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"Practicing!" Harry announced, going to do just that. They had to enlist Minnie, who actually knew where the equipment they needed was kept -Severus had no idea they even had it- but they did practice in the end. The lance was heavier than it seemed, the chainmail and armour was probably going to make their muscles ache and it took them more than three hours to finally start hitting the target. All in all, both wizards couldn't be happier when they retired for the night.
The week passed in a similar manner, Severus continuing with his tests for the Wolfsbane, all results coming back positive; the full moon had come and gone and the werewolves had simply transformed into their wolf form, feeling nothing more than the usual animagus transformation. No pain and no tiredness however and Severus was over the moon. Those had been his words exactly, Harry thought, laughing at the pun.
Friday came by fast and they found themselves checking in a hotel for two nights, using they're real names for the first time while abroad. Severus enrolled them for the tournament the same day; Harry would compete in the minors' league as he was still under seventeen, something that probably gave him the advantage. At least it looked that way, as most of the contestants seemed to be there just for the fun. Nothing could have warned them for the extremely competitive spirit and many years of swordfight training Severus and Harry had brought with them.
The first day of the tournament included every part of the melee but jousting; as Severus and Harry had only signed up for one to one swordfight, the first event of the day, they would have the rest day free to enjoy the fair. People had flooded from around the continent to participate; most were dressed in medieval grab and Harry insisted they did the same; Severus was easily persuaded.
The minors were up first and Harry found himself in armour, facing a sixteen year old boy that was about his height but disproportionally self-assured. Harry just smirked before he unleashed years of pent up frustration on his opponent; it turned out to be much more fulfilling than hitting an inanimate target. The two wizards slashed and parried their way to the first place with similar manic gleams on their faces. Severus had to face a man twice his size in the finals but, unfortunately for him, extremely slow; the bigger they are the more spectacular they fall, Harry thought as he cheered from the stands holding his own trophy.
"Votre père?" A man asked the green eyed boy; Harry just smiled.
"Oui. Il est mon père." He answered as Severus received his award. He was his father and if someone dared contest that, well, he had a sword sheathed on his belt and a wand ready that could persuade them otherwise. The man nodded as if he understood; he probably did.
"How'd you like that?" Severus asked happily, holding his own trophy as he approached Harry.
"You fought bravely, Sir Dad." Harry declared in his best knightly voice. "I believe a visit at the closest tavern is called for. What say you?"
"Aye, Sir Harry." Severus answered chuckling. "I find myself agreeing." The closest tavern turned out to be a faithful image of what you'd expect from a medieval inn. And in classic medieval fashion, the winners of the tournament bought the whole place a drink. That turned into a lovely celebratory party, which ended up with the two wizards in question leaving a few hours later amidst loud applause.
They stopped by the stables to make sure their horses were tended; Severus had insisted that since they had signed up for the tournament, they should compete in style and had arranged for Titan and Ares, the largest -and most vicious- stallions in Silbreith's stables, to be sent in. Alfie, Minnie's husband and head of the stables, had made sure they had arrived safe and would be prepared for the tournament; the house elf had been ecstatic mumbling how the horses were finally getting their chance to compete as they were supposed to. Seeing they seemed almost gleeful every time their riders took down a target, Harry tended to believe the horses thought the same thing.
The next morning dawned bright and the contestants gathered at the field. The names of each contestant in the two leagues were announced and so was the prize; it turned out there would be a dance at the local castle that night to celebrate the end of the tournament and the winners would get to accompany two Ladies of extreme beauty, as the herald put it. Harry was getting a kick out of there even being a herald so Severus had to point his attention to the two ladies in question. Harry tried to gather his jaw from the floor where it had fallen; the two ladies were veela. A Fleur Delacour and an Amélie Ferrier were appointed at Harry's and Severus's leagues respectively and were presently smiling at the gathered crowd.
"Harry?" Severus asked.
"Yes, Dad?"
"We're winning this thing." The potions master proclaimed.
"Yes, we are." Harry agreed, eyeing a chubby contestant of his group who was wolf whistling at the two women. "To save the Ladies' honors from scum as the like of him, if for nothing else." Severus turned to look at the boy distastefully and nodded his agreement.
First to start again were the minors. The fourteen contestants rode in front of the two ladies; Harry was second to last and swore to himself that he wouldn't drool like an idiot. To his great pride, he managed to keep his promise and nodded kindly to Fleur, who smiled mischievously in return; he was so winning this.
To his delight, the first opponent was the chubby boy he had seen before; he didn't pay attention to what his name was; he baptized him Voldemort and charged. The trick seemed to work, the boy ending up on the ground. The crowd cheered on and so did Fleur who, after his second victory, threw him her handkerchief. Harry just smirked and turned to face his third opponent eagerly. He didn't know if it was the handkerchief that did it in the end, or the fact that he envisioned each and every rider he was paired with as a certain Dark Lord, but he won. He was given a standing ovation, one that Fleur had joined. He smiled widely as he went back to the stables and wished Severus good luck as they crossed paths on horseback.
The potions master congratulated him with a friendly punch on the shoulder and proceeded to exit to the arena. Things turned ugly at his third fight as the man he was up against had taken a liking to Amélie quite some time ago and decided to play dirty; he started riding before the signal was given, his move resulting to the lances both finding their targets; the man was thrown of his horse and banned from any tournament from that day onward while Severus found himself with a bruised left shoulder.
Since the rules of the tournament were clear that a contestant could not heal any wound until the end of the joust, Severus had to continue like that. The matter had of course turned personal and the next few opponents found themselves facing and extremely angry Severus Snape. Nobody wanted to find himself facing an angry Severus Snape and the contestants soon found out why. Six broken lances and one fainted opponent later found him victorious to the delight of Amélie who cheered and ran from the stands along with Fleur when it was time to award the trophies.
As they found out later, the two were cousins. As Harry found out from Fleur, after Severus and Amélie disappeared to Merlin knew where -asking Harry's permission making the boy roll his eyes at Severus and shoo him away, with orders not to see him until the next morning- she was attending Beauxbatons and was about to enter her seventh and last year. She didn't quite believe Harry when he said he was only fourteen.
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