Chapter Thirty Five
Key Players
0o0
The next day was a Saturday. Normally, Astoria would have slept in for hours but a nagging fear that she might miss something exciting or important drove her out of bed before ten o'clock.
She found Theodore eating a late breakfast alone at the end of his stable in the hall. Something about the fatigued way that he was holding himself made Astoria feel certain that he had been sitting there since the early morning by himself.
In the middle of the room, a white line drawn clearly about it in a neat chalk circle, was the Goblet of Fire and if Astoria had to guess, she would have wagered this was the object of Theodore's singular fascination.
"Who have you seen put their name in?" asked Astoria, snagging a piece of cold toast and chewing it eagerly, heedless of its rubbery constancy.
"Most of Durmstrang," answered Theodore, sounding as though the topic was already beginning to tire him. "Your mates, the Weasleys, gave it a go a few hours ago. Took an aging potion, I think. The line around the Goblet spit them both back out with beards as long as father time's."
Astoria slid a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter, feeling that Fred and George's plan to sneak across the age line had been doomed from the start.
"Everyone in the hall lost it," continued Theo dryly. "Your other best pals Maudlin and Alec had a fit— they're not here anymore, of course." Theodore shot Astoria a very odd, almost amused look out of the corner of his eye. "They took off for the grounds with Malfoy about an hour ago."
"Did they?" asked Astoria carefully, not wanting to show just how uncomfortable she herself felt about this new, although not entirely unexpected friendship.
"Yeah," said Theo slowly. "Isn't that pleasant? So many friends, all together in one place..."
Astoria took an annoyed swig of coffee. She was about to stand up and suggest the library when she spotted the side of Maudlin's head near the entrance chamber.
"They're right over there, actually," said Astoria primly, imitating Theodore's disinterested tone. "Come with me and meet them?"
"Oh, no," breathed Theodore. "I"m sure they came back specially, looking for you— wouldn't want to get in the way."
"Fine," said Astoria, annoyed by this attitude. "You'll have to meet them eventually, though. They'll be here all year."
"Hang on— " said Maudlin, cutting off whatever Alec was saying as Astoria made her way toward the front doors, "—Astoria! Come here!"
Maudlin, Alec, Draco, Crabbe and Montague from the Slytherin quidditch team were all lingering near the steps. There was a fourth boy with them as well, who who Astoria did not recognize, wearing one of the striped navy shirts of Beauxbatons.
"Good morning," said Astoria, shielding her eyes against the blinding sunlight. "Have you put your names into the Goblet yet?"
"I did an hour or two ago with Luc," said Maudlin, "So did Montague- that's how we met. Have you met Luc? No? Luc Millefeuille, this is Astoria Greengrass- Astoria, Luc Millefeuille."
"Millefeuille?" asked Astoria, thinking at first that it was his family name she was recognizing, before realizing that a mille-feuille was a pastry and the word had only caught her ear because of its faint absurdity.
"He's named after custard, but his grandfather was famous for poisoning Muggles with puff-pastry, if you can even believe it, so we let it slide," continued Maudlin generously.
"Charmed," said Astoria flatly, shaking Luc's hand. "Are you on your way to put your name in, Alec?"
"Oh, no," said Alec smoothly. "I'm not entering."
"What?" drawled Draco, as amused by the unashamed cowardice of this remark as he was scornful.
"I only volunteered for the Tournament so that I could get away from the Durmstrang grounds," confessed Alec shamelessly. "I'm not actually going to put my name in. Why would I want to spend all year fighting against unknown perils when I could just as easily be a spectator?"
Astoria laughed buoyantly at this and by the time she had recovered, even Maudlin, who normally worshiped propriety in public, looked amused. In fact, all four boys had a decidedly bright-eyed look about them.
"Have you been drinking?" asked Astoria suspiciously, peering at Draco in particular, who seemed far too smily for a Saturday morning before noon.
"We have, in fact," smirked Alec. "We were just coming to find you to bring you to the lake with us."
"Do you have any other friends who want to come along as well?" asked Luc, smiling in a false way that did nothing to endear him to Astoria's heart. "Alec promised he would find us girls."
"Did he?" sneered Draco, his voice tinged with annoyance.
"Luc has already found too many girls in his life," said Maudlin firmly. "If he comes anywhere near you, Astoria, come find me and I'll tell you a few stories that are guaranteed to ruin your taste for him forever."
Astoria laughed and Luc continued to smile, but the look stiffened and he fell back, chastened.
The day was clean and glorious and as Astoria could think of no good excuse for going back indoors, she followed the troupe of boys down toward the lake, privately wishing that Flint was still in school, as Astoria might ideally have swapped him for Montague.
They chose a small cove near the boathouse with a bank that curved inward, hiding them from the sight of anyone on the Durmstrang ship. On the opposite shore, several Hufflepuffs were laying about on blankets reading and enjoying the last of the autumn sunshine, paying Astoria's small group no mind.
Alec produced a bottle of wine out of nowhere and set about opening it.
"Where did you get that?" asked Astoria in surprise.
"Madame Maxime," said Alec, shrugging as he tugged on the cork. "She stayed out late last night, talking to your caretaker Hagrid. Someone- who shall remain nameless- took the opportunity of slipping into her stores."
As Alec lived on the Durmstrang ship and Maudlin did not appeared at all phased by this comment, Astoria immediately assumed Luc was the culprit.
"They're the same size, aren't they, Hagrid and Maxime?" remarked Maudlin in disbelief.
"Can you imagine what it would look like if they reproduced?" drawled Draco, his nose wrinkling at this mixture of theoretical delight and disgust.
"Like two giants fucked, probably," suggested Alec, yanking the cork loose from the wine bottle with a pop that echoed all the way toward the Hufflepuffs on the opposite bank.
Astoria snorted and took a glass when it was handed to her.
"I thought you liked Hagrid," commented Draco, his eyes flickering onto to Astoria.
"I do," said Astoria in a dignified voice, still fighting off a horrible case of the giggles.
"I'll leave it to you to babysit, then," said Draco, shaking his head and trying not to be amused. "I wouldn't go near that mess with a ten foot pole."
Maudlin, who by now was looking a little drunk, emphatically agreed with Draco.
"Really?" remarked Alec in surprise. "I'd have a look."
"Of course you would," said Maudlin indulgently, taking the bottle of wine from Draco. "You've always had a fascination with horror, Alec."
By noontime, the idea of slipping off to the castle for a nap before the Halloween feast was beginning to cross Astoria's mind quite frequently. Unfortunately, Maudlin was making this very difficult for her. For a boy that had rarely ever showed Astoria any interest in his own home, he was bizarrely happy to see her in a foreign place and every time Astoria stood up or made eyes at the castle, Maudlin seemed to find the wine for her again.
At first, Astoria thought that this must be because Maudlin assumed that she was slightly more popular at Hogwarts than she actually was, but as the afternoon wore on and their conversations progressively became looser and looser, Astoria began to notice that Maudlin's fixation was rather nostalgic. Twice he told stories involving Astoria from when they had both been little children- stories Astoria had, for the most part, largely forgotten, as Maudlin was three years older than she was.
"I don't remember this," Astoria insisted when Maudlin began a third meandering, childhood tale. "I think you're making it up."
"I am not," said Maudlin, laughing to himself at a particular memory. "It was summer time and you were visiting. I told you to go into Mr. Bonaccord's room and take his watch because I thought it was fantastically ugly."
"The Bonaccords are a French family?" asked Montague, doing a poor job of keeping up.
"Yes, but one of his ancestors was the first Supreme Mugwump for the International Confederation of Wizards, so even you should know him," said Maudlin carelessly.
Astoria cringed, feeling that way Maudlin had said this was borderline insulting, but Montague did not seem to notice.
"So, with the right amount of prodding, Astoria goes and takes the watch," Maudlin continued, already cracking himself up. "Two days later, my father catches me with it. Now, this watch was literally so uniquely ugly that it could only belong to Mr. Bonaccord. Naturally, thinking fast, I blamed the whole incident on Astoria."
"This is a lovely story," said Astoria, taking the wine from Draco, who alone did not appear to be laughing.
"So, my father brings Astoria into his study and sternly says, 'Haven't I always told you to be courteous to guests in my house?' and Astoria says to him, 'But I was courteous! That's why I organized everything else in his drawer for him- you've never said anything about robbing the guests.'"
Alec, who had met Aston many times and could fully appreciate the humor of this, almost spilled his drink laughing.
"How do you know these details anyway, if you blamed the whole thing on me?" demanded Astoria. "Weren't you hiding in the garden somewhere?"
"Oh," said Maudlin, waving his hand, "I was watching- just in case he tried to mail you to Africa or something- I might have come clean."
This went so much against the image that Astoria had cultivated over the years of Maudlin as a child, that she was almost stunned speechless.
"What did your father do?" asked Luc, glancing at Astoria morbidly, as though he privately hoped the punishment had been severe.
"Oh, he just laughed and let her go back to tap dancing in the front hall," said Maudlin.
"You tap-danced?" asked Draco snidely. More and more, Astoria had found her eyes drawn toward Draco throughout the telling of this tale, watching as his face grew steadily stonier.
"For years," scoffed Maudlin, ignoring the fact that this question had been addressed to Astoria. "It was shameful, really. She used to put on these shows-"
"Ok," said Astoria quickly, avoiding Draco's eyes, "that's enough nostalgia for me. I maintain that the whole story about the watch is made up, anyway."
"It's not. I was in my first year at Beauxbatons," insisted Maudlin adamantly. "You would have been about eight. It was the same year I pushed you off the broomstick."
"Ah," sighed Astoria, "childhood memories."
A few minutes later, Montague got up and announced that he ought to be getting back to the castle. Astoria had a hunch that this was because he was becoming nervous about potentially having to walk across the hall drunk if he was named as champion, so she waved him off graciously. Luc too seemed to have reached his limited and departed soon after.
Draco did not seem sorry to see either Montague or Luc go and, as if to show his how pointed his dislike was, Draco promptly claimed Luc's seat on a rock with his feet.
"I know," sighed Maudlin carelessly, reading Draco's expression. "Luc really is terribly boring, but he's related to Vincent Duc de Trefle-Picques and so is my girlfriend, so there's really no way of getting rid of him."
"Oh yeah?" asked Draco almost insolently. "Where is your girlfriend, anyway?"
"Back at the carriage, I think," said Maudlin, missing the tone of Draco's voice. "Probably planning the whole evening out with her friends. They always do that- it's awful to listen to them dither. Why do women do that, Astoria?"
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Why didn't you bring her along and introduce her, instead?"
Maudlin shrugged and this gesture seemed to confirm something as far as Draco was concerned, because Draco went on sarcastically and without waiting for an answer, "It doesn't matter. I'm sure I'll meet her eventually."
When the sun began to dip behind the tops of the trees, even Alec seemed to know that it was time to return to the Durmstrang ship to change.
Astoria set off around the edge of the lake, hoping Draco would linger behind with Crabbe but it was not to be.
"Mendel seems alright," said Draco, catching up with her. "If you don't mind how often he talks about himself, at least."
"Seriously?" snapped Astoria, bristling at this hypocrisy. "That's rich."
"Yeah?" returned Malfoy snidely. "So is Maudlin, isn't he? I don't suppose you missed that."
This was a bit of a drastic turn around even for Draco. Astoria turned to look at him and it suddenly occurred to her that she had never seen Draco more drunk than she was before. There was a first time for everything, however and Draco had started drinking much earlier than Astoria had, a fact that Astoria was forced to attribute some of this sudden unreasonableness to.
"Well, it's too bad that you feel that way," said Astoria stiffly, "because I think he genuinely likes you."
"Not as much as he likes you," said Draco snidely. "I suppose he's the type that likes to please everyone and gives you whatever you want just to prove how manly he is? Oh-" added Draco snottily, "-in a big-brotherly way, of course."
"Don't be a jackass," muttered Astoria, speeding up.
"I'm just making an observation," continued Draco rudely, speeding up his pace as well. "He certainly talks about you a lot, doesn't he?"
Draco was making an observation, but it seemed to Astoria that it was one Draco probably would not have made out-loud if he had been sober. Clearly, something about Maudlin was grinding Draco's gears, despite how pleasant Astoria thought Maudlin had gone out of his way to be, and she really had no ambition to find out what it was.
"So what if he talked about me?" Astoria snapped. "He doesn't have any real siblings. What's the big deal?"
"It's a bit creepy, is all," said Draco coldly. "Especially with him being so much older than you."
"I've known him since I was a baby," said Astoria tightly. "I really don't see what age has to do with it."
"I bet you just fawned over him when you were little," Draco sneered, his lip curling involuntarily as he imagined Astoria in the role of Maudlin's simpering eight year old admirer. "Did you think he was impressive?"
"No, actually," said Astoria angrily. "I thought he was terribly mean."
They had reached the entrance hall and Astoria was quite keen to get to the marble staircase and be away from Draco's sudden and unexpected aggression.
"Funny how he likes you now though, isn't it?" Malfoy called after her cruelly. "After all those years of picking on you?"
Astoria paused on the third step up and turned to look at him, feeling an angry blush spreading to her cheeks. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," said Draco with a sarcastic shrug. "It must be your personality that's changed over the years- because what else could have changed since you were eight?"
Astoria was not stupid enough to miss the inference. Draco was plainly suggesting that Maudlin was only nice to her now because she had sprouted breasts and given up tap-shoes.
"I'm just saying," finished Malfoy childishly, shrugging twitchily again before corralling Crabbe and pushing him down toward the dungeons.
0o0
Astoria did not have time for a nap before the feast but she did manage to have a shower. After she had washed the afternoon off of her skin and had a look into her jewelry box, she felt her mood begin to shift away from tenseness at last. By dinner time, Astoria was full of the warm glow of anticipation as she made her way down to the Great Hall.
This excitement seemed to be infectious and there was hardly a face in the hall that did not keep turning to stare at the Goblet of Fire. Fred and George had rallied considerably since their failure to trick the age-line that morning and, now that their chances of competing had finally been eliminated, they were much more open to the discussion of taking bets on the Tournament.
"Suppose we just went around and took bets, anyway?" Fred suggested. "We've never lost more than we've made before. Maybe we don't need to have any money."
"That's risky," said Astoria, shaking her head. "It's like begging the world to mess with us."
"What about your friend, Mendel?" asked George. "He's loaded, isn't he? Maybe he would back us? At least for the first task, and after we could let him in on the profits as a thanks?"
This thought had, truthfully, already occurred to Astoria but something about the way Draco had spoken to her earlier- as though she was already in Maudlin's pocket- made this idea seem repugnant to her.
"No," said Astoria again, not quite meeting his eye. "Best to keep it to ourselves, I think."
Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch had returned for the drawing of the champions and Astoria found herself frowning in the direction of the staff table.
Barty Crouch looked exhausted, his mind far away from his dinner, fixed on the idea of the journey home that awaited him. Bagman however, could not have looked more excited if he had been trying, and was beaming about the hall, winking at students who happened to make eye contact with him.
"Look at him up there," muttered George. "The slick git! How d'you think Crouch would feel if he knew that Bagman stole gambling gold from minors?"
"He'd probably have Bagman fired," said Astoria very quietly. "We won't get the money back that way, it'll just make Bagman more desperate. I suppose we could threaten to tell Crouch, though..."
"Blackmail, you mean?" said Fred quickly. "That's what I thought, only George thinks that'll just get us in more trouble."
Their plates magically cleared in front of them and Dumbledore stood up behind the staff table. A hush fell and Astoria felt a thrill of shared excitement.
"The time has come," announced Dumbledore. "The Goblet is ready to make its decision."
The blue flames in the Goblet behind him suddenly turned red and began to spit white sparks. A great tendril of flame licked the air and a slightly burnt piece of parchment fluttered down. Dumbledore snatched it out of the cross breeze and read the paper out loud. "The champion for Durmstrang is Viktor Krum."
The sound of applause was almost deafening. At the Slytherin table, Astoria saw Alec give Krum a very uncharacteristic cheers as he passed toward the chamber off the hall.
The next piece of paper that the Goblet spit out was on pale blue stationary.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," declared Dumbledore after he had caught the smoldering name card, "will be Fleur Delacour."
The beautiful blonde girl that Astoria had seen the night before stood up and began to walk down the length of the staff table. Walking did nothing to detract from her natural grace and rather seemed to enhance it instead. Fleur's silvery blonde hair bounced like exotic silk as she opened the door to the chamber beyond.
Astoria chanced a glimpse at Maudlin who, unlike some of his weeping classmates, was clapping enthusiastically and looking privately very relived.
Silence fell again. When the goblet turned red a third time, there was not a pair of eyes in the hall that were not glued to the last, tumbling sheet of parchment.
"Last, but certainly not least," called Dumbledore, allowing for a moment's pause in order to cultivate maximum suspense, "the champion for Hogwarts... will be Cedric Diggory!"
Astoria was momentarily deafened by the stamping and hooting applause that had erupted from the Hufflepuff table. Hufflepuff, which never seemed to see any glory, was finally going to have its day in the sun and they weren't going to let the moment pass silently.
"What do you think?" asked Fred at once, bending nearer so that Astoria could here him over all the yelling. "Krum for the win?"
Astoria shrugged. "It's hard to tell, isn't it? Fleur looks delicate but she's champion for a reason. Cedric's not stupid either. A little gullible, maybe," Astoria allowed, thinking of the time she had followed him to Muggle Studies, "but not untalented."
"Well, Fred and I will start to spread word that we might take bets tomorrow," said George. "No promises, just to see what kind of response-"
George broke off in surprise as the flames filling the Goblet of Fire began to burn red once again.
"What's going on?" asked Fred. "Is it going to spit out a copy of rules?"
Dumbledore caught the fourth scrap of parchment and something about the carefully guarded look on his face told Astoria that he had not been expecting the flames to burn red a fourth time.
Dumbledore stared at the bit of paper in his hands for an almost uncomfortably long time. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Harry Potter."
Nobody in the hall spoke and it was as though a cold draft of air had frozen the smiles on each of the Hufflepuffs faces.
"I didn't put my name in," said Harry in a low, panic stricken voice somewhere further down the table. "You know I didn't-"
Dumbledore called for Harry again and his voice, although calm, now had something of an edge to it.
Hermione managed to push Harry out of his seat. Astoria turned to watch as Harry made his way toward the door that the rest of the champions had just disappeared through. Harry pushed the door open with a clammy looking hand and his white face was suddenly no longer visible.
"How did he do that?" demanded Fred in a low, awestruck voice.
"I don't know," said Astoria, who had a very bad feeling about this. The look on Harry's face had not been one of excitement, or even one that was fearful of punishment. Harry had looked truly and honestly bewildered.
"Blimey," muttered George.
"Why would the Goblet give Dumbledore four names?" asked Astoria tensely. "There's only three schools in the tournament. Shouldn't it have known better?"
"No," said Fred. "I meant how did he get past the age line!"
Astoria blinked and was surprised to see that Fred looked borderline ecstatic.
"The nerve!" added George. "To think, he watched us take that aging potion and all along he had a better trick up his sleeve! Why didn't he share it with us?"
"I- what?" asked Astoria, aware that talk was breaking out all over the hall like the thrum of distant thunder.
"Come on!" said Fred, smacking his brother's back. "Let's nip down to the kitchens and see if we can find some party supplies- we've got ourselves a Gryffindor champion!"
Astoria watched them go, feeling no desire to tag after them or to glorify Harry's bizarre vote of confidence from the Goblet of Fire.
Instead, she went back to the common room. It was busy and loud for such a compact space, especially with everybody hanging about on couches or loitering in corners, waiting for Harry to return.
"I can't believe this," fretted Hermione. "Every year something has to go wrong!"
"Do you know how he got past the age line, Hermione?" asked Fred, who had retuned with George and an armful of sweets and butterbeer.
"That's the thing," said Hermione worriedly, "I don't think that he did."
"Of course he did," said Ron blackly. Up until this point, Ron had been sitting on the end of the couch and staring into the fire moodily. "You heard him- he said he'd do it at night, when no one was watching... I reckon he must have snuck back down while we were asleep and entered. Maybe he used the invisibility cloak. Could be that's what tricked Dumbledore's line, couldn't it?"
Hermione did not look as though she thought this theory very likely and Astoria, for her part, was inclined to agree with Hermione.
When Harry did return, he was given a standing ovation of enthusiastic applause. Someone tied a Gryffindor banner around Harry's neck, so that it hung heavily down his back. Harry was forced into the center of the room, where he stood for a long while, looking bashful and confused.
At this point, Astoria had seen enough. She excused herself and began the climb up to the fourth year girls dorm.
When her head hit her pillow she fell almost at once into a restless sleep; aided by the wine she had drank that afternoon and disturbed by Harry Potter's face as it had looked in the middle of the Great Hall, frozen and doubtful.
0o0
Astoria allowed herself to properly sleep in on Sunday, feeling none of the fear of potentially missed opportunities that had roused her the day before.
A light rain was coming down outside, pattering at the windows and infecting Astoria with a desire to remain underneath her blankets, reading magazines. There was nothing happening anywhere in the rest of the school that seemed to merit Astoria's getting up or getting dressed and it was well past lunch time when hunger finally drove her down to the Great Hall.
Astoria grabbed a couple of oranges out of the fruit bowl on the Gryffindor table and a half of a stale BLT from one of the left-over lunch platters, before abandoning the nearly empty hall in favor of the library.
All of the torches in the hallways had been lit in order to combat the rainy darkness outside. By time Astoria had reached the third floor, she had finished her sandwich, swallowing the last bite as she passed a set of windows that looked out over the rain-pocked lake.
Tracey was sitting in a corner of the library, next to the shelves that housed old periodicals. Her Arithmancy homework was spread out before her on an oak table and her expression was one of industriousness.
"Hello," Tracey muttered distractedly when Astoria sat down across from her.
Astoria pulled the oranges out of her pocket and set to work peeling them, glancing over her shoulder now and then to check for Madam Pince, who would surely disapprove of such behavior around her covetously guarded library books.
"Working on the next assignment, are you?" asked Astoria, tossing Tracey a few slices of her orange.
"Yeah," said Tracey, eating the fruit absently. "It's tricky stuff. Have you finished yours yet?"
"Nope," said Astoria, spitting out a bit of orange pith.
"If you want, I'll work on it with you," offered Tracey.
Astoria fished a seed out of her mouth. "Nope."
Tracey blinked, cottoning on to Astoria's flat mood. "Late night partying last night, was it?" she asked. "I suppose Gryffindor is ecstatic about Harry?"
"I went to bed early," said Astoria. "Some of them stayed up, though. Doesn't seem like much of a thing to celebrate, if you ask me."
"Why not?" muttered Tracey, running her hand down a reference book's index. "Potter broke the rules and got away with it, even though he's underage. It should make the whole Tournament more interesting. Not that I'll be admitting that in front of Malfoy and the rest."
"Right livid, was he?" asked Astoria dryly, pocketing her orange peel.
"Who?" asked Tracey, her eyes back on the book, not listening properly.
"Draco," said Astoria. "Had a fit and took off for the owlery, I presume?"
"Mhmm," said Tracey idly, before Astoria's words sank in. "No, actually. He and Montague were talking about making badges or something..."
"What, are they going to start a protest?" wondered Astoria, thinking that this reaction was perhaps even more stupid than the one she had feared.
"Dunno," said Tracey. "They're in the next room with that weird mate of yours. Alec whatshisname? Go ask them."
Astoria normally wouldn't have gone out of her way to seek out Malfoy or any of his cronies on a weekend, but Tracey was so busy and boring that, once Astoria had finished her second orange, she decided to cave in and go find them after all.
She spotted Draco and Alec's blonde heads from afar, sitting around a wide circular table in the room of atlases with Montague. An absent clap of thunder outside the long windows muffled the sound of Astoria approach and she was able to sneak up on them unnoticed.
"Don't poke them like that," Malfoy snapped, glaring at Goyle, who was holding an ambiguous scrap of bronze attached to a pin fastener.
"We could make the pins say both messages if we used this charm," said Alec, shoving a book toward Draco.
"How?" asked Draco.
"By poking them," said Alec, smirking at this rich irony.
"What are those?" asked Astoria.
Draco's first instinct seemed to be to hide the badges from sight because Astoria's voice caused him to jump uncomfortably.
"Oh," said Draco, recognizing her, "it's you."
Astoria ate her last wedge of orange and leaned over him, touching one of the blank badges. "What are these supposed to be? Tracey seems to think you'll be protesting the tournament."
Alec laughed.
"Well," said Draco smugly, "not the whole tournament per-say."
"You're not protesting Harry Potter?" demanded Astoria scornfully. "Why do you do these things?"
"Why do I do these things?" repeated Draco in annoyance. "I can't believe they're letting him play in the first place! Only Dumbledore would allow a fourteen year old champion- just because Potter's his favorite..."
"Harry says he didn't enter," said Astoria, causing Draco and Alec to make twin noises of disbelief. "For all you know, Harry really didn't put in his name, and this is just some elaborate plot to have him murdered."
"Promise?" sneered Malfoy, taking the badge back from her irritably.
"The teachers won't allow anyone to wear those," said Astoria.
"They will if they're not profane," said Alec confidently. "Surely, even in England, students are still allowed to have an opinion?"
"You just have to be on the ground floor of every scandal, don't you?" wondered Astoria, taking in Alec's amused face.
Alec raised a single eyebrow and leaned back in his seat.
"Are you taking bets on the tournament, Greengrass?" asked Montague, changing the topic.
"Could be," said Astoria, uncomfortable with Alec's suddenly keen interest. Surely Maudlin would have a few choice opinion about the fact that Astoria was basically running a gambling ring, and Astoria knew that she would prefer if Alec did not go back to Maudlin talking about it.
Draco snorted. "Why wouldn't you? You always take bets on the quidditch tournament. What, are you scared the Ministry might catch on to your illegal side operation? I'm sure they've got better things to think about."
"Like the fact that they've got an underage Champion on their hands?" suggested Astoria wryly. "You should send Crouch a badge."
"Maybe I will," sneered Draco threateningly. "It was his rule that Potter broke."
"Maybe broke," Astoria corrected.
"You actually believe that someone else nominated Potter as champion?" asked Draco sharply. "This is exactly the type of thing Potter lives for, Astoria. He loves attention even more than he loves his muggle-loving friends."
Draco's expression was angry, but something about his eyes suggested that he was privately desperate to hear her agree with him. Astoria shrugged and dodged the question entirely, equally as unwilling to lie as she was to instigate.
0o0
The next day at breakfast, Astoria was presented with an odd conundrum. For the first time ever, she found her loyalty at the Slytherin table to be divided, and she did not know where to sit.
Tracey and Theodore were occupying their usual space at the end of the table near the doors, but several seats down in the middle of the hub-bub, Maudlin and Luc had chosen to sit with Draco Malfoy and Alec instead of with the Ravenclaws.
Astoria hesitated and, in the end, chose Theodore because the fact that Draco was integrating himself so thoroughly (and quite contrarily to the insults he had leveled at Maudlin in private on Saturday) with people she had known for years made her very uncomfortable.
"Morning," said Theo, yawning broadly.
"Astoria!" hissed Tracey intently, wasting no time.
"What?" asked Astoria, nearly alarmed by the tone of her voice.
"Is that Maudlin Mendel?" Tracey asked, pointing to Maudlin's wavy, dark-haired head.
"Yes," said Astoria, as perplexed as she was annoyed. "Why?"
"Maudlin Mendel, the boy who sent you an expensive broom that you gave away to the Weasleys, Maudlin? The same Maudlin you went to visit in France?"
"Yes," said Astoria again, still unsure exactly what Tracey was aiming for.
"He's gorgeous!" said Tracey emphatically. "What are you doing, sitting with us? Go sit with him!"
Before Astoria could answer, the mail arrived and there was brown envelope in an owl's beak with Astoria's name written on it in an unfamiliar hand.
"Hang on," said Astoria distractedly, ripping open the letter. Her eyes raced to the bottom to see who it was from and she was surprised to discover that the letter had been signed by Marcus Flint.
Astoria returned to the first paragraph curiously.
Astoria,
Forgive me for getting straight to the point, but I've heard that you're talking bets on the Triwizard Tournament. (The Weasleys wrote to Oliver Wood and it came to me through a shared acquaintance). Take my advice and don't.
You know I respect a healthy bout of rule breaking, but consider this a warning. You probably want to keep your betting pool small anyway, but there are two groups of Goblins that are already intent on handling all of the gambling for the Tournament. Both of these Goblin clans detest each other and I've seen them resort to violence over Quidditch matches I've played in with the Wasps several times. Neither of them are going to like the fact that you're competing with them.
My advice would be to drop out entirely, but if you don't listen to me, I'd at least recommend a meeting with the goblins first. You'll want to make sure there is no bad blood before you try anything (trust me). Most of the Goblins have been held up in Hogsmeade since the Tournament opened, so you should be able to find them there. I've checked around and a reliable source tells me that Hodrod is holding court at the Three Broomsticks. I'd recommend going to him first- I've found him to be slightly more civil. Ragnuk and his folk have been staying at the Hog's Head. He's a complete nutter, but he might listen to what you have to say as long as you're careful not to insult him.
If you manage to get a foot in, I'll bet fifty galleons on Krum.
-Marcus
Astoria swore under her breath and re-read the letter.
"Astoria!" said Tracey. "Are you listening to me?"
"When is our next Hogsmeade visit?" asked Astoria sharply, furious with Fred and George for their lack of subtlety.
"Next weekend," said Tracey. "Do you want to go together?"
"Can't," said Astoria, flipping the letter over to write Marcus back and thank him.
"Why not?" wondered Tracey, looking faintly offended.
"I've got plans to meet someone," said Astoria.
"Ooh, who?" asked Tracey.
The bell rang overhead. Astoria's eyes darted across the hall, searching for Fred and George, but it looked as though this crucial bit of information would have to wait until lunch.
Astoria started off for Care of Magical Creatures with Theodore and Tracey, her thoughts entirely elsewhere.
"Well, if I can't go with you, would you be ever so angry if I went with your friend, Maudlin?" asked Tracey, grinning mischievously.
"He's got a girlfriend," cautioned Astoria with a laugh, trying hard to picture a scenario in which Tracey and Maudlin might end up alone together in the village and happily failing.
"You never mentioned that he was so pretty," said Tracey. "The way you've always talked about him, I thought he would be compete troll."
"Who is a complete troll?" asked Draco Malfoy loudly, as he Crabbe and Goyle caught up with them on the path.
"More like who isn't," said Tracey with a giggle.
"They're talking about Maudlin Mendel," said Theodore, surprising Astoria by offering up this information without waiting for any wheedling on Draco's part.
"You think he's a troll?" drawled Draco, highly amused.
"No!" said Tracey, doing exactly what Astoria imagined Theodore must have had hoped she would. "I think he's glorious! I can't believe you've been going to visit him all these years, Astoria! What is he like?"
"Glorious?" repeated Draco in annoyance. "I wouldn't go that far..."
"Really?" asked Theodore shrewdly. "I thought you had gotten off to a pretty good start with him, Draco. You've been eating all your meals together."
Astoria threw a quelling look at Theodore, remembering the squabble she had gotten into with Draco on this same stretch of path only two days before.
"I like him just fine," sneered Draco, his eyes darting irresistibly to Astoria. "I still wouldn't call him glorious."
"Well, I would," said Tracey. "It's too bad he's taken. Is his girlfriend good looking, Astoria?"
Astoria shrugged, her thoughts tense and preoccupied by the idea of rivaling goblin clans. "Dunno, I've never properly met her. I think her father might be related to a duke though, so I imagine she's hard to replace."
Theodore snorted at this assessment but Tracey plowed on, undaunted.
"I don't know why you always talked about him as though he was a fat midget with a mood disorder. He seems perfectly lovely!"
"He might be good looking," Astoria allowed, noting the sour look on Draco's face as she said so, "but he's not very nice."
"How so?" Tracey prodded. "You mean he's rude? Because that's a trait I'm prepared to overlook in anyone over six feet tall with a symmetrical face and an ancestral fortune."
"Not necessarily," said Astoria, trying to think of a way to describe just what was wrong with Maudlin. "He's just- well, put it this way- unless he felt some sort of real loyalty, he'd betray anyone in a heartbeat and then spend the rest of his life pretending he never did anything wrong."
"So?" said Tracey flatly. "That's everybody, isn't it?"
"No," said Astoria "Most people have friends or mentors. Maudlin doesn't have friends the way a normal person does. The only mentor he wouldn't betray for some sort of power is his father- and that's because he's scared of him."
"Come on," laughed Tracey. "He's got friends! What about Alec?"
"Alec is the only exception," said Astoria firmly. "You're right though, he would never risk losing Alec."
"Or you," said Draco, unable to keep the note of bitterness out of his voice. "You're his old plaything, aren't you?"
Tracey laughed shrilly.
"Maudlin's nice enough to me," agreed Astoria tensely, wishing to put the subject to bed, "but Maudlin knows me because of his father."
Draco seemed to contemplate this idea, mulling it over in silence until they reached Hagrid's cabin.
"On'y a few left now," said Hagrid, indicating the Skrewts. "Bin killin' each other off. Too much pent-up energy' fer their own good, see? So I thought we migh' try takin' em for a walk today—"
"I will not," said Draco in his coldest voice.
"Yeh'll do as yer told, Malfoy. Else I'll be takin' a leaf out o' Professor Moody's book," said Hagrid threateningly.
Draco went very red and fell silent, prompting Astoria to wonder just how many indignities Draco was going to suffer through before he could be counted upon to have a breakdown. Surely he must be getting close?
"Where exactly does he expect us to fix the leash?" muttered Draco contemptuously, kicking a clump of grass at the nearest Skrewt as it scuttled too close for his comfort. "Around the sting, the blasting end or the sucker?"
Astoria, overhearing this comment, laughed.
"What?" snapped Malfoy defensively, still red in the face from Hagrid's reference to the time he had recently spent as a ferret.
"Nothing," said Astoria in a low voice, contemplating the leashes that Hagrid was handing out.
"Fix tha' leash 'round tha' middle," called Hagrid, leaning over to demonstrate and then standing up again quickly, because the Skrewt he had reached for had gone off with a tremendous bang, burning the lawn behind it.
Astoria handed Theodore the leash. "Gentleman first?"
0o0
Those Skrewts crack me up so much. I feel like I'm going to keep needlessly writing about them, even though they do almost nothing to advance the plot.
In any case, I'll try to get the next chapter up on Friday. I have a feeling it will feature Draco's 'Potter Stinks' badges, a Rita Skeeter article (because that could be fun) and perhaps a bit of Goblin skullduggery.
Reviews are always a welcome treat!