Calling it a gang fight when many attack one, or a counterattack when one fights many, was simple. But when both sides brought a whole army, such a fight usually couldn't last long.
Although Hogwarts didn't strictly punish student brawls, that didn't mean professors ignored them. Just as the two groups stared each other down, Professor Flitwick stepped forward. As Ravenclaw's Head, he rarely meddled in petty disputes, but no one questioned his authority when he did. Almost all students liked him, not just for his teaching, but also for his temperament.
And don't let his small stature fool you, Professor Flitwick could be one of Hogwarts' top duelists when challenged.
"So, gentlemen, what exactly are you doing?" The tiny professor positioned himself between the two opposing groups. Many students towered over him, yet his presence dominated the scene.
"Professor, we didn't do anything," the captains of both sides said simultaneously, shaking their heads like innocent lotus flowers.
Seeing that excuse might not persuade Flitwick, Wood added quickly: "Well, the weather was nice today, and our Quidditch pitch was occupied by Slytherin. So we decided to do a little training here. Everyone who came along volunteered to make sure no one got hit by stray balls."
Even the twins quietly nodded in admiration at Wood's cleverness, they had never seen him give such a shamelessly smooth answer.
The excuse was perfect: it explained why they had brought so many people, while subtly pointing out Slytherin's presence. If Slytherin had the pitch and wasn't training, they must be planning something.
Clearly satisfied, Flitwick smiled and then glanced at the Slytherins.
Flint gritted his teeth and prepared his statement, what he said next shocked everyone present.
"Professor, you see, Malfoy was injured during training today," he said, pointing to Malfoy, recently freed from Allen's petrification spell. "So we thought it'd be too dangerous to have a novice play on the full pitch. We decided to use people to protect him, to prevent further injuries and not hinder training progress."
Clang! A massive responsibility landed squarely on Malfoy. Being the youngest in Slytherin, he had contributed his broom but still had to respect the house's seniority rules, so who else would take this blame?
Anticipating that Flitwick might notice the similarity with Gryffindor's explanation, Flint added: "We're really just here to inform Gryffindor that the pitch is now free, they can use it."
Hearing this flawless explanation, Flitwick's smile broadened. Allen felt the professor understood everything but chose not to dwell on it, after all, the fight was handled, so why dig further?
A bunch of teenagers brawling was normal enough. As long as the school prevented major incidents, it was fine. After all, they were wizards; if they didn't duel with their wands, would they use them for kindling?
Before leaving, Flitwick still asked curiously, why did some have injuries while others didn't? Their two houses should have been evenly matched.
"So, Flint, what's with the injuries on your side?"
"Oh, that? Training falls. The intensity was high, which is why the Seeker got hurt." Flint explained, and others nodded. Slytherins didn't argue over losing, they'd try harder next time. And with so many people involved, admitting the truth wasn't exactly honorable.
"Alright then, looks like Slytherin will have an excellent year, but still, stay safe." Flitwick's voice was gentle. Allen, ever mindful of Ravenclaws, imagined Flitwick pointing at their team: "Look at their squad, you all need to work harder!"
Once Flitwick left, both sides eyed each other, but a fight was now impossible.
Gryffindor came out ahead, not because of skill, but because Wood suggested using the Quidditch pitch, which Slytherin generously allowed.
Ouch.
Just as Gryffindor celebrated their "victory," their own house's first-year backstabbed them.
Colin, the budding photographer, ran up, camera in hand, ecstatic.
"Come on, Colin, take a picture, yes, a group photo! Everyone in the frame. This moment needs to be remembered." Even Wood, who had been annoyed by Colin earlier over the pitch fight, was thrilled now.
Unfortunately, after clicking a few shots, Colin ran to Harry and Ron, excitedly delivering bad news:
"Harry! Professor McGonagall asked me to tell you: for breaking the rules before term started, you're assigned to reply to Professor Lockhart's fan mail, and Mr. Ron has to polish the silver in the trophy room, starting at eight tonight." Colin was still all smiles, thrilled to speak to Harry again.
Naturally, he didn't notice Wood's murderous glare or the Gryffindors doubled over laughing at the Slytherins. Colin even added a tip for Ron:
"Oh, and Mr. Weasley, Professor McGonagall said, according to Filch, the silver must be polished by hand, out of respect for the awardees."
One-to-one. Draw.
Both Slytherin and Gryffindor suffered equal "critical hits," swapping turns.
As for Allen, keen to maintain friendship and continue "mutual grinding" with Slytherins, he quietly left with his companions, abandoning Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
But around the corner, someone he didn't expect blocked his path.