— — — — — —
Dumbledore felt deeply wronged.
If they wanted to argue, fine—but why was he the one getting dragged into it?
Was it his fault he couldn't hire good teachers anymore?
All the good ones had already been chewed up and spat out by Hogwarts. What was he supposed to do—grow professors out of thin air?
"I'm also very much looking forward to everyone's wonderful performance," Dumbledore said with a polite but clearly strained smile.
Frank gave a disdainful laugh but didn't bother with a direct jab.
After sitting through a few classes, he had a general grasp of Hogwarts' student level. Honestly? Compared to Ilvermorny, these kids were one, maybe even two grade levels behind. Barely passable.
This was supposed to be the world's top wizarding school?
Let's be real—Dumbledore accounted for ninety percent of that reputation. The four Heads of House could take another twenty percent. The students? They owed the school ten percent just for showing up.
If full marks were a hundred, the average Hogwarts student was a ninety-something piece of shit.
He almost regretted that the official dueling tournament wasn't being held right now. Give it just one summer and Hogwarts would come crashing from its pedestal. Dumbledore would lose every shred of face.
Of course… Frank's gaze moved to Tom, who was chatting casually with Daphne.
Assuming that particular anomaly could be removed from the equation.
"What are you staring at, Frank?" Laos sneered. "Don't tell me you're afraid of Riddle. I get your worry—if he's around, Ilvermorny can forget about ever taking first place."
He might be an Ilvermorny alumnus, but that didn't mean he had any respect for his old school.
He'd been bullied there too. Worse—his bully had been a professor. The school did nothing. Respect? Respect, my ass.
Frank snorted and looked away, but in his mind he was already plotting a "properly justified" way to eliminate Tom Riddle from competition.
By eight o'clock, almost everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. Even those who had no intention of dueling came to watch. They wanted to gauge the other schools' abilities.
The candles floating overhead burned brighter than usual, casting a hazy glow over the familiar five long tables.
For once, all the professors were present—well, except Dumbledore. Earlier, he left quietly. His appearances at Hogwarts were becoming increasingly rare these days. No one knew what he was busy with.
Usually Laos officiated these sessions and handled the matchups. Tonight, however, Professor McGonagall stood at the front.
She first explained the rules for the visiting students, emphasizing the prohibition of dark magic, then announced that the central platform was reserved for inter-school duels.
Same-year students should challenge same-year opponents. Challenging upward was allowed. Challenging downward was not.
"Remember—friendship first, victory second. Don't let a moment of competition ruin relationships."
She said the line everyone promptly ignored, then stepped aside. "We may begin. Who would like to go first?"
"Professor McGonagall, me! I'm first."
Ginny didn't even wait for the full sentence to finish. She bolted onto the stage so fast it took McGonagall two seconds just to react.
"Weasley, who are you challenging?" she asked.
"That first-year from Ilvermorny—what's your name again?" Ginny turned to Frank. All seven Ilvermorny students stood behind him.
A first-year Ilvermorny girl looked angry. Her face instantly went dark enough to rival Snape's.
Ginny didn't even know her name and was still calling her out? That was pure humiliation.
Ignoring Frank entirely, the girl stepped up onto the stage and gave Ginny a cold, provoking look. "Remember this. My name is Vanessa Garcia. What's yours, redhead?"
"No need for you to know, freckle-face," Ginny shot back and walked to her starting position. "I'm in a hurry. Make it quick."
Even someone with a blocked nose could smell the gunpowder in the air. No one in the hall dared blink.
McGonagall frowned slightly. In her impression, Ginny was a talented young witch—lively, yes, but not like the twins. Certainly not prone to starting fights. McGonagall liked her a lot.
Why was she so aggressive today?
Still, she said nothing. She lowered her wand to signal the start of the duel.
The girls bowed. The moment they straightened, Vanessa fired off two curses in quick succession, her casting speed impressive for a first-year—definitely top tier even at Ilvermorny.
But Ginny's counter was even more surprising. She flicked her wand lightly, deflecting both spells—and cast one of her own mid-parry.
A flock of bats burst out of Vanessa's nostrils, screeching as they clawed at her face.
The girl burst into tears immediately, screamed, and threw her wand aside.
McGonagall reacted fast, dispelling the bats with a swipe. Even so, several scratches were already carved into Vanessa's face, blood streaking down her cheeks. It looked brutal.
"Poppy!"
Madam Pomfrey darted up like a seasoned battlefield medic, yanking the girl away while muttering about the dangers of dueling. Vanessa, terrified, kept touching her face.
"If you touch it again and it scars, don't come crying to me," Pomfrey warned sharply.
The girl froze and finally stopped.
"Next! Let's go up to Second-year!" Ginny shouted impatiently the moment Vanessa was taken offstage.
Tom watched with a grin. He felt proud; he wanted to shout, 'I'm the one who trained this dark witch.'
Though now that he thought about it… wasn't this dueling club supposed to be his stage for dramatic brilliance? How had Draco and Ginny been stealing all the spotlight?
This was not the proper protagonist experience at all.
On the other side, Laos clapped enthusiastically for Ginny, though his eyes were locked on Frank, clearly saying: You gonna just sit there?
Frank definitely wasn't. He shoved Mark Collins forward.
Yes, that Mark Collins—the poor guy Tom had sent flying down the stairs with just a flick of his sleeve. After that whole mess ended, everyone conveniently forgot he even existed. The spectators, the troublemakers—everyone. He was literally the only injured one there, and nobody remembered him.
Mark was both frustrated and secretly relieved. If no one remembered, then technically, he hadn't embarrassed himself.
Still, he had a belly full of rage. He stormed up onto the stage, glaring at Ginny like he wanted to eat her alive. "Don't blame me for picking on a first year!"
"Shut it, Beaky," Ginny shot back.
Professor McGonagall sighed inwardly. Where was her polite, shy student?
Mark Collins' hook-shaped nose flushed bright red first, making him look like a furious clown.
The duel began. Ginny stuck with her signature move—Bat-Bogey Hex right out the gate. Mark liked to believe he was stronger than Vanessa, but clearly that was wishful thinking.
Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex came out silently this time. His Shield Charm was only half-spoken before he suffered the exact same fate.
This time McGonagall didn't even have to say anything. Laos practically skipped over, happily dragging the twitching Mark Collins straight to Madam Pomfrey. Then he returned to Frank, lifting a brow like a challenge. "That's your pick? Figures he's got the same brain capacity as you."
Gulp. x2
George and Fred both swallowed hard. A bunch of students looked just as horrified, staring at Ginny like she'd sprouted dragon wings.
Too brutal.
A Bat-Bogey Hex without even chanting—how was anyone supposed to defend against that?
"When did Ginny get this terrifying…" Fred muttered.
"I just saw Mum in her," George whispered, shivering.
Harry glanced between Ginny and Ron, whose soul looked like it had left his body. A ridiculous thought popped into his mind—was Ron secretly adopted or something?
Obviously, he kept that to himself. He and Ron had already been on shaky terms lately thanks to all the duel training with Malfoy.
Just when everyone thought Ginny would finally stop and let someone else take over, she spoke again. This time, her tone wasn't sharp and fiery—it was playful. Teasing.
"Next up… the noble pureblood lady from a proud two-hundred-year-old nation, Miss Cassandra Vole~ Oh no!" Ginny covered her mouth in an exaggerated gasp. "Am I even worthy to challenge you?"
Cassandra's face went white then blue. That was clearly mocking what she'd said to Tom earlier. Hogwarts students finally connected the dots.
So Ginny was doing this to avenge Riddle now.
Dozens of eyes turned to Tom, still munching on drama like it was popcorn. Daphne beside him puffed up angrily. She had fully intended to teach Cassandra a lesson today—only to be beaten to it.
"Why are you staring at me?" Tom said, baffled. "Look at the stage. Don't you guys enjoy a good girl fight?"
Obviously they did. But what kind of twisted timeline was this—where a Gryffindor girl was going around defending a Slytherin?
Ginny's older brothers looked like they were about to chew through steel. Percy especially looked on the verge of collapse. Penelope had been ignoring him and chatting happily with Tom instead, and now even his little sister was drifting toward that snake.
This bastard—was he even human? Was he actually some kind of male Veela?
"..."
Cassandra finally stepped onto the stage, pulling everyone's attention back.
Ginny giggled sweetly. "Miss Vole, you won't cry if you lose, right? You're a noble lady from a prestigious house. I'd be so scared if you held a grudge."
You little—
Cassandra's fist clenched so hard her knuckles cracked. She looked like she wanted to smash Ginny's smug face in.
"The actual person involved hasn't said a word, but you're still yapping like a stray," Cassandra hissed back. "Miss… Weasley, was it? Maybe go take a few etiquette classes. No one likes a wild girl."
Ginny's smile vanished. "Vole, you're the one who needs to learn manners. Barging into someone else's home and acting like you own the place—guess savages really don't produce anything decent."
"Ahem!" McGonagall coughed loudly. "Weasley, less talking. Start the duel. Don't waste time."
Ginny had started an AOE insult blast, and McGonagall clearly didn't want her provoking every American wizard in the room.
No, she was basically attacking the whole country. Was this really Ginny Weasley?
"Ok, Professor McGonagall."
Ginny finally reined it in and gave Cassandra a stiff bow. The moment they rose, she threw another Bat-Bogey Hex.
Cassandra was ready. Magic gathered at her wand tip, disrupting Ginny's spell. She fired back immediately.
Bolts of light shot between them. Both girls had mastered the Shield Charm, sparks flying whenever they deflected.
"Protego Totalum!" McGonagall cast, sealing the entire stage under a massive protective barrier.
Their duel was dazzling. Cassandra did not look like a mere third-year. And Ginny… she definitely didn't feel like a first-year.
She was like a female version of Tom Riddle.
McGonagall tried to keep a stern expression, but the smile tugging at her lips just wouldn't go away.
Finally, it was Gryffindor's turn to produce a true prodigy. Hell yeah.
Cassandra was just as shocked. The reason she acted so high and mighty was because nobody in her year—sometimes not even upper years—could compare to her. But this ginger brat was a first-year!
She couldn't hold back anymore.
Cassandra gritted her teeth and unleashed her strongest spell.
"Tonitrus Surge!"(Thunderstorm)
Dark clouds coiled above the stage, the air rumbling with thunder.
Ginny's expression hardened. She raised her wand and met it head-on with her own strongest curse.
"Reducto Maxima!"
.
.
.