Chương 32: Chapter 33 : A Bet with the Cold Beauty

Every head in the vicinity turned toward her. Daphne just turned her head away, not saying anything, apparently expecting that to be explanation enough on its own.

'What a bitch.' The indifference annoyed Tyson a bit. He never liked those sorts. But he cut the blonde some slack, since she was smart enough to at least not buy the ridiculous troll story made up by the twins. Common sense was often not so common in the wizarding world. Ron, on the other hand, wasn't so forgiving. His face darkened, ears going faintly pink the way they always seemed to when he was embarrassed or angry. And right now, he was both simultaneously.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" he demanded.

"Exactly what it sounded like," Daphne said simply, not even looking at him.

"You can't just call someone a liar and not even explain yourself." Ron's face turned redder.

"Fred wouldn't lie to me about something like this. And Percy backed him up, who's a prefect just so you know. He wouldn't dare lie about school business. So if anyone's lying here, it's you!" Tyson looked at him in surprise at that. Wow, even the black sheep of the family was in on it. Ron was truly pitiful. He had no ally at home. Daphne finally turned at that, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Watch your tone, Weasley. Anyone with a shred of intelligence could see through a story that convenient. A troll, conveniently sorting you by bravery? How fortunate for Gryffindors."

"Fine then," Ron snapped, arms crossing tight over his chest.

"If you're so clever, tell me what the real test is."

"Obviously," Daphne began, her voice radiating the unshakable confidence of someone stating a fact rather than a rumor, "I don't know the full details but my father told me you have to steal an egg from under the nose of a dragon." Tyson blinked at her, then facepalmed. He judged her too quickly. So much for having common sense.

"There are three colors," she went on.

"Gold, the most heavily guarded, goes to Slytherin, since it takes the most cunning to get. Silver goes to Ravenclaw, since it takes the sharpest mind to figure out how. Bronze goes to Gryffindor, since it only takes recklessness, not brains. And whoever fails to get any egg gets sorted into Hufflepuff." Tyson looked at her speechlessly. Every version of these stories managed to be more ridiculous than the last. Even ignoring the obvious logical inconsistencies, how come poor Hufflepuffs kept catching strays?

"You're lying," Ron declared plainly.

"I'm not," Daphne shot back, having absolute trust in her father.

"I don't believe you! You Death Ea—""I think," Tyson quickly cut in before Ron could continue and cross the line, "that you both are lying." They both turned sharply toward him with narrowed, displeased eyes. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! Daphne looked like she wanted to outright eat him. Ron was somewhere between confused and betrayed, like he hadn't expected to be lumped in with someone he considered Death Eater spawn.

Meeting their gazes, Tyson spread his hands innocently.

"I mean, you both were lied to." He continued after a pause.

"Think about it for a second instead of just repeating whatever you were told. We're first years. We haven't even learned magic yet. Does it make any sense at all to throw a room full of untrained eleven-year-olds at magical beasts as dangerous as dragons and trolls on their very first night, before we've even eaten dinner? That wouldn't be a test. It would be a death sentence. I doubt even Dumbledore would have survived that at our age. You've both been pranked, and rather thoroughly at that."

Silence descended between them for a moment. Ron's mouth opened, then closed again, clearly running back through the story in his head and not liking what he found there. Daphne recovered first, though her frown didn't fully go away.

"It doesn't have to make sense. It's magic."

"Read Magical Theory sometime, then," Tyson simply shrugged.

"Even magic follows certain rules. It's not chaos just because you haven't bothered to look for the logic yet."

"And honestly," he added, mostly thinking out loud now, "Tests aside, I think even the house system here doesn't make sense. Sorting eleven-year-olds by a single trait? Most of us haven't even figured out who we are yet. Can't someone ambitious also be brave enough to actually chase that ambition? Can't someone loyal also be clever?"

"And as I already said," Daphne replied, looking at him like he was an idiot, "it's magic. The school knows which trait we represent best. That's rather the entire point of the sorting ceremony." Tyson shook his head.

"This year, maybe, but are you the same person you were a year ago? Five years ago? Will you be the same in seven years?"

"People stay the same at the core. That's just how it is."

"Sure, the core stays the same," Tyson admitted, "but the traits stacked on top of it change constantly as we grow. That's rather the whole point of growing up in the first place. Otherwise we'd all just stay exactly as we are right now, forever, which sounds thoroughly miserable."

"Now you're just arguing to argue," Daphne frowned at him.

"Weren't we talking about the sorting test?" Hermione interrupted from behind them, arms folded tight. Her attempt to change the topic was quite obvious.

"It's what my father told me. You have to steal an egg from a dragon," Daphne said firmly.

"Confident, are you?" Tyson said, turning to face her properly now, a hint of mischief flashing in his eyes.

"Then let's make it more interesting. A hundred Galleons. If the sorting turns out to work exactly the way you just described, I pay you. If it doesn't, and it's something considerably less lethal, you pay me." Since the ice queen was being such a bitch, Tyson decided to teach her a life lesson. It absolutely wasn't about the Galleons. A gleam of interest flashed in Daphne's eyes. She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear before thoughtfully narrowing her eyes at him.

"And how exactly am I meant to trust you won't simply back out the moment you realize you've lost? I don't extend that kind of trust to a Muggle-born I met an hour ago."

"True, Mrs. Greengrass. Unfortunately, I don't have a cure for your racist tendencies," Tyson said with a disappointed expression, shooting back, before continuing casually.

"Unless you want to make an Unbreakable Vow."

"Why not?" Daphne said, almost sounding eager. His brows twitched.

"Careful now, your majesty. Don't push your luck!" Daphne looked both pleased and annoyed at the address.

"I'll vouch for him," Harry said, stepping up beside them before Tyson could say another word. Tyson blinked, genuinely caught off guard. Daphne looked at him skeptically.

"And who exactly are you to vouch for anyone? I don't believe we've been introduced." Harry leaned in and murmured something low, meant only for her ears. Tyson couldn't catch a word of it, but whatever it was, it was enough to make Daphne's eyes widen in open disbelief.

"Oh, please," she began, "just because he called you—" Harry brushed his fringe aside for half a second, just long enough for her to see the thin, lightning-shaped scar beneath, before letting his hair fall back into place, entirely unbothered by the reveal. Daphne's jaw dropped to the floor, her mask of indifference cracking for the first time since the exchange began.

"If Tyson goes back on his words," Harry said simply, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world, "I'll cover the cost myself. I imagine you know well enough that I have the means to do so."