Chapter 27
Any concern I had for my task score (not much, in all honesty, due to my stewing frustration), was quickly diminished mere hours later when the Headmaster had me escorted to his office. No explanations were given, just a lofty summons and an expectation that I would drop everything to cater to his whimsy.
I considered the potential reasons for the meeting. Either I was about to be punished for leaving before judging commenced, or there was news on my brother's condition. As much as I hoped it would be the former, I doubted it. Any owl, house elf, or professor could impart that sort of news, but a thorough lecture was best done in person.
My prefect escort left me at the foot of the spiraling staircase with a nod and a quiet, "Good luck," before departing.
Whether the well wishes were for whatever reproachful hell awaited me in the Headmaster's office or for the final task in a few months, I couldn't be certain. I appreciated the sentiment regardless, for I could use as much good fortune as the fates permitted.
The golden eagle denoting the entrance to the staircase leading up to where Professor Everard awaited was already out of the way by the time I arrived, so I followed the curving path with foreboding slowness until I encountered a door. I knocked twice before the door creaked open, not of its own accord, or even by the Headmaster himself, but by a silvery-blond man in impeccably pressed robes.
My hackles raised immediately in recognition. "What is he doing here?"
"Don't be rude to your elders," Mr Malfoy said through barely moving lips. "Though I suppose..." his flinty gaze travelled slowly from my dark eyes — a trait inherited from my mother — down to the scruffed tips of my second-hand shoes, "I would be a fool to expect anything better, all things considered. It'll take time, but I'll rid you of that lowborn stench eventually."
I scoffed, dangerously close to an outright sneer, "Better to be a lowly sewer rat than a high bred bigot."
"Careful, girl," he warned in a low monotone. "My generosity will only stretch so far, even for the Hogwarts Champion."
"Good thing I didn't ask for it, then." I snapped my heels to face the headmaster. "Why am I here, Professor? Surely it could wait until your... meeting adjourned?"
"Ah, yes," his eyes darted uncertainly between me and Mr Malfoy, "Miss Malfoy, you see—"
"Lovett!" I corrected. "My name is Alice Lovett."
Mr Malfoy raised a ringed hand to silence Professor Everard, though his cold blue eyes remained trained on me, unwavering. "Allow me, Eleazar." He took a step nearer, just shy of being invasive. "It has recently come to my attention that we bear a striking resemblance."
I had no doubt he'd always known about my existence, but only recently had my brother and I become enough of a thorn in his side as to warrant his full attention, if his daughter's instructions to poison me were any indication. I never thought he would face me outright, however, by leveraging his influence as a Hogwarts governor and close friend of the Minister.
"Where is my Head of House?" I demanded in lieu of a proper response, again addressing the clearly uncomfortable Everard. "Where's Professor Aragon? If this concerns a member of Ravenclaw House shouldn't he be here, too?"
"His Deputy Headmaster duties have temporarily taken him away from the castle for the time being," Everard said in a way that sounded almost rehearsed, or maybe resigned? While the words were for me, he watched Mr Malfoy with an uncertain energy, leading me to believe Aragon's absence was no coincidence.
For the first time, a small, sardonic smile carved into my paternal uncle's otherwise austere face. "His presence would be unnecessary — and unwelcome — regardless. This is a family matter, not an educational one."
"If it's a family matter," I grit out through my clenched-teeth grin, "then, excuse me, because I shouldn't be here, either. Good afternoon. I'll be taking my leave. If I see your daughter, I'll send her your way."
"You have not been dismissed!" the Headmaster interjected.
Give me detention. I don't care, I thought, turning towards the door, but the next words stopped me cold in my tracks.
"I have come here to make right what my brother neglected, and by that I mean you and that other boy, Timothy, or whatever."
"His name is Thomas," I snarled, spinning on my heels, "and you are not getting anywhere near him!"
Mr Malfoy smirked, nearly imperceptibly, except for the fact that anything beyond his usual frozen mask stuck out jarringly. He knew he had me, then, trapped like a rat in a cage.
"It's such... a tragedy, what happened to my older brother," he said with feigned sadness. "For all these years, I've been overwhelmed with grief, only to discover by chance that I had a niece and nephew from the Daily Prophet, of all things. At last, a connection to my long lost brother who I looked up to so much... It would be a disservice to him for me to leave you in that silly muggle orphanage. It's time for you to join the noble house of your ancestors."
"I am not going back to that 'silly muggle orphanage'!" I exclaimed. "I'm nearly seventeen, and when I finally do become of age in a few months wizarding law says I'll at last be old enough to take care of myself!"
Not like I hadn't already been taking care of myself in recent history.
"Hmm... Perhaps, however, my nephew will not be of age anytime soon, will he?"
"First off, he's my brother, not your nephew. You are nothing to us! Secondly, I'll take care of him myself. I'll acquire guardianship when I turn seventeen. I'll take care of both us."
He quirked a thin brow. "Like you've been doing?"
"Yes!" It came out as a hiss.
"Like you've been doing, which has led him to taking residence in St Mungos?" he continued. "You are obviously ill equipped to take care of yourself, let alone others. No wizarding court in their right minds would grant you guardianship instead of me. Your only choice is to join him at Malfoy Manor, or leave him entirely."
It was getting hard to breath. The room seemed to sway, the world closing in, and all I could say was, "Why? Why are you doing this?"
His smirk widened into a truly haunting smile, aware he'd won. "Isn't it has obvious?" he asked. "I love my family."
~*~*~*~*~*~
I might have blacked out. I didn't remember leaving the room against their protests, nor mindlessly traversing the corridors to put as much distance between myself and my uncle as possible.
I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. If the Malfoy's adopted us, we'd be at their mercy. Even if it would only be for a few months for me, Thomas would be pressed under their thumb for at least six more years, preventing me from taking him in. I'd been banking on the fact that the orphanage was constantly understaffed and underfunded to allow me to assume easy guardianship of my brother after I turned of age.
I couldn't do that if Mr. Malfoy beat me to it.
Whatever game he was playing I wanted no part in it. He wanted me dead if all his daughter implied was true. He'd kill me. He'd kill Thomas. Killing Thomas would kill me anyway.
I had no choice. I had to leave, grab my brother and run away. Today. To hell with the Triwizard Tournament. To hell with the final task. I'd leave tonight while everyone slept, and then —
All my muscles went taut. Stiff and frozen, my legs gave out, my kneecaps cracking on the harsh stone floor inches from what would have been the comparatively sweet relief of a plush rug, before the rest of my body slumped forward to meet the ground. I couldn't move. My eyes fixed on a small point in the distance, memorising the minute cracks in the brick-work making up the wall to my left as my body convulsed, my muscles tetanising and releasing against my will. It felt like someone pressed a pillow to my face, cutting off air from entering my lungs.
Dimly, I recognised the sound of footsteps.
"Alice? Why are you on the ground?" Frey asked, then further shuffling to indicate he was growing closer. "If you're going to fall, it might as well be for me, you know." When I didn't move, nor give any inclination that I'd even heard him, his tone grew weary and he quickened into a sprint, until, finally kneeling at my side, he brought a hand down to my shoulder. "Don't tell me you've been poisoned for a third time," he muttered.
Before he ever made contact with my skin, however, some barrier repelled him, deflecting his fingers away with a minor spark. A sharp intake of breath indicated it stung.
"What is this? A hex? A curse?" he asked urgently. "Who did this to you?"
Apparently, these magically binding contracts weren't just for show. The second I thought of dropping out, it had stopped me in my tracks. I'd done this to myself.
I get it, I thought, dizzy from lack of oxygen to my brain. I'll stay. I'll finish competing.
And just like that, all the tension in my muscles released and air flooded my lungs, but all I could do was lay limply on the floor, shivering and covered in sweat.
"I'm fine," I wheezed, nearly choking on the words. "Just... just help me out of the way, would you? Can't... stay... If he finds me..."
Although he didn't seem convinced, Frey obliged, lifting me up under the arm and shouldering my weight until I indicated a hidden passage behind a tapestry of a winking Merlin, surrounded by an army of pointy-capped gnomes.
I was breathing hard by the time the fabric swung back down, casting us into darkness. I'd meant for Frey to leave me here, alone, and continue on with what he was doing, most likely flirting with some Hufflepuff girls. They seemed to like him especially, and he seemed to appreciate their responsiveness.
The passage was narrow, barely wide enough for me to sit against one wall with my legs against the other, arms curled around my knees. Frey dropped down opposite me, his legs intertwining with mine to the point that if either of us attempted to get up we'd fall over.
"Well?" he prompted. "What was it this time?"
I almost lied. Instinct told me to. Still, I craved a friend. I needed someone to understand what I was going through and give me advice. Someone who had nothing to gain.
It wasn't like I was entirely alone in the world. I knew I could tell Lyra or Cass or Damon, even Cyrus or Abel, or Professor Aragon. The fact of the matter was, though, while each of them knew parts, none knew the whole of my life, and it would seem ungrateful to burden them with my troubles, all things considered.
Damon's mother was dead. How could any of my problems compete with that?
And Lyra's family had always been quite close to the Malfoy's. In fact, her mother was one. I couldn't ask her to pick a side between a friend she'd known for a few years and the family that raised her.
I owed the professor too much as it was, and if I'd learned anything it was that, while he meant the world to me, I was the same as any other student to him. It was how it should be, really. It was only fair to the other students that I be their equal. I just wished the truth didn't sting so much.
Maybe I told Frey because it was dark and I couldn't see his face or his judgement as he heard it all. Maybe I told him because I knew my secrets would be safe when he left in four months to go back to his own castle. What mattered was that I told him everything, and he listened quietly throughout.
I told him about my father, how he ran away from his blood-purist family to marry my muggle mother and inevitably was killed for it.
I told him about the orphanage, and how my brother nearly got us both killed by accidentally displaying magic in front of some muggles. I told him that I may have gotten one of our potential murderers killed.
I even told him of my plans to turn seventeen and run away with my brother, hopefully using the money from the tournament if I won, and how all those plans were dashed the second Mr Malfoy got it in his head to take control of our lives for whatever sinister reason guiding his actions.
I shared my fears over Thomas's life, how none of the healers knew if he'd ever wake, and my worry that the person responsible would strike again while he couldn't defend himself.
"There's so much to think about, and I — I just can't. How can I take care of someone else when I can barely take care of myself?" I exhaled sharply. As much as I hated to admit it, Mr Malfoy did have a point there. "He deserves so much better than I've given him. My best is not enough and it's nearly gotten him killed!"
I let my forehead fall against my knees. Tears wouldn't come, no matter how hard I tried. They always said that crying made a person feel better, so maybe that meant I didn't deserve that kind of release. I deserved to suffer for my failure. Even so, my breaths remained quick and shallow.
Frey stayed silent. In the dark, I couldn't tell what he was thinking, though I could still feel him there, the warmth of his limbs tangled up with my own, his presence a steadying force.
"Do you want to know what the worst part is?" I didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "If it had been almost anyone else offering to take care of my brother, I think... I think I would have been relieved. I love him more than anything, but it can be exhausting having to look out for him all the time, even when I was at an age where someone should have been looking out for me. I want to be my own first priority for once, I know it's selfish when he needs me, and I hate how much I looked forward to leaving for Hogwarts each September just because it meant it meant I finally had a break. I hate it! I hate myself for feeling this way—"
A finger over my lip and pressure high on my thigh shocked me into abrupt silence. Although I couldn't see Frey, I could feel him all around me, the electricity where we touched pushing my other senses into overdrive. His breath fanning across my cheek as he leaned close over me, my heart beating loud enough in my ears that I was sure he could hear it, too, and a scent that simultaneously reminded me of snowfall in winter and gardenias in spring.
"Shhh," he said softly. "You have said enough, and I will not listen to you badmouthing a dear friend of mine for a moment longer."
My brows knit together in confusion. "What?"
I didn't say anything about his friends. I was talking about myself—
Oh.
"I could tell you the only person you are obligated to care for is yourself, and while I would be correct, it would not help, would it? That is not what you want to hear. Unfortunately, I can not do anything to make your situation better," he whispered, voice low and carrying an uncharacteristic edge of seriousness that felt foreign coming from him. "All we can do is get through one tragedy at a time. You can not flee with Thomas because of your magical binding to the Goblet of Fire? Fine. It is fine, Alice. All we have to do is survive through the Final task in a few months and that hurdle will be gone." His hold on my leg tightened, and finally his finger dropped from my lips to rest on my shoulder. "We will get through this, together. We will both survive, I promise you. The Triwizard Tournament tries to kill its competitors every competition, but it has not had Champions like us before. We are on the same side: the side of survival and each other. We will be okay. I will take care of you."
The last sentence came out like a gentle caress.
I will take care of you.
Six words I craved more than anything and never really expected to hear. I blinked hard several times in the darkness, pushing back the heat behind my eyes and the tightness in my throat.
"As friends?" I asked against the bizarre desire to pull him closer, to grab hold of his hand and not let him go under the guise of shadow's flawed anonymity. It was enough to almost make me feel brave.
But I couldn't. He had three schools worth of admirers to choose from amongst both genders, and did little to rebuff anyone. This was just who Frey was. He had this effect on people. I'd been a fool to think myself immune to his charm for so long.
He paused only a few pregnant moments before pulling away. "Yes, as friends," he agreed quietly, slipping back into the corridor, leaving me to sit there awhile longer with one more issue than I had upon entering the passageway only an hour earlier.
Frey.
Why did it have to be him?