Chapter Forty Seven
Lake Rocks And Other Things
0o0
As suddenly as Hagrid had disappeared, he was back again. On the following Monday, looking only slightly paler than he once had, Astoria spied the groundskeeper eating breakfast at the staff table in the Great Hall.
"Oh, fantastic," Tracey had sighed unwelcomely, but to Astoria, Hagrid was a sight for sore eyes. The return of Hagrid's bearded face meant that his situation with Rita Skeeter was salvageable; that he had not been sacked and that no irreparable damage had been done. In point of fact, Hagrid's reappearance meant that Astoria could go back to scarcely thinking about him at all, which was a good thing because the Second Task was now rapidly approaching.
Unlike the First Task, which half of the student body seemed to have kept a daily countdown toward, the Second Task was creeping nearer on stealthy tip-toes. This lack of suspense probably had something to do with the fact that it was snowing heavily outside and, if the rest of the school was suffering the same way Astoria was, their homework load was nearly as thick as the frost coating all of the windows.
Despite the busy and insulated environment, Astoria and the twins opened their betting pool on the first of February.
"No advertising," said Fred carefully, his eyes scanning Astoria's ledger of numbers from over her shoulder. "It's like we are back at square one."
Indeed, it really was. The common room fire crackled hearteningly but it was hard for Astoria to feel optimistic. Nearly all of the money they had won during the first task had been leveraged; sunk into paying off Bagman's debts to Hodrod in order to keep Hodrod from extracting the same funds from them through more dastardly means. While it could not be said that Astoria and the twins owed anyone money, their decided lack of savings was very worrisome indeed. Once again, their personal safety depended upon whether or not they won their bet against Ragnuk. Just as it had been during the First Task, it would be up to Harry Potter to prevent Astoria and the twins from dangerously bankrupting themselves.
"It's no great loss," said George bracingly. "The Third Task is when things will get really mad. As it is, everyone is still broke from Christmas. We might be able to count on that hangover to keep the sum low."
This was the most reassuring thing that Astoria had heard in days.
"Wish we knew what the task was," Fred muttered, stirring the fireplace coals with a long poker. "It's the suspense that's really getting to me."
Astoria watched the gleaming embers uncomfortably. Thanks to the whispered conversation she had overheard between Moody and Mcgonagall on New Years, Astoria had a very good idea what of what was coming on the Twenty Fourth. As tempting as it was to tell the twins all she knew, however, Astoria did not think that she could bear to see the look of grief on both of their faces when they found out how impossible the Task was going to be.
Because how in the world was Harry going to make himself breathe underwater?
For the first time all Tournament, Astoria was very seriously contemplating action as opposed to reaction. She had had the strange luck to discover the fact that the champions would be competing underwater weeks ahead of time, hadn't she? Wasn't it possible that she could use that knowledge to avoid spending the Second Task in a fit of terror? There was another option after all, her had begun to whispered. She could always cheat.
Unfortunately, as soon as this thought had occurred to her, a myriad of other fears zoomed in to accompany it. Even as Astoria sat, pen poised over the open ledger, her mind worked to better understand the problem.
One thing was absolutely certain; if Astoria did so much as lift a finger to help Harry through the Second Task, she had to be dead certain that the Goblins never found out about it. 'Dead' being the operative word, as any involvement on her part would surely be punished most severely. If Astoria did any meddling, she would have to operate without leaving a trace; to be a ghost hand that Harry himself would chalk up to the presence of luck rather than manipulation by a second party.
In short, Astoria was just as likely to succeed in helping Harry as he was to succeed at accomplishing his Task alone.
"It probably won't be another creature this time," Fred mused, putting the poker back into its metal holder. "We know that much, at least. They wouldn't repeat the same thing twice, would they?"
"Yeah, I doubt it," George agreed, hoisting his feet up onto a cluttered ottoman. "Which is too bad, really. Harry's good at that sort of thing."
For a moment, Fred stood in silence, facing the fire with his back to the room. He cut an impressive silhouette these days, Astoria decided, more man than boy. At last, the fire he had been prodding to life flared up and became too hot to stand near so Fred unclasped his hands and sunk into a nearby armchair.
"We'll have to advertise a little," Fred muttered, pulling an uncomfortable-looking woolen ball out of from underneath him. "The goblins will know that something is up if we don't take enough bets." Fred tossed the knot of wool onto the coffee table.
"Been knitting again, have you?" asked Astoria suspiciously, eyeing the misshapen ball of yarn.
"What?" asked George. "Oh, Merlin no. Hermione's been making hats and leaving them about for the house elves to pick up."
"Why would she do that?" asked Astoria, surprised by this bit of cruelness from Hermione, who was normally the soul of fairness.
"She thinks it's what they want," Fred pressed, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of painting Hermione as a bad guy. "She's been obsessed with elves all year. She thinks they want to be free."
Astoria eyed the twins skeptically, having never personally met a house-elf to whom the idea of being released from servitude would be considered anything other than the sharpest of punishments.
"I doesn't matter anyway," George muttered. "Harry's pal Dobby is the only one who's been picking them up. Mental that one. Dumbledore actually hired him on, so the hats aren't dangerous. None of the other elves will come in here anymore. Haven't you noticed the mess?"
"Dobby?" Astoria repeated, blinking at the cluttered ottoman while struggling to understand more of this narrative. "Since when does Harry have a house elf? I didn't know students were allowed to bring their elves to school."
"They're not," said Fred quickly. "It's not like that. Dobby's this weird elf that Harry helped escape from an awful family in second year. The little guy is mad about Harry, he'd do anything for him. Now he works at Hogwarts. He did the Christmas decorations in the shape of Harry's face..."
"Oh," said Astoria slowly, her eyes on the hideous woolen nub. "I thought that must have been the Creevey brothers."
Fred snorted but the portrait hole behind them opened to admit Dean and Seamus, putting an end to all talk of gambling and elves.
Astoria continued to sit where she was long after the fire had fed itself into a hellish blaze and then gone down again. Fred and George, distracted by Lee Jordan, eventually wandered off to help him enchant a hat box, leaving Astoria alone by the hearth as the night grew steadily more mature.
It was possible that Astoria could use Ludo Bagman to help her, she mused, thinking of the unsettled debt that Bagman sill owed her. Perhaps he could feed the idea of using Gillyweed to Harry without anyone ever being the wiser? But no, Astoria realized, dismissing this idea almost as quickly as it had occurred to her. The goblins knew that Astoria had helped Bagman and therefore they were very likely to think of him as her ally. Anything Bagman did might lead back to herself and the twins.
What about Karkoroff and his sore left arm, she wondered? Surely he could be prevailed upon if they approached him carefully? But no, this too led nowhere, as Karkoroff's loyalty was so decidedly behind Viktor Krum that trifling with him in the first place seemed more dangerous than helpful.
By one o'clock in the morning, Astoria was alone in the common room, staring hard at the misshapen hat that Hermione had concealed in Fred's chair while contemplating the impossible.
'The little guy is mad about Harry', Fred had said. 'He'd do anything for him.'
Thick snow continued to pile up on the windowsills, obscuring the dark night sky as Astoria dithered, trying to make up her mind. If Dobby was the only elf still servicing Gryffindor Tower, then surely he would have to come at some point during the early morning to tidy things up before the students woke for breakfast? If Astoria wanted to contrive a meeting with Dobby, it was very likely that all she needed to do was wait. When the fire had burned down so low that Astoria could no longer read from her notebooks, she knew it could not be much longer.
A scratchy, scuttling sound startled her out of a sleepy revery an hour or so later. Blinking in the half-darkness, Astoria felt about for her wand. Her first excited instinct was to call out, but fear that a loud noise would cause Dobby to Disapparate silenced her tongue.
"Dobby?" Astoria tried softly, hoping it would not be enough to drive the elf away.
The scuttling sound stopped abruptly, followed by a very pregnant pause during which Astoria's ears strained for the familiar crack! of an elf vanishing.
"I is begging your pardon, Miss!" pleaded a squeaky voice coming from the direction of the shadowy fireplace. "I is thinking you was asleep! Bad Dobby! Oh, very bad Dobby!"
A dull thunk made Astoria jump. Had the elf fallen over something in the dark?
"It's alright," said Astoria hurriedly, getting to her feet. "Please don't go! I was hoping for a world with you."
"A- a word with Dobby?" the elf squeaked, rallying slightly. "If Miss is needing anything, anything at all, Dobby is at her assistance!"
"Well, I wanted to talk about your friend," began Astoria lamely, realizing that her plan to speak with Dobby had not extended past the logistics of actually managing to place herself in a room with him.
"My friend?" he asked warily. The outline of Dobby's ears drooped in the dim light. "If you is meaning Winky, Miss-"
"No," said Astoria quickly, confused and unwilling to linger on a wayward topic, "not Winky. I wanted to have a word with you about Harry Potter."
Astoria's pulse surged as she said Harry's name, suddenly frightfully- almost mortally- aware of how much she was risking by exposing herself to Dobby. The darkness seemed to be engulfing the corners of the room and Astoria began to wish that the elf would relight the fireplace, if only for her peace of mind.
"Harry Potter, Miss?" squeaked Dobby tremulously, his voice raising a full octave in shock.
"Yes," said Astoria, wanting more than anything for Dobby's voice to go back to the near whisper it had started at. "He's- that is Harry- is my friend too and he's going to be competing in the Second Task soon."
"Oh!" the elf wailed. "Dobby is knowing all about the Second Task and the Wheezy Harry Potter will lose!"
"Right," Astoria continued, wondering what on earth a 'Wheezy' could be. "Well, the thing is, the Task is going to take place under the lake, Dobby. So Harry is in real danger."
"No!" the elf moaned, clutching his drooping ears to comfort himself. "What will Harry Potter do without his Wheezy, Miss?"
"He could die," Astoria answered, assuming that by 'Wheezy', Dobby must surely mean Harry's ability to breathe underwater.
At these words, Dobby let out a low cry of misery and moved very suddenly, in a way that was so obviously destined to be self-harmful that Astoria attempted to seize him without thinking first.
"Listen, Dobby!" said Astoria shrilly, trying not to panic over the amount of noise that they were making. "Everything is going to be just fine. We can help Harry!" Dobby's bony shoulders softened under her hands but Astoria did not wait for him to respond before continuing. "I overheard the teachers talking. Harry just needs some Gillyweed- that will keep him safe. You can't tell anyone we talked about this, though, or we'll all get into loads of trouble. Do you understand?"
The elf nodded. Astoria gently released her grip, feeling that the danger of Dobby's intentionally running headlong into a coffee table had finally passed.
"Dobby is already hearing this from Professor Moody," said Dobby grimly. "Dobby will get Harry Potter his Gillyweed even if it is the last thing Dobby does!"
"You must have heard the same conversation I did, then," Astoria realized quietly. A queer pang of guilt began to squeeze at her insides as she took in the earnest look on Dobby's face. "You know that we are breaking the rules, right Dobby? You can't tell Professor Moody that we helped-"
Astoria could not stress this point strongly enough but Dobby seemed to understand her.
"No, Miss! Dobby won't say a word! But he will take the Gillyweed from Professor Snape and give it to Harry Potter, no matter what rules he is breaking!"
"Thank you, Dobby," said Astoria quietly.
"You is too good, Miss!" the elf choked and for a horrible moment, Astoria thought he might cry.
"I'm not," said Astoria quickly, the idea of being thanked for such selfishly motivated meddling causing the fist of guilt to contract still harder. "Just make sure he gets the Gillyweed, alright?"
"Dobby promises!" the elf vowed. "Professor Moody will never know. Tis the curse of a house elf's lot, Miss. They is never noticed, no matter what they is doing or how near they might be."
Astoria reflected upon this idea uncomfortably. Dobby stooped over to collect the woolen hat that Astoria had knocked onto the ground when she had leapt up to restrain him and Astoria found herself cringing at the sight. Thinking it was time to give him privacy, Astoria broke off for the dormitory stairs, blissfully relieved and somehow even more wretched for her success.
It was much later, after she was already in bed, that Astoria finally began to understand some of the discomfort that Dobby's words had caused her.
Even with a magical eye, Alastor Moody had not had had the sense to notice Dobby collecting cloaks in the teacher's lounge on New Years, or perhaps even taking out the trash underneath his very nose. Constant vigilance, it seemed, did not apply to thankless elves.
What this did not explain however, was why Moody had not noticed Astoria on the other side of the staff room door. For Astoria had entirely forgotten that wood would not have prevented him from laying magically-enhanced eyes on her.
0o0
On the morning of the Second Task, Astoria woke early, taking her time to organize by the light of the flat grey sky outside. Conscious of the fact that she was dressing for Belladonna as much as Cassandra, Astoria laid out all of her white dresses for careful consideration.
The fact that she was serving cider for the Sisters of the Eastern Star before the Second Task took away much of her ability to creatively express herself through dress. For the first time ever, Astoria was almost thankful for her pressed white uniform, privately feeling that it was much harder to be disappointing when her options were so limited. Astoria would look just like everyone else, which meant that Belladonna would have a hard time subjecting her to scrutiny without criticizing the entire organization.
After selecting the garment with the longest sleeves, (a soft cotton number of middle-length that her aunt would loath for its lack of a defined waist) Astoria tossed the rest of her choices back into her trunk and slammed the lid.
The first painful decision came when, moments later, she was forced to open her trunk back up in order to put away her warmest pair of thickly lined tights. They were too bulky, Astoria decided, too fond of collecting lint from the rest of the winter-wear in storage. Her aunt would deplore them, perhaps loudly and in front of people. They would not do. It would be less painful to spend the morning shivering.
Astoria yanked on some sheer, expensive hosiery in their place, cursing the cold of the dormitory floor and her lot in life for having such rude and forceful relations.
With her dark hair combed out into softness and her face carefully washed, Astoria brushed a hint of Parvati's blush onto her cheeks to hide all traces her winter fatigue and then worked on her eyelashes, coaxing out the most violent aspects of her eye color on purpose as she did so. Feeling suitably armored, Astoria set out to meet her opposers, flinching at the shock of cold from her pearl necklace with each staircase she bounded down.
Cassandra was already in the entrance hall when Astoria arrived. Both of the great double doors that led into the courtyard had been thrust open and a wet chill pervaded the room from end to end. The smell of apples and spices that floated on the breeze struck Astoria as the false promise of a warmth that did not seem to exist.
"Astoria!" said Cassandra, looking up from the tray of porcelain china she was arranging. "Arrange the napkins, please."
It occurred to Astoria that there must already be people in the courtyard, because Cassandra had made no comment about the fact that Astoria was technically three minutes late. Locating the stack of cocktail-sized napkins Cassandra had spoken of, Astoria set about artfully fanning them next to the spoons.
"Sugar bowls go next to the coffee, Kitty!" shot Cassandra quickly, stopping Katherine Macdougal from placing a porcelain pot next to her elbow. "This is cider. No, stop. Astoria, just take the sugar from her please!"
Astoria took the sugar bowl and placed it behind the spoons.
"It's cold in here," Katherine complained, folding her arms across her chest now that she no longer had anything to hold.
"It'll warm up when people arrive," Cassandra snapped. "Stop lolly-gagging! See if Pansy needs help finding the trays."
Katherine wandered off toward the Room of Portraits resentfully because the visiting silver must be stored there. Feeling that there was nothing left to do with the napkins, Astoria quietly acquitted herself of Cassandra's presence and began searching the room for Tracey.
Pansy and Emilie came banging out of the Room of Portraits together seconds later, teetering uneasily under the weight of a large silver serving tray. "Ouch!" Pansy wailed, shifting the weight toward Emilie's end. "I'm walking backwards!"
Smirking at Cassandra's audacity in sending even Emilie, her best friend, to do the heavy lifting while she arranged cups, Astoria darted around the path of the silver service and made her way toward the open doors. Outside, Tracey was lingering next to the eaves with Flora Carrow. They both turned to glimpse at Astoria fearfully when she appeared on the doorstep.
"Oh!" cried Tracey in delight, moving away from the wall. "It's you! I was afraid that you might be Cassandra..."
"She's manning the tea service," said Astoria. "Why are you hiding out here? It's freezing."
"We're supposed to warn everyone when guests arrive," answered Tracey, shivering violently in one of Astoria's borrowed dresses. "There's an old witch chatting with a warlock next to the columns down there, but they haven't moved in ages."
Astoria gazed out across the courtyard and spotted Augusta Longbottom's signature stuffed-vulture topped hat. "Warn her anyway," Astoria suggested. "It'll get you out of this cold."
"The cold is better," Tracey muttered. "Cassandra's in high dudgeon. D'you know if the Yaxleys are coming today?"
Flora craned her head, at last interested in what Astoria had to say but Astoria could do no more than shrug. It would never have occurred to her to ask Belladonna what the Yaxleys were doing and it caused her no pain to deprive Flora of the gossip.
At that moment, new voices sounded out across the stone yard. More people were arriving and they did not look as though they were keen to stand about in the cold.
"I'll go get Cassandra!" said Flora, diving around Astoria at once for the warmer entrance hall.
"Filthy little suck up," Tracey muttered, falling into step with Astoria. "Have you heard? The Task is going to be down by the lake!"
Astoria thought briefly of the bursting ledger that was currently in Fred's possession and of Dobby the house elf, whom Astoria had not seen again after their first and only meeting.
"No," Astoria lied, following Tracey back up the steps. "A water task, then?"
"Seems like!" Tracey whispered back excitedly, remembering to hold the door open for Ernie Macmillian's father. "Do you realize that means we'll have to watch the champions compete in our dresses?"
The entrance hall was impressively altered from only moments before. Large silver servers now gleamed beneath both the coffee and cider urns and several students seemed to have found their way down early, anticipating the arrival of relatives.
"Have you ever noticed how unfair this Tournament is?" asked Tracey, wrinkling her nose as she surveyed the gathering crowd. "People without families get left out of this sort of thing. If I weren't a Sister, I'd have no idea that this was even happening."
Astoria glanced at Tracey, who was perhaps thinking of her dead father and quiet, unsociable mother. A stab of something almost depressive worked its way in between Astoria's ribs at the thought. She herself had woken up dreading the arrival of her own relatives with such gusto that Astoria had never stopped to consider how it would feel to be left out of the loop entirely. A funny thing to overlook really, as Astoria was only one aunt and an absent father away from suffering Tracey's plight for herself.
"But you are a Sister," Astoria insisted bracingly, threading her arm through Tracey's. "Just think! Someday, you'll be able to threaten all of your relations with a visit to these sort of parties yourself."
Tracey laughed heartily, not one to linger overlong on any topic that could be considered morbidly dull. "Alright," she sighed, "let's go receive our orders."
Cassandra was standing behind the cider urn, chatting pleasantly with a man in a long overcoat. When she spotted Tracey and Astoria however, her eyes flashed a clear sign that they should hurry. Nearby, Maudlin, Alec and Draco were all congregated near the coffee table and at the sight of them, Astoria had to fight the sudden urge to dig in her heels.
"Here!" said Cassandra the moment they drew near, thrusting two porcelain cups at Astoria. "Take these to the woman in the hat and the man with the overbite."
"You mean Augusta Longbottom?" asked Astoria, recognizing the stuffed vulture once again, disguised only by the greatest of distances. Astoria reached for the cups absently when, to her surprise, Cassandra withdrew the cider and studied her face intently.
"Tracey, you take these," Cassandra decided, passing off the drinks. Tracey blinked her annoyance but moved to carry the teacups across the room anyway.
"That woman in green asked for decaf," Cassandra continued. "Do you know her?"
Astoria followed Cassandra's finger until she was able to spot the witch in question. "That's Mafalda Hopkirk."
"How many of you girls would know that sort of thing?" asked Cassandra sharply, not wishing to be overheard by the man in the overcoat.
"I don't know," said Astoria, slightly thrown, conscious of the fact that she seemed to have drawn Draco and Maudlin's attention near the coffee table because they had both turned about to glance at her, perhaps waiting for an ideal moment to pounce. "Pansy and Flora would. I'm not sure about the rest."
"Right," said Cassandra briskly, wiping her hands on one of the cocktail napkins. "If you see Pansy, send her to me. Go bring Mrs. Hopkirk her decaf and then take orders on your way back. If you see Kitty, tell her to do as you say. I don't want any stupid mistakes."
This seemed like more effort than a morning tea service really merited but Astoria went to fetch Mafalda Hopkirk her decaf just the same.
"Poor Ria! Always the drinks girl!" remarked Maudlin gleefully, moving aside so that Astoria could reach the coffee spigot. "When do you finish? We'll wait so you can walk down to the lake with us."
"I'm not sure," said Astoria, conscious of the promise she had made to herself to stop being so hard on Maudlin, especially when he meant her no particular harm.
"Is your father here, Draco?" Maudlin asked, leaning against the table in a way that made the flow of coffee wobble.
"No," Draco drawled lazily, playing with one of the china saucers, "but he will be. No need to rush, I suppose. It's only coffee."
Trying not to make eye-contact with Draco, Astoria turned about, balancing her tea cup gingerly on its saucer and almost ran headlong into Mafalda Hopkirk herself. "Goodness!" Mafalda trilled, taking a step back.
"Darling!" beamed the man next to her and it took Astoria far longer than it should have to realize that the man in question was her father.
"I don't—" Astoria stuttered, so taken aback by this that she was not certain how to arrange her features.
"Look, there's the decaf, George!" said Mafalda, pointing to the nearest table.
Hearing this, Astoria finally seemed to snap back into herself.
"I'm so sorry! I think this must be for you. I was just about to walk it over," Astoria offered Mafalda the cup, amazed that her hands weren't shaking. Like a soldier hardened by battle. "Father!" Astoria exclaimed warmly, kissing George's cheek. "What are you doing here?"
"Was there anywhere else to be?" George asked, flashing her his most winning smile. "Those pearls are stunning on you! From your aunt, of course?"
"George!" interrupted Maudlin, recognizing Astoria's father and unable to hide his enthusiasm.
Unlike Aston Mendel, Astoria's father had never been afraid of Maudlin and had therefore always treated him to the displays of charming easiness that he was so famous for. Maudlin, in turn, had always been secretly impressed by George's natty dress sense and fondness for scotch. If the world were a perfect place and there was no fortune to be lost or gained, Astoria should have been Aston's child and Maudlin, George's.
"If it isn't young Mr. Mendel!" returned George joyfully, grasping Maudlin's eager arm. "It's been an age!"
Astoria watched as they both patted each other on the back, struck for the first time by how by how very similarly they both seemed to posture themselves.
Annoyed for reasons she could not entirely explain to herself, Astoria turned her scowling face toward the coffee service and then jumped, because Draco was watching her rather sharply out of the corner of his eye, still fidgeting idly with the saucer. Afraid that he had seen her look of irritation, Astoria directed her scowl at Draco instead. By way of response, Draco scoffed and ceased his fiddling with the china.
"How have you been, sir?" asked Maudlin, moving out of the way so that several old ladies could reach the cider. "I heard that you were at the Quidditch World Cup, but it was such a madhouse..."
What motivated Maudlin to call her father 'sir', when he himself was in line to inherit a minor lordship in Monaco and George was in line for nothing more than decaf coffee, Astoria would never know.
"Excellent, of course," George rattled, moving Mafalda gently aside so that the same ladies could proceed down the line.
Astoria missed what he said next because she was so preoccupied with the way George's hand seemed to linger on Mafalda's arm. The last time Astoria had checked, her father had been preoccupied with Cormac MacLaggen's mother and while she had not expected the affair to last, it was good to know that his attentions had shifted elsewhere. Forewarned, after all, was forearmed.
Astoria probed the side of Mafalda's face searchingly, trying to decide if she seemed foolish enough to fall for George Greengrass. As a woman of about forty with a rather stern expression and an intelligent job, Mafalda did not immediately strike Astoria as her father's type. George had a way of seeking silly, controllable companions. What on Earth was he doing with a high level ministry worker?
Then, Mafalda turned toward George and her expression softened for an instant, causing Astoria to reconsider her first impression. Mafalda was older than Mrs. MacLaggen perhaps, but rather more sensibly stylish. She had a lithe figure and her hair—all of it— seemed to have retained its natural ebony coloring. Why not? Perhaps she was a secret laugh...
"Don't you think, Ria?" asked Maudlin. Astoria jumped, realizing that she had hardly been listening to a word of the conversation.
"I'm sorry," Astoria breezed, collected a full cup of coffee. "What am I thinking? I'm supposed to be minding the drinks!"
Astoria smiled as pleasingly as she dared and slipped out into the room, anxious about leaving her father, Mafalda and Maudlin alone together with Draco watching, but even more afraid of lingering where she was until Lucius or Belladonna waltzed in and officially turned their party into something from a case study.
"Excuse me," said Astoria, stopping the first witch she saw, "would you like a coffee?"
The woman took the drink gratefully. Astoria waited until she had walked off before taking the long way around the room to the cider urn, avoiding the coffee table altogether.
Cassandra barely spared Astoria a second look as she very slowly refilled two more teacups.
"Astoria!" bounced Tracey, taking one of Astoria's drinks so that she could walk more easily. "Is that your dad over there, talking to Maudlin and Draco?"
"Yes," Astoria clipped, offering Professor Flitwick a second glass of cider. "If you've ever cared for me, go and break it up. Fake a fainting spell if you have to!"
"Lord, can you imagine?" Tracey laughed, eyes sparkling. "Your aunt is in the courtyard, you know. It's like the perfect storm coming together from the East and West!"
Astoria promptly deposited her empty teacup on the cider table and seized another, eager to head Belladonna off. In her haste, Astoria swiveled about and nearly ran smack into yet another chest; this time rather wider and more imposingly dressed.
"Miss Greengrass," quirked Lucius Malfoy, all cold amusement. His eyes flicked down to the scalding drink that Astoria had just spilled all over her own wrists in an attempt to over-correct herself and spare his freshly-shined shoes. "How agile."
"Mr. Malfoy," Astoria returned, breathless with surprise and pain.
"Would you like a cider, sir?" asked Tracey, rushing back to Astoria's side at once.
"A full one, perhaps," Lucius returned smoothly, as uninterested in Astoria's sopping cup as he was in Tracey, who he had probably never once heard mentioned and whose name he had likely forgotten.
"Oh," Tracey went on, wondrously undeterred by the lick of scorn with which they had both just been rather cruelly caressed, "that's right, of course! Are you looking for Draco? You must be. He's near Astoria's father by the coffee table."
"How helpful," Lucius murmured, his cold eyes sweeping across the room with an expression of sharpness that seemed rather at odds with his lazy drawl. "Excuse me."
Astoria grit her teeth and shot Tracey a look of such pure wrath that the smile slipped right off her friend's overeager face. "What?" Tracey hissed, startled.
"Excuse me!" Astoria snapped, darting toward the door, trying so hard not to imagine her father and Lucius taking tea together that she very nearly bounced off the door frame.
Belladonna, Astoria reflected painfully, could at least be counted upon to remain dignified in Lucius's company, even if she was supremely rude. If Astoria's sneaking suspicion held any merit however, George was likely to play the part of the suck-up around Draco's father and Astoria did not want to be anywhere near him when he did.
The windless chill outside had not conceded any ground to the rising sun. Steam swirled from the top of Astoria's teacup and the hot porcelain bit at her fingers but it was nothing to the sting of the cruel winter air and the ache of the fresh burn on her arm. Focusing on these unpleasant sensations, Astoria searched the yard and attempted to clear her head.
Belladonna, well tailored as always, had never looked more sorcerous than she did against the dismal grey and white backdrop of the castle courtyard. A short, rather stocky witch was hopping up and down in front of Belladonna as Astoria approached them, muttering angrily in a voice that was too low for her to hear.
"Again, Alectra, I don't know what to say," said Belladonna, raising her fingers to her forehead in exasperation. Her nails were painted a murderous, glossy red. "Write to him again, if you must. It's really none of my concern." Belladonna broke off when she caught sight of Astoria. "There you are, darling! I thought I might have to look for you."
Flora's mother Alectra shot Astoria a hard look and stormed off toward the castle, unwilling to continue her conversation with Belladonna if Astoria was also present.
"That was rude," Astoria snapped, having had about enough of being made to feel awkward about herself for one morning.
"She really is, darling," said Belladonna consolingly, "but don't take it to heart. Alectra's known for that sort of thing."
"What are you doing here, auntie?" Astoria demanded, releasing some of her discomfort as she passed off the half-full offending cider. "You could have just written to me, you know!"
For a moment, Belladonna was just perceptibly affronted but she regained her balance swiftly. "Hospitality doesn't suit you, I see. Neither does that necklace, but its no matter. "
They both turned to face the castle. Untouched, Belladonna's drink continued to produce steam.
"Father's here," Astoria admitted tersely, stunning even herself as the words tumbled out of her mouth.
"Oh?" remarked Belladonna, arching an eyebrow, clearly as surprised to hear this as Astoria had been to see it. "Is he?"
"With Mafalda Hopkirk," Astoria added. "I think Mr. Malfoy's just gone off toward them as well. Please don't be rude, for once in your life!"
Belladonna's mauve lips tugged up in the corner rather sardonically. "Goodness, since when have you cared about anyone else's opinion? I hope you aren't striving for reform?"
People were beginning to exit the entrance hall now, following the courtyard toward the path that led to the lake.
Astoria cleared her throat awkwardly and let out a shivery breath. "Where are you sitting?"
"Wherever it is that the grownups are sitting, darling," Belladonna sighed, positively reeking of passive sarcasm. "I promise not to follow you into the stands."
Astoria's father and Mafalda Hopkirk came down the front steps, followed several feet away by Draco and Lucius Malfoy. Belladonna's smile deepened, perhaps struck by the queerness of this grouping herself, but somehow more obviously tempted to laugh at it than Astoria could be.
"Hurry along," Belladonna insisted, her eyes trained carefully on George. "You don't want to be late. Don't worry about a thing, I'll find you later."
Tracey was in the crowd of people surging toward the lake. Assuming that this meant Cassandra had given the junior Sisters permission to abandon the entrance hall, Astoria began to wade across the courtyard, wanting to reach Tracey before she lost sight of her blonde bob in the sea of limbs and flapping coats.
The cold was extreme and Astoria found herself proceeding hesitantly, her fragile limbs skittishly sidestepping any heavy feet that might trod on her. She had intentionally not brought a cloak down with her to serve cider, afraid that by doing so she would be revealing how much she knew about the Second Task's location ahead of time. In retrospect, Astoria could not believe what a moronic oversight this had been.
Making eye contact at last, Tracey reached out to seize Astoria and they both shoved themselves into a cranny between several benches, waiting for a gap in the flow of bodies while shivering together desperately.
"Should have worn a coat," Tracey gasped, rubbing her hands together. "Do you think we have time to go back for one? You can borrow something from my common room. It's closer."
The crowd was thinning but it seemed to Astoria that she would rather miss the beginning of the task altogether than attempt to watch it in a haze of discomfort. "Yeah, let's go back,"
"Ria!" called Maudlin brightly, catching sight of both girls around the fountain. "I thought we had lost you!" Alec lopped along behind him, still clutching a Hogwarts crested teacup and somehow managing to look very bored despite the commotion. "What happened to Draco?" Maudlin continued, swiveling about searchingly. "The Task is going to start soon!"
"No idea, he was behind you in the hall," Astoria chattered. "Maudlin, lend me your cloak."
Maudlin tuned his eyes onto Astoria appraisingly, but she must have looked cold enough to merit coddling because he parted ways with his outer-most layer almost kindly. Astoria ducked under a corner and tugged Tracey toward her so that they might share in the warmth together.
"You're so tall, Maudlin!" cooed Tracey, all thankful mischievousness and elbows as she snuggled into Astoria's side, "we can practically use your cloak as a blanket!"
A look of something irresistibly self-satisfied flickered across Maudlin's face and Astoria had to choke down a snicker at his expense.
It was amazing what a difference that the warmth of another layer made to Astoria's mood. For the first time all day, she was rallying, no longer shivering and able to look upon the afternoon with something like anticipation. One sight of Fred and George (or any reminder of the goblins) would surely be enough to dash this flickering happiness to pieces, but for the moment, Astoria was just cheerful enough to fake true enthusiasm.
"We should head toward the lake," she suggested, linking arms with Tracey comfortably. "We'll have a better chance of finding Draco that way."
They fell into a choppy stride together, carried forward by the current of the crowd until they reached the pebble-strewn lake bank. On a distant shore, the same seats that had been erected around the dragon's rocky turf last fall had been built up again, towering precariously over the still surface of the water.
A second funnel of people containing mostly adults seemed to be looping around the left side of the lake rather than the right, passing by the judges table at the water's edge. Students, it seemed, were being directed around the long way. Astoria and Tracey led the way along the embankment, stopping only when they reached a series of floating walkways. These long ramps of wood stretched out toward the aquatic stadium like unsteady fingers, swaying on a non-existent tide.
"There's Draco," said Alec, pointing back across the water's icy-flat surface. A hundred feet or so away, Astoria was able to spot Draco's brilliant shock of pale hair near the fork in the path, bidding goodbye to his father, who was bound for Ministry seating in the opposite direction.
"Let's wait for him, shall we?" said Astoria, mindful of her recent promise to be a more pleasant influence in the world. Truthfully, the idea of Draco and Maudlin being safely distanced from her aunt and her father was very pleasing and Astoria could hardly wait until both boys were on her side of the lake. What her relatives did in front of Lucius in the stands was out of Astoria's control, of course. She could only do so much.
It occurred to Astoria as Draco came into sight alone that she probably should not care at all whether Lucius and Belladonna ended up sharing a bench together, but somehow she could not entirely force herself to regard the idea impartially.
"Draco!" Alec called, gaining his attention before he charged past them toward the stadium.
With the group finally together, Astoria followed Alec out onto the bobbing platforms, trying not to think about the thin band of ice clinging to the wood and the cold water that had created it.
Across the lake, most of the spectators seemed to have cleared off the distant bank. Karkoroff and Krum had arrived behind the judges table and Astoria assumed it must be getting close to eleven o'clock.
The stands, which were already packed to near capacity, seemed to prove this. There was no space left near water-level for five people together, so they were obligated to climb upward.
A small brass band had struck up on the opposite shore, marking the arrival of the champions but nothing was quite enough to distract Astoria from her thoughts. Even if Dobby managed to sneak Harry the Gillyweed, would it be enough to protect him from the sub-zero temperatures at the bottom of the lake?
"There's got to be somewhere," Maudlin insisted, dragging them all up another narrow wooden staircase. At the very top, all the way along near the wall, Alec spotted a single barren bench.
"We're miles away," Draco sneered, gazing out over the water at the distant judges table. Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory had joined the Durmstrang delegation but there was still no sign of Harry. "We won't be able to see anything."
"What time is it?" asked Astoria, interrupting Draco, who had begun sneaking peevish glances at Maudlin's cloak around Tracey and Astoria's shoulders by glancing at his wrist watch.
"Five of," answered Maudlin before Draco could speak, bracing his feet against the stairway bannister.
By way of response, Draco flipped his arm over, childishly hiding his watch face from view. Astoria peeked at his face, trying to understand this aggression but Draco made an irritated sound and shifted further back in his seat. He turned to glare sullenly at Maudlin's propped-up feet as though, for some reason, he would have dearly loved to kick them.
"If the rest of the champions are here, where's Harry?" Astoria asked, unable to understand the prolonged absence of such a pivotal player. "He hasn't forfeited, has he?"
"Who cares?" Malfoy sneered coldly.
"Where's your father sitting, Draco?" asked Tracey eagerly, eying the stands, clearly wanting to catch another glimpse of him. "I'd never noticed how much you two look alike before-"
"Yeah," snapped Malfoy distractedly, "people say that all the time. I'm surprised your father isn't sitting with us, Astoria," he added waspishly. "I thought for sure he and Maudlin would be giving each other hand jobs by now."
Tracey squealed with delight, wanting to know exactly what George Greengrass had done to give such an impression, but at that moment, Harry Potter came sprinting across the frozen lawn below and the crowd began to react loudly at the sight of him.
"Of course," spat Malfoy bitterly. "It's not enough without a dramatic entrance."
"Attention!" boomed Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Our champions are ready to begin their Second Task! At the sound of my whistle, they will have precisely one hour to recover what has been taken from them- to reclaim their hostages, as it were- from the bottom of the lake. One... Two... Three!"
A shrill blast from Bagman's whistle was all it took for Krum to slice like a knife into the water with his wand held tight in his hand. When he did not return to the surface, Astoria assumed a transformation must have taken place below the gently rippling waves.
Cedric meanwhile had tapped his head and as the crowd watched, a transparent dome resembling a giant un-popped soap bubble began to form over the top of his golden hair. He too slipped below the freezing water with Fleur close behind him, having done a similar sort of enchantment over her long mane of veela-bright cornsilk.
Suddenly, no one was left but Harry, who was still only waist deep in the icy lake water. He was chewing something (Gillyweed, Astoria prayed) rather thickly, and shivering like a kite in the slight breeze.
The longer that Harry gave the appearance of doing nothing, the more laughter began to break out in the audience. Astoria dug her fingers into the palms of her hands, waiting on tenterhooks. Somewhere not very far away, Montague hollered out a cat call. Draco's eye's flicked toward Astoria triumphantly. I told you so, they seemed to say.
"What's he doing?" groaned Alec. "Trying to freeze his actual balls off? Someone pull him out! This is painful."
All of a sudden, Harry was choking. His hands flew to his throat, grasping at an invisible fist.
"What the hell?" drawled Draco, eyes narrowing malevolently in Harry's direction, perhaps hoping that Harry would do him the favor of throwing up in front of a crowd of nearly a thousand people.
Then, Harry was no longer reaching for his throat with hands; he was reaching with a set of fins. Gracelessly, Harry flailed forward into the slushy surf and sank out of sight. Astoria unclenched her fists and rearranged Maudlin's cloak over her knees. Second place or better, she chanted to herself, trying to infuse the idea with the kind of power that might be able to find Harry in the murky depths below. Second place or better.
Bagman had gone wild on the megaphone but Astoria was no longer listening. If she and the twins somehow managed to win this bet, they would be ahead for the first time all year. Every sleepless night Astoria had suffered through would finally be worth something...
"Scoot over, Davis," demanded a cold voice near the end of the row.
It was Cassandra and Emilie, finished with putting away the silver service in the Entrance Hall.
Tracey's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment. Then, she hastily shoved into Astoria's side, trying to make room for two more on their already tight bench. Astoria jostled into Draco's arm, unprepared for the shove. "Not enough," intoned Cassandra gleefully and Astoria was pushed into Draco so firmly that he had to actually straighten up out of his slouch in order to avoid sliding onto the floor.
"Have you cleaned up, already?" asked Tracey hopefully.
"Yes, no thanks to any of you," said Cassandra, settling in with more than enough space to share, reminding Astoria of a smug cat claiming an entire couch for a kingdom. "What am I supposed to be looking at, anyway. There's nothing on the lake."
"They're under it, Cassandra," answered Alec a trifle witheringly. "There won't be anything to see until the champions resurface. You've missed it." Alec did not look at all sorry about this. On the contrary, he seemed rather pleased.
Cramped and fetched up in Maudlin's overlong cloak, which was now trapped beneath her, Astoria wriggled, trying to rearrange herself into a position that was not painful to sustain. Using a single hand to hold her weight, Astoria rearranged the fabric, realizing too late that she was using Malfoy's knee as a brace.
Astoria recoiled and the burn on her wrist rubbed against the cuff of her dress. Biting her lip against the uncomfortable sting of the burn and Draco's suddenly confusing proximity, Astoria pulled into herself until she was as compact as she could be, feeling vulnerable and inconsistent.
You should have just burned Lucius, Astoria's mind hissed. What did it really matter, anyway?
Astoria pressed into Tracey, hoping to somehow pull away a trace of the warmth and unshakable boldness that Tracey always possessed.
Since when had the Malfoys started turning up everywhere, Astoria wondered, leaning her head against Tracey's shoulder and settling in to watch the lake exhaustedly. One moment she was tossing teacups onto the the father, the next she was sitting practically on top of the son. Surely they were the type of people that one really only ever had to see from a great distance? Didn't they have better things to with their precious time than sweep in and out of Astoria's space? Mr. Malfoy hadn't even remembered Tracey's name. Why would he want to spend any time near Astoria's father?
It suddenly seemed to Astoria that she would not be able to relax properly again until she knew that both her herself and her family were as far away from Draco and his looming figure of a father as possible. If the break did not occur soon, Astoria feared, she was suddenly certain that both halves might somehow become joined.
Astoria's family was already somewhat under the patronage of the Mendels thanks to her long imprisoned mother's influence. What would Astoria do if her father suddenly started scrambling for invitations to Mr. Malfoy's dinner parties? Succeed and drag her along to suffer, Astoria decided miserably. Astoria glanced at Draco again, this time very carefully. His posture was lazy and cocky, half-inclined toward Astoria in the same way that Tracey was. If Astoria had wanted to swap Tracey's shoulder for his, she had a feeling that he might let her. In private she was certain he would, but in public, perhaps not. Did it really matter either way?
A commotion was taking place below. Two medi-wizards and Madame Maxime were wading into the lake toward a limp, trembling figure. It was Fleur and she had returned alone. Fourth place.
"Our champion," commented Cassandra disdainfully. "It should have been you, Maudlin. Or failing that, me."
Like a seal breaching the surface of the sea, Cedric Diggory's head popped up next between the murky ripples of lake water and the stands went wild.
On either side of Astoria, a smattering of polite but unenthusiastic applause broke out.
"Is that Chang?" demanded Malfoy snidely, the first to notice that a second head had appeared next to Cedric's.
"I think so," Astoria laughed, forcing herself to sit back up and face the threatening world bravely. One champion successfully returned. "They did go to the ball together."
"He really is the prettier of the two, isn't he?" mused Alec wryly. "What a burden for her. Always second best."
"You went to the ball with Maudlin, though, didn't you Astoria?" remarked Cassandra. "Will he be fishing you out of the lake later in the week?"
Emilie blushed and looked down at her hands, not wanting to hear this kind of talk any more than Astoria did.
"I shouldn't think so," Astoria responded firmly, "they chose limp Fleur over him as champion."
Maudlin made a disgruntled little sound and moved his feet back onto the ground. "I didn't want to be champion-"
He was cut off by another burst of applause. Astoria stood up in order to peer over the railing, anxious to see which champion had come back to the surface after Cedric.
"Who is it?" asked Tracey, trying to peer around Astoria, who had pulled the cloak off of both of them in her in her haste.
"It's Krum," said Astoria dully, feeling as though her insides had been been laced with lead, "and Granger."
"What?" scoffed Malfoy, torn between disgust and cruel delight. "No wonder he's back so soon. The merpeople didn't want his buck-toothed girlfriend."
Astoria sat back down, shrugging away the corner of the cloak because she was not entirely sure that she wouldn't just throw up. If Krum had come back second, surely he would place in second. That would put Harry Potter in third and Astoria in a world of danger. With every moment that ticked by, Astoria's sense of panic grew more acidic until it was bubbling rawly in the back of her throat.
"How much time did they have?" asked Astoria.
"An hour," drawled Malfoy, consulting his watch with an expression of maddening satisfaction. Astoria attempted to check the time herself but Draco turned his wrist away from her again, apparently taking some sort of perverse delight in Harry's failure and unwilling to let her obvious discomfort ruin it for him.
"How long has Harry been underwater, Malfoy?" Astoria snapped. "Why do you have to make me fight for it?"
"Eighty minutes," Draco snapped back, flushing slightly.
Eighty minutes.
"This task is boring compared to the last one," sighed Tracey. "I hope Potter comes back up soon. I want lunch."
"I'd be fine if he never came up at all," Draco sneered, "but suit yourself, Davis."
At that moment, three different colored heads broke the icy surface of the lake near the far away bank and the stands exploded. The task was over. Harry had, at the very least, survived but it was surprising how little comfort this idea seemed to give her.
Were the goblins at Hogwarts now? Surely they would not expect Astoria to pay them on the spot? Wild flashes of violence that somehow incorporated her aunt Belladonna and loss of limb (most likely her own) flitted through Astoria's mind like lightning. So destitute was her state of affairs, Astoria could not even take a moment to appreciate the sight of twenty or so merpeople rising out of their watery home to consult with the judges.
"Astoria, you're sitting on the cloak!" whined Tracey. "Eugh! I thought mermaids were supposed to be pretty!"
Astoria budged forward then sunk back again, numb with horror because of her own terrible life choices. Betting against the goblins was the worst decision she had ever made and the time to pay for that foolishness had finally come. Fred and George wouldn't be able to offer her any assistance. It was Astoria who would be left to to fix this mess.
"Testing!" boomed Ludo Bagman's voice, so loud and near that it might have originated from inside Astoria's ear canals. "Testing! Alright- Alright, Igor! I'm live- Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision!"
Bagman awarded Fleur Delacour twenty five points for her Bubble-Head charm. Cedric, who had used the same magic but had managed to successfully collect his hostage, received forty seven points.
"Forty seven?" demanded Draco snidely, provoking Maudlin to chuckle with him. "What kind of number is that? Were they afraid to round down?"
"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration which was, nevertheless, effective and was second to return," Bagman declared. "We award him forty points."
It was Harry's turn now. Karkoroff shot Bagman a nasty look.
"Lost a bet, have you?" demanded Malfoy in a low, resentful voice. It took Astoria a full moment to realize that his words and his tone had been meant for her. "Figured Potter would get lucky twice?"
"Does it matter?" Astoria bit back.
"Its your gold, I suppose. Even if it is wasted on Potter," Draco persisted, unable to let the matter go. "I warned you, didn't I? I said-"
"Stop it," Astoria hissed, suddenly very certain she was going to be ill. Draco might not have any way of knowing how much money Astoria was going to owe for her lapse of judgment, but he certainly must realize that he was being cruel.
"Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effect," continued Bagman. "While he may have returned last, the Merchieftainess informs us that he was the first to reach the hostages and the delay in returning to the surface was owed to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."
"Why should I?" Draco hissed back, this time more loudly. "Just admit it!"
"I'm still losing, aren't I?" Astoria snapped back, nearly as loud as he was now. "You don't need to be so smug."
"Who's smug?" asked Tracey, distracted from Bagman by the bite in Astoria's voice.
"Betting high, too, I see," Draco guessed, his lip curling in a way that bespoke of an almost dangerous disgust. "That's rich- or not, rather. If I were you, when I crawled to Maudlin for the gold, I'd probably lie and say I'd bet it on Fleur instead. Seems like a better laugh."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think it sounded like you wanted me to crawl to you instead," Astoria shot back, knowing she was playing with fire but beyond the point of being able to reasonably care. While Astoria was fairly certain that Draco did not know how much Maudlin had done to help her out of her bind at Christmas, there was enough truth in this comment to cut her like a knife.
"Yeah?" Draco's already pink cheeks turned a rather brilliant shade of red as he struggled to save face. "Tell you what, stop talking to Scarface in courtyards or polishing his bloody wand for magazine articles and I'll fork up the sad hundred galleons you owe to that gremlin the Weasleys were crouching with during the First Task. Seems like more than a fair deal to me. Lord knows they won't be able to help you."
At a loss over whether to succumb to anger or to cry, Astoria tipped her head back and laughed hollowly.
A hundred galleons to avoid Harry for life. That was the fresh hell that her life had now become. For the full eight thousand she actually owed against a horde of very real and very dangerous goblins, Astoria supposed she need only murder Harry in his bed instead? Her own demise at the hands of Ragnuk and his cohorts seemed more dignified. And she had cheated, Astoria realized, had as much as put the Gillweed in Harry's mouth. If Ragnuk ever found out...
"Most of the judges feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks," Bagman went on, taking a step away from Karkoroff, who looked like he was about one poor choice of phrasing on Bagman's part away from chucking him into the lake. "However... we award Harry Potter forty-five points."
Astoria's hollow laughter tumbled over itself like rocks in jar, taking on a manic edge.
"Never!" Tracey cried. "They've tied Potter in first place? How is that even fair if he came up last?"
Astoria had to put her head between her knees to keep from sobbing. People were standing up all around her but nothing seemed to reach her through the haze of wondrous relief that was coursing through her body. Never again, Astoria vowed. Never again would she bet gold against goblins or put her own personal safety at risk to satisfy a daring urge. She would stop being foolhardy; she had learned her lesson. Astoria would study from her textbooks and willingly join clubs like a normal teenager, keeping her head down, where it was at almost no risk of being cut off.
"Astoria!" chuckled Maudlin. "No one was ever actually going to drown!"
0o0
Well, this was... long? You know, sometimes I can crank out a chapter in two nights (and then take as long as I want editing) but other chapters turn into stubborn menaces with no sense of compassion for my poor nerves. This one fell firmly into the latter category, to the point that I actually ended up cutting out great gobs of paragraphs in order to keep in under eleven thousand (literally, whhhhat?) words. There were just so many details for later plots that had to be added!
My goal for the last few posts has been to work on shifting Astoria's mindset just enough for her to kind of come to terms with the fact that she is sort of really interested in a person that she knows is deeply flawed in all of the worst ways. The end result: confusion of the highest order. Which I am not sure is always fun reading. Honestly, it had to happen because the plot is going to shift pretty radically in the next ten or so chapters, but I think the worst of it is mostly over for now.
Yeeks, it took me about nine days to get this post up so I'll try to do the next one in less than a week, shall I? As always, reviews are a fantastic treat and always make my day!