The Hogsmeade visit came on Saturday, the day bright and clear and crisp and the sky a beautiful blue. Calla woke last and immediately regretted opening her eyes; her head was pounding and she felt exhausted. "You can't miss Hogsmeade," Daphne sighed, sitting herself down at the end of Calla's bed. "You'll be fine."

"Bit of fresh air'll do you good," Isobel said mildly. "That's what my mum always says."

"I just want to sleep." Calla pulled her extra pillow over her head and shut her eyes determinedly, curling up under the covers.

"But-"

"Leave her, Daphne," Padma told her quietly. "We'll bring you breakfast up, Calla."

Calla sighed. Her head hurt when she closed her eyes, like fire. There was a gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach. "I'm not hungry," she said, because she was also sure that she'd be sick if she tried to put in the energy to eat. "Just go on without me."

"Stop being all tragic," Lisa snapped.

"I'm ill, Lisa."

The pillow was snatched from over her head and Lisa's hand was clammy on her forehead. "Oh. Yeah, you do feel a bit hot, actually."

"She'll be roasting under those covers," Isobel said. Calla found herself wishing she hadn't said anything and they'd all just shut up; their voices were grating on her ears now. "That's why."

"Just go," she murmured, trying to ignore them. But Isobel hauled her out of bed.

"At least come to breakfast," Daphne said. "Come on, bathroom's free."

She did feel marginally better after getting ready and having breakfast, but Calla remained in a bad mood as they all trudged down to Hogsmeade together. "You do look a bit pale," Daphne had observed. "Maybe don't have anything in Honeydukes."

"If you lot are dragging me down here," Calla muttered determinedly, "I'm at least going to get some chocolate out of it."

Padma laughed, and they made Honeydukes their first stop. In truth, Calla didn't much feel like having anything sweet, but she still bought herself a bar of chocolate and some sugar quills for later. "I want to go see the Shrieking Shack," Isobel declared as they left. "I still haven't seen it."

Calla shifted awkwardly. "I'm not fussed," she said, even as Daphne and Padma went to go with Isobel.

"Are you sure?" Padma made a move to come back over to stand with her, but Calla shook her head.

"Yeah, course. I said I'd meet Harry, Ron and Hermione in a bit anyway; you guys go on ahead."

"I'm not too keen on the Shrieking Shack either," Terry admitted, leaning against the wall beside Calla.

"Well, I am," Lisa said, and Daphne suddenly looked a lot less keen on the idea.

The four of them went in the direction of the Shrieking Shack with Mandy and Sue, while Michael departed to say hello to Wayne Hopkins and Arran Tegan, leaving Calla with Terry and Anthony to make their way through town towards the Three Broomsticks. "How is the Tournament coming along, anyway?" Anthony asked her. "Lisa said you were freaking out over a Potion."

"Did she now?" Calla said drily. "Well, I know what I'm doing, I just need to figure out how to do it right. I'm making a potion that'll let me breathe underwater, but it's complex because technically it's an antidote to prevent drowning, so I have to get it precisely right for it to work."

"That's what Snape was talking about, right? Antidotes as preventatives?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that's how I thought of it. I couldn't believe it took me so long, though, I only figured it out just before the ball."

"Oh, right." At the mention of the ball, Anthony and Terry had exchanged a significant look.

"What?" Calla asked slowly, looking between them.

"Oh, nothing," said Terry breezily as they ducked quickly inside the Three Broomsticks. "It's just... well, obviously we heard about the Daily Prophet article."

"Did you, now?" She struggled to keep her voice even. There was honestly nothing she wanted to discuss less right now. "So do you think I'm a raving lunatic, cursed, or a squib?"

"We think Rita Skeeter's a right bitch, actually," Anthony told her, and she blinked, suddenly cheered. "But Mandy mentioned something about Zacharias Smith and the ball. He's been swearing up and down he didn't say anything to anyone about it."

"Well someone did."

"He said he wants to talk to you," Anthony told Calla, and she huffed.

"Well, then, he can talk to me himself." She caught sight of Harry sitting with Ron and Hermione in a nearby booth and made a hasty excuse as she hurried over, slipping into a seat beside Hermione.

"Ah, there you are," Hermione said, very cheerfully. "Nice morning?"

"Brilliant," she said, and it must have been obvious how little she meant it because both Harry and Ron looked at her weirdly. "I just don't feel great," she admitted. It was very warm in the pub, she noticed, eyeing Harry's cold-looking Butterbeer. It would be very sweet though.

"Are you sure you should be here, then? I mean, if you're unwell, you'll have to keep up your strength for the Second Task-" Hermione shot Harry a look as she said it "-you don't want to stay unwell."

"I've got ages," Calla said, shaking her head. "Besides there's not much I can do at the moment about it, I'm still in the middle of preparing. It's good to take a day off."

Harry looked at her curiously for just a second before he said, "I'll come with you to get a drink," and got to his feet, headed to the bar.

"Look," Harry said, appearing rather awkward, "about that egg..."

"Yes?" Calla counted out her change for Butterbeer in the palm of her hand. "D'you know what you're doing yet? Remus sounds like he's worried about it."

"Well... Cedric said to open it... in the prefects' bathroom. Underwater. But I wasn't... I didn't really want..."

"You knew that already, though," Calla interrupted, frowning up at him. "You've already opened it under the water, haven't you?"

"Well, no."

She stared at him. "Why? You told me ages ago you knew what you were doing! Before Christmas! That's why I didn't... Harry." She gave him a very stern look and he squirmed, not meeting her eyes. She knew all of a sudden why he hadn't told her he didn't know what to do, and why he hadn't taken Cedric's advice. His stupid pride. "You're so annoying. Why didn't you tell me you needed to figure it out, I would have told you how?" Her brother seemed to wince a little; it wasn't like he'd fully believed what she'd said about the dragons.

"Do you even know what the egg says?"

"Well, no-"

"So you have no idea what you need to do? You have no plan?"

He winced. "You don't have to say it like that!"

"Well, how else am I meant to say it? It's true, isn't it?" When he didn't reply, she huffed loudly. "I can't believe you, Harry. I suppose you want me to tell you what the egg says."

"No," Harry said quickly. "I don't. I just wanted to know if Cedric was telling me the truth..."

"Instead of just doing as he said and finding out that way?" Harry went pink. "For goodness' sake, Harry."

"I just want to figure it out myself," he mumbled. "Prove that I can."

She softened a little at that, but still glared at him. "So if Cedric didn't tell you what to do, you would have gone on not knowing until when, exactly?"

"I don't know!" He threw his hands in the air and huffed. "I promise I will figure it out - I just want to do it on my own."

"Well, you are going to have to open it underwater, Harry, there's no way getting around that. If you weren't so stubborn..." She trailed off and sighed. "There are mermaids involved. You're going to have to find your way underwater for an hour. Listen to the riddle and see what else you can figure out."

Despite his talk of wanting to figure it out for himself, Harry did look rather relieved. "But you know what you're doing?" he asked, looking at her sideways.

"Yes." Calla gave her brother a stern look as she stepped up towards the bar. "Clearly, you're the one everyone should have been worrying about. Gillywater and two Butterbeers." Madam Rosmerta smiled and set about fetching bottles behind the bar. Calla lowered her voice, "So Cedric just told you to use it in the Prefects' bathroom?"

"Yeah. I thought it sounded a bit weird."

Calla snorted. "It makes sense once you realise true mersong can only be heard underwater."

"Oh, right. How did you-"

"Luna Lovegood has great insight sometimes."

"Who?"

She grinned as she exchanged sickles for their drinks and set off back to their table. "You haven't had the honour of meeting her yet?"

"Doesn't seem like it." Calla grinned. "I promise I will figure out what to do. Now I know where to start."

"Now you've stopped being an idiot," she corrected, rolling her eyes fondly. "And you had better, or it won't just be me who tells you off, but Hermione, too. And I know she's good at telling people off."

"Yeah." He paused a moment. "Bagman offered to help me."

"He did?" Calla looked at him sharply. "Why?"

"I don't know! He said he just wanted a Hogwarts victory, but I know he didn't offer Cedric help..."

"He didn't offer me any help either," Calla said, trying not to sound bitter. She wouldn't have wanted his help anyway, she told herself. Nor had she needed it in the end.

"Yeah. He was acting weird though, he was talking to goblins but they didn't seem too happy with him. At least he's got someone looking for Bertha Jorkins now."

"Only took him six months," Calla muttered, as they sat back down at the table. She handed Ron his new Butterbeer and he grinned at her.

"Thanks, Calla."

She smiled at him, then turned back to her brother. "So what did he say about Bertha Jorkins then? Have they found anything? Do they think... it might have anything to do with Pettigrew, or Voldemort?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "He did sound worried though. And apparently Mr Crouch is still ill and no one's seen him."

That really didn't sit well with Calla. "You don't think he's involved, too? I don't know... He put a lot of old Death Eaters in jail, didn't he, and he's got a major role in the search for Pettigrew? He'd be an obvious target."

"Calla," Ron whispered, "not so loud."

"No one can hear, it's so noisy in here anyway."

"No, look," Ron said, and Calla turned to see that Rita Skeeter had just walked in, wearing banana-yellow robes and bright pink nail polish. Her eyes roamed the room like she was searching for a story and thought she'd find it here.

Calla's gut turned and she ducked her head as Skeeter passed, headed to a nearby table and talking quickly to her photographer. "...didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow, anyway? Showing them the sights... what nonsense... he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Sports, Ludo Bagman... snappy start to a sentence, Bozo. We just need to find a story to fit it."

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" Harry asked loudly.

A few people looked around, and Calla felt her cheeks burn. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the table, but Rita Skeeter had already seen them and heard Harry; her eyes widened. "Harry!" she said, beaming. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join-"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," said Harry furiously. "What'd you do that to Hagrid for, eh? And writing about my sister-"

"Our readers have the right to know the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my-"

"Who cares if Hagrid's half-giant?" Harry shouted. "Who cares what you think about my sister?" Calla wished the ground would open up and swallow her; if only she had Harry's Invisibility Cloak. The pub suddenly seemed impossibly hot again, stuffy and humid. "There's nothing wrong with them!"

The whole pub had gone very quiet, and everyone was paying attention to their table and Rita Skeeter. Calla could see Terry and Anthony glancing over, both looking anxious. Terry gave Calla a sympathetic glance, seeing her flush.

Rita Skeeter had taken out her Quick-Quotes Quill; Calla had a strong desire to run over there and snap it in two. If only she could do that from over here. "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know, hm, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it? And how about you, Calla?" Calla slunk further down in her seat, cheeks and eyes both blazing now. "How do you feel about your visions? How have you been affected by the curses of your young life? Is your role as an outcast why you bond with Hagrid so well? Is he a father substitute for the two of you? Or how about your godfather, Calla, the werewolf? Are the two of you simply drawn to dangerous beasts?"

Hermione stood up abruptly, clutching her Butterbeer so tightly Calla thought it would explode. "You horrible woman," she said through gritted teeth, "You don't care, do you, anything for a story? And anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman-"

"Sit down you silly girl," Rita Skeeter said snappily to Hermione, "and don't talk about things you don't understand. I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl... not that it needs it."

"Can we go, please?" Calla muttered across the table, as Harry and Hermione both looked like they wouldn't let this go otherwise.

"Yeah," Ron said quietly, glancing between the two of them. "C'mon, you two."

Calla caught Anthony's eye as they left and she nodded to him silently, responding to his silent question. Everyone was staring at them, it seemed, as they left, and Rita Skeeter's Quick Quotes Quill was flying swiftly over her scroll of parchment. "That was embarrassing," Calla muttered, and Harry looked at her, surprised.

"I wasn't going to let her say all that stuff about Hagrid and you and get away with it!"

"You didn't have to bring me into it," Calla told him primly; her cheeks were still burning. "Everyone was listening, Harry."

"Well, good!" Hermione said shrilly. "They deserved to hear!"

"I didn't want-"

"She'll be after you now," Ron said to Hermione. "You shouldn't cross Rita Skeeter."

"Oh, let her try anything!" Hermione cried. She seemed to be shaking with fury now. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, indeed! Oh, I'll get her back, first Harry and Calla and now Hagrid, too!"

"I'm being serious, Hermione," Ron said in a low voice, "she'll dig something up on you."

"My parents don't read the Daily Prophet," Hermione said. "She can't scare me." She was walking very fast, seeming to storm up the path out of Hogsmeade; Calla didn't have much of a choice but to follow her, even though it was very difficult to keep up. Hermione looked angry enough to hit someone. "And Hagrid isn't going to hide anymore either! He should never have let the beast of a human being upset him, and nor should Calla! She shouldn't scare you, either of you! Now, come on!"

She broke into a run and Calla hastened to keep up with her as they ran back to the castle grounds. "I can't believe you spoke to Skeeter like that," Calla hissed to Harry as they ran.

"She shouldn't talk about you like that."

"You just can't help interfering, like you did with Zach."

"I'm just sticking up for you," Harry whispered in return, looking stung.

"I know that," she muttered as they raced past the twin statues of the winged boars that guarded the castle gates. "But I can stick up for myself."

She hastened to catch up to Hermione and Ron and ran down the grassy hill towards Hagrid's hut at the edge of the forest. His window curtains were still drawn, but she could hear Fang barking from inside. "Hagrid!" Hermione shouted, running up and banging on the door. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're being-"

The door opened sharply and Hermione hurried forwards. "About t-"

She faltered, as did the rest of them; for it was not Hagrid who greeted them but Professor Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling with kind amusement. "Good afternoon," he said pleasantly, smiling down at them. Calla grinned up at him.

"We - er-"

"We wanted to talk to Hagrid," Calla finished for Hermione.

"Yes, I gathered as much," Dumbledore said, still smiling, something for which Calla was very grateful. Though she did have to wonder why he had come down; surely Hagrid hadn't done something stupid and resigned? No, she was sure he hadn't. He wouldn't. "Why don't you come in?" Dumbledore said, and Calla startled back from her worry as the boys and Hermione hurried past her to go inside. She followed quickly.

Fang launched himself at Calla immediately, his paws scrambling at her shoulders as he tried to lick her all over, probably trying to rid her of Matilda's cat smell. "Hey, boy," she said, scratching his fur and gently guiding him back down so she could step inside properly.

Hagrid was sitting at his table looking like a mess, surrounding by mugs of tea and piles of massive tissues. His face was blotchy and his eyes swollen from crying, and Calla's heart immediately went out to him. He'd responded to Skeeter even worse than she had, and she realised guiltily that he hadn't had so many people around him; they should have all come to see him much, much earlier. "Hi, Hagrid," Harry said quietly.

Hagrid looked up. "'Lo, Harry." His voice was very hoarse.

"Anyone for a cup of tea?" Dumbledore asked, looking around at them all. He closed the door behind him and with a flourish of his wand conjured a floating tea tray which rotated in mid-air, with not only tea and cups but cakes, too. He guided the tray over to Hagrid's table and they all went over to sit down, Fang giving Calla's leg a butt with his head before he padded back over to Hagrid. Calla summoned some soap to wash her hands before she eyed up the cakes. There was a moment of quiet before Dumbledore asked, "Did you perhaps hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?" Hermione's cheeks went very pink but Dumbledore continued on, "It seems Hermione, Harry, Calla and Ron all still want to know you, judging by the way they came down here to see you and attempted to break down the door."

Hermione's cheeks went an even brighter pink, but Harry spoke immediately. "Of course we want to know you, Hagrid! You didn't think anything that Skeeter cow- sorry, Professor."

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't the faintest idea what you just said, Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"Er, right. I just meant - Hagrid, how could you think anything that horrible woman said meant anything to us? How'd you think we'd care about any of that?"

Two fat tears welled up in Hagrid's eyes and trickled down his cheeks into his untamed black beard. "Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said. "I have shown you the letters from the parents who remember you from their own days at Hogwarts, telling me that in no uncertain terms, that if I were to sack you, they would have something to say about it!"

"No' all of them," Hagrid said, voice thick with tears, "not all of them want me ter stay."

"We do!" Calla told him quickly just before Dumbledore could speak. "Not just us, everyone in our year! All the Ravenclaws agree, and I'm sure everyone else does too!"

"They can' all," Hagrid said hoarsely.

"I'm afraid, Hagrid, that if you are holding out for universal popularity, you may be left in this cabin for a long time yet." Dumbledore peered over his glasses at Hagrid. "Not a week has passed since I became Headmaster of this school that I have not received a letter from a parent complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself inside my study and refuse to come out and speak to anyone?"

"Yeh - yeh're not half giant!"

"Hagrid, look at what we've got for relatives!" Harry said earnestly. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point," Dumbledore agreed. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual. Of course, I am not entirely sure that he can read, so that may not have been bravery..."

"Come back and teach, Hagrid," said Hermione quietly. "Please come back, we really miss you."

"Everyone does."

Hagrid gulped, and tears fell thicker down his cheeks. Dumbledore stood up, smiling. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid," he said, "and I expect to see you back at work on Monday. You will join me for breakfast at eight thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all. Oh, and Miss Potter, I should like to see you on Friday evening in my office."

Calla startled, but nodded rapidly as Dumbledore left, stopping only to scratch beneath Fang's chin. "What do you need to see Dumbledore for?" Hermione asked, looking momentarily confused, but Calla shook her head.

"Later," she whispered; Hagrid still looked rather close to tears, and he raised his hands to his face, sobbing loudly.

Calla and Hermione both patted him consolingly on the arm until he calmed down enough to mumble, "Great man, Dumbledore... Great man."

"Yeah, He is," said Ron. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"

Calla shot him a glare but Hagrid said thickly, "Course yeh can, Ron... help yerself..." He wiped his eyes against the back of his eyes. "Ar, he's right, o' course... yeh're all right... I bin silly, moping here... my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed of the way I bin behavin'-"

"It's alright to be upset, Hagrid," Calla told him quietly. "Rita Skeeter had no right to publish that article. Clearly, she's no respect for privacy. But you can't let her get to you. You're better than that. Everyone loves you, Hagrid."

More tears fell from his eyes, as Hagrid stood up and went over to his drawers, taking a picture. "Thank yeh, Calla... I saw what she wrote 'bout yeh, too... Loads of rubbish, all of it."

"See?" Ron said. "You should never have listened to her rubbish, either of you!"

Calla smiled in gratitude as Hagrid let out a very loud, trumpet-like sob. "Never shown yeh my ol' dad, have I? Well..."

He held up an old photo of a short wizard with the same crinkled black eyes as Hagrid did, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulders like a child. Calla's heart melted. In the photo, Hagrid must have been around seven feet tall, as he was tall even against an apple tree, but his face was young and beardless. He didn't look even as old as they were, and Calla thought he was maybe as young as eleven or twelve.

"Tha' was taken just after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid said in a croaky voice. "Dad was dead chuffed... though' I might no' get into Hogwarts, see, cause of me mum... well, anyway. Course, I was never great shakes at magic, but at least he never seen me expelled. Died in my second year, see."

Another few tears leaked out from his eyes. "Oh, Hagrid," Calla said softly, hugging him.

"Dumbledore was the one what got me the gamekeeper job. Great man, Dumbledore. He stood up for me after me Dad left. He trusts people, Dumbledore does... gives them second chances... that's wha' sets 'im apart from the other Heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, so long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren't... well... all that respectable. But some don't understand that. There are some who'd always hold it against yeh... there are some who would even pretend they've got big bones rather than stand up and say - I am what I am, I'm not ashamed." Calla hugged him tightly and felt her own eyes prickle with tears too. "Never be ashamed, my old dad used to say. There's some who'll hold it against you, bu' they're not worth botherin' with. An' he was right. I've bin an idiot, I'm not botherin' with her anymore, I promise yeh. Big bones... I'll show her big bones..."

Calla tried very hard to avoid Harry and Ron's gaze. "You're right, Hagrid," she said.

"You know, Calla, Harry," Hagrid said, looking up, his eyes shining wetly, "yeh reminded me a bit o' myself when I first met yeh. Mum an' Dad gone, and feeling like yeh wouldn't really fit in at Hogwarts, do you remember? An' now look at the two o' yeh! School champions!" He turned his eyes to Calla. "And you don't ever let anyone tell yeh anything different, yeh're brilliant, the both of yeh!" Calla flushed, but she smiled at Hagrid. He looked between them for a moment and then said, "Yeh know what I'd love? I'd love for one of yeh to win it, I really would. It'd show them all... yeh don't have to be pureblood teh do it... Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'll show them Dumbledore's the one who's got it right, letting in anyone as long as they can do magic, and yeh can both do magic, both of yeh. You're brilliant and don't let anyone tell yeh otherwise. How are yeh doing with yer eggs?"

"Great," Harry said thickly, and Calla shot him a withering look - but she knew why he was lying to Hagrid right now. "Really great."

"And yeh, Calla?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I think I'm almost ready. There are a few things I have to sort out, but..." She flushed and nodded. "I think I'm getting there."

Hagrid broke into a great watery smile. "You show 'em, Harry, Calla... Yeah, you show 'em. You beat 'em all."

When they left Hagrid's hut later, Harry took Calla's arm and led her away out of Hermione and Ron's earshot. "I'm going to do it tonight," he said quickly, and Calla nodded, grinning. "I know you said about the merpeople and having to be underwater but I want to hear this egg myself, too. Can I borrow your map? Just to figure it out."

"Of course." Calla beamed at him, and gave him a tight hug. She took it from her pocket where she always kept it and pressed it into his hand. "You figure it out, alright?"

"I will."

"You said this already," Calla said, but she was grinning at him. "Come on. Let's do it for Hagrid." She squeezed her brother's shoulder. "You win this thing."

"Or you," Harry said, and grinned at her. "You can do it too, I reckon you've still got as much chance as anyone. You're farther forward than I am on this one and no matter what Rita Skeeter or anyone else says, I know you're brilliant. You'll come up with something amazing and blow them all away." Then he hugged her tightly, and she squeezed him back, beaming. "I should get to Ron and Hermione. And I'll get you this back in the morning."

She grinned at him as they hurried up to the doors where Ron and Hermione were both waiting, and she knew for certain that her brother would sort out his egg, figure it out, and that he would do everything he could, if not for himself, but for Hagrid.

"Terry told us about that Skeeter bitch," Daphne said at dinner, as she and Padma appeared at Calla's side. "Showing up in Hogsmeade like that, she's no right to."

"Terry also said you ran out," Padma said worriedly.

"I didn't run out," Calla said, rather stung. "Hermione started mouthing off. She's the one who ran out."

"Well, he also said you were rather upset."

"Oh, is Terry operating the Hogwarts gossip machine now? I didn't realise."

"Calm down, Calla," Daphne snapped. "He was trying to help because he and Anthony were worried and figured you'd be more responsive to us."

"Honestly," Calla huffed, "I am fine. It's - I just have to focus on the Tournament right now. Stop fussing over me when there's nothing wrong."

"You're being awfully short with us."

Calla sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. She could feel her headache returning. "I'm sorry. I'm glad you care, it's just I'd really rather forget about all this."

Both her friends exchanged anxious glances which she pretended not to see. She spied Zacharias looking over at her from the Hufflepuff Table, appearing guilty, and her gut twisted. Maybe she should speak to him - but she couldn't bring herself to do so quite yet. She told herself it wasn't the right time, but when would be? She was angry but she didn't want to lose their friendship, and yet she worried that maybe she already had.

Xx

"I can't believe you gave him the map." Calla, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat at a table in the back of their Charms class on Monday morning, practising Banishing Charms in between their whispered conversation. Padma and Daphne had teamed up with Isobel, and she was watching Isobel try to propel a pillow in Lisa's direction. "It was mine!"

"You said I could use it."

"Yeah, you could use it, not give it away to whoever you feel like. You totally owe me the cloak now."

"Moody'll give it back," Harry whispered back. "You'll get it soon, but he'd just rescued me from Snape and Filch, I couldn't say no. And anyway, that's not what's important, is it? Crouch was sniffing about Snape's office."

"And Snape said Moody's searched his office as well?" Ron whispered curiously, just as he Banished his cushion with his wand and sent it right towards Parvati, knocking her hat off. She glared at him and he looked down. "She's been in a mood with me ever since the ball."

"I wonder why," Calla drawled.

"But d'you think Moody's sent here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff? I mean, if Dumbledore thinks something's up..."

"Well, I dunno if Dumbledore asked him to," Harry said, "but it seems to be what he's doing." His cushion flopped onto the desk after Harry made a very half-hearted wand movement. "Moody says Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here because he's giving him a second chance of something."

"Well, Moody's a very paranoid person," Calla said. "You know he just sees Dark wizards everywhere."

"What, you don't think Snape's an evil git?"

Calla gave Ron a withering look. "Dumbledore trusts him, but Moody hardly trusts anyone. I don't like Snape, but I don't think he's a danger to anyone."

"Maybe Moody thinks Snape put your names into the Goblet of Fire."

"And give us any more attention than we already get? I don't think so." Besides, if Snape wanted her to die he could very well have refused to let her brew in his classroom or tried to mess up the potion, and she knew that he hadn't.

"And we thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, didn't we," Hermione said sceptically to Ron, "and he wasn't, was he? He was saving his life!"

"He's still a slimy git," Ron muttered. Calla tried sending her pillow across the classroom, but it just slid off the edge of the table and flopped onto the ground. Hermione gave it and Calla a rather patronising look.

"I don't care what Moody says," Hermione went on, "I'm with Calla. Dumbledore trusts Snape, and he was right to trust Hagrid and Remus, wasn't he? And loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if he is a bit-"

"-evil," Ron said. Hermione glared at him. "Come on, why are all these Dark wizard-catchers searching his office then?"

"Why has Mr Crouch been pretending to be ill, then?" Hermione asked. "How come he can't make it to the Yule Ball but he can come up here and snoop around in the middle of the night?" She looked at Calla. "What do you think?"

"Me?" Calla stared at Hermione, surprised she'd asked her. "Well, I don't know. Maybe something's wrong with him. Some sort of curse, might make him ill, might scare him into coming up here, trying to find something."

"Find what?" Ron asked.

"Well, I don't know." She pointed her wand again at her pillow, which Harry had helpfully picked up from where it lay on the floor. "Maybe he wants to find an antidote to something. He could be poisoned."

"Maybe Snape poisoned him!" Ron said excitedly.

"You just want to think Snape's up to something," muttered Hermione, as she sent her pillow across the room to sit neatly inside the box.

"I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance," Harry said, "if this is his second." He sent his pillow to sit nicely on top of Hermione's on the other side of the room; Flitwick smiled at him. Calla attempted the same, but the pillow just jumped a little into the air and then deflated. She and Ron exchanged grim looks. She was sure she'd get it someday.

Xx

Zacharias Smith came up to her on Wednesday evening after dinner, just as Calla was about to head to the Potions classroom to work on her potion for the Second Task. She tried to avoid him, but he would let her; he caught her hand in his and she had to pretend like she didn't care as she turned around, fixing him with a cool look. "Yes?"

"You know I didn't tell Skeeter about that, right?" he said, his words coming out in a rush. Calla just blinked at him.

"Well, someone did."

"She could have heard from anyone. And I certainly never spoke to her, I would never do that, Calla. You - you're one of my best friends."

"Am I?" She raised her eyebrows, swallowing her nerves at confronting him, if that was what this was. "If I was, you wouldn't have reacted the way you did. You would have understood, or - or at least tried to. Hermione at least tries now, and I know she thought Divination was rubbish all last year."

"I know, I know," Zach said quickly. "I'm sorry. I don't get it, but... I still wouldn't talk about you behind your back like that. The only people I told were Susan and Hannah because they were worried, but you know they wouldn't have said anything either."

"I told you not to tell anyone!" Calla cried.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I couldn't not tell them!" Calla glared at him. "And none of us would have spoken to Rita Skeeter, of all people, we know what she's like!" He looked at her as though asking for her forgiveness, but Calla just shook her head. "Seriously, Calla. Why won't you believe me?"

"It's not that I don't believe you, it's that there are very few people who know - or who knew, at least - and I don't know who to believe. Someone clearly told her." Calla sighed, pinching her brow. "I just don't want to talk to you about this, Zach."

"Why not? Why are you scared to-"

"I am not scared!" she shouted, prompting a passing group of Beauxbatons boys to stare at her. She saw Fleur Delacour hurry past and give her a very odd look; her cheeks went aflame. "I have somewhere to be, Zach."

"Fine!" he called after her. "Fine, if you won't talk to me then I guess it doesn't matter what I did or didn't do anyway! None of this is my fault, you know!"

She whirled back around. "None of what?"

"Th-this! I don't know! You just seem like all you want to do is be mad at me."

"You've no idea what you're talking about," she said quietly. She was angry to realise there were tears in her eyes.

"It's not my fault you have these visions, or that you - you're struggling-"

"Struggling?"

"Or that Skeeter wrote those things. You're my friend, Calla," he said. "Or at least you were. But now you're just being a bitch about it and I haven't done anything wrong."

She felt anger flare up in her chest at that but before she could move, someone spoke. "Five points for foul language, Mr Smith," said Professor Snape's silky voice. "And Miss Potter, five points for making a scene of yourself in the corridor." She glared at him, furious words on the tip of her tongue, but within seconds they disappeared along with Zach and her cheeks flamed furiously as she started crying. Why did everything have to turn into such a mess? "Get yourself together, Miss Potter," Snape said sharply. "I do believe you have work to be getting on with."

She nodded quickly, trying hastily to dry her eyes. "Yes, Professor. Sorry."

He gave her a cold look. "Come, Miss Potter."

They only got a few steps before they were stopped by Professor Moody, who was hobbling along on his wooden leg. "Ah, Potter," he said, and his magical eye roamed over Snape. "Severus. A word, Potter?"

"Miss Potter was just coming with me," Snape said tightly. Calla looked nervously between the two of them.

"I'm sure you can spare her for a moment."

Snape looked for a second like he was going to refuse Moody, but the two held glares for a long time before he nodded a tiny bit and a smile stretched Moody's face. "I expect to see you within ten minutes, Potter," Snape told Calla shortly, and whirled away down towards the dungeons.

"Snape giving you grief?" Moody asked Calla gruffly, and she shook her head.

"No, no. He... I was arguing with someone. Quite loudly."

"That Smith boy?" Calla didn't even respond before he spoke again. "You know I've heard all about what the Skeeter woman said about you."

"Great," Calla muttered, scuffing her shoes on the floor. It was wonderful that even her teachers had read the article, and probably that some of them - if not all - had agreed. Not that they were necessarily mean, but Calla imagined it would be hard to say she wasn't bad at magic.

"So," he said, "how are you getting on with your egg?"

"Quite well, actually," she said, a bit surprised. "I think I'm almost there."

"Really?" Moody looked rather sceptical, and frustration with him rolled in her chest.

"Yes," she said in a hard voice. "I know what I need to do and I think I'm getting close to achieving it. I'm brewing a potion to counter drowning..." She hesitated a moment before adding, "Professor Snape lets me brew in his classroom on Wednesday and Thursday nights."

"Does he now?" Moody looked very interested by this.

"Yes," Calla said slowly, and added in a bit more defensive of a tone than necessary, "he's been quite accommodating."

"Well," said Moody, "I never say you ought to trust the likes of Snape... But you seem to know what you're doing, Potter."

"Is that why you've been searching his office?" Calla asked before she could stop herself, and immediately regretted it at the dangerous glint in Moody's eye. "S-Sorry, Professor, I only - only meant... My brother-"

"There's something you oughtta know, Potter," Moody seemed to growl, as his nails dug in sharply to Calla's forearm. A trickle of fear went down her spine. "Severus Snape isn't the man you might think he is, or the man Dumbledore wants him to be." He licked his lips in an almost aggressive way. "If there's one thing I hate, it's a Dark wizard that runs free."

He let go of Calla suddenly and her stomach plummeted as she stumbled away, nodding. So Moody definitely thought Snape was up to something, and by the sounds of it, Dumbledore had an idea about it, too. The man Dumbledore wants him to be... Who did Dumbledore want him to be? He wasn't exactly a nice person or teacher. She tried to clear her mind as she hurried away from Moody, still reeling, when a thought popped into her head. Something Zach had said... And what Hagrid had mentioned at the weekend... Both conversations - those between Calla and Zach, and Hagrid and Madam Maxime - had happened on the same night, and that wasn't a coincidence. Could Rita Skeeter have been in the grounds, listening in? But she hadn't seen her anywhere.

That was a mystery for another day, she decided as she scrawled the words Skeeter - Yule Ball - How? in her notebook, tucked it in her pocket and went quietly into Snape's classroom to start her next batch of Potions for the Tournament. He looked up as she entered and she didn't dare say anything except give a polite nod and hurry into the corner to set up.

Xx

With Monday nights reserved for Divination, Tuesdays for homework, and Wednesday and Thursday both reserved for brewing, Calla was beginning to see her timetable fill up, and found herself exhausted by the end of the week. "I see you've been keeping yourself very busy," Dumbledore said when she traipsed into his office five minutes late on Friday night, tired and slightly out of breath from having run all the way from dinner and up the stairs.

"It's only for now," she replied, taking a seat tiredly. "Once I've got my potion ready for the Second Task, I'll have a bit more time throughout the week." Her most recent attempt had very nearly worked, and she had been able to breathe fine, but the potion was meant to keep her body normal and regulated, and she could feel her lungs working harder. Maybe it was a normal side-effect, but she wanted to try again just to be certain she had the right potion, and Snape had suggested that would be a good course of action.

"Be careful not to overwork yourself, Calla," Dumbledore warned her.

"I know," she said fake-cheerfully. "I'll be fine. So," she added, bracing herself with a smile, "what are we working on tonight?"

"Well, I rather thought we could start by seeing what progress you've made in coercing your visions."

She withheld a groan. "Not much," she admitted. "Not for a lack of trying, sir, I just... Haven't managed it yet. I try to clear my mind, I think I'm getting better at that, but then when I try to force it and control it, it kind of just... All falls apart. And I either can't do anything or just start thinking about basically everything."

"Quite normal," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Though I wonder if you might allow me to attempt to penetrate your mind, if you can clear it? Perhaps testing your fortifications will help you to make them more flexible and responsive to your own will?"

She figured it was worth a shot so with a shrug, Calla agreed, and closed her ideas. She imagined first that she was by a clear, calm blue lake with nothing and no one around for miles, but then that just made her think of the Second Task so she tried again, shaking her head and making herself picture a clear, cloudless blue sky, the sun warm at the edges of her mind. Then she let that fade into nothing, only the comfortable warm feeling remaining, and made her mind stay in that blank space until she felt magic press at her mental walls. It was like a cold seeping into the warm edges, cracking them slowly, but she kept herself breathing as normally as she could until eventually Dumbledore pressed in.

She felt for a moment like she was falling and then in her mind she landed on the ground. It was sodden, but not cool; the grass was dark and sticky with blood that seeped from her knees. Her heart hammered; she was alone, even though she didn't quite feel it. There was nothing to be heard at all, and all she could see was a single crow on a tree branch, its black eyes glinting down at her in the moonlight. She lifted her head and something heavy seemed to move deep inside her chest. World spinning a little, Calla stumbled to her feet as the ground shifted underneath her.

This world here was nothing but white, the ghostly outline of a graveyard. There was no one else here and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Perhaps that was Dumbledore, even if the presence felt far more sinister. Her vision shifted again the moment she blinked; bright red flare lights flew into the sky and there was music all around her, almost deafening. Something grabbed her arm and yanked her to the side where she could see shades whispering and moving among a cluster of trees. She couldn't make out their voices, but they seemed to be almost hissing, and they were getting closer.

Then it cleared. The world became a little brighter, but someone was running, panting and muttering words that Calla could not make out. Red spellfire ricocheted off the trees nearby and someone let out a cry. They thudded onto the ground. Cold trickled over her and then her head felt like it was burning, worse than ever. This was worse than any other vision had ever been. She wanted out, she wanted to push Dumbledore out.

She couldn't quite feel herself moving, and everything felt too heavy, but she thrust an arm out in warning, fear consuming her. She was pulled back to reality by Dumbledore and her eyes flew open to see him staring at her, white-faced. Her heart was hammering in her chest, out of control, and she had to fight to control her breathing. "I am so sorry," he said quietly. There was no twinkle in his eye. "I did not know... That was not a memory."

"No," she shook her head, breathless. There was a flutter of wings as Fawkes came to rest on her shoulder, laying his head against her skin. "No, I... No." But if it was a vision, it was very unclear. And it had been painful. Having someone else in her head when she was having a vision, she decided, was not a good idea. "I don't know what that was."

Dumbledore looked at her for a long moment, like he was thinking deeply about what they both had just seen. "You are shaking," he told her, and conjured a mug of steaming hot chocolate from the air. "Drink. You will feel better for it."

"Thank you, Professor," she said quietly, flushing under his gaze as she took the mug and sipped nervously. It didn't burn her, which she was glad for, because she could never tell with hot chocolate.

"You held out well," Dumbledore told her. "But I was not expecting that reaction."

"Me neither," she said, taking another sip. He was looking at her very curiously, so she asked timidly, "Do you have any idea what was happening there?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I am sorry, I feel I say that so often in response to your questions. But I am learning. It is good that you retained the presence of mind to try and halt the vision. That will serve you well."

"Okay." She had a very long drink of the hot chocolate before she set it down. "Professor, do you think any of that has anything to do with the Triwizard Tournament. Or - or Voldemort?"

He sighed and paused a long moment, his brow creased. "I think it may," he told her quietly, eyes sorrowful, and she knew somehow that his words were true. She nodded shakily, looking down.

"Do you think someone wants me to die from this Tournament?" Dumbledore just looked at her and that was all the confirmation she needed. "Professor, it... Forgive me, but is anyone really doing anything about Pettigrew? Because I feel like I've seen nothing and everything seems to be pointing to - to him... coming back and - and the Prophet is reporting less and less and with everything they've been saying it feels like everyone's just trying to avoid it. And I know you correspond closely with Fudge and - and I'm s-sorry if I've... overstepped... Professor."

Dumbledore was looking at her most curiously. Her heart hammered as she waited for him to speak. Had she gone too far? Had she overstepped? "Cornelius is reluctant to cause discord," he said solemnly. "He fears Lord Voldemort's return as much as anyone does and perhaps more, because of what that may do to his position. People are already scared, and fear caused instability. Fudge is a politician in a highly sought-after position. He does not like instability - well, none of us really do. I think the Ministry are in part hoping that it will go away, that Pettigrew will have been dealt with already one way or another. I don't think they are prepared for Lord Voldemort's return."

"And they won't, will they?" Dumbledore shook his head. "Well, Mr Crouch seems worried, anyway."

"Barty Crouch?" Dumbledore stared at her. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

"Well, he..." She debated telling Dumbledore about Harry's midnight stroll with the map, but decided she ought to. It wasn't like he was doing anything bad with it. "Harry saw him on the map the other night when he was - was going to figure out the egg for the Tournament." Dumbledore nodded. "He seemed to be investigating Snape's office."

"He did?" Dumbledore looked most confused by this information. "Well, all my sources tell me Mr Crouch has been confined to his house for the last few months. This is most peculiar. You are sure-"

"That's what Harry said," Calla told him, and Dumbledore nodded understandingly.

"And do you believe Mr Crouch has cause to be suspicious of Professor Snape?"

"I... Well, I know Professor Moody doesn't like him, and he wouldn't say why, but he did allude to him being a Dark Wizard. But I don't think Snape... would want to do Harry and I harm. I mean, he doesn't like us, and we don't-" she caught herself but Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in understanding of what she was about to say "-but I don't think he's involved with Voldemort. He's always tried to stop him, anyway, or at least that's the way it seems. And he's letting me use his classroom to brew. So I don't think he would have done that if he wanted me to die."

Dumbledore nodded. "A wise analysis, Miss Potter. I'll look into what you've told me... For now, I think it's time you drank up the rest of your hot chocolate and took yourself back to Ravenclaw Tower to catch up on sleep. If you don't mind my saying, you have been looking rather tired." She flushed red, but she knew he was probably right. So Calla nodded, gulped down the rest of her hot chocolate and hurried off to sleep.

Author's Note: This chapter was a bit longer than intended, but the Second Task is coming up next and I'm pretty excited as we're getting closer to the end of fourth year. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and the next should be up some time next week!