At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a lightning storm had grounded itself within the Great Hall in some form of mildly acceptable, regulated chaos.
It wouldn't be the first time such a stormy illusion was produced given how finicky the ceiling charm tended to be. But that day, the culprit was oddly; photographers.
The room was rather bothered with the plentiful presence of International journalists, local columnists, and of course, none other than Hogwart's very own Colin Creevey - merking around the edges of the hall with a gigantic camera strapped to his neck. Unfortunate for him he hadn't grown very tall, and had to keep dancing up onto his tiptoes to catch anything useful.
Lightning would strike, and then black smoke would proceed to shoot out the back of an exploding, large format box camera, followed shortly by the filmy whine of a glossy moving photo in rapid development.
Major reporting witches and wizards had flocked to the institution in droves to arrange rickety tripods; facing them towards the activated Quadrivial Cup and the mosaic of attendants, which ranged from students, professors, investment stakeholders, Ministry officials, and experts of various skills.
In fact, so many people were jammed into the congregational space that at least a hundred individuals were forced to stand for lack of accomodational seating.
The big day had arrived, and the magical world wanted to know Every. Single. Detail.
Ensnared within the talons of the lethal, unwoken Gorgon, the flawless diamond glass began to hum and glow romantically under the gloom of the candlelit Great Hall. Each stained-glass, vertical window had been blackened, pronouncing the luminosity of every blue alcoved flame and the incredible chalice at the center of it all.
Next to the cup, Dumbledore appeared like a floating ghost in his pale lavender robes and grey complexion, his long white beard braided with beads down his chest.
As awe inspiring as the scene was, Audette regretted that she'd willingly sat so close to the front for the opening ceremony of the tournament that Friday, feeling multiple times as if she were suffering a minor seizure from the maddening flashes.
A half hour earlier she'd been channeled through the rollicking crowd by the strong handhold of Draco Malfoy. He had eagerly reminded her that she was invited to sit by his side for the tournament in the highly coveted V.I.P. sections, where the food would be better and the photographers would be focusing their lenses.
Yet Audette was vainly convinced she was in no state to be caught slumping in the background of upcoming press articles, seeing as lack of sleep had probably visually aged her by several years.
Sure, overnight she had discovered her long lost Tree Boy, but that heartwarming memory had been quickly swapped out with defeating nightmares. She was exhausted from a night spent bursting awake, mentally terrorized by the prospect of someone important to her losing their life in the Quadrivial Tournament.
She could think of two people; she had and continued to think of two exact people with a shivering heart.
Thankfully Draco's pillows were an unusual shade of obsidian, meaning he wouldn't notice all of the mascara that was likely deposited on the casing from her silent tears.
Audette had whined childishly the entire journey from their common room to the ceremony. On the spiral stone staircase leading out of the subterranean levels she'd decided she was a lost cause, pawing critically at her satin pink umbrella dress and the curled ends of her lengthy blond hair.
They had climbed amongst a thick crowd of shouting Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, and the resulting acoustic insanity forced her to raise her fairy voice several octaves in order to converse over the volume in the narrow corridor, "Guy and I will spectate from farther back Draco, you'll be called up after a half hour anyways. I should know better than to have these eye bags recorded, I've woken up borderline elderly."
"Don't forget the liver warts; wouldn't want you to ruin the front page of the Daily Prophet with that gruesome mug," Cosmos snickered from Draco's other side, verbally gargling around a Paddington's Polymorphic Popsicle lodged in his sticky mouth.
The product was a blatant rip off of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, continuing to change into random flavours until fully devoured, sometimes even mysteriously horrendous ones such as Baba Yaga's Bog.
Upon the thousand or so optional tastes it was universally accepted that if one despairingly came into contact with Baba Yaga's Bog, they would never be the same person again.
Audette leaned around Draco's back to narrow her eyes at the slimy rainbow ring of sugary nast forming on the outskirts of Guy's lips, "What have you there? You'll rot your teeth at the rate you chow down on that miserable candy."
Cosmos waved the pulsating popsicle in his painted nails, "Oh heavens don't even get me started babe, you should see the linings of my robes. There are some pockets I haven't been able to pry apart in years!"
"Yeah, I have the same problem, my crusty socks are all full of candy too," Goyle commented repulsively, squishing Guy against the curvilinear stair wall just to steal away the half-eaten popsicle.
Draco growled angrily, beginning to intentionally produce an aching in Audette's tiny finger bones as he squeezed her hand even harder in his. He yanked her backwards momentarily so that she would face him, "Consequences of refusing to sleep are not going to rob me of your support today. Shall I reiterate the agreed upon boyfriend privileges?"
"Oooh where's my boyfriend privileges?" Guy raised his eyebrows teasingly, foolishly reaching for Draco's other hand just to him piss him off.
Draco slapped away the brazen attempt, pointing a finger between Guy's suspiciously normal blue eyes for the day, "Touch me again, Cosmos, and I'll rip your face off and leave it plastered on the painting of the Fat Lady."
Following this daunting declaration, Guy was then promptly thrust down several stairs into the arms of an unimpressed Blaise Zabini, who characteristically reacted with a stiff, robotic glare.
After he'd recovered from his ping pong encounter in the stairwell, Guy caught up to Audette and Draco on the first floor hallway, still buzzing like an excitable nat in his huge pastel purple sweater and delightfully cerulean jeans. He had tied an adorably minty ascott around his neck to complete the outfit, showing off powdery pink hair to top it all off.
He sent Audette a deeply brassy look, "Come on Audette, do spare us the wallowing. You're butter upon bacon as usual - go sit with your dashing boyfriend in the spotlight."
After debating the seating arrangements all the way from the dank dungeons Draco's patience expired right below the gilded archway of the Great Hall. He resorted to physically blockading Audette, placing his hands on her shoulders in the bustling laneway, "Cosmos is correct. No matter how fatigued, you are by every scale and standard the most exquisite specimen in this building, hence why I have declared you as my formal intended. Do not humiliate me Audette. It is not a debate that you will afford me the honour of your association."
He coerced her with a dark glint of impatience in his icy eyes, boring them into Audette's wincing emerald gaze. People milled and divided around the three Slytherins, clustered smack dab in the center of the entryway.
Well warts on a toad, she'd never been so wonderfully complimented. Just imagining that he felt that way about her was too good to be true, now sensing flutters of undeniable flattery below her rib cage.
Even Guy paused with his jaw dropped and his fingers across his agape, candied lips as if he too were being addressed with the same smoldering energy.
Below the surface of his flawless face Audette wisely noted Draco's evil side lurking about, pacing back and forth behind his inferential orbs and repressing itself just hardly - anticipative of it's turn to shine should she not subside.
She was reminded in that moment that the foul courtyard fountain was only a set of doors away from where they were situated within the castle.
Even though over the past few weeks his treatment towards her had considerably softened with the unexpected arrival of romantic grace, Audette continued to fear that Draco's bullying habits could not possibly be doused so easily.
When Draco Malfoy wanted something, he certainly had a way of obtaining it.
"Go onnnn Audette, I shan't dilapidate into oblivion," Guy drooled desirously at Malfoy without turning his enthralled face to look at her.
He flattened a rigid, spindly hand against the side of his mouth theatrically, as if to speak in secret of Audette whilst whispering in a falsely gruff tone, "But if this silly princess doesn't want to go, then take me instead you dangerous beast. I'll even sit in your lap."
Draco snapped his scalding gaze to Guy, "Do you have a death wish? Even if my sexuality were aligned with yours - and I assure you, it is not - it would be a total farce for you to rank in even my worst considerations."
Guy flamboyantly sucked in air with a silly expression on his face, "Ugh yes, can you say that again but with even more nastiness? Tear my face off, tear me limb from limb; I'm yours to ruin."
Audette's face broke out into a wide smile at Cosmos' joking, brightening up at Draco, "Alright my formal intended, but on one condition."
Draco's pointy nose pulled tight on one side, his captivatingly glacial eyes returning to hers in full intensity, "Very well. Name your wish, but recall that you are not entitled to bargaining. You agreed to seat yourself in the frontline at any game of mine, and this tournament falls below that category."
She raised her chin presumptuously and requested the impossible, "Guy is to accompany us."
Ergo the move to the hectic V.I.P. section that morning was contingent upon Draco arguing with the event staff to provide access to Guy, whom Audette refused to disconnect from even though each champion was technically permitted a single companion.
A magical ward had been set clean across the room effectively dividing the teachers, the cup, and the final section of each monolithic dining table from all non-V.I.P. and non-champions; the boundary indicated by a wavering magical rope.
"Only one," the pimply, twenty-something Ministry of Magic intern hired to guard the farthest point of the Slytherin table shook his head at the triangle.
"Do you have any idea who my father is?" Draco rasped heatedly.
"Malfoy," the intern gulped helplessly. He checked his parchment list a second time, his eyes then suddenly making to criss-cross on Draco's infamous white hair.
Draco pointed at Audette with increasing hostility defining his features, "Do you have any idea who her father is? Bellarose ring a bell? He's worked on this tournament for years. Step aside, or I'll ensure you rue this moment for an eternity."
Audette's brain glitched on the spot.
While she was far from informed of her father's projects, Audette was understandably lost for words. She decided to nod avidly for the sake of getting past the checkpoint but the hair on her arms had electrically stood on end.
Whether it was due to the Malfoy name or the Bellarose name, or conceivably the murderous venom in Draco's features, all three were aloud to pass.
And so it was; the unusual group settled in front and center.
Audette felt herself oddly relax when Theodore Nott was found to be absent, hoping and praying that perhaps he'd miraculously invented some way to drop out.
Across the aisle in the Gryffindor V.I.P. and in awkward proximity was none other than Harry Potter himself, joined by Ginny Weasley in one of her mother's tacky, itchy sweaters with a yellow G stitched on the front.
Both Gryffindors held their brutally investigative stares on the three Slytherins for far too long. This in turn caused Draco to take out his sleek wand and place it on the table in front of himself, sporting a killer sneer and twirling it in circles.
Nothing need be muttered, the message was received through body language alone. Harry Potter took the cue and maturely danced his eyes away, but Ginny Weasley waited another solid minute before matching her boyfriend's diversion.
Great, Audette thought spitefully, realizing that Draco now had more than one enemy in the tournament.
Not only that, but in the private background of every trial she would have to deal with the exaggerated menace that was Ginny Weasley, who had publicly expressed her disgust with Audette multiple times.
For example, in Audette's fifth year this had happened:
Minding her own business, Audette was blown away one December day when she overheard the redhead barking crudely to Hermione Granger directly behind her on a moving stair, "She's a prissy little selfish bitch, I can't stand her. This whole staircase reeks like roses from her stupid perfume."
Hermione didn't seem to be on the same page, "You don't have any classes with her Ginny, just relax."
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Audette had decided to pretend she hadn't caught wind of it, until Ginny refused to drop her yammering, "You know Ronald says she claims to own an invisible bear just for attention seeking."
In the very least sweet Hermione had grumbled back in a quiet tone, "That would be a Consciaur. They are real - it is plausible that she possesses one, but it's exceptionally rare."
Audette had spun, her silky ponytail whipping the back of Seamus Finnigan's shaved head as she twirled to intervene.
Ginny predictably did not flinch, but Hermione went on to bite her lip guiltily. Multiple people on the islanded concrete structure discretely honed in on the impending doom.
Being as sensitive as she was Audette had little to no control over herself in such situations. She advanced down a step to glower over them in a fit of boiling rage, "I'll have you know Weasley that my Consciaur is quite real, and yes, he's as invisible as your father's mockery of an income."
Ginny's jaw dropped open, and Audette blundered on before she could think twice about her choice of words, or even worse - start tearing up, "That's right - my mother has told me all about his comedic employment at the Ministry. Tell me, is he saving the world, one Yo-Yo at a time? And even still, if your mangy robes did not emphasize your poverty a total lack of social graces would certainly do the trick."
In the blink of an eye Audette had demonstrated her Slytherin qualities that afternoon, turning back around with her books flat against her chest and her heart hammering. It was not a common occurrence, but when poked and prodded she was known to be unjustly imperious.
Cosmos plunked into the bench across from Audette and mirrored her sour reaction perfectly, "Weasley's got a splintered broomstick up her rump, just ignore it."
They had each ended up nestled next to large Russian champions who appeared to already be day drunk.
It was not even noon, for the record.
If one had any common sense the hour would be cause for restraint at the fear of not being sentient come the commencement of the first trial at eleven that evening.
But the Eastern Europeans were obviously experienced, and abstracted as such.
They had once again brought the mountain cat from earlier who was flat in the center of the linear table, gnawing on a raw rabbit mere feet from Audette and Guy in a horrifying performance of carnivorous destruction. Silver goblets were flinging all about from it's swishing tail, and the scent of dead meat permeated in a five meter radius like a noxious gas as the monstrous feline growled and hissed.
After twenty minutes of gore Guy covered his pierced nose while mimicking a yacking sound, his eyebrows squeezing together as he exacted his strongest character trait which was avidly complaining, "It's chaotic and rife over here, and now I'm all sticky."
He had unfortunately been subjected to the unpleasant joy of having a dark amber liquid sloshed down his sweater when one of the Durmstrang men with a wiry black beard stood abruptly and without elegance.
Audette was blessed enough to be neighboured by Draco on her right, his arm protectively tight around her neck. He was in his Hogwarts issued uniform - as was instructed for champions that morning - standing out like a sore thumb amongst the casually dressed resident students.
More than once she'd tried to inquire in a hush regarding what he'd meant about her father working on the tournament, only for him to cryptically explain that if her father had wanted her to know that information, then she already would.
The dry interaction left Audette feeling sick and confused. Secrets. So many secrets.
His crystalline eyes remained aversively glued ahead to the newest introduction to the tournament system; the Simulation Architect, Casper Magnusson.
He was a strange wizard from Switzerland who had appeared out of the blue to introduce himself next to Dumbledore - or Dumblebore as Draco preferred to whisper to Audette every time he saw the Headmaster speaking - dressed in incredibly metallic golden robes and sporting fiercely unnatural mauve hair and eyes. He held himself nearly animatronically, majestically rotating his skull on his spine in such liquid form that it was nearly disturbing.
His voice was chiseled by a strong Germanic accent, "The role of the Simulation Architect is precisely what you might imagine; to simulate, in microcosmic iterations, versions of real and treacherous magical environments, in which the champions will compete for the immortality of triumph."
Audette spoke to Guy eagerly, "My governess told me of him; he's just recently taken the lead for inventing the most spells out of any magical in history. He's a genius and an icon, so she claims. Apparently some have coined him Magnet due to his fleeting attention span for women, yet it makes him all the more attractive."
"Hmm, and do you normally hanker after men your father's age?" Draco brusquely cracked his attention from the announcements, not at all worrying himself with masking his ridiculous envy.
Audette giggled lightly as she met his flaming orbs, "I dare say, the premise is more than appalling, but perhaps I'll make an exception just to press your buttons." She poked him on his pointy nose before he had any forewarning to swat her away in his usual fashion.
Casper was off about the rules of the tournament, and for ten more endless minutes Audette positioned herself responsibly still next to her keen boyfriend who began batting his eyes consistently, imprinting the information into his brain.
It was a ranking system from first to last, developed by compounded points based on performance each round.
Multiple, uncapped contestants had entered from each school.
Four challenges; one each that played on the strength of a competing school.
The first challenge would commence that night at eleven.
No broomsticks permitted in the first challenge or else face instantaneous disqualification.
Official contracts were to be signed at one in the afternoon, followed by press conferences until three, photographs until four.
It would be extremely cold that night; dress for the Arctic.
Audette could hardly keep up, and her meagre focus was tragically diverted when Draco dislodged his arm from her shoulders, curled it around her hip and sent his fingers down between her legs to pinch the inside of her thigh.
Audette scowled, "You stay away from my beautiful pantyhose, that's costly material."
"You're staring at me again, are you not begging for the attention?" his left eye coyly dragged to the corner of his gaze without turning his head.
She had been staring at the side of his face; his sharp jawline and bobbing Adam's apple had captivated her for far longer than she'd care to admit.
"I'm allowed to stare, you're mine after all. Besides you know how I feel about public settings - this is not the type of attention I require," she defended in a quip.
"Oh I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that - did you mean, tear the pantyhose?" he hushed at her sideways, his chilly iris meeting hers before shooting back to the front of the Great Hall.
He pulled her tight up against him, then his fingernails tangled in her favourite beige tights which were bedazzled with little pink crystals before he boldly tore the fabric against her inner thigh.
A small scritch noise, then a provocative circle the size of an orange bloomed in resulting destruction.
"How dare you assault me so blatantly, you'd best count yourself lucky that repairing spells exist," she whispered at his profile in breathy shock.
He started to tease her bare skin by dragging his finger tips in gentle swirls, toying with the boundaries of the damaged fabric and navigating dangerously close to her panties. Against her better judgment Audette permitted it to go on.
"Oh come now, I've shown you great discipline," Draco cooed back in a slanted gaze, his fingers playing and pinching at her thigh, "It's you who's been belligerently concupiscent with me...Shall I stop?"
No.
He knew exactly what he was doing, intentionally spiking her temperature on the spot; she could see it from the audacious glint in his eye.
Guy's eyes however evolved into slits across the table, obviously not pleased with his inability to overhear the saucy, breathy conversation at hand, "What are you two meddling on over there? You know, I'd have been much better off accompanying Parkinson. Third-wheeling you twits can be a dread when you start all that hushy-hushy."
Dumbledore began to call upon the Quadrivial Cup to initially produce the five competitors who'd applied from Durmstrang. Then it would be the three from Beauxbatons, the four from Erenholl, and the four from Hogwarts for a grand total of sixteen brave teenagers - four times as many as the last tournament.
And this one was projected to be twice as hard - if one did not count the fact that Lord Voldemort had snuck his way into the finale of the previous contest, of course.
One at a time the Durmstrang's stood when their signed parchments fluttered up into the air in a smoking delivery, each olympian male and female shaking the Slytherin V.I.P. section e as they departed from their favourite dining axis.
As Draco played against the side of her inner leg Audette gripped the edge of the table with iron tenacity. He was a beautiful force of nature; not even moving a single upper muscle in order to mask any movement which would give away the tickling action.
Cosmos frowned sincerely at Audette who was now panting down at the wooden grains helplessly, "Are you going to be sick? Because I bloody well can't handle another spill of any design."
Audette was as dizzy as a spinning bat, her legs beginning to shake inwards as she fought to control the lusty stimulation overtaking her system, "I'm...I'm perfectly fine...I'm simply stressed about...um..."
"Oh really? Because I've seen that look on your face before and it was not due to stress," Draco mocked for a split second, a small grin arcing on his lips as he focused away from her again and at the unraveling presentation.
More boys from Durmstrang were called upon, then one female name, moving onto the next school, and the next, as Audette swallowed and breathed through the desirous tingles transpiring below the table's surface.
Even if her life depended on it she couldn't recount the names that were being pronounced extremely loudly, her mind adrift in places it ought not to be.
She had lost herself in a world of Draco Malfoy; imagining him taking her animalistically as she always did those days, imagining him performing improper acts to her body...when it was all dashed to bits.
Per usual.
"And starting from our very own Hogwarts; Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House," Dumbledore's wispy voice flattened like a glossy color transitioning into matte form, his watery eyes suddenly landing on the intertwined pair as the rare white parchment Draco had placed in the cup whorled down from above and landed in his weathered palm. The edges of the papery inscription scalded inwards at an unnatural rate of char, somehow managing to avoid conflagrating the elderly man's skin.
A thousand pairs of eyes were suddenly locked on them. Another badgering camera flash went off.
All of the Hogwarts professors aptly clapped in response - Snape especially hard, his black eyes filled with strict approval. At least eight Slytherin boys stood down the way, chanting Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy...
Draco retracted his obscured pawing and surprised her by dropping a parcel from within his sleeve onto her empty plate. It was a small purple envelope pinched in the middle with an obvious circular gift.
"Look for me when the time is right," he kissed her cheek in front of the entire population, then pushed out of the bench in a puff of piney perfection.
She was devastated as all of the build up of pleasure seeped away like smoke in the wind, to be replaced instead with contrasting anxiety surrounding his departure.
Malfoy floated to the front in aloof conceit, receiving the paper out of Dumbledore's hand under the creepy gaze of the adjacent Simulation Architect. The Headmaster eyed Draco down with what appeared to be mild enthusiasm before another entry poofed out from the Goblet Of Fire, which was still elevated in the talons of the stationary Gorgon.
Even though he'd witnessed them both sign up, Dumbledore's voice was convincingly surprised as the next words left his mouth, "Secondly from Hogwarts, Theodore Nott, Slytherin House." He raised a bushy eyebrow to the end of the Slytherin table where Theo had apparently inserted himself covertly amongst the younger years and lesser popular nitwits.
The murmurs evolved into full blown chatter.
Never before had Slytherin represented Hogwarts in the tournament. Now, there would be two champions from the derisive House, and it was guaranteed to result in the most distracting nonsense the likes of the contest had ever seen.
Theodore stood and Audette caught her breath at the sight of him, his eyes unrecognizably black with abhorrent disposition.
He walked militantly down the aisle between the Slytherin table and the timid Hufflepuffs, cracking his knuckles angrily. His Hogwarts robes were perfectly pressed, tidy and glued to his frame, showcasing his attention to even the most microscopic details.
Long brown hair flopped in front of his nose as he marched, and as he passed by his oceanic gaze darted down to Audette for a split second that felt as though it lasted a lifetime.
During the slow motion interaction Audette heard her own voice pleading in her head even though he couldn't possibly perceive it, please don't do this. Then he was gone at full speed, and all the other intrigued attendees craned their necks to watch the definably taciturn boy land in the spotlight.
He practically snagged his parchment from Dumbledore who seemed dreamily impartial to the hostility, but McGonagall on the other hand was not having the attitude.
Instead of lining up Nott next to Malfoy in the forming array, she smartly forced Theodore to stand two spaces to the right, turning around between them with her face twitching and her hands wringing in classic concern.
As the goblet flared once more, Audette saw Theodore boldly mouth something vile to Draco around the front of a very worrisome McGonagall.
The short sentence was not hard to decipher providing the unmistakable articulation of his lips and the manner in which his teeth were baring, You're dead, Malfoy.
He ran his finger across his neck to imitate a knife slicing the aorta.
Draco laughed clownishly and brought both hands up to his neck to fake strangling himself, but the tomfoolery was quickly ground to a halt when McGonagall tapped her wand on the center of his forehead warningly.
"I can't wait to watch them brawl. Pass the popping corn," Guy devilishly uttered, then found himself blithering in freight as the mountain lion reached out a razor sharp paw and snagged a thick chicken leg from his plate.
Audette gasped as the cat's claws, and the victimized chicken drum, disappeared from their personal space once again.
When it was safe to do so she picked up a crumpet from a silver platter and tossed it at his soiled sweater, "Oh behave yourself Cozzy, this is no laughing matter."
Guy lackadaisically picked crumbs from his clothing and shoved them in his mouth. "Behave myself? Where's the entertainment in that? This is the steamiest face-off in the history of the wizarding world. I mean...just look at those two heartthrob villains!" he pointed animatedly between Draco and Theodore, who were apparently attempting to turn each other to ashes with unblinking glares alone.
Audette rubbed her temples in trembling horror, placing both of her elbows on the table parallel to the small envelope left by Draco.
After a firm and spirited handshake with Dumbledore, the third contestant from Hogwarts and the school favourite, Harry Potter, had just made his way up to the front in his typically disheveled Gryffindor attire.
Why on Earth he would be motivated to compete a second time in the tournament was totally beyond Audette, as Harry had arguably went through a very scarring experience in their fourth year.
And to make it all more confusing was the ill expression dominating his face, as if he'd once again been signed up for the tournament by some alien force, but his uneasiness that year could have been attributed to having been directed to divide the nasty Slytherin boys from one another by taking the center slot.
He was conveniently sandwiched on each parallel by festering, putrid energy; but thankfully with Harry now in the way Draco and Theo quickly broke the connection.
Harry's signature, circular spectacles reflected the purple flames of the goblet, but behind the glass Audette could see him peering sideways at Draco with such stupid brazenness it was sensational that Draco chose to ignore it, as if Harry were another one of the Malfoy's House Elves begging for a sock too.
The Simulation Architect stepped into the middle of the champions once the Ravenclaw female was set next to Theo; square with the eighth contestant from Beauxbatons on his right, and the ninth from Erenholl on his left.
He held up a massive grey wand to the illusionary ceiling, pausing for effect.
More obnoxious flashes and whines went off from cameras to capture the entire roster of champions and the Architect of that year's games.
"For eternal glory," the Architect proclaimed, then he cast a strange spell into the air which resulted in an astronomical cloud of sparkling purple mist so thick that for a few seconds Audette couldn't even see her own hand six inches from her eyes.
When the engulfing magic had cleared off so had all of the champions, the Simulation Architect, and many of the teachers. Where they had all gone to was a downright throbbing question mark left for the remaining crowd to cluelessly decipher.
People launched into shouting and hollering, banging into each other as they bumbled around and departed from the eventful lunch.
"...sure to be a good year..."
"Elle n'a aucune chance..."
"Did you see the tension between those Slytherins? Theodore Nott..."
"I heard that Claude from Beauxbatons..."
"...think Potter is delusional, or just perpetually grandiose?"
"... she defeated Freya from Erenholl twice already at the National Knarl Croquet..."
Audette sat there with her heart sinking to the bottom of the ocean, attempting to block out all of the public chatter. Her ears had begun to ring down to the center of her brain, not only eliminating the snide gossip from her audiological senses but also Cosmos' ranting in the rowdy atmosphere.
Sniffling and operating entirely in her own world she unfolded the envelope from Draco, to discover nothing more elaborate than a plain golden band.
"Blimey! Has the bastard asked you to marry him?" Guy gasped, placing his chewed up fingernails in her perspective.
"Goodness no, don't be mad," Audette shook her head, unfolding a small note written by someone other than Draco, who instead possessed elegantly curvy handwriting;
Put me on at half past ten, to bid good luck your champion then.