Hamish stood between the combatants in the great hall, looking to each in turn. First years, both, this would be their first dueling tournament ever, and if he wasn't mistaken, the nerves were showing, particularly upon Miss Tatting (though it was difficult to tell at this distance). He had reviewed the tournament's rules, taking a bit more care and time around the order of things: the Gryffindor would attack first with the Slytherin defending in the first pass, then they would switch roles. At last, it was time.

Though he could be one for ceremony when the need arose, dueling had never particularly been Hamish's wheelhouse, and so it was with a reassuring smile rather than any real formality that he directed, "Mr. Beck, you may begin!"

The proof was clearly in the pudding—well, if by 'pudding' one meant 'Miss Tatting's bottom upon the floor'. The Slytherin's shield charm had come too late to defend her, instead aiming upward as she arced through the air.

Fortunately, Hamish thought as the Slytherin returned to her feet, she seemed no worse for wear.

"The first point goes to Mr. Beck," the professor announced. "Miss Tatting, when you're ready."

Hamish had to hand it to young Mr. Beck—his efforts were certainly creative. Though this time there were no ill-effects for Miss Tatting, her spell did not hit its mark, and so the professor declared the Gryffindor the winner.

"Congratulations to Mr. Beck—though well done to you both," he added, with a nod in the Slytherin's direction. "Fortune favours the bold, after all, and it is no small thing to enter into a competition of this nature." His words, he hoped, would soften any blow to Lucy's pride.