Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything else that may be referenced in this chapter.

A/N: Giant thank you to you all for reading, reviewing, following and favouring, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter! :)

Chapter 16

Blaise chuckled, remembering the night Rose's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire and their deal. He leant down and kissed Rose's cheek softly. "It will be magnificent, Rosie," he murmured, smiling at the blush that spread across her cheeks as he pulled away. "And everything is going to be okay."

Rose wanted to believe him whole-heartedly about this last. She really, honestly, genuinely did. But there was a part of her mind- a small part, yes, but nevertheless a part- that, for whatever reason, felt that things weren't going to be okay for a long time.

The following evening found Rose sitting in the back of the library, desperately trying to research before her next Muggle Studies lesson. They had, thankfully, moved on from aerodynamics, but were now studying Muggle literature. More specifically, something to do with a shaking pear. They had been asked to research about it for their next lesson, but Rose was starting to think she'd misheard Professor Burbage, as she had looked through five books about Muggle literature and there had been very little mention of fruit of any kind, let alone pears. As Rose decided to give up and try and wing any questions Burbage might ask, Harry arrived and threw himself into the seat beside her, looking disgruntled.

"What's the matter?" Rose asked, closing her sixth book.

"Ron and Hermione never stop arguing." Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair in a manner not dissimilar to Sirius. "It's driving me up the wall."

"What're they arguing about?"

"Hermione annoyed the house-elves with her Spew stuff, and they more or less kicked us out of the kitchens. Ron said they wouldn't want us coming to visit them anymore and we could've got more from Winky about Crouch and Hermione retorted saying he only cared about the food we got and it all just went downhill from there." Harry said.

"Why are you talking to Winky about Crouch?" Rose asked, confused.

"Oh, you weren't there, yesterday." Harry remembered. "Well, apparently Crouch was once very popular during Voldemort's rise to power because he ordered that Death Eaters be killed, rather than captured, and he started sentencing people accused of Voldemort-related crimes to Azkaban without trial. Sirius was one of them."

"Really?" Rose raised her eyebrows, remembering how rule-abiding and grave Crouch had seemed the night the champions' names had come out of the Goblet of Fire. He did seem the type to go a bit mad if society went askew.

"Yup." Harry nodded in response to her question. "But the thing is, Crouch had a son, who joined the Death Eaters. He was arrested when Crouch was at the height of his popularity; tipped to become Minister for Magic. Crouch gave his son a trial- but Sirius said it was little more than an excuse for Crouch to show just how much he hated his son. The son died in Azkaban and when he did people started feeling a bit sympathetic towards him; saying it was Crouch's fault his son went astray, because he spent so much time away from home aiding the war effort. Crouch lost everything: his popularity; his family's honour; his wife even died soon after his son went to Azkaban. I think that's why he fired Winky- her being found with the wand that conjured the Dark Mark must've dragged up the memories. Didn't do him much good though; firing her. Did you see the Prophet?"

"No," Rose shook her head. Though she subscribed, Rose scarcely actually read the Daily Prophet; it was more Draco's thing than hers.

"Well, apparently Crouch is ill. He hasn't been seen in public since October and his house appears deserted and St. Mungo's and the Ministry are keeping mum." Harry said. "I don't think he's that ill, because he's managed to get up here alright. Sirius reckons Crouch thinks he can win all his old popularity back by catching one more Death Eater."

Rose frowned slightly. "…But if that's true why has he been coming here at night and searching Severus's off- oh." Realisation struck: Crouch, like Moody, thought that Severus was a Death Eater. "But he's not," she said.

Harry looked uneasy. "Rose, he is on first name terms with Karkaroff- and you can't deny he wants to keep that quiet. You saw how annoyed he was in potions on Friday when Karkaroff showed up."

"You're as bad as Sirius," Rose said irritably. "Gryffindors," she muttered. "Making rash assumptions about people since-"

"I'm not saying he's a Death Eater," Harry cut across her. "I'm just saying Snape's behaviour leaves something to answer for; he got even more annoyed after Potions, when Karkaroff tried to show him something on his left forearm. But what'd you mean about Sirius?"

Rose picked at a loose stitch in her jumper, trying to ignore the slight unsettling twinge in her stomach at Severus's getting annoyed when Karkaroff tried to show him something on his left forearm.

'Severus would've said if he was a Death Eater; like Lucius did. He wouldn't lie.' she told herself firmly, dismissing the twinge from her thoughts.

"Rose?" Harry nudged her. "What did you mean?"

"Oh- nothing," Rose shook her head, not wanting to go into the matter.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "So Sirius didn't go on a rampage through Hogsmede to find you and demand you make new friends, fuelled by his hatred of Zabini?" he asked.

"Yeah; he did." Rose stared at Harry. "How'd you know?"

Harry shrugged. "He was fairly peeved when you weren't with us yesterday; and I've never had much experience in calming people down." He stifled a yawn and stood up. "I should get going. Night."

"Night," Rose replied. As Harry left the library, Rose gathered up her research books and returned them to their shelves, before heading to back to the Slytherin common room; her mind once again dawdling idly on the mystery that was the shaking pear.


Breakfast at the Slytherin table the following morning was far, far more pleasant than it had been the Friday Rita Skeeter's Witch Weekly article had been published. The stares and mutters were no more; people seemed to have returned their attention to their own lives over the weekend, and things were very much back to normal. Pansy, Rose and Millicent, having ripped out Skeeter's article, snickered over the celebrity gossip page of Witch Weekly; Crabbe and Goyle argued over the exact size of a Tarantula that had managed to find its way into the boys' dormitory; Blaise and Theo used packets of exploding snap cards to see who could build the tallest card house before it exploded; and Draco conversed with Hermione across the hall.

"She hasn't dyed her hair," Millicent jabbed a finger at the magazine's picture of Celestina Warbeck. "It's just the angle."

Pansy's argument that there was no way in that colour was just the angle was cut short by Theo's triumphant laughter and Blaise's muttered curse as his card house exploded. The thing was so tall that Blaise was very close to having to stand on the bench to reach the top.

"Cough up, mate," Theo smirked, holding out his hand.

Blaise sat down, payed the loser's fee- five galleons-, and shot a disgruntled look at the unfamiliar tawny owl that had been the cause of his loss. His expression changed to surprise and mild confusion as the owl was joined by a grey owl, a barn owl and four brown owls. The owls shuffled along the table, upsetting a goblet of pumpkin juice and vying for his attention.

Across the hall Hermione suddenly stood up. She nursed her hands as she hurried from the hall; they were covered in large painful looking boils. Draco stood up and hurried after her, looking anxious.

Slightly puzzled, Blaise turned his attention back to the owls before him; taking the letter from the grey owl and opening it.

"What's the matter?" Rose asked, noticing Blaise's eyebrows rise as he read. In answer, Blaise handed her the letter. Looking at it, Rose saw it was not handwritten, but appeared to be made up of letters cut out of varying aged editions of the Daily Prophet.

YoU ArE a WickEd, tWIsted boY. RoSE PoTTeR DeSerVes BEttER. You DeSerVE to Be BoilEd iN FRoG SpAWn SCUM.

Rose's mouth fell open in shock. She felt sick. She looked up from the letter at Blaise, wanting to say something- anything- to comfort him, but she couldn't. The words stuck in her throat and she felt far too nauseated that someone would create such a horrible letter to speak.

Blaise seemed to sense her predicament, for he gave her a weak smile. "Funny, huh?" he said, trying to pass it off as something of a joke. He reached for another letter and opened it, regretting it instantly as thick yellow liquid that smelled strongly of petrol gushed all over his hands, covering them large, pulsing and painful yellow boils. Blaise hissed through his teeth, trying not to let the true extent of the pain show. A hand came over his shoulder and prised the envelope from his grasp.

"Undiluted Bubotuber pus; nasty." Blaise never thought he'd be relieved to hear Irma's voice, but he was. He looked up and found her looking at him over the envelope, her face impassive, almost bored looking, but her eyes concerned. "You'd better get to the Hospital Wing fast: Grandmother will kill you if that scars."

"Yeah," Blaise agreed, standing up. "See you guys later." He said, walking from the hall as calmly as possible. Irma grabbed his bag and followed. There was a moment's silence, then Ryan Skeeter shrieked with pain. He leapt from his seat and began hopping from foot to foot, pulling frantically at his shoelaces in an effort to wrench his shoes from his feet. But his efforts were in vain as five somethings began to force their way through his shoes to renewed shrieks of agony.

Pansy leant forward to get a better look. "Are… are those his toenails?" she asked.

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" Rose agreed, draining the last of her pumpkin juice and standing up as the bell rang for the start of lessons. "C'mon; we'll be late for Charms."

They did not see Blaise, Draco or Hermione again until the end of Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione's arms were heavily bandaged, but she was giggling as Draco whispered to her as they crossed the lawn to the class, his arm around her waist. Blaise followed them, his hands as heavily bandaged as Hermione's, but he was smirking.

"Hey, are you okay?" Rose asked, dodging around the Niffler that dove for her watch and going over to him.

"Yeah; I'm good; shouldn't be any scarring or anything," Blaise replied. "Someone jinxed Skeeter's toenails to grow freakishly fast- Pomfrey had to cut his shoes off."

"Really?" Rose asked, smirking slightly.

Blaise nodded. "Given what he said about me in that article and all the stuff his mother' done; I just wish I knew who it was, so I could thank them." He grinned at her knowingly.

Rose turned slightly pink, but grinned back. "It's difficult to say who it could've been," she said. "Maybe you'll never know for certain."

"Maybe." Blaise agreed with a smile, and the two left it at that; heading back to the castle with the others for lunch.


Hate mail continued to arrive for Blaise as the last week of term progressed. He simply left it to the side to vanish with the remnants of breakfast, but some people sent Howlers, which opened of their own accord and shrieked insults for the entire hall to hear. The stares and whispers returned in full force- even those who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all about the supposed Harry-Hermione-Draco love triangle slash Rose and Blaise love potion thing now. Despite his instinct that once the Tournament was over people would stop caring, Blaise couldn't deny he was relieved to get a break from the letters and stares and whispers when he and Irma left for Italy at the start of the Easter holidays. His Grandmother had pitched an entirely different, entirely truthful version of events the moment his alleged love potion brewery had reached the Italian media, which guaranteed him a rest.

For Rose, however, the Easter holidays were far from restful. Though all the Slytherins managed to complete all of their holiday homework over the first few days, Draco had snapped back into his role as her coach for the Triwizard Tournament with a vengeance, insisting Rose train for three hours every day in a the same fashion she had for the first task, with an hour's break in between each hour of running the obstacle course to look up the theory of various defensive spells.

"You can still win this," he said. "We don't know what you're going to face yet but that doesn't mean you can't train."

Severus seemed to agree with Draco's sentiments, giving and teaching Rose and the others a list of spells, most of which of his own invention, but all of which were never even close to likely to make the school curriculum.

"Never mind about that," he said, when Rose brought the matter up. "The third task of the Triwizard Tournament is always the worst of the lot- to go out with a bang, see. It's my responsibility as your father to make sure you know how to protect yourself and survive and I will do everything in my power to ensure that you do- regardless of the, er, well, the legality of some of these curses. The important thing is you understand that there is a context for everything, and you mustn't use these spells outside of their context. Do you understand, Rose; and you Draco?"

"Yes," they nodded. Severus smiled at them briefly and turned to the others.

"Do you lot understand?"

"Yes, sir," They nodded.

"Good. Now let's see how you all fair with some of these."


The training continued well beyond the start of the summer term. Blaise and Irma returned from Italy, and Blaise was quick to catch up on all the rather dark magic Severus had taught. Rose was so focused on preparing for the task- Draco's determination that she, and by extension, he, would triumph in the Tournament was starting to effect the entirety of Slytherin house- that she quite forgot that she had no idea what the task was going to be. It therefore came as something of a shock to her when McGonagall held her and Harry back at the end of Transfiguration in the last week of May.

"You're to go down to the Quidditch pitch at nine o'clock tonight, Potters," she said. "Mr Bagman will be there to tell you and the other champions about the third task."

So at half-past eight that evening, Harry and Rose met in the Entrance Hall and went down to the Quidditch pitch.

"What do you think it'll be?" Harry asked as they went down the steps and into the grounds. "I've heard Fleur going on about underground tunnels and our having to find treasure."

"That wouldn't be so bad," Rose said. "All you'd need is a Niffler."

"That was my plan." Harry mock-scowled. Rose snickered.

"First one to a Niffler gets it?" she offered. Harry grinned and shook her hand.

"Deal."

They reached the Quidditch stadium and passed through a gap in the stands onto the pitch and froze in matching attitudes of indignation.

"Wha- what've they done?" Rose spluttered, gaping at the green, wall-like things that besmirched the once smooth pitch; twisting and criss-crossing in every direction.

Harry knelt to examine the nearest thing. "They're hedges!"

"Hedges?" Rose repeated. Harry nodded as he stood up. "Why hedges?"

Harry stepped back, stood up on the tips of his toes and scanned the pitch, his brow furrowed in thought. Realisation dawned across his face. "It's a-"

"Hello there Harry; Rose!"

Bagman's overly cheerful call cut across Harry's realisation as he waved the twins over. He stood in the middle of the pitch with Fleur and Krum. Harry and Rose made their way over to them, climbing over the hedges; Rose hoping with every fibre of her being that they were beetle-free.

"Well, what'd you think?" Bagman asked as Harry and Rose climbed over the last hedge. "Growing marvellously, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid will have them twenty foot high. Oh, but don't worry," he chuckled at the less-than-happy expressions on Harry and Rose's faces. "You'll have your Quidditch pitch back as good as new once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what is being made here?"

There was a slight pause.

"A maze," Harry said.

"Maze," Krum grunted at the same time.

"That's right!" Bagman beamed at them. "A maze: the third task is really quite straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the centre of the maze, and the first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"So we seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" Fleur asked, slightly suspiciously.

"There will be obstacles," Bagman explained cheerfully, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures; there will be spells that have to be broken- all that sort of thing. Now the champion who is leading on points will get a head start into the maze," Bagman beamed at Harry. "Then Miss Potter-Snape will enter; then Mr Krum and finally Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles: should be fun, eh?"

Harry and Rose exchanged glances, knowing what with the types of creatures Hagrid was likely to provide for an event such as this, the third task was unlikely to be any fun at all. Nevertheless, they nodded politely along with Fleur and Krum.

Bagman beamed at them all. "Very well… if you haven't got any questions you're free to go, it's rather chilly…" he hurried alongside Harry as they all made their way back through the maze. Rose was trying not to imagine the sorts of creatures Hagrid would put forth for the third task, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Krum reach out and stop Harry as well.

"May I haff a vord?" he asked them.

"Sure," Rose replied, slightly surprised. Harry nodded.

"Vill you valk vith me please?" Krum asked.

"Okay," Harry answered. He and Rose exchanged puzzled looks as they made to follow Krum.

Bagman looked rather disconcerted. "I'll wait for you, Harry; Rose, shall I?"

"No, that's okay, Mr Bagman," Harry suppressed a smile. "I think we can find the castle on our own, thanks."

Harry, Rose and Krum left the stadium together, but Krum did not lead them in the direction of the Durmstrang ship. Instead, he headed towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Why're we going this way?" Harry asked, as they passed Hagrid's cabin and the Beauxbatons carriage.

"I don't vont to be overheard," Krum muttered. Only once they reached a quiet clearing a short distance away from the Beauxbatons horses did Krum turn and face the twins.

"I vant to offer you some advice," he said, his gaze fixed on the forest floor. "In light of the Vitch Veekly article."

Harry and Rose stared at each other, and then at Krum. Whatever they had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that.

"Er… okay," Harry said. "What?"

"A similar thing happened to me, in Bulgaria," Krum continued, his gaze still fixed to the floor. "A combination of the both of your incidents; at the start of my career. A friend of mine, a girl, and another girl, a closer friend, vere accused of giving me love potions. I ignored it, but they could not, and in the end they broke off their friendship with me. All because of a reporter, desperate for a story. Now I vant to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else. So please, make-"

Something moved behind him suddenly. Harry and Rose stiffened. Harry grabbed Krum's arm and pulled him around as Rose backed away slowly, reaching for her wand.

"Vot is it?" Krum asked, sounding alarmed.

Harry shook his head, slipping hi and in to his pocket. In the next moment, a man staggered into the clearing. The knees of his robes were blood stained and ripped; his face was unshaven, bore many scratches and was grey with exhaustion; and his hair and moustache were in need of a wash and trim. Rose stared at him for several moments before recognising him. It was Mr Crouch.

But he seemed to have gone completely mad. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr Crouch was deep in conversation with a nearby tree.

"Vosn't he a judge?" Krum asked, staring at Crouch, "Isn't he vith your Ministry?"

"Harry, what the hell are you doing?" Rose hissed as Harry nodded and walked tentatively towards Mr Crouch, who was still conversing with the tree.

"… and once you've done that, Weatherby, I want you to send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of students from Durmstrang that will be attending the Tournament. Karkaroff has sent word that there will be twelve participants and five siblings…"

"Er- Mr Crouch?" Harry asked.

"… and afterwards send an owl to Madame Maxime as she might want to match Karkaroff number… do that Weatherby, won't you? Won't you? Won't yo-?" Crouch staggered sideways and fell to his knees, his eyes bulging as he stared at the tree, mouthing soundlessly at it.

"Mr Crouch?" Harry asked loudly, "Are you alright?"

"Don't go nearer!" Rose hissed, backing away even more as Harry approached Crouch. Harry rolled his eyes.

Krum, however, seemed to share Rose's sentiment as he too backed away. "Vot is the matter vith him?"

"DUMBLEDORE!" Crouch gasped as Harry opened his mouth to reply. He lurched forward and sized a handful of Harry's robes dragging him closer to him. "I need… must… see Dumbledore… done… stupid… thing… I escaped… must… warn… Dumbledore… all my fault… Bertha dead… my fault… my son… my fault tell Dumbledore Dark Lord stronger… Harry… Rose Potter… must… warn Dumbledore… my fault…"

"If you let me go I'll get Dumbledore, Mr Crouch!" Harry said.

Slightly terrified at Crouch's behaviour, Rose opened her mind and reached out to Severus. Though at first he berated her for going off into the forest with one of Karkaroff's students, he said he and Dumbledore would be there soon. Relieved, Rose closed her mind and turned to tell Harry.

"Dumbledore's-"

"Stupefy!" an unfamiliar growl spoke from the shadows; and everything went black.


"And you're you don't know who it was? You're absolutely sure?" Draco asked for what seemed the thousandth time.

"If I knew I would tell you!" Rose snapped, irritated.

"Hey," Draco held up his hands, glaring at her. "It's not as though you're Memo the Memory Man."

Rose stared at him, nonplussed. "What in Merlin's name is a Memo the Memory Man?"

"It's not you." Draco replied swiftly.

"Guys," Blaise broke in as Rose opened her mouth to retort. "Focus."

It was long past midnight, and Rose was now back in the Slytherin common room. She, Harry and Krum had been awoken from their stupefied state by Dumbledore and Severus. Crouch was nowhere to be found and Hagrid, who had seen Dumbledore pass the window of his cabin and come to investigate, was asked to fetch Karkaroff. Moody arrived soon after, and began scouring the woods for Crouch. Karkaroff was livid upon arrival and accused Dumbledore of attempting to sabotage Krum's success in the Tournament, going as far as spitting on the ground at Dumbledore's feet. Dumbledore intervened before Hagrid could kill Karkaroff, and sent Harry and Rose back up to the castle with Hagrid and Severus respectively. Rose had made a beeline for her friends the moment she had entered the common room and told them everything.

"In all reality, Crouch is probably dead and buried somewhere right now." Blaise continued.

"He's not on here at any rate," Crabbe looked up from Rose's copy of the Maurader's Map. "Moody's still searching the grounds-" he pointed to Moody's dot, which was near Hagrid's cabin, "-but there's no Crouch."

"I don't think we should dwell on it," Pansy said with a small shudder. "The whole thing's just weird, and there's nothing we can do."

"I agree," Draco said, turning to Rose. "You need to focus on the Tournament." He said. "Especially now."

"Why especially now?"

"Because it's a maze." Draco said simply. "And we Slytherins are cunning; whereas Gryffindors are not. Therefore, in order to ensure maximum success, training will increase tenfold!"


Two days later, Harry approached the Slytherin table at breakfast with Ron and Hermione, holding a letter from Sirius. He ignored the hostile stares he received from many as he found his sister eating with her friends.

Malfoy spotted them first. "Morning, M," he grinned at Hermione.

"Morning," she smiled back. Ron wrinkled his nose.

Harry decided to intervene before things got nasty. "This came," he said, holding out the letter to Rose. Rose sipped some pumpkin juice as she took it and read;

Harry; Rose –

What do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? We want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night, either of you. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to us that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.

Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident, Harry and whoever put it in there won't have any reserves about hurting you too, Rose. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to your friends, do not leave your common rooms after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourselves. We're waiting for your letter giving us your word that the both of you won't stray out-of-bounds again.

Sirius and Remus.

"…Remus I get, but with all the stuff he did at school, Snuffles can lecture us about being out of bounds?" Rose asked, somewhat incredulously.

"That's what I said; but he cares about us," Harry replied. "I think we should agree."

"Yeah, alright," Rose nodded. She signed her agreement below Harry's on the other side of the parchment, but crossed her toes slightly inside her shoes; just in case.


For the next few days, Rose avoided looking out of the window as much as possible; trying to ignore the fact that she wasn't allowed to go outside. To soften her irritation, she trained harder than ever and tried to concentrate in all her classes; even Muggle Studies, which she- and Tracey, who took the class at her Mother's insistence- often tuned out in because it was too confusing.

"Good afternoon," Professor Burbage greeted the class as she entered the room, pushing a trolley laden with an old-fashioned Muggle movie player in front of her. "Today we will be continuing our study of Shakespeare by watching a video of one of his plays being performed in a Muggle theatre."

Rose and Tracey groaned from their seats at the very back of the classroom as interested murmurs arose from the rest of the class; which consisted of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Their groans, fortunately, where just soft enough that Burbage did not hear them.

"Let's get started, then, shall we?" Burbage said, pointing her wand at the movie player, which spun to face the whiteboard- something that was only found in the Muggle Studies classroom- and whirled into life. A grainy picture of some red curtains was the background to the words WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S THE TEMPEST (An amateur production by Smeltings Academy).

"What's a tempest?" Tracey muttered as she leant across her desk and rested her chin on her arms.

"I dunno," Rose muttered back, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes behind her glasses. She tried to pay attention, but as she had absolutely no idea what was being said, she found herself tuning out. Her eyelids dropped…

And suddenly, inexplicably, she was riding on the back of an eagle owl; Harry beside her. They looked at each other, puzzled and slightly scared as they soared through the clear blue sky toward an old, ivy-covered house set high on a hillside. Lower and lower they flew, the wind blowing pleasantly in their faces, until they reached a dark and broken window in the upper story of the house and entered. Now they were flying along a gloomy passageway, to a room at the very end...through the door they went, into a dark room whose windows were hidden by thick green curtains...

Harry and Rose had left the owl's back...they were watching, now; watching as the owl fluttered across the room, into a chair with its back to them. Two dark shapes lay on the floor beside the chair. As the twins watched, both of them began to stir...

One was a huge snake, but the other was a man: a short, balding man, a man with watery eyes and a pointed nose... Rose felt bile rise in her throat and ducked instinctively behind Harry as she recognised Wormtail; wheezing and sobbing on the hearth rug.

"You are in luck," a cold, high-pitched voice said. Rose shot a nervous glance at the back of the chair in which the owl had landed; the voice had come from its depths. "You are very fortunate, very fortunate indeed, Wormtail. Your blunder has not ruined everything: he is dead."

"My Lord!" Wormtail gasped. "My Lord, I am...I am so pleased- and so, so sorry..."

"Nagini," said the cold voice. The Dark Lord. "Unfortunately, you are out of luck: I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all...but never mind, never mind; there is still Harry Potter. Just the boy, mind… I have a plan for the remains of girl."

Rose's blood turned to ice; Harry gripped her wrist protectively. The snake hissed.

"Now, Wormtail," The Dark Lord continued. "Perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you..."

"My Lord...no; please, I beg you, no..."

The tip of a wand emerged from around the back of the chair; aimed at Wormtail.

"Crucio!"

Wormtail screamed. He screamed as though every nerve in his body were on fire, and the screaming filled Rose's ears, rattled around her mind as her forehead seared with pain; she was screaming; Harry was yelling too...Voldemort would hear them; he would know they were there…

"Rose! Rose!"

Someone was shaking her. Rose gasped, opening her eyes as she shot upwards.

"Whoa, careful." Tracey sat back; Professor Burbage was kneeling on her other side. Rose looked around. She was on the floor of the Muggle Studies classroom; covered in sweat, her forehead burning. The class was staring at her and muttering; but Rose felt relief spread through her. She was at Hogwarts. The relief was replaced almost instantly by panic as the dream- vision- whatever it was came back to her. Voldemort accused Wormtail of making a blunder; but the owl- the owl had brought good news: the blunder was repaired: somebody was dead. Which meant that Wormtail was not going to be fed to the snake. Harry, was going to be fed to it instead, and the Dark Lord had something planned for her... for her remains…

"I think I need to go to the Hospital Wing," Rose said, her mind racing.

"I quite agree," Professor Burbage said. "Miss Davis, you go with her."

"No- that's okay," Rose said quickly. Burbage looked at her as though she were mad.

"Miss Potter-Snape, not a minute ago you were rolling around on this classroom floor screaming as though you were being tortured. I do not think it wise that you go anywhere alone until Madam Pomfrey has made sure you're okay!"

"She's right," Tracey muttered, grabbing her and Rose's bags. "C'mon Rose."

But the moment the door to the classroom swung shut behind them, Rose took her back from Tracey and swung it over her shoulder.

"I'm not going to the Hospital Wing." She said. "I appreciate your concern, really, but I'm fine- I just need to talk to Harry."

Tracey eyed her doubtfully. "…Well, okay," she said. "But what am I supposed to do? There's no way I can go back in there: Burbage will go mad."

Rose smiled. "I guess the evening's your oyster."

Tracey grinned back. "You do whatever you need to do," she said, adjusting the strap of her bag. "I'm going to bust Daphne out of Arithmancy."


Rose hurried through the castle, her mind still racing as fast as it had before, as she once again thought over everything she and Harry had seen; and where Harry would be now. If she knew Harry at all, he would go Dumbledore...

And sure enough, when Rose skidded into the corridor that lead to Dumbledore's office, Harry was before the gargoyle.

"Chocolate Frog!" he was yelling angrily, hopping up and down on one leg. "Sugar Quill! Er- Cockroach Cluster!"

The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside; Harry blinked.

"Cockroach Cluster?" he said, turning to Rose in amazement as she ran over to him. "I was only joking, honestly..."

The Potter twins hurried through the gap in the walls and stepped onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase. It began to move slowly upwards as the doors closed behind them, taking them up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker.

Voices echoed from inside the office. Harry and Rose stepped off the moving staircase and hesitated; listening.

"Dumbledore, I'm afraid I don't see the connection, I don't see it at all!" came the voice of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "Ludo Bagman says Bertha's perfectly capable of getting herself lost. We expected to have found her by now, I admit; but all the same, we've no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, absolutely none at all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty Crouch's, well; there's no reason for it!"

"And what do you think has happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?" Moody's growling voice replied.

"Frankly, I see two possibilities, Alastor," Fudge said, somewhat sharply. "Either Crouch has finally cracked – which is more than likely, I'm sure you'll agree, given his personal history - lost his mind, and gone wandering off somewhere -"

"If that is the case he wandered extremely quickly, Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Or else - well..." Fudge paused delicately, his tone embarrassed. "Well, I'll reserve judgment until after I've seen the place where he was found… but it was just past the Beauxbatons carriage, you say? Dumbledore, you do know what that woman is?"

"I consider her to be an incredibly able headmistress - and a most excellent dancer," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Dumbledore, come!" said Fudge angrily. "Don't you think you might be prejudiced in her favour because of Hagrid? They don't all turn out harmless - if, indeed, you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster fixation he's got -"

"I no more suspect Madame Maxime than Hagrid," Dumbledore said, as calmly as before. "I think it possible that it is you who are prejudiced, Cornelius."

"How about we wrap up this discussion?" Moody growled.

"Yes, yes, let's go down to the grounds, then," said Fudge impatiently.

"No, it's not that," Moody said, "it's just that the Potter twins want a word with you, Dumbledore. They're just outside the door."

Harry and Rose exchanged glances and as one, took a deep breath to calm their nerves that had no effect whatsoever. The office door opened.

"Hello, Potters," Moody greeted them, "Come in, then."

Harry and Rose walked inside. They had both been inside Dumbledore's office once before; it was a very beautiful, circular room; the walls lined with pictures of the previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts, all of whom were fast asleep, their chests rising and falling gently.

Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore's desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak, his lime-green bowler hat in his hand.

"Harry; Rose!" Fudge said jovially, moving forward. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you," they lied.

"We were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up on the grounds," Fudge said. "It was you who found him two, was it not?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But we didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere, though, and she'd have something of a job hiding, wouldn't she?"

Dumbledore smiled at them behind Fudge's back, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, well," Fudge said, looking embarrassed, "we are about to go for a short walk on the grounds, Harry; Rose, if you'll excuse us...perhaps if you just go back to your classes -"

"We wanted to talk to you, Professor," Harry said quickly, looking at Dumbledore, who gave them a swift, searching look.

"Wait here for me," he said. "Our examination of the grounds will not take long."

They trooped out in silence past the twins and closed the door. After a minute or so, Harry and Rose heard the clunks of Moody's wooden leg growing fainter in the corridor below. Rose sat down in one of the chairs before Dumbledore's desk as Harry looked around.

"Hello, Fawkes," he said.

Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, was beside the door; standing on his golden perch. The size of a swan, with magnificent scarlet-and-gold plumage, he swished his long tail and blinked kindly at them.

Harry sat down beside Rose. For several minutes, they sat in companionable silence and watched the old headmasters and headmistresses snoozing in their frames, thinking about what they had just heard. Neither of them made to discuss it: it was best to wait for Dumbledore, who would no doubt be able to make sense of it. Rose rubbed her forehead, relieved it had stopped aching. After a moment or two, Harry got up, walked across the office, and pulled open the door of a black cabinet behind them; whose door had not been closed properly.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked.

"Come and look," Harry waved her over. Curious, Rose got up crossed the room and peered into the cabinet too.

Inside was a shallow stone basin, emitting a silvery, swirling light; a mix between liquid and gas. It was decorated with odd runes and symbols, carved round the edge. Rose stared at it, sure she had seen something similar before… At Malfoy Manor, she realised. Lucius had used one once, many years ago; she and Draco had watched him through his study window; then gone to Dobby, asking what it was.

"D'you know what it is?" Harry asked.

"…It's called a Pensieve," Rose remembered what Dobby had told her and Draco. "…But I can't remember what it does."

The twins leant over the basin curiously. After a moment, Harry pulled his wand out of the inside of his robes and prodded the contents gingerly.

At once, the surface of the silvery stuff inside the basin began to swirl very fast. Harry and Rose exchanged looks and leant closer, their heads right inside the cabinet. The silvery substance had become transparent at Harry's touch: it looked like glass. Rose's mouth opened slightly in surprise as she looked down into the basin, expecting to see the stone bottom; but instead she saw an enormous room below the surface of the smoky, silvery liquid; a room into which she and Harry seemed to be looking through a circular window in the ceiling.

The room in the basin was dimly lit; there were no windows, merely torches in brackets such as the ones that illuminated the walls of Hogwarts. The room reminded Rose very much of the corridors of the dungeons, but she had never seen a room quite like this one in the castle. She and Harry leant forward even further, so that their nose were a mere inch away from the glassy substance. Rose saw rows and rows of witches and wizards, seated around every wall on what appeared to be benches rising in levels, like in the Charms classroom. An empty chair stood in the very centre of the room; Rose shivered at the sight of it. Chains encircled its arms, as though its occupants were usually tied to it.

The occupants of the basin-room seemed to be waiting for something; all of their faces seemed to be pointing in one direction, and it did not look as though any of them were talking to one another.

Harry leant forward even further- the tip of his nose touched the strange substance into which they was staring and suddenly, he was gone.

"Harry?" Rose looked up from the basin. The office was empty. "Harry, where are you?" No reply. "This isn't funny!" Rose called, starting to get unnerved. She glanced back at into the basin for a moment and gaped, leaning forward once more to squint into the room. Harry sat on one of the benches at the end, raised high above the others inside the basin; waving a hand energetically in front of Dumbledore's face.

In that moment, Rose remembered everything Dobby had told her and Draco about Pensieve's; and realised what must've happened. She paused for a moment, deliberating, then reached out and touched the contents of the basin with her finger.

Dumbledore's office gave an almighty lurch - she was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the basin – Rose winced involuntarily, but her head did not hit the stone bottom. Instead she felt herself fall; fall through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool -

Then she found herself sitting beside Harry on the end of the bench in the underground dungeon-room. There was a bleak and forbidding air about the place; an air that was only accentuated by there being no pictures on the walls, no decorations at all, in fact; just the serried rows of benches, rising in levels all around the room, all positioned so that each and every occupant had a clear view of the horrible chain covered chair.

"Nice of you to drop in," Harry smirked. Rose snickered. "You know what we're in, right?"

"Dumbledore's memory," Rose nodded, looking around the room. "The Pensieve's basically a magical home movie storage space, but with the same kind of memory-entering thing as Riddle's diary, minus the evilness and soul-leeching."

Before Harry could reply, footsteps bounced into the room. The door in the corner of the dungeon opened and three figures entered - or at least one man, flanked by two Dementors.

Rose's insides went cold as she sank back slightly into her seat. The Dementors were gliding slowly toward the chair in the centre of the room, each grasping one of the man's thin, shaking arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The man between them looked as though he was about to faint. Rose couldn't blame him; she knew the Dementors could not touch them inside a memory, but she remembered every one of her and Harry's encounters with Dementors only too well. The room at large recoiled slightly as the Dementors came close as they placed the man in the chained chair and glided back out of the room. The door swung shut behind them.

Harry and Rose looked down at the man now sitting in the chair. It was Igor Karkaroff.

Unlike Dumbledore, who was mostly unchanged, Karkaroff looked much younger: his hair and goatee were black. He was not dressed in sleek furs, but in thin and ragged robes. He was shaking worse than ever before. The chains on the arms of the chair glowed suddenly gold and snaked their way up Karkaroff's arms, binding him there.

"Igor Karkaroff," said a curt voice to Harry and Rose's left. They looked around and saw Mr. Crouch standing up in the middle of the bench beside them. Crouch looked powerful and alert, his hair was dark, and his face was much less lined. "You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic; we understand that you have important information for us."

Karkaroff straightened himself as best he could, despite his being tightly bound to the chair.

"I have, sir," he said, and although his voice was very scared, the familiar unctuous note was still present. "I wish to be of use to the Ministry; I wish to help. I - I know that the Ministry is trying to - to round up the last of his- of the Dark Lords supporters. I am most eager to assist in any way I can..."

A murmur arose around the benches. Some of the wizards and witches were considering Karkaroff with interest, others were looking at him with pronounced mistrust. Then Harry and Rose heard, quite distinctly, from Dumbledore's other side, a familiar, growling voice saying, "Filth."

The twins leant forward to see past Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting there – except, like Karkaroff, he too looked younger; and he did not have his magical eye, but two normal ones. Both were looking down upon Karkaroff; narrowed in extreme dislike.

"Crouch is going to let him out," Moody continued under his breath. "Done a deal with him, I bet anything. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he's got enough new names- bet he hasn't though, not him. Still I say let's hear his information, and throw him straight back to the Dementors."

Dumbledore made a small but firm noise of dissent through his long, crooked nose.

"Ah, I quite forgot; you don't like the Dementors, do you, Albus?" said Moody with a sardonic smile.

"No," said Dumbledore calmly, "No, I'm afraid I don't: I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures."

"But for filth like this..." Moody murmured quietly, trailing off and turning his attention back to the trial. Harry and Rose followed suit.

"You say you have names for us, Karkaroff," Mr Crouch said. "Let us hear them, then, please."

"You must understand," Karkaroff began hurriedly, "that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in the greatest, greatest secrecy...He preferred that we - I mean to say, his supporters - and I regret now, regret very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them -"

"Get on with it," Moody sneered.

"- We never knew the names of every one of our fellows; he alone knew exactly who we all were -"

"Which was a wise move, wasn't it, Karkaroff, as it prevented someone like you from turning all of them in," Moody muttered.

"And yet you say you have some names for us?" Crouch asked, a touch of impatience in his voice.

"Yes, yes, I - I do," said Karkaroff breathlessly. "And these were important supporters, mark you" people I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and that am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely -"

"These names are?" Crouch interrupted sharply.

There was a moment's pause as Karkaroff drew a deep breath.

"There was- there was Antonin Dolohov," he said. "I - I saw him torture countless Muggles and - and non-supporters of- of the Dark Lord."

"And helped him do it," Moody murmured. "I saw that."

"We have already apprehended Dolohov," said Crouch, "He was caught shortly after yourself."

"Indeed?" said Karkaroff, his eyes widening slightly. "I - I am delighted to hear it!"

But he didn't look it. On the contrary, it was as though this news had come as a real blow to him. One of his names was worthless.

"Any others?" Crouch asked coldly.

"Why, yes...there was Rosier," Karkaroff continued hurriedly, "Evan- Evan Rosier."

"Rosier is dead," Crouch said. "He was caught shortly after you were, too. Though he preferred to fight, rather than come quietly, and was killed in the struggle."

"Took a bit of me with him, though," Moody whispered. Harry and Rose looked around at him once more, and saw him indicating the large chunk out of his nose to Dumbledore.

"No - no more than- than Rosier deserved!" said Karkaroff, a real note of panic in his voice now. His eyes darted toward the door in the corner, behind which the Dementors undoubtedly still stood, waiting; he starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry.

"Any more?" Crouch asked.

"Yes!" said Karkaroff, spurned into further speech. "There- there was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber - he specialised in the Imperius Curse, and forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood- Augustus Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!"

The watching crowd began to murmur one more: his time, Karkaroff had struck gold.

"Augustus Rookwood?" Mr Crouch asked, nodding to a witch sitting in front of him, who began scribbling upon her piece of parchment. "Augustus Rookwood- of the Department of Mysteries?"

"The very same," Karkaroff said, nodding eagerly, "I believe he used a network of well-placed wizards, both inside and outside the Ministry, to collect information -"

"But both Travers and Mulciber we have," Mr Crouch. "Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide -"

"No- no, not yet!" cried Karkaroff, looking quite desperate. "Please, wait: I have more!"

He was sweating in the torchlight; his white skin contrasting strongly with the black of his hair and beard.

"Snape!" he shouted. "Severus Snape!"

Rose froze.

"Severus Snape has been cleared by this council," Crouch said disdainfully, though the object if his distain was unclear. "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."

"No!" shouted Karkaroff, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"

Dumbledore got to his feet.

"I have already given evidence on this matter," he said calmly. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he re-joined our side prior to Lord Voldemort's downfall and turned spy for us: at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."

"Very well," Crouch said coldly, "you have been of assistance, Karkaroff. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime..."

Rose barely heard any of this, her mind was stuck. 'Severus was a Death Eater… he may have turned spy, but he was a Death Eater… he lied to me. He lied.'A small sob escaped her. Harry looked at her, concerned, but there was nothing they could do; nowhere to go… The dungeon was dissolving as though it were made of smoke; everything faded; they could see only themselves - all else was darkness, darkness that swirled around them...

The dungeon returned, but Rose remained frozen. She sat there, listening and watching as Ludo Bagman entered the room and was trialled and acquitted for conspiring with Death Eaters and then as Crouch's own son, along with a thickset, blank looking man, a thinner, more nervous looking man and a woman with shiny dark lard and heavily hooded eyes; who sat in her chained chair as though it was a throne, were tried and convicted of torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom. Though she listened, Rose hardly registered any of it. Her mind was consumed, completely and utterly, with one thought:

Severus was a Death Eater. He lied to me.

Rose felt as though her entire world was crumbling to pieces. Severus had been a Death Eater; and he lied about it. Why had he lied? Had he done something that led him to lie? Why had Narcissa and Lucius gone along with him?

Sirius called Severus a liar… and he was right. Was he, perhaps, right about something else? Something Rose had dismissed the minute she'd heard? Had Severus called her mother a 'Mudblood'? If he denied it, how could she believe him? What if she could never quite trust Severus again?

Rose's stomach churned at the thought, and it was still churning as Dumbledore arrived in the Pensieve and took her and Harry back to his office. The feeling didn't cease as she stood quietly beside Harry as he and Dumbledore discussed the continued disappearance of Bertha Jorkins, the dream, and Neville's parents. She promised not to tell anyone as Harry did, then lapsed back into silence as she headed back to the Slytherin common room alone, not in the least bit consoled by Dumbledore's saying that Severus had never been accused of any Death Eater activity since Karkaroff's trial. Her nerves were on edge, and she had no idea what to think. What had happened in Severus's past? What had he done that was so bad that he couldn't even admit to her that he had, at a point in his life, worked for Voldemort? What was so bad that he had gone out of his way to lie about it?

"Good evening."

Rose jumped and looked around. Severus leant against the wall a little way along the corridor.

"Why is it," he asked, "that I had to find out that my daughter fell asleep and had screaming fit in class- a screaming fit so bad she had to go to the hospital wing- from the teacher of that class, at dinner, rather than from you yourself? And why is it, that when I went to the hospital wing, you weren't there; and Madam Pomfrey said she had not seen you since the evening of the second task? I taught you Occulmency and Legilimency from an early age for a reason, Rose, and then you don't even answer; I can't get to you when I'm desperate; terrified that something's happened to you- and then I realise you haven't replied, I can't reach you; because you've gone into some kind of shock?! Where the hell have you been, and what have you been doing?!"

"… You were a Death Eater."

The little colour Severus's face usually held vanished. "…How did you find out?" he asked quietly.

The fact that now, only now she knew he didn't deny it, made Rose's blood boil. She clenched her fists; trying to calm down.

"Did you call my mother a Mudblood?" she asked quietly. It was the final straw; her final bead of hope. If Sirius had been lying-

She never finished the thought. The look on Severus's face answered her question beyond reasonable doubt. The final straw snapped; Rose's final bead of hope shattered. Her heart slammed against her ribcage; blood rushed past her ears. She had defended him unwaveringly; from Sirius, from Harry, from anyone who questioned his character- and all the time, they had been right.

"YOU- YOU WERE A DEATH EATER!" She screamed. "I DEFENDED YOU- I ALMOST SAID TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE THINGS TO MY GODFATHER BECAUSE HE QUESTIONED YOUR CHARACTER SO MANY TIMES! I IDOLISED YOU- I TRIED TO MIMIC YOUR WALK; PUSHED MYSELF MORE THAN I DO ANY OTHER SUBJECT IN POTIONS NOT ONLY FOR MYSELF; BUT FOR YOU! AND ALL THIS TIME, YOU WERE LYING TO ME! LUCIUS WAS HONEST; HE EXPLAINED HIS SIDE, BUT YOU- YOU LIED! NOW I CAN'T EVEN LOOK AT YOU WITHOUT WONDERING WHAT CAUSED YOU TO LIE! AND YOU CALLED MY MOTHER A MUDBLOOD! MY MOTHER, YOUR SO-CALLED BEST FRIEND! OR WAS THAT A LIE, TOO?!"

"I- I can explain-" Severus began.

But Rose had already run past him, and vanished around the corner into the darkness; tears streaming down her face. As she ran towards the common room, Rose closed her mind with every ounce of Occulmency she could muster. She wasn't ready to hear Severus's explanation; she didn't know if she would believe him.

She didn't know if she could.

A/N: Please review! :)