Chapter 15
Finding a date for Slughorn's Christmas party was the least of Peter's worries, yet it seemed to be the greatest interest of Romilda Vane to know whom the boy would be attending with. She didn't have an invitation, but it was clear to the boy that she was expecting one. Perhaps he should try with McLaggen, because the eldest of the Pevensies had the least interest in taking her.
No, he had more important matters to attend to. In addition to the usual stress of his subjects, there was the first assignment of Muggle Studies. He hadn't started it yet, to Susan's displeasure. It wouldn't have been difficult to get started if it weren't for the fact that he had to speak with Pansy Parkinson first.
He decided that Potions class would be the best opportunity to approach the unpleasant Slytherin. Upon arriving, he could see that the girl was in a bad mood. She spent half the hour complaining about Slughorn to her friend, Daphne Greengrass, and the other half cursing her potion, which was failing to turn the dark purple color the professor had indicated, instead fluctuating between a pinkish tone and a bluish one that refused to mix.
Yet, Peter Pevensie, with the bravery of a Gryffindor, had the guts to approach the girl when her companion had moved away from the table.
"What do you want?" she snapped when she saw the boy lingering.
"The Muggle Studies assignment," he said.
She looked around, as if afraid of being heard reacting to the name of that subject. Clearly, the notion that Mr. Parkinson's daughter was studying a subject about Muggles was not yet popular.
"What about it?"
"We have a deadline on Monday," he said.
"And?" the Slytherin replied, as if it had nothing to do with her.
"I believe we're supposed to do it as a team," he said. "Remember?"
"To my misfortune," she said.
"And mine..." he muttered.
Pansy continued to pack her things without looking at the boy throughout the process. When she had closed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, she looked up to glance at the eldest Pevensie for a single second, and in an unfriendly tone, said:
"Tomorrow after class, in front of the south door of the library," she said. "There's Quidditch on Saturday, I'd rather have it done before then."
"Alright," said Peter.
"Goodbye," she replied curtly.
Peter left the class without looking back. The whole thing seemed very odd to him. Pansy Parkinson, in Muggle Studies, doing a project on poetry. She was up to something. And it definitely wasn't good.
When he arrived at the common room, his mind was still on the conversation with the Slytherin, but he was quickly distracted by Romilda Vane, who called out to him from the other corner of the room enthusiastically.
Since the episode in the hallway, Peter had acquired a new status at his Hogwarts house. An unasked for status, but whose effects he couldn't shake off, even if he wanted to. People like Romilda Vane's friends approached him to talk, not just observing him from afar. Before, he was the solitary sixth-year student; now, everyone seemed eager to push him into becoming a member of the most select groups of the scarlet house. Peter preferred solitude but couldn't find a way to reverse the effect his spellcasting mastery had caused among the students.
And being a member of the Slug Club certainly hadn't improved things, especially with rumors about his party circulating the corridors.
"Who will you take to Slug's party?" Romilda asked when Peter had been sitting next to her for a while, trying to study.
"Uh, I haven't decided..." he said, clearing his throat.
"Granger?" she inquired.
"She's going with Weasley," he replied, not wanting to divulge more information.
"I see..." she said. "That leaves me free to go after Potter."
Peter exhaled, knowing he wasn't Romilda's first choice. The muscles in his back relaxed, easing the worry that this was the reason Romilda had brought up the subject. But, fortunately, no one surpassed "The Chosen One" in fame.
"Wow, I thought you would go with me, Vane," said Cormac, sitting on the other side of Peter.
"You'll have to hurry up," said one of Romilda's friends, whose name Peter couldn't remember. "Or you'll end up having to go with Eloise Midgen..."
"Can you imagine?" Romilda interrupted with a laugh.
Peter looked up, slightly annoyed, searching for the words to respond to the girls and Cormac, who seemed quite entertained by the conversation. But nothing came out. His eyes met Eloise Midgen's, who was turning her head slightly from one of the armchairs. She had heard them, it was clear, despite her attempt to hide it. She turned her head again, but not completely. She was watching them from the corner of her eye.
The eldest Pevensie felt pity. Eloise was a cheerful and friendly girl. And like him, she had suffered from acne across most of her face for a couple of years. She still had a few marks on her complexion, but people seemed to have decided they could continue making her a joke.
Without thinking, Peter stood up to the surprise of the students sitting at his table. Taking a few steps, hands in his pockets, and without turning to look at Romilda and her entourage, he approached Eloise politely.
"Eloise," he said, greeting her timidly with a hand.
The girl seemed startled to see Peter approaching. She glanced briefly at the corner table and then back at him.
"Peter..." she said, placing her book on her stomach. "Did you... want something?"
"Yes..." he said, scratching his head. "I suppose you heard that..."
Eloise turned again, slightly, then looked at Peter, nodding slightly with a sad smile. The boy could hear Romilda whispering again, causing another wave of discomfort in his body.
"Don't worry, I'm used to it..." she began. "But thank you for..."
"The thing is, I would like you to accompany me to the party," he said. "I have to start making good friends in this tower, don't you think?"
"Me?" she said, surprised, pointing to herself, with a slight smile.
"Uh, yeah..." he said, then raised his voice to make it more audible. "Would you like to accompany me to Slughorn's party, Eloise Midgen?"
Romilda's and her friends' gasps of surprise echoed through the common room, making Peter smile even more broadly. Eloise nodded with another wide smile.
"You're insane," Astoria said in an annoyed tone, "no way."
Edmund and Astoria were sitting on one of the staircases, writing on their parchments to finish the Charms homework that the boy hadn't completed and needed to in half an hour. But the topic had gradually shifted.
"I don't understand how you can ask me something like that, Edmund Pevensie," she said.
"If I do it, no one will believe it," said the boy.
"I'm not going to sneak into one of those stupid meetings."
"What about wheedling something out of your sister?" he said.
"I can't wheedle anything out of my sister," she said. "She doesn't trust me."
"If you got closer to them, she would," said the boy.
"You realize that not everything is a game, right?" she said. "If a war breaks out, I'd be a spy. I wouldn't be a game. And besides, you're not even able to tell me what information you're trying to wheedle out."
Edmund stared at the ceiling, watching the rest of the staircases rotate back and forth as students tried to find the best combination to reach their destinations on the ever-changing paths the room created.
"They won't let me," he said, simply.
"Then I can't do anything," she said. "If you ever feel like telling me what's so important, maybe I can do it."
"The Order won't allow it, Dumbledore won't either," he said, trying to explain.
"Because I'm a Greengrass?" she said, dropping her quill forcefully onto the parchment. "Isn't that right?"
"No! What are you talking about?" he said. "It's a general thing."
"And yet, your family isn't alone in the Order, right?" she said. "I'm just being excluded from that possibility."
"What's gotten into you?" said Edmund. "Is everything okay?"
"Leave it..." said the girl. "I won't be your spy if you don't trust me."
"I'll consult them, okay?" he said, placing his hand on the girl's. "I trust you, you're my best friend, but it's not something I can tell you alone. It's others' secrets."
"Alright," she said, unable to keep the anger out of her tone. "Alright, let's change the subject, okay?"
"Fine," he said, leaning back against the staircase.
They both remained silent in an uncomfortable and unusual silence between them. They went together in silence to hand in Edmund's overdue assignment to Flitwick. When they had left the Charms corridor, Edmund decided it was time to pick up the conversation again.
"Hey, I wanted to ask you another favor, although this one's a bit easier," said the boy, laughing.
"I hope so," she said, smiling slightly at the prospect of talking again.
"Will you accompany me to Slughorn's party?" he said. "It's a long way off, but apparently everyone is already looking for a date..."
"I won't be able to," said Astoria, biting her lip. "I've... I've already been asked, and well, I said yes..."
Edmund was speechless for a second, looking at the girl in confusion. Astoria usually told him everything; they spent many hours together, were as close as could be.
"Who?" was the only word he could manage.
"Anthony Goldstein," she answered, without looking up from the ground as they walked.
"The Ravenclaw in seventh year?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Well, we shared a book in the library, and truthfully... well, the topic came up, and he invited me... as friends, of course."
Astoria spoke with embarrassment, quickly avoiding any mention of Edmund's sister in her story. At the end, she looked up with a tense smile to see Edmund looking at her with a smile.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing, you've just surprised me," said Edmund. "You never cease to amaze me, Astoria Greengrass."
"Because I've been invited to a party?"
"No, any boy with a bit of taste would do that," he said. "I'm surprised you said yes. I was even afraid to ask you."
Astoria felt two emotions at the same time. For a moment, her friend's compliment greatly pleased her, but on the other hand, she felt a slight and inexplicable annoyance at the idea that Edmund hadn't asked her before. However, she let the subject drop. She had enough on her plate this term without delving into confused and unfounded feelings.
Polly Plummer opened her office door that night to let the Pevensies in. For hours, they huddled around the fireplace to share all the information they had gathered.
Lucy seemed uneasy. Everyone present could tell. But the girl seemed to dodge questions about how she was doing or if something was wrong. She simply focused on presenting her theories about the mural in the strange room.
"All the tests I've done on it seem to indicate that it has been here for many years," Polly said. "It's impossible to determine the exact date, but it seems it could even be almost as old as the castle itself."
"And how did Malfoy find it?" asked Susan.
"Maybe we would know, if you hadn't erased his memory," Edmund pointed out.
"Weren't you the one who said it had been a...? How did you put it?" Susan said, somewhat offended. "Yes, a masterstroke."
"And illegal," Polly added. "Not to mention risky. You don't have the mastery to perform those spells. It's lucky Malfoy is fine. I reviewed the memories you extracted. They were blurry and disjointed. You have potential, but you don't master the technique. With a little less luck, you could have left him disabled."
"Luck?" Edmund coughed.
"Yes, he's a student," said Polly. "A kid."
"He's no good," the boy argued.
"Probably, but Susan could get into a lot of trouble if she did something like that again."
"Don't worry, Polly, I won't repeat it," she said. "I have another plan in mind..."
Susan twirled a strand of her hair around her finger mischievously. She looked at her brother and smiled.
"Didn't you want a spy?" she said.
"You?" he said. "No, Astoria. It's much more realistic. That's what I've been telling you, we need to give her enough information."
"It's risky," Peter interjected.
"She's trustworthy," he said.
"I don't doubt it, Ed," he said. "But it seems reckless to put your friend in danger, her own family could turn on her."
"What do you plan to do?" Polly asked, looking back at Susan. "Nothing illegal, I hope."
"No, Polly, I'm just going to use my charms," she said. "He doesn't remember any of our interactions throughout the term, doesn't remember the mural, or the secret room. But he remembers the rest. It's a matter of time before he starts snooping again, but maybe... if I get close to him, if I make him believe he has the upper hand, I might discover something."
"Over my dead body!" shouted Peter.
"Calm down," Polly tried to pacify him. "The truth is we need to find out what Malfoy knows. Don't give me that look, Peter... and don't you either, Susan. You're going to play your game, yes. But it's going to have some very strict rules!"
Polly, in a serious and intimidating tone, but somehow surprisingly friendly, began to outline the rules for Susan. First, never, under any circumstances, should she be alone with Malfoy, or go anywhere with him without prior notice. The second rule was to relay all information directly to Polly. The third prohibited the erasure of anyone's memory present. And the fourth, to involve anyone else in the secret.
"About that last one..." she said. "I didn't mention that I wasn't alone in the room with Malfoy."
"Davies, right?" Polly asked, almost affirmatively.
"Yes," she said.
"I saw it in one of the disjointed images in the Pensieve," the professor said.
"What?!" Edmund asked incredulously. "I can't tell my best friend, but the brother of Roger Davies's heartthrob can know?"
"Have to say, Henry isn't bad looking either," Susan said with a half-smile.
"Susan!" exclaimed Lucy, with a look of surprise. "Control yourself a little today."
"Sorry, sorry," Susan said, sitting up on the couch. "It was an accident; I didn't know the mural was there... but now he knows. But he hasn't mentioned anything. He respects that it's my secret. I haven't explained why I come out of it wearing a crown."
"I'll talk to the boy myself," Polly said. "We need to move on to Slughorn's topic..."
Polly turned to the boys with her arms akimbo. Both wore sheepish smiles that seemed to say "sorry," but which mixed with the pride of their brilliant idea.
"The headmaster has heard about the 'excursion' Professor Slughorn wants to take, and he wasn't pleased, but your Potions professor is persistent, so Dumbledore has resigned himself, to not raise suspicions," she said. "I had to convince him of it, but he'll let you go..."
Peter and Edmund turned to high-five with a shout of joy, but Polly didn't seem to share their enthusiasm.
"He's keeping an eye on you," she said. "You'd better follow Dumbledore's rules, or he'll stop being so patient. We're playing for high stakes. Now, let's look at the mansion's plans, we need to see how to split you up to inspect everything, unseen..."
Everyone began to gather around the plans Polly Plummer spread out on the carpet with just a touch of her wand. Lucy, serious, tried to focus on the plan, paying attention to the professor's instructions, and the strategic ideas Peter was contributing. But even there, in that closed room, she couldn't shake that feeling. Even there, surrounded by the warmth of her family, she couldn't stop feeling like someone was watching her. Every moment of the day, every step.
Something was haunting her. And she didn't know what it was. But she could tell it was there, even if the only subjective clue to its presence was the chill now covering her neck, sliding down her back.
Something not of this world.