Chapter Forty Nine
Playing Chicken
0o0
It was still raining heavily the next morning. Great gunshots of thunder continued to roll across the grounds, reverberating off of the pock marked lake, and occasional slashes of lightning lit up the grape-colored sky with momentary brilliance. Astoria dressed for the weather, donning a pair of rubber boots that she almost never wore and her thickest cloak, making sure to wrap it tightly around her neck before securing it there with a pin.
The floor of the entrance hall was already wet from the foot traffic when Astoria finally dragged herself downstairs. Even though it was well before noon, all of the torches had been lit in an attempt to keep the darkness and the moisture at bay. The flickering flames on the walls cast a cheerful dazzle across the puddles that were forming on the flagstone as Astoria sloshed through them. Filch was filling the doorway with his shoulders hunched, as he always did on a Hogsmeade day, clutching a clipboard under his red nose and glowering at the gathering queue mutinously.
"Hey," breathed Fred, coming up with behind Astoria, George meandering along behind him. "Small group, this."
A monstrous clap of thunder seemed to agree with this statement, followed by a flash of yellow lightning over the rain-muddled lawn.
"No worries," said George, twirling a very battered old umbrella between his freckled hands like a dancing cane. "Fewer people will make the walk to town that much quicker. Besides, I've got this!" George gestured toward Astoria with the tip of his careworn umbrella.
"I'm not walking under that," said Astoria flatly, making up her mind on the spot to go ahead and brave the rain. "That thing is a lightning rod. Where on Earth did you get it?"
"Room of Requirement," George shrugged, unbothered by her lack of enthusiasm.
"You asked the Room of Requirement for foul weather gear and that was all it gave you?" Astoria deadpanned, breaking off to allow Filch to poke at her with his Secrecy Sensor.
"I didn't ask for anything," clarified George a few seconds later, stumbling out onto the steps behind her. "There's a whole room filled with lost and ditched objects that have been rounded up for storage. I found this little gem in a trunk."
George attempted to open the umbrella but the storm-force winds promptly snatched at the ratty edges and pulled the entire affair inside out; fabric, metal spine and all. Laughing heartily, Fred seized George's newly useless umbrella before he could hurt himself with it and stashed it in a dripping bush halfway down the lane.
"Are we going to the Hogs Head?" Astoria wondered out loud when they reached the mud-soaked, grey and brown main street. The lights of the Three Broomsticks were winking at her cheerfully across the cobblestone track and the idea of having to hike up the quarter of a mile long hill to the Hogs Head was actually rather depressing.
"Yup," Fred confirmed, pulling his yellow rain slicker tight in preparation for the hike. "Hodrod's crew has got the Three Broomsticks. He's more civilized so he doesn't scare off the more genteel clientele."
"How do you know that?" Astoria panted, sloshing through rivulets of water that were flowing down the steep drive.
"Bagman," Fred called back over the howling wind. "George and I saw him at the Second Task."
"And he just decided to chat you up?" Astoria reflected nervously. "Talking about goblins and things where other people might hear him?"
"Nah, it wasn't like that. There was no one else around," said Fred. "Honestly, I think Bagman was so thankful that we weren't there to demand money from him that he launched off on the first topic that came to mind."
Astoria still did not much like the idea of Ludo Bagman and the twins discussing anything about the highly illegal gambling ring, of which they were all members, in public, but Fred's lack of nervousness about the encounter was reassuring enough for her to put the matter out of her mind for the moment.
Fred waited until George had kicked the dirt off of his soggy shoes at the top of the slope before pushing open the door to the Hogs Head and ushering them both inside ahead of him into a wave of damp, unexpected heat.
The low, hay-strew room was no less dark than Astoria had ever seen it, but it was uncommonly packed. Nearly all of the scrubbed wooden tables had been claimed; some by men in various states of disguise and others by women in long caftans (or even more ominously, as was the case for the witch near the fireplace, a veiled and very ancient looking wedding dress).
"Ragnuk's crew always seems to hang about by that nook with all the wine kegs," said George, blinking to adjust his eyes to the gloom.
Astoria's eyes were not searching for the nook, however, as they were already fixed on the inn's proprietor. Aberforth, who had the nose of a bloodhound when it came to underage trouble, glanced out over the bar the moment the door swung shut behind Fred.
Wincing, Astoria watched as Aberforth slapped the dirty rag that he had been using to dry steins with down onto the counter, only seconds away from marching over to oust them all (if they were lucky) back out into the rain. Then, something curious happened and Aberforth seemed to hesitate. Wondering what could have made Aberforth pause, Astoria turned to glance at Fred and George anxiously.
"This way," said a voice that seemed to be coming from the shadows directly beside Fred.
Astoria jumped. It was one of Ragnuk's goblins, his beady eyes glistening in the darkness like nuggets of wet coal.
Painfully conscious of the fact that this was the first time Aberforth had ever willingly let Astoria cross his pub without trying to interfere, Astoria and the twins followed Ragnuk's messenger past the damply smoldering fireplace, all the way toward the far corner. A short, round table had been stuffed in between two heaving stacks of liquor casks and the only light available seemed to be coming from one very grubby window, which was so dirty that Astoria could only just barely make out the water streaked lane that it faced.
Two or three goblins were crowded about the table, playing cards. Ragnuk was sitting below the grubby window, proudly wearing a blue velvet two-piece suit of the sort that could have been inspired by a dour faced child in a stuffy Edwardian photograph. He looked up from the game as Astoria and the twins approached and the golden rings on his chubby little fingers sparkled dangerously as he laid out a pair of queens.
"If it isn't the Hogwarts delegation," Ragnuk cackled, his voice as dry as chalk. "Take a seat."
The nearest goblin was puffing on a stubby pipe. The moment Astoria chose a chair and settled into it, he breathed a thick plume of tobacco smoke directly into her face.
"You know why we're here," Ragnuk," said Fred suspiciously, "I don't see why we need to sit. Why don't you just pay us?"
A chilly silence fell. The goblins ceased muttering among themselves and turned to glare at Fred. Ragnuk clucked his tongue and the goblin with the pipe knocked out the burning ash he was smoking onto a plate and stood up.
"Have I given you some reason to be uncivil?" chuckled Ragnuk. "Please," he broke off sharply to bark something in gobbledygook at the goblin who had stood, "take a seat."
It was not an invitation so much as a command. George slumped down next to Astoria but Fred stubbornly remained standing, his hand on the back of Astoria's chair.
"Alright," said Astoria carefully, "we're sitting."
There was a dull clinking sound as the goblin that Ragnuk had yelled at returned with a bulging sack of gold. George turned about eagerly; ready to accept their payload, but the goblin continued past him, finally placing the bag of money on the other end of the table near Ragnuk and just out of Astoria's reach. Fred's hand tightened on the back of her chair.
"Our terms are in need of revision," said Ragnuk, undoing the drawstring of the bag and pulling out a stack of coins.
"What does that mean?" Astoria asked brusquely, watching as Ragnuk pulled a second roll of coins out of the sack.
"It means," said Ragnuk slowly, bringing a galleon up to his mouth to test its authenticity with his sharp little teeth, "that I am no longer satisfied with our current arrangement."
"Our arrangement?" Fred scoffed, apparently determined to fill the roll of 'bad-cop'. "It's a bloody threat, is what this is! You're making us bet on the youngest champion against our will! Not to mention the way you let your old buddy Hodrod take a bite out of us after the first task!"
At the mention of Hodrod's name, every single goblin at the table stopped what they were doing to hiss menacingly. The hairs on the back of Astoria's neck stood up and Fred fell silent at once.
"How so?" said Astoria clearly, directing her shivery words toward Ragnuk before things could get out of hand, wanting nothing more than to escape from Aberforth's bar with her life. "So far we've done everything you've asked of us. What exactly is displeasing you?"
"Best out of three," said Ragnuk pensively, eyeing the coin between his fingers. "Isn't that how games are played?"
"I don't know what you mean," Astoria admitted, certain that Ragnuk was about to cheat them yet again and there would be very little that they could do to stop him.
"You've won our bet twice now," said Ragnuk, "for a considerable sum both times."
"That would be the primary hazard of gambling," said Astoria flatly.
"Indeed, but not a sign of very good business," Ragnuk went on, tipping the coins he had removed from their sack back into it and redoing the string. "In the name of fair play, I allowed you to take a leaning bet on the youngest champion. Second place or above, we agreed. It seems that I have been too lenient. Your youngest champion has luck on his side."
Ragnuk tossed the sack of gold to George who, in his surprise, was not fast enough to snatch it out of the air before it hit the table again.
"You want us to bet on something else?" Astoria surmised, her stomach plummeting. Any hope she might have had of somehow managing to weasel out of having to take bets on the Third Task at all dried up and evaporated.
"First place," Ragnuk hissed. "Your champion must place first."
"You want us to bet that Harry Potter will win the Triwizard Tournament?" asked Fred faintly, catching on.
"I'm insisting on it," said Ragnuk dangerously.
"You can't just change our bet more than halfway through the Tournament!" countered Fred waspishly, finding his grit again.
"I can and I am," said Ragnuk, his voice ringing with the air of dreadful finality. "The inability to rearrange the details our agreement was never a part of our deal. You never stipulated that it should be. Therefore, I am not reneging on any details of our arrangement by demanding that the bet be changed."
Ragnuk had caught them in a loophole and he knew it. While Astoria had never been asked to sign a document, her words seemed to be law. Astoria and the twins had not been precise enough about the phrasing of their original agreement and now, Ragnuk was going to take them for a ride because of it.
"Fine," said Astoria quickly, thinking on her feet, afraid that Fred would say something nasty if she didn't. "It seems like we don't have any choice in the matter, so I suppose we'll have to do as you say."
Astoria stood up and George followed suit, pocketing the heavy purse of gold as he did so. None of them said anything until they had exited the pub and were standing back out in the storm savaged lane.
"Little crook!" Fred snarled, kicking the sodden stones beneath his feet. "We never should have done business with them!"
"Well, obviously," said Astoria, thinking hard.
"What about you?" spat Fred. "You don't look worried! I suppose you've got some master plan to talk one of your rich buddies into paying us off if we lose, do you? Go ahead; expound on that a little, won't you?"
"No," said Astoria coldly, immensely resenting the insinuation that she was prepared to beg Maudlin for money. "I was actually thinking that, if the wording of our agreement means so much to Ragnuk, we can probably find a way of using that same principle against him."
"How do you figure?" asked George, who seemed to be having an easier time of keeping a level head than his brother.
"Ragnuk only said we have to match the sum of our bets on the actual Tasks against him," said Astoria slowly, "but in theory, anything else we take bets on is fair game."
"Oh, that's brilliant," Fred muttered. "You want to gamble more to get out of this mess."
"What if we took an early, pre-task bet?" Astoria suggested. "Something like, 'guess the challenge in the final task'? Remember the time we took odds on what color robes Dumbledore was going to wear to that quidditch match? It'll be like that. There are so many options that we're bound to make more money than we'll lose."
"Ok, say we did," said George, mentally testing this theory, "that's still nowhere near the kind of gold that we'll have riding on the Third Task."
"But we already have the winnings from the Second Task," Astoria reminded him, pointing toward his pockets. "If we don't spend any of that money and we bolster the pot with a pre-bet, we'll have enough gold to pay off Ragnuk if we lose during the Third Task. Worst case scenario, we break even. Best case scenario, Harry wins the Tournament and we come into a small fortune."
"That could actually work," said George, flushing with relief as he contemplated Astoria's proposal.
"I don't want to just break even!" burst Fred dismally. "All of this suffering and anxiety for nothing? It has to be worth something!"
Astoria gazed off down the rain charged hill, understanding Fred's frustration but unable to offer him any consolation.
"Harry's tied in first place, already," said George fairly. "He might manage it."
"Yeah," snapped Fred, "tied in first. He hasn't won anything free and clear. What do you reckon Ragnuk will have a thing or two to say about that?"
"Ragnuk never said anything about a tie," said Astoria slowly, almost grinning to herself. "He never stipulated…"
George laughed but it was a moment or two before Fred finally managed to crack a smile.
0o0
There was a letter already waiting for Astoria when she came down to breakfast on Monday morning.
"S'from your aunt," said Theodore, washing down a mouthful of bacon with a gulp of black coffee. "Her owl brought it to me when it realized that you weren't here. Bit impatient for a post animal, don't you think?"
"Oh?" said Astoria, slitting the envelope open while pouring herself juice. Astoria's fear was that the letter would contain some sort of angry sentiment over Astoria's lack of effort to bid her aunt goodbye after the Second Task, but to that end she was soon spared.
"What does she want?" asked Theodore, helping himself to kippers.
Darling,
First and foremost, let me offer you my warmest congratulations on successfully ensnaring both a heroic national treasure and a Monacan political heir in the same week. I suppose you have been very busy and that is why you have not thought to write of your great successes? I hardly know where to start; only rest assured that I have taken out a subscription to 'Witch Weekly' for the first time in years, as my opinion of its contents seems to have vastly improved since my last reading...
"Nothing," Astoria breathed, scanning past Belladonna's lengthy and very amused response to Rita Skeeter's magazine article, privately feeling that her aunt had allowed her wit run rather long. "She wants me to come home for Easter," Astoria paused, eyeing the letter, "and it's possible that she may have started drinking at breakfast."
Even at Hogwarts, hundreds of miles away, Astoria could practically hear Belladonna's gleeful cackling.
"Oh, right," said Theo. "Lots of people are doing that. All of the Mummies and Daddies missed their precious little angels over Christmas so they're making it up for it in the spring by dragging everyone home."
"I take it you're staying at school, then?" Astoria remarked wryly, folding up her aunt's letter and stuffing it under her plate.
"Why would I leave?" sniffed Theodore. "There's a perfectly good library here, not to mention the rest of you lot will have cleared out, so I might actually get something done. Seems like the better plan to me."
"Sure," Astoria conceded, "If you want to be joyless and alone."
Theodore frowned but the rest of the post owls had arrived and before he could say anything more, they were both engulfed by a mad swirl of feathers. At least five owls had landed on their end of the table and they all seemed to be clamoring for Astoria's attention.
"What the—" Astoria gasped. "Ouch!" The closest owl— a large tawny— had pinched her fingers with its beak.
"What's going on?" Theodore snapped. "Break them up!" Theo swatted wildly at a bird that was perched on the milk jug. "Scram!"
"Here," said Astoria, yanking a letter away from the tawny owl's talons. "Take the letters from them, Theo— they'll leave if they deliver."
Hastening to help her, Theodore and Astoria managed to extract the post from the eager pack of owls.
"They're all addressed to you," remarked Theodore in wonder, flipping over a particularly thick-looking parcel in order to check the address.
Astoria turned over the letters she had gathered only to find that her name had been written out on each of these as well.
"Don't open anything!" said Tracey urgently, appearing behind Theodore's shoulder, snagging the offending parcel out of his hands. "They're in response to that Rita Skeeter article. I watched Pansy write Granger a bundle of hate mail last night."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Astoria dubiously, wanting more than anything to believe that this wasn't true. "Pansy couldn't have written all of this…"
"Of course not," Tracey snapped. "You were in a national magazine and now every idiot from here to Sussex thinks that you've been playing the 'Boy who Lived' false. I mean it—don't open anything!"
As if in response to this dire warning, a great commotion suddenly broke out across the hall. Astoria craned her neck to get a better look at the Gryffindor table and spotted Hermione. She had sprung up from her seat with a pained cry and was wildly trying to wipe her hands off on her robes.
"What now?" demanded Theodore exasperatedly.
"There, see!" said Tracey, almost inappropriately pleased to have been proven right. "Granger opened her mail. You should be thanking me right now; I probably just saved you from being cursed by a lonely spinster with a Witch Weekly subscription!"
Indeed, this seemed almost possible because next moment, Hermione was tearing across the hall sobbing. Her hands, swollen to nearly twice their original size, were flapping by her sides, as knobby and scabbed as old leather boots.
Slowly and carefully, Astoria stacked her envelopes next to the sugar bowl unopened, determined to chuck them in the fire the first chance she got.
"Ha!" exclaimed Tracey delightedly.
Herbology was a muddy, thoroughly unpleasant affair that morning. The rain pounded on the glass ceiling of the greenhouse and within, pervasive and tepid moisture had turned all of the planters into soup. Knowing that her next class was Care of Magical Creatures, Astoria did not even bother taking off her cloak and when the time came to cross the lawn. She was already damp to the point of discomfort despite the fact that she had not even been outside yet.
Astoria was just lining up for the spigot to wash the dirt off her hands when the news came down; Care of Magical Creatures class had finally been canceled because of the continuing downpour. Half over-joyed and half annoyed to have been kept waiting until the last possible second, Astoria rinsed off and ventured back toward the castle, intending to find Tracey and locate someplace very dry and warm to study together.
Tracey was not immediately to be found however, so after shrugging out of her cloak and stashing it in her bag, Astoria decided to try the library.
Between the noise of the rain and the excessive number of students trapped indoors, the library was much louder and more cramped than usual. Muddy footprints marred the normally immaculate carpets and sweaters and gloves littered all of the study areas like castaway confetti. Wanting to be as far away from Madam Pince's desk as possible (privately suspecting that she was a bomb just waiting to explode) Astoria turned her feet toward the remote Room of Atlases.
It was always less populated in this part of the library and somehow less muffled; opened up by the vaulted ceiling and long arrow-slot windows that were situated every ten feet along the walls. The giant globe that hung above the center table was glowing eerily today, its surface swirling in the purple-black light of the storm.
"Ria!" exclaimed a familiar voice. "Over here!"
Maudlin, Draco, Alec and Luc were all sitting at a long table near the stacks, crowded close together around a single slanting beam of light that was filtering in through one of the windows.
Surprised to have run into anybody in this part of the castle, much less Maudlin, Astoria approached them happily, eager to shrug off her bag and have a seat somewhere.
"Why aren't you in class?" asked Maudlin, lifting a stack of books out of her way so that she might have room to put her elbows on the table.
"It's been canceled," drawled Draco lazily, answering this question for her. "We both have the same second period today."
Astoria glanced at Draco swiftly, determined to mind her behavior so that it fell somewhere within the normal spectrum that existed in between the needy and apologetic mess she had been the last time she had seen Draco and the blazing, furious screech that had been in the hours after the Second Task.
"You haven't seen Tracey, have you?" asked Astoria.
"She went off with Pansy after Charms," shrugged Draco absently.
"Cassandra's with them," volunteered Luc. "I think she said something about planning a birthday party."
Maudlin snorted, perhaps a trifle amused by the close tabs that Luc seemed to keep on Cassandra, who couldn't be any plainer about how very much she disliked him, but Luc did not seem to care.
"Who's having a party?" wondered Astoria distractedly, gazing out the window at the storm she had narrowly escaped.
"One of the Hogwarts Eastern Star girls," said Luc.
Each boy's head turned toward Astoria, seeking confirmation of this fact. Astoria shrugged disinterestedly and pulled out her Potions essay, unable to offer any information about upcoming birthday parties because she herself was clearly out of the loop.
"It's one of the Ravenclaw fifth years," said Draco, peering sidelong at Astoria with interest, "MacDougal what's-her-name."
Luc, Maudlin and Draco all turned to stare at Astoria a second time, their expressions all almost comically curious.
"Kitty MacDougal's having a party, is she?" Astoria laughed, suddenly eager to distance herself from the event, perhaps because Tracey was traitorously planning it with Pansy, a girl who had very likely sent Astoria a curse by owl-post that same morning. "I don't know why you assume I know anything about it—I can't even remember what Katherine's best friend's name is, and they're both Sisters."
"Aren't there, like, twelve girls in your sorority?" demanded Luc pointedly. "How is it even possible that you don't know all of their names?"
Astoria shrugged, borrowing a quill from the center of the table, her face a mask of unapologetic indifference.
"So, you aren't going then?" asked Maudlin. "I'm trying to decide what to do over break. I might pop home for a week, but only if I can take a few of you with me. Father is still in France and I'd hate to have to loaf about by myself with nobody but mother for company…"
"Of course I'm not going to Kitty's party—I wouldn't be caught dead. Not to mention, nobody has invited me," said Astoria brusquely, wanting to put an end to the discussion. "I'm going to be at my Aunt's over Easter."
"Hmm," Maudlin frowned. "Cassandra's staying with her grandparents. They're native here, so I suppose she can hardly avoid them. I think she's even taking Emilie with her. Maybe it would be best to hang around…"
"You're invited," said Draco, shifting his gaze toward Astoria again, perhaps misunderstanding the reason for the bite in her voice. "I saw the guest list Pansy and Flora were working on."
Why Draco had bothered to scan a guest list that Pansy and Flora had drawn up for a fifth year Ravenclaw girl's birthday party was beyond Astoria, but the news that she had been included in their fun did very little to change her opinion on the matter.
Before she could say so however, as though delivered to them by fate, Pansy and Flora appeared in the far off doorway that separated the Room of Atlases from the library proper. Behind them, Astoria spotted Tracey, Blaise and Katherine MacDougal. Understanding at once that Tracey had defected for Blaise and not Pansy, she allowed herself a moment of weak relief before returning to her original sense of displeasure.
"What do you think they want?" asked Astoria, trying to keep the annoyance she felt from becoming inappropriately obvious. "Doesn't anybody have class this morning?"
"To invite you to a birthday party, I'd wager," smirked Alec, spotting Astoria's cloud of dread at once.
Amazingly, this prediction turned out to be one hundred percent correct.
"Astoria!" sang Katherine, pushing past Pansy and Flora. "We were just talking about you!"
"Were you?" returned Astoria, attempting a weak smile that wound up congealing into a dubious grimace on her face.
"Oh, yes!" said Katherine, fishing something out of her school bag. "I'm having a birthday party over break! You are going home aren't you? All of the other Sisters are coming and everybody who knows anything is leaving school for a bit—"
Katherine handed Astoria a white square that had been shaped out of sturdy card-stock paper. On it, a formal invitation including the address and time of her party had been printed out in fancy, metallic-blue calligraphy.
"It's my sixteenth!" exclaimed Katherine, misreading Astoria's look of distaste for one of excitement as she took in the shiny wording and excessive use of exclamation points that had been thrust toward her.
"Er," said Astoria, suddenly and almost morosely certain that Belladonna would probably force her to attend this Sisters of The Eastern Star heavy event if she ever caught wind of it.
"She's going home," said Tracey stiffly, almost glaring at Astoria from behind Katherine's back, her eyes shifting pointedly toward Blaise. "You had word from your aunt this morning, didn't you, Astoria?"
"She should definitely come then," said Pansy joylessly. "Astoria just broke up with her boyfriend and all—I suppose it's our job to cheer her up."
Draco shifted in his seat, knowing that Pansy was talking about Harry—an accusation Astoria had already refuted—but somehow still unable to keep from reacting hatefully.
"Oh good!" said Katherine, clapping her hands together. Pansy's eyelashes fluttered at this, carefully resisting the urge to roll her eyes until such a time as when she and Flora were alone again. Perhaps because of Pansy's obvious displeasure, or maybe because of the desperate secret messages that Tracey was trying to send her when she thought that nobody was looking, Astoria began to experience a warm change of heart.
"Whose house is this?" Astoria asked, unable to hide her surprise as she pointed toward the address on the card. "This is the same road my aunt lives on."
"That's where my aunt lives!" said Katherine MacDougal excitedly. "What are the odds?!"
"Your aunt?" asked Astoria, entirely certain there were no witches with the name 'MacDougal' living anywhere near Belladonna.
"And my uncle!" said Katherine excitedly. "The Fawleys! The live in the house by the lake—well, you must know!"
Astoria did know the Fawleys—or of them at any rate. Katherine's uncle, Hector Fawley, had been Minster of Magic some forty years previously during the Grindlewald threat and had been forced to resign, rather ignobly, due to public outcry over his soft response to the entire affair. He was now close to ninety years old, blind as a bat and rarely went out in public. Astoria had spent years of her childhood cheerfully waving to him in the lane, only to have him thoroughly ignore her, perhaps because his declining vision had prevented him from ever seeing her in the first place.
"Oh," said Astoria, all astonishment.
"I know what you're thinking," said Katherine, "but they won't be there. My aunt lent me the boat house so that all of the girls can stay over—not the boys though!" Katherine tutted, glancing first at Draco and then Blaise. "You lot will have to go home! On the record, at least! Astoria too, if she wants! I can't believe you live only two houses away!"
"You're sleeping in a boat house?" demanded Blaise. "Are you camping?"
"It's furnished," said Katherine brightly. "My aunt and uncle never go boating."
"Why own a boathouse, then?" Blaise mused almost musically.
"Well," said Astoria, tapping her invitation against the table and letting it drop, eager for Katherine to clear off and take Pansy and Flora with her, "I'll be there."
"I thought you lived in Tidenham," shot Draco thoughtlessly, finally catching a glimpse of the invitation.
"My father lives in Tidenham," Astoria returned, "Belladonna's in North Yorkshire."
"You should see her aunt's house, if you get the chance," chuckled Maudlin. "She's got a mad portrait of her second husband in the front hallway that you can't help but knock sideways if you want to take your cloak off. She must have really hated him—"
"I've been to her aunt's house before," sneered Draco irresistibly, clearly annoyed by the insinuation that Maudlin knew something that he didn't.
Pansy left off making eyes with Flora, her head snapping toward Draco at once.
"So has Blaise," Astoria pointedly out fairly, "although I suppose Uncle Alfred's picture is easy enough to miss..."
Bothered by Draco's apparent need to profess how well he knew what Astoria's home looked like, Pansy cleared her throat loudly. "I'm surprised that your aunt doesn't have a whole picture gallery in the front hallway, Astoria, what with all of the uncles you've had."
"Come to think of it, it's not surprising that you mixed up the addresses, Draco," said Astoria, gritting her teeth and pointedly ignoring Pansy. "Every time you've been to my aunt's house, you've come by floo."
This was perfectly true of course: Draco had never arrived by portkey or car and he had technically been to Belladonna's home more than once. Knowing full well that her phrasing implied uncountable visits however, as opposed to just the one New Year's Eve that Pansy was probably aware of, Astoria scooped back up the quill she had dropped and began to flip through her book. Draco, perhaps knowing what Astoria was doing and deciding to be merciful, said nothing and allowed Astoria to deal the jab.
"Come on," said Tracey, quick to protect Astoria from Pansy's retaliation. "We've got other people on our list to hand out cards to."
"Oh!" giggled Katherine, "speaking of which—Astoria, you have to do me a favor!"
"What's that?" asked Astoria dubiously.
"You know Anthony Goldstein's girlfriend, don't you?" asked Katherine, leaning in conspiratorially.
"You mean Padma?" Astoria scoffed. "No, not really—"
"But you do know her sister, Parvati?" Katherine pressed. "So it wouldn't be weird for you to talk to Anthony for me?"
Astoria narrowed her eyes, not quite able to read Katherine's meaning through all of her dithering and giggling.
"It's just, I want to invite Anthony to the party, but I can't stand the idea of Padma tagging along," Katherine declared.
"Why?" Astoria wondered slowly, feeling that this was a new level of cattiness, even from within the ranks of the Eastern Star.
"Ugh," Katherine sneered. "She's so prim and bookish! She won't be any fun and her mother was a half blood, you know!"
"Kitty fancies Goldstein," supplied Tracey dryly, suspecting correctly that Astoria had become lost, "only she can't not invite Padma herself, because that would be rude so she needs you to do it for her."
"I do not!" cried Katherine shrilly, turning about to flap her hands in front of Tracey's face while Pansy and Flora tittered triumphantly at Tracey's bad manners. "Just mention the party to Anthony, would you?"
Seeing this for what it was; nothing short of a dirty and disingenuous plot to steal her classmate's boyfriend, Astoria put on her most radiant smile. "Sure," Astoria beamed misleadingly, "what else are friends for?"
Snickering and yelping, the girls finally left the library some ten minutes later, anxious to see to the rest of their list. Astoria fell back into her chair, smirking widely.
"Are you seriously going to help MacDougal get off with Goldstein?" sneered Draco doubtfully.
Astoria laughed throatily. "Anthony hates me so much that the second I mention Kitty's party, he'll be sure to avoid it like the plague. She couldn't have found a worse candidate for actually getting him to come along! "
"Well, I might go," said Luc, his eyes fixed on the invitation. "If Cassandra is going, that must mean her classmates are invited."
"Honestly!" Astoria snorted.
"What?" demanded Luc, unable to find anything wrong with what he was doing and becoming rather fed up with her bad attitude because of it.
Astoria searched her brain for something rational to pin her annoyance on and her eyes lit upon the invitation again. "Did she have to use so many exclamation points?" Astoria demanded archly, sweeping the card back up into the light in order to make a proper mockery of it. "She's a witch, not a daycare instructor."
Malfoy, a great fan of humiliating people for having poor taste, laughed appreciatively.
0o0
By the following evening, the rain outside had let up just enough to allow for a sprinkle. The candles in the third floor study lounge where Astoria was camped had begun to burn low however, and there was no natural light coming in the windows to compensate for the gathering darkness. Already, Astoria was having trouble reading her textbook and it was barely seven o'clock. Theodore, who was sitting in the window seat, continued to write his essay, unbothered by the gloom. Tracey however, ever the opportunist, threw down her quill in order to pursue a more gratifying pastime.
"Have you talked to Goldstein yet?"
"No," said Astoria, shifting uncomfortably. The idea of discussing anything to do with Padma—let alone the fact Astoria had been asked to wrong her—in front of Theodore was almost too painful to even contemplate. While the prospect of trying to entice Anthony Goldstein into doing her bidding had seemed laughably hilarious in the library the day before, it did not seem even remotely funny now that her audience had changed.
"Well, you better get on it soon," warned Tracey halfheartedly. "It's all Kitty will talk about and she'll be more than sore if you let the holidays sneak up and drop the ball. You've only got the weekend left to do it now."
Astoria glared at Tracey, willing her to be silent. Unfortunately, Theodore looked up from his book at just the right moment to catch Astoria mean-mugging. "You're being weird," said Theodore flatly. "What are you two looking at each other like that for?"
"I'm not being weird," said Astoria quickly. "I'm just—"
"Making faces?" Theodore narrowed his eyes suspiciously before returning to his book.
"It's dark!" Tracey whined. "I can't even see my homework anymore. Let's do something else!"
"Stupid prick," muttered Theodore very belatedly and under his breath.
"I'm sorry?" demanded Tracey, highly affronted.
"Not you, Goldstein!" Theodore burst out, unable to help himself. "Why are you talking to him, Astoria? I thought you hated him!"
"It's nothing," said Astoria evasively, "just a dumb errand for one of the Eastern Star girls."
"He's leading charities now, too, is he?" sneered Theodore jerkily. "Well, he just finds time for everything, doesn't he? I can't wait for break to start."
Astoria and Tracey exchanged looks again.
"Stop that!" sneered Theodore hotly. "I can still see you. It's nothing to do with Pa—his girlfriend, I just don't like the twit, is all. He thinks he's a whole lot smarter than he is and the worst part is, you can tell he does."
This was very true but Theodore's real motive for disliking Anthony was more personal and he seemed to know it.
"I'm going to bed," he announced, packing up his bag. "It's too dark to read. I'll find you to say goodbye before you leave on Sunday. It's possible that I might even be getting on the train with you—Dad wrote and asked if I wanted to come home... probably on the verge of another meltdown."
He did not wait for Tracey or Astoria to say so much as a word in response before skulking off down the shadowy hallway.
"Just to clarify: he knows that he's never said so much as a whole sentence to Padma Patil before, right?" demanded Tracey into the awkward silence that was Theodore's wake. "I mean, he can only be so mad that he isn't dating her if he's never talked to her!"
"That's true, isn't it?" Astoria mused, closing her textbook. "It's not as though Padma's ever actually turned him down—in fact, she probably doesn't even know that he exists."
"That is literally so sad," frowned Tracey. In her state of constant loudness, Tracey had probably never experienced this particular type of neglect in her life.
"Maybe not..." said Astoria, cocking her head as a positively wild thought occurred to her. "For all we know, she might actually like Theodore, if she ever got to know him."
"You think?" scoffed Tracey doubtfully. "Goldstein's a pompous suck-up in a smart coat. If that's Patil's type, Theodore hasn't a hope in Hell."
Astoria shrugged, hesitating. Her fingers twitched and began to drum a rhythm as she contemplated everything that she knew about Padma Patil and common decency. "Have you ever noticed that Padma spends a lot of time slinking away from Goldstein?" she asked. "Every time I see them together she's trying to crawl away from him."
"Hmm?" Tracey swanned, tipping so far back in her chair that Astoria was stunned she had not fallen out of it already. "Well, every time I see them together, it looks like she's trying to swallow his tongue."
"Nah," said Astoria, disagreeing at once. "It's Goldstein doing the mauling while Padma goes slippery—like she wants out of every room that they have ever been in together."
"So what?" Tracey shrugged.
"What do you think would happen if you invited Goldstein to Kitty's party, instead?" suggested Astoria thoughtfully. "Do you think he'd come that way?"
"Probably," laughed Tracey. "Lord, Katherine would positively throw herself on him! We'd witness a disgrace!"
"How wrong would it be of us to let that happen?" Astoria mused rapidly, trying not to become excited by a plot that was so thoroughly inadvisable from the ground up. "On a scale of one to ten, I mean? One being 'Padma's potential heartbreak' and ten being 'we manage to liberate Theodore's future girlfriend'?"
Astoria had only been half joking but all four of Tracey's chair legs suddenly returned to the ground with a thump. "Ooh!" she breathed wickedly.
"It would be wrong of us to meddle like that, though, right?" Astoria tried, wanting very much to be convinced otherwise. "It's not really our place?"
"No!" Tracey hissed delightedly, almost misting over. "No, that's so good…"
"I'm not saying we should do it for fun," Astoria clarified nervously, backtracking the moment she saw Tracey's overly joyful expression. "Actually, the less of a hand we have in things, the better. I'm talking about getting Kitty and Goldstein in a room together, that's all. Just to see if they get on. Let's not write a spy novel out of it…"
"Why not?" scoffed Tracey. "Theo's been mad about Patil for years, but he's always been too chicken to actually do anything about it. I'd never even thought about stepping in and playing cupid!"
"That's because Padma's already got a boyfriend and Theodore would kill us if he found out," warned Astoria darkly. The more Astoria perceived that Tracey's enthusiasm might be rooted in amusement rather than an actual desire to assist Theodore, the more she was beginning to have second thoughts.
"I don't care if Theodore will be mad!" Tracey declared shamelessly. "He's been playing chicken long enough. I'm totally inviting Goldstein."
Wishing she had said nothing, Astoria laid awake for a long while that night. Her mind was mostly preoccupied by the contents of her trunk as she made a mental list of all the things that would need to located and packed before Sunday, but thoughts of Theodore kept sneaking by uninvited.
A part of Astoria was seriously reconsidering suggesting that they should pit Kitty MacDougal at Anthony Goldstein. For all Astoria knew, it was possible that Padma actually liked her boyfriend and would be wildly upset by what constituted Tracey's idea of 'acceptable' meddling. Another part of Astoria, one far less interested in morals and more eager to calculate her odds of success, seemed to be nodding its phantom approval. Mostly because Anthony Goldstein was not a nice boy and Astoria was quite unwilling to take full responsibility for anything he might do simply because someone had provided him with an opportunity to act act lousy. But also because girls with crummy ex-boyfriends needed good friends to rely on and complain to, and Theodore was nothing if not an excellent listener.
Over the soft pattering of the rain and the whorl of Astoria's thoughts, one idea seemed determined to voice itself: it could work.
0o0
I'm making a formal promise right now not to let Tracey and Astoria's involvement in Theodore's love life become a thing of agony. If I renege, feel free to hurl verbal flame at me.
Anyhow, next chapter will start Easter break, which I've begun to think of as a bit of an 'event post'. At this point, I can tentatively say that I think there will be three chapters dedicated to the holiday (it might only be two, but I have a tendency to get carried away) spanning two weeks which will not lack for plot. As for this post, I know it's a bit of a transition chapter (it pretty served to pave the way for Easter) but the next couple of installments should hopefully make up for that. Kitty's party will obviously be covered, as will the lunch date with Mrs. Flint that Astoria promised many chapters back. I'm thinking an event at the Rowles (for some kind of Eastern Star charity inspired event, hopefully dressed up because they aren't at school) not to mention updates for the adults are just a few teasers.
On an entirely separate note, because I am a twee disturbed and I keep alluding to them anyway, I though it was high time to make an official list of Belladonna's husbands (complete with causes of death) available, for those who are interested in that sort of thing:
1st. Uncle Travers: The offshoot of a fairly respectable family (and Belladonna's highest profile husband to date), Uncle Travers was the youngest son born to a large family but was not nearly as well invested as Belladonna might have imagined. Consequently, she was most unpleasantly surprised when, upon his death, she discovered that he left her nothing more than her engagement ring and several unpaid bills from local taverns. The grieving Travers family, of course, moved no mountains to provide for their youngest son's suspicious widow. Cause of death: Poison in powder form, made from Angel's Trumpet and mixed into his hand lotion. Officially ruled as a suicide.
2nd. Uncle 'Alfred' Finch: Cause of death: Heart attack induced by a poison derived from the 'dolls eye' berry.
3rd. Uncle Blishwick: Cause of death: Tragic boating accident, most likely prompted by an illegal (and unwilling) administration of opiates in combination with sleeping potion. His hat was found floating in a loch days later. His body, however, was never recovered.
4th. Uncle Mordicai: A wealthy museum curator from family money. Missing and presumed dead after vanishing in his motorcar, never to be seen again, just shortly after taking out a new life insurance policy that provided primarily for his elderly aunt (thwarted again, Belladonna).