The Duel

"If it weren't for you, why would Prefect William have canceled the Quidditch tryouts? You don't dare compete with me fairly! Do you think your powerful spells can scare me? The truth is, you don't dare face me on the Quidditch Pitch at all!"

Marcus shouted those words at the top of his lungs. More and more little snakes filed into the common room, including William.

"I recall saying that anyone with objections to Mr. Moriarty and Jericho becoming players should come to me!" William's face was livid. "Seventh-year prefects have the authority to deduct House points, Marcus Flint! Because of your ignorance and stupidity, Slytherin House will lose ten points!"

"And Leon Minchum!" William searched the crowd of onlookers for Leon. "I know your time is tight—whose isn't? That's why I skipped the Quidditch tryouts. And now, our precious time has been wasted by Marcus Flint!

"You will take responsibility for this. Arrange a tryout for the two of them before this afternoon. If you can't, then you and Flint can go face Gryffindor yourselves!"

Leon's expression darkened terribly. Marcus had always been his staunch supporter, and he could not ignore this matter. Otherwise, his authority would vanish completely.

He first walked over to Moriarty and said, "Please believe me, I did not instruct Flint and Larpo to do this to you."

Moriarty knew Leon had not. Leon was not that foolish or impulsive.

"But there's no point saying anything now. Flint chose to challenge me in Quidditch. Fine. Let's make an agreement: all grievances will end with this tryout!" Moriarty declared.

"I agree! But I want to add one more condition." Marcus bared his crooked buck teeth in a vicious grin. "The loser gives everything to the winner! If you lose, you'll give me everything you have! Your knowledge, your wealth, and your wand! What do you say, boy? Do you dare?"

"Flint!" Even Leon thought he had gone too far this time. There was an unspoken rule within Slytherin: no matter how the students fought among themselves, it had nothing to do with the families behind them.

Marcus's demand clearly violated that rule. Leon could no longer favor him.

"Marcus Flint! Don't even think about it!" A stern voice came from behind the crowd, making the little snakes think Professor McGonagall had arrived.

But it was Lilith. Dressed impeccably, she walked over, the severity on her face and the haughty gleam in her eyes lending her an unstoppable presence.

"Don't think we don't know what you're planning, Flint. What does the Flint family have left now? An empty shell! Only your father is barely holding it together. If you lose, what can you possibly offer Mr. Moriarty?"

Lilith stepped between Moriarty and Marcus and stared him down. "Let me remind you of something. Listen carefully. To date, there have been over seven hundred kinds of Quidditch fouls. Though the Department of Magical Games and Sports has never made them public, I happen to know one of them.

"Five hundred years ago, a French player and the most renowned Italian player of that era wagered on a Quidditch match. They agreed that the winner would gain the loser's eternal loyalty! In the end, the French player won and demanded that the Italian player lose to him in the World Cup. Everyone knows what happened afterward—national team players making private wagers was deemed a foul.

"But! Why shouldn't we revive this wager? That would be fair!"

"Good idea. I agree!" Moriarty had been considering how to bring the Flint family under his control, and Lilith had handed him a perfect excuse. Still, Moriarty noticed the cunning in her eyes. It seemed she had another plan in mind.

Lilith's words enraged Marcus. He nodded repeatedly. "Fine, very fine. Then, boy, if I lose, you'll have my loyalty! But if I win, I'll make you strip naked in front of the entire school, then run into Knockturn Alley by yourself!"

With that, he left without looking back. Leon did not stop him. Before everyone, he promised that the tryout would be arranged that afternoon, then went to get Severus Snape's approval slip.

That afternoon, all the Slytherin players turned out, bringing their brooms and protective gear, as well as all kinds of balls.

Marcus had put on his team uniform and protective gear, making him look even larger than before. In his hand was the Nimbus 1700 Leon had lent him.

William had also lent his Nimbus 1700 to Moriarty. Once they were fully equipped, Moriarty and the players headed to the Quidditch Pitch.

It was a vast oval field. At its center was a small circle around two feet in diameter, from which all the balls would be released once the match began.

At either end of the pitch stood three hoops of varying heights—the scoring areas.

The stands surrounding the field belonged to the four Houses and were packed with students. No one knew who had spread the news, but every student without afternoon classes had come to watch.

Leon then announced the rules of the tryout. "Listen up. Since the two of you are competing for the Chaser position, the Golden Snitch will not be released. The match will last one hour. Whoever scores the most goals within that hour wins!"

Moriarty saw Marcus giving him a sinister smile. Yes, this had been planned by Marcus and Leon. Marcus knew he was no match for Moriarty in a contest for Seeker, so he had chosen Chaser instead.

A loud chorus of boos rose from the stands, with Gryffindor making the biggest commotion.

This made William shoot Leon a fierce glare. Leon mounted his broom and flew into the air as though nothing had happened. After all, they had not agreed on the exact details of the competition beforehand!

Marcus thought the same way. Laughing loudly, he flew into the air and turned to taunt Moriarty. "Come on, boy. Let me teach you that a qualified Chaser needs more than just speed!"

"Before becoming a qualified Chaser, you'd better learn how to be a qualified wizard first." Moriarty casually replied before easily flying up.

Once the players had taken their positions—there was also a goalkeeper behind the opposing hoops, though his role was more symbolic than practical—Leon blew the whistle to begin the tryout.

A black iron Bludger and a red Quaffle shot out from the small circle. Marcus was the first to fly forward. He smoothly seized the Quaffle, flew toward the opposite hoops, and hurled it in with all his strength.

Marcus scored! He loudly mocked Moriarty, but the goalkeeper quickly threw the ball back out.

Marcus was tracking the ball's path when, from the corner of his eye, he saw a silver blur streak past!

Moriarty hung from his broom, wrapping both hands and feet tightly around the handle. Using all four limbs, he spun the broom around, greatly increasing his speed!

He was as fast as a spinning cannonball. Before Marcus could react, the Quaffle had already gone through the hoops.

Moriarty scored!

Screams erupted from the stands. Lilith said to those around her, "Did you see that? He's like a shining meteor!"

Jericho, meanwhile, was thinking back on Moriarty's move. Moriarty had improved the Sloth Hugging Tree Roll, adapting it for chasing and scoring.

After witnessing that world-class maneuver, Marcus's face turned ashen. The Quaffle was thrown out again. Marcus stared fixedly at Moriarty, leaning forward as though he intended to knock him off his broom after Moriarty took off!

But there was more than one level of difference between their starting speeds. Marcus could only watch Moriarty's back with furious frustration. He roared at a Beater, "Why aren't you using the Bludger to knock him down?"

"Watch your attitude." The Beater did not even look at him as he replied lazily.

Marcus turned back bitterly. Moriarty had scored his second goal. At that moment, another Beater flew over. He was also one of Leon's supporters, and he whispered a few words to Marcus. Marcus broke into a savage grin.

Moriarty saw it and said with amusement, "Has no one ever told you about your teeth? It looks like you've got a Whomping Willow growing in your mouth."

"Just wait! You'll fall to your death!" Marcus snorted angrily.

The third Quaffle was thrown out. Moriarty flew toward it, while Marcus headed for the hoops.

Having caught the Quaffle, Moriarty noticed a Bludger hurtling toward his back.

Marcus flew in front of the goal as well, circling back and forth as if preparing to intercept Moriarty.

Moriarty flew up and down in a wave-like pattern, constantly rising and falling, yet the Bludger seemed to have grown eyes, stubbornly tailing him.

Jericho slammed a fist into the railing in fury. "They must have enchanted the Bludger to lock onto Mr. Moriarty!"

"Kid! Get down yourself, or you'll be smashed to death—or fall to your death!" Marcus laughed as though victory was already his.

Moriarty smiled back at him. With one hand gripping the broomstick, he placed both feet on it and stood up—on the broom!

Gasps and cheers erupted from the stands. Marcus suddenly realized that Moriarty was flying straight at him!

Moriarty held the Quaffle in his right hand, his feet balanced on the broom as though he were riding a skateboard. Just before he collided with Marcus, he pressed down with the soles of his feet, guiding the broom into a downward slide and diving toward the ground!

The Bludger behind him struggled to change direction, barely grazing past Marcus's scalp before continuing its pursuit of Moriarty.

That maneuver exposed whoever had been controlling the Bludger. The students spotted the sweating Beater, who gritted his teeth and shouted, "Damn it, Flint! Move!"

But Marcus had already been frightened limp. He sat blankly on his broom, his eyes vacant.

The students had no interest in watching their farce, because Moriarty pulled up only when he was close to the ground and shot upward.

He had opened up more than ten meters between himself and the Bludger. In theory, it could no longer threaten him, but Moriarty intended to teach that Beater a lesson.

Moriarty flew to a position diagonally below the goalposts and waited for the Bludger to approach. Seizing the right moment, he hurled the Quaffle in his hand—not at the goal, but at the Bludger!

With a thunderous bang, the Quaffle struck the Bludger. The angle and force sent the Bludger plummeting rapidly. The Beater could no longer control it, and he fell from his broom in exhaustion. Leon flew over and caught him.

Thud!

The Bludger crashed heavily onto the ground, while the Quaffle rebounded at a tricky angle and sailed into the goal.

The students stood with their mouths agape. Only after a long moment did they react, and thunderous cheers erupted like a tidal wave!