Chapter 17: Burns Like Fire
September and its return to schoolwork fell into the exciting month of October, punctuated by the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. While many Hogwarts natives were fascinated by the newcomers and did their best to impress them, most of the castle was focused on the few individuals who had announced their intention to enter. When the Goblet of Fire finally made its appearance and the castle raged with speculation over the identities of the three champions would be. Gold and silver changed hands in the upper years with bets. The most definitive rankings were kept by a pair of enterprising sixth years from Ravenclaw and Slytherin who were giving odds of three to one for a champion from Gryffindor or Slytherin, nine to two for Ravenclaw, and nine to one for Hufflepuff. Other tallies kept included the year of the champion (two to one for seventh vs sixth year) and the individual candidates who entered. When they closed for betting an hour before the selection, they announced that they would be taking bets for each of the tasks as well.
All the built-up excitement was overshadowed by the fourth name to come out of the Goblet on Halloween: Harry Potter. Ginny couldn't help but feel she should have suspected something like this would happen. Things could never be so simple with a year that started with a Death Eater attack at the World Cup.
Tensions continued to rise through the month of November, leading up to the first task. It was shocking how quickly the castle turned against Harry. The Hufflepuffs seemed to resent him stealing the little glory their house was finally getting. They even had a point, having received the longest odds for being named champions. Slytherins always hated Gryffindors, so their support of Cedric was unsurprising. What was unexpected, however, was the way the younger students had turned against Harry as well. It was almost like they turned all their resentment for being excluded from the tournament against the student who had managed to enter despite the precautions.
Harry's denials seemed to only make the rumors worse. Some… students… had even started to voice the theory that Dumbledore intentionally made the age line faulty or entered Harry himself. George, Fred, and Lee's failed attempt at bypassing the age line proved it worked, and if the master pranksters of Hogwarts failed to enter, it seemed unlikely that a fourth year could. Ginny knew the rumors were as ridiculous as those that Harry had entered on his own, but they had a ring of truth to them. After all, why didn't they just let Harry quit the Tournament? It wasn't like he signed a bloody contract.
Reason was a lousy response to anger, frustration, and conspiracies. Ginny had already landed herself in a detention for hexing a stupid Hufflepuff who just wouldn't stop complaining. He had to go to the hospital wing to get his obnoxious mouth unsealed while Ginny mopped Myrtle's bathroom for Filch. It was worth it, though.
However, classes still must continue even in face of all of the drama unfolding in the castle, which is how Ginny found herself in the library sitting with Luna reviewing the past week's Divination lessons.
Ginny looked up from her notes. "You know, you could actually come to class some time."
"You're right, Ginny, I could. I just choose not to," Luna replied.
"And why do you choose not to? If I remember right, you even showed up to Lockhart's lectures which were even more useless than Trelawney's. My memories from first year are pretty bad, but that at least is clear."
"Lockhart was a harmless idiot. There wasn't really anything wrong with his classes. They were just useless. However, I don't get along with the old hag that teaches Divination, and if I am forced to interact with her, someone will get very hurt."
"Then why don't you just drop the class?"
"Just because I hate the professor doesn't mean I don't need to learn the subject." Luna replied, "If you don't want to keep teaching me, I can try to find another way to learn. It is not fair to expect you to explain everything to me."
"What? No. Luna, it is no problem at all. It helps me review the material. It's just been a long week?"
"Right… you had a detention, right?"
"Yeah, how did you know? I know I didn't mention it."
Because I was in the hospital wing when your victim arrived. Luna shrugged. "I notice things. You sure you want to do this today? If you're tired, we can push it off to next week."
"No. It's fine."
"So, what did we cover?'
"We finally wrapped up tea leaves. Trelawney wants us each to start keeping a dream diary to discuss the meaning of dreams…" Luna gave an involuntary shudder "… and she wants us to get to crystal balls by the end of the year. Are you alright?'
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You were a bit weird for a second there."
Luna's explanation was cut off by the sound of a heavy stack of books landing on their table.
"Hi Ginny," Hermione said. "Do you have a moment to talk?"
"Um… I guess," Ginny said, giving Luna a quizzical glance.
"Oh no! Am I interrupting something?"
"It's fine. What's wrong?"
"Can we talk somewhere… private?"
"Whatever you need to say you can say in front of Luna… Oh! How rude am I? Hermione, Luna Lovegood. Luna, Hermione Granger."
"Pleasure."
"It's nice to meet you too."
Hermione turned back to Ginny. "The problem is Ron."
"What? Is he acting like a stupid git again?"
"Pretty much. He had another fight with Harry this morning. He is still upset with Harry for getting picked for the tournament and stubbornly ignoring the fact the Harry never entered in the first place."
"But Harry Potter did enter the Triwizard Tournament," Luna interrupted.
"No, he didn't."
"His name was selected by the Goblet."
"He never put it in."
"Why does that change anything? The Goblet selected him; thus, he was entered into the tournament. His actions and desires are irrelevant."
"How can you say that!" Hermione shouted, rounding on Luna with all the frustration of weeks of repeating the same argument to people who refused to listen. "He never wanted this. If he could get out of the tournament, he would."
"But his name was still entered into the tournament."
"Semantics!"
"I'm a Ravenclaw. We embrace technicality."
"I don't have time for this," Hermione said. "Will you talk to him Ginny?"
"Sure. I can try to smack some sense into him. I needed to pass a message on to him later anyways."
"You're missing the point," Luna insisted.
"I really don't think I am," Hermione replied. "I'll leave you to study… Divination was it?" She picked up her stack of books and left.
"I'm sorry about that," Ginny said once Hermione was out of earshot.
"You have nothing to apologize for. She was being intentionally obtuse."
"You should cut her some slack. She's under a lot of stress at the moment."
"I'll consider it."
"Besides, you were being a bit… literal."
"You don't get what I meant either, do you?"
"Not really… Well, I should probably deal with this. Do you mind if we push this off until later today? I feel kind of bad about leaving early."
"Don't worry about it," Luna replied as she pulled a heavy tome out of her bad. "I have of work to do."
Ginny glanced at the cover of the book. "Blood Magic and Heritable Curses… Luna, isn't that a bit… well, dark?"
"Maybe a little, but I would prefer grey, like most magic."
"Then why are you reading it?"
"Well… someone might conclude that I was worried about someone who I thought was suffering from a bloodline curse, but a much more logical explanation would be that I was just curious."
"Um… Sure. Where did you even get it?"
"Maybe I just found it lying around in the library, or maybe I broke into the restricted section while everyone was in the Hall for the selection of the champions. The library would have been very empty then."
"Which is it?"
"Does it matter? Either way, I am reading it now, and we both have plausible deniability."
"You devious witch."
"Guilty."
"You're not planning on using anything from that book, right?"
"Of course not. You think I would want to curse someone, so all of their descendants die at 30 or everyone around them suffers horrible accidents?"
"Well, you are reading the book," Ginny replied. "You would tell me, right?"
"What?"
"If you thought someone was cursed. You would tell me."
"Why wouldn't I?"
Ginny nodded. "Well, same time next week?"
"Yes. Good luck with your intervention!"
"Thanks," Ginny groaned. "I'll probably need it."
"Ow! Ron, what the hell is wrong with you!"
"What?"
"I said," Ginny said, shaking the contents of a jar of beetles off of her foot, "What the hell is wrong with you? Who leaves a literal jar of insects unsealed on the floor next to the door!"
"Probably Seamus. Wait…" Ron said, looking around at his dorm room, "What are you doing here?"
"Telling you off. I mean, look at this place."
"I know what your room at home looks like. It's not much cleaner than mine."
"Yeah, only when you're comparing it to Percy's. I at least, can see my floor. How can you live in a room this messy?"
"None of your business. Get out!"
"Yeah Ron, real mature. Why don't you get out of bed and make me?"
There was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, and Neville head appeared in the doorway. He took a quick glance at Ron in bed with the covers pulled up and Ginny holding an empty jar of Dean's scarab beetles and said, "Um… hi Ginny."
"Oh. Hey Neville. How've you been?"
"Alright. Should I come back later?"
"Yeah, that's probably for the best?"
"Any estimate? I'm meeting with Corner and Boot, so I kind of need to get my essay…"
"Probably fifteen-ish minutes. You might as well get it now."
"Thanks." Neville picked his way over his bed, grabbed his school bag, and hurried out of the room with a whispered, "Good luck."
Ginny pulled out her wand and, with a flick of her wrist, levitated the covers off Ron's bed.
"Hey!" Ron shouted, futilely trying to pull them back down. "I thought I told you to get out!"
"Not until you hear me out. Hermione said you've been shut up here, sulking."
"I'm not sulking."
"It's 2:00 in the afternoon and you're still in bed."
"It's Saturday. Besides, I got up for breakfast."
"Ron, you're not exactly helping your own case. You've been fighting with Harry."
"He won't tell me how he got his name into the stupid goblet."
"That's because he didn't do it."
"He's clearly enjoying all this new attention."
"Have you even looked at him recently. He hates it."
"Yeah Ginny. Keep defending him. It's just like you."
"I'm not defending him, Ron." Ginny replied, trying to ignore the barb. She wasn't one of Harry's mindless fangirls anymore. "I'm just not an idiot."
"I'm not stupid either."
"You're acting that way now."
"Shut it."
"Make me. That way you would at least need to get out of bed."
Ron charged out of bed but tripped on his book bag and fell sprawling onto the floor.
Ginny slowly clapped her hands. "Well done, Ron. You finally learned how to sit up. Maybe next we can learn how to stand and have a civil conversation."
"Eat slugs."
"Like that worked so well last time you tried that spell."
"Who told you that?"
"Guess," Ginny replied. She didn't want him to get angry at Hermione as well. The goal was to help him, not make him angry at the only friend he was still talking to.
"You know Ginny, I really don't need the sarcasm."
"Then talk to me. You've pushed away Harry, refused to talk to Hermione, and have been a jerk to everyone."
"So, you're what, a mind healer now?"
"Sarcasm goes both ways."
"Fine! You want to know? Harry bloody Potter always gets everything."
"He didn't want this, Ron."
"And he got it anyway!" Ron said collapsing back onto the bed. "And he got it anyway."
Ginny took a seat on the bed opposite him. "Ron, Harry didn't want it. You told me yourself numerous times. He never wants it."
"But I did! This time, I wanted a chance. Just a chance, and it just falls in his lap like always."
"Would you really want to trade places with him?"
"No… but bloody hell… I just wish for once I could be something other than Harry Potter's stupid friend."
"You are."
"Yeah, that's real comforting coming from my kid sister."
"I thought we had a sarcasm truce?"
"Well, I'm breaking the truce. Stop trying to make me feel better. Just get out!"
"You know what? Fine! Be miserable," Ginny said, marching towards the door. It was bloody impossible to talk to him when he was like this.
"I will."
"Good! By the way, Charlie just got here. Thought you would want to know."
Ginny slammed the door shut behind her.
Ginny didn't have high hopes leading up to the first task. She knew that Charlie was involved and wanted to give Harry whatever help he could, but he refused to tell her anything. She knew that Hermione was practicing with Harry, but she had no idea if it would be enough. Harry was in fourth year, and the tasks were designed to be challenging for the most talented sixth and seventh years. While the staff said they were putting every safety precaution in place, Ginny's own experiences showed how flawed safety measures at Hogwarts could be.
The champions performed spectacularly. Harry's flying around the Hungarian Horntail was incredible. She had been terrified for him when he first entered the ring with the furious dragon, but when his broom arrived, it was like he was in his element again. If the damage Hermione's death grip accidentally inflicted on her hand was any good metric, she wasn't the only one worried. Ginny was actually a bit relieved when feeling started returning to her hand when Hermione finally let go.
When Hermione and Ron split off to go find Harry, Ginny found herself designated by George to help set up some tables in the common room for the impromptu Harry-wasn't-eaten-by-a-dragon party. Fred arrived a few minutes later laden with cookies, cakes, and other treats from the kitchens. Lee brought bags of candies from Honeydukes, and George somehow produced, pitchers of pumpkin juice, dozens of bottles of butterbeer, and even a couple bottles of firewhisky. All three refused to answer where the obvious contraband came from and instead tried to get her to eat some kind of creamy pastry. Knowing the twins, it probably contained a potion or hex of some sort. Seriously, could they be any less obvious?
Ginny slipped off to the side of the room, watching the gathering crowd as she sipped a cup of punch. Everyone seemed so happy tonight. All the animosity had vanished in the space of one afternoon.
"Knut for your thoughts?"
Ginny turned to Demelza. "Just thinking how surreal this all is."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure. Everything was so tense for so long. I just feel like I can breathe again."
"I hear that," Demelza replied, taking a swing of butterbeer. "You know, still not sure I actually like this stuff. What you drinking?"
"The punch. It's not half bad. Lee brought it so at least I know it's safe. Oh. That reminds me. Hey Lucy!"
"Huh?"
"Come here for a sec. Bring Brian also."
Lucy and Brian drifted over to the quiet corner. "What's up?"
"I wanted to warn all three of you," Ginny replied. "You see those pastries on that silver tray over there? I'm pretty sure that Fred and George tampered with them. Not exactly sure what they'll do. If you see Colin down here, warn him also, but feel free not to tell Jack."
"Feel free not to tell me what?" Jack asked loudly from his spot by the stairs.
"How delicious those creams look," Demelza replied. "You should go try one."
"I'll have one if you eat one first."
Demelza glanced at Ginny and flushed with embarrassment.
Jack laughed. "I'm not deaf you know."
"I never said you were."
"How about instead of trying to make me eat the mystery potion courtesy of the Weasley twins, we both have a shot of firewhisky?"
"I'm game if you are," Demelza replied.
"You realize you're still underage. None of us are anywhere close to seventeen," Brian interjected.
"It's just one shot. Besides, you only live once," Jack replied, shaking Demelza's hand. "Deal."
"I have no idea how they get away with this," Brian sighed.
"Relax Brian. It's not like they're drunk," Ginny replied.
"Not them. I meant your brothers. How can they organize this without getting in trouble?"
"Hmm… Never actually thought about it. I think I'm going to join them. You are coming Lucy?"
"I'm good. Thanks."
"Your loss," Ginny replied.
Turns out firewhiskey really did burn like fire.
When Harry finally arrived with Hermione and Ron, the Gryffindors let out a deafening cheer. It was almost as loud as the shriek from the golden egg when Harry finally acquiesced to the crowd's demand to open it. Ginny grabbed another cup of punch and a fully wrapped bar of Honeyduke's finest (it never hurt to be careful with Fred and George around) and made a beeline for Hermione and Ron while Harry held off the hordes attempting to congratulate him, offer advice, or whatever they thought they were accomplishing.
"Are you finally normal again," Ginny asked Ron.
"What?"
"Have you stopped being a massive jerk and settled back to being just a minor jerk?"
"Stop it. I'm fine."
Ginny arched an eyebrow, and Hermione replied, "He really is. He apologized and everything."
Ginny patted Ron's head and said, "I'm so proud of you, Ron."
"Cut it out, Ginny," Ron said, slapping her hand away while Ginny laughed.
"Seriously though. I'm glad you made up with Harry. Although you still owe me and Hermione apologies."
"I don't owe you a bloody thing, but I am sorry Hermione. I was acting like a git. I should have listened to you."
Neville happened to choose that moment to eat one of the pastries from the table and promptly turned into a chicken. Well, a rapidly molting canary, to be exact, giving Fred and George the opportunity to announce their new Canary Creams. She probably should have remembered to warn Neville about her suspicions. On the other hand, Ginny was starting to doubt the efficacy of her warning to her friends as a thoroughly buzzed Jack – having drunk well more than just one shot of firewhisky – seemed to decide that turning into a canary and chasing Demelza and Lucy around the common room while shedding feathers everywhere was a good idea. Colin had even finally appeared with his camera and was snapping pictures of the insanity.
Hermione seemed to not even notice. She was staring at Ron, speechless. A small, almost guilty looking smile appeared on his face.
"What made you change your mind?" Ginny asked.
"When I went down to the forest to see Charlie, I saw the dragons…"
"And you realized Harry didn't want to enter the tournament?" Hermione asked.
"No. It was more that… he could get really hurt. I hadn't realized that before. Seeing them there in the cages made it all more real. I was only mad at him… Charlie thought Harry needed the tip, but I couldn't tell him. I was still mad at him."
"So that's when you came up with the plan to have Hagrid bring him down."
"Yeah. Then after the task… I was tired of being angry. He's my best mate, you know?"
"Wait… you told Harry that the task involved dragons?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Any you were okay with this Hermione? What happened to the rules?"
"There is nothing in the rules preventing champions from finding about the tasks in advance. The judges are not allowed to favor a champion with additional information, but only Professor Dumbledore actually followed that rule. I looked it up. Apparently cheating and spying out the tasks are as much a tradition as the tournament itself." Hermione replied.
"Wow. Respect Hermione."
"I didn't break any rules."
"Sure, you didn't," Ginny replied with a wink.
"I didn't!"
Harry had finally managed to extricate himself from the crowd and return to his best friends, the giant golden egg tucked under his arm.
"Hi Harry. Congratulations! That was fantastic flying."
"Thanks Ginny."
"Well, I'll catch you guys later then," Ginny said, carefully ignoring Hermione's eyes rolling. Harry and Ron had already fallen deep into a conversation, and she simply wanted to give her brother space with his newly reconciled best friend. Common courtesy.
Ginny drifted back over to the drink table for another cup of punch. The silver tray of Canary Creams was conspicuously empty. Having gotten their intended publicity, it made sense for the twins to discreetly recover their products. Why give something away for free when you plan to charge for it? Speaking of… Ginny walked over to the corner Neville was hiding in.
"How you doing Neville?"
Neville looked up, startled. "Alright."
"No lingering side effects from the twin's experiment?"
Neville flushed with embarrassment. "Nope."
"Don't let their stupid joke get you down. They were just hoping someone would give them some free publicity. No hard feelings."
"I know that. It doesn't bug me at all."
There was something there. His denials sounded… wrong. "It's not your fault. It was just rotten luck."
"It always is, isn't it?"
"You're a good guy, Neville. Don't let them get you down."
"Um… thanks."
He didn't believe her. "I'm serious. Stop selling yourself short. I know you can be freaking awesome. Don't let anyone or anything tell you differently."
"Are you feeling alright, Ginny?"
"Of course. I feel great!"
"You seem a bit… weird. Did you eat anything strange?"
"Nope."
"Fred! George," Neville called out to the twins. "I think something is wrong with Ginny."
George rushed over; the mirth draining from his eyes. "What's wrong?"
He was so serious. "Absolutely nothing is wrong."
Neville contradicted her. "I don't know. She's just acting really strangely."
George put his hand on her shoulder and look at her eyes. Ginny tried to return his stare… or she tried to. Her gaze kept drifting away.
"Tell me everything you have eaten today," George instructed.
"Well… I had some toast with butter…"
"I mean here. At this party. I'm being serious."
"Nothing really. I had some chocolate and one shot of firewhiskey. Not enough to have any real effects."
"What is it you're drinking now?"
"This," Ginny asked, holding up the cup. It was empty, but she didn't remember finishing it. That was weird. "Just some punch."
"The punch over there," George asked, pointing.
"Yup. I only had a cup or two… or three… or something."
George let out a groan, but it was Fred who responded. "You know, I think our baby sister might be drunk."
"No, I'm not! I just had one shot!"
"And you've been drinking Lee's spiked punch like it were water."
"Oh."
"Oiy, You. Third year girl," George yelled, pointing to Lucy. "Can you bring Ginny up to the dorm?"
"Hey! I feel fine."
"You're not fine, Ginny," Freed replied. "Even Neville can see that."
"Don't insult him!"
"That's not what Fred meant," George replied. "Neville can tell, and he isn't family. It's really obvious to us, your brothers."
"But I feel fine!" Ginny stamped her foot on the ground. Why did the world just shake?
She felt a firm hand on her shoulder. "Come on Ginny. Brian already took Jack up, and I just settled Demelza down."
Ginny looked around the common room and noticed that Lucy was right. When had she missed that? Maybe she should listen…
"Might be a good idea to take her to the bathroom. Given the amount she just drank, she's probably going to throw up soon," George instructed Lucy.
"No, I…" Ginny cut off as she realized that her stomach was hurting. How long had that been going on for?
"Let's go Ginny," Lucy insisted, guiding her toward the stairs.
Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to follow.
Luna threw the book down on her bed. There was nothing there. Another dead end. Around her lay five books on blood curses, four on heritable magical gifts, and twelve books on Divination, Seers, and the Sight, and none of them had anything. There were blood curses that could give terrible nightmares. There were some that could cause incredible amounts of bad luck. There was even a particularly disturbing but promising one where the victim was forced to live through the moment of their own death every night. None of them reliably caused direct or indirect harm to only friends and family. The intended victim was always harmed first with or without collateral damage.
Luna even briefly considered multiple curses at work, one that harmed her friends while another protected her from the direct effects of the first curse. However, nothing could match the sheer variety of the curses. Even the luck-based curses had some limits, and none of them matched the dreams well.
She slammed her fist into her mattress which let out an incredibly annoying squeak. Someone – probably Chloe – had somehow managed to charm her bed to screech whenever she moved. She couldn't figure out how they had done it and had not gotten a good night's sleep in over a week. At least her silencing charms kept them from getting any satisfaction from her suffering.
Exhaustion wasn't helping her think any more clearly.
Trelawney said she was a Seer, but Luna could not find any reliable information on Divination. One book would claim that the Sight ran in specific old wizarding families, while another would cite examples individuals believed to have the Sight from many different families, including the occasional muggle-born. Some claimed the Sight was intrinsically associated with the individual, while others claimed everyone had the potential to become a Seer but lacked the mental disposition. While almost all sources agreed that prophecy was a hallmark of a Seer, the other forms of Divination including tarot cards, crystal balls, tea leaves, and even dreams, were widely debated by more… rational sources. The best explanation Luna found was in a small book she had accidentally found titled Unseen and Unmeasured which posited that the most important factor was the individual. Any object could be used to see the future if the investigator had the intuition and mindset. Luna was disappointed to find most of the book was spent debating if the Sight saw the most common factors between all probable futures or somehow saw the single true future. The discussion on choice and free will or predestination was interesting, but absolutely, completely unhelpful.
None of her books discussed curses associated with the Sight. No one talked about how to stop being a Seer. The only thing she learned was that Divination has no rules. Even the rule that it had no rules had exceptions.
She felt like she could scream.
It was just so frustrating. There was no hint of a way out, to escape the curse. It was even unclear if a Seen future could be changed. Unseen and Unmeasured cited one school of thought that while the future in general was fluid, Seeing the future locked the specific viewing in place but continued by suggesting that determined action could undermine or change the meaning and outcomes of the observed future event.
Luna would have given up if not for the single hint that there was an answer somewhere. Her mother had known something. Replaying that week in her head for the thousandth time, the pieces were as clear as when she had first put them together in the weeks after the explosion. Her mother's actions had been too deliberate: the diary, the promise, the trip. She had known something. The question was what.
Her mother.
There was no way it was that obvious.
Luna pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and scribbled a quick letter to her father. If her mother knew something, it would be in her notes. Her father could send them to her within the next couple weeks, and Luna would finally have her answer. Why hadn't she seen it earlier?
