( full dialogue in italics is assumed to be spoken in dutch. near the end of the chapter, i do highly recommend you listen to peace in the valley by elvis for the full effect! )
꧁—— ❦ ——꧂
The Entrance Hall was packed with students, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different houses were edging through the crowd, trying to find each other. Harry felt awkward standing alone, anxiously shuffling on his feet and adjusting the collar of his dress robes. Scanning the crowd he let out a sigh of relief, spotting Ron with Padma Patil near the doors.
"Hullo." Harry said once he'd headed towards them, adjusting the collar once more.
"Hi." Padma replied, who looked just as pretty as her sister Parvati in robes of bright turquoise. She didn't look too enthusiastic as having Ron as a partner, though; her dark eyes lingered on the frayed neck and sleeves of his dress robes as she looked him up and down. In her defence, they were horrid robes.
"Hi." Ron said, not looking at her, but staring out at the crowd. "Oh, no..."
He bent his knees slightly to hide behind Harry, because Fleur Delacour was passing ( and Harry didn't think anyone had forgot the embarrassing spectacle of Ron asking her to be his partner ) looking stunning in robes of silver-grey satin, accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Roger Davies. When they had disappeared, Ron stood straight again and stared over the heads of the crowd.
"Where is Hermione?" Ron asked, to which Harry merely shrugged.
A group of Slytherins came up the steps from the dungeon common room. Malfoy was in front, wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in Harry's opinion made him look like a vicar. Pansy Parkinson was clutching Malfoy's arm, in very frilly robes of pale pink. Crabbe and Goyle were both wearing green; they resembled moss-coloured boulders, and neither of them, Harry was pleased to see, had managed to find a partner.
Harry scanned the crowd again and his heart seemed to painfully twist in his chest. Aveline was walking down the stairs in robes of lavender, half of her hair pinned atop her head in a knob, and she was breathtakingly gorgeous. His jaw embarrassingly dropped open, and for a second, he forgot just who she was. It almost felt like watching the sun paint the sky in a variety of colours, pinks and blues swirling with hues of orange, and the faint beginning of stars flickering across the clouds. There was the moment of peace, a moment of happiness, and then the realization that it was only Aveline. He was certain everyone heard his heart splitting in two.
"Hello, Harry." Aveline smiled. He was sure his heart dropped straight through to the dirt. "You look very handsome."
Harry gave a smile small, thickly swallowing, "Thank you... you look nice."
Aveline flushed, and then the front oak doors opened. Everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes Harry didn't know. Over their heads he saw that an area of the lawn in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fair lights — meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rose bushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.
Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"
Aveline smoothed her palms over the waist of her dress, looped her arm with Harry's, and walked forwards, the chattering crowd parting to let them through. Professor McGonagall, who was wearing robes of red tartan, and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davis stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davis looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Cedric and Cho were close to Harry, and he turned his gaze to Krum and the girl next to him. His jaw dropped.
It was Hermione, but she didn't look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy, but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into a elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow — or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling ( rather nervously, it was true ) but the reduction in the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever. Harry couldn't understand how he hadn't spotted it before.
"Hi, Harry!" Hermione excitedly said, before turning to Aveline. "And Aveline, was it? You're absolutely stunning!"
Aveline was gazing at Hermione in unflattering disbelief. She wasn't the only one either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum's fan club from the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her. Ron, however, walked right past Hermione without looking at her.
"Me, stunning?" Aveline gushed, reaching a hand out to grab one of Hermione's. "You are so gorgeous! I love what you've done with your hair!"
"She's right, 'Mione." Harry said, having finally closed his jaw. "You look wonderful, truly."
Hermione flushed, squeezing Aveline's hand before dropping it, "Oh, thank you. The both of you compliment each other well."
"You think so?" Aveline smiled, and there was another ache in his chest. They seemed to never end whenever she was around. "I hoped the lavender would go somewhat well with his eyes, you know?"
Vin would have known, he thought, knew to be too true. She wouldn't have guessed, or even had hoped, she would have confidently known which colours went well with his eyes. She'd have stood in front of him, tilted her head and tapped a finger against her cheek, and given him that smile he could only ever see in his dreams and named a colour. She wouldn't have been wrong, either. There seemed to be no one else quite like her.
Professor McGonagall drew their attention by informing the champions and their partners to form a line and to follow her ( everyone had finally settled into the Hall, at this point ) and they did so. Everyone in the Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up towards a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting. The walls of the Hall had been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The house tables had vanished, replaced by about a hundred smaller, lantern lit tables, each seating about a dozen people.
Harry concentrated hard on not tripping on his feet now that everyone was watching him, letting Aveline slightly steer him forward. He found that if he dragged his feet, only slightly, then he couldn't see her eyes; it seemed almost easier on his heart to imagine that she wasn't her this way, and it was much easier to ignore the guilt that churned in his gut. He caught sight of Ron and Padma as they neared the top table. Ron was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes, and he felt bad when he saw Padma was stood beside him, sulking.
Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Ron's as he watched Krum and Hermione drew nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students, and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr Crouch, Harry suddenly realized, was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley.
When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Harry. He took the hint and took a seat next to Percy, who was wearing brand new, navy-blue dress robes, and an expression of great smugness.
"I've been promoted." Percy said before Harry could even ask. From his tone, one may have thought he might have been announcing his election as Supreme Ruler of the Universe. "I'm now Mr Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."
"Why didn't he come?" Harry asked, though, he wasn't looking forward to being lectured on cauldron bottoms all through dinner.
"I'm afraid to say Mr Crouch isn't well, not well at all. Hasn't been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising — overwork. He's not as young as he was — though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then Mr Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the misbehaviour of that house-elf of his, Blinky or whatever she was called. Naturally, he dismissed her immediately afterwards, but — well, as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the Tournament to arrange, and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with — that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around — no, poor man, he's having a well earned, quiet Christmas. I'm just glad he knew he had someone to rely upon to take his place.
Harry wanted very much to ask whether Mr Crouch had stopped calling Percy 'Weatherby' yet, but resisted the temptation.
There was no food as of yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus lying in front of each of them. Harry picked his up uncertainly, and looked around — there were no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down his own menu, then said very clearly to the plate, 'Pork chops!' and pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates, too. Harry glanced up at Hermione to see how she felt about this new and more complicated method of dining ( surely it meant plenty of extra work for the house-elves? ) but, for once, she didn't seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. She was in deep talk with Viktor Krum, and hardly seemed to notice she was eating.
It now occurred to Harry that he had never actually heard Krum speak before, but he was certainly talking now, and very enthusiastically.
"Vell, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking." He was telling Hermione. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these — though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains —"
"Now, now, Viktor!" Karkaroff said, a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"
Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling, "Igor, all this secrecy... one would almost think you didn't want visitors."
"Well, Dumbledore." Karkaroff displayed his yellow teeth to their fullest extent. "We are all productive of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealous guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?"
"Oh, I would never dream of assuming I know all of Hogwarts' secrets, Igor." Dumbledore amicably said. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber-pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at quarter moon — when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."
Harry snorted into his plate of goulash. Percy frowned, but Harry could have sworn Dumbledore had given him a very small wink.
"Does he always have this interesting of dinner talk?" Aveline giggled, attempting to stifle it behind her hand.
"I suppose so." Harry replied with a small smile. "It could have been worse, I think."
"Well, at least it contained talk of rather magnificent chamber-pots." Aveline winked, and a heat crawled up his neck. "Suppose I should reveal some secrets about Beauxbatons, then, eh? Everyone else seems to be."
"Have at it." Harry said, half turning back to his goulash.
"Well, we have ice sculptures all around the dining chambers at Christmas. They don't melt, of course, they're like huge statues of diamonds, glittering around the place. And the food is simply superb — it can't be beat. Oh! We also have choirs of wood-nymphs who serenade us as we eat. Wish we had a poltergeist, though, at least I'd have something to blame for my pranks."
He quickly found that he liked it when she talked. The quirk of her lip, the smoothing of palms over her dress, and the bright smile were all enough to squash that distant longing, if only for a second. He wondered what it would have been like if Lavinia were sitting beside him instead. Small touches of warmth, pinky-holding hidden beneath the table, and her ridiculous comments throughout the evening would have been ideal, had been the centre of his dreams for many nights now. He almost felt greedy for wanting so much from Aveline for his own selfish gain, but, in truth, he found he also didn't really care all that much. Aveline would never know, and what she didn't know couldn't hurt her in his eyes.
"That sounds really nice." Harry told her, glancing over her shoulder towards Hermione. "Wait, Aveline, I think we need to hear this." He laughed, nodding his head towards the pair.
"Her — my — oh — nee." Hermione told Krum, attempting to teach him how to say her name properly. He kept calling her 'Hermy-own'.
"Herm — own — ninny."
"Close enough." Hermione shrugged, catching Harry's eye and grinning.
When all of the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, at a wave of his wand, the tables zoomed along the walls ( "Imagine if he'd hit someone," Aveline whispered, and they'd both laughed at that ) leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right-hand wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello and some bagpipes were set upon it.
The Weird Sisters were now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy, and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments, and Harry, who had been so interested in watching them that he had almost forgotten what was coming, suddenly realized that all the lanterns on all the other tables had gone out, and that the other champions and their partners were standing up.
"Come, on." Aveline whispered, lightly tugging his arm, "We're supposed to dance now."
Harry tripped over his dress robes as he stood up. The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; he lead Aveline onto the brightly lit dance floor, carefully avoiding catching anyone's eye ( he could see Seamus and Dean waving at him and snickering ) and in the next moment, Aveline placed one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his own, and he placed his free hand on her waist.
It wasn't as bad as it could have been, he thought, revolving slowly on the spot. He'd imagined ( mostly by staring down at their feet; this way, at least, he didn't have to see her face and remember ) that he was back in Lavinia's living room, The Platters playing in the background, and butterscotch pie baking in the oven. A couple times he swore he heard her saying, 'One, two, three, left. One, two, three, right,' and felt a slight warmth creeping his bones. It was almost enough. He almost felt at home.
When Harry heard the final, quavering note from the bagpipe, he let out a sigh of relief. The Weird Sisters stoped playing, applause filled the Hall once more, and Harry attempted to tug Aveline's arm, "Let's sit down for a minute, shall we?"
"That sounds good, actually. I don't think my feet were made for these heels." Aveline admitted, looping her arm with Harry's once more, and following him.
"How's it going?" Harry asked Ron once they'd approached the table he and Padma were sitting at, opening a bottle of Butterbeer for Aveline and then his own.
Ron didn't answer. He was glaring at Hermione and Krum, who were dancing nearby. Padma was sitting with her arms and legs crossed, one foot jiggling to the tune of the music. Every now and then she threw a disgruntled look at Ron, who was completely ignoring her.
Aveline leaned closer to Harry, whispering, "I think I'll sit beside her and do some damage control."
"Thank you." Harry whispered back, giving her his first real smile all night.
"Hello!" Aveline excitedly greeted, seating herself beside Padma. "I absolutely love the colour of your robes! You have to tell me where you got them!"
"Having fun, are you?" Harry joked, raising his hands in surrender when Ron immediately shot him a glare. "Okay... forget I said anything."
Not even minutes later a boy from Beauxbatons had approached Padma and asked her to dance.
"You don't mind, do you?" She asked Ron.
"What?" Ron said, still watching Hermione and Krum.
"Oh, never mind." Padma snapped, and stood up, "Lovely meeting you, Aveline, write me letters!" And off she went. When the song ended, she did not return.
Hermione came over and sat down in Padma's empty chair. She was a bit pink in the face from dancing.
"Hi." Harry said. Ron said nothing.
"It's hot, isn't it?" Hermione fanned herself with her hand, shooting Aveline a smile when she, too, began fanning her off. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."
Ron gave her a withering look, "Viktor?" He said, "Hasn't asked you to call him Vicky yet?"
Hermione looked at him in surprise, "What's up with you?"
"If you don't know —" Ron scathingly said, " — I'm not going to tell you."
Hermione stared at him, then at Harry, who shrugged, "Ron, what — ?"
"He's from Durmstrang!" Ron spat." He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You — you're — " Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime. " — fraternizing with the enemy! That's what you're doing!"
Hermione's mouth fell open, as did Harry and Aveline's.
"Don't be so stupid!" She said after a moment. "The enemy! Honestly — who was the one that was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one that wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"
Ron chose to ignore this, "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"
"Yes, he did." Hermione flushed, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"
"What happened? Trying to get him to join spew, were you?"
"No, I wasn't! If you really want to know he — he said he'd been coming up to the library everyday to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"
"Yeah, well — that's his story." Ron scorned.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with... he's just trying to get closer to Harry — get inside information on him — or get near enough to jinx him —"
Hermione looked as though she had been slapped. When she spoke, her voice quivered, "For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not one —"
Harry, suddenly deciding he didn't like where this argument was going, nor wanting to be part of it, glanced at Aveline and nodded his head towards the entrance door. In a second her furrowed brows disappeared, and they both hastily stood, scurrying away from the two. She looped her arm with his once again, periodically glancing over her shoulder at them as they walked away.
"Is that... normal?" She slowly asked, glancing at them one last time.
Harry glanced over his own shoulder, and sighed, "Yeah... bit of a headache, but you get used to it at some point."
"I don't think I ever could." Aveline said with a small shrug. "I don't like when my friends are fighting."
"They've been like this for years." Harry told her, glad they had almost reached the door. "I don't think they'll change, unless they get married."
Aveline snorted, "I don't think they would even if they got married."
"I guess so." Harry laughed, frowning when she came to a sudden stop. "What're you doing?"
Aveline was staring above them with a small smirk, rocking on her heels, "Look above us."
He did, and he then immediately wished someone would just punch him. They were standing beneath a cluster of mistletoe, and from the glint in Aveline's eye he certainly knew what she wanted. It felt cruel, to both deny himself, and to allow it to happen. She was a pretty girl, he could admit, but whether he thought that because she was Aveline, or because she looked like Lavinia, he didn't know ( well, he did, but that felt cruel too ). The ache in his chest seemed to have returned.
"Can't break tradition, now, can we?" Aveline said, slightly tilting her head.
He glanced down at her, and then at the mistletoe again, and prayed that Lavinia may one day forgive him for it.
"Suppose not." Harry weakly replied, moving half a step closer.
And then he leaned down, closed his eyes ( and if, by chance, he happened to pretend she wasn't her, who had to know? ) and then he kissed her.
Her hands have begun to shake. Barely able to open doors and put on a record, it's almost like an ache in her bones but not quite. Feeble, she thinks, is how she feels. Mostly, though, she feels bodiless. Almost like she's a ghost that just seems to float through this plane of existence but no one notices is there. She floats through the alleyway, through the town, through the door, and then through her room. Invisible and unheard by all, until she throws on the record.
"Oh well, I'm tired and so weary. But I must go alone. Till the Lord comes and calls, calls me away."
The mirror hung on the back of the door reflects her image, but she isn't quite sure that it's her she's seeing. A monster, perhaps. A fourteen year old girl, not so much. There are too many stray flyaways in her hair, and few too many wrinkles in her jumper, the frown on her face stretches too far, and the smudge of blood beneath her lip is too red to be her own. It's like looking in the mirror and not recognizing the person you see before you. She doesn't know, nor recognize who she is. It feels like she's an imposter chained to flesh and bone.
"There will be peace in the valley for me, some day. There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord I pray."
The record that she's thrown on for comfort seems to be taunting her. One day, she thinks, she may find peace in a valley somewhere. White poppy fields and a golden sun, the flowing sounds of a river and all of her favourite foods to her hearts content, and, perhaps, Christiaan would be there to welcome her to the valley. It's her fault he's nothing more than a rot of bones, anyway. But she thinks the valley will only come after the acceptance of what she's done, and will continue to do. And that, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to accept.
"Lavinia!" Alida shrieks from the other side of the locked door, a heavy anger in her tone. The record has alerted her to her presence. "You've done it again, I know you have! Let me in!"
Lavinia moves closer to the mirror, reaches out a hand to cautiously touch it. She expects ( more so hopes, really ) that it will ripple and she can wake from this nightmare she seems to be living. But it does not ripple, and that disappoints her. Not only must she continue living in the nightmare, but she is the imposter chained to flesh and bone.
"Lavinia!" Alida screams, begins to bang on the door. The mirror clangs angrily against it. She wishes it would shatter. "Open this door, or so help me!"
"There'll be no sadness, no sorrow. No trouble, trouble I see. There will be peace in the valley for me, for me."
The guilt has festered in her chest. A heavy weight that constricts her heart and causes a sharp pain in the rib. Then, there's the sudden burn in her eyes of tears. An imposter chained, and yet she's been doomed to feel the grief of the imposters actions. The type that's so soul crushing she fears it may just kill her one day. The mirror clangs again, and she hastily makes way towards her bed, half perched over when she drops to her knees, clasps her shaky hands.
"Lord, please forgive me, for I have sinned."
The banging grows louder, and the record seems to grow quieter. It is only a matter of time before her mother remembers she'll be able to pick the lock.
"Father, I have done your bidding at the highest of costs, and all I ask is for your forgiveness. I know I am a sinner. Forgive my sinful thoughts, my sinful deeds — please, provide me guidance in these darkening times. Guide my life and help me to do your will."
And then, the banging comes to a sudden stop. There may one day be peace in the valley, but until then, there is no peace for God's prisoners.
"Please, Father." Her plea grows shaky. The doorknob rattles behind her. "Please forgive me, for I am a sinner."
Then her mother has entered the room, and she opens her eyes. She hasn't finished her prayer, and the grief continues to suffocate her. God has abandoned her once again.
hallo x i have decided that my specialty is ruining lavinia's life and i am not the least bit sorry about it xx what type of person would i be to make her happy... like hello... but regardless i hope you all enjoyed this chapter because the main plot is finally being revealed next chapter and i am so excited about that !! only took us thirty five chapters so go team for sticking with me through it !! but anyway, don't forget to comment and vote and until next time dolls <3