"Take him out of the tournament."
"You heard Mr. Crouch, Darcy. Harry must compete in the tournament. There is a magically binding contract the moment one's name is entered into the Goblet of Fire."
Darcy paces Professor Dumbledore's study restlessly, chewing her nails and panting, the eyes on the walls following her with curiosity. "No," she snaps, and Dumbledore allows her to continue despite her disrespect. "Take him out."
"I'm sorry," the Headmaster sighs, clasping his hands together atop his desk. "There is nothing I can do. Harry must compete. He must finish the tournament, but I assure you—"
"You said it yourself the night the other students arrived," Darcy interrupts, her mind working faster than it ever has. "No student under the age of seventeen is allowed to compete—that's what you said."
"I remember what I said just as well as you do, and I am as baffled as you are, Darcy. But your brother is bound by magical contract to see the Triwizard Tournament to the end, and until then, I want you to know that the matter will be investigated and no stone will be left unturned. Harry's safety is of the utmost importance to me, and you know that."
Darcy stops her pacing abruptly, whirling to face Professor Dumbledore. Anger overcomes her, anger such as she cannot ever remember possessing. To think that years of her life have been wasted protecting Harry, only for him to mysteriously be entered into a magical tournament with absolutely no explanation as to how he was entered or who entered him is infuriating, and to see Dumbledore sitting there so calmly lights a fire in her.
"He'll die," Darcy growls, stepping up to Dumbledore's desk and splaying her hands on top of it. "Harry is fourteen-years-old, and he will die in this tournament. Please, Professor . . . he's just a boy."
Dumbledore is quiet, pressing his fingertips together as if in prayer. He leans back in his tall, throne-like chair, never taking his piercing blue eyes off her.
"How could you have possibly let this happen? Have I not suffered enough for you?" Darcy asks, her voice breaking, slightly hoarse. "Have I not hurt enough for your liking that you must continue to push my limits? If you push me any more, surely my heart will break. Is that what you want?"
Darcy pauses, waiting for Professor Dumbledore's response, but still he does not speak. That only makes her angrier, and Darcy knows that she should stop talking now, but she can't—it comes spilling out of her in a rage she associates with the argument she and Professor Snape had upon waking up in the hospital wing back in June, after all that had transpired in the Shrieking Shack.
"I have done all I can to protect Harry my entire life, since you decided to ship us off to Privet Drive without caring about what I might have wanted!" Darcy continues her pacing again, and some of the portraits scoff at the way she speaks to Dumbledore, but she ignores them all. "And you have continually turned a blind eye to the dangers that lurk within your own school's walls! You have continued to ignore everything I have done for my brother, by allowing these things to happen! And now you're condemning my baby brother to certain death by forcing him to compete in a tournament that is far too dangerous."
It takes Professor Dumbledore a long time to answer, and his face is no longer one of amusement or thoughtfulness. His old, lined face is stony, an expression she can't ever recall seeing on him. "I would like you to sit down now, Darcy," he says softly. Darcy only looks at him, and he repeats himself in a firmer tone. "Sit down."
The second time, Darcy does as he says, her arms folded over her chest.
"Do not presume that I am blind to your pain and suffering, Darcy," Dumbledore tells her. His voice is still quiet, but he speaks to her in a rather rough and weary voice that she's never heard him speak with before. "When you first arrived here at Hogwarts, I understood that you were hurting. Do you think I assumed, when I saw you sit upon that stool to be Sorted, that you had an easy life?" When she doesn't answer, he continues boldly. "I know that you are still hurting now from wounds I fear will never heal. After you returned from the Chamber of Secrets, I feared for you . . . I knew that if you were not helped along through your grief and trauma and pain, you would not only be a danger to others, but to yourself."
"And you did nothing," Darcy hisses through her teeth.
Professor Dumbledore frowns. "Of course I did something. I sought out Remus," he replies. "I told him that he would be very welcome at Hogwarts, that we would supply him with everything he needed, and I told him of a poor, young girl in desperate need of a true friend . . . a poor, young girl who was hurting and in desperate need of comfort from someone familiar, someone with experience in tragedy."
Darcy is quiet, blushing and listening hard, her blood pumping. Her heartbeat thunders in her ears, and she can hardly believe what she's hearing. Dumbledore had invited Lupin here for her?
"That was all it took for him to accept my offer. He promised me that he would befriend you, check-in with you when necessary. He promised me that he would be someone you could confide in about your dreams and fears," the Headmaster finishes, the entire office silent for a moment. "Did I know then what that friendship would blossom into? Did I think for a moment that either of you would ever break the trust I had put in the both of you? Did you not think, Darcy, that I had not noticed his and your continued absences from the Great Hall during meals? Did you think, when you promised me in this very office that you would never again cross any boundaries put in place, that I did not worry about the possibility of a secret romance?"
Professor Dumbledore stands, and he suddenly seems very intimidating, but Darcy does not falter. She will not be hurt by his words, by his lecture. Dumbledore could never understand the comfort Lupin's presence continues to give her, and could never understand the mutual trust between them.
"I have done you a service, Darcy," Dumbledore says to her, holding his hands behind his back. "You and Remus both. I will not pretend that I held no reservations from the start. I knew it would be an easy thing for you to fall in love . . . you were a vulnerable teenage girl who spent her adolescence in a loveless household." He shakes his head, disappointed. "I cannot express to you how I felt when I learned the truth of what was happening behind closed doors. Of course, the fault does not rest entirely with you . . . Remus should have known better, should have understood the risks and consequences of betraying my trust, and yet . . . now I find myself wondering how much he would have risked . . .
"But despite it all, I offered you a place at Hogwarts that only one other student has ever been offered, because I know that you would suffer greatly without Harry. With the recent departure of your godfather, I knew that bringing you back to Hogwarts was the best possible scenario for you. I wanted to be able to keep a close eye on you, to make sure that you are well cared for in an environment where you will be able to heal."
He pauses, sitting back down. Darcy looks at Dumbledore, suddenly feeling horrified. His words, despite Darcy wanting badly to ignore them, shake her to her core.
"So do not presume that I have minimized your sufferings because I am indifferent towards you. Do not presume that I, in my long lifetime, have not known suffering, as well. I admire you and your fierce loyalty and determination and I am proud of your dedication in protecting Harry, but what would you have me do, Darcy?"
When Darcy is unable to come up with an adequate answer, he presses on relentlessly.
"Harry must compete in this tournament, and he must do so without outside help. I say this because I know that you will want to be at his side always, helping him through this, but you cannot," Dumbledore explains, and his tone is much lighter now, perhaps to let her know that he doesn't hold any grudge against her. "I am well aware of the tasks to come in this year's Triwizard Tournament, and I can promise you that Harry will be alive and well at the end of it."
"You can't promise that."
"I am not asking you to believe me, if you don't wish to," Dumbledore sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose and adjusting his glasses. "Now, I suggest you get yourself something to drink and get some rest. Tonight must have been a rather exhausting ordeal for you, and I know that you are probably very eager to escape my office."
It's very strange to Darcy how quickly his tone changes. He sounds kindly again, grandfatherly and genuine. She doesn't even think she'll able to sleep, anyway. The first thing she really wants to do is write an urgent letter to Lupin, to tell him of all that had transpired tonight, of what Professor Dumbledore had just told her. Then she wonders if Dumbledore would give her leave to ask one more question.
"Professor Dumbledore," Darcy begins, trying to channel all of the courtesy and grace that Aunt Petunia had attempted to teach her. She isn't sure how much the portraits know, and continues carefully. "Did you know that my godfather has come north?"
Dumbledore smiles at her, his eyes twinkling. "He and I have been corresponding," he explains. "He may have mentioned it in one of his letters to me."
"Do you think it would be safe for him to visit Remus' for a night?"
"What a wonderful idea. I can't see the hurt in a few hours time, what with the Aurors leading the chase for him in completely the wrong area of the country," Dumbledore answers, stroking his long beard. "Good-night, Darcy."
As soon as Darcy returns to her rooms, she rummages around for a parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle. She seats herself on the floor before the coffee table, lighting a fire in the hearth with her wand, and staring down at the blank parchment. Unsure of how to put everything into a letter, Darcy prays that one of the school owls will be able to deliver her message quickly.
Then, she thinks, maybe it would be nice to have a drink. The walk down to Hogsmeade might be good to clear her head, and she could use some fresh air. The idea of nursing a bottle of firewhisky and being able to sleep in tomorrow is tempting, and she could even stop by the post office to choose a speedy owl (the selection would be much better than the owlery), and then she could visit the Three Broomsticks. Darcy had been considering going to Gryffindor Tower to speak with Harry, but decides it might be better to meet with him tomorrow, where they can speak more privately. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind for the time being, Darcy scribbles on the parchment.
Harry was chosen as a second Hogwarts champion by Goblet of Fire. Please come as soon as you can.
Darcy
She departs for Hogsmeade a few minutes later after wrapping herself in a thick, black cloak. Clutching her letter tightly in her first, Darcy hurries down the empty corridors and jumps down the marble steps into the entrance hall, landing flat on her feet and wincing.
"Darcy!"
Gasping and jumping near three feet into the air, Darcy whirls around, her heart hammering inside of her chest. She runs a hand through her hair and exhales loudly at the sight of Ludo Bagman strutting towards her from the Great Hall. She stops, pocketing the letter and smiling. "Mr. Bagman," she says rather breathlessly. "You scared me."
"My sincerest apologies," Ludo says, smiling back at her. "Might I ask where you're going at this hour of the night? It's certainly getting late."
"I was just on my way down to Hogsmeade," she answers, gesturing towards the front doors. "Escape the confines of Hogwarts for a few hours. I've got to stop by the post office, and I was probably going to get a drink."
"Excellent! Oh, excellent! I've got a room booked in the Three Broomsticks for the duration of the Triwizard Tournament, in case they need me on hand for some silly thing or other," Ludo tells her excitedly, clapping his hands together. "I'm staying in the village tonight. Let me walk you down, my dear, perhaps buy you a drink? What do you say?"
Ludo Bagman doesn't particularly strike her as a suspicious or malicious man, and Darcy knows that he has never been anything other than kind to her, so she smiles back at him. Something about being able to say she's shared a drink with Ludo Bagman amuses her, and he's funny enough. "Maybe one drink would be just fine," she replies, taking his proffered arm.
They make forced small talk as they start down the path to Hogsmeade. About halfway down, their conversation dies out, and when Ludo clears his throat, Darcy knows what he's going to ask. "Darcy, you know I have to ask, just to be able to say I did," he says slowly. "Did you put your brother's name into the Goblet of Fire?"
"No, I didn't." The words come out colder than she intended them to be.
"All right. I believe you. Minerva and Severus were rather convinced of your innocence, as well."
"Thank you," Darcy rasps after a moment.
Ludo accompanies her to the post office first, where she ties her letter to the thin leg of a promising-looking eagle owl, leaving her money in a small box hanging on the front of the closed door that leads inside. Ludo then buys her a drink, as promised, at the bar of the Three Broomsticks. She admits to him that she's never sat at the bar before, and he laughs, telling Darcy stories about himself in this very bar in these very chairs. One drink soon turns into two, and Darcy is so grateful for Ludo's company that she pays for their second drinks, and their third drinks, their fourth drinks, and even their fifth drinks, by which time they're both flushed and still laughing weakly from Ludo's last stories.
Ludo looks at her for a long time then, as if seeing her clearly for the first time. His yellow hair flops across his flat forehead and into his eyes, bloodshot and droopy. "You're a sweet girl," he sighs, flashing her a tired smile. "You know, I truly am sorry for what happened at the Ministry over the summer. Rita Skeeter is a vulture, and most unwelcome in my department, but . . . no one is able to keep her from the Ministry, exactly. I've had my fair share of nasty articles published, and I've no doubt that your turn will soon come. It will only be for a short time, until Rita's attention is drawn somewhere else and people get bored of hearing about you."
"People have written cruel things about me before," Darcy admits weakly, shrugging her shoulders as if the prospect means nothing to her.
"The thing you have to remember is only you know the truth," Ludo says dramatically, slamming a fist on the bar top. "Even if Rita Skeeter puts out a nasty piece without a shred of truth to it—and you know that is exactly what Rita Skeeter does—what does it matter, truly? Listen, my dear, my darling girl . . . I'm going to tell you something."
Darcy nods, urging him to continue. He leans closer to her, smelling strongly of gin, and Ludo lowers his voice, taking a great, deep breath.
"Rita Skeeter will eat you alive if you let her, my dear, especially if you are unprepared. You are young and beautiful and likable . . . which makes you the exact opposite of her. People like us will never escape it, not with all the tabloids circulating Britain," he whispers, his breath hot on her face. For a brief moment, Ludo almost reminds Darcy of Professor Lockhart, telling her all his stupid quotes about fame and the fickles of it. "Fame always comes at a price, and some prices are much steeper than others. You, for instance . . ." He trails off, sitting up straighter again. "Do you remember much of what happened?"
She considers him for a long moment, unable to find a reason she shouldn't tell Ludo the honest truth. "Bits and pieces," she admits. "Sometimes I dream about it. I remember the green light of the Killing Curse, my mother's face and her last words, and my godfather finding me among the ruins of my home afterwards."
Ludo is quiet, his eyes wide with fear. Darcy keeps a straight face, the drink making her much more confident. "I had heard rumors last year, of course," he replies, "that your godfather is Sirius Black."
"Yes, he is," Darcy confirms, looking around the room and moving closer to Ludo. "He's innocent, Mr. Bagman. I know he is. I saw the proof of it."
Darcy can tell that Ludo is hesitant about answering, the doubt written plain across his face.
"You don't believe me," she smiles weakly. "It's all right. I know the truth."
They drink deeply in silence, sighing heavily.
"You'll help him, won't you?" Darcy asks him finally, when Darcy finishes her sixth drink. She rubs her pounding temples, gritting her teeth. "You'll help Harry?"
"Help Harry?" Ludo touches his chin, lost in thought for a minute. "I suppose there is much to be gained by helping Harry Potter through the tournament . . . the youngest champion of them all . . . mysterious circumstances, truly . . ." The last part he says quietly, speaking more to himself than Darcy. "We could make a good bit of money, Darcy. Who would think to wager on Harry when the other champions would be a more obvious bet? Think of the odds . . ."
Darcy frowns, but doesn't argue. If he's willing to help Harry, then she isn't going to stop him, even if his intentions aren't the truest. "You would be doing a good thing, Mr. Bagman," she adds quickly, "by helping Harry. He's just a boy, you know."
"Of course, of course," Ludo nods in agreement with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I promise you I will do what I can, you have my word. And remember . . . this is our little secret, yes?"
"Of course, Mr. Bagman."
Darcy smiles incredulously at him. She knows he's likely drunk, more so than Darcy, having been drinking only gin. But it's strange to see him submit so easily to her request, especially being one of the judges and one of the people who worked so hard on the project.
But she won't pretend she doesn't know why he has so readily accepted—Ludo Bagman favors her because she's the pretty sister to The Boy Who Lived, and she's always hated being thought of as only that. But to see Ludo accept the task of helping Harry and essentially cheat with barely a moment's hesitation excites her. All she had to do was laugh at his jokes and smile at him and occasionally entertain him with a joke or quick-witted response to a comment of his.
Yet part of her feels guilty and ashamed. It is cheating to help Harry, and the other judges are already suspicious enough. Darcy can definitely imagine Karkaroff and Madame Maxime to snoop around, looking for any reason to have Harry disqualified. And if they find out Ludo is helping helping Harry, would he tell them it was all her idea? She can't imagine Ludo is a very loyal or brave person judging by the few times she's met him. Would she be thrown out of Hogwarts for such a thing? Surely Dumbledore wouldn't let her be thrown out . . . just for helping Harry . . .
He's only a boy, Darcy reminds herself. He's my brother. I'm supposed to protect him.
"Our little secret," Darcy repeats, and Ludo smiles at her. "I should be heading back to the castle now, Mr. Bagman. It was so good to see you, and thank you for your company."
"And you, my dear. Come down for a drink anytime."
Darcy gets herself a bottle of firewhisky and staggers up the long path towards the castle. The drink affects her more than she thought it would, and twice she has to stop to vomit in the grass, clutching a stitch in her side.
When she does finally make it back up to her room, she falls onto her bed with her cloak still pinned around her shoulders. Drunk and exhausted, she falls asleep almost instantly, one arm hooked around the bottle.
"Oh, Darcy! You smell terrible! Have you been drinking?"
Darcy's eyes flutter open. Her body is sore and stiff from lying in the same position all night, and she's sweating slightly with her cloak still around her. Hermione is standing at her bedside with Harry peering over her shoulder at his sister. She clears her throat and lifts her head, tearing her cloak off and throwing it on the ground.
"Harry," Darcy croaks, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She gets to her feet and pulls Harry to her, hugging him tight. "Oh, Harry . . ."
"Were you cuddling with a bottle of firewhisky?" Harry mutters, accepting her hug grudgingly.
"We brought you breakfast, Darcy," Hermione says meekly.
The three of them move out into the parlor room, where Darcy sees Hermione has brought a loaded plateful of Darcy's favorite breakfast foods. She attacks it eagerly, sitting on the sofa in-between Harry and Hermione while they both speak into her ears.
"I told Harry he should write to Sirius," Hermione rambles, and Darcy shrugs with her mouth full, thinking it rather a good idea. "There are more important things right now than whether or not people believe you put your name, or Darcy put your name, into the Goblet of Fire."
"Whoever put your name into the Goblet of Fire meant to do you harm," Darcy adds, speech muffled by the toast in her mouth. "Which means there is someone dangerous inside of Hogwarts, and we have no idea who it is."
"Karkaroff would be my guess," Harry scoffs. "Seems like the type, doesn't he?"
"You think so?" Darcy asks, cocking an eyebrow. "Karkaroff seemed furious that you'd been entered. As was Madame Maxime and almost every other person in that room. I don't think he did it, but I also don't have a clue as to who it might be." She puts another piece of toast in her mouth.
"Fine, what about Snape?"
Darcy rolls her eyes at Harry. "If Dumbledore suspected Professor Snape, I'm sure he would have taken care to stick me with someone else. Besides, Snape thought it was me at first." She swallows the food in her mouth and sighs, remembering what Professor Snape had told her in regards to Karkaroff, but if it had been him, he would have to be a very good actor after the fit he'd thrown last night. "Listen, Ludo Bagman likes me. I think I could weasel some information out of him, but it seems too early for him to know anything. It only happened last night."
Hermione clears her throat quietly. "You don't think it . . . I mean, Ludo Bagman . . ."
"No way," Darcy counters, feeling very sure that Ludo Bagman would never do such a thing, despite not knowing him very well. "I would suspect Barty Crouch before Ludo, and—hang on a minute . . . where's Ron?"
Hermione glances anxiously at Harry across Darcy's lap, wringing her hands together. Harry looks down at his feet. "Ron is . . ." Hermione frowns and sighs heavily. "I told Harry that Ron's only jealous, but . . . well, Ron doesn't really believe you put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire, Darcy."
"What?" Darcy snaps, bristling. "He thinks I did it? Ronald Weasley? Ron thinks I put Harry's name forward?"
"No, I told you, he—he doesn't really believe that!" Hermione retorts shrilly. "He's jealous, Darcy. You know he wanted to be in the tournament, but he couldn't, and then Harry's name was called and now Ron has to compete with Harry having all the attention again, and—"
"All right, all right, I get it." Darcy glances sideways at Harry. "You have to tell someone. You have to tell Sirius. He would want to know."
She was going to write Sirius last night, despite Max already being out delivering a letter to him. But Darcy had remembered that she might be seeing him in a few weeks and she'd prefer to tell him in person. She wonders what Harry would say if she were to tell him now that she would be meeting with Sirius. Darcy imagines he'd be quite jealous and left out—she certainly would if Harry admitted he'd be seeing Sirius alone. She decides to say nothing at all, feeling guilty.
Harry narrows his eyes at her. "Did you tell Lupin?" he asks her, sounding irritated.
Darcy scoffs, avoiding his eyes. "No," she lies.
"You did, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't!"
All three of them jump when someone knocks on the door. Darcy looks at the door warily, getting to her feet and urging her friends to stay seated. Hermione and Harry cast her curious glances, watching her move towards the door over the back of the sofa. When she opens the door, there are three people standing opposite Darcy—Professor Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling; Gemma, a bouquet of pretty pink and purple flowers in her arms; and Lupin, smiling, but more serious than usual.
"You liar!" Harry shouts at her back at the mere sight of Lupin.
"Visitors, Darcy," Professor Dumbledore says from behind Lupin and Gemma. "I thought perhaps you would enjoy their company."
"Thank you, Professor," Darcy says, smiling at Gemma and Lupin.
"Oh, Darcy, you haven't even brushed your hair," Gemma says teasingly, letting herself in and kissing Darcy on the cheek. "These are for you," she adds, placing the flowers onto the nearby table and approaching Harry.
"I came as soon as your letter found me," Lupin explains, kissing her other cheek as he crosses the threshold. Dumbledore nods politely at her before leaving them all to talk, and Darcy closes the door as everyone greets each other. "Are you all right?"
Darcy forces herself to smile, nodding quickly. Her stomach churns with pleasure at having so many people she loves in her room, here to comfort she and her brother. Lupin shakes Harry's hand and gives Hermione a one-armed hug, takes a seat in the armchair and lights a fire while Gemma sits down on the arm of the sofa, beside Hermione. Darcy resumes her prior position, squeezing next to Harry.
"Madam Pomfrey wrote me last night explaining what happened," Gemma tells her, holding out her hands to warm them by the fire. "Isn't she sweet? Knowing I'd want to be with you?"
Madam Pomfrey's gesture is sweet and it surprises her, and Darcy feels a rush of affection for the matron. "That is sweet," is all that she can say to that.
"I meant to be here first thing, but Carla wandered upon me as I was just entering the school," Gemma continues, standing up and turning to warm her back. "She's not happy with you, you know."
Darcy and Harry exchange a quick glance. "Carla thinks I did it, doesn't she? After all the grief I gave her for wanting to enter the tournament?" Anger begins to rise in her again, but Darcy tries to keep her head.
Gemma chuckles. "That's likely why she thinks you did it," she shrugs. "To keep her from being the champion and all."
"But you believe that we had nothing to do with this, don't you?" Harry asks, looking desperately from Lupin to Gemma and back again. "Both of you, right?"
Gemma and Lupin look at each other for a moment. Darcy is under the impression they've already discussed she and Harry on their way up to her room. Gemma is the one to respond. "Do I think that Darcy, who has done nothing but dedicate her life to keeping you safe, charm a powerful object in order to put your name forth for a dangerous, life-threatening tournament?"
"Someone did put his name in, though," Darcy says, looking hopefully to Lupin. "But no one knows who, and Professor Dumbledore says he must compete and he said I can't help him through it."
"Oh, right, just like the other champions are going to get zero help?" Gemma scoffs, rolling her eyes and sitting back down on the arm of the sofa.
"You don't think they would cheat, do you?" Hermione asks.
"Yeah," Harry puts in fiercely. "Karkaroff and Madame Maxime aren't happy that Hogwarts has two champions. I bet they'll do anything to make sure their own champions win."
"So you're saying," Hermione frowns, glaring daggers at Harry. "Because the other schools may try to help their champions, it's all right for you to cheat, as well?"
Darcy thinks of Ludo Bagman, deciding she'll keep their deal a secret, as well. That's something that can wait until she's alone with Gemma and Lupin. "The other champions already have an advantage. They're older than Harry, and they've learned a lot more," Gemma tells Hermione, elbowing her in the arm. "It wouldn't really be cheating, helping Harry. It would be . . . well, consider it leveling the playing field."
"Everyone would suspect Darcy of helping Harry," Hermione protests, scrunching her nose at Gemma and crossing her arms over her chest. "You'll get her into trouble, even if she doesn't help."
"No one would say anything," Gemma counters. "Not when they run the risk of being caught helping their champions, too."
"This is serious, Gemma!" Hermione says, and Darcy can't help but to smile at this young girl arguing in her favor. "If Darcy gets caught helping Harry, she could be sent away from Hogwarts . . . or worse!"
A look of annoyance flashes across Gemma's face. "What are they going to do, Hermione? Send her to Azkaban for helping her little brother?"
At once, everyone looks slowly to Lupin, who has been unusually quiet. He notices quickly, clearing his throat and sitting up very straight in the chair. "What?" he asks, sighing and looking around at them all. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"
"You're the expert rule-breaker here," Darcy says, giving him a forced smile. "What does Moony have to say about all of this?"
They keep their eyes fixed on each other as Lupin rubs his face, scratching at the scruff on his face. "I think it unwise to test the limits of the Triwizard Tournament without knowing what the consequences may be," Lupin answers slowly. "We don't know what the contract entails exactly. If Dumbledore says Harry must compete, then so be it. But I think Hermione has a point . . . you'd be risking a lot by helping Harry, Darcy. You don't know what may come of this yet, and with everyone already thinking you had a hand in entering him . . ."
"But I didn't," Darcy growls.
To her surprise, Lupin laughs, dragging a hand through his hair. "You don't have to convince me, love. If you say you didn't do it, then I believe you."
Gemma groans. "Darcy, do you have something to drink? All this talk of danger is making my throat dry."
"There's a bottle on the bed."
"It's not even lunchtime," Hermione notes, checking her watch quickly as Gemma leaps towards the bedroom.
Gemma returns with the bottle, shrugging her shoulders and smiling wide. "Just be thankful I haven't lit up a cigarette in here. No doubt Darcy would kill me." She finds some glasses in the cupboards opposite the sofa, pouring three shots for herself, Darcy, and Lupin.
Gemma beckons them over, and Lupin stands, pulling Darcy to her feet by her hands. With a hand on the small of her back, Lupin leads her over to Gemma. The three of them are quiet, and they watch Harry get up and fumble in Darcy's small liquor cabinet for two bottles of butterbeer, returning to the sofa and Hermione. Gemma swirls the liquid in her glass, not taking her eyes off Harry.
"The story will break soon," she whispers. "This can't be kept a secret forever, and I'm sure that all eyes will turn to you, Darcy."
"I'll be all right," Darcy nods, remembering Ludo's words the previous night. "I'll be fine. I know the truth."
"And I'm very glad to hear that, love, but isn't anyone investigating?" Lupin asks softly. "Surely someone will look into this as more than a simple mistake?"
"Professor Dumbledore told me that they were going to look into it," Darcy answers, pursing her lips. "Do you think it's at all connected to the attack at the Quidditch World Cup?"
"I highly doubt any Death Eaters would be able to just waltz into Hogwarts," Lupin tells her, shaking his head.
Gemma looks at Lupin curiously for a moment, smiles, and then her eyes flick back to Darcy. "No matter," she says. "Good thing we know two Aurors hungry for a chance to prove themselves."
Darcy scoffs at the thought, but Lupin looks almost thoughtful. "Emily and Tonks?" Darcy laughs, burying the jealous feeling that rises in her. "I don't know if that's a good idea. I mean . . . what if they start poking around where they don't belong? Or what if they trod on someone's toes? They'll be chucked out of the Ministry, won't they?"
"Come on, my proud little Gryffindor," Gemma says, raising her eyebrows. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
Darcy rounds on Lupin, keeping her voice down, gripping her glass of firewhisky tight. "Are you're all right with this? You actually think this is a good idea?"
Lupin gives her an apologetic look, thinking carefully for a moment. "If they do find something and take it back to the Aurors, it may spark a real investigation within the Ministry." He puts a hand on Darcy's back. "Someone in this school is not your friend, and certainly not Harry's. The sooner we find out who that is, the easier I'll sleep at night."
"What would Dumbledore say?" Darcy snaps at the both of them.
"If I recall correctly, Dumbledore didn't have much to say when you were running around with some twelve-year-old kids looking for the Chamber of Secrets," Gemma reminds her, and Darcy can't even argue against it. "You think he'll really be upset we've set two talented witches on the job? If we tell him . . ."
Both Lupin and Gemma looks at Darcy, waiting for her answer. She looks at Harry and Hermione, talking quietly on the sofa, drinking their butterbeers. "Fine," she hisses. "I'll write to Emily later today."
Gemma claps Darcy on the shoulder. "You know, the three of us could take over the fucking world. The daughter of some Death Eaters, a werewolf, and Darcy Potter." She lifts her glass. "They'd never see us coming."
"Cheers," Lupin grins, lifting his glass, as well.
Darcy looks at Lupin, her stomach churning at the sight of his smile. Then she looks at Gemma, one thin eyebrow cocked and a small smirk playing at her lips. "I love you guys so much," she says breathlessly, so overcome with emotion that she starts to tear up. "Thank you so much for coming."
"We love you too, Darcy," Gemma finishes, eyeing the amber liquid in her glass. "Of course we'd come. Now . . . is it time to drink?"
"Yeah," Darcy chuckles. Lupin drapes his arm around her shoulders, pulling against his body. For the first time since learning of the Triwizard Tournament, Darcy feels at ease with the entire thing. She finally lifts her glass, leaning into Lupin's chest. "To us."