I'm depressed. I almost finish this chapter and when I am saving it, there's no internet! That saddens me and lefts me depressed, my motivation goes away to who knows where.

Sorry if the chapter isn't good. I wasn't in the mood at all when I wrote it again.

I glared at the notebook.

Billy the bunny was sitting on one side of the bed, its button eyes staring right at me without actually seeing.

After a long internal battle on my mind, I had finally decided to look through the rest of the drawings. Alone.

As always, the girl's dormitories were abandoned until the end of the last feast of the day. Using that to my advantage, I spend my time here debating whether or not to see the entire notebook. Just in case, I had pulled down the curtains around my bed, making it seem I was asleep if Lavender, Parvati or Hermione arrived. I didn't worry about Fay, she doesn't care about what do we do with our time.

I looked down insecurely at the leather-bound notebook. What would I see now? It was obvious all the drawings were kind of visions of the future the moment I made them. Or did I really drew them? Because, as much as I remember loving to draw before I came to Hogwarts, I couldn't be that good at all.

Puffing my cheeks in annoyance, I let out a very long breath of air. I nodded again to reassure myself of this.

"Here it goes nothing," I mumbled.

I opened the notebook and let it on the drawing with the statue of the death. I grabbed the corner of the page and closed my eyes tightly. It seemed it was a lifetime as I lifted slowly the page. I half-opened one eye and peered down at the next drawing.

I gaped.

It was Mr. Crouch.

And he looked more madder than I ever believe to have seen before.

There wasn't a star on the corner. Yet.

I ran as fast as I could. I almost slipped down a few times in the stairs, but I didn't care.

I needed to tell someone. Someone whom I could trust, someone who will believe me, even if this seemed crazy. Hell, I still couldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own hazel eyes. Which, I forgot to mention, started to burn slightly. The pain wasn't sufferable like the other last times. Reaching a window, I stopped, paralyzed to what I just was seeing.

My eyes. They weren't my eyes. There was no trace of hazel at all. Instead, a deep icy blue met my own desperate eyes as I tried to search for something, anything to tell me I was having a dream. I closed my eyes tightly again this night. I just hoped this was only a very rather disturbing dream. Opening my eyes, I looked again to the window.

I gasped. There it was again. The old scrawny familiar girl with the hazel eyes, not the disturbing and mischievous blue ones. Pondering what just had happened, I remembered the main reason why was I in such a hurry and resumed my jogging, forgetting this strange moment at all.

I was almost near the corridor where I was going to, when I suddenly rounded the corner and found myself faced with black.

Stepping back in surprise, I unceremoniously dropped on my butt, the notebook falling from my grip.

The black robe kneeled in front of it and grabbed it, pulling himself upright and gazing with a skeptical eye the obvious first drawings.

Paling, I awkwardly scrambled to my feet, trying to not trip over my robes in the process.

"Miss Barton," his drawling voice made me look directly to those black void eyes, whom to my shock, were almost shining in amusement. "Is there a reason for you to be running in these halls, and missing the feast?"

I mouthed wordlessly. Professor Snape was waiting patiently for an answer as I made myself look pathetic, representing what he thinks of Gryffindors.

Closing my mouth, I sighed deeply.

"I was going to the Headmaster's office," I said calmly.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Why so?"

I wished he would stop inquiring. Looking again once more, my right foot started to move in that of tapping. How do I explain this without looking like a raving lunatic? Before I'll knew it, the papers are going to call me "Freaky Anne" like in St. Louise's.

"It's really important," I found myself saying. I winced. I could slap myself right there, or better yet, I should let Snape slap me by how lame that sounded.

Both of his eyebrows rose up to his hairline, clearly thinking the same. Not that I blame him, mind you.

"The Headmaster has more important matters to ponder on, than what a student has to say," he said.

I huffed, puffing my cheeks as I glared.

"But what if said student has information involving one of the judges in the Triwizard tournament?" I said, looking directly at him.

Snape scowled. He looked down at the notebook and started flickering through the pages. He stared at the few of first year to third year. His expression grew dark when he reached one with him pointing his wand at Uncle Sirius and Professor Lupin.

"And what does these drawings of your personal life have to - "

He stopped dead on one page. The Professor instantly lost all the color it was left on his face. Frowning, I raised a little on my tiptoes and tried to look at the drawing. It was placed after the drawing of the Black Lake. It was a pale arm showing a tattoo. The doodle was of a snake intervened as the form of an eight, and at the top, the snake was holding a skull with its jaw.

Huh. I don't remember seeing that one.

Rather abruptly, Snape shut close the notebook and glared at the cover as if he was guilty of murder. Perhaps he was, seeing as Mr. Crouch's image wasn't very comforting at all.

"Follow me," he snapped, and abruptly, turned around, his dark cloak bellowing dramatically behind him.

Bewildered, I jogged up to caught up to his quick stride. To me, Snape seemed to be floating like a ghost. Or maybe a vampire... Or a big exuberant bat...

Five minutes later we were hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor. It seemed like an eternity that I had seen this before. When Ginny and I were rescued from Tom Riddle, we had come to Mr. Dumbledore's office to 'explain' what really happened. And now - again - I came to explain this new strange success. I wondered if someday I would come to just take a cup of tea with the Headmaster.

"Choco Sparks," muttered Professor Snape in an annoyed tone. The Gargoyle stone moved aside and, eagerly, Snape began to ascend the circular stairs. Following, I quickly found myself facing double oak doors. Without even bothering to knock, Snape opened both doors in a very dramatically way, leaving me once again to follow. The man should have been on Broadway.

There, sitting comfortably on his desk, Albus Dumbledore raises his head, stopping reading once he noticed we were in front of his larger desk.

"Oh, hello Severus," he greeted cheerfully, then his gaze flickered towards me. "And Miss Barton. Why do I have the honor of your visit?"

Without even talking, Professor Snape rudely slammed the notebook on the desk, making the portraits of certain Headmasters look over at us curiously. I blushed from the attention we were receiving.

Not even disturbed by Snape, Mr. Dumbledore calmly opened the notebook and began flickering through the pages. He too, reached the same drawing with the arm with a tattoo, and then looked up at me. I almost took a step back. His expression was rarely somber, and - what's that restrained anger I perceive? - no, it was more like shock.

"Please, leave us alone," Dumbledore waved a hand to the doors. Snape didn't even seem offended at all. With a last swept of his robes, he left us alone.

The silence was unbearable. Never on my life I thought I would find myself in this situation with the man who changed my life three years ago. I glanced curiously around Mr. Dumbledore's office. I looked up at the walls behind his desk. The patched and ragged Sorting Hat was standing on a shelf. A glass case next to it held a magnificent silver sword with large rubies set into the hilt, which I recognized to be the Gryffindor Sword Harry had pulled out from the Sorting Hat in our second year.

"Anya," I snapped my head towards the high chair. Mr. Dumbledore was looking at me blankly, not even his blue eyes sparkled like they always did. I could tell there was a swirling of emotions behind those half-moon spectacles of his, making my stomach drop.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice was soothing, but my nerves were at high stake.

I gulped. "Yes, Sir."

Oh my, I called him 'sir'. This is worse than I thought.

"May I?" I motioned to the notebook. The Professor nodded grimly, and I grabbed the notebook.

Passing page through page became a little annoying. Mostly because of the silence, the flickering could be heard from a mile.

I finally reached that last page, and I put it down in the desk, the image that perturbed me facing the Headmaster directly.

The man just looked down at it.

"All the pictures," I started to say. "They're certain moments of my life. I drew them when I was on the Orphanage at the age of seven. I thought the notebook was enchanted, no one can draw this good at that age." I sighed. "All of the pictures have a small star on the corner of the page. This one doesn't."

"I see," Mr. Dumbledore murmured.

"I believe the ones that have the star, are moments that already happened."

"Hmm."

Silence again.

I lowered my gaze down to the floor. He didn't believe me. My heart sank. I thought he did believe, that he was different. Why hadn't he say something? Did Mr. Dumbledore thought I was mad? I certainly do now!

Rather bravely, I raised my head a little. I yelped.

The image of Barty Crouch had been added with more scenery. Instead of the dark black void behind him, the rest of the page became green. The color of grass, precisely.

And, running from the corner of his mouth, a trickle of blood made its way down his chin.

"Oh god," I whispered, horrified to what I just had seen. Mr. Dumbledore didn't seem unfazed by this: instead, he stood up and, rounding the corner, he began to walk towards the oak doors.

"Bring the drawing book, Miss Barton," Dumbledore called over his shoulder. "Is possible that we may have to need it."

Not even answering, I just grabbed the damned notebook and began to follow him.

As we walked downstairs, the green robes of the professor wrinkled on his feet, making me wonder when was he going to stumble. Thankfully without accidents, we reached down, were the wall slide open and we met the back of Severus Snape. Hadn't he left already?

"Is there a problem?" Dumbledore asked curiously. I peered down his arm, and saw Snape glaring at - Harry?!

"Professor!" Harry called, sidestepping Snape, whom looked ready to say something. "Mr. Crouch is here - he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

My eyes widened. Mr. Crouch?

Dumbledore looked down at me briefly, before he nodded at Harry.

"Lead the way," he said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind Harry, with me hot on their trails.

"What did Mr. Crouch say, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as we walked swiftly down the marble staircase.

"Said he wants to warn you...said he's done something terrible...he mentioned his son...and Bertha Jorkins...and - and Voldemort...something about Voldemort getting stronger..." Harry said nervously.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, and he quickened his pace as we hurried out into the pitch-darkness. I almost fell down face to the ground as I tried to keep their stride.

"He's not acting normally," Harry said, hurrying along beside Dumbledore. "He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see you. ... I left him with Viktor Krum."

"You did what?" I asked sharply. Harry jumped, obviously not noticing me before.

"Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. Crouch?" Dumbledore asked in the same tone. Harry glanced at me before we both tried to keep up with his quick strides.

"No," Harry panted.

"That's too convenient," I murmured to myself.

"Krum and I were talking, Mr. Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task, we stayed behind, and then we saw Mr. Crouch coming out of the forest -"

"Where are they?" said Dumbledore as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness.

"Over here," Harry said, moving in front of Dumbledore to led the way through the trees. It was eerily quiet. Harry said he left Krum with Mr. Crouch, so there would be sound of breathing.

I just hope Krum wasn't hurt.

"Viktor?" Harry shouted.

No one answered him.

"They were here," Harry said to Dumbledore as I pulled my wand out . "They were definitely somewhere around here..."

"Lumos," I said, lighting my wand and holding it up. Mr. Dumbledore did the same.

It narrow beam combined with mine, lightning up several tree trunks at a time, illuminating the ground. And then they fell upon a pair of feet.

The three of us hurried forward. Krum was sprawled on the forest floor. He seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. Dumbledore bent over Krum and gently lifted one of his eyelids.

"Stunned," he said softly. His half-moon glasses glittered in the wandlight as he peered around at the surrounding trees.

"Should we get help?" I asked him, looking around. Maybe Crouch was still around.

"No," Dumbledore said swiftly. "Stay here, both of you."

He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. I saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird. Then Dumbledore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, "Ennervate."

Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumbledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and made him lie still.

"He attacked me!" Krum muttered, putting a hand up to his head. "The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!"

"Lie still for a moment," Dumbledore said.

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached us, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry - Anne - what the -?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore said. "His student has been attacked. Miss Barton, kindly alert Professor Moody -"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a wheezy growl. "I'm here."

Moody was limping toward us, leaning on his staff, his wand lit. He nodded at me, I did the same.

"Damn leg," he said furiously. "Would've been here quicker...what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch -"

"Crouch?" Hagrid said blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" Dumbledore said sharply.

"Oh yeah...right y'are, Professor..." Hagrid said, and he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," Moody growled, and he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest.

We didn't spoke again until we heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them. He was wearing his sleek silver furs, and he looked pale and agitated.

"What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum on the ground and Dumbledore, Harry, and I beside him. "What's going on?"

"I vos attacked!" Krum said, sitting up now and rubbing his head. "Mr. Crouch or votever his name -"

"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor," Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid.

"Treachery!" he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. "It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences - here's what I think of you!"

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree.

"Apologize!" Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.

You tell him, Hagrid!

"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.

Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

"Kindly escort Harry and Anya back up to the castle, Hagrid," Dumbledore said sharply.

Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look.

"Maybe I'd better stay here, Headmaster..."

"You will take Harry and Anya back to school, Hagrid," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "Take them right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry, Anya - I want you to stay there. Anything you might want to do - any owls you might want to send - they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"Er - yes," Harry said as we stared at him. I think Mr. Dumbledore just had guessed what Harry had planned to do.

"I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster," Hagrid said, staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still sprawled at the foot of the tree, tangled in furs and tree roots. "Stay, Fang. C'mon, Harry, Anne."

We marched in silence past the Beauxbatons carriage and up toward the castle.

"How dare he," Hagrid growled as we strode past the lake. "How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin' like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you in the tournament in the firs' place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he's bin lately. An' you two!" Hagrid suddenly said angrily to Harry and I, both of us looking back at him, taken aback. "What were yeh doin', wanderin' off with ruddy Krum? He's from Durmstrang, Harry, Anne! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn' he? Hasn' Moody taught either of yeh nothin'? 'Magine lettin' him lure yeh off on yer own -"

"Hey, I wasn't with him!" I exclaimed.

"Besides, Krum's all right!" Harry said as weclimbed the steps into the entrance hall. "He wasn't trying to jinx me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione -"

"Really?" I gushed. Harry was going to answer but Hagrid interrupted, again.

"I'll be havin' a few words with her, an' all," he said grimly, stomping up the stairs. "The less you lot 'ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh'll be. Yeh can trust any of 'em."

"I trust James," I said firmly. Besides all of his moody changes...

"You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime," Harry said, annoyed.

They exactly weren't the right words to say.

"Don' you talk ter me abou' her!" Hagrid shouted, making me stumble into Harry from the surprise. "I've got her number now! Tryin' ter get back in me good books, tryin' ter get me ter tell her what's comin' in the third task. Ha! You can' trust any of 'em! Not even tha' friend of yers, Anne!"

I glared at him, but decided to not say anything. Hagrid was in such fool mood because of Madam Maxime, not the foreigners. Saying a strained good-bye to him, I watched as he walked away.

Harry clambered through the portrait hole into the common room and hurried straight for the corner where Ron and Hermione were sitting, probably to tell them what had happened.

Gulping, I opened the notebook, marked on the page with Mr. Crouch's draw.

There was a pentagram star on the corner of the page.