Do you know why everyone get scared when facing something stronger?
Well it complicated, fear of the unknown some would argue. Other would say it's the fear of getting hurt. But Fila, as the philosopher she is always thought its because they were just never able to get to that strength. Feeling like they were at the top of the throne already, and then someone random comes along and wipes them of the face to the blue earth.
Going your whole life and you thought you were the strongest? Please there is always a bigger fish as they say.
So what do these scared people do when faced with an unmoving mountain? They find shortcuts, tunnels or even try to go around.
And in this case, the Japanese school of magic tried to make the biggest shortcut yet.
Fila walked slowly through the sun-dappled corridors of Castelobruxo, the golden light filtering through hanging vines and open arches. The conversation with Itsuki still echoed in her mind like a half-remembered spell. Threats to Bea's family. Money wrapped in pressure. All to remove her from the board before she could face Yumi.
She wasn't even angry anymore. Not really. Just… tired of the games.
Ophelia always knew that the ugly side of human greed would shine brightest when pushed into a corner, but going directly to threatening a family just to get ahead in a race they wouldn't win anyways… Fila truly felt like the mountain standing before the Japanese elite. Or atleast until someone finds the right tunnel to dig under her.
A small smile tugged at her lips despite everything. She flexed her fingers, and a tiny rosebud appeared in her palm, deep red with soft pink edges. She brought it to her nose. Definitely strawberry. Maybe a hint of something sweeter, like those fizzy sweets from the village near Ilvermorny. Progress.
If only beating people in duels was as easy as making flowers taste nice.
And just after a couple days since visiting Bea in the medical wing, the duels arrived. Sadly today, the weather decided to not cooperate.
Rain hammered down in heavy sheets, thunder rumbling like an angry hippogriff overhead. Flashes of lightning lit up the sky every few seconds, followed by booms so loud they seemed to shake the trees themselves.
Fila stood in the middle of the stone-slab ring, not even bothering with a charm to repel the rain. Cold water streamed down her face, soaking her uniform and plastering her hair to her head. It felt… right. Natural. Like the jungle itself was reminding everyone that nature didn't care about tournaments, politics, or scared headmasters throwing tantrums.
She tilted her head back, letting the rain hit her blindfold. The golden Thunderbird stitching gleamed wetly. Somewhere in the stands, she could hear the muffled cheers and groans of the crowd under their own shielding charms. Ilvermorny supporters were loudest, of course, Miles had probably started a chant by now.
Yumi stood across from her, wand already raised, looking far less comfortable in the downpour. Her usual smug confidence had been replaced by something tighter, more wary. Good. Let her feel the mountain for once.
Headmistress Dourado's voice cut through the rain, magically amplified but still sounding a little strained.
Fila wasn't even listening, taking in the moment like this felt much better. She even considered not even moving during this match… and maybe she actually could she thought, and a slight smile appeared.
"A perfect match for Yumi…" Fila mumbled, muffled by the heavy rain.
"BEGIN!" Headmistress Dourado shouted out.
Yumi didn't waste a single second. She launched into a furious barrage of cutting curses, stinging hexes, blasting spells, and sharp transfigurations that turned puddles into icy spikes. Spell after spell flew toward Fila like an angry swarm.
None of them landed.
Fila didn't move. Not a single step. She simply held her wand loosely at her side and whispered "Protego" once, letting the shield bloom around her like an invisible umbrella made of starlight. Yumi's spells slammed into it and fizzled out harmlessly, sparks and smoke dissolving into the rain.
Yumi's eyes widened with frustration. She doubled down, shouting more powerful spells, her movements sharp and desperate. Still, Fila stood perfectly still in the center of the ring, rain streaming off her like she was part of the storm itself.
"Come on," Fila said quietly, loud enough for Yumi to hear over the thunder. "Is that really all you've got? After everything you did to Marcus… I expected more creativity."
Yumi snarled and kept attacking, but it was clear she was starting to panic. Her usual smug confidence had completely washed away with the rain.
Fila tilted her head slightly, almost bored.
"Fine," she murmured. "If you want to play rough… Bob, come say hello."
She raised her free hand, palm open toward the ground. Ancient magic stirred around her, not loud or flashy, but deep and steady, like the roots of the oldest trees in the jungle waking up. The stone slab beneath her feet cracked in several places as thick, twisting roots burst upward, writhing and coiling together with surprising speed.
They formed a shape. Four meters tall, broad-shouldered, and unmistakably humanoid. Vines and bark wove together into arms thicker than tree trunks, glowing faintly with the same emerald-silver veins as Fila's experimental potions. A crude face appeared, two hollow knots for eyes and a wide, friendly slash of a mouth made from flexible roots.
Bob the Tree Giant straightened up with a low, creaking groan that somehow sounded cheerful. Rain poured off his leafy "hair" in waterfalls.
Fila patted one massive root-leg affectionately without even looking up.
"Don't kill her." Fila said quietly, the only restraint he had.
Bob let out a deep, rumbling sound that might have been a laugh. Then he took one enormous step forward, roots shifting and reforming with every movement. Yumi's eyes went wide as the giant loomed over her, raising one massive arm made of living wood and vines.
Yumi's eyes went wide.
The first real flicker of fear crossed her face as the four-meter giant loomed over her like a living, breathing tree from the deepest part of the Amazon. Bob raised one massive arm made of twisted roots and vines, slow and deliberate, rain cascading off his leafy shoulders in miniature waterfalls. He didn't swing. He didn't need to. Just the sheer size and the creaking groan of his body moving was enough.
Yumi stumbled backward, slipping on the wet stone. Her wand shook in her hand.
"N-no— stay back!" she shouted, voice cracking. She fired a desperate blasting curse at Bob's chest. The spell hit with a dull thud… and the giant simply absorbed it, bark rippling slightly like he'd been poked by a curious squirrel.
Bob tilted his head two hollow knot-eyes staring down at her and took another step. The friendly slash of a mouth almost looked like it was smiling.
Yumi's breathing turned fast and shallow. Real panic set in. Her usual smug confidence shattered completely. She scrambled back, feet splashing through puddles, eyes wide with pure, animal terror.
"Get it away from me!" she screamed, voice breaking into something high and desperate. "Get it away—!"
She threw spell after spell, cutting curses, fire sparks, even a wild transfiguration attempt that turned a few nearby vines into harmless flowers. Bob just kept walking, slow and steady, each footstep sending vibrations through the ring. One of his massive hands reached down, not to crush, but to gently (almost playfully) scoop up a chunk of stone and crush it into dust right in front of her, letting the pieces fall like sand through his fingers.
Yumi tripped and fell hard onto her back in the rain, wand slipping from her trembling fingers. She crawled backward, soaked and terrified, eyes locked on the giant towering above her.
"P-please… stop… I yield! I YIELD!" she screamed, voice raw with panic. Tears mixed with the rain on her face. "Make it stop! Please!"
Fila finally raised her hand. "That's enough, Bob."
The Tree Giant paused, gave a cheerful creak that almost sounded like "okay," and slowly dissolved back into the earth. Roots sank away, vines retreated, until only a beautiful patch of wildflowers remained where he had stood, bright red and pink, glowing softly even in the storm.
The barrier dropped. Silence fell over the ring for a heartbeat, broken only by the rain and Yumi's ragged breathing as healers rushed in.
Fila stood exactly where she had the entire time, rain streaming down her face, looking almost serene.
She tilted her head slightly toward Yumi.
"Pathetic." she said quietly, loud enough for the other girl to hear.
All that build up just for her to give up like that? Fila felt herself feel disappointed for the girl. Maybe Haru could do something but this was just, awful.
Bob is no joke, but to give up like that.
Headmistress Dourado stepped onto the ring. The rain had slowly begun to disappear and a bit of sun had started to warm up the area.
"Good duel from Ophelia, and a good try from Yumi." She shot a look at Ophelia. A look of, what even was that. "Next duel will take place in the evening, so at eight a clock."
A intermission of hours to let Ophelia rest and for Haru to warm up a little.
Fila gave Bob's fading patch of wildflowers one last affectionate pat with her foot before walking out of the ring. She felt lighter than she had in days. The rain had washed away some of the tension, and the quick surrender from Yumi left her with more energy than she expected.
Back in the Ilvermorny section, June practically tackled her with a hug the moment she arrived.
"You didn't even move!" June laughed. "Bob is officially my favorite. Can we bring him to Ilvermorny? He'd be great at carrying books."
Miles was grinning ear to ear. "That was the coolest thing I've ever seen. Yumi looked like she saw a dragon made of nightmares."
Fila smiled faintly, still dripping wet. "He's friendly. Mostly."
The Ilvermorny side threw a small celebration, if she could win the last one a bigger celebration would most likely follow. But focusing on celebrating something that could be turned upside down doesn't feel right.
Haru. That was the name that kept circling in her mind as the sun dipped lower. A boy who firmly belonged in the "I have no fucking clue" category. Fila had only caught glimpses of his previous duel, and what she saw was… versatile. He seemed to favor transfiguration, turning the environment against his opponent, shaping stone into weapons, water into bindings, air into barriers. With transfiguration being as broad as it was, predicting his next move felt like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.
The hours until evening passed in a strange, almost peaceful blur.
Fila spent part of the intermission with her Ilvermorny friends in a quiet corner of the guest wing. June had somehow procured a tray of warm pastries (no one asked how), and Miles was dramatically reenacting Bob's dramatic entrance, complete with creaking sound effects and wild arm gestures.
She flexed her fingers again, watching a tiny vine curl lazily around her wrist. Bob had been effective against Yumi because fear worked on her. Haru looked like the type who might actually think on his feet.
As eight o'clock approached, the sky had cleared into a beautiful, star-filled night. Floating lights and torches illuminated the stone-slab ring, giving everything a warm, almost ceremonial glow. The crowd had grown even larger, buzzing with anticipation. This was it, the final match of the entire tournament.
Even press had been widely accepted for this match, and one of them she didn't like. Blond hair, a face that said 'im making bank from this'. That's right Rita skeeter in the flesh. Fila actually thought Rita was very brave to show her face here after what she wrote about her. But its her job to do this.
Fila stood at the edge of the entrance path, arms loosely crossed as she watched the floating lights dance above the stone-slab ring. The night air was cool and crisp after the earlier storm, carrying the clean scent of wet earth and jungle flowers. The crowd buzzed with excitement, a living wall of color and noise under their own shielding charms. Ilvermorny supporters were especially loud, she could hear Miles leading yet another chant that sounded suspiciously like "Bob! Bob! Bob!"
She spotted Rita Skeeter almost immediately. The blonde witch was impossible to miss, quill scribbling furiously on a floating parchment as she hovered near the press box, eyes gleaming with that familiar predatory hunger. Fila felt a small twitch of irritation but pushed it down. After everything, a nosy reporter was the least of her problems.
A soft rustle behind her made her turn.
A figure had approached quietly from the shadows of the vine-covered archway. Tall, cloaked in deep green robes that seemed to blend with the jungle itself, the hood pulled low enough to shadow most of their face. Only a neatly trimmed gray beard and the glint of sharp, intelligent eyes were visible. He carried no obvious wand, but the air around him felt… charged. Old. Like ancient wood and forgotten spells.
"Miss Grindelwald," the man said, voice low and cultured with a faint accent she couldn't quite place. "A word, if I may? Before the final match consumes you."
Fila studied him carefully. He wasn't one of the officials. Not a student. Not anyone she had seen before. Yet something about him felt familiar in a way that prickled at the back of her neck.
"Who are you?" she asked, keeping her tone light but wary. She flexed her fingers once, a tiny vine curling protectively around her wrist like a bracelet.
The stranger gave a small, respectful bow of his head.
"An old observer," he replied. "One who has watched many tournaments… and many champions rise and fall. You have drawn quite the attention, young one. Not just from the press." He glanced briefly toward Rita Skeeter, who was now craning her neck in their direction. "Some attention is… less welcome than others."
Fila raised an eyebrow. "If you're here to warn me about Durmstrang or offer cryptic advice about my 'legacy,' you're a bit late. I've heard it all."
The man chuckled. "Just like your mother."
In a swift motion, almost faster than thought, Fila's wand was out and aimed directly at the stranger's face. The tip glowed with a faint, warning emerald light.
The man didn't flinch. He simply looked down the length of her wand with calm, almost amused eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upward beneath the gray beard.
"Just like your mother," he repeated softly, as if the wand pointed at his nose was nothing more than an interesting conversational prop. "Quick. Sharp. And more than a little suspicious of old men offering cryptic advice in the dark."
Fila's grip tightened slightly, but she didn't fire. Her voice came out low and steady.
"Who are you?" she asked again. "And don't give me that 'old observer' nonsense. You knew my mother?"
The stranger tilted his head, the shadows of his hood shifting just enough to reveal more of his face — weathered but kind, with deep lines that spoke of both laughter and long years of hard choices.
"I knew her… briefly," he said. "A long time ago, before everything became so… complicated. She had the same fire in her eyes when someone tried to tell her what her future would look like." He paused, then added gently, "Lower your wand, child. I'm not here to harm you. Quite the opposite."
"I think I will be then one to decide that." Fila shot back.
"Talk fast," she said. "The match is about to start."
The man gave a small nod of respect.
"You talked recently with a woman with great history…"
"Elara, just say her name and say what you want before I use my first killing curse to your face." Her patience running really thin.
A soft chuckle escaped the stranger, warm rather than mocking.
"Elara Voss," he confirmed. "My old colleague. One of the few who still remembers what the cause was truly meant to be, before it all turned to ash and fear. She sent word through… certain channels. About your… goals."
He reached into his robe, which got Fila to tighten her grip around her wand even harder. But he soon pulled out a letter and a small leaf.
"My name is Thomas, I come from an order of wizards and witches." He held the letter and leaf out towards her, "And we wish to invite you to talk. Nothing more for now, just a chat. This leaf works as a portkey, when you have time use it and it will bring you to our manor."
Fila looked at the leaf and letter with a bit of hesitation and fear, but soon reached out to grab it. She trusted Elara, and maybe this could be something fun. Thomas gave a small, respectful nod as she took the items.
"Nothing more for now," he repeated gently. "Just a conversation. When you are ready, and only when you are ready, the leaf will take you to our manor. No tricks. No pressure. We have watched too many bright sparks burn out too soon. We would rather help one stay alight."
With that, he pulled his hood back up and melted into the shadows once more. The vines around the archway shifted softly behind him, and he was gone.
Fila stood there for a long moment, turning the silver leaf over in her fingers. It felt warm, almost alive, like the strawberry roses she'd been experimenting with. She slipped both the leaf and the sealed letter into her pocket, next to the rune-stone from the other mysterious old man.
"Great," she muttered to herself with a wry smile. "First cryptic grandpa, now a whole order. My social calendar is getting full. Did i just get drafted into a cult?"
She shook her head, pushing the strange encounter to the back of her mind. The roar of the crowd was growing louder. The final match was about to begin.
Haru stood ready on the opposite side of the ring, wand held steady, eyes sharp and focused. He had watched both of her previous duels closely. He knew exactly what kind of mountain he was facing tonight.
Headmistress Dourado's voice rang out clearly across the torchlit ring.
"Final match of the tournament! Ophelia Grindelwald of Ilvermorny versus Haru Sato of Mahoutokoro!"
The crowd fell into a hushed, electric silence as she stepped back.
Dourado had started walking towards the end of the ring.
Haru stood watching Ophelias every move, "Bob?" he asked suddenly.
Fila after hearing his little question started laughing, to the point where the crowd looked at her with confused expressions.
"No, you wont meet Bob." But a slight smile formed on her, "But there's someone else who I think you would love to meet."
"I will avenge Rin." He just answered, he actually seemed very ready for this. maybe he had some backbone compared to Yumi.
Headmistress Dourado suddenly stopped just before the end of the ring, and she turned her head to Ophelia. She had this face she couldn't really pin point the cause of, like a warning or a heads-up.
And than she took her final step out, and before Fila could even do anything. A spell had already been fired.
It grazed her shoulder with a burning pain, tearing through fabric and skin in a clean, vicious line. Fila hissed sharply, stumbling back half a step as blood welled up and mixed with the faint remnants of earlier rain on her uniform.
Haru was already moving, no hesitation, no monologue. His next spell came fast, a transfiguration that turned the ground beneath her feet into slippery mud. He followed it immediately with a barrage of enhanced blasting curses that hit harder and faster than anything she had seen from him before.
Fila let out a quiet breath as she dodge the incoming spells. This wasn't the same Haru from the earlier rounds. He was faster. Stronger. More relentless. His transfigurations flowed seamlessly into attacks, the environment bending to his will with almost frightening precision.
She raised her wand, the burning pain in her shoulder throbbing with every movement.
"Alright," she muttered, voice low but steady. "You want to play like that? Fine."
She didn't summon Bob right away. Instead, she whispered a quick Protego to buy herself a moment, the shield flaring brighter than before to handle the enhanced pressure. Haru's spells hammered against it like hail on a tin roof.
She flicked her free hand. Ancient magic stirred deep in the stone. Roots erupted, but not into Bob this time. Smaller, faster whipping tendrils that lashed out like living whips, wrapping around Haru's ankles and yanking him off balance while she countered with a burst of her own transfiguration, turning nearby puddles into swirling clouds of flower petals that stung like bees.
Haru broke free with a sharp cutting curse, rolling to the side and immediately reshaping part of the ring into a wall of spears that shot toward her. He was breathing harder, but his eyes burned with determination. Whatever fire had been lit in him tonight, it was burning bright.
Fila dodged the first few spears by finally moving quick, fluid steps that used the uneven, wet stone to her advantage. She could feel blood trickling down her arm, but she ignored it.
"Come on then," she called out, voice carrying clearly. "Show me what you've really got, Haru. No more holding back."
The final duel had truly begun.