Chapter 7
"Is there a problem here?" Altair asked suspiciously, flitting his narrowed grey eyes between Frey and myself.
"No, no problem at all," Frey replied smoothly, a disarming smile still pulling at his lips. "We were just making friends! That is the spirit of this competition, right?"
Cyrus gave him a look that suggested making friends did not even break the top fifty reasons he might have come up with to enter his name into the goblet. "Make friends somewhere else," he said flatly. Taking my arm in a vice-like grip, he continued, "I have a business agreement I must discuss with my new champion."
He said "champion" with an air of reserved disbelief.
"By all means, I can share," Frey replied good-naturedly, waving us off with a careless bat of his hand.
"Er... can't this wait? I have class in a couple of minutes," I muttered, conscious of the curious eyes aimed in our direction as Altair dragged me from the hall.
From the Hufflepuff table, Cassius watched the spectacle intently from beneath furrowed brows, looking liable to jump out of his seat and come to my rescue at any second. Just as it looked like his mind was made up, Damon catapulted a barrage of peas across the table into his pumpkin juice, armed only with a spoon and incredible aim. With Cassius successfully distracted drying the splashes from his robes, Altair pushed open the doors and pulled me into one of the nearby classrooms.
Abruptly, he released my arm and backed into a table, leaning against it casually with his arms crossed expectantly.
"Care to explain?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing." I looked around at the abandoned room, waiting. "Why did you... abduct me?"
He didn't roll his eyes, that would be too unseemly for him, but I felt as though, in his heart of hearts, he did a massive eye roll.
"So theatrical. I didn't abduct you. A whole room can attest that you came willingly."
"You are the only person who would call being dragged out like a naughty child willing," I countered, crossing my arms mockingly to match his. "The others aren't fools." I paused to reconsider that statement. "Well, not all of them. At least a few will notice something's the matter here."
"Is that so? And why does it matter what they think?" he asked, unperturbed. "It's not like your friends want anything to do with you at the moment. What have you to lose?"
"Only my sanity," I muttered under my breath. "Look, if you haven't anything important to say, then I have potions in a about... three minutes."
I turned to leave, placing my my hand on the door handle.
"Don't you wonder who entered your name into the Goblet?"
That got my attention. I swung around, hackles raised and spitting more venom than Medusa.
"You!" I seethed. "You put my name in? Why the h-"
"It wasn't me," Altair cut in smoothly, almost like he found the idea funny. "You think I would bother?"
"Then how did you know I didn't put my own name in?" I demanded furiously, clenching and unclenching my fist.
"Relax. Use that little Ravenclaw brain of yours, would you?" He pushed off the desk and came to stand in front of me. Too close for me to open the door, even if I wanted to. "What would I have to gain from putting your name in the Goblet? Tell me that."
"Oh, I don't know. I imagine you'd think toying with me is great fun," I retorted sarcastically, because I didn't have a better answer. "Wouldn't be the first time."
The corners of Altair's lips twitched.
"I know that you wouldn't have put your own name in the goblet, because I've actually met you before," he explained slowly, over enunciating his words to the point that it seemed as though he'd thought I'd been the victim of a particularly vicious Confundus Charm. "It seems I know you better than those troublemaking friends of yours, if they actually think you would put your own name in. You can't afford to take risks, not like they can, isn't that right?"
"Don't talk about them like that."
"Considering the last time someone was rude to one of them you got yourself stuck in detention for a month, I can't help but wonder why your defense of them is so... lacklustre now," he mused. "Had a bit of a falling out, have we?" He took a deliberate step closer, so that we were toe to toe. "Don't bother answering that. There are no secrets Hogwarts. I've heard the rumours."
I gave him a light shove back, indicating I was done with this conversation.
"It doesn't matter," I lied. "It doesn't matter if no one believes me. I don't think I'd believe me."
"No one? Since when am I no one?" He cocking a brow. "After all we've been through, and everything I've done for you—"
"How kind of you to remind me. You just can't help bringing it up, how you "saved" me," I sneered, shoving him away, hard, so I could finally open the door. "No one asked you to."
"You think I should have just let you die, then?" he countered, leaning over me to push the door shut just as I was pulling it open. "Duly noted, for future reference."
I twirled about on my heels, ready to give him a piece of my mind, only to find us chest to chest. I could feel the warmth of his breath fan across my face
"You never answered me," I noted lowly. "Why. Am. I. Here?"
"Can I not simply check up on the well-being of my champion? I am Head Boy, after all. The well-being of all the students are my responsibility."
Liar.
"Goodbye," I said flatly, yanking the doorknob with enough force that he was forced to step back as the door flung open.
I pressed out into the corridor and glanced at my watch, an old token of my father's I intended to pass onto Thomas when he turned of age. I was now five minutes late with an entire flight of changing stairs between me and the Potions classroom.
Given I was already late anyway, I considered just skipping entirely and drowning myself into the lake. That would certainly solve at least three of my three hundred problems, I reasoned, but then I imagined Professor Aragon's disappointment and grudgingly made my way to his classroom. Or tried to.
"Very well. You are correct in thinking I'm after something," Altair admitted, striding casually beside me, even as I increased my speed to lose him.
"You always are."
I levelled my gaze at him in time to notice something in his eyes shift, like he'd come to a decision. They seemed to turn a shade darker, nearly black.
"I've come to make a deal with you, one I believe we will find mutually beneficial."
I feigned deafness. Best not to encourage him.
"I will train you for the three tasks you will face as a part of the Triwizard Tournament for the low, low price of 250 galleons."
I had a small stroke.
"You should go to the school nurse to get your head examined if you honestly think I have that type of money," I choked, forgetting my intent to ignore him in my shock.
"Not now, maybe. When you win, however..."
He let the implication hang in the air between us by a string. We both knew about the prize money, the thousand galleons I stood to gain by winning.
"You expect me to just hand over a quarter of my winnings." I laughed coldly, adding, "assuming I even win the first place."
"If you do not win, I don't get the money. There's no downside for you," he pressed, sounding quite unlike himself.
"Except that I'll be forced to deal with you for months until this is all over."
"Yes, except for that," he replied, not missing a beat. "But I know you need that money, just like you must know you don't stand a ghost of a a chance of actually winning that tournament without me."
"Oh, is that so?" I challenged. If anything, that glowing endorsement of my abilities made me several hundred times less likely to come to him for help. Not that I would have ever asked in the first place. Prick.
He stopped walking beside me and turned around.
"Think it over," he spoke over his shoulder. "You'll come around."
My teeth were grinding so loudly when I stormed into Potions that I didn't hear the professor calling my name.
"Miss Lovett."
Prick, prick, prick, prick, prick!
"Miss Lovett!" Professor Aragon scolded, snapping me to my senses. I glanced up at him from where I had been glowering angrily at an empty set of cauldrons. "I was beginning to think you had been kidnapped, because I can think of nothing else that would possibly keep you away from my class for so long."
Knowing the professor, it was hard to determine whether he was being serious or not.
"You're right on the money, sir," I sighed sardonically. "I was abducted and barely got away with my life, but my undying devotion to your class gave me enough strength to make my escape."
"Glad to hear it," he said, straight faced and serious as the plague. "Now why don't you run along."
"Er... pardon? You want me to leave?"
What was he playing at?
"Yes, as devastated as I'm sure you are to miss any more of my class, please follow these gentlemen."
Only then did I notice the two, rather severe looking, men loitering in the corner of the classroom, exuding an odor of irritation as strong as any potion in the room. The taller of the two, a graying, severe looking man, gripped a quill so tightly in between his fingers I thought him at risk of snapping it in two, and the other man, slightly less put together, had paint stains running up and down his robes.
I groaned. "Reporters for the Prophet already?"