Chapter 290: You Have Strange Tastes
Chapter 290: You Have Strange Tastes
After the match, some were delighted, while others were worried.
Albert certainly wasn't one of the worried ones, nor were Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins, who were currently dividing up their winnings from their bet with Kenneth Towle.
George pocketed his share of the sickles and said with a laugh, "I heard that unlucky sod, Kenneth Towle, lost a fortune."
"He probably didn't lose that much. Maybe a dozen galleons at most!" Albert felt that he and his roommates had a different understanding of what constituted a large sum of money.
"Oh right, I remember you placed a bet too. How much did you win?" Fred asked curiously. They knew that Albert had a lot of galleons and that he usually had good luck with his bets.
"Five galleons," Albert continued before they could react. "I reached an agreement with Kenneth Towle before the match ended. He paid me five galleons in advance to call it quits."
"You actually agreed to that?" The twins exclaimed in unison, not understanding why Albert would pass up an opportunity to make more money when he had the chance.
"If we hadn't come to an agreement, Kenneth Towle probably would've had to sell his underwear just to pay up," Albert shrugged helplessly, joking, "And I certainly don't want his underwear!"
The expressions on the trio's faces froze, and the next moment, they burst out laughing, finding Albert's analogy amusing.
"Unless..." Albert looked at them strangely. "You want it?"
"No, we don't want it either," they all shook their heads, laughing in response.
"What would you have done if you couldn't afford to pay up?" Albert asked suddenly.
"Not pay up?"
"Wriggle out of it?"
"Yes, that's right. Luckily, he seemed sincere, so I let him off the hook."
Albert didn't intend to push Kenneth Towle to the point of ruin.
"Also, I've never really trusted these unofficial bets. If the other party refuses to pay up, there's not much you can do about it. You certainly can't go around robbing them."
The three of them looked at each other, knowing that in such a situation, besides ruining the other person's reputation or finding an opportunity to get back at them, there weren't many options.
"But this loss was really bad!" Fred sighed, unable to contain his frustration. Losing the Quidditch match had indeed made them irritable, especially considering how much effort everyone had put into trying to win, only to lose and then be subjected to criticism.
Some not-so-favorable voices had emerged from within the Gryffindor House, likely from those who were now jumping on the bandwagon after witnessing Gryffindor's crushing defeat.
Albert had never paid much attention to gossip, but he had underestimated its power. After returning to the locker room with his new Swampus Gloves, Fred and George had hurriedly sought him out to discuss the rumors.
"A lot of people are saying that Charlie only chose his friends and relatives for the team, and as a result, he ruined a good team," Fred looked furious, waving his fists angrily. "Last year, when we won the cup, why didn't they say anything then?"
The other players didn't look too happy either. They knew better than anyone else why they had lost the match, but who would really care about that? Most people only cared about the outcome.
"Don't pay attention to those rumors," Albert consoled them. "Besides, isn't that how Gryffindor has always been?"
Fred and George were taken aback, not knowing how to respond to Albert's statement. What did he mean by 'isn't that how Gryffindor has always been'?
"If you really care that much, you can try to find out who's spreading these rumors," Albert suggested casually.
"If I find out who it is..." Fred gritted his teeth. "I'll make sure they get a big surprise."
The next afternoon, the twins indeed found the culprit.
"It was McLaggen, with that bastard Kenneth Towle egging him on behind the scenes," George's face was dark with anger as he relayed the findings of their investigation to Albert.
"You shouldn't have let that bastard off the hook in the first place."
"You mean Cormac McLaggen?"
"No, this guy's name is Marcus McLaggen, a fifth-year student. I think he's probably related to Cormac. He's supposedly a nasty piece of work," George shared the information he had gathered.
"He tried out for the Quidditch team and was eliminated?" Albert asked, puzzled.
"Yes. Charlie said he was a real nasty piece of work. He was once selected as a reserve, but because his personality was so obnoxious, everyone rejected him, and he never made it onto the team," Fred said, and then he smiled maliciously as he continued, "Speaking of Marcus McLaggen..."
That smile was truly unsettling no matter how one looked at it.
Albert wasn't surprised to hear that Kenneth Towle had been involved. After losing the bet and a significant amount of galleons, it was likely that he held a grudge and decided to stir up some trouble.
"So, what are you going to do now?" Albert asked.
"I want to shove Marcus McLaggen's head into a toilet," George muttered.
"If you go after him now, he'll definitely know it was you," Albert warned.
"So, I've contacted Montague. I plan to buy some strong laxatives from him," Fred said in a lowered voice.
"You're not thinking of..." Albert felt that Fred was truly devilish. If someone were to have diarrhea in front of everyone, the scene would be... too horrible to imagine.
"I plan to put a small amount of the laxative into their soup, just enough to send them running to the toilet," Fred explained.
"Hey, there's no need to go that far, is there? If others find out... you'll be in deep trouble," Albert frowned, unable to picture the spectacle of an entire house full of students suffering from diarrhea.
"If you want to target Marcus McLaggen specifically, I won't stop you. But putting laxatives in everyone's food is not a good idea. The professors will definitely not let it slide, and you won't be able to get away with it," Albert advised, feeling that it was best not to start something like this, lest it encourage others to tamper with the school's food in the future.
"Oh, alright then."
Fred thought about it and finally agreed.
"We can knock him out first, and then pour a cup of 'special' water down his throat. He'll be glued to the toilet for a while," George whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
That afternoon, Marcus McLaggen skipped his afternoon classes, and when he reappeared, his legs were shaking, and he walked as if he were floating.
Fred and George's diabolical plan had succeeded, and they had even borrowed Albert's camera to take several photos of Marcus McLaggen in his embarrassing state, promising to send him a 'fragrant' photo as a souvenir.
Soon, the school was abuzz with the news of Marcus McLaggen's diarrhea incident, which quickly overshadowed the rumors about Charlie.
Speaking of which, these people certainly had strange tastes. Discussing such a topic during mealtime was truly bizarre.
(End of Chapter)
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