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ONE
——THE SYMMETRY OF EFFIE STARK
"CAN'T I JUST HIDE IN YOUR TRUNK UNTIL THE SCHOOL YEAR ENDS?" Effie whined as she and her dad, Eleazar, sat in Domino's Pizza for the time being. They still had an hour before they needed to meet up with Pansy Parkinson, and go to the Quidditch World Cup.
"Lillian Euphemia—"
"—how many times do I have to say that it's Effie?"
Eleazar huffed and playfully rolled his eyes, "Fine. . . Phemy," He chuckled as Effie scoffed, crossing her arms. "You know I can't pull a Newt Scamander."
"But I'm not an animal," Effie cringed when she opened a box, revealing jalapeño-pineapple chicken wings and hastily pushed them over to her dad. "Who the he—heck invented that?"
Across from her, Eleazar is repulsed by the Hawaiian pizza in front of him and handed it over to Effie, "Pineapple doesn't have business to be in cheese pizzas."
Effie scowled at him, hissing, "You don't have a business on this planet."
"Real' mature," Eleazar mutters in amusement, sharing the basket of breadsticks with her.
Effie already had two boxes of breadsticks in her bag (which Eleazar had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on after the amount of times she broke her bags because of carrying too many things), she looked like she was going to get more. "What was the name of Don Quixote's horse?"
"Didn't we just finished reading it last night?" Eleazar raised an eyebrow. It was no secret between the father and daughter that they bonded heavily over muggle literature, not that any of Effie's friends would understand.
"Fine, dumb question," Effie rolled her eyes, and smirked. "How's Professor French? You two seemed close."
"Rocinanto," Eleazar avoids the question. "The horse's name was Rocinanto."
Minutes later, the two Starks decided to leave thirty five minutes before eight, since Effie wanted to come by the Olive Garden and the sweet shop.
"Come on, dad, you can't deny that Olive Garden has the best salad ever," Effie complained. "And we both have the cooking ability of a killer on bath salts, so. . . "
"The comparison with serial killers was unnecessary," Eleazar remarked, following her inside the sweet shop while also holding on to the container of her salad.
Effie snorted, picking up a packet of almond crackers, "And yet we both know the most fatal way to kill and how to make a murder look like a heart attack."
"That would have to be the crime fictions that we continue to read."
A lady, who was also shopping for sweets, looked at them, horrified. Effie shot her an innocent grin, and Eleazar a polite nod, although instead of being assured, the lady beelined out of the shop at once.
"I'm about as intimidating as a butterfly," Effie frowned, picking up a box of green lollipops and cream cheese mints.
"Because talking about killing techniques isn't questionable at all?"
"What if it was a metaphor?"
✨
EFFIE WOKE UP TO SOMEONE KICKING AT HER FEET, WHICH SHE IRRITATEDLY RETALIATED AT AND PULLED HER QUILT TO HERSELF.
"Lillian Euphemia—"
"—ah, my sleep paralysis demon," Effie says sardonically as she blinked groggily at Pansy, who was laughing at the end of her cot.
Pansy scowls, "Wake up, lazy bones. Uncle Eleazar says we've to fetch water."
Effie whined into her pillow, "It's four in the morning, why can't he get it?" She complained.
"It's seven in the morning, Phemy," Eleazar rolled his eyes as he strode in, looking distressed as he tries to figure out what the hell kind of pan was to be used. "And I've to cook us up some edible morning breakfast."
"Yes, because you would have some miracle luck in cooking," Effie huffed, throwing her legs over the edge of her cot. "Let Pansy and I do the cooking—"
"—and risk you being distracted by the fire and end up burning our tent down?" Eleazar raised an eyebrow.
"None of us know how to cook, Effie," Pansy adds. "I mean, couldn't we just call the muggle food delivery then get on with it? We are trying to look like normal muggles after all."
After much persuasion, Pansy actually did come to a conclusion that hating muggles were pointless because the wizarding world were missing out a hell lot from the muggle world.
(Though only around Eleazar and Effie Stark would she let that slip, after several Christmases and summers she ended up staying in their home.)
(Pansy's parents never questioned it though, they were so busy at the Ministry and Eleazar Stark was also Pansy's godfather—so it was a win-win situation every time.)
Eleazar looked relieved, "If I end up burning the food on my next try, I'm calling Papa John's. Then you two can just go and fetch it."
"Oh, thank god," Effie rolled her eyes, and glared at Pansy. "So you woke me up for nothing, Pansy."
"The Weasleys are arriving soon, thought you'd like to know," Pansy snorted, yanking Effie's blanket off. "Sleep later. . . but I suppose if you want to look ghastly when you see Weaslette, I can't—"
"I don't like her that way, Pansy!"
Pansy and Effie couldn't be anymore relieved when Eleazar informed them that the Papa John's delivery had arrived, as they walked across the patch of land that led just outside the muggle repelling charms where the delivery guy wouldn't be affected.
The walk from their tent to the blank patch of clearing was actually that long, since by the time they got there, Pansy was clutching a stitch in her side and Effie took a puff of her inhaler for the second time.
"These—lungs—would—be—the—death of me someday," Effie huffed in annoyance, pocketing the inhaler. "I suppose long distances aren't really good for the asthmatic."
Pansy chuckled, "Why can't you get Uncle Eleazar to do that usual spell he always does when he takes you with him to do muggle sport?"
"He doesn't want my body getting used to it, apparently," Effie informed her. "If my body gets used to it, it might never work anymore."
Effie's eyes widened when she sees the scattered redheads, the Diggory men, Granger, and Potter over the grass, having just arrived from a portkey.
"There's your lover girl," Pansy snorted from beside her, keeping Effie from openly gawking at Ginny Weasley. "And your ex."
"Shut up, Pansy—"
Ronald Weasley nudged Ginny as Pansy and Effie passed by, the blonde keeping her usual reserved and calm facade. Ginny's face reddened, and scowled at Ron.
"Effie, you look like—" Ginny says brightly, only to be ignored as Pansy swiftly pulled Effie pass them. "—you're going to ignore me."
Ginny's massive crush on Effie Stark hadn't gone unnoticed for years, literally—Effie refused to acknowledge them because she didn't want to lead Ginny on, even if she swung for both team and the fact that it might only be a rumor.
Besides, Slytherins and Gryffindors were supposed to hate each other's guts.
Pansy giggled from beside Effie, "She definitely likes you."
"It's probably infatuation," Effie dismissed, taking out a bill of muggle money once they finally come up to the delivery guy. "I mean, I won't deny that she does look. . . well, beautiful, but—"
"You just said she's beautiful," Pansy looked like she was about to burst.
Effie raised an eyebrow, ". . .okay? Is it a crime to compliment someone now?"
Pansy rolled her eyes, "You never call anything beautiful—"
"—yes, I do," Effie coughed, raising her mum's bracelet that hung from her left wrist because it's the one that connects to the heart. "This is beautiful."
"Anyone," Pansy corrected herself, grabbing the amass amount of food boxes, noting that the delivery guy were looking at them quizzically.
(Because it's not everyday that two teenage girls would emerge from a clearing to get a food delivery.)
Effie paid for the food, telling him to keep the change as she grabbed the pizza boxes, "Yeah, we couldn't cook at all and we didn't want to burn down our tent so—" She swiftly turned around, ushering Pansy to do the same and make their way back. "—if anyone of our Slytherin friends come up and ask why we're holding muggle food—"
"—I know," Pansy said, nodding vigorously and looked relieved she wouldn't have to do the talking. "I'll let you do the talking because I really can't lie to save my ass."
Fortunately, they managed to make it back without further disturbances and engaged in a full-fledged conversation all while huddled around the boxes of food in the tent.
"Dad, you republican," Effie swallowed a forkful of pasta. "What's happening at Hogwarts?"
"It's a surprise, Phemy," Eleazar hummed, enjoying his salad as Pansy feasted on her spicy buffalo wings. Effie doesn't understand why her dad wouldn't call her Effie—Phemy literally makes her sound old-fashioned, come on.
Pansy raised an eyebrow at her godfather, "Will we end up seeing you?"
"Probably."
Effie took a sip of rootbeer, "Is it an inter-school event?"
"Like—hey!" Eleazar caught on to what they were trying to do, knowing how awful he was at keeping secrets from his daughter and goddaughter.
A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared—the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.
Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes—green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria—which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved.
There were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
"Merlin's beard, girls," Eleazar raised an eyebrow as Pansy and Effie debated over the Ireland team's sweatshirts. "You both know Chudley Cannons and the Bulgarian team are obviously the best."
"You're only saying that because Krum's on that team," Effie snarked back, pulling a green and maroon sweatshirt off the racks. Pansy purchased a green rosette, smearing green paint on Effie's cheeks. "Hurry up, Pans, I want to check what they have for food."
"You and your food," Pansy rolled her eyes.
"I'm a growing kid, Pansy!" Effie defended. "I need sustenance!"
Eleazar sighed in exasperation, "Stick close to me, girls. I don't want to end up playing nanny and chase both of you through the crowd."
And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.
They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious, Pansy wouldn't stop giggling, high on sugar.
Effie walked beside her, playing the calmer counterpart while Eleazar led them, looking every bit the exasperated, classy parent. "Hurry girls, before we get trampled on."
"You just hate the crowd," Effie snorted, lacing her arm through Pansy's. "Because they'd ruin your fancy suit."
Eleazar rolled his eyes, "Crowds aren't very good for you, Phemy," He told her firmly, his eyes narrowing in a protective manner. "Especially for your asthma."
"We got Top Box," Pansy says, glowing positively. She had always been this happy around Effie and Eleazar, mainly because she doesn't have to keep up a reputation and keep being a bitch to everything that moves. "Can't the healers in St. Mungo's heal your amas—asisth—"
"—asthma," Effie corrected.
"—breathing problem for you?" Pansy continued on. "I mean, it was a muggle ailment, isn't it?"
Effie snorts, "When dad took me to St. Mungo's, they thought I was dying, so dad took me to a muggle hospital instead, where I won't be treated like a test tube animal. Pans, if muggles can't cure asthma, St. Mungo can't."
The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. "Careful now," Eleazar reminds the girls when Pansy nearly tripped.
They kept climbing (much to the trio's distaste), and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, high up above.
Pansy shivered, absolutely hating heights. (She once fainted when Effie took her on a fly in the Starks' backyard.)
A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position—
"Look," Pansy says in a quiet whisper, pulling Effie's arm and nodded over to the cluster of redheads who'd just arrived. Effie, who'd just taken a puff from her inhaler, rolled her eyes at Pansy.
"I regret introducing you to chic flicks," Effie hissed as they followed Eleazar. "It turned you into a hopeless romantic," Then, she turned to her dad. "Who else are we sharing Top Box with, again?"
Eleazar and the Weasleys' patriarch, Arthur, kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy, the most pompous Weasley, jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog.
Pansy kept scanning the ads in the middle of the playing field, "Just where could I order a pretty face?"
"Your mirror," Effie winked.
Pansy swatted her shoulder, "Just because you're such a smooth talker doesn't mean you should shove it to my face."
"I'm just giving you tips so you can smoothly flirt with Dray Darling," Effie says innocently.
"Well not all of us can possess the ability to keep their cool," Pansy defended with a roll of her eyes.
Not long after that, Eleazar was greeted by Cornelius Fudge—Britain's Minister of Magic—like an old friend, shaking hands with him in a fatherly way. "This is my little girl, Li—Effie Stark, and my goddaughter, Pansy," Eleazar says with pride.
"Looks just like her mother," Fudge says fondly, greeting them like how a cool uncle would. "You know your mother was my niece?"
He turned to the Bulgarian minister beside him, "Effie Stark, Minister," He says loudly, as though any louder would help the Bulgarian understand him. "My niece's only daughter."
After that, he moved on to Harry Potter and the Weasleys, who were looking at Effie in shock, clearly not expecting Effie to be the Minister's great-niece.
"Merlin, you're practically royalty!" Pansy squealed at her. "Why've you never told me?"
"It never came up," Effie dismisses modestly, and snorted at Fudge's efforts to impress the Bulgarian Minister. "Dad, I bet you the Bulgarian Minister actually knows how to speak English."
Eleazar's eyes shone with amusement as he whispers, "Oh he does, but it's funnier what Fudge comes up with—oh, there's the Malfoys!"
Yes, he was also aware of Pansy's little crush on the youngest Malfoy.
Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Lucius Malfoy, his son, Draco, and his wife, Narcissa Malfoy.
Eleazar refrained the girls from approaching yet, awaiting for the tense moment to end. Just as the Malfoys continued down the line of seats, did they do so.
"Draco!" Pansy grinned, wryly sneering at Hermione Granger. Draco looked relieved to find two people that he knew—two friends he actually liked in his group of friends that his parents approved.
"Finally," Draco sighed, greeting Pansy and Effie with half-smiles. "Tolerable people."
Lucius literally brightened at the sight of Eleazar—well, being closely acquainted with Fudge, meant Lucius would also kiss up to him. Narcissa smiled warmly, "How are you, girls?"
"Pansy's going to faint at the sight of Viktor Krum," Effie commented, making the girl shoot her a glare.
"Coming from the girl who purchased a miniature figure of Aidan Lynch?"
"Oh piss off, Pansy."
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