A/n: I do not own any Harry Potter copyrights.

"Bagman . . . all this time and the person you sicked Bubbles on was Bagman?"

To be honest, I wasn't quite sure whether to be impressed or horrified. I'd assumed they were picking on another student, maybe a dissatisfied customer of their 'Wizard Wheezes', but this . . .

This is insane. I'm involved in the harassment of a Ministry official.

"Well you did give us permission . . ." George explained with a rather cheeky grin. It was like he found the horror on my face amusing, the git.

"And you did tell us to tell him to be as 'vicious as possible'." Fred tacked in. He was grinning too. "Something he did a right good job at, if I do say so myself. I mean, look at 'im!"

Bubbles, either oblivious to or ignoring us, had chased the screaming man back around to the side of the Judge's tent, cornering him there as the letters rained down like bombs. The sheer amount of red envelopes was actually sort of impressive. There were so many of them that I couldn't help but wonder if some sort of charm had been placed on them. A replicating charm maybe?

Not that the details really mattered at the moment. I was still in shock that the moment was happening at all.

"B-but, you can't do that! He's a Ministry official! You could be arrested for harassment!"

The boys shot me identical blank looks.

"Have you been hanging around any fourth years lately, Whitman?" George asked.

"Maybe one with bushy brown hair and an unhealthy love for anything rule-like and boring?"

I'd fallen into my 'Cedric pose' and I knew it. My brow had risen and my arms had crossed, probably sometime in their accusation that I was turning into Hermione. Did they really think that she was the only one who'd see something wrong with this?

Granted, the only reason this bugged me so much was due to Bagman's firm position on my list. Being arrested for harassing him wouldn't be a good step to the whole 'let's not get noticed' thing.

"That doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"But you're not thinking of poor Pig!" Fred, it seemed, had forgotten that we were hiding from the man currently getting assaulted by my owl. Seeing Bagman's eyes go to the bush we were crouched behind, I grabbed the twin by his tie and yanked him out of sight.

Following by my frantic 'shushing' motions, what George had to say came out a bit quieter than his brother. Leaning down into our impromptu group huddle, he whispered: "You don't think the git deserves this? He let Pig blow himself up with a bloody Howler, ignored everything we've said to him, and paid us back with leprechaun gold. If you don't think that . . ."

"Wait." I interrupted, wracking my brain for what I knew of what he was telling me. Bagman'd owed them money? When? Why? Had that been in the books? "Paid you back? Paid you back for what?"

Fred chuckled, nervously and a surefire sign that they were hiding something. "We . . . might have bet a few galleons on the World Cup . . ."

"And by galleons you mean . . ."

"Thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts, and a fake wand."

Did the book ever touch on just how insane these two are?

"Thirty-seven- You're mad, you're completely mad."

"Hello?" Someone who was decidedly not hiding behind our bush called out, cutting off all conversation as we froze. The voice came from the clearing where Bagman had been screaming his head off not five minutes ago. Now though . . . well now everything was quiet.

"Hello?" Bagman called again. "Is anybody out there?"

George elbowed me in the ribs, following it with a few hurried gestures when I turned to glare at him. 'Go' he mouthed.

'What?' I mouthed back, inwardly thinking that the boy was madder than I thought. 'Why me? You go.'

'We can't.' Fred, at least, seemed apologetic for his part on throwing me to the wolves. 'He doesn't know you.'

"If anyone's out there than please, can you help me? I need to get to the Champion's tent but I can't go outside. This owl's a monster!"

With one last mouthed 'Fine' to the boys and a heavy sigh, I stood up. Now out of the general safety that was the bush, it was suddenly a lot clearer what I was dealing with.

There was Bagman, hiding just inside the tent he'd probably been trying to leave for a while now.

And there was Bubbles, circling overhead in a way that was more like a vulture than an owl.

The sight pf me had an effect on both of them. Bagman looked a bit more relieved than he had been, lighting up actually. Bubbles . . . well he just looked like he was considering aiming a few of his letters my direction. Given that I wasn't dive bombed, the little cretin'd probably decided he wasn't mad enough at me to justify it.

At the moment, anyhow.

"Oh thank Merlin, I almost thought no one was out there. Quick! Grab a good sized rock, cast a curse. Knock him out of the air before he can attack me again!"

Anger hit me like a battering ram, bubbling up like a hot wave inside me. Despite him being a menace, Bubbles was my menace. Having him threatened like that didn't make me want to follow Bagman's demands. Any sticks and stones I picked up now would be headed straight for his face.

Swallowing, I forced the rage down long enough to look Bagman in the eye. It probably wasn't smart to tell him I owned the owl attacking him, or that him threatening said owl had me wanting a part of the attacking.

"You want me to just . . ." My glare slipped through, brutal enough to make the man before me flinch. I knew I should be nicer, especially after I'd just lectured the Twins on not using my owl to harass him, but I just couldn't do it. Five minutes into talking to the guy and I could already see why the Twins didn't like him. "'Knock him out of the sky'?"

"Yes, yes. Quickly now. If he's not out of the way soon, I'll miss meeting with the champions! I'm already late! Just do it already!"

Instead of answering, I looked to Bubbles. The owl wasn't circling anymore, settling instead for sitting at the very top of Bagman's tent. Like I'd already guessed, there was only one Howler attached to my owl's leg. One that wasn't smoking. Suddenly it hit me that the Twins had thought ahead, had made sure that the problems with Pig's howler wouldn't happen again. They'd charmed this Howler not only to replicate (probably only when around Bagman) but also for only the replicas to explode. The original would stay intact until opened, giving the owl carrying it enough time to bomb Bagman with copies until he got fed up enough to take the Howler and listen to its message.

It was brilliant, kept Bubbles safe and out of range of any letter bombs, and earned the Twins my respect. It was almost . . . touching that they'd gone so far to keep my owl safe.

"You know, he'll probably go away if you take the letter. What's one Howler when you're already late, hm?"

"That owl's been hounding me for weeks! He's not going to just leave because I-"

"Took the letter?" I cut in with a roll of my eyes. "Why not? That's the only reason he's hounding you. Take it and he'll leave."

Bagman, blinking and sputtering, was beginning to get rather red. He didn't seem to like the fact that his supposed 'savior' was questioning him. "But I can't take it. That Howler's undeserved! If I take it then I'll-"

"Get rid of the owl that's chasing you? Maybe have a humbling moment?"

Bagman was changing colors, first to the red I'd noticed and then on to a deep purple. The guy looked mad, so mad that it was highly likely he'd forgotten how to breathe. If he hadn't before, then he definitely regretted calling me out of the bushes now.

So rather than keep speaking to him, I simply ignored all further protest and held my arm out to the owl still sitting on the tent. Bubbles, seeing no real reason to be mad at me, flew down at once. The little beast must have gotten a kick out of chasing Bagman around. That there were no claws digging into my arm spoke wonders about how good of a mood his was.

"What are you doing?!" Bagman half whispered/ half squeaked as he slithered further into his tent. "I told you to hex him, not invite him down for tea!"

"Well then it's a good thing I've decided not to listen to you." Removing the Howler from my owl's leg, I let him have a good pat before letting him go again. True to my prediction, Bubbles lost interest in Bagman the moment his ability to bomb him was removed. He flew back to the castle, Bagman drew a breath of relief, and I shoved a smoking Howler under his nose.

And it was smoking. I was close enough to Bagman for the spells to activate. If he didn't take it, I'd soon be holding a bomb.

"You can't force me to take that! Go away, blow up for all I care! I don't need you now that that horrible owl's gone."

And with that, Bagman tried to push past me and on to where he was supposed to be. He would've gotten farther had I not stopped him, namely by stepping in front of him and pressing the Howler against his chest.

"If you don't take this . . . if I get hurt, well that owl you're so afraid of will come back. Only this time he won't go away. He'll hound you and hound you, all the way up until the day you die."

He took the letter.

oOoOoOoOo

Sometime after Bagman'd run off and the Twins had emerged from the bushes, I'd somehow ended up tagging along with the boys to prepare for Harry's surprise party. Lee Jordan'd met up with us in the kitchens and after that things began to blur. There was food, decorations, people and music. There were even fireworks. It was all so very overwhelming. By the time I knew what was happening, I was standing in a Gryffindor common room in full party swing.

"Having fun?" Fred asked from my left as his brother tried to dance with what appeared to be a large yellow canary. Their other brother, Ron, sat not too far behind him, shooting me odd looks as he chatted with his friends.

Harry glanced up, saw me, and then quickly looked away again.

Hermione just smiled and waved.

"I guess it's alright."

Someone'd drawn up several banners and hung them up around the room. Most were fairly harmless, showing various depictions of Harry, a broomstick, and the horntail. One showed Cedric and a dragon surrounded by hearts. I frowned deeply.

It wasn't the only thing that made me feel like I should be at a different party right now.

If I hadn't seduced Cedric earlier, I probably would be.

A hand flicked me in the forehead.

"Ow! What was that for?" My hand went to rub the offending area as I glared at the culprit. It was still Fred, standing too close as he fixed me with a serious look.

"Stop it Whitman."

"Stop what?"

The redhead shot me an exasperated look, like he was disappointed I hadn't read his mind. He waved a hand in my general direction. "This. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Whitman. You've been snogging Diggory in your head ever since we left that ruddy Bagman."

I went red, flushing all the way to my toes.

"S-snogging? N-no, I haven't been thinking of any s-snogging." Lying seemed better than the other option. I didn't want to tell Fred, to tell anyone, where my thoughts had gone once the rush of my rage at Bagman had worn off. Earlier the Twins had told me that they'd make me forget. What they hadn't said was how, when I did remember, it would be of what could've happened had I not been pulled back over that line.

Kissing, hands trailing, a shirt pulled over a very nice -Quidditch toned- chest . . .

Mad at myself, I shook my head to clear it.

"I've . . . I've just been thinking."

"Isn't that your problem, thinking?" George, it seemed, had enough of dancing with canaries. Now he'd appeared to swing an arm casually over my shoulder. "You think too much. Look around, we're at a party! And a bloody good one too. You don't need to think to have a good time!"

For a split second, briefer than even I could catch, Fred looked upset at his brother. Then he grinned, produced a familiar looking sweet from who's knows where, and said: "Here, have a custard!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed and, as I told them exactly why I preferred not ending up with yellow feathers, all my horrible thoughts of what could've been faded away. We laughed a lot after that, had fun. Not once did they slow down long enough for me to broad, hide or think of Cedric. These two were like a miracle drug, making me forget my worries with only a few choice words and an infectious grin. It was enough that I could almostforget why I usually chose to avoid them so avidly.

Almost

"Blimey, this is heavy." Lee Jordan said eventually. He'd picked Harry's golden egg up and buckled slightly under the weight. "Open it Harry, go on, let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione cut in with a frown, "It's in the tournament rules . . ."

Under his breath, Harry mumbled something to Hermione that I couldn't make out. She went quiet, looking slightly guilty as she did so.

"Yeah, go on Harry, open it!" Several people, the twins included, called out.

Harry took the egg from Lee, took a deep breath, and wrenched it open.

A horrible screeching wail filled the room. It was like listening to nails being dragged over a blackboard, only with the nails replaced by chainsaws. My hands flew up to cover my ears, but even that did little to cut out the sound.

"Shut it!" Fred shouted, in a similar position to me.

Harry slammed the egg shut. My ears rang in the almost deafening silence left behind.

Not that it was silent for very long.

"What was that? Sounded like a banshee . . . maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

"It was someone being tortured! You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

Besides me, George rolled his eyes. "Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal. They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions, I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing . . . maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry."

"Want a Jam Tart, Hermione?" Rather than trying to convince me to have one, Fred had switched to enchanting the fourth years instead.

The girl shot him a suspicious look.

Fred grinned. "It's all right, I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch."

As he was biting into the pastry I was positive was responsible for the canary earlier, Neville choked and spat it out. Evil twin number two just laughed.

"Just my little joke, Neville . . ."

Hermione looked at her tart and then back at Fred. "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?"

And then as Fred began to imitate an overly helpful house-elf, I was struck with deja-vu. Hadn't I once almost told Hermione I'd been to the kitchens? And hadn't invisi-Harry kicked me when I had? Shooting a look at Harry, I realized he was looking at Fred like he must have looked at me back in the Three Broomsticks. Like he really wanted to kick him in the shins.

Maybe, just maybe, Harry doesn't want Hermione to bring her S.P.E.W to the elves.

"Fred . . . maybe you shouldn't-"

"-tickle the pear, and it giggles and-"Fred stopped and turned to me. "Shouldn't what?"

"Uh . . . that."

He shot me a blank look. "What?"

I sighed. Sometimes showing someone what you mean was loads better than explaining it to them step by step. "Why did you want to get into the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No reason." She said quickly.

Fred, seeming to get my point now that I'd made it obvious, looked suspicious.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

Some people laughed but Hermione said nothing.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" Fred added. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

And then Neville turned into a canary.

"Oh - sorry, Neville!" Fred told the feathery fourth year over all the laughter. "I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed!"

oOoOoOoOo

I spent pretty much all of December avoiding Cedric.

The incident in the infirmary tent hadn't been his fault, I knew it and didn't blame him just as Cedric didn't blame me. No, what had me turning heel at the sight of him wasn't blame and it wasn't mortification. It was what happened every time I saw him, when I thought of the infirmary tent and what I'd done. Simple thoughts that became even more dangerous once my mind decided to take it a bit further into the 'what could've been category'.

Running a hand along his jaw, leaning in close to whisper in his ear as I . . .

And so I ran.

It was like someone'd rewound time to the month after Cedric'd found me dragging my feet in the lake. I didn't stop in the common room, never went out of my way to meet between classes, and certainly didn't eat with him. Kara was baffled when I'd first skipped the Hufflepuff table over to sit with Mikhail in Slytherin, perhaps even a bit hurt. Of course she was, something had happened between Cedric and I and no one thought to tell her. I'd have been hurt too.

She was more understanding once I had told her, though I doubt she approved of what I decided to do about it. Kara was a very headstrong person, someone who believed in confronting her problems head on. Avoiding someone and hoping your problems would go away just didn't make sense to her. So she made a point of being unsupportive, sitting in our usual spot every day and for every meal. Not that her efforts stopped me, I still sat with Mikhail.

It was lonelier without her, though.

Ironic as it was, I'd also stopped avoiding the Twins.

They had been there and had actually made an effort to drag me out of my funk. They'd forced me to stop moping and have fun. I appreciated that, appreciated them and couldn't find it in me to repay them by pretending they didn't exist. Hanging around them helped me to forget. I didn't have to think around them. This -while I knew it was selfish and completely against everything I stood for- made me want to be around them even more.

It wasn't obvious, we never ate together, (they hated the Slytherins and the Gryffindor table had so many forbidden names) but we were- dare I say it- becoming friends.

Mikhail too, was becoming my rock.

Like I mentioned before, shortly after I'd gone to Harry's party to hide from Cedric, I'd begun to sit with the Russian boy- not at my table with my friends- but at his table with his friends. He'd been a bit surprised, but Mikhail was nothing if not adaptable. Instead of asking questions, he'd smiled in that bright, childlike way of his and took me straight to every Durmstrang student I'd never thought to talk to before. I'd met his sister Tanya. I'd met the boys he'd followed to our Kitchens on the day we'd met. We'd swapped stories and laughed. Eventually I realized that they were good people, nice despite what I knew of their school.

And though I'd only done it to run away, I found I liked sitting with them.

Because unlike the Twins and unlike Cedric, I didn't have to feel guilty about it. There was no need to justify it. None of them were in the books. There was no way I'd affect the story by being with them.

It was refreshing.

And then something important happened.

"Mikhail, have you ever told Jule-ya vhy you vere chosen?"

Looking over to Tanya, pretty brunette Tanya, I broke out of the impromptu singing completion I'd been having with the boys to shoot her a funny look.

"Chosen?"

"Akh, da. Ve vere all chosen for Tournament. If ve did not have skills, Headmaster vould've left us at school."

I blinked. Though it did make a certain kind of sense, I'd never thought of why Mikhail was here before. He simply was.

"Tanya," Mikhail, for once in the entire time I'd known him, had gone strangely quiet. "You vill bore Jule-ya vith details . . ."

Tanya grinned wickedly, even more so when she noticed the red creeping up around her brother's ears. It was stranger than Dumbledore with leathers and a Harley, seeing Mikhail blush. "I think you protest, brother. Vhy not tell this Hogvarts student about zhivotnoye cheyndzher?"

Uh . . .

Speaking Russian would've been fair had I, you know, spoken Russian.

"You do realize that I'm the odd one out when it comes to language skills, right?"

The two siblings turned to give me a long look, Tanya still grinning like the cat that got the cream. After a sizable moment of silence, Mikhail sighed.

"I apologize Jule-ya, Ido not know word for zhivotnoye cheyndzher. Meaning is to become animal, a magical practice."

"Brother is nesti," Tanya tacked in. "Vhat you vould call 'bear'."

As their words slowly processed, suddenly I found myself seeing Mikhail in an entirely new light. For all his bear-like qualities, finding out that they were a bit more than similarities was . . . well, it was shocking.

And why shouldn't it be? Unregistered animagus were illegal, after all.

"You're a what?" I hissed lowly, trying not to attract the attention of the few Slytherins nearby. "And Karkaroff knows? How could you have not gotten into trouble-"

To my growing irritation, all the Durmstrang students burst out laughing.

"Relax Jule-ya, relax." Tanya told me between giggles. "You vorry too much. Zhivotnoye cheyndzher are not minded by us, only British care of such things. Headmaster does not like brother, does not like any vho are not Viktor. If he vas not nesti, he vouldn't have been brought to Hogvarts."

"B-But . . . how could I not know? I've known him for months!"

"British do not like zhivotnoye cheyndzher," Mikhail reminded me. "I have been told to remain myself vhile here."

As the shock wore off, I was faced with how all of this- the image of my burly, glutonous, and directionally challenged friend as a bear- was actually kind of cool.

I wanted to see what he looked like now, to see the animal with brown fur and grey eyes, wanted to verify that what they were telling me was true. More than anything however, there was another question burning in my chest. I wanted to say it, to just turn to Mikhail and get it out in the open, but there was another part of me that hesitated.

It was a silly wish, not to mention cliché. How many people would've wanted the exact same thing had they been me? Had they been born into this world?

The answer: all of them.

And yet, it would still be so impossibly cool.

"Mikhail?" I asked, turning to the boy who'd just dropped this proverbial bombshell on my life. "Can I ask you something?"

"A question? Of course Jule-ya."

"Can you maybe, just maybe, teach me to be an animagus too?"