CHAPTER 17 | NOTRE CHAMPION !

            ONCE AGAIN, Kennedy, Ron, Harry and Hermione found themselves in the library. However, tonight was unlike all other nights and free periods and stolen minutes they had spent in the library. Tonight was the night before the Second Task — they were in a frenzy.

As the sun set outside, they tore through book after book feverishly searching for a solution. Kennedy scoured each book for specific keywords and phrases; merpeople, breathing underwater, and most importantly, water. However, more often than not, "water" on a page was part of instructions for a potion and not a magical solution to their how-to-keep-harry-alive-while-entirely-submerged-underwater-for-Merlin-knows-how-long problem.

"I don't reckon it can be done", said Ron's voice flatly from the other side of the table, "There's nothing. Nothing. Closest was that thing to dry up puddles and ponds, that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake".

"There must be something", Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were droopy as she pored over the tiny print of 'Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes' with her nose about an inch from the page.

Kennedy hummed in agreement, "There would be no point in the tournament then. No entertainment and no challenge. There could never be a challenge if there was no way of doing it in the first place. There must be a way".

"Exactly, they'd never have set a task that was undoable", Hermione added.

"They have", Ron declared flatly. "Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked, and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate".

"There's a way of doing it!" Hermione objected crossly, "There just has to be!". She seemed to be taking the library's lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; from what Kennedy knew, it had never failed her before.

"I know what I should have done," said Harry, resting, face-down on 'Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts', "I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius". "Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!", Ron exclaimed with much less energy then he would usually. "Or a frog", yawned Harry. He was exhausted. They were all exhausted. They had been in the library since the end of their respective classes around 3 and it was now nearing 7.

"It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything," said Hermione vaguely, now squinting down the index of 'Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions'. "Professor McGonagall told us, remember ... you've got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office ... what animal you become, and your markings, so you can't abuse it ...".

"Hermione, I was joking", sighed Harry wearily. "I know I haven't got a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning ...".

"Oh this is no use", Hermione huffed, snapping shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas, "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?".

"I wouldn't mind", said Fred (?) Weasley's voice, "Would be a hell of a talking point, wouldn't it?".

Kennedy, Ron, Harry and Hermione looked up to see the tall, lithe figures of Ron's older twin brothers emerge from behind some bookshelves. "What're you two doing here?", Ron asked. "Looking for you", said George (?). "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione".

"Why?", asked Hermione. "Dunno ... she was looking a bit grim, though," said Fred (?). "We're supposed to take you down to her office," said George (?).

Harry looked uneasy. Understandable, they were losing half their manpower. Four heads was always better than two.

"We'll meet you back in the common room", Hermione told Harry as she got up to go with Ron — both of them looked very anxious. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?".

"Right," said Harry uneasily.

Once Hermione and Ron were gone, Kennedy and Harry returned to work. An hour passed and by eight o'clock, Madam Pince had begun extinguishing all the lamps. "How about I take the stack of books you went through earlier and you go through mine? So we can both see if there are any oversights", Kennedy suggested. "Great idea, Kenn. Uh ... what time should we meet tomorrow?".

"Around 7 or so? We'll get a couple — enough, get that look off your face — enough hours of sleep. In the morning, if necessary, I'll just let you sleep through it. It's alright", Kennedy continued. "I will be awake, Kennedy", Harry said with a determined gaze.

"You might not be quite as enthusiastic by tomorrow, but I appreciate the determination", Kennedy quipped. By then, Madam Pince had finished extinguishing all the lamps and came to shoo them out of the library. Each of them stumbled with the weight of the books they had to carry and grumbled and whined about the long distances up and down the stairs they would have to walk.

"I just hope I don't get lost", Kennedy grumbled. "You've gotten lost before?", Harry asked. "Many times ... way too many times. For a few weeks, all the corridors looked the same. And those moving stairs! They're so stressful! If you don't time your entry or exit just right then that's the end of getting to class on time".

Harry laughed as he stepped onto one of the moving stairs before facing her as he was moved up towards the next level, "Better pay attention then, Bishop. Wouldn't want you to time your exit wrong". "Oh sod off, Harry!", was the last thing Kennedy said before she stepped onto a different flight of moving stairs and hoped she would get to her dorm in time to look through the books, sleep a respectable amount and be back in the library by morning.

.·:••●••:·.

            AROUND TWO O'CLOCK, Harry had sent her a link simply saying:

Hermione and Ron aren't back yet somehow. Can't sleep. I don't know if you can but I doubt it. If you're awake, I'll wait by Barnaby's portrait for 15 minutes with the Invisibility Cloak and we can get into the library together. If the time passes, I'll go myself and assume you're asleep. Good night and/or see you soon.

— Bambi 𐂂

Kennedy grinned at the sight of him signing off with his nickname and a doodle before rushing out of bed. Slipping on her slippers and stuffing her books (that she had spent her time tirelessly poring over) into a large satchel, she grabbed her wand and slipped out of the dorm quietly. Avoiding Peeves wasn't too much trouble; she went in the opposite of any noise, staked out in classrooms and kept to the shadows. She stood by Barnaby's portrait for a second before she felt the Invisibility Cloak being pulled over her head, "You're late".

"You're still here", Kennedy quipped without missing a beat. "Didn't want to leave you to fend for yourself", Harry rolled his eyes before grumbling, "Maybe I should've".

"Did you find anything new?", Kennedy asked, ignoring his sass. "Nothing necessarily. But I know two heads are always better than one. And if you were awake ...", Harry trailed off. "Why waste the opportunity", Kennedy finished his sentence.

Harry hummed, "Exactly that". It took them climbing two flights of stairs and a few scares with Peeves before they reached the large doors of the library. Climbing stairs together was initially a challenge, but they got the hang of it quick enough. "Lumos", Harry whispered as he offered Kennedy his wand to hold as he pushed open the library door.

Kennedy lit up her wand with a murmur and they split up, pulling down book upon book of hexes and charms and merpeople and water monsters and famous witches and wizards and magical inventions — anything at all that might include a passing reference to underwater survival. They settled over a table, set to work with their wands as their light and Harry's watch as their time.

An hour passed, then another, then another. By five o'clock, Harry was fast asleep and using the pages of a book as a pillow. Kennedy reached into her satchel for her scarf and patted Harry's heads a few times to wake him up. He blearily reached for the sweater, bundled it under his head, mumbled something Kennedy was taking to be a 'thanks' and went right back to sleep.

Kennedy stayed awake. She read, read and read. Harry needed the rest; there was no telling what he was going to face in the lake. She could sleep through the entire Second Task and there would be no consequence. If he fell asleep while swimming somehow, it would be a disaster. If how he stayed alive was napping while she pored over boring tomes, so be it.

Around seven o'clock, with a crack, a house elf appeared beside Harry. The house elf looked vaguely familiar. Jude had asked him about where all the necessary pots and pans were, that time they baked cookies a few weeks ago.

"Do ... your name is Dobby, right?", Kennedy asked. "Yes, miss. Dobby has to wake up Mr. Potter now", Dobby calmly said before bellowing in Harry's ear, "Harry Potter needs to hurry! The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter—".

"Ten minutes?", Harry croaked as Kennedy craned her neck to check his watch. Twenty past nine. Holy shit, it is in ten minutes. And they still didn't have a solution—

"Hurry, Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby, plucking at Harry's sleeve. "You is supposed to be down by the lake with the other champions, sir!".

"It's too late, Dobby," Harry said hopelessly. "I'm not doing the task, I don't know how—".

"You're not doing the task?", Kennedy whipped around to him in surprise. "We haven't a solution, Kennedy, so how am I supposed to follow through with it?", Harry asked exasperated. "Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him!", Dobby squeaked.

Kennedy furrowed her eyebrows. Something wasn't right. It was too perfect to be a coincidence.

"What?" said Harry. "But you don't know what the second task is—".

"Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy—"

"Find my what?"

"— and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!". "What's a Wheezy?", Harry asked. "Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy-Wheezy who is giving Dobby his sweater!", Dobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he was now wearing over his shorts.

"What?", Harry gasped. "They've got ... they've got Ron?".

"The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!", squeaked Dobby. "Does that mean they've got Hermione?", Kennedy asked horrified.

"Dobby is not sure, miss. But past an hour—".

"The prospect's black", Harry and Kennedy recited, staring horror-struck at the elf. 'Dobby — what've I got to do?", frantically asked Harry.

"You has to eat this, sir!", squeaked the elf, and he put his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a bundled up ball of a slimy grayish-green herb. "Right before you go into the lake, sir — gillyweed!".

"What's it do?" said Harry, staring at the gillyweed.

"It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!"

"Dobby," Harry frantically shook Dobby's shoulders, "listen — are you sure about this?".

"Dobby is quite sure, sir!" said the elf earnestly. "Dobby hears things, sir, he is a house-elf, he goes all over the castle as he lights the fires and mops the floors. Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody in the staffroom, talking about the next task ... Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his Wheezy!".

Professor Moody. His name was popping up too often for comfort, given Kennedy's recent suspicions. But ... it could be nothing. She could be paranoid. She could be overthinking ... she would think it over later, she decided.

Harry's doubt vanished as he grabbed the gillyweed from Dobby and thanked him profusely. "Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!", Dobby announced, "Dobby will be missed — good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!".

Harry turned to Kennedy with a renewed but still somewhat tentative spark in his eye. "I hope this works, Kenn", he said as they packed their stuff, "Where's my wand?". Kennedy tossed it over as she assured him, "It will work, Harry. My singular goal here is for you to win and survive — friendly reminder that I don't fail".

"Lucky for me", Harry grinned nervously as he stuffed the last of his things into his satchel. Without thinking much of it, Kennedy threw her arms around him in what would be a hug if Harry hadn't stood shock still. "You'll do great, mo— notre champion. Everything will be fine", she spoke quickly before releasing him and picking up her satchel as they scurried out of the library.

"Another nickname?", Harry asked. "More of a title. A declaration", Kennedy hurriedly explained, feeling a little sheepish and raw in the aftermath of her words. "What's it mean?".

She didn't want to tell him what she almost said.

"Our champion. You're our champion".

.·:••●••:·.

            KENNEDY'S SHOWER TIME that morning was anything but peaceful and relaxing. Not because of the shenanigans of her roommates or a prank the Three Musketeers had played, she would much prefer that, but because the sheer coincidence of Dobby coming to find them at the perfect moment would not leave her alone.

Dobby just conveniently appeared, out of nowhere, to give them a solution at the last hour. It was too easy. The whole night and weeks leading up to it had been work and work and work and nothing coming to them easily.

Why would it just start now? How could it just start now?

The obvious answer was that it couldn't; someone had orchestrated it.

This was not to insult Dobby's intelligence or anything of the sort. On the contrary, whoever it is must have used Dobby's autonomy against him by making him think he had come up with the idea all on his own and now had the perfect solution to present to his friend Harry. By Dobby innocently helping his friend, he was doing exactly what this mystery person wanted.

Someone knew that Harry was procrastinating, someone knew that Harry was working on it at the last minute in the library and that same someone also wants Harry to win the tournament (or at the very least, survive this task). But who? And why? How did they know Harry was in the library?

It was all too easy and it was driving Kennedy insane.

.·:••●••:·.

            "WELL, ALL OUR CHAMPIONS are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One... two... three!", Ludo Bagman bellowed after casting an amplification charm. His whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause. Kennedy's eyes were trained on Harry as he frantically pulled off his shoes and socks, pulled the handful of gillyweed out of his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the lake.

The crowd erupted in laughter. Kennedy sat with the usual group to watch Harry — Daphne, Rachel, Eshaal, Jude, Lola, Reggie, Ginny, Fred and George — as they stared at Harry in mild confusion. "Did he just ... chew marijuana?", Rachel squinted. "What's marijuana?", Jude turned to face her. "Nothing you need to worry about, Ju", Rachel pushed his shoulder forward to make him face the lake.

From a row behind, Fred (?) leaned down and asked, "What's marijuana?". "Muggle drug", Rachel simply replied as Fred (?) made a noise of understanding.

"It's not marijuana, whatever that is ... it's gillyweed", Kennedy clarified to the group. They all made a noise of understanding before returning to their previous conversations.

"Oh, that makes more sense. To breathe underwater", Rachel made a noise of understanding, "A bit of a rare herb. I wonder how he got his hands on it". "How rare?", Kennedy turned to her in surprise. "Not one in a billion rare but ... not something one would have willy nilly, you know? Only if you had a specific use for it. I'm not entirely sure how it's used outside of healing — I know it can be grounded up and put into potions to help with respiratory issues to strengthen the lungs — but I've never seen it used in its raw state before".

"It's used in healing potions?", Kennedy asked. Rachel hummed, "I know it's medicinal use but not general use. Have you come across it in your brewing?". "Not personally. I've never used it and only seen it in instruction booklets. I tend to substitute it with grounded Phyllandria blooms or Flitterbloom stems, depending on the potion. Dobby, the house elf, brought it for Harry to use".

It's a potions ingredient. Dobby suddenly had it so soon after wares from Snape's office were stolen. Only a wizard could get into Snape's office. They saw Bartemius Crouch in Snape's office. Could the mystery person be ... Bartemius Crouch?

Her train of thought was interrupted as Harry began to clutch at his throat. Kennedy watched in bug-eyed horror as his lips slowly went blue. They went bluer and bluer and bluer ... until instead of collapsing and needing medical attention like Kennedy expected, two large slits appeared just below his ears. Harry just sprouted gills. And ... were his hands green? And webbed?

Kennedy was still unsure when he flung himself into the water. That was the last they saw of him for a while.

"I ... didn't expect the gills", Ginny commented. "'Suppose it makes sense. It's in the name", Daphne pointed out in a similar state of surprise, "Gillyweed". "You're right", Ginny singsonged.

"Do patients sprout gills when it's in their prescriptions, Rachel?", Eshaal asked sweetly. "Merlin, no", Rachel chuckled, "That's why it's grounded into a powder. To prevent ... well, that".

Lola giggled, "What, being turned into half a fish?". "Precisely, Charlotte", Rachel ruffled her hair. "Don't call me that", Lola grumbled with a pout. Reggie giggled at her side before Lola snapped at him, "Don't laugh too hard, Reginald".

Kennedy wasn't paying much attention to their banter. She was looking out at the still lake. It was ... completely, entirely still. Nothing like the action-packed viewing experience of the First Task. "What ... exactly are we supposed to be seeing?", she asked no one in particular. "A lake?", Reggie sassed, "What, you can't see it?".

Kennedy reached to whack the back of his head but he ducked out of her way. "Disrespectful little git", Kennedy rolled her eyes, "Yes, I can see the lake, thanks for asking. I mean ... is there going to be a projection of some kind? So we can see what's happening down there?".

"That's what she said", Rachel muttered and Eshaal snorted. Thankfully, Rachel was right beside Kennedy and could not escape the whack upside the back of her head she had coming. "There are children around", Kennedy hissed. "Where?", Rachel searched around dramatically, "All I see are disrespectful little demons".

"Sooooo, children", Daphne supplied easily.

"Maybe there's no projection out of respect for the merpeople? It's their home before it's a site for the task. Maybe they don't want to be exposed", Eshaal suggested with a shrug. "Maybe", Kennedy hummed thoughtfully, "Maybe".

"Hmm ... who else is hot here. Well, there's that tall Gryffindor. Dean Thomas. And, Blaise Zabini? Something like that. Oh and, Harry Potter, the Hogwarts champion. He is very attractive", she heard someone say in French a few rows behind them. Kennedy immediately went quiet to listen in on their conversation. A pair of Beauxbatons students, she guessed; there were a few sitting near them. "Very, very attractive. Cedric is too, but Harry is more my type. I like the messy hair look".

"You like that he looks like a loser, Noelle. I know you", a different voice said. Kennedy bit her lip slightly to not laugh. "Leave me be, Manon!", Noelle defended.

Several more minutes of banter and bickering and imagining what was going on in the lake passed, ("Maybe Harry's chosen to live there. The mermaids must be very beautiful", Fred (?) had joked at a pont. "Or maybe, they've chosen him as their King and forced him into marriage. They're doing the ceremony right now, I tell you. He's gonna come up with party favors and moist leftover cake").

Kennedy squinted at a disruption in the water. It was Cedric, holding a blearily blinking Chaerin in his arms. The crowd erupted in cheers as people waved Hufflepuff memorabilia in the air. "Cedric! Cedric! Cedric!", the crowd chanted.

Minutes later, there was another disruption in the water. It was Viktor Krum, holding Hermione in his arms. Their side of the stand erupted in cheers as they spotted Hermione, coughing up water but entirely unharmed. Kennedy was one of the loudest.

Next, was Fleur Delacour but she held no one as she swam back to shore with scratches all over her arms. It seemed she had failed her task. The crowd cheered but were a bit quieter than they had been for Cedric and Viktor.

About twenty minutes later, Harry finally emerged from the water. He kicked and paddled to shore holding Ron and ... a little girl who looked like Fleur Delacour? Pale skin and silvery long hair, they had to be related. It seemed Harry had come last because he stayed behind to take Fleur's hostage as well since she never showed up.

The crowd cheered and cheered; shouting and screaming as they stood to their feet. Ron and the little girl suddenly opened their eyes; the girl looked scared and confused, but Ron merely expelled a great spout of water, blinked in the bright light, turned to Harry, and said something to Harry that made Harry chuckle. Most likely some kind of dry comment, Kennedy guessed. Then, Ron spotted Fleur's sister and turned to ask Harry something with a confused and annoyed scrunch on his face. She couldn't hear Harry's justification but she heard Ron when he lovingly snapped, "Harry, you prat, you didn't take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!".

Harry blushed slightly, embarrassed but steadfast in his decision, as he quietly asked Ron for help with bringing the girl to safety.

They pulled Fleur's sister through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of honor, singing their horrible screechy songs.

Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry and Ron from the bank as they swam nearer, but Percy, who looked very white and somehow much younger than Kennedy remembered him looking, came splashing out to meet them. Meanwhile, Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?".

Percy seized Ron and was dragging him back to the bank ("Get off, Percy, I'm all right!"); Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry upright; Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister.

"It was ze grindylows... zey attacked me ... oh Gabrielle, I thought ... I thought ...".

"Come here, you," said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Harry and pulled him over to Hermione and the others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket that he felt as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down his throat. Kennedy could have sworn she saw steam rush out of his ears.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!".

"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor gruffly said. It seemed more like an attempt to draw her attention back onto himself; perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her from the lake, but Hermione brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry ... Did it take you ages to find us?".

"No... I found you okay...", Harry seemed to say as Kennedy watched Dumbledore crouch down by the lake's edge and converse in Mermish with the chief merperson. Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think".

The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone to rescue Ron from Percy's clutches; she led him over to Harry and the others, gave him a blanket and some Pepperup Potion, then went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.

"Look after Gabrielle", she told her, and then she turned to Harry. "You saved 'er", she said breathlessly, "Even though she was not your 'ostage". Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek (Harry's face burned and looked ready for steam to start rushing out his ears again), then said to Ron, "And you too–you 'elped" "Yeah," said Ron, looking extremely hopeful, "yeah, a bit—".

Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Hermione looked furious — her face went a bright splotchy red and Kennedy could have sworn her eye twitched. Just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows ... Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points". There was mild applause from the stands.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour". The cheers of the Hufflepuffs were thunderously loud; Kennedy watched Harry watch Chaerin give Cedric a glowing look. Harry looked away as if burned.

"We therefore award him forty-seven points". Shit, Kennedy thought. If Cedric was outside the time limit, then Harry most certainly had been. "Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points".

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect", Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own".

"Most of the judges", and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However ... Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points". Kennedy along with the rest of the crowd roared and cheered with excitement. "There you go, Harry!", Ron shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick after all — you were showing moral fiber!".

Harry was now tied with Cedric for first place! Harry grinned widely as Ron and Hermione rushed forward to hug him. As they came out of their embrace, he looked out into the crowd and made eye contact with Kennedy. She clapped and smiled gently before mouthing, "Notre champion".

Harry smiled back before his attention was taken by Bagman's next announcement. "The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June", continued Bagman, "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions".

It was over. They could rest. Kennedy stepped down the stairs of the stands as Madam Pomfrey began herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes. However, Harry, Ron and Hermione abruptly broke from the group and ran to Kennedy as she took the final step onto the grounds. Immediately, she felt their sopping wet clothes and shivering bodies on hers as they embraced her tightly.

"It's over", Harry grinned widely. "Get off me! I'm all wet now", Kennedy playfully whined. She didn't care, really. She had never been hugged by three people before. It was a new experience and she liked it. "Too bad", Ron chuckled as he squeezed her tighter before letting go with the others, "You're in on this and so you suffer with us. Sorry, Your Royal Highness".

Kennedy rolled her eyes but Ron could still see the look of surprise on her face from being referred to as part of them, "Yes, you're part of us, Kenn. If we get a cold, you get a cold".

"You share diseases?", Kennedy asked incredulously. "Merlin no, or else we'd all have Harry's rancid eyesight", Hermione giggled.

"Leave my eyes alone!", Harry defended as they made their way up the stone steps into the castle, laughing freely and joyously as they went.

.·:••●••:·.

            "I'LL HAVE YOU LOT know that I have recently become a businessman", Jude announced at breakfast one morning. "What, a businessman whose voice still cracks?", Kennedy teased. "My voice doesn't crack!", Jude defended as his voice cracked.

"Right", Kennedy stifled a giggle by hurriedly taking a bit of Rachel's eggs and stuffing it in her mouth, "Carry on, Ju". Jude rolled his eyes before continuing, "Remember all the potions I showed you guys?". Their section of the table nodded in agreement. They had all been treated to an excited Jude talking about his potions at one point or another during the last few weeks, whether in batches or alone.

"Well, I just had my first client. The Weasley Twins bought five vials of Rithimon! Said it would be perfect for their next prank", Jude gushed, "Isn't that so cool? They're gonna use one of my potions in their legendary pranks! And they gave me a tip too because I tested it on one of them and it worked perfectly! One of them, not sure who, also said he liked my hair so maybe that played a part, too! I'm so happy! Also, I've been thinking of getting a tattoo somehow. They're so cool! Not necessarily relating to this, but something ... cool! I'm just so so so happy!".

Reggie pulled Jude into a hug before Kennedy could, "Jude, that's amazing!". Kennedy, Daphne, Rachel and Lola all made meaningful eye contact before rushing to congratulate Jude. Kennedy pinched his cheeks as Jude whined at her to get off, Lola took a bit of his baked beans as compensation for 'being instrumental to his success' (she did not specify how), Daphne beamed and pushed half her hashbrowns into his plate since they were his favorite and Rachel excitedly asked about price lists and what he had available since she "needed something to spice up her pranks".

As Rachel suggested Jude being open to commissions for specific potions, the delivery owls swooped overhead and dropped Rachel and Dee's subscriptions to Witch Weekly onto the table. At the sight of it, their excited chatter was snuffed to horrified silence. On the cover was a moving picture of Harry and Hermione hugging after the Second Task with the all capitals bold and underlined title — Harry Potter's Secret Heartache.

Written by Rita fucking Skeeter.

Upon skimming the article, Kennedy hurriedly asked to borrow Daphne's copy and took it as she rushed out of the Great Hall. It was the first time she would be early to Potions.

.·:••●••:·.

            KENNEDY WAS SHAKING with anger as she stood beside Hermione outside the Potions classroom. "What's got you so ... tense?", Hermione asked carefully. Kennedy couldn't bring herself to say it. Pansy's big mouth proved itself useful for once at just the right time, "You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!". She threw the magazine at Hermione who caught it, looking quite startled. Harry and Ron looked interested so Kennedy wordlessly handed over Daphne's copy that she had borrowed, "Center page".

At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside. Kennedy had never been more grateful for whichever Second Year project had left the tables pushed together, allowing them to all sit together. They headed for the back of the dungeon. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients of today's potion on the blackboard, Hermione hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. She could see Ron doing the same.

A color photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled: Harry Potter's Secret Heartache.

A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest. "She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it". Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.

"I told you!", Ron hissed at Hermione as she stared down at the article. "I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of — of scarlet woman!". Hermione stopped looking astonished and snorted with laughter. "Scarlet woman?", she repeated, shaking with suppressed giggles as she looked around at Ron.

"It's what my mum calls them," Ron muttered, his ears going red. "If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch", said Hermione, still giggling, as she threw Witch Weekly onto the empty chair beside her, "What a pile of old rubbish." Hermione looked over at Pansy and her friends, who were all watching her and Harry closely across the room to see if they had been upset by the article. She gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and she, Kennedy, Harry, and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their WitSharpening Potion.

"There's something funny, though", realized Hermione ten minutes later, holding her pestle suspended over a bowl of scarab beetles, "How could Rita Skeeter have known ...?". "Known what?", asked Ron quickly. "You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?". "Don't be stupid," Hermione snapped, starting to pound up her beetles again. "No, it's just ... how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?", Hermione blushed scarlet as she said this and determinedly avoided Ron's eyes.

"What?" said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud clunk.

"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake," Hermione muttered. "After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to —".

"And what did you say?" said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl, because he was looking at Hermione. Kennedy and Harry shared a look. "And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else", Hermione went on, going so red now that Kennedy could almost feel the heat coming from her, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there... or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task ...".

"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk. "Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to—".

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is Miss Granger", said a slimy voice right behind them, and all four of them jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor". Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them; Draco took the opportunity to flash his 'POTTER STINKS!' badge across the dungeon at Harry.

Kennedy hurriedly but slowly, so as to not be noticed, pushed Daphne's copy of the magazine under the table so Snape wouldn't see. Harry and Ron weren't fast enough. "Ah... reading magazines under the table as well?", Snape added, snatching up their copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor ... oh but of course ..." Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings...".

The dungeon rang with the laughter of Draco, Pansy and their friends, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. To Kennedy's ire, he began to read the article aloud. "'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache ... dear, dear. Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps ...'".

Harry's face flushed a deep, deep red. Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the bitchy Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Even Hermione was blushing scarlet. "'... Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching", sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins. "Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter — that table in front of my desk. Move. Now".

Kennedy watched as Hermine and Harry both packed their things and moved towards the front of the class. Snape stood in front of Harry's new desk and seemed quite cross ... nostrils flaring and face showing an uncharacteristic range of emotion. Harry was staring up at Snape defiantly, refuting and refusing whatever it was Snape was accusing him of. Kennedy's best guess was that it had to do with whoever broke into Snape's office. Of course, Harry knew it was Barty Crouch but he couldn't just say that.

Ron and Kennedy worked diligently but generally quietly apart from Kennedy teasing him about maybe possible fancying Hermione (to which Ron had flushed red and pointedly whispered, "I do not!") and little shared dry comments making fun of Snape ("Does he even use shampoo?", Ron had asked with a chuckle, "He always looks like the lone survivor of an oil spill". "You know, we have an annual tradition of going into Snape's dorms to check for shampoo", Kennedy informed him, "Zabini did it last year but got caught and still has detention hours to finish up. Rachel heard the boys are thinking of sending a first year to do it this time, so they don't take the fall". At Ron's slightly surprised chuckle, Kennedy asked, "What? Shocked to hear we don't spend all our time scheming and plotting how to maim Gryffindors?". Ron sheepishly mumbled "A little bit. Bit weird to hear you guys have ... house traditions, like we do". "We're a house, are we not? Not a hivemind", Kennedy shrugged. Ron mumbled, "I suppose you're right".).

There was a loud knock on the dungeon door. "Enter," said Snape in his usual gooey voice. Professor Karkaroff came in and the four of them shared a look. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking quite agitated.

Karkaroff barely opened his lips; quite determined for nobody to hear what he was saying as he stood in front of Snape's desk. By Kennedy's guess, it was something along the lines of "We need to talk". Harry's gaze was firmly trained on his cauldron but Kennedy could tell he was listening hard.

Snape seemed dismissive as he waved him off and focused on whatever it was he was doing but Karkaroff was insisting, looking quite frazzled. Snape was growing angry. Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Harry turned around at a point to make eye contact with Kennedy. Immediately, they both understood they had to stall to hear that conversation.

Kennedy heard Harry deliberately knock over his bottle of armadillo bile two minutes to the bell, giving him an excuse to duck down behind his cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily towards the door. Kennedy took a cue and knocked over her tray of (dead) scarab beetles. "What's so urgent?", she heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff. "This", said Karkaroff, and Kennedy, peering around the desk (and spotting Harry peering around the edge of his cauldron), saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm.

"Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since—".

"Put it away!", snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom. "But you must have noticed—", Karkaroff began in an agitated voice. "We can talk later, Karkaroff!", spat Snape. "Potter! What are you doing?". "Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor," said Harry innocently, straightening up and showing Snape the sodden rag he was holding. "And you, Ms. Bishop?", Snape turned to her. Kennedy stood and dusted herself off, gingerly placing the now neatly arranged tray of scarab beetles on the table, "My scarab beetles fell and scattered, Sir. I couldn't leave them there. That would be extra work for you".

Snape tried to not snap at her and curtly said, "Leave at once, Ms. Bishop. I have to attend to—". But, Karkaroff had turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon with a haunted look on his face. Harry was soon after him. Kennedy saccharinely smiled, "Have a good day, Professor", before calmly leaving the classroom to find Harry waiting for her to go and tell Ron and Hermione what they had witnessed.

"This is a bit out of left field for you, I reckon", Harry said quietly as they speed walked down the corridor, "But, would you like to come join us tomorrow to meet Sirius in Hogsmeade? I've mentioned you in letters so you wouldn't be much of a surprise".

Kennedy was surprised but still delighted, "I would love to".

.·:••●••:·.

            JUDE COULD NOT STOP TALKING about wanting a tattoo. "I have no idea what I'd get, Kenn! But I want one!", Jude excitedly spoke as she and Kennedy wrapped up their game of chess. "Why's that?", Kennedy asked. "They just look cool", he shrugged, "I like the idea of it. Y'know adding something to your body".

As Jude whispered the incantation to move their chess pieces to their original places, Kennedy stood and announced, "I have some required reading for History of Magic to do. I won't be much fun now". Jude looked a little dismayed but just as she prepared to apologize, he suddenly lit up, "That's alright! I have ... er, work to do!". "Why did you stutter?", Kennedy furrowed her eyebrows. "I didn't stutter", Jude sputtered as he rushed towards his dorm. "Yes, you did!", Kennedy refuted. Her only response was the slam of his dorm door.

Kennedy decided not to press and opened her History of Magic to read the chapter on the Goblin Revolution. It wasn't as boring as expected, even if obviously she would prefer to be working on the Ringscribe. It was only Tuesday, however; Wednesday was soon. She was going to work on testing with Harry. Obviously, she didn't only wait until Wednesday to work on it — she now had an up and running prototype and would never have gotten that done if she worked on it for only a day a week for an hour — but it was more fun with Harry. Additionally, she had homework from McGonagall. She was still doing those private lessons though they were less novel since she'd been doing them for a few weeks now. They were a habit now, attending and practicing for them had become routine that she barely noted anymore.

Fifteen minutes had passed and she was at the end of her reading when Jude burst into the Common Room from his dorm looking mildly upset. "It didn't come out how I wanted it to", Jude whined, clutching his inner right forearm. "... What didn't?", Kennedy furrowed her eyebrows, "Jude. What did you do?". "I tried ... uh, maybe you should just see it", Jude plopped in the chair beside her and uncovered his arm. On his arm was a tattoo — though calling it that was generous. It was certainly a (most likely) permanent drawing on skin, but it was of nothing in particular — a vague round shape with some lines slashing through.

"You tried to give yourself a tattoo", Kennedy said flatly as she held his arm and tried to rub at it. It didn't come off. Jude nodded and mumbled sheepishly, "Thought I'd give it a try". "Jude ... you don't give these things a try. You could've gotten hurt! What if you cut your arm clean off?".

"I didn't though", Jude said simply and Kennedy kissed her teeth. "How did you even ... what's that supposed to be, even?".

"A potion vial. Clearly didn't work out", Jude explained. Kennedy snorted, "That's supposed to be a potion vial?". "It's harder to draw on your own arm than I thought!", Jude defended himself. "Really?", Kennedy gasped with mock surprise, "Blimey, do you think there's some kind of professional that should've done it instead?".

"You're not funny", Jude grumbled. "I'm hilarious", Kennedy rubbed at the 'tattoo' with her thumb, "The skin doesn't look irritated. Does it hurt?".

"No, I can't really feel it. Not more or less than I usually would anyway. I feel normal", Jude explained, still looking quite embarrassed, "Kenn, this is going to be so embarrassing. No one's gonna think I'm cool anymore with this butchered thing on your arm". Kennedy thoughtfully did not point out that he easily could've lived the rest of his life without it on his arm (or at least until he saw a professional). She also did not tease and ask "People think you're cool?" like she usually would.

Instead, she asked, "What spell was it?".

"The drawing charm. Pingo", Jude explained, "Why?". Kennedy answered his question by reciting the charm, referring to Jude's tattoo periodically and slowly drawing onto her arm a similar butchered potion vial on her right forearm.

"Kennedy!", Jude shrieked, "Why would you do that? You've ruined your skin!".

"If anyone asks, you can tell everyone that the only reason your tattoo is so bad is because I drew it. I'm not too talented an artist, either, as you can see", Kennedy gestured to her forearm now permanently tattooed with a slightly more blasphemous representation of a potion vial, "We can have terrible tattoos together. Don't worry about it, Ju. It's our thing now".

"That doesn't sound like a very cool thing, Kenn", Jude said nervously, "I'm sorry about your skin, Kenn. You shouldn't have done that!".

Kennedy chuckled freely and pulled him into a side hug, "There's no need to apologize. I did it myself. And obviously, Ju, it's cool because we're doing it".

.·:••●••:·.

            BEFORE THIS WHOLE THING, Kennedy never had a favorite day of the week. Unfortunately, Hogwarts had changed her, because she could now easily say that it was Wednesday. She loved Wednesday, and it was because of a sweet something she had never meaningfully had before — friendship.

Part of why she was enjoying preparing for the tournament was because it felt like a group project. She was homeschooled and an only child; there was no one to partner with. But here, she could do actual group projects like her charms assignment with Rachel and whichever of her friends (calling them that still made her unreasonably excited) she ended up paired with for Potions. Sitting in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom poring over the Ringscribe with Harry, Kennedy had never felt so warm.

Harry had the ring portion of the Ringscribe on his pointer finger as he sat on the other end of the bathroom from Kennedy, who had the quill and parchment portion of it. "First, we're doing a range test", Kennedy announced as she left the quill and parchment on her satchel and went to sit on the floor beside Harry. She watched the quill begin to right and fought back the urge to squeal. "'To ensure it doesn't pick up sounds in Bolivia' is what you said last time", Harry quoted.

"Exactly. And also, sound quality. If it's not accurate, the whole thing's a waste", Kennedy added, "I already tested the link between them. Transcription was seamless last time, but that was just me talking. I want to see how it will fare with two people".

"You think we should maybe bring in Ron and Hermione one of these days so we could test how it works with multiple people?", Harry suggested. Kennedy lit up, "That's a great idea! Maybe not a Wednesday because they've both got classes right now, but any other day".

Harry suddenly noticed something new on her person, "What's that on your arm?". "New tattoo. A Kennedy Bishop original. Jude's been obsessed with getting one and tried doing one on himself. I offered to do it on myself so we could share the embarrassment. His is only slightly better than mine".

"So it's horrifyingly bad?", Harry quipped. "Precisely. It's supposed to be a potion vial". "I never would've guessed that", Harry said honestly. "Neither would I", Kennedy snorted. "You guys are like ... picture-perfect siblings. Your father must be happy you guys are so close".

Kennedy blinked in confusion before chuckling, "We're not siblings. I met him this year. I mean, he's like my brother but that's entirely an appointed position". "Oh", Harry said in surprise, "I thought you guys had a half-sibling thing going on. What with the different surnames and all".

Kennedy let out a sound of understanding before teasing, "Didn't know you were theorizing about my life, Bambi". "It was ... an informed assumption", Harry defended before saying, "You think that's enough for this run? Must be about half a page". "Yeah, I'll go check on it", she stood from their seat on Harry's robes and immediately spotted that something was wrong. "It's ... made a feedback loop. It's repeating phrases and some words are overlapping", Kennedy noted, "Oh! And it's a bit delayed. It's only just written down what my response to you suggesting bringing in Ron and Hermione".

"What're you gonna do?", Harry said, now standing right beside her, "Will you have to recast the listening charm?". "Exactly that", Kennedy leaned down and accepted the ring Harry placed in her palm, "And I'll have to strengthen the Echo Relay Charm so there's no more delay".

Kennedy leaned down and carefully, slowly, worked through the incantations and wand movements. Despite her work with McGonagall, she still wasn't entirely confident in her abilities — especially for such an important project. She was working in front of someone else, though. That was new. She was much more confident than she had ever been before, she realized. After about fifteen minutes of testing, re-testing and making slight adjustments, the issue was curbed. They returned to their seat on Harry's cloak to begin another round of testing.

"You know, it's really beautiful, Kenn—"

"Barty Crouch is—"

They blinked at each other.

"You go first?", Kennedy offered. Harry accepted, "It's a beautiful ring, I wanted to say. Like, outside of its function. It's a beautiful ring". "Thank you, Harry. I wanted something simple and conspicuous so I couldn't go lodging a humongous diamond on it. A simple black band seemed like the best choice".

"You were saying?", Harry wanted her to continue. "Er— right. What I have to say isn't nearly as nice as that. But, I have a theory ... I think Barty Crouch has a personal interest in seeing you win the tournament. Or, at least the Second Task. I don't know. I'm not sure yet. But there's too many coincidences".

"Like what?", Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "Like Dobby coming at just the last moment. Like gillyweed being an herb used in potions; it could be what he was looking for in Snape's office that night. If I'm right, he wants you to win and he knew you were stalling and he also knew that we were in the library that morning. It's the only way all of this makes sense".

"It ... it does make sense", Harry realized, "And when Snape was accusing me of stealing from his office, he mentioned that some Gillyweed was missing ... it makes too much sense, even". "Doesn't help us much right now, though", Kennedy noted, "Unless he helps with the third task too. It's just ... something I pieced together. An unproven theory! Don't go mentioning it to anyone other than Ron and Hermione".

"Promise", Harry hooked his pinkie with hers before remarking, "It's ... getting hot, Kenn. The ring. Like ... very quickly".

"Give it to me", Kennedy said and held out her palm for Harry to drop it onto. Immediately she was surprised by the heat, "Oh shit, you're right. And it's buzzing a little bit. The magic in there is so concentrated that it's emitting heat and sound".

Kennedy hummed in thought as the ring got hotter and hotter on her palm, "I'll layer a cooling charm. And maybe Dissipatio so that the excess magic is safely released and the ring is as efficient as possible. It would be terribly inconvenient if it started burning someone during use".

"Yeah, I reckon the smell of burning flesh would tip off anyone around that something is unusual about the ring", Harry remarked. Kennedy chuckled lightly before muffling the incantation for the cooling charm.

.·:••●••:·.

            KENNEDY, RON, HARRY AND HERMIONE left the castle at noon to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was milder than it had been all year, and by the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, all four of them had taken off their cloaks and thrown them over their shoulders. Apparently, Sirius had told Harry in a letter to bring food. It was all in Harry's bag; they had sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table.

They went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present for Dobby, where they had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. Then, at half past one, they made their way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village.

Kennedy had never been through the village itself before. The winding lane led them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then, they turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth.

If Kennedy hadn't known Sirius was an animagus, she would have thought Harry mad when he happily said, "Hello, Sirius" to the dog.

The black dog sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, wagged its tail once, then turned and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. The four of them climbed over the stile and followed.

Sirius led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but the four students were soon out of breath (Harry a little less because he was an athlete). They followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail, sweating in the sun.

Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when they reached the place where he had vanished, they saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of them. All four of them bowed low to him, and after regarding them imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck.

Kennedy's gaze was trained on the black dog, who had just turned into Harry's godfather. Despite his raggedy gray prison robes, unruly black hair and thin frame, it was clear he was a very handsome man. Kennedy was sure she might've been visibly blushing if she was any lighter. Thankfully, her blushing was concealed.

"Chicken!", he said hoarsely after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth and throwing them down onto the cave floor. Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread. "Thanks", said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself".

He looked up at Kennedy sheepishly, "Forgive me. This is a terrible state to first meet me in. You must be Kenned—". Sirius suddenly went even paler somehow. He froze, chicken half way to his mouth, "You— you— Ree— how?".

Kennedy furrowed her eyebrows as Ron asked from behind her, "Sirius? You look like you've seen a ghost". "Might've", Kennedy could have sworn she heard Sirius mumble. "Sorry?", Kennedy asked. "Er— you're Kennedy, right?", Sirius quickly composed himself, "It's nice to meet you. I would shake your hand but you'd get crumbs all over".

"Nice to meet you too, Sirius", Kennedy smiled tentatively despite her confusion. Rita Skeeter had a similar response upon seeing her. Her train of thought was interrupted as Harry asked, "What're you doing here, Sirius?".

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather", said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray." He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety on Harry's face, said more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter ... Well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried".

He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them. Harry, however, continued to stare at Sirius, "What if they catch you? What if you're seen?".

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus", said Sirius, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg. Ron nudged Harry and passed him the Daily Prophets. There were two: the first bore the headline 'Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch', the second, 'Ministry Witch Still Missing — Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved'.

Harry and Ron scanned the story about Crouch before passing the paper to Kennedy and Hermione to read. Phrases jumped out at her: hasn't been seen in public since November ... house appears deserted ... St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment ... Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness.

(Harry and Kennedy shared a glance but said nothing about her theory.)

"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here...". "My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron informed Sirius, "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork".

"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry slowly, "The night my name came out of the goblet...".

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione, an edge to her voice. She was stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching up Sirius's chicken bones. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him". "Hermione's obsessed with house-elves", Ron muttered to Sirius, casting Hermione a dark look. Sirius, however, looked interested, "Crouch sacked his house-elf?".

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup", said Harry, and he launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance at the Quidditch World Cup, and Winky being found with Harry's wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave. "Let me get this straight", he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg, "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?".

"Right", Kennedy, Ron, Harry and Hermione chorused. She wasn't there but she had been told the story.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No", said Harry, "I think he said he'd been too busy." Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?".

"Erm ...", Harry thought hard. "No," he said finally. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars." He stared at Sirius, "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?".

"It's possible", said Sirius. "Winky didn't steal that wand!", Hermione insisted. "The elf wasn't the only one in that box", clarified Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace, "Who else was sitting behind you?". "Loads of people", Harry tried to recall, "Some Bulgarian ministers... Cornelius Fudge... the Malfoys...". "The Malfoys!", exclaimed Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously, "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!".

"Anyone else?", said Sirius. "No one", Harry replied. "Didn't you mention Ludo Bagman?", Kennedy asked. "Oh, right". "I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Sirius, still pacing. "What's he like?". "He's okay," said Harry, "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament". "Does he, now?", said Sirius, frowning more deeply, "I wonder why he'd do that?". "Says he's taken a liking to me", Harry said. "Or, less altruistically, he has a personal interest in seeing you win. For whatever reason", Kennedy supplied.

Sirius snapped with a whirl before declaring, "You're sharp. I like you". Kennedy grinned as Hermione suddenly remembered, "We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared". "Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?", said Ron. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite". "How d'you know?", Hermione shot back, "How d'you know where he disapparated to?".

"Come off it," said Ron incredulously. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?". "It's more likely he did it than Winky", said Hermione stubbornly. "Told you", said Ron, looking meaningfully at Sirius, "told you she's obsessed with house el—". But Sirius held up a hand to silence Ron, "When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?".

"Went to look in the bushes", said Harry, "but there wasn't anyone else there". "Of course", Sirius muttered, pacing up and down, "of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf ... and then he sacked her?". "Yes", said Hermione in a heated voice, "he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled—". "Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!" exclaimed Ron.

Sirius shook his head and said, "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man is like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals". He ran a hand over his (devilishly handsome) unshaven face, evidently thinking hard.

"All these absences of Barty Crouch's ... he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too ... It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak".

"D'you know Crouch, then?", said Harry. Sirius' entire face darkened and immediately Kennedy understood how the entire magical community could believe he was a cold-blooded killer. "Oh I know Crouch all right", he said quietly. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban — without a trial".

"What?", Ron and Hermione gasped. "You're kidding!", exclaimed Harry. "That can't be allowed", Kennedy furrowed her eyebrows. "Didn't matter if it was allowed — he was the man. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and tipped to be the next Minister of Magic ... powerfully magical and power-hungry. Never a Voldemort supporter, I see that look on your face Harry. Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side ... well, you wouldn't understand ... you're too young ...".

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup", said Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice, "Try us, why don't you?". A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face. "All right, I'll try you ...", he walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing ... the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere ... panic ... confusion ... that's how it used to be".

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning — I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers — powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened ...", Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power".

"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione. "Yep", said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, and tearing it in half. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while ... gotten to know his own son". He began to wolf down large pieces of bread as Harry asked, "Was his son a Death Eater?".

"No idea", admitted Sirius, still stuffing down bread. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf". "Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered, sounding like she knew the answer. Sirius let out a laugh that sounded more like a mutt's bark.

"Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy ... then he sent him straight to Azkaban".

"He gave his own son to the dementors?", Kennedy asked quietly. "That's right", said Sirius, and he didn't look remotely amused now, "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though... they all went quiet in the end... except when they shrieked in their sleep...".

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius' eyes became more pronounced than ever. "So he's still in Azkaban?", Harry asked. "No", said Sirius dully.,"No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in".

"He died?"

"He wasn't the only one", said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it".

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it. "So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made", he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic ... next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation".

There was a long silence. "Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards", Harry told Sirius. "Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him", said Sirius, nodding, "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater".

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!", said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione. "Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all", said Sirius. Harry glanced at Kennedy questioningly. Swallowing nervously, Kennedy piped up, "We have a theory about that, actually". "Do tell", Sirius gestured with a half-eaten chicken. "We think he was there to help Harry with the tournament. The morning of, Dobby suddenly came to find us in the library with a solution — gillyweed. Gillyweed is a potion's ingredient and Snape confirmed some was stolen from his supply. We think that Crouch stole the gillyweed, gave it to Dobby and somehow manipulated Dobby into thinking coming to give it to Harry was his own free will, meanwhile it was exactly what Crouch wanted".

"She came up with that. I don't know why she said 'we'", Harry clarified. "Harry", Kennedy chided before quickly clarifying, "It's just a theory! I could be wrong". Sirius thought about it for a second, "It makes perfect sense. An alarming amount of sense, really. It's brilliant.". Kennedy grinned a little sheepishly and expected some kind of comment about how, of course, a Slytherin would think of something so cunning. However, it never came. They were in their own clothes and Harry must not have mentioned that in his letters. Sirius must've just assumed she was a Gryffindor.

"But, I wouldn't be surprised if he had two motives, if my theory is correct. He could be multitasking", Kennedy noted. "I don't think so. If Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him", Sirius said. "So you think Snape could be up to something, then?", asked Harry, but Hermione broke in, "Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape—".

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron impatiently, "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him—". "Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?".

"I dunno — maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out —". Harry had had enough of their bickering, "What d'you think, Sirius?". "I think they've both got a point," said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy haired kid, he was," Sirius added, and Harry and Ron grinned at each other, "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters".

"Oh, goodie", Kennedy muttered just as Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names. "Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban. Avery — from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse — he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble".

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet", said Ron, glancing at Kennedy as if nudging her to mention that her Papa was also quite familiar with Karkaroff. She kept her mouth shut. The implication of that ... was unthinkable and unspeakable. She refused to entertain it, even for a millisecond. "Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!", said Harry quickly, "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but we couldn't see what it was".

"He showed Snape something on his arm?", asked Sirius, looking quite bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again, "Well, I've no idea what that's about ... but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers ...". Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration, "There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort".

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?", said Ron stubbornly. "Well", said Sirius slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though ... he's a different matter ... At this point, I don't think he's ill. And if he really is helping Harry with the tournament, why? If he's not ... What's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?".

Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron, "You say your brother is Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?". "I can try", said Ron doubtfully, "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch".

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it", said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet. "Bagman told me they hadn't", said Harry. "Yes, he's quoted in the article in there," said Sirius, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all — quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic... maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long ...".

Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes, "What's the time?". It's half past three," said Hermione, checking her watch. "You'd better get back to school", Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen...", he looked particularly hard at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you". "No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said with a hint of sass. Sirius scowled at him, "I don't care ... I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?".

He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you", said Sirius, "see if I can scrounge another paper". He transformed into the great black dog before they left the cave, and they walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of them to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Kennedy, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.

"Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?", Ron said as they walked up the drive to the castle, "But maybe he doesn't care... It'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son". "Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors", said Hermione severely. "I don't know", said Ron, "If he thought we were standing in the way of his career... Percy's really ambitious, you know...".

"Maybe he should've been a Slytherin", Kennedy chimed in. "Ha ha, very funny", Ron rolled his eyes, "Mum would have a heart attack". "Gee, thanks", Kennedy rolled her eyes. Kennedy had always got the feeling they weren't as hostile to her as others because she had just become a Slytherin. She wasn't inherently evil like the rest of her classmates because she had only just been sorted that way.

Ron mumbled a sheepish apology before deeply breathing in the delicious smell of dinner wafting from the Great Hall, "Poor Snuffles. He must really like you, Harry ... Imagine having to live off rats".

.·:••●••:·.

            ON A RANDOM NIGHT during the last week of May, Harry found out what the Third Task would be. Naturally, he wrote to Kennedy to tell her about it. His handwriting was all scribbles and jagged lines. He was panicking.

The third task is going to be in a maze. They've built hedges on the Quidditch field. Apparently, the Triwizard Cup will be at the center and whoever touches it first wins. Hagrid's putting some creatures in there as obstacles. Most importantly, we saw Crouch. Krum pulled me aside after Bagman told us about the task to ask me about Hermione then Crouch came out of the trees out of nowhere.

He's gone mad (talking to a tree and calling it Weatherby, thinking it was Percy). There's no way he's consciously helping me with the tournament. He went on and on about making a mistake and having to tell Dumbledore. He said Voldemort is getting stronger too. I left Krum to get Dumbledore and after Snape was a right pain in the arse and wasted valuable time, we returned to the forest to find Krum stunned and Crouch gone. Krum said Crouch attacked him. Moody and Hagrid came to help at the end.

I'll see you tomorrow, Kenn. I've never sent a Link this long before. I'm sure it'll still work.

— Bambi

He'd been too panicked to even doodle a shoddily drawn deer. He loved doing that. 

Kennedy blinked as she tried to process what she had just read, promptly abandoned the Herculean task and simply wondered, once again, what the fuck was going on.