"And how does Ilvermorny usually handle such situations?"
Professor McGonagall asked earnestly. Even she was beginning to feel that Hogwarts' teaching philosophy had grown outdated. By contrast, Ilvermorny had risen to global prominence in recent years—not only drawing students from across North America but also from South America.
With nearly five thousand students enrolled, the American school clearly had unique methods of managing its "little troublemakers."
"It's very simple."
Rouse extended a finger toward Ron, then another toward Malfoy. "They may still be young, but they're boys—and real men settle their grudges with wands."
He went on, smiling as the crowd leaned closer.
"At Ilvermorny, we have eight dueling platforms on campus. Any student may apply to a professor, and once approved, they can challenge their rival. It doesn't matter if the quarrel is between houses, or a private feud—everything can be resolved with a duel."
"For such petty little disputes, there's no need to split hairs about who's right and who's wrong. Victory is the only truth that matters."
The corridor fell silent. Even McGonagall's eyes widened in disbelief.
"That's how Ilvermorny resolves conflicts? So blunt, so crude? Aren't you afraid this teaches students to rely on sheer strength, to bully others?"
Swish—swish—
Countless pairs of eyes, some openly, some furtively, turned toward Tom Riddle. Most of them were Slytherins.
Tom blinked. Huh? What's this got to do with me?
When his sharp gaze swept across them, every snake guiltily looked away.
Well… to be fair, Riddle hadn't bullied anyone. He hadn't needed to. He beat people so soundly they never even got the chance to be bullied.
"Professor McGonagall, you're overthinking this."
Rouse's tone was patient as he explained, "Resentments left to fester are nearly impossible to judge fairly. Even if you forbid them from dueling, do you really think they'll accept it in their hearts?"
He gestured toward Ron and Malfoy. Both boys, upon hearing the word "duel," had locked eyes with such intensity it was as though they might spring at each other right there.
"Better to let them vent in an open match than punish both sides equally. And as for psychological effects? They're hardly worth worrying over. To this day, I can barely recall who I quarreled with at school. Even if I do remember, it makes me smile—it becomes a fond memory."
Except for Graves, that bastard.
Rouse finished the thought silently.
McGonagall, meanwhile, found herself reflecting. Back in her student years, she had been the lioness of Gryffindor, leading the charge against Slytherin at every turn. The clashes had been endless.
And yet, looking back now, she barely remembered what any of those disputes had been about. She still disliked some Slytherins, yes—but for their character, their choices, not the petty fights of the past.
"This is a fine opportunity," Rouse pressed, seizing the moment. "I was just about to propose to Headmaster Dumbledore that we establish a formal dueling class. Not too frequent—once every two weeks would suffice.
"Students would not only learn proper technique, but also gain the chance to practice in real conditions. Compared to Ilvermorny's students, yours here are far too sheltered. Half of them don't even know how to hold their wands correctly in a duel."
McGonagall's cheeks flushed at that jab.
This was the curse of international exchange—every statement felt like a competition. She wanted to argue back, but Rouse's sigh made her fall silent.
The students, however, were electrified. Their admiration for Rouse skyrocketed, nearly placing him alongside Sprout and Flitwick as one of the most beloved professors.
As for the least popular? Well… best not to ask, unless you wished to take an unpleasant dose of potions.
Just then, the class bell rang.
McGonagall cut cleanly through the tension. "We'll discuss the matter of a dueling class later. As for you three—this time, I'll let it go. But if I catch you fighting again, you'll serve a full term of detention. And forget about Quidditch practice."
Draco and Harry both shrank their necks at the warning.
Then McGonagall turned to Rouse. "Professor Wilkinson, I will discuss your proposal with the Headmaster. For now, let us proceed to lessons."
The crowd dispersed reluctantly, chattering with excitement as they hurried off to class.
By the time the morning lessons ended, nearly everyone in Hogwarts already knew of the "dueling class" idea—and most supported it enthusiastically.
At lunch, the staff table was curiously empty. Several Heads of House were missing, and so was Rouse. Whispers swept the Great Hall—surely the professors were in conference, debating the feasibility of the proposal.
They were right. At that very moment, in the Headmaster's office, the Heads of House sat with Rouse, listening as he outlined his plan.
Dumbledore did not comment on the morning's scuffle. He only stroked his beard thoughtfully and listened.
"A most excellent suggestion," he said at last. "Our students certainly need more opportunities to refine their dueling skills."
"Headmaster, I would be honored to assist," squeaked Professor Flitwick eagerly. "In my youth, I was an avid duelist! Why, I even considered applying for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts once upon a time."
"Nothing could please me more, Professor Flitwick," Rouse replied quickly.
Though he found Hogwarts students laughably raw compared to Ilvermorny's, he did not underestimate these four Heads of House. Each of them was stronger than the subject leads at Ilvermorny—where every discipline required multiple professors to handle the numbers.
"Still, preparations must be made," Dumbledore mused. "Not least of which is persuading Madam Pomfrey. Convincing her to accept the dangers of dueling will be no small feat. She already wishes to ban Quidditch to prevent injuries."
He gave a rueful chuckle.
Fortunately, McGonagall volunteered at once. "I will speak to her, Headmaster. The students truly do need this training. We can't shy away from it simply because of the risk."
Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Thank you, Minerva. That will ease my mind."
"Ah, and since this is such a fine opportunity," he added, his eyes twinkling, "let us also settle the matter of the Invisible Prefect while we are at it."
McGonagall blinked. "Albus… you've decided to approve it?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said softly. "Even old men must learn to bend with the times. We cannot remain still forever."