[116] Threads of an Old Song

Draco's face darkened, even more furious than Hall's. His words seemed to embolden the younger students hiding behind the older ones. The younger Slytherins, whom Hall had helped before, glared angrily at Elias Blaitch.

One small student couldn't help but stand up and shout, "How dare you talk about Hall like that? He's helped us so much!"

Elias scoffed dismissively. "What? Is there something wrong with what I said? A second-year student — do you expect him to use his wand as a club to blind the enemy?" He gestured exaggeratedly, laughing wildly.

This was the opinion of most of the older students. Some nodded, others whispered amongst themselves. Rather than humiliating this second-year on the field and disgracing the entire house, they'd rather take matters into their own hands and beat him so badly he'd be hospitalised and unable to compete.

Hall showed no fear, glancing around with a slight smirk.

Draco wanted to argue but felt his robes being tugged. He glanced down — Hall's hand. Then Draco remembered what Hall had told him. He sneered, "Since you don't want to believe me, how about a bet?"

Pansy and Blaise stood behind Draco, silently signalling their support.

"What bet?" Elias said sarcastically.

Draco relayed Hall's plan, officially starting the betting pool. The upperclassmen who refused to believe Hall exchanged glances, then turned to look at Krum. They pulled out their Galleons while continuing to belittle Hall.

"Hmph, I don't want to waste my money on someone bound to lose," one said.

In ten minutes, Draco had made a fortune. His smile was almost impossible to suppress. He raised an eyebrow at Hall, waving a stack of Galleons.

Fleur had the support of a small group. Next was Cedric. And surprisingly, Hall still had a very small number of people willing to bet on him.

"Hall, I believe in you." This was Pansy. As she said it, she glanced at Draco, then her cheeks flushed.

Blaise also bet on Hall. He put his arm around Hall's shoulder from behind. "Mate, I've staked all my allowance for this semester on you. Don't let me down."

Hall took out the thousand Galleons he had just received and bet them all on himself.

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"You Weasley scumbag, you have that many Galleons?!" A Slytherin stared wide-eyed at the coin purse.

"Who did he bet on?" someone asked.

"I saw him bet on himself —"

"Hahaha, him? Win?! He's just throwing money at us!"

Only Draco rolled his eyes. He knew all too well Hall's money-making ability. No — it should be called Hall's money-scamming ability. After all, they were all now Hall's targets. Draco imagined himself raking in the money after the competition and showing it off to his father. A smug smile crept onto his lips.

As for Harry, none of the Slytherins had any faith in him. They utterly disdained him.

The commotion in the common room subsided as the door was pushed open. The newcomer was none other than Slytherin's Head of House, Severus Snape. His piercing gaze swept over every person in the common room like two sharp swords. Wherever his gaze fell, the students shivered involuntarily.

"Now! Immediately! Go to sleep! I'm giving you five minutes!"

The students scrambled. Draco moved quickly, but Snape still saw him. His heart tightened. But thankfully, Snape only glanced at him before looking away.

Hall patted Draco on the shoulder, said goodnight, and headed towards his dormitory. Krum hadn't come back tonight — he had gone with Karkaroff, presumably about the tournament.

Hall collapsed onto his bed, took off only his robe, wrapped himself in the blanket, and quickly fell asleep.

Sunday morning. Hall woke up, still groggy. Outside the bed curtains, a clattering and banging came from the room.

Hall sat up abruptly, rubbing his eyes. His hair was a mess, a few strands sticking up stubbornly. Still half asleep, he lifted the bed curtains and peeked out. The culprit stood before him — Ron.

Ron stood in the middle of the bedroom. Seeing Hall was awake, he blew on the clown horn around his neck. The horn emitted a shrill, piercing sound.

Hall covered his ears. "Ron!"

"Hall! How dare you! You lied to me! You signed up behind my back!" Ron grabbed him, eyes wide. "You'd rather do all this for Harry than for me? I'm your brother!"

Thanks to Ron, Hall was fully sober. "Ron, please, spare my shoulder. What did Harry tell you?"

"He said he didn't register." Ron's lips pressed together.

"But you don't believe him. What if I told you I didn't sign up either?"

Ron paused, looking at him suspiciously. "You're not in cahoots with Harry to lie to me, are you?"

Hall rolled his eyes. "Ron! If the Goblet of Fire can select five people, what's impossible? You'd rather believe your guess than believe us?"

Ron actually felt Hall didn't need to hide from him, but he just felt uneasy.

Hall stood up, put his arm around Ron's shoulder, and gave him a hug. "Ron, you know you can always believe me."

Ron hesitated, then hugged him back.

When Hall and Ron arrived at the Great Hall, Harry was sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, his shoulders slumped, as if shrouded in an invisible cloud. Everyone who passed seemed to ignore him. He looked utterly pitiful.

Ron looked at him, a pang of guilt rising in his heart. His steps slowed, stopping a short distance away.

"What did you say to Harry yesterday?" Hall nudged him. "Look at poor Harry — he's about to cry."

Ron recalled his actions. Harry had clearly said he didn't do it, but Ron hadn't believed him. He had blamed him for lying. That was not what a friend should do.

"Merlin's stockings, what did I do!" Ron muttered.

"Aren't you going over there?" Hall urged softly.

Ron ran over quickly. By the time Hall leisurely sat down, the two were already chatting and laughing.

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