Frustrated by Fleur

From that day on and for a period of time, nothing exciting actually happened. Celena's lessons went on as usual, she carved times to meet her parents and Uncle Remus and his family, and during one particularly leisurely, stress-free weekend, she even had time to travel to London and meet Fleur for a shopping spree and a few drinks in the Diagon Alley. Fleur, whose social life was much richer than Celena's, thanks to her own beauty and her famous husband Bill Weasley, saw Timothy at several gatherings, always accompanied by Alexa Douglas. Usually very courteous, Fleur refused to speak to him and blatantly ignored him, pretending he doesn't exist, when he made an attempt to greet her.
- Eet eez outrageous, - she said to Celena while they were sitting over their drinks in The Leaky Cauldron, a pile of shopping bags carelessly tucked under their table, - 'E 'as let Alexa's father buy 'im! 'E eez ready to be enslaved just to 'ave an eezy life…
- Drop it, Fleur, - Celena waved a dismissive hand and took a sip from her Gillywater. As two extremely pretty and well-dressed young witches sitting on their own, she and Fleur attracted a good deal of admiring glances from wizards who were passing by, but Celena pretended not to notice. Every man with an ardent gaze and manly, cleanly shaved jaw seemed to her like a twin of Timothy. – He's a prat, and if he's capable of selling himself to get an easy position in a cauldron-making company, I'm better off to have discovered this before I actually married him.
But Fleur pressed on.
- Ma chérie, - she said, resting her chain on one of her elegantly gloved hands, - 'E eez not worth ze ground you walk on, but 'ave you ever stopped to theenk what 'e made you look like? Are you aware of ze fact zat eet looks like 'e ditched you – and actually 'e 'as?
- I'm sure there are people who simply love savoring this situation, but why don't they stick their stupid gossip up their –
- Non, chérie, non! – Fleur cried out, looking scandalized, and shot a look around her, making sure no one heard Celena, - surely you don't meen zat! What you need eez to be seen weez a nice young man, to dispel ze rumors zat you are alone and desperate!
- Oh, don't be silly, I might be alone but I'm certainly not - Celena started, but by the familiar determined look on Fleur's face, she realized her best friend wasn't just expressing a theoretical idea, - Fleur! – Celena demanded, - you haven't already set me up on a date, have you? Have you?
Fleur didn't bother to answer. She glanced at her watch, then turned around to look at the bar's entrance, and a gracious smile spread over her lips. Celena, who was sitting across her, couldn't help but see the man who walked in.
Well, it wasn't as bad as it could be, she told herself, when she saw the kind, freckled face, broad shoulders and unchanging travel robes of Bill's brother, Charlie Weasley. She was introduced to Charlie at Fleur's wedding and found him quite nice, but she would rather be somewhere less crowded than The Leaky Cauldron, which was undoubtedly chosen deliberately by Fleur; she would have preferred for Fleur to stay, too, instead of hastily shaking Charlie's hand, kissing Celena on the cheek and vanishing with a satisfied giggle.
- Do you remember me, Miss Costello? – Charlie asked, taking the seat that was previously occupied by Fleur, - we met at my brother's wedding –
- Oh, sure. You can call me Celena…
- I know this is all very stupid, - he said after a small pause, during which he ordered a large flagon of mead and some roast beef with mashed potatoes for both of them, - but Fleur isn't someone to be argued with, and you should look at the positive side – it could have been Percy…
- Oh? – Celena nearly choked on her drink, - surely Fleur wouldn't..? – She has met the third Weasley brother too, and his manner, although improved a lot lately but still dull and snappish, seemed out of place in his nice, warm, close-knit family. But at least they were all on speaking terms again, after a long period of total estrangement.
- Oh yes. Fleur said we can arrange this between us, and she doesn't care who it is, but one of us will have to go. We tried appealing to Bill, but he just said you are lucky Fleur didn't think of asking Fred or George – or both of them. So eventually, I took pity on you, - he said with a wink and broad grin, which Celena gratefully returned.
- Oh, Fleur at her best, - Celena was annoyed, but couldn't help laughing at the same time, - but if we are already here, I'll try not to be too unpleasant company.
So they ate heartily, and it wasn't so bad really. There were many common acquaintances so that the conversation didn't stop, and eventually the talk turned to Charlie's work and the different sorts of strange beasts and people he encountered thanks to his position as Dragon-trainer and traveling all around the world.
- I love the different races, - he told Celena, - goblins and centaurs and gargoyles… by the way, has everything been quiet since that night? I've heard all about it from your uncle, - he explained.
- Yes, fortunately – I've seen Goliath a few times since that happened and he told me they are more careful now. Move only in packs… Charlie, - she stopped, struck by a sudden wave of inspiration, - I know you and my uncle have an idea about who could be Angela's attacker…
At first, she thought Charlie wouldn't speak, despite the softening influence of his third drink, but then he leaned forward and whispered:
- Angela was Petrified, no doubt about that. But it wasn't a regular, wand-made spell, or we could have revived her in a much easier way. It was, as we guess, powerful magic of some non-wizard, part-human species. I'll tell you more – the Ord- your uncle, I mean, thinks it was done as a warning – a very grim warning – by someone who has a feeling of deep loathing for the gargoyles, and especially Wyvern clan.
- Oh, come on, - Celena started from his scarred, burned hands to his clear grey eyes under slightly singed eyebrows, - I know my uncle and I'm sure his guess was more particular. You want me to think you don't know anything, Charlie? I'll find out anyway, you know…
Charlie was silent for a moment, then leaned closer and said:
- Werewolves.
She almost had to read his lips. She opened her mouth, closed it, and frowned:
- Oh, Charlie… - she shook her head, - if it's true, this is really serious… werewolves were really quiet since the Second War ended – and how does it explain the magic performed on Angela? She wasn't bitten, just Petrified.
- That's a part we can't satisfactorily explain either, - admitted Charlie, - however, the Scottish gargoyles and the werewolves waged war on one another ever since the First War, when the gargoyles refused to join You-Know-Who. The gargoyles beat them up roughly more than once or twice, too… so now they have vengeance coming upon them. We won't exclude the possibility that they aren't acting on their own, either.
- It's not all, then, is it? – She inquired, staring anxiously at Charlie's grave face.
- No, - he shook his head, - werewolves aren't a very brave crowd. You know how it was during the two Wars. In the First War, when He Who Must Not Be Named promised them rich rewards and plenty of blood, they became fearless and violent. Then, there was a quiet time while he was gone from power… and during the Second War they were strong again, led by Fenrir Greyback, as you remember.
- He Who Must Not Be Named is gone, - Celena paused, - and so is Fenrir Greyback.
She wanted to sound determined, but there was a lingering trace of a question in her voice.
Charlie looked around nervously. The bar was packed, but this was exactly what made it safer – nobody bothered to listen to them. He leaned closer.
- They are gone, no doubt, - he said, fiddling two big, short-nailed thumbs together, - but it doesn't mean they left nothing behind.
- The Horcruxes were destroyed, - said Celena, - it is known. Same goes for many other Dark artifacts, and even though some might have remained…
- I should have said "no one".
- His supporters? But they have no one to follow. No master to serve.
- I speak, - Charlie said softly, - of a son.
Celena gaped at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her firmly, looking anxious:
- I will not say anything more. Too risky. You aren't supposed to know anything at all. Speak with Hagrid – or better, put the whole matter out of your mind.

Quidditch

It cannot be said Celena was indifferent to her fiancé's betrayal, but she didn't experience the hollow, terrible feeling of total loss she thought she was supposed to feel after her initial shock about being betrayed died away. But strangely, she was just sick to her stomach whenever she thought of it, quick to convey her mind to other venues. And even more peculiarly, the excitement of the memorable night when she brewed Reviving Potion for Angela was like balm to her wounds.

Timothy Whitechapple was a brilliant, talented young wizard with a glorious future ahead of him, but maybe he wasn't such a great catch after all, Celena reasoned, if he found it possible to get engaged to another woman without bothering to explain anything first.

Celena didn't read the social column again after that day, so she didn't know whether Timothy already married Alexa. Frankly, she didn't want to know, and she didn't try contacting him either. She didn't want to think what would happen if she received an owl from him one of these days.

She was happy she had enough on her mind to keep her going. Her lessons were becoming more challenging now that her younger students have mastered the basics, and she had plenty of essays to read through and rate every night. She also continued giving private lessons to Dennis Creevey each Monday. She found it pretty much pointless at first, because Dennis almost always achieved top grades for his homework; but during their one-on-one sessions she noticed Dennis was indeed very slow when it came to practical work, although sometimes she almost got the impression he was faking it.

- Now, Dennis, - she said one evening, trying to keep frustration away from the tone of her voice when once again, the Jaded Jelly he was supposed to make looked like a mix of sand and mud, - I know you can do it properly, I saw your work in class today –

- I – I don't always work entirely on my own in class, - Dennis replied, rather guiltily, - sometimes Martin gives me a hand when I'm having a hard time. But I know I need to work on my own.

- Well, then, let's try once ag – Celena started, but at that very moment Dennis knocked his cauldron over and semi-liquid mess splattered the floor.

- You know, Dennis, I think we'll have better luck next Monday, - she said exasperatedly, cleaning up the dirt with one wave of her wand, - tell me the truth, did you prepare for today's lesson at all?

- Not much, - Dennis admitted quietly, avoiding looking at her, and added hurriedly, - I mean, I did a bit… I know it's no excuse, Professor Costello, but we have Quidditch practice four times a week now, and tonight we even skipped dinner to be able to stay longer –

- That explains it, then, - Celena said firmly, - you are just hungry, aren't you? How would you like to have a bite to eat with me, Dennis?

- Thanks a lot, Professor Costello, - he said, the tips of his ears going red, - the truth is that I'm starving. But we won't eat here, right?

- Of course not, - Celena smiled, - Dobby!

The elf appeared out of thin air with a loud "crack".

- You is wanting something, Miss Costello? – Dobby asked in his high-pitched little voice, staring at her adoringly.

- Yes, Dobby… I wondered – could you bring some tea and sandwiches up to my office?

- Dobby will do anything for Miss Costello! – Dobby said, puffing up his hairy chest, - Dobby is hearing about Miss Costello's bravery, and Dobby says, I is always knowing Miss Costello is noble and kind to all creatures!

- If you mean what happened to Angela, Dobby, that was my duty as Master of Potions in this school, - said Celena. She rarely flushed brighter than now. Dennis stifled a little laugh he disguised as a cough; Dobby wore odd socks and three hand-knitted hats, one on top of the other.

- Miss Costello is as humble and modest as she is noble! I'll have your tea brought right away, - he added, bowed so low that his long, pencil-like nose almost touched the floor, and disappeared with another "crack".

- Oh, he's always like that, - Celena shrugged, trying to sound matter-of-fact, - come on, Dennis, or the tea will get cold before we go upstairs.

Dennis only looked up when he finished his fourth sandwich, and Celena was halfway through her buttered crumpet.

- Thanks a lot, Professor Costello, - said Dennis, draining his teacup in one huge gulp. – I wouldn't have lasted until breakfast. We have been training really hard all week.

- Playing against Slytherin next weekend, I've heard? – asked Celena, adding sugar to her tea.

- Yeah, - Dennis brightened, - we'll show them!

- Surely, - Celena smiled, - and even though I'm not supposed to take sides, as a teacher, since this is a private conversation I feel I can tell you I will be definitely supporting Gryffindor. …When Dennis arrived in the common room that night, he found Martin and Melissa doing their homework by the fire. Samantha had already gone up to bed. Both of them had running noses from the long and rainy Quidditch practices they had all week. Dennis was the team's captain and Keeper; both Martin and Melissa played Chasers. Dennis slumped into a comfortable squashy armchair next to his two friends, and stretched his legs with a look of utmost satisfaction on his face.

- Hi there, - said Melissa, - are you hungry? Your brother and his friends were nice enough to save us something from dinner.

- It's awfully sweet of Collin, - Dennis said slowly, the expression of extreme smugness etched all over his features, - but I'm not hungry. I just had tea with Celena.

He was grinning so broadly he didn't even notice Martin blotched his piece of parchment because he was shaking with silent laughter.

- Oh, - said Melissa, raising an eyebrow, - how did your lesson go, then?

- Well, she calls me Dennis now… - he said dreamily.

- Did you get that trick of the Jaded Jelly this time? – asked Martin.

- … And she knows we're playing against Slytherin next week, and she said she will definitely support Gryffindor…

- Of course she will support Gryffindor, - said Melissa, sounding almost as exasperated as Celena not long ago, - I mean, she's alright, isn't she? And she's a friend of Hagrid's.

Dennis suddenly sat very upright in his armchair.

- A friend? A close one? – He demanded.

- Don't be stupid, Dennis, - snapped Martin, - if you asked me, but I know you never will, I'd tell you to drop these ridiculous private lessons and stop calling Professor Costello Celena and knock everything over whenever she's around…

- No, you wait, - Dennis cut across him mid-phrase, a manic gleam in his eyes, - you just wait till you see what I'm planning for Christmas!

…

Melissa Hanson was quite right, of course. Celena, indeed, hoped Gryffindor would win the upcoming Quidditch match because Hagrid was her friend, and because – although, as she kept trying to tell herself, as a teacher she was supposed to be unbiased – she couldn't help disliking most of the Slytherins and tried to avoid being near their Head of House, the hook-nosed, surly Professor Snape, as much as possible.

So next week on Saturday morning, she wrapped a red scarf around her neck and pinned a crimson and gold rosette to the front of her robes, and then went down to the Quidditch pitch with beaming, excited and nervous Hagrid. She noticed about three-quarters of the spectators – nearly everybody who wasn't in Slytherin, in fact – were wearing this or another red garment. They found seats in the front row. Snape was sitting at some distance from them, upright and stiff, wearing green-and-silver gloves and a rosette of matching colors.

Celena was pleased to see the Gryffindor team was clearly better trained – they acted like one being rather than like seven separate minds. Seeker Samantha Gardner was light, agile and speedy and mastered her broom like it was part of her body.

It wasn't that the Slytherin team was bad, either; but it was clear that the two most important people on the team were the two fierce Beaters, Wilkies and Darthy, who swung their clubs menacingly, looking rather like a pair of trolls.

This particular Quidditch game was neither long nor too nerve-wrenching. For about half an hour, the crowd enjoyed watching Martin and Melissa trying to score while dodging the Bludgers aimed at them by the Slytherin Beaters' blows; but the score was only forty-twenty in Gryffindor's favor when Samantha Gardner caught the Snitch and the red and gold crowd erupted in cheers and applause, while the team landed, all of them in a many-armed hug, although the face of Dennis Creevey could have looked happier after such a spectacular win. Samantha was patted by everyone on the back, Hagrid cheered louder than anyone, Celena clapped until she couldn't feel her hands anymore – the first Quidditch game she watched in many years! Snape looked more unpleasant than ever. When Celena passed by him, she distinctly heard him saying to the Slytherin Seeker: "Pathetic, Davenport, you had it right under your nose!"

… - She could have caught the Snitch some minutes later, - murmured Dennis as he walked back to the castle with Martin and Melissa, Samantha lingering behind in her circle of fervent admirers, - I mean, we all know Samantha's brilliant, but I didn't even have the chance to save anything.

- You're raving, mate, - Martin said seriously, - even if Samantha knew what this was all about, she would never risk losing a game just so you could impress Celena…