Chapter 23: Stalking and Snogging Don't Share the Same Wagon

Alecta:

"Nicci? Nicci? Nicci!"

I looked up from my plate of wilting mashed potatoes to see Hermione glaring at me. "What is it?" I asked.

"Are you coming tomorrow?"

"Yes," I said, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Something about Hogsmeade. "Oh, wait. No. I can't."

Hermione glared at me some more. "Nicci, what are our plans for tomorrow?"

"Um, I don't know, but I can't go," I said apologetically. "Sorry."

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"I'm spending time with Ginny," I said, cleverly avoiding the whole 'stalking her maybe-boyfriend' part.

"Well, then, invite her too," said Hermione crossly.

Damn, I hadn't seen that one coming. "I can't. We can't. We have—er—very specific plans that don't involve going to any of the places you're going. Probably." Unless Brian Cinderford decided he was going to one of the places they were going, in which case…well, we'd cross that bridge when we got to it.

"So, Harry, have you learned anything about the first task yet?" I asked, knowing perfectly well it was dragons and also knowing perfectly well that there was no way he could know since the dragons had not yet arrived.

"No," he said sullenly, turning back to his dinner.

I mouthed 'How's Ron?' to Hermione who shook her head. 'Is he going?' I mouthed.

"Erm, not officially," she said quietly to me.

"Ah," I said, smiling slightly. "Sneaky."

"I thought I'd tell him once it's too late to change his mind," she admitted sheepishly, glancing down the long table to Ron, who was sitting with Fred, George, and Lee.

I saw her worry, so I said, "Things'll smooth over. They're best friends. I guarantee it."

Hermione smiled at me. "Did you see that in your visions?"

"No," I grumbled. "I didn't realize how much I'd miss the damn things until I stopped getting them every week, broken arms or not. Do you know how weird it is waking up on Sundays without being in pain?"

Hermione gave me a look. "It must be awful, Nicci."

"It is," I muttered defensively.

Harry, who had either ignored or not heard our entire conversation, stood up and grabbed his bag. "I'm going to be bed," he said sullenly. "'Night."

"'Night," said Hermione.

"Goodnight, Harry," I told him. After I watched him go, I turned back to Hermione and said, "He's depressed. I hate depressed people, especially since it's usually me who's depressed."

"He's not depressed, Nicci, he's just tired. And as for you, you're never depressed. At least, not anymore. Speaking of which, Nicci," she added, her impatient tone turning to a happier softer tone, "I'm really glad you've changed so much. You're a lot different then you were last year—happier and more free."

I smiled at her. It was times like these you were truly glad that Hermione was so perceptive and so much more eloquent than anyone else you knew. "Thanks," I told her honestly, smiling brightly.

"All right, then," she said, grabbing a piece of pie as the desserts appeared. "Tell me, Nicci. What are you actually doing tomorrow?"

The next day, Ginny woke me up. Again. I tried to roll over, away from her voice, but, as it turned out, I was right next to the edge this time.

"ARRGGHHH!"

"Nicci, screaming isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I landed on my elbow, you—you—" It was then that I realized that I had yet to come up with an arsenal of insults for Ginny. Damn.

"Are you all right?" asked Lavender Brown, coming out of the bathroom, already dressed in make-up, a skirt, and a nice shirt. "What happened?"

"She fell," said Parvati from her bed, where she was putting on lipstick. "She isn't a morning person."

Lavender snorted. "Well, she might not be, but her hair is." She looked at me accusingly. "Why is it that you do not have any bed-head whatsoever?"

"Because my hair likes me," I replied cuttingly.

Lavender looked offended, but Parvati laughed. "Don't worry, Lavender. You should know not to take anything she says seriously until 9 AM."

I yelped. "It's not 9 yet?"

"Nicci, it's only 8:15."

I could have killed Ginny Weasley right then and there and not even felt guilty about it. Well, that is, until I woke up fully. Then I would have felt a bit guilty.

Only a bit, mind you.

Ginny, obviously unaware that I was planning her untimely death, walked to my dresser and started rifling through it.

"I'm perfectly capable of choosing my own clothes, you know," I told her crossly, getting back on my bed and sitting on it like a six-year-old and not a thousand-and-fourteen-year-old.

"Yes, you can, but you won't," said Ginny, taking out a shirt and throwing it at me. "You'll wear baggy sweatpants and a ripped shirt just to annoy and embarrass me because you're angry that I woke you up early, and I refuse to let that happen because I do want to have some sort of social standing."

Damn. How was it possible that anyone knew me that well? I peered at her suspiciously. "Are you sure you're not a mind reader? Or Hermione in disguise?"

Ginny giggled, but then said, "Nicci, Hermione is sleeping in the bed next to you."

I looked. She was. Damn.

"Here," Ginny finally said, throwing a skirt at me. I groaned. I hated skirts.

"Hey, I'm wearing a skirt and I hate them," snapped Ginny. "You can suffer through it for one day."

"Yeah, but I'm not trying to get a boyfriend," I muttered darkly before looked at her. She had let her hair down, the red falling down past her shoulders, with a black clip holding her bangs back. Her short-sleeved shirt was white with a golden pattern in the bottom left corner, and her skirt was black and almost to her knees. "Hey, you look really preeetty," I said, emphasizing the 'pretty' to make her mad. She didn't like being called pretty because it sounded to her like she was being called girly and she hated being called girly.

She blushed and glared at me. "Shut up."

"No, she's right, Ginny," said Parvati looking over. "You look really pretty. Much more girly than usual."

"Thanks," she said, but I knew she was furious. Serves you right, Weasley.

I tossed my black hair over my shoulder. "I'll be right back, Ginny," I said lightly, smiling brighter than ever, before dancing over to the bathrooms with a burst of energy caused by my exacted revenge.

"I despise you, Nicci Lonsen."

In Hogsmeade an hour later, Ginny dragged me into The Three Broomsticks and got some butterbeer. After we sat down, I said, "Aren't we supposed to be stalking someone?"

"No, he probably won't get here for another hour or so," she said casually, taking a sip. I stared at her.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," she said. "So I wanted to ask you—do you know anything about the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

I nearly spit out my butterbeer. "Huh?"

"Well, you've lived with ghosts, right?" said Ginny. "They must have told you something about the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Well, that doesn't mean I paid attention," I told her, confused. I never knew she would care about the tournament. I could always tell her about my own tournament, but I might slip into first-person by accident, and all the others I never bothered going to.

"Oh." She looked disappointed, so I gave in. "All right, they did tell me about one," I lied. "The very first Tri-Wizard Tournament. A thousand years ago."

"The first?" she said, looking at me. "Weren't the records of the Tournament lost? So you could be the only person alive who knows what happened!"

"They're not lost," I said crossly. "They're all just looking in the wrong place. See, the Tri-Wizard Tournament was originally called the Inter-School Championship."

Ginny cocked her head. "What? Why?"

"Because there were originally four schools who took part in the championship," I told her. "Four champions. The four schools were Beauxbaxtons, Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Whittlewhie."

"Wait," said Ginny. "What happened to Whittlewhie?"

"Well, they were banned from the tournament after their contestant tried to kill the Hogwarts contestant in the Third Task. The three schools continued to call it the Inter-School Championnship until about 800 or so years ago when they changed it to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I think the school itself collapsed about 200 hundred years after they were banned from the tournament."

"So who were the first four champions?" asked Ginny, looking interested.

"Well, for Hogwarts it was a thirteen-year-old girl named Alecta Gryffindor," I said, trying to disguise the churn of despair I felt when I spoke my own name like it was someone else's.

"Godric Gryffindor's daughter?"

I nodded. "She was very talented for her age. She was a lot like Hermione, but a lot less responsible. And she didn't really enjoy reading books." I shrugged. "The Beauxbaxtons champion was Jacque Nox, a sixteen-year-old. Shy and clever and very noble. I—er—that is say, Alecta liked him. The Durmstrang champion was Anthony Gregon, who was seventeen. As for Whittlewhie, they had a contestant named Alexander Postus." I growled a little. "He was a terrible person. Stupid and incredibly strong. He was also extraordinarily bold, which wasn't always a good thing.

Anyway, the first task was that each contestant had to fight a dragon and take a golden egg from it, which held a clue to the second task."

"So how did a thirteen-year-old get past a dragon?" said Ginny, looking horrified.

"Well, Nox used a Conjectus Curse and hit the dragon in the eye, the weakest spot on a dragon. Postus tried to do the same, but he missed, and stung the dragon in the nose, which got the dragon mad. He ended up having to use a combination spell between his wand and his fist and knocked out the dragon. Powerful, but dangerous on the body. He was lucky to get out alive. They don't exist anymore," I said to Ginny, who had opened her mouth, "all the books were burned in the fires of Rome."

"And Gregon?"

"Gregon transfigured a rock into a mouse, then illusioned it to make it look like himself," I recounted, rolling my eyes. "While the dragon was eating his replica, he went around and took the egg."

"And what about Gryffindor? What did she do?"

"Well, Alecta was a Fire-Tamer."

"Hmm? A what?"

"They're extinct now," I said sadly. That is, extinct except for me. "It was why Alecta was considered a prodigy. Not because she was exceptional, but because she was a Fire-Tamer. Apart from that, she was just like anyone else who knew how to study and practice."

"What is a Fire-Tamer?" asked Ginny quizzically.

"A Fire-Tamer is someone who is immune to fire. They can create fire out of thin air and can will it to do their bidding. It's quite special and they were very rare. Alecta's father was one too. It's why the Gryffindor colors are red and gold."

Ginny looked astonished. "Fire?"

I nodded. "Fire."

"Well, what happened?"

"The dragon couldn't touch Alecta. The fire was of no use and Alecta, who was very adept at using fire as a weapon, beat it down until she defeated it and took the egg."

"Wow," said Ginny, looking thoughtful. "She really was incredible, wasn't she? What happened next?"

"Ginny," I said plaintively, "I can't tell you until after the first task is over."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Well, because the tasks don't change," I told her. "It's why there are no books describing the Tri-Wizard Tournaments in the library. If people knew what tasks there were in the past, it'd be a guideline.

"Wait…you mean Harry's going to have to fight a dragon?"

I nodded.

"Nicci!" cried Ginny. "You have to tell him!"

"I can't," I said. "Dumbledore said I couldn't tell any of the champions." Actually, he'd asked if I wouldn't, but I couldn't tell her that.

Ginny sighed, but let it drop. I wondered why she was being so understanding, until I looked at the door and saw Brian Cinderford and a couple of his friends entering.

Of course.

Four hours later, I was ready to kill Ginny. I was watching Cinderford buy robes while Ginny was in Honeydukes with two of her friends.

I was going to murder her.

"Er, Nicci?"

I jumped. "Diggory! Hi."

"Why are you hiding behind a wagon?" he asked pointedly.

"Erm…because—I have a perfectly good explanation, I…" He arched an eyebrow. "…just have to think of it."

He laughed. He had a nice laugh, I thought, helplessly trying to ignore it and failing miserably. "How are you? Are you really stalking Brian?"

I pointed reluctantly at Brian, who was holding up robes against a mirror. Cedric laughed again. "So, what's your assessment?"

"Well, he's nice enough, he's thoughtful, and he's handsome enough, I suppose, but I don't know. There's something kind of off about him, you know? He's, uh, kind of…I don't know, girly, maybe?"

"Nicci—"

"But, I mean, not that that's a bad thing, but I just don't think that he's the type of guy for Ginny, so I think maybe I'd give him a good grade in general, but he's not really the one for Ginny—"

"Nicci, it's because—"

"But you don't take offense to that, do you? I mean—"

"Nicci!" he cried. He took a deep breath. "Merlin, once you get going, there's no stopping you, is there?"

"I was just trying to get it all out," I muttered sullenly.

"Nicci, he's gay," said Cedric finally, sounding impatient.

"He—what?"

"He's gay. At least, he's going to be gay. He hasn't come out with the news yet, but he confided in me."

"…Oh." Suddenly, I glared at him. "And you couldn't've told me this on Sunday and saved everyone a hell of a lot of trouble why?"

"Well, because…" He looked awkward. "It was a secret and I thought I should keep it."

"So then, why are you telling me now?"

"Er…I thought you deserved to know?"

"Is that a question? As in, you don't know if I deserve it or not?"

"No, I—you—of course you do," he said, looking flustered.

"So what's changed?"

"What?"

"What's changed between Sunday and today?" I asked, annoyed. Cedric was not giving me answers. What was the matter with him? He was blushing and a little sweaty— "Oh my God, are you sick?"

"What?"

"Sick. Are You?"

"No! I just—" He grabbed my hand. "Can…Can I—?"

"Nicci!" It was George, walking out of Zonko's. He waved, saw Cedric, and frowned a little. "Er, did I miss something?"

"No," I said, my face turning red as I pulled my hand out of Cedric's. Why did George always have to do that? Merlin, why was my face all flushed? Now I looked like Cedric!

Had he gotten me sick?

Please tell me that after a thousand years you're not actually this clueless.

Oh no, not you. I really hate you.

'Has he gotten me sick?' What the hell's the matter with you?

Nothing! I just—oh, go away. I don't actually think he got me sick.

Not anymore.

…Shut it.

"Um, I have to go find Ginny," I said, pulling away from Cedric, crashing into George, and moving carefully away from both. "Now."

"But, Nicci, I—" Cedric looked like he had something to say.

"I'll talk to you later," I interrupted him, turning even redder as I looked at George's confused face. "Much later. I have to go. Now."

And I turned around and ran away.

"So, Nicci, how'd it go?" asked Ginny as we walked back to Hogwarts. "Here, I got you some Sugar Quills."

"Thanks," I said, before realizing that it was most likely my money she had used so really, I had got her something. "With Cinderford? It wouldn't work out."

She looked disappointed. "Really, Nicci? Are you sure?"

"Positive," I said. "I'm really sorry, I just don't think it'll work out. At all."

She sighed, obviously upset. "All right. I didn't really like him, anyway."

I was going to murder Ginny Weasley.

A/N: Never fall into depression. Depression sucks. Being depressed sucks. Not being able go on your e-mail for fear of seeing a review which will make you feel even guiltier then you already do but you are unable to do anything about because you're effing depressed sucks even more.

Er, hi.

Am I rambling? I think I am.

And I think now's the time I apologize again.