There Are No Sharks in the Moat
The team spent most of the night exploring the castle until the Aurors insisted they call it quits, as they couldn’t go to bed until the team went to bed. So the team had reluctantly retired to what the Aurors jokingly referred to as “the British Empire.” It mainly consisted of a well-lit stone corridor on one of the upper floors of the castle. There was a cavernous room with an enormous fireplace that served as their dining area. Each member of the team had a comfortably furnished bedroom with a large four-poster bed and windows that looked like they didn’t have glass in them until last week. (Natalie assumed they hadn’t.)
Natalie woke early the next morning with every intention of continuing the exploration — mainly because she could scarcely sleep from the howls of the wind blowing outside the castle. She stepped out of her room at the same time Ricky and Caddy burst out of their rooms, the latter whispering about how vampires liked to live in castles. The two tagged along as she strolled about, and she had to listen to Ricky rate every room they discovered on how nice he thought it would be to shag in. (She was very annoyed that his criteria actually made a lot of sense).
They had just stepped out of a room full of nothing but old, rotting flags bearing what looked like medieval insignias of knights (Ricky had rated it a seven out of ten for its “charming appeal” but a nine out of ten if you “thought history was a turn on”) and rounded a corner when they nearly ran right into someone.
“Bloody hell!” Natalie exclaimed and Caddy let out a small scream as the bloke muttered something in what she immediately recognized as Finnish. She glanced him over — he had dark hair, a slightly crooked nose, and the unmistakable build of a Beater.
“Oh, I know you,” he said in lightly accented English and grinned. “The British have arrived.”
“We got here last night,” said Natalie. “What about you lot?”
“We also arrived last night,” he said and extended a hand. “I’m Arto Lassila, Finland’s captain. And you must be Natalie Malfoy, Ricky Webster, and Leonard Cadwallader.”
“That’s right,” Ricky stepped forward to eagerly shake his hand until Caddy bounced over to scoop the Finn’s hand up. Arto held his hand out to Natalie, who looked him in the eye until he dropped it.
“Do you, ach, know. . . where the entrance hall is?” Lassila asked, looking between Ricky and Caddy with the smile of a man who did not want to admit that he was lost to a woman.
Ricky and Caddy looked at him blankly for a moment before turning to Natalie. Lassila stared between Ricky and Caddy, before glancing over at Natalie and realizing she was the only one who had any brain cells. She gave the Finn a slow smile and laughed.
“Yeah, c’mon,” she stepped past him and beckoned them to follow. “We’re heading that way anyway.”
“Great,” said Lassila, and he fell into step beside her, Ricky and Caddy trailing behind them. They walked in silence, turning corners, cutting through drafty rooms, darting down corridors so dark Natalie lit her wand so the others could see.
“Do you have a map?” Lassila asked as she led them down a rough-cut flight of stairs. The walls were wet with condensation and they could hear water dripping somewhere.
“No,” she said, feeling the confusion this caused him.
“Well, do you know. . . where we are going?” he asked, sounding like he was forcing himself to stay calm.
He could not see the grin on her face. She did not feel like explaining that she was using a combination of her heightened senses and unique energy to navigate around the castle. “Well, I don’t.”
Lassila muttered something in his native language and Natalie heard Ricky tell Caddy what he thought about the idea of shagging in the very staircase they were heading down. Lassila began to say something else, but Natalie hopped off the last step and pointed at the narrow passage in front of them. Light flickered at the far end and voices echoed off the stone walls.
“Oh,” Lassila gave her a look as though he did not know if he ought to be impressed or bewildered.
She grinned and wrapped her arm around his bicep, gesturing at the corridor. “Lead on, good sir.”
Lassila stared at her in shock, shivering from her touch, before a delighted look came over him. He laughed and led her up the passage. Behind them, Natalie could hear Ricky whispering to Caddy about how she was planning to sleep with the Finnish captain to get him to cough up team secrets.
They emerged in the entry hall of the castle, to the right of the grand staircase that led to the upper floors. Near the heavy wooden entrance doors were the seven English Aurors, the rest of the English team, and a pair of what she assumed were Finnish Aurors. Dent looked like he was about to start tearing out his hair. He was yelling something about missing teammates at Scrimgeour while the Finnish Aurors argued with Harlowe and Tarold.
“We’ve arrived!” Natalie called.
Dent took one look at her, arm-in-arm with the Finnish captain, and immediately paled. He hurried over and yanked her away from Lassila while apologies started occurring between the Finnish and British Aurors (evidently both were blaming the other for the missing team players).
“What’s he doing here?” snapped Dent, pushing Natalie behind him as though the Finn would attempt to steal her.
“We were exploring the castle and found him,” Natalie tried to wriggle out of his grasp but his grip on her arm grew vice-like.
Dent narrowed his eyes at the Finn. “He’s the enemy.”
“The enemy” smiled and extended a hand to introduce himself. “I’m Arto Lassila. Pleasure to meet you.”
Natalie laughed as Dent stiffened, it was clear he thought the Finn spoke no English. “Er, hi, I’m Dent-”
“More like dick,” muttered Natalie, still squirming. “You’re hurting the arm that I like to catch the Snitch with-”
He immediately released her, making Lassila laugh. Dent turned purple, finding an excuse to ignore the Finn by inspecting Natalie’s arm for possible bruising. She yanked her arm away from him.
“Are you going to practice?” asked Lassila as the British and Finnish Aurors moved towards the group.
“Yes,” said Dent, looking back at the Finn with suspicion. “What’s it to you?”
“We practiced last night. Tell your Aurors some kids came onto the field during our practice and charmed the Quaffle because they wanted us to give them autographs,” Lassila grinned, “wasn’t the worst security breach but-”
“That’s a goddamn embarrassing breach in security,” growled Harlowe. Alastor Moody vigorously nodded his head in agreement.
“Well, anyway, we’ve got to be off,” interrupted Dent, beginning to look agitated. Natalie knew it was because the Finnish team had practiced last night and they hadn’t.
The Finnish captain laughed and waved them off as the English Aurors shuffled them out of the castle. Moody popped up beside Natalie and began asking how much of the castle she had explored, but Ricky Webster became distracted by the fact that they had to cross the drawbridge over the moat.
“I think now’s a good time to tell my story about that bloody sexy witch and myself in a moat-”
“Ricky, no!” yelled Natalie, giving him a shove. She was sick of his comments that morning.
“I’d like to hear it,” muttered Jacob Coot.
“Jacob, what have I told you about keeping your mouth shut?” snapped Harlowe as they bustled over the bridge. Harlowe had to sprint over with a groan as Caddy leaned too far over in his attempt to glance down into the moat.
“I wanted to see if there’s sharks!” protested Caddy as Harlowe dragged him back.
Coot and Jameson hid their laughter as Harlowe looked apoplectic. “We’re in the middle of Switzerland! There are no fucking sharks!”
But Natalie had doubled over with laughter and walked right into Ricky, who had turned to Coot to regale him with his story.
“Ricky!” exclaimed Dent when Natalie tripped over Ricky’s robes and tumbled downwards. Both he and Moody lunged to catch her — and instead collided with grunts of pain while Natalie broke her fall with her shoulder and rolled into a crouch, still laughing.
Dent pushed past Moody, pulling her to her feet and inspecting her for injuries while Harlowe shouted at everyone. Coot and Jameson broke into howls of laughter at a particularly bawdy part of Webster’s tale. Livingston and Tarold sprinted after Caddy, who had rushed back towards the edge of the bridge, shouting, “sharks!”
“I’m fine, calm down, Dent,” Natalie whined as he inspected each of her hands with care. His own hands were shaking and he was muttering to himself.
“Already not practicing as much as the Finns, now we’re late to practice and Ricky almost injures our bloody Seeker-”
There was a loud bang, drawing their attention to a steaming Harlowe.
“Don’t you lot have to get to practice?” he yelled and they all froze. Slowly, Dent stepped back from Natalie while Ricky cut his story off (not without promising to tell Coot the rest. Caddy (looking decidedly disappointed that there were no sharks in the moat) allowed Tarold and Livingston to lead him back to the group, and the Pottingers stopped sniggering at everyone and everything.
“Right,” breathed Harlowe, relieved control had been established over the situation. “Let’s go then.”
It didn’t take Natalie long to find her favorite spot in the entire castle. Early in the morning of their third day in Switzerland, after climbing a circular staircase for what felt like hours, she had kicked open a rusted old door and found herself on the parapet walls of one of the castle towers, high above the ground. She’d walked around, stepping over broken chunks of stone and enjoying the view. The whole village sprawled out below, nestled between the mountains like a child’s toys as the sun rose, bathing the valley in soft pinks and yellows.
Her solitude ended quickly. Dent stepped through the door and rolled his eyes upon seeing her up there.
“Avoiding everyone?” he asked, strolling towards her and wrapping his cloak around him against the cold wind.
“Everyone’s asleep,” she snorted, “it’s hardly seven.”
“Not true. I think Ricky’s shagging a suit of armor,” Dent said.
Natalie made a disgusted noise. Staying in the medieval castle was somehow making everyone behave more and more like themselves — if that was even possible. Ricky was acting like a sex-deprived nymphomaniac (which, to be fair, was exactly what he was). Caddy had never acted stupider, falling down a full flight of stairs just last night because he’d tripped over his own robes (he was somehow completely unharmed, claiming it was rather fun). Dent had glued himself to her side, trying to soothe his own anxiety by attempting to control everything he could before the match (he had nearly thrown a tantrum when she went to bed ten minutes earlier than usual last night, working himself into such a state that he was convinced she was coming down with a fever). The Pottingers had taken to popping up at random spots around the castle and reminding whoever they stumbled upon that the castle was definitely haunted (only Caddy believed them). Their laughter seemed to constantly be echoing around the corridors of the castle. Natalie herself was starting to feel tingly and on edge, which was apparently attracting everyone in the castle to her like Nifflers to gold. Arto Lassila happened to come across her at least once a day. She was dying to look Tom Riddle in the eye and had no idea how she was going to last until the World Cup without seeing him. And it was only the third day there.
“Let’s go eat,” said Dent, turning towards the door. She reluctantly followed him back inside, unwilling to start an argument that early in the morning.
They headed down the circular staircase to the door leading to the “British Empire” floor. Dent had his wand in hand. He was convinced the Finns were going to try to curse them behind their backs when they least expected it.
He opened the door and peeked down the corridor before nodding to himself. “Clear,” he said, beckoning her after him.
They passed the teams’ rooms and approached the large room that served as a kitchen and dining area. Natalie assumed there were house-elves who made the team food — as the room was always stocked with food whenever they entered — though she had yet to see any in the castle.
Dent pushed on the wooden door and it swung open, revealing the cavernous room with a low stone ceiling and a roaring fireplace. He froze; Natalie peeked around him to spot the entire Finnish team sitting around the long wooden table at the center of the room, talking, laughing and eating.
“So much for never seeing the other team,” Natalie snorted, ducking under Dent’s arm and entering the room. He tried in vain to grab her by the sleeve but she stepped aside and strolled towards the Finns, who had all fallen silent when the door opened.
“Malfoy,” Lassila greeted her with a grin. “You’re awake early. I thought you practiced in the afternoon today?”
Dent hurried forward, standing beside her and crossing his arms. “Yeah, we do. I thought you lot had your own kitchen?”
“We do,” said Lassila. “We are on the floor below. One of your team said you have better tea. We wanted to try it.”
Dent looked scandalized that there was so much interaction between the two teams.
“Tucker, no doubt,” he muttered under his breath while Natalie grinned and stepped over to take a seat between Lassila and who she believed was the Finnish Seeker.
“Well?” she asked, “do we have better tea?”
“Yes,” said the Finnish Seeker.
“Tastes the same,” said Lassila and he began to introduce his teammates, gesturing at each player in turn. “Nickolas, Alex, and Ben — our Chasers. Petri, our Keeper. Henrik our Beater along with myself, and Mikko, our Seeker.” Each chorused a hello in either English or Finnish. Mikko felt the need to grab her hand and plant a kiss on the back of it.
“Mikko, Mikko Takkala,” he said with a flirty smile.
She laughed and knew he was going to make himself an annoyance over the next few weeks. “I’m Natalie Malfoy, this is Eugene Dent. He likes to be called Eugene-”
“I do not,” snapped Dent, hovering behind her as though ready to yank her out of the room. “I’m Dent, the English captain. This is Malfoy, our Seeker.”
“You-jeen,” Mikko repeated the name in a strong Finnish accent. He looked at Dent and then laughed. “You-jeen.”
Natalie could feel Dent’s irritation. She grinned to herself and looked around for something to eat. One of the Finns (Petri, she thought), pushed a plate of muffins towards her. Seeing this, Mikko immediately started grabbing hold of every platter of food and placing them around her.
“Relax, Takkala,” Dent barked, “we aren’t here to eat with you. We thought the room was empty — seeing as this is our floor and all. We’ll come back later. C’mon, Malfoy.” He grabbed her by the sleeve and tugged rather hard. Natalie nearly choked on a bite of a blueberry muffin.
“Dent! You said let’s go eat!”
“Well, I didn’t plan on having intruders,” he hissed.
“Yeah, but-” Natalie cut off when the door flew open and Ricky, Caddy, and the Pottingers all burst into the room. Seeing the Finnish team, they froze, looking around until they spotted Natalie and Dent.
“Blimey,” Ricky gave Natalie an impressed look. “Already moved up to eating with the whole team — that’s bloody good progress, that is! You know shagging is the next step, then, right? That always follows food — you’ll have their team-”
“Shut up, Ricky!” Natalie yelled.
“What’re you lot doing here?” Dent sounded panicked.
“Isn’t this where we eat?” asked Caddy, looking around in confusion. “What are these blokes doing here? Who are they?”
Lassila leaned over to whisper in her ear. “He’s slow, yes?”
She smirked, “yeah.”
Takkala copied Lassila, leaning over and whispering into her ear. “I am not slow! I win many duels — never defeat, ever.”
Natalie patted Takkala on the arm, making him freeze. “Good for you, Mikko.”
Dent continued tugging on her robes. “Alright, we’ve got to be off-”
“Why don’t you join?” suggested Lassila, raising an eyebrow at Dent, who had started visibly sweating despite the perpetual chill that permeated every corner of the castle. “We don't have to act uncivilized off the Quidditch pitch.”
“Oh,” muttered Dent. The Pottingers, Ricky, and Caddy were already all taking seats at the table by the Finns. The ones who spoke some English started striking up conversations — which mostly seemed to be about the same thing: attractive women.
“Sit down, captain,” Natalie grabbed his robes this time and tugged him into the seat between her and Lassila. She’d kept her other hand on Takkala’s arm, and the Finnish Seeker was beginning to groan under his breath. She quickly removed it and he muttered in disappointed Finnish, scooting himself closer to her.
“So, Arto, get lost in the castle again?” Natalie asked the Finnish captain, pouring herself a mug of coffee. Takkala moved to offer her cream and sugar, which she accepted, sending him a wink. He beamed and looked immensely pleased with himself.
“No,” Lassila said with a sheepish smile. “Our Aurors taught me a directional spell. It’s useful — the entrance is always south.”
Dent took the mug of coffee right out of Natalie’s hand and vanished it with a wave of his wand.
“I was gonna drink that,” she pointed out.
“I don’t need you drinking coffee, you’ll get too hyper,” he said gruffly.
“Can I drink tea then?”
“No more than two cups.”
“Noted,” she rolled her eyes and reached for a pot of tea instead. Lassila was staring at them in fascination.
“Are you. . . are you two. . . .”
“Married?” asked Takkala. He was now sitting so close to Natalie their legs were touching under the table, which made her move closer to Dent, who refused to move any closer to the Finnish captain. Natalie found herself squished between the two boys on either side of her. It was clear neither of them had a problem with the physical contact. Mikko looked giddy and Dent had started rhythmically nodding his head.
“No,” snapped Natalie, while thinking not to him in her head.
“Good,” said Takkala. “My uncle. . . tell wife not to drink coffee. She leave him.”
“Good for her,” Natalie muttered.
“I was going to ask if you two are okay,” Lassila said with a laugh. “It’s just coffee.”
“You don’t know my Seeker,” Dent said defensively. He had grudgingly piled food onto his plate and was monitoring what Natalie placed on hers.
“Dent’s mental,” said Natalie, polishing off a blueberry muffin and squirming in her seat, in the hopes the boys would get the point and give her more space. The message was apparently not received. Takkala interpreted her movement as an invitation to rest a hand on her knee under the table. She promptly stomped on his foot — he got that message.
“-said wait till you see them in your bed — and lads, let me tell you, she was bloody right.” Laughter erupted from the Finns sitting around Ricky. His punchline was quickly translated to Finnish, inciting more laughter.
Lassila grinned. “He’d fit in with my team.”
“Ricky’s the team sex addict,” explained Dent. “Has a story for every place he’s shagged someone.”
“Yeah, like moats,” added Natalie. “And tree trunks.”
Ricky had heard her comment and let out a loud belch. “There are sharks in the moat here, Malfoy!”
“Did you shag one?” she asked innocently.
“No, I’m not a bloody lunatic — but if that’s what it’d take to give you the honor of shagging me, I might consider it.”
“Okay,” she dropped her fork and leaned forward. Dent tensed beside her, grabbing a fistful of her robes as though to prevent her from jumping across the table at Ricky. “Shag one of the sharks in the moat, Ricky. Then I’ll let you sleep with me.”
For a moment there was silence. Caddy had his mouth hanging open and most of the Finnish team stared at her in bewilderment. The Pottingers started snickering. One of them muttered, “this’ll be good.”
Lassila whispered to Dent. “There are no sharks in the moat. . . .”
“She knows that,” grumbled Dent.
Takkala picked up her hand and held it almost lovingly in his. “If I, as you say, shag — I do not know what this means — but if I do — I sleep with you?”
Ricky bent his fork in half without magic, flexing his biceps as much as he could. “Not you, Micky. She was talking to me.”
“Webster-” Dent warned, but Ricky flew to his feet and was out the door in an instant. Everyone else looked at each other. And then they were all scrambling after Ricky.
“Malfoy, why did you do that?” Dent was yelling at her as they barrelled through the castle corridors, Ricky’s bright blond hair just ahead of them. “You know what he’s like!”
“I’m bored!” she shouted back.
“So are you actually gonna sleep with him?”
“No!”
Somehow, Ricky only had to turn around once before making it to the main staircase and running down into the entrance hall, where Matt Lament was speaking with the Swiss Auror named Hans.
“It’s a new design, you say?” Matt was admiring an enormous hat Hans was wearing. The Swiss Auror was grinning like a kid with candy. The hat was blue, white, and red, and flashed the faces of the English team. “Looks bloody amazing.”
“Yes,” said Hans, “they’ll be selling them down in the village when the crowds arrive. I’m testing this out, to see if the charm sticks — watch.” He tapped the hat with his wand and it stopped flashing and remained on Ricky Webster’s grinning face. The real Ricky Webster then ran past the two. They turned to watch him slip out the castle doors that Matt must have left open.
“What the-” exclaimed Matt as the rest of the English team and the entire Finnish team ran by. Hans let out a curse in another language.
“Sharks!” Caddy shouted at them.
Once outside, Ricky was apparently stumped for how to go about his business of shagging a shark. He paced alongside the wooden fence, peering down into the dark moat and muttering to himself.
Caddy climbed up onto the stone wall that overlooked the moat between the castle steps and the wooden drawbridge. “Oi, sharks!” he shouted down into the water below, getting dangerously close to the edge.
“Caddy, get down!” yelled Dent. His face was beginning to turn purple as his head kept whipping around, trying to keep an eye on every member of his team. One of the Pottingers reached up and pulled Cadwallader back to safety.
“It’s alright!” Caddy told everyone as if they’d asked. “I’m a Sagittarius! I’m naturally lucky so bad things can’t happen to me.”
“What does that even mean?” Arto Lassila looked dumbfounded. Natalie had to sit down on the drawbridge as she shook with laughter. Takkala sat next to her while the rest of the Finnish team took seats on the castle stairs as though they were there to watch a show.
“Can you lot shut up!?” yelled Ricky. He walked along the length of the bridge, inspecting it for any way down into the moat. “I’m awfully busy!”
Mikko Takkala began tugging at Natalie's hair but she swatted his hand away as Matt Lament stepped out of the castle doors, followed by the troop of English and Finnish Aurors. Matt tucked the hat that Hans had been wearing into his robes (he’d apparently convinced Hans to give it to him) and looked around in confusion.
“What in Merlin’s name is happening?” he asked.
“Webster is trying to fuck a shark so Malfoy will sleep with him,” Henrik, one of the Finnish Beaters, informed him.
Matt stared at Henrik as though he had just spoken a load of Finnish and expected him to understand what he said. “What?”
Reginald Harlowe looked like he wanted to quit on the spot. “There are no sharks in this fucking moat, how many blasted times do you idiots have to be told?”
“Is no one gonna say anything about how that’s bestiality?” asked Jacob Coot.
“Shut your mouth, Coot,” snapped Harlowe.
“Ricky!” Dent stormed towards the Beater. “Stop!”
Ricky leaned over the flimsy wooden railing. “I’m busy, Dent! There’s a lot on the line here!”
“Malfoy’s not going to sleep with you!”
“You’re just jealous I have this opportunity.”
Natalie sighed. It wasn’t nearly as entertaining with the Aurors all present. Harlowe, Tarold, and Livingston were all hurrying towards Dent and Ricky. Mikko picked her hand up and pressed a kiss to it again. She pulled her hand from him and patted him on the head as she stood up.
“Well, that was fun while it lasted,” she said. He jumped to his feet beside her.
“Fun?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, picking her way around the Finnish team and the Aurors who crowded on the stairs, Mikko tailing her. She needed to get back inside before it came out that the whole thing had been her idea.
She slipped through the castle doors, Takkala behind her. A quick spell caused the heavy doors to slam shut and the thick metal latch to fall into place, locking everyone outside just as half a dozen furious shouts of “Malfoy!” went up.
Laughing, Natalie looped her arm through Takkala’s and led him into the castle, with every intention of wheedling out his team’s secrets without needing to do more than pat him on the arm every so often. “So, Mikko, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about catching the Snitch?”