No Promises | Wolfstar AU

Sixty

On Wednesday, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are facing off at Quidditch practices. And the dutiful friend he is, Auguste has taken a seat at the very front of the Pitch, a grumbling Regulus bundled up in a Slytherin scarf sat beside him with a flask of scalding coffee cradled in his mittened hands.

"This is so fucking boring," Regulus groans. "Why aren't the Beaters Beating?"

"Probably because they don't want to inflict physical injury on their opponents?" Auguste proposes. "I mean, it is a friendly match,"

"Ugh, boring," Regulus rolls his eyes, throwing back a gulp of coffee and screwing the flask shut. "What's a Quidditch match that doesn't send anyone to the Hospital Wing?"

"Starting to see why Slytherins always have to practise alone," Auguste laughs, leaning back in his seat.

"You mean it's because no one's brave enough to try us?"

"Well. Gryffindor did win last year's cup, no?"

"It won't happen this year," Regulus scowls.

"Okay," Auguste laughs, slinging his arm around him. "Anyway, I don't think this is going anywhere. I mean, everyone's shoes seem to be in good shape to me,"

"The match only started," Regulus frowns. He shifts in his seat so that he can reach into his cloak pocket. "Wait, I brought these," he produces from his robes a pair of gold vintage binoculars. He raises them to his eyes and spends a while following the players one by one. "Ha!" he sits up straight all of a sudden.

"What?" Auguste asks impatiently.

"Look at the Hufflepuff Seeker," Regulus whispers, shoving the binoculars into Auguste's hands.

"Oh là là," Auguste mutters under his breath as he squints into the glass. The Hufflepuff Seeker, a girl of impressive height and tanned skin, her russet hair in a long braid at her back, whizzes this way and that, dodging her opponents with practised ease. She's in full Quidditch gear, all black and yellow, but the shoes on her feet are a glaring exception. They're patent leather boots, the kind one might expect a Hogwarts student to wear to lessons, but definitely not meant for Quidditch.

"Well?" Regulus prompts.

"She's certainly suspicious," Auguste says, putting the binoculars down. "Although, I have to say, she hardly looks like a bloodthirsty maniac,"

"Looks can be deceiving, and all that," Regulus shrugs. "Now we just need to find out who she is,"

"I'll save you the effort," Auguste purses his lips. "That's June Marsh. Sixth year Prefect for Hufflepuff."

***

"Of course it's June," Narcissa slams her fist on the table, making the teacups sitting on it rattle. "Of course it is,"

"Wait," Sirius frowns, "that's the one you hexed for accusing me?"

"Yes," Narcissa rolls her eyes. "It all makes perfect sense now,"

"No wonder she was trying so hard to pin it on Sirius," Severus frowns, crossing his arms.

"But it doesn't..." Sirius bites his lip.

"What?" Regulus frowns at him.

"Why would she do all of this?" Sirius frowns. "What could she have against Muggleborns?"

"Nothing, most probably," Andromeda steps in. "Not if her target was you all along,"

"Then why not just attack me?" Sirius shakes his head. "Why go through all the effort and cause so much collateral damage?"