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.