At this moment, Green abandoned his fries, leaned in close to Wentworth, and wore a mischievous smile as he quipped, “Wentworth, how much did you pay this reporter? To make them sing your praises so passionately? If there weren’t just one Wentworth among the first-years, I’d suspect they were talking about you!”
On the other side, Cedric pushed Green aside with a hint of annoyance and said, “Hey, Green, Wentworth wouldn’t do something like that! By the way, which newspaper is this?”
With all eyes still on Wentworth, many curious students turned their attention to the Weasley brothers when Fred thought to check the newspaper again.
After a moment, he made a peculiar expression and said, “It’s ‘The Quibbler’!”
Upon hearing Fred Weasley’s words, a substantial number of Hogwarts students lost interest and began to murmur, “It’s ‘The Quibbler’, no wonder!”
Among those who remained interested, most regarded the article as typical ‘Quibbler’ exaggeration.
‘The Quibbler’ and the ‘Daily Prophet’ were known to be at odds, and their rivalry was nothing new.
Not everyone remained indifferent, though.
Even though the report came from ‘The Quibbler’, a well-known wizarding newspaper, it lavished such praise on Wentworth that it sparked jealousy.
“Hey, Glyn, the papers say Wentworth led the Hufflepuffs to victory over our Slytherins. As the Hufflepuff prefect, how does that make you feel?”
Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch team’s Seeker, approached Wentworth with a sly smile, his words clearly meant to provoke.
Upon hearing Marcus Flint’s provocation, Wentworth and Cedric exchanged glances, their expressions changing.
However, Green slapped Marcus Flint on the back, yawned, and then nonchalantly replied, “What did I see? I saw with my own eyes! Do you think I should be angry? What a joke! I wish Hufflepuff had more students like Wentworth; it would make my job as a prefect a lot easier! And by the way, I’m looking forward to Hufflepuff crushing Slytherin again!”
Marcus Flint, feeling his ego deflated, reddened and retorted, “Crush us? Dream on! Just because you beat us once doesn’t mean you’re superior! I’ll show you just how formidable Slytherin is in the Quidditch match this weekend!”
Upon Marcus Flint’s challenge, Green nonchalantly proposed, “Feeling scared, are you? How about we make a little bet?”
Taken aback by Green’s offer, Marcus Flint hesitated momentarily.
The last Slytherin who accepted a bet from Green had become a former prefect. Marcus Flint took a step back and hastily said, “I don’t feel like talking to you. We’ll see you on the Quidditch pitch tomorrow!”
As Marcus Flint departed without another word, Green slapped Wentworth on the back again, offering encouragement. “That kid is quick on his feet! Wentworth, I know you brought back a state-of-the-art Firebolt from the Quidditch World Cup finals. Just for that broom alone, you’re light-years ahead of Slytherin! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
However, Wentworth replied with a blank expression, “Senior Green, you’re jumping the gun! It’s probably best not to put all your hopes on me!”
Confused by Wentworth’s response, Green and Cedric exchanged surprised glances. Cedric hastily inquired, “Wentworth, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Is it about your broom?”
Wentworth shook his head, causing Cedric and Green to breathe sighs of relief. But their relief was short-lived, as Wentworth continued, “I plan to give that broom as a Christmas gift in the future. I don’t intend to use it myself.”
Cedric, excited and hopeful, asked, “Are you planning to give it to me? But wouldn’t that be too expensive?”
Wentworth glanced at Cedric, and with a mischievous smile, he playfully teased, “Hehe, gotcha!” – shattering Cedric’s fantasy.
On the other side, Green, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, patted his chest and said in mock fear, “Relax, it’s all good. Marcus didn’t accept the bet! By the way, Wentworth, what was it you said earlier?”
Wentworth, deep in thought, cautiously replied, “I said, ‘Senior Green, you’re jumping the gun! It’s probably best not to put all your hopes on me!'”
Green, however, corrected him, saying, “I didn’t mean that one. I meant the one before.”
Wentworth pondered for a moment and then ventured, “I said, ‘I plan to give that broom as a Christmas gift in the future. I don’t intend to use it myself!'”
Green, patting Wentworth on the back again, exclaimed, “That’s it! Wentworth, don’t overthink it. As a senior, prefect, and team captain, how could I possibly put all my hopes on you? I patted you on the back to tell you to give it your all!”
In the meantime, as the three friends continued to jest in Great Hall, Marcus Flint, who had previously left, returned to his dormitory.
There, he retrieved a package from his locker.
The package contained a letter and a bottle filled with a potion.
Upon opening the package, Marcus Flint’s breathing grew heavier, and a flush appeared on his face.
He was excitedly looking at the potion, and his heart raced.
In his empty dormitory, Marcus Flint, holding the bottle of potion, spoke with confidence, “I will be the victor this weekend. I’ll show you who the best student at Hogwarts truly is!”
Had Wentworth been present, he might have recognized that the potion Marcus Flint held was quite similar to the luck potion Snape had given him in the past.
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