Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling
A/N: YAY for the 50 chapter. We're just under half way done now. Cool, right? And what a chapter this will be...snickers
Harry awoke to the cold bite of morning, the snores of his roommates sounding loudly throughout the room. Light was just breaking its way past the dark clouds outside, and it was snowing again. It's been snowing a lot that season, Harry realized, and he wondered why that was.
His thoughts did not wander much farther than that, though, for Harry was not a weather wizard, nor did he ever intend to be one, and for that matter Hedwig was perched in front of him, a letter in her beak and melting snow dripping off her ruffled feathers. She was grumpy from not being noticed and Harry sighed, patting down her feathers nicely. She cooed, then, dropping the letter in Harry's lap. He smiled at her, a goofy morning grin, and pulling on his glasses before handing her some left over treacle tart.
She nipped at his ear affectionately, hopping about on the bed for a few moments before flying off towards the owl tower, happy to have faithfully delivered a prepared for a nice rest or chat with her owl friends.
After she'd gone, Harry lit his wand, not wishing to wake the other boys with too might light, and peeled open the letter as he indulged himself in its words.
Harry-
It's a pleasure to tell you that I'm doing well. Recovery is a sweet, sweet, thing, even for a werewolf. The spell, being cast from a schoolgirl, was not very strong and I should be as good as new in a few days. Well, until the next full moon, that is. But I promise you, Harry, while the event is quite disastrous-it has created logistical havoc for the order-it could have been much worse for us and I beg you not to worry or waste too much of your thought process on it. There are people to do that for you, Harry, adults as it should be.
With that in mind I am not so much out of the loop that I didn't hear about the fighting that went on between you and Bridget Riddle. I understand the betrayal you must feel, and you can't pretend I don't because you do remember similar things happening between your father, Sirius, and I. Wormtail betrayed us as well, but I feel as if Bridget Riddle can not be compared to the events of my school friends and I.
I have spoken with Professor Dumbledore over the matter and while he would not disclose to me much, he did assure me that he put all his trust in the girl, and I have no choice but to believe him. It is obvious now that something more is going on than meets the eye, but I have met Bridget Riddle. She has helped in the discovery of You-Know-Who's horrorcruxes and I refuse to believe that whatever happened during the attack was of the intentions to hurt you or our cause.
That being said, I have forgiven her for the injuries she bestowed upon me. We will move on from this event when a clearer head, better knowledge, and recovery, as I said before, will become a sweet thing. I ask you to do the same, Harry. While I understand the need you feel to gain your revenge on her I must ask that you do not. I am not asking for you befriend her, but merely to forgive her as I have. Be polite, at the least, and restrain from causing any more disruptions at school. Please, I don't want to hear of anymore arguing.
Move on, Harry, and for you as well recovery will become sweet. However, much better than recovery is forgiveness, the same sort that was offered to Sirius once the truth was reveled. And perhaps that is the marauder we should be comparing her to.
Enjoy the rest of your year, Harry, and try not to concentrate on the bad things too much. You will not be a child much longer and after school ends there will be plenty of time to grow grey hairs with worry.
Yours truly,
Remus J. Lupin
PS. Tell Ron and Hermione I've said hello.
Harry smiled, pleased to hear from the last remaining friend of his father. How lucky it was that he was alright and while Harry wasn't sure to make of what he'd said about Bridget, he intended to at least listen to Lupin and ignore Bridget. He would move on from the event, as it appeared the others had. There was no need to cause anymore strife over it.
"What are you reading, mate?" Ron asked from his bed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"Letter from Moony. He's doing fine."
"That's great," Ron yawned, heading for the bathroom. "Can't wait for-" but he trailed off, not being able to finish he sentence and instead favored the silence that came with a shower and brushing of teeth.
Harry chuckled under his breath, turning his head towards the window. He stared quietly, ignoring the rest of his dorm as they rose, following Ron's example in getting read for the day. He stared at the snow with high hopes; today would be a good day.
--
Today would be a horrible day.
She could feel it in her blood as she gazed hopelessly outside the window, watching the snow fall to the ground. There wasn't much to be done, though, for Bridget was realizing that most of her days were becoming horrible. Today, especially, seemed bad, though.
She rose from her bed, yawning as she turning to look at herself in the mirror, eyes foggy from sleeping. They slipped away form her face, trailing down towards where she kept her pictures, and landing on Seth, her ex boyfriend. She hadn't talked to him since her return to school and wondered vaguely if he hated her as much as everybody else. Seth had always been capable of looking past Bridget's background and focusing on the present, the real her that wasn't evil.
However, she was unsure that sort of relationship would remain in them after she'd cheated.
For that matter, did she want it anyway? Could she really go back to Seth with the knowledge that she was in love with Harry? It would be so wrong to do so, but the thought sounded so nice to her. She missed Seth, though not as much as she missed Harry, and she liked him enough, didn't she?
Part of her didn't care that going back to him would be playing with his heart, leading him to believe things that weren't true, would never be true. One shouldn't go out with another when they loved somebody else, should they?
Oh, but Bridget missed the way Seth would look at her, missed being loved by him, missed having somebody on her side. How hard would it be, really? Seth wouldn't ever have to know.
After getting ready Bridget met Draco at breakfast with a smile, sitting down quietly beside him. He'd found a new girlfriend again, a pretty girl with dark hair and pale skin. Because of this his focus had been altered, the constant worry for Bridget fading behind the hormones that came from having a girlfriend with a shirt that showed too much cleavage.
Sighing, Bridget rolled her eyes, deciding it better not to involve herself in whatever happened between Draco Malfoy and his girlfriends. Instead she turned to face the Gryffindor table, her favorite pastime, and stared at Harry.
He was laughing, sharing a Kodak moment with Ron and Hermione, who were red with amusement. Her heart ached as she remembered being a part of that, and the memories played sadly out in her brain.
With a jump Bridget shook her head, letting her eyes travel to Seth. He was a better option, not so painful to think about, not so hateful towards her. He was talking with a pretty Ravenclaw, an interested look on his face. Bridget scowled, deciding then that she would get his attention today. Who cared if it was wrong? She wanted him back.
Today, she would forget about Harry altogether and throw herself into forcing herself to like Seth again. Even if it was the last thing she did.
--
In the middle of the day, during class, no less, Professor Trelawney froze, the seer in her breaking out. Her mouth opening, a choking sound coming out as she recited the words that would alter the future forever.
Harry Potter's head shot up, immediately recognizing what was happened.
This had happened before.
--
Bridget Riddle really didn't want to go to Dumbledore's office. She knew what was waiting for her there, and wondered if she hid out in her room if she could escape from it. All the same, she walked to his office, the reality of Azkaban crashing down on her like an anvil.
"Come on," Dumbledore said, and the door threw itself open, revealing a very solemn looking Dumbledore. Bridget was relieved to see he was alone, which meant that Azkaban guards had not come for her today.
"Yes, sir?" Bridget asked timidly, for all the same nothing good could come out of this visit.
"Today, during class, Professor Trelawney predicted her third prophecy."
"Excuse me?" Bridget choked, her hand flying up to her chest.
"It may come as a shock to you, but Professor Trelawney is, in fact, a true seer. She had predicted two prophecies before now, each of them relating very direction to Mr. Potter. Today, during his Divination class, she predicted her third."
"I don't understand," Bridget mouthed, her lungs constricting painfully. This could not be happening, could not have happened, could never be true. Whatever Trelawney had predicted it hadn't been good. In fact, it had been bad enough for Dumbledore to call Bridget to his office and inform her of the disastrous events and oh! She was going to faint, throw up, something-
"Mr. Potter was kind enough to write it down, and I knew, as soon as I read it, that you must be informed," Dumbledore said and it was clear to Bridget then that the man was afraid, far more afraid than ever before, and he was passing her a piece of parchment now, offering her the secrets of the future, but Bridget couldn't think, didn't-
"Wha-"
"Please, read."
So Bridget turned her eyes towards Harry's messy scrawl, ignoring the tear in her heart that ached for him, and read.
He will betray them.
The one they thought was there friend
The one they willingly opened up to will betray them
Because they took no caution
And only because of the binding commitment The Chosen One Made
The Dark Lord shall not be overcome by The Boy Who Lived
"No," she whispered, a dizzy feeling overcoming her. "You're lying."
"I afraid I am not," Dumbledore sighed, resting his head hopelessly in his hands. Bridget choked down a sob, her eyes staring blankly at the parchment in front of her.
"Sir!" she shrieked. "You have to stop it! Lock him up-sedate him, anything," she pleaded. "He can't die."
"I can not do that, Ms. Riddle. You may trust that I will do everything in my power to keep him alive, but I can not alter fate."
"I-"
"However," he added, holding up a hand. "You, perhaps, can."
"What?"
"You must help him, Ms. Riddle. If you were honest in what you said to be, that you are in love with him, that you are on our side, than you must to everything in your power to keep him alive."
"How?" Bridget blurted. Dumbledore stared at her carefully, taking in her broken appearance.
"That, I regret to say, you must figure out on your own."
