CHAPTER 364: ARGUMENTS OF THE TWO HOUSES

The words carried across the tables. Several Hufflepuffs immediately stiffened, their faces going red.

"What did you call him?" one shouted.

"You heard him!" another snapped, pointing at Fred. "Cedric is a hundred times the wizard you two clowns will ever be!"

Fred leaned forward with a wicked grin. "If by wizard you mean perfect hair and a crooked smile, then yes, you’ve got a real champion."

George clapped his brother’s hand in a loud high-five. "Careful though, one strong gust of wind and all of Hufflepuff’s pride gets blown away."

The Hufflepuff table erupted with fury. "At least Cedric doesn’t waste his life setting off dungbombs like a pair of toddlers!" a girl shouted.

"At least he has actual skill on a broom, not just running his mouth," another added hotly.

"Skill?" a Gryffindor shot back. "Diggory’s idea of skill is polishing his reflection before practice."

"Better than being Gryffindors with rocks for brains!" a Hufflepuff snapped. "You lot think shouting makes you brave!"

A Gryffindor boy jumped up, jabbing his finger at them. "Better a lion with courage than a badger who digs holes and hides when the real work comes!"

"Hide?" a Hufflepuff girl barked. "Please, if it wasn’t for Cedric, Gryffindor wouldn’t even win a pickup match in the mud!"

The Gryffindors roared back. "Angelina will crush your so-called champion!" "Gryffindor pride!" "Diggory is just a pretty face with no brains!"

The Hufflepuffs were just as loud. "At least our champion doesn’t trip over his own ego!" "Angelina can’t even hold a candle to Cedric’s magic!" "Better a pretty face than a lion cub still nursing on schoolyard jokes!"

The Great Hall rattled with the clamor, voices rising until it was impossible to tell who shouted what. Ravenclaws leaned back, exchanging knowing looks and murmuring wagers, while the Slytherins openly snickered, delighted at the brewing chaos.

Eira sipped her pumpkin juice, amused by the growing storm. It was like watching sparks leap into dry wood.

Suddenly, a Gryffindor boy flicked his wand and sent a stream of pumpkin juice arcing across the hall. The liquid splashed full into the face of a senior Hufflepuff girl, soaking her robes.

The girl shrieked in outrage, snatched up her plate, and hurled it across the tables. Mashed potatoes and gravy splattered against a group of Gryffindors.

That was the spark.

Chaos exploded.

Within moments, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables were locked in a food war. Pies flew across the air like missiles. Goblets toppled, pumpkin juice flooding the stone floor. Bread rolls became projectiles. A roasted chicken sailed across the hall and smacked into a boy’s head.

"Take that, Hufflepuff badgers!" Fred roared, lobbing handfuls of peas.

"Cowards!" a Hufflepuff boy shouted, hurling pumpkin pasties in return.

"Traitors to taste!" George bellowed, laughing as he ducked a flying apple.

The Slytherins clapped and cheered from the sidelines. "Excellent aim!" Draco Malfoy crowed, grinning ear to ear.

The Ravenclaws shielded themselves with napkins and trays, muttering that this was entirely predictable.

Eira leaned back in her seat, completely entertained. Tracey was laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink.

The hall was in utter disarray when a sudden, sharp voice cracked through the chaos like a whip. "What is the meaning of this?"

Every head turned toward the entrance. Professor McGonagall stood there, tall and furious, her tartan robes flaring behind her. Her eyes blazed like a lioness ready to tear into prey.

The food fight halted instantly. Half the students froze mid-throw, pies and goblets slipping from their hands. The silence that followed was deafening.

McGonagall marched forward, her heels striking the stone floor like thunder. Her gaze swept over the wreckage, landing on Fred and George at once.

Fred immediately spoke up, hands raised in mock innocence. "Professor, we were only defending ourselves. The Hufflepuffs started attacking us because Angelina put her name in the Goblet. They could not handle the fact that Cedric the soya boy might not be chosen because of the greatness of our house, so they threw food at us first."

"Lies!" the Hufflepuffs shouted at once, half rising from their seats.

"They insulted Cedric!" one girl cried. "They mocked him, and then they threw the first pumpkin juice!"

McGonagall’s glare shifted to the Gryffindors. She scanned their table, her lips tightening. Harry Potter sat frozen in his seat, his face completely covered in tomato sauce. His glasses were fogged and smeared. Ron Weasley sat beside him, licking gravy off his fingers as though nothing was wrong, his robes splattered with peas and carrots. Hermione Granger was furiously trying to wipe mashed potatoes off her book, muttering under her breath.

The professor’s nostrils flared. "This," she said sharply, "is a disgrace. It is fortunate our guests were not present for lunch, or you would have embarrassed the name of Hogwarts before international visitors. This behavior is wild, barbaric, and utterly unacceptable."

The Gryffindors shifted uncomfortably, some still dripping pumpkin juice. The Hufflepuffs looked equally guilty, mashed potatoes clinging to their sleeves.

"One hundred points," McGonagall snapped, "from Gryffindor. And one hundred points from Hufflepuff."

A loud groan filled the hall.

"And you will clean every inch of this mess yourselves," she added coldly. "Without magic."

Her voice rang out like a bell. "Bring washing supplies!"

At once, dozens of buckets, brushes, and rags appeared, clattering onto the floor around the two guilty houses. McGonagall’s glare was so sharp that no one dared to complain.

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs trudged to their feet, groaning, and began scrubbing the tables, the floor, and even the walls. Harry wiped tomato sauce from his hair with a rag, muttering under his breath. Ron tried to sneak a bite of leftover pie before McGonagall’s glare froze him in place.

Fred and George exchanged a grin and clapped hands together in triumph. Despite the punishment, they were clearly delighted with the chaos they had created.

From her seat, Eira watched it all with quiet amusement. The hall that had been so festive was now filled with groans, scrubbing sounds, and McGonagall’s hawk-like supervision. For Eira, it was better than any play.