"Restore my reputation?" Audrey chuckled. "So that means the wanted notice will be canceled? Of course, I'm all for it!"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, but you'll still need to use the name Audrey while at school for now."
Audrey frowned. "Why?"
"Some of the staff and students hold grudges against your biological father. To avoid unnecessary disputes, hiding your identity temporarily is the best solution," Dumbledore explained.
"But my surname is Lestrange!"
"Lestrange has many enemies at school," Dumbledore continued. "For example, fellow student Lombarton."
Grindelwald snorted silently, clearly unconvinced by Dumbledore's reasoning. Why should a genius have to accommodate the feelings of ordinary people?
"Alright then," Audrey shrugged. She didn't care much—three years would pass quickly, and she wouldn't need to use the name Hydrus Lestrange for another seven years anyway.
"Albus, since that's settled, let's go upstairs and have a drink. I just traveled all the way from Nurmengard; I'm exhausted!"
Halloween passed, and the stories of the troll incident and the Slytherin girls' dormitory invasion spread quickly among the younger wizards. But the most enduring topic of conversation was the three songs Audrey had sung before the feast.
The main group also solidified their bonds after Halloween. Hermione no longer scolded Harry and the others for breaking rules—she even seemed a bit eager to join in.
By November, the weather had turned sharply cold.
Audrey had heard that Hogsmeade was covered in snow, but she had no desire to go, even though the biggest threat, Bode Gray, was now in custody.
At that moment, she was hiding in her room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace, sipping wine specially brewed for her by Momo, nibbling on some irresistible jerky, and playing wizard chess with Ethellyn.
She had recently become obsessed with the game. Who said the wizarding world lacked entertainment? The uniquely animated little chess pieces were endlessly fascinating.
"This move is brilliant! Well done, Miss Astley!"
"Damn it, how dare you send me to my death? Fine, you're right—this is a good move! I die with honor!"
"Oh, we won again! Long live Audrey Astley!"
Ethellyn gulped down her wine in frustration—she had lost nine out of ten games. Audrey always seemed able to see through her plans.
"I'm done!" Ethellyn pushed the pieces over, prompting a chorus of angry exclamations. "Audrey, you should go to the common room—there are plenty of people far stronger than me there!"
Audrey shrugged, unconcerned. "Why would I play against stronger opponents? Besides, is there good food and drink outside? I'm not sharing my precious snacks with strangers!"
Knock, knock, knock.
There was a knock at the door. Ethellyn opened it—Audrey was still snuggled under the covers, unwilling to get up.
It was prefect Gemma Farley. "Ethellyn, is Audrey here?"
Ethellyn nodded, letting her in.
"Audrey!" Gemma exclaimed. "Why are you still in bed?"
Audrey smiled. "It's Saturday. Isn't it supposed to be a day for rest?"
Gemma nearly shouted. "But today is our Quidditch match against Gryffindor! I came to fetch you to watch!"
"Nope!" Audrey immediately refused. In freezing weather, going outside to watch a bunch of amateurs fight? Only a fool would do that.
"Audrey!" Gemma pleaded. "You're Slytherin's pride. If you come, it will boost our team's morale!"
Audrey blinked. Are you sure Gryffindor won't just play harder out of spite if I show up?
Ethellyn added, "Audrey, come on. You can't lie in bed all day!"
Well, a little activity wouldn't hurt. Otherwise, her reputation as a lazy girl would spread.
"Fine! I'll go!"
Ethellyn beamed with joy—finally, she wouldn't get crushed again!
But as soon as Audrey stepped outside the castle, she regretted it.
It was freezing. Even wearing the store's masterpiece coat, she could barely resist Hogwarts' bitter cold. She reluctantly cast a warming charm on herself and buffed Ethellyn and Gemma as well.
Crossing the castle gardens, they reached the massive Quidditch pitch.
"We need to hurry, or we'll be late!" Gemma urged, and the three began to jog.
Once outside the pitch, Audrey felt the younger wizards' Quidditch fever.
The crowd was deafening. Their enthusiasm seemed to melt the snow, leaving the grass pristine—a result of the professors' defrosting charms.
Gemma had already saved a seat for Audrey. The three sat shoulder to shoulder, and soon, the match began.
"Just in time," Gemma said. "If you stayed in bed any longer, we'd have missed it."
Audrey shrugged.
"The Bludger has been caught by Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson!" Lee Jordan's voice echoed. "What a remarkable Seeker, and—oh, she's so charming—"
"Jordan!" Audrey heard Professor McGonagall roar, and she laughed. The commentary was more entertaining than the match itself.
Gryffindor's skills were slightly superior, and Angelina, in coordination with her teammates, tricked Slytherin's keeper Blazey and scored with the Bludger. The Gryffindor fans erupted in cheers.
Audrey, however, felt her Slytherins were facing the apocalypse, hanging their heads in despair.
Under Captain Flint, Slytherin quickly scored thirty points through less-than-honorable means. The little snakes cheered; as long as it worked, the methods didn't matter.
Gryffindor's Seeker was a seventh-year named Gomez McCand, drafted into the team by Wood just to fill the roster.
Audrey had disrupted Potter's Quidditch debut but felt no guilt. Harry had avoided Snape's strict scrutiny as a first-year Seeker and sidestepped potential dangers from falling off a broom. Audrey felt virtuous—truly a saint!
Without Harry's near-fall, Gryffindor's players were fully focused, quickly catching up and even overtaking Slytherin.
Slytherin's morale visibly dropped. The players grew increasingly anxious.
"Audrey, sing!" Gemma shouted. "Your voice can boost our morale!"
Audrey: ???
A phoenix's song could inspire courage, yes—but indiscriminately! If she sang, Gryffindor would be empowered too. What's the point?
But desperate times call for desperate measures. The little snakes urged her on, and even Ethellyn gave her a pleading look.
Audrey: …
Next time she came to a Quidditch pitch, she'd be a complete fool.
She switched to her Phoenix form and began to sing.
"Ah—ah—aaaah—"
The effect was instantaneous. Slytherin's players perked up and organized a counterattack.
But Gryffindor's players were equally energized!
Not only that, the spectators were swept up by Audrey's song, standing and cheering wildly.
The crowd's excitement fueled the players further. They seemed pumped on adrenaline, throwing themselves into the game with reckless abandon.
"Oh, Audrey Astley of Slytherin is singing! Her song energizes all players! Look, they're like trolls on stimulants! Speaking of trolls, we must mention Marcus Flint, with his troll heritage…"
"Lee Jordan!"
The score swung back and forth. Despite the players' average skill, the match took on the intensity of a Quidditch World Cup final.
"The Golden Snitch has appeared!" Lee Jordan shouted. "Gryffindor's Seeker Gomez and Slytherin's Seeker Terrence are diving for it!"
"No, are they insane? At that angle, they're colliding mid-dive! Merlin's socks! Please don't break your necks!"
The Seekers were clearly overexcited, feeling invincible.
To the naked eye, it was obvious—they were losing control of their brooms.
Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey immediately readied their wands, anticipating disaster.
Bang! Crash!
Gomez and Terrence collided, their brooms tangling. They fell to the ground. Terrence lost consciousness instantly. Gomez bounced along the ground for over twenty meters before stopping.
He lay on his back, raising his hands—still holding the Golden Snitch.
Two streams of blood ran down from his head. He tilted his neck and joined Terrence in unconsciousness.
"Oh… Gryffindor has caught the Golden Snitch!"
"Gryffindor wins, 210–70!"
"Though our Seekers are seriously injured… let's hope they'll be okay."
Audrey stopped singing, shaking her head. Coming to watch Quidditch had been a total waste—what a chaotic, crude spectacle.
Too undignified!
She could have stayed in bed listening to Momo tell stories about domesticated sprites instead.
Once again, she swore: if she ever returned to the Quidditch pitch, she'd be a complete fool.