World Cup Final

"Merlin's beard, this place was really hard to find."

Fred looked around the tent's sparse interior, then gazed at his friend in confusion. "Don't tell me you've been living here for the past few days?"

"Don't be stupid, Fred. Albert enjoys the finer things in life more than you do. How could he possibly sleep here?" George thought Fred's words sounded ridiculous. He handed Albert the parchment Sirius had asked them to pass along, conveniently steering the conversation back to why they had come to find Albert.

"You asked Sirius to place the bet for you?"

Seeing Albert studying the parchment intently with no intention of answering, George knew he was tacitly admitting it.

Some things were better left understood. There was no need to spell them out.

George continued, "We placed a bet with Ludo Bagman. Like Black, we bet that the Irish Team would win and score first, but Viktor Krum would catch the Golden Snitch..."

"And when the match ended, the difference in score between the two sides wouldn't exceed thirty points," Fred cut in.

"How many times?"

"What?" Fred did not react at first.

"Eight times," George immediately replied.

"Ludo Bagman has lost quite a few Galleons lately." Albert pulled out a fountain pen and began making notes on the parchment without looking up. "He borrowed a huge sum of Galleons from the goblins at Gringotts. He probably can't pay it back."

"You mean..." George frowned deeply, clearly understanding Albert's implication. "He's planning to default? No wonder his reaction just now seemed strange."

"The goblins won't let Bagman default," Fred said, shaking his head. "They aren't house-elves."

"No, you didn't understand what Albert meant." George raised a hand to cut him off. "He means Bagman might default on our Galleons. And, of course, the goblins' Galleons