▬▬▬▬

"TEENAGE QUIDDITCH PLAYER?!"

Albany rolled her eyes in amusement from where she was perched on George's shoulders. Lee seemed to have taken personal offense to the remark as he gaped up at her, eyes wide. He was torn between gawping at Krum and staring at Albany in disbelief, and settled for glancing back and forth between the two, dreadlocks swinging.

"He's not just anybody, Albany, he's the greatest Seeker in the world!" Lee continued.

"I had no idea he was still in school," Angelina commented, and though she wasn't quite as enthusiastic as Lee or the twins, she was still stretching to catch a glimpse of the Durmstrang student as they passed by.

"Course he is, Angie, he's only eighteen," Fred said with a grin. "And no offense to him, but he looks all brawn and no brain, so I doubt he'd have graduated early."

Lee elbowed the redhead hard in the ribs. "We don't speak bad words against Viktor Krum in this household," he hissed, and began to bounce up and down to see over the crowd.

The Hogwarts students were the last to reenter the entrance hall and join their guests for the evening feast. Everybody seemed to be ecstatic over the sightings of Krum; how a blank-faced, bulky Quidditch player had built up such a fanbase, Albany failed to understand. She couldn't help but let her gaze wander again over to where Faith was giggling and squealing hysterically with the other Slytherin girls in their year; she seemed perfectly content without Albany's presence, and it kind of stung.

"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me-" Phylis was whining, patting every pocket on her being.

Viola was doing the same, until she found something in her chest pocket that she hastily pulled out. "D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

The girls began to squabble over the lipstick, Faith included, and Albany felt her face falling. Her poor mood didn't last long, however, and she laughed as George swayed teasingly, testing her balance.

Their fun was cut short, as Professor McGonagall had spotted them without much effort. Albany stood out over the crowd as much as the Beauxbatons headmistress while she was sitting on George's shoulders.

"Mr Weasley, put Miss Bronwen down at once," the grey-haired woman instructed, striding over to them. Her expression was as stern as ever, though Albany swore she saw her eyes glimmering with amusement behind her spectacles. "And fix your hair! The impression you'll be giving our guests, honestly!"

George beamed innocently at his head of house as he let go of Albany's legs, who carefully slid down his back. She felt even shorter than she usually did as she was reduced back down to her usual vantage point, unable to see over the crowd.

As they arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall, Albany felt a sense of yearning as she realised she'd have to split from the twins and their friends, and rejoin Faith and her fellow Slytherins. Fred and George glanced at her, seemingly remembering the same thing.

"Catch you later, Allie," Fred said with a grin and a wink, nudging her with his elbow before following the rest of the Gryffindor crowd.

George glanced at his brother briefly, before turning back to Albany. "You can always come join us, nobody's gonna complain," he offered, smiling.

Albany shifted her gaze to the table in red behind them, and bit her cheek. She recognised a shorter, stockier redhead as the twins' younger brother, who was leaning across the table to whisper to Fred and staring in her direction. She met George's gaze again, and shook her head. "It's alright," she assured him, and mentally chided herself for even entertaining the idea. She was grateful for the pair's friendship, but it wasn't like they were anywhere near as close with her as she was with Faith. She already felt a little guilty every time she thought back to first year, when she'd followed the girl around like a lost puppy; she wasn't about to cling off of another friend group just because they were nice to her.

"Sure?" George raised his eyebrows, eyes twinkling.

She nodded once, firm. "Yes. Bye, Gred."

He smiled. "Bye, Albany."

She briefly watched him turn away and join his friends at the Gryffindor table, before she heard Faith's distinctive high-pitched squeal over the crowd behind her. She turned on her heels to face her dormmates with a tentative smile, unsure of why there was a sinking in her chest.

It took a few beats for the girls to notice her as they giggled and stumbled by, still in hysterics over Viktor Krum. It was Zoe who spotted their classmate as they made their way to the Slytherin table, and smiled gingerly at her, slowing the pace a little. Only then did Faith follow her gaze, and her face was impossible to read, delighted expression frozen into her soft features.

Albany bit her cheek hard. "I think the Durmstrang students are sitting at our table," she said after a long and awkward moment. Her statement set off another round of shrieks from Phylis, Zoe and Viola, who rushed off with newfound speed to get a seat as close to Krum as they could.

Faith stayed put, staring at her, and Albany shifted her feet. The girl's icy blue gaze had never felt so piercing before, and she felt as though her soul was being examined, before gentle warmth filled her friend's eyes.

"Come on, then, or we'll miss a good spot!" Faith exclaimed, grinning, and she grabbed a hold of Albany's hand, practically dragging her through the crowd. Albany felt a wave of relief, though couldn't swallow the pit in her stomach.

The feast was an impressive one; arrangements had obviously been made to suit their guests' tastes, as Albany recognised a few French dishes among the foreign foods. She picked at her bouillabaisse as the girls resumed their boy-crazy conversations; Viola sounded particularly frustrated that Krum was sitting further down the table, with "those brutish fourth years, of all the options!" She wasn't so focused on what was being said, as much as she was that she'd never seen Faith speak to the other girls so much. She knew they were friendly, sure; but felt as though she had been replaced that night for people who could keep better conversation. She pushed her plate away suddenly, and it made a loud clang as it collided with someone's glass, though nobody noticed. She swallowed her jealousy and glanced across the hall to the Gryffindor table, suddenly bitter.

"Are you going to be eating the bouillabaisse?"

Albany glanced up at the heavy French accent, surprised. Her gaze wandered over to the Ravenclaw table for a moment, where the majority of the students from Beauxbatons had seated themselves, and then returned to the girl in pale blue robes who had gently sat down opposite her. She blinked.

"Uh, no, did you want it?"

The French student smiled almost sheepishly, a soft pink taking to her tanned cheeks. She looked familiar, and then Albany placed it - she was the girl who had looked up at her when George was giving her a piggyback. Her hair was more impressive up close, the tight, dark ringlets giving it plenty of volume. She had round, kind eyes and soft lips; Albany thought darker robes of red or green might have better complemented her darker complexion.

"Non, sorry," the girl responded, with a gentle laugh. Her English was better than most Hogwarts students', Albany thought, growing a sudden appreciation for the foreigners, who had arrived from places where English was not the common language. "I was just wondering. It is a lovely dish."

"I've had it before," she agreed, and tried to smile, though nerves kept it at bay. She let her gaze fall to the abandoned fish on her plate, and felt a pang of guilt. "Just lost my appetite tonight."

The girl smiled sympathetically. "I can understand. My name is Carly Dubois."

A hand was extended, and Albany shook it gingerly. It was soft and warm, and she hoped that her own wasn't too clammy from the stress of speaking alone to a stranger.

"Albany Bronwen," she replied quietly. She sat, still and silent, as Carly contentedly served herself one of the northern European dishes - "Kroppkakor", she thought she'd heard a girl from Durmstrang calling it. It looked and smelled delicious, though her stomach turned at the thought of food. Her eyes darted from Faith to the Gryffindor table and back again, trying to shake the wave of oncoming nausea.

"The castle is very beautiful," Carly was saying in her calm yet bright voice, dragging Albany's focus back. She spoke, sat and even ate with an air of grace Albany couldn't even dream of achieving. "Will you be entering the Triwizard Tournament?"

The very words finished tying the knot in Albany's guts. She stood suddenly, gripping the table a little too hard, maybe, as she stumbled over the bench. "I'm going to bed," she muttered under her breath, but then Faith's eyes were on her again, and her friend looked concerned.

"Dumbledore hasn't even made his speech yet, Al," the dark-haired girl argued, worry in her tone. "They're going to make more announcements about the tournament, you can't miss it-!"

"I have to go," Albany said quickly, excusing herself as she left the table. She was fortunate that the hall was bustling and noisy enough that her absence went unnoticed by most; the staff were mingling amiably with each other, while the students had far too much to chat eagerly about. She thought she felt a pair of eyes on her from the Gryffindor table, though didn't dare look back as she slipped out the great tall doors.

"Where do you think you're going?" came the low growl of the school's caretaker, and she pushed past Filch with grit teeth, not in any form to be bothered.

"Bed," she spat, and continued on her way to the dungeons.

Either she'd made her point clear, or Filch had other priorities, as he remained stationed outside of the Great Hall. She had a funny feeling that Mrs Norris would soon be on her tail, however. Not that she intended on going anywhere but her dormitory.

The hallways felt nearly unfamiliar when she walked them alone; there was something unsettling about the complete lack of other human beings with every turn she took. Her footsteps echoed sharply off of the darkened stone walls, and she could just make out the disgruntled mutters coming from paintings as she disturbed their inhabitants. She half considered calling upon Merlin and Arthur, but decided against it, biting her cheek. She didn't exactly want to start an argument, and that was bound to happen if she encountered anyone. Her mood was only worsening the farther she walked from the hall, and the unease in her guts wasn't letting up. Most frustrating was that she was unable to pinpoint the root of it all.

Well, perhaps that wasn't all true. But she was refusing to acknowledge it.

Albany nearly crashed into the man as he cleared his throat, voice gruff. She had been whirled away by her thoughts, not expecting to cross paths with anyone else while the feast had yet to end. But there was Mad-Eye Moody, standing directly in her path, examining the girl curiously with a raised eyebrow. His magical eyeball spun around to face her - it had been watching the back of his head - and darted over her face and stance rapidly. She bit her cheek hard, uneasy.

"Going somewhere?" the professor asked drily, hands clasped over his staff, fingers tapping it rhythmically. She swore she saw his tongue poke out, just for a minute, and shivered.

"Bed," she repeated, with much less fire in her this time. She felt as though she had shrunk under the man's intense stare; she had heard many things about Mad-Eye Moody, and as mad as people claimed him to be in his retirement, she was aware that he was not one to sass. The ferret incident Faith had told her about spoke for itself.

"Oh really?" he asked, and it was clear from his tone that he didn't believe her. "The middle of the feast, and you think it's bedtime?"

Albany felt blood from where she had bit her cheek too hard. "I feel sick," she said quietly, though the excuse sounded feeble now.

"Sure you do," he growled, tongue dripping in sarcasm. She felt the frustration beginning to build once again; she just wanted to be alone and sleep it off. "You really think you can fool me, girl? Sneaking off to cause trouble, no doubt-"

"No, because I really am just going to bed," she snapped, the nausea in her stomach rearing its ugly head once more. She wanted to recoil at the murderous look Moody's eyes took on, but held her ground, angry and tired and sick of a lot of things.

"What's your name, girl?"

Albany grit her teeth. "Albany Bronwen."

"And your head of house will be Professor Snape, then," Moody said grimly, glancing down to the green and silver tie she wore. "He'll be hearing about this, I can guarantee you that much."

Albany glared at him, lips parted to retort before she decided against it.

In a sudden enough movement, Moody had his large hand wrapped around her upper arm, its strong grip turning her on the spot and dragging her along; "let's get you back to the feast, then, Miss Bronwen."

Albany felt a surge of fear in the professor's rough hold, and struggled to escape it, digging her heels into the floor as she fought her way out of it. "Let go of me!" she yelled, though the panic cracked her voice. "Merlin-"

The sorcerer and his companion were at her side in an instant, eyes wide and eyebrows knitted with sudden concern.

"Albany, what-" Arthur cut himself off in his haste to assume a fighting stance as he took in the scene. Fear flashed briefly across his features before he put a lid on the emotions, expression stony.

"Arthur, no-!" Merlin cried, and Albany caught a glance of what the king was doing as she attempted to wrench her arm from Moody's hand.

Arthur had drawn his sword from its sheath at his belt, and was wielding it as if prepared to deal a blow; Moody continued to drag her roughly along, oblivious to the ghosts, until the blond took a sharp swing at his arm. Albany's eyes widened in horror, though the ghost's blade didn't pierce her professor; it did, however, bring him to stumble and release his hold on the girl.

She took a few clumsy steps backwards, glancing over her shoulder to Arthur in shock. Her mouth had opened but no words were coming out; Merlin looked panicked and Arthur already full of regret, his chest deflating as he lowered his weapon.

The ex-Auror whipped around to search manically for the culprit, face taught with rage; if Albany knew she could have escaped, she would have ran, as Moody appeared as though he were prepared to commit a serious crime. His magical eye darted around the hallway with insane speed, before staring dead at Albany and bringing her heart to her throat. The ghosts behind her disappeared; she heard the soft pop of their absence.

Moody's tongue darted out as he glared at her, seething with anger.

"I suggest you get yourself to bed immediately," he growled, the sound strained through his tense jaw.

Albany stared at him, mouth gaping in utter shock and disbelief at what had just occurred. It didn't take too long for her to process that she was being let go, however, and she walked down the corridor the fastest she had ever moved in her life.