Tracey's Surprise

A greenish flash of light illuminated Oleandra's figure in her dormitory room, followed a few seconds later by the muffled sound of thunder. There was a lightning storm going on outside, but since the Slytherin quarters were half-underground and half-underwater, the sound of the thunder was muffled, and the pitter-patter of the rain was completely inaudible, making it quite peaceful here in the dead of night.

Oleandra looked over her shoulder to verify that Tracey and Mafalda were sound asleep, before opening the first of two envelopes that had already very clearly been unsealed. The wax had been stamped with the seal of the noble Rosier family of France, which meant that she had just received directives from the Order of the Round Table.

Upon flattening the letter contained within the envelope on her desk and shining a light on it, Oleandra audibly groaned; it was written entirely in Breizh, or Breton, which was perhaps the best way to encrypt a secret message in this day and age. Her Translating Earrings wouldn't help her here; she'd have to use… a dictionary.

"Why didn't I pay more attention in class?" she muttered to herself.

Oleandra was a Londoner born and bred, but her father was a Prewett from Cornwall, so he had insisted that she take Kernewek, or Cornish, in primary school. Unfortunately for both of them, Oleandra had been a child back then; and just as most Irish children nowadays weren't very interested in learning Gaeilge, even though it was taught to them in school, so had young Oleandra been unwilling to put in any effort towards learning a language that she would never end up using.

She scanned the letter for words she could identify; Cornish, Breton and Welsh were somewhat related, so in theory, she wouldn't be starting from zero. However, five years of magical learning had made her forget nearly everything.

Curse you, Pseudo-Latin spells!

Before getting to work, Oleandra opened the second envelope and read the message it contained.

Saturday night, Hagrid's Hut.

"Ouch!" Oleandra yelped.

She held up her hands to the candlelight and watched as her fingers inflated to ridiculous proportions; it felt like her skin was crawling with ants. How was she supposed to interpret the coded letter if she couldn't even hold a quill? And on top of that, she had promised Tracey that she'd see the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match tomorrow with her…

"The swelling had better die down by then…" Oleandra murmured, wiggling her plumped-up sausage-like fingers experimentally. "Now, where did Daphne put that antidote…"

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The mood in the Great Hall was charged with electricity the morning of the game, but Oleandra wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings, as she was still nose deep in the two dictionaries she had managed to unearth in the library: French-Breton and French-English. She couldn't keep the Order waiting for her answer forever!

"Come on," said Tracey impatiently as she tugged on Oleandra's sleeve. "Everyone's leaving already! At this rate, all the good seats will be taken!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Oleandra said reluctantly, as she slipped both of the books along with her not even half-translated letter into her pouch.

As they exited the castle and walked down to the pitch along with the rest of the Slytherins, Oleandra couldn't help but notice that the majority of students in her House were wearing oddly shaped silver badges.

"Want one?" said Malfoy snidely, noticing Oleandra's stare. "You can have one, if you'd like. Here, catch!"

He lobbed her a badge, which Oleandra thankfully managed to catch without letting it slip between her fingers. For some reason she couldn't fathom, the crown-shaped badge read: Weasley Is Our King.

"Since when are you chairman of the Weasley fan club?" Oleandra gaped.

"Haven't you heard us rehearsing in the common room?" Parkinson said snootily. "Draco and I came up with a song to demoralize the Gryffindor Keeper."

Tracey put a hand in front of her mouth and giggled.

"Something funny, Davis?" Pansy snapped.

"No, it's nothing," said Tracey innocently.

"Well, whatever," said Malfoy lazily. "I've got to join the others, wish me luck."

Malfoy cast one last strange look in Tracey's direction— she was now desperately fighting to keep a straight face— before leaving for the changing rooms.

The match was going to be starting any moment now, so Oleandra, Tracey and Pansy rushed to take their seats in the bleachers. Despite herself, Oleandra was now looking forward to the match, if only to see what Tracey was so excited about.

And a few moments later…

Oleandra took a sidelong peek at Tracey as the pair sat down in their seats. For some reason, Oleandra found that she had lost the ability to tear her eyes away from her best friend's face. Tracey's passion for Quidditch had entranced her, and unconsciously, Oleandra had started staring at her.

"They're walking onto the pitch!" Tracey cheered along with the rest of the crowd. She then turned to Oleandra, smiling broadly. "What are you looking at me for? Look down there!"

Oleandra's heart skipped a beat, but it wasn't because there was some sort of weird Dark magic affecting her, like that time she and Harry had been in detention with Umbridge. No, it was something else…

Girls have this sort of shining force inside of them, Oleandra realized. There are no feelings more powerful on Earth than those of a maiden in love…

And that's when Oleandra finally realized that she had truly fallen for Tracey.

"From Slytherin!" Lee Jordan, the commentator, called out with little enthusiasm, as if he were reciting from a list of groceries. "Let's see, there's, er, Team Captain Graham Montague, Adrian Pucey, Cassius Warrington, Miles Bletchley, and… er… Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle… and that little blonde git—" ("JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall yelled at him.) "What? It's the truth!" Lee protested. "Oh, fine, and Draco Malfoy— hold on, now I'm being told that Malfoy has replaced Montague as Captain?"

"AND FROM GRYFFINDOR!" Lee Jordan then roared. "Team captain Angelina Johnson! Alicia Spinnet! Katie Bell! Fred Weasley! George Weasley! Harry Potter! And for the first time… ASTORIA GREENGRASS!"

"Wha—?" Oleandra blurted out.

"WHAT!?" came Pansy's ear-piercing shriek from behind Oleandra.

The Slytherins all around them were either staring down at the pitch in shock or throwing away their 'Weasley Is Our King' badges in disgust.

"I thought cousin Ron was supposed to be their new Keeper," Oleandra said in disbelief. "How the Hel did they manage to keep this a secret from everyone?"

"Do you remember that time you asked me if we could do our homework together, and I told you I was busy?" Tracey said proudly. "Well, it's because Astoria asked me to draw a façade rune on her; all this time, she's been practising while disguised as Ron Weasley, because she wanted to surprise you and Daph… oh gosh, Oleandra, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring up Daphne—"

Warm tears had begun pearling in Oleandra's eyes, but they weren't tears of sadness, far from it.

"It's okay, Trace," Oleandra sniffled; a large smile was plastered across her face, despite the fact that she was shedding copious tears onto her blazer. "I'm just really, really, happy right now…"

Astoria had always been a kind and bright-eyed little girl; despite always having known that she would die at a very young age due to her blood malediction. Her dearest wish had been to join her older sisters at Hogwarts and have plenty of adventures with them, but her sickly body had all but crushed her dreams.

But look at her now!

Astoria was more than cured, she was living the life that had always been barred to her! And for once in her life, Oleandra knew for a fact that she had made the world a better place for being in it…

Oleandra wiped away the tears blurring her vision and concentrated on what was happening on the field. Down below on the Quidditch pitch, she could see Captain Malfoy gesticulating wildly at Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and referee for the school's Quidditch matches. Oleandra was much too far away to hear what was being said, but she could easily imagine that Malfoy and the gang were feeling none too pleased at the sudden change in the Gryffindor team's roster…