Warning: This is an 'a Song of Ice and Fire'-crossover, so keep in mind that this story may include, but may not be limited to: foul language, blood, gore, sexual situations, disembowelment, rape, character death, dismemberment, incest, defenestration and being burned alive.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Author Note: I am not a professional writer, so updates might be few and far between. I might even decide to just stop writing altogether. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think about the story in the review section.

-x-

Chapter Two: What the hell happened?

-x-

Cordelia groaned as she picked herself up from a hard surface. Something had gone terribly wrong during her first task of the triwizard tournament. In her happiness of completing her task, she had allowed her attention to waver and the consequences had been dire. She still remembered how the fire had come her way, how it had impacted on her clothes, burning them away. Surprisingly though she had felt some sort of reaction inside her when the dragon's fire touched her skin. As if some integral part of her had been changed irrevocably.

'It doesn't matter though at the moment. First I need to get a grip on what in Merlin's name is happening,' the confused witch thought.

Finally, Cordelia managed to get onto her feet, though her legs were still somewhat shaky from the shock from what had happened. Never mind the fact that she could still feel the heat and the pain coming from the burns that were all over her body, though she was strangely detached from it. She had no doubt that if that hadn't been the case she would have lost consciousness right away, as had happened before in the dragon pen.

The young woman looked around herself, searching for anything that could tell her where she was. That was easier said than done though, as the world around her was so dark that initially she hadn't even noticed that her eyes were open. To make matters worse there seemed to be some kind of dark fog flowing around in lazy patterns.

Cordelia tentatively put a foot forward and when she caught something solid, she repeated the action with her other foot; slowly moving forward in what she hoped was the way out of this infernal darkness.

The strange environment she found herself in was playing tricks on her mind. One moment she could see next to nothing. However after taking a few tentative steps, careful not to fall, she had the impression that light seemed to be increasingly more present. Only to find herself once again in a pitch black world after blinking her eyes.

She didn't know how long she was walking. There was nothing that stayed the same. No way to tell how far her feet had carried her. The only things to focus on were the patterns the strange mist formed. She would have sworn that she could actually hear noise echo from within the banks of mist whenever they formed into a recognizable shape. Whether it was the sound of war, the image of a child crying, a mother begging her brother to take care of her new-born son, a raspy voice shouting to burn the world, … she experienced it all and before she could even start to comprehend what she had seen or heard, it had disappeared into the black madness that was this place, leaving her wondering if what she had seen was real or simply a delusion.

While walking aimlessly amidst the madness of the world, in what she thought was some semblance of a straight line, she noticed that her gamble finally seemed to be paying off. Slowly, but surely the darkness pulled back, until a grey void was all that remained. The dark mist had become denser and was now actively swirling in her direct vicinity. All of a sudden the moving swirls concentrated in certain positions, forming a crude representation of a grey tinted world.

She suddenly found herself in a large room with two rows of narrow, ornately carved pillars, running parallel with the walls, supporting the high roof. The walls were adorned by masterly made glass-in-lead windows and what appeared to be dragon skulls. At the end of the room opposite the main entrance was a big throne, which appeared to be made from a heap of ancient weapons. Swords that were black from age and disuse, but still looked sharp and gave the construction a menacing aura. The hall was filled with people dressed in fine clothes: the women in dresses of smooth silk and the men in breeches and tunics. They all stood in a semi-circle, as if they needed the comfort of having peers alongside with them, afraid of being singled out in such a dangerous environment, keeping the centre of the room clear.

Cordelia was interrupted from her observations when a hoarse voice shouted. "Bring in the prisoners." Just moments after the command was given, it was promptly executed by a knight in a white cloak, who left the room through the main door, followed by a couple of guards dressed in gold. All men had grim looks on their faces, as if they wanted to do anything but obey.

She searched for the source of the command and didn't have to look far before she found it was the man sitting on the throne on the raised dais in front of the room. Once upon a time the man could have been described as handsome and to a certain degree he still managed to pull people in, however his prime days were long over. His silvery white hair was too long, matted with filth and knitted by lack of care. He sat slumped back in the strange chair as if he lacked the strength to keep himself upright. His hands, topped by long, yellow nails, gripped the sharp swords tightly, resulting in tiny cuts and scratches all over his hands and arms. The most memorable part of his appearance were the eyes, which sat slightly sunken in the man's face. They were a deep shade of violet that she hadn't seen before. What scared her was the fact that they were shone with madness.

When the white cloaked knight returned, the guards escorting two prisoners in tow, the king –or so she assumed, because he wore a crown- straightened and bit out: "You have come here to betray you King and your Prince, have you not? Now I find you guilty of treason. There is only one punishment for that. Death!"

"Please your Grace, let me prove to you that we show you no ill will. My hot-headed son overreacted on the situation at hand. Allow me to fight in a trial in front of the gods!" The older man begged in desperation, as he kneeled before the king, while the other man who looked like a younger version of the former glared angrily at everyone in his vicinity.

Upon hearing this, request the King looked pensive for a moment before agreeing with a wicked grin tugging on his lips. "Very well. Someone get Lord Stark's weapons and armour. He will fight now."

The crowd in the hall murmured upon hearing this and Cordelia watched on in getting more confused every second. The pace of the memory –or whatever this might be- suddenly went forward in shocks. Before Cordelia knew it, she was looking at the old Lord Stark screaming in agony as a poisonous green fire burned around him, melting the ornate armour from his body alongside his flesh.

The elderly Lord's son and heir was faring not much better. The young man was strangling himself in a desperate attempt to reach his father and save him from such fate. Slowly his face got redder as her ran out of breath, only accentuated by the light of the eerie flames dancing over his face.

Cordelia had tried to interfere, but whenever she reached her hands in an attempt to stop them, to do something, anything, the world around her flickered and her helping hands touched nothing but black, immaterial smoke.

She could watch no longer at the atrocities happening in front of her. To make matters even worse, the burning pain that she had been able to ignore so far was flaring up again, making it impossible for her to simply stand around. She felt as if she was once again burning alive!

Cordelia turned around and ran into the cloudy world around her, hoping against better reason to find something to help her relieve her pain.

She had barely finished the thought, when she heard a low chuckle behind her. Taking her chance, the distraught witch looked back and what she saw there in the dark shadows scared her more than she would care to admit. It was a tall, white creature that exuded an aura of cold and foreboding. It was not the kind of cold, she was looking for however. This would not give her relief from her pain. This cold promised death. Right before Cordelia turned around to get as far away from this abomination as she could, she caught his ice blue eye. Where the Mad King's eyes had burned in madness and sadistic pleasure in the pain he brought unto his prisoners, this creature's eyes were empty. Void of any emotion. They were nothing more than a silent promise that everything would end.

In her haste to run from the nightmares she was trying to leave behind, sprinting in reckless abandon because of the burning pain emanating from all over her sore body, Cordelia didn't pay sufficient attention to her surroundings. She tripped and fell on the ground. Hard. She felt herself sinking into the floor that had been solid just moments ago, before falling through the darkness. She picked herself up from the hard stone floor and Cordelia found herself standing in a long stone corridor, decorated by paintings and tapestries depicting battlefields where the heroes of old rode their dragons into battle. As she walked forward, she could hear the sounds of battle raging outside. The characteristic clangs of a sword meeting another, the wheezing of arrows leaving the bowstring at high speed, the anguished cries of soldiers dying in the field, caught by surprise, unable to form a defensive line, dying one after the other with no comrades to guard their back.

Cordelia tried to ignore the horrible noises coming from every direction, but was doomed to fail. Nothing could stop the sound as it rang inevitably in her ears. The only direction she could wander, was forward. She was absolutely helpless in what was happening around her. She had not even a semblance of control anymore.

As she continued walking through the corridor, she didn't fail to notice that the noises from outside became softer, the further she got, before they eventually died out entirely. More importantly to her, however was the fact that the terrible burning pain she had been experiencing was finally receding. Her skin still felt irritated, but it had become far more bearable as she went on, feeling almost pleasantly cool.

At the end of the corridor was a wooden door. Cordelia assumed she had to enter that one. As she approached it, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of dread and desperation. When she extended her hand in order to open the door a pained yell came through the door. "No! Not little Egg. Please, I beg you! Take me instead, but let him go."

By the end of the sentence the desperate, female voice was little more than a desperate sobbing.

As Cordelia swung open the door she heard a loud crunching noise. When the door was completely open, she could finally see what lay behind it. It was a large room, obviously a bedroom considering the large four poster bed that took a central place in the design. To the side was a moderate bookshelf filled with large tomes, the likes Hermione found in abundance in Hogwarts' library and considered to be 'light reading'. There was a boudoir against the wall, a beautiful gown on display as it was displayed on the dressing screen that was positioned next to the balcony that gave a breath-taking view of the city outside.

It was a beautiful room to live in, but Cordelia payed it no thought, as her eyes had automatically fixed themselves on the scene that played before her. Her mind paying no heed to anything but the bloody caricature of a young child laying on the floor in a pool of dark red blood. Its small head smashed together on the wall as was proven by the gruesome, wet paint that was slowly dripping on the floor.

Sick in her stomach Cordelia looked up when she heard the sound of fabric being torn apart. The woman she had heard before was on her knees, sobbing, trying to protect her modesty by clamping the remnants of her torn dress to her chest that was covered by little more than a thin shift. The woman had an odd sort of beauty, Cordelia noticed. She was not tall, nor specifically endowed in the chest area -nor was she curvaceous in any other way for that matter-, but her face had a kindness in it that made her entire appearance shine.

Cordelia stood frozen on the spot as a monster of a man walked slowly towards the helpless woman, his hands coated in a dark red liquid. When the screams started she felt sick and wanted to be anywhere but here, where tragedies were happening without her being able to interfere.

As Cordelia made her desperate plea, the never-ending darkness, suddenly made place for a piercing light. The fourth triwizard champion had finally opened her eyes.

-x-

Poppy Pomfrey – or rather Madame Pomfrey as she was used to be called here at Hogwarts – was vast asleep in her cosy room situated right next to the infirmary, when she was rudely awakened by a sharp poke in the ribcage with what felt like a long stick. When she blearily opened her warm brow coloured eyes, she was met with the sight of one of the Hogwarts staff elves, clothed in a tidy, white pillow case, standing right next to her on the bed. Its big blue eyes were looking at her from mere inches away, while its large nose practically touched her own. He was obviously the culprit who had roused her from her sleep, since he had a stretched finger at the ready to poke her again – even harder this time – if she didn't get up soon enough.

Sighing she slowly pushed herself up from her lying position. She then tried to wrap her mind around the cause of her rather painful awakening, but since her sleep addled mind still had problems catching on after the exhausting day she had lived, she just asked the nervous elf in front of her. "Why did you wake me up Blumy? And why did you have to do it in such a way? That hurts you know."

The tiny house elf who had jumped back seeing his mistress rise from her comfortable, warm bed, took his long, pointy ears in his gnarly hands and twisted them in a nervous gesture. At hearing the complaint directed his way he quickly scrambled to explain his actions.

"Blumy being most sorry, Miss Poppy, but mistress had asked Blumy to look after her burned Miss Cordy and tell her immediately if something changed. And it did! Miss Cordy has been moving around in her bed for a few minutes, but now she has also started to whimper like – like she is in pain! Blumy not knowing what to do,' the elf urged her into action.

Upon hearing this the witch jumped into action: throwing her legs out of the bed, picking up her trusted maple wand and ran to her patient who had been on the verge of death before she treated her, in a sprint that belied her age. The elf looked at his mistress' retreating back, while he was left behind, gobsmacked at what had just occurred.

Not many students remembered it anymore, but Madame Pomfrey had quite the career behind her. She had worked at Saint-Mungo's hospital for many years as the responsible of her own ward in the accidental spell fire department. However after all her years on the job, which consisted of not only the las war against You-Know-Who, but also the war against Grindelwald, when she was a good deal younger and had just begun as trainee, she had decided to retire from the busy hospital and take up the position as nurse at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Which is why she was storming into her own infirmary at the moment, like a summer storm in the tropics, something she would have given quite the tongue-lashing for if it had been anyone but her. However since there was only one patient at the moment and she couldn't really scold herself, she decided to just let the matter drop.

Madame Pomfrey stopped before the bed of none other than Cordelia Potter, by far the most frequent visitor of her infirmary. "That girl occupies that bed so often I should just put a plate with her name on it permanently," she chucked her tongue, while observing her patient. "Merlin knows she needs it with all her dangerous antics."

She didn't need more than a passing glance to see that Blumy had been more than justified in bringing Cordelia's worsening condition to her attention even if it had been at such an inopportune hour of the day. The poor girl was trashing around in her bed, rolling the blankets around her slender body in the process, turning them into a cocoon. Every so often one could hear her murmur in distress before a soft whimper of pain escaped her lips.

A quick hand on Cordelia's forehead told her all she needed to know and a few intricate waves with her wand over her patient's body gave her confirmation: her patient was burning up from a serious fever.

Madame Pomfrey wasted no time and quickly set to work, treating her patient like she had done too many times before; first casting some subtle cooling charms on her in order to keep her body temperature down and then trying to pry her uncooperative mouth open in order to get some pain relief potions in her body.

As she was doing this, her mind wandered to the tragic events that had brought them to being in the dark infirmary in the middle of the night.

flashback

Madame Pomfrey just put the finishing touches on sealing a nasty looking scab on the arm of the Beauxbaton's champion, Fleur Delacour. The pretty, young woman had performed rather admirable while taking on her dragon, in the nurse's own opinion, but had misjudged the fact that sleeping dragons do in fact snore when they are asleep and that they may accidentally spew fire in the process. The consequences weren't too bad though: Fleur's clothes were a bit singed at the bottom, but otherwise she was fine.

"There you go, my dear. As good as new," she reassured the woman who had been fidgeting while receiving her treatment.

Fleur quickly stood up and gave her thanks. "Merci Madame," she then proceeded by making herself scarce in a matter of seconds. Before Madame Pomfrey could say anything else, she had slipped out of the tent in order to watch her friend's performance in her upcoming task.

Madame Pomfrey chuckled softly and smiled at her quick retreat indulgently. She knew she could be overbearing at times when it came to treating a wounded person, even going as far as threatening them into their hospital beds at wand point at times and Fleur, high on adrenaline, had been planning to slip out of the tent to watch the other champions without giving her as much as a chance to check her over. Unacceptable of course!

'Ah, she is still young. She will learn,' the healer thought to herself. 'Well, since Mister Diggory has been treated already and Mister Krum managed to somehow fulfil his task without attaining any injuries, I am momentarily out of work. So that means I can safely go outside to see the next task,' she reasoned to herself. 'Cordelia is the last champion and she should be starting any moment now. Knowing that girl, she will be able to find herself a way to get hurt in some way, shape or form and it is easier to treat injuries if you know exactly what happened –' Right at that moment the canon shot was fired, making the old witch jump in fright and then shoot a heated glare in the direction of the offending noise.

Initially Madame Pomfrey was rather impressed with the girl's choice of tactic. If she was entirely honest with herself, she had to admit that she had expected the brave Gryffindor to do something idiotically dangerous and needlessly risky to complete her task, like flying around the dragon on that infernal Firebolt of hers. But instead she chose a very safe option that spoke of a good amount of cunning and preparation.

'That is most unlike her. Normally she tends to just charge into things,' Madame Pomfrey thought flabbergasted at this most uncharacteristic behaviour. 'I wonder what hap- Ah. Her friends is what happened,' she smiled when she noticed Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass cheering in the stands.

She had actually had a small argument over Cordelia's new friends with the head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall, who was a bit miffed, but mostly saddened to see her 'Golden Trio' fall apart during third year and even more so this year with young Ronald's most untasteful comments on Cordelia's selection as a champion a few weeks earlier.

She on the other hand was most delighted with this new evolvement. Not because she took pleasure in old friendships fading away and eventually even falling apart entirely, but because Cordelia was too brash -in her own modest opinion- and having some Slytherin friends could instil some self-preservation into the girl and force her to use those brains in her head a bit more. Maybe it could even keep her out of the hospital wing for once, though the old nurse was not very hopeful on that matter.

'Of course I may be a tiny bit biased on the matter though,' Madame Pomfrey silently admitted. 'Slytherin was my own house after all when I was a student at Hogwarts.'

As Cordelia's plan unfolded before her eyes and even came to fruition the witch got the foolish hope that perhaps, just perhaps, Cordelia would be able to walk away from this adventure unscathed for once and that the young witch wouldn't have to spend time in the infirmary, while she had to lap her up once more.

This silent hope was soon crushed though as Madame Pomfrey saw the unthinkable happen: the sweet girl she had conversed with so many times while she was bedridden under her care, got caught in a flare of white hot fire, to be incinerated to nothing more than dust and ashes.

As the crowd started to panic, a deafening cry came from a very distraught Hagrid, who had been watching his young friend perform. "No! Not Cordy,' he yelled as he jumped into the dragon pen, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. Madame Pomfrey watched in shock and disbelief as Hagrid balled his enormous hands into fists, pulled back his arm and, his face distorted by rage, continued to punch the dragon in the side of its head, knocking a tooth out in the process – or so many people would later swear.

This was sufficient distraction for the dragon to stop his ongoing incineration of Cordelia and focus his attention on Hagrid instead, who suddenly looked very small in comparison indeed. Fortunately though, further drama could be stopped from occurring, since this gave ample opportunity to the ancient Headmaster, his customary twinkle in the eyes absent, to cast a powerful stunner at the black dragon, who was getting increasingly irritated by all the happenings – couldn't they just leave her eggs alone! The stunner was far from enough to pierce the Hungarian Horntail's thick, magic resistant hide entirely, though it did make its eyes go unfocused for a few seconds.

Upon seeing the blinding red stunner, the dragon handlers shot into action, opening a veritable barrage on the dragon's flank, knocking the large beast out. It collapsed on its side with a crashing sound that echoed through the arena, catching the attention of all present.

A crying Hagrid payed the beast's large, unconscious body no heed, instead looking through his tears at Cordelia's supposed place of demise. He didn't see it at first, but when soft exclamations of 'Merlin's beard' continued to be heard all around the stands, picking up in volume like an autumn wind, he focussed on the scene before him.

"Tha' can't be," he murmured in disbelief, seeing a form laying on the ground writhing in the dust, weakly groaning in pain. He took some shaky steps closer. Upon closer inspection he found it was indeed Cordelia. Her clothes were burned away, she was covered head to toe in sooth, her normally cream coloured skin was now a violent red colour in some places and completely burned away in others, but she was still very noticeably Cordelia; she was still very much alive! He quickly picked her up, mindful to not aggravate her already serious and plentiful injuries, cradling her to his broad chest and marched her to the healer's tent, away from the many staring eyes, belonging to the buzzing crowd, who were all speculating on what they had seen and Cordelia's surprising survival.

Madame Pomfrey, pulling herself together after seeing Hagrid coming her way, quickly ushered them inside and without wasting time, started treating the girl who seemed doomed to be her patient, as soon as soon as the friendly half-giant had put the badly injured girl down in a bed. She quickly gave her patient a dose of dreamless sleep to ensure she didn't have to suffer the pain any longer.

Cordelia Potter should have been reduced to nothing but ash, but had somehow once again managed to do the unthinkable, just as she had done fourteen years ago when she had survived the killing curse, something nobody had been able to do before, or after for that matter. It seemed as if the achieving the impossible could be expected from her.

Her body was still perfectly intact, though her hair seemed to be scorched at the tips and was covered in filth, making it even blacker than it normally was. Her skin looked like the shell of a boiled lobster - even the Weasleys couldn't hope to reach this vibrant shade of red at the height of one of their infamous tempers. Furthermore her body was covered in cuts and blistering wounds caused by the dragon's fire.

Pushing any thoughts on Cordelia's impossible continued existence aside, Madame Pomfrey steeled her shoulders and started treating the patient who had managed to worm herself into her heart, as she had done so many times before. "Blumy! Essence of dittany. And lots of it," she started ordering. "And while you are at it: bring me more of that burn-crème I have been using for Mister Diggory and some hydrating gel."

"Move it! No time to waste," she added as an afterthought. Her trusted aid needed no more encouragement and scurried away to get the needed potions and salves.

flashback

When she was done cooling her patient down from her midnight fever, to a sufficient degree and had managed to make her drink a whole bottle of fever-relieving potion, she was surprised to see her patient awake.

Cordelia had slightly opened her heavily lidded eyes and saw the nurse tending to her injuries. Still distraught from what she had seen and experienced in the shadowy depths of her own mind, she brought out slowly. "I must change it. I must." After taking a moment to swallow with some difficulty, she continued in a raspy voice. "I can do it, right?"

The old nurse, not really knowing what Cordelia was alluding to, tried to soothe her worries. "Of course dear. You will be able to change it, but only after you have had a good night sleep. You are of no use to anyone if you don't take the time first to heal." She then offered Cordelia another vial of dreamless sleep, which her patient obediently drank, falling asleep soon after. Her face went calm and a small smile even managed to tug at her lips.

"Sleep my sweet girl. I will make sure you get well. You just sleep," Madame Pomfrey said softly in the silent infirmary, while straightening the wrinkles from Cordelia's blankets.

-x-

This time Cordelia didn't have to relive the nightmares of what would have happened. This time, she was high above the sea, soaring through the sky on the back of a magnificent, grey dragon. The sea was calm, as if it had understood that for once it weren't the raving streams or the blowing wind that were the most dangerous thing around. For now that place was taken by the apex predator that was Cordelia's ride.

The dragon flew over the jagged rocks that pierced the surface of the water, over the remnants of the ships that had failed to circumvent the rock formations and obstacles that were present everywhere under the sea.

The dragon flew over the earth that was slowly, but surely reforming itself, over the sea where boiling water reached the surface, making it a death pool, over the poisonous clouds that drifted lazily over the land and water, sneaking up on any trespasser, taking them inevitably by surprise, lulling them into a sleep that none had ever awake from.

At the horizon there were islands illuminated by red, hot rock; while the waning sun made the sky light up thousands of colours, ranging from the deepest blue, over the most exotic orange, to a deep, blood red, reminding the world of the tragedy that had occurred at this exact same place.

Slowly the dragon and its rider reached their destination: once a great city; a city filled with dozens- nay hundreds of towers and constructs that the world could not hope to replicate, as it overshadowed all their imitations in greatness, beauty and skill. Once the head of a great empire that had reached without fail in all the directions the wind blows.

But no more, the great towers from where in past times the lords of the freehold had directed the wheel of time were now empty, most broken and destroyed when the fourteen sister shook the land and bathed everything in their fire. Between the rubble of the remnants of the city lay thousands of charred bodies and bones. Irrespective of their station death had come for all of them. Now they lay next to each other, keeping each other company in death.

The bodies of the mighty dragons were strewn around. They had dropped where they had been as they were poisoned by the very same air that had made them the top predators of the world.

The city was nothing but an empty shell, a gruesome painting to remind the world of the curse that rested on the land for all this time.

But the wind was changing. The dragon quickened its pace and made to leave the city behind itself. Perhaps the change would not occur right here or right now, but she would come inevitably, and when she did greatness would once again be theirs.

And so all was once again quiet. Though a gentle breeze remained behind, ever so softly caressing the ruins, cleaning away the dust of time. A last time the darkness overcame Cordelia who was still perked on the dragon's broad, scaly back, taking her away from the visions from what the future may bring. Finally she fell into a restful slumber and she dreamt of a handsome boy with silver hair and mesmerizing violet eyes, who sung to her about what the future may bring.

-x-

Cordelia heard voices softly murmuring around her. Annoyed at the unwelcome interruption of her well-deserved sleep and the nice dream she had been having –and was quickly losing track of-, she turned slightly more on her side, pulling her bed covers to her chin in a valid attempt to disappear in them by burying her face in the soft material of her fluffy pillow, trying to ignore everything around her and go back to her dream.

"Daffy, did she just move?" A soft voice she vaguely recognised, but couldn't quite put her finger on who it belonged to exactly, asked in delight. Without waiting on a reply the voice continued. "Cordelia are you awake?"

Cordelia decided to take a quick survey of who was with her. She could then make an educated decision on whether to ignore them and snooze off again or … well, tell them off on waking her and then go back to sleep all the same.

She slowly opened one of her bleary eyes and was promptly blinded by the glaring, white light from whichever place she was in at the moment, shining straight into her eye. Cringing slightly at the most unwelcome experience this early in the morning, she decided to get her answers in a different way and slowly managed to get out. "Wha-zzer?"

'Hmm, that could have come out better,' she thought hoping that the annoying voices had understood her despite her rather hoarse and sleep riddle voice.

An amused voice rang through the infirmary. "Eloquent as ever Cordy, but you should really get up if you can manage. You have been asleep for three days now, letting the potions work their magic. I know a girl needs her beauty sleep, but you are really taking it to a whole new level. Some might even go as far and say you are overdoing it," the voice, she now recognised as being Daphne's, teased her lightly with mirth in her voice, obviously happy about something.

'Well, the other voice must be Tracey's if Daphne is here,' Cordelia finally decided after trying to get a hold on what was happening. Since Daphne and Tracey were with her, she decided she might as well humour them and wake up. Releasing a deep sigh at what she perceived as a great injustice, she once again forced her eyes open, before groaning slightly at the light that was still abundantly present. Blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the new level of brightness, she asked her friends: "So, why exactly are you sitting here watching me sleep?"

"Because we were afraid you had died during that horrendous task of course!" Tracey vehemently exclaimed in reply.

This got Cordelia's attention and she quickly looked up at Tracey who was still looking scared at what could have happened. She then looked towards Daphne who was sat beside Tracey. Daphne was sitting stoically on the uncomfortable chair. Her back was rigid and her face more aloof than Cordelia had ever seen it. Her eyes were downcast when she murmured. "What happened to you in that arena scared us Cordy. We didn't know if you had survived it somehow or not."

Feeling slightly guilty at her insensitive behaviour, Cordelia pushed herself into an upright position, resting her back against her pillow. She took in the surroundings she had become way too comfortable with for her own taste. She was lying in the crispy clean hospital bed that might as well be her private spot, considering how often she had use of it. On the bedside table next to her, she saw a bottle of water, a glass and a couple of empty potion vials that looked positively gross considering the residue of the potion still left in them. To her other side were Daphne and Tracey, who still looked a bit shaken from the fear and stress of her injuries, but who were quickly warming up again seeing her alive and breathing, going off on the big, toothy grin that was slowly forming on Tracey's face. The rest of her surroundings were mostly hidden from her view by the large, darkish green screen that was placed around her bed in order to give her and her visitors some privacy during her stay at the infirmary.

"Tracey, why don't you go and get Madame Pomfrey. She has ordered us to inform her right away if Cordy woke up,' Daphne told her friend, while Cordelia was busy looking around.

"Why me? Why can't you go and do it?" Tracey shot back with what looked suspiciously like a pout.

"Because you were the one who had the amazing idea to give the nurse a solemn promise to let everything drop and fetch her right away should Cordelia awake, when we came in. I could do it, but I wouldn't be a very good friend if I allowed you to break you word so quickly," Daphne reasoned with a sly smile on her face.

Tracey looked a bit put out that she had been outsmarted and would have to leave them, but she quickly straightened her back with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Madame Pomfrey! Cordelia is awake. If you could come over and have a look at her so we can leave this place that would be smashing!" She yelled over her shoulder in the direction of the healer's office, at a volume that was better suited for quidditch matches than a polite conversation in an infirmary.

Daphne quickly put her hand over Tracey's mouth, hoping to keep her quiet at last. They were already in trouble because of her noise. There was no need to make it even worse! She glared at her friend who was sporting a smug grin. "What was that all about! Do you want us to get thrown out like Weasley and Granger?" Daphne hissed in annoyance.

Before Cordelia got the chance to ask what had happened to her Gryffindor friends, she noticed the old nurse storming in their direction like a bull who had seen a red flag, wearing an expression that promised trouble for whomever had disturbed the peace and quiet in her beloved infirmary. She wisely decided to ask later. For now she had to play the injured patient card in order to escape any possible ire coming her way.

"What is going on over here?" Madame Pomfrey demanded, annoyed at the interruption of her paper work. However her eyes fell almost immediately on Cordelia. "Ah, never mind. Next time I ask you to give me a yell should one of my patients wake up, don't take it literally, Miss Davis," the old nurse admonished Tracey who looked somewhat contrite. The witch then smiled at Cordelia, pleased that she seemed to be back to normal and promptly started inspecting her for any problems.

After a couple of minutes, Madame Pomfrey was done and started explaining what was yet to happen for Cordelia's treatment. "Well Miss Potter, as far as I can ascertain you are perfectly healthy – even though I still couldn't say why you are still alive in the first place. The paste that I used to heal your injuries and skin with, is still on you, so you will have to wash that off. There is no point to keep it on you any longer; it has worked to its full potential by now. At the moment you still look quite orange and because of the paste, I haven't had the chance to clean your hair either, so you might want to wash the dust out of that as well. Now I will help you to the bathroom and -"

She was suddenly interrupted by the door of the infirmary slamming against a wall when someone tried –and failed- to quickly enter the room.

"Madame Pomfrey, there has been an accident during the potions class. Someone added a wrong ingredient and the cauldron melted down. Professor Snape ordered me to escort the injured students to you," the voice of a second year timidly said.

The old nurse sighed and muttered to herself. "Can't that man give an actual lesson, just this once? It would most certainly spare me a lot of needless work!"

She gave Tracey and Daphne a stern look and spoke: "Walk with Miss Potter to the bathroom and give her a hand with washing off that burn salve if she needs it." She then looked at Tracey. "And if you need me, please keep your voice down, Miss Davis. I am old, not deaf." The old nurse didn't wait for an answer, before hurrying to assess the damage caused in the potions class.

-x-

A few minutes later Cordelia stood in the shower, taking a greatly needed wash. She had always liked long, warm showers. Unfortunately living with the Dursleys didn't give her a lot of opportunity to indulge in that specific craving of her. 'Never mind,' she thought, as she turned the handle to add just a little bit more warm water to the mixture, 'I can enjoy it all I want right now. On a healer's proscription even!'

She was a bit confused about the warm water though. While she liked warm water, there always came a point when the water would become too hot for her and she would then be forced to either turn the temperature down again or stop showering altogether, before her normally creamy skin would become all pink. Today though there seemed to be no such limit on what temperature she could endure. Cordelia shrugged. It wasn't important at the moment. She could ponder later on why standing in the deliciously warm water felt so right to her.

A few more minutes later, Cordelia was finally finishing up after a delicate knock on the door -courtesy of Daphne- reminded her that she couldn't stay there all day. She turned off the stream of water and cleaned away the liquid that had dripped in her eyes. When she finally opened her eyes, she caught sight of a strand of her hair, that she had meticulously cleaned to get rid of all the dirt and grime that had been stuck in it ever since the first task.

Cordelia gave a startled yelp, which alerted her friends who were waiting for her to finish on the other side of the door, and ran towards the mirror. She was faintly aware of the door opening and the muttered 'Merlin's beard' from Daphne. She was too preoccupied with taking in her own appearance however to give them any attention.

Cordelia had always been a rather beautiful girl. While she wasn't tall by any means –quite the opposite actually- there was something about her that caught people's attention. She had a soft, slender body that was almost petite, a creamy white skin, dark ebony hair that reached to her shoulder blades and which contrasted beautifully with her skin tone, and the most enchanting, emerald green eyes anyone had ever seen.

The girl who looked back at her from the mirror was barely recognisable as being Cordelia Potter. Oh she was similar enough. She had the same slender body, slightly skinny from her years living at her relatives' place, but her skin was free from any blemishes and was a soft, creamy colour, paler than usual. Her hair, from the top of her head to the little patch between her legs, was an intriguing silvery white that Cordelia had never seen before. And where two emerald orbs should have been, looked now two haunting eyes, the colour of dark amethysts, back at her in shock.

'What in Morgana's name has happened to me?'

-x-

Author Note: There was one reviewer who seemed to have caught on that Cordelia might not be dead after all. So I assume that I wrote that part reasonably well… Anyway, Cordelia is still alive and has not yet reached Westeros. She still has some things to do and mysteries to uncover before she can go there. Let me know what you think!