Just A Bet ● Fred Weasley × Reader ●

11 - HARRYDIDYAPUTYANAMEINDAGOBLETOFFIYAAA!?

We all watched as Filch rolled in the goblet. Fred and George joined me a little less than ten minutes ago, grumbling at their failed attempt of putting their names in the goblet.

"Students and schools!" Dumbledore boomed, drawing the attention of everyone as he approached the goblet. "For the moment you've all been waiting for! We pick the champions for this year's Triwizard Tournament!"

The tables erupted into applause. Dumbledore stepped closer to the goblet, and the fire in it flared a pinkish red.

"The chapion from Drumstrang is..." The Goleta spat out a paper - "Viktor Krum!"

The whole hall screamed in joy. Krum stood from the Slytherin table, getting friendly pats on the back from some of his mates, and shook hands with Dumbledore before disappearing into a door behind the teachers table. Girls all around swooned and gossiped as the Professional Quidditch player vanished from sight behind the door.

The goblet flares pink again. "Our second champion from Beaux Batons..." A pretty blue paper shot from the goblet. Dumbledor snatched it from the air. "Fleur Delacour!"

Everyone cheered again as the girl stood.

Lee shook my arm, "That's her! She asked for the strange snails! We talked to the champion!" He practically shook with excitement.

"Yes... She did." I giggled and watched as so many girls envie over Fleur as she went into the room where Krum now was.

"Now... Our Hogwarts champion..." The hall hushed, eagerly waiting. The goblet burst pink and shot out a small piece of parchment. "Cedric Diggory!"

I jumped up in excitement for my friend. I looked at George, who smiled and clapped. Then at Fred, who sat there with his arms crossed, scowling. Odin's beard, what did Cedric do to the ginger boy?

I ignored him and gave Ceric a quick hug, telling him I was proud, letting him issapear behind the old wood door.

I sat back down, and Fred scowled at me instead.

"The Hel did I do to you?" I ask.

Fred huffed and looked away. "I don't understand what makes you like him. or why you hang out with him. He looks like he'd suck your blood." He replied bitterly.

"And I don't understand why you're so worried about who I hang out with." I crossed my arms, waiting for him to retort.

He scowls and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Out of nowhere, the goblet flamed pink and shot out another parchment, sending whispers down the tables.

Dumbledore caught the paper, equally as confused as the students. He unfolded the paper, confusion, and a cacophony of other emotions crossed his face. He looked up and scanned the tables.

"Harry Potter..." He announced, and the whispers died for only a moment before firing back up with more energy.

I locked eyes with Harry, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole and die.

I felt bad for the kid. The poor boy couldn't catch a break. It was like every year, something or someone had it out for him. 

I watched the crowd whisper, listening intently. Ron sat and watched as Harry stoo and walked into the champion's room. The room silence when Dumbleore cleared his throat.

"Right. Off to bed. Pip pip." He ushered. Some people immediately stoo, making their way out, but it was undeniably obvious that rumours would spread. Silence chased us out of the hall, enclosing us in the walls of our minds.

"I wonder how the bloke did it."

"He definitely cheated to get in."

"I think he's quite brave, don't you think?"

"He probably bribed a friend to do it for him."

The whispers turned into small shouts in my mind, racing around my head like a freightcar. Harry was a good kid. He wouldn't be so dumb as to put his name in the goblet... Would he? Surely not. He was far more sensible than the twins when it came to that.

I giggled at the reminder of the twins trying to put their name in the goblet earlier.

-

Just as I had thought, the rumors spread like wildfire. Each whisper made my skin itch. Harry was fourteen! He wouldn't do such a thing. He physically couldn't! There were those who despised the oy for supposed 'cheating', and then there was Fre and George.

"He's brilliant! I wonder how he did it!" George exclaimed excitedly.

Fred nodded eagerly in return, "Not sure, but man, however he did, it was genius!" He clasped his hands together on top of his head, leaning back in his chair that he swiveled to face George during Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Or -" I intervened, drawing the twins' attention - "What if he didn't do it? What if someone else set him up? I wouldn't be surprised."

"Or." Fred mocked. 

My fingers twtched. The urge to hit him grew each day... And so did the other thoughts. But mainly the urge for violence.

George glaced at my fist and huffed. "At least pretend to be friends! This is sickening! Watching my damn twin and best friend argue. Every. Day." George began to drone on and on about mine and Fred's hatred toward each other. "I mean, I get it! You've hated each other for the oast six years. And? Come on. Make it a bet or something!"

Both mine and Fred's ears perks up at the word bet. Yet was George mindlessly droned with the odd comment from Lee, my smile faded.

Maybe that would work in a different timeli-

"We'll do it if you shush." I forced out of my thoughts by Fred. I shoot him a glare. No way in Hel did he just agree to this! 

●Fred's POV●

Lee leaned over to me as y/n grumbled and groaned in protest.

"What percentage of a plan is that!? Mate! That's not gonna get you anywhere!"

"Shush. It's like - 12% of a plan. It'll work." I assured.

Lee schools his head, his dread locks smacking him in the face. "Nuh-uh!" He was interrupted by Moody entering the room, quieting the class. 

I grabbed out my quills and parchment, taking notes. I gently tore off a piece of paper and scribbled on it in my less than neat hand writing.

First to actually become friends loses.

I shift the note to y/n, hitting her elbow with it. She scowled at me and the note, then reluctantly opened it. She scowled harder before the smallest of smirks graced her lips. She grabbed her quill and wrote.

And owes the other 100 galleons.

I stared at her delicate print, letting my eyes trail along the dark downstrokes. I did the calculations in my head. My eyes widened, and I stared at her.

"That's 500 muggle pounds!" I whisper-shouted. Moody threw his chalk on our desk, causing it to explode on impact. I curled in on myself, glaring at y/n as her usual cheeky grin was plastered across her face. 

How dare she be stupidly pretty.