A/N: Hey all. Many apologies for the long hiatus. Another semester is begun, and with it another vicious schedule to navigate. Still, we are nearing the end of this protracted sequel, and I am grateful for your patient indulgence.
Particular gratitude to my editor, who saved me from a few embarrassing typos this time around.
I'm sure you've noticed by now that I certainly enjoy writing in a language that I don't speak. Further apologies in advance for whatever French errors there are in this chapter.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Same as always.
Chapter 29: L'Academie de Magie de Beauxbatons
Theo and Victoire stood at the edge of a lake in the middle of the Pyrenees in southern France. Victoire looked down into the murky, unclean water distastefully. "Are you serious about this?"
"I am," said Theo, studying the water himself. "Unless, of course, this is the wrong lake." He looked around for a moment, then back at the lake before them.
"This had better not be the wrong lake. I am not falling in to that muck."
"Chin up, Vic. If your clothes get dirty, you can always just take them off."
She gave him a sideways glance. As they had traveled across France, he had been getting increasingly flirtatious. What was up with him?
"Anyway, shall we?" He reached for her hand.
"You first."
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Alright then, see you in a bit." He allowed himself to fall forwards. Victoire watched as he rapidly approached the disgusting water. He broke the surface with a splash, and then he was gone.
Victoire now stood alone, looking at the water anxiously. She felt that she should at least take off her shoes before jumping in, just in case it didn't work. But then she would be stuck without them on the other side.
Why couldn't they just have a magical wall at a train station? She had been anxious enough about that the first time, and there had been no risk of getting disgustingly dirty if it didn't work. This would be… gross.
She took a deep breath and held it, then leaned forwards over the water. Her reflexes urged her to try to right herself, but she resisted, falling forwards. The dirty water approached rapidly, and she shut her eyes.
She felt herself break the surface, but never got wet. She was suddenly moving upwards, and opened her eyes as she returned to standing. She was back at the edge of the lake, but the water was now clean and glassy, and she could see her reflection perfectly.
"Finally." She turned to find Theo sitting on a large, white rock several feet away. "For a second, I thought you weren't coming."
Behind him was a village of old-fashioned buildings and houses, looking not so different from the magical villages that dotted Britain.
He got up and turned, following her gaze. "Welcome to the village of Sageau."
"Wise water?"
He nodded. "Basically, France's equivalent of Hogsmeade." He waited for her to come up beside him, and then they walked into the village. It was indeed highly reminiscent of Hogsmeade, but Victoire's attention was quickly stolen from the buildings around her as a towering castle came into view beyond the town.
Unlike the dark and ominous visage of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons was white and welcoming, with towering spires and blue banners that flapped in the breeze.
The grounds between the castle and the village were sloped somewhat more steeply than the grounds of Hogwarts, and there were white stairwells scattered across the ground at the steepest parts. Victoire figured the groundskeeper here must have been in much better shape than Hagrid was.
Then she noticed the mountains closest to the castle. They appeared to be adorned with beautiful gardens and slanting fountains that were affixed to the steep slopes. That was interesting magic.
"Bonjour?" They turned as a man approached them, a questioning look on his face.
Victoire made to respond in French, but Theo beat her to it. "Bonjour. Nous allons au chateau."
"Qui etes-vous?"
"Nous sommes d'Angleterre."
"Ah, welcome," the man replied, switching to English. "What business have you at Beauxbatons?"
"We were sent by the British Ministry, to meet with Madame Maxime."
"I see. Well, I will lead you to the gates."
"Merci."
"My name is Christophe."
"I'm Theo, and this is Victoire."
He looked at Victoire. "Your name is French."
She nodded. "My mother is French."
"Ah, excellent." He studied her for another moment. "Non, que vous n'etes pas la fille de Fleur Delacour?"
"Oui."
"Enchante!" he exclaimed. "I am a fan of your mother. I do not understand why she left to go live in England, but I support her nonetheless."
Victoire exchanged a glance with Theo. "Merci."
They reached the heart of the village, where people were bustling in and out of various shops. Theo and Victoire attracted glances.
"Bonjour, Christophe," was heard various times.
"Bonjour," he replied. As more people looked over at the visitors, he addressed several of them at once. "Elle est la fille de Fleur Delacour."
Victoire wasn't exactly grateful for the attention that she inevitably received after this declaration was made. Several people came and introduced themselves. They studied her appreciatively, and some glanced made her want to back away.
"Theodore!"
Theo turned immediately at the voice, his eyes widening. "Sally!"
The young woman ran up and embraced him, and Victoire noticed the tiny bit of color that graced his cheeks. Was this the childhood crush?
They parted, and he smiled at her. "Ca va?"
"Tres bien. Bienvenue a Beauxbatons." She gestured up towards the castle.
He turned to Victoire. "Victoire, this is Sally, my connection at Beauxbatons. Sally, Victoire."
"Enchante."
Victoire studied her, finding herself interested in the girl whom Theo so admired. She was certainly pretty, with long, brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her brown eyes were large and round above defined cheekbones, and her cheeks slanted down to a narrow chin.
"Welcome."
"Merci."
"You will take them to ze castle?" asked Christophe.
"Oui," Sally replied.
"Tres bien," Christophe replied. He looked back at Victoire. "It was very nice to meet you."
"You too." She quickly waved at the other villagers who had come to meet her. Some were still watching her, and made her feel somewhat uneasy.
Sally led them to the remaining part of the village and up to a pair of large, white gates. Strips of white metal curved in large arcs around the Beauxbatons seal, creating a large, flowery pattern. The gates swung open to allow them entry.
As they climbed up various stairwells across the grounds, Theo and Sally fell into conversation about his sister, the seemingly-eternal traveler. Theo was clearly somewhat reluctant to discuss her too much.
"And how is la petite Chloe?" he asked, changing the subject.
"'La petite Chloe' is not so 'petite' anymore. She is nearly seventeen now."
"Seriously?"
"Oui."
They entered the castle. Similar to Hogwarts, the walls inside were dotted with portraits, and the ones nearest the entrance smiled graciously at visitors. Many eyes fell on Victoire, and recognition appeared in a few.
They had already reached the third floor by the time one exclaimed that she must be the daughter of Fleur Delacour. "Oui," she quickly replied, giving the portrait a gracious smile.
"Nous sommes connexes," said the portrait. "Je suis cousine de votre arriere grand-pere."
She stared at the man in the portrait, not seeing any resemblance. Then again, she realized that it wasn't entirely unlikely, given her family's history at this school. "Enchante."
She was grateful that Sally kept leading them onwards, as she wasn't sure what she might say to the supposed relative. She had always been friendly to the portraits at Hogwarts, and vice versa, but this felt entirely different. She had developed a bond with Hogwarts over seven years, but here, even though half of her family had come to the school, she did not feel the affinity that she had expected to. If anything, it felt eerie.
Further up the hallway, there was an emblem on the wall. Six purple triangles pointed inward at each other. Sally muttered under her breath as she passed it, shaking her head.
Then they were at Madame Maxime's office. The doors were large, as befitted the large woman within. They entered to find her sitting behind an enormous desk that was crowded with papers.
"Ah, Monsieur Leonus et Madamoiselle Weasley, bienvenue a Beauxbatons."
"Merci, Madame."
She gestured to the large chairs in front of the desk. Theo and Victoire sat down, while Sally took her leave, shutting the large doors behind her.
"So," the Headmistress said in English, "I understand that you have a parcel for my eyes only."
"Yes," Theo replied, opening his satchel and withdrawing the parcel. The Headmistress picked up her wand and levitated the parcel directly from his hand over the large desk.
Opening it, she muttered a quick spell to reveal the contents of the parchment within. It wasn't long before she was frowning at whatever it was that was said. "Your employer is rather presumptuous." She glanced at Victoire. "Were you made aware of the contents of this package?"
"No."
"I see." She placed the parchment on her desk and leaned back in her chair, her gaze remaining on Victoire. "Tell me about Teddy Lupin."
"What?" Victoire's gaze snapped to the parchment. What did it say about Teddy?
Not waiting for her, the Headmistress began. "He is the son of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, two of your aurors who were killed in the war against Voldemort."
"Yes," Victoire replied.
"And he is a werewolf, like his father."
Victoire frowned at the parchment. "Yes."
"You are very fond of him?"
"I am."
"I see." The Headmistress considered for a moment, then gestured to the parchment. "This letter indicates that you are to be used as bait for a trap for the werewolf, to be laid here at Beauxbatons at the next full moon."
"What?" Was she serious?
"However, I will not have a werewolf at this school. I think you understand why I must decline."
"Of course." What was Kingsley thinking?
Then she considered the implications. Kingsley apparently believed that Teddy was following her. How else would he come to be at Beauxbatons?
Could it be true? Had Teddy been tracking her all this time?
She recalled the waiter at the hotel. At one point she had been so sure he was Teddy. That hope had faded, but perhaps…
"You are, of course, welcome to remain at Beauxbatons during the intervening time. However, if a werewolf is indeed tracking you, I must ask that you leave before the full moon."
Theo spoke up. "I don't think we should impose. We have no further business here."
"I understand that you have friends here, Monsieur Leonus."
"Just Sally. And maybe her sister, though she was little the last time I saw her."
"Well, I will return you to Sally, and you may confer further with her." The large Headmistress rose from her chair and maneuvered around her desk, leading them out of the office.
While the corridors were large enough to accommodate her, she made an imposing figure in them. As they passed the emblem of the six triangles, she glared at it darkly. The portraits nodded respectfully at her, and some saluted. The one who had claimed to be related to Victoire bowed low. There were some verbal greetings, to which the Headmistress replied graciously.
As they walked, Victoire continued thinking about Teddy. Could he really track her all the way here? They had taken the portal to Paris. He couldn't have followed, unless he was already aware that she was coming to France.
Could he be spying within the Auror Department? It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, as he was a metamorphmagus who was already very familiar with the department. He might be able to play it well enough that even Kingsley might not notice.
As they passed a window, she glanced through it, wondering if Teddy was lurking near the school.
They returned to the first floor, and then down a new corridor to a small, simple office. Sally sat inside, pouring through a massive volume. She stood immediately as the Headmistress filled her door frame. "Madame."
"Madamoiselle Doubont, I return them to your care."
"Merci, Madame."
The Headmistress turned to Victoire. "I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor."
"Merci. It was a pleasure to meet you."
Theo and Victoire sat down in Sally's office when bidden. "So, your business is complete?"
"Yes," Theo replied hesitantly.
She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Sally." They turned to find a younger version of Sally standing in the doorway. She was a beautiful girl, even for a French one, though she had none of the features that Victoire knew to recognize in the decendants of veelas. "Theo!"
"Bonjour, Chloe." There was a look of surprise on his face. She certainly wasn't the little girl that he remembered anymore.
"Ca va?"
"Tres bien." He stood as she approached, and she pulled him into a hug.
Then she looked at Victoire. "Bonjour. Je suis Chloe."
"Victoire. Enchante."
She looked back at Theo. "Qu'est ce que tu fais la?"
"Nous avions une parcelle pour la…" He frowned, not knowing the word. "Madame."
"Comme un hibou?"
"Oui," Victoire replied. She was feeling increasingly bitter the more she thought about Kingsley's request.
"Ce une mauvais tache."
Sally spoke up for the first time since her sister's arrival. "Chloe, as-tu pas de classe?"
"C'est fini." Chloe pointed to the clock.
Sally frowned at it, then looked at Theo. "I've lost track of time. Would you like to join us for dinner?"
"Certainly," Theo replied. Victoire looked at him, then shrugged. Why not?
Michaela sat uncomfortably in Charms, avoiding looking across the room at the Hufflepuffs. Things with Gary were slowly falling apart, which had been inevitable. But Carla's prediction that everything would continue to be smooth was not coming to pass.
As bad as it felt for her, it was worse for Carla, Sarah and Marcus. Things were uncomfortable when they were all together, and Michaela didn't know how to fix it.
The class ended, and she continued to sit there. She wanted him to leave first.
Marcus waited with her, frowning, until they were the only two left in the room. She could tell exactly what he was thinking, but she didn't know what to do. Wordlessly, they left the classroom.
James was waiting outside. "Can I talk to you?" he asked, an earnest look on his face.
"Okay." She followed him to the locked corridor. "What is it?" she asked once they were alone.
He didn't answer for a moment. He was staring at a particular spot on the side of the room, and Michaela recalled that it was where he had slumped against the wall when she had broken up with him.
"I miss you," he said finally.
"What?"
"I miss you."
"You see me every day."
"You know what I mean."
"You seem happy enough." She tried to shove away the images of him with Joelle that popped into her head.
"You don't."
So he had been watching? "Stuff happens," she said with a shrug. "Then they get better."
"That hasn't been my experience."
"Are you having issues with…" She didn't want to say the girl's name.
He made a face. "We're not really…" He shrugged. "I don't know. It's not like that."
"What does that mean?"
"We're not… like you and I were."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"No."
"We didn't last very long."
"That wasn't my fault." His voice trembled a bit. He was making a conscious effort to not sound bitter, and she appreciated that.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize."
She looked towards the door, feeling that she should probably go.
"It's like…" He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the words that matched whatever it was that he was thinking. "I don't know. With Joelle it's all just… physical."
She winced, pushing away the images in earnest. "Okay." She took a step towards the door.
"And it's nice, but it's not the same." He wasn't looking at her, and she took another step. "What about you and Gary?"
"What about us?"
"Is it… just physical?"
She couldn't help a brief laugh. "Hardly." Did Gary really seem like that sort of guy to him? "There's plenty of emotion."
His face fell. Would he rather things have been more physical? "So you really like him?"
She shut her mouth, wincing at the question, and took another step towards the door.
When she didn't respond, he looked at her, and frowned when he noticed how much she had moved.
They stood there, looking at each other, letting the unanswered question drift away.
"Michaela…"
She didn't know what it was that propelled her, but suddenly she found herself walking towards him. She stepped right up to him and pulled his face down to meet hers.
The dining hall at Beauxbatons was relatively tame in comparison with the Great Hall at Hogwarts, which Victoire hadn't expected after seeing the magical effort put into the grounds outside and the mountains that surrounded them. The students were divided by year, rather than by house. The professors had three separate tables rather than one large one, and Victoire and Theo sat with Sally at the one that was furthest out of the way.
"Where are the wood nymphs?" Victoire asked, looking around.
Sally laughed. "Those are only for Christmas. You've heard the stories?"
"A few." Most of the stories had actually come from her aunt, rather than her mother.
"We are not quite so frilly as the Hogwarts students think us to be, regardless of what it looks like outside."
Chloe approached the table. "May I join you?" That was the first thing Victoire had heard her say in English.
"Oui," Sally replied, conjuring yet another extra chair at the increasingly crowded table. One of the professors present frowned, then waved his own wand. Without warning, the table expanded, but all present were moved out of the way magically to accommodate it.
The four of them now sat well away from the professors, which appeared to suit Chloe just fine. "So, what do you think of Beauxbatons?"
"It's nice," said Theo, looking around at the students. There were no students glaring at each other from different tables. "Very peaceful."
Both of the sisters laughed. "Then we have you fooled," said Chloe.
"What do you mean?"
"Things are not so peaceful here."
Theo looked at each of the sisters in turn, awaiting an explanation.
"It has been some time now since the students from Spain and Portugal were authorized to come here," Sally explained. "Since then, there have been… inimities."
"I see."
"They do not fit so well with the elegance that we foster at Beauxbatons," said Chloe. "It is a wonder that Madame Maxime allowed them to come."
Victoire and Theo shared a glance. Rivalries between national cultures seemed much more profound than the petty house rivalries that had emerged at the all-British and Irish Hogwarts.
A large shadow fell across the table, and they looked up to see Madame Maxime standing there, looking at Chloe. "Chloe, s'il vous plait revenir a tu table."
Chloe stood immediately. "Pardon, Madame." She quickly returned to her classmates.
Madame Maxime enlarged the conjured chair in which Chloe had been sitting, and sat down there herself. "Madamoiselle Weasley, in light of your heritage, I have been considering the task for which you were sent here."
Victoire raised her eyebrows at the Headmistress.
"I cannot risk having such a thing happen here, but perhaps we could find a more appropriate venue for Monsieur Shacklebolt's plans to be carried out." She looked at Sally. "Madamoiselle Doubont, your family's manor is currently vacant, yes?"
"Oui, Madame. My parents are traveling. The house is hidden away for safe keeping."
"Perhaps we can make use of it, if you are willing to host our British friends here."
"Of course, Madame."
"I don't know what to say to him."
"That would be a first." But there was no mirth in Carla's eyes as she said this, nor any surprise. They were sitting on the desks in an empty classroom, which was illuminated only by the moonlight through the windows. Curfew was approaching.
"You said it was going to be fine. That we would just go back to being friends. That doesn't look like it's going to happen."
"Well, I'm no seer, Michaela. But I didn't think it would go for this long. And I didn't think that you would…"
"That I would what?"
"Well, either you're a really good actor, or you did start to like him a bit."
Michaela shrugged. "He's a sweet guy. It's just…"
"He's not James?"
Michaela looked away. The adolescent denial instinct arose, but it was quickly replaced by the recognition that it was probably best she tell someone. "I kissed him."
"What?"
"I kissed James. Earlier today, after Charms.
There was no response, and after several seconds had passed, Michaela looked back at her friend. Carla had a disapproving look on her face. "Why?"
"I don't know. I just did. We were talking about Joelle and about Gary and… I just kissed him."
"I see."
"I know it was wrong. I betrayed Gary. But—"
"So it's your conscience that's making you want to end things with him now. It's not for the sake of simply being honest with yourself."
Michaela didn't reply.
Carla hopped off the desk and stood. "Just break up with him. He'll get over it." She turned away, heading for the door. "Who knows, maybe he'll recover from this faster than you will."
"What do you mean by that?" But Carla simply opened the door and disappeared down the hall. Michaela sat there for several seconds, staring at the empty doorway. "I probably deserved that."
"Probably." The voice came from nowhere. Then Peeves popped his head out of the wall. "Boohoohoo, hearts are being broken, sad words to be spoken."
"Go away, Peeves."
"Tell you what." The poltergeist jumped fully out of the wall and hovered before her. "I will help you, free of charge."
"I doubt that."
"Oh, always doubt me. Such mischief I love." Peeves paused for a cackle. "But in this purpose I'll be true. I will tell the truth for you."
"What's with the rhymes?"
"Well, such delightfully sad times are aways perfectly terrible for rhymes."
"Get lost."
"Shall you accept my offer? I will tell the owl boy for you, save you such a grim thing to do."
"Don't you dare."
"Oh, I dare. I always dare." He clapped his translucent hands delightedly. "This will be such fun! I tell the truth and sadness comes!"
"Peeves, don't!"
"But this is a gift. A gift from me. Your refusal would be most crushing." The poltergeist made a mock pout, but the delight remained in his eyes.
"My heart aches for you."
The mock sadness gave way to a cackle. "Oh, how I do love to see you go. Some mischief here, some sadness there. If only I had your knack for causing woe."
"What?"
"You, my dear. I have great respect for you, I would have you know. I can only break tempers, but you cause true grief. The Potty boy, the owl boy, the Ravenclaw captain… and you're just getting started."
Michaela glared at him.
"So, I will humbly do this task for you. I will tell the owl boy, and you will not need to witness his tears. Oh, it will be delightful."
"Please don't."
"Curfew is come, and Filch will soon follow. You'd best return to your tower. Until we meet at a different hour." He dashed off through the wall.
Michaela frowned at the spot where he had vanished. She had some idea of where Hufflepuff was, but she would never beat him there. And, like he had said, curfew had arrived.
In a different time, she wouldn't have thought twice about defying Filch. But she was in no mood to deal with him right now.
"That would be a first." Carla's words echoed in her mind in Dominique's voice. Her friend was right. Michaela had changed, and she wasn't sure she was fond of the changes.
"You're growing up," said Dominique.
"I don't need a pep talk," Michaela muttered. "And I know it's your fault I kissed James earlier."
"Ew, don't you go attributing any urges to kiss my cousin to me. Gross."
"Shut up."
"What about Gary?"
"I can't do anything about that." She felt bad that he was going to have his heart broken this way, but she couldn't stop it. She would have to deal with the fallout when it came.
A few days later, on a particularly warm spring day, Allison left Albus and Rose behind to go and visit the thestrals. She found Andrew on the balcony, chatting with Lochius, who was glimmering in the sunlight.
"Hello."
"Welcome, lioness. How does this day find you?"
"Fine, thanks." She stuck her hand out, and felt one of the invisible creatures nudge gently against it. "You look sparkly."
Lochius frowned and looked down at himself. "Your words do wound, mock not my ghostly self." Andrew laughed, and finally the ghost cracked a smile.
"We were just discussing Elizabethan London," said Andrew. "He lived there, you know."
"And magnificent it was, I tell you true. Oh, would that you spoke the English I knew."
"You wish we rhymed like you do?"
"Our language ne'er delights so much as then. Not rhymes in all, but fairer verse spoken."
"How did you die?" Four eyes fell on her, and she realized that she shouldn't have blurted out the question like that. But she had wondered more and more each time she saw the ghost.
As if sensing the sudden change in atmosphere on the balcony, the thestral backed away from her hand, and she heard a flap of wings.
"What sudden question asks the lioness. How boldly brave, a query of my…" He floated lower as he spoke, the abruptly stopped and turned away, facing outwards towards the sun. Through his head, she could see the sunlight catch the horrible, ridged burn marks on his face. "I do suppose it's time I told the tale. As friends you've been, this secret mine does fail. In fire did I die, my face you've seen. A fire spawned by fire, truths unseen."
Allison sensed Andrew come up beside her, but her eyes remained fixed on the ghost.
"The Muggles know a tale of cannon's flame, in rich performance, Henry Eighth the name."
"You were at the Globe?" asked Andrew. "But no one died in that fire."
"Your eagle's knowledge serves you well, good friend. My death came not from flames of accident, and accident indeed that fire was. But unjust blame there was yet to be laid, that magic burned the Globe. We were betrayed."
"Someone blamed wizards and witches for the fire? But who knew about us?"
"That answer yet eludes, but damage done. Discovered, hunted, chased and bound in turn. Then, ere the Ministry could save our shells, the Muggles brought us to their manmade hells. Just as they thought we'd done to their great hall, so did they see their fires bring our fall."
Allison regretted asking the question.
"You were burned at the stake," Andrew said in barely more than a whisper.
"Such was the Muggle custom of the time, whenever rumor spread of our great kind."
"But there are no rumors regarding the burning of the Globe. Everyone knows it was an accident with the cannon."
"The Ministry did end the fright too late. The lies were lost, only the truth remained. But cooled our ashes were, our bodies gone, our hist'ry vanquished to protect their spawn. Our souls dispersed in smoke to the haunt the wind. As see you, came I here, to be with kin."
"And you never learned how the Muggles found out about you?"
"It matters not, that time is longer gone than e'er I dreamed I'd linger over stone. The phantom would be gone so long as well, his mem'ry lost like mine, to wander hell."
Allison remained silent. It was a terrible story, and she'd wished she hadn't asked. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
The ghost finally turned back to her, and studied her in uncharacteristic silence.
"I should go." She took a step towards the door.
"You need not go, neither apologize. Your curiosity does serve you true, though knowledge gained this pass may not help you. In time, you'll learn that harder questions lead to fairer answers, and to wiser deeds."
She hesitated, but turned away from the door. "Alright, I'll stay. It's a nice day."
Carla was finding Gary's silence increasingly deafening. She was so upset with how things had turned out, especially with Peeves's intercession. She hated the rascal poltergeist, but she wasn't too pleased with Michaela either.
She glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where Gary was sitting with his teammates, just as she was sitting with hers. Between them, at the Ravenclaw table, Michaela was sitting with Sarah, and seemed to be avoiding looking at either one of them. Such had been the nature of the past several days.
"Are you focused, Warrington?" Flint asked, bringing her back to the other reason that she was sitting with her housemates once more. It was the day of their final quidditch match of the season.
"Yes."
"Good. If we lose twice in a row to Hufflepuff, you won't be on the team next year."
"That won't be your decision." She was not sad at all to see him go.
Barsk glanced over from the far side of Flint. "No, but it will be mine. Don't think that the winds will shift, Warrington. We'll still be about loyalty above all."
"Of course that's what we're about."
Flint frowned at her comment, but Barsk ignored it, and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table. "I can't wait to have some fun with the owl boy today. Poor little heartbroken sissy. It'll be easy to get him out of sorts in front of the hoops."
Carla frowned at him, but avoided saying something she might regret. "As if that's going to be needed for us to win. You won't need to do anything at all."
"True, but it will be fun. And I like scoring points."
Gary probably shouldn't even be playing today, not against her team, but she certainly wouldn't be the one to deny him quidditch. "Let's head down to the locker room."
As the Hufflepuffs made their way across the grounds, Sandra came up beside Gary. "Are you going to be okay today?"
He nodded stiffly, and unconvincingly. "Yes."
"I hate that Black girl," said Miranda Cole from behind them. "You're better off without her, mate."
Her cousin walked quietly beside her. She was the other Hufflepuff for whom things had taken a turn for the worse after the latest twist in the Michaela Black saga. James had distanced himself from her, and it couldn't be a coincidence that it had happened at the same time that Michaela broke up with Gary.
They entered the locker room, and that was when it hit Sandra that this was the last time. This was her last match. She looked around the room, already having every detail memorized.
After she had changed, Steven came up to her. "Would you like to be the one to speak?" he asked quietly.
"Sure." She contemplated what she would say.
Once everyone was ready, she stood in the center of the room, and looked at each of them in turn. "I've seen this team be great. I know we haven't won much in the last few years, and that's as much my fault as anyone's, but I've seen each of us do great things on the pitch."
She paused for a moment, and glanced towards the exit to the pitch, then looked back at them. "This team is living proof that winning isn't everything. We go out there and play our best every single time, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, and we have fun doing it. And because of that, we win our own personal victories every game.
"Next year you're going to have a different seeker, who may be better than I am. Maybe you'll win more, and maybe you'll win the Cup. But don't forget that this is what is important." She gestured around the circle. "The way we play now, the way we enjoy it, this is the most important thing."
Feeling like she had said her piece, she glanced at Steven, who stepped in alongside her. "One last time, Hufflepuff on three."
It felt appropriate that they were facing the Slytherins for her last match. They were everthing that the Hufflepuffs were not. She thought of Flint and of Demoro, and how dispassionate and vile they could be.
Regardless of whether she won or lost today, she felt that she was on the winning team.
The Slytherins waited while the Hufflepuffs took the field. Carla's eyes immediately found Gary. He looked collected and confident. Good.
Flint and Smith shook hands, and then the match began.
She rose and immediately began looking around. She wanted to end this one quickly, with minimum humiliation for anyone involved.
"Barsk takes the quaffle. He's speeding towards Boulder… Shoots… Nice save!"
Barsk lingered for a moment near Gary and said something. Carla watched Gary's face for any change, but saw none, and Barsk flew away.
"Good luck." Carla looked up in surprise to find Sandra gliding past her. She instinctively looked in the direction the Head Girl was heading, but saw nothing.
"Thanks, you too." She recalled the match during the previous year, when she had taken the bludger for the injured Hufflepuff seeker, and winced at the memory.
"Smith shoots on Flint… and scores! Great shot, Steven!"
The Slytherins quickly regrouped, and scored on Gary. Another insult was thrown in Gary's direction, and he appeared to give the slightest flinch.
Carla looked around urgently.
Things devolved from there. The beaters put in a couple of good shots to coincide with the chasers scoring attempts and insults, and Gary began to stumble more and more. Slytherin built up a big lead.
Then the snitch appeared, and Carla made for it as quickly as she could. Sandra soared after her, but she never gave the Head Girl a chance to catch up.
After she ended the match, she looked over to find Gary staring at her. He looked flustered and angry.
"Slytherin wins, 260-40," said Munden dejectedly. "Good season, guys."
Carla looked over towards her celebrating teammates. For the second time this year, she felt more than a little reluctant in the win. At least no one had gotten seriously injured this time.
"Good game." Sandra flew up beside her and reached out her hand.
Carla shook it. "Thanks, you too."
"Go enjoy your celebration," said the Head Girl. "Let us worry about Gary tonight."
Carla nodded, and slowly flew over to her teammates.
Professor Strumthort looked up at the knock on the door of his office. "Come in." The door opened to reveal three familiar Gryffindor second-years. "Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley and Miss Levin, what can I do for you?"
Albus looked over at the painting of the large ship. All three seemed to hesitate on the question.
"This has to do with the chest you found, I assume?" asked the Professor. He didn't know whether or not he should hope they had found something new.
Rose nodded, and finally spoke. "We think we know where the key is."
"Oh? And where would that be?" The professor felt his heart begin to beat a little faster in his chest.
"Durmstrang," Albus replied.
"Durmstrang?"
"Yes. Can you take us there?"
