"Ugh..."
The moment Tom spoke, Quirinus Quirrell's face turned green.
"Don't you dare spit it out. Swallow it."
Tom aimed his wand, and Quirrell's mouth snapped shut as if sealed. Defeated, Quirrell choked down the hamburger.
"Huff... Hah..."
The seal vanished, and Quirrell gasped, a string of saliva dangling from his lip. He stared at Tom, eyes wide with disbelief, brimming with despair and helplessness.
Then, a different voice echoed in his mind...
"It's working! It's really working! My soul… it's recovering! Eat more! Eat more, Quirrell!"
More? Does he even hear himself? Then, the Tom Riddle (Past/Diary) hosted from Quirrell's head gave him another jolt.
"Eat! I'll eat, okay?!" Quirrell sobbed, tears and snot mixing as he devoured Tom's secret-recipe hamburger.
Tom watched Quirrell eat, a faint smile curving his lips. To be targeted by two Dark Lords at once? Quirrell's luck was… spectacularly bad.
Tom chatted with the parasitic spirit inside Quirrell for a few more minutes before leaving the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office.
...
Late that night, the castle held its breath. Even the portraits and suits of armor were still, and the ghosts, usually reveling in midnight feasts, were absent.
On the third floor, Ron Weasley stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the night sky as if lost in thought.
"You came?" he said suddenly.
"I came," Malfoy drawled, emerging from around the corner, his blond hair slicked back.
Ron turned to face Malfoy. "You shouldn't have."
"But I did anyway." Malfoy shook his head, then his face twisted in annoyance. "Bloody hell, this is infuriating! Next time, can you at least specify the location? 'The third floor' is bloody vague! We've been searching for ages!"
"It... it's... ha... phew..."
A panting Harry Potter, leaning against the wall for support, also stumbled into view. "Haha… first duel, no experience, eh? Next time, definitely, next time…" Ron scratched the back of his head, avoiding their gazes, and offered an awkward laugh.
"Are you two going to duel or not?" Seamus Finnegan snapped, squatting in the corner, fiddling with a pile of ominous-looking objects. "The bombs are ready."
Seamus's words plunged the third floor into silence. Harry and Malfoy exchanged uneasy glances, and Ron awkwardly looked aside.
"Are you a pair of dogs?" Harry asked, his face darkening. "You promised a wizard's duel, and you're planning to bomb us?"
"No way! Let whoever wants to fight, fight!" Malfoy wasn't stupid. He'd seen the explosive power of Seamus's spells up close.
As for losing face by forfeiting the duel? They could just spread rumors tomorrow that Gryffindor cheated because they were afraid of losing to Slytherin. That would flip it around on them.
Ron, however, seemed to read Malfoy's intentions and knew the blond was up to no good. He stepped forward to intercept him. "Wait! We don't need any bombs! Let's have a fair wizard's duel!"
Seamus stared, dumbfounded. Why did you call me here, then? Doesn't he know about our… limitations? Or has he actually managed to cast a normal spell? With that thought, Seamus began to back away. He had no intention of being pulverized alongside Ron.
"Wait! Don't go yet, Seamus!" Ron, who had almost reached Malfoy, had no choice but to dash back.
Seamus stopped, eyeing Ron warily. "Let me make this perfectly clear: I didn't come here to get my arse kicked with you."
"Oi, don't say that." Ron leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't you think every spell you use ends in an explosion? What's the difference between having a bomb or not?"
Seamus paused. "Huh? That… actually makes sense. If you look at it that way… this has potential!"
Unfortunately, he seemed to have forgotten that his spells usually detonated in his face.
"Have you decided? Are we fighting or not?" Malfoy urged impatiently.
"Alright, let's start… you wretched Dark Arts git! Die!"
Ron's trash talk wasn't much better than Malfoy's, only that he was slightly less annoying.
Provoked, how could Harry and Malfoy possibly hold back? They rolled up their sleeves and charged.
If Filius Flitwick, the dueling champion, had witnessed this spectacle, he likely would have been speechless.
The duel began well enough. Malfoy managed to fire off a few pathetic spells, and Harry even managed to cast the Disarming Charm (Expelliarmus).
Ron, ignoring his well-known bad luck, waved his wand, which was held together with tape, and tried to cast a spell or two, but failed miserably every time.
Seamus, after getting slapped twice by stray spells, became more clear-headed and remembered that his wand tended to explode in his own face.
They flailed and cursed for ten or twenty minutes, oscillating wildly between magic and fists, before descending into pure melee. Caught up in the chaos, Harry and Malfoy threw their wands aside entirely and focused on close-quarters combat.
After a while, Seamus, bruised, swollen, missing teeth, and drooling, gritted his teeth, yanked out his wand, and charged the three brawling figures!
"I'll bloody blow you all to hell!"
Boom!
...
Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle…
Argus Filch, lantern in hand and Mrs. Norris at his heels, prowled the second floor, searching for disobedient students.
"Hehehe… let's see who's breaking the rules tonight…"
Boom!
A massive explosion thundered from above.
Filch jumped, startled, then flew into a rage. "Has it already gotten to the point where my authority means so little?!"
He regarded the colossal explosion as a personal insult.
"Arrogant brats! Don't underestimate me!"
With that, Filch's long, withered legs blurred, and he moved with astonishing speed, a pace completely at odds with his gaunt, aged appearance.
...
When Filch arrived on the third floor, he found four figures sprawled on the ground, dazed and trying to stand.
Thankfully, the pervasive soot and grime from the explosion obscured their features; otherwise, Filch would have recognized them in an instant.
"Filch! Run!"
Harry scrambled to his feet and led the retreat.
Malfoy blinked, disoriented, but quickly righted himself and followed Harry.
Seamus, who had been closest to the blast, sat on the ground, stunned, and nearly fell into Filch's grasp.
Luckily, Ron suddenly remembered that he had forgotten Seamus back there and dashed back to grab him.
---
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