28th April, 1894 — Hogsmeade Memorial Assembly Rooms, Duelling tournament

The people's money would be on Scrimgeour, he was sure. But Lochrin had done well to get so far, and Tybalt was still delighted by his name. Perhaps there was some absurd protective power in it?

(Unless he was cheating, and had some lucky amulet on his person? Merlin. Tybalt dearly hoped the integrity of this tournament was not in question. Then he would be in trouble.)

"Mr. Lochrin, off you go!"

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Protego Lochrin Julius Scrimgeour
You have 48 hours to post. Please tag your opponent. Y'all know the drill.

  

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All right, now this was definitely where Protego's luck was going to run out. At this point, he didn't even mind. He just hoped he didn't make a fool of himself.

He bowed to Mr. Scrimgeour, and then cast the confundus charm.

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Aldous Crouch

  

The usual formalities and niceties observed, Julius stood at the ready, moving swiftly to cast a shield charm.

Tybalt Kirke

  

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— graphics by mj ♥ —

The confundus charm bounced right off Scrimgeour's shield, all its progress... confounded.

"Point to Mr. Scrimgeour," Tybalt called, not wanting to slow down the pace, "who may cast next!"

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Protego Lochrin: 4| Julius Scrimgeour: 11
You have 48 hours to post. Please tag your opponent. Y'all know the drill.

  

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Branching out somewhat, Julius endeavored to turn his opponent into a vole. After all, it would be rather tedious for poor Kirke if there was no creativity in the room.

Protego Lochrin

  

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— graphics by mj ♥ —

Protego wondered if the universe had decided his name counted as hubris he needed to be punished for. It wasn't as though he'd picked it. Perhaps he should be grateful his parents hadn't thought to name him Aguamenti, or he might have died in the '84 fire.

Speaking of which, it might not be the most conventional dueling spell, but were Protego in Mr. Scrimgeour's shoes, he probably wouldn't appreciate getting hit with a jet of water.

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Elias Grimstone

  

Well. Both spells hit pretty much simultaneously, and both spells worked. Mr. Scrimgeour was soaked through – earning some gasps from the women in the room – and Mr. Lochrin was... an adorable brown mousey looking thing.

(One transfiguration mishap for the day was quite enough in Tybalt's mind, Merlin, so he dove for the vole and caught him bodily before Lochrin could flee off the stage, too.) "The duel goes to Scrimgeour," he announced hurriedly, slightly high-pitched, hoping everyone would disperse so poor Lochrin could get restored to some dignity.

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Julius Scrimgeour: 13 | Protego Lochrin: 9

  

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