Chapter Fifty Five
Dream Land
0o0
"Have you heard?"
Astoria had been on the verge of sealing a letter into an envelope in the deserted common room. Now she looked up with a jolt, startled to find Fred Weasley's face suddenly hovering over her expectantly. Astoria flipped over her letter to conceal her aunt's address and eyed Fred's sleep-tousled hair.
It was just after six o'clock in the morning but a bright band of light was shining confidently outside the tower windows. The dawn had broken, as warm and moist as a cake. Despite the hour, a balmy heat was already mounting its way toward the curved eaves overhead, promising to become steadily more scorching as the day progressed. Still, Astoria was not used to seeing either of the twins out of bed before before breakfast and she did not think that it was hot enough in the dormitories yet to have driven Fred below.
"No," said Astoria tentatively, her mind flashing to the goblins. "What?"
"Barty Crouch broke into the grounds last night!" declared Fred, slinging himself into a seat and propping his slipper-clad feet up against the upholstered arm of the chair next to him.
"Are you serious?" returned Astoria, stunned. "Because of the tournament? You aren't going to tell me he was caught cheating?"
"Nah," continued Fred darkly, his freckly white ankles peeking out below the cuffs of his short pajama bottoms. "Apparently Harry and Krum found him raving like lunatic near the woods."
"You're kidding! This happened last night?" Astoria demanded, her thoughts flashing wildly to the grim specter of Professor Moody in the fog. "What do you mean by 'raving'? Like he was drunk and stumbled in from the village?"
"Yeah, something like that," Fred agreed. "Only when Harry went for help, Crouch cursed Krum and then made a run for it, so I don't know about intoxicated so much as off his rocker. The teachers found Krum face down on the lawn and had to revive him. Harry reckons Crouch stunned him."
"What?" Astoria gaped.
This did not track at all with anything that Astoria had ever heard about the notorious Mr. Crouch at home, nor did it match up very well with the stiff, bristle-comb caressed figure that he tended to present in public.
Fred raised his eyebrows and nodded shortly. "Odd, right? Only a week or before the last Task and Percy's boss has suddenly lost his mind—"
A sound near the dormitory stairs caused Fred to fall silent. Astoria turned to peer at the doorway as well, but it was only George who came slouching in.
"That's not all," continued Fred in a rushed undertone. "Hey, George, over here!"
George ambled toward them, yawning deeply.
"Tell Astoria what Karkaroff said to you over break," Fred commanded sternly, lifting his legs off the arm of the chair so that George could sit down.
"Hewannabet," mumbled George, stretching his arms upward through the gentle air, unkinking his joints noisily.
"He what?" asked Astoria, fighting to keep up.
"He's wants to place a bet on the last Task," clarified Fred, cutting across his groggy brother rather impatiently. "He went to Ragnuk, but Ragnuk sent him to us."
"Yeah," rejoined George, "apparently the goblins told him we were handling all of their bets on the Tournament within the school grounds."
Astoria was not exactly surprised to hear this, not when she considered the tip-off that Marcus had given her at the Rowles during the Easter Holidays: 'You're his financial security blanket. Without you, Ragnuk's not expecting to turn a profit...' It was on Astoria's mind to mention this warning but Fred had not finished.
"You're forgetting about Hodord," insisted Fred tightly, his stern eyes locked on his brother's face.
"That's right!" exclaimed George. "Karkaroff complained about having to come to us in order to work with Ragnuk because apparently Hodrod took his bet without passing him off to anybody."
"Which means that Karkaroff is betting against both goblins for the last Task," Fred pointed out irritably. "What do you make of that?"
"Dead dodgy," George mumbled. "Only we can't exactly tell Karkaroff to piss off, can we? Not if Ragnuk sent him our way on purpose."
"What are you talking about? Of course we can!" grumbled Fred. "Karkaroff's a creep even without the shady backroom deals. We're better off shot of him, if you ask me."
"Why would he want to place a bet with both goblins?" wondered Astoria, incapable of feeling anything but suspicious of Karkaroff's motives, no matter how odd they were.
"Dunno," George shrugged, his voice still thick with fatigue. "Probably just trying to maximize his earning potential."
"Then why not just bet twice as much against Hodrod?" Astoria pointed out. "Why split up his wager?"
"That's what I said!" muttered Fred. "It's shenanigans, is what it is! He's up to some kind of foul play. I can smell it."
"Who did he want to bet on?" Astoria wondered mildly. "Two tickets for Krum? That what he's trying for?"
For a moment George was silent. "Well, no," he admitted warily. "He wanted to bet on Diggory."
"You didn't tell me that!" snapped Fred.
"Why was Karkaroff alone with you, George?" Astoria asked, her eyes beginning to ache after so much pinging from one twin to the other. "Where were you, Fred?"
"I was in the loo!" exclaimed Fred emphatically.
"Alright, alright!" scoffed George, finally shaking off his fatigue. "But it's not so weird, is it? There's a decent chance that Diggory will win! He's tied in first place with Harry right now. So, maybe Karkaroff needs the money more than he cares about school loyalty! We can understand that, can't we?"
"But that doesn't even make sense!" Fred groused. "He can't win anything extra by betting on two champions! Only one person is going to win!"
Astoria tucked the letter she had woken up so early to write into her pocket and stood up. This entire situation was vexing and it was terribly early to have to contemplate yet another sign of potential danger tied to the rapidly approaching Third Task.
"What did you tell him, George?" she asked, moving toward the window to peer out at the sunrise winking cheerfully off of the lake.
"I took his bet," admitted George stoutly. "I can't see any reason to cause a fuss with Ragnuk—especially not now, when we're so close to being rid of him!"
"How much did he wager?" Astoria wondered warily. Her fingers tightened against the windowsill in anticipation.
"About a five hundred galleons," said George, raising a hand to silence his irate brother before Fred could start in on them. "We've done more than that before! He's a grown man with a job, he'll pay up!"
"Unless he does a Crouch and runs off on us!" Fred protested loudly.
"He's not going to run!" argued George. "Think about it! We know where he works! He's the headmaster of Durmstrang—and he must know that Ragnuk will track him down even if we can't. Karkaroff would have to disappear to Antarctica to outrun that lot."
Astoria's thoughts moved fluidly from the topic of Karkaroff's flight potential to the strange warning that Ludo Bagman had given her at the Yule Ball: 'He's a dangerous fellow. Not a man to cross. I'm very sorry that I ever had dealings with him. I hear he's been having a spot of trouble with his left arm…'
"Bagman warned me about Karkaroff, remember?" Astoria muttered, suddenly chilled despite the gathering heat. "At the ball. He made it sound as though we should watch out for him."
"Yeah, well, Bagman would know all about that, wouldn't he?" snorted Fred. "Defaulting on debts is his real sport. I don't care how many quidditch matches he's been to."
They were all quiet for a moment, although Fred continued to occasionally huff and puff wordlessly behind her.
"Well," Fred finally sighed, "what's done is done, I guess. We should get dressed, George."
"Try not to worry, Fred," Astoria murmured.
She listened to them both remount the stairs to their dormitory without taking her eyes off of the grounds. The approaching Task was beginning to seem like the date of an execution that had been marked far in advance but try as she might, it was very hard to maintain any sense of real foreboding with the sun shining so cheerfully.
Waves gently lapped at the banks of the sprawling lake. The grassy lawn, shorn and green, rolled toward the water with a liquid elegance all its own, almost begging Astoria to forget about her troubles and run out to meet it instead.
Fondling the corner of the envelope in her pocket, Astoria finally managed to wrench her eyes away from the scene beyond the window glass. She was anxious to make a trip to the owlery before breakfast and if she did not move soon, she would run out of time.
0o0
Breakfast was a loud, chaotic affair. The sudden arrival of such promising summer weather seemed to have driven half of student body out of their usual seats and into the courtyard.
Snatching a piece of toast off the end of the Ravenclaw table, Astoria made her way toward the steps, guided by the gusts of warm air surging about her ankles like surf.
People in house robes of every color were hanging about near the benches or else sprawled out on the grass, enjoying the first flush of morning sunshine. Eager to make herself one of them no matter who she had to sit with, Astoria fixed her toast in her mouth, hoisted up her bag and set off past the water fountain.
She had not even made it as far as the walkway before someone hailed her.
"Ria!"
Astoria turned in the direction of a squalling female voice and spotted Tracey near the mossy eaves. Too delighted by the weather to be properly annoyed by the way that Tracey's had so enthusiastically taken to stealing Maudlin's childhood nickname for her lately, Astoria refrained from complaining and tossed her schoolbag down near the stone wall instead.
"I can't believe it's Potions this morning," Astoria sighed. "Can you imagine being underground on a day like today?"
"I'm always underground," scoffed Tracey, snagging a bit of Astoria's toast crust. "Not all of us get to sleep in towers like fairy princesses."
"Who's a fairy princess?" demanded the smooth, disinterested voice of Blaise Zabini, appearing behind the water fountain, followed by Draco Crabbe and Goyle. "Oh," Blaise leered, pretending to finally catch sight of Astoria, "of course. Who else?"
Astoria smiled tightly and took a very pointed, predatory bite out of her breakfast.
"What are you two on about?" demanded Draco rudely, perhaps eager to stop Astoria's method of communicating with Blaise using nothing but her teeth.
"Nothing," said Tracey quickly, as eager and rushed as she always was in Blaise's presence. "Astoria just can't bear to think about spending the morning in the dungeons."
"Well, I for one don't blame her," Draco sneered, eyeing the already splendid grounds a little disdainfully, as though even they left something be desired. "You know, considering all the funding that goes into this place, you think they'd at least be able to afford a decent garden."
"Who needs a garden when we have a maze," chuckled Blaise. "Although if what Hundin was saying at breakfast is true, Krum might disagree with me."
"What happened to Krum?" asked Tracey, displaying a level of such dedicated interest that Astoria was certain she was faking it.
"Who knows," scoffed Draco scornfully. "Alec didn't have the whole story. Something about Krum getting injured. Take away his broomstick and that duck-faced goon always waddles as far as I can tell—I suppose he probably just tripped himself up in the dark."
Astoria let out a smug little laugh before quickly diverting her attention toward a pulled thread in her skirt. For the first time in a long while, Astoria knew a bit of gossip before the Slytherins did and the effect was almost shamefully enjoyable.
"Something you want to share with the rest of us, Greengrass?" asked Blaise.
"Not really," returned Astoria boldly, smirking unpleasantly right back at him.
The bell rang overhead. Tracey, who had been shooting Astoria sidelong looks of poisonous displeasure, sprung to her feet, keen to follow Blaise and outpace Astoria's hostility at the same time if she could manage it.
More than willing to let Tracey have Blaise all to herself, Astoria slowed her pace. The moment that Tracey had put several feet between them, however, she reached out to snag Malfoy and ended up catching his tie.
Realizing that she was attempting to hold him behind, Draco's eyes flicked down to Astoria's hand and then back up again toward Blaise almost curiously.
"Zabini can see you, you know," he drawled.
"I know," returned Astoria almost lazily, unduly amused by the notion of denying Blaise anything. "I also know exactly what happened to Krum, but I'll only tell you if you promise not to tell Zabini a wicked word of it."
A flash of something in Draco's expression told Astoria that he had not expected this quirk, but it seemed to speak to his sense of amusement on such a deep level that he quickly put aside any annoyance over Astoria's determination to single Blaise out.
"Alright," he shrugged softly, looking very pleased with himself, "but if the story's rubbish I'm not going to bother hiding it."
"It's not rubbish," Astoria continued. "Krum didn't trip over himself, he was attacked."
"By who?" scoffed Malfoy, narrowing his eyes. "Or should I say 'what'? Hagrid forgot to hammer down the lids on his crates again, did he?"
"No," snorted Astoria, "I'm coming to it—this is the best part."
Astoria maneuvered her elbow so that Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot could slip past her, effectively providing a buffer for their conversation against Tracey and Blaise.
"Now, I've heard this second hand," Astoria cautioned, dropping her voice another octave. "It's staying anonymous, so don't bother hunting for a name."
"And?" Draco pressed, displaying what Astoria felt to be a wildly hypocritical impatience considering how many times she had been on the other side of his slow and smarmy news delivery.
"Barty Crouch broke into the grounds last night," said Astoria quietly. "Harry and Krum found him—apparently he stumbled out of the forest, ranting and raving like a mad man."
"What?" drawled Draco slowly, as taken aback by this news as she had been. Astoria didn't blame him for his surprise. Much like herself, most of what Draco had heard about Crouch as a child had probably had very little to do with his current position as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and much more to do with his former position in Law Enforcement. Even if Draco did keep his promise and never said a word to Blaise, Astoria was prepared to bet her goblin fortune that Draco would write the entire story out in full to his father before the week was out.
"Mhmm, and I'm not done," Astoria continued. "I mean, obviously having the head of a Ministry department come staggering out of the woods seemed incredibly strange to Krum and Harry, so they separated."
"Never," jeered Draco softly, more than able to guess what came next.
"Harry took off for the castle to find help," Astoria confirmed. "By the time he got back, Krum had been stunned out flat and Crouch had disappeared again."
"Are you kidding me?" Draco breathed, exhibiting equal parts delight and scorn. "That'll be the end of Crouch's career when people find out. Two decades too late."
"Maybe," Astoria agreed carefully, finally coming to the heart of the matter and regarding Draco's face closely. While snubbing Blaise was amusing, her real reason for sharing this story was somewhat more complex and she wanted to judge what Draco thought of it by his reaction rather than his words. "That's assuming that Crouch actually did stun Krum, though. It's hard to prove he did anything considering no one can find him."
"He ran off?" burst Draco gleefully. "Honestly! Although, Crouch has probably been ready to snap for a decade. It's not even that surprising—not when you think about who else runs the Ministry. You know, it really wouldn't stun me if Crouch has been half-mad for years? I don't expect anyone would have even bothered to report him with all the other lunatics on staff."
"Someone else could have attacked Krum though," suggested Astoria slowly. "There's no proof it was Crouch."
They had reached the castle steps. Astoria bit her lip and raised an eyebrow, attempting to express her meaning without having to verbalize it, afraid of being overheard. After a long moment, Draco narrowed his eyes again.
"You can't mean Moody?" he scoffed.
Astoria forced her physical motions to remain very casual, but allowed her eyes to dart over Draco's shoulder to search the hall.
"He was wandering the grounds, wasn't he?" Astoria went on in a low voice. "We both saw him."
"Yeah, so what?" sneered Malfoy. "Moody's a fruitcake with a peg-leg. I couldn't count how many times I've seen him creeping about if I tried."
"In the woods by the quidditch pitch, though?" asked Astoria pointedly. "Five minutes before sunset?"
Draco let out another one of his nasal scoffing sounds but Astoria could tell that she had unnerved him because his doubt no longer seemed to reach his eyes.
"Think about it," Astoria murmured. "Even if Moody didn't do anything wrong, he was still in the exact same patch of woods that Crouch was in at almost the exact same time. Moody couldn't have missed Crouch by more than five minutes—and this is Moody we're talking about, not Flitwick. He can see through the trees. You don't find that at all strange?"
Draco paused to consider this, his face fixed into an expression of dubiousness. "Please," he finally jeered, perhaps unwilling to allow Moody to be diabolically clever out of spite. "The man's a joke."
"Yeah," Astoria sighed, "I guess."
As much as she did not want to admit it, she was a little relieved that Draco had not found her theory impressive. A part of her had secretly wanted nothing more than to hear it dismissed.
"Who cares what Moody does, anyway?" Draco went on, leaning lazily against the doorway. "Dumbledore only hired him for a year, you know—the tosser's done at the end of June."
Astoria let out a forced laugh before finally allowing the current of bodies to force her down the hallway toward class. It took the entire morning to really put Professor Moody out of mind, however. Distracted and denied the pleasures of the outdoors, Astoria soon found herself moving from lesson to lesson, following her regular pattern blindly like a piece of wound up machinery. From Potions to History of Magic she traipsed. Then off to lunch.
It was not until Professor McGonagall ended her class by writing the date of their upcoming final on the blackboard that Astoria finally felt herself begin to wake up.
"Less than a week!" Astoria hissed moodily. She pressed her textbook down against the library table in order to glower more directly at Theodore's face. "Why does this always happen?"
"Probably because neither of us even owns an assignment book?" suggested Theodore carelessly. "I don't know why you're so worried. You'll pass your exams—you always do."
Astoria clucked irritably and uncorked her inkwell. She knew that Theodore had a point, but it was one that more closely reflected her behavior in previous years. Much had changed since the end of her Third Year, after all. Especially when Astoria thought about how many nights had she spent hiding in the library with Theodore in those days, mortified by the fact that her sister was no longer speaking to her.
Fourth Year had been an entirely different animal. Between the Tournament, the goblins and Maudlin's distracting presence, Astoria could not remember the last time she had even taken notes from a textbook, let alone read something for pleasure.
"Test me on these?" Astoria pressed, withdrawing a list of runes from a folder and attempting to pass them across the table.
Theodore took the scroll mutely, his eyes locked on the nearest bookshelf.
"What?" demanded Astoria, following Theodore's gaze.
"Nothing," said Theo hastily, making an unnecessary show out of straightening the parchment that Astoria had handed him.
But it was not nothing. It was Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin, who were both standing in the shadow of the nearest bookshelf and speaking in comfortably loud whispers together, unaware that they were being watched.
"I don't know about History of Magic," complained Lisa, wrinkling her pointy nose. "Poor Binns and his sleepy voice—Lord, I always nap when he starts rattling off dates."
"Yeah, well, at least your study partner didn't run off with a bimbo and half of your old classwork," snapped Padma, clearly in no mood for Lisa's petty histrionics. "History is the least of my worries. Katherine whats-her-nasty-face keeps trying to talk to me and I've got Arithmancy hanging around my neck like a noose."
It was not exactly hard to spot that Padma was on edge, making what Astoria did next almost as great of a surprise to herself as it was to Theodore.
"You too?" Astoria called, hanging over the back of her chair, subconsciously attempting to appear trustworthy and engaging.
Padma blinked, surprised to find that she and Lisa were not alone among the books. For a moment, a frown of annoyance seemed to flirt with her brow but then, perhaps because Astoria's own lack of skillfulness in Arithmancy was renowned, she popped a hand onto her hip and let out a gust of breath.
"This whole year!" Padma sighed, raising her eyes toward the ceiling. "I can't stand another minute of this place. Seriously though, what are you going to do about Arithmancy, Astoria? You're worse than I am."
Astoria's smile tightened, feeling that this was a bit of a rude response, even if it was true and she had asked for it by eavesdropping. Her determination to tolerate Padma cheerfully quickly loosened it again, however.
"I don't know," Astoria sighed falsely, ignoring Theodore's looks of increasing alarm. "I usually just study with Theodore—"
Astoria broke off to smother a yelp. Theodore had kicked her so hard under the table that she could actively feel her pulse catch and then proceed to pound in the fibrous blood vessels behind her eyes.
"Oh?" quirked Padma. Her eyes moved toward Theo and softened with recollection. If the insult of having been ditched by her last boyfriend in public had not yet ceased to sting, Padma's memory of Theodore's unexpected kindness that evening did not appear to have faded either. "Are you good at Arithmancy, then?"
Theodore stared at Astoria, panic stricken and desperate.
"He always gets me through!" Astoria ground out brightly, gnashing her teeth together into something that more closely resembled a grimace than a smile.
"I didn't know that," reflected Padma, studying the side of Theodore's face curiously. "Do you tutor?"
Lisa Turpin shot Padma a carefully guarded look of disbelief. Clearly her idea of a pleasant evening did not involve studying with a stand-offish Slytherin more prone to chain-smoking than laughter. Considering the show Theodore was putting on however, Astoria was not entirely sure that she blamed Lisa. Speak, Astoria pled silently.
"I've never tutored before," grumbled Theodore stupidly. Then, perhaps realizing his mistake, he began to clear his throat so forcefully that he might as well have been attempting to force up a grapefruit.
"That's not true," Astoria cut in quickly, hoping to cover up the weird sound Theodore was making as much as undo the effects of his foolishness. "You help me all the time."
"Does he?" Padma turned back toward Astoria appraisingly. "That's how you squeak by, then?"
"If it weren't for Theo, I never would have passed last year," Astoria lied, intentionally forcing herself not to bristle at the assumption that she was incapable of passing a class on her own merit. Accept the gift, Theodore, you stubborn git.
"Do you think you could help me?" Padma pressed.
"If you want," Theo mumbled, unwilling to look directly at Padma's honey-colored face.
Lisa made a tiny sound of objection but Padma, thankfully, was having none of her friend's attitude.
"That would be amazing!" Padma gushed, rummaging about in her school bag to find what looked very much like a Hermione-esque study schedule. "If you don't mind, that is! I have Gobbstones on Friday, so that won't work. What about Thursday? Oh, unless you're in the Chess Club, of course—I know they meet in the afternoons."
Theodore, who had never joined a club in his life, finally turned to stare at Padma incredulously.
"He's not a chess player!" Astoria supplied helpfully.
"Perfect," breathed Padma, looking relived. "Then Thursday works. You're sure you don't mind?"
"I don't mind," Theodore repeated, his tone far away and faintly echo-like.
"Great!" Padma beamed. "Let's meet in the room of Atlases. I hate how noisy it gets in the main part of the library."
Theodore nodded, his large nose somehow less pronounced by the way he had forgotten to glower over it at her like like an owl.
"Alright," concluded Padma winningly, earning Astoria's approval by ignoring Lisa's half-hearted eye roll. "Thanks."
Astoria let out a pain-laced breath as soon as both girls began to retreat toward the hall.
"Now is your chance, Theo," she snapped, bending over to rub her leg. "Go ahead and have a fit, if you must."
Far from having a meltdown of any sort however, Theodore appeared to have retreated into a deep, zen-like state of thought.
"I didn't know Padma was bad at Arithmancy," he finally ventured, somehow forgetting to be angry about the forcible hand Astoria had just played in encouraging new study habits.
"Yeah," shot Astoria dryly, hardly able to hear Theodore because of the ache in her shins. "Who ever would have guessed?"
0o0
The mood in the castle began to change as they moved into June. The lazy thrall the sunshine had cast over Hogwarts slowly began to tighten its fist, molding the dough-like construct of daily routine into something more anticipatory than relaxing.
An undercurrent of pervading tension once again became Astoria's constant companion, even as everyone else around her began to show signs of excitement. They were now less than a week away from the Third Task and Fred and George had taken to running hourly checkups with her in the hall, reporting new bets and staring dully at the numbers in Astoria's notebook as the sum continued to grow ever larger.
"You do realize what this is the worst it's ever been, don't you?" remarked Fred one afternoon, repressing his terror more expertly than he had for either of the previous Tasks.
Astoria nodded, fully capable of appreciating the situation they were staring down the proverbial gun barrel at. Numbers, after all, did not lie and they had plenty of those to back Fred up.
For instance, it seemed to be a fact that Astoria and the twins were sitting on eight thousand galleons worth of earnings from the Second Task (the pool from the First Task, although profit-yielding, having been entirely spent months ago in an effort to buy out Ludo Bagman and assuage Ragnuk's rival, Hodrod).
The current sum of gold they had riding on the Third and final Task however seemed to be hovering near the mark of ten thousand; an alarming discrepancy, no matter how many times Astoria re-tested her addition.
This two thousand galleon gap glaring back at them between the sum of gold they possessed and the gold they could potentially owe was worrisome enough. When Astoria took the trouble to adjust her numbers to reflect the final sum after she doubled their bet back against Ragnuk, the inflation became so extreme that it was very nearly funny.
Twenty thousand galleons. That was their magic number. Whenever Astoria took a moment to consider what twenty thousand galleons might look like in one place, she was forced to quickly conclude that it was quite enough to fill a decent portion of a Gringotts vault—let alone a single purse.
"I have a confession to make," muttered George, all mock seriousness, his eyes fixated on the notebook. "Fred and I have been holding out on you. We've got about a hundred galleons squirreled away from the sale of Canary Creams."
Astoria blinked and leveled her gaze at George. As if on cue, all three of them burst into manic, desperate laughter.
"That'll hold them off!" Fred howled, oblivious to the small clique of second year Hufflepuffs that had paused in the hall to watch as he slapped his knee.
The short but charged conversation that followed involved the unfolding of a wild fantasy, one in which the three of them managed to escape a pack of skull-cracking goblins using nothing but Canary Creams as a distraction.
No one could deny the chill that followed when the laughter died, however.
"We'll make it through," Fred muttered, wiping at his eyes. "Just keep pushing forward. That's all we can do."
0o0
On Thursday morning, precisely thirty one hours before the Third Task would make or break their collective futures, Astoria sat down to breakfast and discovered a pile of letters waiting by her plate.
"Mail came. Your aunt and your father both sent you something," remarked Tracey, gesturing toward the post with a slice of bacon and a sly grin. "So did Roland Yaxley."
Overlooking the fact that Tracey had clearly been molesting her mail, Astoria hastily flipped to the third envelope in order to read the return address for herself.
Sure enough, printed out in extraordinarily careful (to the point of being almost retentively fussy) handwriting was Roland Yaxley's name and office code.
"What do you think he wants?" demanded Tracey eagerly. "Why haven't you ever told Cassandra that he writes to you? Lord, the look on her face alone would make any retaliation she could dream up worth it!"
"Because he doesn't write to me," muttered Astoria, privately thinking that it might be wiser to open her aunt's mail first, just in case something was in motion.
"Never?" Tracey cried. "Hurry up! The suspense is killing me!"
Astoria tore into Belladonna's letter, tucking it under the lip of the table so that she might be able to read its contents in privacy. The message was surprisingly short and lacking in her aunt's typically dramatic style.
Astoria,
Visiting the school tomorrow for the final Task. I'm expecting to have a word with you—don't slip off to celebrate without seeing me. In the meantime, be sure to assure your father that all is well.
Aunt Belladonna
Astoria squinted at this short, hastily composed paragraph before refolding it and starting in on her father's decidedly more jocular message.
Astoria!
Darling, I do hope all is well! I've been meaning to send you a letter for weeks and weeks. Even now I can scarcely believe the date I've just written, but there it is, winking back at me! You understand, of course. You know how it is here—the mad dash!
More to the point, I've been invited to attend the final Triwizard function tomorrow and it crosses my mind that you were rather cross when we last spoke. What a confusing scene that was! I do hope you don't hold it against me? Perhaps we can sit down to tea in the morning, before all the hullabaloo? I know the Yaxleys will be in attendance. Wouldn't it be nice to steal a moment with them without your aunt breathing down our necks?
Much Love,
Father
Astoria snorted, wondering if George had somehow tipped her aunt off as to his uneasiness or if Belladonna was truly beginning to experiment with the concept of omnipotence.
The third letter continued to squat against her breakfast dish; the greatest mystery of all. Astoria slit the top and yanked out Roland's note, unsurprised to discover that it had been composed on stiff, monogrammed stationary.
Astoria,
It occurs to me that we have never written to each other before. As family, it seems long overdue for us to fix this.
First—supposing that you are not opposed to such a scheme—let me express that it is my intention to strike up a regular discourse with you. Otherwise what is the point?
Second, having grown tired of running into you at school functions and behaving like a stranger, let me be the one to personally inform you that I will be arriving at Hogwarts tomorrow before noon.
Astoria looked up from the letter, appalled.
"What time is the Task tomorrow," she shot at Tracey.
"Sunset," returned Tracey, her half-shrug turning into something faintly more leersome. "Why?"
"No reason," Astoria muttered, balling up Roland's note.
"Are you hatching a plan?" Tracey pressed, impatient to be a part of whatever shenanigans she imagined that Astoria was dreaming up.
"No," said Astoria tartly, doing her best not to become irritated.
"Come on!" Tracey whined. "You're obviously messing with Cassandra. I won't tell anyone, just admit it."
"I'm really not," Astoria returned, racking her brains for any possible reason that might explain why Roland Yaxley and her father both seemed so determined to arrive at the castle before noon. "Are we holding some kind of mixer tomorrow?" Astoria went on desperately. "Are the Sisters providing drinks?"
"I don't think anything official is lined up," Tracey shrugged. "I know Pansy mentioned that Cassandra wants us all to wear white, but what else is new? She never said anything about serving. We've just got one exam tomorrow, you know. It should be a proper holiday!"
Astoria bit her lip, eyeing the wadded up note in her fist. She had no idea what made Roland Yaxley think that she cared whether his sporadic visits to the castle went unannounced or not but the fact that he was seeking to right this imaginary wrong struck Astoria as worrisome. While it was true that they were distantly related, it certainly wasn't as though they had been raised together. After all, Roland had to be at least ten years her senior and it was entirely possible that they had only met six or seven times in total.
Only one thing seemed certain: the whole matter positively reeked of trickery, but whether it was Belladonna's mischief or her father's, Astoria did not dare to guess.
"What did he want anyway?" asked Tracey, her gaze still fixed on the crumpled parchment.
"Nothing," said Astoria shortly, irrationally but instinctually wary of Tracey's curiosity.
"It's just odd, isn't it?" Tracey fished, carefully helping herself to more oats. "Especially if he's never written before—"
"He says that he's coming to the castle early," said Astoria, dimly aware of the fact that she was justifying herself. "My aunt must have reminded him to tell me."
Safe in the knowledge that Tracey knew too little about her family dynamics to spot the unlikelihood of this theory, Astoria distracted herself by tidying up the pockets of her disastrous book bag.
It was hard to imagine that Tracey would ever actively spy on her, but Astoria's discomfort at the idea of Belladonna and Alistair's bizarre inheritance battle being discussed over breakfast at the Slytherin table was extreme. Thankful when the bell rang, Astoria departed for Herbology at top speed.
It was a radiant and dry morning, so warm that the atmosphere inside the greenhouses felt topical. Astoria did her best to concentrate, re-potting Bubotuber seedlings without dashing dirt everywhere or sustaining any injuries.
When the hour was done, she promptly peeled out of her cardigan, exposing the back of her white school shirt to the blistering sun as she began her walk down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's cabin.
Care of Magical Creatures was the least of Astoria's worries as far as marks went, mostly because she could not imagine herself failing a test that had no written portion. What did concern Astoria, however, was the potentially fatal nature of Hagrid's exam; a fear that soon proved itself to be entirely founded when she reached the crest of the hill and spotted two massive crates standing open on the grass.
"I can't believe any of those things are still alive!" muttered Theodore, darting off the path to catch up with Astoria. "They've been eating each other for months!"
Astoria shrugged, so mentally fatigued by her own private life that the threat of being devoured by a monster was rather less riveting than it had once seemed.
Hagrid quickly set them to their task, giving them an hour to groom his remaining two Skrewts for scale rot. This chore soon demonstrated itself to be very unpleasant, particularly once it became obvious that the only way to actually reach the underside of a Skrewt's grimy and magically-impervious underbelly was by charging at one and employing a running slide tackle.
Ill-suited to the brutal task of manually knocking a fully grown Skrewt onto its side, Astoria was gradually pushed toward the back circle with several of the other girls to wait for a chance with one of the sponges.
"Is anybody else watching this?" drawled Draco, his gaze fixed on Neville Longbottom, who had just been tossed a clean ten feet into the air. "Can you even imagine what that Skeeter woman could do with this?"
"Someone should be taking pictures!" agreed Tracey, actively following the exam's commotion with the enthusiasm of a spectator who favored a grim sport.
Astoria shot Draco a sly glance, taking in his obvious height advantage over Neville and the clean, un-frayed cuffs of his unblemished sleeves.
"Mhmm," Astoria agreed, feeling the unfairness of the word rather keenly as Seamus Finnegan stooped to pick up Neville's loofa and was promptly trampled for his efforts.
"Come on now!" called Hagrid. "Take it in turns—you in the back! Yer up!"
Draco's arm dashed out to smack Crabbe in the chest, indicating that he should push forward first. To Astoria's moderate surprise, Crabbe did as he was told without complaining.
"Really, though!" Malfoy continued snidely, giving his wrist watch a quick check before dropping his arm again.
All-too aware of the real scrubbing that would begin once the Skrewts were sedated, Astoria thoughtlessly reached out for Draco wrist, eager to see how long the wait until lunch might be.
Quickly angling the miniature clock face toward the light, Astoria suffered a swoop of self loathing in response to the surge of excitement she felt when Draco did not snap away from her.
"If that hairy oaf thinks he's going to make me hang around to after class to clean, he's got another thing coming," sneered Draco distractedly, his eyes on Astoria's fingers.
It was mark of how much Draco's cowardice was capable of annoying Astoria that she suddenly found herself disagreeing with this decidedly sane—if somewhat spineless—sentiment.
"Where's Harry, anyway?" asked Tracey, pushing up onto her tip-toes to survey the crowd. "I thought we would've seen him. He's always up for a wrestling match."
"He's got a pass, remember?" sighed Astoria, knowing this subject would probably annoy Draco but making no effort to dance around it. "The Champions are all exempt from finals."
"Of course they are," sneered Draco bitterly.
Astoria opened her mouth to speak and was cut off because the nearest Skrewt had let out a tremendous burst of flame. When the surrounding grass promptly caught fire, sending out long tongues of flickering light across the scorched earth, Astoria took hold of Tracey's hand and began to pull her blindly back up the hill.
"Is this it, then?" laughed Tracey, stopping to catch her breath in the ashy fog. "Class dismissed?"
"Absolutely mental," Draco sneered, following them up out of the smoke. "How my Father, of all people, hasn't forced Hagrid into an early retirement is beyond me."
Goyle lumbered along behind Draco, panting heavily. Crabbe remained missing, no doubt caught in the hailstorm of flaming greenery and slashing stingers below.
"Does it bother you that Dumbledore's always getting the best of your dad?" cackled Tracey, jabbing Astoria in side with her elbow.
"What do you mean getting the best of him?" Draco snapped. "That doddering old fool is on his last leg—someday soon Fudge is going to wise up. He already listens to everything else my father advises him."
"Like what?" asked Tracey brightly, trolling for gossip.
"What's it to you?" Draco sneered, casting Tracey a disparaging look. "You needed color heraldry explained to you at Christmas. You wouldn't understand a word, even if I did tell you."
Tracey's smile flattened into a fat, vindictive grimace.
"The half-giant would be a distant memory, that's for sure," Draco plowed on heatedly, unable to stop himself from ridiculing the moment. "God, even the youngest Weasley would have been sent packing years ago."
Astoria paused, her concentration flickering between the distant but morbid display in front of Hagrid's cabin and Draco's strange choice of wording. The youngest Weasley?
"Are you talking about Ginny?" Astoria frowned, curious to know what he thought Fred and George's sister might have done to merit expulsion under a different administration.
Draco blinked haltingly. "Why not?" he finally tried, shooting for disinterested but coming off evasive, as though he had caught himself just short of saying more than he had wanted to.
Astoria suddenly found herself squinting in the direction of the smoke-shrouded sun, sensing the invisible thread of a larger concept knitting itself together even if she could not quite define its shape.
She could only think of one time when Ginny's name had been brought before the school board—surely it was only natural that she had been discussed in the aftermath of the scandal surrounding the Chamber of Secrets? Still, even with Dumbledore out of the picture, wouldn't Lucius have had a hard time convincing eleven other adults to banish a First Year girl for something she obviously had not done?
The rest of the class began to stagger up the hill, clutching at newly-singed robes but Astoria was too busy spying on Draco to pay them any mind.
No, she decided. The only way the Board of Governors would have kicked Ginny out was if the Diary—the only real proof of her innocence—had never been found. But why would the Malfoys have any connection to this piece of history? Or at the very least, why would Draco awkwardly insinuate that they did and then try to backtrack once he realized that he had done so?
"Because of the Chamber of Secrets, you mean?" Astoria pressed, painfully aware of how obvious her prying must sound.
"Sure," scoffed Draco, raising his chin. "Why not?"
"What have you lot been doing?" demanded Maudlin, sounding both stunned and very near at hand. Realizing that they had reached the castle steps, Astoria came to halt.
"Just finishing up lessons with Astoria's favorite teacher," called Draco snidely, perhaps hoping to cover up his own slip with a distraction.
Behind Maudlin, Alec was biting his thumb, amused beyond words by the faint cloud of smoke that was still hovering over Seamus like a halo.
"Astoria's favorite?" repeated Maudlin mildly. "You always did love an underdog."
"That's the trouble with Durmstrang," mused Alec. "Our underdogs have all been so thoroughly squashed into submission that they've become reliably dull." He sniffed the air almost wistfully. "Nobody has set fire to anything in ages."
Astoria laughed and shook ash out her hair. Sensing another chance to steal a glimpse at Malfoy, she straightened back up, peered sideways and jolted. Draco was already glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, perhaps trying to weigh his damages. Her vision snapped back onto Alec, where it danced distractedly.
You don't even want to know, Astoria assured herself. But with an aunt who was fighting a battle against Lucius Malfoy and needed nothing more than a piece of terrific blackmail to emerge triumphant, Astoria was not entirely sure how true this was. Actually, the niggling little voice inside her head insisted, maybe you do.
0o0
Ugh, that was a long wait for a building chapter! I really couldn't shove the necessary set-up and the last Task into the same post, but the Third Task is coming and (in my opinion, at least) is gearing up to be pretty juicy. I'll probably put it up in two chapters (we'll see if I can reign myself in and make it one, but I have my doubts already) and hopefully it will mostly conclude the fourth year.
In related news, I know my posting schedule has been totally bananas lately. I had an incredibly busy holiday season this year (so much traveling that I'm only returning to normal life this week). The end of all the vacation fun should put me back on track for weekly posts again, however, so by my best guess I'll have the first half of the Third Task posted on Sunday. With a little luck, the second half will make its appearance in the middle of the week that follows. (Two posts in less than ten days is the goal, as I haven't done any rapid updates in recent months and I miss them.)
As always, reviews are the best!