Chapter Twenty Eight
Lupin's Secret
0o0
Exam week was rapidly approaching. When Monday morning arrived, it brought an end to of all of Astoria's freedom. Gone were the days of idly managing her workload; the ax had fallen. She had so much reading to do that, for the first time in her life, she could hardly wait for summer to start.
"Blaise was such a riot this weekend!" sighed Tracey effusively, lost in a haze of fantasy as she stared off over the pages of her History of Magic textbook.
Astoria and Tracey were both sitting under a poplar tree by the banks of the lake before dinner, soaking up the late afternoon sunlight and adamantly refusing to admit that the bright glare made studying a hassle.
"If you say so," snorted Astoria, feeling guilty and resentful all at once.
Truthfully, the more time Astoria had had to reflect on Blaise's behavior that Saturday, the less she found that she was able to think well of him. At this point, she had nearly convinced herself that Blaise was a sociopath—or, at the very least, a person who did not deserve to be discussed outside of psychological case studies about men who hated their mothers.
"I tried to kiss his ear at some point," Tracey admitted, grinning sneakily. "I was going in for a hug—probably because he had said something hilarious—and I ended up attacking at him with my mouth instead. I did a good job of brushing it off as a drunken slip, though. No worries."
Astoria snorted and borrowed Tracey's highlighting stick.
"You could do better than Blaise," she insisted firmly. "I think he's creepy."
This was as weak an attempt at a warning as she knew how to give. Still, it was a warning. It had begun to occur to her that she ought to tell Tracey something, that Blaise's antics ought not to be left unmentioned, but she was afraid. Tracey was very fond of Blaise—what if she didn't blame him? Suppose she viewed the matter as a betrayal on Astoria's part instead? So, rather than confess the whole story, she'd decided to adopt a habit of saying snide things (mostly disguised as unfounded opinions) about Blaise instead—her hope being that some of these negative thoughts would eventually begin to rub off...
"How could I do any better?" scoffed Tracey incredulously. "He's rich, gorgeous and clever. That's like the holy trinity of dating."
"He's also sarcastic, mean and shallow," Astoria countered.
"So am I!" persisted Tracey, undeterred.
"So you are," Astoria agreed, smirking at her notebook. Summer break was just around the corner—with any luck, the holidays would deliver a new boy for Tracey to obsess over.
This idea had some real merit, too: signs of summer were beginning to appear everywhere. From the balmy breeze that always seemed to smell like the vegetable patch, to the general feeling of anticipated goodbyes between school friends, there could be not doubt that the season was almost upon them.
Marcus Flint was a prime example. Over the weekend, his post match anger had worn off and begun to morph into a state of brotherly delight and charity. He was graduating—which mean that he was leaving school for good—and it was a right of passage that he seemed determined to share with everyone. Apart from spending meals lavishly handing out his prized quidditch memorabilia and pints of advice to first years, Marcus had also begun to talk wistfully about the fall.
The day before the N.E.W.T's were set to begin, he surprised Astoria by including her in this parade of premature leave-taking by publicly pulling her out of the line for potions class.
"Greengrass, my crooked little peach!" he cooed sadly. "I think I can say, with real honesty, that you are both the only Gryffindor I have ever liked and the only woman who has ever bribed me."
"It's been swell," Astoria laughed, as puzzled as she was pleased.
"Of course, I won't say that you are the only woman I have ever liked—or the first Gryffindor who has tried to bribe me—but that's beside the point," continued Flint, pausing only to chuckle at his own joke. "Here, this is for you. I've had word from the Wimborne Wasps. I'm starting on in July—in case you ever try to rig the big leagues."
He put a sheet of paper with a very official looking address on it into Astoria's hand. Then, with a wink, he sauntered off to deliver his address to the rest of the waiting Hogwarts population, leaving Astoria behind to wonder if they actually been friends all along.
After a moment of shaking her head perplexedly, she slipped back into line.
"Did Marcus Flint just ask you to write to him?" demanded Theodore, his face sagging with genuine shock.
"What can I say?" Astoria breezed, irresistibly flattered despite herself. "The man enjoys a spot of crime."
0o0
Exams began. A creeping stillness took hold of the corridors; silence fell over both the library and the common rooms.
The first exam Astoria sat was for Transfiguration and she emerged feeling rather glad of this fact: it had started her week of testing off on a high note. There was a part of her that sincerely expected Transfiguration would be her highest grade (largely thanks to all the extra credit essays she had been writing on the topic) and her next exams, Charms and Astronomy, only seemed to bolster this theory.
Tuesday meant that she would be tested on Potions and Care of Magical Creatures. Curiously, even though Snape had a reputation for stalking between cauldrons and smirking nastily, it was Care of Magical Creatures class that she was dreading the most. This was because Draco—who had been in a sulky, morose mood for several days after the quidditch match—had regained some of his old swagger lately. So much so, that he'd begun to speak loudly and cruelly about Buckbeak's execution again in the halls again.
The Care of Magical Creatures exam itself was almost laughably easy (they only had to keep a Flobberworm alive until the bell rang to pass) but Astoria had been quite right to suspect that Draco would use the test as opportunity to be as upsetting as possible.
"Father will be here next week for the appeal," Draco could be heard drawling in a very carrying voice nearby. "He's coming with Macnair—you do know who Walden Macnair is, don't you Goyle? Anyway, he's an old friend of Father's and he'll be acting as executioner."
It was all Astoria could do to ignore comments like this. Especially when her true instinct was slap Malfoy's pale, smarmy face for discussing Hagrid's dread so loudly within the poor man's earshot.
Something about her body language did not seem to express this feeling effectively enough, though, because Draco was bizarrely determined to go over every detail with Tracey again on the path back up to Hogwarts for their potions exam. At top volume, of course.
Cursing the fact that they were all going to the same place (and Astoria was therefore obligated to walk near them) they began their ascent up the sloping hill together. To combat his enthusiasm, she put on a great show of adamantly refusing to express any interest, but Draco more than made up for this by speaking directly to her, despite the fact that it was Tracey who was doing all the answering.
"Technically, they have to call it an appeal for legal reasons," continued Draco. "It's not as though that's fooling anyone, though. The entire committee has had their mind made up for months."
Theodore, who was sulking behind Draco, shot a dark look at the back of his sleek blond head.
"Well, the hippogriff did attack a student," reasoned Tracey, enthusiastic as she always was when Malfoy singled them out.
"Because they're all in his dad's pocket, you mean," Theodore muttered accusingly.
"What's that, Nott?" sneered Draco and his tone belied a warning. "Did you say something?"
"Nope," Theodore popped back cheekily, making eye contact with Astoria. She smirked back at him.
"I mean, can you imagine Hagrid somehow turning the verdict?" Draco continued, eyeing Astoria out of the corner of his eye, clearly hoping she would bite.
"I don't see how he can, if the committee has seen all the evidence," answered Tracey, betraying a level of sycophantic ease that surprised even Astoria.
"Do you even suppose Hagrid can read?" Malfoy sneered. "Really, what kind of legal defense does anybody think he'll be putting up? No, they'll take the thing's head off for sure—"
Astoria let out a noise of bitter annoyance under her breath.
"Fine—" gusted Malfoy sharply, cottoning on to her displeasure, "—they'll humanely execute the hippogriff for sure. Christ..."
"I heard that the minister is coming. Is that true?" asked Tracey and Astoria suddenly understood her friend's unusually avid interest in such an old topic.
"Yeah," confirmed Malfoy smugly. "There's got to be an official witness. Father says he was already coming to check on the dementors, so he'll probably stay after for the appeal."
Astoria was not certain that she entirely believed this, but come Thursday afternoon (after an extremely amusing Defense Against the Dark Arts exam involving an obstacle course) she spotted two grown gentleman on the lawn.
Tracey was already in the entrance hall, ogling the strange men through a window when Astoria came inside, blinking dully in the sudden darkness.
"Is that Fudge?" Tracey whispered, pulling Astoria closer.
"No," Astoria shook her head at once. "He's too old, isn't he? And he doesn't look anything like Fudge does in the papers."
She fell silent, noticing for the first time that one of the men standing on the grass (the younger and crueler looking of the two) was fingering the handle a long and lethally tipped ax.
"The other one is Macnair, then?" Tracey guessed, gesturing toward the ax-wielder.
"I'd say so," agreed Astoria, prickling with dislike. Macnair was nearly seven feet tall; his brutal face was weighed down on both ends by heavy eyebrows and a villainous black mustache. Everything about him, from his massive shoulders to his cold eyes, spoke of violence.
"Where does he get off bringing an ax to an appeal?" Astoria muttered.
"Oh, what does it matter?" sighed Tracey. "He had to bring one, didn't he? Otherwise he'd have had to pop home for it and then come back again."
"But why come at all?" argued Astoria. "Why not send for the executioner after Hagrid has made his case? I bet they brought Macnair along just to scare him."
"Probably," drawled Draco, coming up the dungeon stairs with Crabbe and Goyle. "Kind of funny, though, isn't it—seeing Macnair standing next to old man Tofty?"
Astoria could sort of see what he meant. The two men outside were greatly at odds with one another other; one was small and frail and the other large and fierce.
"Who is old man Tofty?" snorted Tracey curiously, but Malfoy was watching Astoria, who was watching Macnair.
"I know," agreed Malfoy lazily, correctly reading Astoria's expression. "He's huge, isn't he?"
"Your dad is friends with him?" she murmured hollowly, unable to imagine Macnair sitting in any dining room, much less a formal one.
"They've known each other for years," admitted Draco and Astoria immediately understood this to mean that Macnair had once been a death eater. "Personally, I've always thought the mustache was a bit much...but it's his face, I suppose."
"So glossy..." Tracey whispered.
Voices suddenly sounded on the marble staircase. Tracey fell silent at once, not particularly wishing to be caught discussing the luster of Macnair's mustache by Snape.
It was not Snape who appeared at the top of the stairs, however: it was Lucius Malfoy and the Minster of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Astoria stared, alive to the novelty of meeting the Minister in person.
Tracey jabbed her in the side, quivering excitedly; not wanting to appear foolish, Astoria studiously avoided meeting her eye.
"He says he's getting too old for these sort of things, anyway," Fudge insisted in a harassed undertone. "Perhaps we should think about—oh, look!" He broke away to marvel at the sight of the five teenagers on the landing (all staring in his direction). "Students!"
"Ah," remarked Mr. Malfoy expectantly, "Fudge, I don't believe you've met my son, Draco. Draco, this is the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
Draco quickly stepped forward and offered his hand. He smiled smugly as Fudge shook it.
"That's Goyle's boy, Gregory," Lucius went on, "and the other one is Crabbe."
Crabbe and Goyle blinked stupidly. Fudge made a sign of halfhearted recognition toward both of them, but he seemed more interested Tracey and Astoria.
"Just had an exam, I take it?" Fudge beamed at them.
"Yes!" answered Tracey eagerly.
"Let it never be said that this unfortunate business kept me from meeting my future tax payers, Lucius!" declared Fudge jauntily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What are these young ladies names?"
"Tracey Davis," offered Tracey at once, jumping forward.
A look of amusement flitted across Fudge's face, but something about the way he had phrased his question made Astoria hold back, suspecting that it was more appropriate to be introduced than to appear over-eager.
"The other is Astoria Greengrass," continued Mr. Malfoy placidly. "Perhaps you would recognize her aunt, Belladonna Lestrange?"
Unbidden, the ghost of Tippy Tippman's old etiquette lessons reawakened in her limbs. When Lucius finished speaking, she dipped her head slightly, presenting the short curtsy that girls were taught to use in front of very formal guests (no hand shakes, no hugs, no skirt flourishing).
"Ah!" exclaimed Fudge, plainly gratified. "A Lestrange! I would have mistaken you for a Slytherin!" He eyed Astoria's Gryffindor tie. "Of course, I was a proud Hufflepuff in my day, even though everyone seems determined to point out what a soft option it was!"
"Other Hufflepuffs don't, surely?" remarked Astoria pleasantly.
Fudge chuckled. "Charming too, I see! Careful now or I'll be tempted to put you on a school pamphlet!"
He made a little motion next to her cheek—as though he intended to pluck away a dimple.
"They're waiting for us on the lawn, Fudge," remarked Lucius. His cool, disinterested speech pattern was very reminiscent of Draco's, but somehow much more authoritative.
"So they are!" declared Fudge, still bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Well, better to be done with it, I suppose. Let's get a move on."
Astoria watched them leave, unable to pull her eyes away from Fudge's pinstriped trousers.
"How do you do that, Astoria?" demanded Tracey, sounding faintly awed.
"Do what?" asked Astoria, shifting in order to follow Fudge's journey outside through the window glass.
"You walk around cheerfully insulting everyone all the time, but whenever I see you try to schmooze someone, it's like you flip a switch and it all suddenly comes together for you," Tracey complained.
"Maybe it's because she doesn't look like she want to eat her audience?" suggested Draco scathingly. "It's meet, not eat, Davis."
"Fine, whatever," snapped Tracey, tugging on Astoria's arm. "Let's go study for Arithmancy. I put together some notes for you."
Draco summoned Crabbe and Goyle and started off toward the courtyard.
Astoria tore her eyes away from view through the window (where Lucius and Fudge were shaking hands with Macnair and Tofty) and bit her lip. After a brief pause, she began to jog after Malfoy.
"What time is the execution?" she panted, drawing level with him before he even reached the fountain.
"Right after the appeal, probably!" bellowed Tracey from the steps, plainly annoyed. Her attention span for anything 'Buckbeak' related had met its limit the minute Fudge left.
"At sunset, actually," Draco corrected, shooting Tracey a sneer. "Why?"
He narrowed his eyes at Astoria, plainly torn between suspicion and private pleasure—she never chased him across the grounds.
"You're not thinking of trying to spring the mad thing loose first?" he demanded.
In truth, that was the essence of her half-formed idea.
"They would just think Hagrid did it, you know!" persisted Draco sharply. "You'd only only end up getting the stupid man sacked!"
Astoria stared back at him resentfully. She knew that he was right, but she couldn't quite make herself say so out loud.
"Why can't you just get over it, Astoria?" snapped Draco, his hither-too pent-up annoyance finally overflowing. "It's a mad Hippogriff, not some fluffy pet! I'm sorry your bleeding heart can't handle the violence!"
Astoria flinched. "Fine."
"What do you want me to do?" Draco sneered. He moved to block her exit, at his wits end with her refusal to be on board. "You want me to march down there and change my story? Do you think I'm insane? They'd probably still chop the thing's head off even if I did!"
"Fine," Astoria repeated, this time more hollowly. Buckbeak's fate was as good as sealed; it was becoming more and more pointless to even argue about it. "Fine. It's fine."
She marched back across the courtyard with Tracey in silence.
"You should cut Draco some slack," whispered Tracey, steering her into the entrance hall. "He's doing it to get back at Potter, you know—he's not doing it to annoy you."
Astoria shrugged; a small, non-committal twitch of her shoulders.
"You heard what he said—it's in his father's hands now," Tracey sighed. "All you're doing is making Draco extra defensive and it's annoying..."
"Maybe he should be defensive," snapped Astoria. "I'll drop it, alright? It's just that maybe having an animal's head chopped off for revenge is something you should have to defend!"
0o0
Miraculously, their Arithmancy exam that afternoon was not the unqualified horror-show that she had been expecting.
"Quills up, textbooks away!" called professor Vector, turning a giant hourglass over on his desk. "You may begin."
Astoria flipped her test over and read the first question.
'The vine of magic used to animate a previously inanimate object or artifact can be traced via the number three into the shape of a triangle. Name this incantation.'
Despite the complicated wording, this question had an easy and Transfiguration based solution.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Astoria put her quill against the parchment: 'Piertotum Locomotor.'
The next question was similarly written—also an Arithmancy fact, also cunningly reworded to favor a Transfiguration knowledge base.
Slowly and very carefully, Astoria leaned sideways to peer at Theodore's page.
Translate 'Vera Verto' from Latin into Greek and then calculate a numeral sum for both spells to illustrate the differences between the final sums when letters have been changed. Show your work.
It took less than a minute to ascertain that Theodore's question was not on either of the pages of her test. In fact, the more she looked, the more obvious it was that Professor Vector had not included any math in her exam at all...
She turned in her completed test an hour later, feeling slightly ashamed but—above all else—secretly relieved. Vector had perfectly tailored her exam to suit her strengths (as opposed to the actual course material) and she was finally convinced that she would manage to pass his course.
This did not prevent her from realizing that she had as good as cheated, however. When Theodore asked her how she'd done, she responded with little more than a neutral shrug; when Tracey attempted to do the same, she remained evasive.
0o0
Her good mood did not last. The sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione in the common room together later that evening was enough to make bring her back to Earth. Sitting with their heads close together, there could be no mistaking the cause of their identical frowns.
"Hagrid lost?" Astoria guessed, coming up behind Ron's chair.
Ron scooted as far away from her as he could. His eyes twitched suspiciously toward the tower windows, which afforded a good view of her reflection, and narrowed.
"Yeah," confirmed Harry in a low voice.
"The execution is set for sunset," Astoria informed them. "The executioner's been here since noon..."
"Where did you hear that?" snapped Ron.
"Malfoy told me," she admitted, refusing to blush or look ashamed. "Is Hagrid going to be alone?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "We're going to go down and see him first. Sunset is technically before curfew—"
"Except that you aren't supposed to be out on the grounds at all, Harry!" lamented Hermione tensely. "Please, just let Ron and I go. Hagrid wouldn't want you getting into trouble on his account!"
"Can't you just wear your invisibility cloak?" wondered Astoria, ignoring Ron's look of annoyance over the loss of yet another secret.
"No, I've left it in—well, somewhere and I can't go get it," Harry rambled. "If Snape catches me down that corridor, I'll be toast..."
"You've left it under the humpbacked witch, then?" Astoria guessed, remembering Draco's story about Harry's invisible foray into Hogsmeade.
"How do you know about the witch!?" exclaimed Ron, beginning to look rather alarmed.
"Your brothers showed me ages ago!" snapped Astoria peevishly. "To say nothing of that fact that Harry nearly got caught sneaking back into the castle after his last visit into the village. It doesn't take a genius."
Hermione gazed at Astoria approvingly.
"Well," huffed Ron in an offhand voice, "why don't you ask Fred and George to loan us one of their cloaks, then? They aren't as good, but I suppose one would do in a pinch."
Astoria thought this over quietly.
"No," she mused slowly, causing Ron to swivel about angrily in his chair. "I can do better—meet me in the entrance hall after dinner."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she heard Ron mutter as she retraced her steps back toward the portrait hole.
"It means she's going to fetch Harry's cloak, Ron!" returned Hermione in an exasperated tone. "Really, do you always have to be so rude?"
This assumption was quite correct. Astoria took a shortcut to the sixth floor and proceeded directly to the west tower. From there, she was able to slip down three more floors unseen. Shooting a tense look over each shoulder, she tapped the witch's hump and muttered, "Dissendium."
There was nothing to be done about Buckbeak's verdict, but she could at least make sure that Hagrid did not have to suffer alone. It was something, at least...
She dallied in the entrance hall after dinner, partially concealed behind a suit of creaky armor. Tracey and Daphne went by and Astoria was pleased to note that they were alone and chattering agreeably together. When she heard Draco's voice, however, she picked up her feet up and pulled herself so far behind the knight's metal breastplate that even her shoes were hidden.
At last, Harry, Ron and Hermione appeared. Astoria flagged them toward her, and they all slipped into an empty room off of the hall.
"Here," Astoria mumbled, pulling the invisibility cloak out of her school bag. The hood shivered like mercury against her fingers until Harry took hold of it. She found herself admiring the material a second time. Fred and George's creations, while clever, were barely even comparable; Harry's was fluid perfection.
"Thanks," gusted Harry gratefully. "Listen, we owe you one, Astoria, really—"
"Don't worry about it," Astoria mumbled. "Just go—be nice to Hagrid. Someone should be."
Harry nodded briskly and tossed the cloak over his, Ron's and Hermione's heads.
"That's amazing," Astoria gasped reflexively. Unlike the cloaks she was used to handling, this design did not warp the air or betray the outline of the forms it was concealing.
"Yeah, yeah..." muttered Ron.
Astoria watched until the door opened and then shut again—seemingly of its own accord. For a long while after, she continued to lean against the old table behind her, trying to decide what to do with herself. Exams had come to a finish, which meant that she no longer had any studying to do. Fred and George—most suspiciously—had been nowhere to be found since lunch.
In the end, she trudged back to Gryffindor tower, pulled back the covers on her bed and settled in with a stack of magazines. It was only early evening and the dormitory was still comfortably lit by the fading sun...
Gradually, though, the room around her became increasingly dim and her eyes started to tire out. By the time she was finally forced to squint, it occurred to her that sunset had come and gone—Buckbeak was most certainly dead. Even worse, somewhere in the dungeons, Draco Malfoy was probably loudly and gleefully announcing that fact to anyone who would listen.
Forgoing the effort of getting up to turn on a light, Astoria rolled over and let sleep claim her.
0o0
"No, they've got him."
"I'm surprised they didn't chain him up in the dungeons!"
"I thought she said that they're holding him in the tower!"
Roused by voices, Astoria blinked, unable to make out anything in the darkness around her.
"The Minister is here! D'you reckon that mean they're also going to execute him here? At Hogwarts! What if he becomes a ghost?"
Startled, Astoria sat up, yanking a glossy magazine page away from her arm. What time was it? Why were people talking so loudly when they should be sleeping?
"S'going on?" Astoria called out, fumbling with the curtains on her four poster bed.
"Astoria? Is that you?" demanded Parvati sharply. "Sorry—were you sleeping?"
"No," Astoria lied, sounding thick-tongued and stupid. "What's wrong?"
"They've caught Sirius Black!" joined Lavender's shrill voice."They're holding him in one of the towers. Professor McGonagall was just here."
Astoria's drowsiness fell away like a sheet of snow sliding down a roof.
"How did they catch him?" she demanded, already fishing for the tiny nugget of horror that she was afraid this story would contain. Her fears were not disappointed.
"Black tried to kidnap Harry and Hermione! Oh, and he also attacked Ron!" breathed Parvati, carrying on in such a mighty rush that it took Astoria a few seconds to catch up. "Professor Snape saved them all! Lupin might have been involved somehow, too, but I don't know. The story we heard was so muddled..."
"Is everybody alright?"
"They're in the hospital wing," answered Lavender in a hushed whisper. "All of them. Poor Ron's leg is broken!"
"Everyone is pretty much just waiting now," concluded Parvati more somberly. "The dementors are coming for Sirius Black..."
Astoria was out of bed in a flash, no longer sleepy at all. She found the common room in an uproar.
"They can never keep out of it, can they?" hissed Fred in an undertone, angling himself to include Astoria as she joined them by the fire. "What is it with Harry? The boy's a magnet for this rubbish!"
"Really," George nervously agreed. "How many times can this sort of thing happen before one of them gets killed?"
Astoria shivered and pulled her sweater tight. The sight of Fred's bare feet poking out of his pajama bottoms made her feel even colder. She turned to consult the clock on the fireplace: just after midnight.
As if he had read her mind, Lee Jordan got up to feed logs into the fire.
"They've got Black, though," Astoria insisted, consoled by the fresh wave of heat. "He can't hurt Harry or Ron now."
"Yeah," snorted Fred darkly, "if he stays in custody, you mean? He's got a wicked habit of slipping out of prison, that Black..."
She had just opened her mouth to reassure him when a commotion broke out in the hallway on the other side of the Fat Lady. Every head swiveled about to watch as Professor McGonagall stepped through the portrait hole; she was fully dressed and looked very somber.
"Have they done it?" demanded Cormac MacLaggen. "Is Black back in Azkaban?"
"Is he dead?" wondered a trembling first year.
"No," returned Professor McGonagall curtly.
"They're giving him a proper trial?" decried Percy Weasley pompously. "I wouldn't have thought that would be necessary—"
"No, I mean that he is gone," explained Professor McGonagall, not one to mince words. "I'm afraid Sirius Black has slipped loose again—he disappeared just moments after the Dementors were summoned."
A horrible and startled silence descended. Nobody spoke. Astoria kept her eyes glued on McGonagall, waiting for more. How could she be so calm about this? They were talking about a mass murderer! And yet, there did not seem to be any worry marring her features: she looked as stern and grave as she always did, but her expression belied no sense of urgency...
"Professor Dumbledore has asked me to remind you that the school curfew still stands," McGonagall continued, pressing her thin lips together. "No matter how unusual the circumstances—or how great a temptation it might be to seek out companions in other houses—not a single student is permitted to leave this room before daybreak. Am I making myself understood?"
Fred and George exchanged glances; it was suddenly (and painfully) clear just how badly they wanted to go to the Hospital Wing to see Ron.
"Naturally, the school will have to undergo a thorough search before morning," Mcgonagall went on, "and I will not be surprised if it is supervised by the Azkaban guard."
The prospect of rogue dementors in the halls was enough to make sneaking out so undesirable that even Fred and George stopped covertly glancing at one another.
"It is the opinion of both the Hogwarts staff and of the Ministry of Magic that Black will not linger, however," she reassured them. "Not now that he has so narrowly evaded a final capture. I beg you not to worry—" she raised her voice to cut over the chatter that was beginning to break out among the excited students, "—and not to neglect your rest."
This last piece of advice was hardly heard by anyone. Nobody seemed to want to sleep now that Sirius Black had made his fourth—and undoubtedly magical—escape.
"He's like a shadow," muttered George. "You just can't trap him!"
"What was with McGonagall, though?" wondered Fred, giving voice to Astoria's own observation. "She didn't look as bothered as I would have thought..."
0o0
Day broke; a pale and watery blue. Astoria waited for the sun to clear the tops of the forbidden forest before dressing and exiting the tower.
The castle was much louder and busier than she was used to at such an early hour. Clusters of students congregated in every hallway, swapping facts and various bits of gleaned information.
"Astoria!" called Theodore loudly.
She turned and spotted him near a large window, holding half a mug of stolen coffee. The pale light filtering through the leaded glass behind him was just beginning to turn golden, illuminating every tired crag in his sleepless face.
"What is going on around here?" she whispered in an emphatic undertone, pulling him closer to the magnificently arched windows. "They had Black in chains!"
"Snape is apoplectic," announced Theodore, suppressing a wry smile. "Apparently, he caught Black. Fudge promised him an Order of Merlin before he got away again."
They shared a grin that was not entirely kind.
"What was Snape doing on the grounds with Harry, Ron and Sirius Black, though?" Astoria wondered, still puzzled by the unlikelihood of this detail.
"Lupin!" supplied Theodore at once. "He was after Lupin—haven't you heard?"
"Hmm?" Astoria backtracked confusedly. "Haven't heard what?"
"Only that he's a bloody werewolf!" drawled Draco delightedly, physically hustling Theodore aside to join their conversation.
"What?" Astoria choked, racking her brains to see if this seemed even remotely possible.
"It's true," confirmed Theodore quietly. "Snape told us this morning in the common room."
"Wait," Astoria sputtered, "how would Snape find out? Suppose he made the whole thing up because he's mad about losing his award?"
"Except that, apparently, he's known all year," bragged Malfoy, who was plainly in a state of rarefied and self-celebratory form. "In fact, all of the staff knew and Dumbledore made them stay quiet. If Snape hadn't slipped up and told us, we still wouldn't know. I've already written to my father, of course. Can you imagine what the mummies and daddies are going to say when they find out that Dumbledore's had a monster teaching classes?"
"But what does Lupin's being a werewolf have to do with any of this?" Astoria muttered, struggling to understand how Lupin's monstrous second-nature figured into Black's being captured.
Draco shot her a sensational and delighted smirk.
"Because he was loose on the grounds last night," he answered, firing with both barrels. "That's what."
"Seriously?"
"Uh-huh," Malfoy urged her, clearly enjoying the desired effect of this pronouncement. "Lupin was on the prowl. If only he'd managed to take a chunk out of Potter—"
Astoria brought a hand up to her forehead, trying very hard not to judge hastily. And yet it was impossible not to. The idea of Lupin haunting the grounds in the form of a giant werewolf was beyond trying, even to her.
"That's mad," she finally admitted. "Lupin hasn't been doing that all year, has he?"
How many times had she had been outside after dark—alone, occasionally intoxicated, or else in no way prepared for an attack?
"Who knows?" shrugged Draco, still watching her out of the corner of his eye. "If the staff have been lying to cover it up, Lupin could have been loose every month."
"I don't believe that," scoffed Theodore firmly. He shot Draco a very quelling look. "Dumbledore's eccentric, but he's not insane. He would never let Lupin run around like that. Last night must've been different—Lupin escaped somehow, or else something didn't go according to plan..."
"Something didn't go according to plan?" repeated Draco scathingly. "Can you hear yourself? Apparently a werewolf on staff means occasionally letting a beast stalk the grounds, does it? And don't forget having to send the potions master out to slay him!"
Astoria snorted and Draco's eyes flitted back to linger smugly on her face.
"I'm just saying!" Theodore insisted. "If that was happening, Snape would have reported it! He never liked Lupin!"
"With good reason," Draco sneered.
The halls were beginning to clear out. Students had trickled off, perhaps toward breakfast. Astoria leaned against the stone arch of the window frame and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of real summer sunlight on her skin.
"We should go outside," she murmured, captivated by the dull thrum of crickets in the tall grass below.
Draco and Theodore both paused and then exchanged dubious glances. It was clear that neither of them necessarily minded Astoria; it was each other that they weren't so sure about.
"Where is everybody, anyway?" asked Astoria, noticing for the first time that the grounds were almost as vacant as the hallway.
"Hogsmeade," answered Draco, moving to lean lazily against the window frame beside her.
"The Dementors are gone," Theodore clarified, but his frowning eyes never left Draco. "Everybody's going."
"The Dementors left?" Astoria gasped. A fierce spark of hopefulness suddenly flickered to life in her chest. Her shuttered eyes flew open.
"The Ministry sent them back to Azkaban last night," Theodore explained. "They tried to administer The Kiss on Potter, but he got away somehow."
"Everyone's alright, though? And they're really gone?" Astoria demanded brightly. "I'll never have to walk past one again?"
Draco snorted, amused.
"They're really gone," repeated Theodore. He smiled—indulgently at first, but then his grin shifted oddly. "In fact, they're probably hundreds of miles away. The Ministry figures Black escaped by flying Hagrid's Hippogriff—it got away last night, too."
Draco's surprisingly mild expression soured.
"No!" Astoria squawked, delirious with happiness now. "No way!"
"You would see it as good news," Draco scowled. "It's bad enough that Fudge let Black slip away again, isn't it? But the man couldn't even see to it that a bird got executed!"
Astoria seized Draco by the front of his shirt and kissed him right on his resentful mouth, cackling madly.
"Ahaa! Buckbeak got away!" she sang triumphantly, still hanging from his tie. "I can't believe it, he got away!"
Malfoy staggered back a shocked step. Astoria released him and threw her arms around Theodore, who she did not dare to kiss; his shoulders stiffened with discomfort anyway.
"Ok!" exclaimed Theodore tensely. He seized her arm and attempted to pull her as firmly away from Draco as possible, clearly afraid that she might try to pounce on him again. "That's about enough of that—"
Astoria beamed at both of them, so genuinely pleased that she was afraid of becoming weepy.
It was as though the shadow of the year had been lifted. Against all odds, there were no more Dementors guarding the castle, Harry Potter had survived another adventure, and Buckbeak was alive and well in the countryside...
"You want to go outside?" Theodore grumbled. "Lets make for the grounds, then, for Merlin's sake! You can accost people out there, too, but they won't have any idea what you're on about!"
Malfoy did not seem to know what to make of this outburst, but it was very obvious that Astoria had thrown him off task completely by spontaneously kissing his face.
"Come on," snapped Theo. Astoria was still laughing wildly so he gave her arm a firm yank.
"I don't get it," Draco muttered stupidly. "It was just a dumb Hippogriff!"
"You mean it is just a dumb hippogriff!" Astoria corrected happily, spinning about to look at him because Theodore was herding her down the corridor. "It's alive, remember!"
0o0
The end of the school year arrived at last.
Astoria woke up early to finish her packing on the morning that they were set to depart, bitterly regretting the decision to put off any attempt at organizing until the very end. By breakfast time, however, the miracle was complete and she had managed to gather all of her belongings and stow them safely in her trunk.
It was a brilliant, warm and sunny day outside; the kind of weather that made people resent being cooped up indoors. On the cramped train, Astoria watched the glorious summer hills rolls by from inside one of the shady compartments.
"Hold this," demanded Theodore, handing Astoria a tray of gobstones. He leaned closer to the atlas that he and Tracey were balancing their game on and eyed the formation of his pieces.
"This is going to be a brilliant summer," Tracey jabbered, destroying a row of Theodore's gobstones (she was a much better player than he was and, indeed, never refused an opportunity of proving it to him). "We have to go swimming, Astoria—I've missed swimming! Ooh, and don't forget about the Quidditch World Cup! We're so lucky that it's being held in the country this year. England never hosts."
"I'm not going to that," snorted Theodore dismissively.
"Of course you're not, Theodore," drawled Draco Malfoy mockingly, sliding open the compartment door. Crabbe and Goyle lingered behind him, casting shadows against the train hall. "You wouldn't know what to do with yourself at a national sporting event."
"There are more important things than sports, Malfoy," clipped Theodore, his tone becoming noticeably cooler.
Taking advantage of the fact that he was busy glaring, Tracey swept up a few more of Theodore's pieces.
"Well, I am," she explained, pocketing his ruined gobstones. "You should ask your dad buy tickets with my mother, Astoria!"
"They're sold out now," scoffed Draco, quickly and a little scathingly. "You'll be lucky to get nosebleed seats. Why did you wait so long?"
"I thought tickets just went on sale," countered Tracey, betraying a flash of alarm.
"Sure, but most of the decent seats go in the first two days," explained Draco witheringly. "Mother wants to be in Italy for most of July, so father would have gotten our tickets earlier if the Minister hadn't already given them to us himself."
"The Minister of Magic gave your father tickets?" asked Tracey, her interest piqued. Theodore snorted derisively.
"I've got tickets, as well," admitted Astoria, thinking of the last piece of correspondence she'd received from her aunt. "Maudlin pre-ordered them. I don't think he even knew who was playing yet. I can ask and see if he has extras, if you want? I'm sure they're good."
"Would you?" pleaded Tracey, gobstones and the Minister all but forgotten. "I'd do anything to avoid going with my brother!"
"Maybe my aunt won't want to go..." Astoria mused hopefully. "Talk about people who would be out of place at a sporting event!"
"Yeah?" sneered Theodore, his tone uncharacteristically cruel. "The widow's already seen enough balls to last her a life time, has she?"
Tracey gape freely. Astoria laughed uncomfortably—partially because the comment was amusing, but mostly because she was so surprised by it.
"Please," scoffed Draco snidely, sneering down his nose. "No one is more ridiculous than your father, Nott. He'd probably storm the field at half time to curse the foreign mascots."
"You lot are blocking the hallway, Malfoy," declared Theodore crisply, cutting over him. He pointed toward the door, where two hufflepuff girls were nervously attempting to skirt around Crabbe and Goyle. "Feel free to close that on your way out."
Draco scoffed and pushed out into the hallway. The door fell shut with a soft thunk.
The moment he was gone, Astoria rounded on Theodore.
"The widow has already seen enough balls to last her a lifetime?" she repeated dubiously. "What was that for? Whose team are you on?!"
Tracey laughed riotously, causing a wave of gobstones to fall onto the floor and burst.
"The team that makes Malfoy shove off the fastest," insisted Theodore, going a little red in the face. "Really, Astoria, I'm sick of him lurking about all the time!"
"How does his lurking have anything to do with my aunt?" demanded Astoria perplexedly, trying not to feel hurt. "My relatives are ridiculous enough without your help, you know. Can't we avoid ball jokes?"
"Well, he wasn't hear to brag to Tracey and I about how the Minister of Magic gave his family prime seats!" persisted Theodore.
"He talked to Tracey the whole time!"
"But he knew you were listening," Theodore snarled. "I mean it, I've had about enough of Malfoy's pop-ins! He doesn't do it unless you're with me, you know. If you hadn't been sitting here, he would have just kept walking."
"Theo," cooed Tracey consolingly, "I'm sure Draco would have popped in to taunt you either way..."
"And frankly, you don't help, Astoria!" Theodore's voice cracked slightly. "You hardly ever tell him to piss off, even if he's annoying you—and every time you fight with him, you end up apologizing. It sends the wrong impression!"
Astoria was laughing along with Tracey now. She could hardly see how Malfoy's taunting them could be her fault, but her amusement only seemed to make Theodore madder.
"It's always worse when I don't apologize," explained Astoria dismissively. She pushed Tracey's tray of gobstones off the seat and stretched, savoring an excuse to look away.
"Because he's secretly waiting for you to do it!" Theodore argued, his tone thick with implication.
"Come on," snorted Tracey, and Astoria was rather relived to see that she did not share Theodore's opinion.
"It's true," Theodore sniffed. "I've known him longer than both of you. He was awfully relived when Astoria decided not to be mad about that bloody hippogriff, wasn't he? I'd never seen him in such a foul mood until she finally talked him down—you can't even pretend that I'm wrong!"
"Sure," Tracey shrugged, "but I think it was more to do with the fact that Astoria called him pathetic. She tells him to get lost all the time, quite frankly..."
"She full on kissed him last week!" snarled Theodore, glowering at her accusingly.
"What?" Tracey glanced over sharply, eyes shining with delight.
"I did not!" Astoria burst, trying not to laugh at the bizarre mixture of expressions that were suddenly turned on her.
"You did!" Theodore trembled. "You were so excited when you found out that Hagrid's hippogriff had escaped that you nearly made out with him in front of me!"
"It was a peck!" Astoria insisted, laughing stupidly. She repeated the same fast, closed mouthed kiss on Tracey's cheek.
"Oh," sighed Tracey, plainly disappointed." You shouldn't tease me so, Theodore."
"It was on the mouth!" hissed Theodore. "His whole face went stupid! I had to drag you away!"
Tracey eyes re-narrowed.
"It was nothing," grumbled Astoria, suddenly less amused. "You didn't have to drag me away, I was following you!"
"Whatever," spat Theodore. "I'm done dealing with him, is all. If you want to join up with Crabbe and Goyle and be part of Malfoy's gang, that's fine by me. I expect he'll probably have you—but don't expect me to hang around!"
Astoria and Tracey exchanged baffled looks.
"Mother wants to be in Italy for most of July!" drawled Theodore, attempting a scathing imitation of Draco's voice. He sneered darkly at the door. "Poncy git."
0o0
Nah-nah-nah-nah: filler chapter!
I literally feel as though nothing happened in this. Actually, part of what took me so long to post this chapter was because I wasn't terribly fond of the lack of character development/interesting banter/plotting in it. Pretty much the most intriguing part of this chapter is the Theodore's Draco-related action toward the end. Still, I'm anxious to get to the summer and, in order to do that, I must wrap up book three! Ill have the next chapter up late on Sunday and I promise much more interesting development in that one!
Reviews are a wonderful treat!