There was to be only one more trip to the Post Office in Hogsmeade upon returning to Hogwarts in the New Year. February was now on the horizon and it was only now that Athena Goyle had chosen to don her thick winter cloak and take a Thestral-drawn carriage down into the small village that was not half a mile beyond the Hogwarts perimeter. Athena hadn’t paid much mind the Prefects that had flanked the doors of the Entrance Hall. She’d heard them call the name of her house’s founder in reference to her but she had not thought it necessary to turn around and make her destination known to them. She was a Death Eater in training as far as they were concerned, an enemy, but that didn’t make her their priority. No, Grindelwald was more worried about the other students were up to. He was naive, certainly. Far more naive than Athena had first thought. He allowed her to waltz about the castle as she pleased without so much as a question as to what she was up to. He allowed that in exchange for unyielding loyalty. What loyalty she had to him was certainly not unyielding. She had no trust in a man whose position was so unstable. No, Athena Goyle would do as she pleased and would allow people to believe what they wanted.
Athena wished, as she made the journey down into the village tucked up into the corner of the carriage she’d chosen to sit in, that she had the same amount of control of her life at home. Her father had been particular. She was to find a man to be betrothed to by Christmas or she was to face the consequences. Just as she’d thought, Gregory had dropped the ‘D’ word. Disowned; bastardised in a second. Athena hadn’t been particularly moved by his threats when she didn’t appear at home on the arm of a young Pureblood wizard. No, she knew he couldn’t afford to disown her. Where would he put his money, after all? But he was cutting her off. She was to receive one last payment and that was it, she was out on her own until she informed him and Apolline that she had chosen someone. Athena had not been entirely sure of the idea at first but she was beginning to warm to the freedom being cut off from them gave her.
However, she still wasn’t comfortable with the lack of support.
The Post Office worker that couldn’t have been anymore than nineteen stared blankly at the wall behind Athena’s head, his gaze fixed anywhere but her. She hadn’t been particular about her state of dress, just throwing her robes on over the top of a low-cut cerulean sweater that she’d pulled over her head that morning before beginning the ritual of combing out her dark tresses. Once his gaze finally fell to the creamy flesh displayed by the ‘V’ of the sweater, Athena lifted her own eyes away from the money that had been tucked into a yellowy envelope. She straightened up, squared her shoulders and tucked the envelope into the pocket of robes. She bid the man a rather reluctant goodbye and hurried from the shop, emerging onto the snowy high street still littered with decor from Christmas.
Athena counted the spare change in the pocket of the jeans she’d poured herself into that morning. She had enough for a few Butterbeers, she was sure, and made her way up the road and into the Three Broomsticks where it was significantly warmer inside than it was out. Athena rubbed her gloves hands together and glided towards the bar where she placed down her coins and received a bottle of Butterbeer in exchange. Athena picked it up off of the mat and took a swig before making her way through the bar in search of somewhere to sit. It was as she walked through; Athena overheard some idle conversation between two Gryffindors. Athena stopped by their table and turned towards the girl she knew to be some sort of Spaniard - one of the many foreign students that refused to give up their heritage despite being in Scotland for the majority of the year.
“Cruz,” Athena spoke slowly, the disdain evident in her voice. “Where’s Wilson been? I haven’t seen that pitiful excuse for a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in months.”