Everyone got up late on Boxing Day. Calla felt exhausted even after almost ten hours of sleep, and her hair was a mess when she glanced in the mirror by the bathroom door. "Rough night?" Sue asked quietly from her bed - she was the only other person awake, reading a book happily in the corner.

"Dramatic," Calla said after some consideration, and Sue grinned.

"Boys?"

"Everything."

With a laugh, Sue said, "Yeah, I think we all felt a bit of that. Anthony was not as fun of a date as I thought he would be."

"Sorry," Calla said, pulling a face.

"S'okay. Suppose that's a part of the whole dating thing, you know?"

Calla smiled in Sue's direction and headed to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she realised that her makeup hadn't all come off properly last night and there was no faint blue and purple smudged underneath her eyes, along with mascara. Her eyes looked brighter than normal, or maybe she was just going a bit delirious.

The faint smile on her face faded when the memories of the night before came back to her properly. Zach. What was she meant to do about that again? Preferably hide in a hole and pretend none of it ever happened, but that wouldn't be very productive. She'd just have to suck it up and talk to him, like anyone else. Except right now it seemed really, really hard.

When she left the bathroom ten minutes later, feeling a lot more refreshed and with her hair in a semi-acceptable state, Daphne and Padma were both awake, discussing the events of the night before. "There you are," Padma said, tugging Calla over. "We were talking about Hermione. She was really upset when we got back to Gryffindor Tower, I wouldn't be surprised if she and Ron ended up having another round of arguing."

"Ugh." Calla leaned back and groaned, glaring at the ceiling. "Why do people have to fight?"

"Speaking of." Daphne gave her a sharp look. "Zach?"

"God knows. Theo?"

"Not as good a kisser as I thought." Calla giggled and Padma looked quietly pleased at this revelation. "But he just seemed really stiff all night? It was so strange. Then Astoria and Blaise had an argument and then Pansy and Draco had an argument and it was a bit of a disaster."

"You didn't tell us that part last night," Calla said with a frown.

"You were upset enough," Daphne told her. "Besides, it'll probably blow over soon enough." Shaking her head, she added, "Padma is yet to tell me the details about Harry."

Padma scowled. "There are no details. He didn't like dancing."

Calla winced. "Sorry about that."

"Yeah, but did the two of you, you know, do-"

"I'm not even going to think about how you were going to finish that sentence," Calla said, cutting her off with an exaggerated shudder. Padma gave her a relieved glance. "Let's just go to breakfast? I'm hungry."

Breakfast was a rather lazy affair, and everyone seemed rather deflated after all the excitement of the night before. Some stray silver confetti still littered the floor of the hall, caught between the stones. Calla didn't see many people she knew, and she couldn't blame anyone for not wanting to come downstairs right now, because she was on the verge of falling asleep in her scrambled eggs. When she saw Zach enter, however, she got up and hurried out of the hall before he could see her and approach. Daphne and Padma followed on her heels.

"You can't just run away from him!" Daphne hissed.

"I really think it's the best option."

"You are going to have to talk to him at some point though."

"I know," Calla muttered. "But I kind of just feel like ignoring the problem for a while."

"No," Padma said, "you're probably better off not talking to him while you're still upset. Wait a little while. Besides, you still need to talk to Snape about a place to make that potion." Calla groaned and Padma chuckled. "Well, unless you want to use Moaning Myrtle's bathroom again..."

The next few days passed in a sort of lazy haze, as the Christmas euphoria died down and everyone returned to the homework they'd neglected during the first week of the holidays. But Calla had something else on her mind; she had to get to brewing. She just needed to work up the courage to speak to Professor Snape about it.

It took a few days, but she knew she had to do it.

So a few days after Christmas, with Daphne and Padma around the corner waiting for her, she went to Professor Snape's office and knocked sharply on the door, pressing her lips together and gnawing on them nervously as she waited. "Enter," his silky voice called eventually, and Calla stepped inside. Snape looked quite unbothered by her presence, only gently raising one eyebrow. "Miss Potter."

"Professor Snape," she said as confidently as she could. She had rehearsed this speech multiple times in her head and out loud with Padma, though it was a lot more nerve-wracking now Snape was looking at her. "So... As you know, I'm in the midst of preparing for the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament."

Snape seemed to sneer a little at that. "Yes, Potter. We are all aware."

"Right. So, I've had an idea of what I'm going to do to complete the task, and it involves brewing a potion. Obviously I would do the work, but according to the rules I need someone to verify that I brewed it myself, but I also need a space to brew. And I thought that, because the potion I have in mind has a relatively short brewing time, I might be able to make use of your classroom on some evenings, if that's alright?" She looked at Snape nervously but he did not say anything. "It'd - Well, I'd make a few attempts, I've never made this potion before and it is generally around early N.E.W.T. level which I know will be a challenge, so I plan to make multiple batches and test them out until I get one that works reliably."

Snape was silent for a moment, regarding her. She felt very small, standing there on her own. "What potion did you have in mind, Miss Potter?"

"Well, I - I took into account the work we did on Antidotes in class, sir, and how some antidotes can be used as preventative procedures, too, to counter things like nausea, colds and things. And I've done research, and I - I was going to make a potion to counter drowning? I looked into it and the antidote to a drowning potion works the opposite of a drowning potion - instead of changing air to water inside the body, it changes water to air the moment it is inhaled, therefore allowing me to function essentially as though I was on dry land. It would effectively, though the name doesn't necessarily state it, allow me to breathe underwater, as well as prevent my body from going into shock like often happens when people go into cold water. If I do this with a Warming Charm, I thought... It would... Work..." She trailed off nervously, stomach swirling. This had been a terrible idea. There was no way Snape was going to help, and she was sure she had embarrassed herself by even asking

Snape's face was unreadable, which worried her. Then he said, "Yes, that would work. You appear to have thought this through, at least, Miss Potter, and you are not quite as much of a dunderhead as most of my students. It is not what I would like, however Dumbledore has told us to ensure the champions are supported by their teachers and their work..." His lip curled. "Accommodated." He looked like he hated the thought of supporting or accommodating her in any way. "You may use my classroom on Wednesday and Thursday evenings from the beginning of term. Your brewing will not interfere with any of my work, nor with any of my classes and you will not distract from any tasks I myself am undertaking while I supervise. Any mistakes or messes you make will be rectified on your own. And when you inevitably ruin your cauldron, or make a mistake enough to be dangerous, this will cease." His eyes glinted. "I suggest you come up with a back up plan." Calla sighed in relief, though her stomach swam. He didn't sound like he had any faith in her at all - not that she'd expected him to be nice - but at least he had agreed. Honestly, she'd thought he'd turn her away, and if it weren't for Dumbledore, she imagined he probably would have.

So she made sure to be very gracious indeed when she said, "Thank you, Professor. Is there any specific time in the evening that would suit your schedule best?"

"Straight after dinner would suit," said Snape, sounding bored now as he turned his attentions back to an essay he was marking. "You are dismissed, Potter."

"Oh." Calla blinked, and nodded clumsily. "Thank you, sir."

She hurried out of the room and down the corridor to where Daphne and Padma were waiting for her with expectant looks. "Well?"

"He's letting me use the classroom on Wednesday and Thursday evenings. Apparently Dumbledore's told him he has to support the champions and that's the only reason why."

"He's letting you use it though!" Padma said, grinning. "That's good! One thing down."

"Yeah," Calla muttered, "now I just have to brew the damn thing. And even if Snape lets me use his classroom, I wouldn't put it past him to let me poison myself with it by accident."

"You won't," Daphne said. "You'll get it just fine, I bet you anything."

"Thanks," Calla told her with a small smile. She linked her arm through Daphne's, a small spring in her step. "I-"

Padma grabbed her arm and Calla glanced up, seeing Zach coming down the corridor with Hannah. She flushed bright red, heat rising to her cheeks and exchanged a glance with Padma and Daphne, trying to usher them around a corner. But Zach had seen her already, even though she'd been trying to avoid him ever since the ball. Maybe it was stupid - she'd certainly thought so on many nights, lying in bed - but she felt really hurt by how he'd reacted to her telling him about her visions, and she couldn't stop herself holding that grudge.

"Hey," Zach said, sounding a little breathless. He put his hand on Calla's arm. "Are you... Can I talk to you?"

She was about to say no, but caught herself. She had to talk to him at some point, after all. "Alright," Calla said slowly, gesturing for Padma and Daphne to go on, though both had already fixed glares on Zach. With a wave, she urged them to go, and Hannah slipped away in the opposite direction, giving Calla a bright, encouraging smile. "What is it?" Now they were alone she felt suddenly nervous. How was she meant to stop herself from saying something stupid?

"I wondered if you'd given any more thought to - to what I asked... At the end of the ball." At last he appeared nervous, too. "I'm sorry you got upset but I think we can put it past us and move on."

She blinked in surprised. "You're sorry I'm upset?" The words just didn't sound right. "Not that - not about what you said, and that it was hurtful, just that I'm upset."

"Well, same thing. I just want to move on."

Calla found herself staring at him. What was she meant to say? Okay? Sure? Was she meant to say that it was fine and that just because he'd apologised it meant she could forget what he said? Because as she kept reminding herself, he was not the only person who dismissed Divination, and she had only hoped that he wouldn't. He was her friend, one of her first friends, and she had felt something more than friendship too - and yet when she looked at him right now, she hadn't a clue what to say. "I don't know," she mumbled, cheeks burning from how awkward it was. Even that night, before they'd argued, things just hadn't felt right. "I um... You mentioned Hogsmeade." She didn't even know what she was about to say. "I... Like you said, we're friends, right?"

"Yeah?" Zach's smile faltered a little.

"I just think, maybe we're just friends." He stared at her and she exhaled slowly before speaking again. "Look, even before we argued I just don't think it felt right, I was too nervous and awkward and I don't really think I'm ready for some sort of relationship, and I've got so much to focus on already and I think if - if you don't really get it, because you didn't seem to get it when I was talking about my visions, I just don't think I... I really like you, Zach, but I don't want to date you." As soon as she'd said it, it felt like a weight had been lifted, and yet looking at the expression on Zach's face she felt tenser than she had in months.

"Oh." He looked surprised, and rather like Calla also felt - like he just didn't know what to do or say in response. "I just thought because you'd gone to the ball with me, you might have actually had an interest. But I guess not."

The way he said it was almost accusatory, and Calla winced. "I'm sorry. It's not like I meant to - to lead you on or something."

"Right."

He didn't say any more and Calla had no idea what she should say either. They just stood there for a moment, watching each other awkwardly. "I should go," Calla blurted out eventually, wishing the floor would swallow her up.

"Right," Zach said again. "Well. See you in class."

She smiled thinly. "Yeah."

Cheeks flaming, Calla hurried away to find Padma and Daphne. "That was the most awkward conversation of my entire life and I think I'm about to combust."

Daphne winced. "That bad?"

"What'd he do?"

"He said he just wanted to move on and he was sorry I got upset, and that annoyed me, and then I said I don't want to go out with him-"

"Because he's a prick?"

"Because it was so painfully awkward and I don't think it would, you know, work out anyway, and then he got annoyed and he didn't say anything, but that kind of said everything if you know what I mean, and oh my God!" She let out a cry of frustration and buried her head in Daphne's shoulder. "It was so bad. I don't think I can ever talk to him again."

Padma patted her shoulder soothingly. "I think you might be over-reacting. He'll get over it."

"It's still so embarrassing!"

"Why is it embarrassing?" Daphne asked.

"I don't know! Have you ever had to tell someone you don't want to go out with them after you've already gone on a date?"

"No," Daphne said, "but I've had a fair few arguments with Theo."

Calla groaned. "It's not the same!"

"Do you want some chocolate?" Padma asked weakly, and Calla choked out a laugh.

"What?"

"It'll make you feel better?"

She laughed weakly and took the bar of chocolate that Padma had produced from her pocket. "Thanks."

Xx

Over the rest of the holidays, Calla did a pretty decent job of avoiding Zach - though Harry seemed determined to give him a talking to even when Calla insisted it was completely unnecessary - but when classes resumed it was no longer an option. And worse, when she arrived at Defense Against the Dark Arts, she could tell Malfoy was looking at her. "What?" she asked in a low voice as they shoved through the door.

"Nothing," he said with a smug smile. "Just wondering what sort of things you've..." His eyes trailed her face in an uncomfortable way. "Seen, over the holidays."

It felt like the bottom of her stomach had just fallen out. Blood drained from her face. "I-I'm sorry?"

"You heard me," he said, leaning closer. Calla dearly wished Daphne was here to tell him off, but she was on the other side of the classroom with Padma and Isobel and had yet to notice. "I always knew you were weird, Potter... But I didn't know you were mad, too."

"What are you talking about?" This couldn't be happening. He didn't know what he was saying. He couldn't know what this meant to her ears. No, no way.

"You'll find out," he said with a smirk, sauntering off just before Professor Moody appeared.

"Everything alright here, Potter?" he barked, causing Calla to jump.

"Yes, Professor."

"Good holiday? Get to work on the Second Task?"

She nodded quickly. His fake blue eye was roaming the classroom and looked even creepier than usual. "Yeah, I've got a plan now. Snape's letting me use his classroom to brew a potion."

"Is that so?" Moody frowned. "Interesting, Potter..."

"Professor?"

"To your seat now," he said abruptly, voice gruff. Calla blinked in surprise at the change in his tone, but hurried to sit down anyway. She did not want to agitate Professor Moody.

If Defense Against the Dark Arts started badly, Ancient Runes was even worse. The Ravenclaws all arrived sooner than the Hufflepuffs, who had been in the greenhouses for their first lesson and all looked freezing when they came in. Calla exchanged a glance with Padma, who smiled encouragingly, as Zach, Susan and Hannah entered, whispering. "Hey," Zach said as he sat down next to her, and she pressed her lips together.

"Hi, Zach."

"How... how are you?"

"Fine." The silence between them was stifling. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"Good."

It occurred to Calla that this would be an excellent time for a sinkhole to appear in the middle of the classroom. She took out some parchment, and wrote the date at the top, wishing he would say what she was thinking but knowing he wouldn't.

"Are we alright, then?"

"You tell me." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Zach looked at her, surprised. "I'm sorry. Yeah. We're fine." How many times had she said fine already? Probably too many. Even Susan seemed to pick up on the awkwardness between the two of them.

"Your brother spoke to me the other day."

It was all Calla could do to keep herself from exploding. She'd told Harry not to say anything, for God's sake! "Yeah? What'd he say?"

"He said you were pretty upset with me."

She made a strangled sort of sound as she said, "Oh, did he?"

"I thought we said we were still friends."

"We are."

"Only he seemed to think we weren't. He gave me a right talking to about respecting you." She winced. This was painful. "And I do!"

"I know you do," she muttered. "Can we please stop talking about whatever my brother said? He doesn't speak for me."

Calla looked up at the board at the front of the classroom, where Professor Babbling was already drawing up some Runes, and she and Zach said no more until the end of the class when he caught her on her way out the door.

"If you have a problem," he said, "I'd rather you just said it."

"I told you what my problem was the other day, and I just told you I don't want to talk about this! You're the one who said we should move on, so let's move on!"

She was aware her voice got a little shrill towards the end, and people passing them by in the corridor gave her rather frightened looks. "Yeah, but-"

"You heard her, Smith," Daphne's voice said, as she came to stand at Calla's shoulder.

"McGonagall will have our head if we've had all holiday to do this essay and don't manage to hand it in," Padma said, taking Calla's arm. "Come on, we'll get a seat in the common room."

They hurried off together towards Ravenclaw Tower, Calla feeling oddly numb instead of angry or sad. She almost felt empty. But they'd barely gotten near the Tower when she heard her brother calling her name and turned around, stifling a groan as he, Ron and Hermione all came up the corridor, looking furious. "What's up with them?" Daphne asked, and Padma shook her head at her.

"Have you seen what this Skeeter woman's written?" Harry demanded.

"No," Calla said, stomach squirming. "Why, what does it say?"

"It's about Hagrid," Hermione explained quickly. "And about you."

"Me?" Calla asked, suddenly even more startled and confused. "What've I done?"

Harry pushed two scrunched up copies of the Daily Prophet into her hands and Calla took it with trembling hands. On one page, from a few days ago, read the words DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE and then on the other, dated this morning: THE CURSE OF CALLA POTTER.

"Curse?" she yelped, staring at the article.

Calla Potter is a name known by all in the Wizarding World as the sister of the famous Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. It has been long speculated what effects her life of fame have had on her and her brother, and the effects of the demise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on one so young. Earlier this year, Calla Potter along with her brother entered herself into the Triwizard Tournament, pitting brother against sister (for more discussion on this, see the Triwizard Tournament special, written by yours truly, Rita Skeeter). Following the First Task, we saw Calla Potter in last position while her brother took the top spot; she didn't exactly manage to prove herself as she had hoped. But new information has come to light regarding Calla Potter's own mysterious magic.

Calla's stomach twisted. What the hell?

Rita Skeeter can exclusively reveal that Calla Potter claims to be in possession of what some call the Sight, an exceedingly rare gift. It may be hard to believe, readers, especially for one so young and so damaged by her past, but little Miss Potter believes herself to have what she describes as 'visions'. This may come as a great shock to many, for Divination is known to be a notoriously fanciful area of magic, and many who claim to be Seers are nothing more than fortune-tellers. But this may explain Miss Potter's own lack of magical prowess; perhaps she is compensating for this by the claims of having unknown powers, which I will remind the Prophet readers, can very rarely be proven (readers may remember the 1990 scandal surrounding the self-proclaimed and false Seer, Lucille Appleby). Surely living in the shadow of her older brother has made Miss Potter hungry for attention and the greatness she has been denied. This desire has already lead her to compete in the dangerous Triwizard Tournament, and many worry for Potter's safety not only to herself but to those around her.

"Hungry for attention?" she spluttered. "Who-"

"There's more," Ron said with a wince.

But there is another explanation the Prophet must consider. That famous night when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named perished and the Wizarding World rejoiced, the Boy Who Lived was forever immortalised as the saviour of wizardkind and for good reason. Yet no one knows the truth of what happened that night. Is it possible, then, that Calla Potter is suffering from the results of a deep, dark curse? Word at Hogwarts says Potter is prone to outbursts at her teachers and has on many occasions struggled with the taxes of witchcraft, with one anonymous source telling the Prophet that it was a 'miracle' she passed last year's rigorous exams. Perhaps Miss Potter is, unknown to much of the Wizarding world, little more than a squib.

"A squib?"

Certainly it would come as a shock, but the events of Halloween 1981 and the ten years between then and her arrival at Hogwarts are foggy enough to make us call into question whether Calla Potter really is a stable child, and whether she truly possesses the magical prowess one would expect of her. Some of her actions, such as reportedly trying to fight a troll on school grounds and attempting to capture the suspected murderer Peter Pettigrew, are cause for worry and a sure sign of a deeply troubled young girl who is willing to go to any lengths to be noticed. The entry into the Triwizard Tournament may be just one more attempt to prove herself against the curse of her weakness and of being constantly overshadowed. With the Second Task of the Tournament approaching, we all wait with anticipation to see what Calla and Harry Potter will do next, whether Calla Potter will make it through all of her shortcomings to survive the Tournament, and perhaps even discover whether her outlandish claims of visions and the Sight have any substance to them.

"This can't be real," Padma said, looking over Calla's shoulder. "They can't have let her publish this!"

"The one about Hagrid came out a few days ago, apparently but this one was today. We only saw it now - Malfoy showed us."

"That's what he was talking about," Calla said in a low murmur. "In Defense, he... He called me mad. Because of this."

"For Merlin's sake," Daphne muttered, clamping a hand to her head. "How did she know about all this?"

Her stomach felt even emptier now. There were few people who knew of her visions, and one had just left her. "Zach."

"He wouldn't," Padma said slowly. "He wouldn't be so stupid as to talk to Rita Skeeter."

"Well, who else knows?" Calla snapped. "And it's awfully coincidental timing, don't you think?"

"I don't know. Maybe he mentioned it to someone else, maybe someone overheard you."

"There were loads of people in the Entrance Hall when I saw you," Harry muttered, and Calla's eyes snapped up.

"But they - they couldn't have heard all that?" Her eyes pricked with tears; how hadn't she seen it already, how come she didn't know what had been said about her? How many people knew about this now, how many people had she passed in the corridor today who were silently judging her, whispering behind her back.

"Malfoy and Parkinson were there too," Harry murmured, but Calla was hardly listening.

"Surely not," Daphne said. "They wouldn't-"

"They would," Ron muttered. "Didn't you hear what Calla just said about him?"

The corridor seemed to constrict around her and she felt suddenly too warm, like she was going to pass out or be sick. This couldn't be happening. Someone had leaked to Rita Skeeter, someone had betrayed her trust and now people knew, and while having the Sight was never something she was ashamed of, she suddenly felt like she was supposed to be ashamaed, like there was something wrong. Malfoy had called her mad, Skeeter had called her a liar. And this article was in Wizarding Britain's chief newspaper, the details and speculation about her life - some things she'd thought and never been brave enough to voice herself - were splashed onto the front page for anyone and everyone to see and judge her for. Would people hate her? Would they think her mad? The thought of so many people knowing something she had only told a handful of those closest to her made her skin itch.

Calla tried very hard not to cry as she shoved the article back into Harry's hands. She didn't even want to read the other one about Hagrid. "I'm going to the dormitory."

"Calla!"

"We've got Potions, haven't we? I need to make sure I'm prepared."

She turned around, walking briskly along the corridor towards Ravenclaw Tower. Her friends' feet hurried after her, but she didn't want to look at any of them, just wanted to cry. Tears were burning her eyes at this point, and she was sure anyone who saw her crying would think she was indeed a mad little attention-hungry girl. Who had done this to her? It must have been Zach, but why? Why would he have told Rita Skeeter about her, why would she even want to write that? What did he get out of that except a bit of gossip and publicity? She told herself it couldn't have been Zach. She trusted him more than that, she had to. He was her friend. And he was not the only person who knew, but then who else had told Skeeter? The list suddenly felt far too long.

She wanted to scream, but had to stop herself. She'd just gone past a group of whispering sixth years and wouldn't have been surprised if they thought she'd lost it. There were many minutes before she got to Ravenclaw Tower, immediately making her way to her dormitory. She heard Terry and Anthony calling her over but hurried up the stairs instead, throwing herself down on her bed in the empty dormitory. She was determined not to cry, but she did anyway, and when she was done crying she flung herself to a sitting position and flung her stupid golden egg across the room, where it slammed off the wall and clattered onto the stone floor.

Before going to her next class, Potions, Calla tried to put on some concealer to hide the blotchiness of her face, but it didn't do very much and she was sure that when she arrived, everyone knew she had been crying. All the Hufflepuffs were looking at her curiously, while most of her housemates just looked pitying. She took her usual place with Padma, who laid a comforting hand on her arm. "Rita Skeeter's ridiculous," she whispered. "Everyone knows she writes a load of drivel."

"That's not just it," she muttered, eyes going to Zach, who was talking quickly to Ernie. "Someone told her about my visions."

"He wouldn't," Padma told her sternly. "You know that."

"Do I?" She shook Padma's hand off of her. "I have a pretty small list of people who I've actually spoken to about them." Harry, Daphne, Padma, Ron, Hermione. The others did too though - Isobel, Terry, Anthony, Lisa, Mandy, Michael, Sue. What if one of them had said something? Not to Skeeter but to another student who had passed it on? How could she know? It felt like control over her own life was slipping out of her grasp. "And other people must have spoken to her, too. To know about the troll, about... these supposed outbursts, about me not being great in class." Calla sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to cry again. "I hate this."

"I know."

"I'm going to talk to him about it."

"Are you?"

She sighed. Did she even want to try to have that conversation? "Let's just get on with this," she said, opening her eyes so she could read the instructions on the blackboard. Snape was regarding her coolly. "Before someone writes about how I fail at making a potion."

The next few days did nothing to improve her mood; not Trelawney's session on Monday evening nor her classes on Tuesday. Ancient Runes had been terrible with Zach not talking to her and Susan clearly feeling awkward about the whole situation, and when she arrived at her Care of Magical Creatures class she was so ready to see Hagrid; but he was not there.

There was another professor, a middle aged woman who smiled crisply at them all. "I am Professor Grubbly-Plank, I will be your Care of Magical Creatures teacher for the foreseeable future."

"What about Hagrid?" Isobel asked loudly, her hands on her hips. They could all guess why.

Grubbly-Plank's mouth pressed into a thin line. "He is indisposed at the moment. Beyond that, I cannot say. Now, I have planned a lesson with the unicorns in the forest." Even though unicorns sounded brilliant, Calla couldn't bring herself to be enthusiastic about Professor Grubbly-Plank's lesson. She followed her and the rest of the class sullenly into the forest.

"You don't think this is because of that cow Skeeter, do you?" Padma asked. Calla caught Zach looking over at them and her cheeks grew very hot.

"If it is, I'll have her head. It's ridiculous, no one should care. We all love Hagrid, don't we?"

She looked around at all of her fellow Ravenclaws, and she must have looked fierce because they all nodded right away, with a lot more enthusiasm than was necessary. "Of course," Terry said loudly. "Hagrid's brilliant. I'm sure he'll just need a little while to come around, but we all know how great he is, don't we?"

"Exactly," said Isobel, looking very determined. "I'll find this Rita Skeeter and tell her so myself."

"Hurry on, now," Grubbly-Plank called back to them, and they hurried to catch up with the group of Hufflepuffs. Sally-Anne Perks looked over at Calla and whispered something to Rachel Harris, who threw her a curious, but almost mocking, look.

"Ignore them," Padma and Terry both said quietly by Calla's side. "They don't know anything."

It didn't make Calla feel much better though. She couldn't help but be entranced by the unicorns, who both responded well to her - their coats were so soft and shiny, and their eyes so sweet and gentle - yet even when the class finished she didn't feel much happier.

Her meeting with Dumbledore that night also achieved nothing except him trying to coax information about her visions out of her, and her not having anything helpful to contribute. All she knew for certain was that her visions scared her. "You could help lead us to Pettigrew," Dumbledore told her, as if she didn't already know. And she wished she could, wished she could do something of use.

Even by Wednesday evening, her nerves were wrecked and she was exhausted and she half expected Snape to turn her away from his classroom when she showed up after dinner, Potion ingredients and instructions in hand.

"Good evening," he said flatly by way of greeting, and inclined his head to the farthest corner of the classroom. "You may set up your work there, Miss Potter."

She did so silently, assembling her cauldron and scales and setting out all of her ingredients. She had enough for five batches of the potion, one to be made every week for the next few weeks until she hopefully got it right. If not, she'd need a back-up plan, but she'd work on that once she got an idea of what she was doing. The instructions from her textbook said to bring the honeywater to the boil first, and so she put that in the cauldron and lit the fire beneath it before starting to measure and organise the rest of her ingredients. She was only vaguely aware of Snape watching her as she worked, but tried to ignore his gaze as best as she could, determined not to be put off by him. She ground her moonstones into a fine powder and tipped them carefully into the boiled honeywater along with her potion binding agent, making sure there was none that spilled before she stirred it, three times anti-clockwise and twice clockwise. A minute later, she did the same, and then a minute after that, until eventually the moonstone had dissolved and combined effectively with the honeywater.

Next was the squill bulb, which she crushed under her knife before juicing it into the potion. She had to let that simmer for ten minutes before stirring, in which time she finely sliced her knotgrass. The eel's eye she had to add in at the very end, though she rather wished she could have gotten rid of it beforehand. Once the knotgrass was added, she had to stir until the potion went a strong teal colour; it was, at the moment, a misty grey. Snape was watching her carefully as she continued to stir, but the colour would not change beyond a couple of shades. She bit down on her lip nervously and clenched her fist as she continued, and it seemed to take forever to get it somewhat resembling teal, by which time she was incredibly flustered by Snape, who was staring at her.

"Is everything alright, sir?" she asked anxiously, checking over her recipe just to be certain that she hadn't messed anything up. Maybe the moonstone hadn't been fine enough?

Snape did not reply to her. She kept stirring, until the potion started to look more green than teal and she figured this was as good as it was going to get and gave up, making a wound in the eel's eye, which was completely disgusting, before she dropped it into the cauldron. At once, it hissed and splashed, some of the potion catching Calla's arm. She winced, shaking her wrist as she tried stirring with her other hand. It was meant to go a shimmering blue at this point, and it did go blue, to be fair, but there wasn't much of a shimmer. Snape did not look very impressed at all as she continued stirring for the next five minutes, watching the steam rise gently from the cauldron.

"It, er, it's meant to mature for twenty four hours now," she told him.

He raised his eyebrows. "Leave it there, then, Miss Potter. If it explodes in a student's face, I shall be holding you accountable."

"Of course." Calla smiled shakily, rubbing her arm, and placed the cauldron lid on top of it. Only a thin stream of steam came from the top, a pale blue-ish grey. It smelled alright, at least. "I'll er, be back tomorrow night at this time."

Snape only glanced up momentarily to nod as Calla, face hot, packed up her ingredients and equipment and ushered herself hurriedly from the classroom.

The next evening, Snape's demeanour was much the same. He nodded curtly at Calla when she entered and watched as she completed the necessary stirring of the potion, adding the remainder of the honeywater and bringing the potion to the boil. She was meant to leave it another fifteen minutes from there, and so took to reading over her Ancient Runes assignment, scrawling notes on parchment. She considered for a moment if Runes could at all help her in the Second Task - some had been used in the magic of old, after all, to defend and to warm, mainly to affect the body. She supposed it was an option, but she'd spoken to Professor Babbling about using Runes for magic before, and she hadn't seemed to think it would be possible for Calla. That was over a year ago, she thought to herself hopefully, and then remembered what Skeeter had written, what some anonymous classmate - Hermione thought it was Pansy Parkinson - had said about her, and decided not to try it. She had to focus on one thing if she was going to succeed at all.

The alarm she'd set went off before she could get deeper into the assignment, and she gave it seven quick clockwise stirs before trying to wrest her courage and ask, "Professor Snape, could you check this potion?"

Snape looked up, appearing most displeased. But even though he sighed, he did come to take a look at it. "It would gain you Acceptable marks," he told her.

That didn't exactly sound like a rousing praise. But she ladled and bottled it anyway; if she tried it, tested it safely, then she could understand what elements hadn't worked out correctly. Snape didn't look impressed, but he didn't stop her either, and said nothing until she'd finished bottling and vanished the remainder of liquid inside the cauldron. She was just heading out of the classroom, resigned to the quiet, when he spoke. "You will likely need to make another attempt," Snape told her. "I doubt that potion would work for a sustained length of time, Potter, if it were to work at all."

"I know, Professor," Calla said as mildly as she could. "But I'm going to test it anyway. I know what the different elements do to affect its properties, so by testing I can work out from there what specifically didn't go as planned."

Snape made a displeased sound. "You may do with that potion as you wish, in that case, Miss Potter. I do hope you don't poison yourself."

She tested the potion in the girls' dorm bathroom later that night, taking a vial of it. It tasted oddly fresh, and a little sweet. She licked her lips after, and filled the sink as full as she could with cold water, tied her hair back and stuck her face under the water.

It was her natural reaction to try and hold her breath, but she couldn't keep that for long. A few seconds went by before she dared to take a small, shallow breath, and came up gasping for air, coughing and spluttering. Her eyes watered, and she could feel even that tiny bit of water clogging her nose as she coughed it out. "Calla?" Padma's voice called from the other side of the door. "You alright in there?"

"Yup," she called back, slightly hoarsely, as she drained the sink. So that hadn't worked, even if it had tasted very nice. "Fine."

"You sure?"

She could loudly again, shaking her head; some water had managed to get into her ears. "I'm okay. I'll be out in a moment."

At least the cold hadn't really shocked her, even though she knew it had been very close to freezing before she'd taken the potion. That was one thing she knew she'd gotten right, but it was the breathing part that was really important, after all. The knotgrass and the squill bulb were the most important for that; perhaps she hadn't sliced the knotgrass finely enough, or juiced the squill bulb to its fullest extent. She made a mental note to adjust her notes to suit, and then dried her face quickly with a towel, snatching the potion vial and slipping it into her pocket before she returned to the dormitory.

"What's up with you?" Lisa asked, flipping the page of her magazine.

"The potion I made didn't quite work," she said, though to Padma rather than Lisa. "I'll have to make some adjustments and try again next week."

It was Friday morning when she got a letter from Remus. She'd tried to put Skeeter's article about her out of her head, but when Moony landed on top of her Charms textbook with the letter clasped in his grasp, she remembered immediately, and felt rather nervous as she unfolded the parchment.

Dear Calla,

I have seen the article from the Skeeter woman, and though I didn't think what to say at first, I'd like to tell you not to give it attention. You understand your abilities far more than anyone else does, and far more than anyone ever could. Rita Skeeter has never been kind, and all she wants is a story, no matter if it is true or false. You've seen how she wrote about Hagrid by now, too, I am sure, and you know there is little truth to the way she describes him. It is what you make of yourself that matters.

On another note, how are you progressing with your preparations for the Second Task? Harry seems rather undecided on the matter, but I trust you are somewhat farther forward. Please do let me know.

Remus

Calla smiled when she read it even though she hadn't expected to. The knowledge that her godfather had faith in her made everything much better; and he was right, after all, she knew Rita only wanted a story. If she didn't think Hagrid should be bothered by what Skeeter had said about him, then why should she put stock in it?

She felt considerably more cheerful, especially after breakfast, when Padma and Terry had taken it in turns to try and charm each other's uniform ties increasingly ridiculous bright colours, ending with Padma in a bright green and neon pink tie and Terry wearing one in a yellow so bright it hurt to look at it. Even her classes that day seemed to go better, even Transfiguration, as she finally managed to do what the rest of the class had been doing for weeks and turn a hedgehog into a pincushion. McGonagall had even smiled at her, which was high praise as far as Calla was aware.

"You know," Daphne told her in a whisper at the end of the class, "I saw Krum practicing swimming in the lake earlier. He looks good."

"Were you looking?" Calla asked, eyebrows raised, and Daphne flushed.

"I meant he looks like he's a good swimmer. You ought to practice, don't you think?"

"Practice?" Calla laughed. "I still need to learn."

Daphne paused on her way out the door. "Learn? You don't know how to swim?"

Calla just shrugged, tugging her along the corridor with her, Padma in tow. "The Dursleys never got lessons for Harry and I, only Dudley. Harry says he reckons they were hoping we'd fall in a lake at some point and drown."

"Don't say that," Padma scolded her. "I'm sure they didn't."

Calla laughed awkwardly, the two girls staring at her. "I don't know," she mumbled. Fortunately, her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. "I'm hungry, we should get to dinner. You can see if you can turn Terry's hat yellow next, Padma."

Even as she tried to lighten the mood, her friends kept their eyes on her, seeming to worry constantly. She wanted to say she was fine, but really Calla felt like she was just waiting for this all to be over, or that it had never happened. But she couldn't change what was already done. She just had to get through what came next.