Slytherin's Heart

by Jason de L'Epee

A young graduate of Hogwarts recounts his journey of self-discovery as a Slytherin, all the while as peer pressures and other magical and non-magical forces guide or hinder him. It only gets more complicated during the Triwizard Tournament. (The events run parallel to the books, not the movies).

1. Part 1

SLYTHERIN'S HEART
by Jason de L'Epée

FOREWARD: I've never toyed with the idea of making a one-shot Harry Potter fanfic, but here I am. I was inspired to do this after trying out Pottermore, and being surprised by my results. After recomposing myself, I began to see why someone like me would be placed into the house he would be put in, and soon after that, a story formed. So here is the story of Ewan Colquhoun of Slytherin.

This is dedicated to my LGBT brothers and sisters living in Russia where they can't live freely. May they finally rise up and seize the day when those that oppress equality fall and are forgotten.

XXXXXXXXXX

I stood on the parapets high above the Hogwarts grounds, overlooking the front courtyard. I could see stone statues that used to be just inside now standing firm against the unseen but inevitable tide against us, while witches and wizards below were casting protection spells around the entire castle. For as long as I've attended Hogwarts, I never imagined this day would come. I passed my N.E.W.T.'s scare three years ago from Hogwarts, and worked in the Ministry of Magic's Improper Use of Magic Office for two of those years. Quite briskly after leaving Hogwarts, the world became a dark place, especially after rumors of You-Know-Who coming back, and those were later confirmed. I left in 1997, and I dodged quite the insidious spell after hearing what happened to the Ministry of Magic. Now I am here, getting ready to battle one the greatest dark wizards of all time, and a man from my own house at Hogwarts!

My name is Ewan Colquhoun, and I'm from Slytherin house. I've heard every single thing you could imagine about Slytherin, but Merlin was a Slytherin too, as is the Potions master who is here somewhere in Hogwarts. When I was sorted into Slytherin, I felt myself freeze like I'd been hit by the Full-Body Bind Curse, but while I was eating at the Slytherin table during my first day of classes, I got an owl from my father saying that he was proud that I was to be in Slytherin, which is kind of ironic since he was in Hufflepuff. He wrote a letter to tell me that being sorted in a house is only a small part of what I was meant to be, but that ultimately, my own fate was mine to decide.

So I stayed in Slytherin, not that I had any choice mind you, but I stayed willingly. Slytherin gave me everything I wanted for a child wizard: power, intelligence, and a will to be the best and more. Year after year I've excelled at my studies, passed all of my O.W.L.'s and managed to get O's, E's and A's in all but two of my O.W.L.s. My N.E.W.T.s were a little more across the board, but I passed the ones I needed. Thankfully Divination is not necessary for my work.

"Are you scared?"

I looked at the source of that voice, and looked into the silver eyes of a man I met only three short years ago: Oleg Mikhailov, formerly of Durmstrang. I met him during my final year at Hogwarts, when the students of Durmstrang visited Hogwarts as a part of the Triwizard Tournament, along with eleven other of his classmates. While all eyes were on the Triwizard contestants, I managed to form a friendship of sorts with Oleg while most of my house were more preoccupied with Viktor Krum, Durmstrang's Goblet-chosen champion. Looking away, I said to him, "A little."

"I know."

Oleg was no Legilimens and was decent enough to not use the spell either, proclivity of the Dark Arts for a Durmstrang student notwithstanding, but Oleg was an observant wizard; he always seemed to know what one was feeling. Empaths weren't something exclusive to the wizarding world, but it wasn't the first time I wondered if Oleg was one. "This isn't something I had thought I'd be doing in my lifetime, and moreover at my old school." I turned to Oleg.

"You should not be doing this at all," Oleg said in his Russian dialect.

"No one should," I said back. "But such is the way when a dark wizard decides that he will stop at nothing to kill the famous Harry Potter."

Oleg nodded. While we were waiting for the dark tides of You-Know-Who's army to come sweep us away, Harry Potter himself was scouring the castle for something, although few knew what exactly. Very shortly after Harry Potter arrived at the castle, You-Know-Who gave an ultimatum: surrender Potter or be destroyed. Most of my own house turned on Potter nearly instantly, and Professor McGonagall in retaliation had all of Slytherin house removed. I was the only Slytherin fighting for Hogwarts now, a fact that wasn't lost on me. McGonagall herself questioned me when she spotted the fact I had returned to defend the castle. Needless to say, I convinced her enough.

"I wish you did not come back here…" Oleg said. "But I am not leaving you to fight alone."

I smiled slightly. "I appreciate that." Looking back over the courtyard, I saw that Professor McGonagall had used a Locomotion Charm to align a regiment of stone soldiers on the bridge. "I just never thought it would end this way."

"End?" Oleg looked hard at me. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that with how You-Know-Who—"

Oleg stopped me. "His name is Voldemort."

My eyes snapped to Oleg. Few dared to speak the Dark Lord's name so brazenly, especially since a jinx was placed where anyone who said the name would be accosted by Apparated Death Eaters instantly ever since the Ministry fell to him. No Death Eaters came this time, but there were likely many reasons for that. Apparation was blocked on Hogwarts grounds, and it was probably pointless for Death Eaters to swoop in now since an army of them was coming anyway. "Sorry, old habit," I said, although I did say back. "His name is actually Tom Riddle, in case you were wondering."

"I was not," Oleg said. Oleg was often blunt. "I know that he is powerful wizard, but we are also powerful wizards."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said. I knew I was definitely not to be trifled with in regards to power and cunning, but I've never properly tested my mettle minus dispatching a few meddlesome Snatchers I've crossed paths with as I was on the run last year. "Anyway, I was saying that I didn't expect everything to come to a head here. Can you feel it?"

Oleg looked over the courtyard from where he stood. Still no sign of You-Know-Who and his followers. "Like everything is coming to moment?"

"That's about right," I said. "Life is going to be kind of strange after this, although ever since coming here, my life has been kind of strange."

Oleg smiled a bit at that. "You have told me some about it last time."

Nodding, I then said, "Has it really been three years already?"

"Yes…" Oleg said bluntly.

I smiled. "In retrospect, it's been about ten years since I've started here. I can still remember…"

"Are you wanting to talk about it?"

I looked at Oleg with a funny expression. "Do you think this is the time to talk about old memories?"

"Perhaps we might never have chance…"

My mouth fell open slightly at that. Oleg was just as concerned about the outcome of this battle as I was, and probably wanted to settle affairs just as much as I did. I was more or less mentally prepared for what was coming, but Oleg might not have had that much time. When he was here last time, we mainly talked about him and Durmstrang, but to my shock I didn't talk much about Hogwarts and my own experience with it. It just didn't really come up. "It's a bit of a story…"

"It is one I am wanting to hear."

I reached over and held his hand at that. "If you say so…"

XXXXXXXXXX

As I mentioned before, my father was a Hufflepuff and my mother was Ravenclaw. While I can't really tell you of their bloodlines, it was apparently enough for most critics that were rather vocal about "blood purity." My father worked in the Improper Use of Magic Office, while my mother was in Magical Law Enforcement. My parents generally didn't talk much about their work, although I do recall my father often complaining about his boss, one Dolores Umbridge. I didn't think much of it until I myself started as an intern in the Improper Use of Magic office. While my exposure to her was pleasantly short, the sheer sight of her was more unpleasant than any Divination or History of Magic class I ever had.

I'm getting ahead of myself. I was born while You-Know-Who was still around and powerful as ever. I was three when he met his unexpected downfall at the "hands" of an infant Harry Potter, so I don't remember much, although my mother and father still spoke of it once in a while. Despite the fact he was defeated, still no one spoke the name, and it wasn't until much later when I found out whom You-Know-Who was.

My father and mother were both wizards of course, but they would also teach me ways of a Muggle so that should something ever happen, I could pass for one, in the very least when I'm surrounded by Muggles. Father also said that it builds character, alongside calluses I suppose. My mother agreed mainly that it was smart to be multi-skilled. When my acceptance letter to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came in the summer of 1988, I had already heard about Hogwarts because my father and mother had told me about it and that I would eventually go. My father once tried to teach me a few things about what I would learn, but my mother put a stop to that, mainly because it was better to learn in a more controlled setting, and that inside a house was not the place to be doing that.

So in the month I had to prepare, I was whisked away to Diagon Alley, where I soon met so many other children my age. What I was surprised to see was that their reactions to coming to such a place were far more varied. I espied that while some were as excited as me, others were more shell-shocked. I then noticed that some of the parents were just as shell-shocked, and I asked my mother why.

"They are probably Muggles, and the only reason they are here is that their son or daughter is a wizard," she said.

"I didn't know that could happen."

"Some would prefer that it wouldn't," my mother had said. "I say that on a more practical application of the magical arts, blood status doesn't matter. It takes skill, education and perhaps a little talent. I would advise you to remember that, Ewan."

It was a lesson I would never forget. We didn't speak much of anything else honestly as the rest of our time was devoted to picking up everything we needed for my first year, and even got a long-eared owl of my own. I affectionately named it "Illuminati" because it seemed to be always seeing something, although I usually refer to him as "Lumi". The final piece we picked up was my wand: an eleven-and-three-quarter-inch yew wood with a dragon heartstring core, carved with a lighter-tan shaft with a darker-finished twisted grip. Mr. Ollivander gave me a funny look when he saw the wand select me, but he chose to say nothing. I was thankful because before the final wand selected me, I had accidentally set fire to his desk trying out a different wand.

The rest of summer dragged on as my mind was occupied with my first year at Hogwarts, which was coming that September. Hogwarts had already been in the Daily Prophet for the Cursed Vaults business that I knew nothing about. I hoped that would clear up mostly before I arrived. I remember barely sleeping the night before on August 31st, partly because of needing to get up early to make the train and partly because of excitement. When the time finally came on September 1st, I was whisked to King's Cross and onto platform nine and three-quarters, and just in time as the Hogwarts Express leaves promptly at eleven. I sat among fellow first-years as we chatted about our apprehensions and excitements about Hogwarts. Before long, I had changed into my robes to get ready for the Sorting that would happen upon our arrival.

We arrived at Hogwarts after nightfall, and a massive man named Hagrid guided us to the boats. We crossed the loch towards a towering castle. Much like most of us in the boats, I was quite impressed. I was so entranced by the castle that I never noticed that all of us on the boats were first-years. When we arrived at the castle, we were herded towards the Great Hall of the castle, but we were stopped by a tall severe-looking woman in an emerald-green cloak and a pointed hat, whom I would later find out was Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House. She stood before us, and we all didn't dare speak as she did.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she started. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your houses." Her eyes quickly scoped over us as if looking for even the smallest amount of trouble. "The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room." Her eyes somehow settled on me briefly, and I instinctively held my breath. "The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will cost your House points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Despite the urge to look around, I managed to keep my eyes fixed on Professor McGonagall. Somehow, I had the feeling that even not paying anything short of one's fullest attention was an infraction to her. I also had the feeling that my peers were feeling the same form in intimidation.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarted yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

I instinctively patted my sandy hair to see if it was presentable, and even redid my tie as I watched Professor McGonagall disappear into the Great Hall momentarily. I dared to breathe and look around and everyone else looked just as frazzled and self-conscious.

Professor McGonagall quickly returned. "Move along now; the Sorting Ceremony's about to start." She led us into the Great Hall, and I nearly tripped over the girl's robe that was in front of me. The Great Hall was lined with four long tables that stretched from one end to the other, stopping before a risen part where the head table stood. The four tables were already surrounded by students in the Hogwarts black robe, but the inner lining of each hood showed one of four colours—red, yellow, blue and green—and each colour assigned to a respective table. Thousands of candles hovered above all our heads, and I was startled to see that the ceiling was the night sky, or rather a bewitched depiction of the night sky.

I didn't have much time to take it all in as Professor McGonagall led us to a lone stool where sat a very large tattered pointed hat. "Wait here, please," Professor McGonagall said, turning briskly around, standing just beside the old hat. Unraveling a piece of parchment that she held in one hand, she addressed us again. "When I call your name, you will step forward, sit on this stool and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head to be sorted." She seemed to believe that was a sufficient enough explanation, and proceeded right to the first name: "Andrews, Susan!"

I saw the girl—whose robe I nearly tripped on—step forward timidly, sit on the chair shyly, and watched as Professor McGonagall rested the hat on her head. The hat was big enough that it nearly fell over her eyes, but it sat there momentarily. I began to wonder how it chose a house for us, when a tear near its base opened up and it shouted out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" startling me in the process.

I barely recovered enough to see the table with the yellow-lined cloaks cheer and clap for their newest inductee. I watched Susan walk towards the Hufflepuff table, looking a little more radiant than before. Before I could process it all, the next name was called.

"Aspey, Garrett!"

My eyes shot back to the Sorting Hat as a boy slightly bigger than I was take his seat on the stool. The hat was on his head, and it took a little longer to choose a house.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

This time, the red-lined cloaks cheered as Garrett took his place with them. As Professor McGonagall called up Devin Butler, I began to wonder what house I would be in. As I've said before, my father was in Hufflepuff and my mother was in Ravenclaw. My mother told me about the four houses briefly, and that each house stood for a virtue in retrospect: Gryffindors were valourous, Hufflepuffs were gracious, Ravenclaws were sagacious, and Slytherins were ambitious. My mother also told me that Slytherin had a reputation of being a breeding ground of dark wizards, although the truth was opaquer than tendencies claimed. Dark wizards came from all houses, but none but Slytherin admitted it. I wasn't sure if that implied that Slytherin was proud of that legacy, or that Slytherin saw no shame in the truth.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

My attention was brought back to the Sorting as another boy made his way to the Gryffindor table, although part of my mind was devoted to wondering what house I'd be in. I didn't really see myself fitting in any house. Would that be a problem?

Two more were sorted in front of me: one into Slytherin and the other into Ravenclaw. I couldn't help but see a strange sort of pride beam from the girl that was sorted into Slytherin. Before I could process that, Professor McGonagall called another name.

"Colquhoun, Ewan!"

I stood erect as if I was called to attention at first, but remembered where I was. I slowly came forward and sat on the stood. Before I could even think, the hat's brim settled over my eyes. I had expected silence until the hat made a choice, but that was not the case.

"Hmm, this one may prove to be quite the challenge to choose." I looked around to find the source of the voice, and it was then I realized it was in my head. "Surprised, little one? You're hardly the first. Countless young witches and wizards I have sorted, and you're just another one. Don't fret and don't touch my rims, if you please."

I obeyed in silence.

"So, I can tell you're quite a brave soul, but also humble, yet you want to be the best you can be, while having the insight to exercise discretion. Quite the conundrum…hmm…"

I listened to the hat continually mill around choice after choice for quite some time, and I was wondering how much longer it would be.

Finally, he seemed to settle on one: "Well, I think I've got it. Let's make it…SLYTHERIN!"

That was definitely not the choice I had expected, and even as the hat was removed from my head, and the table with the green-lined cloaked youths cheered for my admittance, I sat frozen for a little while. It wasn't until I managed to catch a glance at Professor McGonagall silently commanding me to take my place at Slytherin table. When I reached there, the head boy of Slytherin shook my hand, telling me "Welcome to Slytherin House."

I silently nodded as I heard someone by the name of Cedric Diggory be placed in Hufflepuff. Eventually, the rest of the first-years were sorted. In the end, another five were sorted into Slytherin with me, while the rest were more evenly spread out among Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. I asked the Head Boy, "Is it usual for Slytherin to get the least amount of new students?"

He looked at me strangely. "For as long as I've been here, kind of. I'm guessing people are too afraid of us after You-Know-Who. Or maybe people are too afraid of themselves that they think they'll be seduced by Death Eaters. I say that if you're too afraid to be who you are, you have no business being in Hogwarts period," he spat.

Before I could properly process that, Professor McGonagall called all of us to attention. "May I have your attention, please?!" she commanded, tapping a fork against her chalice. "Professor Dumbledore has a few start-of-term announcements to make!"

A wizened old wizard that sat in the largest seat at the staff table stood up. "Welcome to Hogwarts, first years, and to all of our current students, welcome back! I just have a few words to say before we become too befuddled by our feast. The Dark Forest at the edge of the grounds is forbidden to all students. In addition, I would like to welcome to our staff to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Laurie!"

As the professor mentioned stood up and made a short bow, I felt a small tap on the shoulder. I looked to see the school prefect point me towards another Professor, who strangely looked cross at the announcement. "Who is he?"

"That's the head of our house, Professor Snape. He also teaches Potions, but he's been vying for the Defence Against the Dark Arts spot ever since he came, but Dumbledore has always turned him down." I could hear a slight edge of bitterness in each syllable as the prefect spoke. "Each Dark Arts teacher has always quit his post for one reason or another for years. Dumbledore needs to wake up and see that at least Professor Snape would last more than a year."

I wasn't sure which was worse: the head of my own house could let his bitterness show so well, or that a tenure for a Defence Against the Dark Arts class teacher is predictably short.

As everyone settled in, Professor Dumbledore peered at us through his half-moon glasses as he stood up, and looked quite merry. "Let the feast…begin." He opened his hands towards the tables.

At once, a large succulent feast appeared right in front of us. I looked at it, completely marveled. Was it here the whole time, or did he really summon it all out of thin air, and which do I devour first? Two of the questions went unanswered, but I allowed instinct to guide me to the answer for the third.

I ate my fill tonight to be sure, but I also took time to take in the events of the day, the most shocking of all to be my Sorting. Slytherin? My blood ran cold as that implication sank in. My father never spoke fondly of Slytherins as a lot within Slytherin viewed Hufflepuff as the most inferior, even over their intense rivalry with Gryffindor, especially since a sizeable amount of Hufflepuffs were of mixed blood origins. My mother spoke of them neutrally, but it was pretty clear that she saw them as too ambitious in their pursuit of power. I wonder what they would think when their only son was in Slytherin.

After the feast, we were whisked away to the dungeons in the lower floors of the castle. The prefect led us to a blank slate of wall that was definitely smelled of mold. He spoke a password "Genus" to the wall, and I watched as a square doorway formed within the stone. He led us in and I saw a dimly greenlit common room. The windows were dark, and I thought it was the night sky, but as I saw curious fish looking through the window at the green candlelight, I realized that we were under the lake.

"Welcome to the Slytherin Common Room. As you can see, we are under the Black Lake. If one waits enough, one can see the giant squid in the lake, as well as a few other interesting creatures." She composed herself briefly before continuing. "Now I'm sure you've all heard the rumors: we all love the Dark Arts, we're a bunch of Death Eaters, blah blah. The truth is that while many wizards and witches that went bad did come from Slytherin, just as many others came from the other houses. They just don't admit it." She turned to a large motif of a serpent above the mantle. "Just like the serpent, Slytherin is just as misunderstood. Salazar Slytherin, our house's founder, has chosen each and every one of you because he saw the seeds of greatness within you. We aren't content until we win, and that's why we are winners of the House Cup three years in a row. Yes, we may be ambitious, and yes, we may resort to means outside the lines, but just like the snake, we are powerful, sleek and cunning.

"Now we may be alone sometimes in our pursuit to be the best, but you will find strength within Slytherin because we are all brothers and sisters. You can depend on a Slytherin to get something done, while Gryffindors rush in, Hufflepuffs are too meek and Ravenclaws rather debate about it. You want something done, ask a Slytherin. Even amongst us, you might think that your fellow Slytherin may not be all that special. That's a lie of the mind, and don't you forget it. If Salazar Slytherin chose you, you are destined to be great, and that's that.

"Now that we've been properly introduced to Slytherin's legacy, there are a few rules to remember: most of all is that no non-member of the House of Slytherin is permitted entry into the common room, nor must you relinquish your password to anyone not of Slytherin. Second, do not ask the Bloody Baron on how he became bloody. Third, the password to the common room changes every two weeks, so exercise vigilance in remembering each new password, and do not write them down anywhere."

The prefect motioned to a set of stairways that we had taken to get into the common room, but we saw two flanking doorways that led further downwards. "Boys dormitory is to the right, girls, the same on the left. You will find that all of your belongings you brought with you. Now off to bed; classes start tomorrow."

I followed the rest of my peers into the dormitories and when I came into my room, I found that a set of robes was awaiting me. These were quite similar to the clothes I had before the Sorting, only these were themed towards Slytherin House: a green-and-silver tie, green-lined robes with the Slytherin serpent crest, a scarf that was also green-and-silver and other essentials as a part of Slytherin house. As the others talked in hushed voices, I quietly organised my things into my chest, and changed into sleeping clothes, although I couldn't really think how I could sleep now. The anxiety I had ever since I was sorted into Slytherin was still strong as ever, mainly in regards to what would my parents think.

The next day, my anxiety was tempered by the distraction of the first day of classes. My first class was Transfiguration, and Professor McGonagall was predictably strict. Our first task was to transfigure pieces of straw into sewing needles. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't either get my silver strand of straw to be sharp, or my sharp pieces of straw to be silver. She gave us a lot of homework pretty much straightaway. Next was Charms with Professor Flitwick, which was more of what I expected my lessons would be: learning spells and performing them, and I dare say that I was pretty good at learning the Levitation Charm.

Soon enough, it was lunchtime in the Great Hall, and I could tell that a lot of first-years were looking overwhelmed already, even my fellow Slytherins. A third-year looked at me and said, "You think this is hard, it's going to get harder." That did little to assure me.

As I was working on a piece of beef pie, a flock of owls swooped in carrying the post. As they soared over the tabletops, they dropped off parcels, letters and Merlin-knows-what into the hands of expecting and not-so-expecting students. One of the latter was me, as an owl—one I recognised to be my parents'—dropped a rather unassuming letter. I was thankfully quick enough to catch it before it landed into some pudding. I had a suspicion on what was in it, so I opened it, dreading what was inside.

I pulled out a piece of paper, and recognised my Dad's handwriting, and read the contents to myself:

My dear Ewan,

I want you to know that I am proud of you. You are my son, and I will always love you no matter what house you belong in. Remember what we've taught you and study hard; I know you will be a great wizard once you come of age. Be kind to your fellow students, even if some of them give you a hard time. Don't hesitate to write if you ever feel overwhelmed. Your mother is also quite proud of you.

I had to try really hard not to cry, which at eleven years old is difficult to do. I noticed the next paragraph had a more calligraphic handwriting, and I recognised it to be my mother's. My mother was a perfectionist through and through, and she even signed her name by hand with flawless cursive.

As your father has said, study hard. Your O.W.L.s may still be five years away, but that does not mean you are free to slack off. As I'm sure you have noticed, classes in witchcraft and wizardry are no laughing matter. You may be in Slytherin, but even your fellow students are in the same place you are. Help them, and they can help you. Don't hesitate to ask; there's no shame in asking for help. Shame is only for those who are too proud and fail.

Remember, your father and I both love you very much, Slytherin or not.

Anyone who didn't know my mother might have guessed that was a backhanded compliment, but behind it, my mother was in fact very proud of me. When she said "Slytherin or not," it was her way of saying she didn't care which house I was in. I felt much better about being in Slytherin if it meant my parents had my back.

The first few years of my time at Hogwarts was something of a blur at first. I did well in the first year, second year and third. I had my favourite classes, such as Charms, Astronomy and Potions, the last one surprised me though. Professor Snape taught that class, and he was as strict as Professor McGonagall, but meaner. If you prove your aptitude for Potions though, he at least tolerates you. He doesn't get impressed easily; more accurately, he doesn't get impressed at all. If he examines your potion, says nothing, then moves on to the next, you did a good job.

The classes I didn't like were History of Magic and the flying lessons, the latter I took in my first year. As it turns out, I get sick easily on a broom, and I had to apologise profusely for nearly drenching half the class with breakfast. History of Magic was just boring, and it didn't help that the teacher was the ghost of the professor that died in his sleep, but still was committed enough to keep teaching.

I ended up being ok with Transfigurations and Herbology, although plants in general have always mystified me. I often got quite discouraged in Transfigurations, yet strangely, Professor McGonagall was very encouraging to me as long as I paid attention and followed her instructions to the letter. By the third year, I started getting much better.

I wasn't sure how I felt about Defence Against the Dark Arts, mainly because each year, the class changed radically, for each year came a new teacher. The reasons were always different, but sure enough, no teacher lasted to come back the next year. There were rumors of a jinx on the position, but nobody knew how it was cast, who cast it and why it was cast.

As for my experience with the other houses, I learned pretty quickly that there were a lot of old wounds between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and that most of my house found Hufflepuff weak. We had lukewarm relations with Ravenclaw, but it was annoying to hear them talk about how smart they were. Then again, Slytherin's often boasted at how good we are at what we did, so I'm sure the feeling was mutual.

When I returned for the fourth year, things changed drastically. On September 1st, 1991, I had arrived at Hogwarts, not expecting much for my fourth year. As I sat at Slytherin table, I watched Professor McGonagall lead a fresh new set of first-years into the Great Hall. I didn't think anything of it honestly, and watched with mild disinterest as they were sorted. When a young girl named Bulstrode came in, I noticed how pudgy and vacuous she looked. I even turned to the Head Boy—a different boy than the one during my first year as the last one left the school last year after graduating naturally—and distastefully said "Our standards seem to be lowering."

He said nothing to me. As I attended Hogwarts, I was more or less tolerated by Slytherin as my attitude wasn't quite so boastful as most of my Slytherin brethren. Still, I actively helped Slytherin House win the House Cup for another three years, increasing our streak to six, so my loyalties were never questioned. For a while, I was annoyed that I was looked at as the "odd Slytherin," but after writing to my parents about what was going on, they encouraged me to be myself and to not bend to the will of others. My father even said that Hufflepuffs had a great strength, as it takes a lot of strength to be kind to one's enemies. My mother had said that the ultimate goal was my own, and that nothing could ever change that, so pursue it despite criticism.

Another trollish boy joined Slytherin, Crabbe by name, as well as another, Goyle, that looked like he was sour as a lemon as just a vacuous as the others. I shook my head; this year was going to be worse than ever because Slytherin was now accepting brats. I then watched a blond-haired boy be selected into Slytherin as the hat barely touched his head, Malfoy, I think. I briefly hoped that by such a quick choice, he'd be at least of decent caliber, but I was disappointed again to see that familiar entitled smug look. Another pure-blood child of a family with a superiority complex. At this rate, Slytherin would become a hive of rich boys and girls of no talent and all ego. Hopefully Professor Snape would scare them straight.

Another Slytherin girl was chosen Parkinson, and she too had that look. I had stopped clapping politely as she joined our table. The prefect looked at me harshly. "I suggest you curb those thoughts of yours. These first-years come from noble stock and represent the best of us wizards and witches, as do you, so I wouldn't be so full of yourself."

"You're telling me not to be full of myself? A Slytherin?" I whispered back. "You haven't learned a thing since I've been here; no one tells me what to do unless your name is Severus Snape, and you also don't have the merits to deduct house points from Slytherin so you'd be best to not threaten me with that."

He looked at me as if he tasted haggis for the first time, but I wasn't to be intimidated. While I nearly have crossed Professor Snape myself, I never pushed him to do something severely to me because I was such a good student. That being said, my attempts to never try his patience rivaled my studies themselves.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall said a name none of us were expecting:

"Potter, Harry!"

The entire room went silent, minus a couple of hushed whispers, and every single eye in the place locked onto the boy that was taking his seat on the stool with the Sorting Hat waiting for him. That was the Boy-Who-Lived? The boy that somehow took down the Dark Lord? The boy was hardly remarkable: untidy dark hair, gangly and even a little dingy as if he hadn't properly bathed. Yet here we all were, transfixed at the one who somehow took down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while just a baby. What did he do? Cry the Dark Lord to death?

The hat took its time as it considered where to put Harry Potter, and I felt a strange sense of kinship in Harry. It took the Hat some time to place me in Slytherin, and it seemed to be having the same conundrum. At one point, Harry looked like he was whispering to himself, which I found to be peculiar. What was he saying to himself? Didn't he know that the Sorting Hat was a Legilimens, that it read minds?

A few seconds later, the Hat made a decision: "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table blew up with elation and applause as Harry Potter joined them, while my table looked especially displeased. The famous Harry Potter was in my rival house. There will be no living with the Slytherins after this. Looking around at my table, not a single soul clapped for that Sorting, although a few seemed bitterer about it than most, particularly the younger ones…

…particularly the Malfoy boy.

I half-listened to Professor Dumbledore's typical before-term notices, with the added one that the third-floor corridor was off-limits to all students. I didn't bat an eye at that. Usually something is going on where students were banned from going somewhere. There was also the announcement that a Professor Quirrell was taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. I looked at him and he seemed as jumpy as a first-year. Poor sod; he might not even make it to the end of the year.

Classes went fairly well so far this year, but when Hallowe'en feast arrived, things took a turn for the worse. A terrified Professor Quirrell ran in, screaming about a troll in the dungeons before falling into a dead faint. The entire Great Hall erupted into chaos before Dumbledore called for order and ordered everyone to return to their common rooms while the teachers would follow Dumbledore to the dungeons to deal with the troll. I didn't hear about what happened to the troll until the next day. Apparently, the troll left the dungeons, found its way into a girl's lavatory, and cornered a Gryffindor first-year while two other Gryffindor first-years, least of all Harry Potter himself, took it down. The grumbling I heard from my Slytherin comrades was annoying up until the first Quidditch match.

Before all of this even, somehow Potter became Gryffindor's new Seeker, and now it was his first Quidditch match, and it was against Slytherin. Somehow I knew this would be bad: Potter had been increasingly earning the animosity of my Slytherin brethren, including Professor Snape. Even before Potter came to Hogwarts, matches between Gryffindor and Slytherin were quite competitive, and Slytherin especially was, to say the least, ambitious to win.

When the day came, I watched from the Slytherin side of the bleachers as Gryffindor and Slytherin slugged each other in Quidditch, but to my alarm, Potter's broom went completely out of control and nearly bucked him right off. It was a spectacle to my peers, and I was growing agitated with how unsportsmanlike my house had become. For the first time, I regretted being in Slytherin. Thankfully, whatever jinx affected Potter's broom faded away; unfortunately, Potter was able to catch the Golden Snitch before our Seeker could, thus ending the game and giving Gryffindor the win. It also gave Gryffindor a real chance to beat us in the House Cup for the first time in seven years.

Nothing much else happened that year, although Potter and his circle of friends seemed to find themselves in the centre of everything, and finally, before the end of the year, they brazenly stormed the third floor corridor one night and in the end, Harry Potter faced Professor Quirrell—we had no idea he was a dark wizard and allied with You-Know-Who—and prevented him from getting the Philosopher's Stone, a powerful alchemical artifact that could restore anyone on the edge of dying to full vigorous life without repercussion amongst other things.

The end of the year came, and Slytherin was in the lead to take the House Cup for a seventh straight year, and Gryffindor somehow came dead last. At first, a seventh cup seemed inevitable, until Dumbledore made a few last minute additions. My table watched appalled as Dumbledore gave 170 points to Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter and finally Neville Longbottom, all of Gryffindor. It was just enough points to beat Slytherin. For one time in my life, I was annoyed at Professor Dumbledore, for practically giving away the House Cup, and for once in my life, I agreed with my Slytherin comrades: we were cheated.

I told my parents about what happened, and I wondered aloud if being around Slytherin had affected my outlook. My parents assured me that it was ok to feel mad about what seemed to be an unfair loss, but what I needed to do was focus on doing better next year, and remember to be secure in my own ambitions so that I may not lose focus during setbacks. I knew that if I needed to get through Hogwarts, I needed to keep my eye on the prize and not let a child prodigy distract me, especially for something in the end was useless to my objectives.

When I went back for my fifth year, I was focused on one thing: passing my O.W.L.'s. All students in their fifth year need to take standardized tests and evaluate what they want to do in life, normally by talking with their head of house. For me, that meant Professor Snape. Part of me dreaded that for two reasons: I hadn't decided what to do with my life as of yet, and I would have to discuss my future with him period. Upon arrival, I found out I have been made a Prefect of Slytherin House. Prefects are selected by the Head of House, so Snape chose me, although for reasons I knew not.

As I enjoyed the pre-term feast, I noticed that Professor Snape was absent from the staff table. That struck me as odd, since he usually scowls at the next choice for Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching. I recognised all of the faces at the table, minus one rather groomed to perfection wizard that smiled so much that his perfect teeth shined. I recognised him quickly: Gilderoy Lockhart, author of nearly half of the library I had to bring for this year's classes. I hated him at once: anyone who smiles that much is obviously lying about something.

It turns out I was right: "Professor" Lockhart was as proud as a hippogriff but didn't have the claws to back it up. Most of his lectures were self-narrated exploits from his books, and he even had the gall to quiz us on his books, which had next-to-nothing to do with real defensive magic. I offhandedly wondered if there was a way to accelerate whatever-rumoured jinx to boot out Professor Lockhart far more quickly.

Professor Lockhart was strangely overshadowed by a plague of Petrification, which started a week into the term. The first one was the cat of Mr. Filch, the caretaker of the castle. It was even punctuated by a message drawn in blood:

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."

We encountered the message when we were coming back from Hallowe'en Feast, and we saw Harry Potter with his two friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, standing in front of the message, looking around at us as if he put up the message himself.

Before I could even process its meaning, I heard someone shout. "'Enemies of the Heir, beware?'" He paused and then said. "You'll be next, Mudbloods."

It was Malfoy, and my annoyance at the proud gangly child grew ten-fold. I knew he had a superiority complex born from his father and mother, but to call Muggle-borns Mudbloods? He needed a good blast of the Tickling Curse until he couldn't breathe. It would make me feel better anyway. Too bad his father was a governor of the school, so he was practically untouchable, even from a fellow Slytherin.

After a second petrification—a first-year Gryffindor—Professor Lockhart thought it prudent to start a "dueling club"—the only good idea I would ever grant the peacock. We were in the Great Hall in mid-December for the first day, and Lockhart "demonstrated" how to disarm one's opponent with the Disarming Charm. I say that loosely, because truthfully, it was Professor Snape that demonstrated it quite succinctly…on Lockhart. The spell was so powerful that Lockhart was sent flying into the opposite wall, effectively causing him to drop his wand. After recovering, he boasted that he let Snape do that, and I didn't have to look at my Head of House to know that wasn't true at all.

We were then paired up to practise against each other. I was paired with a Ravenclaw, but we didn't get far when the hall descended into a complete bedlam. Some students even went medieval with their battles before Snape blasted the room with the General-Counter Spell, wiping away all enchantments from the room. After order was reinstated, it was decided to properly demonstrate the Shield Charm to deflect unfriendly spells. Strangely but unsurprisingly enough, Professor Lockhart failed to teach us how to use the Shield Charm itself since he didn't know it. Thankfully, I knew it myself; being a well-studied fifth-year had its perks.

What was surprising was that Potter and Malfoy were paired together once again to duel for the demonstration at the suggestion of Professor Snape. Having been at Hogwarts for the past couple of years, I knew that Professor Snape had something of a chip on his shoulder against Potter for unknown reasons, and while I was never around to see it, it was something gossiped about. Pairing Potter up against his rival, Malfoy, was to say quite a forward admission of his disdain for Potter. For once, I pitied Potter. Malfoy may be a lot of talk, but he had more skill than Lockhart had in his pretentious hair.

The duel had quite the exchange, but neither person used the actual Disarming Charm. Then, Malfoy summoned a snake which caused Potter to falter. Snape stepped forward to deal with it, but Lockhart beat him to it. The spell he used only lifted the snake off the ground and then dropped him. The understandably-now-furious serpent was about to take its anger out on a nearby Hufflepuff, when the unthinkable happened. Potter strode forward, and was speaking to the snake in the strangest language any human ear could ever hear, but those of us in the magical world knew what it was: Parseltongue, the language of snakes. Potter was a Parselmouth!

While everyone was still shaken by the revelation, Snape banished the snake and immediately adjourned the club. All of us filed out of the room, and my mind was still stalled at what I had witnessed. Parseltongue was a trait so uncommon that it was easily traced back to one person: Salazar Slytherin, the founder of my house! My mind immediately got to work. Parseltongue was something thought that only descendants of Slytherin would have, and the first message from the so-called Heir of Slytherin earlier this year spoke that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Logically, that would suggest that the Heir of Slytherin could also have his traits, something that not just any descendent of Salazar Slytherin would have. What better trait than Parseltongue? Salazar Slytherin was rather outspoken about his preference against Muggle-born witches and wizards for attendance at Hogwarts, so logically, the Heir of Slytherin would target Muggle-borns. The first human victim was a Muggle-borns as well, but perhaps that was coincidence.

One day later, a Hufflepuff second-year was found Petrified alongside the floating still form of Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor Ghost. Somehow, whoever or whatever Petrified the second-year was strong enough to harm a ghost! Moreover, I learned that day that the same second-year was another Muggle-born. That was two Muggle-borns now; the case of Potter as the Heir of Slytherin seems to strengthen, especially since it was Potter that "found" them. Rather, it was Filch that found Potter standing over them. Dumbledore apparently didn't suspect Potter as he was allowed unabated to classes.

I then thought about Potter himself: he was from Gryffindor House, and his father and mother were also of Gryffindor. While I didn't know the complete history of Slytherin's descendants and their Sorting places, it was difficult to assume that the Heir of Slytherin would not be in Slytherin House. Moreover, he also had no reason to attack Muggle-borns, because one of his own friends was one. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. The only thing tying Potter to the suspicion he was the Heir of Slytherin was his ability to speak Parseltongue. Everything else didn't add up. Still, the very fact he could speak Parseltongue was something one couldn't overlook. Salazar possibly has countless descendants; it wasn't completely ruled out that he could be. The only thing that was convincing me that he wasn't was that he wouldn't attack his own friend since his Sorting.

My mind was still trying to unravel the mystery surrounding Potter and the Heir of Slytherin, even while I sat at a table in the Slytherin with my Potions homework in front of me. If I could only find the genealogies of the wizarding families and find common names between them, I could probably track down a potential candidate to the Heir of Slytherin. The name "Slytherin" had died out ages ago. No one I knew had that surname, or the other House names for that matter. In the wizarding world, there were still some names of esteem, mostly among the "purebloods," but not all that many popped to my mind among those here at school, minus Malfoy. I had heard about the Black's, but that line was practically extinguished after the First Wizarding War due to their participation with You-Know-Who.

I had little time to dwell on things due to my upcoming O.W.L.'s, but that didn't stop how bad the year would be. Throughout the year, more Petrifications occurred. and it took too long for Professor Sprout to grow the Mandrakes to make the antidote. The final straw was when Miss Granger herself was petrified alongside a fifth-year Ravenclaw, which cancelled Quidditch matches for the rest of the year, and rumors grew that Hogwarts would close. My earlier suspicions of Potter returned, but again, would he really attack his best friend? Was he even doing it willingly?

Despite the uncertainty, I did eventually sit down with Professor Snape about my future in the spring. He had me come into the Potions classroom in the dungeons. As I entered, he didn't move from behind his desk. "Sit."

I obeyed at once, and even sat up straight. Professor Snape was the kind of man that could notice anything, and he wouldn't be loath to mention it.

Briskly, he folded his hands together and rested them on the desk. "Now, Mr. Colquhoun. I will get straight to the point." His dark eyes seemed like they could see right through me, and that was something I never could get used to despite being in his house for five years. "Your performance in this school speaks for itself, therefore I won't dwell on it. What doesn't speak for itself is what you plan to do with your education."

Truthfully, I've continually found myself being distracted by everything that's been happening at the school lately on top studying for my O.W.L.'s, so that my future has had little time to be considered at all. My mind raced for the right answer.

"No answer?" Snape said with a slight touch of scorn. "Don't disappoint me, Mr. Colquhoun."

Disappointment; one of the things I've feared the most, particularly from my parents. I never wanted to be a disappointment, so I constantly pushed forward without knowing where I was going. I just made it up as I went along, because that's what I thought I needed to do until I found what I was looking for. Perhaps that's what I need to say.

"I do not seek to be a disappointment ever, Professor, but truth be told, I do not know what I plan to do with my life."

Professor Snape didn't move and stayed silent. I continued. "But I do know this: whatever I plan to do, I will achieve it. Far be it from me to state the obvious, but I'm from Slytherin house, and we like to forge our own path to greatness, something bending the rules a bit and earning the scrutiny of our peers and superiors. We get what we need because we push for it, and I plan to do that for whatever I seek, because I don't care what people think of me."

Snape still didn't move, and I was done talking. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, his stone face cracked slightly. "So be it." He stood up so fast that I thought he would flip the desk, but his movements are so fluid that it's almost serpentine. Looming over me, he continued, "Then allow me to give you one word of advice, Mr. Colquhoun: if you are so resolute as to excel in whatever pursuit you take, then you will need to get an Outstanding in your Potions examination, because I will not accept any N.E.W.T. student that does not. However else you perform on your other O.W.L.'s is of no concern to me. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Professor," I said, and I rose, though not nearly so fluidly, and left the classroom, thankful I didn't wet myself the entire time.

My O.W.L.'s were held before any of the other examinations held at Hogwarts, despite fears of school closure. Whatever may happen to this school, I would see to it that I would succeed and so I dove into the O.W.L.'s with all of the courage I could muster.

I half-expected to go straight into my normal examinations right afterwards, but this was all overshadowed by Dumbledore being suspended as headmaster of the school, and later the same month, a young first-year Gryffindor was taken by the monster into the fabled Chamber of Secrets. That seemed to guarantee school closure, until Harry Potter pulled through again and killed the monster in the Chamber itself, saving the first-year and earning the Special Award for Services to the School, along with Ron Weasley. At around the same time, Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey had finished the Mandrake Restorative Draught and had administered it successfully to the Petrified students, Sir Nicholas and Mr. Filch's cat. Dumbledore, having been restored to headmaster rather quickly, cancelled all exams as a result. I have to say that I was just as elated as everyone else—minus Miss Granger apparently—because it was one less thing I needed to get done.

That summer, I received the results of my O.W.L.'s, and thankfully, I did not disappoint anyone, although my mother thought I could have done better in a few other subjects:

Charms: Outstanding
Transfigurations: Exceeds Expectations
Herbology: Acceptable
Defence Against the Dark Arts: Exceeds Expectations
Ancient Runes: Exceeds Expectations
Potions: Outstanding
Care of Magical Creatures: Acceptable
Astronomy: Outstanding
Divination: Dreadful
Arithmancy: Acceptable
History of Magic: Poor

I wasn't surprised at all about Divination or History of Magic. Nothing made any sense in the former, and the last one was more boring than a weevil. I thought I did better in Arithmancy though.

My sixth year was to be dominated by my N.E.W.T. courses, the ones only they who passed their O.W.L.'s with passable grades—often to the discretion of the teacher—and thankfully, I wouldn't have to endure the eternal disappointment of Professor Snape for not getting into N.E.W.T.-level Potions. Over the summer, I learned that a mass murderer had escaped the wizards' prison for reasons unknown, but what was scarier still was that an escape from Azkaban has never happened before. One even infiltrated the train, and seeing one up close is something I'd rather not repeat.

When we arrived at the school, we could see the wispy wraiths from afar, surrounding the castle and the very air had a chill despite the summer weather, rain be damned.

Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was a rather pale haggard-looking man named Remus Lupin, and I noted that Professor Snape this time around was especially bitter. Despite the new professor's delicate appearance, he proved to be an outstanding teacher in the class. For one time in my life, I did outstanding in this class, and it was fitting that we had to learn about the dementors themselves as part of our curriculum, as well as the charm needed to dissuade them: the Patronus Charm. That proved to be a challenge in itself; most managed only shield-varieties. Professor Lupin didn't seem bothered that I was a Slytherin despite the general behaviour of my fellow Slytherins in the class, and because I wouldn't give up, I finally managed to produce a full-body Patronus, and to my surprise, it turned out to be a buzzard, although most thought it was a hawk. They do look similar admittedly.

Compared to the last two years, this year was far less eventful, although I did have to endure Malfoy's overdramatic display of an arm injury he got when he was so foolish enough to insult a hippogriff during Care of Magical Creatures. What made it all worse was that the younger Slytherins drank it all in, but I wasn't to be fooled. Malfoy even tried to butter up to me to do his schoolwork while I was studying for an Alchemy exam, and I gave him one steely look and said, "I'll be sure to put it somewhere on the tasks I have to do, perhaps after my parchments on Felix Felicis, but then again perhaps I should prioritize my report on Inferi, but I really do need to finish my star charts as well. I can't remember if I placed Arcturus in the right spot, let alone which end of Orion Rigel and Betelgeuse go. There's also the—I thought as much." By then, Malfoy had thought someone else was far more worth his time since I was deliberately wasting it.

While I had a relatively uneventful year, the Gryffindors weren't so peaceful. At one point apparently, Sirius Black, the escapee from Azkaban, had attempted a violent break-in to the Gryffindor common room, but failed. Harry Potter himself seemed to be at the mercy of the dementors as he seemed to attract their attention during a Quidditch match. Despite the misfortunes that befell Gryffindor, they managed to stay focused enough to not only win the Inter-House Quidditch Cup this time around, but also managed to win the House Cup for a third year in a row. To say my house was annoyed would be like calling Rubeus Hagrid tall. Still, it was a nice break from the last two years of chaotic terms.

It wasn't until my seventh year when my life changed forever.

XXXXXXXXXX

My seventh and final year came, and the biggest news coming in was the Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup, and for once, my parents were nervous about me coming back to school. The Death Eaters were former followers of You-Know-Who before he fell. To hear of them coming back along with a conjured Dark Mark was to say the least disturbing. I wasn't about to let any Dark Wizard keep me from finishing what I started, so I was determined to go back. Plus, I was now of age so I was old enough to make my own decisions.

When I arrived at Hogwarts, we got swept up already into an event called the Triwizard Tournament, which was to be held here despite the fact it hadn't been held anywhere in over 200 years due to its high casualty rate. I could only assume restrictions were put into place to prevent that from happening again. School proceeded as normal up until the night before Hallowe'en, when the two other competing schools showed up. Before supper feast, Dumbledore first introduced us to the ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. When the Beauxbatons ladies strutted in, a lot of the school—mostly the masculine side—were rather transfixed as they came in. I wasn't quite so hormonal, but my eyes did catch their headmistress, Madame Maxime. She was taller than Hagrid even.

Once they were introduced and seated, Dumbledore then introduced the "proud sons" of Durmstrang, and they marched in like an army regiment, dressed in dark furs with red lining. Trailing the men was another Durmstrang lad, particularly strong looking, followed by a man who looked like the Russian version of Professor Snape.

The Durmstrang men were seated with the Slytherins, and that's when I first met Oleg. There was something about him that struck me as especially different than anyone else, and Oleg himself seemed to feel the same way about me. As it turns out, he along with the eleven other Durmstrang men were all chosen by his headmaster Igor Karkaroff as candidates for the Triwizard Tournament.

Before we learned the terms of the Triwizard Tournament, the sky-depicted ceiling went absolutely mad, but it was calmed by a newcomer that came in a back door. From the look of him, it looks like he was chewed up by a dragon and spat back out. As it turns out, it was our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, since, as normal, the last one didn't last a year because someone blabbed that he was a werewolf. Shame that; he was a great teacher. This one was a retired Auror, Alastor Moody. I wondered if he'd last this time. Despite him being half of a man, his eyes—er—eye was still ablaze, so there was a drive to be sure.

Over the next day, anyone over the age of seventeen—and a few unfortunates that weren't that learned not to cheat the hard way—put their name forward into the Goblet of Fire to apply to compete in the tournament. Along with other Slytherins of age, I was encouraged to put my name in, but I wouldn't. I had no desire to earn eternal glory by risking my neck in a tournament. As it turned out, Oleg felt the same way, but he did put his name into the Goblet as that was why he was brought along with the other Durmstrang men.

In the end, it didn't matter: the Durmstrang champion was to be Viktor Krum and the Hogwarts champion was Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff. There was definitely some murmurs of discontent from my Slytherin brothers and sisters. I was sitting next to Oleg—it's amazing how fast one can become friends—while the champions were called. Oleg was more or less relieved when Viktor was chosen instead of him. I was glad too honestly, and I had to wonder why I was suddenly so invested in someone else's health. For the six previous years I've been here, I never had this kind of a friendship with anyone.

Before any of us knew it, the Goblet of Fire intensified, grabbing the attention of everyone, even more so Professor Dumbledore. Suddenly, the Goblet spat out another piece of paper. Dumbledore snatched it out of the air, took a quick second to look at it, cleared his throat and said, "Harry Potter."

The Great Hall was deafeningly silent, and all of us turned to look at the Boy-Who-Lived, who looked very stunned and uncomfortable. Despite his discomfort, none of us looked away from him. He looked at his friends, Ron and Hermione, hoping to find some ally in his stance, but they too were looking at him.

Dumbledore called for Potter again, and Hermione had to push him out of his seat. Potter was very slow to approach Dumbledore, who too stared hard at him. He motioned Harry to the door at the rear of the hall, and Harry silently left, every gaze following him. When he finally left, Dumbledore gathered up the teachers to confer. Oleg tapped me on the shoulder. "What happened?" he whispered.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Before I could continue, Dumbledore spun around and looked hard at us. "Back to your dormitories, all of you!"

None of us dared to question that tone. All of us filed out of the Great Hall, and the Durmstrang students looked lost, wondering if they should go back to their ship. Oleg took the opportunity to pull me aside and ask. "What is going on?"

"I don't know, Oleg," I said. "The Goblet of Fire is supposed to be nigh infallible when it comes to selecting contestants, or so I've heard."

"Do you think he cheated?"

"With Dumbledore's Age Line present the entire time? It didn't allow the Weasley Twins and their friend Lee, and they were older than he was. The only way his name would have gotten in there was if someone of age would have put it in there, but even then, the Goblet of Fire is intelligent enough to discern who that is. None of this makes sense. Even Dumbledore was disturbed by this. Something is very wrong here, and for the first time since I've come to this school, I'm worried."

"Of what?" He asked.

"I don't know yet, and that's the worst part. I hate not knowing."

That was no lie. Even after the near return of You-Know-Who during my fourth year that was thwarted by Potter, I refused to acknowledge that I would be worried about anything because that would be counterproductive to what I want to do, but with the return of the Death Eaters and the reappearance of the Dark Mark, I began to wonder if I should shift my focus to preparation.

I found my classes even more difficult because I had trouble concentrating, and the whole buzz about the Triwizard Tournament was deafening. My house was particularly noisy; they were disappointed that a Hufflepuff was representing Hogwarts in the tournament, but that Potter himself was a fourth Triwizard Champion was worse. As much as they were annoyed by the choice of Diggory, they were incensed at Potter's inclusion. Someone went out of their way to create badges that stated "Support Cedric Diggory – The Real Hogwarts Champion" while at a touch, they would morph into one that said "Potter Stinks" in bright green. Slytherin House wore them like it was dress code, and even Hufflepuff wore them with the same enthusiasm. I was one of the few that didn't wear one. While officially I was supportive of Cedric's pick over Harry's, I wasn't so juvenile to display it so crassly.

It was some time before the first task of the tournament, so while we were doing classes, we were also playing host to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. It was interesting to observe them hover around each other as they proceeded throughout the castle. No matter where they walked, they were always perfectly lined up and marching. Most of my Slytherin brethren were practically fawning over the Durmstrang students, and one in particular: Viktor Krum. Krum was also a star Seeker for the Bulgarian team in the World Cup. While his legendary flying skills did not win them the Cup this year, it did end the game on his terms. Sometimes I felt bad for Krum as he's constantly being followed by a crowd, and he looked annoyed by it; on the other hand, Krum was doing Oleg and me a favour because he was distracting everyone else from us.

I say us, because that's what it became. While everyone else was fawning over Krum—and to a lesser extent the Beauxbatons Champion Fleur Delacour—Oleg and I were almost always together when I wasn't in class. At one point, I was in the library, stuck between drafting my Astronomy parchments and my Potions parchment on wolfsbane draught, when he snuck up on me. I was so wrapped up in my studies that I didn't see him. He just sat down beside me. "There you are."

"Oh, hi," I blurted out, surprised. Madame Pince hissed her disapproval at my volume towards me and I complied. "What are you doing here?" I whispered.

"I was looking for you," he said.

It has been about three weeks since the Durmstrang students arrived, and a lot of that time was split for me between my schoolwork and company with Oleg. Three weeks doesn't sound like a lot, but as it turned out, neither of us had a lot of friends within our own schools, and when we first met back in late October, we just hit it off very well, and now, it seems things are picking up speed. I reflexively smiled, but wasn't sure why. "Oh yeah? What's going on?"

Oleg folded his hands in front of him and looked a little uncomfortable. "I am wondering if you can help me with something."

I closed my Advanced Potion Making book at once. "What is it?"

Oleg looked around, as if the entire library was watching him. "Not here. Can you meet me near lake shore, across from ship?"

I found that request odd, but I trusted Oleg enough to comply. "Oh, when?"

"Before sundown. Please, it will mean lots to me."

I nodded. "Ok, I will. Are you all right?"

He seemed to falter a little bit. "I-I will."

Now I was really concerned, but thought better to say anything. "Ok, I'll meet you there."

He seemed happier after that. "Spasibo bol'shoye."

While I knew very little Russian personally, he shared with me that it meant "thank you." He then left the library, but not before passing by Viktor Krum. That was almost as strange as Oleg's request: what would Viktor Krum be doing in the library? If it was to get away from his ever-shadowing fanbase, it wasn't working. In fact, this seemed to only add to the bustle always following him as everyone else had noticed that he was in here. All expect Miss Granger who was studying who-knew-what with Potter. As a matter of fact, Viktor Krum seemed unnerved, quite uncharacteristic to his athletic fearlessness. Whatever was unnerving him, he left almost as quickly as he came. I made a mental note to ask Oleg about that later.

I made it through my classes without the nagging question about Oleg's behaviour getting too noisy, but I managed to slip away before supper feast because the sun was setting earlier now it was after October. I made my way to the shore line of the Black Lake, and found Oleg staring rather apprehensively at the giant squid's tentacles basking on the lakeside.

"Don't worry," I said. He turned as I approached. "The squid does that. He actually is quite helpful, and he likes to have his tentacles tickled." To demonstrate, I took my quill pen out of my satchel and used the feather end to tickle on of the suction cups on one of its tentacles.

The squid quickly wrapped a tentacle around my ankle and pulled me right off my feet.

"Ewan!" exclaimed Oleg, but he needn't have worried. The squid didn't drag me into the water. Instead, it released my ankle, and then proceeded to return the favour. One of the few things I would ever admit is that I'm ticklish, and the squid found that out. Between fits of laughter, I finally said. "Okay, okay! You win!"

The squid relented its tickling assault, brushed the rear side of its tentacle across my face and then retreated into the water. I picked myself up and dusted myself off. "See? No harm done, except my pride."

Oleg was still unsure about what he just saw, but seemed to relax. "When Viktor said there was squid in lake, I was thinking he lied."

"No lie there," I said. "Well, I'm here."

"You are." Oleg seemed to get unnerved but had enough strength to ask. "I need your help with some spells, or rather resisting them."

This seemed very similar to my Defence Against the Dark Arts classes this year and last, where we had to learn about the Unforgiveable Curses and how to counter them, or rather counter two of them, as the third was known to be absolute. "What do you mean?"

Oleg looked at the ship sitting in the lake. "Do you know a place where we can do this in secret?"

Whatever he was asking, it was important enough to keep to himself and me, but I suddenly had a bad feeling about all of this. I couldn't let that show, because our friendship was too new for me to start doubting now. "Well…there is one place: the Shrieking Shack, but that's off the grounds, towards Hogsmeade. With the tournament going on, security is too strong to risk sneaking out…but there's one possible way, but are you sure about this?"

Oleg nodded. "I am."

Something about him always made me feel like I could believe him, which is quite remarkable for me. I've been in Slytherin for over six years, and despite the initial speech by the prefect in my first year, I couldn't grow to trust my fellow Slytherins completely, especially after Potter came to school. Trust in someone from Durmstrang that I've only known for a few weeks for me was remarkable. I couldn't help but trust him. "Follow me then."

I led him towards a lone willow tree on the school ground. Unlike the more…willowy willows closer to the lakeside, this willow had incredibly large branches and trunk. "This is the Whomping Willow, a tree that to say the least is territorial." There were no trees nor creatures around it. "If you get too close to it, it tries to squash you. At the trunk of the tree though, there's a passageway that can take us to the Shrieking Shack. I found out about it last year from Professor Snape after the whole Azkaban mess."

As we ventured close, the Whomping Willow seemed to awaken and lifted a branch to squash us. I rose my wand at it, flicked it twice and swished it. "Immobulus!" The Whomping Willow froze in place, its finer branches swaying slightly from the interrupted movement.

I turned to Oleg. "That won't keep it still for long. Come on."

I sprinted towards the base of the tree, and found the large hole underneath the tree. I quickly clambered down into it, followed by Oleg. "Why is this here?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I'll take what I can get."

We followed the dark tunnel until we came upon a staircase. Climbing it, I opened a latch and we ended up in a cellar. We could hear the wind rustling through the house as we climbed up to the upper levels. We eventually found an old bedroom where the chilled wind wasn't nearly so bad. I tried to close the door, but it was a hopeless venture.

"Ok, we're here," I said, turning to Oleg, who looked now even more uncomfortable. In fact, he looked like he could throw up. Now I knew something was wrong. "What's going on?"

Oleg swallowed, and then said. "Ever since the Death Eaters have come back, I have been being uncomfortable. My par—" I glimpsed a little wetness in his eyes. "My parents were tortured and killed by Death Eaters when I was baby. I was raised by uncle. I was thinking they were gone for good, but…"

"But now that they're back…" I started. "You need to defend yourself?"

Oleg nodded.

"Do they not teach you to use defensive spells in Durmstrang?" I knew they had to have, but the question was automatic. "Shield Charms? Counterspells? All that?"

Oleg shook his head. "You do not understand. I need to resist spells."

Now I was confused. What did he mean exactly? "What are you exactly asking to do?" As soon as I asked, I had a dreadful idea what it could be.

"I need—" He swallowed again. "I need you to use the Cruciatus Curse on me."

I dropped my satchel. Every part of my body was numb, and my eyes had to have been twice as large as before. Even my very mind was frozen. "You—what?" That was all I could manage.

He knew that I heard him, so he didn't repeat himself.

I found my tongue. "Do you even realize what you're asking?"

Oleg looked at me with a pleading expression. I was shaken to my core. He did know what he was asking me to do. My mouth formed to make words, but initially didn't. I finally found one to say: "Why?"

Oleg looked like he knew he was asking the impossible. "I need to learn to resist it. I may not be able to use my wand sometimes, so I must be able to resist in other ways."

He was preparing. I related to that. "But I can't."

He walked up to me and took me by the hand. "Yes, you can. You have to."

I didn't move to make him let go, but I did put my free hand on his shoulder. "You don't understand. This isn't just a legality thing, which is a big deal in its own right; the Cruciatus Curse isn't something one can just say a word and it happens. It comes from deep within, a pure and vile hatred of the thing you're torturing. I would have to hate you with every inch of my being to do that."

That was not entirely accurate what I said to him, but I had to express the impossibility of it. I would in the very least have to hate him, I have to mean it to inflict anyone with the Cruciatus Curse. That was something Professor Moody made it perfectly clear when he demonstrated it on a wingless wasp in our class.

"And if there's one thing I don't feel towards you, it's hate." I sighed almost tearfully. "I don't hate you at all, Oleg. Not one bit."

Oleg seemed touched, but then looked discouraged. "What do I do? I need to be ready."

I looked thoughtful. "There isn't much to be done about the Cruciatus Curse, but perhaps…"

"Perhaps what?"

"It's something I did last year with Professor Lupin, as part of our sixth-year courses. He used the Imperius Curse to see if we can shake ourselves out of it. It's not easy to be sure, but if one has the willpower to shake off someone using an Imperius Curse on him, perhaps it's strong enough to resist a Cruciatus Curse. In the very least, you're less likely to crack the truth. Your sanity on the other hand…"

I remembered hearing about a case of two Aurors who were captured and tortured by Death Eaters last time You-Know-Who was around, and while they never talked, they were tortured so much that they lost their minds. Even the strongest person mentally might not last under extended magical torture.

Oleg understood. "If we can at least increase my mental strength, I may have chance."

"It's possible, but again, the Imperius Curse is also Unforgiveable. If I do this, I run a chance to be thrown into Azkaban."

Oleg nodded. "I will not tell."

I shook my head. "It doesn't have to be you that might betray us. If my wand is ever examined with the Reverse Spell, the caster will know I did it. You're also fortunate that I'm of age, so the Trace is no longer on me, even at Hogwarts, but there's still a risk. The Ministry of Magic is particularly crazy after the World Cup this year. Hell, I'm sure they don't like the fact that Professor Lupin even used the Imperius Curse on us just to see if we could shake it off last year. Professor Moody did it to us again this time around, as a 'review.'"

Oleg looked surprised. "You have been under Imperius Curse?"

"For a little while, yeah," I admitted. "It's incredibly distracting, and it's very difficult to shake it off. I'm not even sure if I managed. It's like you're in a room full of perfume, and you're just overwhelmed by the smell that you can't think and you can't move, and you're just dreamily watching as your body is being made to do this and that. At one point, I gained this little seed of awareness that I was in a dream, and that's when things got crazy. The next thing I knew, I found myself sprawled on the floor of the classroom when I questioned mentally to do a handstand. Apparently, I stopped myself halfway and just fell on my face instead. A few others were only marginally less embarrassing if they managed to resist."

Oleg understood. "Can you do it on me?"

Despite the fact that the risk of harm was less with the Imperius Curse, I still didn't feel right about using it on my best friend. "Are you absolutely sure you want me to do this? The Imperius Curse is still a very twisted hex. I have to assert my will on you and you have to fight back with all of your being. Do you understand?"

Oleg pursed his lips. "I am asking you as a friend; you must help me. I want to be stronger if the worst will happen."

I sighed. Oleg was stubborn, and that was something I could appreciate in him. "If you say so, but first things first." Looking around, I pulled out my wand from its place in my left sleeve and pointed it at the doorway we came in. "Homenum Revelio." Nothing happened. "Good. We're alone." I looked at Oleg. "The only preparation I have for you is to steel yourself. I'll start off softer for you to see if you can shake that off. If you can, then I'll try harder. Got it?"

He nodded.

I pointed my wand at his forehead. "Imperio."

A wisp of gold-and-green dust seemed to emanate from my wand, and dusted Oleg, who quickly took a rather vacuous look, almost like he was happily drunk. I hoped he still knew my warnings. "Jump."

He obediently jumped.

My mouth was getting dryer. "Turn around."

He did so without hesitation.

I grew despondent; he wasn't fighting it hard enough. "Raise your right leg."

There was a second of hesitation, but then he rose it up shakily. My eyes widened a bit. A delay? Maybe he's getting stronger in resisting. "Now the other one."

Oleg lowered the other leg, and more shakily rose the other. My heart sped up a bit. He might be doing it. I got an idea for my next request. "Tell me the location of the Durmstrang Institute."

Oleg opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was doing it! Still, I had to push harder to test him. "Tell me the location of the Durmstrang Institute!" I said more forcefully.

He made something like a gargling sound, but he still didn't budge. I narrowed my eyes. "Tell me!" I yelled.

"NO!" he suddenly shouted. It was so startling that I lost focused and lowered my wand. The curse evaporated immediately, and life returned to his eyes. He shook himself out, and looked at me. He was breathing hard. "Where am I?"

"You're still here in the Shrieking Shack." I was breathing hard myself. Casting an Unforgiveable Curse takes a lot out of someone it seems. "You did it."

"I did?"

"Yeah. I demanded an answer from you and you refused to answer it. You really did it. Not bad for a first time. It still took at least four commands before you showed real resistance. If you can do it sooner, you'll be real effective."

Oleg nodded. "Then do it again."

I sighed. "Very well." I rose my wand again. "Imperio."

Once again, that vacuous look was back. I wasted no time. "Jump three times."

He obediently did so. We kept at it for at least an hour, and I was growing quite fatigued. At some point, he began to lose ground in his progress. As soon as I saw it, I lifted the Imperius Curse under my own volition. He looked at me surprised. "What is wrong?"

"You're getting tired; your concentration is slipping. I can't keep doing this tonight on you."

"But—?

"We can resume later if we can find the time. The First Task is coming up and from what I hear, security is going to be tight with the massive amount of people coming in to watch the champions. Sneaking around, even back here, might be too risky. We may have to wait until after the First Task."

Oleg seemed to get a little down at that, but recovered. "Very well."

I couldn't help but feel for him; he was just trying to do what he believed he needed to do, and I related to that. With everything going on, I knew that I needed to be ready as well. "We'd better go. It's after dark, and if I get caught wandering the grounds at this time of night, it could be detention for me, especially as a school prefect."

Oleg nodded. "You are right. I am sorry…"

"Don't be," I said. "I'm glad I could help, however unnerving it was." I didn't say that I'd rather not use the Imperius Curse on my best friend ever again though.

We made our way through the tunnel back towards the base of the Whomping Willow, using the Wand-Lighting Charm so we could see. Once we reached the other end, I told Oleg to wait for me to immobilize the Whomping Willow tree. Once I did, I motioned for him to come out. We stepped out into the cold November air. "You'd better get back to your ship as soon as you can. I'll see you soon and then we can decide—oh bugger!"

I had nearly run into Professor Moody, who had been eyeing—literally—us and had been waiting for us to come back out. Oleg had also stopped in his tracks.

"What would you two boys be doing out here, eh? A Slytherin and a Durmstrang?"

I knew what he was insinuating, and he was also an ex-Auror with paranoid tendencies. "Professor I—"

He quickly whipped his wand out, and in a blink, he used the Disarming Charm on my wand, sending it flying away. Oleg's wand was out and ready, but Moody was faster. Using a Stunning Spell, Oleg found himself blown head over heels into the ground, unconscious. My eyes flashed with anger, but I bit my tongue as Moody refocused his wand at my head. "Now how about we see your last spells, eh? Or are you feeling talkative to tell me yourself?"

I paled instantly. If I lied, Moody would definitely use the Reverse Spell on my wand and wouldn't settle for just the most recent spell. If I told the truth, it was, to quote Moody himself, "a one-way ticket to Azkaban." There was no way out of this, and Moody seemed to know that. It was little wonder how he was among the best Aurors from the Ministry.

Finally, he aimed his wand at Oleg, but nothing happened. "Pick up your wand, Colquhoun," he commanded coldly. I obeyed immediately. "Now wake up your friend."

I gulped, and aimed my wand at Oleg's body. "Rennervate."

Oleg's eyes opened, and he sat up. Shakily, he said. "W-what happened?"

I was about to answer, but Moody beat me to it. "Get back to your quarters, Mikhailov, or you'd rather I have a word with Karkaroff?"

Oleg looked a little pale at that threat, and he looked at me unsure what to do. I raised a hand at him assuringly. "I'll be all right," I said, a little shakily. Honestly, I was terrified.

Oleg didn't seem assured, but he looked at Moody briefly, and I saw a flash of anger in his eyes, daring Moody to hurt me or send me to Azkaban. He didn't say anything, but only picked up his wand and departed for the ship. I watched him go, and then turned back to Moody, and saw that his magical eye was shooting back and forth while his natural eye was locked on me. "To my office, Colquhoun."

He led me back his office in the back of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. It was a bit of a walk to get there, and I prayed to whatever forces in the universe out there that Professor Snape wasn't anywhere along our route. While he generally favoured our own house, he was not against due punishment to his own students if they were especially bad-behaving, and using an Unforgiveable Curse after hours likely ranked up there.

Finally we reached the office with thankfully little interruption. Even Peeves, the resident poltergeist didn't bother us as he was busy with other mischief around the castle. He sat down on a chair next to a rather opaque glass, and his Magical Eye seemed transfixed by it, constantly staring at it. His real eye though was more interested in me.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough in my lessons, but what the devil is unclear about a one-way ticket to Azkaban if you perform an Unforgiveable Curse, Colquhoun?!" He grew louder with each syllable, and I stood appropriately shaken, but I didn't say a word. While his face didn't change, I could tell he was hacked off. "Perhaps a little Veritaserum will loosen your tongue, or perhaps Snape alone getting it will—"

"Don't!" I exclaimed automatically.

Both eyes momentarily focused on me. "I thought so, so how about you tell me what by all hellfire has taken your senses to do it?!"

I had to sigh. This was it. "He asked me to."

His magical eye looked back at me again and lingered. "Being taught the Dark Arts at Durmstrang not enough for him?!"

"It's not that," I said, and I stopped to consider my words carefully. "After what happened at the World Cup, he wanted to train up his mental fortitude should the Death Eaters come back, and you know they will. He wants to make sure that he'd be able to resist the Imperius Curse in case the worst happens." I knew it wasn't prudent to mention that he first asked about the Cruciatus Curse. That wouldn't help anything. "So I just did the very same thing what we did in the classroom. Nothing else."

Moody's face twitched a bit in annoyance. "Is that what you learned from my class?! How to cast the curses?! Arrogant boy! You didn't stop to think that the Imperius Curse if handled improperly could turn a victim's stupid little brain into haggis, least of all yours?! Unforgiveable Curse be damned, Azkaban has a place for you just for turning someone braindead!"

I took the rebuke well enough. He wasn't wrong, but I had more confidence in my powers than that. "I kept it light on him," I said, trying not to get angry.

Moody stood up so quickly that he almost left his fake leg behind. "The Ministry isn't going to be so callus about how gentle you were, Colquhoun! Had you been any other dark wizard, I'd send you to Azkaban myself!"

I felt my blood turn to ice at that, especially after seeing the dementors first hand just last year, but something about his phrasing hung on my mind. "Had I been?" I said.

Moody looked at me square in the eye with both eyes, and I held my gaze. I didn't see the point of flinching. If I was going to Azkaban, I'd do it bravely. He growled. "You'd best thank whatever lets you sleep at night that I'm retired."

I finally blinked. Was that the closest Professor Moody has ever come to a joke?

"Now I suggest that you march yourself back to your house before I decide that twenty points from Slytherin is not enough!"

I nodded.

"Well?!"

I left at once.

The next day, I was back in the library doing my normal studies when Oleg approached me again. He seemed quite relieved that I was not in Azkaban, or in the very least, not in a bad way. He almost apologised right there and then for "getting me into trouble," but I hushed him up quickly. Library confessions are all right and all, but not if they could get one sent to Azkaban.

XXXXXXXXXX

The rest of the month was tense with expectation for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Oleg and I spent as much time as we could together for whatever reason, and thankfully, no one minded us throughout the process, thinking that shoving their "POTTER STINKS" badges into the namesake's face was far more rewarding. We talked a lot about our own respective educations, and that's when he told me about how much Durmstrang teaches about the Dark Arts. I had told him about our own Dark Arts exposure, and had admitted that up until Professor Lupin last year, my exposure was spotty at best. Truthfully, I learned far more in the last two years than the first five years at Hogwarts combined.

The day of the First Task finally arrived, and I met Oleg near the Quidditch Field, so we could find our seats at the nearby stadium where the First Task was to be held. When we arrived, we found that the arena was a rocky landscape, but what drew our attention was a bluish-grey dragon, a Swedish Shortsnout, bound by a chain right in the middle of it. Oleg and I looked at each other, alarmed. The first task involved a dragon, and it was only the first task. Oleg and I were suddenly very thankful that we either did not enter or weren't chosen by the Goblet of Fire.

We anxiously took out seats as the rest of the stadium filled. Professor Dumbledore told us the conditions of the task: the champions needed to retrieve a golden egg from the dragon's clutch of eggs as fast and as carefully as possible. More importantly, retrieving the egg was required to continue in the tournament.

"Bozhe moi," Oleg said.

"You said it," I replied. "This is insane. No reward is worth this…"

Before long, the task had begun. Cedric Diggory was the first to attempt the task, and we watched agonizingly as he tried to distract the dragon. At one point, he transfigured a rock into a dog, which seems to do the trick, but when he shot for the egg, the dragon refocused at him and just about seared his face off. After about fifteen minutes though, he managed to get the egg.

"That's one down…," I said casually.

"I wonder if Krum is next…," Oleg wondered aloud.

When the whistle blew, it was Fleur Delacour who came out to face down a green dragon, a Welsh Green. Somehow, she managed to lull the dragon to sleep and looked just about to get the egg without a hitch…until the dragon started to snore. To Fleur's credit, she managed to keep her composure as the dragon's snore set her garments on fire. Despite the setback, she got the egg in less time than it did Diggory.

The dragon was switched out again for a red burly one, and when the whistle blew, it was Viktor Krum. We both watched as the Durmstrang champion faced off fiercely against an equally fierce Chinese Fireball dragon. Viktor was far more direct; at one point, he blasted the dragon with a spell right into its eyes. The dragon thrashed about, in severe pain, trampling some of its own eggs as it did. Shortly afterwards, Krum got the egg.

Finally, it was Harry Potter's term, and to my alarm, the dragon was now a black dragon that seemed to have more horns than scales: a Hungarian Horntail, one of the deadliest dragons in the world. It was bad enough for Potter to be in the tournament, but to face one of the meanest magical creatures on the face of the earth? Not for the first time did I feel something was up this year, and Oleg noticed me looking thoughtful. Before he could ask, Potter somehow summoned his broom. Next thing we knew, there was a small shape zipping around the dragon like a sparrow challenging a hawk to a fight. Blasts of fire shot in every direction, but Potter paid it no more mind than any Bludger from his previous Quidditch matches.

Suddenly, the dragon swiped at Potter with its tail and it connected. Potter managed to stay aloft, but was now favouring his uninjured side. I held my breath; this could end very badly if Potter didn't produce that egg soon. Potter dipped back and forth, trying to lure the stubborn dragon from the nest, but it didn't seem eager to take the bait…that is, until it finally opened its black wings and rose after him. At once, Potter dove underneath the dragon's legs and swooped up the golden egg in record time. The crowd exploded in applause as Harry soared away from the enraged dragon. I found myself clapping along with them; Potter may be Gryffindor, but that was a marvelous display of skill. He would have made a great Slytherin.

The mood was a lot less enthusiastic in my house that night, for Potter survived being mauled by a dragon, and even tied for first place with Krum, seemingly Slytherin's choice of winner. That irritated much of my house to no end, particularly young Malfoy, who had bragged about a bet with his own father. Apparently, neither of them bet on Harry lasting in the First Task. I had to keep my amusement to myself; Malfoy was a soul no man should ever have to endure. Malfoy in a foul mood was even worse.

Nothing much else happened as November turned into December, until one day we were sitting in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had announced towards the end of the period that there was to be something called the Yule Ball, a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament on Christmas Night. While she spoke mainly to the Gryffindors, being she was the head of their house, she did strongly infer that she expected all of us to put our best foot forward, and she meant that literally. Only students in their fourth year and older were allowed to attend, unless a qualifying student invited a younger one.

Before this year, I had thought to go home for the holidays one last time before setting out on my own life, but the Triwizard Tournament changed that in more than one way. One thing that was required upon arrival was a set of dress robes, which I found to be odd. It wasn't until McGonagall's announcement that the purpose was made clear, so in a sense I was already prepared, except for one crucial detail: a partner.

Anyone who has known me throughout my tenure at Hogwarts can't ever say that I ever got close to a girl, or anyone else for that matter. I was often ridiculed for my chosen seclusion, but my grades spoke for themselves. As a matter of fact, the only person I've ever grown close to in my entire time here was Oleg, which created a slight problem: him being a man, and I also a man, obviously. Normally I'm not conscious about such things, but even in the Muggle World is a man taking a man to a dance not something one casually hears about. The sheer ludicrous nature of me asking Oleg to the dance made me dismiss the idea of going to the dance. No one would really miss me there…would they?

Later that day, I found my mind completely swimming in indecision. I had called the idea of taking Oleg to the ball a ludicrous idea for many reasons: it wouldn't be allowed, I'd stick out like a sore thumb, and he's just a friend. Then again, even great friends don't sit with each other nearly as much as we have as of late. If gender isn't a problem, then it could happen…

I shook myself. What was I even thinking? This wasn't some romp; this is a formal dance, which is far more intimate. If I was going to take Oleg to the dance, it would mean because this was more than friendship. For a second, I thought that would frighten me, but instead of that ice-cold feeling, I felt a strange rush of excitement mixed with the foreboding feeling of disappointment of the inevitable. It took me a while to break it down: I was excited with the prospect of taking him to the Ball, while dreading that I wouldn't be allowed to.

As the days progressed towards Christmas Eve, my resolution to not go to the Yule Ball wavered. I couldn't even fathom going with anyone else but Oleg, and I had run out of excuses to not pursue it further. It was the middle of December, and after I had gotten done with Transfigurations, I finally decided to ask Professor McGonagall as the rest of the class filed out. "Professor?"

Professor McGonagall looked at me neutrally. "Yes, Mr. Colquhoun?"

I tried to maintain the steely nerve that I've always had for the last six-and-a-half years since I've come to Hogwarts as I asked, "I have a question for you."

"Well, I would assume that's why you are choosing to speak with me."

I mentally kicked myself for that. "Right, well, I was asking about the Yule Ball." I swallowed; my mouth had gone dry. "There's no…regulation in regards whom to ask for the Yule Ball dance beyond their age, is there?"

Professor McGonagall looked at me a little more sharply. "What do you mean, Mr. Colquhoun?"

My first impulse was to either a tactical retreat or curse the Professor out. I suppressed both as neither was particularly good for me. "I mean, there's nothing keeping me from asking anyone to the dance within reason, right?" I paused and considered my next words. "Regardless of which school they're from?"

I hoped that was enough to give Professor McGonagall without giving my true inner turmoil, although I knew better than to pull a fast one against her. She was just as observant as Professor Snape at times. Finally, after what seemed like more time than a Hatstall, she said. "I would have figured that you were more perceptive than that considering your general aptitude. I'll repeat what I have said: you are permitted to take whomever you wish to the ball provided the requested party accepts your invitation. Is that clear enough?"

I stood briefly confused, but the words finally worked their way through my mind and exactly what she was saying: the rule was clear, and as long one stayed within the rule, it was permitted. To make sure I got what she meant, she repeated the rule verbatim. I finally nodded. "Perfectly. Thank you, Professor."

"Then I trust your business with me is concluded?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Very well," she said. "Good day."

I returned the farewell and left the classroom. Encouraged, I knew what I needed to do now. The dread of being refused by the school was now replaced with a new dread: refusal by whom I'm about to ask.

The rest of the day ticked on as if I was awaiting the final minutes before my own execution. I knew I was overreacting, but what Oleg and I had was hardly complicated and I wasn't sure I wanted to make it complicated by taking it to another level. While arguably asking Oleg to the ball wasn't taking it to another level, asking anyone to the ball isn't necessarily something ordinary friends would do. Despite my assurances, I still put off what I needed to do until it was almost too late. Christmas was days away now.

The time finally came when I was walking to the owlery to send my parents a letter about how things were going as I usually did. When I had arrived, I noticed that a Ravenclaw student was there, but as she wasn't bothering me, I didn't bother her. Before I did anything, Lumi came fluttering down. Lumi seemed to have an ability to know when I was coming because he always came fluttering down practically just before I came in. He perched on my shoulder, playfully nipped at my ear. I gave Lumi a quick treat and then presented him with the letter. "I hope it's not too cold for you, Lumi," I said to him.

Lumi just made a dismissive noise and took the letter in his beak. I ducked as he beat his wings into the wind and took off briskly out of the owlery. With my part of the job done, I turned and left. I had just made it across the foot bridge when I ran into Oleg. Neither of us expected we'd run into each other at this exact time, so we were both a little startled.

"Oleg!" I blurted out. Recomposing myself, I said. "Hi…"

"Hello," he replied, recomposing himself as well. "Uh…are you busy?"

"Not anymore. I was just heading back to the common room to study." I looked away, tempted to keep going but something told me to stay, somehow sensing that this might be the last time I'd be seeing Oleg without an audience between now and the night of the ball. "Actually, is it ok…if I ask you something?"

Oleg blinked. "Uh, yes?"

I blew out a sigh. "Ok, well…uh…I have something to ask you." I kicked myself again. Since when do I repeat myself literally seconds after the first time? "Sorry…uh…well…" I stalled for a bit, and Oleg didn't seem in the least irritated, which amazed me. "Ok…I was wondering…" I began to start. Oleg seemed to perk up slightly; I was at the point of no return now, I thought. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me…"

This was it; I said it. Oleg blinked once, but his eyes grew as my request reached his brain. "You're asking…me?"

I nodded. Now that the initial question was out, I felt freer to speak my mind. "I do. Ever since I've been here, I've been so driven to do what I need to do that I never had any real friends here, and you've seen the lot I've had to live with. I've tolerated that, up until this year." I didn't know why I kept going, but I wanted to because I felt that he deserved to know. "You are my best real friend, and I'd like nothing less than to take you to the ball."

Oleg was speechless. The longer he didn't say anything, the more I grew discouraged. I broke the silence and thought I'd better go. "It's ok if you don't want to go. I'm sorry—" I started to walk around him.

He grabbed my arm, and my blue eyes looked right into his silver eyes. "Do not go…"

Automatically, I replied. "All right." As I looked at him, I couldn't help but notice that his eyes seemed more radiant than I recalled…or maybe they were moister.

"I will go with you," he said.

I blinked, as if I've just been slapped. "You will?"

He slowly smiled. "I will."

Despite the assurance, my mind was still completely stalled with disbelief. Ever so slowly, I was becoming aware that I was gawking like a vacuous teenage girl. "Brilliant! Well, I guess I'll see you then if not before. Thank you, Oleg!"

Oleg nodded.

I was about two steps beyond when I realized something. "Oh, wait, did you have something you needed from me?"

Oleg turned back to me, realizing I wasn't leaving just yet. "Oh…uh…I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to ball too."

That dumbfounded me. He was going to ask me himself? I felt the compulsion to laugh, but I held it in. "Well, I guess that settled." I cleared my throat. "Christmas is in just a few days. I hope that's not too soon."

Oleg shook his head. "It is all right. Headmaster Karkaroff is making sure we all are at Yule Ball, even if we did not want to."

"You didn't want to?" I ask, not sure how I felt about what he said.

Oleg looked startled, as if he said something he didn't mean to say. "N-no, I am not meaning it like that," he said quickly. Relaxing a bit, he continued, "We were all told to find someone to take to Ball as part of us being here at this school for Tournament. Ever since First Task, I was thinking that would not happen, until I was thinking of asking you."

It appeared that Oleg was in a similar position as I was, although his was practically forced upon him while I had the choice to bury my feelings instead of facing them. "I'm sorry that you had to deal with that."

Oleg nodded. "But I ask you to be knowing this: I was not going to ask you because the headmaster wanted me to find someone; I was asking you because I wanted to. You are special to me too."

I didn't say anything to that for a little bit, but I was certainly touched. "Thank you, Oleg. You are to me too." I swallowed, amazed at how much Oleg affected my overall behaviour. "Well, uh, I'd best go. I'll see you soon."

"Wait," he said.

I turned back to him. "Yes?"

Oleg seemed just as dry-mouthed as I was. "I-I am wanting to thank you for helping me before, back in that shack."

I smiled. "Anytime." I knew that he wanted to say something else; he didn't want me to leave just yet. "I really have to go. There's a lot I need to do before the Ball. I will talk to you soon."

He nodded. "Goodbye."

"See you later."

We parted ways, albeit reluctantly. I made my way back to the common room to finish my studies and prepare for the Ball. Whatever befalls me now, I'm committed.

Back in the common room, I took my established place at the table to study, but my mind was abuzz about Oleg. Ever since I've gotten here, I've kept my feelings in check from my peers because of how many in my House like to act. Oleg, ever so slowly, managed to unlock that part of my heart. At first, I was concerned what I was feeling was real at first, but now I knew it was. Ever since I was sorted into Slytherin, I was focused on being the best I could, never minding what any other Slytherin had to say. I locked away any concept of affection for anyone because of whom I roomed with, and it was that way for six years. A few Slytherin girls tried to get my attention; one even tried to smuggle me an Amortentia, a very strong love potion to say the least. It was a "shame" I knew about them already in Potions class and disposed of it. I can't say I blame them. I wasn't so vain as to think I was the most handsome man in Slytherin, but I also wasn't so insecure as to think that I wasn't at least handsome. I bloomed well, I believe.

Despite all that, I never thought I would ever be with anyone at Hogwarts because of how dedicated I was to my education in addition to having a general disdain for my peers in my own house. As for prospects in other houses, over the last four years, there's been increasing suspicion against Slytherin men and women that seemed all the worse since Potter first came to Hogwarts. Ergo, my odds were minimal had I tried. That all changed when Oleg entered my life. Before the beginning of the year, Professor Snape's words from my fifth year had echoed in my head regarding my lack of a true answer in what I wanted to do with my life. Although everything I said was true, it was a bluff at the time. What I knew I lacked was the reason why I was doing it all. What was my motivation beyond my grades? I thought it was just so I could do whatever I wanted within reason—I wasn't just some power-hungry wizard after all—but the more I considered it before this year, the more it sounded like an excuse. Oleg was the final straw; even now, in my last year, I doubted my reasons to be here. Oleg broke the façade within me; I had no idea why I was doing this, but I knew there was a reason. Otherwise, I wouldn't have kept going as fiercely as before. That being said, why did Oleg cause me to second-guess myself as much as he did?

The days didn't seem to wait for me to answer that question, because it was Christmas before I realized it. I awoke that morning and found that my parents had sent me a few gifts for the day, which bore a walking stick that I recognised to be my grandfather's, freshly refinished and repainted; the other was a silver signet ring that bore the impressed crest of Slytherin. I had to wonder how my parents, one being a Ravenclaw and the other a Hufflepuff were even able to get such a ring without fuss. My mind flashed back to the letter I got when I first was Sorted into Slytherin. Despite my House's disdain for Hufflepuff and annoyance of Ravenclaw, my parents knew that the Hat made the right choice. This was their way of supporting me when even my own House merely tolerated me.

The rest of the day was swept into getting ready for the Yule Ball that night. After luncheon feast, I spent the rest of the day making sure I would be presentable for the Yule Ball. When the sun set, I was in the dormitory fixing my dress robes. I had found a midnight blue robe with a black inner lining that had modest star-like shapes inside that were so small that they were barely noticeable. This I would wear over a matching blue waistcoat containing a white ruffle. Hardly a comfortable form of wearables, but it was definitely formal. I placed my wand in its spot inside my robe's left sleeve. While it was unlikely I would need it, habit and good sense told me to always have one's wand upon his person in case of emergencies.

The hour came and I made my way from the dungeons to the Great Hall, where the ball was to be held. When I arrived, I noticed the great crowd had already started gathering inside the outside of it. I looked around at the gathering crowd and saw how much of the men looked similar with their looks, while the women had greater variety in their dress gowns. As my eyes shot around the room, I noticed Potter with his friend Weasley standing apprehensively on the opposite side, and at once I noticed Weasley's choice of robes. I pitied the girl that would be dancing with him, and no Obliviator could wipe this memory away, I felt.

The oak doors leading outside opened up, and I watched the Durmstrang men march in. As I looked for Oleg, I saw Viktor Krum leading the regiment, as it were, accompanied by a blue-garbed girl I didn't recognise. Finally, I noticed Oleg towards the rear, looking apprehensive, dressed in the radiant red robes that all the Durmstrang lads wore, with a fur-edged cloak bound over his chest and draped over his left arm. It made him look royal, and quite handsome.

As soon as they entered, Professor McGonagall, dressed in scarlet tartan robes with an admittedly dreadful wreath around her brimmed pointed hat—I would never tell her that myself—quickly strode forward to get the Champions and their dates in place while instructing the rest of us to enter the Great Hall. I hesitated long enough for Oleg to find me out of the crowd, and he strode forward.

"Hello, Ewan," he smiled.

I smiled as well. "You clean up very well."

For a brief moment, he looked sheepish, but didn't say anything.

"We'd better enter before Professor McGonagall finds a way to give both of us detention," I said, offering an arm.

Oleg took the arm without any hesitation. As we walked, I was aware that a few staring eyes were glaring at me, silently judging me for not having a partner not of the fairer sex, but it only showed they knew nothing about me. I never cared what people thought of me unless it was my father, mother, headmaster and professors.

We strode into the Great Hall, and we could see that the Great Hall was transfigured. It was frosted over with silver frost with holly, ivy and mistletoe dotting the walls, while the ceiling sky was starry as a winter's night. We didn't have much time to take it all in right away as we knew that the Champions would be right on top of us had we stayed where we were. We turned left and made for the side so we'd be inconspicuous. I knew that most of the eyes would be on the Champions so I had no worries, and neither did Oleg.

The doors opened, and the hall erupted into applause as the four Triwizard Champions strode in. Fleur Delacour led the four pairs, followed by Krum, Diggory and Potter. As they strode by, I looked again at Krum's date, and I was shocked to see that it was one of Potter's friends: Hermione Granger! She looked so different that I didn't see it at first. I looked at Oleg, wondering if he knew. Oleg looked at me, and seemed to sense my confusion. "I did not know."

My eyes fell on the Champions again and saw Potter escorting someone I did not know, but he looked completely uncomfortable. I guessed he really didn't want to be here, or rather he didn't want to be with his date. The four pairs made for the table on the far end of the Great Hall, and I noticed that Oleg's Headmaster, Karkaroff, was looking like he ate a lemon. "What's he so mad about?" I asked Oleg.

Oleg looked amused. "I was thinking it was because of me asking you to come to Ball, but he does not care about me now that Krum is Champion."

I felt relieved about that. "Then what's got him so hacked off?"

"He is disapproving of Krum's date."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, sighing resignedly. "Typical."

As the Champions sat at the round table with Dumbledore and the rest of the judges, the rest of us found tables to sit around. We were joined by another Durmstrang with his date, and a Beauxbatons with hers. Neither pair seemed bothered by the fact that I was sitting with a Durmstrang. Apparently, their glittering golden menus were far more interesting. There were no wait staff to wait upon us, but I've been to Hogwarts long enough to know one wasn't necessary.

Oleg however looked a little lost. Things were probably done differently at Durmstrang, so I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze while I demonstrated what to do. I pointed to a part of the menu. "You say it aloud. Like so:" Louder, I said, "Bangers and mash, two cheese crumpets, eton mess and butterbeer." As soon as I was done, everything appeared on my plate on command, minus the butterbeer of course; that appeared in the chalice obviously.

The rest of Yule Dinner went on uneventfully, and I felt more relaxed than I ever have been. The food was delicious to be sure, but all the worries I had before the Yule Ball seemed so trivial now that the day had arrived. Oleg himself was all smiles as well. This night was going so well and it was just beginning.

We ate fairly quickly, because we knew that for the dance to happen, the floor would need to be cleared. Sure enough, once we got done, Professor Dumbledore requested all of us to finish. Once all of us stepped away, the tables and chairs were stacked against the walls with magic, clearing the floor for the dance. The four Champions and their dates took their spots in the clearing to start the dance. The first song was slower and more somber, and so we stood along the perimeter. Oleg didn't seem wanting to dance, and I didn't want to make a spectacle of ourselves with the night going so well for us.

Other couples strode out to dance—Dumbledore took Madame Maxime to the floor to our amusement considering their size difference—but Oleg decided this wasn't the right song for us just yet. Once the song ended, however, the Wicked Sisters—Merlin knows how Dumbledore was able to get them—decided to speed things up a bit, and the floor suddenly filled up with avid couples dancing. The change was so swift and sudden that Oleg and I were practically thrust into it. The floor was so packed that we were practically in each other's arms just so we wouldn't fall and get trampled. Oleg and I could only look at each other, wondering what to do, when I finally just shrugged and said. "We might as well…"

The dance went on for quite some time, and we began to get a little red from how hot it was getting. We worked our way out of the crowd and made our way to find some cold drinks. Once a couple butterbeers were obtained, we sat down where we could to get our breath. After a few sips, I managed to finally say, "So what do you think?"

Oleg smiled. "I am thinking that we are having good time."

"Yes, we are." I downed a few more gulps. "It's still warm in here. You feel up for a walk to find cooler winds?"

He nodded. We both made for the doors and walked through them. "Not to the courtyard; Professor Snape is patrolling tonight and he's not fun even during the best of times. I have a better spot in mind. Follow me, and keep an eye out for Peeves. He's a poltergeist that doesn't have an honest bone in him, so to speak, and he'd snitch on anyone he sees." I took Oleg through the Great Staircase Tower towards the hospital wing. We passed by the stairs that led up there and made for the Clock Tower Courtyard, and I beckoned to the walkways to the side. I found a darkened alcove for us to sit in. As Oleg set himself down, I took out my wand. "Just need to establish a perimeter. It will just be a moment." I rose my wand high, and then swept it downwards and across. "Cave Inimicum." I rose my wand again, repeating the gesture with each spell. "Fianto Duri. Salvio Hexia. Glacius Repellum." I sighed. "I think that will do." I sat down beside Oleg.

Oleg had listened to me casting the protective enchantments. "You are also protecting us from unfriendly spells as well?"

"I don't like leaving anything to chance. There are many forces in Hogwarts, good and ill, beyond witches and wizards, poltergeists and such. Overlooking even the smallest probability could mean the difference between success and failure, and I've learned that lesson well."

Oleg nodded.

"I've also made sure that while we're here to cool down that we don't get too cold, so we shouldn't feel too inclined to leave for a while."

Oleg smiled a bit, and I felt he knew what I was talking about. "It has been only two months since we first have met."

"Has it been?" I sat back. "It feels longer than that for some reason."

"A lot has happened."

"I suppose so. Rather, I'm amazed how much can happen within a relatively short about of time. Strangely enough, my tenure here at Hogwarts feels like it hasn't been over six years." When I thought about the irony that six years seemed to go by fast versus my two months with Oleg felt like a year's worth, I felt a strange sense of despondency. "Truth be told, I'm beginning to realize that I may have missed a lot." I looked at Oleg.

Oleg looked a little sad. "Do you not have more friends?"

"Have you seen me with anyone else since you've been here?" I didn't allow Oleg the time to answer because I knew his answer already. "I've been so consumed with my studies and other reasons that I never really bothered with something that seemed as trite as camaraderie. I've never been a typical Slytherin if you will, and you've seen the cretins with whom I'm sorry to live."

Oleg couldn't help but smile at my disdainful outlook on my house. "Yes, they are not kind."

"And you're too nice by saying that." I looked down. "Over the years, I've grown more and more disappointed with the general behaviour of my House. When I came, there used to be some semblance of pride and dignity as a Slytherin, but as the years went by, our pride seems to have diminished to just being first in everything. Ambition is second-nature to a Slytherin, but the immaturity I've had to deal with has made being Slytherin odious."

"Odious?" Oleg asked.

I had to smile. English was a second language to Oleg who spoke Russian as his main tongue. "Odious means that it's repulsive and terrible."

Oleg nodded.

"Truth be told, I wasn't sure how I felt to be in my House since I was sorted. After time, I accepted it and used what was good at my House to rise above the predispositions of my House. Up until my fourth year, it wasn't that bad, but the years after, it seemed like our standards were lowering. Each new Slytherin selection was worse than the last. As the better Slytherin's graduated out, my House began to grow more and more deplorable. Honestly, I don't know how I would have managed myself this year had I not met you."

Oleg smiled again, not looking away. "I am happy I met you too."

"If it wasn't for the Triwizard Tournament…" I started as I looked at Oleg, and something about the light reflecting in his eyes hypnotized me. The more I gazed into them, the closer we seemed to be to each other. Silence reigned and the space between us closed. I was so close now that I felt I could see deep into his eyes, and I found something I didn't know he had in me. I could see myself, and I could see how I felt about him.

Suddenly, our lips pressed softly with each other. It felt like an electric jolt passed between us, but instead of withdrawing, it drew us further in. It was nothing but bliss, and the castle seemed respectfully quiet for us. Time was meaningless, so we had no idea how long that small kiss was we then parted. Our eyes met once again.

That wait was too much for Oleg apparently, and he lunged into my face and smashed my lips against his. I grunted from the impact, but all I could do was moan afterwards. Our tongues danced harder than we did moments before, and it only grew more intense with each kiss. We finally parted, panting like we ran the circumference of the grounds. As we could do is stare at each other, completely caught up in the moment.

Finally, I dared to say, "I didn't know you felt that much that way."

Oleg laughed a little. "I am thinking I always have."

"Maybe you're right," I said. "I wasn't so sure myself at first, but up until tonight, I just knew."

Oleg placed a hand on my heart, and I could see a small tear forming in one of his eyes. "I am so happy, but I am also so sad."

"Why?"

"Because after this summer, I have to go back home. I do not want to."

I knew he was right about that. I hadn't considered the fact that once the end of the year comes, the Durmstrang men would have to leave, and I would go back home to Scotland. "I'm sure I can find a way to visit you, or for you to visit me. I'll be graduated from Hogwarts as well, so I'll be living my own life. The distance between us will just be an inconvenience."

Oleg sat back down beside me. "You are right. I am wishing it was not that way."

"I hear you. If it works out, it won't once this is all over. You've given me something to work towards. That was something I was missing during my entire school here. More accurately, you were what I was missing here at school. Even if it was for a short time, I know that I was missing someone like you this whole time. I didn't have a purpose before; now I do." I felt wetness in my own eyes. "I don't know if you realize what you've given me." I took his hand and placed it on my chest again. "You've given me a heart. You've given this cynical Slytherin a heart. That's the greatest gift anyone has ever given me."

Oleg teared up again. "Thank you. That is very kind of you." He blinked a bit, trying to fight the tears. "For years, I was thinking I was all alone around my comrades. I was always different around them, but I was strong enough to not let them bother me. When I met you, I am knowing I can be myself. You are giving me that, and I am thanking you."

I smiled. "I never wanted you to pretend around me, although you never did. I understand the need to put on a face around people who don't understand; I've done it for years like you have. The only difference between you and me is that I didn't care what anyone thought minus those who were important to me, such as my teachers. One day, you'll understand that no one gets to judge you except those whom you allow, so whatever anyone else say or think will never matter."

Oleg nodded. "I understand."

"I know you do. It's just something you need to arrive at on your own." I looked around. "There's still some time left at the ball. Want to go back?"

"Not yet. Let us sit here for a little while."

"All right then."

Oleg smiled, and looked up as something caught his eyes. "How long has that being there?"

I looked at him, and then looked up. Sure enough, there was a small twig of mistletoe that seemed to be hovering over our heads as if intentionally placed there by Merlin-knows-whom. Smiling, I looked back at Oleg. "Like I said, strange forces like to be mischievous around this castle. At least this one is well-meaning."

We did end up rejoining the Yule Ball some time later, but we took advantage of the moment before we did. Whoever or whatever put that branch of mistletoe there has my gratitude.

XXXXXXXXXX

A new year began, and I was amused to see the Yule Ball romances for many dwindle and die. Sometimes it was gradual and mutual, while others were quite the spectacle. Neither described Oleg and myself. If anything, our appearance at the Yule Ball had emboldened us to be a little more public with our relationship. Granted, we never explicitly said we were together, but even Professor Trelawney could tell, thick glasses notwithstanding.

While Oleg couldn't hang with me in the Slytherin common room, we did spend a lot of free time in other areas of the castle and the grounds. We often practised defensive spells on the grounds or near the lakeside. We never pursued trying to practise resisting the Unforgiveable Curses again. The last time dampened that novelty. The weather may have been frigid, but Oleg didn't mind and neither did I. I'm Scottish, and winters were second nature, while Oleg was Russian. Winters here were nothing compared to Russian ones.

I wish I could say it was a smooth winter, but on occasion, a few of my Slytherin peers thought that attempting to make me miserable for hanging out with a very male friend as much as I do. The girls tried it first, and it was quite pathetic. Being a prefect, I had the power to deduct House points from my own House. Most Slytherin prefects and Head Boys and Girls wouldn't dare do that, but I was not a normal Slytherin. All I had to do was take one point away from Millicent Bulstrode for behaviour unbecoming. Before the others with her could object, I dared them to say another word with points on the line. None dared.

Later, Oleg and I were coming back from the owlery after I sent Lumi on another post errand, we had turned the corner after crossing the bridge, I heard someone call out to us. "Well, well, if it isn't the son of a Mudblood!"

I rolled my eyes. Oleg looked affronted, but I motioned to him that I had this under control. "What's the matter, Malfoy?" I called out to him, seeing him with his two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle. "Did Potter finally die and you needed someone else to pester?"

Malfoy sneered. "You may be older, but that doesn't change anything about you, Colquhoun. You're nothing but an embarrassment to Slytherin."

"Am I?" I said coolly. "I would think that would be your father."

His pale skin flushed. His father was no longer a governor of the school after it was found that he intimidated the other governors into suspending Dumbledore during the Chamber of Secrets threat two years ago. There were dark rumors of something else he did during that time, but nothing was ever proven. "My father will hear of this!"

"Go ahead," I said. "I don't fear your father at all, least of all you. All you've proven to me is that you can't do anything without cowering behind your father. Now that is an embarrassment to Slytherin."

Malfoy turned beet red, and his wand was out. Before he could mutter a curse, my wand was out just as fast, and I wordlessly cast the Disarming Charm. His wand flittered right out of hands. Shocked, he reached for his wand, but I was already on it. "Accio!" The wand flew right into my waiting hands. Malfoy's eyes were like saucers as I held his wand away from him. "Now, before you get any other funny ideas, allow me paint this picture for you. You have just been disarmed by a half-blood, and not just a half-blood, but a half-blood born directly of a Muggle-born. If that's not embarrassing enough to a pure-blood, allow me to top it all off that you also attempted to curse a school prefect, which is worth a demerit of twenty points from Slytherin house, I'd say. No spin you could ever make will make you look good, so unless you are a glutton for punishment, I would suggest that you take back your wand and run along." I offered the wand back to Malfoy.

Malfoy looked properly chastised, and he took his wand back. Knowing Malfoy enough to try something underhanded when kicked down, I followed what I said up with. "I also know that you made a rather nice ferret, and while transfigurations are forbidden as a punishment, just know that I do know how to duplicate that spell."

Malfoy turned whiter than normal and scampered off, his troupe behind him just as shell-shocked. Satisfied, I turned back to Oleg, who had waited in silence. "See? No problem at all."

"That was amazing."

"Not really," I said. "Dealing with Malfoy is a lot easier than it seems, especially when one keeps his emotions in check."

"I see."

"Well, let's get back to the library. Regardless of anything that happened, I still have N.E.W.T.'s to study for."

Oleg nodded.

XXXXXXXXXX

January turned into February, and the Second Task approached. No one had any idea what the Second Task was going to be, but we did know that the golden egg the four champions retrieved from the First Task's dragons contained a vital clue about it. When the twenty-fourth of February arrived, we found out that the task was going to take place in the Black Lake. We arrived at the shore with much of the school, and Dumbledore explained that last night, a precious item was stolen from each of the champions. To retrieve it, they had an hour to dive to the depths of the lake, find the item and return to the surface.

We all watched as the four champions dove into the water and out of sight. With nothing for us to see until someone reappeared, all we could do was wait patiently. Oleg and I were eating some pumpkin pasties as we waited, when Dumbledore announced that the Beauxbatons' champion, Fleur Delacour, had retired from the Task when she was unable to overcome a pack of grindylows.

I winced. "That's unfortunate. Another reason I'm glad I'm not in this Tournament."

"What is a grindylow?" Oleg asked.

"You never heard of them?" I asked.

Oleg shook his head.

"Well, thank goodness you never encountered them then. They're nasty little water demons that are like half fish and half octopus. You thought the giant squid of the lake was bad; grindylows are much worse. They may be small, but they more than make up for it in numbers. If you are swimming and encounter a pack, you better have a good spell up your sleeve or else they will tear you apart."

"Bozhe moi," he sighed.

"You said it." I looked to see a number of the Beauxbatons' girls consoling a fretting Fleur. "I hope none of the others found that pack. No one else has come up yet."

"Maybe they are ok," Oleg ventured optimistically.

"Maybe," I said. "We won't know until the end of the Task, I suppose."

The clock continued to tick down the hour, and there was no other change in activity as each minute ticked by. Many of the students tired of standing, but Oleg and I remained watching. The revelation of the grindylows made us too uneasy to sit. Legends of grindylows waiting just under the water near shorelines were all too common. While they typically preyed on younger children, grindylows were no laughing matter. If need be, Oleg and I were ready to curse them with some Stunning Spells.

As the hour drew to a close, someone finally rematerialized from the water, or rather two "someones." As they swam for the shore, I recognised one as the Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff, and he brought a girl with him to shore. Where did she come from?

It then hit me. The items that Dumbledore had informed us were stolen weren't objects, but people! People the champions deemed important in their lives! Upon closer inspection, I recognised the girl as the Ravenclaw girl being in the tower. Also, it was the same girl Cedric danced with at the Yule Ball.

Not much longer later, a girl popped up back in the lake, followed by something that looked like a shark. Alarmed, my wand was at the ready, but the shark's head transfigured into a human head, the one belonging to Viktor Krum. Sure enough, the girl he had retrieved was Hermione Granger, Viktor's date at the Ball.

As Viktor carried a shivering Hermione to shore, I heard Oleg say, "I did not know Viktor could do that."

"Human transfiguration is tricky magic," I said. "If you don't do it right, it's bad. Very bad."

The clock suddenly chimed; the hour was up. There was no sign of Potter or his quarry at first; a minute later, three figures popped up from the waters: one was red-haired, the other black-haired and the other was a very small girl. All of them were swimming to shore, and Fleur practically dived back into the water for the girl. Once they got closer, I recognised the red-haired boy as being a Weasley. It was Ron Weasley, one of Potter's friends. The last one had to be Harry himself. He looked like he had gone through it.

As the four champions dried themselves off and were patched up if needed, the judges tallied the points, spoke with the merchieftain—I didn't know there were merpeople in the lake—and we all waited to see who won. Finally, Dumbledore announced that the winner was Cedric Diggory, which made sense since he emerged first after successfully completing the task. Potter scored second, which drew a lot of criticism from the crowd, mainly from my Slytherin peers. That would tie him for first with Cedric. Viktor came in third and Fleur understandably finished last. With the Second Task ended, the rest of us dispersed, wondering what was coming next.

XXXXXXXXXX

There was only one final Task before a champion was decided, and it would be some time before it happened. In the meantime, Oleg and I knew that our time together was growing short. March was upon us, and the school term ended at the beginning of July, and we didn't know if the other schools would leave shortly after the Final Task. Since we didn't know precisely when the Final Task was, we didn't take every moment for granted.

During the thaws in late March, Oleg and I took the opportunity to visit Hogsmeade, a small town near the Hogwarts grounds. On certain weekends, Hogwarts students are allowed to visit Hogsmeade to get away from the castle, and I didn't go most of the time because it allowed me to have the castle mainly to myself, minus the first-years and second-years. This year was mainly different because of Oleg; I had a reason now. We spent some time at the Three Broomsticks and walking around the town, but the big event was when I took him out to a secluded glade in the nearby woods.

"What are we doing here?" Oleg said as I was finishing up some protective enchantments, the same ones I used on Christmas night.

"I apologise, but just give me a small moment." I took off my satchel and opened it on the ground. I took my wand out and pointed it inside briefly, and then waved it over the grove. Instantly, a quilt, some plates, silverware, containers with food, pillows and other assorted items flew out of my satchel—clearly much smaller than what should contain what I withdrew—and arranged themselves neatly on the ground. Once the spell was complete, I stood up and looked at Oleg, who looked a little perplexed. "What? You've never seen an Undetectable Extension Charm before?"

Oleg nodded slowly, as if understanding what I did finally.

"Oh, and just between you and me, I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone I can do that. It's very strictly enforced by the Ministry of Magic. While not nearly as bad as the Unforgiveable Curses, I'd rather not face an inquiry for just making assembly of a picnic easier."

"I understand." Oleg smiled. "You are doing this for me?"

"For us, technically," I said. "But yes…" I sat down and opened a container. "It's nothing grandiose, but I'm hoping you don't turn down some Scotch eggs."

For the better part of an hour, we ate, laughed and shared stories from our personal experiences. With no one likely going to stumble upon us here with my enchantments guarding us, we were perfectly safe here.

"I remember hearing about this one time in my fifth year. You remember that blond brat, Malfoy, right? Well, he had just joined the Slytherin Quidditch team as their new Seeker—bought in by his father no doubt—and he had the audacity to call one of Potter's friends a 'Mudblood.' Not surprising there, but the best part came when the Weasley boy was so mad that he tried to curse Malfoy with the Slug-vomiting Charm. It might have worked…had his wand not been broken. Instead, the wand backfired, blasting Weasley with the curse and the next thing anyone knows, he's spewing slugs everywhere!"

Oleg grimaced as he laughed. "Really?"

"That's what I heard anyway. Shame that; it might have even cleaned out Malfoy's mouth had it worked."

Oleg laughed harder. "Nothing like that has happened at my school."

"That's a bit of a shame. I'm sure the Durmstrang boys could use a good laugh once and again."

Oleg wiped his eyes. "Perhaps, but it is still good choice. My uncle did choose that school for me."

Now that surprised me. "He had a choice?"

"Da," Oleg said. "I was born in west Russia, west of St. Petersburg. Durmstrang is west, and Koldovstoretz is east in Ural Mountains."

I shrugged slightly. "I didn't know there was another wizarding school out that way. Then again, before this year, I never bothered to look into where others might be. I know Beauxbatons is somewhere in south France, while Durmstrang is to the east. Scandinavia, I presume…"

Oleg smiled, somewhat wryly. "I cannot tell you where it is. It is forbidden."

"I know," I said. "I tried once when we tried the Imperius Curse. That was a breaking point for you."

"Good."

"Well, it won't matter by the end of the year. We will both have graduated our respective schools and living our own lives." I sighed a little bit. "I honestly don't know how I plan to live without you around though."

Oleg looked a little sad as well. "Me too."

"What do you plan to do after this all ends?"

Oleg looked away. "Talk to uncle about last year. After that, I do not know."

"I was thinking of working at the Ministry. My father works there in the Improper Use of Magic office; I'm sure he can find me a job there, especially with my O.W.L.'s." I started rubbing my chin. "Perhaps once I start a job, I can find lodging of my own and…well…maybe you can come live with me?"

Oleg nearly dropped a bite of sausage rolls when he heard what I was asking. When he recovered, he said, "You mean that?"

An impulse inside me told me to chicken out, but I held firm because my heart knew better. "I do. I don't want this year to be a bygone romance. I want to see where this goes. You will still have to talk to your uncle about it though, but I'm sure I can definitely do it. Just need to see what the paygrade is."

Oleg nodded. "I would like that."

I smiled. "Great! We will have to figure out the best way to communicate with each other. Owls can take a little while, but I'm sure I can work out something. Are you ok with this? I don't want to do anything if you don't want to."

Oleg looked thoughtful for a second, but then nodded. "I want to. I do not want to be without you."

I almost teared up. "Thank you, Oleg. I have a feeling that the best years of our lives are coming."

I believed that to be true, but what I didn't know is that the years to come would also test our love to the absolute limits, because the world was about to change forever.

XXXXXXXXXX

April came, then May, and finally June. My N.E.W.T.'s were coming up, and I heard that they were aptly named the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. Oleg helped out the best he could with my classes. I was in five N.E.W.T. classes since my sixth year: Charms, Transfigurations, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions and Astronomy. I had an O.W.L. in Ancient Runes as well, but I elected to pass over taking the N.E.W.T. level of that class as I didn't deem it necessary for my goals in life. It also freed up more time for studying, and I'm glad I made that decision. Not to mention, I chose to take the Apparition lessons—my mother was more than happy to forward me twelve Galleons for that—and I also took Alchemy classes. We had just enough students for that class.

Alchemy was merely an elective this year, but the courses I needed to pass were my five N.E.W.T. courses. We heard that the Final Task would be at the end of the month, and my exams would be days before it. June was something of a depressing month for us; time wasn't as available as it could be, even on weekends. As time grew closer, we knew that Oleg would have to leave soon. We tried to take advantage of any moment we could grab, and it was fleeting every time.

My N.E.W.T. examinations came and went, and I felt strong in them. I do believe Oleg was instrumental in helping me pass him. Now that exams were over, I intended to spend as much time as I could with him before I went.

June the twenty-fourth came, and it was the day of the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Both of us showed up on the edges of the grounds, and as we approached, we could see a vast maze in the setting sun. It was by far the largest maze I have ever seen.

"Is that it?" Oleg said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Nothing about this Tournament has been that simple. Ironically, the simplest it has ever been was during the First Task: fetch an egg from a dragon. That was it. I have a feeling that it's not nearly as simple as wandering the maze."

"You might be right," Oleg said. "What do you think it might be?"

"Could be anything," I said. "Maybe another dragon will show up."

I didn't bother to continue speculating on what could befall the champions in this final task. For a third time, I was glad neither Oleg nor I were competing.

We took our seats, and the atmosphere was quite festive. The sun was beginning to set in the west, and as the twilight stars began to dot the sky, the four champions entered the field just before the entrances. The crowd was elated, and it wasn't silenced until one of the judges used the Sonorous Charm to make his voice boom around the stands. He announced the order of the champions—Potter and Diggory would enter first, then followed by Krum, and finally Delacour—and then announced that they each had to look for the Triwizard cup at the end of the maze. The first person who found it would be the winner. Soon after, he blew a whistle, and the two Hogwarts champions entered the maze.

In due time, Krum and Delacour entered the maze. Just like the previous task, we were forced to wait until someone found the Triwizard Cup in the centre of the maze. There was no countdown this time, so all we could do was wait until something happened. The end of term was a week from now, and it was likely that after the tournament, Oleg would return to Durmstrang with the rest of his comrades and have their own end-of-term celebration. It was depressing. I had hoped that he could watch me graduate.

As we talked, trying not to talk about what was foremost on our minds, there was a pop in the distance, like fireworks. Looking, we saw a simple spray of red sparks in the distance. Someone was attempting to retire. Oleg and I looked at each other. "I wonder who that could have been...," I wondered aloud as the red sparks hovered steadily in one area.

Some time later, a second set of sparks were in the air. "Something definitely has gone wrong in the maze," I whispered. "Assuming Fleur was the first, considering how she had to retire from the last one, that leaves Krum, Diggory and Potter. I don't see Krum giving up, nor do I see the others. Something has really gone wrong."

Oleg rested a hand on my shoulder. "You might be overreacting."

"Interestingly enough, I hope I am."

Many of the Hogwarts professors had bene patrolling the maze in case of the sparks, and there were successfully able to withdraw Delacour and Krum from the maze. Oleg was the most shocked about Krum. Krum looked dazed. "Maybe you are right," he finally said. "I was not expecting Viktor to give up, but I am not also expecting him to be hurt."

"What is going on inside that maze?" I wondered aloud.

"Well, it looks like Hogwarts is champion."

"Don't count the victories yet. If there are two other sets of sparks, this Task would default. They would have to try again later at best; at worst, find another way to select a winner."

More time passed; the sun was quite gone, and the area was only lit by torches and the occasional Wand-Lighting Charm. The audience was feeling just a fretful as we were now. No news at this point wasn't good news. How long were we going to wait?

Suddenly, there was flash of light and out of nowhere, two bodies and a giant chalice appeared in the middle of the grounds. The crowd at once erupted in cheers. It was so confusing that I barely could register who truly won. I had to stand up and try to fight the sea of clapping arms to see. I finally got to see. It looks like Potter and Diggory both managed to grab the cup and were teleported back. The cup was a Portkey.

"Who won?" Oleg asked; he was having a harder time than I was.

"I think they both did!" I exclaimed, trying to be heard over the crowd. "It looks like Potter is a little shaken by everything, and Diggory—" I realized that Diggory hadn't moved at all. In fact, it looked like he was staring into nothing. My heart froze. "Oh no…"

"What?" Oleg said.

I looked around, and saw that other people were beginning to see what had happened. People were clambering around the two champions, wondering what happened. There was a bedlam of voices erupting from the centre of it all, but the voices grew clearer. I soon was able to hear two words over and over. "He's dead! He's dead!"

I felt the blood drain from my face. "It's Diggory. Cedric Diggory is dead."

Oleg heard me, and he looked just as shocked as I was.

The crowd below grew increasingly crazy. Girls were screaming, and I heard one distinct cry: the cry of a grieving father. I slowly sat down, completely pale. Someone had died, and someone in the same year as me. I just couldn't comprehend it.

The rest of the night was murky to me; Oleg and I were just shocked to hear what had happened. The week afterwards, it grew even worse. It turned out our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody, was never Professor Moody at all. It was someone else acting under the Polyjuice Potion to look like him, and it was someone who apparently has escaped from Azkaban. The same night he was discovered, he was "killed" by a dementor that was escorting the Minister of Magic.

All of that, however, didn't come close to the ultimate bombshell, which dropped at the End-of-Term Feast. No one was ready for it, because most of us—mainly all the houses except mine—were too wrapped up in Cedric's tragic death. The feast began with a eulogy by Dumbledore, following a toast to the memory of Cedric Diggory.

"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 could see a Ravenclaw girl, the one Cedric had taken to the Yule Ball, completely wet-faced with tears. My heart broke for the poor girl, and Oleg could see that I was troubled. He gave my hand a squeeze, not caring who saw.

Dumbledore continued. "I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about." I raised my head. Did they really find out what happened? "Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

That name was like a punch in the gut for the entire room, even my fellow Slytherins. Few ever dared to speak the name; they'd be crazy to, right? Whispers shot back and forth across the room, and Dumbledore waited until they died down.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It's 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."

I wasn't sure I believed Dumbledore himself. It had been thirteen years since You-Know-Who was last in power, and my parents never spoke of it. To even consider that dark time would soon return was unthinkable. As I thought, Dumbledore enlightened us that someone had seen all of this, and that was Harry Potter himself. He told us how Potter had not only managed to survive, but stood his ground against You-Know-Who and managed to escape fast enough to get Cedric's body back to his father. It all sounded quite heroic, but I could see Potter from where I was sitting, and he looked the opposite. He looked like he had led Cedric to his death.

To close, Dumbledore reminded us what the Triwizard Tournament was really about: creating and maintaining friendships, and that these relationships would become our strength in the coming dark times. As he said that, I looked at Oleg.

"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."

The rest of the feast went on somberly. Earlier today, I had packed my things for my final exit of Hogwarts. I found out that the Durmstrang ship wouldn't be leaving until the graduation was complete. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons wouldn't leave until the other Hogwarts students would leave for the summer, so that goodbyes could be made. Part of me chastised myself for feeling elated in light of what happened, but this little favour was something I wouldn't take for granted. The world was about to change, and I was about to become a part of it. It was the least I could do to leave Hogwarts on a happier note.

The Hogwarts graduation ceremony was rather simple. Unlike the rest of the students that would take the buggies, the seventh-years would take the boats back to the train station, just like we did when we first came in out first year. As the rest of my graduating class assembled, I hung back inside the hallway that surrounded the Hogwarts entryway, talking to Oleg, who was ready to disembark as soon as I left.

"It's strange," I said. "To celebrate a graduation after all that happened. Cedric was supposed to take the boats with us, you know?"

"I am sorry," Oleg said compassionately.

"He wasn't even my friend, you know," I said. "He was in virtually all my classes and was Sorted right after me. He was a Hufflepuff and I was a Slytherin. There's been nothing but animosity between our Houses, so I never got to know him."

"Why are you saying this?" Oleg asked.

"I guess…" I paused a little to regain my thoughts. "I guess because I'm beginning to realize that this stupid House competition has gotten out of hand. We are now making it taboo to have friends outside of our houses, and all it's doing is create division, the same thing that You-Know-Who did back in the day. We haven't learned a thing since then, and even I learned it far too late. A great man won't be walking with us to start a new life, and I barely even know who he is, all because of House politics. This has gone on for too long."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm thinking, that at some point, I may return to Hogwarts, and attempt to revolutionize how House relations ensue. I'm not saying to do away with the Houses, but Hogwarts has become so divided. Should it remain this way, I think if You-Know-Who really is back, Hogwarts won't stand a chance."

Oleg seemed to understand, but there was still a lingering question in his eyes. "So, you believe he is back?"

I looked at him. It wasn't disbelief in his eyes; it was seeking affirmation. He wasn't sure he believed it himself, and he needed someone to confide in about it. That someone was me. Truth be told, I wasn't sure I did either, but the more I thought about it, the thought that he wasn't made less sense. "I've never known Dumbledore to lie. Granted, he wasn't there; his source must be Potter. I don't know Potter well enough to know if he is lying, but I did see him the night Cedric died; he was grief-stricken. Either Potter has completely snapped, or he really saw what he said he saw and it sent him into hysterics. Seeing the wizard that wanted you dead as a baby very well could have that effect."

"Are you saying you are believing him then?" Oleg cut off my rambling.

I snapped out of my rambling when he asked. "Oh, uh, I'm going to have to say, conditionally yes. Either way, things are not going to be the same, and we need to stay vigilant."

Oleg seemed satisfied by that. "I am frightened, Ewan."

I felt that fear, and I felt it within myself. "I am too. This is not what I wanted us to part on though. I need you to be strong, Oleg. We all need to be."

All we could do is look at each other for a while, wanting to say more in the rapidly decreasing amount of time we had together.

"Mr. Colquhoun," came a voice.

I looked down to see Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House looking at me.

"We are waiting for you, so if you don't mind…"

I couldn't blame him for being—er—short with me. This last week has taken its toll on everyone.

"Thank you, Professor. I'm coming." I turned back to Oleg. "I have to go now. I'll write to you as much as I can." I could see Oleg wasn't ready for me to go. I held a hand to his chin. "I promise."

Oleg nodded. "I know. I—goodbye, Ewan."

My eyes were growing wet. "Goodbye for now, Oleg." I pulled away, feeling empty as I stepped away from him and turned towards where my fellow graduates were waiting. I was two steps away, when I couldn't take it anymore. I turned right back around, marched right back to you and kissed Oleg. Oleg nearly melted, and for the couple of seconds we were together, words weren't necessary. Finally, I had to pull away for the final time. "I love you," I said.

Oleg nodded, his eyes dripping in tears. "I love you too."

All my mental discipline that I had developed over seven years studying as a Slytherin student had failed me; tears were streaming down my face. "I have to go now. I'll miss you."

Oleg nodded, and I stepped away. I forced myself to walk away, towards the graduation class. As I walked by a silent Professor Flitwick, I said as I tried to compose myself, "Fine time for it to rain today…"

Professor Flitwick looked at me briefly, then towards Oleg who moved to see me clearly from where he stood in the hallway, and then back at me. He chose to say nothing.

I joined the rest of my graduating peers as the stood in rows of four. We were intermixed with each other in a rare form of unity, but despite that, there was a clear hole in our group, one that would have been filled by Cedric had he lived. In front of us, the four heads of the Houses stood before us solemnly.

Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, addressed us all. "You represent another year of Hogwarts gone, and while this is the final time you will leave here as students, know that all of you are welcome back to Hogwarts whenever you desire. Each of you have your own experiences here at Hogwarts; some pleasant, some trying, some…" Professor McGonagall seemed to let her composure slip a little bit but regained it. "…harder than others, but you have each risen to every challenge presented to you at this school. We all have great faith in your future endeavors. And now, go with our blessings, Hogwarts Graduates."

The four heads parted in front of us, two to the left and two to the right. We then strode forward in uniform succession towards the docks, where our final passage awaits. Awaiting us at the docks was the large form of Professor Hagrid waiting for us. I remembered that he led us across the lake on the first night I came to Hogwarts. As I left, I could hear clambering back in the main entrance to the school. Now that the graduates were departing, it was time for the other students to get ready to leave for their summer holiday. There were also the goodbyes being made to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Looking up, I dared to hope to see Oleg watching, and sure enough, he was standing on top of the stairs that came down to the docks. Seeing him, I smiled one last time, assuring him that it was going to be all right. I could see him smile as well, assured.

The time came for us to leave, and we boarded our boats. At the same time, the Durmstrang students boarded their ship from the docking point. I sat with Susan Andrews, the Hufflepuff student whose robes I nearly tripped on the very first night, and I watched as the ship began to sail away. I watched it go with fresh wetness in my eyes.

"I didn't expect to see a Slytherin to be so emotional," Susan said to me.

She didn't mean it as hard as it sounded, I know, but it still stung to still see that bias still fresh even after House no longer mattered. "I didn't expect to hear something so cold from a Hufflepuff," I said chidingly. Remembering what I had said to Oleg, I relaxed some. "Sorry; your prejudices aren't without merit, I dare admit. If there is anything in defense of my Slytherin brethren, it's that we often don't find our hearts because we're so caught up in chasing our ambitions. Sometimes, however, we do find our hearts when we find out why we are truly so ambitious."

Susan seemed to accept that I truly felt that way. "Well, it's a pity that many of your Slytherin brethren don't seem to find that."

"You're probably right; that's the dark side of ambition. That's why ambition must be balanced with kindness, galvanized with valour, and held in check with discretion. That's what the four Houses were supposed to be all about; helping each other, but instead we built rivalries instead of friendships. I was too blind to see it, but this year, I see it all too clearly…"

Susan looked surprised. "Well, it seems that you did find your heart."

"Yeah, I did," I said slowly as my eyes drifted back towards the Durmstrang ship. "And I just said goodbye to it."

We were distracted by a series of whinnying horses, and we saw the Beauxbatons' carriage, carried through the air by six flying snow-white horses fly overhead. I looked back to the Durmstrang ship, just in time to see it disappear into the Black Lake. My heart twisted a little as it disappeared. I didn't know when I would see him again, but I would soon find out that it would be sooner than I expected.