The God of Valor

The contestants sat in the shade near the finish line, catching their breath as the remaining runners crossed one by one. The roar of the crowd was a constant hum in the background, punctuated by cheers for each new finisher. There was exhaustion, yes, but also pride—and a surprising camaraderie forged in the fires of the Trials of Valhalla.

Luna was sprawled on the grass, her golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo. She absently twisted a strand around her finger, staring up at the sky. "That was exhilarating, wasn't it? Almost like riding a Thestral, except with more sand and less invisible flying creatures."

Draco, leaning against a tree nearby, snorted. His pale hair was mussed, and his shirt was smeared with dirt, but his silver eyes still held that signature Malfoy spark. "Yes, exhilarating. That's exactly the word I'd use for being half-drowned, bruised, and nearly falling to my death. Delightful experience."

"Oh, come on, Malfoy," Neville chimed in, grinning through his fatigue. He was sitting cross-legged, gulping water from a flask. "You can't deny it was kind of fun. Besides, you didn't fall, did you?"

Draco smirked, brushing invisible dirt off his shoulder. "Of course not. Draco Malfoy doesn't fall, Longbottom. I descend with style—if at all."

"Right," Sigrun interjected, rolling her eyes as she adjusted the leather bracers on her arms. Her red braid was coming undone, and her cheeks were flushed, but she looked as fierce and determined as ever. "And here I thought you were just hanging on for dear life like the rest of us."

Draco gave her a mock glare. "I was pacing myself, Sigrun. It's called strategy."

Leif, still catching his breath a few feet away, let out a booming laugh. He stood, towering over the others, his broad frame still radiating energy despite the grueling trials. "Sure, Malfoy. Keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, I'll just be over here with the winners." He winked at Luna, who gave him a dreamy smile in return.

Before Draco could retort, a deep, commanding voice boomed across the arena, cutting through the chatter like a knife. "Ladies and gentlemen!" Algrim, the event's imposing host, strode to the center of the stage. His dark skin glistened under the sun, and his presence radiated authority. The crowd immediately hushed, every eye turning toward him.

Luna sat up, brushing grass off her skirt. "Oh, this is the exciting part," she whispered, her voice lilting with anticipation. "It's like waiting for the Nargles to pick their favorite mistletoe."

Draco muttered, "Is there ever a moment you're not thinking about some mythical creature?"

She turned her wide, unbothered gaze on him. "Is there ever a moment you're not thinking about your hair?"

Before Draco could respond, Algrim's voice carried across the arena again. "After a grueling competition filled with challenges, triumphs, and displays of remarkable skill, it is time to announce the winner of the Trials of Valhalla."

The crowd leaned forward in unison, the collective anticipation palpable. Algrim paused, letting the silence stretch, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered contestants. He held the tension like a master performer, his deep voice resonating as he finally spoke.

"After careful consideration and examination of the results…" He let the pause hang for an extra beat, the corners of his mouth curving into a knowing smile. "…I am pleased to announce that the winner of the obstacle race is—Leif Ragnarson!"

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers, the sound echoing off the arena walls like thunder. Leif stood frozen for a moment, his face a mixture of shock and elation, before breaking into a wide grin. He raised his fists in triumph, and the cheers only grew louder.

"Well, that's not a surprise," Sigrun said, though her tone carried admiration rather than envy. She clapped him on the back. "Nice job, Viking. You earned it."

Luna sprang to her feet, clapping enthusiastically. "Oh, well done, Leif! You moved like a Windwood Elf during the rope bridge. Absolutely enchanting!"

"Thanks, Luna," Leif said, laughing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Though I think I'll skip the elf comparisons."

Draco crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow. "I suppose you deserve it, Ragnarson. Barely. But don't let it go to your head."

"Coming from you, Malfoy, that's practically a compliment," Leif shot back, smirking.

Neville gave Leif a thumbs-up. "Great work, mate. I'll be honest, I thought Luna might take it at the end."

"Oh, I didn't mind coming second," Luna chimed in, her tone breezy. "It's a lovely number. Very balanced. And besides, the wind seemed to be cheering for Leif."

As Leif laughed, Algrim stepped forward, holding a gleaming trophy carved from obsidian and adorned with silver runes. The weight of it spoke to the honor of the title. "Leif Ragnarson," Algrim said, his voice steady and powerful, "you have proven your strength, determination, and spirit. You have earned this victory."

Leif accepted the trophy with both hands, his grin stretching ear to ear. "Thank you," he said, his voice carrying the sincerity of the moment. "To everyone who competed—this was a race I'll never forget."

The crowd roared in approval, their cheers celebrating not just Leif's victory but the shared triumph of every contestant who had braved the trials. It was a moment of unity, camaraderie, and unspoken respect—a fitting end to the Trials of Valhalla.

—

In the stands, Loki lounged with an effortless grace, his long legs stretched out and his leather-clad arms draped casually over the back of his seat. The din of the cheering crowd washed over him, but his attention was singular, laser-focused on the triumphant figure of Leif Ragnarson holding the obsidian trophy aloft. A slow, satisfied smirk curved his lips, the kind that hinted at secrets only he was clever enough to keep.

"Always bet on the long shot, brother," Loki murmured under his breath, his silky tone barely audible amidst the roar of the arena. His emerald-green eyes glittered with amusement, catching the sunlight like shards of glass. "And when the long shot wins, you walk away richer—and, naturally, far more smug."

As the crowd continued its celebration, Loki's mind drifted back to the moment his sister—ever wise and insistent—had pressed him to trust in Leif. "Trust me, Loki," she had said, her tone laced with the unyielding confidence that only Frigga's children could muster. "The boy has the heart of a lion and the cunning of a fox. He won't just survive the Trials—he'll dominate them."

At the time, Loki had raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with skepticism. "A lion, you say? Let's hope he roars and doesn't meow like a kitten when the trials begin. But very well, sister. I'll place my wager—not because you've convinced me, mind you, but because I enjoy the taste of victory. And gold. Mostly the gold."

Now, as he watched Leif bask in his hard-won glory, Loki couldn't help but feel a spark of genuine admiration—not that he would ever admit it aloud, of course. His pride was well concealed beneath layers of biting wit and artful nonchalance.

A servant approached cautiously, a bag of jingling gold in hand. "My lord Loki," the man said nervously, bowing low, "your winnings."

Loki's smirk deepened as he took the bag, its weight satisfying in his palm. "Ah, music to my ears," he purred, tossing the servant a single gold coin as though bestowing a great honor. "For your trouble. Now, off with you before I change my mind."

The servant scurried away, and Loki leaned back in his seat, tossing the bag of gold once, catching it with ease. He glanced toward Thor, seated a few rows ahead and bellowing his approval for Leif like a thunderstorm personified. Loki rolled his eyes.

"Of course, he'd cheer for the brawn over the brain," Loki muttered, twirling a gold coin between his fingers. "But then, some of us have the luxury of appreciating both."

Loki's gaze flicked back to Leif, who was now surrounded by his friends, their laughter and camaraderie radiating across the arena. There was something about the boy—a raw determination, a spark of brilliance beneath the warrior's exterior—that reminded Loki of himself in his youth. The thought made him chuckle softly.

"Well done, Ragnarson," Loki murmured to himself, his voice low and velvety. "You've proven me right—naturally. Perhaps I'll wager on you again. Though, knowing my luck, you'll develop a hero's complex and ruin everything."

With a final glance at the celebrating crowd, Loki stood, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him as though caught by an unseen breeze. He turned to leave, the bag of gold swinging jauntily at his side and his mind already scheming his next move. After all, where there were victories, there were opportunities—and Loki, god of mischief, was nothing if not an opportunist.

—

In the dim corners of the arena, where the shadows clung to the stone like a shroud, Skadi remained hidden from the hustle and bustle of the other competitors. Her keen eyes, sharp as any hunter's, tracked every movement of Haraldr as he navigated the obstacle course. She leaned slightly forward, her posture poised, her fingers lightly touching the hilt of the dagger she always carried, a subtle reminder of her sharpness, both in mind and blade.

As the participants darted from one trial to the next, Skadi's focus never wavered. She saw Haraldr's muscles rippling with effort, the tense lines of his jaw, and the way his brow furrowed with concentration as he solved each challenge. He was fast—fast enough to keep up with the front-runners—but there was something more beneath the surface that intrigued her. Strategy, she thought, watching as he made decisions, sometimes daring, sometimes calculated, never rash.

"You're more than just muscle, Haraldr," she whispered under her breath, her lips curling into a small, almost imperceptible smile. She liked what she saw—this boy wasn't just a brute. There was intelligence behind his actions, a thoughtful calculation in how he assessed each obstacle, how he adapted quickly when things didn't go as planned. But you're not perfect.

Her gaze sharpened, the smile fading into a thoughtful frown as she observed a subtle hesitation, a moment of uncertainty in Haraldr's movements. He faltered on the narrow bridge that spanned the Serpent's Pit, just a moment of hesitation, but it was enough. She caught it. Vulnerable, you are, she thought with a slight tilt of her head. The boy had moments where his bravado couldn't hide the uncertainty—moments where he might second-guess himself or overestimate his limits.

She didn't miss how his competitors noticed it too, though they kept their distance, reluctant to show weakness in front of a potential threat. Luna, especially, seemed quick to offer support, her easy smile and quirky encouragements like a balm to his more calculated fears. Skadi's lips twisted into a smirk at the scene, though her thoughts remained sharp and calculating.

"There's the flaw," Skadi muttered to herself. "Too eager to please, not enough ruthlessness." Her fingers drummed on the hilt of her dagger, her expression a mix of respect and mild amusement. Haraldr's heart was clearly in the right place, but in this game of blood and sweat, heart alone wouldn't win. Heart can be a weakness.

As Haraldr approached the final trial, Skadi's eyes flicked to his friends, observing their reactions—Neville's supportive nod, Sigrun's steady focus, even Draco's occasional scowl of disapproval. A diverse group, Skadi thought with a raised eyebrow. She'd spent years analyzing the strengths and weaknesses of those around her, and this little band of competitors was a curious mix of loyalty and rivalry. It made them unpredictable, which, in turn, made them dangerous.

Yet, despite their strength, Skadi could see where they might stumble. Loyalty is a knife in the back when used incorrectly. They're all tethered to one another in ways that might be their undoing. She shifted her gaze back to Haraldr, now nearly at the finish line. He was good—better than good—but he wasn't untouchable. Not yet.

"You'll fall, Haraldr," she whispered under her breath, her voice as cold as ice. "Not today. But soon."

The wind rustled around her, almost in agreement with her words. Skadi turned her attention back to the arena, already plotting her next move. She had learned what she needed from this race—his strengths, his weaknesses, the way he handled pressure, and the way he let himself be distracted by his comrades.

She could use this. Every encounter with Haraldr from here on out would be an opportunity for her to outmaneuver him, to break his confidence just enough to ensure her own victory. She would exploit his hesitations, his moments of doubt.

Skadi's lips curled into a smile, her eyes glittering with a dangerous excitement. "One step ahead, as always." She was patient, a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. And soon, Haraldr would learn that Skadi was not a competitor he could afford to underestimate.

With a flick of her hair, she turned and disappeared further into the shadows, her mind already crafting her next move. The game had only just begun.

—

The group of friends gathered together in a circle, their faces flushed from the intense exertion of the obstacle race. They leaned on each other, a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration in their expressions. There was a sense of relief in the air, but even more so, a sense of accomplishment.

Haraldr, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath, grinned as he looked around the group. "Great job out there, everyone," he exclaimed, his voice full of energy. "We really gave it our all, and it shows." His eyes sparkled with pride, his usual brash confidence tempered by the appreciation for the team's collective effort.

Susan Bones, her hair slightly disheveled from the race, leaned in with a warm smile. "Yeah, that was quite the race," she said, her voice light and cheerful. "I couldn't have asked for better competition. You all really pushed me to my limits. Especially you, Haraldr. I swear, you made that first part look easy."

Neville Longbottom, looking both tired and content, nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. We pushed each other to our limits, and that's what makes us stronger. You all did amazing." He paused for a moment and looked at his friends, his cheeks a bit flushed. "I mean, I almost face-planted during the second obstacle, but it was worth it to see you all finish so strong."

Hannah Abbott, ever the compassionate one, glanced around at the group, her warm eyes full of pride. "I'm just glad you all made it through in one piece," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Those obstacles were no joke! Especially the rope climb—felt like it went on forever, didn't it?"

Draco Malfoy leaned against a nearby rock, a smirk playing on his lips as he crossed his arms. "Speak for yourself, Abbott. I barely broke a sweat," he drawled, his tone laced with playful arrogance. He shot a glance at Leif, who had been effortlessly breezing through the obstacles. "Though I'll admit, Ragnarson over there made me feel like I was in a children's race," he added with a light chuckle.

Luna Lovegood, ever the oddball, smiled softly, her gaze distant as she twirled a strand of her silvery-blonde hair around her finger. "Well, some of us had a bit more trouble than others," she said, her voice melodic and almost dreamlike, "but we all made it through together. And that's the most important thing, isn't it? That we all finished together, as a team."

Leif Ragnarson, standing tall and confident, nodded with a serious expression. "Indeed. It was a test of both skill and teamwork. I'm proud to have faced it with all of you," he said, his deep voice carrying a hint of respect for each of them. His piercing blue eyes swept across the group, lingering for a moment on Astrid, who smiled warmly in return.

Astrid, her blonde hair shining in the light, offered her friends a bright, reassuring smile. "Agreed. We make a formidable team," she said, her voice full of warmth. "And I have no doubt we'll continue to excel in the challenges to come. We've got each other's backs."

Bjorn, grinning broadly as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, couldn't help but add, "I can't wait to see what else Asgard has in store for us. Bring it on!" His laugh was full of excitement and raw enthusiasm, his red hair a wild mess from the race.

Sigrun, her posture straight and her fiery red hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders, nodded with a look of determination. "Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together. That's what friends are for," she said firmly, her tone resolute, though a glimmer of a smile played at her lips. She locked eyes with Leif, a silent communication passing between them before she glanced around at the rest of the group.

Viggo, ever the quiet one in the group, stood a bit apart from the others, but his voice carried a sense of deep gratitude. "Thank you all for your support," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "I'm proud to call each of you my friends, and I know we'll accomplish great things together." His emerald eyes were sincere, and his posture was relaxed, despite the tension still lingering in his muscles.

Haraldr, grinning ear to ear at the camaraderie around him, clapped his hands together, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey, why don't you all join us at the palace for the feast?" he suggested, his excitement barely contained. "It'll be a great way to celebrate our victories and enjoy some good food together."

Viggo's eyes widened in pleasant surprise, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "That sounds amazing! I'd love to join you," he said, his voice full of enthusiasm.

Astrid, eager for a break after the grueling race, nodded immediately. "Count me in," she said, her smile widening. "I could use a good meal after watching you guys race. My stomach's been growling for ages!"

Leif exchanged a glance with the others, a grin tugging at his lips. "Sounds like fun. I'm game if everyone else is," he said, his voice light and easygoing, though there was a clear undercurrent of excitement in his tone.

Sigrun and Bjorn exchanged a brief look, their faces full of agreement before they nodded at Haraldr's suggestion. "Sure, why not?" Sigrun said with a small laugh. "It'll be nice to relax after the race."

Bjorn's grin only grew wider, his stomach clearly already anticipating the feast. "Yeah, let's do it. I'm starving!" he said, his voice booming with excitement as he slapped his hand on his stomach.

With their decision made, the group rose to their feet, the weight of the competition now lifted, replaced by the thrill of friendship and the promise of a delicious feast. As they walked together, side by side, they shared laughs and stories from the race, the excitement of the upcoming celebration filling them with energy.

As they approached the palace, Haraldr's eyes sparkled with joy. "This is going to be one for the books, friends. Let's make it a night to remember!" he declared, his voice carrying over the laughter and chatter of his companions.

The friends, their hearts full of camaraderie and pride, entered the grand halls of the palace, ready to celebrate their victories and forge even stronger bonds with one another. The night was theirs to enjoy, and together, they would savor every moment.

—

As they made their way through the grand halls of Asgard, the group was in high spirits, their conversations overlapping with excitement and laughter. Haraldr led the charge, his tall frame moving with purpose through the corridor, his eyes gleaming as he relished the camaraderie of his friends. He couldn't help but feel a rush of pride—this was more than just a race; it was the beginning of something much bigger.

Beside him walked Viggo, who was taking in the grandeur of their surroundings with wide-eyed awe. "So, uh, how often do you guys throw these kinds of races?" Viggo asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. His emerald eyes flickered toward the towering columns and the intricate carvings on the walls as he continued, "And I have to say, the palace... it's like something out of a dream. How do you even live in a place like this?"

Haraldr chuckled, his voice rich and warm. "You get used to it," he said, his grin widening. "But I get it—first time I saw it, I felt like a kid in a candy shop. Wait 'til you see the feast hall. You'll understand why we throw parties here. It's legendary."

Behind them, Astrid and Leif, deep in conversation, had shifted from discussing the race's toughest obstacle to recounting some of their favorite moments. Astrid, her blonde hair bouncing as she laughed, turned toward Leif with a teasing smile. "I swear, you practically flew over the last hurdle," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "I didn't even see you jump, you just—poof—disappeared and landed on the other side."

Leif, his athletic build and piercing blue eyes giving him a sharp, focused appearance, grinned back. "Well, you were right behind me. The course just opened up in front of me. Seemed like a good time for a leap of faith, don't you think?" His voice was low and easygoing, a playful challenge in his tone.

Sigrun and Bjorn were chatting toward the rear, their hearty laughter ringing out every few moments. Sigrun, with her fiery red hair pulled back in a loose braid, threw a glance at Bjorn. "I swear, Bjorn, you almost took out the entire wall during the mud crawl. I could hear you grumbling from halfway across the field," she teased, her voice laced with humor.

Bjorn, his freckled face flushed from both the exertion and his laughter, grinned back at her. "It wasn't the wall, it was the mud! But yeah, a few extra rolls didn't exactly make me look graceful," he admitted, his voice booming with a hearty laugh. His bright red hair was a bit matted to his forehead, but it didn't detract from his boisterous enthusiasm. "But hey, at least I made it through, right?"

"Barely," Sigrun teased, rolling her eyes dramatically, but her affectionate grin betrayed her words. "If you'd seen yourself, you would've thought the mud was trying to take you hostage."

As the group reached the feast hall, the sounds of lively chatter and music filled the air. The warm glow of torches and candles danced along the stone walls, casting flickering shadows over the large wooden tables laden with food. The air smelled of roasted meats, fragrant herbs, and freshly baked bread—an aroma that immediately made everyone's stomachs growl.

"Well, this is the place to be," Haraldr said, his voice growing louder to be heard over the lively chatter. "Welcome to Asgard's finest feast. Enjoy it while it lasts—these plates don't stay full for long."

Viggo's eyes widened as he took in the scene—dining tables stretching across the hall, brimming with food, while groups of warriors and nobility gathered around, their laughter filling the room. "I've never seen anything like this," he said, his gaze never leaving the feast. "This is... unbelievable."

Astrid raised an eyebrow, her voice light with humor. "You'll get used to it. We've got quite the appetite around here."

They made their way to a long table near the center, where others who had participated in the race were already celebrating. As they sat down, plates were quickly filled with roasted meats, steaming pies, fresh fruit, and bowls of hearty stews. Goblets were filled with wine and ale, the liquid glinting in the candlelight.

Hannah Abbott, always attentive to the needs of her friends, passed around a platter of sliced roast beef. "Here, Leif," she said, nudging him lightly. "I think you'll need something to go with that hunger. You nearly flew through the course, but don't forget to eat."

Leif chuckled, taking a piece of meat and loading his plate. "I'll eat all right—if they ever stop bringing more food."

Susan Bones, sitting across from him, gave a playful smile. "Not that we're complaining. I think everyone could use a good meal after today, especially after those obstacles." She glanced around the table, her smile warm and kind. "We all did our best out there, and that's what counts."

Neville Longbottom, whose cheeks were flushed from exertion and the heat of the hall, raised his goblet to her in agreement. "I think we could all use a moment to just... enjoy ourselves, yeah?" His voice was quiet but sincere. "We've earned this."

Luna Lovegood, ever the serene soul, took a sip from her goblet, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yes, we've earned it. And you know what they say," she said, tilting her head slightly to look at her friends, "Victory is best celebrated with the company of good friends, a full belly, and just a dash of imagination."

Draco Malfoy, who had remained quiet until now, leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Well, if that's the case, then I think Luna's onto something," he said, tapping his goblet lightly. "Here's to making the best of the next obstacle—whether it's in the race or in the feast." He looked at Haraldr, who grinned back at him. "Though, I will be expecting a few more challenges next time. I can't let Abbott get too ahead of me."

Hannah rolled her eyes playfully at Draco's competitive nature, though her smile softened. "You just wait, Malfoy. I'm coming for you next time," she teased, raising her own goblet to his.

Sigrun, looking around at her friends with a proud glimmer in her eyes, stood and raised her own goblet high. "To new friends and grand adventures," she said with a warm smile. "May our bonds grow stronger with each passing day, and may our victories be many."

The rest of the group followed suit, raising their goblets in unison, their voices filling the hall with laughter and joy. "To new friends and grand adventures!" they echoed together, their smiles wide and their hearts full.

As they clinked their goblets together, they all knew that this moment was only the beginning. The adventures ahead were waiting, but for now, surrounded by laughter, warmth, and good food, they could savor the bonds they'd already forged and the journey they were embarking on together.

—

The first light of dawn broke over Asgard, casting a golden glow that seemed to imbue the entire tournament ground with energy. The crowd gathered, eager for the second day of the grand contest, their anticipation buzzing in the air like static. Warriors from all corners of the realms stood in the morning chill, their armor gleaming as the sun rose higher, while spectators filled the stands, their voices a low murmur of excitement.

Algrim stood tall on the raised platform at the center of the grounds, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. His sharp jawline set in a firm line, and his voice, deep and commanding, cut through the murmurs of the crowd as he raised his hands for silence.

The moment the noise died down, Algrim's rich voice filled the arena. "Welcome back, everyone, to the second day of our grand tournament," he began, his gaze sweeping over the eager faces of the contestants. "The time has come to see who has truly earned their place in the melee."

The crowd fell into a hush, the tension palpable as Algrim continued. "Today, we begin the one-on-one duels, the battles that will determine the 40 warriors who will advance to tomorrow's melee. Only the strongest, the swiftest, and the most cunning will remain."

He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes narrowing as he watched the contestants carefully. "The rules are simple, yet unforgiving. Each match will pit two contestants against one another. You must defeat your opponent by disarming them, forcing them to yield, or knocking them out of the designated dueling area. There will be no mercy, no second chances."

The crowd murmured, and the contestants exchanged determined glances. Haraldr, his armor glinting in the morning sun, stood tall and ready, his jaw set with quiet confidence. Beside him, Susan Bones, with her bright, keen eyes and easy smile, gave him a playful wink. "Don't go too easy on me now, Haraldr," she teased, the hint of challenge in her voice. "I plan on winning this round."

Haraldr chuckled, his gaze flicking to her. "I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, his voice full of playful confidence. "You'll have to give me your best, Bones."

Neville Longbottom, his muscles still sore from the previous day's race, stood nearby, his hand nervously adjusting the straps of his armor. He shot a glance at Hannah Abbott, who, with her always-welcoming grin, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You've got this, Neville," she said softly, her voice steady and calming.

Neville looked back at her with a small, nervous smile. "I... I hope so," he muttered. "I've never really done this sort of thing before."

Hannah's eyes softened as she gave him an encouraging nudge. "You'll do great. Just remember to breathe, okay?"

Luna Lovegood, standing just behind them, gazed out at the vast arena with her usual dreamy expression. "I think there's a certain magic in dueling," she said, her voice distant and thoughtful. "You can feel the energy of the ground, the vibrations of the arena. It's quite invigorating, don't you think?" She looked at Draco, her silvery-blue eyes reflecting the sunlight like the sky itself. "You'll need to focus on your feet, Draco. They're your grounding point."

Draco Malfoy, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "I think I'll stick to what I know, Lovegood," he said dryly. "I don't think the ground needs much of my focus."

Luna simply smiled, her face serene. "Oh, but it does, Draco. Trust me."

Astrid, her blonde hair shimmering in the early light, stood next to Leif, her eyes scanning the other contestants with a quiet intensity. "This is where things get serious," she said to Leif, her voice calm but her words weighted with anticipation. "But don't let that intimidate you. You've got this."

Leif, his muscles taut and his broad shoulders squared, grinned back at her. "I'm ready. Let's just hope I don't end up facing you," he said with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'm not sure I want to test your skills just yet."

"You might not have a choice," Astrid replied, her smile sharp and full of mischief.

Bjorn, his fiery red hair falling around his face, stood tall and unbothered, his large frame looking like it could handle anything thrown at him. He looked over at Sigrun, his voice filled with a quiet confidence. "I think I'll be just fine," he said, his grin widening. "But, if I do end up going up against you, Sigrun, I'll try to go easy."

Sigrun, her red hair braided tightly down her back, snorted with laughter. "Please," she said with a smirk, "I don't need any favors. You just try not to embarrass yourself."

Viggo, standing at the edge of the group, cracked his knuckles in anticipation. He had been quiet, but his eyes burned with competitive fire. "I've fought harder battles than this," he said with a cocky grin. "They'll be begging for mercy by the time I'm done."

Algrim, having observed the contestants carefully, raised his voice once more, drawing the crowd's attention back to him. "Contestants, you will now proceed to the registration area to receive your match assignments. Prepare yourselves, for today will test your mettle like no other."

The contestants began to move toward the registration tables, their movements purposeful. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, every warrior mentally preparing for the battles ahead. Haraldr's gaze swept over his friends, all of them brimming with determination.

"Let's give it our all today," he said to the group, his voice low but resolute.

Susan Bones nodded, her expression determined. "We've trained for this. Now it's time to show them what we're made of."

Luna smiled dreamily, her eyes distant. "The arena will be alive with energy today. I can already feel the vibrations."

Neville gave her a hesitant smile. "Well, as long as I don't trip over my feet, I think I'll be okay."

Hannah leaned over and gave him a quick hug. "You'll do great, Neville. Just stay calm."

Draco, adjusting his gloves, gave a small, competitive smirk. "I'm ready to show them how it's done."

As the contestants lined up to receive their assignments, the excitement in the air was almost palpable. The duels would soon begin, and each of them knew the path to victory would not be easy. But with the support of their friends and the fire in their hearts, they were ready for whatever came next.

The grand tournament had only just begun.

---

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