[115] Fangs of the Beast

Three commissions, one task. Hall was ecstatic. He walked briskly into the Slytherin common room, a clear smile on his face.

He had just entered when someone approached him. Upon seeing the person, Hall suddenly remembered something he had forgotten.

"Hehehe. Malfoy, I'm so sorry. Can I say I didn't mean to?" Hall scratched the back of his head, a slightly apologetic smile on his face.

"What did you call me?" Draco's anger flared.

"Draco, don't be like that. I was just reminding you to be elegant. Look at you now — where's the Malfoy family's nobility?"

Draco reluctantly accepted the advice, but his anger didn't lessen. "Hall, you stood me up. Fine. But you didn't even tell me you signed up for that competition! I thought we were at least friends —"

Hall looked at the platinum-blonde boy before him. This wasn't the first time Draco had used the word "friend." Last time it had surprised him. This time, Hall felt somewhat relieved. The effects of the beauty potion had worn off considerably by evening, and the frizzy-haired boy didn't need another dose before bed. His meticulously styled daytime hair was now slightly unruly, making him look even smaller than usual.

Hall really wanted to reach out and touch that fluffy head. So he did.

"Hey! What are you doing! Hall, stop!" Draco turned his head away, dodging. His cheeks flushed, a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"Draco." Hall smiled, a rare hint of sincerity in his expression. "Of course we're friends. I didn't tell you because I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire."

Draco opened his mouth. "But your name was chosen —"

"So you're worried about me, Draco?"

Draco refused to answer, turning his head away. But in the dim torchlight, Hall thought his ears seemed to be turning red.

"So, wouldn't you like to make a fortune off this?" Hall put his arm around him. His eyes gleamed with cunning. He had initially planned to set up a betting pool, putting all his money on Harry for a massive payout. But now he'd changed his mind. Since he was going to participate, the thousand Galleon champion's prize would definitely be his. Who would believe that a second-year student like Hall Weasley could beat four other champions? Now that he was a contestant, running a betting pool himself was no longer appropriate.

"Perhaps this important task should be entrusted to Draco." Hall's eyes narrowed slightly as he stroked his chin.

Draco was still oblivious, but the Malfoy family's keen business sense had been piqued. His eyes lit up as Hall explained the plan.

"That's a good idea. I believe you will definitely achieve final victory," Draco said with a smile, having long forgotten he had come to confront Hall.

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"We'll split it ninety-ten. I take ninety, you take ten. After all, I've contributed more, right, Draco?"

Draco disagreed. "Twenty-eighty. I get twenty, you get eighty. I'll be the bookmaker, you place your bets, and we split the winnings."

"Deal!" Hall shook his hand, quick and decisive, as if afraid Draco would change his mind.

Draco was a little incredulous. He'd agreed so easily? Given Hall's attitude towards Galleons, how could he not argue? Could it be — Hall genuinely considered him a friend? His eyes softened, the initial excitement replaced by a warm feeling.

Hall was also filled with joy. He had originally intended a thirty-seventy split — being the bookmaker was exhausting work, requiring constant vigilance and avoiding the professors. Unexpectedly, Draco was so generous. Next time, he'd definitely rip him off less.

Hall tossed him a notebook, which Draco caught hastily. "Here. There's a training plan inside. Go back and take a look. Ask me if you don't understand anything."

He walked towards the common room. It was probably past eleven o'clock. He was already feeling sleepy after everything that had happened today. Hall yawned, his eyes welling up. As for tonight's extra training, he would leave that to the Time-Turner.

"Hall." Draco's voice stopped him. "The general attitude towards your participation isn't very good. They think you'll embarrass Slytherin."

"So that's where you need to step up. You know what to do, right, Draco?" Hall turned and smiled, then walked towards the dormitory corridor.

The perpetually burning fireplace graced the green-adorned common room. The moment Hall approached, the cacophony of voices vanished, leaving only the crackling of the flames. A number of people were sitting or standing, all waiting for him. When Hall appeared, their gazes followed him. Some of those looks held anger, some suspicion, some disdain.

"Hall Weasley, how dare you do this on your own? Is Slytherin going to be disgraced because of you?" The speaker's face was contorted with anger.

"Damn Weasley, get out of Slytherin! This was never the place for you!" another shouted, waving his arms.

"I don't know why the Headmaster accepted him! Wouldn't it have been better to send him to Gryffindor?" yet another complained, his arms crossed, leaning back as if he had seen something repulsive.

"I knew he was up to no good! Slytherin's honour is going to be ruined by him!"

One voice was followed by countless others. The accusations surged like a wave, threatening to engulf Hall.

Blaise stood at the edge of the crowd, watching helplessly. He shrugged, a hint of apology on his face, as if telling Hall he was powerless to help. Blaise's closeness to Hall was due to Draco; he didn't have the courage to stand against most of Slytherin.

Goyle, standing further inside, wore a mocking expression. When Hall looked at him, he mouthed a warning: "Go where you belong."

Pansy stared anxiously at the door. She had seen Draco slip out earlier — he must have gone to find Hall, but why hadn't he returned with him? She was worried about Hall, but even more so about Draco.

The older Slytherins sat on the sofas, most watching Hall with cold eyes. Actually, Hall was quite popular among the younger students, especially after becoming a Potions teaching assistant. But clearly, the ones organising this were people of considerable influence, far beyond the reach of those younger students.

Hall glanced around, taking in everyone's expressions. A cold smile crept onto his face. "The competition hasn't even started, and you're already convinced I'm going to lose?"

"Even if a Slytherin spot were given, it shouldn't be you," a tall, thin boy said coldly. "A Weasley — you should know your place. You dare to become a champion and participate in the competition?" A malicious smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

Hall recognised him. Elias Blaitch, the fourth-year who always followed behind the sixth-year prefect.

Draco appeared behind Hall, his arrogant expression returning. He raised his chin slightly. "I believe in Hall's abilities. The Goblet of Fire chose him."

"Chosen to embarrass himself in front of the whole school? Along with that Gryffindor idiot —"

A burst of laughter erupted throughout the room.

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