Chapter Thirty Nine
Control the Fear
0o0
The Christmas decorations went up over the course of Tuesday afternoon and continued to appear into the evening. Personally, Astoria could not help noticing that they were some of the most glorious Hogwarts had ever produced.
The marble staircase, which had sported a traditional garland trim for as long as Astoria could remember, had been given an upgrade. All up and down the banisters, golden owls now perched in decorative nests, hooting loudly whenever Astoria had occasion to walk past them. The usual twelve Christmas trees that lined the Great Hall had been spared no expense, either. Some (Astoria's favorites) had been frosted with icicles, so that they glittered like diamonds in the torch light, while still other trees contained clusters of live fairies or strings of candied fruit.
Professor Flitwick, perhaps feeling a need to make up for the class time that he had lost, had literally outdone himself on the suits of armor. All two hundred and eighty four of them had been polished to a shiny silver gleam and Flitwick had taken the time to enchant each of the knight's helmets to sing a different seasonal carol in three separate languages.
Snow continued to fall thickly outside, obscuring Astoria's view of the grounds from her dormitory window and lulling the student body into a premature sense of festiveness. While Professor Snape, dour as always, had gone out of his way to schedule a test for Thursday morning before break could officially commence, he was something of an exception. Indeed, many of the teachers, either falling prey to the same holiday glow infecting their pupils or else unwilling to fight what could only be a losing battle, were becoming increasingly tolerant of blatant relaxation during school hours.
Professor Vector, embracing the school-wide sense of distraction, allowed them to play games in his class on Wednesday afternoon.
"Eight hundred barrels of mulled mead?" gaped Astoria, repeating a rumor that Tracey had apparently heard concerning the ball. "Dumbledore would have to be mad!"
"Well, that's what Susan Bones says," said Tracey, who was sitting on the edge of the desk and watching Astoria's game of chess.
"Bones is a dunce," Malfoy scoffed, coaxing his bishop forward. "It can't be true. Dumbledore is hosting a ball, not a kegger."
Theodore snorted and pointed toward Astoria's row of chessmen. "If you move your knight, you can take his rook, Astoria."
Draco glanced at the board disparagingly, checking to see if Theodore was correct. His eyes returned to Astoria's smugly, safe in the knowledge that if Astoria did as Theodore had suggested, he would have open access to her king.
"Stop trying to help them, Theodore," sighed Tracey, hopping down form the desk. "You're rubbish at chess. You've lost three times already."
"Only because you cheat," muttered Theodore, giving up on trying to play the part of advisor anyway.
"I didn't cheat," said Tracey primly. "I lured you into making moves under the pretense of safety and then sprung a trap. That's how you're supposed to play."
"You kept asking me to get up and throw away candy wrappers for you!" Theodore complained. "That's not an official strategy! You probably tampered with the board when I wasn't looking!"
Tracey, who actually was frighteningly skillful when it came to almost all board games, shot Theodore a very stern look.
"Dumbledore did hire the Weird Sisters, at least," Tracey went on, her scowl melting at last. "That much seems to be fact."
"Blaise thinks so too," Draco agreed, watching idly as Astoria edged one of her pawns forward.
"Does he?" asked Tracey, her eyes flickering at this mention of Blaise's name. "I saw him this morning, but he didn't mention it..."
"Why would he mention it?" asked Draco snidely, his eyes still on the board. "Surely Zabini's got better things to do in the morning than to keep you updated on school news."
Tracey shrugged thoughtfully, shamelessly not blushing. "I've been thinking about giving him one of my family christmas cards."
Draco looked away from the game, his face suddenly shining with cruel disdain. "What?"
"Why not?" asked Tracey. "Mum made a thousand of them, except she's only got about three friends so there are plenty of extras."
"Because it's pathetic, for a start," Draco drawled, his eyes glittering with mirth. "What do you expect Blaise to do with it? It's not as if he's going to tack it up to his dorm wall."
"I'll have one, Trace," said Astoria pointedly. "I'll even tack it up, if you like."
"Alright," said Tracey brightly, stooping to rummage about in her bag before producing an ivory colored card with a Davis family photo fitted into the front. "We took the photograph this summer. My brother looks like an absolute ass-weasel, of course. Have a look at my dress, though- isn't that good? It's a Temperley."
"Oh, yeah," said Astoria, sparing Tracey's smiling photo-double a second look. "That's nice. The strapless bit flatters your arms."
"Good," admitted Tracey, looking very relieved. "I already gave Blaise his card at breakfast."
Theodore shook his head silently, clearly unable to fathom the desire to hand out photos of himself to the opposite sex, even if he was less inclined to laugh about it than Malfoy was.
"What is it?" Tracey demanded, catching on to Theodore's repressed smirk and Malfoy's unkind snickering.
"Nothing," said Theodore, before Malfoy could say something twice as patronizing. "It's just that blokes don't really do this sort of thing..."
"Really?" demanded Tracey skeptically. "They don't? You've only been pining away in silence after Padma Patil since, what- second year? You're really going to sit here and judge me?"
Theodore shut up at once. Malfoy, however, positively howled with laughter at this unexpected bit of information.
"Oh please," sneered Tracey, turning on Draco, "don't even get me started on you."
"Or what?" countered Draco, his smirk flickering only slightly. "You'll put on me on your mailing list?"
"Come on, Astoria. Back me up," said Tracey. "You'd give a boy your Christmas card, wouldn't you?"
Astoria bit her lip, trying very hard not to laugh herself now. Nothing, short of perhaps an imperious curse, would ever compel Astoria to start handing out photos of her face to potential dates, but Astoria could not think of how to say this politely.
"No, she wouldn't," sneered Draco confidently. "It's not like she needs to advertise, Davis."
"Because you know her so well?" sang Tracey tauntingly.
Malfoy scowled but something about the look on Tracey's face told Astoria that her attack was unfinished. Sure enough, Tracey pulled away from them and laughed wickedly. "What about Mike the gardener, then? I bet you would have given him a card, Astoria."
"Mike the who?" spat Draco at once, his haughty smirk vanishing like the sun behind a cloud. "What is she talking about?"
"I have literally no idea," said Astoria truthfully.
"Astoria used to keep all kinds of journals when she was little," Tracey clarified brightly. "She's still got them all on a shelf in her bedroom at home."
"So?" sneered Draco defensively.
"So, that's how I know for a fact that Astoria had a huge crush on the Mendel's gardener when she was eight," Tracey went on.
"Oh my god," gasped Astoria in disgust, the memory of what Tracey was speaking of coming back to her with the same clarity as a flashback during a seizure. "You read my kid diaries, Tracey?"
"Yeah," Tracey shrugged, "and when the gardener quit working for the Mendels, Astoria wrote this little entry in fancy cursive with nothing but the date and the words: 'He's gone. My heart will never be whole again'."
"What?" Astoria sneered, very taken aback. "No, I didn't. Stop it, Tracey."
"Well, you did," said Tracey cheerfully. "Then, you actually signed your name underneath, like you were trying to make the statement legally binding."
Theodore made a sound very similar to that of hot air being forced out of a kettle and ducked his head.
"My handwriting was probably atrocious," said Astoria, with as much dignity as she could muster. "How can you possibly remember my eight year old diary entry so well?"
"Because I thought it was so funny that I almost ripped out the page out and kept it," answered Tracey, point blank. "I only left it because I was afraid you would notice it was gone and blame that sad house-elf of yours..."
"You fancied the gardener?" Draco demanded, his face curiously more frustrated than disgusted.
"I was eight," Astoria snapped. "There's a reason I don't keep diaries anymore, clearly."
"You've got over your love of melodrama?" guessed Tracey, her eyes shining brightly.
"I've got nosier friends," Astoria clarified, her tone stony. "Besides, I might have been on to something, anyway. I only liked the gardner because he helped pull me out of a well that Maudlin had pushed me into it. Where are we all now, you might ask? Well, the gardener is probably still off saving damsels and I'm going to a ball with my former abuser."
Theodore made a sound under his breath and scooped up one of the pieces Astoria had taken from Draco earlier in their game, fiddling with it in his hands while shooting moody looks at Tracey out of the corner of his eye.
"Can I play now?" asked Tracey, gesturing toward the chess board impatiently. "Draco hasn't gone since I asked Astoria if she would put her face on a Christmas card."
"No," said Astoria peevishly, mentally running an inventory of what else she might have written in a journal before reaching puberty, realizing that potentially none of it was private anymore.
"Why not?" whined Tracey.
"Because no one wants to play with you," snapped Draco nastily, toppling his king and sitting back in his seat stubbornly.
0o0
This was not entirely true however, as the letter Astoria received in the common room that evening proved.
Belladonna, perhaps knowing it was easiest to avoid a fight, had readily agreed to sponsor Tracey's Eastern Star membership. She was equally as quick to triumphantly point out that a pledge could not be accepted with just one sponsor, however. This meant that at least two legacy women would have to write Tracey a letter of recommendation in order for her application to be considered admissible.
Astoria was therefore obligated to contact another adult member of the club for help and support. As Belladonna had so eloquently put it in her letter: Our own resources, unfortunately, are spread thin. If only Seraphina Zabini were your aunt, you might have better luck, darling. That woman certainly has at least two personalities that I have met, and several more besides...
Rolling her eyes and pushing closer to common room fire, Astoria turned her attention to a second sheet of parchment. This document listed the most prominent Eastern Star financial donors and Astoria was thankful that Belladonna had been kind enough to send a copy along with her letter. The Sisters meeting was scheduled for Saturday, rain or shine, and Astoria was running out of time.
Privately, Astoria had been hoping that the list might include a matriarch of the Abbott or Macmillian families; someone with a touch of soul, whose motive behind club leadership might be based on the idea of actually shaping young woman, rather than the idea of maintaining a proud, pure-blooded order. In this hope, Astoria was soon greatly disappointed.
The entire collection of members was disheartening, not because Astoria did not recognize any names, but rather because she did.
Druella Rosier, Irma Crabbe, Belvina Burke, Violetta Bulstrode. Astoria crossed each name off with her quill, deeming them all to be poor choices in her search for assistance.
Halfway toward the bottom of the sheet of parchment, it started to become clear that most of the people listed owed Astoria no allegiance. In the cases of Priscilla Parkinson and Tippy Tippman, some of were even the type of people who were likely to go out of their way in an attempt sabotage Astoria's cause on purpose.
Very few names gave Astoria reason to pause. Eloise Midgen's mother, who was responsible for any press related to the Sisters of the Eastern star, was one of them. For a moment, this option seemed promising and Astoria hesitated in dashing her name off with the quill. After a brief reflection however, Astoria was forced to concede that she did not know Eloise Midgen, nor she did imagine that her mother was particularly important within the club. The quill axe fell. Slash.
Narcissa Malfoy. Astoria chewed the side of her mouth pensively, debating this. In the end, she decided that Narcissa Narcissa would probably find Astoria's behavior in soliciting her to be very forward, perhaps even to the point of rudeness. Involving Draco in the scheme might manage to turn the tide in Astoria's favor, but it would surely also result in Draco's spending the rest of the year lording his hand in Tracey's acceptance over Tracey's head every single day. A pity, as Narcissa surely wielded enough respect to force Tracey's cause without issue. Another slash.
Becoming desperate, Astoria sped up and spent the the next fifteen minutes ruthlessly abusing the parchment. Upon discovering that Cassandra Rowle's aunt was the club's acting treasurer, (a fact that certainly helped to explain Cassandra's position as chapter president) Astoria double dashed Mrs. Rowle's name with such forceful bitterness that she actually punctured the paper. Seraphina Zabini's name followed shortly after, prompting Astoria's second double dash and a reactionary cackle of desperation.
Curiously angry with herself and her aunt for managing to sever ties with so many people in their short lifetimes, Astoria tossed the list onto the coffee table in disgust, where she continued to stare at it broodingly, feeling all of the shame that came with the realization that she had almost no native allies.
Astoria's eyes persisted and in the flickering firelight, she caught upon a name that she had missed during her first perusal. Turning the paper sideways to have a second look, Astoria felt a flicker of delayed excitement deploy in her stomach: Ursula Flint.
Snatching the list back up, Astoria stared hard at this name, trying to remember if Ursula and Belladonna had ever feuded. Surely Ursula must be a relative of Marcus Flint's? Marcus, who had always been fond of Astoria, had never yet refused her a favor. There could be something to this.
Astoria groped about for a second sheaf of parchment with one hand, her eyes still locked upon Ursula's name and address. Astoria would simply write a letter to Ursula. No, she would send the letter to Marcus first, with a second note, explaining her reasoning. Perhaps, if Marcus gave Astoria's letter to his grandmother himself, Ursula Flint might be more willing to oblige a second generation pureblood pledge?
Astoria hastily began to write, feeling very much as though she was crawling into bed with queer company as she composed several fluid and sycophantic paragraphs to a woman she had never met, detailing Tracey's many merits while skirting around Tracey's family history (or lack thereof) as delicately as possible.
After many hours of messaging the truth and meticulously obsessing over her exact wording, Astoria was satisfied. Percy Weasley himself could not have sucked up with such unique elegance. Astoria had painted Tracey as the model pure-blooded witch, ready to move her family name into a circle of higher dignity, if only those who currently occupied that space would allow it.
What was even more extraordinary, Astoria realized as she tucked the letter inside an envelope from her rarely used stationary set, was the fact that she had not even once been forced to tell an outright lie. Astoria's words, while guilty of omitting some of Tracey's less upstanding qualities, were all quite true. Tracey might be mischievous, but she was more than up to the task of making herself important in the world; a fact that Astoria had rarely ever considered before and which painted her friend in a slightly different light than the one that she was accustomed to.
Astoria dashed out a second note to Marcus with far less preamble, explaining her plan and then asking for his assistance. Before signing it off, Astoria reread what she had written and tacked on a post script, sweetening the deal by adding that she would give Marcus better betting odds on the next task if he helped her now.
The clock on the mantle piece read that it was nearly midnight by the time Belladonna's owl disappeared into the night bearing Astoria's messages.
Astoria cracked her back, feeling organized and in control of something for the first time since seeing her sister's locket swinging from Fred's hand in the hallway torch light.
If Tippy Tippman had ever managed to teach Astoria anything, it was the fact that, if there was one thing all cruelly discerning women with social power loved, it was helping a supplicating upstart on the path to propriety.
0o0
Astoria awoke early the next morning, full of a strange anticipatory energy. Although she knew that she could not reasonably expect word from either of the Flints until Friday, Astoria found herself rushing to get ready for breakfast anyway, wanting to be in the hall long before the morning mail arrived.
The castle was oddly busy for such a twee hour in the morning on a Thursday, a product of Yule Ball madness and so many visiting students. Halfway down a corridor on the fifth floor and unaccustomed to such early traffic, Astoria tripped headlong over somebody's feet. Staggering, Astoria managed to catch her balance but her bag tipped sideways and she was not fast enough to stop a stack of homework from cascading out onto the stone floor.
"Astoria!" cried Cedric Diggory apologetically, jumping up from a bench that he appeared to have been sitting on in a state of half-slumber. "I'm sorry!"
"Don't be," Astoria sighed, eyeing her sprawling homework. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
"Here, let me help," said Cedric, bending down to scoop up a fistful of paperclips for her. "It's my fault. I let myself close my eyes for just a minute..."
"Thanks," said Astoria, chucking the paperclips back into her bag and frowning slightly at the oddity of Cedric's words. "What are you doing sleeping in the hallway, anyway?"
"Oh," said Cedric, blushing bashfully. "I dunno."
Astoria looked about the corridor curiously, finding this notion to be more than passingly odd. Several feet away from the bench that Cedric had been dozing on, Astoria spotted the circular staircase that lead to Ravenclaw tower and knew her answer probably involved this fact.
"Alright," said Cedric in a confessional tone, following her gaze, "I know how it looks. I'm not trying to be creepy on purpose though, I swear."
"What are you doing, then?" asked Astoria slyly, re-stacking her essays and peering at Cedric almost nosily.
"Honestly?" asked Cedric, looking more than just a little embarrassed now. "I'm trying to ask Cho to the ball, but there doesn't seem to be any way of catching her on her own."
"Oh," said Astoria thoughtfully, grinning. "Well, why does she have to be alone? Can't you just ask for a word between classes or something?"
"I guess," Cedric admitted, running a hand through his gloriously golden hair. "Plucking up the courage is the hard part. I'm starting to think she isn't even interested- she's been avoiding my eye in the halls. I tell you, you ladies don't know how lucky you have it. I'd give anything to have nothing more to worry about than my dress robes..."
Cedric smiled crookedly and, for a long second, Astoria was temporarily captivated by the shiny, hesitant perfection of his features.
"I don't know," said Astoria, sympathizing with this feeling a great deal more than he knew. "I sort of know what you mean. It's a stressful time of year for a ball."
"It is," agreed Cedric thankfully, very relived to have found someone to share his insecurities with, after so many hours of sleeping outside Cho's common room alone. "Cho's got loads of friends... she never goes anywhere without them. You don't think she's doing it on purpose, do you? To let me down easy?"
Astoria blinked. The idea of Cedric Diggory, with his dazzling face and status as school champion being turned down for a date by any girl seemed highly unlikely to her. Surely the scenario of coming down for breakfast and discovering Cedric Diggory sleeping on a bench just for you was any girl's dream scenario? Cho would have to be half daft to refuse him.
"She'll say yes," said Astoria confidently, throwing the last stray quill into her bag and standing up.
"I dunno," Cedric blew air out of his nose and winced bashfully. "She's probably going with someone else now. I've taken too long."
"She'll regret it, if she is," said Astoria, laughing out loud at the thought.
"Who are you going with, anyway?" asked Cedric, looking as though a lightbulb had just gone off over his head. "I mean, you wouldn't just go with me, would you? I'm supposed to start the ball and all... I really need a date."
Astoria tried very hard not to feel unduly flattered by this, forcing herself to remember that Cedric had just spent the night on a bench in pursuit of another girl and his invitation was likely just as much an expression of his own cowardice as it was an easy means of scoring a dance partner.
"Only if you want," said Cedric quickly, backtracking slightly and putting his hands in his pockets.
"I've already told someone else that I'll go with them, actually," said Astoria, doing her very best not to positively explode with bizarre glee at the idea of what telling Tracey she was going to the ball with Cedric might have been like.
"Don't worry about it," said Cedric in a rush, looking a little ashamed of himself. "I'm just- I dunno. I'm sorry. You were only trying to get to breakfast."
"Cedric," said Astoria reassuringly, pulling her bag up higher on her shoulder, "ask Cho. She's going to say yes."
"Right," said Cedric bracingly, trying to look confident and falling a couple of inches short. "Thanks."
0o0
"You're looking unduly smug this morning," commented Theodore wryly when Astoria settled down beside him several minutes later. "What are you so pleased about?"
"Nothing," said Astoria quickly, knowing she was being shallow and ridiculous, but somewhat unable to entirely care. "Has the mail come?"
"Not yet," said Theodore, his suspicion increasing. "It's only seven thirty. Why?"
"No reason," said Astoria. "Pass the porridge, will you?"
Theodore extended Astoria the porridge one-handed, squinting at her face. "What? What is it? What have you done?"
Ignoring Theodore's outburst, Astoria took the porridge from him calmly and began ladling. "If I tell you, you have to swear that you won't laugh."
"Cross my crooked heart," said Theodore.
"I'm trying to get Tracey into the Sisters of the Eastern Star with me," said Astoria, purposefully leaving out her rather self-promoting gossip about Cedric.
Theo blanched and Astoria continued on ladling stubbornly, determined not to be put off her plan by any outside skepticism.
"I'm less tempted to laugh than I am to cry," said Theodore at last. "I don't really see the point. It'll never work. You haven't told her yet, have you?"
"No," said Astoria primly, "and I won't until I know for sure. I don't want to get her hopes up, either."
"I should think not," scoffed Theo. "It's lost cause."
"No, it's not," returned Astoria. "Tracey only needs two letters of recommendation. My aunt has already written one, and I've asked someone else on the board for the second."
"You have?" remarked Theodore dubiously. "Who?"
"Ursula Flint," said Astoria calmly, reaching for a bowl of raspberries.
"What?" gasped Theodore, dropping his fork. "Astoria, have you ever met Ursula Flint?"
"No," said Astoria nervously, looking up from the fruit. "Why?"
"She's got to be the the saltiest woman alive," explained Theodore explosively.
Astoria put her fork down as well, letting it fall with a clatter. "Seriously?"
"Yes!" added Theodore emotively. "What on earth compelled you to ask her?"
"She's Marcus's grandmother, isn't she?" Astoria tried weakly.
"I'm sorry," said Theodore slowly, "have you met Marcus? Of course his gran is a malcontented old crab!"
"Point taken," Astoria muttered. "So, what are you telling me? That I've waisted my time? I only have till Saturday- how am I going to get someone else now?"
The mail arrived overhead. Astoria did not even bother looking, overcome by a sudden rush of gloom. She had been so sure that writing to Ursula Flint was a good idea. Now that that plan was scratched, Astoria was back to square one and she was losing time by the minute.
"There might be some old aunts on my mother's side," said Theodore, rubbing his face pensively. "I mean, I haven't talked to them in years- not since my mother was alive, but-"
The wave of warmth that Astoria felt for Theodore, who would have been willing to contact long-estranged relatives for Tracey's sake, was cut short when a brown owl clutching two envelopes swooped in between them, upsetting the berries and showering them both with a flurry of snow.
"Is that-?" began Theodore doubtfully, staring at the letters.
It was. Astoria already recognized Marcus Flint's untidy scrawl on one envelope. In the return address of the other, written in a tight script that seemed to evoke a certain type of crotchetiness just by the stroke of the lettering, Astoria was able to read Ursula Flint's name.
"That was prompt," Astoria muttered nervously, freeing both letters from the owl's talons, noticing as she did so that Ursula's envelope was almost disconcertingly thick.
"How prompt?" demanded Theodore. "When did you ask her?"
"About midnight last night," Astoria admitted, intentionally refusing to meet Theodore's eye, knowing that his look would be one of horror.
"I'm surprised she even wrote you back at all," snipped Theodore. "Who sends someone's grandmother a letter in the middle of the night asking for favors?"
Astoria ignored him and opened Ursula's envelope first, thinking that if the news was bad, she wanted to know about it as quickly as possible so that she could recommence her search for help elsewhere.
It took a moment for Astoria to wedge the booklet of pages Ursula had written out of the top of the envelope.
"Oh, look," commented Theodore, his face a veritable canvass for eight shades of smarminess, "she's written you a novel. I bet half of that is a reprimand for soliciting her at an indecent hour, you know."
Astoria stopped counting the pages when she reached the back of the packet, staring at the last sheet of parchment in her hand with a sense of dull wonder.
"What?" asked Theodore, looking startled.
Behind Ursula's personal composition, which had been written out on fifteen pages front and back, was Tracey's recommendation letter.
"She wrote it," whispered Astoria, dropping the rest of the parchment. "Look, it's a letter supporting Tracey!" Astoria thrust the page at Theodore, who took it from her in disbelief.
"Read the rest of that," commanded Theodore, pointing toward Ursula's bulky letter, a caress of warning seeping into his tone. "The woman wants something from you."
"You're always so determined for things to go wrong, aren't you?" Astoria muttered, doing as he said anyway and beginning at the top.
After several minutes of reading, it became clear that Theodore was at least somewhat right, however. Ursula Flint did seem to have an interest in Astoria that went beyond the fact that Astoria was friends with her grandson. By the time she had reached the last page however, Astoria had still not quite managed to figure out what exactly that interest was.
Indeed, Astoria's best insight into Ursula Flint's mind could only be gleaned through tiny clues, betrayed by their intensity in the script; the way Ursula had made a point of reminding Astoria several times that she had been friends with Astoria's grandmother, for instance. The way that Ursula had twice come close to actually accusing Belladonna of intentionally preventing Astoria from being in contact with her grandmother's old friends on purpose. There was a whiff of something faintly smug about several of the paragraphs extolling traditional virtues as well, as though Ursula thought rather highly of herself for sharing them, as she believed that Belladonna surely had not.
Almost as an afterthought, Ursula had suggested a lunch between herself, Astoria and Tracey in the spring, in order to get to know them. This was an invitation that Astoria knew she would be forced to accept and she was left with the feeling that, while she had been correct in thinking that Ursula Flint would enjoy the task of coaching a young girl in the ways of society, she was not convinced that it was Tracey who Ursula was truly interested in.
It was on Astoria's mind to show Theodore the letter, wishing to know what he thought of it but at that moment, Alec and Maudlin came in for breakfast, forcing her to stow the letter away instead.
"Really, though," said Maudlin in a dark undertone, continuing a conversation of some kind with Alec, "if he gets appointed, the whole summer will be given over to campaigning for political allies..."
"If who gets appointed?" asked Astoria, verbally prodding Maudlin so that he would not carry on talking as though she could not hear him.
"Father," said Maudlin, his entire face taking on a look of great self-importance. He stopped half-way down the table from where he usually sat and sank into a seat distractedly. "Haven't you seen the news this morning?"
"No," said Astoria. "Has he been given an award of something? Hardly anything from Monaco is likely to make the Daily Prophet here, you know. We have too many advice columns."
"More like a job," said Maudlin pompously. "The Monacan Minister of Magic is dead."
"Aston killed the Monacan Minister?" remarked Astoria dryly. "How ever did he do it?"
Alec laughed but Maudlin made a face. "Of course he didn't kill the Minister, Astoria. Don't be ridiculous. He's the frontrunner for the new appointment."
"Oh," said Astoria, who had already surmised as much. "I suppose that's probably more dignified."
"You two can laugh," said Maudlin snidely, casting an irritated look at Alec, who had taken up chuckling again, "but if it does happen, everything will change."
"What happened to the last minister, anyway?" asked Astoria, privately hoping to quell Maudlin's dramatic flair before it began to annoy her.
"He was murdered," said Maudlin matter-of-factly, without betraying even the faintest trace of sympathy.
"What?" gaped Astoria skeptically.
"He went missing in the woods outside a pub in Armenia," Maudlin went on. "Officials think he probably had too much to drink and got into a fight with one of the locals. Apparently he's been known to do that, from time to time. Can you imagine?"
"Why was he in Armenia?" asked Theodore, who up until now had been sitting in a sulky silence, almost completely unnoticed.
"What do you mean?" asked Maudlin, eyeing Theodore triflingly, perhaps a little surprised to have been interrupted by someone he had never spoken to before.
"Armenia. It's nowhere near Monaco," stated Theodore flatly. "What was the Minister of Magic doing there?"
"Tying one on, apparently," said Maudlin dismissively.
Theodore frowned, clearly not quite willing to accept this explanation as fact, but again he fell silent.
"In any case, everything is in complete upheaval," Maudlin continued, as though there was nothing abnormal about his father's sudden nomination to be the leader of a small country, and it was perfectly acceptable to be complaining about it. "Astoria, I'm sorry, but it looks like I'll have to take Emilie to the ball on Christmas."
"Wait," said Astoria stupidly, "what?"
"Emilie. To the ball on Christmas," Maudlin repeated lazily. "Her father is a member of parliament, and I'm sure my father will be counting on him for support. I can't do anything to jeopardize that."
"Are you kidding?" Astoria sneered slowly, feeling bizarrely betrayed by this twist in the plot. "Because you'll really be jeopardizing world politics with your choice of a Christmas date?"
"I know," sighed Maudlin, "but Cassandra's broken up with her boyfriend, anyway. She'll probably want to find a real date now and I doubt she'll be pleased with the fact that I'm taking you."
"You never told them?" demanded Astoria resentfully, thinking worrisomely back on what she had said to Pansy in the bathroom earlier in the week. "What about me? Now I've got nobody to go with."
"Go with Alec," said Maudlin unconcernedly.
"I'm not just going to go with one of your friends because you've assigned him to the task!" spat Astoria, her annoyance with Maudlin's lack of consideration beginning to turn into real outrage. "He's not my babysitter!"
"Of course he isn't," said Maudlin appeasingly. "You don't mind taking her, do you Alec?"
Alec raised an eyebrow to indicate that he did not mind, but Astoria was having none of it.
"I can't believe that you're doing this!" Astoria snapped. "You're so impossibly rude! You do realize that I've been turning down other dates?"
"Like who?" asked Maudlin, nonplussed. "Your friend Theodore whats-his-face and a couple of fourth years?"
Astoria's mouth literally fell open, her entire body fixed into a state of stunned wrath.
"That is my friend Theodore whats-his-face," said Astoria, pointing at Theo, who looked as though he wanted very much to hide. "Don't talk about him like he isn't sitting there!"
Maudlin rolled his eyes without sparring Theodore a second look.
"The bloody Hogwarts champion asked me to go with him this morning and I told him 'no' because I thought that I already had plans!" Astoria spat. "Now you're standing me up?"
"Diggory asked you?" demanded Maudlin, frowning reflexively and completely missing her point. "Since when are you friends with Diggory?"
Alec began to chuckle again, pointedly serving himself coffee before sitting back in his seat, perfectly at ease.
"Does it matter?" Astoria snapped. "I've already turned him down!"
"You needn't sound so bitter about it," Maudlin remarked, looking slightly offended. "Why would you want to go with him, anway? He's a useless pretty boy."
"He's also school champion!" Astoria countered, feeling a great desire to be as insulting as possible. "Last time I checked, you aren't."
"Merlin," muttered Theodore under his breath, standing up as the bell rang.
"Well, I don't know what that has to do with anything," said Maudlin, bristling now as well.
"Just that it might have been nice to go with someone that the Goblet of Fire actually chose," said Astoria nastily.
A flash of something deep routed and self-conscious flickered across Maudlin's features but he reclaimed himself quickly. "I don't know why you're worried. It's not as though I won't dance with you once or twice if you can't find anyone else."
Astoria seized and orange and threw it at him.
"Nice," said Maudlin snappishly, rubbing his chest were the orange had struck him, despite the fact that Astoria had put virtually no force behind the toss. "Very mature. Maybe Krum will still have you, if you can refrain from assaulting him. He's a champion, isn't he?"
"Draco might still be single," mentioned Alec casually, entirely unaffected by the gathering storm of aggression brewing in front of him. "I'm sure he'd take you, Astoria."
"Why would Draco want to take her?" snapped Maudlin. "He's going with Parkinson."
Alec shrugged rather offhandedly and continued to sip his coffee.
Astoria seized her school bag, tucking Ursula Flint's letter down into it securely, and stormed off to Potions.
"Can you believe this?" Astoria growled, catching up with Theodore when she reached the dungeons.
"Kind of," said Theodore, sounding very uninterested. "You're always taking people that you're not fond of as dates to these sort of things. I don't know why you're so surprised when it doesn't work out."
"So I was asking to be stood up?" Astoria sneered. "Is that what you're saying?"
Theodore sighed and raised both of his hands to gesture his surrender.
"What's going on?" panted Tracey, joining them from the direction of the Slytherin common room.
"Maudlin cancelled on me for Christmas," said Astoria flatly. "He think's his father is more likely to become Minster of Magic that way."
"No!" gasped Tracey.
"At least you're still going, right?" mused Astoria thankfully, trying to rally her sense of former excitement. "Worst case scenario, we can just be each others dates?"
"Oh," said Tracey, "no we can't, actually. I asked Blaise to go with me this morning."
"Fantastic," Astoria muttered darkly, trying not to be irrationally angry about this news, as it so clearly gave Tracey a sense of great pleasure. "Well, it's going to be a wonderful holiday for you."
"It is, isn't it?" squealed Tracey as the classroom doors opened behind her, hardly able to contain herself. "I've got the best looking date in the whole school!"
"Yeah," said Astoria, putting her bag down next to their desk before rifling about in it, "and you're about to be part of the best committee as well."
Astoria pulled out Ursula and Belladonna's letters of recommendation and passed them over to her.
"What are these?" asked Tracey, freezing in place as her eyes took in the paragraphs of praise in front of her.
"Two letters of recommendation from senior legacy members of the the Sisters of the Eastern Star," said Astoria firmly. "All you need to do is write your own application letter and send them off tonight."
For a long, stunned moment, Astoria was not entirely certain that Tracey wasn't going to cry.
"What's going on?" demanded Draco Malfoy nosily, dropping his things onto the table in front of them. "Did Davis win the lottery?"
"Merry Christmas," said Astoria in a quiet voice, moving to block Malfoy's view so that Tracey could tuck the letters away, feeling as though she had personally done the right thing for the first time in ages.
"I don't have to do anything else?" Tracey wondered numbly. "Like, make a resume or-?"
"It doesn't work like that," said Astoria warmly. "You just have to mail it all in."
"I got you a hat," said Tracey stupidly.
"Sorry?" said Astoria, confused.
"A hat," Tracey clarified mournfully. "That's what I got you for christmas... and now I can't even go to the dance with you."
"Why are you trying to get Tracey to take you to the ball in a hat?" demanded Malfoy keenly, causing Theodore to snort with amusement at the visual that this question inspired. "Aren't you going with Mendel? He seemed awfully determined to have you..."
"I was going with Maudlin," said Astoria shortly, taking her seat. "Now I'm not."
"You chucked him?" asked Malfoy, just a little too sharply. "Why? Who else did you get?"
"No one," said Astoria, refusing to meet Malfoy's eye. "Maudlin chucked me and now I'm not speaking to him."
"Seriously?" Malfoy drawled, trying to sound disinterested but looking, in truth, several steps beyond smug. "I suppose he decided to go with his actual girlfriend?" Draco mused, watching her closely. "That's for the best, probably..."
"Mhmm," said Astoria tightly, not wanting her anger to come bubbling back up to the surface.
"Does that bother you?" Malfoy snapped, finally sensing her aggression and losing something of his smarmy edge because of it. "Him going with his girlfriend?"
"No," said Astoria shortly, preparing for their test on poison antidotes by taking out her quill and two bottles of ink.
"You did throw fruit at him," Theodore insisted under his breath.
Astoria turned to glare but Snape had swept into the dungeons, killing any ambition of continued small talk. Draco hesitated, looking annoyed and preoccupied before finally turning back around in his seat.
0o0
On Friday evening, break officially began and there was hardly a glum face to be found anywhere inside the castle. Dinner had been prepared lavishly with seasonal spices, featuring several savory winter stews. The golden owls that perched on the railings of the staircases had been let loose to flutter about the hall. Hagrid, feeling especially celebratory, opened a batch of mead at the teacher's table. The result was that, by the end of the meal, half of the professors were freely singing folk tunes.
Untouched by any of this cheer, Astoria, Fred and George took to a corner of the common room by the fire after dinner and did not move for the rest of the night.
"I don't know what we're going to do," said Astoria firmly, pushing a bowl of Christmas baubles out of her way so that she could rest her forehead on the coffee table.
Their meeting with Ragnuk was still scheduled for the next day and they were no closer to reaching a decision about how to deal with Hodrod than they had been when he had first sent his letter. Astoria, who was technically supposed to be in two places at once on Saturday, was feeling the foolishness of their organization the most sharply.
"We could make a run for it?" suggested Fred miserably.
No!" Astoria snapped lividly, frustrated beyond measure by the idea of having to run away and ruin all of their lives because a pack of goblins said so.
"I'm only saying..." muttered Fred
"I'm so sick of being pushed around!" said Astoria, surprising even herself. "It's like we're these dumb puppets, you two and I. Everyone else gets to play puppeteer, why can't we?"
"I dunno," said George, halfheartedly.
"It's true!" Astoria insisted, thinking of her acceptance into the ranks of the Sisters of the Eastern Star against her will and the remarkable ease with which Maudlin had managed to cast her off that morning. "We're always just reacting to things. You two are some of the smartest students in the school- and I'm no pushover. Why can't we handle this?"
"Ok," said George slowly. "So you're saying we should go to Hodrod and ask him to let us off the hook?"
"No," said Astoria slowly, gazing into the fire pensively. "I'm saying we need to handle the situation. No begging, no apologizing. Hodrod's nothing but a crook. I say, let's treat him like one..."
"Oh yeah?" asked George somewhat sardonically. "And how would that work?"
It was a long moment before Astoria spoke again, channeling all of her anger into something closer to cool, logical, reasoning.
"On Saturday, you two will go into the village," said Astoria at last, mulling over her half-formed plan, trying to tuck in the loose corners before speaking.
"What about you?" Fred interrupted. "You're not coming?"
"I'm going to go to Cassandra's stupid sorority meeting," said Astoria, plowing on before she could be waylaid. "You two are going to meet Hodrod at the three broomsticks and convey a message from me."
"A message from you?" repeated Fred.
"Yeah," said Astoria. "Listen, hear me out on this. These goblin packs are like the mob, right? Each clan has a boss. Maybe we should make it look like we are operating on the same level. If you two go and I don't, it shows them that we're listening, but we aren't afraid."
"And that's supposed to be you, is it?" asked George, sounding a little offended. "You're the boss?"
"Well, yeah," said Astoria, trying not to become sheepish. "They seem to think it's me already, don't they? They didn't send Ginny's necklace with that note."
Neither Fred nor George seemed to have a retort of any kind for this, so Astoria went on.
"You two can go find Hodrod and tell him we got his message," said Astoria. "Then you'll tell him that he's not allowed to decide whether or not we can do business."
Fred blanched.
"Make a point of reminding him that, since we know Goblins aren't cheats or thieves, you're sure that he'll be more than willing to accept our stance on the matter," Astoria added. "That line worked on Ragnuk, remember?"
"Have you gone insane?" Fred interrupted, beginning to look genuinely concerned for her health.
"No!" said Astoria fiercely. "Well, maybe. I don't know. Look- it's just," Astoria fought for the right words to explain her reasoning. "We've got to start controlling the fear. Think about it- who has power in the world?"
"People with money," said George at once. "Which we don't have."
"Ok, fine. Most of the time, that's true," Astoria conceded tensely, "but not always. Do you think You-Know-Who was powerful because he had money?"
"No!" exclaimed Fred. "You-Know-Who was powerful because he liked murdering people, Astoria!"
"But he never would have become so powerful, if people hadn't believed he was really dangerous a long time before he actually was," insisted Astoria.
"When was You-Know-Who ever not dangerous?" asked George, laughing.
"You know what I mean!" said Astoria, exasperatedly. "Look, the goblins don't know what we're worth, do they? They have no idea if we have money or not. We could potentially have financial backers. They have no way of knowing who our connections are- for all they know, we could be in league with powerful people."
"But we aren't," said George dully.
"They don't know that," pressed Astoria, staring both boys down. "That makes it our job to convince these goblins that anything is possible. Control the fear."
"You think that will work?" asked Fred dubiously.
"I think that if you two go down to the village with a message and look unafraid, Hodrod is going to wonder why you aren't scared," said Astoria."Hodrod probably won't resort to violence if he's too busy being afraid that hurting us might cost him in the long run."
Fred took a moment to process this, biting his thumb ruefully. "Ok," he said at last, "I see what you're getting at, but there are a lot of holes in this plan."
"I know," Astoria conceded.
"Namely, Hodrod will still want something," said George, his tone of absolute certainty giving his voice a strangely calm quality. "It'll be like Ragnuk. He'll want a deal."
"I was about to get to that," said Astoria carefully. "I've got an idea about what we could maybe offer him."
"What's that?" asked George warily.
"Don't get mad," Astoria cautioned, "but I was thinking we could take the money we made off of the students- the actual gold we have on hand- and we could offer to buy off some of Bagman's debt."
George's jaw dropped.
"What?" exploded Fred.
"He probably owes less than we do," said Astoria quickly, "and it would be a one time deal, so we wouldn't have to keep thinking about it. Not to mention-"
"Bagman would owe us, again," said Fred, understanding flickering in his eyes now as well.
"Right," said Astoria. "He's the Head of Magical Games and Sports. Who do you think we would get reported to, if someone decided to sell us out? We would be buying safety from Hodrod and from the Ministry."
"That's almost a master-stroke," said Fred, coming around at last. "Hodrod gets some gold off of us and we get Bagman. Bagman'll never pay us back, of course, but it's not a bad deal."
"That's basically the same thing as bribing a government official, though, isn't it?" asked George uncomfortably, fidgeting with a loose thread on the arm of his chair.
"Well, yeah," said Fred, "only Bagman will never tell on us. He's in so deep with the Goblins that he'll probably dedicate a stadium to us, just for rescuing him."
Astoria knew at heart that she would not rest easy until the twins had returned on Saturday night with good news. Until then however, the presence of a plan of any kind seemed likely to keep her from spending the whole night awake, staring at her drapery and she was content to cling to whatever she could.
"It's a deal then?" asked Astoria.
"Yeah," said Fred, "It's a deal, but if I die before I can take Angelina to the dance, I'm coming back to haunt someone."
"You've asked Angelina?" exclaimed Astoria excitedly, momentarily forgetting about the goblins.
"Yup," said Fred, grinning ruefully. "She asked Cedric first, but he told her he was taking someone else. This is my opportunity to woo her."
"Yeah," said Astoria, her smile becoming tense at the mention of Cedric's name, diverting the path of her thoughts back to Maudlin's treachery. "What about you, George? Are you still single?"
"I'm taking Katie," said George, shrugging. "Didn't want to go alone, you know?"
"Right," said Astoria, nodding her head somewhat pathetically,"wouldn't want that."
0o0
Serious essence of a 'building chapter' to this one but all the wiggly details were necessary for later. At least it's long? A great big chunk of my family came to visit me this weekend, so I've been busy as a bee. I know it was a particularly long wait for a post.
Next chapter will have the meeting for the Sisters of the Eastern Star and probably a good dose of Draco, as he's been playing on the sidelines for a minute or two now. I expect the Yule Ball will follow after that!
As always, reviews are a wonderful treat!