THE EVENING FEAST for the foreign pupils was an occasion of noisy, lighthearted fun. Aside from your usual British dishes, the new guests had a chance to sample their native fare as well (so as to better accommodate them to the transition, Luxanna figured). There were frog legs on one side of the table and what appeared to be fermented fish on another, even an ox tongue that looked as if it had been served in place of a rasher of bacon. Some brave soul took a bite, announcing with great relish, "It's rather like beef, actually!" Luxanna watched him, half impressed by his gusto and half disturbed at the thought of such an awful thing travelling down anybody's throat.
Next to Luxanna, the famous Bulgarian Quidditch player—whose name Alex had repeatedly reminded her not to forget—Viktor Krum was inspecting one of the drinking goblets from the table in earnest awe.
He turned to her, eyebrows raised, and asked, "Is gold?"
"Gilden," Luxanna corrected him, but it didn't do much to aid in his comprehension.
"Covered," she tried again, motioning with her hands around the cup, "in gold."
"Very good," he said as he put the cup down. Whether he understood or not, she didn't know, but he appeared fascinated nonetheless.
Alex was peering over her shoulder as Krum offered his hand to her in greeting. "Viktor," he said.
Luxanna reciprocated with grace. "Black."
"Black? Like colour black?"
"Err... yes, see, in England..." she began, but was promptly interrupted by Alex, who was leaning over so close that he might've been resting his chin atop her shoulder.
"In England, we call each other by our surnames, u-unless we are friends." He spoke with such enthusiasm that he began to stutter. "It's a... a sort of formality, you see—but you can call me Alex, of course. I'm Alex."
Luxanna rolled her eyes.
"Vat is surname?" Krum asked.
"'Krum' is a surname, 'Viktor' is a first name," Luxanna explained.
"Ah, yes, yes," Krum said, his face brightening with realisation. "I know this. Headmaster Karkaroff says to me. Nice meeting you, Alex."
Dumbledore had officially announced the tournament; the feast was over and the crowd dismissed. Luxanna was pushing past the students who were filing out of the Great Hall in a haphazard manner. There were so many of them now with the foreign additions, that she had to crush herself against the wall to get forward. Then, out of nowhere, a tiny kid in front of her came to a halt, causing Luxanna to collide with the person behind her.
"Ow!" she exclaimed seconds later in melodramatic fashion; he had elbowed her out of the way rather painfully. "Watch where you're—"
But then she realised who she was addressing, and her features relaxed into those of haughty sufferance. "Ah. Never mind. I'd forgotten you Weasleys have no spatial awareness."
He turned around at her comment; his hair was messy, and his robe was rumpled, but he looked as if he was about to burst into laughter.
"Ah, sorry," he said in earnest fashion, "I didn't mean to touch you."
Luxanna opened her mouth to argue when another, identical figure stumbled out of the doors, once again elbowing her in the same exact spot. This time, it had to be intentional.
He staggered over to his brother and said, "Why's that, Fred? Think baldness is contagious?" Then he ruffled his fingers through the other's hair and concluded, "Yep, I think you might be shedding already."
Luxanna clenched her fists next to her body, feeling her temper rise. "You know what? It just so happens I haven't docked any points today and—"
"Wait, wait, wait," Fred Weasley interjected (Or was it George this time? It was difficult to keep track). "Do you hear that?" He squinted his eyes in concentration.
"Hear what?" Luxanna asked through clenched teeth.
"That noise," said the other Weasley, raising his hand to his ear.
"Yeah, that irritating noise—how don't you hear it?"
"What noise?!"
"Ah, never mind..." he said with mock disappointment, "it was only your voice."
They took their chance and disappeared with the wave of Durmstrang students that were still evacuating the Hall, but as Luxanna began to wriggle her way through the crowd towards the dungeons—all the while cursing their family name under her breath—she sighted them again. This time, they were stopped by the Architect's statue, and were joined by Lee Jordan who was in spirited conversation with Harry Potter and his friends, and this time, the words 'Ageing' and 'Potion' had been uttered together in the same sentence, and thus Selwyn's words came resurfacing to Luxanna.
They're actually thinking of doing it, the wicked bastards.
Compelled by the spirit of vengeance, she decided to follow along, blending behind the throng of students until eventually the group dispersed, with Potter and his companions leaving up the stairs in the direction of Gryffindor Tower and the rest heading for the dungeons—towards Professor Snape's storage, no doubt.
There were no others in the dimly lit corridor, save for a few Slytherins making their way back to their rooms. Silently shadowing the group, Luxanna spied a strategically placed broom closet—a perfect hiding spot. Once she'd made sure that it was unoccupied, she murmured a silencing spell to muffle the creak of the door, concealing herself inside.
The twins' and Lee's whispered voices echoed throughout the corridor. Luxanna held her breath, listening.
"Come on, you know the spell."
A slow and steady squeak followed as one of them tried the handle.
"Nah, look, it's unlocked already."
"Brilliant."
She peered through the gap in the door, watching as they emerged from Snape's office a few moments later with several jars of herbs, looking pleased with themselves.
"Alright, let's go before Snape—"
She didn't need to squint to see what had distracted Lee Jordan; the unmistakable sound of Moody's clanking footsteps was audibly thundering down the staircase. Panicked, the boys all scrambled around the corridor for cover.
"In here, in here, in here!"
No, no, no! Not in here! Not in here! She pleaded in vain because not a moment later, the door swung open and all three of them ushered inside, sending Luxanna stumbling into the brooms and buckets behind with a loud clang. She gasped, her hands frantically searching for something to hold onto, but there were only brooms and more brooms, tumbling over and everywhere around her.
"What in Merlin's saggy left..."
"Bloody... idiots..." Luxanna muttered, easing herself up from the ground.
"Black?" one of the Weasley twins whispered in a near laugh. "Black, is that you?"
"What in the world are you doing in a broom closet?" said the other.
"None of your bloody business," replied Luxanna.
She had managed to stand up, but one of the boys was brushing up uncomfortably against her shoulder in the cramped space. All of a sudden she preferred the brooms.
"Lumos." The wand light flared, revealing their amused faces; the Weasley cramped beside her appeared significantly more red in the face than the one across.
"Get out!" she whisper-shouted, whipping at him with her wand furiously. "Now!"
"Absolutely not!" Lee retorted.
"Ssshhh!" the twins then interrupted.
The steady clunk-clunk-clunking of Moody's foot intensified, coming to a halt once he reached the place where they were hidden. Luxanna drew a sharp breath.
Pause.
Then it picked up again. Clunk... Clunk... Clunk... Clunk... Again, towards Professor Snape's office.
A long creak. Then silence.
"Come on, we can't stay in here forever," Lee urged his friends, poking his head out to make sure they hadn't been spotted.
As everyone scrambled to get out of the closet, the Weasley that had been standing next to her pointed over to the brooms behind Luxanna, and before leaving, added in what he thought must have made for an excellent joke, "Hey, that'd make a good wig for you."
Oh, a jab at baldness, how very original... George Weasley.
"Wait!" Luxanna yelled out once she had caught up to him. This whole detour had caused a dent in her plans, but she was determined all the same. "You're making an Ageing Potion, aren't you?"
At her words, his eyebrows furrowed—he was studying her, arms crossed over his chest. "You've been spying on us, haven't you? Haven't you?"
"I want in," Luxanna said breathlessly.
The rest of the group were now listening in. He looked to them for clarity, then back at Luxanna. "You... Tell me I'm not losing my hearing here. You want to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"You know what? Now that I think about it, it actually makes perfect sense," he said, and continued his walk up the stairs. He paused midway and added, "Merlin knows you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to look good."
"So, you'll make one for me then," said Luxanna. It sounded more like a demand than a request.
"Oh? Make what?"
"Oh, come on!"
She sighed, clenching her fists next to her body. The word 'dread' could not properly encapsulate the anticipation of what was about to come out of her mouth... "Please."
Weasley glanced up at the two waiting on him with puzzled expressions. The smirk was frozen on his face, as though he was about to laugh at her, but instead, he yielded and took a few steps down to be on an even level with her.
"I'll owe you if you do," she added. It was a flagrant lie, uttered accordingly with the belief that the Weasleys were likely the kind of people who stuck to their word and no doubt expected the same of others. "I'll give you a month's worth of my patrol's blind eye. You can go anywhere you want."
"Fine," he said through clenched teeth. "Fine," he repeated, clearly exasperated, but willing.
Luxanna radiated with a cunning thrill, one that she almost struggled to keep from showing—Was it really so easy?
"I'll meet you in the morning at half seven, just around here, that's when we'll do it. If you're actually serious, that is."
"Very well," agreed Luxanna, looking into his eyes, as though breaking eye contact might cause him to change his mind.
With that, she pivoted in the direction of the Common Room. As she descended, her head teemed with cunning thoughts. A blend of a few different herbs was sure to do the trick, but which ones? She could have the thing explode in their faces, that'd make for a right spectacle. Or alternatively, a more devious trick—poison: have them nauseous for days on end, unaware of the cause, until they eventually succumb to hospitalisation. A colour-changing essence would however be more fitting... She ached to see how the Weasleys would fare with green hair. Or green skin? The thought of it made her skin crawl with anticipation.
"Black?" came the familiar grunt.
Luxanna whirled around to see Moody leaning against the corridor wall, arms crossed over his chest.
Their last meeting had gone against everything Luxanna had anticipated, but she could not, even now, even despite his benevolent demeanour, shake the feeling that she was in trouble. Her hand came up to cover Frost out of habit, but halfway through she dropped it to avoid drawing attention.
"Yes?" she responded sheepishly.
"Follow me," he said.
Reluctantly, she followed him inside Snape's office.
"I thought I might've seen you lurking about..." he muttered in a rather accusatory tone. Luxanna wanted to say the same back to him—what in Merlin's good name was he looking for in Professor Snape's office? Snape wasn't even there.
"Following those Weasley boys, were you?"
"Why don't you chase them down instead?" she argued, despite having repeatedly told herself to hold it in. "I was merely following them, Professor—doing my duty as a prefect. They are the ones trying to hoodwink the goblet and enter themselves into the tournament. They're making an Ageing Potion, sir!"
"Are they now?"
"Yes!"
"And you want to toy with them, eh?" He raised a knowing eyebrow.
"No. No, I told you, sir, I only want to expose them for the cheating scoundrels they are. Listen, I know the other teachers excuse them all the time, but what they're doing is way beneath the respectable school standard. No, that's too mild a way to put it. Those two have defiled every school rule there is, that's just what they do. They get a thrill out of toying with other students, embarrassing them. They think it's funny. And they've probably bribed every other prefect blind to get away with it, but that's not the point. What they're doing now is not just... just tomfoolery, it's illegal, and I don't intend to let them get away with it."
"Tell you what..."
Professor Moody fiddled with his robe's pocket and produced a tiny, dark vial. "This should do the trick."
"What's that?" she asked apprehensively.
"Polyjuice potion," he said, placing the vial in her hand. "You've learnt about Polyjuice potion, haven't you?" Luxanna nodded. "You'll need a hair, of course. Or a toenail, maybe." He chuckled. "But other than that, it's ready. You wanna have a laugh at those boys, this is the way to do it."
"But why..."
He replied before she could even begin the question, "You never know when you might have to go undercover. Hey! Don't let that give you any ideas—it's tricky stuff to come by, very tricky stuff."
"Of course not, sir," Luxanna said politely. "Excuse me for asking, but... why are you helping me? Did my father ask you?"
"Hah! No. Let's put it this way... any fool with a set of eyes can tell if a wizard's up to no good—most of 'em aren't as sneaky as they think they are, dark wizards—that's why the Aurors' department is teeming with scores of lowbrow bumblers whose only set of skills include reading the tabloids and sticking tacks into the bulletin board. But talent, Black, talent—it's hard to come by, and harder even yet to spot. But I see it in you. You stick with me, and I'll teach you how to refine it."
Luxanna considered his words hours after they had parted ways. 'Talent'. It sounded grandiose, especially coming from a person whom she hardly knew, yet somehow reassuringly compelling—perhaps it was because her respect for Professor Moody came from a place of rebellion against her father that his words held a certain gravitas. She could not see herself as an Auror, no, but with that simple statement of praise, Professor Moody had granted her a wish—he had given her a means to discover her own self-worth, a way to separate herself from her past. This was exactly what she needed.
"You're here. Good."
At seven thirty in the morning, the party was huddled together conspiratorially in the damp hallways of the dungeon, the morning light unseen. Meanwhile, upstairs, students were no doubt already gathered around the goblet, awaiting the twins' arrival. If there was one thing sure about the Weasleys, it was that they loved their audience.
"Here's yours," Jordan said as he handed her the dark tinged flask, not looking too pleased with her attendance.
"And this'll work, huh?" Luxanna asked, trying to sound curious.
"Of course it'll work, we spent all last night in the library, studying the recipe," said one of the twins.
That's about the only thing that'll put Fred and George Weasley in a library, she mused sardonically.
"No, but you're sure this'll fool the age line?"
"Sure? No. Optimistic? Yes," he replied.
"Uncertainty never stopped us," his brother added.
She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.
"Well, I think we're set. Lee?"
"Yep, let's go."
Right on cue, a door burst open with a loud Bang! and Peeves came bursting out, a grin plastered across his face and a plate clutched in his overly large hands. He allowed for a moment of dramatic pause before he steadied his arm, took aim, and spun the plate like a boomerang aimed right at Weasley's pumpkin coloured noggin. The boy ducked just in time, managing to spare himself an enormous serving of porridge, which shattered all over the ceiling.
"Fred and George, oh what a pair, prepare for a little morning scare!" Peeves chanted happily, and more kitchenware followed (goblets, bowls, jugs). The victims had no choice but to cower with their hands over their heads, awaiting his next barrage.
"That's enough, bastard!" Jordan shouted.
"Peeves! What's the matter with you! Why us!"
Then came the cutlery. All of it, and all at once, brandished with vengeance. At the speed with which it came, Luxanna herself had no time to dodge the forks and spoons (thankfully, there were no knives). One grazed her ear, another her knee.
"With grace, they duck and dodge so fine; Peeves is here, causing quite a line! Cutlery's flying, swirling through the air; laughter and chaos, a delightful affair!"
It was now or never.
"Here, give me those!" Luxanna shouted, grabbing the flasks out of the Weasleys' clutches. They didn't even protest; they were too busy dodging the barrage of implements flying at them one after another.
Moody was wrong, Luxanna's true talent lay in her sleight of hand: With a deft manoeuvre of the wrist, she uncorked the flask, reached into her robe's pocket and drew the polyjuice, then swiftly mixed it into the liquid. The chemical reaction caused the liquid to bubble, but Luxanna managed to get the mouth of the flask closed just before it boiled over. Panting slightly, she looked up to make sure she hadn't been spotted in her nefarious act.
Thankfully, the subjects had been too busy shooing Peeves away to even check on what she was doing. Luxanna met them with the flasks held outstretched in her hands, as though to say: 'Here, I kept them safe for you.'
"Erhm... Thanks," said Jordan with an awkward nod of approval. "That was strange. We're usually on good terms with Peeves."
I know you are, Luxanna wanted to say, it took quite a bit to persuade him.
Just as expected, the Great Hall was thronged with excited spectators eager to watch the twins' performance unfold. Some watched silently from the corners, while others got up, cheering and chanting their names. Even Luxanna received a few furtive glances from those surprised to find her in the company of such "intellectual" individuals. Despite his incessant whining, Luxanna had insisted on Alex coming along, claiming that she had a small surprise in store that was just too entertaining to miss.
"Cheers," one of the Weasleys said to her, raising his arm into the air, and she returned the gesture, posing a discreet smile as she pretended to drink from the flask.
They encircled the goblet, standing shoulder to shoulder.
"Oh, go on..." Luxanna murmured in anticipation.
And then, the braver one braced himself with a deep breath, and took a determined step forward. The brief silence within the hall was broken by the other's triumphant yell, before he, too, jumped right after his brother.
A round of cheer erupted from the onlookers.
Luxanna's eyebrows travelled farther up her forehead.
Just like that, it happened: the goblet burst out in sparks, the circular line appeared to tremble for a moment, then they both went flying out of the disc, falling flat on their backs several feet away from Luxanna's feet. They gasped, clutching their sides and moaning out in pain, but the true shock came once their eyes met; perfect mirrors of each other, both brothers were now sporting a set of red slits for pupils, long, slippery tongues, and—perhaps most importantly of all—neither one had a strand of hair left on their heads.
"I suppose it was contagious, after all."
"Lukss!" Frost hissed into her ear.
The hall erupted with laughter as the two dumbfounded boys stared at each other, palming at their now very bald heads.
Next to Luxanna, Alex was watching the scene unfold with an amused expression.
Once he had connected the dots, one of the lizards pointed his scaly finger at her and yelled out, "It was her! She ruined our plan!"
"Yes, well, it was a stupid plan, and it wouldn't have worked anyway, because—" Her breath caught in her throat.
Oh, no.
No, no, no...
Were it not for the laughter and the loud chatter partially obscuring her words, it was sure that every head would have turned towards Luxanna at that moment. A couple did avert their attention, though, peering through squeezed eyelids and trying to make out what had just happened, but luckily, the twins did not seem to notice anything out of order—they were too busy bickering between each other.
"I told you not to trust her!"
"You're the one that brewed it for her, you twat!"
"She's a Slytherin! A bloody Slytherin! I'll kill you, George, I'll kill you!"
It was Parseltongue... He had spoken Parseltongue. And she, like an idiot, responded. Realising her mistake, her eyes shot to Alex's in panic.
Alex looked about as confused as the onlookers, but nonetheless, he swallowed and loudly said, for everybody to hear, "Yeah... It was stupid to think about asking him out, he's probably not gay anyway."
At this point, even the mutterings had gone. The crowd seemed stunned into silence; not even a breath escaped their lips, as if the air itself was poisonous somehow.
She could hear him shiver slightly beside her, but his expression gave nothing away. His arms wrapped around his chest, protectively hugging himself, almost shyly; his dark eyes scanned the room from side to side, head held high, the only outward sign that he was affected at all. He did not utter a word.
He had just voluntarily taken the fall for her, and she couldn't believe it.
"Lux! Lux, wait!"
She would not wait, she needed air, and someplace to clear her mind—the Chamber. Her legs continued moving until they came to a halt by the girls' lavatory.
"Alex, you can't be in here, it's the girls' loo."
"You think I care?" he said from outside; she had shut the door on him.
She needed to think, and quickly. Staring up at the marble tiles, listening to the water as it flushed through the pipes, she breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly. There was no other way—he would have to be Obliviated. Luxanna had practised the spell before, but not nearly enough to be able to pick and choose which thoughts to remove exactly—such a feat was reserved for wizards much more skilled than her. No, she would have to wipe it all; that was the price she would now have to grow accustomed to in order to keep her secrets concealed.
"Do it," Frost commanded.
"Come on in, then," Luxanna said, stepping away from the door.
"Hey. Are you alright?" he asked simply, in that gentle tone reminiscent of a parent comforting their child. She hated that tone.
As her fingers curled around the grip of her wand Alex decided to notice what she was intending to do. His expression hardened with concern. "Don't," he pleaded. "Look, whatever it is—"
"Shush," she interrupted, pointing the wand at him. Obliviate, she trained her mind on the word. Obliviate, once again, this time bringing forth the memory, invoking it into her mind's eye. She began to feel a tingle in her fingertips, the wand twisting in her grip; the word had clung to the very tip of her tongue, yet Luxanna could not utter it.
"Do it now, Lux."
But she couldn't. Something had urged her to change her mind just before she could speak the spell aloud. "I can't..." she muttered beneath her breath, allowing her shoulders to drop.
"Lux! Lux, what have I told you? He can't be trusted! Not with your family secrets!"
Alex, too, released his arms, for he had been holding them in front of his body in meek surrender.
"You have to swear. You have to swear you won't tell anyone."
"I... I swear..."
"Swear it on your parents' lives."
"Lux... Can you just explain to me what's going on first? You understood what they were saying back there. You're a Parselmouth. How?"
"Listen to me. Nobody can know, or they'll ask questions, they'll assume the most horrible things about me, like... like..."
"But, hey... Harry Potter speaks Parseltongue, and everyone knows he's not... well, evil."
"Ugh, precious Potter," she spat, walking over to one of the sinks and leaning on it. "Of course he gets away with it, he's got Dumbledore backing him, and all the bloody rest of them. Besides, he only has the gift because You Know Who etched it upon him that night, when he tried to kill him. And that's what people will believe, Alex. Parseltongue is the mark of evil, everyone alive associates it with Him. If anybody finds out, I'll be questioned. My father will be questioned—you know what he was, I know you read the paper. They'll think the same of me."
"I don't understand though, why are you a Parselmouth?"
She sighed, preparing herself for the lie of a lifetime. "It's not uncommon in Italy," she began the story. "Where I come from, many ordinary wizards could do it, and some are even born with the gift; inherited it, so to speak."
She went on to tell him all about her ancestors' history, all the bloodlines and sacred traditions, about how it was used by skilled witches and wizards in the Renaissance to converse in secret, and how the first monarchs had ruled through their use of it. The language of snakes, Serpentese, had opened doors for them into a new realm far removed from the trivialities of earthly politics. It had enabled ancient wizards to connect with spirits and beasts, discover secret truths in the natural world, and cure people's wounds. One of the books she had brought with her to England, 'On the Nature of Serpentese', would serve as the proof she would subsequently provide for her narrative.
Naturally, being native to the North, Luxanna's forefathers never possessed the gift themselves, but it was a lie as good as any—an omission of information, really. To her, speaking Parseltongue felt like an extension of her own voice.
"Could you uh, could you say something? In Parseltongue?"
"No."
"I was just curious, that's all..."
"No, Alex. You'll forget we spoke of this. And if you ever bring it up again... Well, you know I'll have no choice."
That had settled the debate, and as foolish as Luxanna thought herself for laying this information on Alex, a part of her, a silent part, thought that it was the right thing to do. It was then that she decided that he owed her an explanation, too, so that as they were walking down towards the dungeons, Luxanna broke the silence to pose her question.
"What did you mean when you said that earlier?"
"What?" Alex asked, clearly taken by surprise.
"At the Great Hall."
"Oh. Oh, um..." he stammered, then realisation dawned on his face. "There's a boy I've been meaning to ask out."
"How do you mean, a boy?"
Alex shuffled with his hands inside his pockets, further adding onto Luxanna's confusion. Why would he like another boy?
"Some men, uh, boys... they like other boys, you see. Romantically."
"Why?" Even Luxanna couldn't bring herself to like boys, as much as her mother wanted her to.
"I don't know! It just is the way it is."
"I see."
"Sometimes I actually wish it wasn't the case."
"But you can't help it?"
"No."
On their way down, they passed a group of Beauxbatons students walking into the castle, led by their Headmistress. One by one they approached the Goblet and entered their names. One girl in particular caught Luxanna's eye: she was carrying herself with so much pride that she could've been wearing a crown; her silvery hair cascading in luxurious waves over her shoulder as she approached and slid a piece of parchment into the blue flames. Behind her, an equally glamorous boy waited in line with his head held up high.
"She's very pretty," commented Luxanna.
"Yeah," he replied absentmindedly. Clearly, his eyes were elsewhere. "Hey, who do you think will be the Hogwarts champion?"
"I heard from Spinster that Warrington's thinking of entering," commented Luxanna as they walked down the stairs.
"Ugh, not him..." said Alex with a pained look. "I hope it's Diggory, he seems okay."
"With his luck, maybe it'll be Potter," Luxanna joked.