The celebration in the middle of the area lasted for several minutes before the wizards of the various schools and houses began to separate themselves out. Frisk could see them leaving in two and threes to head back to the showers, ready to wash the adrenaline off and get ready for dinner. Frisk thought about trying to find Opal and her siblings, but thought of the crowds and decided against it.
She headed back up to the Great Hall with Luna and Steven, talking about the challenge. Around her, she could hear how excited the others still were. At the Great hall, they separated to their house tables. At the Gryffindor table, Frisk spotted the large open reference book spread out on the table, and sat across from it. "Did you come and watch the challenge, Hermione?" Frisk asked.
Hermione looked up in surprise. "Oh, hello Frisk. I did, thank you. It was exciting, wasn't it?" she asked, her eyes drifted back down to the book in front of her.
"I thought it was," Frisk told her. "Your friends Ron and Harry did a great job up there. So did Viktor. It was really fun to see everyone working together," she said. Hermione didn't respond. She was focusing on her book again. "What are you reading there, Hermione?"
"What?" she asked, looking up, startled again. "Oh," she said. "I was just reading about the trials of the followers of You Know Who." Frisk motioned for her to continue. "The trials were kind of a joke, as it turns out." Hermione's voice was both frustrated and thoughtful. "Though it's hard to find anything that covers them fairly."
"What do you mean, they were a joke?" Frisk asked, not understanding what she meant. Why would anyone not take them seriously?
"The mind of the Wizengamot was mostly made up before it started," Hermione explained. "The accused were railroaded. I don't think a single one of them had any type of council to defend them, and that's just not right. You really ought to have some kind of advocate, appointed by the court if nothing else." Hermione looked down at the book in front of her. "There were only a small handful of them that were acquitted. Bagman was one of them," She shut the book in frustration. "But I'm trying to find out about one suspect in particular, and I can't find anything about him. Maybe," she stopped what she was saying abruptly. "I'll just have to go to the library after dinner," she said, putting the book carefully away in her bag.
It was about dinner time, and the hall was filling with students coming in from outdoors. Frisk was joined by Chara and Asriel. Opal and the Beauxbaton boy, Gerald, sat behind her at the Hufflepuff table. There was loud cheering through the hall as the quidditch teams filed in. Each of the team captains had a piece of their respective shields, as did Krum and Fleur, the champions of the other schools. At the professors table, Dumbledore was whispering something to Madam Hooch, who still looked rather pleased herself.
After the celebration was done, food appeared on the table, as it did. To Frisk's surprise, Viktor Krum came up along the wall, and tapped Hermione on the shoulder. "Hermione," he said in his thick accent, "I wanted to thank you for making sure we were invited to the challenge. It felt good to work with the others."
"Oh," Hermione blushed. "You should really thank Frisk," The older girl said, pointing across the table at her. "She's the one who thought of you. She just knew you had invited me to the ball."
"Oh," Victor said, nodding deeply at Frisk. "Thank you. You are very considerate." His eyes darted next to Frisk for a moment.
To her side, Frisk could see Chara frantically searching through the pockets of her robes, glancing up at Krum every few moments. Behind her, Opal was doing the same. "You're quite welcome, Viktor," Frisk said. "Uh, if you have a few moments, maybe you could sign an autograph for my sister Chara, and my friend Opal? You wouldn't happen to have a pen and some paper, would you Hermione?"
Of course Hermione had paper and a quill on her. Viktor gave a knowing smile, and passed an autograph to Chara, who looked thunderstruck, and handed a second one to Frisk, who handed it to Opal behind her. Then Viktor gave a third one to Frisk to actually keep. "Oh," she said, embarrassed that she hadn't asked for one herself. "Thank you."
Viktor just nodded to her, giving her a half sort of smile. It looked somewhat foreign on his gruff face, but Frisk appreciated it anyway. "Thank you," he said, and headed back toward the Slytherin table for dinner.
As they were finishing their food, Frisk turned and addressed the Beauxbaton student. "Did you take part in the challenge today, Gerald?"
"Oui!" Gerald said, wiping his mouth. "Though I almost wish I had not. It would have been something to watch Victor Krum in quidditch form! Almost. It was a lot of fun. Thank you for inviting us."
"I don't think we would have succeeded without you," Asriel told him. "Have you done any of the other challenges?"
"I think some of my classmates have," Gerald said. "I cannot say I've gone looking for them. Should I?"
"I think you should," Opal said. "Some of them have been great fun. That reminds me!" she said. "There's that riddle that there's been outside our common room for forever. Do you know why French cooking only uses one egg?"
"Excuse moi?" Gerald said, turning to her. "Repeat the question, please?" he asked. Opal repeated the question. "Pourquoi en la cuisine Française on n'utilise pas seulement un œuf?" he said to himself, shaking his head. "That does not make sense."
Opal was shaking her head in frustration, when Chara suddenly spoke up. "What was that last part again? Was that how you say one egg in French?"
"Oui," Gerald told her. "Un œuf."
"Sans! That's terrible!" Chara exclaimed suddenly. "But I know the answer! Where's that box?"
Opal looked at Chara in surprise, but stood from the table, and led them all down the grand staircase, into a warm corridor. She pointed out the box, still marked with a sealed Hufflepuff Crest. Chara reached out to put a hand on the box. "Make sure I say this right?" she asked, then turned back to the box. "Because one egg is un œuf." The box clicked open.
Frisk and Asriel looked at each other, and began to giggle. Gerald just looked perplexed. "Because one egg is enough," Frisk explained, still giggling. "It's a multiple language pun, and you have to be right, Chara, that has to be Sans's."
Chara took the shield piece from the box. "I'd have never gotten it if you hadn't been here," she said, handing it to Gerald. "Want to go back upstairs and do the honors tonight?"
Her siblings had gone up to the common room, but Frisk pushed her way into the library. She looked around, and spotted her quarry with a stack of books in front of her. "Had any luck?" she whispered, sitting down next to Hermione.
Hermione frowned. "Not really, Frisk," she whispered back. "Are you that curious?"
"No," Frisk said, aware that Ms. Pince was walking in their direction. "About Peter, you mean?"
"Peter? He wasn't ever... oh," Hermione said, following Frisk's gaze to the librarian. "That's it. That is who I'm trying to find out about. He told us he wasn't even given a trial, just thrown into Azkaban. I can't think that's right."
"But I'm not," Frisk said. "I'm actually curious if you found anything out about the Malfoy family." Hermione looked at her with narrowed eyes, and Frisk winced. That wasn't the whole truth, and she was aware of how guilty she probably looked. But if there's one person in the school that would make the connection, it was Hermione.
"Draco's parents?" Hermione asked. "They were never even tried. They claimed to have been under the imperius curse. They might have had names to give the ministry, but everyone else had to do it while in view of the whole court. I've read speculation that there was rather large bribes paid to the ministry to keep them out of the limelight."
That startled Frisk, was it really that corrupt? "Paid to the ministry itself, or to the minister?" Frisk asked. She wasn't sure which the worse answer was.
"Depends on who you're reading," Hermione told her. "Possibly both."
Okay, that was the worst answer. "Not them either," Frisk said. "The other Malfoys." She had been trying to recall their names, she had heard them at the World Cup. "Annabel and Jasper, I think it was."
Hermione looked thoughtful for a second, then set the book she had been reading aside, and dug to another book in her stack. "The Fall of the Dark Lord and the New Stability", it was titled, and authored by one Elphias Doge. "There was a list in here of all the people that were tried and what they were tried for," Hermione said, flipping through the pages rapidly. "It didn't tell anything I didn't know about the one I was looking up, but.."
She stopped, and her eyes widened. Frisk's heart sank for a moment. She hadn't know, but she'd just figured it out, hadn't she? If only Frisk had left well enough alone.
"Annabel and Jasper Malfoy," she read aloud. "Were convicted of using the cruciatus on several members of the public (and worse, see page 348). They were also convicted of using the cruciatus curse on their daughter Chara, and ultimately of," Hermione looked up, her face pale. "killing their daughter, who's body was never found. That's your sister, isn't it? The one we brought forward from the past."
Frisk looked down at the table in front of her. She'd had some rough foster homes growing up, before she landed in the Underground. But the idea Chara had been tortured? "How could anyone do that?" Frisk asked.
Hermione didn't have an answer. Neither did Frisk. They just stared at each other for a few seconds before Hermione closed the book with a loud thud. "I still want to find out what happened to Sirius," Hermione said. "Would you like to help?"
Not really, but maybe it would help Frisk get her mind off what she just learned. It took several more books, but eventually Frisk found what they were looking for. "You said that he didn't have a trial?" she said. "Not true, but I can see why he thinks that." Frisk pushed the book over for Hermione to read herself, "He was still unconscious from whatever happened with Peter, and they weren't sure he was ever going to wake up. So they held a trial without him being there, Dumbledore gave evidence and everything."
"So did Professor Lupin," Hermione said, reading it for herself. "Despite him being a werewolf. They both testified that Snuf... Sirius had been the Potters secret keepers, and that Mr. Petigrew had confronted him based on that, getting killed in the process." Hermione looked up. "About got it backwards, but not for a lack of evidence, really. Thanks, Frisk."
"You're welcome, and, Hermione?" Frisk said, looking up, meeting Hermione's eyes for a moment, then looking back at the table. "Can you please not tell Chara what we found? She's really sensitive about her past. I think I finally found out why."
"I won't. I promise."
As holidays went, Spring was a bit of a tease. Frisk, Asriel and Chara had gone home for the holiday, and even though they were caught up on schoolwork, they only had the chance to be home for a week. That meant they had to cram as many visits to friends, and as much time to spend with their parents as possible. They started cramming the moment they arrived on Platform 9 3/4s, with Asriel winning a round of rock/paper/scissors to call Mom and let her know they'd arrived, and prove their new phones worked in high magic areas.
There was trip to see the ghosts, to experience whatever new idea Mettaton had now and spend an afternoon with Napstablook. They spent a day with Mom and Dad, who had taken time away from the ministry, and went out to dinner at Grillby's in Diagon Alley. It ended with lessons, though. Mom hadn't forgotten the math books she'd got them, and she was determined that they continue what she called "Mundane World" education. It was Mom though, that made it okay.
They had a day with Papyrus and Sans. They hadn't really changed. Papyrus had been working in Asgore's greenhouse (which was a much better job for him than Royal Guardskeleton). Sans, who'd been working on his own project, felt distant. It wasn't that he didn't engage with them, he was it happy enough to visit, but it was clear that his mind was somewhere else. Frisk tried to draw whatever it was out of him, but didn't have any success. Sans did, at least, confirm the egg pun was his, and he seemed happy that it got solved. "they wanted one that might get people talking to the other schools. was hard to come up with a french pun like that, though."
They had a day with Alphys and Undyne. Undyne was thrilled to hear they'd attempted the physical challenge she'd designed, but disappointed to hear it was Opal that solved it. Her first reaction was, "I hope I can meet her at some point," which seemed fair. It was her second reaction, "But that means I need to train you nerds harder!" that put the fear of strenuous exercise into the three of them.
To Frisk's surprise, Alphys wanted to ask about the Quidditch challenge. As it turned out, Alphys had worked with Madam Hooch to develop the game, using her experience in online gaming as a starting point. "It was a big hit," Frisk told her, to Alphys rather obvious relief. "You did a great job designing the event. I think it's been my favorite challenge."
"It's going to be hard to find something better than that," Alphys admitted, her cheek scales going scarlet at the compliment. "I'm going to try, though!" They brainstormed the rest of the afternoon, not really getting anywhere, but having some fun with more impractical ideas. Alphys told them that the rest of the challenges had mostly been set, so it didn't matter they hadn't had any great ideas.
Spring holiday was over almost before it began, and the Dreemurrs were back in the Great Hall before they knew it. Apparently, they'd missed some sort of epic challenge involving magical creatures that Hagrid had set up. Something involving using nifflers to find golden whistles that attracted bowtruckles living in tress, in which was hiding... and it went on. It was like a great party scavenger hunt, Frisk was sorry she missed it, but not sorry enough that she wasn't glad she'd gone home for the holidays.
Normally, Frisk had a quiet trip down from Charms on a Wednesday down to lunch. Normally, there wasn't a cry of other students heading down a third floor corridor. Normally her nose wasn't assaulted by the worst stench she'd ever, ever experienced. It was worse than the garbage dump in the underground, where filth from above ground penetrated the depths.
Despite her better judgment, Frisk went up the corridor, wondering what could possibly going on. She turned a corner, into the heart of the smell, and looked up at a small, floating, ghostly man. Frisk stared back at him, she'd mostly stayed out of the way of the Hogwarts poltergeist. Around him on the floor and walls were splatters of something brown and fowl smelling.
Peeves looked at Frisk, cackled, "Oh boy! More squirts!" and launched a small projectile at Frisk. Frisk slid to her left to dodge it, the bomb hit the floor and exploded in filth and stink. He looked slightly annoyed, and tried a second time. Frisk backed up, and the bomb landed just short. This apparently aggravated him enough that he began to pelt all of his missiles at Frisk, as quickly as could. But she spun, ducked, and leaped away from the bombs, and when he was out of shots, Frisk was still clean, if nearly incapacitated by the smell.
"PEEVES!" came the shout behind her, as Filch the caretaker stormed into the corridor. "I'll tell Dumbledore, I swear it!"
Peeves responded by blowing a raspberry and disappearing through the ceiling with a mad cackle.
Frisk stood in the middle of a thick brown lake in the middle of the stone Hogwarts corridor. She looked up at Filch. Filch looked back at her, then turned around and disappeared back down the corridor. He returned a few moments later with a mop and a bucket of water, and began attacking the brown region in frustration and anger, muttering about who was making his life difficult by giving Peeves dungbombs, most likely 'those twins'.
Frisk gently stepped through the muck, until she was in a clean part of the corridor again. But instead of heading down toward lunch, she stopped and watched. Just about anyone else in the castle would have used magic to clean it up, right? But Filch wasn't using any magic, just his mop.
Did that mean there were no good spells for this, or... Frisk blinked and looked again. He didn't appear to be carrying a wand, at least, not as far as she could tell. And he wasn't wearing a robe either.
Did that mean he couldn't?
The more Frisk watched, the more the conclusion couldn't be escaped from. It explained his grumpy personality and the anger at those who didn't use magic responsibly. It explained everything, except for why he was still here, in a place that seemed perfectly designed to torture someone without magic.
Frisk thought for a second, and then headed quickly down the corridor. There was a girl's bathroom not far from here. She ducked in, and swiped a number of paper towels. She wet them down and headed back to the dungbomb explosions, enduring the smell again. She didn't ask Mr. Filch if wanted help, she didn't even tell him she was going to help. She just started to do so, scrubbing at the wall her wet towels.
After the first few minutes, her stomach started growling. This was supposed to be lunch time, but she was determined. Frisk had been scrubbing for a good fifteen minutes, before she realized Mr. Filch was staring at her. The floor had been cleaned, and really, the walls were mostly clean too.
Their eyes met, and at first, neither of them said anything. The caretaker's eyes darted down to where her family name was embroidered on her robe. Frisk looked up at him with her half-lidded eyes. "I'm trying to prove that not all students hate you the way you think we do," she told him, smiling.
Mr. Filch still stared at her. "Thank you, Ms. Dreemurr," he finally said, though the words might have just tortured him as they came out. "Go get your lunch."
As Frisk turned toward back to the grand staircase, she felt another pair of eyes on her. The bright yellow eyes of Ms. Norris were staring at her. She leaned down to offer her hand to the cat to smell. Ms. Norris looked at her unblinkingly for a moment, then pressed her thin, warm body into Frisk's leg, as she stalked off after Mr. Filch.
Frisk had intentionally sat away from others in Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. It hadn't been hard, everyone else had avoided her. Even the hook nose of Mad Eye Moody had wrinkled when he'd thumped his way into the room.
"Sorry, professor," Frisk apologized, flushing scarlet, as both magical and normal eyes focused in on her. "Peeves got his hands on some dung bombs. He didn't hit me, but it's bad just enough to be around them."
That was enough of an explanation. After class that day, Frisk headed back up to the common room, intent on changing out of her dungbomb afflicted robe into something cleaner. On her way up, though, she was interrupted by Luna. "Frisk?" she called out, climbing up the stairs, about a floor behind Frisk.
"Oh, hi, Luna," Frisk called back. Frisk was about to turn toward Gryffindor tower, when Luna called out to her again.
"Wait," she said, short of breath. Frisk turned around to realize that Luna was actually running up the stairs, something she'd thought Opal would have done. "Wait," Luna repeated, panting. "Opal wanted me to find you. She just talked to Professor Hagrid, and he's missing."
"What?" Frisk asked, blinking in surprise. "Who's missing?"
Luna had stepped back, "What's that smell?" she asked curiously.
"Peeves got me with a dung bomb," Frisk said. "Who's missing?" she asked again.
"Oh," Luna. "Dubran."
