Killing Dumbledore would have been anticlimactic. Tom smirked inwardly. Dumbledore doesn't have much time left anyway. Let the old fool enjoy a few more sweets before the end.
But if not Dumbledore, who else could offer worthy opposition?
Grindelwald? Never. He would rot in Nurmengard before offering anyone satisfaction…
But wait... isn't there another potential match right here at Hogwarts?
...
Meanwhile, in a dim corner of Hogwarts, Quirinus Quirrell, pale and weakened after his failed attempt to steal unicorn blood for Voldemort, shivered.
He offered a self-deprecating chuckle. We're supposed to be the villains. We should be the ones plotting, not the victims!
...
Quirrell… that remnant soul sharing his skull! It could certainly put up a fight!
Not in its current, fragile state, of course.
But these were minor obstacles for Tom. He had no need to preserve the host's life. Side effects were utterly irrelevant. All he needed was a means to unleash its primeval power, if only for a short time.
With that thought in mind, Tom ignored the students still in class and casually left the room, intent on preparing certain special enhancements for his chosen lightning rod.
...
Before anyone realized, History of Magic had come and gone. Harry, who had been dozing, startled awake the moment the bell rang and stretched languidly.
His elbow struck Malfoy beside him, rousing him as well.
Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then frowned. "Hey, where's Professor Tom Riddle?"
"He left halfway through class."
Cassandra Vole, already packing her books, offered the terse reply. Judging by her expression, she was not pleased. "Charms with Professor Flitwick is next. Don't be late and cost us house points again."
She shot a warning glance at Harry and Malfoy before sweeping out of the classroom.
Only after she was gone did Harry and Malfoy exchange a shrug.
...
The Charms classroom.
Professor Flitwick, owing to his partial goblin heritage, had to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk. He seemed unconcerned by this, and his students rarely poked fun at his height, possibly because the professor himself never seemed to mind.
"Today," he began with unusual enthusiasm, "we will be learning the Levitation Charm." His demeanor was certainly more relaxed without the ever-present threat of the Dark Lord erupting over some triviality.
"The incantation is 'Wingardium Leviosa.'"
Professor Flitwick raised his wand. "Like so."
As he flicked his wand, the feather before him rose gracefully into the air.
"That is it. Now, I shall distribute the feathers, and you may try it yourselves."
As soon as Ron Weasley received his feather, he began waving his wand with more enthusiasm than skill. "Wingardium Leviosa~"
But his "heirloom" wand was proving stubbornly uncooperative; after several minutes, the feather remained stubbornly earthbound.
"Are you serious? Give me a bloody break!" Ron glared at the taped wand in his grip.
Not a single spell cast properly in all this time.
And was it Ron's fault? Absolutely not! It was this useless "family treasure"!
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, waving the wand with increasing vehemence.
Even Malfoy, sitting nearby, was starting to get annoyed.
"Oi! Weasley!"
Malfoy called out, and Ron whirled around, greeted by Malfoy's most irritating sneer. "You're about to poke someone's eye out with that thing!"
"What's it to you?" Ron snapped, already on edge. Malfoy's presence only amplified his irritation.
"Your posture is atrocious, and you are mispronouncing the incantation." Malfoy, adopting an air of benevolent instruction, drawled, "It's not 'Wingar-dium Levi-o-sa↑,' but 'Wingar-dium Levi-o-sa↓.'"
"Oh, right. Thank you kindly for your enlightened instruction, Young Master Malfoy~." Ron simpered sarcastically, sticking his tongue out. "Stop pretending to be so high and mighty, you little Death Eater!"
Something flickered in Malfoy's pale eyes. "You little…"
"What are you gonna do about it?" Ron wasn't intimidated, retorting instantly.
Malfoy lowered his head, a strange smile twisting his lips. "Hehehehe…"
"You… What do you think you're doing?" Seeing Malfoy's odd behavior, Ron suddenly felt a surge of unease. He was starting to regret his words. What if he had gone too far? If word got back to his mother, there would be hell to pay.
"Weasley, it seems I cannot allow you to continue living."
Malfoy grinned viciously at Ron, then shoved Harry beside him. "Harry, let's give him a beating!"
"Huh? What?"
Harry turned around, glowering, and then saw the familiar red hair. "Oh, it's you, you stupid toad-seeker!"
Enemies meeting, eyes blazing.
Harry, of course, remembered this idiot who had repeatedly interrupted him on the train, searching for some "toad," nearly ruining his chance to become Tom's right-hand man.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Harry forced a smile, his brow furrowing. "These types don't listen to reason. Sometimes, you just have to let your fists do the talking."
"Wait… What do you want?!"
Seeing Malfoy and Harry's grim expressions, Ron began to panic. What if I lose? How embarrassing would that be?
Ron gritted his teeth and shouted, "Do you dare to duel me?!"
"What the hell?"
Harry's face was a picture of confusion. "What's a duel?"
"You idiot, Harry, you don't even know that?" Malfoy's expression was now openly smug. "Wizard duels are formal contests between two or more people – a noble ritual passed down since ancient times."
"And our Malfoy family is renowned for its dueling prowess." Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Especially me, Draco Malfoy."
"Oh…"
Harry thoughtfully stroked his chin.
Malfoy, meanwhile, turned his nose up at Ron. "Weasley, we accept your challenge. You should start gathering your allies."
---
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