Ludo Bagman sits in the center of the bar, counting the money he has won tonight. He is disappointed – only four knuts and and three sickles. But what had he expected? He sighs and looks around at men who have had winning streaks all night. Why doesn't he ever win? He's been gambling longer than any of them, he guesses. He loves the thrill of it, the feeling he gets when he beats the odds. It's what he lives for, he sometimes thinks.

He starts to gather up his meager earnings, resigned to the fact that he won't win any more, when an old man stumbles into the gambling circle.

"I'll bet on Harry Potter winning the war," he wheezes.

Everyone turns to stare at him, including Ludo.

"You're crazy," someone says.

Ludo looks at the wrinkled old wizard. Does he really believe Harry Potter will win?

"Two sickles," says the old man, dropping the coins on the table, "it's all I have."

The group looks at him incredulously, each wondering why he has so much faith in the boy. Uncharacteristically, no one makes a move to bet against him. They probably all feel sorry for him.

Ludo, however, is thinking fast.

"I'll wager two sickles that Harry Potter will lose," he announces, placing two of his sickles on the table. "Harry Potter won't win. Not a chance."

Several people bow their heads in despair, but the old man murmers,

"You wait and see, sir. You wait and see."