Chapter 9
First thing I noticed the next morning was how royally screwed I was. Actually, scratch that, the first thing I noticed were the newspapers propped up against goblets at breakfast, then came the realisation that I was not long for the world.
"Is it true? Did you know?" my brother asked, tired. Wary. "Did you always know who our dad was?"
"Tom..." I began, strained. I glanced around at all the people looking at us and whispering from behind their copies of the Daily Prophet. "Please, not now."
This was not a conversation he deserved to have in front of witnesses.
I reached for his hands but he yanked his arm back forcefully. For whatever reason, the action stung.
"You knew?" he gasped, looking betrayed. "You knew and you never told me!"
Thomas's voice rose to a near shout, drawing even more eyes than before, while I wished for nothing more than to melt into a puddle where I stood. I could practically see ears perking up to see what their precious champion was up to. Even if I weren't the champion, a public meltdown of this sort would have fueled the gossip mill for a few days, at least.
"It's more complicated than that," I pleaded. "Let's just go somewhere else so I can explain-"
"I don't want to go ANYWHERE with you!" he shouted, going red in anger. "I've asked you over and over again if you knew who our dad was, and you- you said you didn't know! You lied to me!"
"Please, Thomas-"
"Come on, Tom," a blonde Gryffindor cut in, taking him by his arm, as another first year flanked them. "Let's get out of here."
"Yeah, let's go," the other said, tossing me a dark look over his shoulder as he steered Thomas through the crowd and out the Great Hall.
Thomas didn't protest, or even look back, as he left. A bolt of fear shot through me then, at the thought of how this information might affect him if I didn't get ahead of it quick. I had practically raised him ever since our parents died. Why couldn't he understand that everything I did, or ever said, was for his own good? Maybe I did lie, but it was for him. Always for him.
I felt Cassius saunter up beside me, staring off after where Thomas and his friends had just left.
"Toast?" he offered sympathetically, holding out a buttered slice of bread. That was generally his solution to most things. Food.
I shook my head, whatever appetite I'd had before vanished.
"I wasn't really asking," he admitted, placing it in my hands anyways. "You need to eat. Fancy a walk around the lake?"
I was about to shake my head again, but thought better of it. Maybe fresh air would do me good. I had been cooped up inside the castle for days on end without leaving due to detention and class, so it definitely couldn't hurt at that point.
"Yeah," I said, taking a bite from the piece of toast. It turned to ash in my mouth. "A walk would be good."
• — • — •
Turns out I didn't so much as "walk" around the lake as much as face plant straight onto the wet, dewy grass beside it. Cassius looked on in worried amusement.
"Are you... er... doing okay over here?" he asked, pulling out his wand and waving it over the ground to dry a patch before taking a seat beside me.
"About as good as I look," I mumbled, feeling the front of my robes soak up the morning moisture with growing discomfort. "You?"
"About as good as you look." He pulled out a copy of the Prophet that he'd had rolled up under his arm and placed it in my lap. "Figure you haven't seen it yet. You looked too surprised at all the gossip when you came down for you to have known."
I wanted to know what that interviewer said about me, how much he knew, and now how much the rest of the world knew, but, at the same time, I felt like I was happier not knowing. The only problem was, I needed to know how much Tom knew if I wanted to make up with him and get him to understand my point of view.
"Could you read it to me?" I asked, more than aware that I sounded like a petulant child. I fluttered my eyelashes exaggeratedly just to be annoying and send the point home. "Please?"
Cassius pursed his lips, sighing pointedly, and flipping open the paper to its headline page.
"You're manipulating me," he accused, before clearing his throat to begin. "Here goes:
"Champion or Charlatan?-"
"This ought to be good," I grumbled. "At least they have a firm grasp of alliteration."
He continued as if I hadn't spoken. "As the curtains rise on yet another Triwizard Tournament, the public has a right to know just who our country is placing its faith in to bring us honour and glory. Unfortunately, Hogwarts' champion this year is a muggleborn girl-"
"'Unfortunately', indeed," I echoed indignantly, not sure if it was directed at the muggleborn part or the girl part.
"Or so she would have you believe." Cassius paused, giving me a wary look. "As a matter a fact, Alice Lucretia Lovett, our new champion, is not nearly so muggleborn as she would have everyone believe. This raises the question why-"
"Cass," I interrupted, yet again, "could you just give me a summary? I changed my mind. I don't want to hear this."
"Er, right, of course." His eyes roamed over the pages in front of him as he said, "Basically, it accuses you of being a half-blood..."
I propped myself up on my elbows and raised a brow skeptically. "Is that all?"
"Uh, no, actually," he admitted, ducking his head. "It may have mentioned something about..." He exhaled, saying in one breath "mrmalfoybeing yourfather."
"Come again?" I tilted my head in confusion. I knew exactly what he had said, but it was funny how uncomfortable it was making him. "I didn't quite catch that. How about you say it again slowly?"
Cassius gave me am agonized look, but I wasn't one to give in so easily on my amusements.
"It said that the former head of the Malfoy family was your father," he said, looking antagonised. "And it has some evidence and pictures... and is it true? Why didn't you say anything? Wait — never mind. You don't have to tell me if you don't want."
"What does it matter who my father is? It's not like he was ever around. As far as I'm concerned, I hatched from an egg. Like a dragon."
"You're certainly vicious like a dragon," he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "It doesn't change the facts just because you don't like it, though. If the head of the Malfoy's was your father, then, well, that makes you-"
"Absolutely nobody. I'm still a halfblood, right? Born from a muggle and raised in a muggle orphanage, of all things. The Malfoy's aren't exactly fond of muggles." Changing the subject, I snatched the Prophet from out of his hands, flipping through it. "You said they had pictures?"
"Oh, yeah. Page seven."
I turned to page seven, to find myself face to face with a portrait of a man, at least a decade older than me, if not more. It was rich with detail, despite the grainy print of the paper, enough for me to recognise the familiar shape of his eyes, the slope of his his nose, his... everything. The comparisons drawn between himself and me were made all the more easy when compared to the picture they had placed conveniently beside the first. It depicted all three champions, with myself near the forefront for emphasis. I had no idea when they could have painted it, other than during the interview. I suppose I was just too engrossed in my own little world to notice. Regardless, it served its purpose of making me look extremely "guilty" of being a Malfoy, so to speak. In my personal opinion, it seemed they had embellished some details of my face in order to better peddle their narrative. After all, my face wasn't quite so narrow, nor my cheekbones quite so pronounced...
"Oh boy," I muttered, "I am so screwed!"
I leapt to my feet, agitated. Cassius followed cautiously after.
"Is it really so bad?"
"If the Malfoys were really willing to kill off my father, the pure blooded head of their family, just for fathering two children with a muggle, what do you think they'll be willing to do to me and Tom?" I worried, running my hands through my hair.
This was exactly why I didn't want to enter the competition in the first place.
"We certainly don't know they murdered anyone," he said, though even he sounded unconvinced.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm sure a wizard like him disappeared under entirely happy and non-murderous circumstances."
"What am I going to do, Cass? I've only ever done what I thought was best for Tom, and it's like everything in my life is on the brink of falling apart with the slightest nudge. Lyra and Damon are giving me the silent treatment, I'm oath bound to take part in a competition that has an impressive track record for killing its competitors, and I have an extremely wealthy and powerful family that will go out of its way to wipe me from this very planet just for being born. How is it not that bad?"
"Look," said Cassius softly, gripping my shoulders firmly. "I'm still here, aren't I? We can get through this, together. I'm sure the others will come around, too."
"Why would I even want them around?" I snapped testily. "They're the ones who don't believe me! I still haven't ruled out the idea that Lyra put my name in the Goblet in the first place!"
"And then lie about it later?" Cass challenged, stepping back. "You know that's not really her style."
"Maybe not, but she as good as said she would put it in," I countered, kicking a rock in irritation on my way back to the castle for my first class of the day.
"You know as well as I that she was just messing around," he responded patiently. "Like she said, why lower her own odds?"
I huffed.
"Whatever, Cass." I wrung my robes through my hands. "I don't like it when you make sense. Can't you see that I'm working really hard over here to find someone to blame all my problems on?"
Cassius gave me a light, close-lipped grin.
"I see that. My apologies," he said graciously, mercifully disentangling my hands from stretching out my clothes and leading me back the the castle. "Next time I'll let you blame all your problems on me, how about that?"
"Don't think I won't," I warned.
"I wouldn't offer were I not prepared for the consequences," he pointed out, holding the door.
I shook my head in disbelief and strode past him towards the dungeons. Over my shoulder, I called back, "Brace yourself for extreme regret."
I had no more time to wallow in self pity. The first task was in only a few weeks. If I had any illusions about actually surviving to the end, I really needed to prepare myself, pride be damned.