I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. I was suddenly popular in Slytherin house, which was a new one on me. The Gryffindors seemed furious with Harry for going behind their backs and slipping into the tournament. In Slytherin, that was something to be admired. The fact that I insisted I hadn't even entered and wouldn't admit to cheating my way in seemed to make them even prouder of me.

"What's next Potter, going to wiggle your way onto the Ravenclaw team?" Malfoy sniped as I ate breakfast Monday.

Most people were, anyway.

I spent Sunday squirreled away in the library looking for records of past tournaments trying to figure out what I might come up against. The problem was a lot of effort was put into keeping the tournament fresh, so all I'd really figured out was what I wouldn't be doing.

I scowled and stood up from the Slytherin table, abandoning my breakfast. I wasn't hungry lately. The prospect of potential death did terrible things to my appetite, oddly enough.

The Hufflepuffs were usually friendly, even being decent enough to us Slytherins, but when I walked past I was glared at with more venom that I'd ever believed the badgers had in them. In response I tossed them my best Slytherin sneer and strutted from the Great Hall.

I headed to the Owlery. The place reeked as usually, but I was too out of it to notice much. Artemisia flew down from the rafters and landed on my shoulder. I smiled at her and scratched her under the wing. She hooted happily and ruffled her feathers.

"Think you can take a letter to Sirius for me?" I asked her. She fluttered off my shoulder and landed on the window sill, offering her leg helpfully. I grinned as I tied the letter onto her leg and sent her on her way.

"At least one person doesn't hate me," I muttered as I turned away from the Owlery. My first class was Care of Magical Creatures. Normally I'd be pleased, but even I couldn't defend the Skrewts. Not to mention it was a Slytherin-Gryffindor class so I would be dealing with not only my brother's angry housemates but my own proud ones. It was a recipe for disaster.

I was one of the first down to Hagrid's cabin, which wasn't surprising given how early I'd left breakfast.

"Hullo L'rena!" Hagrid called as I approached. I smiled and waved as I set my bag down against the steps to his house.

"Hello Hagrid," I greeted. He was heading around the back of his cabin. I leaned around, calling after him, "Do you want some help?"

"No, don' bother yerself, I've got it!"

I sat on the step next to my bag, watching as students began to spill out of the castle and make their way down. I stood up and watched, waiting for a familiar black head of hair to appear. I perked up when Ron came out but, to my surprise, I saw only Ron and Hermione. Harry was lingering behind a different clump of Gryffindors.

When he arrived by the cabin I rushed over and grabbed his arm, dragging him a little bit away from the rest of the class.

"Why didn't you come down with Ron and Hermione?" I asked him, confused. "I get the rest of your house is pissed, but they should be protection against the rest of them."

Harry tossed a dark look at the back of Ron's head. "They would be, if Ron wasn't such a prat. He's as convinced as the rest of them that I cheated my way in, or at least got you to do it for me. No offense."

I wasn't even paying enough attention to be offended. Instead I was glaring at the back of Ron's head as well. "Are you serious?" I demanded. "Has he met you?"

"Exactly!" Harry burst out, throwing his hands up in the air helplessly. "It's not like I ask for all of this to-"

"You're not smart enough to have tricked the Goblet of Fire."

Harry's face fell. I got my own glare. "Thanks Rena. Really supportive."

I shrugged. "Just being honest. And Hermione?" I asked, tossing my head at her.

"Trying to keep the peace and get Ron and I talking," Harry said, grudging appreciation written all over his face. I raised an eyebrow.

"So it's going well then?" I asked sarcastically. Harry shook his head tiredly. Exhaustion and sadness was written on his face. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. He was from the house that valued honor and justice. In their eyes, he'd just done the incredibly dishonorable thing of cheating his way to the prize. To them, he'd undermined everything their house stood for.

"How have the Slytherins taken it?" Harry asked me.

I snorted. "They're delighted. They think I cheated my way in, of course, and they think I'm an idiot for getting you in as well, but they think it's great. I don't think I've ever been more popular."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Figures."

"Of course, there have been a couple of people who are still as dickish as usual," I said, narrowing my eyes as I saw Malfoy approaching with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

"Ah, look, boys, it's the champions," he called casually. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt they're going to be around much longer... Half the Triwizard champions have died... how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potters? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, but Malfoy had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To everyone's horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this plan was that it distracted Malfoy completely.

"Take this thing for a walk?" he repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, demonstrating. "Er - yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Harry, L'rena - you come here an' help me with this big one..."

Hagrid just wanted to talk to us, it turned out. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to us and said seriously, "So - yer competin'. In the tournament. School champions."

"Some of the champions," Harry corrected him.

Hagrid's beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild eyebrows. "No idea who put yer names in fer it, Harry?"

"You believe we didn't do it, then?" said Harry eagerly. I wasn't surprised. Hagrid always trusted us, no matter the situation.

"Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh – an' Dumbledore believes yer, an' all."

"Dumbledore believes Harry," I said bitterly. "I think he's still on the fence about me."

"Wish I knew who did do it," said Harry, sounding just as put out as I did.

The class was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty. The skrewts were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs- but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.

"Look like they're havin' fun, don' they?" Hagrid said happily. I assumed he was talking about the skrewts, because my classmates certainly weren't; every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of the skrewts' ends would explode, causing it to shoot forward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet. I grinned when Malfoy got dragged five feet across the ground by a particularly aggressive skrewt. When he stood up, the front of his robes was stained with grass and dirt.

"Ah, I don' know, yeh two," Hagrid sighed suddenly, looking back down at him with a worried expression on his face. "School champions... everythin' seems ter happen ter you, doesn' it?"

"Everything happens to him," I said, pointing a finger at Harry accusingly. "I just get dragged along for the ride because someone has to keep his skin mostly attached to his meat."

Harry winced. "Charming visual, Rena, thanks."

"Welcome."

Things continued in much the same vein for the next few days. Most of the school hated me – as per usual – while a surprising number of my housemates were on my side. Malfoy and Puginson were still laughing it up and calling out to me in the halls, asking if they could have my stuff after I snuffed it or making loud predictions about how long I'd last.

If Double Potions on Friday was hell for my brother, it was heaven for me. I could forget all about the tournament for a while and focus on nothing but getting the week's potion as perfect in possible, hopefully winning some points for my house in the process.

I descended gratefully into the dungeons and let the cool air embrace me, having a soothing effect on my temper as I went deeper under the castle.

I arrived outside of the Potions door and squinted. There were a lot of Slytherins already waiting there. And they all seemed to be wearing badges. The red letters stood out brightly in the dim lighting – support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts champion!

I looked around and noticed it was all mostly Malfoy's fan club lingering by the door. Them, I had no problem insulting, so I took a deep breath, strode forward, and loudly announced, "You're all real bastards, you know it?"

A platinum head of hair pushed its way through the crowd. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy had one pinned to the front of his robes and was grinning widely.

"Like them, Potter? I made them myself."

"Yeah, that's how you'll pass your classes," I said, rolling my eyes and giving him a thumbs up. "Nice use of your time, Dragon Breath."

Malfoy smirked. "Some of us are smart enough that we don't need to spend all our time locked up in the Library to make it through the school year."

I rolled my eyes. I was definitely antisocial – and my house wondered why – but I didn't spend all of my time locked up in the Library. Only when I had something important to focus on and occasionally whenever a subject had gotten stuck in my head.

"It's called improving your mind, Malfoy, you should look into it. I think you hit eleven and froze mentally."

"Better than dying at fourteen," Malfoy countered.

"Thirteen years longer than I should have lived," I said coldly, and that shut him up. If I ever wanted to stop the Slytherins in their tracks I could just remind them of why I had that nice little beauty mark carved into my face. It was usually enough to throw them off at least a little.

Malfoy's eyes flicked over my shoulder and lit with interest. I sighed, already able to guess that my brother had probably just arrived.

"Like them, Potter?" said Malfoy loudly as Harry approached. "And this isn't all they do - look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green: HARRY POTTER STINKS!

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message HARRY POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around us. I saw him going red and winced. This wasn't going to end well.

"Oh very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson, who was laughing harder than anyone, "really witty."

Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either.

"Want one, Granger?" offered Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

"Watch your language," I snapped at him.

People scrambled out of the way and an infuriated Harry drew his wand and stared Malfoy down.

"Harry!" Hermione said warningly.

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Do it, if you've got the guts-"

For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.

"Furnunculus!" Harry yelled.

"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles – Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up. Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!"

Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her. He dragged Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate. She was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin. Panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations. Snape pointed a long finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir-"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted.

"-and he hit Goyle, look-"

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron announced. "Look!"

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth - she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper. Her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

"Sir!" I protested aloud. "They did strike at the same time, I saw it-"

It was that both Harry and Ron also started shouting at Snape at the same time. Our voices echoed so much in the stone corridor it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however.

"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Potter, you will serve detention with me tonight. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions for all of you."

We all filed inside and I settled into my usual seat between Lily and Nott. The pair of them were glancing at me sideways. I couldn't blame them. I was giving Snape dirty looks, and that was odd for me. Even I had to admit though that what he'd said to Hermione was a little too harsh.

"Antidotes!" announced Snape, looking around at us all, his cold black eyes glittering unpleasantly. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one..."

A knock on the dungeon door broke through Snape's lecture. It was Colin Creevey. He edged into the room, beamed at Harry, gave me a look of terrified awe, and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room.

"Yes?" said Snape curtly.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry and Lorena Potter upstairs." Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.

"The Potters have another hour of Potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "The will come upstairs when this class is finished."

Colin went pink. "Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman wants him," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs..."

"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Please, sir – he's got to take his things with him," squeaked Cohn. "All the champions..."

"Very well!" snarled Snape. "Potter - take your bag and get out of my sight!"

Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for the door. I stood up and grabbed my own bag, tossing it over my shoulder, and followed him out.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" said Colin, starting to speak the moment the dungeon door closed behind us. "Isn't it, though? You both being champions?"

"Yeah, really amazing," said Harry heavily as we set off toward the steps into the entrance hall.

"What do they want photos for, Colin?" I asked. Colin shivered slightly as I spoke and I couldn't resist the urge to smirk. The little kid seemed equal parts fearful of my very presence and awed by my history. It was fun to tease him.

"The Daily Prophet, I think!"

"Great," said Harry dully. I agreed. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."

"Good luck!" said Colin when we had reached the right room. Harry knocked on the door and we entered.

It was a fairly small classroom with most of the desks pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle. Three of them had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than usual. She kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

Bagman suddenly spotted us, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

"Ah, here they are! Champions number four and five! In you come, Harry, Lorena, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment-"

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry and me.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

I hated her on sight.

I was saved from having to interact much with her by Dumbledore stepping into the room with the headmasters of the other schools and Mr. Crouch. Ollivander trailed behind them all, looking just as absent-minded as I remembered him.

"Dumbledore!" cried Rita Skeeter, with every appearance of delight. "How are you?" she said, walking up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"

"Enchantingly nasty," replied Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

Rita Skeeter didn't look remotely abashed. "I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street-"

"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start."

The champions were ushered voer to chairs in the corner of the room. I made sure to take one that was closer to Harry than anyone else. The judges seated themselves behind the velvet-covered tables.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmm..." he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it chose to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur proudly. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

"Well that explains a hell of a lot," I mumbled and heard Harry snort softly next to me.

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander uncertainly, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands... however, to each his own, and if this suits you..."

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps. He muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn... must have been seventeen hands, nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition... You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

Harry gathered a fistful of robe from his knee and tried to rub the fingerprints off of his own wand surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronizing look, and he stopped. I glared at the French witch.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..."

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast hike a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Miss Potter, if you would."

I stood up and walked over to Mr. Ollivander, pulling my wand from inside my robes. The white wood gleamed brightly and the dark speckles on the wood stood our sharply. The carvings in the handle were free of dirt and oil. Unlike Harry, I'd been expecting this thanks to my research on the tournament.

I offered the wand to Mr. Ollivander and he took it, turning it over thoughtfully in my fingers.

"Ah yes," he said softly. "Phoenix feather core, supple, twelve and a quarter inches. Yew."

I saw Karkaroff perk up and Maxime looked vindicated. I wasn't stupid. Sayings about wand wood were a dime a dozen. Yew was one of the ones with a darker reputation – literally, wielders of a yew wand were supposedly more liable to turn to the Dark Arts. A yew wand in the hands of a Parselmouth – I was a walking advertisement for 'this kid is going Dark.'

"You take good care of your wand," he observed. It was true – I polished it monthly and checked it for cracks or wear often. I was as attached to my wand as I had been when Mr. Ollivander first gave it to me.

"I remember when you gave it to me. You said I would do great things with it," I reminded him. Mr. Ollivander nodded and I knew he remembered just as well as I did.

"That I did. Serpensortia!" Mr. Ollivander cast, his eyes lingering on the Slytherin crest on my robes. A snake, an adder, shot from the tip of my wand. I scowled at him as Fleur recoiled and screamed girlishly at the reptile. It raised its head and peered around the room, letting out a low hiss.

"Where in holy hell am I? What is this? Oi, did you do this?" it snapped.

I glared at Ollivander darkly as the snake looked at me. I bent down, not in the least bit afraid of the adder despite the fact that they were venomous. Snakes didn't bother me at all.

"Sorry about this," I hissed at the snake, crouching down. If the adder could have, I think it would have grinned.

"Hey, you speak snake! Great, someone I can have a decent conversation with."

"Perhaps later, we're getting some odd looks," I requested, offering it a hand. The adder crawled up my arm, the cool, scaly weight of it soothing as it wrapped itself around my shoulders. I straightened up and turned to Mr. Ollivander.

"Can I have my wand back now?" I asked him tartly. Mr. Ollivander looked at me blankly.

Behind me, Harry advised, "English, Rena. She wants her wand back," he added to Mr. Ollivander.

I scowled and licked my lips. I had trouble pulling out of Parseltongue sometimes. It lingered in my mouth for whatever reason. I took my wand back from Ollivander and stalked back to my chair.

"Thanks," I said in English. Harry grinned.

"No problem."

"That leaves... Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said. Harry stood and approached the older wizard to hand over his hand. Harry's wand didn't interest me – I knew it had been up a troll's nose.

"Keep zat creature away from me," Fleur sniffed, scooting her chair farther away from me and closer to Cedric. The adder flicked out a tongue and lifted its head from my chest.

"I don't like her," the snake hissed. I smirked.

"I don't either," I cooed to it, stroking its head with a finger. Fleur shuddered and leaned even closer to Cedric. "Want to scare her? Just scare," I said sternly.

"It would be my pleasure."

The snake reared up and hissed at Fleur, opening its mouth wide and flashing its fangs. She shuddered again and curled closer to Cedric, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"I don't know how she can stand to have it touch her." Fleur shuddered delicately.

Cedric smiled at her sheepishly. "I've always thought it was a bit impressive."

I blinked at Cedric, thrown. "You… what?" I asked incredulously. He nodded.

"Yeah. I thought it was really brave how you stood up for your brother two years ago," Cedric explained. His eyes lingered on the adder and my lazy stroking of it. He raised a hand curiously. "Can I?"

I looked down at the adder. "I like this one, don't bite him," I ordered sternly. The adder bobbed its head.

"Got it, boss." I saw Fleur's eyes widen at the gesture. Cedric chuckled and reached out hesitantly.

"You really can talk to them," he said softly as his fingers made contact with the adder. Tentatively, he stroked it. I grinned as Cedric's face showed a childish delight. It wasn't often that snakes got the recognition they deserved. Personally, I thought they were brilliant. Then again, I was biased.

"I thought it'd be slimy, for some reason," he admitted.

The adder hissed angrily. "Oi!" Cedric whipped his hand back.

I hissed a warning back at it and looked at Cedric apologetically, stroking along the adder's spine soothingly.

"They don't really like that," I explained.

"Apparently," Cedric said faintly as Harry seated himself next to me again.

"Made a new friend?" Harry asked drily, nodding to the snake.

There was a flash of light and we both jerked as we were blinded. We whipped around and saw Rita Skeeter's cameraman lowering his camera. Rita swaggered forward.

"I'm Rita Skeeter," she announced, shaking hands. "I write for the Daily Prophet. But then, you knew that. It's you we don't know," Rita said, stepping back quickly. "It's you we don't know. You're the juicy news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks." She patted Fleur's cheek a bit harder than was strictly necessary. "What mysteries to the muscles mask." She stroked Krum's arm. "Does courage lie beneath those curls?" She ruffled Cedric's hair. I think the adder kept her away from Harry and I, for which I was grateful. I'd be fetching him some eggs from the kitchen before I turned him loose on the grounds. "In short, what makes a champion tick? Me myself and I want to know, not to mention my rabid readers. So, who's feeling up to sharing?"

Awkward silence reigned. "Shall we start with the youngest?" Rita seized Harry's arms and dragged him upright and towards a door. "Lovely!"

I shook my head and stared after my brother sympathetically, settling back into my chair. I reached into my bag and dug around. My Transfiguration textbook and the book on Patronus charms, and finally…

With a small sound of triumph I tugged free my Potions textbook and flipped through it thoughtfully to the section on antidotes. My own antidote for today's class was written on a clean sheet of parchment for easy reading, but it could also been found in cramped note form in the margins of my books. I skimmed over it again, looking for any improvements I could make there.

"I haf heard you are good at brewing," said a thickly accented voice. For once, it wasn't the one that made me cringe. I looked up at blinked at Krum.

"Eh? Oh yeah. I'm the best in my year," I said proudly.

"I vas never good at brewing," Krum admitted quietly. "I vas always best at flying."

I rolled my eyes. "No kidding. I'm a little jealous, to be honest," I admitted. "I've never seen anyone fly that well."

"You like flying?" Krum asked eagerly. I was quickly picking up on his type – surly until he found something he could talk to you about comfortably, then he opened up.

"Love it!" I grinned. "I tried out for the team second year and made Chaser. I've been playing ever since."

"Potter's a brilliant Chaser," Cedric put in. "I'm glad I don't have to go up against her on the pitch."

I was befuddled and Fleur looked incredibly put out. For once, I was the one that the man candy was doting on, not her. It felt good. I sent her a triumphant look and said, "Yeah, well, I'd say you're a brilliant Seeker but I'm biased you know."

Cedric nodded in understanding. "Of course," he said wryly.

"My friend Iliya, he flies as well," Krum put in. "Does your brother's friend like to fly? With the curly hair?"

I blinked at him incredulously and I could see Cedric looked amused over my shoulder, both of us reaching the same conclusion. Viktor Krum had a thing for Hermione Granger. Well now, that was unexpected. Then again, it would explain his constant haunting of the Library with a sullen Iliya trailing after him.

"Hermione Granger," I told him, and watched his face brighten slightly. "No, sorry. Hermione's a terrible flyer, actually. Brilliant though, completely brilliant. Really brave too," I added. "Did you know that in our second year she got Petrified?"

Krum's eyes widened in horror. "She vas?"

"Uh huh. But even though she was Petrified she ended up helping save lives. She had a page from a book in her hand, see. It helped Harry figure out it was a basilisk haunting the school."

Fleur's face was disbelieving. "You had a basilisk in your school?" She sniffed. "I don't believe you."

I snorted. "Believe what you want. I can take you down to see the thing's corpse if you like; Harry killed it."

I settled back and watched the two foreign students come to the same conclusion Cedric already had. Despite us being younger, Harry and I were no pushovers. We'd been in more dangerous situations than some wizards twice our age.

"Then there was the werewolf last year," I added as the door Skeeter had dragged Harry through opened up. Harry emerged looking infuriated. Krum and Fleur gaped after me as Rita Skeeter crooked her finger at me. Normally I would have denied her out of spite, but the moment was too good to pass up. I rose, leaving the slack-jawed foreigners and amused Cedric behind me.

"What's she like?" I whispered to Harry as I met him on my way across the room.

"Vile," Harry spit out. "Best not to say anything, Rena," he cautioned. I nodded and kept going towards the door. I stared inside it incredulously.

"This is a broom cupboard," I said blankly.

"I know, cozy isn't it?" Skeeter cooed and shut the door sharply, stepping in with me. She seated herself on a crate of Magical Mess Remover. I sat down on the crate opposite her. Between us was stretched a piece of parchment, already halfway filled, where an acid-green quill hovered.

"Don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?" Skeeter asked sweetly. "It lets me talk to you normally."

"That's fine," I allowed, watching her carefully.

"Lovely! Now, let's start with what made you enter the tournament."

"I didn't," I replied dully. It had become an instinctive reply. I didn't even think about it.

Skeeter winked at me. "Course you didn't." She smiled widely. "But come on, just between us… You're a Slytherin, and one with a reputation at that. So how'd you do it?"

"I didn't enter the tournament," I insisted. Skeeter looked slightly annoyed, but continued.

"Alright alright, keep your secrets. How about what we saw out there? How long have you been a Parseltongue?"

"Parselmouth," I said shortly.

"Pardon?"

"I am a Parselmouth," I explained slowly, as if I was talking to a very slow child. "I speak Parseltongue."

"Right, right," Skeeter said carelessly. "So is that why your little friend isn't attacking us right now?"

I stared at her incredulously. Adders had a reputation for being very shy around people – they avoided confrontation with humans. Attacking her? The adder would have slithered off into a crack in the walls somewhere if I hadn't stopped it.

My eyes flicked from her overly-made-up face to the quill, which was scribbling furiously across the parchment. Lorena Potter strokes the snake around her shoulders thoughtfully, seemingly unconcerned by the Dark reputation of Parseltongues. Or is it her house that gives her such ease around dangerous creatures?

"He's not dangerous!" I said defensively as I glared at the quill. It continued to scribble. Perhaps it is her growing Dark reputation that makes Miss Potter confident enough to enter such a dangerous tournament. "I didn't put my name in the tournament! And I don't have a Dark reputation!" I said furiously.

"Ignore the quill," Skeeter said sharply. "Tell me, do you think Dark magic would be effective in the tournament?"

I scoffed. "Of course. Any kind of magic would be effective, it being a magical tournament."

Lorena leans forwards and purrs, "I think Dark magic definitely has its uses."

"Do you think your parents would be proud of your actions?" Skeeter pressed. I scowled.

"I wouldn't know," I said shortly. "They died."

Miss Potter draws back, suddenly hesitant. "I… I don't know. I never met them," she says, seeming much more like the young girl of twelve one would expect her to be.

"I'm fourteen!" I exclaimed hotly.

"Right, of course. Do you think your past brushes with danger will make you more qualified to compete in this tournament?" Skeeter continued eagerly. Her hand reached out towards my cheek and her eyes held an ugly, eager light. I was done with this woman.

"Scare," I hissed at the adder, who reared up and hissed loudly. Skeeter pulled her hand back with a shriek. In English I continued, "Listen here, you absolute hag," I snarled. "I don't know what you're planning to write, but I warn you. Be very careful what you say about myself or my brother, or I will end up with that Dark reputation you seem so keen on, do you understand me?"

With that I turned and stormed out of the broom cupboard, pushing the door open so sharply that it banged loudly against the wall and rattled. All eyes turned to me as I stomped over to the chairs again.

"Rena," Harry groaned upon seeing my face. "What did you do?"

"The usual. Was sarcastic, threatened bodily harm," I said shortly. "See you later, Harry."

I slung my bag over my shoulder, being careful of the adder, and stalked from the room, red pounding at the corners of my vision. My fists coiled and uncoiled at my sides as I swept through the hallways, making a beeline to the kitchen. The pear was less tickled than it was brutally clawed at, but it turned into a doorknob nonetheless and I stepped into the kitchen.

The familiar bustle of the house elves and the scent of lunch being prepared calmed me a little and I looked around.

"Lorena!"

It had taken me all of three years, but Tippy had finally started calling me Lorena at the end of last year. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. I knew Tippy would start blaming herself if I was angry, and the last thing I wanted was her shutting her ears in the oven door.

"Hello Tippy," I greeted, crouching down slightly so that the little house elf didn't have to crane her neck.

"Tippy is glad to see Lorena!" Tippy squeaked. "Tippy has heard that Lorena will be in the tournament, Tippy has. Tippy has been very worried about Tippy's friend Lorena!"

"I'll be fine, Tippy," I assured her. "But do you think I could get some snacks?"

"Yes, yes!" Tippy said eagerly. "What would Lorena like?"

"Could I get a couple of eggs and some hot chocolate?" I asked. Tippy made a face.

"Eggs and hot chocolate? Lorena has very strange cravings."

I chuckled. "The eggs are for him," I said, nodding to the adder. "Just take them out of the carton, please."

Tippy's face brightened. "Lorena is feeding a snake! Lorena is a nice person!"

I shook my head helplessly and straightened up as Tippy hustled off. I wasn't that nice, I was just grateful for the adder's assistance and figured he deserved a treat.

Tippy returned only moments later with a basket holding three eggs and a thermos of hot chocolate.

"Here you go, Lorena, here you go!" Tippy said brightly. I thanked her. "Anything for Lorena! Anything Tippy can do to help Lorena, Tippy will do."

"That's sweet of you, Tippy. Say hi to Dobby for me!" I said gratefully before waving at the rest of the house elves and leaving the kitchen. I headed outside and towards a rocky section of the shore around the Black Lake. It would get lots of sun in the day time and had plenty of places to hide. Perfect for releasing a snake.

"Here we are," I said, sitting down on the rocks. I lifted the snake off my shoulders and set him down on the rocks. "You're free to go. Thanks for the help."

"No problem, boss, and thanks for the food," the snake hissed in reply as I pulled the eggs out of the basket and set them out for him. I took a swig of my hot chocolate. "Say, what's this tournament thing?"

I explained the Triwizard Tournament, trying not to focus too much on the fact that I was having a full-blown conversation with a snake. He was a great listener though.

"I feel bad," I admitted once I'd finished. "I've been calling you 'the snake' in my head. Do you have a name?"

The snake made a slight squelching sound as he finished forcing the second egg down his unhinged jaw and replied, "Nah, we don't really do that naming thing you humans do."

"Would you mind terribly if I gave you one?" I asked curiously. The snake bobbed its head thoughtfully.

"Might as well. Might be fun, having a name."

I tried to think of a suitably snaky name. "Silas?" I suggested. The snake pondered for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, I like that one. Silas. Yeah, I'm gonna be Silas!" He seemed excited about having a name. "Say, boss, want me to looked around, try and find out some information on the tournament for you?"

I bit my lip thoughtfully. On one hand, having a snake as a spy could be a big advantage. On the other hand, if Silas was seen he'd probably be blasted on sight by the nearest person with a wand. Of course if he stayed out of the castle then he would be able to sneak off into the grass or underbrush before anyone saw anything.

"You don't have to do this," I assured him. "I didn't do anything, really. I'm sure you have other things you could be doing."

Silas made a rolling motion with the first foot of its body. It was a snake-shrug, I guessed. "Yeah, but I don't have much going on lately. Besides, you saved my life when most people try to kill me. Just bring me an egg every now and then, huh?"

I nodded. "I could to that," I said thoughtfully. It really would be an advantage. "But stay out of the castle," I said sternly. "It's too dangerous for you in there."

"Okay," Silas replied eagerly. He seemed delighted at the idea of being a spy. "This has been a great day! Eggs, a name, and I got something to do!"

I chuckled. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," I replied, and stroked his back. "Just be careful, I don't want you getting hurt on my account."

"You won't even know I'm here," Silas replied smugly before unhinging his jaw to take on the last egg.

As this chapter is going up I am writing the last chapter of year four. Yeah, it's pretty much done, and I'm very excited about it. After that there will be a chapter or two of summer and then I'll probably take a break from posting for a little while before charging headfirst into year 5, where Lorena makes a deal with the devil ;) I will admit that I pulled a lot of Voldemort's dialogue for the graveyard scene from the book - no matter how hard I try I can't write him, I don't know why. Hope you guys don't hate me too much for that.

Oh, and also, I don't know if any of you have noticed but I updated the story photo! What do you guys think?