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Chapter 64: The Tragedy Caused by the Phoenix Song
"Restore his innocence?" Audrey let out a short laugh. "So the arrest warrant will be withdrawn? That's obviously good news."
Dumbledore nodded.
"However, while you are at Hogwarts, you may need to continue using the identity of Audrey Astray."
Audrey frowned slightly.
"Why?"
"Because some of the staff and students harbour deep resentment toward your biological father. Concealing your true identity for now will help avoid unnecessary conflict."
"But my surname is Lestrange."
"The name Lestrange also has no shortage of enemies at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said mildly. "The Longbottom family, for instance."
Grindelwald pressed his lips together, clearly dissatisfied. In his view, it was absurd for true geniuses to tiptoe around the emotions of ordinary people.
"All right," Audrey agreed calmly.
She truly did not care. It was only three years, after all—and she would not need to use the identity of Hydras Lestrange for another seven years yet.
"Al," Grindelwald said lazily, "since the matter is settled, let's go upstairs and have a drink. I'm exhausted after travelling all the way from Nurmengard."
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Halloween passed quietly.
The troll incident and the intrusion into the Slytherin girls' dormitory quickly became gossip among the students, but the most talked-about subject that year was still the three songs Audrey had sung before the feast.
After Halloween, the main group grew noticeably closer. Hermione no longer interfered with Harry and the others whenever they broke school rules—she even seemed tempted to try it herself.
By November, the temperature dropped sharply.
Audrey heard that Hogsmeade Village had already been blanketed in snow, but she had no intention of going—despite the fact that her greatest threat, Bod Grey, had been captured.
Instead, she remained comfortably in her room, basking in the warmth of the brazier, sipping the wine Momo had brewed especially for her, nibbling on cured jerky, and playing wizard's chess with Iselin.
She had been utterly obsessed with the game recently.
Who said the wizarding world lacked entertainment? These living chess pieces were fascinating beyond belief.
"That was a magnificent move! Praise be to you, Miss Astray!"
"Damn it! You sent me straight to my death! Fine, fine—you're right. A brilliant move. I deserved it!"
"Oh! Victory again! Long live Audrey Astray!"
Iselin drained her glass in frustration. Another loss. At this rate, she was losing nine games out of ten. Audrey always seemed able to see several moves ahead.
"I'm done!" Iselin swept the chess pieces aside, drawing a chorus of shrill complaints from them.
"Audrey, you should play in the common room. Plenty of people there are better than me!"
Audrey laughed lazily.
"Why would I deliberately seek out stronger opponents? Besides, are there fine wines and delicacies out there? I'm not sharing my cute little snacks with strangers."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
There was a knock at the door. Since Audrey was curled up beneath her blankets, Iselin went to answer it.
Outside stood Prefect Gemma Farley.
"Is Iselin here? Is Audrey in?" Gemma asked.
Iselin stepped aside to let her in.
"Audrey!" Gemma exclaimed. "Why are you still in bed?!"
Audrey laughed.
"It's Saturday. Isn't resting a perfectly valid activity?"
Gemma nearly shouted,
"But today is Slytherin's Quidditch match against Gryffindor! I've come to take you to watch!"
"I'm not going."
Audrey refused instantly.
In this freezing weather, only an idiot would stand outside watching a bunch of people flailing around on broomsticks.
"Audrey!" Gemma pleaded. "You're our Slytherin star! If you attend, it'll raise the team's morale enormously!"
Audrey blinked.
"Or Gryffindor might fight even harder out of sheer resentment."
Iselin chimed in,
"Come on, Audrey! You can't lie in bed all day."
…Fine. If she didn't move at all, her reputation as a professional layabout would become permanent.
"All right," Audrey sighed. "I'll go."
Iselin immediately beamed. At last—freedom from humiliation at the chessboard.
---
Audrey regretted her decision the moment she stepped outside the castle gates.
It was freezing.
Even wearing a masterpiece from the Transcendental Clothing Store, she still felt the bone-deep chill of Hogwarts.
Reluctantly, she cast a warming charm on herself—and then extended the same spell to Iselin and Gemma.
After passing through the gardens and beyond the walls, the vast Quidditch pitch came into view.
"We need to hurry!" Gemma urged. "We're about to start!"
As soon as Audrey reached the edge of the stadium, she felt the overwhelming enthusiasm of the students.
The stands were packed. Their excitement was so intense it seemed to melt the snow itself, leaving the grass lush and green—a result of the professors' defrosting charms.
Gemma had already saved seats. The three of them sat together as the match began.
"Perfect timing," Gemma said pointedly. "If someone had stayed in bed any longer, we'd have missed it."
Audrey shrugged.
"The Quaffle's been caught by Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson!" Lee Jordan's voice boomed across the pitch.
"What a chaser—and what a stunning one too—"
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall roared.
Audrey laughed. Sometimes the commentary was far more entertaining than the match itself.
Gryffindor clearly had the upper hand in skill. Angelina and her teammates worked seamlessly, tricking Slytherin's Keeper Blatchley and scoring cleanly.
The Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers.
The Slytherins, however, looked as though the sky had fallen.
Under Marcus Flint's leadership, Slytherin responded with a string of thirty points—achieved through methods that were, at best, morally flexible.
The little snakes cheered wildly. They didn't care how victory was achieved, only that it was.
Gryffindor's Seeker this year was a seventh-year named Gomez McHand, recruited by Oliver Wood to fill a vacancy.
Audrey had ruined Potter's Quidditch debut—and felt absolutely no guilt.
In fact, because Harry hadn't joined the team in his first year, he'd avoided both Snape's relentless attention and today's near-fatal accident.
Clearly, she was a saint.
But without Potter's fall, Gryffindor played with exceptional focus, quickly equalising the score—and then overtaking Slytherin.
The Slytherin team's morale wavered. Their movements grew erratic.
"Audrey—sing!" Gemma cried.
"Your singing can boost morale!"
Audrey: ???
A phoenix song inspired courage indiscriminately. If she sang, Gryffindor would benefit too.
But desperation breeds reckless decisions.
The surrounding Slytherins began urging her as well. Even Iselin looked at her imploringly.
Audrey sighed inwardly.
Next time she came to a Quidditch match, she truly would be an idiot.
She transformed into her phoenix form and began to sing.
"Ah—ah—"
The effect was immediate.
Slytherin players surged with renewed vigour, launching a fierce counterattack.
Unfortunately, Gryffindor was just as affected.
Worse still, the crowd was swept up by the song. One by one, students stood, shouting and cheering, their emotions feeding back into the players.
The match spiralled into chaos.
"Oh! Audrey Astray of Slytherin has begun singing!" Lee Jordan exclaimed.
"Look at them all—charged up like trolls on an aphrodisiac! Speaking of trolls, let's not forget Marcus Flint—"
"Jordan!"
"The Golden Snitch has appeared!"
"Both Seekers—Gomez for Gryffindor and Terrence for Slytherin—are diving!"
"Merlin's socks! They're shoving each other mid-dive! That angle's insane!"
They were clearly over-excited, convinced of their invincibility.
Anyone with eyes could see they were losing control.
Madam Hooch already had her wand out. Madam Pomfrey rushed from the stands.
Then—
Bang!
Crack!
The two Seekers collided. Their brooms tangled, and both were flung violently to the ground.
Terrence lost consciousness instantly.
Gomez bounced more than twenty metres before finally coming to a stop.
Lying flat on his back, blood streaming from his head, his neck twisted unnaturally—he raised his hand weakly, revealing the Golden Snitch.
"Oh—Gryffindor has caught the Snitch!"
"Final score: Gryffindor wins, 210 to 70!"
"Our Seeker is severely injured—let's hope he survives!"
Audrey stopped singing.
She shook her head calmly.
Coming to watch this match had been a mistake.
Loud. Crude. Completely lacking elegance.
A total waste of time.
She would much rather lie in bed, listening to Momo tell stories about house-elves.
As she had said before—
If she ever came to the Quidditch pitch again, she truly would be an idiot.
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