Emile spent the next few days crying on and off. She tried not to cry in public, but sometimes a tear would leak out, and she wouldn't be able to stop it. Thankfully, the small voice in her head managed to keep a lid on it during times like these to the point that she almost forgot he was there at times.

The morning after his death she had gone with her Aunt and Uncle to talk to Harry. She knew the story, so she sat silently, holding her Aunt's hand as it was did not blame him for what had happened; on the contrary, both thanked him for returning Cedric's body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs. Diggory's grief seemed to be beyond tears.

"He suffered very little then," she said. "And after all, Amos . . . he died just when he'd won the tournament. He must have been happy."

When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and said, "You look after yourself, now."

Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table.

"You take this," he muttered to her. "It should've been Cedric's, he got there first, you take it —"

But Mrs. Diggory backed away from him.

"Oh no, it's yours, dear, I couldn't . . . you keep it."

Many people were spreading nasty rumors about poor Harry. They seemed to believe the nasty article Rita Skeeter had written not long ago, about how he was a crazy teen going through a mental breakdown. All Horserubbish.

Emile was slowly getting used to having another voice in her head. Bartemius was somewhat nice, when he wasn't raving about the dark lord and his plans.

She wasn't looking forward to going home for the summer. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory were having Cedric's funeral the day after she got back, and Emile didn't think she could bear being all alone with Mrs. Diggory all day while her husband was at work.

Fred and George had promised to ask their mother if she could come spend the summer with them which was something Emile would really look forward to. Apparently, there was a different plan.

The final day of term, mere hours before the closing feast, a nervous first year came into the sixth years dormitories with a note for Emile.

Miss Gorska,

Will you kindly come to my office upon receiving this message? Head to the statue of the stone gargoyle and simply tell it the name of your favorite candy.

Professor Albus Dumbledore

"Have fun, we'll take the loft bed down for you!" Angelina called after her as she went out the the room, Carrot perched on her shoulder. It took Emile several minutes to locate the stone gargoyle statue.

She desperately wished she had the Marauder's Map, but the twins had given it to Harry, who had given it to Bartemius Crouch Jr.

It's in the office, I've said this before.

Alright then we'll go get it after this meeting.

Turn right here, the statue is down that hall.

Why should I trust you?

I'm older than you, you ought to respect your superiors.

You're nothing but a voice in my head. Oh, there's the gargoyle.

See? I can be nice.

Emile rolled her eyes and smiled, despite her attempts not to.

"Chocolate Cauldron," she said out loud, jumping as the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal a hidden staircase.

I'd forgotten that I've been here before.

Yeah, no kidding.

It's a bit weird to think that you have access to my memories.

You have access to mine too, you just need to figure out how to get to them.

Emile paused at the top of the steps, knocking on the wooden door.

"Come in!" Called the voice of the headmaster.

Emile cautiously opened the door and slid in, closing it carefully behind her. Professor Dumbledore beckoned her forward, to sit down in a chair across the desk from him next to the familiar figure of Professor Snape.

"She's the horcrux?" A familiar voice said gruffly from behind Dumbledore. The real Mad Eye Moody limped out from behind Dumbledore's chair, wooden leg thumping on the floor and magic eye whirling in his socket.

"Professor Moody, glad to see you're alright," Emile said.

He was never really a Professor, that was me. I made a darn good teacher too.

You scared most of the kids half to death.

I was still nicer than this lumox would have been.

"Stop talking to him, child," Professor Moody glared at Emile.

"How did you know?"

"You began to make weird facial expressions. It's obvious that you're having a conversation in your head." He growled, sitting down next to Dumbledore.

"Now Miss Emile, it is vital that you learn Occlumency to protect yourself from suffering a fate not too different from the one Ginny Weasley almost faced two years ago," professor Dumbledore got straight to business.

"Occlumency?" Emile frowned, she knew she had heard that term somewhere but where.

I've heard it, not you.

You have?

The Dark Lord is exceptionally gifted in invading one's mind with Legilimency. Many of us followers attempted to learn it from him, but we didn't succeed. So instead we learned Occlumency to protect our minds in case someone from the ministry was to attempt to penetrate our minds. Only the Dark Lord could accomplish such tasks as penetrating our minds.

"Thank you, Bartemius Crouch jr." Professor Dumbledore said aloud after a moment.

Tell the old bat I say you're welcome.

"He say's 'you're welcome'," Emile said with an eye roll.

"After your cousins funeral, you will join the Weasley's in heading to a secret location where you will spend the remainder of your summer. There Professor Snape will meet with you weekly to train your mind," Dumbledore continued.

"Professor Snape?" Emile looked quizzically at the potions master to her left. He had never shown much interest in her before, why would he accept this task now?

"Professor Snape is a skilled in both Occlumency and Legilimency, no doubt you will be taken care of." Professor Dumbledore paused and scribbled something out on a piece of paper. "Here is a letter for your Aunt and Uncle. Make sure you give it to them as soon as possible."

"Will do, Professor."

Carrot let out a few squeaks from her shoulder, receiving a warm look from Professor Snape.

Emile left the office, heading down the steps and out from behind the Gargoyle. But instead of going to her room to pack she went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

So, where was it exactly?

Go into the office. Ok now the drawer by the golden skeakescope. No the other one.

There's seven sneakescopes.

Seven's a magical number.

This drawer?

Yes, that one. With the wood stain that looks like a duck in a scarf.

It looks more like a Penguin doing the splits.

Can you just open it already?

Emile did as she was told, and fell to the floor in shock. The Marauders Map was sitting in the drawer, folded neatly. But on top was something she had been looking for for a long time.

You took the letter from my father?

Well, yeah. I needed some way to track him. I enter your mind when you become super emotional, you know. When you read this letter at one in the morning after that dramatic ball I was forced to watch through your eyes as you cried out of worry for your father.

So what, I'm not allowed to love my father because you didn't love yours?

He didn't love me.

Wait, did you kill my father?

Finally you catch on.

Why?

I couldn't take a lifetime of watching you cry over your father as he messed up as mine did. Believe me, I did you a favor.

Bartemius Crouch Jr., I don't know what exactly your problem is but as long as you are in my head we are going to work on fixing you.

Good luck.

The feast was a more solemn affair than usual. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House's colors for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teacher's table. Emile felt a knot form in her stomach as she saw what was obviously meant as a sign of respect for Cedric.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him.

Professor Dumbledore, who stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet.

"The end," said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, "of another year."

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

They did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Cedric Diggory."

Angelina nudged Emile in the side.

"Look at Cho," she whispered with a nod towards the Ravenclaw table.

Emile caught a glimpse of Cho through the crowd. There were tears pouring silently down her face.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

There was a silent pause. Everyone in the hall seemed to be holding their breaths.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

A small chorus of frightened whispers followed Dumbledore's words. Emile noticed Lee, who was sitting several feet down the table, staring at her. His eyes were unreadable.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter." A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry's direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured his name, as they had murmured Cedric's, and drank to him.

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before."

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum looked wary, almost frightened, as though he expected Dumbledore to say something harsh.

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."

"It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

Emile was crying at the end of the speech. She didn't eat much of the meal, the crowd talking about Cedric and Harry was too distracting.

"If Harry and Dumbledore both say Voldemort's back, then he's back," Emile snapped at a fifth year who was talking loudly about how this was a pile of rubbish as they made their way back to the common room.

Merlin's beard Emile, be nice to the small children.

"Ignore them, Em," Fred said with a frown.

"It's almost as hard as ignoring you two," Emile said, a momentary smile on her lips.

The next morning Emile had her trunk packed and was waiting by the crowded entrance with Fred and George for the horse drawn carriages to pull up. Students from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton were running around, saying their last goodbye's as the magnificent ship and carriage were being prepared to leave.

Fleur herself went over to say goodbye to Harry. Emile wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for Fred laughing at Ron's red face when she approached him and Harry. Hermione was scowling next to him.

"Emile," Viktor Krum was walking past her. "It vwas vwonderfull to see you again."

"You too, Viktor. I hope you do well with your Quidditch career, you are an excellent seeker."

Viktor smiled and they shook hands before he turned away, pushing through the crowd towards Hermione.

"I still can't believe he talks to you," Fred said in amazement as the three of them loaded their trunks into one of the nearby carriages.

"How could he not?" George said with a wink at Emile.

The train ride was enjoyable and calm. Emile had opened up the windows in their compartment, much to the disapproval of Angelina.

"We don't all have short, manageable hair you know!" She cried indignantly as the wind caused her poofy black hair to slap her in the face.

"Let me help you," Emile laughed, braiding her friends hair back in a french braid.

"Anything from the trolley?" A cheerful voice asked as she slid open the door to their compartment.

"A pumpkin pastie!" Emile trilled as she pulled out her wallet.

You like those? They taste terrible, like soap.

Yeah just like how you probably smelled when you actually took bath's.

That was very rude and uncalled for.

Says you.

As she took her food a familiar blonde haired git rushed by with his two goons.

"What's he up to?" Fred said suspiciously as Draco stopped several compartments down and opened the door.

"Harry's in that compartment," George sighed, pulling out his wand.

"Reckon we should check up on him," Fred grinned, leaving the compartment.

"Wait for me!" Emile took a large bite of her pastie, relishing the pumpkin spice.

She followed the boys and stood out in the hallway behind them, getting momentarily blinded as a stream of hexes and jinxes hit Draco and his pals square on.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment, followed quickly by George and Emile.

"Interesting effect," said George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Odd," said George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle — each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit — out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

They were halfway through their fifth game when Harry sprung the anticipated question onto the twins.

"You going to tell us, then?" he said to George. "Who you were blackmailing?"

"Oh," said George darkly. "That."

"It doesn't matter," said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," said George, shrugging.

But Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept on asking, and finally, Fred said, "All right, all right, if you really want to know . . . it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman?" said Harry sharply. "Are you saying he was involved in —"

"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?" said Ron.

Fred hesitated, then said, "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah," said Harry and Ron slowly.

"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

"So?"

"So," said Fred impatiently, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"But — it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione.

George laughed very bitterly. "Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back," said George glowering.

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!" said Ron.

"Tell me about it," said George. " 'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" said Harry. "He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win!" said Harry. "Well — I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope," said George, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again. Emile gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, unable to speak through her mouthful of Pumpkin Pastie.

Emile soon got off the train she said goodbye to her friends before disapparating to the Diggory manor, where she was glad to know she wouldn't have to spend a long time there. She wasn't eager to be in the house haunted by the ghosts of her past.

Hey, at least you've got me for company.

Emile let out a groan and collapsed onto her bed.

Oh, everyone's a critic.