~Future~

Just one random story. I enjoyed writing this. So if you like it and you want me to write MORE please comment and tell me what you think. This story will be told only from Harry's Point Of Veiw, although I may make a few exceptions, depending on how it goes. Thank you Home DOGS! XD

Chapter 1: Discovering and Returning​

It was wonderful and terrible to be back at the Burrow. Wonderful because he was no longer at the Dursley's, although Dudley had been strangely nice to him before he left. It was terrible because being at the Burrow was creating a constant ache inside of him, knowing that he would soon be leaving what he considered his home and his family. He would be leaving the Weasleys, and he didn't know for sure that he would be coming back.

As much as Harry would have liked to sulk, to brood over Dumbledore's death and his own uncertain future, things at the Burrow were much too busy. A wedding was being planned, after all.

“Harry, dear, could you help Ginny take these up to the attic?” Mrs. Weasley asked, shoving a box into his arms before he had a chance to protest.

“Sure Mrs. Weasley...” Harry replied, his voice muffled behind the box. Mrs. Weasley hurried away, presumably to find other things to clean up.

Harry looked over the top of the box, shooting a questioning look Ginny's way. “Why are we taking these boxes up to the attic?”

“Mum is trying to make the house look a little less...cluttered for when Fleur's family gets here.” She made a face, rolling her eyes.

“Ah...” Harry answered, though he still didn't really understand. “I guess we'd better take these up before your Mum comes back with more.” Ginny nodded, hefting the box to fit more comfortably in her arms, walking up the stairs slowly. Harry did his best not to keep his eyes from wandering down to her bum as she walked ahead of him.

When they both made it to the attic, they were slightly out of breath from the long walk. Harry set the box down, almost groaning with relief, stretching his stiff arms.

“That was heavier than I thought,” he admitted, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up again. Ginny laughed, shaking her head.

“Maybe if you didn't have such skinny arms, Potter.”

“Hey!” he protested, trying to glare at her, but failing when he caught sight of her flushed face. He couldn't help that his heart suddenly skipped a beat, or the fact that he wanted desperately to kiss her. He shoved the thoughts roughly aside, frowning to himself. He broke up with her. He shouldn't be having thoughts about kissing her.

“Hey, I was only kidding, Harry,” Ginny said, her smile gone.

“I know,” Harry muttered, feeling acutely uncomfortable being alone in the same room with her now. Upstairs, all by themselves, with everyone else too busy cleaning to realize they were gone...

“I uh, better go see if your Mum needs anymore help,” he said lamely, turning to leave the room quickly. He was spared Ginny's disappointed look, but he could still hear it in her voice.

“Yeah...I guess you're right.” She caught up with him though, grinning weakly at him. “Wouldn't want Mum to think we're trying to ditch cleaning, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “I'll see you later, Ginny.” He took off before the overwhelming desire to kiss her finally got to him.

--

“Harry, are you paying attention?” Hermione's voice shook Harry out of his reverie, and he looked at her, startled.

“What?”

“I asked if you were paying any attention,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “Honestly.”

“Oh, sorry. I'm listening now.”

“We need to decide where we're going to start looking for the Horcruxes.”

“Yeah, not to mention what we're going to do for your birthday, mate,” Ron chimed in, plopping down on his bed.

“That has nothing to do with Horcruxes, Ron,” Hermione pointed out, but turned to Harry, looking expectant. “What are you going to do for your birthday, Harry?”

“I uh...don't really want to do anything big. It doesn't matter really.”

“Of course it does,” she insisted. “You'll finally be of age. Its a big deal.”

“Yeah, mate, and I know Mum's already planning something. You might as well prepare yourself for the inevitable.”

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead distractedly. He knew what he wanted for his birthday – but he also knew that he couldn't have it. He couldn't have a normal life. Not until Voldemort was dead. That meant finding and destroying his Horcruxes.

“We've already destroyed the diary and the ring...there's a real locket somewhere out there...something of Hufflepuff's, and something from Ravenclaw -”

“Yes, we know Harry,” Hermione interrupted, giving him a look he couldn't quite decipher. She seemed to be hesitant about something, like there was something she was bursting to say, but couldn't quite spit it out. In fact, the look reminded him oddly of Dobby.

“ Harry...” she began hesitantly, looking down at her hands. “There's this...there's this book I think you should look at. I found something, but I want to know what you think.”

Harry blinked, surprised. Hermione being uncertain about information she'd found in a book was practically unheard of. “What is it?” he asked, intrigued. True to character, Hermione had brought the book with her, and she handed it over to him. He glanced at the cover, but there was no title on the page.

“What is this?”

“The book doesn't have a title, but it has some rather...interesting spells in there. I've marked the page I want you to look at.” Harry flipped open to the page, his eyes stopping on the chapter title.

Time Travel

Returning to the Past

Many wizards and witches have disputed the possibility of time travel. The main question is, “Can it be done?”

The many questions that follow deal mainly with the idea of Fate, the time and space continuum, and the consequences of returning to the past and changing it. There is no doubt that changing the past will irrefutably change the future, and many believe this to be wrong. However, I believe, that in a time of great need, changing the past to better the future is an acceptable reason to time travel.

Thus, I have constructed a spell, after many years of research and experiments, that will allow a person/persons to send his/her/their essence (or soul, if you like) back in time. However, this spell can only be performed by a pure soul, a person who intends to change the future for more than personal wants. The person/persons must have the intent to change the world in the best interests of everyone.

Though a complex spell, when done correctly, it should send the pure soul of the person/persons back in time, while retaining all prior, or rather, future knowledge, allowing that person/persons to change the past accordingly.

This requires the person/persons to think of the time they wish to return to and focus almost solely on that time. Once the correct time has been placed firmly in the mind, the person/persons should imagine that they are sending their very essence back to that time, along with all their knowledge. This part is often the hardest, as many have a difficult time separating their essence from their physical selves, but if successful, combined with the incantation, one can send themselves back in time.

This spell will not create dopplegangers, so there is no need to worry about two of the same person running about in the same timeline. Once the spell has been completed, the future that was will essentially be erased, making space for the altered future, though the time travelers shall retain their future knowledge. It is up to the traveler if they will allow the future to take the same path as before or if it will take a new route.

It is of the utmost importance to keep the mind focused on both the time the caster wishes to return to as well as separating their soul/essence from themselves, or their may be dire consequences.

There are a few things to keep in mind when considering changing the future -

The entry stopped here, as the continuing page had been ripped stared at the page numbly, unable to believe the words he just read. “Is this a joke?” he croaked, finally tearing his eyes away from the page in front of him to look at Hermione.

“Honestly...I don't know. But what do you think about it?”

“What do you mean, Hermione? It sounds like a hoax to me.” He shut the book firmly, handing it back to her.

“But what if it isn't?” she insisted, opening the book again. “What if we could do this?”

“You're serious? You think we should send our 'essences' or 'souls' or whatever back in time? And do what?”

“Stop V-Voldemort from coming back! Then we wouldn't have to do this – search for Horcruxes that could be anywhere in England! We could actually attend Hogwarts this year and have a normal seventh year!”

“When has Hogwarts ever been normal?” Ron asked, staring at Hermione incredulously. “You want to go back in time so that we can go to school?”

“Of course that's not the only reason, Ron!” Hermione snapped at him, irritated that Ron and Harry seemed to think she was mad. “Like I said, we could stop Voldemort before any of these other things even happened. With our prior knowledge, we'll be able to help Dumbledore destroy the Horcruxes before its too late! Think about it Harry! Sirius – you could save him. Dumbledore wouldn't have to die either.”

Harry swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat at the mention of Sirius and Dumbledore. Still, it was strange for Hermione to be acting so rashly. It was something he would do. I did do it, and it got Sirius killed.

“Hermione, are you hearing what you're saying? You're suggesting that we go back in time and change the future! It sounds...insane!”

“It makes perfect sense,” she insisted, her eyes gleaming the same way they did when she talked about S.P.E.W. “I know there are consequences, but if we can change things for the better...it'll make the world a safer place.”

“You know, Harry, Hermione's right. This could be the answer...” Ron said, looking thoughtful.

“This...This is crazy!” Harry shouted, standing up abruptly. “We can't just go back in time! The guy doesn't even sound like he knows what he's talking about! And even if he does, the rest of the entry is missing! What if its something important like: 'You may die a slow, painful death if the spell is done incorrectly.'?”

Hermione stood up slowly, giving Harry a hard look. “I thought about this for a long time before I showed you the book, Harry. Do you think I haven't thought of everything that could happen? Because I did.”

“Hermione-” Harry started, feeling guilty that he had offended her. Of course she had thought of everything. She was the smartest witch of their generation.

“I thought about this long and hard, Harry, and I think it's the best way. I wouldn't have suggested it if I thought otherwise, you know.”

“I...I'm sorry, Hermione. I just...can we really do this?” Harry asked uncertainly, glancing over at Ron, who looked just as uncertain as he did. Ron shrugged unhelpfully, as though to say, “Don't look at me, mate.”

“Just think about it for me, okay Harry? You don't have to decide now...and if you still don't think its a good idea after thinking about it, then we'll just go on as planned.” Hermione turned and left the room, leaving a bewildered Ron and Harry.

–

As Harry lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, thoughts of time travel swirled in his head. He could save Sirius and Dumbledore. He could stop Voldemort. He could live a normal life after that. But these all seemed like selfish reasons to him, except for the stopping Voldemort part. And didn't the book say that the reason for going back had to be selfless?

What's wrong with saving people's lives, though? Is that really so selfish, to want my godfather back, to have Dumbledore alive? Dumbledore is the greatest wizard ever, and the whole Wizarding world needs him. That's not so selfish, is it?

Harry's thoughts turned to Ginny. If he went back, he could have more time with Ginny, more than just the few weeks he had gotten at the end of this school year. He could have years with her. He knew wanting more time with Ginny was selfish, but couldn't he have one selfish thing? He'd already sacrificed so much. Deep inside of Harry, hope stirred. A hope for his future, a future where he wasn't destined to die.

With these final thoughts, Harry's eyelids closed and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning after breakfast, Harry had pulled Ron and Hermione aside.

“I've thought about what you said,” he said, giving Hermione a meaningful look. “I say, let's do it.”

“Alright, mate. We're going with you, right?” Ron asked, his confident look wavering to uncertainty.

“I don't think I have any choice, do I?” Harry chuckled, knowing that his two best friends would follow him whether he wanted them to or not.

“Damn straight,” Ron nodded, grinning.

“We'll have to start planning...” Hermione whispered, but Harry tuned her out as he glanced up to see Ginny watching them. He caught her eye, and then he smiled, the first real smile he'd had in weeks. Everything was going to change, and it was going to be better.

Ginny looked startled at his smile, but after a moment, she smiled back at him.

–

“Okay, so we've agreed. We'll go back to the summer after third year,” Hermione said in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, cause that's when all the weird stuff with You-Know-Who started happening,” Ron added, glancing at Harry. He could tell they were surprised he didn't want to go back to third year to stop Pettigrew, as that would have been the most obvious way to stop Voldemort from returning. But he had explained to them, that even with prior knowledge, how were they going to catch him and keep Professor Lupin from killing them all when he changed? There was a chance that Professor Lupin wouldn't even be with them in this new time line, but Harry didn't think they could take any chances. He didn't want to mention that thought that Ginny would only be twelve if they went back to their third year, and he knew he wouldn't want to wait very long to be with her again. He doubted that the Weasleys would approve of Harry dating their daughter at so young an age.

“The summer after third year, before the World Cup,” Harry repeated firmly, nodding his head. The group closed their eyes, focusing on that time period. After a long moment of silence, Harry heard Hermione say, “Okay. I've got it.”

A second later, Ron said the same. Feeling confident that they all had the time they wanted to return to firmly in their minds, he concentrated on separating his essence from himself.

What was his essence though? He, Ron, and Hermione had discussed this. It was also called a soul, and apparently it contained their personalities and their knowledge as well. According to Hermione, both those things really made up the essence of a person.

So Harry concentrated on removing his personality (he hoped the spell didn't backfire, leaving him dull and monotonous...he couldn't imagine being like Percy) and his knowledge from himself, picturing himself taking both those things and pushing them together into a ball. His eyes were screwed shut with the effort, and he felt sweat beginning to trickle down his back. Maybe they shouldn't have used Ron's room to do this in; it was especially hot up in his room.

“Ready,” he grunted once he felt he had separated himself. He was concentrating so hard that he barely heard Hermione and Ron reply. He was aware that Hermione was beginning the incantation – they had all agreed that Hermione could probably do the spell the easiest – and his body began to tingle as the magic began to work.

He was aware of a creaking sound, and he wondered if someone was coming up the stairs. He hoped that they were gone before whoever it was reached Ron's room – too late. The door creaked open. Harry kept his eyes closed, willing the spell to work faster.

“Harry?” Ginny's voice broke through his concentration, and his eyes popped open as his head jerked in her direction. He could still feel the magic tingling over his body, and now it started to feel like something inside him was leaking out; Ron and Hermione didn't seem to have heard her. Ginny was looking at him, confused. Harry realized with a jerk that, while he felt his essence still separate, the sight of Ginny had caused him to lose focus on the time he wanted to travel back to.

He could feel the magic starting to pull at him, and he quickly shut his eyes again, concentrating on the summer after third year, before the World Cup.

Summer after third year, before the World Cup, summer after third year, before the World Cup... he chanted in his mind. The magic pulling on him became more insistent, almost like a portkey, except stronger. Instead of pulling at his navel, his whole body was being tugged.

“Harry!” Ginny shouted, and he opened his eyes, glancing down to see his legs disappearing. He quickly shut his eyes again, resuming his chant. Everything began to darken, and he knew that they were almost gone.

“Harry!” he heard Ginny choke out, as though she were crying. With a panicked thought, Harry wondered how he could just pack up his essence, his soul, and just send it away if he wasn't taking Ginny with him. Wasn't love a part of his soul? Wasn't Ginny part of his essence? Harry forgot about the knowledge he was supposed to be holding as he pondered this. Would the spell fail? Would he die a painful death, or be a shell of his former self, or worse, end up being like Percy? The last thing on his mind as he was pulled away was Ginny, the summer before the World Cup a distant thought in his head, as he wondered if he was actually leaving part of his essence behind with her.

 

Thanks Leah.

Chapter 2: Forgetting, Deja Vu, and the World Cup​

Harry mumbled sleepily, shifting in his bed. He was vaguely aware of someone moving around the room, and he was sure he heard Ron swear under his breath.

“Harry, time to get up,” Mr. Weasley said, and when Harry opened his eyes, he saw him standing over his bed.

“Why? What's wrong? What time is it?” Harry mumbled, trying to blink the bleariness from his eyes.

“We have a bit of a walk before we can get to the World Cup,” he explained. “Come on, Molly's got breakfast waiting for you downstairs.”

“Mmkay,” Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes feebly and pulling his glasses on. The room came into view, and he watched Ron trip out of his own bed, frowning and cursing to himself.

The two made their way down the stairs when they had dressed, Ron still scowling. He had always liked his sleep. Harry's head felt a bit fuzzy, but he attributed it to his own sleepiness.

Hermione and Ginny were already sitting at the table, looking half asleep themselves, poking at their breakfast. Harry grinned, then sat himself down by Ginny, giving her a one-armed hug.

“Morning, Gin,” he said, smiling sleepily at her, then turning to his breakfast. He didn't notice the red rising in her face rapidly, or the incredulous stares from the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Harry?” Ron finally sputtered, his mouth gaping.

“Language, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley said, though she sounded just as surprised as Ron.

“What?” he asked, looking up at Ron, confused. He was hugging Ginny...Ginny was his...was his...Harry felt horrified. He was hugging his best mate's sister, and he had no idea why. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, something that was telling him this is right. Then again, maybe he was finally losing it.

Suddenly terrified that he was going to have the crap beat out of him by Ginny's brothers, he jerked his arm away, mumbling an apology, his face turning bright red as he stared at his food. The Weasleys couldn't tell who was redder, Ginny or Harry.

“S'okay,” Ginny muttered back, also concentrating abnormally hard on her food. Mrs. Weasley watched the two shrewdly, a small smile lingering on her face.

“Come on, you lot, eat up. It's going to be quite a walk, and you'll need your energy.”

Fred and George, having been thoroughly awakened by the shock of seeing Harry hug their younger sister, grinned mischievously, already planning on how to take the mickey out of Harry. “Yes Mum,” they chorused, digging into their breakfast. Ron, who had quickly diverted his attention to food, seemed to have forgotten about the moment and was shoveling food down his throat. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye, seeing Hermione give Ron an appalled look. She turned away, apparently unable to stomach the view, and caught Harry's eye, giving him a questioning look. He shrugged, feeling his face warm again.

Honestly, he couldn't explain to them – or himself, for that matter, - why he had just hugged Ginny Weasley when he hardly even talked to her. He couldn't explain the rush of warmth that had washed over him when he saw her, or the nervous butterflies in his stomach now that he was sitting so close to her. It was as though he had become hypersensitive to her movements, and his heart lurched every time her arm accidentally brushed up against his. She was still avoiding his gaze, though her face had returned mostly to its normal color. There was still something in the back of his mind, nagging him, like there was something he was supposed to remember. He must have had a blank look on his face while he was trying to figure out what it was, because Mrs. Weasley was looking at him in concern.

“Are you okay, Harry?”

“Huh? Yeah, sorry...I was just thinking, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry pushed the problem aside and dug into his breakfast to appease her.

–

Harry, Ron, and Hermione trailed behind Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ginny so they could talk as they walked to the portkey.

“Do you guys feel like -” Harry started, but was interrupted.

“Like we should be remembering something, but we can't?” Hermione finished for him.

“Definitely, mate. It's like there's something nagging me in the back of my mind, something I'm trying to remember. I'd say it was Hermione nagging me, but she hardly said anything all morning.” Ron's comment was rewarded with a withering glare from Hermione.

“For the most part, I would agree with what you're saying, Ronald,” she said coolly. “It's like...some sort of spell was put on us to make us forget something. Do you think we've been Obliviated?”

“Well, if we were, we wouldn't remember, would we?” Harry asked, frowning. “Besides...this feels more like...deja vu.”

“Deja what?” Ron asked, staring at Harry blankly.

“Deja vu,” Hermione explained, “It's like, experiencing something again, or thinking that you've seen something happen before.”

“So Harry's a seer?” Ron asked.

“No, Ronald. He's just saying that this situation seems familiar, and I agree with him. I don't think Harry's predicting the future.”

“Hey you lot!” Ginny shouted back at them. She had stopped, turning to face them, her hands on her hips. “You coming, or what?” she demanded, grinning.

Harry had apparently lost all control of his bodily functions and he grinned back stupidly, his face flushing again. “We're coming!” he called, his voice cracking embarrassingly. Ron and Hermione gave him a funny look. “What?” Harry demanded, his smile slipping.

“What's with you and my sister, mate?” Ron asked, looking uncomfortable.

“What? I – nothing. Nothing's going on.”

“Do you fancy her or something?” he demanded, beginning to frown.

“What? Of course not!” Harry nearly shouted, panic filling him at the thought of what Ron might do if he thought he fancied Ginny. “I was just being nice, okay?”

“Alright,” Ron shrugged, though he was still eyeing Harry suspiciously. “Come on, let's catch up before they leave without us.” Ron surged forward to catch up with the group, and Harry began to follow, but Hermione stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“You may have stopped Ron from asking questions, Harry, but I know better. You do fancy her, don't you?” she asked, smiling smugly.

“I-I...I,” Harry sputtered, shaking his head, but unable to make the words come out.

“Just as I thought,” Hermione crowed, then hurried up to reach Ron. Harry stood there stupidly, staring at the backs of his friends.

Do I fancy Ginny? Somewhere inside of him, in the back of his head, he knew the answer was yes. He just couldn't admit it.

–

“I don't like portkeys much,” Harry admitted, wincing as he stretched. His landing hadn't been all that graceful.

“Poor Harry,” Ginny teased, laughing lightly at him. Harry tried to frown at her, but instead he smiled stupidly again. Ron slapped him on the back, making him wince again.

“You'll get better mate...it just takes some practice,” he assured Harry confidently.

“That's why you fell flat on your face, right Ron?” Hermione asked, brushing dirt off her shirt. Ron sputtered and the group laughed.

“Harry was too busy watching Ginny to watch out for the landing,” George said with a grin.

“Yeah, maybe you should hold his hand and help a bloke out, Gin-Gin,” Fred said to Ginny, his face matching George's. Harry's smile slipped off his face and he turned red. Beside him, Ginny gave Fred and George a withering glare, pulling her wand out and pointing it at them threateningly.

“Er, sorry Gin,” George said hurriedly, holding his hands up in defense. “Just taking the mickey out of Harry, is all.”

Ginny flicked her wand dangerously at the twins and they took off toward Mr. Weasley, who was talking with Amos and Cedric Diggory, but Ginny took off at after them, shouting that they were cowards. Hermione gave Ron a questioning look, but Harry beat him to it.

“Bat Bogey Hex,” Harry said, grinning, then wondering how he knew that exactly.

“Er, yeah, mate, how'd you know?”

“You must've said something to me before....” Harry trailed off, gaping at the field before him. It was filled as far as he could see with tents, and they seemed to be divided. One half was entirely green, and the other a dark scarlet, Bulgaria's colors.

“Come on, kids,” Mr. Weasley called back as he departed with the Diggorys. “Our tent is off this way.”

When they arrived at the tent, Harry thought to himself that it looked rather small to fit their group in. Of course, he hadn't been thinking of it in magical terms, so he was surprised when he walked in to find that it was almost like its own house.

“We'll need some water, so Ron, Harry, Hermione, why don't you three go off to get some?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Want to come with, Ginny?” Harry blurted, looking at her expectantly. What in the world has come over me? He wondered fervently as Ron and Hermione gave him shocked and amused looks.

“Er...sure, Harry,” Ginny said, her face flushing slightly.

“Where did Fred and George go?” Mr. Weasley asked, apparently oblivious of the blushing children, though Harry suspected that he was merely being tactful. “Right, well, I'll need two of you to go get firewood, since the twins have managed to run off already. Off you lot go,” he said, smiling. He shooed them out of the tent and the four looked at each other, feeling slightly awkward.

“Well,” Harry began, ready to suggest that he and Ron go for the firewood, though he found he'd rather go with Ginny. He thought it might be even more awkward if it were just him and her going, and he didn't want to think about what Ron would say if he went off with his sister. “How about -”

“Ron and I will go get the firewood,” Hermione interrupted Harry, tugging on Ron's arm. Ron looked alarmed and a bit like a fish out of water.

“But, Hermione,” Ron started, spluttering.

“Come on, Ronald, we don't want to keep your dad waiting,” she replied, tugging him along. Harry watched the two until they disappeared into the crowd. He turned to Ginny, who looked embarrassed.

“Well,” she said, looking thoughtful. “Seems like they're off in a hurry. Think they're going to have a bit of a snog?” she asked, grinning mischievously. Harry blinked, shocked not only by what she had said but also by the fact that she was actually talking to him for the second time today.

“What?” he finally replied, “Ron and Hermione? They fight all the time, I don't really think they're off for a snog.”

“They like each other, can't you tell?” Ginny asked, a brow raised.

“Really?” Harry asked, but in the back of his mind he thought she was right. It felt like she was right.

“Yes, and one day my brother will finally realize it and do something about it. He's a right thick git, isn't he?”

“Uh, if you say so, Ginny. Should we be getting that water, then?”

“Right,” she said, laughing nervously. He wondered if she felt as nervous as he did at the prospect of walking off together. He wasn't usually around her by herself – Ron and Hermione were almost always with him. It was going to be a new experience, though not necessarily a bad thing, he thought. “I think my dad wants to put together a campfire the Muggle way.”

“Oh? That'll be...interesting,” Harry laughed, imagining Mr. Weasley trying to light a fire with matches. “I hope he doesn't burn the whole campfire to the ground.”

“That would be just our luck, wouldn't it?” Ginny asked, visibly relaxing as she laughed again, this time with more ease. “Miss the World Cup because my dad managed to burn the entire place down, all because he was trying to do things the Muggle way.” She grinned at him, then waved her hand to her left. “Well, let's go get that water, it won't get here itself.”

Harry's eyes followed her as she set off, mesmerized by her fiery hair swishing back and forth and the sunlight glinting off of it. She looked back at him when she realized that he wasn't following.

“Aren't you coming, Harry? I promise, I won't bite.”

“Oh! Yeah, I'm coming,” he uttered quickly, embarrassed that he had been caught staring at her like a bloody fool.

They walked silently for the most part, running into classmates on the way. They had run into Seamus, who was decked out in green (obviously supporting the Irish) and a few minutes later, Dean, who gave Ginny a look that Harry thought was much too friendly. After that, Harry put a hand on her shoulder and used it to guide her away, explaining to Dean that they really needed to get their water.

Ginny gave him a curious look after that, but he didn't give her a reply. He couldn't explain to himself the feeling that had risen up in his chest, or why he had felt like hitting Dean, who he normally got along with.

It took much longer for them to walk back once they had the water, as Harry had to keep the water from sloshing out of the bucket, but Ginny didn't seem to mind. He found himself talking to her much more easily now, as though the run-in with Dean had opened up something inside of him. He was fascinated with every laugh she let out, every smile she gave him, even the way that she walked. He was laughing at a particularly funny story she had told him about Ron, when suddenly Cho Chang appeared out of nowhere.

“Hi Harry,” Cho said sweetly, smiling broadly at him. Ginny stopped abruptly beside him, her smile slipping off of her face.

“Er...hi Cho.” Harry replied, feeling distinctly uncomfortable all of a sudden. He remembered vaguely thinking that she had been pretty when they had played against each other in Quidditch last year, but now, while he could say she was pretty, he didn't get the same strange feeling in his stomach.

“I'll meet you back at the tent, Harry,” Ginny said flatly, walking off quickly before he could protest.

“How have you been, Harry?” Cho asked, still smiling. Harry was still watching Ginny walk away, his heart sinking right down to his shoes.

“I've been...uh...fine,” Harry said, smiling at her uncertainly. “Look, it was nice seeing you, but I really ought to get back...I have the water,” he finished lamely, pointing unnecessarily at the bucket of water in his hand. “Bye!” Harry took off before she could say anything else, catching up to Ginny.

“Didn't you want to talk to her?” Ginny asked, looking at him warily. Harry shook his head, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

“Not really...I'd rather talk to you, Ginny,” he admitted, feeling a bit better as she blushed brilliantly. Blushing seemed to be an issue with them. Like a bloody blushing bonanza.

“Oi, took you two long enough!” Ron's shout interrupted their moment, and Harry looked up so quickly that water slopped over his front. He could have sworn that he saw Ginny smirking slightly out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry, Ron,” Harry said hurriedly, avoiding Ginny's gaze now. “Ran into some people, and they kept us up.”

Ron was gazing suspiciously at the two for a long moment, but then he shrugged in acceptance.

“Come on, Dad's trying to burn the whole place down,” Ron muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “He could just use magic, nearly everyone else is, but he insists on doing it the 'Muggle way.'”

Harry caught Ginny's eye and they both burst into laughter. Ron looked at them both, clearly thinking that they'd both gone completely mad. Harry was too out of breath to explain, so, shaking his head and wheezing, he went to try and keep Mr. Weasley from hurting himself.

–

It wasn't long before the group found themselves in the Top Box with the Minister of Magic and – unfortunately – the Malfoys. Harry was determined not to let Malfoy ruin his good time, even though he felt even more dislike toward the pale boy, along with what he thought was pity, though he couldn't fathom why. Standing next to Ginny and his two best friends, though, he found he was hardly bothered by Malfoy's crude comments, and was too excited for the game to begin to let anything dampen his spirits. Somehow he just knew that this was going to be a fantastic game.

“Can you believe Fred and George bet all their money that Ireland would win, but Krum would catch the Snitch?” Ginny asked, looking impressed and skeptical. “Then again, it is Fred and George we're talking about.”

“I think they're probably right,” Ron said before Harry could reply, nodding sagely. “Although, I don't know what's so great about Krum,” he added darkly, shooting a look at Hermione and scowling. Harry would have laughed if he hadn't been so confused. Hadn't Ron just been talking about how great Krum was the other day?

“Well, Krum's supposed to be a really good Seeker, right?” Harry asked hesitantly, surprised at the deepening scowl on Ron's face. It was like Ron was jealous of Krum for some reason.

“Nah, I bet you're better Harry,” Ron shrugged, his scowl disappearing. “Anyway, Ireland's too good a team to lose.”

“I still don't think Fred and George should have bet all their savings,” Hermione said disapprovingly, a thoughtful look on her face. “I'm not sure that Bagman's all the trustworthy.” Harry silently agreed with her; though Bagman had seemed cheerful and nice enough, there was that nagging feeling again, telling Harry that Bagman wasn't as nice as he seemed.

“Well, in any case, I bet this will be a brilliant game,” Harry said with finality.

And it was a brilliant game. Ron had been severely disappointed when Hermione pointed out that Leprechaun gold disappeared after a few hours, and he looked disgruntled that he couldn't pay Harry back for the Omnioculars. Harry shrugged it off, not really having minded paying for them. It had also been rather interesting to watch all the men in the stadium begin to act strangely when the Veelas came out onto the field. Harry watched bewildered as Ron nearly leaped from the Top Box, while Mr. Weasley stood with his fingers stuffed in his ears. He found himself strangely unaffected by the Veelas's dance, and he wondered why. Next to him, Ginny laughed rambunctiously as at her brother's antics, and he smiled broadly, an overwhelming desire to reach out and touch her hair rushing through him. He shook his head, thinking that Ginny was having more of an effect on him than the Veelas, though he would never admit it to anyone.

Then the game itself – Harry had never seen Quidditch players move so fast! They passed with effortlessness, and moved with a grace Harry had never seen from Hogwarts players. The beaters were hitting the bludgers so quickly and fiercely that Harry could hardly see the balls. Still, the players dodged the bludgers with ease, as though they were only minor distractions.

And the Seekers...Troy and Krum looked the most serious out of all the players, their eyes darting around the field, looking for that hint of gold, all the while aware of the bludgers flying around them. Once, Krum feinted, and Troy ran smack into the ground. Seeing the Wronski Feint made Harry wish fervently that he could try it on his broom – he was sure that he could do it, it didn't look all that difficult...

The second time that Krum dived, he really had seen the Snitch. Both Seekers dived, neck in neck with one another, both staring hard at the Snitch, as though willing it to come closer to them. They were getting closer and closer to the ground, and Harry was suddenly aware of Ginny gripping his arm hard. He spared a glance at her to see her watching, enthralled, completely wrapped up in the game, gripped with suspense. Harry turned his gaze back to the game quickly, not wanting to miss what could be the final moments of the game.

The Seekers were nearing the ground at an alarming rate, and suddenly, Krum reached out and plucked the Snitch from the air, pulling out of his dive just in time. Troy was unable to do the same, again, and plowed into the ground. Fred and George had been right though – Ireland had won, even though Krum had caught the Snitch.

Harry cheered himself hoarse, hardly able to believe the outcome. He grabbed Ginny in a hug, jumping up and down with excitement, the two of them cheering wildly. He let go abruptly, realizing what he had just done, blushing slightly, before he turned to Ron and Hermione to cheer with them.

When they returned to the tent, still talking loudly, describing play-by-plays of the game, Harry thought that this was probably the best day of his life.

 

Chapter 3: Death Eaters, Home Quidditch, and Ginny​

“Harry! Ron! Get up!” Mr. Weasley's voice pierced through Harry's dreams, which had been filled with fantasies of Wronski Feints and a certain, cheering, red-haired girl. Harry blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes fiercely before sliding his glasses onto his nose.

“What's wrong?” Harry asked, his voice croaking both from sleep and from overuse.

“Death Eaters are attacking! Let's go!” There was real fear in Mr. Weasley's voice, and at the mention of Death Eaters, a tingle of fear went through Harry's spine, his muscles tensing. He reached for his wand, gripping it tightly. He got up quickly, pulling on his jeans clumsily, while Ron did the same next to him. Hermione and Ginny came out of the other room, wide-eyed, both holding onto their own wands.

“Stay together, head to the forest. I have to go help,” Mr. Weasley said hurriedly, his wand also out and ready. Fred and George followed them as they headed toward the forest; Bill, Charlie, and Percy were staying behind to help their father.

Everywhere, people were screaming, running, tripping over fallen tents. Smoke filled the air, and Harry could see several fires in the distance. Without thinking, Harry gripped Ginny's hand tightly, not wanting her to get separated from them in this madness. He saw that Ron was holding onto Hermione as well; Harry met Ron's eyes, and they both nodded grimly. Another feeling of deja vu swept through him, like he and Ron had done this all before, and he felt a calmness settle over him, replacing the anxiety and fear. He could do this. They would be fine.

“Come on!” he shouted over the chaos, Ginny trailing closely behind him, Ron and Hermione not far behind, and Fred and George bringing up the rear. Everyone had their wands out, though Ginny, Fred, and George looked the most bewildered. A determined, grim look had come over Harry, Ron, and Hermione, their eyes darting about in an alert fashion, rather than the wild fear that many others had on their faces. If anyone had taken the time to notice, it would have appeared that the trio were well adapted to fighting for their lives.

The further they got into the forest, the more distant the screams became, and the others began to calm down, though their breathing was still coming in quick gasps.

“What's going on?” Ginny asked in a small voice, and Harry felt the desire to wrap her up in his arms and comfort her.

“Dad called them Death Eaters,” Fred said grimly, though he still looked confused. “Whatever that means.”

“They're Voldemort's followers,” Harry answered, and Fred, George, and Ginny all flinched. Ron and Hermione exchanged solemn looks, frowning slightly.

“What are they doing here, though, mate?” Ron asked, gesturing back in the direction of the camp.

“I don't know,” Harry spat out in frustration. He felt like he should know. The thought, the memory, whatever it was, it was just out of reach. “It's got to have something to do with Voldemort though...Why else would they be here?”

“...Tom's gone, though,” Ginny whispered, a scared look in her eyes, though she held her chin up defiantly, and Harry knew that she was determined to make sure Tom Riddle would never take advantage of her again. He smiled sadly at her, placing both hands on her shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting way.

“I don't think he's really here, Gin,” he said softly. “I suppose that with all these people around, those sick bastards are just out looking for some fun. Or what they consider fun,” Harry scowled, and the rest of them nodded in agreement. “It'll be okay, we're going to be fine,” Harry said confidently. Suddenly, there were several sharp pops in the air, and Harry shoved Ginny down onto the ground as he yelled, “Duck!” He didn't hesitate to cover her with his own body to protect her.

Overhead, several spells met thin air, shooting off harmlessly into the distance, others tearing into foliage.

“Stop!” a hoarse voice cried out, and Harry recognized it as Mr. Weasley's. He sighed in relief – he had been afraid that it was Death Eaters. “Boys, Ginny, are you okay? Harry, Hermione?” Mr. Weasley asked hurriedly, looking them over with concern.

“Fine, Dad,” Ginny said a little shakily, her voice muffled. Harry quickly let go of her, trying vainly to keep from blushing. He had reacted without thinking when he grabbed Ginny and threw her down – he hoped fervently that she didn't think he was some sort of pervert.

“You lot nearly got us,” Fred said, grinning nervously at George. “What're you doing -”

“Shooting off spells -” George chimed in.

“In the middle of the forest?” Fred finished, looking accusatory.

“Sorry, boys,” Mr. Weasley sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. “We saw you lot from a distance and thought you might be more Death Eaters. Nice reaction, by the way, Harry,”

“Thanks, Mr. Weasley...er, sorry for shoving you down, Ginny,” Harry muttered, holding out his hand to help her up. She took it, and he hoisted her up, releasing her hand as she brushed dirt off herself.

“It's fine, Harry,” she replied, grinning meekly. “I'd rather you shove me down than get hit by some hex. Who knows what would have happened.”

“We only sent out Stunners, so you lot would have been fine,” Mr. Weasley assured them. “The Death Eaters seem to have gotten away, and things are mostly calmed down now. But, I think that's been enough excitement for the day, don't you? How about we grab an early Portkey and head home? We don't want Molly to worry.”

Harry thought she would probably be frantic, though he kept the thought to himself.

The exhausted group trudged back to toward the field where most of the tents lay in shambles, and several spots were still smoldering from fires recently put out. No one saw the small house elf lying in the bushes, stunned, or a man remove his invisibility cloak for the first time in many years.

–

“Oh, you're all okay!” Mrs. Weasley cried out as they approached the Burrow. She bustled toward them, clearly worked up, and threw her arms around each of her children in turn, then did the same for Harry and Hermione.

“Everything's okay, Molly, dear,” Mr. Weasley said assuringly, looking very tired. “It was just a group of trouble makers – we didn't catch any of them, though. In fact, I should be getting to the Ministry. I'm sure everything is in chaos there."

“I'll go with you, Father,” Percy said pompously, puffing out his chest. “I'm sure Mr. Crouch will need as much help as he can get.”

Behind Percy's back, Fred and George made faces, rolling their eyes. Apparently, Percy hadn't shut up about Mr. Crouch for weeks.

“But dear, don't you think it can wait?” Mrs. Weasley asked, frowning.

“I'm afraid not, Molly. I'll be home later tonight – don't wait on me for dinner.”

“I'll return with Father, Mother,” Percy said stiffly, looking as though he felt extremely important.

"We'll come with you too, Dad," Bill said, and Charlie nodded in agreement. "I'm sure there are things that we can do, even if we don't work at the Ministry."

Suddenly, Ginny yawned widely, creating a chain reaction as her three other brothers, Harry, and Hermione yawned as well.

“Right, you lot, off to bed, I'm sure you didn't get a wink of sleep all night,” Mrs. Weasley said firmly, ushering her younger children into the Burrow. “You all get some sleep, and I'll have a nice lunch ready for you when you wake up,”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry mumbled, feeling the long night finally wearing on him.

“Yeah, thanks Mum, you're the best,” Ginny agreed, unable to stifle another yawn. Mrs. Weasley's other children nodded sleepily, then trudged up to their rooms, ready to collapse into bed.

Harry paused when they reached Ginny's room, giving her a searching look. He wondered if tonight would give her nightmares...he had an uneasy feeling that he would be having nightmares, though he couldn't place why he thought so. He suddenly felt very guilty, having not paid much attention to Ginny at all since her trauma in the Chamber – he had just gone on with his life, too worried about his own affairs. He frowned, earning him a confused look from Ginny, who was looking back at him, probably wondering why he was staring at her like a fool again. He gave her a small smile, then hurried up to Ron's room, trying to ignore his nervous stomach.

He decided to pay attention to Ginny from now on – it wasn't fair to exclude her. After all, she was the only other person he knew who had come face to face with Voldemort and survived. And its not because I like her. I just want to be her friend. He thought, though even in his head it didn't sound very convincing. The thought of being more than friends with Ginny...Harry felt his face flush and his heartbeat quicken. It was another one of those things that just felt right. Not that he could admit it – her brothers would kill him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, all thoughts flew out of his head and he fell into a deep sleep.

The wonderful aroma of lunch woke Harry, and he was surprised that he hadn't had one nightmare at all. Ron was slowly waking in his bed on the other side of the room, his eyes still closed as he sniffed the air hopefully. Blinking blearily, Ron stumbled out of bed without a word, exiting the room and thumping down the stairs for lunch. Harry laughed at Ron's antics – he was always ready for food.

Harry's own stomach growled loudly, and Harry realized that he was ready for food as well. Pushing his glasses back onto his face, he threw the covers off himself and hurried down the stairs after Ron, running right into Ginny, nearly bowling her over. He grabbed her around the waist to keep her from tumbling down the stairs, feeling extremely stupid.

“Sorry Ginny!” he cried, pulling her away from the stairs. “I wasn't looking where I was going.”

“Honestly Harry,” Ginny said, looking flustered, her hair slightly askew from sleep. Harry thought it was rather cute, though he kept the thought to himself. “What's with you and knocking me over?” she asked, smiling lightly, and he realized she was teasing him. He felt himself grow red, then said the first thing that came to mind.

“Well, I can't help wanting to run into you,” he blurted, feeling even more incredibly foolish for having said it. Ginny didn't laugh at him though, she merely turned a little red herself, still smiling at him.

“Ron woke me,” she said, breaking the silence and changing the subject. “That must mean lunch is almost ready, because he wouldn't wake up for anything else,” Ginny laughed, and Harry found himself laughing with her. She was right, after all.

“We'd better hurry before he eats all of the food, right?”

“Hopefully Hermione will restrain him; she's down there, too.”

“We never did find out if they snogged,” Harry pointed out, though he still found the idea a bit...strange.

“Hmm, do you think we should ask?”

“I'm not sure that I want to know,” Harry admitted, making a face. “Hermione's like...my sister. I don't want to hear about Ron kissing her.”

“I wouldn't really worry about that for a while, Harry,” Ginny reassured him. “Ron's too thick to even realize he likes her, and she's too stubborn to admit it.” And then Ginny strolled down the rest of the stairs, leaving a contemplative Harry behind.

He wondered, did Ginny still like him? He'd have to ask Hermione, while somehow being discreet...then again, Hermione was far too clever for her own good, and would probably recognize why he asked in the first place. Deciding there was no way to make an educated decision without food in his stomach, he pushed the thought from his mind and followed Ginny into the kitchen, taking a seat next to Ron as to avoid another hugging incident. He was completely lucid now, but he couldn't be sure that the desire wouldn't overwhelm him and make him do it again.

While Harry munched quietly on his lunch, listening to Ron and Hermione bicker (like always) he pondered over the Death Eater attack at the World Cup. Why did the event seem so familiar? He realized that he shouldn't even know what Death Eaters were, as he'd never heard about them until last night, but without question, he had known off the bat that they were Voldemort's followers. He was also fairly certain that he could name a few of them, Lucius Malfoy being top on his list. He wasn't sure if that was because he just seemed like the type (after all, look at his son, the despicable little ferret) or if it was because he just knew like he had just known other things, and how things just felt right. It was bloody exhausting, having no idea why such strange things were occurring.

Not to mention, Harry wasn't the only one having these feelings – well, obviously not the encounters with Ginny, as both Ron and Hermione seemed to be acting completely normal around her – but the same sense of deja vu. What could have happened to Ron, Hermione, and him that made them all feel like this? Was it some sort of spell? Was anyone else being affected by it? Or was it isolated to the three of them? Frowning, Harry pushed his food around on his plate, his head beginning to hurt from all his questions. He wondered if he should ask the other Weasley's if they were getting a sense of deja vu; so far though, they hadn't said anything.

Harry glanced up at Ginny, his thoughts trailing off onto a new topic. How would Ron react when he started inviting Ginny along to hang out with them? If he had to be honest with himself, he wasn't as worried about how Ron would react as much as if Ginny would even want to hang out with them. She had her own friends, after all. Still, it was summertime and she spent most of her time hanging around the Burrow with everyone else. It would really be the best time to start getting to know her.

After all, she almost knows me better than Ron and Hermione...er...wait a moment. Harry blinked, confused again. There was that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. But how in the world would Ginny know him at all? They'd hardly spoken up until yesterday. The last time he'd really said anything to her was in the Chamber.

The Chamber... Harry grimaced. There was that, too. He really wanted to apologize to Ginny for ignoring her after all of that. He really was a big prat.

So, figure out a way to include Ginny and apologize to her without arousing the suspicions of Ron and Hermione...fat chance.

Ron had apparently inhaled several helpings of lunch and was finally satisfied (Harry wondered if Ron was ever really full). “Want to play some Quidditch, Harry? We can play two-on-two with Fred and George,” he added, and the twins nodded.

“Err, sure, Ron,” Harry hesitated, glancing back at Ginny. It's just a game. Just ask if she wants to play. “Uh, do you want to play with us, Ginny?” he asked, wondering how he could go one day talking to her (mostly) normally, and to the next feeling like a complete fool.

“Ickle Gin-gin, play Quidditch?” Fred asked, looked skeptical.

“Yeah, Harry, she can't play,” George laughed, apparently finding the suggestion amusing. Harry turned to look at Ron, sure that he would have something to say about it as well, but was surprised to find that Ron merely looked confused.

“And why can't I play?” Ginny demanded, her ears beginning to turn red, a sure sign that she was starting to get angry, if her reaction was anything like Ron's when he got angry.

“Do you even -”

“Know how to play-”

“Ickle Gin-gin?”

“I bet she's a fantastic Quidditch player,” Harry said quickly, feeling defensive for her.

“Yeah,” Ron said slowly, a look on his face as though he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. “I wouldn't be so quick to judge her, guys.”

The twins looked astounded by Harry and Ron's words. Ginny, on the other hand, looked grateful.

“That's right. If I can Bat-Bogey hex the two of you, I can play Quidditch just as well.” Ginny said firmly, glaring at Fred and George. They both smiled warily in return, then laughed.

“All right,” Fred acquiesced.

“If you say so, Ginny,” George continued, elbowing Fred conspiratorially.

“I guess we'll see, right?”

“Wait,” Ron blurted, and Ginny's head turned around so fast that her hair whipped into her face. She pulled it out of the way, glaring at Ron. “Er, not that I object to you playing or anything, Ginny, I just mean, we can't very well play two-on-two with five people, can we?”

“What about Hermione?” Ginny asked, shooting a hopeful look at their bushy-haired friend.

“Oh no,” Hermione said quickly, raising her hands. “I don't do Quidditch. I can't even ride a broom.”

“We'll teach you, Hermione,” Ginny shot back just as quickly, clearly eager to play and prove herself to her brothers. “It's not difficult.”

“I tried and....failed,” Hermione paused here, the thought of failing clearly difficult for her to grasp, much less say, “at school. If Hogwarts can't teach me, then how can you?” she asked doubtfully.

“Come on, Hermione, have a little faith in us,” Ron said exasperatedly, looking offended.

“All the Weasley's play Quidditch!” Ginny exclaimed. “Not only that, we have the youngest Seeker in a century here to help teach you! I think we can teach you.” Ginny opened her eyes wide, staring hopefully at her friend. Ron nudged Harry in the ribs, grinning.

“Ginny uses that look to get almost anything she wants with Mum and Dad,” Ron whispered, snickering. “Let's see how Hermione holds up. None of us can last long, honestly.”

Hermione, however, looked determined to stay on the ground. Harry wasn't sure that Ginny was going to get what she wanted this time, and he found he was disappointed. He really wanted to see her play.

“I-” Hermione faltered, biting her lip uncertainly. “Oh, fine,” she broke down. “Just as long as we don't play too high, okay?”

Ginny beamed at Hermione, hugging her fiercely. “This'll be great! Don't worry, Hermione, we're not allowed to play too high anyway, in case any Muggles should see. Come on!” she chirped, grabbing the other girl's hand and tugging her out toward the Quidditch pitch.

“This should be interesting, eh Gred?” Fred asked, grinning wickedly.

“Indeed, it should, Forge.”

“Don't you two mess with Hermione,” Ron warned, narrowing his eyes at the two. “She's barmy enough without you two ruining flying for her,”
“Ooh, does ickle-Ronniekins have a crush?” George asked, his grin becoming, if possible, wider. Harry thought it akin to the Cheshire cat's.

“No!” Ron practically shouted, but his face turned almost as red as his hair. This caused the twins to laugh uproariously, and Ron fled the room, muttering darkly under his breath. Harry quickly followed, in case the twins decided to take the mickey out of him about Ginny.

“Stupid gits,” Ron said fiercely as Harry caught up with him. Harry shrugged, suppressing a smirk. He thought, having seen Ron stand up for Hermione, that Ginny was probably right. Ron did fancy Hermione, but he was too thick to realize it.

As it was, Fred and George kept their mouths shut while the rest of them taught Hermione how to ride a broom. Surprisingly, Ron was the most helpful of all – Harry supposed that he and Ginny just enjoyed going too fast for Hermione.

“You're doing great, Hermione,” Ron told her encouragingly, while she gripped the broom so tight that her knuckles were white. “Just relax a little, you'll never have fun if you're worried about falling off.”

For a while, Hermione refused to go more than a few feet off the ground. Soon, though, she started listening to Ron and relaxing. Harry grinned broadly with Ginny as she started to rise further off the ground.

“It's a bit like learning to ride a bike, I suppose,” she commented, though Harry thought that the others looked a bit confused. Of course they knew what bikes were, but in the Wizarding world, he supposed, it probably wasn't a milestone in a child's life to learn how to ride a bike – instead, they learned how to ride brooms.

Hermione caught the expression on the other's faces, and quickly explained.

“Well, Muggle children learn to ride bikes at a young age – I suppose that wizarding children learn to ride brooms. But, like I was saying, learning how to ride a broom is a bit like riding a bike. You just have to learn through trial and error and figure out how to get going without falling over. Or, in this case, without falling off.”

“Yeah, or breaking your neck,” George chimed in unhelpfully.

“Ooh, or anything else in your body.” Fred contributed. Hermione's face turned a little white, and Ron glared at the twins. He turned back to Hermione, smiling in what Harry thought was a very reassuring way, which was a surprise for Ron, as he wasn't the most tactful person around.

“It'll be fine Hermione. You won't fall, and we won't be playing rough like real Quidditch, so there's no chance you'd fall because of that. It'll just be for fun, right?”

“Yeah, come on Hermione. Just a quick game, before it gets too late,” Ginny pleaded, and again, Hermione folded under the pressure.

“I can't believe I'm giving into peer pressure,” Hermione muttered under her breath, and Harry laughed.

“It's not like they're trying to get you to stay out after curfew or do drugs, Hermione,” he chuckled. “They only want you to ride a broom and play Quidditch, which in my book, are two of the best things in the world.”

They split into teams – Harry, Fred, and Ginny on one team, and Ron, George, and Hermione on the other. The twins had decided that this was the best way to keep the teams fairs, as together they would just be too good, and that each team should have one of the girls and they were “new” to Quidditch. However, they hadn't been expecting Ginny to fly as well as she did.

She was using Charlie's old broom, and while worn down and a bit tired, Harry thought she flew brilliantly on it. He wondered how well she'd fly if she was on his Nimbus. Both Fred and George looked flabbergasted, but their expressions quickly grew into wide grins.

“Brilliant!”

“Good show, Ginny!” They shouted, taking off on their own brooms.

“Ready to lose, Ron?” Harry laughed, and Ron frowned momentarily before grinning broadly as well.

“I knew I should have picked Ginny for my team,” he said. “Oh well, I can slaughter you in chess later, Harry.”

Harry knew Ron was right – he never won at chess.

–

Fred offered to play as Keeper, much to Harry's relief. He was a terrible Keeper. As there were only three players on each team, and they couldn't have a Snitch - it might very well fly off, unfortunately - there would be a Keeper and two Chasers on each team.

"Any good at Chaser, Potter?" Ginny asked, a competitive gleam in her brown eyes. Harry grinned meekly, shrugging.

"I'm not sure. I haven't played anything except for Seeker, but I'll do my best. We don't want to lose against Ron, do we?"

"Definitely not," Ginny agreed, pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail, staying on her broom by gripping her legs together. Harry thought it made her freckles more noticeable, although maybe it was because he was usually so distracted by her fiery hair. He wondered how many freckles she had, and hoped that one day he would be able to find out.

"Let's do this," Harry said, shifting to a more comfortable position on his Nimbus.

"You lot can start with the ball," Ginny called out to Ron cheekily. "It's only fair, as clearly we're going to win."

Ron merely scowled at Ginny, waving his hand dismissively. Hermione flew close to him, looking positively nervous. Harry couldn't see what Ron said to her, but Hermione nodded and flew out further away from the makeshift goal post to were George was. Apparently, Ron would be their Keeper, and George and Hermione their Chasers.

"Let's just take it easy on Hermione, right?" Harry said in a low voice to Ginny, feeling a bit bad for Hermione.

"Of course. But I'm not holding back on my brothers."

"Of course not," Harry agreed, grinning at her.

Hermione started out with the Quaffle, looking confused as how to pass or catch the Quaffle and keep both hands firmly on her broomstick. Harry watched as she and George passed the Quaffle back and forth as a warm-up, though they remained stationary for the most part. After Hermione determined that she had gotten a better grasp on what to do, she signaled that it was okay to start the game.

Hermione tossed the Quaffle to George, who caught it easily and began to zoom toward Harry and Ginny. Ginny flew up to meet her brother, feinting to the left, then zooming past his right arm, managing to swipe the Quaffle out from between his arms. He looked aghast, putting on the brakes quickly and turning to fly after her. Harry quickly sped up toward where Ron was, flying out ahead of Ginny, open for a pass. Hermione looked like she didn't know what to do, so she just flew (slowly) after him. Ginny passed the ball toward Harry, and he caught it quickly. It wasn't difficult, although it was felt too bulky for him, as he preferred the Snitch. Zooming toward the goal post, he aimed and threw the Quaffle, surprising himself as he managed to make it past Ron and into the hoop.

"Not bad, Potter," Ginny remarked, looking mildly impressed. Harry beamed at her, a warm feeling growing inside him, and he didn't think it had anything to do with the summer sun.

"Not bad yourself, Weasley." She smiled back at him in return before whipping her broom around and heading back to their side of the field.

The game went rather well for Harry's team (and rather poorly for Ron's). George managed to score a few times against Fred, and once, even Hermione scored (okay, they let her score). Ron was a decent Keeper as well, and managed to block the majority of Harry's attempts, though Ginny amazed everyone by scoring every time she tried. They ended up winning by a landslide, but Harry thought it was really all in fun anyway. A few times, the Quaffle nearly hit him in the face because he had been so busy watching Ginny fly, though everyone was so absorbed in the game, no one seemed to notice, thankfully.

They all returned from the pitch, looking very windswept and cheerful.

“Blimey Ginny, how'd you learn how to fly so well?” Ron asked, thankfully not upset that his team had lost spectacularly.

“Well,” Ginny drawled, her face beginning to redden. “I used to sneak out at night and practice on all of your broomsticks.”

Her brothers were silent for a long moment, but then they all broke out into grins again.

“Wicked!”

“Yeah, little Gin-gin's not so innocent, eh Fred?”

“Well, we always knew that, didn't we George? She was always getting out of trouble -”

“And getting the rest of us into trouble instead!”

Harry beamed at Ginny, extremely impressed with how she'd flown. Clearly, he didn't mind watching her.

"Yeah, and did you see Harry?" Fred asked, grinning wickedly.

"Nearly got hit in the face he was so busy watching Ginny," George finished, and the twins laughed at the look on Harry's face before hurrying inside before they could feel the wrath of Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex.

“I bet you're a shoe-in for Chaser – well, once our other Chasers leave, anyway,” Harry said quickly, changing the subject. He was pleased to see her flush prettily.

“You think?” she asked, grinning.

“Definitely, you flew better than any of us out there today.”

“Not better than you,” she argued.

“Well, maybe not, but I am the youngest Seeker in a century,” he joked, chuckling.

“You're a terrible Chaser, though,” she pointed out, deflating his ego quickly.

"You said I was alright!" Harry protested.

“Yeah mate, Ginny's right. You're almost as poor at being Chaser as you are at playing chess.”

“What, is this pick on Harry day?” he grumbled, glaring at his friends.

They put their brooms in the broom shed and loped back inside, the smell of dinner coming from the kitchen.

“I'm starving,” Ron moaned, looking forlorn.

“You're always hungry,” Ginny pointed out.

“I'm a growing boy, I need my food,” Ron said defensively. “Up for that game of chess, Harry?”

“Alright, Ron,” Harry agreed, though he was sure he would lose spectacularly. Ron hurried up to his room, but Harry paused, inclining his head toward Ginny.

“Good game today, Ginny. I had fun with you today...we should uh...hang out more often,” he said, feeling a flush rise to his face despite himself.

“Yeah. I had a good time too, Harry. And, I'd like that,” she said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking down at the floor. He was positive that she was hiding her own blushing face.

“Right...good. Well, uh...see you at dinner,” he said quickly, then hurried up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, suppressing the joyous shout trying to escape. He was a complete, utter fool, but she still had a good time with him.

Everyone else was there, too. He reminded himself. Still. I said 'we' should hang out and she said she'd like to.

Harry was grinning stupidly when he made it into Ron's room, who merely gave him a questioning look. Harry shrugged in reply, not wanting to tell Ron and have his good mood spoiled.

"Get ready to get your arse kicked, Harry," Ron said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"I always do," Harry sighed, then grinned at his best friend. This was turning out to be a pretty fantastic summer.

–

Harry was walking toward the Gryffindor common room, an anxious feeling bubbling in his stomach. He reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who only smiled mysteriously at him, and said, "You'll see."

He told her the password and the portrait swung open. His ears were assaulted with the cheers of his fellow Gryffindors, and his face broke out into a beaming smile.

"We won!" Ginny cried, running toward him, arms outstretched, still dressed in her Quidditch attire. She had a triumphant, blazing look on her face, and Harry held out his arms to return her hug. At the last second, without planning it, he leaned down and kissed her.

Harry shot up in his bed, his heart racing, eyes wide. His face felt entirely too hot, and he knew it was because of his dream.

I was just kissing Ginny in my dream. And he had been. Only she'd been different. She'd been wearing Quidditch robes, for one - and she wasn't on the Gryffindor team, yet. Two, she'd clearly been older, though Harry didn't know why he'd be dreaming of an older Ginny. There was no mistaking it though - her face had matured, with less of the baby fat on her face. She had looked closer to a young woman than a girl of thirteen. There had also been...other developments he had noticed in his dream. Harry's face grew hotter, and he was grateful it was dark, and that Ron was sleeping and had no way of knowing what Harry'd just been dreaming.

The strangest thing, though, was that Harry felt like his dream was more than just a dream. He felt like it had already happened to him before.

But that's impossible. I think I would have known if Ginny and I had kissed, especially if she looked like that.

Feeling too tired to ponder the intriguing issue any longer, Harry gave it up as a bad job, and rolled over to fall back asleep. He'd think about it in the morning - or perhaps, have a dream or two more about it.

 

Thank You Leah. Please enjoy chapter four.

Chapter 4: Hogwarts, Triwizard Tournament, and a Crush​

For the first time, Harry wished that summer was longer. Somehow, September 1st was already around the corner, and everyone spent the last few days packing, pretending to pack, and completely putting packing off altogether. Harry had half-heartedly threw some things into his trunk, but the idea of everything being packed away, ready for school, was almost too depressing for him. For the first time in his life, he'd had a great summer, and he didn't want it to end.

So Harry had left his trunk, half packed, and sought to spend as much of his time making the most of the rest of his summer; he played several games of chess with Ron, wasted time away playing Exploding Snap with the twins, spent an abundant amount of time playing Quidditch with all the Weasleys (with the exception of Percy), and an even larger amount of time ignoring Hermione's nagging that they should be revising.

Harry enjoyed playing Quidditch the most, mainly because it was an innocent excuse to hang around Ginny and watch her without suspicion. Ginny seemed to forget about her shyness around him when she was up on a broom, and he saw more of her personality than he'd ever seen previously. She was...spunky, he supposed. She didn't hesitate to give anyone cheek, and at the same time she was quick to anger. The next minute, she'd be playing a prank on one of her brothers – Harry was grateful that he had yet to be pranked by her, and found that her shyness around him may have been a blessing in that aspect.

He did his best to ignore the twins, who often took the opportunity to tease Harry about his new fascination with Ginny. They started calling him, “The Boy-Who-Blushed,” as he usually started to flush whenever Ginny entered the room. He was finally beginning to control his excessive blushing though, and was able to keep a normal complexion around her – for the most part, anyway.

It was the last day of the summer holiday, and Harry was once again outside, flying about on his broom slowly, mulling over his thoughts. As the holiday had become increasingly shorter, his sense of unease about returning to school had grown, though he didn't have any idea as to why. That didn't keep the growing sense of dread from building in the pit of his stomach. Strangely, Ron seemed apprehensive as well – although Harry credited that more to the fact that Ron would have to do schoolwork again. Hermione seemed less excited to return to school, as well, and Harry thought that perhaps he had woken up in a parallel universe. It would certainly explain some things, like his sudden fascination with one Ginny Weasley – just the other day, he'd put his elbow in the butter dish, a remarkably familiar situation. Ginny hadn't noticed, but the twins had, and they'd started up again with the “Boy-Who-Blushed” chant.

Harry sighed loudly, mussing his hair up even more as he ran a hand through it, wishing he could place all of these strange feelings. What had happened to him, Ron, and Hermione? It didn't make sense that they would just wake up one morning, all feeling like they were going through deja vu, and unable to figure out why. Why did they all seem to dread returning to Hogwarts? This was especially confusing for Harry, as he'd always thought of Hogwarts as his home, although, granted, it hadn't always been the safest place. Harry's thoughts strayed to Sirius, and with a twinge of guilt, he realized that he hadn't sent many letters to him since he'd had his dream at the beginning of summer. Normally, he never had anything to do but write people, and now, he'd spent the majority of the summer having a good time. Harry resolved to write Sirius soon.

“Oi, Harry!” Ron bellowed, interrupted his thoughts. “Mum says its time for dinner!” Without waiting for a response, Ron had hurried back inside. Harry smiled, shaking his head. Ron would probably be helping himself to a second serving by the time he got inside.

By the time Harry had put his broom away and made it to the table, Ron was indeed piling more food onto his plate. Hermione watched him, her own fork hovering uncertainly in front of her mouth. Ginny pulled a face, shaking her head, then grinning at Hermione's expression.

“Aren't you used to it by now?” she asked as Harry took his seat next to Ron, helping himself to food before Ron took it all.

“Well, sort of,” Hermione commented, tearing her eyes away from the scene. “Sometimes I just can't believe it. How can anybody consume so much food?” Ron gave an unintelligible reply, his mouth bursting with food.

“Ron, don't talk with your mouth full,” Mrs. Weasley scolded.

Ron swallowed thickly. “Sorry, Mum,” he replied, then proceeded to shovel more food into his mouth.

Harry ate at a much slower pace, his mind far away from the Burrow, his thoughts having strayed back to their earlier musings.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Ginny suddenly asked, and he looked up at her with a startled expression.

“Fine,” he replied, remembering he hadn't apologized to her about third year, either. Had summer really made him so lazy? Then again, he hadn't had much time to speak to her alone. Hopefully he'd get an opportunity at school. “Just thinking about school,” Harry partially lied, shrugging.

“Ah, yes, I suspect it will be a rather exciting year,” Percy said smugly, for about the one-hundredth time that summer, to no avail. Nobody had bothered to ask him what he was talking about. Harry couldn't help feeling that this year was going to be far from fun. When dinner was finished, he and Ron trudged unwillingly up the stairs to finish their packing, with Hermione trailing behind them berating them for not finishing earlier.

“Hermione, give it a rest,” Ron said, exasperated as he threw the last of his things into this trunk. “I've got everything packed haven't I? It isn't the end of the bloody world.”

“Language, Ron!” she scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. Harry was just putting the last things into his trunk – in an only slightly neater manner than Ron – when Ginny slunk in the room, grinning at the arguing Ron and Hermione.

“Are they at it again?” she asked in a hushed tone, having made her way silently to Harry. He nodded grimly, while internally battling his suddenly quickening heart, urging it to return to normal.

Hermione suddenly threw her hands up in the air, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Boys!” and stormed out of the room. Ron stood there, looking half angry, half confused.

“Was it something I said?” he asked Harry, a questioning look on his face. Next to him, Ginny was biting her lip to keep from laughing, and Harry was trying to stop his lips from twitching.

“No idea, mate,” Harry offered unhelpfully. Truthfully, Harry suspected that Ron had said something, but he'd been far too busy watching Ginny to hear.

“I'm going to go get a quick snack,” Ron said, despite the fact that he'd just eaten dinner. Harry didn't mention this, knowing that by now, Ron was almost always hungry. Suddenly, Harry realized that he and Ginny were alone in Ron's room, and his palms began to feel clammy.

“So...” Harry said awkwardly, patting his legs nervously. Ginny gave him a weak grin, as though she had suddenly realized what he had.

“I'd better go finish packing,” Ginny said quickly, a sheepish look stealing over her features. “Mum'd throw a fit if she knew I waited until last minute.”

“Wait,” Harry said, reaching forward and placing a hand on her arm before he could stop himself. “Er...what I mean is...I guess I've just been wanting to apologize,” he mumbled.

“Apologize for what, Harry?” Ginny asked, looking decidedly confused.

“About this last year...well, Ron and Hermione and I, we all sort of ignored you after everything that happened in your first year,” he trailed off, unsure if he should continue, but Ginny nodded slowly. “I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry that we didn't pay more attention to you. After all, that's kind of why things ended up the way they did your first year, because you didn't feel like you had anyone to talk to. Its just...really stupid of me to go and ignore you even after I knew that.”

“Harry-” Ginny began, but he continued on, afraid he wouldn't say everything he wanted to say if she interrupted him.

“And you're the only other person who knows what its like to be...I don't know, around evil like that, like Voldemort. Hermione and Ron have always helped me, but they've never actually been there, to face him, you know? But you have. So it's just...complete shite that I save you and then turn around and forget all about you. You don't deserve that at all, and, well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to try and include you from now on...er...that is, if you wanted to be included.” Harry mentally slapped himself. Why wouldn't she want to be included? “I mean, included with us,” he finished hurriedly.

Ginny seemed to be a bit dazed by his rambling, but after a long moment, she smiled weakly at him. “Harry, it's okay...I was a bit embarrassed last year about everything that happened...I doubt I would have been able to say much to you anyway. But I'm glad you want to include me,” she said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you saying that you want to be friends?” she asked shyly.

“Of course!” Harry exclaimed, a feeling of elation rushing through him. “I think you're great, why wouldn't I want to be friends with you? And, I thought we already were...” She flushed at his comment, and Harry could feel the heat rising in his own face. And the Boy-Who-Blushed is back...

“Okay then,” Ginny said, ducking down to hide her face. She shuffled her toe along the floor, then looked up at him again, smiling broadly. “Friends.” Harry nodded dumbly, his breath tight in his throat suddenly. He hadn't been fully aware how pretty she looked when she smiled like that. Her smile slipped away as her brother burst back into the room, and Harry quickly shook his head clear. Ron had a sandwich in hand, and he was giving the both of them a befuddled look.

“What's going on?”

“Nothing, I'm just off to finish pack,” Ginny declared breezily, practically skipping to the door. As she was leaving, she turned back slightly, giving Harry another bright smile before disappearing into the hall. Ron gave him a calculating look (a look that was more appropriate on Hermione's face than Ron's) before shrugging and inhaling the rest of his sandwich.

Harry ignored the look and flopped back onto his bed, closing his eyes and sighing. Even if he wasn't looking forward to school, it looked like the year would have one perk.

–

Despite having packed, the Burrow was a hotbed of frantic activity the next morning. Harry was woken at a time he considered much too early and he'd had to trudge down the stairs to have a hurried breakfast. For once, Mrs. Weasley didn't offer him a second helping, insisting that he looked too thin (amazingly, despite his hearty appetite, he hadn't gained a lot of weight this summer). Instead, he was shooed up the stairs to get the last of his belongings and his trunk. Apparently Mr. Weasley hadn't been able to secure Ministry vehicles this year (Harry supposed it had something to do with the lack of mass-murderer after him), so they'd be taking three taxis to the station.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all crammed into the back of one of the taxis, squashed somewhat uncomfortably with Hedwig, Pig, and Crookshank's cages placed precariously on laps and in empty spaces on the taxi floor. Harry was slightly disappointed that there wasn't enough room to also sit with Ginny, who had gotten in the back of a taxi with her brothers Bill and Charlie – they had decided to see everyone off at the train station. Mrs. Weasley had taken the last cab with Fred and George, apparently not trusting the two alone in a Muggle taxi.

The ride was uneventful, and several times Harry found himself dozing. There wasn't much that they were allowed to talk about in front of the taxi driver, who was very much a Muggle, and already very curious as to why they had two owls. Harry was extremely glad to get out of the taxi when they arrived at the station, as his legs had cramped up in the car. He straightened out funnily, stretching out his legs gratefully, then struggled for several minutes to help everyone get their things out of the car. When everyone had claimed their things, they paid the drivers (Harry and Hermione had to help Mrs. Weasley with this, as she didn't understand Muggle money any better than Mr. Weasley) and dragged their things over to the barrier to 9 ¾.

“Alright, in you lot go,” Mrs. Weasley said briskly. Despite having left the Burrow at a somewhat decent time, they were, again, nearly running late. Fred and George hurried through first, followed by Ginny, Bill, and Charlie. Finally, Harry rushed toward the brick wall, with Ron and Hermione following him, passing through the barrier and to the Hogwarts Express on the other side.

Mrs. Weasley came through a few moments later, hurrying them all toward the train.

“Alright, dears, now you have a good year, and stay out of trouble,” she said, shooting a firm look at the twins. “You too, Harry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, though with a much softer look.

Harry gave her a lopsided grin, shrugging. “Trouble just seems to find me Mrs. Weasley, but I'll try.”

“I expect you'll have an exciting year,” Charlie said as he hugged his sister goodbye.

“Why?” Fred demanded.

“Yeah, it makes me wish I was going back to Hogwarts this year,” Bill said wistfully. “But don't tell Perce I said anything, its supposed to be top-secret,” he added with a wink.

“What's supposed to be top-secret?” George asked, intrigued.

“Can't say, otherwise it wouldn't be a secret, would it?” Bill chuckled, and before the twins could protest the train whistle blew shrilly.

“Okay, everyone on the train!” Mrs. Weasley cried, and they all hurried on. Harry wondered how it was that every year they always seemed to be running late. Harry made his way to the back of the train to find an empty compartment, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny trailing behind him.

After the four had settled – Ron was next to Hermione, and Ginny had sat down next to Harry, who had struggled to keep his complexion under control – they began to speculate about what could be happening at school that everyone was talking about. Harry felt like he should know what was going on, but he couldn't seem to grasp what it was. It was at the tip of his tongue, and it was killing him that he couldn't figure it out.

“Maybe there'll be a huge Quidditch tournament, you know, like the World Cup, but at Hogwarts instead,” Ron said fervently, his eyes lighting up in anticipation.

“Ron, why do you think everything is about Quidditch?” Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. Ginny laughed next to Harry, shaking her head.

“You're wrong, Hermione,” she stated, drawing a confused look from the brown-haired girl. “Ron thinks everything is about food. After that, it's about Quidditch.” This sent the compartment into laughter. Suddenly, much to Harry's surprise, an owl appeared outside of the window. It appeared to be having trouble keeping up with the train, and Harry quickly opened the window, allowing the bird to fly in, its wings looking distinctly ruffled. Harry removed the letter from the owl's leg before it shot out the window, darting out of sight as the wind caught it in mid-flight.

“Who's it from?” Ginny asked curiously as Harry closed the window. He opened the letter slowly, being reminded forcibly of the time Sirius had sent him a letter with Pig. He unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanning down to the bottom. It was from Sirius. Harry shot a glance at Hermione and Ron, raising his eyebrows, and a look of recognition came over them.

“Oh,” Ron said, then turned to Ginny. “Go away, Ginny,” he said bluntly, and she scowled.

“How nice,” she retorted bitingly, then shot Harry an uncertain glance. Harry met her eyes, and he suddenly felt torn. She didn't know about Sirius, and he didn't think they could talk about him in front of her...but at the same time, he wanted to tell her. And he had promised himself that he would start including her.

“Let her stay, Ron,” he finally said, and Ginny beamed at him. His decision suddenly seemed well worth it.

“What?” Ron asked, looking completely thrown.

“Just...its okay if she knows. I trust her.” Harry thought that Hermione was giving him a sly look, and Harry was glad that he wasn't blushing again. He looked at Ginny determinedly. “This is a letter from my godfather, Sirius.”

“....Sirius...as in Sirius Black? The mass murderer who tried to kill you last year?” Ginny asked incredulously.

“Er, yeah, that's the one,” Harry mumbled, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. It sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

“It's okay, Harry, if you don't want to tell me who it's from, you don't have to. I'll just go,” she frowned, looking irritated.

“What?” Harry asked, his smile slipping away. “No!” he cried out, shoving the letter toward her. “See? He signed it. It's from Sirius, and he really is my godfather...I guess I should explain.” Ginny held the letter, looking at the signature skeptically. Harry didn't blame her really. It did sound a bit far fetched.

“Well, the thing is, Sirius is innocent. He didn't kill those people, a man named Peter Pettigrew did. Peter and Sirius were friends of my dad and Professor Lupin back when they were in school. Anyway, everyone thought that Sirius was my parent's secret keeper when they went into hiding, but they actually switched to Peter and didn't tell anyone, because they thought there was a traitor. Only, Peter was the traitor,” Harry added, scowling. “Peter was Voldemort's spy, and he led them straight to my mum and dad. Afterwards, Sirius went after him, and Peter made it look like Sirius killed him.”

Ginny looked overwhelmed at this. “But...all they found of Peter was his finger. How could he just disappear?”

“Well, Peter was an Animagus...just like my dad and Sirius...unregistered of course...”

“They became Animagus?” Ginny asked, impressed. “What about Professor Lupin? Did he become one too? I mean, you said he was their friend as well.”

“Er, no actually...he's a werewolf, remember?”

“Oh!” she said, clearly having forgotten that piece of information. Snape had conveniently let that slip at the end of last year. “Right,” she chuckled sheepishly.

“My dad, Sirius, and Peter became Animagus to keep him company at the full moon.”

“Professor Lupin couldn't be around humans during the full moon,” Hermione added, “but he was perfectly fine around other animals.”

“What did they turn into?”

“Sirius was a dog – in fact, for most of last year, he kept showing up and I thought he was the Grim. Professor Trelawny was convinced I was going to die...” Hermione snorted loudly. “My dad was a stag, just like my Patronus, and Peter was a rat...fitting, isn't it?” he asked, his features darkening.

“Not only that, Pettigrew was Scabbers!” Ron interjected, grimacing.

“What?” Ginny asked, dropping the letter in disbelief. “You mean we had a murder living in our house all that time?”

“He slept in my bed,” Ron said, disgusted. He shuddered visibly. “Yuck.”

“Pettigrew got away last year though, after we found out. Hermione and I used her Time Turner to go back and save Sirius from the dementors, and he escaped on Buckbeak. So, I have a godfather, even though he's on the run.” Harry sighed, reaching down for his letter. “That's about the gist of it.”

“Wow...” Ginny whispered, rubbing her forehead absently. “Do you guys do this every year?”

“Do what?” Ron asked, and Harry gave her a confused glance.

“Go on adventures. First year you guys saved the Sorcerer's Stone, second year you...” Ginny trailed off, looking a bit pale.

“Ginny,” Harry said softly, frowning. “Its not really...its not like we meant for these things to happen. They aren't adventures. More like...life-threatening situations that just happen...” he trailed off, then placed his had on her shoulder. She looked up at him, and her eyes had a sad softness to them. It made his heart clench painfully. “Besides,” he said, trying to sound more cheerful. “This year is going to be perfectly normal. No more adventures, or life-threatening situations for me, thanks.” He smiled broadly, and he was pleased to see Ginny's own lips twitch a bit, then form a half-hearted smile.

“Not bloody likely,” Ron snorted, and Hermione gave him a disapproving look. “What?” Ron asked, looking offended. “Things always happen to Harry...er,” Ron threw a quick, apologetic look at Harry. “Not that I don't want a normal year. Normal's good.”

Harry sighed, shrugging. “Its fine Ron. When has my life ever been normal, right?” Harry gave a brave sort of smile, trying not to sound bitter. All he wanted was a normal life.

“Harry's right,” Hermione said quickly. “What could possibly go wrong this year?” Harry thought that Hermione didn't sound as sure of herself as usual, and he found himself thinking that she was wrong.

–

“So hungry...” Ron groaned as the group sat in the Great Hall, waiting for the Sorting to finish.

“Shh,” Hermione hushed, narrowing her eyes at Ron. He merely looked forlornly at his plate, his stomach growling loudly in response. Harry was feeling rather hungry himself, but decided to keep this to himself. Instead, he watched impatiently as the new first years waiting nervously for the Sorting Hat to place them.

Was I this small in first year? He wondered, gazing in wonder at the very small people. Surely not. Next to him, Ginny groaned in unison with Ron, rubbing her stomach woefully. Harry grinned, chuckling softly to himself.

“You're just as bad as Ron,” he whispered in her ear, and grinned sheepishly at him, shrugging.

“We Weasleys have got to eat,” she replied back in her hushed tone. Harry felt his smile slowly slip away as he realized how close their faces were, now that she had turned to face him, and his heart began to quicken. Suddenly, the image of his dream rose in his mind, the one where the older version of themselves were kissing in the common room. His face began to warm rapidly, while Ginny's simultaneously mimicked his. They both pulled away sharpish, focusing intently on their plates. Harry was extremely grateful that food appeared moments later, and he was able to concentrate on stuffing his face, determinedly pushing his dream out of his mind.

Hermione, who's attention was no longer on the first years, was eyeing them both suspiciously. He ignored her hawk-like gaze, wishing he could stop blushing around Ginny and just pluck up the courage to tell her how he felt. He was feeling very un-Gryffindorish as of late. Maybe it was the threat of being pummeled by six older brothers that was stopping him.

As everyone finished their dessert, Dumbledore rose, clearing his throat; the Great Hall hushed, and the students turned their attention to him.

“Welcome back, everyone,” Dumbledore said, smiling at them all. Harry felt strange watching the headmaster – suddenly, it was like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, though he couldn't fathom why looking at Professor Dumbledore would cause that. “Another year. As usual, Mr. Filch has a list of banned items that can be viewed, and the Forbidden Forest is off limits, as some of the older students know by now,” he continued, and Harry swore that Dumbledore sent a small smile their way. Harry certainly did know, having spent quite some time in their last year hiding from Professor Lupin and saving Sirius from Dementors.

“Also, Quidditch will be canceled this year,” Dumbledore said, pausing as the uproar came from the students.

“What?” Harry gasped, and Ron looked at him incredulously.

“They're canceling Quidditch?” Ginny asked, looking almost as incredulous as her brother.

“We will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year, and unfortunately, it will be held when Quidditch would normally take place. I'm sure you will all be entertained, however,” he said loudly over the cries of indignation, his eyes twinkling. “The tournament has long been a way for young witches and wizards to mingle and cooperate, however, I'm afraid due to the death toll, the tournament was ended. It has taken several years to re-establish it, and now the tasks have been set to insure that none of the champions are going to be in any mortal danger.”

“You're kidding!” Fred (or George, Harry couldn't tell) cried out loudly, causing laughter to ripple through the hall, dispelling the tension that had risen at Dumbledore's announcement.

“I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I am perfectly serious. Two other schools will be joining us in October – Beauxbatons and Durmstrang - when the three champions will be chosen. However, I must inform you that only those of age – that is, seventeen years or older – will be allowed to enter -”

“What?!” came the cries of several students.

“I'm sure that you are all eager to represent Hogwarts, however, we feel that this is a precaution that must be taken. Only those of you who are seventeen or older will be able to enter; an impartial judge will decide who is worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons prize.”

Excited murmurs spread through the Great Hall, many students with a feverish look in their eyes. Harry on the other hand, had begun to feel a bit queasy. Dumbledore had made it sound like something fun, but Harry felt sure that it was more dangerous than he let on.

“I can't believe we can't enter,” Ron said, a glum look on his face.

“I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for the champions to be seventeen, Ron,” Hermione said pointedly.

“Yeah, I bet you have to know a bunch of spells that we haven't even learned yet,” Harry added. “I have a feeling it'll be dangerous, even with the new restrictions.”

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed, giving Harry an appraising look. Ron just shrugged.

“It'd still be nice to have that thousand Galleons prize...” he said wistfully.

“I know what I'd do with a thousand Galleons,” Ginny said, grinning. “I'd buy myself a new broom. Then I'd really kick your arses in Quidditch.”

“Ginny!” Hermione cried, looking surprised at her language. Harry just laughed.

“It'll be strange without Quidditch this year,” he said with a sigh. “But I suppose that the tournament's going to be exciting enough, right?”

“Maybe I'll be able to try out next year,” Ginny added.

“Hopefully,” Harry agreed.

“Finally, let me introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody.” Dumbledore announced over the chatter, and everyone glanced up to the table. Harry was surprised that he didn't feel shocked at the sight of Professor Moody, who's face was grizzled and appeared to be missing chunks. In fact, he felt more wary of him than anything, and he wasn't sure if it was because of his swirling, electric blue eye, or because the nagging feeling in the back of his head was going off again. The other students seemed to shocked to even clap, but Professor Moody didn't seem bothered by the lack of reception. The staff at the table clapped politely though, and a few other students clapped with, still staring at Moody. “Alright, off to bed with all of you,” Dumbledore cried, and everyone rose from the tables, some conversing about the tournament, others commenting on their new DADA teacher.

They all headed back up to the common room, though Harry's eyelids were beginning to droop as he walked, in spite of the excitement. He clambered through the portrait hole, thoughts of his warm bed and of the tournament swirling around in his head.

“Goodnight, Harry,” he heard Ginny and Hermione say, and he waved sleepily and mumbled a reply back, trudging up the stairs to his dormitory, Ron behind him. Harry pulled off his robes to change into his pajamas when his letter fell out of his robe pocket. Bending over to pick it up, Harry realized guiltily that he had forgotten all about Sirius' letter. He opened it quickly, his eyes scanning over the page.

Harry,

Sorry it has taken me so long to reply to you last letter -

Harry paused here, screwing up his face as he tried to remember what he had last sent to his godfather. He had sent Sirius a letter about his scar hurting, and then a note about how he was going to the World Cup with the Weasleys.

- but it's difficult to sit down and send a letter when you're on the run. I'm flying north – the news of your scar is disturbing, as is the news about the World Cup. If your scar hurts again, go to Dumbledore immediately. I hear that Dumbledore has hired Alastor Moody as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He's reading the signs, even if no one else is. We'll be in touch soon.

Sirius

Harry frowned as he folded his letter back up. What did Sirius mean that Dumbledore was reading the signs? Once again, Harry felt like this was something that he should know. Frustrated, Harry put his letter into his trunk and pulled on his pajamas before flopping into his bed. He wasn't happy about Sirius flying north, but he knew there was nothing he could do to convince Sirius otherwise. He regretted saying anything about his scar hurting, because it had felt fine since then. Harry closed his eyes, deciding he would owl Sirius tomorrow. Ron was already sprawled out, snoring lightly into his pillow. Soon, the full, sleepy feeling overcame Harry and he drifted off into a deep sleep, where he had the strangest dream.

The Great Hall was buzzing expectantly, the large feast in front of them mostly forgotten. Everyone's attention was up front where a great, wooden cup sat on a pedestal. Professor Dumbledore stood next to the cup expectantly, watching as the blue flames in it danced about. Suddenly, the flames flashed red, and everyone grew hushed, watching as a piece of parchment shot out of the flames. Dumbledore caught it easily, reading the name on the parchment.

“The Champion for Durmstrang is Viktor Krum.” The entire hall cheered, none more loudly than the students from Durmstrang. Krum stood and headed up past the staff table and into the next chamber. The cheering died down as all eyes focused on the goblet once more. A second later, the flames turned bright red and another parchment shot out. Once more, Dumbledore caught it and read off the name.

“The Champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour.” Again, the hall was filled with cheering, and another silence as they awaited the name of the last champion.

“The Champion for Hogwarts is...Cedric Diggory!” The crowd cheered again, and Harry grinned at his friends.

“Wonderful!” Dumbledore exclaimed cheerfully. “Now we have our three champions -” Dumbledore stopped as the Goblet suddenly flared to life again, shooting out a red flame, followed by a charred bit of parchment. He reached out automatically and caught it, staring at the paper with a somewhat dumbfounded look on his face.

“Harry Potter.” The entire hall fell silent, and Harry felt everyone's eyes on him.

When Harry woke the next morning, his dream still fresh in his mind, he relayed the dream to Ron and Hermione at breakfast. Ron gave him a speculative look.

“Do you think this is another one of your seer moments?” he asked.

“You mean deja vu, Ron,” Hermione corrected.

“Yeah, that.”

“It was just a dream,” Harry said, but he had the feeling it was really more than that. “I don't know. It felt so...real. Maybe it does have something to do with this deja vu, or whatever it is.”

Ron chuckled nervously. “But there's no way you can enter the tournament. We're not old enough,” he said, though he didn't sound entirely sure of himself.

“Yeah, you're right. It was just a dream, right?” Harry pushed the thoughts out of his head and finished eating his breakfast quickly. He had gotten up early to write his letter to Sirius and wanted to hurry to the Owlery before classes. He checked his letter again quickly before heading up.

Sirius,

I'm sorry I haven't written since the beginning of this summer. Things got really busy, with everything that happened with the World Cup. I had a great summer with the Weasleys, though. Please be careful when you fly up here. I know I can't stop you, but I don't want you to get caught, and I wish you wouldn't. I'm sure I'll be fine here. In any case, I'll probably see you soon.

Harry

Harry certainly didn't want Sirius knowing about the other strange occurrences that had been happening, like his fuzzy memory or his possibly prophetic dreams. Folding his letter up again, he beckoned for Hedwig who swept down, landing easily in front of him and holding out her leg, hooting softly.

“Take this to Sirius, okay girl?” Harry said, petting her feathers gently. Hedwig hooted in reply, nipping his finger affectionately before taking off. He would have watched her until she flew out of sight, but he had to hurry off to class.

“Be careful, Sirius,” he murmured allowed softly, before hurrying out of the Owlery and to his first class.

–

Harry didn't know what it was, but classes seemed much easier this year, despite Hermione's insistence that it would be harder and that they would need to study more for the upcoming O.W.L's. Harry thought maybe that it was somehow related to the strange sense of deja vu he had. The spells all felt familiar, like an old friend who had gone away for a while, but who had come back again. It was the same for Ron, as far as Harry could tell. Hermione had been shocked when Ron managed a new spell shortly after she had successfully done it, and had been even more shocked when the he continued to produce the same results throughout the week.

While the spells were easier, the essays and theories didn't come any easier, with the exception of Hermione, who had always understood those things. It was a bit of a disappointment to Harry, but he figured that essays weren't going to do him much good in real life – essays certainly weren't to make Voldemort go away, otherwise Harry would gladly write them.

Snape hadn't been any more pleasant either, though Harry hadn't honestly expected that. However, he felt he had a better grasp on Potions, although he couldn't fathom why. Snape certainly hadn't ever taught him anything. Regardless, Snape continued to grade him poorly. Harry knew he couldn't do anything about it, so he let it go. The other teachers, however, were pleasantly surprised by his and Ron's improvement, and Gryffindor was awarded several extra points, much to Slytherin's chagrin.

Harry quickly fell into a routine at Hogwarts, most of which involved wracking his brain in an attempt to clear his head, watching Ginny, going to classes, watching Ginny some more, and a bit of sleeping and eating on the side. Usually, he was so exhausted from thinking about his, Hermione, and Ron's memory troubles that he didn't have anymore nightmares either, though he continued to keep in touch with Sirius. He also spent a majority of his time ignoring Hermione, even though he felt bad about it, and thought she might be half right.

Ever since they had discovered their ease with spell casting, Hermione had nagged Harry about going to Dumbledore to try and figure out what had happened to them. Harry was tempted to, but at the same time, he couldn't find it in himself to even look at Dumbledore anymore. Ever since he had returned to school, looking at Dumbledore had caused several emotions to well up inside him – sadness, bitterness, and strangely, happiness. It was too confusing for Harry to even begin to think about. Harry flatly refused Hermione, and finally stopped responding when she kept on pestering him. Still, she was persistent.

“Fine, then if we aren't going to Dumbledore about this, we should at least write our essays.”

“Hermione,” Ron groaned pitifully, looking regretfully at his school bag. Harry sighed, deciding to appease her.

“Hermione is right, we should really do our homework,” Harry said, pulling out his books wearily. He was exhausted, but he knew he'd put it off till the last minute otherwise.

Ron looked offended, but then shrugged, resigned to his fate.

“I suppose so. Hermione's always right, isn't she?” he asked, and Hermione blushed, smiling gratefully at Ron. At that moment, Ginny came in through the portrait hole, thoroughly distracting Harry from his homework. He watched her as she made her way over to her third year friends, though she waved over at Harry, smiling sweetly. He smiled and waved back, feeling too warm all of a sudden. As she sat down with her friends, Harry diverted his attention (with great effort of his part) back to his homework. He realized that Hermione was grinning smugly at him.

She's been giving him the same look all week – at breakfast when Harry had accidentally spilled pumpkin juice when Ginny sat down at their table, in the corridors when he waved eagerly at her (and felt stupid afterward) – anywhere he saw Ginny. It was irritating, and she only gave it when she saw him staring at her.

“What?” he asked, in nearly a whisper, frowning.

“Feeling a little distracted, Harry?” she asked, grinning so wickedly that Harry thought she could have been in Slytherin.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he said gruffly, concentrating hard on the homework in front of him, though he couldn't focus on the words.

“Oh, I think you do, Harry. What about you, Ron?” Hermione asked.

“I'd say someone fancied my sister,” Ron said slowly, and Harry realized that Ron was taking the mickey out of him. He tore his eyes away from his homework (not that he was really paying attention to it anyway) and glared at his so called best mate.

“I'd have to agree with you, Ron,” Hermione continued, and the two shared a grin. Ron and Hermione, agreeing for once – a bloody miracle, Harry thought sourly. Why do they have to agree about this, of all things?

“That's preposterous – don't know where you got -” Harry spluttered, failing miserably at convincing them otherwise.

“Don't deny it, Harry,” Hermione said, and he could see she was holding back a laugh.

“Yeah, didn't we just agree that Hermione's always right?” Ron asked.

He gave it up as a bad job, sighing heavily. “Am I that obvious?”

“You really are, Harry,” Hermione said kindly, though she was still smiling.

“Bloody hell, mate, I think everyone in Gryffindor knows. Hell, probably the entire school. You stare at her enough, and you get this weird look on your face. You completely space out. Completely barmy, if you ask me. It's only Ginny.”

“What do you mean, 'only Ginny'?” Harry asked quickly, anger rushing through him. “Ginny's -

“I'm what?” Ginny said suddenly from behind Harry and he blanched, succeeding in throwing all of his things onto the ground. Ron was laughing uproariously, and Hermione wasn't doing much better. He glared at them, leaning over to grab his things.

“Why were you guys talking about me?” Ginny asked suspiciously, quirking her eyebrow. Harry mumbled under his breath, shrugging in hopes that she would let it go.

“Come on, tell me,” she said, sitting herself down beside him. He prayed that he could keep his blush in check.

“We were actually just saying that Harry seems somewhat distracted lately,” Hermione said once she finally stopped laughing, giving Harry another smirk.

“What do I have to do with that?” Ginny asked slowly, narrowing her eyes and giving Harry a quizzical look.

“I'm knackered!” Harry exclaimed, shoving his things haphazardly into his bag and standing up abruptly. “'Night, everyone.” He hurried off before his friends could tease him anymore.

So much for finishing that homework, he thought grumpily.

-

At breakfast the next morning, Ginny sat herself down firmly beside him, wearing a look similar to the one she had given him the night before.

“What was last night about?” she demanded as Harry shoved a sausage in his mouth. He shrugged noncommittally, fervently hoping she'd drop it. She glared at him for a long moment, then sighed.

“Fine. I'll find out soon enough,” she promised, then began piling food onto her own plate. Harry worried by what means she would find out.

Ron suddenly threw himself into the seat on the other side of Harry, shoving a bit of food into his mouth eagerly.

“We've got Mad-Eye again today,” he managed to say with a full mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes – she'd seemed to realize that glaring and trying to reprimand Ron wasn't working, and finally she'd just started to ignore it.

Harry shrugged at the news, but Ginny sighed regretfully. “Lucky. I'm stuck with Snape for Double Potions.”

“Rotten luck,” Ron gave her a sympathetic look.

“Slimy git,” Harry spat, scowling. Why did he have to be so unbearable? Ginny grinned, nudging him.

“That's no way to talk about Professor Moody, Harry,” she teased, and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“You know who I meant.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, grabbing her bag as she stood. “Well, I'm off, I don't want to be late,” she said, and Harry watched her go regretfully, feeling a bit emptier. He'd noticed that he often felt that way lately when Ginny walked away.

“Come on, Ron, you can eat at lunch,” Hermione said, tugging on Ron's arm impatiently as he tried to shove one more sausage into his mouth.

“That's hours away!” he said, snagging a piece of toast to chew on as they walked to class.

“One day, Ron, you are going to explode from everything you eat.”

“At least I'll die happy,” Ron said, earning him a smack from Hermione. Harry hid a grin, shouldering his bag.

“Should I go to class by myself?” Harry asked, earning him confused looks. “You two just seem so busy bickering,” he explained, earning himself a smack on the arm from Hermione, who huffed and sped off in front of them. As it was, the three of them made it just before the class was about to start. Harry took his usual seat, with Ron and Hermione next to him, the uncomfortable pressure in his head increasing as Professor Moody's electric blue eye swirled to rest on him.

Professor Moody's classes had been interesting enough – the first week, he had introduced the Unforgivable Curses. Watching the curses had been more disturbing than anything for Harry, though his other classmates had all been excited. He had also left that class feeling rather sorry for Neville, even though he couldn't place why. Maybe it was the pale, shaken look he had worn as he stumbled aimlessly out of class. Neville had looked how Harry had felt.

The other classes hadn't been as disturbing (even with Professor Moody stopping randomly to shout, “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”), but Harry had still felt acutely uncomfortable in his class, and a building pressure in his head would always result in a pounding headache by the end of class. Hermione had urged Harry (again) to go to Professor Dumbledore, but Harry refused.

“Today we'll be practicing the Imperius Curse again,” Moody announced, and the class stifled a groan. Out of the entire class, Harry had been the only one able to throw off the curse, and ever since his success, he'd been randomly making them all practice. All of them continued to fail stupendously, with the exception of Harry.

“Potter!” Moody barked, and he stood wearily. Being close to Moody was even worse for his headache, it seemed, as the pressure always began to build. Without being told, Harry made his way dutifully to the front of the class, where Moody trained his wand on him. “Now watch his eyes, again, everyone. You'll see the fight in there! Imperio!”

Harry didn't feel much of anything, which was odd, apparently. Everyone else had described a blissful, dreamlike feeling coming over them with a voice in their head telling them what to do, but Harry felt and heard nothing. Instead, he just stood in front of the class feeling stupid as Moody stared intently at him, willing him to do something that he couldn't hear.

“Amazing, Potter,” Moody growled, shaking his head and lowering his wand. “You're not even affected. It's strange, I'll grant you that. I've never heard of anyone resisting the curse completely, but then again, no one has ever survived the Killing Curse, have they? Thank you, Potter, take your seat.” The rest of the class, Harry watched his peers perform amazing stunts against their will, and by the time he left, he had the usual pounding headache.

“That class always gives me a headache,” Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. He wondered if maybe it was something to do with Voldemort, except that his scar hadn't hurt at all.

“You know, I kind of leave with a headache as well, Harry.”

“Me too, mate. I think it's because he's always doing these spells on us and shouting, 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' all the time,” Ron grumbled, running his hands through his hair.

“Harry,” Hermione began, but he held up his hand firmly.

“No, Hermione. We don't need to tell Dumbledore. Ron's probably right.” Harry hurried off before Hermione could pester him some more. Dumbledore certainly didn't need to be bothered by a couple of headaches, no matter the circumstances.

–

The first month of school passed by in a blur for Harry, even without Quidditch to keep him occupied. His headaches had increased (as well as Ron and Hermione's) and the only thing keeping him sane was Ginny. Ron and Hermione continued to grow more irritable with their headaches, which translated into more arguments between the two, much to Harry's displeasure. It seemed that his headaches began to grow with Ginny around, but at least she wasn't pestering him or annoying him like Ron and Hermione were.

Hermione had come up with a theory about their headaches (when she wasn't arguing with Ron, that is). She had taken into account all their feelings of deja vu and their headaches, and had deduced that they were trying to remember something, and their memories were attempting to break through whatever barrier it was that was holding them back. Harry had sighed skeptically, earning him a reproving look. She insisted that her theory was possible and that all they needed was a trigger to release these pent up memories, whatever they might be.

Harry was more worried about why they had pent up memories in the first place. Had someone really Obliviated them? Perhaps the spell had been weak, and now they were regaining their memories. But that couldn't explain why Harry was having deja vu about things that couldn't have even happened yet. More importantly, what was the trigger?

These thoughts swirled around Harry's head as they sat at the feast, everyone waiting eagerly for the Triwizard Champions to be named. Just like in his dream, everyones seemed to be too excited to eat, and were instead focused on the large, wooden cup at the front of the room.

Dumbledore suddenly stood, and everyone quieted down, staring at him expectantly.

“I estimate that the cup will decide in a few more minutes,” he announced, and the entire room seemed to be holding a bated breath. The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up as the cup blazed bright red a few minutes later. Everything was happening eerily similar to how he had dreamed it, and it was disconcerting. The charred piece of parchment that flew from the cup was caught easily by Dumbledore, and not a sound could be heard throughout the Great Hall, except for the crackling of the enchanted fire in the cup.

“The Champion for Durmstrang is Viktor Krum,” Dumbledore cried loudly, and the hall erupted into cheers, Karkaroff patting Krum heartily on the back. Harry shot Ron and Hermione a look, and Ron shrugged.

“Coincidence, mate!” he shouted over the cheers, and Harry nodded warily. Coincidence. Right.

The hall fell silent once more as they waited for the cup to decide on the next champion. Harry wondered if he was actually asleep again, and this was all just a dream. The cup flared to life once more, ejected another charred piece of parchment, which Dumbledore once again snatched out of the air.

“The Champion of Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour.”

Harry felt his heart speed up at the second announcement, and Ron had a blank look on his face.

“Do you think...” Harry started, trailing off.

“That Cedric's name will be next?” Hermione finished, looking a bit pale.

“Mate, you sure you're not a Seer?” Ron asked, eyes wide. They had missed the Goblet shooting out the last piece of parchment, but they fell silent with everyone else, awaiting to see if the last Champion would really be Cedric.

“The Champion of Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory!” Dumbledore smiled broadly as the school cheered, with the exception of Ron, Hermione, and Harry who were pale faced and shocked. Harry could hardly hear Dumbledore's next words, his eyes fixed on the Goblet.

Please don't call my name, please don't call my name... He chanted in his head, but as the flame flared red again, his heart fell.

“Harry, are you okay?” Ginny asked, nudging him gently, but he couldn't answer, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore as he grabbed the fourth parchment. This is it. He's going to call my name. My dream was true...

Dumbledore looked shocked for a long moment, staring at the parchment in hand. He seemed...flustered.

“Harry Potter...” he said softly, but the hall had fallen silent again, and his whisper was perfectly audible. Harry rose shakily, glancing at Ron and Hermione who shot him sympathetic and bewildered looks. Harry's heart was pounding uncomfortably in his chest. How had he know this was going to happen? And even though he had known, he was still...terrified.

Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, glancing at the paper again.

“Harry Potter...and Ginny Weasley,” he read off the single sheet of parchment, and the Great Hall erupted in a flurry of whispers. Harry spun around to look at Ginny, who had paled considerably, looking as shocked as he felt.

This didn't happen in my dream.

 

A little is revealed, but much is still in mystery. (;

Chapter 5: Drop Out into the So Unknown
​

Ginny was shaking her head disbelievingly, shrugging at her brother. “I didn't,” she said, continuing to shake her head. Harry blinked, at a complete loss for what to say.

“Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley,” Dumbledore repeated, his voice much clearer than before.

“Go on,” Hermione urged, face scrunched up in concern.

“But, I can't-” Ginny started, then gave a strange, high pitched laugh. “This isn't even possible.”

“Come on, Ginny...maybe it's just...” Harry trailed off, not knowing exactly what it was.

“Fred, George, did you do this?” Ginny whirled on her older brothers, who shook their heads, hands raised.

“No way, we couldn't even get ourselves in.”

“Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, please make your way into the chamber with the other champions,” Dumbledore said, and Harry had to grab Ginny's arm and begin to pull her away from the table. She followed after him numbly, still shaking her head in incredulity.

Harry tugged Ginny along into the other chamber, where the three champions were waiting, looking impressive silhouetted against the light of the fire in the hearth. Harry felt very small looking at them, and it seemed Ginny was even smaller. How could they possibly be in the tournament? How could there be five champions?

“What eez it?” Fleur Delacour asked throatily, flicking her hair back from her pretty face. “Do zey need us to go back out zere?”

“Uhh...” Harry responded intelligently, releasing Ginny's arm, letting his own dangle uselessly at his sides. He was saved from having to respond as Madame Maxime strode in, followed by an irate Karkaroff.

“Zis must be some miztake!” Madam Maxime cried, making her way over to Fleur, while Karkaroff glared madly at Harry and Ginny, gripping Krum's shoulder tightly. Dumbledore strode in a few moments later, followed by Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody.

“What kind of joke is this, Dumbledore?” Karkaroff demanded, but Dumbledore ignored the man, making his way quickly to where Harry and Ginny were standing.

“Do you know what's going on?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes missing their usual twinkle. Harry and Ginny shook their head simultaneously, at a loss for words.

“Clearly zey 'ave tricked ze Goblet and entered,” Madam Maxime cried, outraged.

“Yes, what are you playing at, Dumbledore?” Karkaroff asked as two men strode into the chamber, looking flustered. Harry realized that they must be the other two judges, and he felt like he should remember their names.

“What's going on, Dumbledore?” The first wizard asked, a grave expression on his face.

“Why, Barty, Hogwarts has three champions, of course!” the other cried, looking positively thrilled at the idea. Both of the other headmasters looked downright displeased.

“Then we should each have our students go through again until the Goblet chooses two more champions for our schools!” Karkaroff announced, still clutching Krum's shoulder furiously.

“What do you mean, three 'ogwarts champions?” Fleur asked, looking Harry and Ginny up and down before laughing. “Zey are too small. Too young.”

“I'm afraid you all mistaken. Hogwarts only has two champions,” Dumbledore replied, looking gravely at Harry and Ginny.

“What do you mean, two champions, Dumbledore? Surely you can count,” Karkaroff scoffed.

“Yes, I believe I'm still quite able to do my maths, Karkaroff. What I mean is that one champion is Cedric Diggory here...and the other champion is Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.”

“But zat is three, Dumblydoor,” Madam Maxime pointed out.

“It would be, if the Goblet had presented the names of Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley separately. However, both their names were on one parchment. The Goblet is counting them both as one champion. Thus, Hogwarts only has two champions.”

There was a pregnant pause as everyone soaked this in, exchanging incredulous and angry looks.

Karkaroff huffed indignantly. “That's still one champion too many, Dumbledore!”

“Well, I'm afraid that the Goblet is no longer taking names. It will not reopen until the next tournament, I'm afraid.”

“Albus, they cannot compete!” McGonagall cried, here face crease with worry lines. “They are both too young!”

“I'm afraid that they have no choice,” Professor Dumbledore replied somberly.

“Mr. Crouch, is there no way for them to get out of this?” McGonagall asked, turning to the serious looking wizard, who shook his head negatively.

“No, Dumbledore is correct. Entering the tournament constitutes as a magically binding contract; since the Goblet has seen fit to eject their names, they have no choice but to compete in the tournament...or suffer dire consequences.”

Harry wanted to ask what the consequences would be – what could be worse than being thrown into a tournament that had people die during it in the past? Karkaroff and Madam Maxime were outraged.

“Then we withdraw! We will not compete in this...this...sham of a tournament! It has been rigged!”

“Weren't you listening, Karkaroff?” Moody spat, finally speaking up. “They're in this tournament now, whether you like it or not. It's a magically binding contract. And of all the people complaining, I don't hear a thing from the two people who should be complaining the most!” He added, looking sharply at Harry and Ginny.

“What are you talking about? Zey get to compete! What more could zey want? It is ze chance of a lifetime!” Fleur declared.

“They aren't prepared for this,” Moody shot back. “They didn't enter themselves into this, you can see that from their faces. Besides, there was no way they could have fooled the a magically powerful object like the Goblet. No, I reckon that a rather powerful Confundus Charm was used to make that goblet believe there were more than three schools were competing!”

“You seem to have thought quite a bit about this, Moody,” Karkaroff replied, sneering in the ex-Auror's direction.

“Well, I have to think like Dark Wizards do, don't I, Karkaroff?” he asked, and Harry thought he seemed to be implying something about Karkaroff.

“Alastor!” Dumbledore said sharply.

“All I'm saying,” Moody continued, “is that it seems like somebody is hoping these two will end up getting hurt in this tournament. Maybe they even want these two dead.”

“Alastor!” Dumbledore and McGonagall cried, glaring at him reprovingly. Harry gulped, swallowing loudly. Who would want him dead?

Voldemort. He thought immediately, glancing at Ginny who was uncharacteristically pale. He hadn't seen her look this pale since the Chamber. Who, though, would want Ginny dead? Could Voldemort be after her too, for some reason?

Harry continued to watch Ginny as the adults protested loudly, tuning out their words. He had dreamt that he was going to be put into this tournament – but Ginny had never been a part of this. He didn't feel any sense of familiarity with this situation. How did the Goblet confuse the two of them as one champion? Harry felt his head begin to pulse again in the familiar headache. He rubbed at his forehead absently, sighing heavily.

What now?

“Enough!” Mr. Crouch cried, raising his hands and everyone fell into silence. “There is no point in debating this any longer. Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley will compete, as well as the other three champions. There is no more choice in the matter. The first task will be testing your nerve and daring, and so we cannot tell you what you will be facing. It will be held on the twenty-fourth of November. Good luck to all of you, we must be off,” he finished, hurriedly making his way out of the chamber.

The other wizard beamed at them all excitedly, but Madame Maxime and Fleur were already leaving, talking rapidly in French, with Karkaroff and Krum following in silence. Dumbledore sighed heavily, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with his long fingers. When he finally looked up again, Harry thought that he looked very tired and old.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, would you mind coming with me to my office? I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Harry nodded in agreement, even though talking to Dumbledore felt like the last thing he wanted to do. As they both followed Dumbledore, hurrying to keep up with his long stride, Harry's mind was spinning. He wondered if he should mention the nagging feeling that he, Hermione, and Ron had all had since before the World Cup. Part of him felt that he shouldn't, to keep it to himself for the time being, but he realized that now Ginny was involved, somehow. Harry knew he had to say something.

When they made it to Dumbledore's office, Ginny immediately blurted out, “I didn't enter!”

“I know that, Miss Weasley. There is no way possible for either of you to enter, and that became apparent when I read this parchment containing both of your names. As you may have heard me say, the Goblet has chosen you both as one champion, something I find extremely odd.”

“Er, and why's that, sir?” Harry asked, hoping Dumbledore might have some answers.

“I have several theories...I'm sorry to say this, but part of me agrees with Professor Moody. I believe someone has entered you into the tournament, Harry, in hopes that grave harm will befall you.”

Harry blanched, whitening. “But, how does that involve Ginny sir?”

“It seems to me that the Goblet has added her name of it's own volition. It decided that Harry Potter could not compete without Ginny Weasley, though I cannot say for sure why. I can only speculate that there is some sort of bond between the two of you, some sort of connection.”

At this, Harry flushed. A connection? He glanced at Ginny from the corner of his eye, and saw her face was looking rather red as well.

“So I really have to compete?” Ginny asked, twisting her fingers nervously.

“I'm afraid so, Miss Weasley. You heard what Mr. Crouch, said, I believe. Your name coming from the Goblet constitutes as a binding, magical contract, and the consequences of not participating would be very undesirable.” Ginny seemed to pale further, her freckles standing out starkly against the paleness of her skin. She closed her eyes tightly, then groaned pitifully.

“Mum's going to have a conniption...”

“Ah, yes,” Professor Dumbledore began, looking rather uneasy. “I'll be writing your mother shortly...I can't say that I'm looking forward to it,” he admitted. Harry didn't blame him; he could already imagine Mrs. Weasley's response. “Now, Miss Weasley, today's been a long day, and I'm sure your brothers are all concerned. I believe it is time for you to return to your common room.”

Ginny looked at Harry uncertainly, and Dumbledore caught the look, smiling kindly.

“I have a few more things to talk to Harry about. He'll be along shortly.” Harry felt his anxiety grow, but he smiled encouragingly at Ginny.

“I'll be right up,” he said, and she nodded, still looking uncertain and confused as she left.

“Ah, Harry. Tonight has not gone at all how I expected.”

“....Things turned out more different than I imagined they would, too.”

“You seem as though you weren't entirely surprised by this,” Dumbledore said, his brows raising as he gave Harry an appraising look.

“Well...” Harry swallowed nervously. “Strange things have been happening since this summer...right before we went to the World Cup.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore leaned back into his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. “Do go on,”

“Ron, Hermione and me...we started having this weird sense of deja vu or...or this nagging feeling in the back of our heads. Sometimes, it's like we're doing things, and it feels like we've already done them. Other times, my head just pounds and it seems like I should know something, but whatever it is...it's just out of reach, you know? And, sometimes I know things that I shouldn't know.”

“I see,” Dumbledore mused, gazing thoughtfully out his window.

“Hermione has this theory. She thinks we've lost our memories somehow, and that the headaches are because our memories are trying to come back...”

“Miss Granger could very possibly be correct with that assumption.”

“But...why would we be remembering things that haven't happened, Professor?”

“Ah, now that is truly the question isn't it? I'm afraid I do not have an answer for you, Harry.”

“And what did you mean when you said Ginny and I had a...connection?” he asked, feeling his cheeks warm.

At this, Dumbledore smiled once more, his eyes twinkling madly. “I believe that is something for you to discover on your own, Harry. In the meantime, I suggest you, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley do your best to regain these memories in any way you can. Also, if I may ask, were you aware of the events that would take place tonight?”

“Sort of...I had this dream a while ago, right when we got back from summer break. I dreamt about tonight...I knew which names were going to be called from the Goblet.”

“Ah, but I suspect that something was different, otherwise you would not have been so surprised.”

“Ginny...she wasn't in the dream. Her name wasn't called. It feels....it feels different, like it shouldn't have happened.”

“And you believe that your name being called should have happened?”

“Yes...I suppose. I can't really explain it,” Harry replied feebly, wondering if he should have kept the dream to himself.

“Hmmm...again, Harry, I encourage you to try and regain these memories. I do not know if these are really memories we are talking about, or how you may have lost them, but I feel that it is important for you to remember them.” Dumbledore looked grave, but a moment later, he smiled wearily. “It grows late. Off to bed, Harry...and, good luck with Miss Weasley and the tournament.”

“Good luck with Mrs. Weasley,” Harry offered, glad that he wasn't the one giving her the bad news.

“I think I will need much more than luck,” Dumbledore said, a concerned expression crossing his face. “Perhaps several shield charms, and a few silencing charms. I have no doubt I will receive several Howlers on both of your behalf." At this, Harry grinned, feeling that Dumbledore was night, Harry.”

“Good night, Professor.”

-

Harry's body felt exhausted as he made his way back to the common room, but he knew that he wouldn't be granted sleep. No doubt Ginny was waiting for him, as well as her brothers, and Hermione. He wondered how much he should tell them.

Harry's suspicions were confirmed once he entered the common room – Ginny was sitting with a blank expression on her face, surrounded by Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George.

“Harry!” Hermione said, catching everyone's attention and causing them all to whip around to look at him.

“Hey,” he muttered, wondering how much Ginny had told them.

“What'd Dumbledore say, mate? What's going on?”

“Yeah, Ginny wouldn't tell us a thing,” Fred piped in, frowning. “It isn't a prank, is it?” Harry sighed, throwing himself into his favorite chair.

“No. It's not a joke. Ginny and I have to compete...the Goblet constitutes as a magically binding contract, and apparently there are dire consequences if we don't participate.”

“What kind of consequences?” Hermione asked, her gaze dark.

“They wouldn't say. It seems like it's too horrible to even mention. I imagine that we'd die or be horribly disfigured or something...” Harry chuckled darkly.

“Are you talking about if you participate in the Tournament or if you don't?” George asked, grinning weakly.

Harry thought about it for a moment, suppressing a grin. “Both, I guess,”

“But how did Ginny's name get put in the Goblet?” Hermione stressed, pulling them firmly back into focus.

“For that matter, how'd your name get in the Goblet, mate?”

“You don't think I did it?” Harry asked, a wave of relief washing through him. He knew how jealous Ron could be sometimes, and he had secretly worried that Ron would be angry.

“Of course not. You'd be bloody stupid to do that, much less get Ginny entered too.”

“Dumbledore and Professor Moody think that someone else entered my name under another school...”

“And they just decided for kicks to enter Ginny too?” Fred asked incredulously.

“No...” Harry said slowly, wondering how her older brothers were going to take the news that they were 'connected'. “Dumbledore says that it looks like the Goblet added Ginny's name by itself.”

“What?” Ron blanched, and the twins looked rather serious.

“Harry, that doesn't make sense,” Hermione said slowly.

“Apparently we're connected,” Ginny finally spoke up, her cheeks slightly pink as she admitted this.

“Connected? Bloody hell, what does that mean?” Ron asked.

“Dumbledore wouldn't tell me,” Harry huffed, his frustration growing. “He said I'd have to find out for myself...”

“What did Dumbledore ask you after I left, Harry?” Ginny asked, her face returning to its normal color. Harry shot a quick look at Ron and Hermione, deciding to go with a half truth.

“He was just asking me about some things, but I didn't remember...” he said, and watched as Hermione's eyes widened with understanding. Ron was looking between Harry and Hermione, clearly trying to figure out what she had just realized. Fred was looking contemplative, and he began to stroke his chin as though he had a beard.

“So Hogwarts has three champions? I bet the other schools weren't happy about that.”

“Er...they weren't happy, but...Hogwarts doesn't exactly have three champions.”

“What, are there more popping out of the Goblet as we speak?” George asked, grinning.

“No, at least I don't think. See, whatever this er...connection is...well, I guess Ginny and I are being counted as one champion by the Goblet. So I guess that means we'll have to do the tasks together.” A pregnant pause followed Harry's announcement as each one of them considered this.

“Well,” Fred finally broke the silence.

“Win the tournament and get yourself one thousand Galleons, Ginny,” George continued, grinning.

“You mean five hundred,” she corrected. “Half goes to Harry.”

“You can keep it all,” Harry said quickly. “I don't need it.” Ginny gave him a look, one he supposed meant that they would talk about it later. For some reason, the look felt familiar to him, and he smiled because of it.

“Do you honestly think they can hope to win?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Way to encourage them, Hermione,” Ron snorted.

“I didn't mean it like that,” she cried exasperatedly. “I just meant that...they're supposed to be too young to even participate. They don't know half the spells that the other champions are going to know.”

“Ah, have faith, Hermione -” Fred cut in.

“Yeah, ickle Gin-Gin here is more crafty than she looks -”

“Yes, she looks all innocent, but really she's devious-”

“Mischievous-”

“Sly-”

“Sneaky-”

“Wily-”

“Shrewd-”

“Cunning-”

“Okay!” Hermione held her hands up, much to Harry's relief. “We get it.”

“Right, and we're sure Harry's not all that bad,” George offered, grinning at Harry.

“Yes, well, despite all of Ginny's apparent deviousness, that still won't teach them the spells they need to know.”

“I suppose you'll just have to teach us, Hermione,” Ginny said quickly, sporting a grin that was eerily reminiscent of her brother's.

“What?” Hermione said, Ginny's comment throwing her off balance.

“Yeah, Hermione, why not?” Harry quickly cut in. “You probably know as many spells as the other Champions do,”

“They're right Hermione, you're not the smartest witch of our generation for nothing,” Ron chimed in, and Hermione flushed a delicate shade of pink.

“Well, I suppose,” she said slowly.

“Come on,” Harry pleaded. “You don't want us to humiliate ourselves out there, do you?”

“Okay, okay,” Hermione acquiesced, throwing her hands up half-heartedly. “I'll get some books from-”

“The library!” everyone cried out simultaneously, causing a burst of laughter.

“Exactly,” she replied, then gave Harry a knowing look. He knew that meant, 'We need to talk about what Dumbledore said tomorrow.' He nodded in response.

“Well off to bed-” Fred yawned.

“Too right, my brother,” George agreed.

“Can't have a productive day without sleep.”

Hermione gave the twins a look, clearly wondering what the two considered 'productive'.

“Night Ginny,” Fred and George chorused, ruffling her hair affectionately (much to her annoyance, if her facial expression was anything to go by).

As Fred and George strolled up to their dormitory, Harry heard one of the two casually comment on what their Mum's reaction would be.

“Blimey, she's going to blow her top!”

“I hope we get to watch – it's so much more fun to watch her be mad at someone else, for once.” Their voices trailed off as they disappeared upstairs.

“Well, Harry, ready to head up?”

Harry's body cried out desperately in agreement, but he shook his head.

“I'm going to stay down here for a little bit longer,” he said, glancing at Ginny. Ron and Hermione took the hint (surprisingly).

“Alright, see you up there, mate?” Harry nodded as Hermione bade them all good night, even though he could tell that her mind was racing with questions. He wasn't sure he was going to look forward to tomorrow and Hermione's relentless questioning. When his two friends had also disappeared into their respective dormitories, Harry looked at Ginny.

“So...” he began, feeling foolish.

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed, looking bewildered. “Tonight was...a surprise.”

“Talk about it...I'm sorry,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What do you have to be sorry about? You didn't enter my name into the Goblet.”

“No,” he admitted. “But it's my fault, because of whatever this...connection is. I certainly didn't expect you to be involved.”

“But you expected yourself to be involved?” she laughed incredulously.

“I was surprised...but at the same time, not really. Bad things always happen to me, remember?” he chuckled weakly to himself. “Ron was right. So much for a normal year.”

“But even if you have rotten luck, you couldn't have guessed this would happen.”

“I suppose not, except...” he hesitated, wondering if he should let Ginny in on his dream. After a moment, he decided he couldn't see the harm. “I had this dream...and everything that happened in the dream happened tonight. With the exception of your name being called. That didn't happen.”

Ginny gazed thoughtfully at him, biting her lip as she pondered this. “Do you reckon you're a seer?” she asked after a long moment, and Harry almost laughed. Ron had thought the same thing.

“No, not really. I don't feel particularly seer-like, anyway. It's more like deja-vu, if anything.”

“I see,” she said, but Harry wondered if she really did. She let out a short laugh, along with an exhale of air. “I just...I can't even wrap my head around this. I keep expecting to wake up any second now.”

“I know what you mean.” She gave him a sympathetic look, a look that on any other person would just be pity, because they couldn't ever really understand. “I think...I think we can do this though. I mean, I know we have to do this, but I think we can at least try, right?”

“Of course,” she agreed. Harry took a deep breath, then impulsively leaned over and grasped her hand, squeezing it gently.

“I'm sorry that you got sucked into this...but, at the same time, I'm glad. I mean...if anyone had to get picked, I'm glad it was you.”

Ginny beamed at him, one of those smiles that made his stomach clench and his body tingle pleasantly.

“I'm glad, too. If I had to choose anyone to help me fend off unknown beasts and challenges, who better to pick than the boy who was able to kill a Basilisk at the age of twleve?” she laughed as Harry flushed, mumbling about luck. “Really though, Harry. Even though I have no idea how we're going to do this tournament, I'm glad you'll be there with me.” She cast a shy look at him, peering at him through half lidded eyes, a light flush covering her cheeks. Harry's heart was suddenly pounding, and he realized he was still holding her hand, and that his thumb had begun to lightly brush over her skin of its own volition.

“So, Dumbledore didn't say anything else about our...uh...connection?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Er, no...I think he knows something, but he wouldn't say just that we had to figure it out for ourselves...” he trailed off, watching as she bit her lip thoughtfully again. It was strange how such a little gesture could fully catch his attention.

“I guess I'd better get to bed,” she finally said, gazing down at their two hands.

Blushing furiously, Harry pulled his hand away (reluctantly) and bade her good night. She gave him a brief hug as she said goodnight back, leaving Harry's skin tingling again, and feeling rather warm.

Harry managed to stumble back up the stairs, his worries about the Tournament forgotten as his mind lingered over the way Ginny's hand felt in his own, and the feeling of her arms wrapped around him as she had hugged him. He was surprised to find that Ron was still awake, clearly still wanting to talk.

Harry pulled his thoughts away from Ginny abruptly as Ron watched him.

“So mate. Your dream was right.”

“Yeah, except for the Ginny part.”

“Glad to hear you're not dreaming about my sister,” Ron said, grinning smugly. Harry furiously pushed away the sudden image of dream he had had about Ginny, where they had both been older and kissing in the common room...

“Er, yeah,” Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, uh, look at the bright side,” Ron offered, and Harry stared at him, wondering what Ron thought was the bright side of being thrown into a tournament he wasn't at all prepared for. “You'll get to spend some more time with my sister,” Ron laughed, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“This wasn't exactly the way I'd imagined it,”

“Ha! So you were imagining spending time with her, then?” Ron asked, his eyes gleaming triumphantly.

“Shut it, Ron,” Harry said, grinning a bit himself, feeling relieved that Ron didn't seem bothered by the idea. Ron merely grinned back before rolling over and pulling his covers up over himself. Harry changed and fell into his own bed, his mind still racing wildly about the events that had happened that night, the image of Ginny's beaming face particularly vivid in his mind. With a smile, Harry turned over on his side, pushing his impending worries out of his mind.

 

Chapter 6: No Subject (Come With Me)​

Harry loathed the whispers and stares that followed him the next morning as he made his way down to the Great Hall. Several people asked him and Ginny how they had entered themselves, but their protests fell on deaf ears. Nobody seemed to believe them.

“Just ignore them, mate,” Ron said wisely. “They're bloody idiots if they think you could enter yourself.” Harry was grateful for Ron's support.

“I wonder how things went with Professor Dumbledore and your Mum,” Harry commented as he sat down at the table. Right on cue, however, the Great Hall doors burst open and Mrs. Weasley herself came hurrying through, her face dangerously red.

“ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!” she screeched, shaking her finger at him furiously. “How could you sent that kind of letter in the middle of the night? Is this some sort of joke?!” Next to him, Ginny and Ron slunk down in their seats, only the tops of their heads visible above the table. Fred and George were grinning broadly from where they sat, a look of eager anticipation plastered on their faces.

“Oh no,” Ginny whispered, sounding completely mortified. Up at the staff's table, Dumbledore was smiling nervously.

“Now, Molly, perhaps we could talk about this up in my office...” he suggested, gesturing at all the students.

“We will talk about this right here and now!” Mrs. Weasley said, clutching a crumpled letter in her fist. “What nonsense is this? Ginny isn't old enough to compete in the tournament!”

“Yes, well, I was hoping that we could speak about this privately...” Dumbledore fidgeted, and Harry felt a sympathetic pang for his Headmaster. It was strange to see Professor Dumbledore look so uneasy.

“Molly, perhaps we should take this up to the Headmaster's office,” Professor McGonagall cut in, her lips in a thin line. Mrs. Weasley's nostrils flared dangerously, but she seemed to realize that everyone was focused on her and the headmaster, and nodded her head shortly. Dumbledore looked relieved and quickly began to lead her away, followed by Professor McGonagall. As the three left the room, the Great Hall burst into nervous laughter.

“I think we should go after them,” Harry said softly to Ginny, who's eyes widened.

“Are you mad?”

“We still want a Headmaster after this, don't we?” Harry asked, grabbing Ginny's arm and tugging her from the table.

“Absolutely barmy,” Harry heard Ron say to Hermione. Harry and Ginny hurried past the other tables, when Draco Malfoy suddenly stood in their way.

“Get out of the way, Malfoy,” Harry spat, glaring at the pale haired boy.

“Dragging off the Weaslette to see her Mummy?” Draco sneered, Crabbe and Goyle chuckling stupidly next to him.

“Shove off, you git,” Ginny said, glaring at Malfoy as well.

“Did you see her mother, Potter?” Malfoy asked, ignoring Ginny. “I can't believe she's so dumpy. I wouldn't have thought any of the Weasleys could even afford to eat.”

Ginny's ears were beginning to turn red, and Harry knew she'd lose her temper if Malfoy kept up his taunting.

“What about your mother, Malfoy?” Harry shot back. “We saw her at the World Cup, and her face looked like she'd just smelled something really bad. I suppose it became permanent when she had you.”

“How dare you talk about my mother, Potter!” Malfoy snarled, glaring hatefully back. “At least my mother isn't off to have a secret shag with the Headmaster. I suppose that's how she affords to keep all of you in school?” Malfoy drawled, his eyes twinkling maliciously at Ginny.

Ginny's temper snapped and she whipped out her wand, doing a complicated wave and jab, and suddenly Malfoy was clawing at his face as several bat bogeys left his nostrils.

“Agh!” Malfoy shouted, “You stupid blood-traitor! I'll get you!”

“Let's go, Ginny,” Harry said lowly, his own blood boiling from Malfoy's comments.

“I swear, I'll hex him into next week if he says something like that again!” Ginny cried viciously, letting Harry lead her away from Malfoy and his goons. All of a sudden, a poorly aimed spell shot past him, and Harry whirled around, his own wand drawn on Malfoy, who was trying to fire off spells while several bat bogeys continued to fly out of his nose.

“Not on my watch, sonny!” came another voice, and suddenly Professor Moody appeared, hobbling along on his wooden leg. A jet of light shot from his wand at Malfoy, and suddenly, where the pale, enraged boy had stood, was a white ferret on the ground, snot dripping from its nose. Harry burst into laughter, and Ginny clutched at his arm as she laughed uproariously, her knees buckling from the strength of her laughter.

“What a dirty trick, trying to hex someone when their back is turned!” Moody roared, flicking his wand up and down, causing the white ferret to bounce around the room.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley – Professor Moody, what in heavens are you doing?” Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly cut through the laughter, and Harry and Ginny's laughter quickly died down, though a few chuckles still escaped them. Ginny was holding her sides now, her lips tight as she kept her laughter in.

“Teaching,” Professor Moody replied, continuing to bounce the ferret around the room.

“Is that...is that a student, Alastor?” Professor McGonagall asked, aghast.

“Might be,” he replied evasively.

“We do not use Transfiguration on a student as punishment! We give detentions! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that.”

“Must have slipped my mind! Well, I think he's learned his lesson!” Moody crowed, then changed Malfoy back, who was slumped on the floor, his usually sleek hair mussed, and his cheeks flushed pink. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his book bags and hurrying off.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said sharply, causing them both to jump, startled. “The Headmaster wishes for you two to be there when he delivers the details to your mother, Miss Weasley.”

“Right, we were just headed that way,” Harry said quickly.

“The password is Cockroach Cluster.”

“Seriously?” Ginny asked incredulously, but quickly shut her mouth at the Professor's severe look. They quickly hurried away, but they could still hear her lecturing Mad-Eye for his actions.

“That was-”

“Great!” Harry finished for Ginny, grinning madly. “Ron's going to be so mad that he missed that.”

“He deserved it, though,” Ginny added darkly. “I can't believe he said that about Mum. He really is a foul git.”

“I was wondering when I was going to see him this year. He never showed up on the train...”

“I think he was better as a ferret,” she added wistfully as they reached the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office.

“Cockroach Cluster,” Harry said, watching as the gargoyle leapt aside, allowing Harry and Ginny to climb up the stairs to his office.

“Come in, Harry,” Dumbledore called as he knocked, and Harry gave a glance at Ginny, eyebrows pulled together in wonderment. They both walked in, and suddenly they were both having the air squeezed out of them by Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, Ginny, Harry, dears, I'll fix everything, I promise.”

“Mum, air!” Ginny cried, and Mrs. Weasley promptly let them both go. Harry gasped for air, rubbing his ribs ruefully.

“I'm sorry to inform you that they cannot get out of this, Molly,” Dumbledore said. Mrs. Weasley's eyes flashed angrily, and she drew herself up to full height. Admittedly, it wasn't that tall, but Dumbledore seemed to shrink back regardless.

“They are too young to be competing in this competition! I thought there were rules! I thought that things had changed!”

“There were rules, believe me, Molly. No student who was under seventeen years of age was supposed to be able to enter...”

“Then what are Harry and Ginny doing, being chosen as champions? It's ludicrous!”

“Apparently someone has entered Harry's name into the Goblet. We believe it may have tricked the Goblet into believing there are four school's competing.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Mrs. Weasley demanded, her wand gripped tightly in her hand.

“I'm afraid it is someone who wishes Harry harm.”

“Oh, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley cried again, and he braced himself for the second hug. “You poor dear,” she said, giving him a sad look. She whirled back on Dumbledore, apparently confused. “What about Ginny?”

“Harry, would you like to explain?” Dumbledore asked, and Harry swore that there was a hint of a smile on the Headmaster's face. Harry gulped, wondering how her mother would take the news.

“Er...apparently Ginny and I are one champion...the Goblet sort of...kind of...added her name, because it thought I couldn't compete without her.”

“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked incredulously, her face pale and drawn.

“It uh, thinks we're...” Harry trailed off, becoming very interested in the floor.

“Connected,” Ginny finished for Harry.

“Connected?” Mrs. Weasley looked at Professor Dumbledore again, her confusion even more evident. “What does this mean Albus? How?”

“That is for Harry and Ginny to discover, I believe. In any case, they must compete together.”

“No! Absolutely not. I refuse to let them.”

“The Goblet is a magically binding contract, Molly!”

“There are always loopholes,” she shot back, placing a protective hand on both Ginny and Harry's shoulders.

“If they do not compete, they die,” he said gravely, his hands folded on his desk.

“They might die if they do compete!” Mrs. Weasley shot back, and Ginny paled next to him.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, clearing his throat. When she looked at him, he saw the concern in her eyes. “I'm sorry that I got Ginny into this somehow-”

“Oh, Harry dear, it's not your fault-” she began, but Harry shook his head.

“No, this is all connected to me somehow...I'm the reason Ginny is in this...so I'm sorry. But I can promise that I'll do my best to keep her safe while we're out there. After all...I seem to have some experience when it comes to trouble,” he added dryly. Next to him, Ginny frowned slightly, and Harry wondered if it was because of something he said.

“Harry, of course I know you'll take care of her. But this tournament isn't any place for a thirteen and fourteen year old, no matter how much experience you may have with...unwanted situations.”

“Mum...” Ginny cut in softly. “I don't think we have a choice. At least we have a chance of surviving if we enter the tournament. If we don't...we die.”

Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley had embraced them both again, crying loudly. Harry could only suppose this meant she had accepted the truth.

“Harry, Ginny...perhaps you two should be off to class now,” Professor Dumbledore said kindly while Mrs. Weasley sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “I'll have a few more words with Molly here.”

“Yes, you two,” Mrs. Weasley sniffled again, pushing the two of them toward the door. “You don't want to miss class,” she said briskly, clearly trying to pull herself together.

“I'll be okay, Mum,” Ginny said, hugging her mother tightly. “I'll have Harry with me, anyway.” Her mother gave a wobbly smile, stroking her daughter's hair, and Harry felt his chest tightening. He suddenly wished that his mother were here, yelling at the headmaster and trying to get him out of this tournament.

“Thanks for trying, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry added, and she started to tear up again.

“You are such a sweet boy,” she said, but then abruptly shooed them out the door. Harry suspected that she had burst into tears again once the door was closed.

Harry and Ginny walked slowly down the stairs, reluctant to go to class and back to the stares and whispers of their classmates.

“I don't need protecting, you know,” Ginny said, frowning at him.

“I know,” Harry said, shrugging. “I saw what you did to Malfoy back there. I have no doubts...but...it doesn't mean I won't do my best to try.”

“I can take care of myself,” she protested.

“It's not because you can't take care of yourself,” he interrupted, sighing. “I'd just do it for any of my friends, okay? I'm a noble, thick-headed git. Ask Hermione, she'll tell you the same,” he laughed, and after a moment, Ginny smiled and laughed too.

“Yeah. You are,” she agreed.

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “I'll see you at lunch, right?” he paused as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Of course. Off to the whispers and wild gossip, eh?”

“I get that most days,” Harry replied, shrugging.

“It was like that a lot for me after the Chamber...”

“I guess we just ignore it.” They both stood there, at the bottom of the stairs, watching each other, each knowing that they had to go to class. Finally Ginny grinned lightly, gesturing down the corridor.

“I'd better go to class. Mum'll go ballistic if she finds out I was late.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, trying to ignore the strange, empty feeling that was growing inside of him as he watched her walk away. He couldn't explain it, but being around Ginny Weasley made him feel...whole.

-

Harry managed to make it to Potions class just in time; thankfully, Snape was still absent.

“What took you so long, mate?” Ron asked as Harry sat down next to him and Hermione.

“Ginny and I ran into Malfoy,” Harry replied grimly, scowling at the memory. Ron's features darkened as well.

“What'd the git want?”

“To throw out some insults, naturally.”

“What did he say?” Ron demanded, clenching his fists.

“It doesn't matter,” Harry waved his hand, then grinned. “Ginny got him real good with her Bat Bogey Hex, though. He didn't even see it coming.”

“Wow, he must have really ticked her off,” Ron grinned gleefully.

“She could have gotten in trouble for that!” Hermione said reproachfully.

“Moody didn't seem to care.”

“What do you mean?” she asked curiously.

“He showed up and turned Malfoy into a ferret when he tried to hex us back.”

“What?”

“I can't believe I missed that!” Ron groaned, sighing heavily.

“I can't believe a Professor would use Transfiguration as a punishment!”

“Yeah, Professor McGonagall wasn't happy about it,” Harry laughed. “It really made my day. Ginny thinks he's better as a ferret.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Professor Snape strode into the room, robes billowing behind him, silencing all of the students with a sneer. Hermione let the conversation drop, looking torn between disapproval and amusement at Malfoy being turned into a ferret. Ron still looked forlorn and wistful.

“Weasley, stop daydreaming in my class. Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape snapped, and Harry scowled at the teacher, the familiar feeling of hatred for the man swelling up inside of him. Ever since they had returned to school, Harry's hatred for the teacher had increased ten fold; Hermione attributed it to the fact that Professor Snape had tried to get Sirius killed and that he had revealed that Professor Lupin was a werewolf the previous year. To Harry, it felt much deeper than that.

As Harry scowled at Snape, the Potions professor returned the look with a sneer of his own, and he opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a small boy rushing into the classroom.

“Professor Snape!” Colin Creevey squeaked. “Mr. Bagman wants all the champions upstairs...something about photos....”

Harry inwardly groaned, resisting the temptation to hit his head on the table.

“Fine,” Snape said with another sneer. “Potter, leave your things here-” Colin interrupted the Professor again.

“He's got to take his things with him,sir, all the Champions-”

“Potter, get out of my sight and take your things with you!” Snape snarled, and from across the room, Malfoy shot him a very satisfied look. Ron and Hermione shot him looks of sympathy as Harry gathered his things, although he was secretly glad that he got to miss out on Potions. They were supposed to be testing antidotes today, and Harry had a nasty feeling Professor Snape wanted to test on him.

Harry followed Colin Creevey out of the room, who was still looking amazingly short, babbling excitedly.

“Isn't this amazing, Harry? You and Ginny are Champions! How'd you guys get in?”

“Er, we didn't enter Colin,” Harry protested, but the small boy continued to ramble on, apparently oblivious to Harry's words. As they rounded the corner, Harry was pleased to see Ginny standing there, and he almost stupidly asked what she was doing when he remembered that she was a champion, too, or rather, they were a champion, so of course she'd be there.

“Do you think I could get a picture of you two?” Colin gushed, clutching at the camera he always carried around with him.

“Er,” Harry spluttered intelligently, but Ginny smiled politely.

“Sure Colin, just make it quick.” Suddenly, against his will, he was posing for a picture, feeling awkward and stupid just standing there next to Ginny, looking uncertain. But none of these things dampened Colin's enthusiasm, who shot of a quick picture and looked absolutely delighted for having done so.

“Thanks!” Ginny smiled knowingly at Harry and shrugged, and he realized she was probably more comfortable around Colin – he was in her year.

“Er, no problem, Colin...” Harry said quietly, fervently praying that Colin wouldn't reproduce the picture and plaster it around Hogwarts. He could just imagine what Malfoy would be like then. “You said there would be more photos? What for?”

“The Daily Prophet, I think!”

“Great,” Harry replied dully, and Ginny hid a grin as she patted his arm sympathetically. They reached the room, and Colin wished them good luck.

The other three Champions were already in the small classroom – the desks had been pushed up against the walls, and Bagman was chatting amicably with a woman Harry wasn't quite familiar with. Victor Krum was sulking off in the corner, though he looked up at Harry and Ginny as they walked in. Fleur was flirting with Cedric Diggory in the middle of the room, flipping her long, silvery hair every so often and laughing. She looked a great deal more cheerful than the previous night.

“Ah!” Bagman cried in delight as he spotted Harry and Ginny. “The last two Champions are here! Or, I suppose, the last Champion, eh?” The woman he had been talking to crinkled her forehead in confusion. Bagman saw her confusion and grinned even more broadly, rubbing his hands together. “It seems our good Goblet is confused and thinks these two young champions are one champion!”

“I see,” the woman said, a curious glint in her eye. “I'm Rita Skeeter,” the woman introduced herself, holding out a hand with fake, manicured nails. Harry tried not to let his distaste show. “I work for the Daily Prophet,”

“Yes, yes, Rita here will be doing a little piece for the Prophet after the weighing of wands.”

“Er, the what?” Harry asked nervously, clutching his wand at his side.

“Nothing to worry about, lad, we just need to make sure all the champion's wands are in working order. We wouldn't want anything to go wrong with them in the middle of the tournament, eh?” he chuckled, winking and nudging Harry jovially. Harry didn't see why that prospect seemed so exciting to Bagman.

“Right,” he said, shooting an exasperated look at Ginny, who shrugged in return.

“While the expert is upstairs, do you mind if I have a little interview with our two youngest champions...or...champion?” Rita Skeeter asked, clutching her crocodile-skin handbag.

“I don't see why not,” Bagman agreed, patting Harry and Ginny on the shoulder. Before either Harry or Ginny could protest, Rita had grabbed both of their arms in a surprisingly strong grip and was dragging them out of the room.

“Let's get away from all that noise, shall we?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice, and Ginny frowned next to him. “Ah, here we go. A nice quiet place.” Harry stared at the woman.

“That's a broom cupboard,” Ginny interjected, giving the woman a similar look – one that clearly said Ginny thought this woman was a bit mad in the head.

“Nice and cozy, right?” Rita asked, flashing smile – Harry saw three gold teeth among all the other white ones.

“Ah, there you two are,” Dumbledore's voice suddenly interrupted the incredulous stares, and Harry felt a wave of relief wash through him. “Is there something particularly interesting about that broom cupboard?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Dumbledore!” Rita Skeeter cried, and Harry saw her clutch her handbag a bit more tightly. “How lovely to see you.”

“Enchanting,” Dumbledore agreed, a smirk on his face. “Where were you off with Harry and Ginny, here?”

“Oh, just going to have a bit of a chat with them, to add a bit more color to the piece, you know,” she said, flashing another smile at the Headmaster. He merely nodded, the grin still on his face, his eyes still twinkling.

“I'm sure, Rita. However, our champions – champion – well, these two are needed for the Weighing of Wands. I'm sure you can investigate the mysteries of this broom cupboard another time, hmm, Harry and Ginny?”

Harry nodded wordlessly while Ginny blushed next to him, and it took Harry several more seconds to figure out why. She had clearly picked up on a hidden innuendo, and now Harry wondered if the Headmaster had really meant to imply anything like that.

“Come on, you two,” he said, leading them both back into the room, Rita Skeeter following behind them with the click, click of her heels on the floor. The other champions were now standing by an older man, and it took Harry a second to recognize him as Mr. Ollivander.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander,” Dumbledore said to the other champions. “He will be checking to see that all of your wands are in good conditions.” The old wizard smiled slightly at the introduction, then held out his hand.

“Miss Delacour, your wand first, please,” he said, and the pale haired girl handed her wand over. He twirled the wand expertly between his bony fingers, humming under his breath as pink sparks shot out of the tip.

“Yes, nine and a half inches...inflexible, rosewood...and containing...” he trailed off, his eyes widening in surprise.

“An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela,” Fleur finished, smiling. “One of my grandmuzzer's.”

Ginny laughed quietly beside Harry, and he gave her a perplexed look.

“What's so funny?” he whispered.

“Just remembering how Ron reacted to the veela's at the World Cup,” she whispered back, grinning cheekily.

“He looked ready to jump off the stands,” Harry chuckled as he remembered.

“All the guys were acting strangely...except for you.” Harry shrugged, remembering how he'd been more interested in watching her at the time, but he wasn't ready to tell her that. Luckily, he was saved from having to answer as Ollivander muttered “Orchidous!” causing a bunch of flowers to burst from the tip of Fleur's wand.

“Very well, it's in fine working order,” he said, handing back her wand. “Mr. Diggory, you next please.”

Cedric walked past Fleur, who smiled at him, and handed his own wand over to the old wandmaker.

“Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?” he asked, smiling with much more enthusiasm, clearly thrilled to have one of his own creations back in his hands. “Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn...” he muttered, running his hands over the wand. “Twelve and a quarter inches, ash, pleasantly springy...it's in fine condition. You treat it regularly?”

“I polished it last night,” Cedric grinned. Next to him, Ginny bit back a strangled giggle.

“What's so funny now?” Harry asked, glancing at his own wand, which was covered with finger marks. He tried to surreptitiously clean it with his robes, but faltered when Ginny answered.

“He polished his wand last night,” she snorted, shaking with laughter. Harry felt himself blush.

“You have a dirty mind,” he hissed at her, trying to hold back his own laughter. She shrugged lightly, grinning at him.

“I grew up with six older brothers, what'd you expect?”

They had missed Ollivander's demonstration with Cedric's wand due to their laughter; he was already calling for Krum's wand.

Krum made his way over to Ollivander, looking rather duck-footed, and thrust his wand to the old man with a surly expression.

“Ah...” Mr. Ollivander breathed, eyeing the wand closely. “A Gregorovitch creation, am I right? Yes, hornbeam and dragon heartstring?” he asked, and Krum merely nodded in response. “Quite thicker than you usually see...quite rigid...ten and a quarter inches...Avis!” With a sound like a gun going off, several small, fluttering birds flew out from the tip.

“Good,” Mr. Ollivander said, clearly pleased as he handed Krum back his wand. “Now...” he said, turning his watery eyes on Harry and Ginny. “Perhaps Miss Weasley first,” he said, and she rose nervously, holding out her wand for him. “Another one of mine,” he said fondly, running his fingers perfunctorily over her wand. “Yes, you got this not too long ago, did you Miss Weasley?”

“No sir,” she responded, having gotten her wand only three years previous.

“Holly, eight and a half inches long...unicorn hair...yes, a fine wand.” He smiled and waved Ginny's wand, causing a series of small bats to fly from her wand. Ginny seemed amused by this, and Harry thought it probably had to do with her favorite hex. “Wonderful, Miss Weasley. Here you are,” he said as he returned the wand.

“Finally...that leaves, Mr. Potter,” he said. Harry prayed that Ollivander wouldn't reveal that his wand was related to Voldemort's. He hadn't told anybody that information, and he felt he'd rather keep it to himself. “I remember this like it was yesterday,” Mr. Ollivander said, his pale eyes gleaming. “Holly...eleven inches, with a single phoenix feather for the core...”

Mr. Ollivander looked like he might have continued, but he fell silent, gazing at Harry's wand for a long time. Finally, he made a fountain of wine shoot from his wand before returning it. Harry hurriedly sat back down next to Ginny.

“That was kind of weird,” she commented, and Harry nodded. Mr. Ollivander still kind of gave him the creeps.

“Alright, you may return to your classes, or perhaps you may want to just make your way down to lunch instead,” Dumbledore said, but Rita Skeeter, who's Quick Quill Quotes and been scribbling away furiously during the wand weighing stood up abruptly.

“The photos, don't forget the photos!” she cried, much to Harry's chagrin.

“Quite right, can't forget those,” Bagman agreed, grinning again at Harry. He could have sworn Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic smile.

Harry's stomach grumbled noisily through the entire photo shoot. The photographer seemed quite keen to have Fleur up front, but Rita had a habit of dragging Harry – and ultimately Ginny – back to the front. After the group photos were done, Rita Skeeter insisted that there be individual photos, and by the time they were finally done, Harry's stomach thought his throat had been cut.

“So hungry,” Ginny moaned, and Harry rubbed him stomach in sympathy.

“I thought we'd never get out of there,” he complained, not looking forward to the pictures that would ultimately end up in the paper.

“We skipped right past lunch,” Ginny complained. She was right – the photos had taken an amazingly long time, and Harry was grateful that Rita Skeeter had been denied her opportunity to have her little interview with him and Ginny.

“Let's go down to the kitchens,” Harry said with a grin.

“You know where they are?” she asked, impressed. He paused, frowning for a moment. He knew he shouldn't know, but at the same time, he did know. He decided it must have been one of those memories.

“Yeah, of course.”

“What about class?” she grinned at him, looking excited at the prospect of having a little adventure.

“We just missed most of them anyway, we might as well skip the rest,” he reasoned, shrugging.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Lead the way.”

Feeling daring, Harry grabbed her hand and led her through the halls toward where he inexplicably knew the kitchens were. They kept to the shadows so they wouldn't get caught by any teachers or ghosts wandering around.

“I wish I had my map,” Harry muttered, and Ginny shot him a questioning look. “The Marauder's Map,” he explained shortly, and she nodded in understanding. He had explained that bit to her on the train when he told her about Sirius.

Suddenly, Snape swept around one of the corners, and Harry quickly yanked open the nearest door and pulled Ginny inside. As he closed the door, he realized that they were in a broom closet. He held his breath, motioning for Ginny to be quiet, and she nodded, her eyes gleaming with mirth. Harry waited several long moments, trying to ignore the closeness of Ginny next to him, or her breath tickling his ear as she crouched beside him. Finally, he opened the door cautiously, relieved to see the Potions teacher was gone.

“That was close,” Harry laughed.

“I don't think Dumbledore would have guessed that we made our way to a broom closet so quickly, Harry,” she teased, and Harry felt his face flushing again.

“I hardly think he meant anything like that!”

“Like what?” she asked, raising a brow and grinning cheekily.

“You know what I mean,” Harry spluttered, his blush deepening. Little Ginny Weasley was teasing him!

“I haven't the foggiest,” she said breezily, the sly look still plastered on her face.

“Whatever, you're the one with the dirty mind,” he said, nudging her lightly.

“You're the one who thought the Headmaster was suggesting we'd snog in a broom cupboard,” she pointed out. The thought of even kissing Ginny made Harry flush more, even though he realized she was only teasing.

“Weren't we headed to the kitchens?” he changed subjects abruptly, but she only continued to smile at him knowingly. He ignored the look, leading the way again, but was too flustered this time to take her hand, despite the pleasure it brought him.

“So why were you and my brother talking about me the other night?” she blurted, and Harry almost tripped. In everything that had happened lately, he had forgotten that she had heard part of that, and that she was still curious to know the details.

“It was nothing,” he said evasively. “So, you're Mum handled things better than I thought this morning,” he said conversationally. That was really a bit of a stretch. Mrs. Weasley had looked close to exploding throughout most of her meeting with the Headmaster.

“I think she's still in shock,” Ginny replied. “Actually, I think I'm still in shock. I don't think it's really going to set in until we actually have to do the damn thing.”

Harry came to a stop as they reached a large painting of fruit on the wall, and Ginny gave him a curious look.

“I know you're hungry Harry, but looking at a painting of fruit isn't going to do much.”

“No, this is where the kitchens are,” he explained, reaching out toward the bowl of fruit. “You have to tickle the pear.” Upon saying so, he wiggled his fingers on the pear, which squirmed and giggled suddenly. Then, the painting swung forward, much like the Fat Lady did for the Gryffindor common room, and Harry grinned at Ginny. “See?”

“Brilliant!” she enthused, climbing eagerly through the opening. Harry followed her into the kitchens, a feeling of newness and familiarity coming over him at the same time.

“Mr. Harry Potter, sir!” a squeaky voice exclaimed, and Harry looked down to see an alarming image of Dobby the house elf, wearing mismatched socks, a vest, and a tie.

“Dobby?” he asked, feeling that he shouldn't have been surprised at all.

“You comes to see Dobby!” the elf cried, and hugged his leg suddenly. “And who is being your lady friend?” he asked, looking up at Ginny with wide eyes.

“Er, this is Ginny Weasley. She's Ron's sister.”

“Ah, yes, another Wheezy,” Dobby nodded sagely. Other elves were now gathered around the odd trio, gazing upon them curiously.

“Uh, do you think we could get something to eat? We kind of missed lunch.”

“Of course!” One elf squeaked.

“Right away sirs and missus!” Another replied, and several of the elves bustled away, only to return quickly with plates of food and dessert.

“Thanks!” Harry exclaimed, and Ginny beamed.

“No wonder it was so easy for Fred and George to get food from here. They practically give it away,” Ginny laughed, digging into her food enthusiastically. Harry followed suit.

“So, what are we going to do about this tournament?” Harry asked in between bites.

“I don't know. We're supposed to compete together, so...” Ginny paused thoughtfully, poking at her food with her fork. “I guess we just have to figure out how to work with each other. I mean, we don't have any idea what this first task is going to be, only that it's going to test our courage.”

“Mr. Harry Potter is being in the tournament?” Dobby asked, his eyes widening even further. “And his Wheezy too?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“But the tournament is being too dangerous!” Harry's own eyes widened.

“Dobby, just don't try and save us, okay?” he said quickly, laughing nervously.

“Oh, right,” Dobby grinned sheepishly, dragging his foot on the ground. “But how is you and your Wheezy being in the tournament?”

“Well, we don't really know. We think someone entered us.”

“...Bad wizards?” Dobby asked, his fingers twisting at his tie nervously.

“Probably,” Harry agreed, and Dobby's face twisted up with worry.

“If you and your Wheezy be needing help, just ask Dobby!”

“Err, okay, Dobby,” Harry muttered. “You won't get in trouble with your new master?”

“Oh no, I is working for the Headmaster now! He even be paying Dobby now!” Several of the surrounding elves edged away nervously – they clearly thought Dobby was speaking blasphemy.

“That's great, Dobby!” Harry grinned, happy that Dobby had finally gotten his wish.

“He is even saying that I could...” Dobby paused, then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, his face a nervous grin. “He is saying I could call him a barmy old codger!” Dobby giggled, but then straightened up. “But I isn't be saying those kinds of things about the Headmaster. He is a good master.”

Ginny had watched the exchange quietly, using the time to finish her food. Finally she spoke up.

“How do you know Dobby, Harry?”

“Dobby is responsible for trying to save my life in my second year. Most of the time, I almost ended up getting killed,” he smiled grimly. “He used to belong to the Malfoys.” Dobby's bat-like ears flattened on his head at this.

“Why was he trying to save you?” Ginny asked, staring at the strange house elf.

“He kind of knew something bad was going to happen that year.”

“You mean he knew that the Chamber was going to be opened?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Missus knows about that?” Dobby asked, his ears rising again.

“Yes,” she said slowly, and Harry felt a pang of sympathy for her. “Tom Riddle...he made me open the Chamber.” Once again, Dobby's eyes widened in awe and wonderment, and he looked on the brink of tears.

“Oh, I is so sorry missus! And I am sorry Harry Potter. I is spending all that time trying to save Harry Potter and forgetting about his Wheezy!”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to decide how to best handle it. He didn't want to watch Ginny fall into a black mood, so he decided to try for humor.

“Trust me, Ginny, I don't think you wanted his help. You may have lost all the bones in your arm.” She only smiled weakly in response.

“Honestly, I'd rather lose the bones in my arm than go through – to do -” she stopped, shutting her eyes briefly before standing up abruptly. “I'm not hungry anymore,” she announced and hurried out of the portrait hole.”

“Ginny!” Harry cried, standing up to hurry after her.

“I is sorry Harry Potter,” Dobby said sadly, realizing he had said something wrong.

“It's not your fault, Dobby,” Harry said quickly. “I'll uh...come visit soon, okay?” he said, staring out the portrait hole. Dobby beamed though, nodding enthusiastically. Harry hurried out of the portrait hole after Ginny, not waiting for the house elf's next response.

“Ginny!” he panted, catching up to her. She looked pale, and her jaw was tight. “I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it that way.”

She sighed heavily, nodding her head jerkily. “I know you didn't. I just...it was strange, meeting Dobby, and finding out he knew what was going to happen all along...”

“I don't think Dobby knew that you were given the diary. He just knew that the Chamber was going to be opened again...”

Ginny nodded again, inhaling slowly through her nose, her eyes shut tight. She suddenly opened them again, staring him down with her intense gaze.

“Do you think he's behind the Tournament, too?”

“Who? Dobby?” Harry asked stupidly, feeling a bit dazed by the intense look in her brown eyes.

“No, Tom.” He broke her gaze, staring at the wall over her shoulder.

“Maybe. I thought about it. With everything that happened at the World Cup...I can't deny I didn't think about it.”

“Then,” she began, her jaw set determinedly. “We're just going to have to do our best in this Tournament.” Harry met her eyes again, and he saw a bit of fear, but mostly, defiance. She wasn't going to let Tom Riddle control her life ever again. Harry nodded firmly.

“Right. We'll show whoever put us in that Tournament.”

-

“I had a strange dream last night,” Ron said the next morning as they woke up. Harry rubbed at his eyes sleepily and put his glasses back on his face. Ron came into focus; he was also rubbing at his eyes and mussing up his fire red hair.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, hoping it had nothing to do with Hermione. He didn't really want to hear about that.

“Yeah. It was about dragons...”

“What, hoping to follow in Charlie's footsteps?” Harry chuckled.

“No,” Ron snorted. “I dreamt that the First Task is going to be dragons.” Harry felt his pulse increase rapidly as he stared at his friend incredulously.

“Do you think this is like my dream about the goblet?” he asked slowly, very much wide awake now.

“I don't really know. It felt real, though. I don't remember all of it,” he admitted, rubbing his head vigorously. “Something about Charlie writing me a letter and me getting Hagrid to show you the dragons...it was weird, but I think I was mad at you for something.”

“What?” Harry chuckled. If Ron was dreaming of the future, just like Harry had, then Harry didn't really want to piss off one of his only friends at the moment. “Then I'll do my best not to make you mad, mate,” Harry grinned.

Ron shrugged, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “So...dragons, huh?”

Harry gulped. “Yeah. Maybe. If your dream is anything like mine.”

“What the bloody hell are they thinking, making you go up against a dragon?”

“Not just me. Ginny, too,” Harry pointed out glumly. That was a good question. How were he and Ginny supposed to face a dragon?

Ron paled visibly. “Bloody buggering hell,” he swore. Then he met Harry's gaze. “I guess we'll have to ask Hermione. She'll know what to do, right?”

“I hope,” Harry agreed fervently. Then, a moment later, “Are you sure it was dragons?”

“Definitely.”

Bloody hell.

 

Chapter 7 – Look After You​

Harry and Ron walked down the stairs from their dormitory with grim looks on their face. Hermione was already waiting for them in the common room, heavy book bag slung over her shoulder.

“What's wrong?” she asked as she noted the looks on their faces.

“I had a dream,” Ron said, looking decidedly pale as well.

“So did Martin Luther King Jr.,” she replied with a small smile, but the remark was lost on Ron. Harry thought the name sounded familiar.

“What?” Ron asked, confused.

“Never mind, what was the dream?”

“Dragons,” Harry blurted, feeling ill at the thought. Would he really have to battle a dragon? Correction. Would he and Ginny really have to battle a dragon?

“Ron had a dream...about dragons...” she said slowly, and Harry swore he could see the wheels turning in her head. “Oh! And you think it was a dream like yours Harry?”

“We think so,” Ron nodded, running a hand through his red hair nervously. “I think it was about the First Task coming up. Sweet Merlin, Mum'll have kittens when she hears.”

Harry was glad that Ginny wasn't around for the conversation. He was feeling apprehensive about telling her what the First Task was, but more so about how they knew (or at least thought) what the First Task was in the first place. How could they explain that they were somehow having prophetic dreams with no explanation as to why? Still, the guilt was starting to gnaw at him. He'd have to tell her eventually, and he had a feeling that she might be angry that he'd held out on her.

Especially considering we're both a champion and I promised to include her.

“So what do we do?” Ron asked Hermione expectantly.

“Well, obviously we can't let anyone else know. It's supposed to be a secret, and how could we explain how we know?”

“What about Ginny?” Harry interrupted, fervently hoping that Hermione would have a solution. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

“I don't know, Harry,” she admitted, heading out of the common room; Ron and Harry followed as she continued to speak. “I suppose if you explained to her what's been going on, maybe you could tell her about it...but, otherwise, I don't think it would make enough sense. There would be too many unanswered questions.”

Harry sighed dejectedly as the trio sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. It wasn't that he hadn't considered telling Ginny...it was just that the timing never seemed right, not now, with everything happening. As Ron stabbed enthusiastically at his sausage, a foreign owl flew their direction, dropping a letter in front of Ron and stealing a sausage from him before taking off.

“Hey!” Ron protested, bits of sausage spraying unattractively from his mouth. “Come back with my sausage!” Harry was sure that if Ginny were sitting at the table with them, she would be snickering.

“Honestly, Ron! There's more food on the table. Now who's the letter from?” Hermione demanded, frowning and holding a napkin out from Ron, who wiped his face hastily and ripped his letter open.

“It's from Charlie,” he said, his eyes scanning over the words. “Ha! Looks like my dream was right! He says that they're bringing four dragons in for the First Task. Look!” Ron shoved the letter to Harry, who took it carefully, reading Charlie's messy scrawl.

Ron,

First off, tell Harry and Ginny good luck in the tournament. I heard from Mum that they both got entered somehow – she wasn't happy. I haven't told her this, but I thought I ought to write you so you could warn Harry and Ginny: the First Task involves dragons.

I know that the Champions aren't supposed to know, but I can't just sit by idly when my little sister has been thrown into a tournament she's not ready for. We're bringing in four dragons for the First Task in November. Originally, we only had three – a Common Welsh, a Chinese Fireball, and a Swedish Short-snout. But with Harry and Ginny being a champion too (I still don't quite understand that, but I didn't really press Mum for details) we had to bring in a Hungarian Horntail. Nasty piece of work. For some reason, all the dragons had to be mothering females. I don't know what the task is going to entail, but I thought Ginny (and Harry) should be warned that all of the dragons are going to be especially aggressive.

I haven't told Mum about the dragons yet (imagine her reaction!) so I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. No need to worry her more, right?

See you soon. Oh, and tell Harry to take care of Ginny.

Love,

Charlie

Harry laughed weakly. Four aggressive, mothering dragons? What in the world could they possibly be thinking?

“He hasn't told your mum about the dragons?”

“I think he's afraid,” Ron laughed, continuing onto a second helping of breakfast. He had apparently inhaled his first helping while Harry was reading. “I wonder if Hagrid knows?”

“You wonder if Hagrid knows what?” Ginny's voice interrupted their conversation as she took a seat next to Harry. His stomach fluttered pleasantly, then proceeded to flip flop as she smiled at him.

“About the dragons,” Hermione provided as she read the letter for herself. She finished quickly, then handed the letter to Ginny. “Your brother Charlie wrote. Look.”

Ginny took the much looked over letter and began to read. Harry watched her face as she read, looking for her reaction. Her jaw set and her lips became tight. Harry thought she looked determined.

“I can't believe he didn't say anything to Mum,” she finally said, folding the letter back up.

“Can you imagine how that would go over?” Ron asked.

“Can you imagine how she'll react when its over and she realizes that Charlie knew all along?” she pointed out, grinning smugly. “I don't think that will go over well.”

“Well, maybe he'll tell her later,” Ron shrugged.

“Doubt it,” she laughed, then turned to Harry, looking serious once more. “So what are we going to do?”

“Huh?” he asked stupidly. He had been momentarily distracted by the sound of her lighthearted laughter. His response only seemed to amuse her, though, and she grinned.

“What are we going to do about the dragons? I mean, how do we fight it?”

“We were going to go research in the library,” Hermione said quickly. “I'm sure there's a book somewhere that will help.” Harry stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but only just. Of course Hermione would think that the library had an answer.

“Good idea, Hermione,” Ron said, surprising everyone else at the table. Ron thought that going to the library was a good idea?

“What?” he asked, looking scandalized. “We can't very well just let Harry and Ginny get pummeled by a bloody dragon out there!”

“Language, Ron,” Hermione chided, but her face was rather pink looking, and she didn't look all that disapproving.

“Ron's right, too,” Ginny said, and then she laughed.

“What are you laughing for?” Ron demanded, scowling. “I'm right sometimes.”

“Of course you are, Ron,” Hermione said soothingly, but she was failing at hiding her small smile.

“Let's just go already,” he grumbled.

“Don't you want to finish eating, Ron?” Ginny asked, shocked at Ron's still half full plate.

“I don't always eat!”

“Let's go,” Harry said, saving his best mate from further teasing. Ron shot him a grateful look, but Harry merely shrugged in response.

“So we'll meet in the library after lunch?” Hermione said as she gathered her things.

“Sounds like a plan,” Ginny agreed, waving at the trio as she headed toward her class. Harry stood still as he watched her walk away, holding back the deep sigh he felt welling up in him.

Ron nudged him lightly, snapping Harry out of his reverie. “Coming, mate?” Harry nodded, glad Ron wasn't taking the mickey out of him for staring at his sister while she walked away.

–

“A'right there, Harry?” Hagrid asked during Care of Magical Creatures, setting his huge hand comfortingly on Harry's shoulder, causing his knees to buckle.

“Er, yeah, sorry...”

“You jest look a bit peaky...”

Harry's mind hand wandered, and he was once again entertaining the terrible thought of dragons and what he was going to do about them.

“Is it about the first task?” Hagrid asked in a hoarse whisper. Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. Hagrid's beard twitched, and he looked briefly indecisive.

“I've got something to show ya tonight Harry. Bring yer invisibility cloak – and ya might as well bring Ginny, too. Trust me, it will be worth it.”

Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses, immediately sure that Hagrid knew about the dragons. He's going to show me and Ginny the dragons! He felt strangely excited, but far more nervous – in fact, the idea made him feel a little ill. Still, it would be worth it to see what they were going to be up against - not that he was underestimating a dragon by any means. He had to push these thoughts away as Hagrid returned to the lesson, and Hermione elbowed him rather firmly in the ribs when she saw he was spacing off.

When Care of Magical Creatures ended, with Hagrid winking and smiling broadly at Harry, the trio hurried to lunch, eating at an impossibly fast pace before speeding off to the library. Harry kept glancing anxiously at the front of the library, eyes scanning for Ginny, who hadn't showed up for lunch. Hermione had already pulled several books about dragons off of the shelves and piled them up on the table.

Ron was flipping through one of the heavy books, before he sighed and closed it. “This one's no good – it's for nutters like Hagrid who want to take care of dragons, not fight them.”

“I don't know how they can expect you to fight a dragon, Harry,” Hermione said, her nose already in another book. “They're highly magical, and nearly impossible to hit with spells. They have very thick hides that repel magic, so I don't think you should waste your time trying to stun the dragon. It takes several wizards at once to even stand a chance at stunning one.”

Harry nodded absently. Where's Ginny?

“Are you paying attention, Harry?” Hermione asked impatiently, and he quickly tore his eyes away from the front of the library and cracked open a book, nodding in what he hoped was a convincing manner.

“Of course. Don't waste time trying to stun it. Highly magical. Got it.”

Pepperbreath...horn tongue...why would anyone cast these spells on a dragon? Harry snorted.

“You might be able to get a spell through if you aim for the eyes,” Hermione commented, running her finger through a paragraph. “That would keep the dragon distracted, but I don't know for how long...”

“Sorry! Sorry I'm late!” Ginny burst into the library loudly, causing Madam Pince to glare ferociously and shush her. Ginny shrugged apologetically, throwing herself into the empty seat across from Harry. “Sorry I took so long,” she whispered quickly, out of breath. “Snape kept me after, that git. Somehow it was my fault Colin's cauldron exploded!”

“Sounds like a Snape move,” Harry nodded, smiling sympathetically. “I get that one a lot.”

“He took twenty points from Gryffindor,” she scowled. “Luckily, I managed not to get detention.”

“I'm sure I would have gotten a week.”

Ginny laughed, brushing her hair back from her flushed face, her breathing slowing to a more normal pace. “How's the research going?”

“So far, not very good,” Ron grumbled, tossing another book into the 'reject' pile. “Most of these are about taking care of dragons -”

“Yeah, and I have a useless one too. Who'd want to give a dragon Pepperbreath? Oh, Hagrid wants to show us something tonight, Ginny,” Harry added, remembering what Hagrid had told him earlier.

“After curfew?” she asked, perplexed.

“Er, well, he told me to bring the invisibility cloak.” At his words, Ginny's eyes lit up at the prospect of adventure – or maybe she was just excited to finally use the invisibility cloak.

“Knowing Hagrid, he probably wants to show use the dragons,” she grinned. “No doubt he's known about them since this thing was set up.”

Harry laughed. He could just imagine it – Hagrid hearing that dragons would be part of the first tournament had probably sent the caretaker into fantasies about Norbert, or even owning another dragon.

“Hopefully he doesn't get his hands on another egg.”

“Blimey, who'd be insane enough to give Hagrid another egg? Besides, I'm sure he just wants to ask Charlie how Norbert is doing,” Ron said, skimming through another book halfheartedly.

Hermione sighed, glancing at the time. “We don't have much longer before classes start again. You guys go ahead, I'll just pick out a couple of books that we can look at later,” she said, already plucking books out of the pile as she spoke.

Harry and Ron eagerly agreed to Hermione's suggestion, rising from the table and leaving the library as quickly as possible. Harry thought he heard Hermione mutter, “Boys,” under her breath as they left.

“See you at dinner, Harry,” Ginny called breezily, staying behind to help Hermione pack up.

“Stop ogling my sister, mate,” Ron said, shoving Harry out of the library with a grin.

“I was not ogling!” he replied heatedly, despite the fact that he had been. Not that he'd admit that to her brother.

“If you say so.”

–

“Ready?” Harry asked Ginny as Ron and Hermione finally went up to their dormitories. It was only him and Ginny in the common room now.

“Let's go,” she said, eagerly shutting the book she had been trying unsuccessfully to read. Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak out from his bag and draped it around himself, holding it open for Ginny to step under. The top of her head came up just under his nose, and a flowery scent wafted upward as he inhaled. Harry suddenly realized how close she was to him – in all his time traveling under the cloak with Ron and Hermione, he had never fully understood how little space there was under there. Now, the space seemed rather smaller, even though Ginny didn't take up as much space as Ron, and there was one fewer person than usual; he also found he didn't really mind the closeness at all.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asked him, twisting to look up at him, and Harry started - he'd been standing there with a vacant expression on his face for several moments.

“Yeah,” he said hurriedly. “Let's go.” They both shuffled forward quickly, squeezing out the portrait hole (“Who's there?” the Fat Lady asked suspiciously) and down the corridor. As they crept along, Harry's stomach would give a small jolt every time his leg brushed up against Ginny's, or her hair tickled his arm, but she seemed unaffected by their brief moments of touch.

Harry knocked softly on Hagrid's cabin door when they arrived, and Hagrid stuck his head out, smelling strongly of bad cologne.

“Harry, is that yeh?” he asked, squinting in the general direction of where he thought Harry might be.

“Yeah,” Harry responded, lifting the cloak over his and Ginny's heads, the cool November air biting at his nose and cheeks.

“Good, yeh brought Ginny, too.”

“Hello Hagrid,” she smiled as he ushered them both into his cabin. Hagrid was wearing a horrible brown suit and an orange tie, and Harry thought that he had tried to comb his hair (there were a few broken teeth from the comb in his unruly hair).

“Er, Hagrid,” Harry began, ready to ask why he was dressed that way, when a sudden, loud knocking came on the front door.

“Under the cloak!” Hagrid said gruffly, and Harry threw it over them again, holding his breath. Who in the world was knocking at Hagrid's door at this time of night (besides the two of them, but they had been invited, after all). Hagrid opened his door, and Harry and Ginny were greeted by the sight of Madame Maxime. Harry was bewildered. What was she doing here?

“'Ello, 'Agrid,” she said, and Hagrid wiped his large hands on his coat nervously.

“Bon sewer,” Hagrid responded, and Ginny giggled quietly next to him.

“He's on a date!” she whispered, her warm breath tickling his ear. He hoped fervently that she didn't feel him shiver next to her.

“Then why are we here?” Harry hissed back, gesturing impatiently at the large woman. Was Hagrid out of his bloody mind? Ginny merely shrugged in response, but then tugged on his arm.

“They're leaving!” she whispered, and sure enough, Hagrid was stumbling off, gazing at Madame Maxime with a dazed expression on his face – Harry had seen that expression on Hagrid's face only once, and that was when he'd been looking at baby Norbert.

“I think it's love,” Harry said dryly as he and Ginny hurried to keep up with the two towering people's footsteps, while trying to remain as quiet as possible.

Harry's feet were beginning to get numb as they walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and he began to wonder if Hagrid was really going to show them anything at all.

“Maybe he just wanted to show us Madame Maxime. Not that we could miss her,” Ginny commented, seemingly picking up on Harry's thoughts.

“Or maybe he's forgotten we're here,” Harry said, somewhat grumpily. He wiggled his toes in his trainers in an effort to recirculate the blood in them.

“My hands are freezing,” Ginny complained, rubbing them together briskly. Without thinking, Harry cupped her hands in his own, bringing them up to his face, and exhaling warm air on them. They stopped walking as Harry sheepishly lowered her hands, though he still kept his own wrapped around hers, ignoring the fact that his hands felt almost as cold as hers.

“Thanks,” she murmured, though he didn't know if he had really done much. He was grateful for the dark so Ginny couldn't see the heat rising to his face (suddenly it seemed much too warm outside).

“You're welcome,” he whispered back, and she gripped his hand back, squeezing it lightly. He felt a racing pulse in her hand (or was it in his own?) and in the semi-darkness under the cloak, he could discern her bright eyes. Harry felt himself leaning forward involuntarily, all thoughts of Hagrid, Madame Maxime, and dragons gone from his mind. He was focused solely on the red head in front of him.

Harry jumped violently as a sudden, deafening roar shook the forest, and he pulled away from Ginny like he was on fire. He felt the cloak beginning to slip from his head and grasped at it desperately, stopping it before it fell off the both of them. He was sure that both of their feet were visible, but he didn't think anyone would be looking particularly hard at the ground after that violent roar.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, placing a hand over his racing heart. Hagrid had finally brought them to the dragons.

Ginny let out a wheezing laugh, but it was drowned out as another roar was let loose.

“Oh my,” Madame Maxime breathed.

“Gorgeous creatures, aren't they?” Hagrid responded, gazing fondly at the four, raging dragons.

“Stay back, Hagrid! This Horntail can shoot fire up to 40 feet, and she's not in a good mood!” One of the dragon tamers called out, while several other men shot spells at the said Horntail, trying to subdue it unsuccessfully. Hagrid took one step back, but Harry though the wild man would rather get closer to admire the dragons up close.

“Charlie!” Ginny exclaimed, but only Harry heard her; the dragons were making too much ruckus to allow anyone to hear them. They watched as Charlie and the other dragon tamers struggled to quiet the dragons, and eventually, Harry decided they should just go. He was beginning to lose all feeling in his feet.

“Let's go. We've seen all we need to.” As he shuffled around, he caught a flash of movement in the bushes. He narrowed his eyes, squinting into the darkness until he recognized the form of Karkaroff. So they all knew about the dragons – except for Cedric. Harry would bet that Madame Maxime and Karkaroff weren't going to keep the news of the dragons quiet from their respective students. He made a silent note to tell Cedric when he saw him.

–-

Harry's opportunity came the very next day. He spent most of the day with heavy eyes, his wits dulled by the previous night's activities. Ginny seemed just as tired – she had slept on her empty plate during breakfast, waking up with a startled cry when they had to leave for class. Blinking blearily, she had waved halfheartedly at the trio and stumbled off to class.

On his way to lunch, Harry spotted Cedric while Malfoy and several Slytherins flashed their new badges, leering as Harry walked past. Potty and Weasel Cheat! Choose Diggory! Harry ignored them, walking purposefully toward Cedric.

“Er, can I have a word?” he asked, feeling very short and inadequate next to the tall, good looking seventh year.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, grinning sheepishly as his Hufflepuff friends chuckled. Harry walked a short distance away, but far enough that no one could overhear him.

“Cedric, the first task is dragons,” he whispered urgently.

“What?” Cedric asked, his bemused grin changing into one of surprise.

“Dragons,” Harry repeated. “I saw them, last night.”

“I...thanks. But, why'd you tell me?”

“Fleur and Krum know, too...it just wouldn't be right if you were the only one who didn't know.” Cedric gave him a long look, and then he smiled.

“Thanks, Harry,” he finally said, straying back to his friend's table.

“Potter,” Professor Moody suddenly growled from behind him. Harry stopped himself from jumping, and turned around quickly.

“Professor, I-”

“Come with me,” the gnarled man said, motioning with his scarred hand and clumping away. Harry followed him reluctantly, his heart racing. What would Professor Moody do? The First Task was supposed to be a secret...but they couldn't just kick him out of the tournament, could they? Moody thumped up into his office, gesturing at the empty seat for Harry to sit in.

“Professor, I was just -”

“I know what you were doing,” the man said gruffly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “That was awfully noble of you, Potter. And don't worry. Cheating is a long running tradition in the Triwizard Tournament.” Moody reached for his hip flask and took a long drink, shaking his head as he finished.

“Now, what are you going to do about your dragon?”

“What?” Harry asked blankly, staring at the man in front of him. Something about this scene seemed familiar, and he couldn't place it.

“Your dragon. How do you plan to get past it?”

“I thought we had to fight one,” Harry said stupidly.

“Of course not, it takes a well trained wizard to tame a dragon, much less fight one, and seventh years aren't equipped to handle that. There will be a certain task each of the champions are required to do, I won't say what though.”

“Well...I don't know,” Harry admitted. They had been looking for spells to fight a dragon, not to get by one!

“Think about your strengths, Potter!” The ex Auror growled, his electric blue eye spinning wildly.

“I...” Harry paused, a sudden light going off in his head. “I can fly.”

“Exactly,” Moody crowed, grinning.

“Flying...” Harry breathed. “I have to go! Er, thanks, Professor Moody,” Harry said hurriedly, swinging his book bag over his shoulder and flying out of the room.

“Ginny!” he exclaimed when he sat back down at the lunch table.

“Harry, what is it?” she asked, eyes widening at his windswept appearance.

“Flying,” he said, as though the one word answered everything.

“Er, yes?”

“That's the answer to our problem. We have to fly past the dragons.”

“I thought you had to fight them,” Hermione interjected, leaning toward him and speaking lowly so no one overhead.

Harry shook his head and quickly explained what Professor Moody had explained to him.

“Well, that's bloody brilliant. That should be no problem for you mate,” Ron grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“What about me?” Ginny asked.

“Well, you can do the same thing. You're brilliant on a broom, Ginny,” Harry assured. She flushed delicately, but shook her head, her red hair falling in front of her face.

“I mean, I don't have a broom, and I don't think any of the school brooms are even close to being fast enough to fly past a dragon.”

“Oh well...” Harry spluttered, at a loss.

“Ride on Harry's broom,” Hermione said.

“But Harry will be on his broom, Hermione,” Ron said exasperatedly.

“I meant ride Harry's broom with Harry,” she said scathingly, and Harry was sure they'd start bickering.

“Oh...yeah, she can ride with you Harry,” Ron agreed, to the surprise of everyone else at the table.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” Harry muttered, ruffling his hair nervously. “What about the other champions? Do you think they'll think to use a broom?”

“Who cares?” Ron snorted. “Let them figure it out on their own. You're going to be the best one out there. Well, you and Ginny,” Ron amended.

“Yeah, Harry. They can figure it out on their own, and we'll figure out how we're going to do this,” Ginny said, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Okay,” he said in a lightly strangled voice, then cleared his throat. “Right. There's no way a dragon will catch us on the Firebolt.”

“But Harry, there's the matter of how you're going to bring your Firebolt to the tournament,” Hermione pointed out, and all of Harry's high hopes fell. She must have seen the crestfallen look on his face. “There's a spell,” she said hurriedly.

“You could have mentioned that first,” he said sourly.

“It's a Summoning Charm,” she began in her lecturing tone, but Harry stopped her.

“Accio,” he said, and Hermione deflated.

“Well, yes. How did you know?” He gave her a significant look. How else had they known anything else this year? He didn't want to discuss it in front of Ginny, though. She seemed to get the look and nodded.

“I guess we'll just, um, practice the spell until you get it,” Hermione finalized, sounding a bit flustered.

–

It turned out that Harry didn't need much practice. He was able to perform the Summoning Spell with ease, but he wasn't honestly all that surprised. After all the success he'd been having with spells all year, Accio wasn't very difficult. When Ginny came to practice with them, though, Harry pretended he was having difficulty, and she wasn't any the wiser. It didn't take long for Ginny to catch on, either, leaving the trio impressed.

“What?” she asked, grinning impishly. “I'm good at more than just the Bat Bogey Hex.”

“If you can learn spells these fast, then I'm glad you're on my team,” Harry laughed.

“You learned it just as quickly as me,” she pointed out, and Harry squirmed uncomfortably under her praise.

“I guess...” he trailed off. “So I guess the next thing we practice is, er, flying together?”

“I guess so.”

–

That weekend, Harry and Ginny made their way out to the empty Quidditch pitch, Firebolt in hand.

“So, uh, how should we do this?” Harry asked. “I've never flown with anyone else before.”

“I think that since you're used to flying the Firebolt, you should steer, so...I suppose I'll sit in the back.”

“Right,” Harry said nervously, mounting his broom, seating himself further up than usual to leave room for Ginny. He looked at her expectantly, and she hesitantly threw her leg over the broom, seating herself behind him.

“Hang on,” Harry advised, and she wrapped her arms around him loosely, barely touching him. He grinned, feeling very mischievous all of a sudden. He kicked fiercely off of the ground and rocketed up into the air, and Ginny squeaked, her arms tightening quickly around his waist, pressing into his back. He was very aware of her curves, and how nicely she fit against him, and that he could catch just a hint of her flowery scent as he flew, though for the most part it was drifting away from him.

“Harry!” she shouted, once she got over the initial shock of being thrown into the air at alarming speeds, and he laughed boyishly.

“I told you to hang on!”

“Prat!” Ginny was laughing though, and Harry thought it sounded wonderful. “This is great!” she exclaimed, letting go momentarily to hold her arms out. “It's so much better than any of my brother's brooms.”

“The Firebolt is nice,” he agreed, glancing at his Firebolt fondly. “You should get your own broom.”

“I wish,” Ginny said wistfully, returning her arms around his waist, though not as tightly as they had been when he'd taken off.

“You can borrow mine,” Harry said quickly. “Anytime you want.”

“Really?” Ginny asked, surprised.

“Yeah, why not? You need practice on a good broom, until you get one of your own,” he said, twisting to look back at her. She smiled – beamed, really – and Harry couldn't help the full smile that bloomed on his own face.

“So, I was thinking,” Harry said, shifting slightly on his broom. “I've wanted to try that Wronski Feint move ever since I saw Krum do it at the World Cup.” Granted, outside of the game of Quidditch, it was really just a steep dive, but all the same...

“What, now?” Ginny asked, chuckling.

“Yeah. Want to?”

Ginny bit her lip (a very attractive look, in Harry's opinion), but then she nodded. “Alright.”

“Hold on,” Harry said again, and she leaned in closer to him, wrapping her arms around his midriff tightly. Harry's heart began to race, but he hoped she would associate it with his nervousness, and not her closeness to him. He pulled up on his broom, taking them higher to gain some altitude before they plummeted toward the ground. When he felt they were at an appropriate height, he leveled out on his broom, and stared at the ground, taking a deep breath.

“Ready?” Ginny nodded, leaning forward more so that her chin rested on his shoulder as she peered down at the ground. He tilted his head in her direction, flashing a half grin, tightening his grip on his broom. “Here we go.”

Harry leaned forward and his broom tilted forward, and they began to fall, speeding toward the ground. Harry glanced at Ginny out of the corner of his eyes, and grinned, watching as she squeezed her eyes shut, only to open them again immediately, as though she couldn't decide if she wanted to watch or not.

They neared closer and closer to the ground, his adrenaline spiking as his body prepared itself for the upcoming moment. Either they would plummet into the ground or he'd be able to pull out in time. He was hoping he'd be able to keep themselves from plowing into the ground. Behind him, he felt Ginny tense as well, as though their bodies were synchronized, or on the same frequency. Maybe it was a Quidditch reflex they both had, he didn't know, but he couldn't think about it. The ground grew larger, and suddenly they were both upon it. Harry waited until the last possible second and he pulled up sharply, and their toes skimmed the grass underneath. Ginny let go of him and threw her hands up into the air, cheering loudly, and Harry released a shaky, triumphant laugh.

“We did it!” As harry slowed his broom to a stop, Ginny leapt off, jumping joyously.

“That was amazing! I can't believe we did it.”

“Me neither. I thought we'd be part of the ground at the end there.”

“I can't believe you'd try that if you didn't think we could do it!” Ginny protested, smacking his arm lightly.

Harry shrugged, trying to hold back a laugh. “I thought we could. I just wasn't 100 percent sure.”

“What're you two up to?” Hermione's voice floated across the pitch as she made her way toward them, books in hand.

“Practicing for the task,” Ginny grinned. Hermione beamed.

“I'm glad you two are taking this seriously,” she said in an approving voice.

“Of course they are Hermione,” Ron gasped out as he jogged up to meet the rest of them. “Do you think they'll take lightly a bloody dragon?”

Harry grinned as Hermione and Ron began to bicker. He caught Ginny's eye, and then they both burst into laughter.

“What?” Ron asked, perplexed.

“Honestly you two, what's so funny?”

“Nothing,” Harry wheezed, still feeling giddy from his successful dive. With another person on his broom, no less!

“Well, we just came to get you two for dinner,” Hermione said huffily, still eyeing them both suspiciously.

“Coming,” Harry finished laughing, swinging his broom up over his shoulder. Harry felt confident that if he and Ginny could pull off that dive, then they'd have no trouble merely flying past a dragon.

–

Despite Harry's earlier confidence, when the First Task finally rolled around, he felt very nervous. Ginny appeared to be feeling the same apprehension as well – she ate less than usual and was looking a bit pale. Harry felt a pang of guilt. It was his fault that she was in this, after all, not that he knew why.

“You should eat, Ginny,” Harry said, watching as she poked her food absently with her fork. She glanced over at his mostly untouched plate.

“Maybe you should take your own advice, Harry,” she said wryly, but nibbled some food anyway.

“Right,” he said, and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. “Well, I suppose you don't really have to if you don't want to.”

They both spent the remainder of the meal taking halfhearted bites of their food, until it was finally time for the Champions to meet in the large tent that had been set up outside on the grounds. Hermione and Ron followed them to the tent for moral support.

“Just relax,” Ron said, though he didn't sound very confident. “You'll both do fine.”

“Of course you will,” Hermione agreed. “And we'll be out in the stands, cheering for you both. You'll do great,” Hermione's voice continued to get higher until her voice was almost a squeak. It wasn't exactly reassuring. Suddenly, Hermione flung her arms around Ginny and Harry in succession, squeezing them painfully. “Be careful!”

“How sweet!” Hermione released Harry, and he turned, his heart dropping. Rita Skeeter was eyeing the group hungrily, her talon like hands gripping her crocodile bag.

“Champions in the tent!” Bagman said, interrupting whatever Rita Skeeter had been about to say, much to Harry's relief. Hermione and Ron waved before joining the other masses of students making their way to the stands. Bagman ushered both Harry and Ginny into the tent, Rita Skeeter following eagerly.

Krum was sitting in the corner, a surly look on his face (Harry wondered if that was his way of showing he was nervous). Cedric was pacing, wringing his hands, but he looked up and smiled at Harry when he came in, then resumed his pacing. Fleur Delacour was muttering to herself rapidly in french.

“Okay Champions!” Bagman gushed, his boyish features lit up. “In just a few moments, the First Task will begin! Mr. Crouch here is going to explain your task to you,” he said, making room for the serious older wizard.

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Crouch said, and Harry noticed that the man seemed much more tired than the first time they had met. He now had bags under his eyes, and his hair seemed to be more grey. “I have in this bag models of the creatures you will be facing. Each of you will draw one of these models, and a number will be on each, indicating what order you shall be going in.”

Mr. Crouch held out the bag for each of them. Fleur drew first, pulling out a model replica of a Welsh Green with a number two around its neck. Krum pulled out the Chinese Fireball, with a number three around its neck. Both of them didn't seem surprised, and Harry knew that both of their respective Headmasters had informed them of what was coming.

Cedric went next, pulling out the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, with a number one around its neck. Harry's stomach fell. That meant he and Ginny and the Hungarian Horntail. He pulled out the miniature dragon, which bared its tiny fangs and flapped its wings aggressively.

“Now, as you see, you will each be facing a different dragon. The main task, however, is to get the Golden Egg! Each of these dragons are fiercely protective of their eggs, as they are all mothering, so it won't be an easy task. Good luck.”

Seriously? Good luck? Harry felt slightly hysterical, but he managed to keep his nervous twittering to himself.

“Alright, Harry?” Ginny asked him, even though she didn't look very well herself.

“Just peachy.”

“Bit different than we anticipated, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Now we have to steal a bloody egg from a dragon's nest!”

“Well, just a slight hiccup,” she said, trying to sound confident. “It's just like catching a really big snitch.”

“I suppose...” Harry agreed slowly. Except, this snitch wouldn't be flying in the air, and would be protected by a large, angry dragon.

They both grew quiet, sitting in nervous silence as they waited. Cedric was called first; the whole event seemed familiar to Harry. The anticipation, listening to the cries and gasps of the watching crowd, feeling his own nervousness growing, it all felt...old. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as a wave of nausea rolled over him.

They didn't see Cedric return after he was done, but the crowd cheered loudly, and Harry could vaguely hear the loud voice of Mr. Bagman announcing. Fleur Delacour was next. She took a deep breath of her own, clenching her fists, and steeling herself for the task in front of her, before sweeping out of the tent, a determined, if not scared, look on her face.

Harry felt his nausea growing as the time passed, and he didn't know if it was from his escalating headache or his rising anxiety. As he continued to take deep, steadying breaths, he felt Ginny take his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. He kept his eyes closed, but nodded.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully, and she made a small noise in response.

Krum soon followed Fleur, and Harry's hands began to sweat, causing him to remove his entangled hand from Ginny's. He wiped his palms on his jeans and gripped his knees tightly, until his knuckles turned white.

“We're next,” he croaked, his voice cracking.

“Yup.” Ginny looked pale, and was now pacing back and forth in front of the tent entrance, much like Cedric had been doing before. Harry rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, trying desperately to relieve some of the tension he was feeling.

“And now, for our final CHAMPION!” Harry heard the voice of Bagman float in through the tent opening. He stood up quickly, hands twitching. He plunged his hand into his robes and gripped his wand, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him.

“Ready, Ginny?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

Stepping out from the tent, Harry felt a surreal sense of being. The crowd's cheers and boos were dim in his ears. It was only him, Ginny, and a dragon. Nothing else mattered.

I can do this.

“Accio Firebolt!” Harry shouted, pointing his wand at the castle. In front of him, the Hungarian Horntail roared, eyeing both him and Ginny menacingly with yellowed eyes, her pupils slit-like as she stared them down.

The minutes dragged, and Ginny nudged him nervously.

“Is it coming?” she asked, staring at the dragon, which was inching closer now, nostrils flared.

“It's got a long way to come,” Harry pointed out. The dragon roared, shaking the very ground he was standing on, and he shoved Ginny out of the way as the dragon lunged, snapping it's teeth.

“There!” Ginny shouted, pointing at an object whizzing in the air toward them as she scrambled back to her feet. Harry hopped on as his Firebolt reached him and sped towards Ginny, grabbing her arm and pulling her up as she swung her leg over the broom stick, gripping his midriff as he sped up. This time, he had no time to be aware of how she felt against him. He had much bigger problems. Dragon sized.

The dragon's giant head followed them, snaking toward them. Harry sped up, gaining altitude quickly. Each way Harry turned, the dragon's head followed, weaving upward into the sky, roaring in anger. He had to roll out of the way violently as the dragon spewed fire, and Ginny's grip tightened convulsively. Harry paused briefly overhead, out of reach of the dragon, gazing down at the ground. The golden egg glinted, achingly out of reach.

“Dive!” Ginny shouted.

“What?”

“Dive!” she insisted, and so Harry dived, dodging the snapping jaws of the dragon as he went. As they neared the ground, Ginny's grip began to loosen, and Harry wondered what exactly she had in mind.

“Go for the egg!”

He adjusted his aim and headed for the egg, wondering what Ginny had in mind. He glanced behind him to see the dragon's head closing in on them as she roared angrily again, making Harry's teeth vibrate in his mouth. He tore his eyes away from the gigantic beast and concentrated on his destination, his heart pounding wildly. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, putting on an extra burst of speed.

Suddenly, Ginny let go of him completely, and Harry had to look back to see if she'd fallen off. She was there, but she was now upside down, gripping the Firebolt with her knees, her arms outstretched toward the golden egg. Harry had no time to talk about her predicament as the dragon snapped at his broom behind him. Ginny snatched the egg off of the ground, and Harry pulled up sharply to avoid the Horntail once again. He climbed into the sky, hoping to get out of the angry Horntail's reach. Harry was vaguely aware of Bagman announcing something, but the crowd seemed far away.

“Harry!” Ginny suddenly yelped, and he looked down as his broom continued to rise. To his horror, Ginny had slipped right off the back. How stupid could he have been? She couldn't hold onto the broom in a vertical rise with her knees! The weight of the egg had pulled her right off the back, and now she was plummeting back down to the ground, said egg gripped tightly in her arms.

“Great Merlin! Young Ginny Weasley as fallen off the back of the broom with the egg!” Mr. Bagman announced.

Levicorpus! Harry thought as he drew his wand. He didn't know what the spell was, or how he knew it, much less that he knew it should be nonverbal, but he knew it was save her. Suddenly, she stopped falling, and she was dangling in the air by her ankle. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and he thought he could hear people in the background screaming and cheering.

His relief was short lived though. Ginny was now hanging in the air in front of the dragon, like some sort of treat. The Horntail lunged, jaws open wide, several sharp, Ginny-sized teeth flashing. Harry did the only thing he could think of – he did the counter spell and let Ginny drop. The dragon missed, and Harry dived, making himself as flat as he could on the broom.

“Come on,” he urged his broom under his breath, pushing it to it's limits. He was nearing Ginny at what felt like an excruciatingly slow pace. The weight of the golden egg seemed to drag her down and make her fall more quickly, and Harry cursed the stupid egg. Now he was in the most dangerous dive he could have imagined while Ginny fell screaming below him.

But then he was flying up next to her, and he let go of the broom with his right hand, encircling his arm around Ginny's waist and pulling her sharply toward him. She maneuvered herself as best she could while falling in midair, and managed to swing one leg up over the broom, gripping the egg all the while. Now, she was a the front of the broom, her face toward Harry as they continued to dive toward the ground at an alarming rate.

“I can't see!” Harry yelled as Ginny glanced down toward the ground. Her hair was flying everywhere, making it difficult to tell when they were going to crash into the ground.

“I'll tell you when!” she shouted back, her voice hoarse from her previous screaming. “Trust me!”

So Harry concentrated on out flying the enraged dragon in a dangerous plummet toward the ground, with no clue when to pull up except for Ginny's word.

“Now!” she shouted after what felt both like seconds and forever. Harry pulled out of his dive sharply, and he looked down, almost laughing as his trainers skimmed over the rocks.

“We did it,” he laughed, his voice hoarse as well.

“AMAZING!” Bagman's voice rang out over the field, over the crowds cheers, which seemed deafening now that Harry didn't have a dragon trying to kill him. He slowed his broom to a spot, peering back as several dragon trainers rushed onto the field to subdue the rampaging Horntail.

“Will our Final Champions...er...Champion...Oh, whatever, will Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley please return to the finishing tent while their score is calculated?” Mr. Bagman announced to the crowd, grinning broadly.

Now that Harry was off the ground, his entire body seemed to be shaking, from relief of all of the adrenaline, he didn't know. He ushered Ginny back into the tent where Madam Pomfrey was tending to Cedric, who had a nasty burn on his arm.

“Dragons!” she tutted, shaking her head as she bustled around.

“Thanks for catching me,” Ginny said, her arms still gripped tightly around the egg.

“Of course,” Harry said, brows drawing together. “I wasn't going to just let you fall. Or get eaten by a dragon.”

“You two!” Madam Promfrey said sharply, causing them both to jump. “Let me check you over,” she said briskly, leading them over to two beds.

“I'm fine,” Harry insisted. “Check Ginny first...”

“There's nothing wrong with me,” Ginny shot back, glaring at him.

“I wasn't the one who fell several feet from a broom,” Harry pointed out.

“I'll check over both of you,” Madam Promfrey interrupted. Once she had established that they were both fine, she allowed them to go wait for their score.

“GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!” Ginny jumped violently and swung her head around, gulping. Mrs. Weasley was hurrying toward the both of them, shaking her finger sternly. Her entire face was white. Behind her followed Ron, the twins, Percy, Charlie, and Hermione. Hermione had several crescent shaped marks on her face.

“Hey Mum,” Ginny said weakly.

“How could you do something so foolish? You could have been killed!” Mrs. Weasley cried hysterically, before pulling her daughter into a crushing hug. “And Harry, you saved her, thank god!” Harry was suddenly pulled into the massive hug as well.

“Brilliant!” the twins cried, grinning widely.

“That was the best flying I've ever seen,” Ron said, clapping Harry on the back soundly after his mother had released him. “Krum didn't even think to fly. You two were definitely the best.”

“I can't believe you didn't get a scratch on you. Mum was having kittens when she saw the dragons,” Charlie said, earning him a fierce glare from his mother.

“You two did it!” Hermione said, launching herself at Ginny and then Harry in tight hugs.

“This one looked about ready to pull her face off the entire time,” George joked.

Mrs. Weasley fussed over both him and Ginny for several moments, berating them and congratulating them simultaneously, until it was time for their score to be called.

“C'mon mate, they're about to give you your score,” Ron said.

Harry held his breath, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Madame Maxime went first, waving her wand in the air. A ribbon shot out, forming the number 8 in the air. The crowd cheered and Ron nudged him. The cheering subsided as Mr. Crouch waved his wand and awarded Harry and Ginny with a solid 9.

“Alright mate, so far so good,” Ron yelled over the roars of the crowd. Karkaroff was next, awarding them both with a measly 5.

“Come on!” Ron shouted, scowling.

“You certainly did better than a five,” Hermione insisted, a frown tugging at her lips. “He seems rather biased to me, and that doesn't make for the best judge,” she decided, disapproval in her voice.

Dumbledore also awarded Harry and Ginny with a 9 (much to Professor Snape and Karkaroff's visible disapproval) and Mr. Bagman awarded them a perfect 10.

“Harry, Ginny, you're in first place,” Charlie said excitedly.

“Wicked!” The twins both exclaimed, shaking Harry's shoulder's enthusiastically.

“Oh, my baby's in first place!” Mrs. Weasley cried, once again gathering Ginny into a bone crushing hug. “But don't you dare do anything that dangerous in the next task!” she quickly reprimanded, her face stern.

“Mum,” Ginny grumbled, scowling. “I just did what had to be done to get the egg.”

“There was no reason for you to hang upside down and then fall off a broom! You're lucky you didn't break your neck! Thank god Harry caught you!” Mrs. Weasley seemed on the verge of tears, but Professor Dumbledore interrupted, smiling kindly, his eyes twinkling as benevolently as ever.

“Molly, I'm afraid Harry and Ginny are needed back in the tent with the other champions.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Mrs. Weasley nodded, dabbing at her eyes hastily. “Off you two go. I'll see you both at the second task. Be good!”

“See you in the common room,” Ron waved, still beaming broadly before he and the Weasley's melted back into the crowd that was making its way noisily up to the castle.

“You're Mum's right,” Harry said as he watched them walk away. “That was incredibly risky.”

“Not you, too,” Ginny huffed, but Harry grinned.

“It was brilliant, too. Except for the falling part, but I think that was partly my fault.”

“But you did a perfect Wronski Feint,” she pointed out.

“It was just a dive,” he pointed out. “And, that wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind, trust me,” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Ah, there they are!” Bagman crowed as Ginny and Harry entered the tent again. “Our first place champion! Er...champions! Oh, you know what I mean,” he said dismissively, chuckling heartily. “Now, you've all got your eggs,” he said, looking pointedly at each champion's egg. “Now, inside these eggs is a clue, see the hinge? All you have to do is figure it out before the Second Task! Easy as that! The Second Task will be held on February 24th, at half past nine, so be prepared!”

–

The results of the first task were the talk of the school. Harry overheard several people explaining in great detail things he didn't actually remember doing while he was facing the dragon, much to his own amusement. The party after the task had been fantastic – when he and Ginny finally made it back to the Gryffindor common room, they were met with a wall of noise, and hailed by their fellow students, who praised them and congratulated them enthusiastically.

Hermione had taken a keen interest in where Fred and George had nicked the food, but her musings were interrupted when everyone had encouraged Harry and Ginny to open their egg. They obliged, only to be rewarded with a high pitched screech, and they had hastily closed it again.

For now, the egg was lying up in Harry's dormitory in his trunk, for the most part, forgotten. Harry felt confident that they would have plenty of time to figure the clue out.

The weather soon turned frigid as they slipped into December, and the egg continued to lie undisturbed as Harry was once again immersed in homework. Well, Hermione was caught up in homework, at least. Ron and Harry were currently having a wand fight with two of Fred and George's fake wands.

“Potter, Weasley!” Professor McGonagall said sharply, causing Harry to drop his fake wand, returning his attention to his professor with burning cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said, her lips thin with irritation. “Now, as I was saying, as is tradition with the Triwizard Tournament, we will be holding a Yule Ball. Only fourth years and above can attend, but you may invite younger students if you so wish.”

This announcement caused a burst of giggles from several girls, mainly Parvati and Lavendar. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and continued.

“The ball will be an opportunity for us to...let our hair down, so to speak. However, this is still a formal event, and I will expect Gryffindor to be at their utmost behavior.”

She gave them all a severe look and dismissed the class. Harry heard several of the girls chattering excitedly as they left the room.

“Mr. Potter, a word, please,” Professor McGonagall said, and Harry walked up to the room with a heavy heart, sure he was about to be reprimanded for his wand battle.

“Mr. Potter, it is tradition for the champions to dance at the ball,” she began and Harry stared at her for a long moment, unable to comprehend her words.

“What?”

“You will dance, Mr. Potter, so I suggest you get yourself a partner.”

“I don't dance,” he spluttered, shaking his head. Who would he ask?

“Yes, you do, and you will. It is tradition.”

“But-”

She gave him another sharp look, one that indicated that the discussion was over. “And do inform Miss Weasley if you see her,” she said, and then waved dismissively. “Good day, Mr. Potter.”

Ginny! He thought as he exited the Transfiguration classroom. Surely...maybe...perhaps he could ask her to the dance. The Goblet seemed to think they had some sort of connection, so why couldn't he ask her to the dance? Nodding silently to himself, his resolve sharpening, he hurried away from the room and toward the Gryffindor common room, intent on asking Ginny as soon as he saw her.

Harry turned the corner sharply and yelled suddenly as he ran into another person, sending them falling backward, and his own book bag tumbling toward the ground.

“Sorry!” he said, hastily gathering his things.

“It's okay,” the person replied breathily, and Harry realized it was Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw.

“Oh! Hi, Cho. Sorry about that, I should have watched where I was going.”

“No, no, it's okay,” she smiled brightly at him as he helped her pick up her own things.

“Here,” he said as he handed back her last book.

“Thanks,” she said, straightening and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “So, have you heard?”

“About what?” Harry asked stupidly, his mind still focused on getting back to the common room to find Ginny.

“About the Yule Ball,” she said, still smiling.

“Oh, yeah, Professor McGonagall just told me. I, uh, have to find a partner for the dance. All the Champions do.”

“Really?” Cho asked, her face lighting up. “I already heard that Cedric Diggory was looking for me. I think he might as me to go,” she said, looking at Harry with wide eyes, as thought she were trying to tell him something.

“Um, congratulations, I suppose,” Harry replied distractedly.

“Is there anyone you were thinking of asking?” she asked lightly, resting her hand on his arm.

“Well, yes,” he said, his face flushing suddenly. She continued to look at him, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. He really wanted to go up to the common room. “Uh, listen, do you think you could -”

“I'd love to!” she interrupted, beaming brightly.

“Excuse me?” Harry asked, completely lost.

“Oh, I-” Cho flushed prettily, clearly flustered. “I thought you were asking...” she trailed off, gazing at the floor uncomfortably.

“That I was asking you...?” he trailed off, and then his face grew warmer as he finally realized what she was getting at. “Oh, I'm sorry, Cho...I was just going to ask if it was okay that I er, got up to my common room. I was looking for someone, actually...”

“It's okay, Harry,” she assured him, still staring at the ground.

“I guess I'll see you later, though?” Harry asked uncomfortably, unsure of how to comfort her, or even if he should comfort her.

“I'll see you later, Harry,” she said and hurried away, eyes focused firmly in front of her.

Harry hurried back to the common room, his mind racing. Had Cho really wanted him to ask her to the Yule Ball? Even when she suspected that Cedric Diggory wanted to ask her? He wasn't sure that he understood why. Cedric was certainly taller and better looking than himself.

He gave the password to the Fat Lady and crawled absently into the common room, where Ginny was sitting on the couch, reading a book. He smiled, his previous thoughts gone.

“Hey, Ginny,” he said, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

“Hi, Harry,” she beamed at him, closing her book. Her smile made his stomach lurch.

“So, er, did you hear about the Yule Ball?” he asked, sitting hesitantly beside her.

“Oh, yeah, Micheal Corner actually asked me to go with him earlier,” she replied, biting her lip. Harry's heart sank down into his stomach, and he felt a bit sick.

“Michael Corner? That Ravenclaw bloke, right? He seems...nice,” Harry said, although he really thought that Micheal Corner was a slimy bastard whom he wanted to punch fervently.

“Yeah,” she said lightly, looking down at her fingers.

“I 'spect you'll have fun,” he mumbled thickly.

“Well, I didn't actually say yes.” Harry's heart leapt back up again, and he stared at her.

“Really?” he asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“Well, I don't really know him, and I was kind of hoping...well, I don't know what I was hoping, really,” she trailed off.

“Er, well,” Harry started, the nervousness rising in his stomach again. He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. “Maybe you'd like to go together? I mean, with me, that is? Because Professor McGonagall told me that I had to find a partner, because all the champions have to dance,” he rambled, twisting his hands as he spoke. “And, well, I'm a champion and so are you, in a way, and I'm not actually sure if we can go together, since we're kind of one champion, but -”

“Harry!” Ginny stopped his rambling, and he closed his mouth abruptly, heat rising in his face again.

“Sorry,” he started apologetically, but she held up her hand.

“I suppose I could go with you,” she said slowly, her mouth twitching. “I was really waiting for Neville to ask me, though.”

“What?” Harry asked, his mouth falling open.

Ginny's lips twitched again, but she failed to keep her face straight, and she smiled broadly, giggling.

“I'm kidding, Harry. I'd love to go with you to the ball.”

“Oh,” he responded stupidly, his brain taking a long moment to process her words. “Oh! Great,” he grinned goofily. “Fantastic.” They both sat there, blushing, until Ron and Hermione came through the portrait hole.

“Oi, what're you two blushing about?” Ron asked. Hermione just gave them both a knowing smile, causing them both to blush further, with shy smiles on their faces.

 

Chapter 8 – Ergo Propter​

I'd do anything at all
just to catch you smile again



“You asked Ginny to the dance?” Ron asked, blinking at Harry like he'd never seen anything like him before.

“Yeah, why not?” Harry asked lightly, feigning extra interest in his Transfiguration book. “I mean, we're friends-” At this, Ron snorted, but Harry merely ignored him and continued. “-and I had to take someone to the dance, and so did she...” he trailed off as Ron continued to stare. “What?” Harry demanded defensively. “Would you rather she'd gone to the dance with Michael Corner?”

“Of course not,” Ron shook his head. “I'm just surprised, I suppose. I didn't think you'd ask her.”

“Well, who are you going with?” Harry asked, desperate to change the subject. Ron ears turned pink as he flushed uncomfortably.

“I don't know. I was thinking of asking...well, someone.”

“Someone?” Harry asked, his tone laced with amusement.

“Yeah!” Ron huffed.

“Ron, you haven't got long until the dance. Don't you think you should ask this someone?”

“I'm getting to it,” Ron answered evasively, pulling a Chocolate Frog out of his pocket, unwrapping it, and shoving it in his mouth, effectively ending the conversation. Harry continued to flip absently through his Transfiguration book until Hermione walked over, watching Ron with an exasperated expression. His cheeks were bulging with Chocolate Frog, and he attempted a smile while trying to keep his mouth closed, a rather new leap for Ron, who wouldn't normally be bothered about keeping his mouth shut.

“What are you two up to?” she asked, sitting herself down next to Harry.

“Talking about the ball,” Harry shrugged, shooting a glance at Ron.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ron said quickly, clearing his throat. “So, uh, are you going with anyone Hermione?” he asked, to Harry's surprise. Was Ron actually going to ask Hermione?

Hermione's cheeks pinked considerably and she tucked her bushy hair unsuccessfully behind her ear. “Actually, someone did ask me.” Ron's face fell a fraction, and he looked at her in shock.

“Who?” he demanded incredulously.

“If you must know,” Hermione sniffed disdainfully at Ron's shock, “Viktor Krum asked me.”

“What?” Ron asked incredulously, and now his face bloomed with color as a scowl darkened his face. “What's so great about bloody Krum?” he mumbled.

“He's very nice, Ron,” Hermione retorted.

“Whatever,” Ron said darkly, his mood sour. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for Ron. Then again, Ron really should have asked earlier. Still, Harry couldn't really fault him. If Harry hadn't been so set on asking Ginny before that Michael Corner bloke, he wasn't sure if he would have chalked up the nerve to ask her right away.

Hermione huffed angrily and stalked away, while Ron fumed at the carpet. Harry patted Ron's shoulder lightly.

“Bad luck, mate.”

“What do I care?” Ron asked. “She can go with whoever she wants. Even if it is bloody Krum.” Harry, feeling Ron wasn't exactly in a cooperative mood, left Ron to himself and went up to his dormitory. He was fervently glad that he had asked Ginny immediately – otherwise, he was sure he wouldn't be feeling much better than Ron was right now.

–

The next day, Harry was stopped after Transfiguration class by Professor McGonagall.

“Potter, may I have a word?”

“Yes Professor?” Harry asked as Ron and Hermione shot him intrigued looks. He waved them away, mouthing a 'See you later' to them. He wondered what on earth Professor McGonagall had to say to him now – perhaps she would be telling him that he also had to juggle, or something equally impossible, at the Yule Ball, along with dancing.

“I hear that you've asked Ginny Weasley to the dance.”

“Oh,” Harry blurted, confused. “How did you know?”

“Word spreads quickly,” Professor McGonagall said, a hint of a smile on her lips. Harry shook his head. He'd just asked her, after all. He supposed people would never tire of talking about him. “However,” she continued, “I'm afraid you can't attend the ball with Miss Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said briskly, though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes.

“I – wait,” Harry spluttered. “Why not?” He was bewildered. “You said I needed someone to take, and I asked Ginny,” he stated, fighting back the blush in his cheeks.

“Yule Ball tradition calls for each champion to have a dance partner, as you will be leading the dance. However, a champion may not take another champion. I'm sorry, but that is just the way it is done.”

“But-”

“I'm sorry,” Professor McGonagall repeated firmly. “You'll have to find yourself another dance partner. Now if you'll excuse me, I have another class to teach, Mr. Potter.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry mumbled glumly, exiting her office dejectedly. The elation he had felt the previously was quickly draining away. He certainly wasn't looking forward to finding someone else to go to the dance with, but he was feeling worse about breaking the news to Ginny. The idea of her going with someone else did little for his darkening thoughts.

“Alright there, Harry?” Ron's voice jerked Harry from his brooding. “What did she want?” he asked, jerking his thumb back to where Harry had just come from.

“It was about the ball. She says I can't go with Ginny,” he said, his voice listless.

“What? Why?”

“I guess it's tradition that champions go with different partners. They can't go with each other.”

“That sounds bloody stupid, if you ask me,” Ron said sympathetically. “Who cares, as long as you have a partner?”

“Beats me,” Harry muttered. “How's your search going?”

Ron sighed, running his hand over his face. “I asked Parvati.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“...and?” Harry asked, feeling a bit exasperated. Ron could at least elaborate a little.

“She said yes.”

“Well, that's good,” Harry said cheerfully.

“I 'spose,” Ron shrugged noncommittally. “So who are you going to ask now?”

“I don't know,” Harry moaned. “I still have to tell Ginny, don't I? I guess she could go with Neville. Or that Corner bloke,” he added bitterly.

Ron frowned. “What about that Cho girl? Didn't you say she seemed interested?”

“I don't know,” Harry shrugged. “Cedric has probably asked her by now,” he conceded.

“Oh. Well, you'd better hurry before the good ones are all gone,” Ron said unhelpfully.

“I had a good one,” Harry grumbled under his breath. He and Ron walked in silence through the corridor, both musing over their Yule Ball dates.

“I hope Ginny doesn't go with Corner,” Ron finally said darkly. “He looks a bit shifty.” Harry silently agreed.

“I'd better go find her,” Harry sighed, his heart sinking right down to his trainers. He couldn't recall ever feeling so heavy-heavyhearted.

“Good luck,” Ron said, patting his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Harry said dryly. “I'll see you later, alright?” Ron grimaced, but waved Harry off. Harry took a deep breath and set off, his stomach clenching unpleasantly.

–

Harry eventually found Ginny in the library, her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on her Charms essay.

“Hey,” Harry whispered, taking a seat next to her. She looked up, smiling broadly until she saw the expression on his face.

“What's wrong?”

“I er-” he paused, unsure of how to continue. “Ican'tgowithyoutotheball.”

“Er...I didn't quite catch that, Harry,” Ginny said. Harry took a deep breath, staring diligently at the table. He couldn't look at her.

“I said...I can't go with you to the ball.” Despite his reluctance to look at her, he found himself looking anyway. Her face fell, and she looked away.

“Oh...I understand if you want to go with someone else...” Ginny was looking determinedly at her essay, picking up her quill once again, but her hand was shaking slightly, and she was biting her lip, like she wanted to say something, but couldn't.

“No!” he said quickly, and perhaps a bit too loudly, because Madam Pince glared at him and shushed him loudly. “No,” he continued more quietly. “I want to. Professor McGonagall said we couldn't. Ball tradition, I guess.”

“Tradition?” Ginny said uncertainly, her eyes finally darting upward to meet his. “So you do want to go with me?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry said gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I wouldn't have asked otherwise. I'd rather go with someone I know I'll have fun with.”

Ginny paused for a long moment, tapping her quill against the desk while Harry watched nervously.

“So why can't we go together again? What exactly did she say?”

“She basically told me that as champions, we had to have a dance partner, but we couldn't take another champion. Then she kicked me out because she had a class to teach.”

Ginny frowned at her essay, her face scrunching up in concentration again. Her teeth worked at her lower lip, and then her face relaxed as she smiled triumphantly. “But, Harry, it's just like you said – we're not two champions. Technically, at least according to the Goblet, we're one. So...we're not taking another champion, we're taking our...self.”

Harry looked at her skeptically. “Isn't that like going alone?”

“Of course not, we're two people, aren't we?” Ginny said matter of fact-ly as she began to pack her things.

“I don't know,” Harry said uncertainly. “I mean, of course I know we're two people, but do you think Professor McGonagall will agree to that?”

“We'll just have to ask her at dinner, won't we? Now come on, I'm starving,” she said, tugging on his arm.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a grin, unable to feel so pessimistic when Ginny was being so optimistic that things would work out.

-

Harry was grateful to get through dinner without putting his hand or elbow or any other part of his body into any part of his food. He was too nervous about talking to Professor to feel the usual butterflies he'd equated to Ginny being nearby. They both ate slowly, watching Professor McGonagall and waiting for her to get up from the head table. Watching

the teachers was fairly boring, though, and soon Harry was distracted by Ginny talking to him.

“We still need to figure that egg out, you know.”

“Yeah, but how?” Harry asked, thinking of the egg lying peacefully in his trunk. “It just screams loudly whenever we open it.”

“Well, they wouldn't make an impossible task. There has to be a way to find out what the clue is. Maybe it's another language,” she suggested, laughing.

“What kind of people scream at each other as a language?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Hermione and Ron,” Ginny giggled.

“They don't scream,” Harry said, trying to defend his friends, even though he was laughing as well. “They...bicker.”

“Until they both get really mad, and then they're both yelling,” Ginny pointed out.

“Who's yelling?” Hermione asked as she took a seat next to them. Ron was absent – he and Hermione hadn't been talking ever since he found out about Krum.

“We were trying to decide how to figure out the egg,” Harry said, still chuckling.

“What does that have to do with yelling?”

“I thought that maybe the screaming was just another language,” Ginny said, shrugging it off.

Hermione gave Ginny an appraising look. “I can't believe I didn't think of that myself,” she said.

“What? I wasn't serious,” Ginny said, shaking her head.

“But I think you're right!” Hermione insisted.

“There are actually people who scream at each other?” Harry asked. Then again, his Uncle Vernon certainly shouted a lot, so maybe it wasn't that farfetched.

“Not people. Creatures. I'd have to check in the library to be certain, though.”

“Of course,” Harry rolled his eyes. Ginny hit his arm suddenly, and he turned to her, frowning and rubbing his arm.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Professor McGonagall is leaving!” she said, pointing to the head table.

“Oh, bugger,” Harry swore, getting up from the table so suddenly, he hit his legs and swore again. “Shite. We'll talk to you later, Hermione,” he said, his knees smarting and his eyes watering slightly. Ginny was already far ahead of him, chasing after Professor McGonagall.

“Professor,” Ginny called out as they hurried after her in the corridor.

“Yes, Miss Weasley, Mr Potter?” she said as she stopped to let them catch up.

“Well, we were discussing what you told Harry about the ball earlier,” Ginny began casually, even though she was slightly out of breath. “I don't think that we'd really be breaking tradition by going together.”

At this, Professor McGonagall's eyebrows rose sharply and her mouth tightened. Ginny continued to explain hurriedly at the sight of the Professor's expression.

“You said two champions can't go to the ball together, but Harry and I are one champion, technically.”

Harry turned turned quickly at the sound of chuckling from behind them.

“Young Miss Weasley has a point, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore said, his blue eyes bright and shining.

“Yes, I suppose she does,” she replied, giving the pair a shrewd look. “I suppose for the two of you, the rules don't very well apply, do they?”

“No Professor,” they chorused, biting back their grins.

“Very well. You two may go together. I don't see what anyone could do about it. The pair of you seem inseparable these days, anyway.”

Dumbledore laughed again, smiling mysteriously.

“A wise decision, Minerva. I dare say Miss Weasley would have been displeased otherwise, and from what I hear, she has quite the temper. If it's anything like her mother's, I would think we'd all like to avoid her wrath.”

Ginny just shrugged, smiling sheepishly. Harry smirked.

“Off to your common room,” Professor McGonagall said with a rare smile.

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said as Ginny tugged him down the corridor. “Absolutely brilliant, Gin,” Harry enthused as they climbed through the portrait hole.

“Thank you,” Ginny beamed, pretending to curtsey.

“What's so brilliant?” Ron interrupted. “You've been gone for ages, Harry.”

“Sorry, we were talking to McGonagall.”

“Yeah?”

“We changed her mind,” Ginny crowed.

Ron shook his head. “Figures. Ginny is a pro at getting what she wants.”

“The gift of the youngest child,” Ginny shrugged modestly.

“More like the gift of daddy's little girl.”

Ginny didn't reply, but she waved dismissively at Ron.

“I've got a charms essay to finish,” she yawned, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “But it will have to wait until morning, because I'm beat. Night, Harry, Ron.”

Harry was a bit disappointed to see her going already, but he waved and smiled as she walked away, her hair swaying behind her.

“Where's Hermione?” Harry asked. He had forgotten to find her again in his elation.

“Probably talking to Vicky,” Ron sneered, his mood changing abruptly. He pulled out his own homework with more force than was necessary, and nearly ripped the parchment in two.

“Er...you still have that Divination homework due then?”

“Yeah. Crazy old bat. How may times can we predict our deaths?”

Harry shrugged, taking a seat beside Ron. Professor Trelawney had bee predicting Harry's own death as frequently as ever, but the homework hadn't been so bad.

“I've finished mine already. Want some help?”

“Sure. I could say I'll be hexed by someone I know next week.”

“My bet is Hermione or Ginny if you keep on provoking them.”

“Shut up, Harry,” Ron retorted, and Harry laughed.

-

The ball crept up more quickly than Harry could have imagined. The week had been filled with giggling girls skirting the halls and plenty of nervous guys trying to chock up the nerve to ask a girl to the dance.

Of course, Harry had been ready since the ball had been announced, but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous. In fact, he'd become increasingly more clumsy around Ginny – one morning, he'd managed to make his eggs extra scrambled when he put his hand in his plate. Ron had laughed so hard that pumpkin juice had come out his nose, effectively diverting the attention off of Harry.

Now, it was the big night, and Harry's hair refused to lie flat. Not that it had ever lain flat, but his furious attempts seemed to entice his hair to misbehave more so than usual. He sighed loudly in frustration, his hair pressed firmly to his head in another attempt. Ron threw him a disgruntled look.

“Mate, its fine, just leave it,” he snapped, looking forlornly at his frilled dress robes.

“I just wish it would lay flat for once.”

“I don't know what you're so fussed about. Ginny likes your hair just as it is.”

“I just wanted to look nice Ron,” Harry sighed, realizing Ron's frustrations weren't really aimed at him; Harry didn't want to expend energy and time arguing anyway.

“You look fine. At least your dress robes look normal. They don't have bloody frills on them. At least you're going with someone you like,” he added under his breath.

“You like Parvati well enough,” Harry said. Ron shrugged, tugging at his cuffs. “Here,” Harry pulled out his wand, waving it in Ron's direction. “I'll use a severing charm.” Ron held out his arms, and Harry tapped the robes, muttering the spell under his breath. The lace fell away – the edges of Ron's sleeves looked a bit frayed, but much better than they had looked before.

“Thanks, mate,” Ron sighed, looking much relieved. He turned and looked in the mirror critically. “Do you think this is how it happened before?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we've doe this before, or we think we've done this before...”

“Ron, you're not making a lot of sense.”

“You know, with the deja vu.” Harry realized with a start that he'd forgotten to discuss Dumbledore's conversation with Ron and Hermione. He made a mental note to tell them later.

“Oh, right. What about it?”

“What if we aren't seeing the future? Maybe all this stuff we're remembering, or trying to remember, at least, has actually already happened? That's what deja vu is like right? A feeling that you've already done something...” he trailed off at Harry's bewildered look. “What? I do listen to Hermione, you know.”

“So you're saying...what? We already know these things are going to happen because they have happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we're actually...in our own pasts?”

“Look, I don't really know,” Ron said defensively. “Hermione would know better than us, she's the one who had the time turner last year.”

“Okay, so what were you asking again?” he changed the subject, reminding himself to also ask Hermione about time traveling. Something about the idea made his skin tingle and the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Do you think it happened this way before? With the ball? Some parts feel the same...other things feel different. Like, Ginny, her going with you to the ball feels....weird.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked quickly, his pulse accelerating. Ron interpreted his expression correctly, because he quickly amended himself.

“No, no, I don't have a problem with it. It just feels different, like it doesn't belong with the sense of deja vu. It feels...” Ron paused, scratching at his chin searching for the right words. “It feels brand new,” he finally said. “Not at all like deja vu.”

“Yea, I guess,” Harry agreed, a part of him acutely uncomfortable with the idea that he could have gone to the dance with anyone else.

“But the rest feels pretty familiar,” Ron said sadly. “Like Hermione really is supposed to go with Krum.” Ron spat out Krum's name like it was a dirty curse word and kicked at some clothes on the floor. “I don't know. I'm thinking too much. I'm turning into Hermione.”

Harry didn't know what to say to his friend to make him feel better. He'd never been much good at helping other people in emotional matters.

“We should go wait for the girls,” he said, hoping to get Ron's mind of things.

“Yeah, alright,” Ron agreed, giving himself one last look in the mirror. “Let's go.”

-

Waiting was nerve wracking. Everything about the ball was nerve wracking. Every second that slowly inched by filled Harry's head with more doubts. Maybe Ginny really had gone with Neville and he was waiting for no one. Maybe she realized she didn't want to go with a boy with forever messy hair. Neville's hair laid down flat, at least.

Parvati came down first. The sight of her in her dress caused a sharp stabbing pain to shoot through his head, and his vision swam. Next to him, Ron grabbed at his head and cried out.

“Ouch!” he hissed, rubbing at his temple.

“Hey, Ron,” Parvati greeted, oblivious. “You look...uh, good,” she commented, eyeing his dress robes.

“Uh thanks,” Ron muttered. “You look nice, too.”

“Should we go?”

“I was going to wait with Harry for my sister and Hermione, actually.” Harry was a bit surprised. He hadn't thought Ron would even want to see Hermione.

“Hermione's already gone down, and Harry can wait for Ginny alone. Come on, I don't want to miss anything,” Parvati responded, pulling Ron away with surprising strength.

“It can't start without Ginny and Harry anyway,” Ron grumbled, nearly out of Harry's earshot. Harry laughed as he watched Parvati drag him away.

“What's so funny?”

Harry turned quickly and felt all the air leave his lungs. His brain seemed to shut off temporarily, and his mouth was slack, partially opened. Harry felt very warm as his heart began to thump erratically.

Ginny looked fantastic in her dress, but he found himself focusing on other things. Her hair was piled gracefully on her head, loose tendrils framing her face, and shining spectacularly in the firelight. Because her hair was pulled up, her neck and shoulders were exposed, freckles scattered over her smooth skin.

Her brown eyes held a hint of shyness; her freckled cheeks were warm with pink; her mouth was curved upward at the corners in a smile. She looked amazing.

Harry finally regained function of his brain.

“You look...just...wow.”

“Thanks,” her smile grew to dazzling proportions. “You too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, unconsciously trying to flatten his hair.

She nodded, descending the rest of the stairs and stopping in front of him.

“What was so funny?”

Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I can't remember.”

“Alright,” Ginny grinned. “I suppose we should get going. It can't start without us, right?”

“Right,” Harry breathed in agreement. He held his arm out for her, feeling strangely lightheaded. Images flickered in his mind, of Ginny in a similar dress, accompanied by Neville. He didn't know if these images were a product of his own silly worries, or if they had really happened at some point. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. All of his rushing thoughts were making him nauseous.

“Are you okay, Harry?”

“I'm fine,” he replied. “Just nervous,” he assured her.

“Me too,” she admitted.

“Well, you certainly don't look it.” She smiled again. Her smiles looked even better than usual. Harry realized that he had been standing there, staring at her, and he looked away, berating himself. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, then motioned to the portrait hole.

“Should we go?”

“Let's,” Ginny agreed.

-

Harry's mouth was dry as he and Ginny stepped into the ball room. The images assaulted his brain again, his head pounding ferociously, forcing him to close his eyes again. It took several more tries to stop the room from spinning. He spotted Hermione talking to Viktor Krum, and he and Ginny made their way over. He thought Hermione looked nice as well – her hair was much less bushy than usual, and her face was flushed with a delicate pink, shining with anticipation and excitement. Although Harry was sure he'd never seen Hermione look so dressed up before, everything about how she looked screamed familiarity to him – his brain was in complete contradiction with itself. He hoped he'd be able to get through the night.

Ron was off in the corner, standing sulkily by a table, glaring at Krum, who looked the complete opposite of Ron. Krum looked as though he were finally happy, far from the usual grumpy look he usually wore.

“Harry, Ginny!” Hermione enthused as she caught sight of them, beaming at them. “You both look great.”

“You too, Hermione,” Ginny replied. “This is your date, then?” she teased lightly, knowing full well it would embarrass Hermione.

“Oh yes, of course,” she twittered, her cheeks turning a brighter pink. “I didn't introduce you...well, obviously, you three know each other...” she trailed off, flustered. “I think I'll go get something to drink,” she mumbled and hurried away. Krum watched her disappear into the crowd of people, then turned his attention to Harry and Ginny.

“I votched at the first task,” he said, his accent thick. “I vos very impressed.”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned. “We saw you at the World Cup. You were brilliant. You gave us the idea for the dive, actually.”

The lights began to dim, and excited chatter rang out through the crowd.

“I guess that's our cue,” Harry said nervously.

“I must go find Herm-own-ninny,” Krum said and shuffled off, Ginny laughing at Krum's mangling of Hermione's name.

“Er, ready?” Harry asked, his palms growing sweaty and his mouth parched. Ginny nodded, flashing him another one of her brilliant smiles. He took her hand, praying she wouldn't notice how clammy it was, or how sweaty. She didn't say anything as he led her out onto the dance floor, though, much to his relief. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Cedric Diggory with Cho Chang and Fleur Delacour with a boy he recognized from seventh year. Hermione, he saw, was smiling and speaking softly with Krum. He wondered briefly where Ron was, but all of his thoughts left him as the music started up. He hesitantly placed his hands on Ginny's waist, feeling foolish and clumsy.

“I don't really know how to dance,” he admitted apologetically as he shuffled his feet around the floor. He was certain he was the worst dancer there.

“You seem to be doing fine,” Ginny reassured him. “Are you just being modest?”

“What?” Harry questioned, genuinely confused. He took his focus off Ginny for a moment and realized his feet were moving expertly in time with the music. He wasn't even thinking about it – his body was dancing as though he already knew what was expected from him. “I – uh...fast learner?”

“If you say so,” Ginny laughed as Harry twirled her.

When the first dance was over, he and Ginny stayed out on the floor to dance with the crowd of students. He wasn't familiar with the Weird Sisters, but Ginny was, and as she danced, he could see her singing along.

“You like this band?” Harry asked over the music. Ginny paused her fervent dancing, her cheeks flushed with warmth, panting slightly as she answered him.

“Yeah, don't you?”

“It's okay,” Harry shrugged. “I'm not familiar with wizard bands, really. Actually, not a lot of music at all. I've heard a couple of Muggle songs, but...”

“I suppose the Dursley's didn't let you listen to music, did they?”

“Not really,” he agreed. “They bought Dudley a CD player though. Then he sat on it.”

“What's a CD player?” Ginny asked, her nose wrinkling in confusion. Harry thought she looked rather cute when she did that. He smiled broadly.

“It's a device that plays music.”

“Oh. Does it use eklektricity?”

“Kind of. It needs batteries, and you have to replace them if they run out of power.”

“Weird,” Ginny breathed fervently. “I'm sure my dad would love it. He's got enough plugs and batteries in the shed to use one, I bet.”

“Probably,” Harry agreed with a laugh.

They had more irrelevant conversations throughout the night. Honestly, Harry didn't mind. He was learning more about Ginny, and he was having a lot of fun.

Ron, on the other hand, had danced halfheartedly with Parvati, but was too busy glaring at Krum and Hermione to really dance. A Beauxbatons boy came over and Parvati danced off with him while Ron returned to sulk in the corner.

Halfway through the night, Michael Corner had approached Ginny and Harry, asking Ginny if she'd like to dance. She'd paused, giving Harry a questioning look, but he shrugged and stepped aside.

“Go ahead.”

Michael smiled warmly at Ginny and put his hands on her waist, whisking her away. Harry's hands twitched convulsively as he watched them. She looked like she was having fun, and Michael looked like a much better dancer than himself.

“Who's that bloke dancing with Ginny?” Ron asked as he came up behind Harry.

“Michael Corner,” Harry said levelly.

“That git? Why'd you let her dance with him?”

“She can dance with whomever she wants,” Harry shrugged, even though he was silently agreeing that Michael was a git.

“So? She came to the dance with you, not him.”

“Yeah, and we've danced. It's not like I'm her – you know – boyfriend, or anything. I don't have a monopoly on Ginny,” he said defensively. He was feeling more put out by the second, watching Ginny and Michael laugh and dance. “Besides, you came with Parvati, and she's off dancing with someone else, so what's your point?” he snapped.

“Er, whatever you say mate,” Ron said warily.

“Hi Harry,” Cho called out as she spotted him, making her way over. “Want to dance?”

“What?” Harry asked, startled, while Ron nudged him. He tore his eyes away from where Ginny was. “Where's Cedric?”

“Over there dancing with Fleur,” Cho replied. “So, do you want to?”

“To what?” Harry asked stupidly.

“Dance, silly,” Cho grinned, blinking rapidly. Harry wondered if she had something in her eyes.

“Er, I 'spose,” Harry reluctantly agreed.

“Great,” Cho gushed, grabbing Harry's hand and tugging him onto the dance floor. He began dancing awkwardly, feeling much more clumsy with Cho than he had with Ginny.

“So...” Harry began slowly, searching for something to talk about. “So, Cedric asked you?”

“Yes, I was really pleased,” she beamed. “I saw you went with Ginny. I thought Michael Corner asked her?”

“He did, but she hadn't said yes yet,” Harry explained. Cho craned her neck and looked over at Michael ad Ginny.

“They look cute together.”

“Er-” Harry glanced over. He disagreed. He thought Michael looked like a great, dance-partner stealing prat.

“Cedric is having a lot of fun with Fleur, by the looks of it,” Cho continued on.

“She's part Veela,” Harry stated, because he had nothing else to say.

“That explains why all the boys act like their brains are mush when they're around her.”

“I guess.”
“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat behind Harry ad he turned to see Ginny, looking less than pleased.

“Hey,” she said as Harry's arms dropped away from Cho.

“Hi,” Harry replied. “Uh, how was your dance with Michael?” he asked, wishing Cho would stop holding onto his arm.

“It was okay,” she said vaguely, her eyes locked on Cho. “I see you've been keeping busy.” Ginny's words seemed a bit cool.

“Erm, yeah, Cho asked to dance since Cedric was dancing with Fleur, and since you were dancing with Michael, I didn't think you'd mind.”

“No, it's fine,” Ginny said slowly, but she sounded far from fine. He didn't really understand. “Cho, could you excuse us?” Ginny asked, her eyebrows arching upward. Cho stared at Ginny for a long moment, and Harry stared, too, watching the two girls narrow their eyes at each other, at a loss for what was going on.

“No problem,” Cho finally said, her hand dropping away from Harry. “Thanks for the dance, Harry,” she smiled before returning to Cedric's side.

Ginny's body visibly relaxed as Cho walked away.

“You two seemed to be having fun.”

“So did you you and Michael. But Cho and I were just talking.”

“And dancing.”

“Yeah. It wasn't as great as you make it sound, to be honest,” Harry retorted, feeling oddly defensive. Why was it okay for Ginny to dance with Michael, but a crime for him to dance with Cho? Was he missing something?

“Oh,” Ginny deflated, looking embarrassed. “Well, you don't have to worry either. Michael was kind of boring.”

“I wasn't worried,” Harry denied, trying to act casual even though he was cheering inside.

“If you say so,” Ginny smirked. “But you were watching us.” Harry shrugged, embarrassed to have been caught.

“I just wanted to make sure he wasn't going to steal my dance partner.”

“You were worried, then,” Ginny laughed.

“Well what about you?” he shot back. “You looked like you wanted to hit Cho.” Ginny flushed.

“Maybe...I was a little...concerned for you, is all,” she said slowly.

“Is Cho vicious and I didn't realize it?” Harry scoffed, vaguely irritated still, but growing more amused.

Ginny focused on a spot on his shoulder, then reached up to brush something off his robes. “You don't know girls very well, do you Harry? Of course, Cho's not something you usually face,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “but girls like Cho have feminine wiles to charm you. Then she would have whisked you away and I would have lost a dance partner.”

“You were dancing with Michael,” Harry pointed out again. “I'm sure he would have gladly kept you company the rest of the night.”

Ginny sighed. “I don't want to dance with Michael, Harry. I want to dance with you.”

Harry couldn't help it. He started to grin as his pulse quickened. “Yeah?”

“Of course. Why else would I have said yes, or tried to hard to make sure we could go to this ball together?”

Harry didn't know what to say, but Ginny was smiling brightly and she seemed to be leaning up toward him. The memory of their night under the invisibility cloak flashed in his mind as he began to inch toward her, too.

“Hey, you two, have you seen Hermione?” Ron interrupted them, planting himself firmly in between them both.

“Excuse me, Ronald,” Ginny said hotly. Harry felt irritated with Ron as well.

“Er, no, sorry mate,” Harry said, wishing Ron would leave. He took a deep breath to slow his pulse, running his hands through his hair.

“Maybe she had a bad time and went back early,” Ron suggested, sounding entirely too pleased by the idea. “It's getting late anyway, we should head up.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry agreed reluctantly, making a face. Ginny was giving Ron a dirty look, and Harry realized that the moment they'd been having – whatever it was – was over.

“Come on,” Ron said expectantly. Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry sighed, following Ron back to the Gryffindor common room.

-

“Bloody hell!” Ron cursed loudly as they approached the Fat Lady. Hermione appeared to be kissing Krum goodnight. She pulled away rather quickly when she heard Ron swear, and blushed spectacularly at the sight of her friends watching her, mouths slightly opened in surprise. She wouldn't meet Ron's eyes, and looked rather embarrassed and a little guilty at being caught.

“Thanks for a great night, Viktor,” she said in a hushed voice, and he kissed her hand.

“Goodnight, Herm-own-ninny.” Krum walked off, smiling in a distinctly un-Krum-like fashion, leaving a red Hermione, a shocked Ron, and an uncomfortable Harry and Ginny.

“What was that?” Ron asked blankly.

“Viktor was just saying goodnight,” Hermione said, smoothing back her hair.

“He wasn't saying anything!” Ron spluttered.

Hermione didn't have anything to say, but she bit her lip, her eyes narrowed, clearly waiting for Ron to explode. But then he deflated visibly, running his fingers through his hair.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Night, you lot,” he said, brushing past Hermione and through the portrait hole. Hermione stood there, looking on the verge of tears. Harry felt sympathy for both of his friends.

“I – well...Goodnight,” Hermione finally said, and followed Ron into the common room. Harry sighed, his head flopping back. His plan to talk to Ron and Hermione tonight was clearly out the window. Part of him didn't mind. He was feeling extremely tired, and his head was still throbbing dully.

“That was...”

“A disaster,” Ginny finished for him, shaking her head. “Poor Ron.”

“I thought for sure he was going to lose it.”

“Maybe he's growing up,” Ginny said, sounding amazed. Harry thought back to the conversation he and Ron had had earlier that day.

“I think maybe he is,” Harry agreed. He realized that he and Ginny were still standing in the hallway, the Fat Lady watching them. He muttered the password and the climbed in. He certainly didn't want the Fat Lady watching them.

“So...” Ginny said, fingering her dress.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “I uh, had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” she agreed. Now she was looking at him, so intently he thought she was trying to read his mind. It was making him extremely nervous.

“Goodnight, Ginny,” he blurted, patting her arm pathetically. Ginny lowered her eyes, looking at the ground.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she replied, her voice tight. He was feeling incredibly stupid, remembering how just moments ago Krum was kissing Hermione goodnight. Harry wondered if Ginny had wanted the same sort of goodnight. He also wondered if he had the nerve to do it. Before he could apologize for his lame goodnight, Ginny turned away and hurried up the stairs, and he swore he heard her sniffle a little. Had he made her cry?

“I'm so stupid,” he muttered to himself, dragging himself up to his own dormitory, wishing that his insides would stop squirming so uncomfortably. He'd apologize in the morning – if she'd even look at him.

He changed out of his dress robes gratefully, into his pajamas, the flopped onto his bed. He could tell Ron was still awake – the lack of snoring made it very apparent. Somehow, Harry had gone from feeling great about the dance, to feeling like a complete jerk, and he wondered if Ron was still feeling the same. He also thought about Ron's theory about their deja vu. He still needed to ask Hermione about it...if Ron made up with Hermione, that is...

Harry drifted off into a troubled sleep, his head still aching uncomfortably.

 

Chapter 9: Second Task​

The Second Task was approaching rapidly now that the Yule Ball was over. Things had been a bit strained between Harry and Ginny the following days, but they had slid back into a normal routine, and although there was still a bit of tension in the air, they were for the most part, okay again. Fortunately, neither had much time to fret over the tension, anyway. They were frantically trying to figure out the code to their wailing egg.

“This is useless,” Ginny groused grumpily, glaring at the egg as though it had insulted her.

“There has to be a way,” Harry replied wearily, rubbing his hand over his face, rubbing at his tired eyes. This was the fifth night they had stayed up, trying to discern what the egg was screaming, much to the discontent of the other Gryffindors, who were thoroughly sick of the wailing as well.

“Oi, take that somewhere else,” Seamus complained, also glaring at the egg, just before his tower of Exploding Snap combusted in his face.

“Where, you great prat?” Ginny snapped moodily. “We can't very well take it out into the corridors. It's nearly past curfew anyway.”

“Then just shut it up. I've got a headache,” Dean said, cleaning up the ashes from the remains of their game.

“You could just ask for help,” Hermione said as she climbed through the portrait hole, beaming.

“You found something?” Harry asked, his hopes rising. He'd nearly forgotten about Hermione's promise to help them. “What?”

“Well, I researched languages in the library, looking for anything that would change under certain conditions, and -”

“To the point, please,” Ginny interrupted, granting her a scowl from Hermione.

“Mermish,” she said, sounding thoroughly disappointed she hadn't been able to lecture them.

“Excuse me?” Harry asked.

“Mermish,” Hermione repeated. “It's been reported that merpeople's voices aren't discernible at all -”

“Merpeople?” Harry said aloud, but no one was paying attention.

“Well, that's great Hermione, but in case you didn't notice, Harry and I don't speak Mermish.”

“You didn't let me finish,” she said, her eyes shining eagerly as she sat down next to them, picking up their egg and setting it in her lap, eagerly rushing into her lecture once more. “It only sounds like shrieking above water. While underwater, Mermish sounds completely normal. In any case, I'm not sure there are many witches or wizards who are fluent in Mermish to communicate above water, with the exceptions of maybe Dumbledore, or Mr. Crouch. I would suggest you ask one of them to translate for you, but you're not allowed to get help from the teachers, and I highly doubt you're supposed to get help from a Triwizard judge, either,” she finished breathlessly, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“So what are we supposed to do? Learn Mermish before the task?” Harry asked desperately. “Or could we get mermaids to translate for us somehow? Where would we find mermaids?” he wondered aloud.

“Merpeople. And I suspect in the lake,” Hermione supplied. “I don't think you could learn Mermish, either, Harry. It's a very difficult language to learn, with very specific shrieks that are difficult for the human vocal cords to mimic -”

“So we have to stick our heads in the lake and ask them to translate for us?” Harry interrupted before Hermione got going again.

“Couldn't we just put the egg in the water?” Ginny asked as Hermione opened her mouth to answer. She looked slightly crestfallen that Ginny had beaten her to it.

“Oh. So I have to take a bath with an egg, then,” he said, as though it were a normal thing to say.

“I suppose, if you want to put it that way, yes,” Hermione agreed.

“Um, question,” Ginny interrupted. Harry turned his attention to her. He noticed her cheeks were looking a little red. “Do you think we, uh, both have to be with the egg for it to work?”

“I -” Hermione paused, her brows furrowing. “I have no idea,” she said honestly. “I suspect that isn't a problem with the other champions, of course, but they don't have the same dilemma as the two of you...”

Harry felt the heat rising in his own cheeks. If he and Ginny had to be present when the egg was opened underwater...did that mean he had to take a bath with Ginny? He shook his head firmly. A bath couldn't be the only solution, he reminded himself. They just needed water. Maybe a really deep sink would work.

“I could try by myself,” he said, his blush receding. “But it might just waste time.”

“Well,” Ginny began briskly, “I hope you have your swimming trunks, Harry.”

“What?” he blanched.

“We probably both have to listen to the egg at the same time, and we need a place big enough to, er, submerge ourselves.” She turned away to hide her growing blush. “And I'm not going in starkers,” she muttered.
“None of the baths are big enough for that,” Harry blurted, trying to rid the image of Ginny starkers from his head. “And the lake is freezing.”

“There are the prefects' bathrooms,” Hermione supplied officiously, which Harry supposed was her way of ignoring their obvious embarrassment. “I read in Hogwarts, A History, that the prefects' bathrooms are much larger than the others. Of course, you need a password to get in.”

The realization hit suddenly, and he leaped up from his seat, sending the egg flying. Ginny reached out and grabbed it expertly before it hit the floor, hugging it to her chest.

“What?” she demanded, recognizing that he had just had an epiphany.

“The map, of course,” he said, then hurried up the stairs. Harry opened his trunk and pulled out his handy map, grinning triumphantly, then hurrying down the stairs, taking three at a time. “Remember when Fred and George gave me the map, Hermione?” he said, slightly out of breath. “Well, I stood in front of the witch to the entrance to Hogsmeade, and it told me the password.”

“Oh!” she cried, her face lighting up as she caught on. “So you're assuming the map will do the same for the prefects bathroom?”

“Yes,” Harry grinned, glancing over at Ginny who was nodding thoughtfully.

“We'll have to do it after curfew,” she said matter-of-factly. “Otherwise, who knows who'll show up?”

“Sounds like we'll be taking another trip under the cloak,” he said quietly. “When?”

“Tonight. We can't waste anymore time. Who knows how much we'll have left to do once we know what the egg says?”

“Alright. We'll go after everyone's gone to bed.”

“Good,” she said, handing the egg back to Harry. “Don't forget your swimming trunks.”

–

Harry didn't actually have any swimwear – the Dursley's had never bought him any, as they'd never bothered to try and teach him how to swim. More likely than not, they'd hoped Harry would drown. So Harry opted for some of his old hand me downs. They were too big, but they were certainly better than nothing. So, after everyone else had gone to their dormitories, Harry trudged up the stairs and changed, grabbing his Invisibility Cloak as he went back down to meet Ginny.

“Is that what you're wearing?” Ginny asked as he came down, her school robe wrapped tightly around herself, the egg held securely in her arms.

“I don't actually...have any swimming trunks,” he mumbled, his face heating with embarrassment.

“Oh. Well, it doesn't really matter,” Ginny said simply, and Harry was glad she didn't press him about the matter. To avoid an awkward silence, Harry threw the cloak around himself, beckoning Ginny to join him underneath. She avoided his gaze, and the tension he had been feeling since the Yule Ball seemed to multiply as she stood in front of him. He let the cloak fall over her, getting a whiff of her hair as the movement wafted the flowery scent his way. Ignoring this stubbornly, they both walked slowly, climbing carefully through the portrait door. The Fat Lady mumbled in her sleep at the disturbance, but did not wake. When they were a respectable distance away from her, Harry pulled his wand from his pocket, holding it over the open map.

“Lumos!” he muttered, the tip flaring to life so he could reap the map. He had to hold it awkwardly, his arms almost around Ginny, so that she could see it as well. He scrutinized the map closely, relieved to see no teachers were nearby.

“We're clear,” he whispered to her.

“Uh...Harry...where is the prefect's bathroom?” she asked, and Harry felt incredibly stupid as he realized that he had no idea.

“Er...” he said articulately. “I have no idea.” He stared at the map, feeling somewhat desperate now. How were they going to figure out the clue if they couldn't even find a bloody bathroom?

A flicker of movement on the map caught his attention. Someone was moving in the Potion's cupboard – but it wasn't Snape.

“What is Mr. Crouch doing in the Potion's cupboard?” he breathed, catching Ginny's attention.

“What do you mean?” she asked, peering at the map. “It seems like an odd time to be there,” she said, staring at Mr. Crouch's dot. “What would he need with potion supplies at this time of night?”

Harry frowned as his head throbbed painfully. The image of a statue flashed in his mind – Boris the Bewildered, if he remembered right.

“Hey,” Harry whispered, “Where's that statue of Boris the Bewildered at?”

“Uh...fifth floor, I think, why?”

“Follow me,” Harry said, ignoring her question. Going was slow, as Harry had to try and hold onto the cloak and his map, and Ginny was carrying the heavy egg. When they reached the fifth floor, Harry watched the map as he neared the statue. As they passed by the fourth door to the left of the statue, the words 'pine fresh' suddenly appeared. Harry knew with certainty that this was the bathroom, but was frustrated that he wasn't sure why he knew that.

“Here,” he said, stopping, leaning close to the door and muttering the password. The door opened slightly, and Harry and Ginny slipped in. As she closed the door behind them and Harry pulled the cloak off of them, she looked up at him, bewildered.

“I thought you said you didn't know where the bathroom was!”

“Well -” Harry hesitated. She still didn't know about his strange deja vu, and he wasn't really up to explaining it – they had enough to worry about as it was. “I'm pretty sure Hermione mentioned that it was near here – I had just forgotten.”

Ginny gave him a suspicious look, and Harry tried not to squirm under her stare. He could tell she knew he was lying, but again, she didn't press him, merely shaking her head.

“If you say so,” she said, unbelieving. “No wonder Percy liked being a Prefect so much,” Ginny commented, looking around the grand bathroom. Harry agreed, although the painting of the mermaid on the wall disconcerted him slightly. He had spaced out briefly, but was brought back to reality as Ginny began to turn on all the taps to the swimming pool sized bath. They both sat on the edge of the bath, legs dangling as they waited for it to fill with water. When the hot water reached their legs, Ginny rose and untied her robe, pulling it off and folding it neatly before setting it on the tiles. Harry stared determinedly at his feet while she did, not wanting to seem like a pervert, watching her undress down to her swim suit.

“Coming?” Ginny asked as she slid into the water, and he could tell she was fighting back a blush.

“Er, yeah,” Harry muttered, realizing the tension between them had increased ten-fold, now. He pulled off his baggy shirt, praying his shorts would stay on in the bath; he decided to hold onto them with one hand, just in case.

“Nice,” he commented as he slipped into the water next to her, the warmth relaxing his muscles. He was half tempted to lie back and close his eyes. Ginny reached for the egg, pulling it into the water and letting it sink underneath.

“Ready?”

“I suppose,” he agreed, taking off his glasses and setting them on the side of the pool.

They both took a deep breath and plunged their heads under the water, eyes shut tight. He could hear Ginny's fingers scrabbling oddly against the egg, the water distorting the noise, and then he heard beautiful music as she opened the egg at the hinge. He never would have imagined that the shrieking from before would translate into this.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this;

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And recover what we took,

But past an hour – the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.”

The last lines sent a shiver up Harry's spine, despite the warmth of the bath. He burst out of the water, wiping water from his eyes, blinking at the blurry red shape in front of him. He reached blindly for his glasses, fingers fumbling around until he grasped them. He slid them on, and Ginny and the egg came into focus again. He grinned – her hair was plastered to her head, over her eyes.

“Take this,” she commanded, shoving the egg toward him, then diving under again, resurfacing with her face tilted upward so her hair was no longer in her face. She smoothed her hair back and wiped the water from her own face, then stared critically at the egg.

“So,” she began. “I guess Hermione was right.”

“Hermione's always right,” Harry said dryly, chuckling. “But what do you think the Merpeople are going to take?”

“'Taken what you'll sorely miss'...” Ginny quoted, her brow scrunching together as she thought. Harry tried not to think about how cute it made her look. “I think the more important thing to figure out is how we're going to breathe underwater for an hour. If it really is the Merpeople, then we'll probably be in the lake.”

Harry felt a thrill of panic fill his chest.

“I can't swim very well,” he admitted, unable to rid himself of the image of himself, drowning in the lake, out of his head.

“Then I guess I'll have to teach you,” she grinned cheekily at him.

“Where?” he asked. “We can't keep sneaking into the prefect's bathroom every night. Besides, we need to sleep sometime.”

“Where there's a will, there's a way,” Ginny said firmly. “At least, that's what I've heard.” Harry gave her a skeptical look. “Don't look at me like that! We'll start right now – come on, it's simple.”

Harry sighed, setting the egg gently by the side of the pool, hand hovering over it to make sure it didn't roll away. When he was satisfied that it would stay in place, he turned to Ginny expectantly.

“Well? Where do I start?”

“That depends on what you can already do,” she shrugged, then tapped her chin. “Soo...show me what you can do.”

“Alright,” he muttered, feeling self conscious as he pushed off from the wall, kicking his legs and using his arms to clumsily propel himself forward. When he turned around and swam back, Ginny placed her hand on his shoulder to indicate he should stop. His heart sped up nervously, and he couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed when she pulled her hand away.

“That was pretty good,” she said.

“Probably not up to Olympic standards,” he joked, only receiving a confused look from Ginny. “Never mind. It doesn't matter if I can swim above the water – it's underwater I'm worried about.”

“It's kind of the same, except instead of using your arms like this -” she demonstrated, her arms windmilling over her head. “ - you'll have to pull like this -” and she showed him again, drawing her hands in close to her chest and pulling out and away from herself, her hands cupped. Harry squinted at her, then pulled on his glasses so he could see her blurry form with clarity.

“Watch,” she said, noting his slight confusion, and she dove underwater, pushing off the side of the bath like he had done, but keeping her arms in front of her, shoulders up by her ears, gliding until she slowed, then began to kick her legs and pulling her arms like she'd demonstrated above water.

Harry admired her movements, and the way her red hair streamed behind her, and felt immensely glad that her one-piece didn't cover her legs, which he usually didn't see so much of. He felt like a bit of a perv, staring at her like that, though, and so he quickly averted his gaze when she resurfaced.

“See?” she gasped, wiping water from her face. “Easy.”

“Right,” he mumbled, knowing his cheeks were probably red. They'd probably give him away, and then she'd never want to talk to him again for ogling her legs and bum. But either she didn't notice, or she chose not to say anything, because she just smiled at him, pulling herself up out of the bath.

“Maybe we'll have to pick up later...you seem kind of...distracted,” she said, eyes twinkling with mirth, and he realized she did know he'd been looking at her. She'd told him to watch, though, hadn't she? So really, he was just doing as she said.

That's not what she meant, and you know it, he scolded himself internally.

“Right,” Harry agreed after a long moment, following suit and climbing out of the bath, grasping for his towel to dry himself. He heard Ginny still laughing behind him, but he didn't turn around, concentrating instead on drying his hair and getting dressed again.

–

“Couldn't we stop by the kitchens and get a snack?” Ginny asked as they were leaving the prefect's bathroom, the Invisibility Cloak draped over them – the smell of bath soaps permeated the air underneath, so much so that he could no longer smell the flowery scent that usually followed Ginny around – although, it had probably washed away in all the other soaps, now that he thought about it.

“Hungry?” Harry teased.

“Naturally,” she grinned impishly. Harry checked the map, confirming the way was clear.

“Alright, the way's clear,” he told her, and they made their detour to the kitchens. Ginny tickled the pear when they reached the entrance, smiling as it squirmed under her fingers. They both climbed through the portrait hole, pulling the Invisibility Cloak off with a sharp tug, only to be greeted by several enthusiastic elves.

“Harry Potter has come back again, sir!” Dobby squealed down by Harry's knees, a broad smile stretching his face.

“Er, yeah,” Harry grinned back, scratching the back of his head. “We were wondering if we could have a snack.”

At his words, the crowd of elves around him dispersed quickly, only to return with deserts.

“I don't think I'll ever get tired of this service,” Ginny sighed, and the other house elves beamed at her, bowing their thanks.

“Dobby has heard about Harry Potter and Ginny Wheezy's First Task,” Dobby breathed, looking up at them with admiration. “Harry Potter and Ginny Wheezy are great and brave, to face a dragon!” he squeaked shrilly.

“It was nothing,” Harry muttered, feeling embarrassed.

“Psh,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “You were great, Harry,” she insisted, Dobby nodding alongside her like an enthusiastic bobble head.

“So you were you,” he said defensively. He hardly had done all the work. At this, Dobby continued his mad nodding, only this time to Ginny, who flushed at being singled out.

“And now, you is both going to do the second task! Dobby has also heard how dangerous this is!”

“You aren't going to try and, er, stop us, Dobby, are you?” Harry asked, wincing internally as he remembered how Dobby had 'helped' during his second year.

“Oh no, sir! But Dobby will help all he can, for the great Harry Potter and brave Ginny Wheezy!”

“Ah,” Harry said weakly, a bit reluctant to receive more of Dobby's help.

“Dobby, do you know anywhere I can teach Harry how to swim?” Ginny asked eagerly. Dobby lit up, now nodding so furiously that Harry was mildly worried that his head might nod right off.

“Yes! Dobby knows of such a room. We elves call it the Come and Go, room, sir and miss, but it is also being called the Room of Requirement!”

“Why's that?” Harry asked, the feeling that he'd heard this all before tugging insistently at the back of his mind.

“The room only appears when you have great need of something, sir! One time -” and here, he hesitated, a guilty look on his face, “ - once, I took Winky there, and we found a nice elf-sized bed and butterbeer antidotes!”

“Who's Winky?” Ginny asked Dobby, and his great ears folded sadly on his head. Many of the other house elves shook their heads.

“Winky is a freed house elf, like me miss. But she is not happy.”

“Who freed her?” Harry asked curiously.

“Ah, he is one of the judges, Dobby has heard. Mr. Crouch.”

“Why would Crouch free his elf?” Harry pondered, and next to him, Ginny shrugged dubiously. “That might explain why he looked so tired when we saw him at the First Task, though,” he realized.

“Master -hic- Crouch is...-hic- unwell?” Another house elf had wandered up to them, looking woefully stained and woozy. It's voice was even higher than Dobby's, and Harry presumed that it was Winky.

“Winky, Mr. Crouch is not your master now,” Dobby said, and the other house elves gave Winky disapproving looks.

“-hic- Master needs his Winky!” At this, the house elf lurched forward, nearly face-planting, but Dobby hurried forward to catch her, throwing Harry and apologetic look.

“Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter sir! Winky is having too much butterbeer again!”

“Er, maybe we should leave anyway,” Harry said uncertainly. Ginny yawned widely, looking far sleepier now that she'd had food. “Could you just tell us where this Room of Requirement is?”

Dobby told them where to find the secret room, and Harry and Ginny disappeared under his cloak, sneaking back up to their common room and separate dormitories, wishing each other a sleepy goodnight. Harry collapsed into his own bed, smiling to himself, the panic that had weighed heavy on him lifted now that they had figured out the first part of the egg.

–

In between all of their classes and homework, Harry and Ginny didn't find much time to go to the Room of Requirement. The first time they had, (pacing past the wall three times, like Dobby had instructed) they were amazed to find a door appear on the wall, and even more shocked when they walked into a room with a large pool, stocked with towels and swimming suits.

“Wow,” Ginny had murmured softly, Harry nodding in agreement.

So, whenever they had some free time, they both made use of the time to go to the Room of Requirement to practice swimming. Harry felt, even after a few lessons, that he was getting better at controlling himself underwater, though he still had no idea how he or Ginny were going to last an hour under the lake.

He brought this up to Hermione at lunch one day, and her brow furrowed in the way it did when she didn't know the answer to something.

“I've never read anything about a spell that lets you breathe underwater,” she frowned.

“What do you have to breathe underwater for, Harry?” Neville spoke up, clearly having overhead them at the table.

“The second task,” Harry supplied, sighing. “Ginny and I finally figured out what the egg was saying, but now we have to figure out how to stay alive under the lake for an hour.”

“Well, that's easy,” Neville said, grinning broadly.

“Really?” Harry asked incredulously. Harry could have hardly imagined that Neville would have the answer to his problem.

“Gillyweed!”

“Where'd you find that?” Hermione demanded, looking dubious, and maybe, jealous that she didn't know the answer, and Neville did.

“Do you remember when Professor Moody showed us the Unforgivable Curses?” Neville asked, looking a bit uncomfortable. Harry nodded, remembering the demonstration quite well. Neville had looked slightly ill after that class, and Professor Moody had taken him aside. “Well,” Neville continued brightly, “he gave me this book about Herbology – Professor Sprout told him I was good with plants,” he beamed.

“So what is gillyweed?” Harry asked, thinking to himself that Professor Moody had been quite tactful there.

“It's a plant,” Neville provided. “You just have to eat it – it's, uh, less than appetizing -”

“Naturally,” Ginny said dryly as she took a seat next to Harry. “So, how do we get gillyweed, exactly?” she asked, reaching for the jug of juice.

“Er, Professor Snape probably has some...”

“...So how do we get gillyweed?” Ginny repeated, eyebrows raised. They all knew there was no way Professor Snape was just going to lend them gillyweed.

“You should get permission from Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said. “I'm sure she can help you get some.”

“You're brilliant, Hermione,” Ginny grinned.

–

Hermione had been correct, and by getting permission from Professor McGonagall, Harry and Ginny were allowed to each have a ball of gillyweed, much to Snape's displeasure. It led to many sneers and scathing remarks in Potions class, but it wasn't anything Harry wasn't already used to.

“Here, Potter,” Snape hissed, thrusting two small objects toward him after class the day before the Second Task. “Though I don't know why you wasted your time asking for permission.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Harry asked, grinding his teeth as he took the two slimy balls of gillyweed, grimacing. He'd have to eat this?

“Someone's been filching ingredients from my cupboards all semester, and I'm positive you have something to do with it –“

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Harry said coolly. It was true that Hermione had taken ingredients for their Polyjuice potion in second year, but he had no idea who could have been taking ingredients now.

“Yes,” Snape said quietly. “That is quite apparent from your abysmal potion-making skills. Get out of my sight, Potter.”

Harry was more than happy to leave, and he hurried out of the room, anger swirling in his gut.

“I hate him...hate him...” Harry muttered to himself.

“Just come from Potions class?” Ginny asked, appearing next to him, startling him briefly. His hand had gone immediately to his wand, his fingers clenched tightly around it, and he had to take a deep breath to get a grip on himself, wondering why he was feeling so jumpy.

“Ginny,” he breathed, and she laughed.

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I think I'm just nervous for tomorrow,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Snape finally handed over the gillyweed,” he said, handing Ginny her share of the plant.

“This looks gross,” she said unhappily as he set it in her hand. It did indeed – like several slimy rat tails all rolled together. “Maybe he's trying to poison us and this isn't gillyweed at all. I mean, it certainly doesn't look like a plant,” she said.

“No, it's gillyweed,” Harry said, grimacing. “Neville showed me what it looked like in his book.”

“Hmm,” Ginny frowned. “If I wasn't so hungry, I'd say this has put me off my appetite.”

“Is that actually possible?” he teased.

“Maybe not for Ron. We should go see,” she grinned again. “Race you to dinner!” She tore off down the corridor, her book bag hitting her legs noisily as she ran. Harry chuckled and hurried after her, glad that, for the moment, his anxiety about the task tomorrow had disappeared.

–

His anxiety, of course, returned full force the next morning. He had woken up at 7:00, too nervous to continue sleeping, and got dressed quietly, the sound of Ron's snores filling their dormitory. He crept down the stairs and sat in his favorite chair in the common room, tapping his fingers nervously on the arm rest. His eyes were still itchy with tiredness, but he'd been having repeated dreams of oversleeping and being late for the Second Task, which had ultimately caused him to wake up with a start several times during the night.

Yawning into his hand, he stared blearily at the crackling fire, wishing he could talk to Sirius. Talking to Sirius always had a way of calming him down. Deciding it had been too long since he'd written his godfather, Harry slunk back upstairs to grab some parchment and a quill, then back to the common room, tapping his chin while he thought about what to write.

Sirius,

I know I haven't written in a while, things have been really busy. Ginny and I finally figured out the clue for the egg, and we even figured out how to breathe under the lake, with Neville's help. Of course, now, the Second Task is only a few hours away...I'm nervous, to tell the truth. I still don't know what I'm supposed to be getting back – 'something you'll sorely miss', the song said. I suppose by the time you get this letter, though, the task will already be over.

Harry paused, his quill poised over the parchment. A drop of ink plopped down onto the page, and Harry hastily pulled the quill away. He glanced down at his watch with a start – more time had passed than he'd realized, and it was already 8:30. His stomach growling, though slightly queasy, he screwed the cap back on his ink bottle and rolled his letter up, to finish later. Then he climbed the stairs to his dormitory, placing the unfinished in his trunk so no prying eyes could see it, and grabbed his ball of gillyweed – he had a feeling he wouldn't have time to grab it later. He slipped out of the portrait hole and down to the Great Hall, where there were already quite a few people eating breakfast.

He sat down in an empty spot by himself, doing his best to ignore the growing feeling of nausea in his stomach, trying instead to eat something. Everything had the peculiar property of tasting exactly like cardboard and sticking in his throat. Half an hour later of forced eating, there was still no sign of Hermione or Ginny, but Ron came hurrying down and immediately started to dig in with gusto.

“Werz Ermynee ind Chinnee?” Ron asked, spraying bits of his breakfast out of his mouth.

“Er -” Harry wiped at his face, grimacing. “I don't know. I haven't seen them come down yet. Ginny better hurry, though...the task starts in half an hour!”

“Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said from behind him, causing him to jump. “You're needed out at the lake – the champions are all gathering there for their instructions.”

“Right – Professor, do you know if Ginny is down there?”

Her mouth went into a thin line and she frowned. “I'm afraid I don't know, Mr. Potter. Come along now,” she said briskly. Ron shrugged at Harry.

“Good luck, mate,” he said, his mouth free of food this time.

“Thanks,” Harry grumbled, following after Professor McGonagall, who appeared to be escorting him down to the lake.

“You know what you're doing, Potter?”

“Er, yes...gillyweed,” he answered distractedly, squinting at the people gathered around the lake, his heart sinking with disappointment. He could tell Ginny wasn't with them. Where in the name of Merlin was she?

“Ah, Harry!” A jovial voice cried out – it was the judge, Mr. Bagman. Harry didn't see Mr. Crouch anywhere – much to his surprise, Percy Weasley was there instead.

“Pleasure to see you again, Harry,” Percy said officiously, beaming smugly and thrusting his hand forward to be shaken.

“Hi, Percy,” Harry said, trying not to laugh.

“Alright, now that everyone's here,” Bagman continued, grinning with barely contained excitement.

“Sir,” Harry interrupted. “Ginny isn't here -”

“Yes, yes, of course. As I was just about to say, this task involves you, the champions, have to go into the lake,” he paused here, gesturing to the lake. “As long as you've figured out the egg clue, you should all have an idea of what you're going to be doing!” As he said this, several swimming outfits were handed out to each of the champions. “You can change in those tents set up over there,” Bagman indicated, and Harry, clutching his swimming tank top and shorts, walked the small tent and changed clumsily, shivering as the cold air stung his skin. The lake was going to be bloody freezing. He had to have confidence that the gillyweed would help somehow. He exited the tent, and Percy took his folded clothes and set them aside.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked Percy. “Where's Mr. Crouch?”

“Mr. Crouch isn't feeling well, sadly, but he's trusted me enough to take over for him while he gets well at home,” Percy proclaimed pompously, his chest seeming to swell with each word.

“Right,” Harry said, remembering what Dobby had said about Mr. Crouch being ill and sacking his house elf.

Harry could hear the sound of many people laughing and talking jovially, and he knew that the school was assembling with the event. Where was Ginny?

“Harry! HARRY!” Ron was shouting over the crowd, his red head standing out like a beacon. “I can't find Hermione or Ginny! They didn't come down for breakfast!” Ron shrugged as he was pulled along with the rest of the students toward the stands that had been built specifically for the event.

“Okay, champions, are we all ready?” Bagman asked, beaming from ear to ear.

“What? No-”

“Everyone's all settled in,” Bagman ignored Harry, much to his frustration. “Sonorus! Ladies and gentlemen! Now is the time for the second task! They will have exactly one hour to retrieve what has been taken from them starting...NOW!” A bang like a gun shot off and Cedric, Krum, and Fleur all jumped into the water.

“What about Ginny?” Harry asked loudly, hesitating.

“Why, my dear boy, didn't they tell you?” Mr. Bagman asked, looking amused. “She's in the lake!”

“What?! In the lake?” Harry looked down at the frigid, black water, with the feeling that he'd just swallowed a large amount of it. His chest tightened, and he felt a bit disoriented.

“This...no...it should be Ron...” he mumbled, his head spinning wildly as images flashed through his mind.

“Come on, now, m'boy! In you go!” Bagman insisted, and Harry felt a rough push and he splashed into the water. The water seemed to wake him up, and he was jolted back to reality. Shivering violently, he shoved the gillyweed into his mouth, grimacing at the unpleasant texture while he waded further into the lake.

Quite suddenly, he felt as though he couldn't breathe. Neville had warned him about this – going against all instinct, he shoved his head underwater and inhaled. He could feel the new gills he'd grown on the side of his neck rippling, and the water seemed much more pleasant. He propelled himself forward, wand held out in front of him (there were strange creatures under the lake, he knew – better safe than sorry) and kicked with his webbed feet, propelling himself forward with ease.

He swam deeper and deeper into the lake, the strong sensation that he'd already traveled this way guiding him. There was one incident with some Grindylows, but Harry quickly evaded them, throwing a few wordless spells behind him as he went. For a moment, when he was in the deepest part of the lake and it was almost completely dark, he'd worried that he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, but the next moment, he saw a glow of light and headed toward it, smiling grimly to himself as he swam into an underwater city.

Merpeople swam past him, though they looked nothing like the image of the mermaid in the prefect's bathroom. This didn't really come as a surprise to Harry, probably for the same reason he was able to find the city so quickly – because he'd already known it, before he knew he'd known it.

As he drew closer, he could hear singing, the same he'd heard from the egg. He knew he must be close now. He prediction came true as he came into a clearing and saw four figures floating, tied to the bottom of the lake with seaweed. Ginny's vibrant red hair was like a strangely undulating flame in the water, and as he drew closer, he saw she was sleeping. Next to her was Hermione, then Cho, and finally a small girl with silvery blonde hair, who Harry was positive was Fleur's younger sister.

His concern for Ginny was overwhelming, but he couldn't leave Hermione, Cho, and Fleur behind – there couldn't be much time left, and it didn't seem like any of the other champions were near yet. So he waited, treading water as the anxiety built in his chest. A part of him felt like he should take Ginny and go...

As he was considering this, he saw Cedric swimming toward him, his head warped in an oddly fishbowl manner, Fleur hot on his heels. She had apparently used the same spell, because she had the same appearance as Cedric. They both hurried forward, Fleur to the small blonde girl, and Cedric to Cho.

“Where's Krum?” Harry mouthed to Cedric, who shrugged, then severed the seaweed on Cho's ankle, tugging her into his arms and swimming away. It only took a moment for Fleur to follow his example – soon, they both disappeared into the darkness.

Where was Krum? Harry couldn't leave Hermione here by herself...deciding he had waited long enough, Harry moved toward Hermione, only to be stopped by one of the merpeople, who shook a sharp looking spear at him.

“Take only your own hostage,” the merperson hissed, glaring at him.

“No way!” Harry tried to shout, but it only came out in bubbles. His frustration at Krum finally getting the better of him, Harry whipped his wand around and aimed it at the merperson, who's eyes widened warily and it backed away. He swam to the bottom, searching for a sharp rock, then used it to saw at the seaweed tying down Hermione. Once she was free, he did the same for Ginny, then grabbed Hermione's arm to keep her from floating away. Harry reached over and grabbed Ginny's arm, prepared to swim as hard as he could to the surface, but as soon as he touched her arm, darkness overwhelmed him.

–

It all started the morning of the second task. Ginny, followed closely by Hermione, were headed down to breakfast, only to find Professor Dumbledore waiting at the bottom of their dormitory steps.

“Good morning, Miss Weasley, Miss Granger,” he said, smiling kindly at them.

“Hello Professor...” Ginny said slowly, confused. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, not at all,” he said. “Merely, there is a small matter with the second task – however, we have come up with a solution to the problem!”

“And what would the, er, problem be, sir?” Ginny asked, shooting Hermione a perplexed look.

“I'm afraid I can't tell you, because that would be giving away far too much about our task. Now, I am under the impression that you know what you're going to be doing for the task? Professor McGonagall has informed me that you got permission to use some gillyweed.”

“Right,” Ginny said, drawing the gillyweed from her pocket.

“Excellent,” Professor Dumbledore smiled. “I ask that you keep that with you. I must also ask that when you wake up, you immediately make use of your gillyweed. You will be in no danger, but when you awake, I should think you'll know what to do.”

“What -?” But Ginny didn't get a chance to finish her question, because Professor Dumbledore gave a flick of his wand, and she felt her eyes grow very heavy, and her body shut down as she began to fall into a deep sleep.

“Ginny!” she heard Hermione cry out, and she felt herself being caught as she began to fall. “Professor Dumbledore, what's going on....?” Hermione's voice drifted away, and then Ginny heard no more.

Now, Ginny was awake, under the lake, and she understood Professor Dumbledore's advice. She shoved her hand into her robes and pulled out the gillyweed, shoving it into her mouth and chewing rapidly. It took an achingly long minute for the plant to take effect, and she thought her lungs might burst, but then she slowly felt the water warming around her, and she was able to breathe. Now that breathing was no longer her biggest concern, she was able to assess the situation. She was surrounded by several merpeople holding spears, Hermione asleep and floating next to her, and Harry, also asleep, his arm still outstretched toward her, his other hand loosely holding onto Hermione. She realized that Hermione must have been put to sleep right after her, and somehow, Harry had done the first part of the task, but been put to sleep when he'd reached her.

She didn't know how long she still had out of the hour they'd been given, but she knew she'd have to hurry. It looked like two of the champions had already come, if the amount of hostages said anything. Ginny swam forward, grabbing Harry's arm and peering into the murky darkness of the lake. She didn't see any sign of the other champion – Krum, she guessed, since she didn't suppose Cedric or Fleur had any emotional connection to Hermione. She hesitated only a moment before grabbing Hermione's arm as well, intent on bringing them both back up to the surface.

Ginny gave two mighty tugs, kicking her feet furiously. The going was slow – even though Harry and Hermione were far lighter underwater than they would have been otherwise, it was still difficult for Ginny to swim with them, and her arms were already beginning to burn in protest, and without her arms to help her swim, the going was very slow.

Suddenly, a vice-like grip was on her ankle, and she looked down sharply, tugging her foot away instinctively. The merperson below her kept a firm hold on her, though, shaking it's head.

“Take only your own hostage,” the merperson hissed, baring sharp teeth at her.

Ginny was going to try and protest, but her words were lost as a dark shape came swimming toward them – after a second, the head became visible, and the merpeople darted away in alarm. Ginny didn't blame them – for a moment, she had believed there was a shark in the lake, until she'd seen the human body attached, and figured out that Krum had done some sort of transfiguration on himself.

He swam up to Hermione, and Ginny let her go, grateful that Krum was here to take over. Now Ginny only had to worry about Harry – and getting out of the lake. Now it became a race between her and Krum – neither of them wanted to finish last. While Krum's transfigured head allowed him to breath, he did not have the advantage of webbed hands and feet that the gillyweed had given to Ginny. However, Krum was much stronger than Ginny, and was able to swim with Hermione in tow much easier than Ginny could swim while dragging Harry's limp body. Ultimately, they were both swimming at nearly the same pace, and neither of them were pulling ahead by much.

As they both ascended, Ginny was relieved to see the water getting clearer and lighter. Being down at the bottom of the lake...when she had woken up, for a second, she thought she was back in the Chamber. The dark...the pale green light...only the fact that she had been underwater had saved her from a panic attack.

She and Krum were pulling closer to the surface now, and even though all her muscles were screaming, and it was getting harder to breathe – wasn't gillyweed supposed to work for an hour? Surely she hadn't been under that long – she put on a burst of speed, surprising herself as she pulled ahead of Krum. Then, she broke the surface of the water, Harry following closely behind her, then Krum and Hermione. The sound of cheering burst into her ears, and she clapped a hand to her neck, where her gills were already disappearing, along with the webbing the had lined her fingers and toes.

Next to her, Harry gasped to life, spluttering on lake water.

“What happened?” he asked, clearly bewildered. Ginny shook her head, teeth chattering as the cold air hit her wet skin.

“Later,” she shivered, and they both began to swim toward shore. Behind them, they could hear Hermione splashing, and the sound of Krum speaking – he must have transfigured his head back to normal. As she trudged onto shore, Madam Pomfrey surged forward, fluffy towels in hand, and she efficiently wrapped both her and Harry, her face tight and disapproving.

“Swimming in the lake at this time of year,” she tutted. When she felt they were both attended to, she hurried away to do the same to Hermione and Krum.

“What's going on, Ginny? What happened?” Harry asked her, clutching his towel around him, his hair dripping and plastered to his head. “How'd you get a the bottom of the lake?”

“Well -” she started, but she was interrupted by brother rushing over, looking rather pale. “Percy! What are you doing here?”

“You took your time down there,” he said, and she knew he meant to sound disapproving, but he mostly sounded concerned.

“I'm fine, Percy,” she said, smiling at her brother. He could be a bit pompous at times, but he meant well.

“Yes...of course,” Percy answered distractedly. “Well, they should be announcing your scores now – you were all well outside the time limit, you know.”

Ginny frowned, and next to her, Harry sighed.

“I knew it,” he grumbled. Harry's head snapped over in the direction of Professor Dumbledore suddenly, who was bent over the lake, apparently speaking with one of the merpeople.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Bagman announced, his voice magically enhanced with magic again. “The final champions have emerged from the lake, and it is now time to give the scores! The first to arrive back was Cedric Diggory, who made great use of the Bubble-Head Charm, followed closely by Fleur Delacour, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm. However, both champions were outside of the hour time limit! For this, Diggory and Delacour will be awarded...47 points out of 50!”

The crowd cheered loudly, and Bagman had to wait for them to settled down again.

“Our next champion to arrive was Ginny Weasley, with Harry Potter – interestingly enough, they were each other's hostages! Through the use of a few cleverly placed sleeping spells, Potter started the task, falling asleep once he reached young Miss Weasley, and then she finished the task! Both cleverly used an interesting little plant, gillyweed!” Ginny watched Harry and saw understanding settle over him – she for one, would need more explanation – why hadn't they had their own hostages?

“Finally, right on their tails was Krum, not even a minute behind the two! Krum used an incomplete transfiguration for this task, which appeared to serve him well. The scores for our last champions are – oh, excuse me -” Mr. Bagman stopped as Dumbledore came over to speak to him. Ginny narrowed her eyes, wondering what would have been important enough to interrupt the scoring. The judges were all gathered around Mr. Bagman, and they were all listening, then nodding and whispering among themselves.

“Ah, Professor Dumbledore here has just informed me of what happened at the bottom of the lake! According to the merpeople's Chieftain, Mr. Harry Potter was the first to arrive to the hostages, but stayed behind to make sure all the other hostages were safely rescued. When Mr. Krum didn't show up, he went to rescue not only his own hostage, but also Krum's! After he fell asleep, Miss Ginny Weasley seemed to be in the same mind, because she too tried to swim away with Krum's hostage, until Krum arrived himself – the judges have agreed this shows great moral fiber on both their parts, and therefore, they will be awarded 45 points!”

The crowd was positively roaring by now, and Harry was grinning broadly at Ginny.

“Mr. Krum, the last to arrive, will be awarded 43 points!”

After this, Ginny stopped listening as Hermione surged forward, beaming at her.

“You both did great!” Hermione shrieked enthusiastically. Behind her, Krum was looking a bit surly.

“You have a beetle in your hair, Hermy-own-ninny,” he said, and she impatiently ran her fingers through her hair, sweeping the beetle away. Ginny thought Harry was looking at the beetle rather peculiarly, but she didn't have time to ask him about it.

“Did you have much trouble finding us?” Hermione asked Harry eagerly.

“No,” Harry answered, using his towel to dry at his hair. “There were some Grindylows, but they weren't a problem.”

“I bumped into a very strange ghost in the lake,” Krum said.

“A ghost in the lake?” Hermione asked, her attention diverted from Harry. “Really? How odd...”

“Vat vus her name? Myrtle...she said to me that she haunted a lavatory.”

Ginny burst into laughter. “Moaning Myrtle was in the lake?”

“Someone must have flushed her down the drain again,” Harry laughed, shaking his head.

“Ginevra, come along,” Percy interrupted them, guiding her away from the group. “You mustn't catch a cold out here, let's get you inside.”

“Okay, Percival,” she muttered, glowering at him for using her full name. Behind her, Madam Pomfrey was ushering the other champions and the hostages into the castle, and behind them, the other students, all bundled up, were heading back inside.

–

Harry sat with Ginny in the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey bustled around them, gathering bottles of Pepper-Up Potions to warm them up – the others had already been given their doses and had been allowed to leave.

“See you in the common room,” Hermione said as she left, Krum waiting for her.

“So what exactly happened?” Harry asked when they were alone – Madam Pomfrey had disappeared, in search for more potions.

“Professor Dumbledore showed up this morning – I guess he was waiting for me...he didn't really explain, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the bottom of the lake. Whatever he did, he put an enchanted sleep on me, and made it so when you got to me, you'd fall asleep and I'd wake up.”

“Yeah, right when I grabbed your arm,” Harry nodded.

“I wonder though...” Ginny mused aloud.

“What?”

“Why did everyone else have their own hostages, you think?” she asked, not meeting his eyes. Harry's heart began to speed up. “I mean, why did we have each other instead of other people?”

“Excellent question, Miss Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore interrupted, smiling genially at them, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. “I believe you both already know the answer, though,” he added.

“Well, it seems like the only way to make it so we could both participate in the task...” Ginny trailed off, looking red.

“Perhaps, though we could have chosen someone you would both miss – perhaps your brother, Ron, Miss Weasley – however, after careful consideration, we found that you would miss Harry...and Harry would miss you. So, yes, it was a convenient way for you both to participate, but it also worked out that the people you both would miss the most were each other. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find Madame Pomfrey and let her know Professor Snape is brewing more Pepper-Up Potion.”

Dumbledore left them, and Harry chanced a glance at Ginny, who looked as red as Harry felt. The tension from the Yule Ball was back again, this time in great force. He thought about how close they had come to kissing – but he'd been too nervous...too afraid, he realized. But now, the truth was sitting plain as day in front of him. Ginny would have missed him the most, out of everyone else, out of all her brothers and her friends. His mouth turned up into a smile in spite of himself.

“Ginny,” he said quietly, and her eyes darted up to meet his, her cheeks red. Blood rushing in his head, he leaned forward, cupping his hand over hers and spanned the gap between their two beds. He couldn't hardly breathe, but for the first time, he wasn't afraid – well, maybe a little. But that was natural, wasn't it? Harry leaned the rest of the way in and kissed Ginny Weasley.

And for the second time that day, darkness overtook him as his head exploded in pain.