The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had shown up again?
Many students exchanged odd looks. It almost seemed like this subject was cursed to be drawn toward chaos—first Lockhart and now Wilkinson.
Only this time, Wilkinson had arrived before the match even began.
Everyone was curious—would Tom simply walk away again, like last time?
Instead, he surprised them.
"Professor, you recognize Megatron?" Tom asked casually.
Wilkinson chuckled warmly. "Of course! Back when I was a student, I used to look forward to summer holidays just so I could watch the Transformers cartoon."
"Professor, you had a television at home?" Justin Finch-Fletchley blurted out, wide-eyed.
Wilkinson shook his head, still smiling. "Not in my house. My parents hated those 'Muggle contraptions.' But our neighbors were Muggles, and I would climb up by their window and watch from there."
His words drew laughter and nods of understanding from many half-blood and Muggle-born students. Quite a few of them had done the same—sneaking peeks at neighbors' TVs when their own families forbade it.
"Now then," Wilkinson said, eyes glinting with excitement, "let me see if your Megatron lives up to the one on screen."
Tom nodded, signaling Daphne to begin.
Amid the cheers of the crowd, Megatron roared to life. This time, however, it entered immediately into standard mode—no beginner's handicap.
But Daphne and Hermione had come prepared. They'd been stewing over their last defeat and weren't about to lose without a fight.
Hermione conjured a stream of water with Aguamenti, while Daphne froze it solid with an Ice-Freezing Charm. Within moments, the grassy field had transformed into a gleaming ice rink. The two girls transfigured their shoes into skates, gliding effortlessly across the surface, their speed doubled.
Megatron, by contrast, stumbled and slipped. Twice it came crashing down in a clumsy heap.
"Brilliant!"
"They're using ice to limit its movement—at least now they can hold their ground."
The students applauded their cleverness, admiration shining in their eyes. Tom himself smiled.
"All right," he said lightly, snapping his fingers. "Time for Phase Two."
The cheers died instantly as Megatron suddenly lifted off the ground.
Daphne and Hermione, mid-glide, froze in shock.
"M-Megatron can fly without transforming?" Daphne stammered.
"Of course," Tom replied matter-of-factly. "I borrowed a bit from broomstick enchantments. Perfectly normal."
"Normal?!" Hermione stomped her foot angrily. "That's cheating!"
Megatron ignored their protests, raising its massive hands. Twin beams of golden light lanced out, searing across the ice.
At first, the girls dodged with nimble speed, darting across the rink. But soon, the ice was shattered into floating shards, and they were forced to switch back to boots. Hermione tried freezing Megatron's cannons shut—only to be countered by a blast of flame.
That was her weakness. Normally calm and brilliant, she panicked under pressure, her strategies unraveling.
By the time their magic reserves ran dry, the two had managed only to avoid defeat—not achieve victory.
"Interesting…" Wilkinson murmured, rubbing his hands. A strip of enchanted script suddenly writhed up his sleeve, as though warning him. "Ah—never mind. I'd look bad if I lost. Perhaps another time."
He cleared his throat and turned quickly to Tom. "Would you let the other students have a try, Mr. Riddle?"
"Of course," Tom said smoothly. "Same rules as last time—five per team. Force Megatron into 'Strong Enemy Mode,' and you win."
The students, who had long since formed groups, rushed forward to claim the first match. Tom handed the honor to a team of fourth-year Slytherins, giving his own House the first chance.
From the sidelines, Draco Malfoy watched, envy twisting his features. But he knew better—against a toy like Potter he could hold his own, but against this? Even the older students weren't confident. And they certainly wouldn't let him drag them down.
So Draco stayed put, nursing his pride, muttering criticisms instead.
"Using Stupefy on a hunk of metal? What are you thinking?"
"A flimsy Impediment Jinx? Are you trying to tickle it?"
"Oh? A Tarantallegra actually worked—wait, why's the upper body unaffected?"
Tom, meanwhile, observed carefully. Through the students' attacks, he spotted several flaws he hadn't considered. He silently noted them down for future improvements.
Astoria had stayed loyally by his side the entire time, watching in silence. Tom decided it was time to give her a role of her own.
"Astoria, you're good at Wizard's Chess, aren't you?" he asked.
"It's not that I'm good," she said impishly. "It's that my sister is awful."
"Astoria!" Daphne shot her a glare.
"What? I'm telling the truth. I can give her half the pieces and still win. What does that say about her?"
Tom chuckled. "Then let's see how you do against me."
He flicked his wand, and a chessboard appeared before them, tossing it high into the air. "Engorgio!"
The board expanded rapidly until the squares stretched several feet wide, the pieces towering to adult height.
"This is the same enchanted set from last term, when Professor McGonagall used it as part of the obstacle course. You can take the place of a piece yourself while commanding the rest, or you can team up with others for a joint challenge."
He gestured grandly to the black side. "Now then—Commander Astoria, lead your army to victory against the forces of darkness!"
A few Muggle-born students clenched their fists uncomfortably at that phrasing. Dark forces or not, hearing themselves equated with "black pieces" grated on their ears.
Astoria, however, was thrilled.
"I'll try!" she said brightly. She wasn't powerful at magic, but chess was a different matter—it was all about brains, not brute force.
"No bullying Astoria, understood?" Tom ordered the black pieces.
"Yes, Creator!" they roared in unison.
"Can I join too?" Cho Chang stepped forward, her voice lilting with curiosity.
"Of course. Just stand where the piece you choose is, and it will step aside for you."
Soon, a few more girls asked to join. With her kind nature, Astoria agreed readily. In no time, the white side was filled—every piece taken except the king, and the queen Astoria herself had chosen.