Delicate Magic ► George Weasley

twenty-four. bite like a viper

Hyde Park was a stunning place in winter when the grass was flat, lifeless and dead -- crisped from the frost and brown. She thought it was a stunning sight, even with the fountain drained. It possessed a sort of serene beauty, a charming type of natural magic that made her wish to observe the scene irrationally. 

Iola couldn't it to the view from underneath the fountain. She stood centre stage below the muted rectangular skylight. The candles that float alongside it, lighting the rest fo the cavernous hall, cast a gothic glow -- the pillars that support the structure remarkably styled with magical creature gargoyles that bordered the space turning it all very intimidating for the lesser person. 

She loved it. She couldn't not love it. Hyde Park Underground represented everything that she had ever strived for. 

They had set up piste for the event, rather, they had set protected sectors that was to keep the damage contained and easily repaired should anything happen to the historical site. 

Iola thought it was well done, perfected so that duels were easily set and placed, fixed so that they could face each other one-on-one as they were meant to in a duel. Just as she was used to. 

She roamed the room slowly, getting a feel for the place and the lighting as was her right before they were set to begin. She was eager, ready to go as each step scraped and echoed in the large room as she made sure to catch her baby blue heels. She wanted to make her presence loud, important as she called attention to herself. She wanted to strike fear into the hearts of her opponents. 

It was why she had continued with Aveline's ridiculous insistence that she wear something that was over the top feminine for such a competition. A simple black dress over a white turtleneck that was long enough to be modest but short enough to grant her easy, freeing movement. 

Over which, of course, she had thrown on a proper dress robe that she left open and loose, ready to be dropped at a moment's notice. 

She wasn't the only one that dressed up for such affairs. It was a classy tournament, a proper spectacle that could be quite dangerous otherwise. All it took was one angry combatant breaking the rules to bring about a person's demise. 

With the way that people were looking at her, it was a good thing that they had legilimens on the scene. They had checked her, had delved into her mind and dragged her through each and every terrible memory, had pushed her to recall everything that her mother had done before they had even allowed her onto the premises. 

Bagman, as much as she disliked the man, had been her constant advocate, both in and out of her presence. His trust and belief in her abilities were touching enough for her to know that he wasn't going to allow any sort of mistreatment to her person. 

And when the time finally came, Iola found herself stepping into a centre focused piste in a bracket that promised to be a challenge. 

Her first match was against an American wizard from Seatle. He was tall and rather burly, slow, with long curly hair that he had tied into a bun at the base of his neck. He was of average appearance, a little on the ugly side, truthfully, and sported an athletic muggle tracksuit. Kevin Durant was perhaps in his mid-thirties, but he carried himself with this jumpy sort of intensity. 

Iola found he reminder her a bit of a rat or a weasel, if she were being honest. She didn't dare make any such remarks allowed for the sake of poor manners and her appearance. Imagine if Madame Maxine could hear her thoughts now, she would be eternally disappointed. 

They bow, wands clutched tightly in hand, and Iola hoped that her robe threw off his aim as she watched his eyes flicker to her legs so that she might get to knock him on his head a few times before the match was called.