AN: Just to clear any confusion, the Third Task is not the final task. I may have been a little low-key on mentioning it, but in here, Second Task was on January and Third Task was on February which is when the canon Second Task took place. There will be a Fourth Task. Other than that, enjoy!

Chapter 15 - Revelation

Air seemed to gush into Harry's lungs and stayed there, gripping his chest ever so tightly. There it was, on her right eye, a scar running down. She looked as though she just woke up, she probably did. Her untied hair was a little messy, a groggy look on her face and the bandages Madam Pomfrey had placed were peeking out from the neckline of her hospital garb. She was still lying on the bed, her eyes locked on Harry.

There was no doubt about it, the scar was there. She hid it, why she did it Harry did not know, but one thing was sure.

Anne Potter was lying right in front of him.

Slowly, he started to breathe again and when it started, it got faster. His heart was pounding and his eyes began to water. Time slowly came to a still as the two siblings looked at one another.

"A-Anne...Anne?" Harry croaked as a tear crept down his cheek. "Is t-th-that you?"

His sister did not respond, she only stared at him blankly, as though there was something interesting on his face.

"Do you know who you are?" Still she said nothing.

Just say something Anne, anything. I know it's you.

XXXXX

The jig was up, Anya could see it her brother's face. She looked at her brother and into the green eyes they both shared. It was so sad, so pitiful and so very familiar. Though the colour of the eyes were the same, it wasn't what made it familiar. It was the painful emotions fighting to claw out that was so familiar, the grief and tears spilled over family.

She never saw it in herself, maybe once. No, she saw it elsewhere, saw it in back a phosgene-filled town, the orphan boy who was clinging on to the body of his lifeless sister.

She had a family back in Arkhangelsk, not one by blood but one by bonds forged through being together thick and thin. Her brother did not, she heard enough from Malfoy to gather that much, the people he lived with were not worthy of being called family.

Was this why it hurt her brother so much? To have no one you call family except the one in front of you who wouldn't even acknowledge you. The desperation in his voice, the slight tremble of his body, the heart burning need for the warm embrace of family. These were all so clear to Anya, Harry's face spoke a thousand words.

Maybe she had been a little selfish, ignoring her brother to preserve her anonymity. She never really understood how badly her brother was lacking in affection, until right now as she looked into the eyes so similar to the ones she saw long ago. Anya pondered over what to do before she came to her choice, it was just like Vladivostok.

Was her safety more important, or her brother?

XXXXX

Anya stirred a little after a minute of blank staring. She lifted her arm and with the slightest curl of her fingers, beckoned Harry towards her. Harry edged towards the bed, his feet shuffling forward. As he neared the bed, the girl leaned forward to him and extended the arm she had just used. Slowly, her hands closed on the fabric of his shirt and she weakly pulled. There was no resistance and Harry came closer to the girl, transfixed by what was happening. Her other arm went unnoticed by Harry until it gently cupped the back of his head, guiding his head to her shoulders. It felt warm and comforting. Her thumb was rubbing soothing circles on the back of his head.

"I know," her breath whispered out softly, her eyes closed partially as they relaxed, a glint of emerald showing. "I know who I am, brother."

Brother. She said it. She knew.

Harry wrapped his arms around Anya, holding on tightly with the fear that she might vanish if he ever let go. All the while, the thumb rubbed the back of his head soothingly. Tears were freely leaking from his eyes as he pressed his face into his sister's shoulder. He felt very giddy, his mind a whirlwind of feelings. He kept the embrace for minutes, hours or maybe even days, he didn't care, it feel so peaceful and serene.

Slowly, Anya removed the hand behind Harry's head and the other hand that still gripped his shirt gently pushed back. Harry complied with the girl's silent order, but he still held on to her gently nonetheless, treating her like delicate glassware.

"Harry."

Hearing her speak to him by his first name sounded like music to his ears. It was almost like a dream.

"Do you trust me? Absolutely and unconditionally?" she was not longer relaxed. Her face was serious now, eyes boring into his. She suddenly seemed very familiar and Harry realised why.

He heard those exact same words hours ago. It was the same words that lead to the two of them covering each other's backs in the maze. Those words could have been what made her to put herself in harm's way to protect him. It was also the words that allowed her sister – who had only known him for months – to face her back to him, completely relying on him to protect her and doing so with such absolute trust.

Harry wanted her to trust him just like that, once again and always.

"Yes," said Harry with a firm nod.

Anya leaned back onto the pillow, slowly letting out a sigh. It could have been one of relief or just a tired one, Harry could not tell.

"Alright, then here's the baseline," Anya said softly. "Nobody is to know to about this, nobody knows I exist and it will stay that way, just you and me in this little secret. I had my reasons for keeping this knowledge to myself, you need to trust me on this."

"Nobody?" echoed Harry. "What about my friends, Ron and Hermione? They know about you, Sirius told them. Heck, what about Sirius? He deserves to know out of everyone."

"Who's Sirius?" Anya asked quizzically, tilting her head in confusion. "How does he know about me?"

"He our godfather," Harry answered. "He's the one to pick us from our parents' house when Voldemort attacked. He's the one who healed you up when Voldemort cursed your eye."

"Wait, Sirius as in Sirius Black the escaped mass murder with a thirteen man body count?"

"Yeah, that one," Harry said sheepishly. "He's innocent though, believe me."

"Yeah, I believe you," Anya snorted. "You're a shit liar."

"Well?"

There was a moment of silence, Anya simply mulled over his words.

"I'll think about it," she said softly. "We can discuss this tomorrow, I'm still tired and I should rest, you too Harry."

Harry nodded, hugging Anya once more. She let him do so. When he grabbed both her arms, wanting to say a goodbye, she suddenly stiffened.

"Jen, what's wrong?"

"It's Crow, she just froze."

"Red lines, I see red lines."

An explosion of pain.

Her world was falling.

Harry noticed the movement and quickly removed his hands from her. That was when he realised what Madam Pomfrey was talking about.

"Sniper fire! Everybody get down! Shields!"

The pain was gone. But she couldn't feel anything else.

There was movement all around her. But it was a wild blur.

She realised she was lying on the ground.

Even though she was wearing a hospital garb, he could still see scars on her arms and neck. Most were scars from cuts and scrapes, nothing big.

Blood all around her. All of them her own.

The smell was familiar. Sinisterly soothing almost.

"Stasis spells, now!"

"She's already in shock. Blood-Replenishing Potion and a transfusion, ASAP!"

The biggest scars were the one on her right eye and a large, thick scar that encompassed her right arm. A scar he accidentally grabbed.

She could barely feel the slick sensation of blood that was starting to soak her clothes.

The voices were growing fainter. She could barely see.

But the arm that laid several feet away from her was in the centre of her vision.

She realised it was her arm.

"Anne, what is this? What happened?" Anya didn't answer the question, she merely smiled and grabbed her brother's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Rest."

"No, tell me. What happened? Are you alright?" Harry asked, his voice dripping with concern.

Anya chuckled, it was adorable and slightly heartwarming to see her brother immediately start to mollycoddle him.

"It's nothing," she gave him a small smile. "Just an old injury. Go and rest, I find Madam Pomfrey to be a very strict woman in the short time I have gotten to know her."

Harry finally relented, making his way back to his bed and lying down. His head felt dizzy, completely overloaded from all the information that he had received. A part of him felt relieved, she seemed fine after the close call that was the Third Task. Another part of him felt elated, his gut had been right the whole time, Anya Seryy was Anne Potter. It seemed almost surreal but strangely fitting, it explained why he never saw her before. She was off in Russia.

This left another part of him feeling worried, the revelation seemed to open up even more questions. What had she been doing in Russia? And all the scars on her body did anything but reassure Harry. He too had scars on his body, one from Voldemort, too many from the Dursleys. Was that why she came to Hogwarts? To escape from her life in Russia?

His worry for Anne- Anya... whichever it was, seemed to grow even more. He remembered seeing all the scars on her body, evidence of a life of pain nobody should endure, and he came to a conclusion.

He was going to have to take care of his sister.

XXXXX

"Nephew, hurry up. You know the importance of punctuality," an old man said in Russian.

Nathaniel nodded stiffly and widened his strides to match the old man's pace, Grey was always agile despite his age. Tourists milled about the place, ecstatically snapping photographs of the soldiers. Three guards marching in step with their drab grey greatcoats, ushankas and rifles, another attraction in the Red Square. The scattered snowflakes that gently floated down gave an air of peace and quiet, the Muggles had it easy, Nathaniel sorely wished he could be elsewhere.

"Who's coming?" Nathaniel stuck to English.

"Physically? Not a lot. But everyone is going to want to hear what they have to say. Their bloc has never been that lively in a century."

The pair of ashen-haired men walked across the square, exiting the place and heading for the unique, colourful and dome-tipped building that was Saint Basil's Cathedral. More tourist loitered the place, posing in front with their families and friends for postcards to send home.

"We're being followed."

"I noticed, that'll be Sergei's men."

"He's coming too?" there was a hint of surprise in his speech.

"No doubt, he may be reclusive, but this is big. From what your little demons have discovered, I dare say this is the biggest move the White has made."

"Not just from Dimitri and Wei Jen, I've had reports from all over. Something is up, everyone knows."

Grey stayed silent as two made their way up the steps entered the cathedral, walking down the tourist filled hallways. A turn around a corridor that none of the Muggles seemed to notice and two entered a spacious room. Velvet chairs were spaced apart in a wide circle and already half of them were occupied.

"Grey, Nathaniel, welcome," greeted a blond, middle-aged man dressed in fine robes. The man presented himself in a sophisticated manner, some saw him debonair, Nathaniel saw an oily man.

"Bagrationi," Grey nodded, settling himself onto one of the chairs. Nathaniel stood beside him.

"Is this everyone? Or are we expecting more?" asked a tall man who sat beside Bagrationi, drumming his fingers lazily on his armrest.

Nathaniel regarded the tall man, he had a cropped hair and his muscles could be noticed even with the layers he was wearing. A fine image for the Russian Minister of Magic, a shame he was absolutely powerless, the man knew it himself. Behind the facade of calm boredom, there was a nervousness in his eyes. He was here at the whim of the men around him and he still held the title of Minister because they had yet to see a reason otherwise.

"Sergei is coming," said Grey, testing the figurative waters.

Nobody responded to that statement, but there was a noticeable change of atmosphere. A few, including the Minister, shifted uneasily, the grin on Bagrationi's face widened. An uneasy silence fell over the group once more as they awaited their final participant.

After ten minutes, the door creaked open to reveal a balding, stout man on a wheelchair, pushed in by an Auror dressed in standard black mask and blue combat robes. The man surveyed the group before him, his thick moustache twitching. When he spoke, his voice came out in a low growl.

"Well, what's this important matter that I keep hearing about? So important that I have to momentarily abandon the task of babysitting the ministry and the country."

The Minister seemed like he was about to protest over the finer details of the second sentence, but decided against it.

"It is important, Sergei," Bagrationi declared. "It could very well provide an influx of revenue this country so desperately needs. After all, the lack of funding has always been one of your chief complaints."

Sergei arched an eyebrow.

"Carry on."

"There has been much discussion among my bloc as to the methods of revitalising our motherland. And after much work, I believe that a strategic partnership with the British Ministry is very much within our grasp."

All eyes flew to Sergei when Bagrationi finished his words, Nathaniel could understand why. Official, government-sanctioned, internationally noticed matters had always fallen under Sergei's domain, after all he was unofficially in charge of the ministry's foreign relations and Auror Corps among many, many other things. Bagrationi was somewhat trespassing. No wonder the Minister was here, this was something that the British Ministry and International Confederation of Wizards would have to be informed off, official channels where required for something so big.

"And how did you manage to achieve this?" Sergei's eyes narrowed at the blonde.

"Discussions and negotiations here and there," Bagrationi commented casually. "Nothing much, you'll be amazed at the amount of foreign interest there is on Russia if you took the time to look."

"Well, Minister? What are your views?" someone from the side asked sweetly.

"I see nothing wrong with it," the Minister said slowly with much fluster. "If this is pulled off the right way, there could be much benefit. Our country has been isolated for long enough, as far as the general public is concerned anyways."

"And what exactly is the right way?" another asked.

Nathaniel smirked, he could swear they were playing with the Minister by asking those questions.

"I'll let the rest of you settle the finer the details," the Minister deflected.

Smart move.

"Sergei?"

The man in question did not reply, drew out a cigar and stuck it in his mouth. With a deep exhale, the tip of the cigar lit up. Soon, the smell of tobacco filled the air and the man took his time to answer the question.

"You can begin drafting out a proposal. If it is satisfactory, then I don't see any problems with it."

The Minister turned to face the Grey.

"Grey, what about you? Do you have anything to say?"

Sergei gave a short roar of laughter, pulling out his cigar to release a plume of smoke.

"Minister, Grey doesn't say. He acts. You'll find out soon if he approves."

Another minute of silence passed before Bagrationi broke the peace, growing oilier than Nathaniel thought possible.

"If that is all, I do believe the meeting is over. I, for one, have places to be."

"The same here," Sergei nodded, gesturing for the Auror to push him out. "Vasily, do remember to come by soon. I need to have a word with you."

A man with long beard nodded before standing up and excusing himself out as well. One by one, everyone vacated the room and soon the cathedral.

"What are your thoughts, uncle?" said Nathaniel as the two of them left the cathedral.

"The disabled one is getting on my nerves, and I'm not talking about the one on the wheelchair."

"No wonder the slime was so confident, he's bringing in outside muscle. They're bent on shifting the scales."

"It is a power play, a simple intimidation tactic," Grey mused. "But one must wonder what makes this one so special, the Whites have always been relying on outside help."

"Sergei must be confident himself, letting Bagrationi run free."

"It's not confidence, he's eager to get in on Britain too, there's no better chance than this."

"But Bagrationi initiates the terms, he has a head start on all of us."

"Diplomatically, yes. But he's not a Spook, people like Sergei and Leo are better players."

"Movement of agents and information will be critical. Sergei does have the advantage here," Nathaniel agreed.

"Never mind him, he and I have always seen eye to eye. Leo is the one we have to watch out for, one does not simply keep their position during the Red's collapse without reason."

The pair had entered the Red Square once more and headed to the local apparition point.

"It'll be hard for all sides to slip agents into Britain undetected now that open season is being declared," Nathaniel stated as he did a check for anyone tailing them. "Everyone will be watching the borders."

"We have Dimitri," Grey scoffed. "And you forget that you have already planted an agent in Britain, though unknowingly."

"I sent her there to give her a break from all this," Nathaniel's eyes narrowed on his uncle.

"Worry not, Nathaniel," Grey waved his nephew's concerns away. "I don't intent on activating her immediately, she has a Triwizard Tournament to participate. Next year."

"Next year is her OWL year."

"And are you seriously doubting her?" Grey sneered. "It's only three OWLs."

"One year is too short a break," Nathaniel insisted. "And her break has been long overdue, two years overdue. Do you know, she still goes into a panic attack when she hears that siren?"

"One year was enough for me to overcome such petty things," Grey reminded his nephew, eyes hard as steel. "And for your information, one year was enough for your father."

"It's a very separate incident, and she not a prodigy unlike you and father."

"No, but she is quite exceptional herself."

"We discuss this later."

"Indeed we will."

XXXXX

Harry woke up with a start. He was still in the Hospital Wing, recovering from the Third Task. Madam Pomfrey insisted he stayed overnight, and for once, he did not complain.

The memories from previous evening rushed into his head and he found himself grinning. It felt like a fresh start, a new beginning. He had a real family now, and suddenly this year did not seem so bad. And Anya did not seem so bad as a person, sure she was very silent, kept to herself and occasionally cold. But if anything, the desperate moments of the Third Task revealed her true colours in Harry's opinion. A fearless girl with a radiant smile whom you could trust your life with.

Like an energetic five year old, he tore off his blanket and approached his sister's bed, curious to see how she was doing. The girl in question was already awake, helping herself to a breakfast in bed.

"Hello."

"You can ask Madam Pomfrey to send a house elf for breakfast if you're feeling hungry," the girl told him casually before putting another spoon of porridge in her mouth, not sparing him a glance.

"Are you feeling alright?" Harry asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

Anya took her time to swallow before answering the question.

"Fine, Madam Pomfrey says I just need another day to flush out the venom completely."

"That's actually quite fast," Harry said with a smile. "Good too, how'd you recover so quickly? Merlin knows she tries to keep me locked up here all too often."

She simply gave him a shrug and carried on with her breakfast

Harry's confusion slowly gnawed on his happiness. There she was acting all aloof again like the beginning of the year, as though he still didn't know who she was. What happened to the empathetic girl who had held him gently as he broke down in tears? Was it all in the heat of the moment, or did she really not care?

"Anne-"

"Goodness gracious, don't call me that," Anya muttered, loud enough for Harry to hear. "What part of yesterday's 'our little secret' did you not understand? And no one has called me that ever."

"Sorry, sorry," Harry hastily backpedalled. "It's just... what's going on with you? I just can't understand you, I thought after yesterday's heart to heart, we'd be alright with each other. Why are you still so cold to me?"

"I hardly know you," Anya shrugged once more, taking another bite of her porridge.

"And you're not giving me a chance?"

"I'm still talking to you, aren't I?" said Anya coolly, finishing the last of her porridge and draining down a glass of pumpkin juice. Her breakfast promptly vanished, courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves.

"Then, about Sirius," Harry said firmly. "I think he needs to know."

"Why's that? One person knowing is already one person too much."

"Please," Harry pleaded. "I'm begging you, give me a chance, give him a chance."

"Can he be trusted?"

"Of course."

There was a few seconds pause before Anya replied.

"Fine, if you happen to find a way to contact him that is," Anya sighed. "Remember, no one else is to know, not the teachers and definitely not your friends."

Another statement that opened a can of worms. Harry could not help but wonder why Anya was so secretive about her identity. So many things seemed strange, her Russian background, her scars and her eye. He remembered Sirius mentioning that Voldemort had cursed her right eye but there it was, shining in defiance to the Dark Lord's act.

There was just so many things he didn't know about his sister.

"Anya?" Harry asked tentatively, to which Anya simply hummed in acknowledgement. "What happened to your right eye, Sirius said that Voldemort cursed it."

"It recovered."

"How?"

There came the shrug again, vexing Harry once more. Harry opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey.

"Mr Potter, Ms Seryy, glad to see the both of you doing well." Madam Pomfrey performed a few diagnostic spells on Harry and Anya before deeming Harry fit for discharge.

After being shooed off to his own bed to change out of his own hospital garb, Harry paid Anya one last visit to say goodbye.

"I'll see you soon, I guess."

"Remember, no one else is to know," Anya reminded him.

"What's with all this secrecy?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Just trust me and keep a tight lip," said Anya coolly. "You don't need to know."

"As your brother, I think I have a right to know," said Harry indignantly.

"Yeah, and I'm denying you that right," Anya chuckled, completely unfazed by his tone. "Relax, just because we're siblings doesn't mean we have to know everything about each other. Don't siblings normally keep secrets from one another?"

"You keep too many secrets," Harry retorted. "I don't know a single thing about you."

"Honestly, I'd like to keep it that way."

"Why's that?" pressed Harry, before recalling her scars and asking more questions. "Is someone after you? Are you in danger?

"At the moment, the only one after me is you, Harry," Anya rolled her eyes. "And you are hardly dangerous. Enough talk, your endearing fans await you at the Great Hall."

Harry took that as a goodbye and nodded, leaving Anya to rest. He made his way out of the Hospital Wing, towards what he was sure would be an unending interrogation by his housemates.

XXXXX

Anya watched her brother leave and snuggled back into her comfy pillows, enjoying the solace. Her body still ached badly and the aftereffects of the venom still screened her mind from normal thinking, she felt like she was dipped in Arctic waters. She wanted out, out from this pain and there was a solution for it in the Hospital Wing. Temptation pulled at the back of her mind, itching into her skull.

She tried to swat it away, digging deeper into her pillows but the mental itch soon turned into a literal shiver. Her mind and body was screaming for it at this point, it had underwent trauma and stress multiple times throughout her life but this was the first time it had done so without aid. Aid was what her body desperately sought, telling her to seek it through shivers and soon a splitting headache. She had told Harry to leave her to rest yesterday because she was frantically carving for sleep, not because she was tired but because she wanted to delay this, desperately hoping that she would wake up without problems.

Before she realised it, she was on her feet, staggering to the potions cupboard after making sure Madam Pomfrey was occupied in her office. Riffling through the shelves, she saw what her mind and body was forcing her find. She snatched up a familiar looking vial of orange liquid, pulling out the stopper. She took a deep breath, smelling the tantalising aroma of the potion. The Invigoration Draught greeted her like an old friend as she forced the potion down her throat with a mad hunger, her body soaking up all the familiar senses.

Fresh energy surged through her veins, peeling off the weary feeling of sick exhaustion. The headache cleared and the shivering stopped, everything became so lucid and clear. Standing up and staying balanced seemed so effortless unlike a minute ago where action placed a strain on her weak body. Her body groaned in delighted at the long-carved sensation. Warmth coursed through her body and her violent shivering gave way to a relaxed shudder.

Immediately, her body carved for more, imploring her to keep herself at a high. A hand reached out for another bottle, but she fell onto her knees. The hand went to her head instead, dragging through her locks of hair. Anya grasped her hair tightly and sighed in resignation, scrunching her eyes up in disappointment. Six months, she lasted six months. She got back onto her feet, making her way back to her bed. She stowed the empty vial under her pillow, hiding it as she had always been doing for eight years.

AN: Upload pace may slow down since I've been doing things like re-reading lengthy fics like Delenda Est(good fic, give it a shot if you haven't) instead of actually writing this xD(No flame pls). Still, I try to cater time for this and may actually keep to my self-imposed weekly upload schedule. Fingers crossed and of course, reviews help.