✧MAKING FRIENDS WITH A BEETLE✧

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Romulus had spent the good portion of the night contemplating what the hell happened this very evening.

It feels as though he went through the first few stages of grief, starting with denial—Since Crouch decided that the rules are absolute.

Pain, and guilt—As if he could have actually stopped any of this from happening at all. Next, depression—in thinking to the future of what the possible outcomes were for either Anton or Harry.

Not to mention the drafted parcel he managed to write, and he only handed it off to Cara the following morning. "Can you check this, spent the better part of the night on it and I think I lost my ability to write—"
"Merlin, Rom. There's hardly a few sentences here." Romulus groaned into the couch as he tried to relax while gazing up the ceiling. "And it's killed me for the last few hours. Hardly got a wink of sleep." Cara had ditched her initial scan and turned onto her knees towards her brother. "Romulus, you should go to the infirmary...You're burning up."

"Hm?" He hummed, his eyes in a little daze and she hurried to her feet, taking off his cloak and leading him the given way towards the infirmary. "Cara, I don't need to go."
"Yeah? Then this'll just be a clarification, and don't think I can't see your hair flickering just causing you're taller than me." Romulus sighed, only realizing then that his hair was flashing through dull colors upon his in control.

"Did you eat anything last night?" She asked, and the mere idea of food had caused him to gag. Then again, their mother had put Romulus in charge of Harry. "Rom, this isn't healthy...He'll—He'll be alright." Cara said, gripping his arm just a little tighter as they walked through the empty halls.

Thankfully the infirmary was scarce, and if anything, Madam Pomfrey looked rightly confused anyone had wondered in at such an hour.

And while there seemed to be a moment of hesitation, as if the witch was about to protest that she wasn't about to hear any excuses for missed class, in recognizing the two Lestrange Ravenclaws she rushed over.

"Oh my dears, what's the matter?" The healer asked, and Cara smiled.

"Think my brother's having a hard time this semester, hardly got any sleep and isn't eating." Romulus wanted to glare at his sister for telling on him, but was soon offered the bed and had to lay perfectly still to sit through the quick analysis.

"Well, Mr.Lestrange, I'd say you're under extreme stress given that your head seems to be the main source of your pain. Have you taken any tonics recently?" He shook his head and peeked an eye open, only to find that his sight was vulnerable to the light.

"I'll have you right in no time at all, but you've got to take it easy—Ah! You Ravenclaws, killing yourselves so easily in the year. I best tell your head of house—Or the headmaster! Having all these students is leaving ours unnoticed." Madam Pomfrey offered, and Cara pouted.

"I would love to shadow you again this year, Madam Pomfrey...Now that Quidditch isn't happening and all."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, darling! I would greatly appreciate it having you around again." Cara smiled up to the healer and continued to sit beside her brother, knowing that the healer would only tell her she was too close to the patient.

It's happened a few times already when it was one of her own roommates battling a cold.

As Madam Pomfrey had pulled over the curtain, Cara pulled out a fresh seat of parchment and began scribbling a better draft for Romulus to look over after the tonic took effect.

"You think this is what mum meant about her headaches?" Romulus questioned and Cara bobbed her head. "I don't doubt it, father said they were awful. But then again, she wasn't well versed in going to the grand hall. That's our best time to talk about potions so I know you won't miss it." She said with a bright smile, and Romulus chuckled lightly to himself.

"You're right, wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Or you'd miss it for Luna...Hmm?"

"Damn, you caught that?" He grumbled, his laughter long forgotten. But Cara hadn't gotten rid of her wide smirk. "I'm going to tell father."

"Merlin, please don't. Next thing we'll know is other families throwing a fit."

"Other families? Why? What do they have to do with you fancying Luna?" Romulus peeked open a single, wondering if his sister was really that innocent to not realize how the line of succession or what their world is truly like.

"Firstborn is usually a big deal."

"Git."

"I'm just stating facts, Cara."

"Still git-thinking, what's next? Father's going to say Luna isn't pureblood enough? Or the wrong kind?"

"Well—"

"Oh for goddess sakes, Romulus. Please don't tell me that's what you believe in."
"I don't. Obviously, but I don't want a lecture. And I don't want mother squealing at the idea when I've barely spoken to Luna all that much. Just keep quiet, please?" Cara bit her cheeks, her eyes darting to the curtain.

"What would father do if he knew I fancied Potter?" Romulus didn't want to answer, not in any lifetime did he want to remind his sister of what was at stake.

Not only did their father actively participate in killing muggles, nearly leading to a divorce and just half forgiven at this point in time. But that their father followed and is still possible following the same crazies dictator that killed Harry's parents and attempted to kill him that faithful Halloween night.

"Think father would just about kill anyone who's fancying one of you. Probably will think that way long after you're married too." He said, trying to lighten the mood, but Cara's narrowed gaze didn't vanish all too easily.

As if she felt his hesitation.

On the other side of the castle, Lori had felt ecstatic—One of her favorite writers was coming to the castle. And perhaps it was a bit self-minded, but she wanted to venture into a different type of law. One that ventures into journalism.

That, and she could already hear her mother telling her to get into a club now that Quidditch was out—And she hadn't even gotten to enjoy her first year and try for the Slytherin team.

Professor Snape was rather taken back by Lorelie's request, and even now his words were buzzing around her head as she followed the instructions given to her in writing by Rita Skeeter herself.

"Wasn't this the woman who defiled your mother's name not even a decade ago?"

Yes. And Lori was not about to let this stand in her way, she wanted to learn the insights and skills to get exactly what she wants in order to build a story.

It was fascinating, never mind the fact that this woman is awful and almost always causing drifts in the wizarding world. Even if she's hated, she still manages to make content that's always read.

Upon reaching a side of the castle that she isn't quite familiar with, she took in the woman herself—Shaking her head that perhaps her picture looked better than the viper she caught in front of her. "Ah! Ms.Lestrange, it's so lovely to meet you. Tell me, is this your natural hair color? Or are you faking it as your other siblings do, I've seen some blue hair among your lot."

What a first impression.

"It's the color I was born with, from my grandmother I'm told." Rita squinted her eyes, most likely wracking up a story to release about Lori being an American lovechild. But the thoughts were disintegrated once Lori had smiled once again.

"It's very nice to meet you in person, Ms.Skeeter. I haven't been able to read your work that often, but—"

"I take it your mother is still irked about my book?" The woman said, her arms crossed and her glasses tilting down the brink of her nose. "Um, not really—Not since she owns the right nows. But you have to admit, it was rather harsh."

"The truth often is."

"But it wasn't the full truth, was it?" Lori bit back, squinting her eyes just as the elder witch had done a moment ago. And the young Slytherin had noted the nearly white makeup powder caked onto the reporter's skin.

Was it to hide any natural expressions because it was quite frightening to see her so porcelain.

"I think we are going to be fine friends, Ms.Lestrange. What is it you wish to become once you graduate?" The reported questioned, and Lori had dwelled into the fact that she was with her father the majority of the summer and followed his legal firm to gain insights—But not in too much detail.

"What do you think of all this, the tournament?" Seekter questioned, though her eyes remained focused on the photographer taking dozens of pictures of the chosen champions.

"Oh well, I'm excited to see my cousin in these challenges"

"Cousin? The American boy?" Lori nodded, and Rita turned to face the young Lestrange daughter, trying to block out the scribbling pen. But Lori's eyes locked onto it. "I can promise you, my family is boring when this is happening in its stead...I don't think this'll work out, Ms.Skeeter, not if you're using me to get to my parents." Lori claimed, knocking the pen and making it scribble over the words it was trying to make note of.

"I hate to say it, but I admired your sense of worth ethic, and even my head of house was weary of me being close to you. But I've guessed you proved it, and in ten minutes, no less." Lori, being the youngest child certainly would get creative to get her way, course her parents spoiled her—Her father was one as he missed so much time of her youth.

But this, this, she could handle quite easily.

"And what do your parents think of my taking you under my wing?" Lori perked her lips and shrugged. "They aren't aware of it yet."

"Yet...I haven't taken a shadow on before, you'll have to wait until I think up of something." Lori hummed, still wondering if this was the commitment she needed, even now she thought back to the book that taunted her parents—Her uncles as well.

Defiled their name, and the only good that came of it was that the very earnings that Skeeter had received all were forfeited back to Mrs.Lestrange and straight to her Lycanthropy funding.

"I'll ask again, without asking about your background, what do you think of these students?" Lori had turned back to see them manage their way through a photo shoot, something she was familiar with when her own mum or father would go in to get their photo's taken.

"I know I'd be more interested in the international students than Hogwarts, but the loyalty we have on our own will be more read by students—Classmates, I mean. My sister's noted that Beuxtonix hardly entered anyone besides Delacour, but I don't think that means she's hopeless, I think the headmistress was smart into doing that. Same with the headmaster of Durmstrang." Skeeter bit the better part of her manicured nail and nodded, her bouncy curls following each of her endless thoughts.

"Come, let's go meet these brave souls...have you brought a pad and—" Lori had pulled up her own pair of stationary and it earned a mischievous grin from the reporter, all before she turned on her heel and headed towards five chosen champions, though Lori noted that it was still strange that Potter hadn't been disqualified, but there would certainly be some outrage.

And Lori felt rather thrilled to be helping in broadcasting this to the world.

"Well, now aren't we the charismatic group!" The smoke from the camera had been brushed away in a rather pompous way as Skeeter came forward towards, already embellishing a character—As Lori quickly found out.

"Hel-lo everyone! I'm Rita Skeeter and I write for the Daily Prophet—But you all know that, don't you? It's you we don't know." The woman said, her redden lips moving much faster than Lori could keep up with.

"...What quirks lurk beneath the rosy cheeks? What mysteries do the muscles mask? Does courage lie beneath the curls? In short: What makes a champion tick. Me, myself and I want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers. So. Who's feeling up to sharing? Hm?" Rita had caught Lori's eyes as she rounded about the given group, but Lori's was focused on Harry.

And that immediately caught her attention, if the young Lestrange was interested—So would her readers!

So Lori sat dutifully off behind Rita as she nearly picked apart each and every one of them, and she only gave hints to Anton—Hoping he wouldn't get hated by readers or wrongly depicted.

But at this point, she wouldn't be too surprised.

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Date Posted: 02/06/2022

Time: 11:36

Words: 2226

Author's Note:

So sorry this is late, I've been behind on this series so much that I'm struggling. At one point I wondered if I should just skip to Order of the Phoneix, but my friend thought Prisoner of Azkaban would be important to establish Sirius Black and the Lestrange children--Or for everyone to get used to the children than just throwing them directly into the war.

Have a good week!