A few days had passed since Halloween, and the topic of conversation at Hogwarts had completely shifted from the troll intrusion to Quidditch.
The highly anticipated opening match was Gryffindor versus Slytherin. With the two houses being on poor terms to begin with, the already hostile students often came to blows during this period, and sometimes it even escalated into duels using spells.
"This year too, we're going to beat Gryffindor into absolute pulp!"
At the declaration of Slytherin's captain, Marcus Flint, the entire house was swept up in a feverish excitement.
Although Slytherin had been winning more often than not over the past few years, they showed no sign of complacency and eagerly engaged in off-the-pitch warfare, constantly provoking Gryffindor's team members.
This year in particular, with the world-famous Harry Potter becoming Gryffindor's Seeker, the star position, not only Gryffindor but even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, both of whom had been losing to Slytherin, were placing their hopes on him and turning against Slytherin.
Officially, Harry and his Nimbus 2000 were supposed to be Gryffindor's "secret weapon," but the crucial Gryffindor house itself kept boasting about it nonstop, becoming the biggest source of leaks. It was a truly backwards situation.
And so, in the lead-up to this much-anticipated first Quidditch match of the year, I too was spending my days extremely busy.
The reason was simple.
"Alright! Ladies and gentlemen over there. Yes, you three from Hufflepuff."
When I called out, three passing Hufflepuff students turned around. Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. We were not particularly close, but as fellow first-years, we at least exchanged greetings.
"Now then, the much-talked-about first Quidditch match of the year, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Who do you think will win? Slytherin, who has been winning consistently these past few years, or Gryffindor, who has gained Harry Potter?"
If I may say so myself, thanks to the troll incident, I had become a bit of a celebrity among the first-years. As I stood calling people over in the corridor outside the Great Hall, curious students began to gather with a buzz of excitement.
"You think it doesn't concern you because you're Hufflepuff? No, not at all. Just watching would be a waste of such a great Quidditch match. Even without playing, why not seize victory and glory with your own hands?"
Saying that, I held out tickets and a sheet of paper.
"These are the current predictions and odds for the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match. If your prediction is correct, you could become a modestly wealthy person. So, how about some Quidditch betting, or rather, the Quidditch Cup Derby?"
Yes, where there's a match, there's betting. And we British love to gamble. Horse racing and football, of course, but we'll bet on anything, from elections to the weather forecast.
"Money isn't a collection meant to be hoarded. Being too afraid of risk to act is something pension-reliant old folks do. Bets start from one silver Sickle and go up to one hundred gold Galleons. Why not bet on your favorite team and try to strike it rich?"
When I showed them the odds like that, all three stared at it with clear interest.
"This looks kind of fun," someone said.
"Oh, as expected of Miss Abbott, you have a keen eye. What about the other two? Who do you think will win this year?"
When I asked, Justin Finch-Fletchley confidently launched into his own theory.
"This year, Gryffindor is definitely going to win! After all, their Seeker is Harry Potter. Apparently, during his first flying lesson, he handled a broom perfectly and even caught the Remembrall that Malfoy threw. And just between us, there's a rumor that Professor McGonagall gifted him a Nimbus 2000."
At Justin Finch-Fletchley's argument, which sounded as though he himself were a Gryffindor student, Ernie Macmillan retorted with a "You don't get it."
"You're naïve, Justin. Sure, Gryffindor might have gotten an ace this year, but Quidditch is a team sport. The second-years and above haven't changed. If it were me, I'd go with reliable, steady Slytherin."
I see, I see. Listening to them, both arguments do make sense in their own way.
As Miss Abbott and I nodded along while listening, the two boys' Quidditch debate grew more and more heated.
"You're the one who doesn't understand, Ernie. In the end, Quidditch comes down to whether the Seeker can catch the Snitch. That means if the fastest, latest broom, the Nimbus 2000, and the promising newcomer Harry Potter catch the Snitch, they gain 150 points at once and the entire match can turn around instantly!"
"No, you're wrong, Justin. I'll show you that the difference in broom performance isn't a decisive difference in strength!"
"Then shall we bet on it, Ernie?"
"Fine! I'm in!"
Alright, thank you very much.
"Then, Mr. Macmillan, how much will you bet on Gryffindor?"
"Four Galleons… no, I'll bet six Galleons!"
Oh, that's bigger than I expected. Seeing that, perhaps unwilling to be outdone, Justin checked his wallet and flashed a fearless grin.
"Ten Galleons."
Now this was truly becoming a battle no one could afford to lose. Well, no matter how it turned out, my own purse as the bookmaker would not suffer.
"Since we're at it, maybe I'll place a bet too. Three Galleons on Gryffindor."
Perhaps stirred by listening to her classmates arguing, Hannah also placed her bet on Gryffindor. This was it, a good flow was coming our way.
Hearing the commotion from Justin and the others, more students began shouting their bets one after another.
"I'll bet too! Five Galleons on Gryffindor!"
"Then I'll put thirty Galleons on Slytherin!"
"Don't do it, you'll go bankrupt. Oh, and I'll put eight Galleons on Gryffindor."
"Alright, alright, everyone, no need to rush. Please line up properly. Now then, write your name and the amount you're betting on this form."
As the organizer of the bets, I was swamped. Eventually, students from Gryffindor and Slytherin who had heard the uproar came streaming in, each side refusing to lose and pouring large sums of money into their own house.
"Hehe…"
And the more the total amount of bets swelled, the larger my share as the organizer grew. Since the bookmaker's cut has almost nothing to do with who actually wins or loses, there is no easier way to make money than this.
Ah, what should I buy once the match is over? Maybe I'll start by buying all those books and manga I've been wanting, in bulk. Heh heh heh…
In the end, it was so busy that we ran short on hands, to the point that I grabbed Theodore Nott, who was loitering around looking bored, and asked him to help out as a temporary clerk. It was that much of a roaring success.
And so.
With my guaranteed organizer's earnings secured, I headed off to watch the Quidditch match.
"Whoa, Elaina, you seem unusually cheerful. What's up?"
"Hehe, eheh. Well, Quidditch really is the best."
Heh heh. Fufufu.
In high spirits, I smiled at Millicent and opened the bags of juice and snacks I had bought before coming to the stadium. Pumpkin juice, cider, potato chips, popcorn, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, licorice candy, you name it.
"Hey, you've got some tasty-looking stuff there."
"Go ahead, help yourselves. Daphne and Pansy, would you like some too?"
"Really? Yes! Thanks!"
"You're being awfully generous today… well, I'll take it."
Go on, go on, eat as much as you like. I'm in a great mood today. I have not been able to stop smiling since morning.
"Come to think of it, when Elaina's in a good mood, that little stray hair of hers sways…"
"There, there. Good girl, good girl."
Letting Pansy's muttering go in one ear and out the other, and leaving myself to Daphne's gentle patting, I bit into the chocolate cornet I had bought while waiting for the match to begin. Delicious.
"Oh, they're here!"
As Daphne stood up, the Slytherin team, dressed in green uniforms, was just entering the stadium. Cheers erupted all around, with an intensity that blew away the winter chill.
Of course, that included me, who had profited so nicely.
To all the Quidditch team members, thank you very much. As for the match itself, I honestly do not mind who wins or loses, so please just do your best.
**
Following Slytherin, the Gryffindor team in red uniforms entered, and an even louder roar echoed through the stadium than before.
In the Gryffindor stands, there were even banners reading "Potter for President," showing just how fired up they were.
In stark contrast, Slytherin responded with boos and jeers, and even the usually aloof Draco Malfoy was pumping his fists and cheering wildly.
The remaining Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were each waving the flags of the team they supported.
In a typical year, houses not involved in the match would mostly wave the flags of anyone but Slytherin, since Slytherin usually had more wins, but this year was different.
Borrowing binoculars from Millicent to check, just as expected, Justin from Hufflepuff was waving a Gryffindor flag, while Ernie was waving a Slytherin one.
"Potter, please win no matter what!"
"Don't you dare lose, Slytherin! I've bet a fortune on you!"
Spouting lines like middle-aged men watching a horse race at a pub with beer in hand, the two houses that were merely cheering were just as desperate. An absolutely unwinnable fight lay before them.
(End of chapter)
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