"Draco just leave me alone!" Rosabella growled with annoyance as she attempted to storm away from her arrogant and prejudice brother.
"Rosie wait," Draco pleaded, trailing after his sister. "Rosie, please wait!" He called out to Rosabella, who had seated herself underneath a large oak tree.
"Go away Draco," Rosabella cried in discontent. She couldn't deal with his overbearing pride right now.
"Hey," Draco began softer than his heated argument minutes prior. Yet, instead of calming his sister, Rosabella simply glared at him furiously. "Rosie, please understand." Draco proposed, his sister raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"Draco..." Rosabella stared, causing Draco to avert his eyes, "I don't think you understand... there is nothing for me to understand here." She replied acidly preparing to turn on her heel.
Draco simply stepped back in resignation, he knew he'd screwed up. "I just- you were-" He stuttered unable to form a sentence.
"Draco... you've insulted my friends on countless occasions and continue to... you and Blaise act every bit my superior and then pretended like its nothing when you want or need something and suddenly decide to be nice again!" Rosabella's voice was raised, her anger echoing through the tranquil air. "Why can't I just have these last few months of normality before my life changes forever?" She questioned, Draco staring at his feet in a loss for words.
"I'm sorry Rosie," Draco replied genuinely, grasping the stress and pressure his sister would be feeling daily. "I'm so sorry for everything. My arrogance, my pride and for hurting you most of all."
Rosabella gazed at her brother's sudden maturity. "You need to understand what I feel... and who I want in my life."
Draco nodded in agreement. "I know..."
"I'll always forgive you, Draco." Rosabella sighed, taking a step closer to her brother. "But this doesn't change what you've done," She continued, ensuring his ego remained closer to earth while they recovered. "We just need time to heal." She smiled, moving to hug Draco tightly.
Draco embraced his little sister tightly, desperately wanting to forget their fights and his arrogant habits. "Thank you, Rosie," He breathed, "for always understanding..."
Ron, Hermione and Rosabella were supposed to be studying for their exams, which would finish on the day of the third task, but they were putting most of their efforts into helping Harry prepare.
"Don't worry about it," Hermione said shortly when Harry pointed this out to them and said he didn't mind practising on his own for a while, "at least we'll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class."
"Good training for when we're all Aurors," said Ron excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a wasp that had buzzed into the room and making it stop dead in midair.
The mood in the castle as they neared June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry was practising hexes at every available moment. He felt more confident about this task than either of the others. Difficult and dangerous though it would undoubtedly be, Moody was right: Harry had managed to find his way past monstrous creatures and enchanted barriers before now, and this time he had some notice, some chance to prepare himself for what lay ahead.
"Come and look at this," said Ron, who was standing by the window. He was staring down onto the grounds. "What's Malfoy doing?"
Tired of walking in on Harry, Hermione, and Ron all over the school, Professor McGonagall had given them permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtimes.
"Come and look at this," said Ron, who was standing by the window. He was staring down onto the grounds. "What's Malfoy doing?"
Harry and Hermione went to see. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it.
"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," said Harry curiously.
"He can't be," said Hermione, "I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts. Come on, Harry," she added briskly, turning away from the window and moving back into the middle of the room, "let's try that Shield Charm again."
Harry nodded before taking one final glance when he noticed the golden locks he'd become ever familiar with in the distance. He glanced down at Draco who too noticed her walking towards the castle with Gabrielle close behind her. Malfoy held his hand up to his mouth once more and speaking into it. Harry stared with confusion at the scene before Hermione ushered him back to practice.
Rosabella and Ginny trodded into the Great Hall, evidently exhausted from their final exam. Rosabella stared at Harry with confusion, watching as he stared down at his empty plate, "He's not eating, again," Rosabella groaned, Ginny nodding in agreement.
"How was your Herbology exam?" Hermione questioned the pair upon their arrival.
"Okay, I guess," Ginny sighed, taking a seat beside Ron. "I'm just glad OWLs are over," The red-headed girl answered, pulling some food into her plate. Rosabella just nodded her head in agreement, staying silent as Hermione pestered Harry about his lack of eating, again.
Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated it all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it.
"What?" said Harry and Ron together, staring at her, Rosabella glancing over her best friends shoulder gasped in shock.
"Nothing," Hermione and Rosabella replied quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but Ron grabbed it. He stared at the headline and said, "No way. Not today. That old cow."
"What?" Harry questioned confused. "Rita Skeeter again?"
"No," Ron shook his head, and just like Hermione and Rosabella, he attempted to push the paper out of sight.
"It's about me, isn't it?" Harry sighed, gazing down at his untouched breakfast.
"No," Ron replied, in an entirely unconvincing tone.
Yet before Harry could demand to see the paper, Draco Malfoy shouted across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table. "Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?" Draco was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet too.
Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry's reaction.
"Let me see it," Harry said to Ron. "Give it here."
Very reluctantly, Ron handed over the newspaper. Harry turned it over and found himself staring at his own picture, beneath the banner headline:
HARRY POTTER "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"
The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behaviour, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School...
"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" Harry said lightly, folding up the paper.
Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle were still laughing at him, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces, and waggling their tongues like snakes.
Rosabella turned to face her brother, her eyes burning into the side of his face until his gazed locked with her's. She shook her head and Draco knew simply, he'd gone too far. He mouthed a simple apology and hurriedly quietened down the Slytherin goons.
They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.
Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each — Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points — Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" More applause. "And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"
Harry could just make out Rosabella, Ron, Daniel and Hermione applauding Fleur politely, halfway up the stands. He waved up at them, and they waved back, beaming at him.
"So . . . on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three — two — one —"
He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze. The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment they entered the maze.
Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; his face was pressed into grass; the smell of it filled his nostrils. He had closed his eyes while the Portkey transported him, and he kept them closed now. He did not move. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of him; his head was swimming so badly he felt as though the ground beneath him were swaying like the deck of a ship. To hold himself steady, he tightened his hold on the two things he was still clutching: the smooth, cold handle of the Tri-wizard Cup and Cedric's body. He felt as though he would slide away into the blackness gathering at the edges of his brain if he let go of either of them. Shock and exhaustion kept him on the ground, breathing in the smell of the grass, waiting . . . waiting for someone to do something . . . something to happen . . . and all the while, his scar burned dully on his forehead. . . .
A torrent of sound deafened and confused him; there were voices everywhere, footsteps screams. . . . He remained where he was, his face screwed up against the noise, as though it were a nightmare that would pass. . . .
Then a pair of hands seized him roughly and turned him over. "Harry! Harry!" He opened his eyes. He was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus Dumbledore was crouched over him. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer; Harry felt the ground beneath his head reverberating with their footsteps.
He had come back to the edge of the maze. He could see the stands rising above him, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above.
Harry let go of the cup, but he clutched Cedric to him even more tightly. He raised his free hand and seized Dumbledore's wrist, while Dumbledore's face swam in and out of focus.
"He's back," Harry whispered. "He's back. Voldemort."
"What's going on? What's happened?" The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry; it looked white, appalled. "My God — Diggory!" it whispered. "Dumbledore — he's dead!"
The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them . . . and then others shouted it — screeched it — into the night — "He's dead!" "He's dead!" "Cedric Diggory! Dead!"
Harry glanced beside him seeing the faint outline of Rosabella attempting to aid him. His mind was wandering, fearing the worst when she'd ask about what had happened in that graveyard...
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