Make a Killing

Make a Killing

"Is anyone sitting here?" the Black boy asked, pointing at the seat across from Albert.

"No one. Sit down," Albert said with a smile. "I'm Albert Anderson."

"Lee Jordan." The Black boy flashed a grin of white teeth. After noticing the books on the table, he said seriously, "I feel like you'll be sorted into Ravenclaw. I heard that people who... like reading are usually sorted into Ravenclaw."

"As long as it isn't Slytherin, I don't really mind the others." Albert took several chocolate-flavored candies from his pocket. "Want some?"

"Thanks, they taste good." Lee Jordan took one, unwrapped it, and tossed it into his mouth. "I like chocolate flavor."

"That's good. Help yourself if you want more." Albert placed hard candies of various flavors on the table. Sharing food was an effective way to bring people closer.

He had used that trick repeatedly at his old school, and it never failed.

"I think Gryffindor would be best. I heard it's the best house. Dumbledore came from Gryffindor, you know. He's the greatest wizard of all time." Lee Jordan was quite talkative. With candy in his mouth, he kept chattering away.

However, his rambling was soon interrupted.

A pair of red-haired twins were knocking on the door.

"You don't mind squeezing in a couple more people, do you?" one of the Twins asked, pretending to be shy. "We came late, and all the other compartments are full. The girls don't welcome us either."

Before Albert could answer, the other twin spoke up. "I'm George, George Weasley."

"If I were you, I'd find a way to dry the water off yourselves," Lee Jordan reminded them kindly. "I'm Lee Jordan."

"Albert Anderson." Albert closed his book and put it back in his trunk, then pointed to the seat beside Lee Jordan.

"See you later, George." The other twin turned and left.

In fact, the other twin soon returned, bringing his trunk with him.

The train compartment could naturally fit four people. After all, it was originally meant to seat six.

It was just that some students occupied compartments with their friends, and even if there were empty seats, they did not welcome others in. That was why the Weasley Twins, who had arrived late, could not find a compartment.

"This is Fred, my twin brother," George introduced.

"Even if you hadn't said so, we could tell," Lee Jordan said. "I simply can't tell which of you is which. Maybe you should mark yourselves somehow so people can tell you apart."

"Want some candy?" Albert asked again.

"Oh, thanks. Mum never likes us eating too much of this stuff." Each twin took a piece, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.

"It tastes really good."

"That's your owl, right? It's really beautiful." One of the twins wanted to reach out and stroke it, but Shera gave him a fierce glare, and he gave up. He had no desire to get pecked.

"She doesn't like strangers very much," Albert explained casually. "But you can try feeding her some nuts. Maybe then she'll let you pet her."

Lee Jordan gave it a try, but it did not work. Shera ignored him completely and continued resting with her eyes closed.

The train started moving, slowly gathering speed as it pulled away from the platform.

"What's the wizarding world like?" Albert casually found a topic. "You're all from the wizarding world, right?"

"How did you know?" Lee Jordan asked in surprise.

"Your clothes. The way you're dressed is clearly not quite right." Albert pointed at the three of them. "Ordinary people wouldn't dress like that. Obviously, only wizards wouldn't understand these things, just as we don't understand wizards in the magical world."

"Impressive." Lee Jordan gave him a thumbs-up. "Oh, there seems to be something by the window."

Albert turned his head and saw an owl outside the window. He quickly pulled it open and let it in.

It was a gray owl. After flying inside, it shook itself, scattering rainwater everywhere.

Shera gave an unhappy cry, jumped onto Albert's shoulder, and glared fiercely at the uninvited guest. She was clearly displeased that her nuts had been stolen.

"Don't be angry. They're just a few nuts. I'll buy you more when you finish them." Albert watched the owl fly away, then patted Shera's head to comfort her.

"I keep feeling that you don't seem like a Muggle-born wizard at all," Lee Jordan muttered softly. "Muggle-born wizards wouldn't know about this. Can I have a look?"

"Go ahead." Albert lifted Shera off his shoulder. He did not like having an owl perched there; the little thing had some weight to her.

"Any news?"

"Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold has announced that she will retire after 1990." Lee Jordan spread the newspaper across the table. "There are rumors that Dumbledore may very well become the next Minister."

"My dad said that if Dumbledore wanted to, he would have become Minister of Magic long ago." Fred clearly did not believe it.

"Who do you think has a better chance?" George asked in return. "Oh, the Daily Prophet is actually holding a prediction contest."

"I don't know, but I'm interested in the betting." Albert naturally knew who would become the next Minister. "If I wanted to take part, how would I do it?"

Why turn down free Galleons? "Gambling isn't a good idea, Albert," Lee Jordan said seriously.

"A small bet is fine." Albert took out his wand and set it vertically on the table, allowing it to fall freely to one side. He explained casually, "Ollivander said my wand could bring me luck, so I'm going to choose... hmm, Cornelius Fudge. I'll bet that he becomes the next Minister of Magic, provided this betting pool is trustworthy."

The other three in the compartment stared at him in stunned disbelief. What kind of move was that? It completely blew their minds.

"Are you really going to enter the contest?" Fred swallowed. He thought the whole thing was absurd.

"I haven't decided yet. After all, I don't know much about the wizarding world." Albert did not want his spending money to go down the drain.

"No, the Daily Prophet's prediction contests are quite reliable. Plenty of people have won in the past. But there are fifteen favored wizards in total. Are you really going to..." George pointed out. "Fudge's odds are four to one. He isn't the favorite."

"Of course. The favorite usually won't succeed. They're usually thrown out as a sacrifice, well, as an unlucky one to draw attention." Albert took the newspaper and carefully studied how to enter the contest. He then took a Quill from his trunk and wrote down his name on a piece of Parchment, chose his candidate and wager amount, then took out his Galleons and counted twenty-five into a money bag.

When they saw Albert count out twenty-five Galleons, all three of them could not help swallowing. That was a huge sum of money.

This guy was really rich. The three of them were incredibly envious. When had they ever held so many Galleons? If they had even one Galleon in their pockets, they would have been smiling for days.

Even after Shera vanished into the rain with the money bag and envelope in her claws, the three of them had yet to recover from their shock.