. Every spell she cast flowed naturally into the next, forcing her opponents constantly onto the defensive.
After winning her fourth duel, Rose lowered her wand and accepted her opponent's handshake.
"Excellent control, Miss Potter," Professor Flitwick praised with a smile.
Rose thanked him politely before stepping down from the platform.
Nearby, Susan Bones had also finished another duel.
Unlike Rose's aggressive style, Susan fought patiently. Every shield was perfectly timed, every counter precise. She rarely wasted movement, gradually wearing her opponents down before ending the duel cleanly.
Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly.
"Miss Bones has remarkable composure."
Professor Sprout smiled proudly.
"Hufflepuff has always produced dependable duelists."
Across the hall, another duel had just ended.
"Victory to Mr. Draco Malfoy!"
The announcement drew another round of applause.
Many students had expected Draco to perform well.
Few expected him to dominate.
His footwork had become refined, his spellcasting crisp, and his judgment during a duel had improved beyond recognition. Gone was the arrogant boy who fought to impress others. Draco now fought efficiently, ending every duel as quickly as possible without unnecessary risks.
Even Professor Snape allowed himself the slightest nod of approval.
"Well done, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco merely inclined his head before stepping away from the platform.
Helios watched everything from the sidelines.
Since Professor Flitwick seed him directly into the final selection because of his demonstrated abilities and leadership in the Defence Club, he hadn't drawn his wand once.
Before the trials began, Professor Flitwick had publicly announced,
"If any competitor believes Mr. Helios Black should earn his place through combat, you may challenge him."
No one had accepted.
Every student who had seen Helios duel Professor Flitwick—or witnessed his demonstrations in the Defence Club—understood exactly what accepting that challenge would mean.
No one wished to become another story whispered throughout Hogwarts.
As the final morning matches concluded, Professor McGonagall stepped onto the central platform carrying a fresh parchment.
She looked around the hall before speaking.
"Students."
"The preliminary selection has now concluded."
Professor Flitwick raised his wand.
Behind them, a massive enchanted parchment appeared in midair.
Slowly, twelve names wrote themselves in glowing silver letters.
Final Twelve
Helios Black — Fifth Year, Slytherin
Rose Potter — Fifth Year, Gryffindor
Draco Malfoy — Fifth Year, Slytherin
Susan Bones — Fifth Year, Hufflepuff
Adrian Hawthorne — Sixth Year, Ravenclaw
Cassandra Flint — Sixth Year, Slytherin
Ethan Ashcombe — Sixth Year, Gryffindor
Lydia Rowle — Sixth Year, Hufflepuff
Marcus Vane — Sixth Year, Ravenclaw
Eleanor Rosier — Sixth Year, Slytherin
Cedric Rowan — Sixth Year, Hufflepuff
Victor Selwyn — Seventh Year, Slytherin
Murmurs immediately spread through the hall.
"I knew Victor Selwyn would make it."
"Cassandra is frightening.''
"Adrian Hawthorne beat two seventh years."
Several fifth-years exchanged nervous looks.
The older students had finally entered the spotlight.
Professor McGonagall waited until the whispers died down.
"These twelve competitors have distinguished themselves through today's trials."
"Everyone of them had three victories or more."
"Every one of them has demonstrated the skill expected of a potential international representative."
Professor Flitwick stepped forward with obvious excitement.
"However..."
"Only six students will ultimately represent Hogwarts—and Britain."
Half of the finalists would be eliminated.
"You have three days," Professor McGonagall continued.
"Rest."
"Recover from your injuries."
"Train."
"Study your opponents."
"When you return..."
"...every duel will be between competitors of exceptional ability."
Many of the finalists already showed signs of the morning's intense battles.
Rose had scorch marks on one sleeve.
Susan rubbed her bruised shoulder.
Adrian Hawthorne wore a healing bandage around his forearm.
Marcus Vane walked with a slight limp after a particularly fierce duel..
"Our offer still stands."
"If any finalist believes Mr. Helios Black's automatic qualification is undeserved..."
"...you may challenge him before the final trials begin."
Every finalist looked toward Helios.
Victor Selwyn considered it for a brief moment before shaking his head.
"I've watched him fight Professor Flitwick."
"I'm not volunteering."
Cassandra Flint folded her arms.
"I came here to earn a place on the team, not to be humiliated."
Adrian Hawthorne laughed.
"I value my pride too much."
Even Rose smiled.
Helios merely nodded politely.
Professor Flitwick chuckled.
"I thought that would be the outcome."
He clapped his hands once.
"The Great Hall must now be restored for lunch and afternoon classes."
"The final selection will resume in three days."
"And may the best six duelists represent Britain.
The excitement from the morning’s selection trials did not end when lunch was over. If anything, it only became louder.
Every corridor echoed with animated conversations about the duels they had witnessed. Students walked in groups, waving their hands as they described spells, dodges, shields, counters, and victories with far more drama than the actual matches had probably contained.
Since eight dueling platforms had operated at the same time, no one had managed to watch every match. Every student had only seen a handful of battles, and now everyone was eager to fill in the gaps.
A third-year Hufflepuff insisted Susan Bones had won without taking a single hit, only for another student to correct him and say she had been clipped once in the shoulder. A Ravenclaw excitedly described Marcus Vane transfiguring part of his platform into stone pillars, while a Gryffindor argued that Rose Potter’s third duel had been the most impressive of the morning.
Others had different priorities.
“No, Helios didn’t even duel!” one boy said loudly. “That’s the biggest story.”
Students interrupted one another constantly, each convinced they had seen the most important match. Even the younger years gathered around older students, listening as though they were hearing tales of famous Aurors rather than classmates only a few years older than themselves.
Outside the Charms classroom, a group of second-year Slytherins had gathered around one of their housemates. The boy stood in the middle of the circle, enthusiastically reenacting Draco Malfoy’s duel against Justin Finch-Fletchley with all the confidence of someone who believed he had witnessed history.
“I’m telling you,” he said dramatically, waving an imaginary wand through the air. “Finch-Fletchley fired three Stunning Charms one after another, but Malfoy never stood still. He moved before the spells even reached him.”
Several younger students leaned closer.
“Then Justin tried a Blasting Curse.”
“What happened?”
The boy grinned, clearly enjoying the attention.
“Malfoy didn’t block it. He let it pass beside him like it wasn’t even worth noticing. Then—bang!”
He slapped his hands together, making two girls nearby flinch.
“One Disarming Charm, one Shield Charm, and before Justin even understood what happened, Malfoy’s wand was already aimed at his throat.”
A few students let out impressed whistles.
“I didn’t know Malfoy was that good.”
“Neither did I.”
Another boy folded his arms and gave a careless shrug.
“He must have learned from his Death Eater father.”
The words were spoken casually, but the corridor was not quiet enough to hide them.
Only a few feet away, Draco Malfoy stopped walking.
His face darkened in an instant. His fingers tightened around his wand, and his grey eyes turned cold as he looked toward the group. For a moment, it seemed as though he would stride over and demand satisfaction on the spot.
Helios, who had been walking beside him, noticed the change immediately.
Before Draco could take a second step, Helios calmly caught his sleeve.
“Leave it.”
Draco turned sharply toward him.
“You heard what he said.”
“I did.”
“They called my father a Death Eater.”
“They insulted your family,” Helios said calmly.
Draco’s jaw tightened.
“And you expect me to just ignore it?”
Helios did not release his sleeve. His expression remained composed, almost unreadable.
“If a few careless words from a second-year are enough to make you lose your temper, then you will never become a truly great duelist.”
Draco frowned, anger struggling against confusion.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” Helios said. “In school duels, people follow rules. They bow, they salute, they wait for the signal, and they fight fairly because a professor is watching.”
The younger Slytherins had realized by then that Draco and Helios had overheard them. Their earlier excitement vanished, replaced by sudden fear. None of them dared interrupt.
Helios continued as though they were not there.
“A real enemy will insult your family. They will mock your blood, your failures, your father, your mother, anything they think will hurt. They will do it because anger makes people careless. An angry wizard casts too quickly, thinks too slowly, and misses things he should have seen.”
Draco’s grip on his wand slowly loosened, though his expression remained tense.
“If you allow every insult to control your emotions,” Helios said quietly, “then your opponent has already defeated you before the duel even begins.”
For several seconds, Draco said nothing.
Then he looked away from the younger students and let out a slow breath.
“…You’re right.”
Helios smiled faintly.
The tension in the corridor broke almost immediately, though the younger Slytherins still looked as though they wished the floor would swallow them.
Helios finally released Draco’s sleeve, and the two resumed walking toward their classroom.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the corridor continued around them, but Draco seemed lost in thought. Helios allowed the silence to remain for a while before glancing sideways.
“There is something I’ve been wondering.”
Draco looked at him.
“What?”
“How did you become this good?”
Draco blinked.
“What do you mean?”
“I watched you duel this morning,” Helios said. “You defeated students older than you.”
The arrogance faded slightly, replaced by something quieter. For several seconds, he said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its earlier sharpness.
“It started in second year.”
Helios listened without interrupting.
“You may not know this before you started a dueling club Lockhart tried to form a club?”
“I’ve heard about it.”
Draco gave a humorless laugh.
“I’ll never forget it.”
His gaze drifted ahead, though it was clear he was no longer looking at the corridor.
“Our names were called. It was me against Potter.”
He paused, then exhaled through his nose.
“She defeated me.”
Another pause.
“No. That makes it sound better than it was. She humiliated me.”
“In front of the entire school,” Draco continued. “I couldn’t even land a proper spell. Everything I tried, she countered. Everything I thought I knew suddenly meant nothing. And when it was over, people laughed.”
His voice tightened slightly.
“They laughed for days. Some of them for weeks. It took almost a year before people stopped bringing it up.”
There was no theatrical anger in his voice now. Only the memory of a wound that had never fully healed.
“That day, I swore I would never let something like that happen again. So I practiced. Every morning before breakfast. During holidays. When Father thought I was studying, I practiced. When everyone else slept, I practiced.”
Draco’s smile was small and bitter.
“Do you know how humiliating it is for a pure-blood boy raised the way I was to lose so badly to a girl?”
Helios understood immediately.
Not because he agreed with the belief, but because he recognized the shape of it.
Pure-blood pride.
Draco had been raised in a world where blood mattered, family mattered, reputation mattered, and boys like him were expected to stand above others as naturally as breathing. Losing had wounded him. Losing publicly had scarred him. Losing to Rose Potter had shattered something he had believed about himself.
And because Draco Malfoy was too proud to accept humiliation quietly, he had turned that wound into discipline.
Helios nodded thoughtfully.
“So humiliation became your teacher.”
Draco gave a weak smile.
“The best teacher I ever had.”
Helios could not help comparing this Draco to the one from his previous life. That Draco had possessed talent as well. He had been clever, quick, and ambitious, but he had never shown this kind of relentless determination. Perhaps the difference was simple.
His Draco had never been broken in the right way.
Sometimes pride ruined people. Sometimes ambition poisoned them. But under the right pressure, even wounded pride could become fuel strong enough to push someone far beyond their limits.
As they entered the classroom together, many students turned to look.
Draco Malfoy and Helios Black.
Walking side by side.
Talking naturally.
It was not something most people had expected to see when Helios first arrived at Hogwarts. Yet over the following days, it became an increasingly common sight throughout the castle.
The mysterious heir of House Black and the heir of House Malfoy began spending more and more time together.
Naturally, the rumors only grew louder.