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"THREE WEEKS."

Albany sighed, burying her face into her hands. She sat criss-cross before her pin board in the dormitory; she hadn't ever used it as much as she was using it this year. This time was a little less exciting than the last, when she had been planning her revenge prank - unless you counted impending doom as exciting, which she did not.

"Three weeks until the first task," she whispered to herself again. "Three weeks to prepare."

The problem was, she needed a lot more than three weeks. Going into a dangerous task to face an unknown obstacle armed with only her wand sounded horrible as it was, and then she had to take into account how bad she was at magic. Charms? Yikes. Transfiguration? Ghastly. Defense Against the Dark Arts? Don't even start. She was thoroughly screwed as things stood, and she had nobody to go to for help.

Faith had advised her to let the Weasley twins approach her first, but Albany found that she wasn't giving them the chance. In Potions class, Roger Davies returned to be her partner. In the hallways, she avoided them at all costs. Truth be told, she wasn't sure what she was more scared of: confronting them for the first time since shit hit the fan, or the possibility that they might not come back at all.

She couldn't well go to Merlin and Arthur, either. She had toyed with the idea of asking them for help, Merlin being an all-powerful wizard and Arthur a great warrior, but there were numerous reasons that put a swift end to the thought. One, she was too proud to come crawling back to them after the terms they had left on, and Faith had suggested she just forget about them anyway. Two, she wasn't actually sure how to call them back. Before, saying Merlin's name might have caught his attention, but this felt different. As though instead of waiting for her on the sidelines, they had abandoned her completely.

Faith wasn't much help either; though she was a decent student, she was far too distracted by gossip and her lack of patience made her a pretty terrible teacher. She far preferred letting Albany in on the latest news of the relationships and arguments between their classmates to discussing the tournament, no matter how desperate Albany got.

And Albany was getting desperate.

She still had to write to her parents and break the news. She had to deal with seeing her name on the chest of every other Slytherin with the anti-Potter badges going around. She had to mend her shitty broken friendships she had ruined, and tell Rita Skeeter and her photographer to fuck off at least once a day. And that was all quite minor in comparison to her looming death.

"Hey, Al."

Faith's voice broke through the thick and disorientating fog of her mind, and Albany slumped, certain that the girl was raising an eyebrow at her posture without glancing back to see her face. Faith's return to the dormitories meant class was starting again. Class that was harder than she thought it had ever been, because she was so distracted with bigger things.

"I think you've got Herbology," Faith said blankly from behind her, and reluctantly, Albany pushed herself to her feet with a huff. "Because I've got Arithmancy...."

"Shit, I'm with George," she realised, face falling rapidly.

"You don't have to talk to him," Faith suggested quickly. "Like I said, wait for him to approach you first, and if he doesn't, don't take it personally, he's a Weasley-"

Albany wasn't listening. "Who do I sit with? Andrew Cleveley? No, he's a total dunce. What about Kenneth Towler, Kenneth's cool, right?"

"Right," Faith repeated vaguely. "He's Gryffindor though, they're all kinda tools. You're better off with someone from another house - unless it's Patricia Stimpson, I've spoken to her once and it will be the only time. She's put me off Hufflepuffs for life...."

Albany came to understand why Faith held such an opinion of the poor girl, as that was exactly who she ended up sitting beside in her best efforts to ditch George Weasley. Patricia was a round blonde girl, who was incredibly overwhelming to be within a five-foot radius of. Her friendliness was suffocating and her chatter nonstop; Albany was actually concerned that she wasn't breathing between her lengthy sentences. She knew her plants well, as she was one of the first to complete Professor Sprout's task of extracting all the Snargaluff pods from the vicious stump before her. However, this left her even more time to dedicate to asking Albany countless questions regarding everything she absolutely did not want to talk about. Combined with the stuffy warmth of the greenhouse, and the aggressive plant that seemed set on ripping off her limbs, Patricia managed to land Albany in a foul mood before they were even twenty minutes into the class.

"So like, what's the first task?" she was currently asking, shiny pink face glowing with admiration. "Because my friend Mandy is like, convinced you'll have to wrestle a mountain troll in your underwear, but that's totally ridiculous, right? Right, yeah! I said the same thing to her, I was like, Mandy, obviously they're not going to wrestle a mountain troll because they wouldn't fit four of those in the Great Hall. But she is like, certain that's what it is, she heard it from Sean who overheard Dumbledore talking about it, but I dunno how reliable that is because last year Sean told his ex Tamara that she used strawberry and mango shampoo in her hair but she actually used jasmine and vanilla, so that was really awkward-"

Albany hissed in pain as a prickly vine whipped out at her arm from the stump in front of her, catching her exposed skin above her glove. She shot a vicious glare at Patricia, mind boiling. "Listen, no offense, but I don't fucking care."

Patricia stared at her in bemusement and surprise for a moment, before completely relaxing and cracking a smile. This was somehow even more infuriating. "Don't worry about it, sorry, completely my bad, I know I went way off topic there, I do it all the time it's like this really bad habit of mine and Veronica's always telling me to stop but I can't help it y'know? Like it just happens, I'll just be talking and-"

"Psst - Albany!"

Simultaneously grateful for the distraction and fed up of the attention, Albany whipped around to face whoever had called her name. She immediately regretted doing so for two reasons. One, the Snargaluff took the opportunity to attack her hair where it was barely being held up by an incredibly messy bun, and two, she was now left glaring into the charming freckled face of George Weasley.

She turned back around to Patricia instantly, panic bells blaring in her mind. "Hey, what were you just telling me about that guy with the - uh - pranking... addiction?" Real smooth, she scoffed at herself.

Thankfully, Patricia happily took the bait, if not as naturally as Albany had hoped for. "Well that wasn't me and you're probably thinking of somebody else, but I can totally tell you about this dude from my hometown, his name is Simon, crazy madman-"

"Albany! Hey!"

Albany cast a nervous sideways glance to the ginger; George was switching places with their classmates to get closer to her, which explained why he had been able to get her attention without yelling when she had intentionally seated herself on the opposite side of the classroom. He was nearly at her side now, and her previous frustration had never dissipated so quickly in exchange for nerves.

"No way! I didn't know that," she said loudly to Patricia, leaning onto the table to physically block out the Weasley boy. This resulted in a couple more blows from the Snargaluff, which she winced at, though didn't move.

"Well, of course you wouldn't know he's allergic to chocolate, unless you've met him - which I'm not saying you haven't - wait, have you? 'Cause that would be really weird, my town is super small and he like never leaves the house anyway-"

"Albany, I just want to talk, you don't have to ignore me," George pleaded. He sounded as though he were directly behind her now, and she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest.

"So anyway, Simon's cousin Geraldine-"

"You don't even have to talk back, just hear me out?"

"Miss Bronwen, have you extracted any of your Snargaluff pods?"

"Albany Bronwen, you are needed-"

"Stop!" she cried out desperately, and immediately turned crimson as the class did exactly that, all eyes on her. The awkward silence was interrupted only by the whipping of Snargaluff vines and then Carly Dubois clearing her throat from the entrance to the greenhouse.

"Um, they are looking for the Triwizard champions," the curly-haired girl explained to Sprout, who nodded silently to excuse Albany.

Albany left the greenhouse in a hurry, grateful for the escape, though feeling a little awkward as she fell into step with Carly. She hadn't spoken to her either since the disaster that night, though to her surprise and relief, the Beauxbatons student didn't seem put off in the slightest.

"How have you been?" Carly asked, as they ascended the stone steps back to the castle entrance.

"Um... good," Albany replied, though her answer couldn't have been farther from the truth. She cursed as she missed a step and nearly fell, though Carly caught her arm and held her up. "Thanks."

"We have not spoken in some time," Carly mused. "When I asked you if you entered the tournament, you said it was complicated. Is it still?"

Albany bit her cheek. "Yeah," she said after a moment. "It is."

Carly nodded. "I know I am supposed to support my school, but if you want help, I would be happy to." She was smiling. "I have made some progress with the Game Boy, so I think I will have more free time than I thought."

"Cool, thank you," Albany said gratefully, and then she took in her offer again, fully comprehending it. "Actually, yeah, that would be great... I need a lot of help."

Carly grinned. "That's okay. I have a lot of help to give."

Albany had never felt so relieved. "Would you be able to tutor me or something? In useful spells and charms and that. I'm on the brink of failing my classes at this point."

Carly offered her a sheepish smile. "Well... I am not exactly top of my class... but I have invented a few of my own spells I could teach you. I am not sure how useful-"

"Anything'll do," Albany assured her quickly, realising that they had nearly reached her destination, having moved faster than usual through the empty corridors. "Can we talk more about this later?"

"Of course," Carly agreed, beaming. "I am happy to help a friend."

Albany stared at her for a moment, trying to comprehend the unfamiliar fuzzy warmth in her chest. A friend. "I.... Thank you."

"De rien," Carly waved her off with a bright smile. "See you later." She turned on her heels and made her way back to class, deep red curls bouncing as she went.

Albany watched her for a moment, attempting to savour the blossoming happiness while it lingered. As predicted, it didn't last too long.

She heard the heels clicking obnoxiously ever before the irritating voice reached her ears. Here came Rita Skeeter, scandal addict and reputation ruiner extraordinaire.

"The lovely Albany Bronwen!" she announced with a grand gesture of her arms, broad smile unnerving where her sharp eyes remained cold. "I might nick you aside for a little chat in a moment, if that's alright with you, dearie."

It certainly wasn't, but saying no wasn't actually an option, Albany had come to realise. She set her jaw as the magenta-clad woman had the audacity to pinch her cheek upon approach.

"Well go on, being fashionably late is not a good look for a pretty little thing like yourself."

Albany grit her teeth and pushed the door open. "Ladies first," she insisted coldly, hoping her tone conveyed that the word ladies was to be understood as bitches.

Rita raised her eyebrows in a haughty manner, though slipped into the room after a moment, her photographer on her heels. Albany followed reluctantly, and found she was indeed the last champion to arrive. Krum seemed moody as ever, keeping to himself, while Harry stood nervously to the side; Fleur perked up fractionally at the sight of the other female champion. Bagman appeared to be jolly as always, and his huge smile widened even more as he beckoned the champions in towards him.

"As you all know, the first task is in three weeks," he began, apparently more excited than any one of the competitors. "It is vitally important that the tournament receives sufficient press coverage, so we have called you here for more photographs and interviews!" He must have sensed the stifled groans of the teenagers, as his grin fell fractionally upon taking in their unimpressed faces. "Now now, I know this is all quite boring for the moment, but I assure you, the next few weeks will fly."

"We 'ave already taken many pictures," Fleur pointed out, folding her arms. "And besides, all of 'er interviews are only about 'Arry Potter." She shot Rita Skeeter a cold glare, who puffed out her chest with an air of disapproval.

"Well, yes-" Ludo Bagman attempted to appease the French girl hastily, "that has been acknowledged - very briefly," he added quickly, with a glance to Rita, "in the most critical of Ms Skeeter's reviews, and so today our aim is to address that, and put some focus on our other wonderful champions."

Albany couldn't suppress the urge to roll her eyes, and perhaps it was for that reason, or Rita's earlier eagerness to "have a chat" that she wound up being the first chosen to be taken away for an interview. A more suitable word would be interrogation, as there was nothing relaxed or comfortable about being shoved into a broom cupboard with the most obnoxious woman she'd ever met. The air was stuffy between dust and her perfume, and Albany ensured her distaste was well noted in the expression she donned. Rita didn't seem to particularly care.

"Miss Albany Bronwen," the blonde drawled, pursed lips pressed into her most charming horrible smile. "Slytherin queen!"

Albany's bemusement couldn't have been more evident in her expression. "I - what?"

The acid green quill was already darting across the parchment before Rita, and Albany dared not look down and lose her temper.

"Oh, don't be so humble, dear, I was too in my time, not so long ago," Rita assured her with a sickly sweet smile. "Now I'm aware this interview is to be focused on the tournament, but there are four champions who would all say the same stuff; so what do you say we spice things up?"

Albany frowned, immediately disliking the idea. However, she couldn't so much as open her mouth before the witch clapped her hands together in delight.

"Excellent!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "See, I found the most interesting piece of information the other day, and it's going to make for a juicy read, believe me."

She wagged her eyebrows with a half-smirk as she said this, and whatever Albany was expecting from the woman, it certainly was not the next few words that followed.

"Your brother, ah, what was it - Evander Bronwen! - he died a few years back, didn't he?"

Her tone was so sickeningly light-hearted for a topic that had driven her family apart that Albany could do nothing but stare, dumbfounded. She hadn't discussed her brother's death once, not with anyone, not even Faith, since it had occurred. The tragedy had turned her life upside down in the worst way, and to this day her feelings on it were scrambled and impossible to put a finger on. Some days she hated her brother, others she wept for his loss. Most days she carried on as if nothing had changed, and most days, that worked fine.

The last thing she wanted to do, however, was make a publicity stunt of his death for some shitty tabloid magazine. Hearing his name drip from Rita's lips like a poison felt vile, and her vision clouded red with rage, knuckles white as she attempted to restrain herself from physically attacking the cow of a woman.

"Do you think it was his death that pushed you to enter the tournament? To prove yourse-"

"Shut. Up," Albany spat, standing and hitting her head hard off of a low shelf. She didn't waver, despite the aching pain. "I'm not answering these questions, this is bullshit."

Rita raised an eyebrow, scornful. The quick quotes quill was scribbling like mad despite the tense silence, and one glance downward read "overcome with emotion, the only living Bronwen child-". Albany felt her face burn crimson.

"Listen, Miss Bronwen," Rita hissed, dropping her faux show of charisma for a cold glare, "my readers will eat this up like it's birthday cake. All you have to do, is just sit here and be good, say a few words and let the quill do the rest. Alright?"

"Alright?!" Albany echoed, horrified. "That's not - what the fuck is wrong with you?"

She went to reach for the door, but it slammed open before she could so much as touch the handle. Rita jumped in her seat, and then fell backwards with a shriek; upon further inspection, it seemed her head had been replaced with a large pumpkin. Albany glanced to the door with wide eyes, where her two redheaded saviours bore matching grins.

"Surprise!"

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❃ a/n:

1k reads i think i might cry no cap - thank you every one of you for reading, voting, commenting, it means so so so much to me!

also sorry this update is lowkey late i've been playing mario kart and that's my only excuse :)

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- A x