Chapter 69 - The Valiant Paladin Demise

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"Go to page 269," Snape drawled.

Fred and George snickered quietly.

"69," George remarked.

"Detention, Weasleys!"

"Bel?!"

"Why??"


An unlikely conversation, just because we are at chapter 69.


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The week that followed the announcement of the Champions was a peculiar one for Betelgeuse.

On Monday, the Black wrote a long letter home after attending her Astronomy class. She reported everything that had happened so far, including the peculiar sensation she had when Potter had been appointed as the second Hogwarts Champion.

On Tuesday, she began to discern the new shift in the school balance. Between Ancient Runes in the first period and double Transfiguration, she had a free period and decided to stroll around. It became clear that the entire school, just like the Gryffindors, believe Potter had entered himself for the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they did not seem impressed.

The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that the spectacled boy had stolen their champion's honour; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory, Betelgeuse mused.

The Black noticed a remarkable distance between Harry and Ron. An event that could only be explained by Ron's latent but never placated envy towards the Boy Who Lived.

How disappointing.

Such is the hunger for distinction and honour, it buries blood ties and loyalties.

The next few days were some of Betelgeuse's busiest at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall informed the girl that the Headmaster had agreed on allowing Alchemy as an elective subject for sixth and seventh-years. So, she had to balance her usual schedule with the additional subject and the Potions tutoring she had been doing for extra credits since her third year.

And so, Betelgeuse found herself walking towards the dungeons for a long session of tutoring the fourth-years in Double Potions on Friday. It was an arcane mystery why Snape felt the necessity to have her as help during an hour and a half of Potions with Gryffindors and Slytherins.

On second thought, it is painfully clear why.

She paused at the beginning of the corridor that led towards the Potion class, glancing at the crowd amassed there.

Her sharp mercury eyes scanned the group, recognising Granger, Potter, some unfamiliar Slytherins of no consequence and — Draco.

Suddenly, wands were raised, and a cacophony of spells cut the peace of the corridor. Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Betelgeuse hurried towards the chaos, noticing that the damage was not limited to Harry and Draco. A Slytherin boy bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up — Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

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