Chapter Twelve
The Sacking of Albus Dumbledore
0o0
The easter holidays arrived, ushering in a bout of wet weather that turned the snow still blanketing the grounds into an icy soup. Inside the castle, without any classes to attend, Astoria and Theo attempted to choose their new subjects for third year over a thermos of coffee. From where they were sitting—in an alcove near the astronomy tower—the storm seemed to rattle the windows with a greater strength.
"Dunno about divination," said Theo, his long nose almost touching the list of new subjects. Outside, rain continued to beat at the windows despondently. "Isn't that all parlor tricks? Tea leaves and palm lines?"
"Not if you're a Seer," Astoria pointed out, rubbing the arms of the faded golden armchair she was sitting in, wondering vaguely how long it had been since anyone else had sat in it. By the look of things, it had been years since anybody else had used this distant, wind swept nook for studying and there were water rings on the small round table they had piled their leaflets on that no house-elf had even attempted to remove.
"What do you reckon would happen if I opened that?" asked Theo, nodding toward the battered iron window latch that was holding the slanting rain out. "I could probably smoke up here and no one would know. This is practically the belfry."
"I think we'd both end up drenched and plastered with damp ash," admitted Astoria, hoping that Theodore would not attempt no such thing. As a precaution, she lifted her feet up and sat on them for warmth.
The space was small and cramped but Astoria could already tell it would become a regular hideout of Theo's. It was everything that he was: moody, remote and slightly careworn. The smells of damp wood and old fabric reminded Astoria of an interesting childhood attic hideaway, and on the rare occasion that Astoria had borrowed an article of Theodore's clothing, his sweaters had a tendency to do the same thing.
"What about Arithmancy, then?" pressed Theo, giving up on the idea of tampering with the window. "That's numbers. It's properly studious. No one will say it's a soft option."
"Aunt Belladonna wants me to take it," Astoria admitted, thinking of the last letter she had received from home. "It was the only subject she made any comment on. I suppose it'll be easier if I just sign up for it without a fight.
"Alright," said Theo, making a check. "I'll take it with you. It sounds alright."
"We should do Care of Magical Creatures," suggested Astoria, this time with slightly more excitement.
"That's Kettleburn, isn't it?" asked Theo, furrowing his brow. "I don't know how much I like the fact that he's only got about three fingers left. Sounds like we'd be risking limbs."
"Exactly!" Astoria agreed. "It's bound to be interesting!."
Theo made a face and muttered something about 'Gryffindors' but checked off Care of Magical Creatures on his parchment anyway. "Fine, there's loads of rare creatures that I wouldn't mind learning about but if I sign up for this, you have to sign up for Ancient Runes with me."
"Ancient Runes?" asked Astoria, pulling the sheet towards her. "Sure, I don't see why not. It's probably a lot of translating—that's the sort of thing I'm actually good at."
"That's us full then," said Theo.
Neither of them had even mentioned Muggle Studies, preferring to skirt around this listing rather than admit that both of their families would call it an unnecessary, soft, or even ridiculous option.
Astoria stared out of the window at the rain-soaked landscape; a blur of watery brown and green. Out on the quidditch pitch, she could just make out several flying black dots braving the storm.
"I bet that's Wood," said Astoria, taking a small sip of coffee from the thermos lid.
"Probably," Theo agreed, "but I don't see what good practicing will do if his players can't see three inches in front of their faces."
The next match was scheduled for Saturday but Fred and George, busy working on their enchanted cloaks, did not seem particularly eager to take any bets.
"Save the gambling for the final," George had suggested the night before. "People will bet more with the cup in the mix."
This meant that Astoria would be free to enjoy the upcoming match as an impartial agent—something she had not had the pleasure of doing since her first year.
"I wrote dad last week," said Theo, interrupting her thoughts. His was voice offhand but steady, filled with determination. "I asked him what he thought of the Chamber of Secrets business."
Astoria did not turn away from the window but inclined her head toward him eagerly.
"You mean like advice?" Astoria asked. "'Keep your head down' sort of stuff or…"
"My dad's a bit older than Lucius," admitted Theo, "and honestly, I was sick of getting all my information through Draco."
"So what did he say?" said Astoria, surprised that Theo had not thought to ask his father sooner, considering Mr. Nott's knowledge about the strange and the supernatural.
"Some old folk tale stuff, which was interesting but…" Theo lowered his voice, "do you remember that thing you said about Hagrid. The thing I brushed off?"
"Yeah," said Astoria, suddenly several degrees chillier.
"Well, Hagrid and my dad are about the same age, maybe only a year apart," explained Theodore. "Dad says that Hagrid was expelled the same year the Chamber was last opened."
Astoria gaped.
"I know," frowned Theo, "but the monster killed someone. You would think that the Heir would have been imprisoned, wouldn't you?"
"Not if it was an accident or a mistake!" Astoria spewed exasperatedly. "Maybe Dumbledore felt bad for Hagrid!"
"Well, if that's true, then Dumbledore knows it's Hagrid now! So why hasn't he done anything?" demanded Theo.
This idea calmed Astoria slightly. Dumbledore might be known for his questionable staff appointments, but Astoria did not really believe that he would allow Hagrid to petrify students a second time around.
"Either Dumbledore's done something in private to check Hagrid, and that's why the attacks have stopped," continued Theo, "or else Hagrid accidentally taught someone else how to open the Chamber —someone Dumbledore wouldn't dare expel. Somebody like Harry Potter."
"You're being paranoid," decided Astoria. "How could anyone 'accidentally' go on a murderous rampage?"
0o0
Astoria maintained this sense of fickle hope until Saturday when, walking down to the quidditch pitch with Daphne, she was cut off by a throng of murmuring students heading in the wrong direction.
"What's wrong?" asked Daphne, displaying her bloodhound's alertness to trouble. "Do you think the stands are full?"
"Maybe," murmured Astoria doubtfully, searching the crowd for a face that she recognized. In truth, there was something alarming about so much dark muttering and she doubted it had to do with a full-stadium. Fred and George were supposed to be playing in the match, however, and Theodore was probably in the library, safely slumbering beneath a pile of old newspapers.
Then, under a sixth year boy's elbow, Astoria caught a glimpse of Professor Mcgonagall that did away with Daphne's mundane theory altogether. Astoria could not remember ever seeing her look so frantic; clutching a purple megaphone, several long locks of hair had sprung loose from Professor Mcgonagall's military-inspired bun. The effect was slightly panic inducing.
"Come on," said Astoria, now certain that something very bad had happened.
She pulled on her sister's elbow but Daphne dug her feet into the grass, confused. "What's going on?" she demanded, her eyes round and un-grasping as she tripped over a dent in the lawn.
"Another attack, obviously," drawled a snide, recognizable voice. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were loitering near the back of the stands. All three of them looked amused and perfectly unconcerned.
"How do you know?" demanded Astoria coldly, prickling with a rarely employed sense of injustice. It was one thing to be a pure-blood and to have a certain unworried view about the Chamber of Secrets—this she could have tolerated. But surely was another thing entirely to take such tremendous pleasure in the misery of others?
"Obvious, isn't it?" returned Malfoy lazily, shooting Mcgonagall a very condescending look. "What else would they cancel a quidditch match for? Just when everyone was starting to relax, some mudblood's been attacked."
Daphne looked to Astoria, hoping for some kind of confirmation. Astoria, for her part however, could not tear her eyes off of Malfoy.
Perhaps it was because she too had thought that they had seen the last off the attacks, but blood was pounding in her ears. Something about the easy carelessness of Draco's features struck her as nearly criminal. All of a sudden, Astoria was fighting a strange and unexpected desire to wrestle Draco to the ground and smack him all over his pale face. Surely that would be enough to force some concern into him?
"What?" asked Malfoy quickly, his smirk failing a little under her intense gaze.
"Nothing," Astoria bit back tightly, wisely deciding to avoid a fist fight with Lucius Malfoy's son.
"Hah!" cried Malfoy in breathless delight, pointing toward Mcgonagall.
Unwittingly, Astoria's eyes turned to follow his. Professor Mcgonagall had pulled Harry Potter away form the rest of the Gryffindor team; Astoria watched as Harry's mouth drooped with shock and began to register fear.
"Do you think that means it was Granger?" asked Draco gleefully. Crabbe and Goyle both guffawed sycophantically.
This new twist in an already unpleasant story was nearly enough to make Astoria feel sick. She had never been great friends with Hermione, but they had shared a dormitory together, had woken to the sound of her alarm clock for years. What if she was dead? And for what? Simply because her parents were muggles? This seemed not just unnecessary, but downright cruel.
A wetly unpleasant breeze stirred Astoria's hair, but she hardly noticed; her limbs were numb with revelation.
Whether or not pure-bloods were superior to muggle-borns (a puzzle Astoria had never quite been able to bring herself to form a solid opinion on) did not entirely matter. Perhaps being a pure-blood did have its advantages, but didn't that make even more unacceptable to hurt others simply because they were weaker? Draco might be able to remove himself from the truth of this enough to find the idea of Hermione being attacked funny, but Astoria could not, and she was done listening to him.
"Come on, Daphne," said Astoria stiffly, certain that she was going to do or say something that she would regret if she did not move.
Malfoy peered warily at her out of the corner of his eye, clearly irritated by her attitude.
"What's with you two?" he sneered, but Daphne seemed almost as confused by Astoria's sudden coldness as he did.
"This is insanity!" Astoria snapped, feeling her inner turmoil seeking a crack through which to vent itself. "You think it's funny that a monster is slowly picking off children? We'll, I've had enough!"
"You've had enough?" repeated Daphne in a skeptical voice.
"Yeah," Astoria snarled, letting go of her sister's arm. "I've had enough. You stay here with Malfoy and plot the rise of the pure-blood race if you want, but I'm out!"
Malfoy blinked and a dull flush crept into his face.
"Astoria!" Daphne called hastily after her, trying to be reasonable. But Astoria had already turned around and was marching back up the wet lawn. A squelching sound behind her warned Astoria that Daphne was attempting to follow her, so she picked up her pace.
"What are you going to do?" breathed Malfoy, his tone angry and sarcastic. "Join forces with Peter Weasley and hunt the monster down yourself?"
Astoria turned, surprised to find that Daphne was still standing at the foot of the hill with Crabbe and Goyle, flabbergasted by her outburst. It was Draco who was chasing her.
"Stop following me!" snapped Astoria. "It's none of your business!"
"Yeah?" insisted Malfoy with a red-faced scowl. "Well, that monster probably eats blood traitors just as willingly as mudbloods! Just so you know!"
"Well bully for the monster!" snapped Astoria, sounding much less concerned by this notion than she actually felt. "Now run off and tell all of your Slytherin mates to start gunning for me."
They had reached the steps. With a swiftness of foot that her sister never would have been able to manage, Draco blocked her from the door with his shoulder.
"Have you literally lost your mind?" he sneered, his eyes nearly slits of annoyance.
"No," Astoria spat back savagely, attempting to push past him.
"What, this is some kind of Gryffindor urge to get eaten?" demanded Malfoy, becoming more confused and disgusted by the second. "Why do you care about Granger? You're not even friends with her!"
"Get out of my way, Draco!" said Astoria dangerously.
Astoria was no longer entirely sure why she was so angry, but she was certain it was a mixture of the way that Draco had sneered at Mcgonagall and the way that he was blocking her now, impeding her ability to escape into the castle with his shoulder. If he didn't move soon, she was going to trample him.
Draco seemed to spot a trace of this emotion on Astoria's face because he took a small, self-preserving step backward.
"You're a pureblood, Astoria!" he insisted hotly. "Just keep your nose out of it. You don't even care, you're just looking for a reason to get into trouble so you can annoy your aunt."
Astoria pushed Draco as hard as she could. Stunned and unprepared, Draco stumbled on the doorstep but managed to keep his feet.
Still seething, Astoria pushed him again, his comment about Belladonna driving her past the point of usual wrath. This time Draco managed to bring his arm up to block her but not so fast that Astoria's blow wasn't stronger. When Astoria raised a hand to properly slap him, he finally staggered backwards and out of reach.
"Are you insane?" Malfoy stammered, his face so red and surprised that for a moment he forgot to look offended. Instead, he looked rather like a little boy who had just been hit by his mother for no reason.
Astoria glared at him, surprised and appalled to find that Draco's look of flinching shame only seemed to feed her monstrous anger rather than soothe it.
"Get out of the way, then!" she snapped.
"Fine," Draco muttered at last, moving aside. His hand jerked up to the place Astoria's fingers had grazed, his face betraying a look of something close to mortification.
Astoria stormed past. The second she was out of his sight, she began to run.
It was obvious before she even reached the tower that hitting Draco had been mistake. In fact, a horrible sense of dread seemed to be warning her that it was a mistake she might be forced to pay for. Still, her anger had not yet run its course and she was quickly able to come to her own defense.
She would not have hit him if he had just moved. Why had he continued to stand there when she was so clearly on the verge of murdering him?
Astoria paused to catch her breath when she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Between gasps, she slowly became aware of the fact that she had been in a great rush to get to her common room that she had not paused to think what she would do when she got there. Aimless and trapped in a loop of her own anger, Astoria let herself in and sunk into a seat by the fire.
She had no solid plan, but it seemed to Astoria that Harry Potter had spent a good chunk of the year trying to hunt the Heir of Slytherin down. Perhaps she should mention her suspicions about Hagrid again, just in case?
0o0
"I can't believe this," murmured Fred Weasley.
The last rays of bleak sunlight were beginning to set. The twins were still in their quidditch robes, and there was mud all over the carpet at their feet.
"Hermione's been petrified and we're out of the running for the cup," George joined in somberly.
"At least Hermione's alive," added Astoria. "It's incredible, when you think about it. Slytherin's monster wants to kill its victims not stun them."
"I hadn't thought of it that way before," said George tensely, a shadow passing over his face. "Do you think it's making whoever's behind these attacks angry? That he hasn't managed to kill anybody yet, I mean?"
"Probably," said Astoria truthfully, thinking of how loudly and stupidly she had insisted her scorn for the Heir of Slytherin in front of Malfoy earlier: That monster probably eats blood traitors just as willingly as mudbloods.
Astoria shivered. Surely Draco had complained at length about her speech in his own common room. She was probably an official enemy of the Heir and she hadn't even had a chance to talk to Harry yet.
The portrait hole opened. Harry and Ron stepped through, looking ashen faced. The twins motioned toward them eagerly.
"Well," said Ron heavily, sitting down on a vacant foot rest, "we saw her."
"How does she look?" asked Fred, brushing a bit of lint off of his brother's shirt in a more tender way than Astoria was used to seeing him do.
"Not good," said Ron hollowly. "All cold and stoney like the rest of them. The funny thing is, she had just had a break through about the Chamber before the game. She rushed off for the library and didn't tell us. The next thing we know, she's been petrified. It's like the Heir knew that she was onto him or something..."
"It wasn't just Hermione," said Harry, for some reason looking at Percy out of the corner of his eye. "It was that Ravenclaw prefect, as well. Penelope."
"Poor Perce," murmured Fred, glancing at his older brother, who really did look pale and nervous. "Must be hard on him. I reckon he thought being a prefect made him immortal."
"Come on," said George, clapping his brother on the back. "Let's go cheer him up."
Both twins heaved themselves out of their seats, determined. Harry and Ron watched as the twins crossed over to Percy, who was sitting by himself near the fire.
"Bed, then?" suggested Ron weakly but Astoria would not let Harry leave before she had her say. If she had basically declared herself against the monster that morning, she wanted to make it count. Particularly if she really did end up eaten for it.
"Harry, do you remember that thing we were talking about the other night at dinner?" Astoria asked, catching Harry's eye awkwardly as he made to stand.
"Er, yeah," said Harry, dropping back into his seat. "You mean about Hagrid?"
Ron paused, looking slightly harassed. This seemed to be his reaction to most females: a frustrated sense of intrusion followed by annoyance.
"Well, I was talking to Theodore the other day," Astoria went on, "and he said that his dad told him Hagrid was expelled the same year the Chamber of Secrets was opened."
"Theodore?" repeated Ron snottily. "You mean that weird Nott boy?"
"Yes," said Astoria, not even bothering to look at Ron. "I'm not saying it's definitely Hagrid. I just think that if you're looking for clues, Hagrid obviously knows something. Even if he was framed last time."
Harry seemed to consider this thoughtfully. Ron sighed, eyeing direction of his dormitory staircase with rude longing.
"Yeah," muttered Harry at last. "I think you're right. I was really hoping we wouldn't have to talk to him about it, but it's starting to look like we've got to."
"When?" asked Astoria. "You can't do it during the day—he's got work. Plus, you and I might not be the only ones who know that Hagrid's got a secret."
"Yeah," agreed Harry. "We'll have to go at night."
"We could use one of Fred and George's enchanted cloaks?" Astoria suggested. "They become visible again after a few hours, but it might be enough time to get us down to his house and then back up to the castle."
"We won't need those," said Harry confidently.
"And who say's you're coming?" added Ron hotly.
Astoria turned toward Harry, suddenly unsure of herself.
"She can come," said Harry hastily, not wishing to witness a fight. "She tried to get me to go see Hagrid weeks ago. Lets just meet in the entrance hall tomorrow night. Do you think you can manage that?"
"What time?" asked Astoria, hating the entire plot, but not quite willing to look like a fair-weather Gryffindor in order to avoid it.
"Let's say at about eleven," said Harry. "The halls will be empty by then."
"That's after hours," Astoria pointed out doubtfully. "The teachers'll be on high alert after today."
"Stay in the tower then," snapped Ron.
"No," said Astoria waspishly. "I'll be there. It might take me a minute though, so don't leave without me."
0o0
By the next morning however, it was beginning to become clear just how difficult crossing the castle would be, especially after dark.
The school had changed overnight. Filch was no longer sulking about the second floor corridor, but properly patrolling the halls again. Students were now being ushered from class to class by a chaperoning teacher and all free time had been limited to the library and house common rooms.
"This is like a fascist regime," said Theo mournfully at lunch. "I was going to go back to that nook near the divination tower this afternoon. Now I'm stuck in the dungeons. Where are you going?"
Astoria had made to edge around him and continue on to the Gryffindor table, but Theo was scowling at her so angrily that she paused.
"Are you not allowed to sit with me anymore?" Theodore demanded. "The teacher's say you have to sit in your corner?"
"No," frowned Astoria, slightly taken aback. "I never eat lunch with you."
"Our freedom is under attack, Astoria," spat Theo spitefully. "Rebel with me."
Astoria's eyes slid nervously down the benches toward Draco, but she sat anyway.
"Our freedom is only under attack because one of the students is trying to kill people," Astoria reminded him tightly.
"Not all of the people," countered Theodore, displaying a certain level of annoyance. "I'm a pure-blood. Nobody is attacking me and I want to study where it's ventilated and damp!"
Astoria rolled her eyes and helped herself to a bowl of lentil soup, keeping her sight trained carefully on Theo. "Just study where you want, if you're so serious about it."
"I would but I can't get caught in the hallways," said Theo. "I don't want everybody thinking I'm the Heir."
"Then stop complaining," insisted Astoria, trying to ignore the furtive looks that Draco was giving her out of the corner of his eye. Surely he would not stand up and accuse her of blood traitorousness in front of the watchful Slytherin lunch crew?
Draco grabbed Crabbe by the shirt front and leaned close enough to whisper something unpleasant to him.
"Why do you keep watching Malfoy?" asked Theo, his eyes following hers stealthy.
"I'm not," Astoria insisted, blushing slightly.
"He's watching you," said Theo and there was a trace of annoyance in his voice. "Why does he keep looking over here?"
"Dunno," said Astoria vaguely before adding, "is he glaring?"
"No," said Theo, unhappily. "He looks sulky and resentful, though. Do I even want to know?"
"There's nothing to know," said Astoria, taking far longer than was necessary to swallow her soup. "I got into a fight with him yesterday."
"About what?" asked Theo, his face still suspicious and displeased.
"Nothing," said Astoria tightly. "Keep your voice down and stop looking over at him!"
"Ill stop looking if you tell me why he looks so weird," insisted Theo, attempting to strike a bargain.
"Fine," Astoria hastily hissed. Malfoy stood up and Crabbe and Goyle followed suit. Astoria's whole body relaxed when they left the hall, heedless to the teaches new rule about supervision in the corridors.
"You just went pale," observed Theo, staring at her unkindly.
"I ran into Draco outside the quidditch pitch yesterday and told him off for being so gleeful about all the attacks," said Astoria. "Everyone had just found out about Hermione, and I was in a foul temper."
"So what?" said Theo. "You offended him? His majesty can deal with it."
"Well, I didn't just leave it there," said Astoria uncomfortably. "I told him I thought the Chamber of Secrets was ridiculous and that I was firmly against the Heir for harassing the populace."
Theo's mouth became a weary line, reminding her forcibly of Snape. "How very Gryffindor-ish of you."
It took all of Astoria's love of shocking people to go on.
"Obviously he wasn't pleased and he wouldn't get out of my way," said Astoria bitterly, "so I hit him."
"You hit on him?" cried Theo, his voice thick with disgust.
"No," argued Astoria flatly. "I hit him. As in literally. Several times and then I sort of slapped him once in the face."
Astoria mimed a wild slapping gesture.
Theo sat back in his chair, thoroughly deflated. For a moment, Astoria was certain that he would disown her for such a bout of stupidity. Then, to her shock, he began to laugh. Slowly at first and then loudly.
"What are you laughing at?" Astoria hissed, smacking him in the arm. "It's not funny! The more I think about it the more obvious it is that I shouldn't have done it! Now he's going to tell everybody what I said and I'll end up monster bait."
Theo wiped tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. "He's not going to tell anybody that you hit him, Greengrass, you silly little girl."
Astoria didn't know whether to be more offended or surprised. "Of course he will!" Astoria pressed. "I was so insulting."
"Exactly," Theo choked. "You think he's going to tell Marcus Flint that he was beaten up by the prettiest girl in his year? A Gryffindor, too? Your secret's safe, he'll take it with him to his grave."
Astoria had not thought of things this way. Now that Theodore suggested it, however, it seemed promisingly possible.
"So you don't think everyone knows?" Astoria asked, glancing down the row toward Miles Bletchley, who was playing table tennis with a balled up piece of parchment.
"Nobody knows," said Theo emphatically. "I'd bet my life on it."
"Then what was he whispering to Crabbe just now?" asked Astoria stubbornly.
"I don't know," choked Theo, still hiccuping slightly. "Anything he could think of that would get him out of the hall? Merlin! You actually slapped his face? Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?"
"I only sort of slapped him," Astoria backtracked. "I'd already pushed him twice, so at that point he was ducking and I only clipped him."
Theo collapsed into a new fit of laughter. "What did he do? Did he threaten to curse you?"
"No," said Astoria, starting to feel a little badly herself. "He just stood there looking stunned. Then muttered something at me, so I left."
"He let you walk away?" asked Theo, his smile faltering. "I thought for sure he must have made a run for it like a little Nancy. Especially without Crabbe or Goyle there."
"No," confirmed Astoria. "I'm the villain of this piece. I smacked him and then left him there."
Theo wiped his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his grin. "Well, I hate to say this but he's not going to let the matter go."
"I thought you said he'd keep quiet?" hissed Astoria.
"Yeah, he'll keep quiet," Theodore assured her, "but he'll be resentful and angry. Make no mistake, he'll probably try to get back at you some other way."
"You don't think he'll just forget about it?" asked Astoria.
"No," scoffed Theo, dismissing this theory with a quirk of his head. "Malfoy's resentful by nature and he clings to a grudge like an angry little kid. Look at the way he is with Potter. And that's all because Potter wouldn't be his friend on the train in first year!"
"Great, that's just what I need—a grudge," muttered Astoria darkly. "Do you think I should apologize?"
"What would you even say?" demanded Theo. "Sorry I called you a racist and then hit you?"
"I don't know," Astoria cringed. "I could probably just tell him that I was being unreasonable—he's not very smart about girls."
"Yeah, well," said Theo, tossing his napkin onto his plate, "good luck with that. Personally, I expect you'll be enemies from here on out."
Astoria didn't like the way Theo smiled at this idea any better than she liked the sentiment: as though the idea of Astoria and Draco's enmity promised some kind of relief for him. Truthfully, she herself felt rather the opposite. Granted, she was tired of listening to Draco idolize the Heir of Slytherin, but she was not yet committed to becoming his sworn enemy.
0o0
Astoria's nerves, which had been properly frazzled since the day before, only continued to stretch themselves thinner with anticipation of sneaking across the castle by moonlight. The grave expression on Professor Flitwick's face as he chaperoned them to their last period History of Magic class did nothing to assuage her mounting tension.
"Hey," whispered Harry in a low voice as they lined up outside of class.
"Hey," returned Astoria, her mouth very dry.
"Are you sure you want to come with us tonight?"
"Yes," Astoria reassured him, trying not to sound positively out of breath at the thought.
"Ok, well, lets meet at ten o'clock instead," said Harry. His eyes moved toward the front of the line nervously. "I don't think the teachers will be patrolling the halls as diligently if we go earlier."
"Yeah, ok," Astoria agreed, loathing the idea that her potential expulsion had been moved up an hour.
Ron gave Harry a sudden warning shove. Draco Malfoy had been exciting the History of Magic classroom, but he had frozen at the sight of the three of them whispering. Harry stopped talking and Malfoy continued walking, but not without shooting them a look of knowing hatefulness.
"How much did he hear?" asked Astoria urgently.
"Dunno," said Ron with a crease between his eyes. "Enough by the look of it."
"Maybe I shouldn't come," said Astoria, clutching her notebook anxiously. It would be bad enough if Harry and Ron were caught, but adding Malfoy into the mix spelled a real fiasco.
"Chickening out, are you?" asked Ron.
Astoria hesitated, unable to think of way to express her feeling of foreboding about the whole affair without sounding ridiculous or full of herself. Truthfully, she wasn't sure if mattered how much Malfoy had heard—surely he must have some idea of what Astoria was attempting to do and was likely to be bitter about it.
"I'm not chickening out," insisted Astoria at last, fighting against every warning sign that her body knew how to send her.
"See you in the entrance hall at ten, then," said Ron as the line began to shuffle forward.
Astoria skipped dinner that evening because she was too tense to eat. This meant that she could not go to common room either, mostly because she suspected that leaving it again without anyone noticing was nearly impossible. Instead, Astoria followed her feet to the nook that she and Theodore had discovered by the divination tower.
It was dark and suitably dingy enough to suit Astoria's mood there. She curled up in an armchair and pulled her legs close to her chest, watching as the sun slowly set on the other side of the leaded window. Shadows began to creep across the grounds. Finally, at eight thirty, Astoria lit a tiny lumos against the gathering blackness that surrounded her.
When the moon began to rise at a quarter past nine, she stood up and extinguished her wand, prepared for her task at last. Nothing could be worse then continuing on by herself in such treacherously silent solitude.
She made it down three flights of stairs before she heard her first noise: a faint, tinny banging coming from the corridor in front of her. Creeping to the end of the hall, she soon discovered Peeves stuffing gum inside a knight's helmut.
Thankful to know where the poltergeist was, Astoria doubled back and slipped down a long dark passageway hidden behind a tapestry.
She was mentally congratulating herself on her own stealthiness when the sound of another person, this time walking briskly down the corridor in her direction, made her freeze. Still behind the tapestry, Astoria was hidden from view only as long as this approaching stranger did not decide to use the shortcut she was occupying.
Her pulse hammered itself out against the stone behind her as she discerned the sound of Filch's characteristic wheezing draw nearer. When his panting drew level with the tapestry, Astoria closed her eyes. And then—miracle of miracles!—Filch continued past her, rustling the bottom of the tapestry.
She held still for several stunned and breathless seconds, waiting for him to clear the hallway before bounding out from behind the tapestry. Immediately, she ran headlong into another human being with enough force to make her teeth rattle.
"What the—?" hissed a stunned, unhappy voice.
Astoria didn't even need to look to know who it was she had just rammed into. It was Draco Malfoy and, to Astoria's mounting terror, Filch's wheezing was still audible—perhaps less than a hallway removed.
Draco's sneer slipped off of his face before returning with double the original vengeance. His eyes darted in the direction of Filch's muttering voice, perhaps calculating how far the caretaker had managed to slip to away.
"Don't!" Astoria begged, still listening to Filch's lurching walk, made desperate by the idea of Draco calling him back again.
"Seriously?" Draco hissed, moved to distraction.
"What?" Astoria gasped, unsure what he was even referring to.
"You're trying to sneak out with them?" Draco sneered.
"With who?" asked Astoria quickly.
"With Potter!" Malfoy spat cruelly. "Do you think I'm stupid? I saw you two whispering together."
"I wasn't whispering," Astoria insisted, lying through her teeth.
What if they did worse than expel her? What if they suspected that Astoria was the Heir of Slytherin and took her someplace for questioning?
"Don't, Draco. Please don't!" she squawked manically, surprising even herself.
"Don't what?" Draco breathed, his gaze flicking softly back over his shoulder. "Call Filch back? Why shouldn't I?"
"Because you'll get in trouble as well," shot Astoria, hoping against hope that Draco did not have a legitimate reason to be in the hallway.
"No I won't," Draco jeered. "I was just with Filch. My father will be on the grounds tonight and I wanted to send him a message."
Draco's eyes were like twin chips of unpredictable cruelty, but he still had not called Filch back. Perhaps he had only been waiting for her to give him a reason not to, however, because when Astoria had nothing left to say to defend herself, he sneered nastily and turned his head as if to shout.
Losing her head completely, Astoria grabbed the front of his shirt and attempted to pull him down the opposite stretch of corridor.
What was it Tracey had said over Christmas break about Draco? I think if you were to change your tune and be nice to him for a change, he'd start singing a whole different song. Astoria had no idea what she was doing, but she sensed that even a poor attempt at channeling whatever intensity she sometimes felt directed at her from Draco would be better than remaining silent.
"Please don't," Astoria whispered, employing a voice that was much softer and more fragile then she was used to using around him. Draco paused, unnerved by her change of tone. "I wasn't sneaking around. I'll go back to bed. Please don't call Filch."
If only she hadn't shoved him.
"What are you doing, then?" demanded Malfoy resentfully, thrown by the look on her face. "You can't tell me you and Potter weren't planning something. Where is he anyway? He's obviously not here making sure you don't get expelled."
"I don't know what you're talking about. You're just mad because I hit you," said Astoria, shifting the subject away from Harry. She bit her lip and leaned in; a shameless maneuver that would have made Belladonna gag for its lack of subtlety. "If you let me go, I promise to never hit you ever again. I didn't even mean to do it the first time. Not really."
Much to Astoria's surprise, Draco did not roll his eyes at her unskillful, clumsy flirting. Instead, to her increasing wonder, he flushed slightly pink in the dim light of the corridor.
"Funny," he snapped twitchily, his eyes glued on her uncertainly, unable to resist the vaguely pleading tone of her voice.
"No, it's not," said Astoria earnestly, edging closer still. She knew that it was dangerous to talk about hitting him with Filch still so near, but she could sense that an apology was smarter, never mind what Theodore had said. "I shouldn't have been so rude to you, you were only trying to give me sensible advice."
"Switched tunes have you?" remarked Draco, still looking a little warm. "I don't suppose that has anything to do with the fact that the whole school is so tense I could probably have you expelled for wandering the corridors."
"Don't have me expelled, Draco," said Astoria docilely, smirking despite herself at the foolishness of it. Something strange and devious—something that had been lying dormant inside of her—was finally bubbling up through her chest and it was not hard to detect an unsavory taste of Belladonna in it.
Malfoy's sneer slid nervously off of his face. Dimly, he seemed to notice that a switch was taking place, one in which Astoria had stolen the upper hand.
"Stop it," said Draco commandingly, although what 'it' was, even Malfoy did not seem to know.
"Stop what?" asked Astoria pertly. "Promising only to touch you nicely from here on out?"
Malfoy definitely colored this time and his haughty exterior deteriorated so completely that it was replaced by a look of uncertainty.
"I mean, I could keep hitting you, I suppose," Astoria continued teasingly, "but only if you want me to."
"Why would I want you to hit me?" asked Draco sharply.
"I don't know," said Astoria innocently, feeling all of the wickedness she was trying to keep out of her smirk leak into her eyes. "Maybe you like that sort of thing."
"I don't," Malfoy spluttered.
It was possible that Malfoy would have actually been more comfortable with a threat or a bribe; both of these tactics were probably more familiar to him, but Astoria suspected that, without the presence of his usual male companions around, her being soft and afraid was a far more lethal weapon.
"Fine," said Astoria, dropping all pretense, preying on the fact that they were alone and Malfoy's ego was massive. "I'm sorry I hit you. But we're friends, right? Please don't hand me over to Filch. He's already up a whole floor, anyway."
Astoria had never once claimed to be Draco's friend before and she was slightly surprised when he did not try to deny it the moment the words had left her mouth.
"Do you know what I would do to Crabbe if he slapped me?" demanded Malfoy at last, sneering bitterly.
"Nothing?" Astoria suggested. "He's twelve feet tall and one try would probably knock your head clean head off."
"Where were you going?" Draco spat at last, unable to let it go. "What would Potter want with you in the middle of the night?"
"I told you," Astoria lied, not wishing to implicate Harry or Ron. "I wasn't meeting Harry. Why would I do that? I have no idea where he is right now."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes suspiciously but in the end, either because he actually believed her or only because he wanted to, he finally shrugged. "Fine, just go."
Astoria hesitated, fighting off a surge of guilt for using Draco so illy. "Where did I end up hitting you, anyway?" she asked, dithering slightly.
"The side of my face, Greengrass," said Draco flatly. "Where were you aiming?"
"I wasn't," Astoria muttered. Draco froze as she reached up and gently tilted his face just enough to catch the light of the torches, wishing to confirm that she had not left a mark. She did not recall hitting him very hard, but the idea was niggling at her just the same.
"You didn't bruise," she said at last, pulling her hand back. A queer and uncomfortable warmth was settling in her stomach—the same swooping feeling she sometimes got when she knew she was going to get away with an unpleasant lie.
A sudden swooshing sound, one similar to water rushing through a narrow space, made her head snap toward the end of the hall in alarm. Draco let out a heavy breath that Astoria had not realized he had been holding and turned as well.
Astoria tensed, searching for the sound. It had been several minutes since Draco had been with Filch and even he ought not to be in the corridor anymore.
They heard it again: a slithering sound that reminded Astoria of mud sliding over rock.
"What is that?" whispered Astoria. She had never seen a teacher or a ghost slide down a hallway...
Malfoy remained mute, his eyes on the ceiling, his body rigid. "I don't know," he said at last. "Creaky plumbing, I guess..."
"We should go," said Astoria. The skin on the back of her arms was starting to break out into goosebumps.
Malfoy sneered but jerked his head toward the tapestry she had come out of. "Don't forget, this means you owe me."
Astoria shot him an appreciative glance and disappeared behind the heavy fabric. She paused on the steps and the new silence of the hall pressed in on her eardrums like heavy water.
She was still halfway between Gryffindor Tower and the Entrance Hall. Neither of her destinations, (Harry or the Fat Lady) were even remotely close. A quick glance at her watch told her that she was very late in meeting Harry and Ron and that they had likely left without her. The only thing more embarrassing than looking as though she had been too afraid to sneak out to meet them was the very real fear that she now felt when confronted with five floors of solid darkness.
Astoria half-wondered how far toward the dungeons Draco had gone. It was a very funny thing, but for all of Draco's cruel bravado and delight over the pain and suffering of muggle-borns, Astoria was relatively certain that she was far more likely to convince him than Harry to agree to a foolish trek across the castle because she was afraid.
This was a character trait that Astoria did not give Draco enough credit for. Now, standing in the gloomy darkness, she was predisposed to give it to him.
Suddenly the slithering sound was back, this time much closer than it had been before.
Astoria's vision danced with terror but it was so black in the secret passageway that she couldn't see more than a foot in front of her. Stumbling, she tripped forward and reached out for something —anything —to give her purchase. The unnatural slithering grew louder until the source might have been in the same stairway with her. Astoria gave up on moving altogether. She ducked her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
It was more than just slithering, she realized. It was as though a voice was speaking to her, and while its language was ancient and unfamiliar, its purpose was very clear; it wanted nothing more than to rip the flesh from her bones.
Then, as quickly as the voice had come, it was suddenly gone. For a long moment Astoria remained on the floor with her face pressed against the dirty stone steps. It was only the recollection of her wand that gave her the strength to lift her head. "Lumos," she whispered, beyond terrified of what illumination might reveal.
Astoria blinked in the pale light, the edges of her vision blurred by tears. The hallway was empty.
0o0
When Astoria woke the next morning her eyes were crusty and raw from a lack of gentle sleep. The dormitory was empty; a rarity on a Saturday. Astoria's eyes skimmed the room until they fell on Hermione's made-up, unruffled bed and remained there for a long while.
As it was a weekend, there was hardly any reason not to sleep in, but already her mind was buzzing with anxiety. Astoria kicked her sweaty feet out from under her blankets and she could tell without touching her hair that it was a horror-story of tangles.
The common room was nearly deserted when she finally made her way down. Fred and George were bent over the same notebook by the fire with a quill poised in both of their right hands.
"Can't do it like that," George insisted as Astoria came up behind them. "That'll just make them flicker more before they go out."
"What flickers?" asked Astoria, slumping against the back of Fred's chair.
"Blimey!" jolted George, his hand flashing forward to cover the pages in front of him before realizing that it was only her.
"The invisibility cloaks," explained Fred gravely. "We're trying to give them a longer shelf life."
"Seems like a responsible idea with the way things are headed," said George. "I reckon we wont even charge for them, we'll just hand them out to people we who know don't come from wizarding families."
"There was another attack?" asked Astoria tensely, picking up on their gloomy energy.
"No," said Fred. "You haven't heard?"
"Heard what?" asked Astoria.
"Dumbledore's been forced to step down," said Fred humorlessly. "He's not even in the castle. Even worse, Hagrid's been arrested."
"What?" Astoria exclaimed, thinking of how Harry and Ron had ventured down to Hagrid's cabin the night before. Had they been caught out of bed or had the cabin already been empty?
"Lucius Malfoy," added Fred grimly, feeling that this pronouncement needed no further explanation.
"Apparently he was here last night. He had some document signed by the other school governors calling for Dumbledore's dismissal," said George. "Then, Fudge showed up and took Hagrid into custody, but not before Hagrid basically accused Lucius of bribing the other school governors to oust Dumbledore."
"How do you know all of this?" asked Astoria, aghast.
"Harry and Ron were there," said Fred quietly.
"I was supposed to go with them," Astoria admitted. "Only I ran into Draco. I was lucky to get away from him without being arrested myself."
"What time did you run into Draco?" asked Fred with a suspicious frown. "What was he doing out of bed?"
"Palling around with Filch. He knew his father was coming," explained Astoria, putting two and two together. "He must have known Hagrid was going to be arrested."
"Well, you're bloody lucky the teachers didn't catch you," said George, looking more serious than Astoria had ever seen him. "I reckon it's going to be a regular witch hunt now. They'll do anything to make these attacks stop."
"I heard something last night coming back up to the tower," said Astoria, still shivery from the memory of the chilling voice.
"Like what?" asked Fred.
"Like a voice," said Astoria, aware that what she wanted to express rang as slightly insane. "Speaking in a cold, cruel language."
Fred and George both blinked at her, appalled.
"You shouldn't have been walking around after dark," said Fred hoarsely.
"Hang on, Harry he thinks he's been hearing voices too," interrupted George intensely. "He says that it says it wants to kill. Is that what you heard?"
"No," said Astoria. "I couldn't understand what it was saying. It wasn't speaking words exactly, but it sounded angry. I'm sure it knew I was there."
0o0
Astoria spent a large part of the afternoon alone in the library, trying to study but mostly staring out at the dewy, wet grounds. Birds in a variety of colors had taken up nesting rights and were hopping about on branches in the bushes under the window, eating and squabbling loudly.
By noon a thunderstorm had drawn its dark curtains over the castle and forced the birds into hiding. The only sound Astoria could hear after that was the pinging of water on leaves and muffled rain falling into the spongey grass.
Theo wandered in after the rain started; his entrance was accompanied by a terrific clap of thunder. Astoria waved enthusiastically at him through the intense neon haze of nearby lightning.
Theodore slouched over and took a seat in the hidden alcove they nearly always occupied, his bootleg thermos of coffee clanging conspicuously against the desk. Astoria cast a weary eye for Madam Pince but the sound of the storm seemed to hidden the thermos's knocking.
"So, you've heard about Dumbledore, then?" Theo asked, taking a furtive sip of coffee before pushing it under the table at her.
Astoria nodded her confirmation. "This coffee's good," she remarked, recapping it.
"I got it from the kitchens," Theo confessed. "You said they were behind the painting of the bowl of fruit so I thought I should have a look for myself."
"That explains why it's still hot," Astoria smirked, thinking dully of the lukewarm after-breakfast fare sitting in the hall.
"I don't know what Draco's dad think's he's playing at," muttered Theodore over a roll of thunder. "I mean, it's not that I'm such a fan of Dumbledore myself. But with him gone, well, I think they'll probably end up having to close the school."
As panicked as this notion made her, Astoria could not help but feel that Theodore was right.
"I think I heard Slytherin's monster last night," Astoria confessed.
Theo, who had been biting his fingernails, paused with his thumb still at his lips, the nail half-severed. "Sorry?"
"Yeah," Astoria continued. "I heard something. It sounded inhuman."
Theo swallowed slowly. "Like growling?" he asked.
"No," said Astoria, "like hissing. Or maybe Latin?"
Theo's face immediately turn a turn toward the analytical. "What kind of hissing? Like a spitting sound or—"
"No," Astoria shook her head. "More disembodied than that. I couldn't tell where it was coming from."
"Well obviously not," said Theo. "Maybe you just imagined it. What were you doing out of bed roaming the halls?"
"I didn't imagine it," insisted Astoria. "I just don't think it was interested in me."
"Hmm," said Theo, pulling off the rest of his thumbnail.
"Stop that, it's gross." Astoria made a face and blew the nail off the table.
She was just considering telling the whole tale when they heard muffled voices coming from behind the bookshelf that concealed their table.
"He won't be gone for long, I bet," said the clear, disinterested voice of Blaise Zabini. "Dumbledore will be back. He's a plague that way. With all these attacks, I'm surprised your dad even managed to get him out of the building."
"That's precisely how father forced him out," said Draco snidely.
A fork of lightning illuminated both of their shapes through the spaces between books. Theo and Astoria exchanged looks. The polite thing to do would be to cough and declare themselves, but they were both curious and Theo's natural instinct was almost always to duck.
"That and the death threats he must have sent Madam Bones and Augusta Longbottom to get them to sign that letter," jeered Blaise dismissively. "'They've stood behind Dumbledore since the war."
"Maybe they think he's getting old," said Malfoy defensively. "They've both got family at Hogwarts. Maybe it was too much to risk with the Heir of Slytherin on the loose."
Astoria was about to clear her throat when a third voice was added to the mix.
"Draco! Blaise!" called Pansy ecstatically.
Theo shot Astoria a look, clearly not wishing to endure Pansy. He held a finger up to his lips, his long eyelashes fluttering in the storm-dark space between them.
"Parkinson," Blaise greeted her calmly.
"I heard all about it at breakfast!" cried Pansy breathlessly, her shadow blocking some of the light filtering through the bookcase. "Did your dad really sack Dumbledore, Draco?"
"Draco's dad can't sack Dumbledore," corrected Blaise condescendingly. "He's only a school Governor."
"He just as much as sacked him," argued Draco. "He's been made to leave, hasn't he?"
"Ooh," cooed Pansy. "How?"
"Death threats," laughed Blaise dangerously and Astoria could almost hear the smirk in his tone.
"All the governors signed a letter," Draco clarified irritably.
"I wonder what the Gryffindors will have to say about this!" Pansy sang excitedly.
"Half of them will probably be lining up to leave," said Draco in a self satisfied voice. "I'm sure Potter's heartbroken. First Granger and now Dumbledore?"
"I wonder what Greengrass will have to say about it," Pansy continued in a testing voice.
Astoria felt her pulse quicken at the mention of her name. Somehow, knowing that they were talking about her made staying quiet feel quite a bit more like actual spying.
"Why would she care that Dumbledore's gone?" sneered Draco reflexively. "Her mother was a Lestrange, it's not like she's in any danger."
"No," said Pansy, but the tone of her voice was definitely cooler, "but she is a Gryffindor. Her opinion is probably warped by all of the Weasleys she hangs around with. I bet she signs whatever petition they draw up because she misses her muggle roommates."
Astoria blinked, stunned by this unexpected ferocity. Theo grinned into his fingers and silently spit out another nail. Astoria stared down at the moon-shaped ring, repulsed and unable to chastise him.
"She will not," scoffed Malfoy scathingly. "Nobody could can speak for her friends, but Greengrass isn't stupid at least."
Theo raised an eyebrow at Astoria questioningly.
"How do you know?" asked Pansy resentfully. "Every time the Chamber of Secrets comes up she gets moody. I swear, sometimes I think she's going to end up just like Potter. She may have been born a pure-blood and she may be pretty, but that doesn't mean she won't turn out as big of a blood traitor as the rest of the Weasley boys."
"She does seem rather piqued lately," allowed Blaise lazily, obviously enjoying this breakdown of Astoria's likelihood of turning out 'wrong'.
"She's probably just sick of having Nott hanging on her all the time trying to talk about it," muttered Malfoy cruelly, making excuses for her. "What do they even do together? I bet he harps on about the Chamber of Secrets all day like it's something out of a philosophy textbook."
Blaise chuckled and Theo's already somber face turned sour.
"Lets do lunch, Draco," suggested Blaise in precisely the same haughty, uninterested way that Astoria's aunt Belladonna sometimes talked about meals.
"Oh," said Pansy quickly, and her shadow pivoted, "if you're going that way—"
They moved away from the shelves and Astoria listened as their fading footsteps turned into rain-riddled silence.
"Lousy gits," seethed Theo. "As if I make you moody..." he trailed off petulantly, glancing at her over his pile of fingernails.
"No," Astoria laughed almost lovingly, "of course you don't. But if you spit another thumbnail at me, I may give you up completely."
0o0
So, there was actual plot in this one. I'm faintly proud of myself!
Anyway, reviews are always a treat!