HP: A Sociopath Gamer In Magic World [ Chapter 132: Odds! ] (Patreon)

A week had passed since I accomplished my goal of taking over London.

I've successfully placed all the gang leader's and top members under my control using a combination of hypno-pollen and bug bombs. 

Should they ever think of betraying me or ignoring my orders I wouldn't hesitate to blow them up. I also made it abundantly clear that their families would shortly follow.

You needed to end the bloodline to stop any revenge killing after all, that was just common sense.

On the magical side, things were more hectic than usual as a new tragedy hit the headlines. Apparently the entire Kingsberry family had been found one early morning in vegetative states with their souls missing. 

Law enforcement were currently puzzled, but that didn't stop the magical community from coming up with their own theories from rogue dementors to family curses.

Public opinion was divided, with some purebloods going out of their way to say 'good riddance' to what they considered unclean upstarts. 

Some mourned them as the Kingsberry Family had been vital during the fight against Voldemort, transporting supplies to Light Families in hiding, while also offering to smuggle others abroad. Goes to show that just because you're a criminal doesn't mean you're evil.

Personally, other than having to divide manpower to sort through their large collection of merchandise it didn't affect me in the slightest.

"How's the fit?" an elderly man said behind me, tightening the strap on my padded vest.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror and had to admit the tailor did an amazing job.

The uniform for each dueling contest had to be the same to promote a sense of fairness, but that didn't mean they couldn't add their own flare to it. Flitwick had taken me to his old tailor that used to make his own uniforms when he was a duelist.

"It perfect," I replied tugging on the silver white gloves. The black slacks and thin white jacket are fitting enough to highlight my lean build while also offering me freedom of movement. 

The vest that went on top of the jacket was a dark blue color to symbolize my connection to Ravenclaw. 

Though seeing as this was all being paid with Hogwarts funds, I decided to pay my respects by having the school's emblem embroidered on the back of the vest. All in all, I cut a dashing figure that reminded me of my fencing days.

Flitwick also popped up as he clapped his hands, "Amazing work as usual, Thomas."

The old man scoffed, "You were cutting it pretty close Filius, the junior tournament is tomorrow."

I ignored the two as I made a mental note to add sewing to my list of necessary skills.

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Daphne:-

"Gambling is a dangerous pastime, Daphne."

Ignoring her cousin jibing, the pureblood heiress walked into the betting shop.

A goblin in bookie clothes sat behind a counter with an iron fence counting money. Above him was a chalk board with the date of future sport events.

"I want to know the odds for the Junior Dueling Tournament," she demanded.

The bookie grunted but complied as he pushed a parchment with the listings.

She quickly scanned the list until she landed on a familiar name.

[Charles Bell: Odds 30/1]

That was to be expected. Charles was supposed to be muggle-born with only one year of schooling under his belt, so it made sense that others had very low opinions of him.

She however knew for a fact that he was stronger than he led others to believe.

"I want to place a bet on Charles Bell," she said, placing 20 Gallons on the counter.

The impatient looking goblin took the money and returned with a ticket stub.

"Ah, now everything makes sense," Nicholas said with an amused voice.

She pretended to not have heard him.

"Since you seem so confident in his victory, then perhaps I should bet on him too?"

This time she couldn't help but glare at him.

---------

Wales:-

The venue for the All England Wizarding Dueling Competition was as one would expect.

Hundreds of wizards from all over the country and abroad had gathered for this yearly event. The tournament would take place over three days. The first day would be dedicated to the underage division since there weren't that many participants. Preliminary for the adult division would be held on the second day. The third day was for the finals.

Another thing to note was that unlike many of the fencing tournaments that I had attended in the past, the actual competition was being held in an open field with many of the structures having been brought over. 

This was both a precaution to avoid drawing muggle attention as well as showing consideration to duelists who specialized in transfiguration.

The stage was 46ft long and 6ft wide covered with a purple canvas. Tall wooden stands had been set up around the ring in a 'C' shape to give spectators a better view of the matches. Protective wards had been set up beforehand to stop stray spells from hitting the audience.

Currently I was in line, listening to the referee going over the rules.

My eyes scanned the stands and I was able to pick out a few familiar faces from the crowd. I saw my fellow housemates huddled together holding up a colorful banner with my name on it. 

A distance away I spotted Daphne accompanied by a small girl that had to be Astoria and a young-looking man that I wager was the cousin she always complained about. 

However, what I was not expecting to see were Neville and Draco with their respective families.

After he was done the group of 32 was split in half depending on what number they had been assigned.

Ironically, I was given the number 13, meaning the 7th match.

Taking a seat with the rest of the odd numbers in the stands I watched as the first two participants took the stage.