"Someone is dueling!"
Near the Entrance Hall, a shout rang out, and students eating dinner immediately rushed to see what was happening.
"What's going on?" Albert asked, clutching his homemade sandwich as he followed the Weasley twins into the crowd.
"Students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are dueling on the lawn near the Black Lake."
Albert instantly understood. Truman's duel with Ravenclaw Prefect Nocchi had been moved up.
By the time they arrived, the duel was already over.
Nocchi lay on the ground, his face bruised and swollen. Truman stood over him, victorious, reciting something.
Albert and the others caught the final scene: Truman squatting down, stuffing a chocolate frog card into Nocchi's mouth, then striding away with the Hufflepuff students, every inch the victor.
"What happened? What exactly happened?" Fred demanded. He quickly pieced together the story.
Truman had struck first, casting Petrificus Totalus on Nocchi. Once the Prefect was immobilized, Truman pocketed his wand, raised his fists, and pummeled him until his face swelled.
Before leaving, Truman held up a chocolate frog card and recited Bridget Wenlock's achievements, declaring that the famous thirteenth-century Arithmancy expert was from Hufflepuff.
Everyone understood the cause. The duel had begun with an argument over whether Wenlock belonged to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, and it had escalated into blows.
"That's so satisfying! Not all famous experts come from Ravenclaw!" a senior Hufflepuff girl exclaimed, pumping her fist. "Nocchi knew Wenlock was Hufflepuff, but he refused to admit it. He deserved that swollen face."
Some whispered about Truman's sneak attack.
"Nocchi's a Prefect—how dare he duel a third-year?" But most dismissed it. The duel was unequal from the start. If Truman hadn't fought back, was he supposed to just stand there and be beaten?
Knowing the reason, many cheered even louder for Truman's victory.
"That scoundrel!" Nocchi spat, tearing the chocolate frog card to pieces. His cheeks throbbed, his pride stung. He hadn't cared about Wenlock's house; he had simply refused to admit he was wrong. Now, humiliated and mocked, he trembled with rage.
Before he could retaliate, Professor Flitwick arrived and whisked him away.
"That's brilliant! People will talk about this for years," Fred said excitedly, his expression practically shouting, Why wasn't it me up there?
"But why was the duel moved up?" Albert muttered, finishing his sandwich. "Truman told me it was scheduled for the weekend."
"How do you know?" the twins and Lee asked in unison, astonished.
"He told me in the library last time, and invited me to watch," Albert explained.
"You didn't tell us!" George complained.
"There were still a few days left!" Albert shrugged.
Back in the dining hall, everyone buzzed about Truman's final actions. Whether the duel would earn punishment didn't matter—so long as it wasn't them.
On Friday evening, Albert found Truman waiting in the library.
"Nocchi's been given a week of detention by Professor Flitwick," Truman announced gleefully. "I was supposed to get the same, but Professor Sprout only gave me a warning—and a box of coconut ice cream."
He pulled two wrapped ice creams from his robe and placed them before Albert, eager to share.
Truman's excitement soon drew Madam Pince's ire, and he was chased out with a feather duster.
Albert, suppressing laughter, pocketed the ice creams and tried to continue his homework. But under Madam Pince's sharp gaze, he eventually packed up and left. At least he wasn't chased out the same way.
"Seriously." Standing in the corridor, Albert unwrapped one of the ice creams and took a bite. Cold, creamy, with a strong coconut flavor—similar to Honeydukes' ice mice, though less icy. It was delicious.
"You gave him the idea?" a voice asked suddenly. Albert turned to see a red-haired girl.
"Good evening, Isabelle," he greeted. They knew each other from the same club.
"Gabriel Truman claimed he was just going to reason with Nocchi," Isabelle said, raising her brows. "But it seems you gave him the idea."
"Here, try this. It's good." Albert offered her the ice cream.
"Are you trying to bribe me?" Isabelle asked, her expression strange.
"If you insist on thinking so." Albert smiled, unwilling to discuss further. "I only told Truman: never try to wake someone pretending to sleep—unless with a fist."
With that, he turned and left.
"Unless with a fist?" Isabelle repeated softly, staring at the ice cream. She unwrapped it, took a bite, and only after finishing did she walk back toward the library.