Chapter 133: The Lost Bet
“The last student to lose a hundred points was Newt Scamander of Hufflepuff, in 1913,” Ernie Macmillan said, glancing at his copy of Hogwarts: A History. “He was caught illegally keeping a Jarvey, badly injured three students, and nearly cost one their life. Hufflepuff lost one hundred points, and he was expelled by Headmaster Phineas Black!”
“The one before that was Munir Spiro of Gryffindor, in 1755… He attempted a dangerous spell without permission, blew up half of Gryffindor Tower, and injured sixteen students and staff. Gryffindor was docked one hundred points, and he was expelled by Headmistress Dilys Derwent!”
“And before that, Dewey Gaunt of Slytherin in 1615… He openly defied a professor during class, used Transfiguration to turn the teacher into a pig, and then refused to apologize. Slytherin lost a hundred points, and he was expelled by Headmaster Oliver Cromwell!”
“Since Hogwarts was founded, only eight students have ever caused their house to lose a hundred points…” Ernie Macmillan closed the book and patted Jon on the shoulder. “You’re the ninth—and the only one who wasn’t expelled!”
“Some honor that is,” Jon said with a wry smile.
He could already guess why Dumbledore had chosen such a harsh punishment for him.
“A hundred points? That’s nothing!” Zacharias Smith bounded over, grabbing Jon by the arm. “At worst, we’ll just be at the bottom of the standings. We’re used to that anyway. But being chosen as Hogwarts’ champion—that’s huge!”
“How did you do it, Jon?” Hannah Abbott leaned in, cheeks flushed. She seemed to have gotten over her fear of the black eels.
Jon had no choice but to repeat the same nonsense he had told the judges and teachers earlier.
“That’s it?” Zacharias said in surprise. “You should’ve told us you entered!”
“I was just trying it out. Who knew such a crude trick would actually work?” Jon curled his lip and shot him a look. “If I’d told you beforehand, would you have believed it could succeed?”
“No way…” Zacharias admitted honestly, shaking his head. “There’s no way such a dumb method could break Professor Dumbledore’s Age Line!”
“You really are lucky!” Justin Finch-Fletchley gave Jon a thumbs-up. “And besides, the Goblet of Fire chose you… that proves you’ve got the talent!”
Steven Lucas somehow produced a Hufflepuff flag and insisted on draping it around Jon’s shoulders like a cloak.
“Congratulations, Jon!” Cedric Diggory came over. Unlike the others, his tone carried a trace of disappointment.
“Sorry, Cedric…” Jon said softly. Seeing him, guilt twisted in his chest…By being chosen, he had basically robbed Cedric of his shot at a second life—as a vegetarian vampire.
Maybe he ought to start studying vampire habits—like drinking chicken or pig blood ahead of time, preparing for his next life as a vegetarian vampire. Oh, and he really ought to look into the Killing Curse—figure out the most painless way for Peter to finish him off…
Jon sighed. Plans never quite keep pace with reality—this was the perfect example.
“It’s all right, Jon. A hundred points isn’t much,” Cedric said with a smile, assuming Jon felt guilty about the deduction. “The Goblet chose you because you’re stronger than me, even though you’re younger… Do your best in the Triwizard Tournament. Bring glory to Hufflepuff and Hogwarts!”
“Yeah, thanks,” Jon nodded.
Just then, a familiar white owl swooped down—it was Jorgrin, carrying a note:
“Jon,
What happened at the feast tonight? Everyone’s saying you cost Hufflepuff a hundred points. My sister swears you’ll be expelled from Hogwarts… I’m nearly sick with worry! Can we meet tomorrow near the Forbidden Forest?
Astoria”
Jon pulled out a quill and scribbled on the back of the note:
“Don’t worry, Astoria. I won’t be expelled… Let’s meet at Hagrid’s hut tomorrow at nine in the morning!”
When he finished, he looked up.
“The party goes on!” Zacharias had already raided the kitchen, piling up food and mugs of ale. “You didn’t eat at the feast, did you? You must be starving!”
Before Jon could refuse, a group of Hufflepuffs had already dragged him into the celebration.
...
Halloween morning was cold and bleak, with a biting wind.
At eight-fifty, Jon wrapped his scarf tight and made his way down the slope toward Hagrid’s hut by the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Astoria Greengrass was already waiting. When she spotted Jon, she hurried over.
“Are you really okay…?” she asked, her face full of concern.
“I’m fine… absolutely fine,” Jon explained, then repeated the story he had told everyone else.
“I see…” Hearing his explanation, Astoria’s expression eased. “So you’re Hogwarts’ champion now?”
“Yep.”
“Be careful…” Astoria stepped closer, removed her scarf, and adjusted Jon’s collar. “The Triwizard Tournament is dangerous. I looked it up—quite a few students have died in past tournaments.”
“Thank you,” Jon said, nodding solemnly.
“My mother seems to have had a hand in designing the First Task…” Astoria slipped the scarf around Jon’s neck. “I’ll try to find out what it is.”
Just dragons, Jon reminded himself wryly.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she said softly.
“If I face real danger, I’ll withdraw right away,” Jon assured her.
Astoria nodded and smiled.
“And one more thing, my esteemed champion!” she said, suddenly playful, giving him a mischievous wink. “Do you remember our little wager yesterday…”
“Our wager…” Jon froze.
“Oh, right!” Astoria grinned. “If Cedric Diggory wasn’t chosen as Hogwarts’ champion, then you lose!”
“A bet’s a bet,” Jon said, bowing his head. “Go ahead.”
“Hehe, then according to the bet, you owe me one favor.” Astoria leaned close to his ear and whispered, “And that is…”
...
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