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Without any interruption, my fight with the first winner began. It went pretty fast, actually. We exchanged blows a couple of times, and the guy even hit me in the jaw, but missed a similar blow, got disoriented, and I finished him off.
The second one-on-one fight went just as quickly, pretty much following the same pattern as mine.
"Let's find out who's going to be the youth champion!" raved the mustachioed man, jumping back and forth across the ring. "Fight!"
My opponent was clearly experienced in such fights. Maybe he even did something professionally. This opponent was the tall red-haired guy I'd spotted at the beginning. He was well pumped up, his fists were clenched, he was in no hurry to fight.
For about a minute, we just circled, waiting. But the redhead didn't seem to have much restraint, so he attacked, trying to feel me out with his left. As soon as he found a gap in my defenses, he was right in front of me. I didn't have much skill, but I was superior in speed and reaction, so I dodged it. Sometimes the redhead tried to hit me with a pretty slick low kick, but he either lifted his leg or backed away.
"Quit squirming, blondie," the redhead smirked. "Or weak to fight like a man."
"Pfft."
"Ha..."
Sometimes I found safe chances to counterattack, but in vain - I ran into a block or dodge.
"Gotcha!" boomed the redhead, delivering his usual straight left.
I put the block on and felt a flash of magic at the very moment of impact, and a very powerful blow crashed into my arm, threatening to crush the block. I jumped back up into my stance and heard shouts of indignation from the crowd.
"He used magic! I saw it!" someone shouted.
"Nothing like that!" raved a mustachioed man, showing everyone some kind of medallion. "No magic recorded!"
"Boooo!"
But the fight went on. Another series of blows from the redhead was just as accompanied by magical flashes, adding two or three times the force to the blows, and he almost got me.
"Don't squirm, blondie, and let me beat you," the redhead grinned. "You can't compete with a journeyman in combat anyway."
Laughter rose up from inside me. No, really! There was a full moon in the sky - it was a full moon tonight. This redhead jerk cheats and then shows off! No, well, circus! Okay…
Ginger went on the attack again. For a brief moment, at the very moment of impact, I strengthened myself with hemomancy. Such a jump in body parameters caused the effect of time dilation. Even the sounds sank in tonality - the brain did not have time to equalize the speed of perception to the usual one. I ducked lightly under his blow and came closer, immediately punching the redhead's liver with my left hand. Without slowing down, straightening sharply, using my torso and legs with an open palm uppercut, sent the redhead flying. Only by this moment, my brain had compensated for the speed of perception, bringing it back to normal but not losing in reaction.
The redhead collapsed on his back, with his face twisted and his eyes rolled back, but he was still walking, his arms outstretched in front of him. His muscles seemed to tighten.
The mustachioed man was silent for a few seconds, but my opponent was in no hurry to come to his senses. A healer ran up to him, and without a wand, conjured something, and the redhead finally lost consciousness, while the mustachioed man obviously reluctantly made a joyful face.
"We have a winner!!!" he shouted, running up to me. The audience hooted, applauded, and congratulated.
" Well done, boy, well done!" praised the mustachioed man, and when everyone had quieted down, he continued. "Can you introduce yourself?"
"Max Knight."
"Oh, cool name, boy! Let's find out who wins tonight, Scotland or Ireland? Where are you from?"
"Hmm..."
The crowd was silent. Only Seamus and Dean tried not to laugh out loud.
"From London."
Silence. From the crowd, someone shouted:
"What does that mean?"
"Well," I decided to add fuel to the fire. "While Scotland and Ireland fight, the Englishman wins."
The silence did not last long, breaking into general laughter.
"But in general," I shouted, drawing attention to myself. "I come from an Irish camp and a fellow Irishman."
"Then," the mustachioed man took a dramatic pause. "Ireland won!"
The audience hummed half approvingly, half disappointedly, and I was handed a freshly cooked hog on a spit and a box of Butterbeer.
"Adult fights in fifteen minutes!" yelled a mustachioed man. "Don't split up, ladies and gentlemen!"
My Hogwarts comrades ran briskly over, grabbed the snacks, some happily patting me on the shoulder, some just chanting "Max!"
"What a fight!" marveled Seamus. "We weren't expecting that! And in general!"
Seamus jokingly hit me on the press.
"When did you get your muscles trained like that? You're in the library all the time..."
Hermione broke through to me as well.
"I want to hit you with something heavy!" but she hit my chest with her fist. "That's ridiculous! You got in a fight!"
"And won, by the way."
A giggling Lavender, with the most real fire in her eyes, nudged a squeaking Hermione from behind, and I had to almost catch her.
"Kiss your knight without armor! Hee hee hee..."
Hermione had a face like she was diving into a whirlpool, but there was no desire not to dive, either. Quickly she got up on her toes, gave me a brief kiss on the lips, and blushing, stuck my clothes back in.
"That's for winning."
"Woohoo!" yelled the Hogwarts students, beginning to applaud. All they wanted was a show.
"And we'll talk more about participation in the tent. You won't get any dinner. No, no breakfast!"
The guys laughed, and we all headed back to Irish camp.