Legends of the Slug Duel
By morning, Hogwarts had twenty-seven different versions of yesterday's incident.
One claimed Draco summoned the slugs. Another insisted Ron was secretly a Slug Animagus. A third swore Ninetales had judged the duel and cursed the losers. One Ravenclaw first-year confidently explained that it was "advanced transfiguration mixed with bowel magic."
Keith listened to exactly none of it.
But Draco Malfoy and Marcus Flint did.
And they were furious.
The Challenge
The duel was arranged the old-fashioned Hogwarts way:
Shouting.
Pointing.
Threats echoing down a corridor.
"Weasley!" Draco snapped, pale with rage. "You embarrassed me!"
Ron, still bruised and humiliated—but stubborn—snapped back,
"You started it!"
Marcus Flint cracked his knuckles.
"It's two on one, Weasel. Unless you're scared."
Ron swallowed.
Then straightened.
"Fine."
The crowd formed instantly.
Students packed the corridor, whispering excitedly.
Keith arrived with Rias, Susan, Helana, and Hermione, took one look—
—and leaned casually against the wall.
"This will be educational," he said.
Hermione groaned.
"Ron is going to die."
The Duel Begins
"Wands out!"
Draco didn't wait.
"Flipendo!"
Ron flew backward, slamming into the wall.
Before he could recover—
"Expelliarmus!"
"Jelly-Legs Jinx!"
Ron staggered, barely standing.
Spells slammed into him one after another.
He was outmatched.
Outnumbered.
Outskilled.
Neville whispered,
"…He's still standing."
Ron wiped blood from his lip.
Breathing hard.
Eyes burning.
"I'm… not… done."
Draco sneered.
"Give up, Weasley."
Ron's hand shook.
His wand rose.
Keith raised an eyebrow.
"…Oh no."
The Spell That Shouldn't Work (But Did)
Ron shouted with everything he had:
"EAT—SLUGS!"
The spell flew.
Draco laughed.
Marcus laughed.
Then—
The spell curved.
Split.
And struck both of them squarely—
—right in the backside.
There was a pause.
A dreadful, horrifying pause.
Then—
SPLORP.
Slugs.
Dozens of them.
Shooting out like cursed fireworks.
Draco screamed.
Marcus howled.
Slugs bounced across the stone floor.
Students stared.
Then—
The laughter hit.
Hard.
Uncontrollable.
People fell over.
Someone dropped a book.
A Hufflepuff second-year cried from laughing too hard.
"Oh MERLIN—"
"THEY'RE COMING OUT—"
"WHY IS IT RHYTHMIC—"
Keith covered his mouth.
"…That's new."
Hermione stared in stunned silence.
"…Ron improved."
Susan gasped between giggles.
"That's—creative?"
Helana clutched Keith's sleeve, wheezing with laughter.
Instant, Eternal Fame
Draco tried to run.
More slugs.
Marcus fell face-first.
More slugs.
They were dragged away screaming by prefects, leaving a trail behind them.
Ron stood there.
Shaking.
Bruised.
Victorious.
The crowd erupted.
"RON WEASLEY!"
"SLUG KING!"
"BACKSIDE BANE!"
Someone started clapping.
Others joined.
Ron blinked.
"…I won?"
Neville nodded proudly.
"You really did."
Keith walked past him, hands in pockets.
"Creative application," Keith said calmly.
"Not efficient. But memorable."
Ron beamed like he'd just won the House Cup.
The Aftermath
By dinner, the titles had evolved:
Ronald the Rear-End ReaperSir Slug-a-LotThe Boy Who Made Them Suffer (Differently)
Draco refused to leave the Hospital Wing.
Marcus Flint threatened to sue Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall deducted fifty points from Gryffindor—
—but even she looked like she was struggling not to smile.
Snape, passing Ron in the corridor, sneered:
"Ten points for creativity.
Minus fifty for stupidity."
Ron took it happily.
Keith returned to his seat.
Ninetales' charm glowed warmly.
Judging.
Approving.