While I hadn't actually enjoyed spending so much of my birthday in the hospital wing, at least I wasn't in there for too long. A few healing spells and a night of observation, and I'd been hobbling around the castle in time to get most of my weekend. I'd used a fair amount of it to look up tactics for fighting magic-resistant creatures. While it had all worked out, I didn't really want to make getting saved by 11-year-olds a habit.
Between our talk and the fight, though, Hermione had made a lot of progress over the week. She'd seemed to be fitting in much better at meals and in the common room, she and Seamus had gotten along in my foci class on the next Thursday, and as we all gathered in the quidditch stands the next Saturday, I saw her crunched in with all the other first-years. She was sitting next to two of her roommates, and I overheard one telling her, "Really, your hair has amazing body, you just need to get it under control." She gestured at some magazine she was holding, "Have you heard about Sleekeazy?" I could barely tell Hermione was using all her willpower not to tell them it was stupid, and instead let them tell her all about whatever it was they wanted to do for her.
Meanwhile, I was further up the stands, where Percy had claimed the edge closest to the Ravenclaw contingent so Penny could sit with us and still support her house. That we were all hunched over books rather than paying much attention to the match hopefully didn't matter to the sports fans.
"I still think the patronus charm, while a useful spell to know, is the wrong direction for the project," asserted Percy.
"It's not that I disagree," explained the blonde Ravenclaw, "but until we understand it enough to cast it, we can't totally rule out that it might have some use. Of course, going practical it would also help to have a dementor to practice on…"
"I'll leave that to you two," I grumbled, opposite Penny with Percy in the middle. "I've had enough of them to last me for a while."
The two of them both looked about to argue, then remembered why I'd have a problem and held their tongues. After a minute, my roommate suggested, "We should reexamine our assumptions. We were not presented the task of a better way to deal with dementors, but a more general-purpose spell that can harm incorporeal, hostile spirits."
"And we do have Peeves to practice on," grinned Penny. "You're not wrong that a patronus is probably a dead end. As I understand it, it works due to their feeding habits, not their physical state. Though I really want to learn it for the bonus points on the OWLs. We need something that–"
She was cut off by the roar of the crowd as Amber Noel scored her first goal for Gryffindor. The head girl had agreed to play for the team as long as she didn't have to come to many practices, which Oliver had grudgingly agreed to when his other options were so limited. The second-year, Bell, had been assigned seeker when no one else was any good at it. My other roommate had been complaining about his difficulties for the last week as the match got closer and closer. I'd tried to nod appropriately sympathetically, but I thought the guy was still taking this way too seriously.
I passed my project partners the book I'd found as the cheering died down, and when Penny didn't seem to need to continue her thought, said, "I've been looking into ways to fight magic-resistant creatures…"
"To be ready for the next troll?" Percy asked, quirking an eyebrow in the closest he usually came to showing he was trying to make a joke. It was progress, at least. He hadn't really processed well that he'd lost control of so many of the first-years, including his brother, and it had come so close to tragedy. I'd had to stop him twice from chewing Ron out about it. I was working on getting him to tell the boy he was impressed by his bravery, but to get an adult the next time. For such a big and loving family, the Weasleys seemed determined to be mad at each other as much as possible.
"Pretty much," I agreed. "You're sure it's unusual to encounter horrible monsters in the castle instead of just out in the forest?" Hermione seemed to have forgotten that the troll had her sweater and was making a beeline for her, but I hadn't. Maybe it just found it discarded somewhere, but I thought it was more likely that someone had brought it into the castle and put it on the scent. But who would even want to murder a first-year with no political connections?
Nobody took me up on my barb, but after a moment of flipping through the book, Penny suggested, "That's a thought. Maybe we can look at the concepts of magic resistance and incorporeality in general."
Picking up on what she was saying, Percy excitedly added, "Brilliant! What is it about troll skin that causes it to resist magic? Why does magic energy have such a hard time making contact with a spectral form?"
Loud booing suddenly rocked our side of the stands followed by cheering from the other as the twins' friend Lee announced, "And Flint with a blatant foul of Spinnet to take the quaffle and score a goal. But Madam Hooch didn't see it so it doesn't count, I guess."
With the Slytherin stands cheering, I looked over and noticed Draco Malfoy sitting between his parents, who I'd seen before at the train. They seemed to be looking my way, and Draco talked and gestured toward me as their stands settled down. Maybe what I'd noticed was that I was being talked about. I made eye contact across the pitch and waved at the family. I'd kind of meant it sarcastically, in a "it's not polite to talk about people" way, but Draco waved back and his father nodded.
The game eventually ended close on goals but the Slytherin's much older seeker outracing Bell on her first attempt at the job. I still couldn't figure out why an entire sport hinged so much on one team member, but I was still making appropriately-consoling noises to Oliver the next morning at breakfast when a large and important-looking owl dropped off a fancy-looking letter for me.
Mr. Dresden,
My son suggested I might have some information you'd be interested in. I have my own curiosity about you, and would be pleased to invite you to a lunch conversation at your next Hogsmeade weekend. Noon at the Three Broomsticks?
Lucius Malfoy
Oliver, who I'd thought was distracted by his latest recounting of Flint's unpunished foul was instead reading over my shoulder. "Be careful with that one," he said, a little too loudly, "the Malfoys are too rich and too dangerous."
I shrugged, "I mentioned to Draco that my mother was in his house, and he thought his parents might be able to tell me something about her."
Percy, tagged into the conversation by Oliver's sharing it with everyone nearby, leaned across the table to read the letter upside-down. Still not having given up his head for politics, he argued, "Malfoy is a powerful patron, if one is willing to to 'play quidditch' as they say." Of course, the Weasley prefect made air quotes with his fingers. "He has the ear of the minister and the school board, and those are just what everyone knows about."
"And he was a death eater," Oliver added, matter-of-factly.
The redhead looked about to argue, but then nodded to concede the point. "Legally, he was found to have been under the imperius curse. But admittedly, his voice is prominent one for the purebloods and my father believes he bought his way out of scrutiny." He paused to fix me with a glare, "Yet, a wealthy patron is sometimes worth a bit of moral equivocation for those without abundant means."
"Basically Nazis, though, right?" butted in Denbright, one of the sixth-year boys sitting nearby. I assumed he wasn't a pureblood himself. It was interesting to see that most of the nearby purebloods didn't seem to even know what a Nazi was.
Percy, at least, seemed to get it, because he admitted, "I do find it interesting that he has an interest in a half-blood. Again, according to my father, he has called my family blood traitors. I thought he tried to associate only with other politically-aligned purebloods."
"More reason to find out why he's so willing to talk to me," I argued. I wasn't exactly going to explain that my godmother was his sister-in-law, and that probably went a long way.
"Just be careful," suggested Oliver. "We'll set up in the inn ourselves, so we can help if you get into trouble."
While I was worried that brash friends that were waiting to start an argument were more likely to get me into trouble, I appreciated the sentiment. "Sounds good to me." Deliberately changing the subject, I asked, "Now explain to me again why the scores didn't pull apart like they were supposed to before the snitch showed up…"
