"Not even a single Quaffle got in!" Fred yelled. "I have a feeling that this year's Cup is as good as ours, lads! Let's hear it for our new Keeper!"
"Hear, hear!" added George.
Astoria blushed as red as her hair, as her fellow Gryffindors chanted her name. She was rather unused to the attention; she had first been known as that Greengrass girl in her first year, and then as that Triwizard Champion's younger sister in her second year. But this was the first time she was being recognized for being her own person!
She'd had enough of being treated as a Ron Weasley, like a fixture in the background, so she had gathered up her courage and participated in the Gryffindor Quidditch team tryouts. Even without actively using her Kamaitachi wind-related bloodline abilities, she could still passively sense changes in air currents, and her reflexes were lightning fast. She was a natural at Keeping; her rivals didn't stand a chance against her!
Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet had fairly good throwing arms; no one apart from Slytherins acting in bad faith would deny that they were competent Chasers. The Quaffles they threw flew fast and true, but in Astoria's eyes, they moved about as fast as a fly could swim through treacle. That is, dreadfully slowly. She could both feel and see Quaffles coming from a mile away, so during her tryout, she hadn't let a single one in. This combined with her sunny personality, was it any wonder that she'd been picked over any of the others?
"Here, have a Butterbeer," said Fred, shoving a glass of the bubbly amber liquid in her hands.
"You're not mad that your little brother didn't get in?" said Astoria as she inspected the proffered drink suspiciously.
"The most important thing in life is winning," said George knowingly. "Ronnie'll get over it."
"That's wrong, dear brother," said Fred after taking a swig of Butterbeer. "What's most important is beating Slytherin!"
The two of them laughed uproariously and high-fived, before making Astoria high-five them at the same time with both of her hands. A little ways away, Ron was grumbling to himself while the rest of the room partied, but wasn't the only one to not be in the mood to celebrate. Across from the table from where he sat, Hermione was somehow sleeping through the commotion.
Farther away, Cormac McLaggen was lying on his back on a couch, moaning and holding his stomach. He was supposed to participate in the tryouts, but he had come down with a bad case of Doxy egg poisoning; he'd just got back from the Hospital Wing, but it looked like he was still feeling off. Astoria looked suspiciously at Fred and George; she knew they had harvested Doxys and Doxy eggs from Sirius's house, so could it be that they had poisoned the better player to give their little brother a chance to get the Keeper spot?
"Is that your handiwork?" she said.
She discreetly directed the twins' attention towards Cormac with a subtle tilt of the head.
"That insufferable git?" said George, glancing behind him briefly.
"For the sake of plausible deniability," Fred continued, "we'd have to say no."
"But we still do want to take credit,"
"So, yes."
"And we just did it again while he wasn't looking, a few minutes ago."
Astoria wisely chose not to drink the Butterbeer she had just been offered.
Right about the time Fred, George and their friend Lee Jordan started juggling with empty Butterbeer bottles, Astoria saw Harry enter the common room looking rather troubled. He made a beeline towards Ron and the sleeping Hermione, and the two boys woke her up. They started whispering to each other, pretending like they weren't glancing at her every so often, but a girl can always tell when she's being eyed up.
Astoria's five senses were extremely acute, but even she couldn't hear them whispering across a loud room. However, she wouldn't have to wait long to learn what they'd been talking about; after a few minutes, Harry walked up to her and invited her to join them at their little table.
"Congratulations," Ron told her slightly miserably. "I'm sure you'll do better than me anyway."
"Oh, er, thanks," said Astoria sheepishly. "I'll try my best not to let the team down."
But that's not what the trio wanted to speak to her about. When they'd met Oleandra in the prefects' carriage, Ron and Hermione had heard her vaguely mention her scar, but considering what Harry had just witnessed, they preferred to have definite proof.
"Does your sister have a scar like mine?" said Harry, lifting his fringe with one hand to let Astoria get a look at his forehead scar.
"She does," answered Astoria. "It's identical. I got a good look when Mother changed her into funerary robes before we buried her."
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other worriedly.
"Er…" said Ron, thinking hard about how to ask his question tactfully. "Has Oleandra been acting strangely, recently?"
"Wouldn't you know this better than me?" said Astoria quizzically. "I'm not in your year; you see her more often than me."
The Gryffindor Trio were worried about the possibility of Oleandra's scar affecting her. To Harry, it seemed inconceivable that she would surrender Dumbledore's secrets; in his opinion, her willpower was comparable to his own, and he wouldn't have given him up so easily. However, now that Harry thought about it, Oleandra had said something about a plan; maybe she'd lied about Dumbledore asking her to tutor students to cover for her real mission?
"Then, do you know what mission Professor Dumbledore gave her?" asked Harry. "Oleandra couldn't have stayed buried in her coffin all summer, could she? She'd have suffocated."
"Or starved to death," Ron added helpfully.
"She would have died of dehydration first, Ron," said Hermione reproachfully. "Also, we shouldn't be talking about the Order's top-secret business! If Professor Dumbledore believes it's better for us not to know, then there has to be a good reason as to why it's being kept secret!"
Astoria was confused. What in the world were they talking about? Since when were her big sister and the headmaster such good friends that she would run errands for him?
"Sister didn't actually tell us much about what she'd been up to," Astoria said, raising an eyebrow. "You probably already know more than I do."
"I s'pose we'll have to ask her ourselves," said Ron, before slapping his knees and standing up. "Well, it's been a long day. I'm going to bed. You coming, Harry?"
"Wait!" said Hermione hurriedly. "Wouldn't you like to help me make more hats? It's quite fun, once you get used to it. I figured that if I could find a design the House-Elves like, they might…"
"Hermione, look around you," said Ron impatiently. "This place is a mess; the Elves haven't been cleaning. The vomit from Fred and George's Puking Pastille trials is still all over the carpet, and your bloody hats are all over the place! The Elves clearly aren't taking the bait. They don't want to be free, and you're not going to free them by fooling them into picking up clothes. And you know, if you weren't a Prefect, I'd already have given you detention for littering."
"Littering!?" Hermione sputtered. "The nerve—"
The two once again launched into one of their never-ending arguments, so Astoria discreetly took her leave.