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High up in one of the castle's western towers, inside the airy, deeply intellectual office of the Head of Ravenclaw House.
Professor Filius Flitwick sat comfortably behind a specially charmed, low oak desk, carefully reading through Regulus's finalized, highly detailed "Dueling Club" administrative proposal.
While the Professor read, Regulus took the quiet opportunity to discreetly observe the brightly lit, fascinating room.
The absolute most striking feature of the office was a massive, breathtakingly beautiful mosaic portrait of Helena Ravenclaw hanging prominently on the far wall. In the shimmering painting, the ghost of Ravenclaw—looking devastatingly young and alive—wore her legendary diadem and stood in profile amidst a lush, magical garden. Even the physical frame of the painting was a masterpiece, intricately inlaid with thousands of pieces of shimmering mother-of-pearl, making it gorgeously dazzling and catching the sunlight perfectly.
Honestly, the ambient light reflecting off the iridescent mother-of-pearl from this single painting alone was practically enough to illuminate the entire room without the need for the tall windows.
Scattered meticulously across the desk were several exquisitely crafted, highly intricate pieces of genuine Goblin silverware, which perfectly complemented Professor Flitwick's own proud Goblin heritage. Furthermore, all the heavy oak furniture in the room had been thoughtfully, magically adjusted to sit quite low to the ground, allowing the diminutive Professor to navigate and use his office with absolute ease and physical freedom.
"Hmm... aggressively utilizing a semi-sentient magical artifact to randomly, blindly select the tournament contestants based on their Elo ratings... now that is a genuinely brilliant idea. It guarantees absolute, unquestionable fairness across all four Houses," Professor Flitwick squeaked happily, tapping the thick parchment lightly with his index finger.
Then, with a casual, masterful flick of his wand, a heavy, ornate wooden box that strongly resembled a magical Muggle mailbox materialized completely out of thin air in the empty space beside the desk.
"It is structurally exactly like the ancient Triwizard Tournament mechanics," Regulus explained smoothly, leaning forward. "I read in *Hogwarts: A History* that the international champions were always entirely chosen by an impartial magical judge known as the 'Goblet of Fire'."
*Since we are actively starting a brand new, highly competitive club from scratch,* Regulus thought pragmatically, *we absolutely should aggressively perfect the underlying administrative system as much as possible right from the very beginning, to prevent any pureblood accusations of Slytherin cheating.*
"You actually know the highly obscure administrative mechanics of the Goblet of Fire?" Professor Flitwick blinked, looking up over his proposal. He smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling as he nodded repeatedly in deep approval. "At such an incredibly young age, you are already so remarkably well-read and profoundly thoughtful, Mr. Black."
Flitwick leaned forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "This level of meticulous planning is the true, raw power of wisdom. Honestly, my boy... you really should have come to our Ravenclaw."
Regulus—a modern corporate soul who had literally lived two entire lives—uncharacteristically felt his cheeks flush slightly at the genuine, high academic praise. *(Or rather, his cynical, old man's face blushed.)* He quickly pointed to the massive mosaic on the wall, smoothly changing the subject to hide his embarrassment: "Professor, the magnificent diadem depicted in that painting... is that an accurate historical representation of the legendary lost Diadem of Ravenclaw?"
***
On the highly anticipated evening of the first Friday in October, a massive, buzzing crowd of students eagerly began to aggressively gather in the Great Hall exactly as expected.
The four long dining tables had been completely magically vanished. In their place, a long, simply decorated, raised wooden dueling platform had appeared along one of the stone walls. Hundreds of floating candles clustered overhead, brilliantly illuminating a massive, magically shimmering silk banner that proudly read:
**THE HOGWARTS DUELING CLUB**
The chaotic scene in the Great Hall was entirely comparable to the sheer density of the annual Sorting Ceremony. The students were packed tightly, shoulder to shoulder; it genuinely seemed like almost every single student in the entire school had come down to watch the violence. Several older students standing in the front rows were already aggressively clutching their wands, their faces flushed with sheer, unadulterated excitement—these were the verified members who had officially been selected to fight in the first round of the Dueling Club brackets.
A moment later, Professor Flitwick, wearing immaculate, deep blue dress robes, and Professor Stokke, wearing pristine, light blue healer's robes, walked confidently out onto the raised stage. *(Regulus noted dryly that Ravenclaws certainly seemed to possess a heavy, deeply ingrained sartorial soft spot for the color blue).*
Walking closely beside the two professors was a relatively tall, aristocratic black-haired boy. It was Regulus.
However, Regulus wasn't wearing his standard Slytherin uniform. For this highly public, inter-House event, he was wearing a set of completely simple, unaligned black combat robes. Furthermore, instead of the silver snake crest, his chest proudly bore the unified Hogwarts coat of arms.
Pinned neatly below the crest was a small, custom-forged, round golden badge depicting two crossed wands with the letters **DC** deeply engraved in the center.
As the two Professors formally took their seats at the referee's table, the deafening, clamoring voices of the crowd gradually died down to an excited hush.
"Good evening, everyone!" Regulus called out. He had discreetly cast a localized *Sonorus* Charm on his throat, and the acoustic effect amplifying his voice across the massive hall was quite good.
"We formally thank Headmaster Dumbledore for generously allowing us to officially restart the historic 'Dueling Club'. We sincerely hope this controlled environment can actively help everyone properly prepare for... well, any unexpected, highly dangerous situations outside these walls..."
The older students murmured in dark agreement.
"Our inaugural activity tonight will be officially hosted and refereed by Professor Flitwick and Professor Stokke," Regulus gestured to the table. "I firmly believe these two highly important guests absolutely need no further introduction. However, before we formally begin the student brackets, both Professors have highly generously agreed to give a small, practical demonstration of high-level combat for everyone."
"And don't worry about safety," Regulus smirked, leaning slightly towards Professor Flitwick, who immediately stood up and offered a sweeping, theatrical bow to the cheering crowd. "We have an official, former International Dueling Champion in the ring—Professor Filius Flitwick!"
The Ravenclaws screamed in sheer delight.
"And, acting as our opponent and primary medical supervisor: a highly renowned, former Senior Healing Master from the Department of Magical Accidents and Injuries at St. Mungo's Hospital—Professor Ted Stokke!"
Professor Stokke also stood, politely doffing his neat hat in greeting to the students.
"Of course," Regulus added dryly, looking out over the crowd, "I sincerely hope we won't actually need to aggressively utilize Professor Stokke's emergency medical expertise tonight."
A loud, highly nervous wave of laughter rippled through the packed crowd.
"Over the past two weeks, we have collected a massive number of combat application letters. The approved combatants have been mathematically divided into three primary Elo brackets: Second and Third years, Fourth and Fifth years, and the advanced Sixth and Seventh years."
Down in the crowd, the massive group of first-year little wizards sighed in loud, collective frustration. There was absolutely nothing they could do. They had literally just started school and didn't even formally possess grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts or Charms yet, so for safety reasons, they were strictly relegated to only watching the spectacle.
"With the highly generous alchemical sponsorship of Professor Flitwick—" Regulus continued, pointing directly to a large, ornate wooden box on the stage that heavily resembled a Muggle mailbox. "We have used complex selection magic to completely, blindly filter the list of registered members. The box has already successfully selected the first batch of twelve active combatants—"
"There will be six official, highly competitive duels tonight!"
The buzzing, electric atmosphere in the Great Hall instantly grew even warmer and more frantic.
"Without further ado, let's invite our two esteemed Professors to take their positions on the platform—"
Professor Flitwick calmly, confidently walked to the far left side of the raised stage. His small chest was puffed out, his head held high, and his terrifying, veteran duelist's presence completely, effortlessly matched the tall, imposing figure of Professor Stokke standing opposite him.
The two men stood perfectly still at their magically marked positions on the stage. They turned to face each other and executed a sharp, flawless, formal duelist's bow.
Below the stage, there was an absolute, deathly silence. Not a single sound was heard, and hundreds of pairs of unblinking eyes were fixed intensely on the stage.
"As we can clearly see, our Professors are maintaining impeccable, gentlemanly form," Regulus commentated smoothly. "They are now holding their wands in the standard, highly balanced dueling stance."
"I will count down from three, and the Professors will instantly begin to cast their first spells. Of course, any Unforgivable or highly lethal Dark Curses are strictly, absolutely not allowed tonight. For targeted, practical training, we have mathematically specified the exact types of defensive and offensive spells that can be legally used... Please refer to the parchment list posted on the wall for details."
Regulus paused. *Okay, it seems the highly energetic, rapid-fire Quidditch commentary style isn't actually working too well for the tense, lethal atmosphere of a duel—*
Regulus wisely shut up and stepped off the platform.
"Begin! One—Two—Three—"
Both adult wizards simultaneously, violently raised their wands sharply over their shoulders. The physical movement was so incredibly, terrifyingly fast it actually created a visible, snapping gust of wind.
*"Expelliarmus!"* Two massive, blindingly dazzling red lights shot violently out from the ends of the two wands. The heavy spells collided perfectly, dead head-on in the exact center of the stage. A massive, deafening burst of concussive light violently exploded, scattering hot red sparks outward over the front row of students.
*So incredibly powerful!* Regulus, acting exactly like the rest of the stunned little wizards, was completely, genuinely blown away. *This immense, terrifyingly compressed magical power is absolutely incomparable to that useless fraud Gilderoy Lockhart—*
*(Speaking of which, Regulus wondered wildly, is that narcissistic idiot Lockhart eventually going to become his annoying junior in a few years?)*
Before the terrified students even had time to fully process the explosion, applaud, or cheer... the second, third, and fourth blinding beams of highly lethal light had already flown violently out from the ends of the professors' wands!
But this time, they were operating on an entirely different, terrifyingly advanced level. They were aggressively using completely non-verbal spells; only their lips moved silently! Dazzling, violently fast beams of multi-colored spell light crisscrossed the stage along entirely different, highly complex mathematical paths. The entire stage seemed to be violently torn apart by colorful light, transforming into a blinding curtain of raw magic. Sparks flew everywhere, ricocheting off the protective wards like a grand, highly lethal light and shadow show.
*Of course,* Regulus knew pragmatically, *a real, lethal duel to the death absolutely doesn't need to be this ridiculously exaggerated or flashy. A single, quiet flash of green light would be completely, entirely sufficient.* But Regulus had specifically, privately suggested that the professors put on a highly theatrical show to make a deep, terrifyingly awe-inspiring impression on the little wizards during the very first duel.
And Professor Flitwick was putting on an absolute masterclass. He moved incredibly nimbly, effortlessly dodging and weaving amidst the blinding light like a violent, acrobatic dancer. In sharp contrast, Professor Stokke—whose physical reflexes were entirely geared toward slow, precise medical healing—was indeed slightly less agile on his feet.
*In combat, tiny details determine your ultimate destiny!* In a microscopic moment of physical distraction, Professor Stokke was violently hit by two highly complex, chained spells coming from entirely different, impossible angles. Their specific, curving trajectories were incredibly tricky and completely unexpected.
Stokke staggered violently backward a few steps before barely regaining his physical balance. He sighed, gracefully letting the tip of his wand drop toward the floor.
"I yield. I lose," Stokke announced clearly. After all these long, exhausting years working strictly as a pacifist Healer, his combat reflexes had indeed gotten slightly rusty.
The entire, breathless process took absolutely less than two minutes, but it was exactly like watching a fireworks display detonate inside a small room. It made every single student's blood violently boil with adrenaline. And facing down the legendary Head of Ravenclaw, Stokke had absolutely lost with honor.
"Professor Flitwick brilliantly hit me with a highly compressed, non-verbal Binding Charm, followed immediately and flawlessly by a localized *Finite Incantatem* to drop my shield," Professor Stokke explained loudly to the stunned crowd below, his voice full of genuine, professional admiration.
The two adult wizards met in the center of the stage and shook hands warmly. Regulus immediately, quickly stepped back onto the platform, carrying a small crystal vial of steaming potion.
"A high-grade Revitalizing Potion for the competitors," Regulus announced loudly into the silent hall, ensuring his voice carried. "Flawlessly brewed specifically for this club by Mr. Severus Snape from Slytherin House."
Regulus shamelessly seized the massive public opportunity to aggressively boost his friend's academic and corporate reputation.
The crowd below finally, violently erupted! Deafening cheers and massive applause were continuous, echoing off the stone walls, especially from the incredibly proud Ravenclaw little eagles. The little wizards looked up at Professor Flitwick with absolute, unadulterated admiration—every single one of them now desperately hoping they would be lucky enough to be chosen to participate in tonight's violent activity.
Professor Flitwick beamed, offering another deep, highly theatrical bow to the screaming crowd.
After finishing his bow, he raised his wand to quiet the room. He spoke in his very characteristic, highly enthusiastic squeaky voice:
"Next, we will officially use the magical mailbox artifact to randomly select twelve little wizards, exactly two from each approved year bracket. However, before we begin the bloodshed, I want to say one thing—"
Flitwick's voice grew highly serious. "The absolute most useful, vital skill I inadvertently developed in my youth as a competitive duelist... was simply learning not to be afraid to actively make a complete fool of myself on the platform! If you possess the raw courage to step up, and you truly don't mind occasionally looking like an idiot while learning a new spell... eventually, through sheer practice, you will become absolutely unstoppable!"
"Sometimes, outside these walls, we also desperately need the courage and the sharp wisdom to be able to argue logically with our opponents, and attempt to peacefully convince them with reason when facing sheer injustice—"
Flitwick raised his wand high into the air.
"But when reason fails... Wand in hand, and absolute sharpness in heart! That is the true meaning of our Dueling Club!"
This highly passionate, incredibly badass speech instantly brought the atmosphere in the hall to an absolute, screaming climax. The floor below erupted in genuinely thunderous applause. Even Professor McGonagall, who had just quietly arrived through the side doors to nervously watch the safety protocols, stood tall among her little lions, clapping vigorously. She deeply felt that Professor Flitwick had spoken her exact, Gryffindor-approved mind.
With a dramatic, sweeping wave of Professor Flitwick's hand, the heavy lid of the wooden mailbox popped open.
Twelve glowing pieces of parchment violently flew out of the slot, hovering in the air.
"Let the brackets begin!" Flitwick announced gleefully. "The very first pair of opponents to take the stage is... a third-year from Hufflepuff!"