Sort of a filler chapter, but I have something to say.
Dear sara253xxx,
To say I wasn't surprised to see a large comment would be a lie. At first, I was getting used to not receiving more than five reviews on my stories, but as I wrote third year, I received more positive views on Anya. Sorry if my grammatical errors bothered you in some way, you see, English is not my first language and when I started posting this series, it was when I was completely sure my writing wouldn't be dreadful. Like you, I don't have much to do on my house (Besides homework T.T), and I have a lot of free classes on school, so I take advantage of this and write to not get myself bored to death. As for your assumptions... You were right, I laughed. Because you have hit right on the nail. I am not going to tell you what of them, you'll have to continue reading if you want to discover it.
Don't worry about the lenght of your review. Actually, you had made my day. Thank You so much!
And somehow, I have the feeling this sounded rather british, again.
I saddly don't own Harry Potter. J. K. Rowling does. (Looks to the other side bitterly and says "Lucky her")
Same day on the evening, we went to the Owlery to send uncle Sirius a letter about how the first task went. On our way, Harry filled Ron about uncle Sirius's warnings about Karkaroff.
"Fits, doesn't it?" Ron said, agreeing as we finally arrived. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup… I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here - I'll do it -"
Pigwidgeon was very excited at the idea of a delivery, seeing as he flew in circles around and around Harry's head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg.
"There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. "You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious."
I raised an eyebrow at him. I knew he was trying to make up his behavior by being positive, but seriously, Ron was overreacting right now.
Clearly thinking the same, Hermione crossed both her arms and looked narrowly at him.
"Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament," she said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" said Ron. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."
He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again. Instead of the usual short letters and notes, Harry had wrote a full description of what exactly happened.
"Sadly to say Ron, Hermione's right," I dryly said as we watched Pigwidgeon disappear on the distance. "If that was supposed to be the easiest task, I highly doubt the left ones are going to be a fun ride."
Ron shrugged. "Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry - Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now."
Sure enough, when we arrived, the common room was full of banners of Harry flying around the Hungarian Horntail's head and of Cedric's head on fire.
I shook my head scowling. These Gryffindors still don't learn!
There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks. Harry looked really happy: maybe it was because he survived or because he had his best mate back, but either way, his sparkling green eyes made my heart melt. It wasn't common to see him like this anymore.
"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "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 said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules…"
"I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too," Harry muttered so Hermione and I could only hear him.
"Dunno what you are talking about Harry," I said, taking a sip of butterbeer. I gave a sigh of relief. Butterbeer always relaxes me.
"Yeah, go on Harry! Open it!" several people called.
Lee passed the golden egg to Harry, who dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.
It was hollow and completely empty- but as soon as Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing filled the room. The nearest sound I could compare to it was a theme song from a horror movie Tonks made Nat and me to see. We hadn't sleep that night, mind you.
"Shut it!" Fred bellowed as he put his hand over his ears.
"What was that?" said Seamus, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee… Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"
I looked in bewilderment at the egg. Banshees?!
"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"
I paled. The Cruciatus Curse?!
"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "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."
"They are not stupid enough to that," I said to Neville, clasping a hand to his shoulder. I hope so.
"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" Fred said suddenly.
Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.
"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch -"
Just then, Neville started chocking and spat it out. I patted quickly his back. Fred laughed.
"Just my little joke, Neville..."
Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?"
"Yep," Fred said, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. " 'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful...get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."
"How do you get in there?" Hermione asked. I looked up sharply. Oh, no – I know what she wants to get at.
"Easy," Fred said, "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -" He stopped. "Why?"
"Nothing," Hermione said quickly.
"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" George said. "Going to up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"
Several laughed, but Hermione didn't answer.
"Oh dear," I whispered. "They just gave her an idea!"
"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" Fred said warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"
I yelled when suddenly Neville transformed into a big yellow canary.
"Oh - sorry Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed -"
Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.
"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!"
The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter. Poor James had to suffer the cold surroundings of the Durmstrang ship, which was pitching in the high winds. Possibly the Beauxbatons caravan was in the same position. I noticed Hagrid taking extra care of Madame Maxime's horses, giving them firewhiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the corner of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed.
James and Ron had become very good mates when it involved Quidditch. In fact, I didn't know James was such a fanatic like Ron. Appearances really can be mistaken of.
But then Ron started asking about Viktor Krum.
"He's not that marvelous," James said scowling at the cup of pumpkin juice. "Really, the glamour will fell off." He smirked at Ron's confused stare. "Eventually."
You could say Divination class was somewhat funny and scary. We were still doing the star charts, so because Neville was on the Hospital Wing, I had been put to work with Harry and Ron. The both of them had kept laughing at Trelawney while she explained the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life. And sadly, I remember that Pluto was on my chart.
Like an old tradition, Trelawney predicted Harry's death at the end of the class.
"It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before," Harry said as we finally regained the fresh air of the staircase beneath Professor Trelawney's room. "But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle."
"If that was so, I think Hermione and I would be the walking miracles," I snorted at him.
"You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost," Ron added, chortling, as we passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly. "Speaking of Hermione, I hope she got loads of homework from Professor Vector, I love not working when she is..."
Hermione, with James' help (I still glare at him for this), had managed to get to the kitchens and tried to convince the elves to be "free". Ron called it the House-Elf Liberation Front. We got to see Dobby again. . In our second year, Dobby had tried to not let Harry come to Hogwarts because he thought he was in danger. But almost killed him and Ron, actually. After the Chamber fiasco, I witnessed when Harry set Dobby free from the Malfoys by giving him his socks.
And I continued like that. I spend my time between the Golden trio and with Neville and James all the days. Since I had let out that dark feeling, I didn't felt alone like before. You could say everything was perfect.
But then it happened.