With the betting plan in place, the Weasley twins became agents of discord, parading in front of the Slytherin table daily and boasting about Gryffindor's new strategies that would easily crush their old rivals. They also spread rumors that Evan, the proclaimed Gryffindor hero, had organized a betting pool with ten-to-one odds favoring Gryffindor, and even odds for Slytherin.
The young Slytherin wizards, upon hearing this, were hopping mad. Weren't these odds implying a definite loss for Slytherin?
Being the wealthiest house at Hogwarts, they were not short on cash, and Evan soon found his pockets filling with Galleons, though more often with Sickles and Knuts. After all, this was just a bit of fun, and since the participants were mostly young wizards, the stakes were usually just a few Knuts or a Sickle...
Even so, in the past few days, Evan had collected a substantial amount of betting money, and with other houses joining in, their capital was far from sufficient to cover the potential payouts.
If they lost, they would be ruined...
Consequently, George and Fred grew increasingly anxious, feeling the need to do something to salvage the dire situation,
Like... giving Harry extra training!
Poor Harry, unwittingly caught in this mess, found his weekly training sessions increasing yet again!
Thankfully, his suffering did not last long as the Quidditch match quickly approached.
"Go on, Harry, grab that Snitch!" Backstage at the pitch, George looked solemnly at Harry, his tone heavy with the weight of impending doom as though the fate of the world hinged on this Quidditch match.
"Yeah, otherwise, we'll be eating dirt from now on..." Fred nodded in agreement, his words adding to Harry's confusion. Over the past few days, he'd heard similar statements from more than one person.
Initially, Harry felt a heavy sense of responsibility, taking these comments as encouragement from his seniors. But soon he found it odd that not only Slytherins but Ravenclaws and even Hufflepuffs were occasionally muttering strange things to him.
It left Harry feeling quite downcast, yet unable to pinpoint what was amiss.
After Wood delivered an inspiring speech, he noticed Harry's distraction and reminded him, "Stay focused, Harry. The match is about to start."
"Yeah..." Harry took a deep breath to ease his tension and nodded.
As the gates to the pitch swung open, the Gryffindor team soared out on their brooms, with Harry trailing behind.
Emerging from the dim backstage, Harry was greeted by the vast arena, its usually empty stands now brimming with spectators. The Gryffindor section erupted with cheers as they made their entrance.
Ron and Neville were hoisting a huge banner made from an old bedsheet, enchanted by Hermione to flash "Potter for the Win" across the sky.
Harry felt a warmth in his heart seeing this, but oddly, he didn't spot Evan among the crowd. After scanning the stands, he found Evan seated near the Slytherin section, right beside Professor Quirrell.
Harry wondered why Evan would sit there but then saw Evan smile at him and point his wand skyward.
Soon after, a firework-like beam shot into the sky and exploded high above, forming the words "Gryffindor Will Prevail, Go Harry Potter!"
Feeling reassured, Harry put aside his earlier concerns and focused on the impending match.
Meanwhile, after sending his magical encouragement to Harry, Evan turned to today's task... keeping an eye on Quirrell.
Truth be told, if not for the fact that the match's outcome directly affected whether he'd become rich overnight or go bankrupt in an instant, Evan had no intention of getting involved with Quirrell this term.
After all, except for the enigmatic Dumbledore, Evan was probably the only one aware that Voldemort was residing on the back of Quirrell's head.
Facing such an ultimate boss in his first year made Evan exceedingly nervous.
Fortunately, Evan didn't actually have to do anything; he just needed to sit beside Quirrell and occasionally monitor him. Evan couldn't believe that Quirrell would dare to cast any spells under his watchful eye.
"Why do you keep staring at me like that?" Quirrell, already hunched over in his corner seat, found Evan's intermittent gaze unsettling, as if his deepest secrets were being laid bare.
Realizing that directly staring at Quirrell might arouse suspicion, Evan feigned curiosity and struck up an awkward conversation.
"Professor Quirrell, I heard you once encountered a vampire in the Romanian forests. Is that true?"
"Ah... Yes, there was such an incident. I barely escaped from it..." Quirrell responded meekly.
"Really? Then how did you defeat the Inferi in Africa...?"
"I also heard that you fainted during the Halloween feast when reporting about the troll..."
"And..."
Chatting indirectly with the Dark Lord, Evan was internally tense and unsure about what to discuss. Talking about academic matters in such a lively atmosphere might seem too deliberate,
So Evan opted for lighter topics... like recent amusing incidents.
"Enough!" Quirrell couldn't help but interrupt sharply. Normally, with his good nature, he wouldn't get angry, but Evan was a terrible conversationalist, bringing up all the dark chapters of his past that he wished to forget...
Especially the Halloween incident. Quirrell's feigned fainting was meant to deflect suspicion for releasing the troll, a display of his superior acting skills meant to be praised by Lord Voldemort...
But who would have thought that a mere first-year like Evan could easily defeat the troll? And to add insult to injury, Professor McGonagall used him as a backdrop to highlight the troll's strength, spreading the story of his fainting across the entire school.
Overnight, Quirrell became the laughingstock of Hogwarts. Every class he could hear whispers, suggesting his Defense Against the Dark Arts position was a result of a favor with Dumbledore.
And the worst part was, he couldn't even defend himself, bearing all the hardship and frustration in silence...
Tips:
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