The mastermind behind Hogwarts

Chapter 29 Duel

"If it weren't for you, why would Prefect William have canceled the Quidditch Selection Tournament? You're too afraid to fight me fairly! You think you can intimidate me with your powerful spells? In fact, you're too scared to even face me in a Quidditch match!"

Marcus shouted these words at the top of his lungs, and more and more small snakes entered the common room, including William.

"I remember saying that if anyone had a problem with Mr. Moriarty and Jericho becoming players, let them come to me!" William's face was ashen. "The seventh-year prefect has the right to deduct points from a house, Marcus Flint! Because of your ignorance and incompetence, Slytherin will be deducted ten points!"

"And Leon Mintham!" William searched for Leon in the crowd. "I know you're pressed for time—who isn't? That's why I skipped the Quidditch selection match. Now, all our precious time has been wasted by Marcus Flint!"

You need to take responsibility for this. Arrange a selection match for them both by this afternoon. If you can't do that, you'll have to take Flint and the other guy to face Gryffindor!

Leon's face was terribly grim. Marcus had always been his staunch supporter, and he couldn't ignore this matter, or his authority would vanish completely.

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

Moriarty knew Leon didn't; Leon wouldn't be so foolish and impulsive.

"But there's no point in saying anything now. Flint has chosen to challenge me in Quidditch. Very well, let's make a deal: all grudges will be settled in this qualifying match!" Moriarty declared loudly.

"I agree! But I have one more condition," Marcus grinned, revealing his crooked front teeth, "The loser gives everything to the winner! If you lose, you'll give me everything you have! Your knowledge, your wealth, and your wand! How about it, kid, you dare to come?"

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

Marcus's request clearly violated this rule, and Leon could not show him any favoritism.

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

But the person who came was Lilith. She was dressed neatly and walked over. The seriousness on her face and the domineering look in her eyes made her seem to carry an unstoppable aura.

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

Lilith walked between Moriarty and Marcus, staring at Marcus: "Let me give you a heads-up. Listen, there are over seven hundred ways to commit a foul in Quidditch, though the Department of Magical Sports has never made them public, but I happen to know one of them:

Five hundred years ago, a French player and one of the most famous Italian players of the time made a bet on the outcome of a Quidditch match, agreeing that the winner would receive the loser's eternal loyalty! The French player won, and in return, he demanded that the Italian player lose to him in the World Cup. The rest is history: betting between national team players is considered a violation.

But! Why don't we reinstate this bet? That would be fair!

"Good idea, I agree!" Moriarty was thinking about how to win over the Flint family when Lilith gave him a perfect reason. However, Moriarty noticed the cunning in Lilith's eyes, as if she had other plans.

Marcus was enraged by Lilith. He nodded repeatedly, "Fine, very well, kid. If I lose, you'll have my allegiance! If I win, I'll make you strip naked in front of the entire school and run off into the alley!"

After saying that, he left without looking back. Leon ignored him, promised in front of everyone that the selection competition would be arranged that afternoon, and then went to get the approval from the instructor.

In the afternoon, the entire Slytherin squad set out, carrying their brooms, protective gear, and of course, various balls.

Marcus was dressed in his team uniform and protective gear, which made him look even bigger. He was holding the Nimbus 1700 that Leon had lent him.

William lent his Nimbus 1700 to Moriarty, and after getting dressed, Moriarty and the players arrived at the Quidditch pitch.

This is a very spacious oval-shaped court with a small circle about two feet in diameter in the center. All the balls are released from here when the game starts.

At each end of the field, there are three goalposts of different heights, which mark the scoring areas.

The stadium was surrounded by the viewing stands of the four colleges, which were filled with students. Someone had spread the word, and students who didn't have classes in the afternoon all came to watch.

At this point, Leon explained the rules of the selection competition: "Listen carefully, since you two are competing for the Chaser title, the Golden Snitch will not be released. The competition lasts one hour. Whoever scores the most goals within one hour will be the winner!"

Moriarty saw Marcus grinning at him with a sinister smile. Yes, this was part of his and Leon's plan. Marcus knew he was no match for Moriarty in the Seeker competition, so he chose the Chaser.

The students in the stands let out a loud boo, with Gryffindor making the biggest commotion.

This made William glare at Leon, who nonchalantly mounted his broom and flew into the sky. After all, they hadn't agreed on the specific details of the competition beforehand!

Marcus thought the same thing. He laughed and flew into the air, turning back to taunt Moriarty: "Come on, kid, let me teach you. A proper chaser needs more than just speed!"

"Before you become a proper Chaser, you'd better learn to be a proper Wizard first," Moriarty casually replied to Marcus, then easily took to the air.

After the players were in position—and behind the opposite goal was a goalkeeper whose role was more symbolic than practical—Leon blew the whistle to start the qualifying rounds.

A black metal running ball and a red Quaffle flew out from the small circle. Marcus took the lead and flew out first. He successfully caught the Quaffle, flew towards the opposite goal, and threw the ball in with force.

Marcus scored! He loudly mocked Moriarty, but the ball was quickly thrown out by the goalkeeper.

Marcus was determining the ball's trajectory when he caught a glimpse of a silver shadow rushing past out of the corner of his eye!

Moriarty hung on the broom, his hands and feet gripping the broom handle tightly, using both his hands and feet to make the broom spin, greatly increasing the speed!

He was as fast as a spinning cannonball; before Marcus could even react, the Quaffle had already entered the goal.

Moriarty scores a goal!

Screams erupted from the stands. Lilith said to the person next to her, "Did you see that? He was like a dazzling shooting star!"

Jericho, meanwhile, was thinking back to Moriarty's move, which Moriarty had modified by making the sloth's tree-hugging roll suitable for chasing the ball and scoring.

After showcasing his world-class skills, Marcus turned pale. The Quaffle was thrown again, and Marcus stared intently at Moriarty, leaning forward as if waiting for Moriarty to fly away so he could knock him down!

However, the two players were at different speeds, and Marcus could only watch Moriarty's retreating figure in a fit of rage. He yelled at one of the batters, "Why didn't you use a walk to take him down?"

"Watch your attitude," the batter said lazily, not even looking at him.

Marcus turned around angrily. Moriarty scored the second ball. At that moment, another batter flew over. He was also a supporter of Leon. He said a few words to Marcus, and Marcus grinned maliciously.

Moriarty saw this and said with amusement, "Has no one ever told you about your teeth? It's like you have a willow tree growing in your mouth."

"Just you wait! I'll make you fall to your death!" Marcus snorted angrily.

The third ball was thrown out; Moriarty flew out, while Marcus flew towards the goal.

Moriarty, having retrieved the Quaffle, noticed a stray ball hurtling toward his back.

Marcus also flew to the goal, darting back and forth, seemingly preparing to intercept Moriarty.

Moriarty flew up and down in a wavy pattern, but the wandering ball seemed to have eyes, sticking close behind him.

Jericho slammed his fist on the railing in anger: "They must have cast a spell on the ball, making it lock onto Mr. Moriarty!"

"Kid! Go down yourself, or you'll get crushed or fall to your death!" Marcus smiled confidently.

Moriarty smiled back at him, gripped the broom handle with one hand, then put his feet on the broom and stood up! On the broom!

A gasp and cheers erupted from the stands as Marcus suddenly realized that Moriarty was flying towards him!

Moriarty held the Quaffle in his right hand and slid his broom around like he was on a skateboard. Just as he was about to hit Marcus, he pushed off with the soles of his feet, controlling the broom to slide down and swoop down toward the ground!

Meanwhile, the ball behind him struggled to change direction, narrowly missing Marcus's scalp as it continued its pursuit of Moriarty.

This movement exposed the person controlling the ball; the students spotted the sweating batter, who gritted his teeth and yelled, "Damn Flint! Get moving!"

But Marcus was paralyzed with fear, sitting blankly on the broom with empty eyes.

The students didn't want to watch their farce because Moriarty only pulled up his broom and flew upwards when he was almost at the ground.

He pulled the ball more than ten meters away, and theoretically the ball could no longer pose a threat to him, but Moriarty wanted to teach the batter a lesson.

Moriarty flew to the area diagonally below the goal, waiting for the lone ball to come over. Once he saw the right moment, he threw the Quaffle with all his might—not at the goal, but at the lone ball!

With a loud "bang," the Quaffle collided with the Runaway. Due to the angle and force, the Runaway plummeted. The batter could no longer control the Runaway and fell off his broom, exhausted. Leon flew over and caught him.

"Thump!"

The ball fell heavily to the ground, while the Quaffle bounced into the goal at a tricky angle.

The students gaped, taking a long time to react, before erupting into a thunderous cheer!

(End of this chapter)