𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐕𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐚

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If Astria thought things would improve after getting used to the idea of being a champion, the following day proved her wrong. She couldn't avoid the rest of the school when she returned to classes, and it was clear that both her fellow Slytherins and those from other houses believed Astria had entered the Triwizard Tournament. However, unlike the boys from her House, the others didn't seem pleased at all.

The Hufflepuff students, in particular, began teasing her again, with McMillan in the lead, of course. The boy was as unbearable as the uncle who continued to send flowers and cards to Narcissa every morning. It was annoying to see Narcissa open each of those cards every day and, even worse, smile at them. Astria realized she needed to get over this infatuation she had developed for Narcissa because it was interfering with her life.

She almost cried thinking about the content of that darn letter. She wasn't sure if it was from McMillan, but Ernest was telling his friends that it was. His uncle was trying to court Narcissa.

Harry was also facing his own problems, and to make matters worse, Ron didn't believe him and stopped talking to his friend. It was ridiculous to see him behave like this out of jealousy. Poor Harry was moping around in the corners, without his friend's company.

Even Draco stopped taunting Harry because of this and made him hang out with the Slytherins. Unfortunately, this meant Astria would have to endure Granger as well.

"Did you know there are house-elves at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked as they walked through the castle's corridors towards the Potions class.

"Where do you think all the food comes from?" Astria replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, yes. But they don't even mention it at Hogwarts ─ it's a shame! It's slavery. They work without pay, without recognition, and they're not even seen around."

"I've actually seen one before," Astria replied absentmindedly as she flipped through her Potions textbook. She wanted to arrive at class with the answers ready.

"Really? Where? What was it like? Was it well-dressed? Did it seem tired?" Hermione began a series of questions, and Astria was losing her patience.

"Granger!" she snapped irritably. "If I buy this badge and sign my name in your ugly little notebook, will you shut up?"

Hermione blinked once, twice, thrice before nodding with a wide smile, extending the darn badge with the letters (S.P.E.W.) in silver. Astria took it almost grudgingly and put it in her bag, marching quickly toward the Great Dungeon Hall.

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The days that followed were some of the most challenging Astria had ever faced at Hogwarts. The closest feeling she had experienced was during those months of her second year when much of the school suspected she was responsible for the attacks and joined in pursuing her in the corridors.

Professor Sibila Trelawney had been making predictions about her death with even more certainty than usual, and Narcissa continued to smile every morning at the darn cards from McMillan. Maybe that Prophet Daily columnist was right?

In the last Potions class, trying to speak to the teacher was terrible because she kept pacing around the room without stopping and didn't even look in Astria's direction. She was about to scream in frustration when a Gryffindor student knocked on the door.

"Yes?" Narcissa asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Please, professor, they sent me to take Astria Shafic and Harry Potter upstairs." Narcissa narrowed her cat-like eyes, and the boy's smile disappeared, visibly frightened.

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