"A duel?"
Everyone turned to look at Tom, wondering if he had completely lost his mind.
Even a one-on-one fight was a serious violation of school rules. Just last year, Malfoy and Harry had brawled, and both Houses had suffered for it.
And now he was suggesting both entire teams go at it? If that happened, wouldn't both Heads of House be furious enough to burst?
"Riddle, do you have any other ideas?" Flint, though secretly intimidated, wasn't about to back down in front of everyone. "What, you expect us to fight a bunch of girls and a bunch of skinny beanpoles? And if we break them, are we supposed to pay compensation? I don't do losing deals."
Wood immediately shot back, "A gorilla swinging a broomstick thinks he's a wizard? Anyone who's taken Care of Magical Creatures can handle you."
"You wanna say that again?" Flint roared.
"Gladly. Gorilla."
"Since you all refuse, that leaves only one other option." Tom sighed, as if this was all so tiresome. "We let Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape duel it out. After all, this whole mess started because of them. Whoever wins, their note stands."
The crowd stared at him as if they had just seen a ghost.
Even Daphne found this idea absurd. She tugged at Tom's sleeve, trying to stop him, but it was too late.
Tom raised his wand to the sky. Two sharp cracks split the air as twin birds burst from his wand tip and flew straight toward the castle.
"Tom…" Malfoy swallowed hard. "What did you just do?"
"Oh, nothing much. Just invited both professors to come join us."
The Slytherins were speechless, while the Gryffindors shivered at the thought.
Their Head of House was not like Snape, who could shamelessly wriggle out of anything. No—once McGonagall arrived, whether they were right or wrong, things would escalate, and tempers would flare.
But since Tom had already summoned them, leaving now would look cowardly, and staying felt dangerous. So they could only shuffle awkwardly in place, waiting for the professors to arrive.
The Weasley twins gave Tom mournful looks.
They had once shared meals with him—how could he betray them like this?
In less than ten minutes, both Heads of House strode grim-faced onto the Quidditch pitch.
Professor McGonagall was clearly fresh out of bed; she hadn't even put on her pointed hat. Her voice was sharp with outrage: "What is going on here? I gave you permission to use the pitch for training, not for fighting!"
"Professor, we haven't fought yet," Tom reminded her.
"Mr. Riddle, I am well aware," she snapped, glaring at him.
"If you insist on an explanation, then let me give it. It's simple, really. Both Slytherin and Gryffindor have notes granting today's use of the pitch, and neither side wants to give it up."
"So I suggested a solution: either the two teams duel for it, or the two professors duel for it. That way, whoever wins, their note is valid."
"Utter nonsense!" McGonagall almost thought she had misheard. "It's just a pitch! Why not divide the time—one House trains in the morning, the other in the afternoon? Why must it escalate to a duel? Mr. Riddle, dueling is no child's game. If someone gets hurt, who is to bear responsibility?"
The twins exchanged glances with Hermione and nearly burst out laughing.
No wonder they called her "Little McGonagall"—Hermione's solution was exactly the same as the professor's.
"Professor McGonagall is quite right."
Snape had already seen through Tom's ploy. His voice oozed with an infuriating drawl. "Such a brutal method… one wonders how your mind conjured it. True, I could heal any injuries the students sustained with ease. But tell me—how shall I mend the psychological trauma of the Gryffindor students?"
McGonagall's expression sharpened at once.
What did that bat mean by that?
Psychological trauma of the Gryffindor students? Was he implying her students would be crushed by his?
The very idea was infuriating. Her Quidditch players bristled with outrage, ready to leap into battle.
Fred shouted, "Professor Snape, better worry about your own lot. I'd hate to see your babies go home bawling to mummy and daddy!"
"Oh yes, yes," Snape replied airily, clearly not listening.
"I admire your courage, Riddle. But don't summon teachers for every little dispute. As if this could ever actually come to a duel."
"Professor McGonagall," he went on, "let Gryffindor have the pitch this morning, and Slytherin in the afternoon. Does that sound agreeable?"
"No!" Angelina Johnson shoved past Wood, her fiery temper exploding. "We need the entire day to train. Duel! We'll settle this with a duel—right here, right now!"
Tom spread his hands innocently. "Professors, see? Negotiation doesn't work."
You little—!
Snape ground his teeth. Riddle was truly a born Slytherin snake, never missing a chance to needle him.
McGonagall drew a deep breath. "Severus, the fault here lies with us. We failed to communicate in advance, and so our schedules overlapped."
"Since the students refuse to compromise, then let them resolve it themselves. We shall act as referees to ensure no one suffers serious injury."
The old lioness's temper had flared. Her usual composure came from years of discipline and experience, but when pressed, she was still the same fiery Gryffindor who had once cracked her ribs and given herself a concussion in a Quidditch crash.
"If you insist," Snape said at last, pretending reluctance. "Seven players each, best of seven matches. Whoever wins secures full use of the pitch for the day."
No one objected. Both teams glared murderously across the field.
The Quidditch pitch had transformed into an arena. The only spectators were Tom, the Greengrass sisters, Hermione, and Colin.
Oh—and also Usagi, who had come to watch the show. The moment Colin spotted it, he swung his camera toward Tom instead, snapping picture after picture. Tom even threw him one of Lee Jordan's signature hand signs.
The flashbulb never stopped going off. Tom figured Colin must spend every bit of pocket money he had on film.
"You stirred all this up on purpose," Hermione fumed, glaring at him.
"Of course," Tom admitted calmly. "What's the harm? A little excitement to start the morning. Wizards live by the wand anyway. And believe me— even if this were solved peacefully today, the next time these two Houses meet on the pitch, they'll go at each other even harder."