Chapter 26
Someone cleared their throat, the sound nudging me into consciousness. "Er... I suppose we have our first place winner."
The first thing I noticed were the people, far too many for my liking, all staring unblinkingly at me, as though expecting me to jump up and start reciting Shakespeare. There was something undeniably creepy about others watch me while I slept, it left me feeling vulnerable, and more than a little paranoid. The self-conscious part of me wondered if I perhaps sleep-talked.
I was up propped up in a regal high-backed chair that looked more comfortable than it actually was by half. Beside me, in their own chairs at the front of the Great Hall for everyone's viewing pleasure, were Nikolas and Frey. Even in sleep Nikolas' brows furrowed into a deep frown, and every once and awhile the muscles in his arms would tense, his fingers digging into the wooden arm rests of the chair. Frey, on the other hand, outside of leaning heavily to one side, maintained the outward appearance of serenity.
"Winner?" I repeated dumbly, sitting up straighter in my seat and wishing I hadn't when my stomach threatened vicious retribution.
The Headmaster climbed the two steps up to our raised platform, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "Congratulations, Miss Lovett. I always knew you would do Hogwarts proud."
I nodded along, entirely unsure what I was being congratulated for.
He continued, "If we may ask, for judging purposes, naturally, how did you figure it out?"
I couldn't just ask him what the hell he was talking about for fear of outing myself as an idiot. As the seconds marched on and my desperation peaked, I looked past the headmasters and the Minister and everyone else until my gaze caught on familiar flaming red hair. Ever so efficient at sensing a person in crisis, Abiel met my gaze and sat up straighter in his seat, mouthing something I couldn't quite decipher outside of the words "you idiot".
He could have excluded the whole "idiot" part.
Evidently, I didn't hide my befuddlement well enough, because he rolled his eyes and whipped out his wand. Glowing letters popped out of the tip, one after another, there and gone in seconds.
T. A. S—
Oh.
I blinked.
The second task?
That was the second task?
I thought back, considering the last few weeks, as well as my last conversation with Nikolas before we passed out. He'd said something along the lines of how he "slept" on the matter and knew the answer in the morning...
Now that I thought about it, I'd had nightmares every single night since I obtained the clue, and Frey had mentioned in passing several days ago that he was exhausted, because he'd been having nightmares, too. And Abiel! In the last few days since I gave him the clue to investigate, he looked like he hadn't slept at all. Unlike Nikolas, who probably flagged the abnormal number of nightmares he was having as out of the ordinary, I was already used to having trouble sleeping most nights. It only seemed natural that it might get worse after being poisoned, not to mention nearly becoming the cockatrice's supper.
"Ms Lovett," the headmaster repeated. "An answer, if you would?"
Clearing my throat, I lied through my teeth, "Oh, I... um... just noticed that the number of nightmares I was having lately seemed a bit off, and once I realized it was a dream I knew it didn't really matter what I did to win."
I hoped my words didn't sound as uncertain to their ears as they did to mine.
I was saved from elaborating, luckily, by a rejuvenated yawn to my left. The judges quickly lost interest in me and swarmed a pleasantly surprised Frey, giving me a moments peace to examine our surroundings.
The Great Hall was organised just as it normally was, with two notable exceptions. The first, obviously, were our three chairs spread across the area where the staff table usually resided. The second lay behind us. I turned just in time to witness a hazy picture, seemingly made of thick, condensed mist, dissipate feet above Frey's head. On my other side, over Nikolas, floated another of these bizarre clouds, except this one stayed intact. The slightly blurry around the edges image showed a girl with soft caramel eyes. Her round face gave away her youth, younger than double digits, and she stood draped in expensive dusty pink silks and her own blood running in rivulets like tears down her cheeks.
She whispered something so low I nearly couldn't decipher, but the betrayal in her eyes remained clear.
"How could you, Nik?" she asked. "How could you let me die?"
With a cold feeling eating it's way through my stomach, I tore my eyes away. This was personal, too personal for me to be privy to. Then, I felt a flash of white-hot anger. No one here had the right to his worst nightmares, nor mine or Frey's. Our innermost fears and thoughts should have been private, and that privacy had been breached — for what? Entertainment? A meaningless competition? The longer I spent as a part of the Triwizard Tournament the more I grew to resent it. People died for it every couple years, yet it meant nothing in the end. I'd take my life over the glory any day.
The worst part was that, unlike the others, I understood what Nikolas saw in his task, even after only watching for a moment. He was replaying his sister's murder in his head as he imagined it, all the while blaming himself for not going to save her when the revolutionaries threatened to kill his whole family. No reality could be worse than the tortures his own mind could conjure.
I didn't wait to hear the judges announce who earned the most points. With one last sweeping look around the room, I pushed to my feet and made the long walk down, between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, and out the doors to the Great Hall, biting down an irrational hate for everyone who came there to watch all our insecurities unfold.
I felt the force of dozens of curious gazes follow my brief trek, although none made to stop me, probably because the task was still in progress and the judges too preoccupied to notice my absence.
Just when I thought myself free, I felt a warm hand clamp down on my shoulder, drawing me back.
"Alice, wait."
I slowed, the doors to the Great Hall swinging shut behind us.
"I suppose you must be quite proud of yourself," I said, not looking up to meet his eyes. "Must be nice to know all your hard work paid off. This task was your doing after all, wasn't it?"
I wasn't sure how I hadn't seen the truth earlier. I'd helped create the very potion used in this task months ago, before the tournament even began. The memories of having to resuscitate Professor Aragon over and over during my month-long detention seemed so long ago, considering all that had happened since then.
Professor Aragon grinned, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. "Couldn't have done it without you, little champion."
"Thanks, sir," I respond icily.
I made to pull away again, but he sidestepped, blocking my path.
Eyes soft, he said, "It may not seem like it now, but this was for your own good."
My lips pressed into a thin line, but somehow I managed to quirk them up at the edges and lie, "I'm sure it was, sir."
"The Triwizard Tournament is designed to be dangerous, but it's draining, watching my kids kill themselves over a few galleons. I suggested this challenge because it was the safest task I could think of."
I arched a skeptical brow. "I'm sure it had absolutely nothing to do with trying your potions on unsuspecting test subjects."
He shrugged, holding up two fingers in a V. "Two birds, one stone. You can't blame me for using this opportunity for my research."
Despite my bitter mood, I laughed. "You almost had me fooled, sir. I nearly thought you cared about my welfare."
He blinked owlishly. "You? This competition must be going to your head, little champion. It's doing wonders for your ego." With that said, Professor Aragon turned to head back into the Great Hall. "If anyone asks, in my old age I failed to catch you from fleeing. I'm sure someone will share with you the results eventually."
"Thank you, professor." I called after his retreating back, "Although... a heads up would have been nice!"
"Wit before measure, Alice," he said, not looking back as he pressed open the doors. "Wit before measure."