"Quirrell, perhaps you could teach them another way. They're still children."
Flitwick gazed worriedly at the Gryffindor table in the distance.
Voldemort glanced over. A group of young lions had swollen, bruised faces, but most of them were fine, their spirits high as they excitedly discussed what had happened.
The most excited of them all was Neville Longbottom. He'd won several times, not only against Hermione—he'd even given Harry Potter a sound beating.
Encouraged by Voldemort, the shy, chubby boy had unleashed an extraordinary fighting ability.
As for Hermione...
Her hair was even messier, and her face was bruised and swollen. Tears still clung to her lashes, and whenever she glanced at Voldemort, her eyes were full of grievance.
"I only wanted them to get a taste of it. This won't happen often, Head of House."
Though he seemed to be explaining himself to Flitwick, Voldemort was actually speaking to Professor McGonagall, who stood some distance away and had already glared at him several times.
"It won't happen often?"
Flitwick, who had goblin blood, widened his eyes and stared at Voldemort in disbelief. "You mean to say this will happen again?"
Voldemort nodded helplessly, then explained before Flitwick and McGonagall could lose their tempers. "Mr. Gryffindor had a wand in one hand and a sword in the other. That's Gryffindor House tradition, isn't it?"
The explanation left both professors momentarily speechless. They wanted to argue, but clearly couldn't find a reason.
"Times have changed, Quirrell."
Professor McGonagall found her argument and spoke up. "Hardly anyone uses swords in duels anymore. I don't think there's any need..."
"Hogwarts doesn't allow firearms."
Voldemort interrupted her, his voice full of helplessness. "Otherwise, I'd teach them to use handguns. That's a better way to fight."
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened. She blinked for a long