someday, somehow → d.malfoy [discontinued]

018

hours later, when the sky had bled a multitude of colours and the stars had awoken; twinkling like freckles among the darkness,

artemis and cyrille walked into the great hall surrounded by a tide of students eager to get to their seats. the hall was decorated brilliantly; pumpkins nearly as large as professor hagrid gloated above, amongst the candles, with light from inside them casting an orange glow gently onto the walls. live bats (at least, they appeared to be live) flapped their wings eagerly, whizzing around the upper space in blurs of darkest browns and blacks. artemis had already turned to follow cyrille, when somebody yanked at the sleeve of her t-shirt roughly. artemis spun around, eyes narrowed in preparation to scold whoever did so—only, it was pansy and theodore that looked back at her.

"are you coming to sit at slytherin tonight?" pansy asked, looking up at artemis expectantly. for some reason, she hadn't noticed how slight pansy was until now, when the two of their eyes met in a diagonal gaze.

"it's fine," cyrille said to artemis. "go sit with your hogwarts friends for tonight." artemis' brows drew together. within the hall, a strange chill overtook the air, and gooseflesh spread like a plague across her arms.

"are you sure? i don't care if i'm not with my house for this selection process," she said, winding her arms through one another so as to keep herself warmer. she wished she'd brought a jacket.

cyrille said, "no, it's okay. just go." 

"okay," she said, pressing her lips together momentarily. "i'll see you tomorrow morning."

"mhmm." cyrille had already begun to trudge away from artemis, towards the sea of blue that was the ravenclaw table. the slytherin, left standing near the great hall's gaping entrance, shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans hurriedly before she turned back to pansy and theodore. the silence between them as they made their way to the slytherin table was taut as wire; yet artemis was not bothered. the goblet of fire (which each champion-candidate had entered their name into, which artemis had learned from cyrille earlier) had been moved to the centre-front of the hall, near the head table. it glowed with a new vigor—or perhaps it was simply the students' anticipation of the events to come, which perceived the goblet somewhat differently to before. everything had begun to feel real, now.

"how come your friend was allowed to come if she's not of age yet?" blaise mused aloud.

"the siblings of each candidate were allowed to come," she answered automatically, eyes refusing to leave the ravenclaw table. cyrille was deep into a conversation with her older sister, angèle. she was (at least how artemis remembered) somewhat unknown to the majority of beauxbatons, and yet artemis had always wondered why. angèle was ethereal in a way that contrasted cyrille: a layered curtain of dark curls, large brown eyes and the cedar skin she shared with her sister.

before long, the five tables which spread across the great hall's floor were bedecked in yet another feast—this time the halloween feast, theodore informed artemis. it explained the selection: a vast span of every sweet imaginable, various pumpkin-themed dishes. the colours seeped through the hall; it was as if someone had decided to intentionally bathe the great hall in a most stunning orange. by the time headmaster dumbledore stepped to his podium and the plates in front of the students were wiped spotless once more, artemis felt as if her teeth would rot and disintegrate from the amount of sugar she'd consumed. the chuntering that had previously consumed the space died instantly.

"well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said the headmaster. "i estimate that it requires one more minute. now, when the champions names are called, i would ask them please to come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber—" all eyes followed as he gestured to the door behind said staff table, which artemis had not noticed before "—where they will be receiving their first instructions." after his last words had finished echoing through the hall, headmaster dumbledore reached for his wand, thin and spindly in appearance as it resided in his knobbly, aged fingers, and swept it in a great arc. the candles, save for those that continued to flicker marigold light amongst grey shadow, went out. the hall seemed electrified, buzzing with even more anticipation. evidently, the centrepiece was the goblet of fire—it burned a blue-white light, bright as the sun amongst dull planets. it almost hurt to look at; yet artemis knew that every set of eyes in the hall refused to look away from its luminosity, from its splendour.