I was released from the hospital wing only the next day, whereas Harry had to stay in for longer. I found Cho Chang, like Cedric wanted me too, and I told her what he said. She cried more, and I hugged her.

The Diggorys came to speak to us. I said how he loved them. I told them how he was brave, and smart, and how he saved my life. Mr. Diggory sobbed the whole time, but Mrs. Diggory seemed to be beyond tears.

The enormity of everything over the last two days hadn’t sunk in yet, but I knew what would come. I knew the future, and I knew it would be sad.

I knew I couldn’t stop it.

                                                                                *** *** ***

I walked into the almost empty common room, and I saw it.

I saw him.

 “George,” I said perhaps a little too loudly.

He turned from where he sat, saw me and his face broke into a smile.

“Willow!” And awkwardly, he rolled off his chair and across the floor until he reached me.

I sat down next to him and we just sat there in a silence.

“Are you okay?” he asked. I practically saw him mentally slap himself. “Of course you’re not. Stupid question.”

He kept rambling, and I couldn’t stop myself.

As our lips met, it was almost as though the world was correcting it’s self.

“I couldn’t go without letting you know...” I smiled as I looked into his chocolate brown eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He said softly. “You’re my deranged little tree.”

“That’s so romantic!” I said, unable to stop smiling.

“Hey, at least I’m not calling you the Whomping Willow.” He smirked, raising his eye brows.

“Geez, keep your voice down. That will spread like wildfire.”

“You spread like wildfire.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“If you think about it, it does.”

I sat a moment.

I spread like wildfire.

“No it doesn’t. You’re talking crap. You’re such a lemon!” I whined.

At that moment the portrait hole opened, and two first years walked in.

“Don’t be a cow!”

“I don’t see your name on it!”

“Are you insulting my intelligence?”

“YOU’RE SUCH A LEMON!” And the pair continued bickering nonsense up the stairs.

I looked at George, who had a massive smile on his face.

“See, I’m right. I’m always right.” He smirked.

“Shall I bow down to you, your majesty?” I asked dramatically.

“You must! It is the law!”

“Okay, well you need to stand up, ‘cause I ain’t getting any lower.”

“That’s what she said.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s okay, because I love me.” George said as he started to roll around on the floor again.

I looked at George rolling around like a retard and I laughed to myself. I’d tap that.

                                                                                *** *** ***

Even though everyone was depressed, I made a point to make jokes and do random thing because someone needs to keep smiles on everyone’s face, and if it isn’t me no one else will do it.

At breakfast the following day, Dumbledore gave a speech telling everyone to leave Harry and myself alone and not to question us about anything. And most people, I noticed, were skirting us in the corridors, avoiding our eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as we passed. 

I liked it best when I was with Harry, Ron and Hermione and we were talking about other things, or being random. I felt as though all four of us had reached an understanding we didn't need to put into words; that each was waiting for some sign, some word, of what was going on outside Hogwarts - and that it was useless to speculate about what might be coming until they knew anything for certain. The only time they touched upon the subject was when Ron told us about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had had with Dumbledore before going home. 

"She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer," he said. "But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first." 

"Why?" said Harry. 

"She said Dumbledore's got his reasons," said Ron, shaking his head darkly. "I suppose we've got to trust him, haven't we?" 

As there was no longer a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, we had those lessons free. We used the one on Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid in his cabin. 

It was a bright and sunny day; Fang bounded out of the open door as they approached, barking and wagging his tail madly. 

"Who's that?" called Hagrid, coming to the door. "Harry!" 

He strode out to meet us, pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffled his hair, and said, "Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh." 

I saw two bucket-size cups and saucers on the wooden table in front of the fireplace when we entered Hagrid's cabin. 

“Ohh, Hagrid, who’ve you been flirting with?” I mocked.

"Bin havin' a cuppa with Olympe," Hagrid said, I could see him blushing slightly. "She's jus' left." 

"Who?" said Ron curiously. 

"Madame Maxime, o' course!" said Hagrid. 

"You two made up, have you?" said Ron. 

“Wink.” I said loudly while winking. Hermione shook her head at me.

"Dunno what yeh're talkin' about," said Hagrid airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes. 

"You all righ'?" he said gruffly

"Yeah," said Harry. 

"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. "Course yeh're not. But yeh will be." 

Harry said nothing. 

"Knew he was goin' ter come back," said Hagrid, and the four of us looked up at him, shocked. "Known it fer years. Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledores plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried." 

Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows at the disbelieving expressions on our faces. 

"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," he said. "What's comin' will come, an we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did. Harry." 

Hagrid's chest swelled as he looked at Harry. 

"Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that." 

Harry smiled back at him. It was the first time he'd smiled in days.

“An’ you Willow,” Hagrid said, smiling at me in that loving Hagrid way. “Yeh’ve bin so Brave.”

I smiled back. Hagrid and I are like Biffles.

"What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?" he asked. "He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him - that night." 

"Got a little job fer me over the summer," said Hagrid. "Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou' it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe - Madame Maxime ter you -might be comin' with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded." 

"Is it to do with Voldemort?" 

Hagrid flinched at the sound of the name. 

"Migh' be," he said evasively. "Now . . . who'd like ter come an' visit the las' skrewt with me? I was jokin' - jokin'!" he added hastily, seeing the looks on our faces.

                                                                                *** *** ***

I enjoyed packing my trunk, because I had time to reminisce over everything good that had happened this year. On the contrary, I was dreading the Leaving Feast, which was usually a cause for celebration. Harry and I had gone to dinner late, to breakfast early just to avoid being in the hall when it was full. When we entered the Hall, I saw at once that the usual decorations were missing. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House's colours for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers' table. I knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric. 

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. No one couldn't blame him; Moody’s fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor Karkaroff s chair was empty. I wondered, as I sat down with the other Gryffindors, where Karkaroff was now, and whether Voldemort had caught up with him. 

Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further along the table was Professor McGonagall.

Our gaze met, and she smiled weakly at me, I half-smiled back.

She is like my mother. From my first days in Hogwarts, since she took me to the hall after the...incident at the sorting, she’s always been there for me. Minerva McGonagall is my mum.

Professor Dumbledore stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet. 

"The end," said Dumbledore, looking around at us all, "of another year." 

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall. 

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory." 

We did it, all of us; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Cedric Diggory." 

I looked down at the table as we all sat down again. 

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about." 

I raised my head and stared at Dumbledore. 

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort." 

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence. 

"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so - either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory." 

Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now.

"There are two others who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric’s death,"Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry and Willow Potter." 

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a heads turned in our direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore. 

"They managed to escape Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "Risking their own lives to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. They showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honour them." 

Dumbledore turned gravely to us and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured our names, as they had murmured Cedric's, and drank to us. But through a gap in the standing figures. I saw that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and many of the other Slytherins had remained defiantly in their seats, their goblets untouched.

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened - of Lord Voldemort’s return - such ties are more important than ever before." 

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum, I saw, looked wary, almost frightened, as though he expected Dumbledore to say something harsh. 

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. 

"It is my belief- and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst. 

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory." 

                                                                                *** *** ***

My trunk was packed, Soxy in his basket was on top of it. Hermione, Ron, Harry and I were waiting in the crowded entrance hall with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take us back to Hogsmeade station. It was another beautiful summer's day.

"'Arry!" 

I looked around. Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds. I could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harness. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off. 

"We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," said Fleur as she reached him, holding out her hand. "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish." 

"It's very good already," said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him; Hermione scowled; I smirked.

"Good-bye, 'Arry," said Fleur, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!" 

“Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," said Ron. "D' you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?" 

"Karkaroff did not steer," said a gruff voice. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork." 

Krum had come to say good-bye to Hermione. "Could I have a vord?" he asked her. 

"Oh . . . yes ... all right," said Hermione, looking slightly flustered, and following Krum through the crowd and out of sight. 

"You'd better hurry up!" Ron called loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!" 

“You’re so jealous Ron.” I laughed.

“What? No I’m not!” He said defensively, his face turning to the colour of his hair.

They returned quite soon. Ron stared at Hermione, but her face was quite impassive. 

"I liked Diggory," said Krum abruptly to Harry. "He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang - with Karkaroff," he added, scowling. 

"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" said Harry Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, mine, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. 

Krum had already started walking away when Ron burst out, "Can I have your autograph?" 

Hermione and I had to turn away to hide our hysterical giggles.

The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King's Cross than it had been on the way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky.

Somehow, the four of us had managed to get a compartment to ourselves. 

Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under Ron’s dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing; Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion; and Soxy was lying on his back, in the middle of the floor.

We talked more fully and freely than they had all week as the train sped them southward. I felt as though Dumbledore's speech at the Leaving Feast had unblocked me, somehow. It was less painful to discuss what had happened now. We broke off our conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the lunch trolley arrived. 

When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in there. Harry looked at it, unsure whether he really wanted to know what it might say, but Hermione, seeing him looking at it, said calmly, "There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me. Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet." 

"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this." 

"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," said Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. "As a matter of fact," she added, her voice now trembling slightly, "Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her." 

"What are you talking about?" said Ron. 

"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," said Hermione in a rush. 

I had the impression that Hermione had been dying to tell us this for days, but that she had restrained herself in light of everything else that had happened. 

"How was she doing it?" said Harry at once. 

"How did you find out?" said Ron, staring at her. 

"Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea. Harry," she said. 

"Did I?" said Harry, perplexed. "How?" 

"Bugging," said Hermione happily. 

"But you said they didn't work -" 

"Oh not electronic bugs," said Hermione. "No, you see ... Rita Skeeter" – Hermione’s voice trembled with quiet triumph - "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn -" Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out other bag.  "- into a beetle." 

"You're kidding," said Ron. "You haven't.. . she's not..." 

"Oh yes she is," said Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at them. 

Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle. 

"That's never - you're kidding -" Ron whispered, lifting the jar to his eyes. 

"No, I'm not," said Hermione, beaming. "I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears." 

"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry said suddenly.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year." 

"When we saw Malfoy under that tree ..." said Ron slowly. 

"He was talking to her, in his hand," said Hermione. "He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid." 

Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass. 

"I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," said Hermione. "I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people." 

Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag. 

“Hermione, you are God.” I said in awe.

The door of the compartment slid open. 

"Very clever. Granger," said Draco Malfoy. 

Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. All three of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing, than I had ever seen them. 

"So," said Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at them, a smirk quivering on his lips. "You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favourite boy again. Big deal." His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered. 

“You seem awfully happy Draco.” I said forebodingly. “Happy that your master’s back?”

“Shut up!” he snarled back.

“Piss off.”

"Trying not to think about it, are we?" said Malfoy softly, changing the subject. "Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?" 

"Get out," said Harry. 

“You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!" He jerked his head at the three sexiest people in existence. "Too late now. Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well - second - Diggory was the f-" 

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, I blinked and looked down at the floor. 

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. Harry, Ron, and Hermione and I were on our feet, all of us having used a different hex. Nor were we the only ones to have done so. 

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside. 

"Interesting effect," said George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?" 

"Me," said Harry. 

"Odd," said George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor." 

I smiled at the sexiness that was George Weasley, as he, Harry and Ron kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle - each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit - out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut. 

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards. 

"You going to tell us, then?" Harry said to George, halfway through our fifth game. "Who you were blackmailing?" 

"Oh," said George darkly. "That." 

"It doesn't matter," said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway." 

"We've given up," said George, shrugging. 

But we kept on asking, and finally, Fred said, "All right, all right, if you really want to know ... it was Ludo Bagman." 

"Bagman?" said Harry sharply. "Are you saying he was involved in -" 

"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains." 

“Well, what, then?" said Ron. 

 Fred hesitated, then said, "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?" 

"Yeah," said Harry and Ron slowly. 

"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots." 

"So?" 

"So," said Fred impatiently, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!" 

"But - it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione. 

George laughed very bitterly. 

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us." 

“In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything." 

"So we asked for our money back," said George glowering. 

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione. 

"Right in one," said Fred. 

"But that was all your savings!" said Ron. 

"Tell me about it," said George. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?" 

"How?" said Harry. 

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins." 

“Bitch!” I mouthed.

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win!" said Harry. "Well - I did win, didn't I?  So he can pay you your gold!" 

"Nope," said George, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task." 

George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again. 

The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough; I wished it could have gone on all summer, in fact, and that I would never arrive at King's Cross . . . but as I had learned the hard way this year, time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead, and all too soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks.

Harry and I, however, stayed put. 

"Fred - George - wait a moment." 

The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew out his Triwizard winnings. 

"Take it," he said, and he thrust the sack into George's hands. 

"What?" said Fred, looking flabbergasted. 

"Take it," Harry repeated firmly. "I don't want it." 

"You're mental," said George, trying to push it back at Harry. 

"No, I'm not," said Harry. "You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop." 

"He is mental," Fred said in an almost awed voice. 

"Listen," said Harry firmly. "If you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long." 

"Harry," said George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here." 

"Yeah," said Harry, grinning. "Think how many Canary Creams that is." 

The twins stared at him. 

"Just don't tell your mum where you got it... although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it. . . ." 

"Harry," Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand. 

"Look," he said flatly, "take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favour, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you." 

We left the compartment before they could say another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks. 

"See you. Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the back. 

"'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek. 

"Harry - thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side. 

“Bye, Harry.” I said sadly, giving him a massive hug.

I said my goodbyes and as everyone left, I stood awkwardly at Kings Cross.

“You know,” I thought as I rolled my trunk out of the station. “I really should have organised where I was staying.”

“Willow!” I turned to see who was calling for me.

“Hermione?”

“My parents said you could stay with us this summer! What do you think?”

My face broke into a massive smile.

“I’d love to.”

And she linked her arm into mine, and together we left Kings Cross.

Well, this holiday outlook: Pretty Freaking Awesome.

 --------------------------------------------

OH MY FREAKING GOODNESS! I FINISHED ANOTHER BOOK!

I FEEEELLL LIKE A LEDGEND! 

ANYWAYS MY LOVIES! 

THANKYOU FOR STICKING WITH ME! <3

I LOVE YOU ALL AND YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS ALL MEANS TO ME!