[149] The Weight of a Crown

"Hmph!" Draco crossed his arms. "Anyone who did not know better would think you were a Gryffindor champion!"

Hall sat down next to Draco, shoving him aside. Before Draco could express his anger, Hall said, "Is the drink at tonight's victory celebration lemonade instead?"

Draco stared blankly.

Blaise chuckled. "Hall, you have a sharp tongue."

"You flatter me."

"What have you been saying behind my back!" Draco's face grew even angrier. It was one thing for Hall to be on good terms with those lions — they were related by blood. But this was Slytherin! Compared to Blaise, Hall and him...

His eyes burned with fury, as if he might transform into a fire-breathing dragon.

"Nothing much. I just think you are cute, Draco." Hall's voice was earnest. "Look, I entrusted you with something as important as placing bets. Is that not trust?"

Draco paused. That did not seem wrong. His anger subsided considerably.

"So, how much did you make?" Hall smoothly changed the subject.

Draco's face beamed. "You would never guess!" He held up two fingers. "Twenty-four thousand, three hundred and seventy-eight Galleons!"

A huge profit. His first pot of gold.

"So much?" Hall was surprised. Snape and Dumbledore were rich, but the betting was all done by students. Even combining three schools, it could not be that much, could it?

Draco raised his head, saying nothing. His entire demeanour screamed, Ask me! Ask me now!

Hall smirked but followed his lead. "Draco, how did you do it?"

Draco shivered involuntarily but ignored it. "I fooled enough idiots! The Slytherins who did not believe Hall. The Hufflepuffs who wanted to support Cedric. The Ravenclaws who thought they were smart. Gryffindor — Gryffindor is full of idiots! And the other two schools who insisted on supporting their own students!"

Hall gave him a thumbs up. "You have grasped the true meaning of making money. No brothers in business. Anyone in your way is an enemy."

Draco nodded vigorously. He had learned!

"My share..." Hall rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

Draco deflated instantly. Over twenty thousand Galleons — and it had not even warmed his pocket. He reluctantly pulled a pouch from his robes. "This is your share..."

Full of regret. He had earned it all himself, and now he had to give most of it away. The pouch contained nineteen thousand, five hundred and two Galleons — a full eighty per cent. Draco was left with only four thousand, eight hundred and seventy-six.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Even more heartbroken were the other Slytherins. The money in that pouch had been theirs. They had all placed bets. Their entire semester's allowance, gone.

Pansy whispered, "I actually made quite a bit... Thank you, Hall." Her eyes followed Draco.

Some people had empty wallets. Some people reaped both love and fortune.

Hall had made a fortune. Draco had shared in the spoils. Even Pansy had profited handsomely from her blind faith.

The only ones hurt were the Slytherins who had bet against Hall.

They looked at him, faces flushed and pale by turns.

"Weasley! Do not get too cocky! Whether your championship is legitimate is debatable!"

A low, accusatory voice came from the crowd.

Draco jumped to his feet. Hall grabbed his robe, holding him back.

"Hall! You are too nice!" Draco turned and glared at him with absolute disappointment.

Hall blinked. So did everyone else. Hall? Nice? Was Draco speaking from his heart?

Hall stood up and dusted off his robes. "I stopped you not because I think you did anything wrong. I just think —"

He flicked his wand. The spell shot through the crowd and struck the speaker squarely.

Elias Blade, a fourth-year Slytherin — the same one who had publicly mocked Hall in the common room. Elias instantly sprouted long fangs, his face distorting.

"Quiet down," Hall said lazily, his wand still pointed at Elias.

The crowd fell silent. Not that they had nothing to say, but the presence Hall exuded at that moment was simply too unsettling. Amidst their fear, anger rose too. A Weasley — intimidating them, noble purebloods. But none had the courage to step forward.

"Weasley, how dare you!" Elias's face twisted with rage.

Hall stared coldly at him. "Why would I not dare? A useless fourth-year? You are overestimating yourself. If I remember correctly, you lost all your money to me."

Elias's eyes blazed. "You damned red-haired rat!"

"Am I wrong?" Hall's face was devoid of any smile. "Are you accusing my championship of being illegitimate? Do you think you know better than Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime? Or are you saying I bribed three headmasters to achieve an unfair result?"

His voice grew sharper. The Slytherin table fell silent.

"Who knows what you used —" Elias tried.

"Shut up, Elias." Willitch Avery, the sixth-year Slytherin prefect, cut him off coldly. "Hall Weasley's title of champion is recognised by everyone. He is a champion of Hogwarts and a champion of Slytherin. You will not slander him."

Avery's gaze swept the table. The others had noticed the commotion. Slytherin's reputation could not be lost. Whether Hall deserved the title or not, he was now the rightful champion. No room for argument.

Elias's face contorted. The fang hex had not worn off. But Avery's words forced him into silence. He would not dare challenge a sixth-year prefect.

"Go to the infirmary. Say nothing more tonight." Avery considered the matter closed.

Elias turned to leave.

"Did you think you could just walk away?" Hall's voice cut through.

Elias froze mid-step. Avery turned too, crossing his arms, looking down at the boy who barely reached his chest.

"Is spreading rumours and slander such a low-cost thing?" Hall's lip curled. "You think you can end this without even an apology? There is no such easy life."

Avery met Hall's gaze. Hall did not back down.

Draco stepped forward, his voice loud. "Hall is right! Want to leave? Apologise first!"

The other second-years and first-years chimed in. "Elias is questioning Hall's character! This is blatant slander! You must apologise!"

Elias's eyes darkened completely. He had been humiliated, and now they wanted an apology?

"Elias, apologise," Avery said flatly.

Elias froze. Rage brewed within him. He wanted to curse this red-haired rat. But —

"I'm sorry."

The words came out like poison. He turned and walked away.

"Not sincere," Hall remarked. "Barely even perfunctory. But who can blame me? I am a universally acknowledged good person. I will let it go this time."

The others exchanged glances. Should they look at Elias's two new fangs before commenting?

"You are too kind, Hall!" Draco's voice rang out. "You did not even make him pay compensation! That is a missed opportunity!"

Elias stumbled but kept walking. The world had gone mad.