Authors notes: Alright gang, now we're cooking with gas. This chapter moves things forward a bit. Next chapter should be the 1st task of the tournament, so we're movin right along. Not a lot to say without giving stuff away to you guys so I guess we'll just move ahead. Thank you all for reading and for the continued interest in this story. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I still don't own jack. This is a highly disappointing state of affairs.

Here we go with chapter 13 of A Fair Life.

A Fair Life

Bug Repelling Wards?

by,

Rtnwriter

Sirius stood staring out the window, barely really seeing the beautiful sunrise, so lost was he in his own thoughts. In his right hand he held a cup of coffee that would have gone cold long ago were it not for the charms on the mug keeping its contents at a constant temperature.

"I'm sorry about yesterday."

He turned as the voice intruded on his solitude and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Which part?" he asked. "The part where you stunned me the second I came through the door? Or the part where I woke up tied to a chair and spent three hours being interrogated under veritaserum?"

"The part where I forgot the cushioning charm before I stunned you," Amelia said, coming the rest of the way into the kitchen and heading straight for the kettle on the stove to prepare herself some tea. "How's your jaw?"

Absently Sirius gingerly rubbed at the mottled, but healing, yellow and purple bruise on the left side of his jaw, caused by his face's impact against the floor after she'd stunned him the previous day.

"I'll live," he muttered.

Amelia winced slightly as she took a seat at the kitchen table. "I believed that the girls believed you were innocent, Sirius. But I had to be sure."

"I understand, Amy, it's fine." Sirius sighed and moved to sit at the table, setting his cup down as he slid into a seat. "I know how the world works. The only question I have is what happens next?"

"Next? Next, we prepare for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"Monday."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I am aware what day of the week it is. What is so important about this particular Monday that we have to spend a day preparing for it?

Amelia allowed herself a smirk that she managed to get under his skin, it kind of felt like old times to her. Taking pity on him, she didn't leave him in suspense for long.

"Before I came down, I sent out missives calling for an emergency session of the Wizengamot. They don't know it, but first thing tomorrow morning we'll be holding your trial."

She eyed him critically and Sirius suddenly found himself feeling self-conscious for the first time since his second year at Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry to say it, Sirius, but you look like dragon shite."

"Ouch," he said in a deadpan tone.

Amelia smiled and simply shrugged her shoulders.

"No, really. Don't hold back, Amy, tell me how you really feel."

"You know I don't mince words and you showing up tomorrow looking like that won't do you any favours."

Sirius snorted but couldn't refute her words. He was well aware that he'd looked better, but more than a decade in Azkaban followed by more than a year on the run hadn't exactly given him a lot of time for appropriate levels of self-care.

"Before we get you in front of the Wizengamot we need to get you cleaned up, into some new clothes, and get you a shave and a haircut."

"I'm not asking any of them on a date, Amy," he growled irritably.

"You know those old fools won't take you seriously looking like something Death brought with him in his suitcase," she argued. "You need to put your best foot forward. If you're not willing to do it for yourself, then do it for your goddaughter."

Sirius tried to maintain an annoyed glower but it quickly collapsed into a pained grimace.

"That's a low blow," he grumbled.

"I really don't care," Amelia shot back. "You promised that girl that you were done being stupid. This is your first chance to prove it. Swallow your damn pride, play the game, and do everything possible to make sure that you walk away from that court tomorrow a free man."

"I have every intention of doing that, Amelia. Couldn't you just let me pout and be childish for five minutes?"

"Honestly?"

He nodded.

"No."

"I figured as much," he sighed and squared his shoulders. "All right. Let's get this over with."

"We'll also have a lot to go over while we're at it. I want to pick that night in '81 apart, as well as your escape from Azkaban and the night you and the kids encountered Pettigrew at Hogwarts. I want you to know the story backwards and forwards so there's no discrepancies when you're questioned under veritaserum."

Calling for the Bones Family house elf, Amelia had breakfast served and motioned for Sirius to dig in.

"Eat. We've got a lot to do today."

Silently, Sirius nodded and filled his plate. He had the distinct feeling that it was going to be a long day.

#####

Sunday passed quietly, though Hermione found herself frequently checking on her girlfriend throughout the day. No one else had heard Harleen's broken exclamation the night before and Hermione had done her best to support Harleen and to try to understand just what had so completely upset the girl.

It was obvious enough that she was hurt that her stag patronus was different. Hermione hadn't recognized the creature it was now, nor did she know how the shape of the patronus had changed, or even that they could change, so she was lacking a lot of information.

Harleen sat through the lessons with Augusta, listening and following instructions without complaint. Augusta had given the girl more than a few confused looks throughout the lesson and Hermione could only guess that the older witch had expected more arguments from the raven haired teen. Hermione herself had expected more but there'd been nothing.

That evening, after dinner, the first meeting of their study group took place and Harleen had a good number of students producing a fine silver mist by the end of the lesson.

Throughout the course of the meeting, Harleen never once cast her own patronus, no matter how many times it was requested. She changed the subject every time it came up and in the end, whoever had asked somehow ended up attempting to cast the charm themselves.

Despite wanting to talk to Harleen about what happened, Hermione had been so utterly exhausted after her own attempts at the taxing spell that she'd crawled into her bed that night and had quickly fallen asleep.

Which lead to Monday morning and the fact that Hermione was stalking her way toward the Room of Requirement after waking to an empty dorm room. Ahead of her, the door to the Room came into sight and she picked up her pace, eager to see her girlfriend.

Pushing open the door, Hermione slipped into the Room and almost immediately froze in place, her eyes going wide as the door closed quietly behind her. She had expected to find the exercise room they'd been using for the last week. Instead, Hermione found herself facing what looked like a dueling hall.

Rather than anything remotely resembling duelling going on, Harleen appeared to be under attack by four robed figures at the same time. Worse, In Hermione's opinion, Harleen's wand was nowhere in sight as she ducked, spun, and dove to avoid the spells flying at her. As she watched, a spell impacted against her girlfriend's left shoulder and Harleen winced and staggered for a moment. That brief interruption of her momentum was all it took, and four more spells hit her in rapid succession, one striking her right thigh, just below the edge of her shorts while three hit her in the chest and abdomen, throwing her to the ground.

"Stop!" Harleen barked out just before Hermione could let loose the terrified scream that she could feel bubbling its way up her throat and all four figures suddenly vanished.

"What the hell was that?" Hermione demanded, tossing out her usual reluctance to curse in favor of expressing just how upset she was.

Harleen jerked from her spot collapsed on the ground and lifted her head enough to see Hermione, who was in the process of making her way across the Room toward the downed witch.

"Dodging practice," Harleen panted, lowering her head back to the ground. "It doesn't matter as much... what people throw at me… if they can't hit me."

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Hermione snapped, dropping to her knees beside Harleen as she started looking the girl over. Painful looking welts were already forming on Harleen's exposed shoulder and thigh and Hermione couldn't help but wince in sympathy, despite how angry she was. "What did they hit you with?" she demanded.

"Urgh… from what I can tell, it's an overpowered stinging hex." Harleen groaned and slowly sat up. "Hurts like hell, so I've got plenty of incentive to not get hit, but minimal risk of real injury."

"Why were you in here alone?" Hermione asked, slowly calming down as she took in the fact that Harleen was alright, even if she was going to be very sore for a while. "Why didn't you wake me up? This could have still been dangerous."

Harleen fidgeted a touch nervously. "I just felt like being alone for a little bit," she muttered.

Hermione studied the girl carefully, letting her fear and irritation fade the rest of the way before she spoke again.

"Is this about your patronus?" she asked softly.

Harleen was as still as a statue and just as silent for several long moments before she nodded her head in a sharp, jerky motion.

"Can you tell me?"

Again Harleen was silent, and Hermione found herself gently rubbing her girlfriend's back with one hand, just between her shoulder blades.

"I didn't recognize the creature it became," she commented after a long silence.

Harleen sighed. "It's called a thestral," she admitted.

Hermione frowned. "I've never heard of thestrals before."

"There's a herd of them here at school. Hagrid takes care of them and they pull the carriages."

Hermione's frown deepened. "The… they pull the 'horseless' carriages?" she asked carefully to which Harleen nodded her head.

"They do. Most people can't see them since they're mostly invisible."

"What do you mean, 'mostly invisible'?"

"I'd really rather not-"

"Please?" Hermione interrupted. "This is bothering you, and I don't want to nag you, but I want to help and I can't do that without information," she pleaded. "I could go read about them for myself and hope to guess what it is about them that's upsetting you so much, but it just feels like it'd be easier for both of us if you explained it to me."

Harleen looked at Hermione and for a few seconds she thought the smaller girl was going to deny her again before Harleen let out another long, drawn out sigh, her shoulders slumping in apparent defeat. "All right, fine," she said, "but can we please get off of the floor?"

Smiling, Hermione stood and helped her girlfriend to her feet, leading her over to the sofa that appeared as they stood. Before sitting, Hermione cast several drying and cleaning charms over Harleen, removing most of the sweat and grime that had accumulated during her exercises. She then dropped onto the sofa and pulled Harleen into her lap, loosely wrapping both arms around the girl's waist.

"So… what can you tell me about thestrals?"

"More than I'd like and less than anything really useful, I imagine," Harleen muttered, her face screwed up in thought.

Hermione bit her tongue and simply waited as patiently as she could.

"Well… you saw it, thestrals are technically a breed of winged horse, but it's about there that the comparisons run out. They're gaunt and skeletal looking with the only hair they have being their manes and tails. Their skin is more scaley. They're carnivores, incredibly clever, to the point where they can seem to understand human speech and they have an almost unparalleled sense of direction.

"Despite how scary they look though, they're actually very kind and gentle creatures. At least domesticated ones are, not sure exactly how they behave in the wild. They're also extremely territorial and protective of their family units."

Hermione blinked in surprise. That was certainly a lot more than she'd expected. "You seem to know a lot about them," she commented.

Harleen shrugged. "The problem most wizards and witches have with them is their invisibility. Most people think they're a bad omen."

"Because they can be invisible?"

"No," Harleen said, shaking her head. "Because of what's required to be able to see them." She shivered slightly and pressed herself closer to Hermione. "To see a thestral, you have to first see death," she murmured so softly that Hermione almost missed it.

"'See death'? What does that mean?" Hermione pressed.

"From what I can tell, it means that you have to have seen someone die. The actual moment when they passed on. You also have to be able to recognize and understand death, that that person is gone and won't be coming back."

Hermione hugged the girl in her lap, offering what comfort she could. "Is that what's upsetting you? The connection to death?"

Harleen shook her head against Hermione's shoulder. "I hadn't really thought about it actually, though once people figure out what my patronus actually is, I'm sure they'll start treating me differently again. No, it's more that the stag felt like a connection to my dad. His animagus form was a stag, remember? I liked the idea that it was like he was still protecting me as my patronus, even if he's gone."

Hermione thought carefully before she spoke, wary of any careless word that might be interpreted as insulting or dismissive of the memory of James Potter.

"It's sad," she finally said, "but it doesn't have to be a bad thing if you don't want it to be."

Harleen gave her a quizzical look but said nothing.

"I'm sorry you feel like your dad isn't protecting you anymore, love, I really am. You are more than entitled to feel that. On the other hand, you know that happens to us all eventually, right? One day, we won't be protected by our parents anymore. One day, it comes down to us to be the protector. Mentally, you're almost eighteen-years-old and maybe, somewhere inside you, you're not a child anymore.

"You still have pieces of your father, the map and your cloak, so it's not as if there's nothing for you to remember him by. So many people have compared you to him over the years and having the same patronus as his animagus form might have been comforting but... maybe it's just time for you to show them who Harleen Potter really is and step out of that shadow left by your dad. "

Feeling emboldened by the fact that Harleen hadn't interrupted or disagreed so far, Hermione held the girl closer and continued expressing her thoughts by asking a question.

"Do you know how it is that your patronus changed? I didn't even know that was possible."

"It can happen after a big upheaval in someone's life," Harleen explained, her body relaxing into Hermione's arms. "Something like falling in love, or the loss of someone close to you can change a person enough that the patronus changes as well."

Hermione considered that carefully for a moment, one hand absently stroking up and down Harleen's back.

"From what you said, then, I think the thestral actually fits you rather well," she admitted, to which Harleen simply gave her a dumbfounded look.

"They're creatures of the air, since they have wings. You said they're clever, protective, and intelligent, but also kind and gentle. All things that describe you fairly well." She grinned teasingly at the girl in her lap. "You even have a way to make yourself invisible."

Harleen snorted. "And the connection to death?" she asked.

"Well… you could look at your change back to your proper gender as a death, of a sort," she offered a touch hesitantly. "The male version of you is gone forever. 'Dead', in a manner of speaking. He is gone, and you, Harleen Potter, remain."

Harleen stared at her, her face clearly showing her surprise at Hermione's interpretation of her patronus' new form. Eventually, her expression cleared and she simply let her head rest more fully on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione?" she whispered several minutes later.

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you."

#####

Harleen fought the urge to curse under her breath as she made her way through the castle corridors, Colin Creevey bouncing happily along next to her as he chattered away a mile a minute. She actually wasn't certain that he'd paused to breathe since they'd left the potions classroom. That had been five minutes ago.

The reason for her foul mood could be summed up with two easy statements. First, she'd forgotten about the damned weighing of the wands. Second, because she'd forgotten, she and Hermione hadn't worked out a plan to deal with that irritating little insect, Rita Skeeter.

Gonna have to wing it and pray it doesn't come back to bite me on the arse, she thought as they reached the door to the classroom where the ceremony was being held.

"Thanks for showing me the way, Colin," she said, cutting the excited boy off mid-sentence, hoping to get away from him as quickly as possible.

"No problem, Harry!" he blurted out, smiling widely at her.

As if Colin hadn't already been a fan, Harleen was beginning to suspect that the boy was adding a serious crush on top of his already severe case of hero-worship. She hesitated for a moment, then simply opened the door and entered the room without saying anything else.

Just as she remembered from the last time around, it was a fairly small classroom with most of the desks pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a clear space in the middle. Three of the desks had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered in a long piece of velvet with five chairs set behind the desks. Harleen ignored Ludo Bagman, who was sitting in one of the chairs, chatting quietly with Rita.

Viktor, Cedric, and Fleur were already present, conversing happily in the center of the room.

A far cry from last time where Viktor was just standing in the corner, scowling at everyone, she thought absently.

Bagman suddenly spotted her and practically leaped from his seat, bounding quickly toward her.

"Ah, here she is! Champion number four! Come on in, Miss Potter, nothing to worry about. The rest of the judges will be here in a moment for the wand weighing ceremony."

Harleen plastered a confused expression on her face as she turned toward the man. "What does it matter how much my wand weighs?" she asked in a puzzled tone of voice.

Bagman laughed. "No, no," he said. "The ceremony is just to check that the champions wands are working properly. Don't want to be having any problems during the tasks with your most important tool, after all. The expert is upstairs with Dumbledore right now and after the ceremony we'll be having a little photo shoot. This here is Rita Skeeter, she's doing a small piece for the Daily Prophet."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes fixed intently on Harleen. "I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start? The youngest champion, you know… to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" Bagman cried. "That is… if Harry has no objections?"

"I don-" Harleen started to say.

"Lovely," Rita cut her off. In a second her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harleen's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "We don't want to be in with all this- eep!"

Rita's words cut off with a startled squeak as Harleen's wand suddenly shot from the sleeve of her robes, into her hand, and she raised it, pressing the tip hard into the soft tissue under the reporter's chin.

"Take your hand off of me, right now, Miss Skeeter, or I'll be forced to defend myself." In an instant, the hand gripping her arm let go and Harleen nodded her head. "Just so you are aware, I am under the protection of House Longbottom. I'm sure that Madam Longbottom will be contacting you soon about your assault. Just between us girls though, do that again and I won't leave enough of you for Augusta to do anything with."

Next to them, Bagman paled at the casual, even cheerful tone of voice that Harleen used as she delivered her threat, though both witches ignored him as Harleen slowly lowered her wand.

"I did not assault you, you silly girl," Rita practically snarled, gingerly rubbing her chin where Harleen's wand had been digging into her skin.

"You, an adult, laid your hands on a minor, without permission and against my wishes. That is assault," Harleen said, still in that pleasant tone of voice.

"I was only trying to lead you somewhere we could talk."

"You don't lead someone by grabbing them against their will," Harleen replied. "If you still wish to talk I'd be happy to show you how to properly lead someone somewhere, since you don't appear to know how it's done."

With her off hand, Harleen motioned for the woman to follow her, her wand still held loosely at her side in her right hand, and she turned to make her way toward the far wall. As she passed the other champions she grinned at them and gave them a cheerful wave, all three older students smiling at her behavior. Harleen felt that the grin she managed to put on Viktor's usually sour face was a small victory, of a sort, and grinned even wider at the sight of it.

Once she reached the other side of the room, Harleen cast a silent muffliato and turned to face the clearly irate reporter.

"No one can hear us, Rita," she said, her wand shooting back up her sleeve and into her holster.

Rita's smile was not pleasant.

"You don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you, dear?" she asked with a sneer as she pulled out the acid green quill from her crocodile-skin handbag.

Calmly, Harleen reached out and plucked the quill from the woman's hands.

"I do mind, actually. I really wanted to get a chance to set some ground rules before we talked, the first of which being that these quills are never to be used for any interview you do with me."

"What are you talking about?" Rita snapped furiously. "You can't stand there and try to tell me how to do my-"

"Did you know that I'm taking Ancient Runes this year?"

Rita blinked as Harleen cut her off with that strange segue but said nothing.

"Fascinating subject, runes. Were you aware that runes are used extensively in the creation of wards?"

"So?"

"So, what do you think would happen to your career if I let slip that people should start using wards designed to repel bugs?"

Rita blinked again, her complexion going pale. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't, Rita," Harleen said in an understanding tone, reaching out to gently pat the woman's arm. "I'm just rambling on about something I thought was interesting. And it really is amazing how wards can be specifically tailored for various effects. Why, someone could create a ward that would easily target a specific type of bug if they were of a mind. Say… something like a water beetle for example?"

Harleen twirled the quill between her fingers. "I'd bet that someone could even create a ward that had no other purpose than to violently, and painfully, kill any water beetle that happened to be caught within its influence."

As she said the word 'kill' Harleen, quite deliberately, broke the quill in her hands in half and Rita flinched violently at the sound it made.

"Oh, dear," Harleen said with an exaggerated degree of dismay. "I'm so sorry, Miss Skeeter, I appear to have broken your quill."

Rita swallowed hard, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she managed to find her voice.

"Th-that's quite alright, dear," she said faintly. "I have others."

"Oh, wonderful! I wouldn't want to do anything to interfere with your work Miss Skeeter. I understand how important it is for a woman to be able to hold her own in our society these days."

Still pale, and perhaps a little green around the gills, Rita's eyes narrowed at the falsely innocent, wide-eyed expression that Harleen had plastered on her face.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"That's simple, Rita. I want you to do your job."

Rita frowned in confusion. "What?"

"By that, I mean that I want you to actually report the news, not make up wild theories, conjectures, and accusations designed to hurt someone. Everything you write should be verifiable fact. I don't want to try to dictate what you write, just that it's the truth, and I don't want us to have a strained relationship either, Miss Skeeter. In fact, I think I can offer you some really good incentives to stick to real stories."

"More threats?" Rita snapped, some of her fear bleeding away in indignation.

Harleen shook her head. "Not at all. I have some stories that I could point you toward that I think could launch your career to entirely new levels."

"And I suppose you'll only give me these stories if I swear not to write anything about you?"

Again, Harleen shook her head. "If it's factual, go ahead and write it. Just be sure of what's actually true, get all sides of the story before you print anything instead of making things up to fill in the gaps. With your… skillset, I think that you could honestly be a phenomenal investigative journalist. You just need to get away from the idea of sensationalizing everything you write. Stick to the facts and I believe that you and I will get along wonderfully. I might even include an exclusive or two in the future if that will help."

Harleen fell silent and had to consciously stop herself from holding her breath as she let the woman think. The intimidation tactics had been necessary to get Rita's attention but, even if she'd wanted to, controlling the reporter through fear and threats was not a viable, long term solution. Harleen hoped that by appealing to the woman's career, and by extension, her bank account, would be a better tactic.

Show the stick first, then offer the carrott, she thought.

"What kind of stories are you talking about?"

Harleen did her very best not to grin at the poorly disguised interest in the witch's voice. "As a show of good faith, I'll give you one story to look into for free. Were you aware that Ludo Bagman was accepting bets on the outcome of the World Cup? He was even taking bets from underage witches and wizards, and he currently has a bunch of goblins that have been trying to speak to him about his own unpaid gambling debts."

Rita's eyebrows slowly rose toward her hairline as Harleen spoke and she could almost see the wheels turning in the woman's head. For a Ministry Department Head to be involved in such activities, it would be quite the scandal, and quite the story, for her to break.

"On top of all that," Harleen added, drawing the reporter from her thoughts, "I know at least two people that he paid their winnings from the Cup in leprechaun gold, which I'm sure you know disappears after a few hours. I can't say for sure that he did that with anyone else, but it's certainly possible that if he did it once then he tried it on others."

Rita's smile would have fit better on a shark, showing entirely too much teeth and not nearly enough humor.

"And you have more tips like this?" she asked.

"Rita, this is quite possibly one of the least explosive of the tips I can offer you."

Looking almost giddy with excitement, something that actually disturbed Harleen just a bit, Rita began digging in her bag again and quickly retrieved a normal dicta-quill.

"To be clear, as long as I can verify facts I can write whatever I want. You'll give at least two exclusives in the near future and you'll point me toward some more stories. That about sum it up?"

"To a point. My private life is private. Who I date or things like that are not fodder for your paper."

"You're a very public figure-"

"And I'm entitled to my privacy," Harleen snapped.

Rita studied her closely for a long moment then shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm afraid the world doesn't work that way, my dear. People are always going to be more nosy than they should be, and it's not right, even I know that, but it's not illegal either. I'll agree to that for now, provided you let me try to change your mind at least a bit on that stance when we have more time to talk."

Harleen's eyes narrowed angrily but she gave a slow and grudging nod after a few moments of rapid thought. "You can try," she agreed, "but I won't be changing my mind."

"We'll see." Rita flicked her wand, setting a roll of parchment and her quill to float in the air beside them where they could both see what was being written. "Now, Miss Potter, since it has to be asked, did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire? And, if you didn't, do you know who did, or why?"

Over the next few minutes, Harleen was reminded that when she wasn't making things up and slinging accusations, Rita was actually a talented reporter. She asked pertinent, insightful questions and quickly had the entire story of her inclusion in the tournament and her change of gender down on parchment. By the time Dumbledore approached to interrupt them they were very nearly finished.

"Rita," Harleen whispered as they moved to join the others. "If you'll leave their names out of your story, I'll point you toward the two I know Bagman paid using leprechaun gold."

"I know how to protect a source."

"Fred and George Weasley. Only pair of redheaded twins in the castle. You can't miss 'em."

Silently Rita nodded and from there the rest of the ceremony proceeded much as Harleen remembered, though she wasn't paying much attention. She couldn't wait to talk to Hermione about her arrangement with Rita. This time, they would have the press on their side if she had anything to say about it.

#####

In bed that night, Harleen had only one thing running through her mind as she stared up at the underside of her canopy and waited for sleep.

She hadn't lied to Hermione.

That was one of the most important things, or so Harleen kept telling herself. The tightrope she was walking of not telling her girlfriend certain things but not expressly lying to her at the same time was difficult and frustrating and she wished she could just come out with it all, or at least she wished she'd thought to ask the Reaper why she couldn't tell Hermione the truth until after Voldemort was dead.

No matter what, she still had managed to not lie to her girlfriend, and that was worth something to Harleen. When Hermione had asked that morning if the thestral's connection to death was upsetting her she hadn't actually given the idea much thought. Since the bushy haired witch brought it up however, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.

She liked Hermione's interpretation of why her patronus had changed and why that particular form. It might have been a touch idealistic, but it did help to reduce some of the sting of losing Prongs. If she was being honest with herself, since thinking it over more carefully, she felt that there was a far more likely reason for the change in her patronus, one she'd initially dismissed without really considering it.

She had died.

Died and been returned to life. She was touched by death in a way that no one else was.

She had ignored that thought at first because, according to Reaper, she'd died eleven times before this last one and her patronus had always been a stag.

Things were different this time though, weren't they? she thought with an annoyed huff as she rolled onto her side beneath her blankets.

The great difference was that this time around she actually remembered her death and she remembered the after life, or what she'd seen of it at least. With her previous deaths her memories had been removed, leaving her with no influence on her experiences once she'd been returned to life for another try at her destiny.

This time, she remembered dying and seeing some of what came after and in a way it was somewhat encouraging to know for certain that there actually was something after her time alive was up. In the end however, she could only determine that her new connection to Death, through the memories she held, were to account for the change in her patronus.

Really, she wasn't entirely certain just how to feel about that.

#####

Tuesday morning was bright, the air crisp with the coolness of fall in Northern Scotland and there was a stunned silence in the Great Hall as students all over the room started at the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Way to go, Rita, Harleen thought in a bemused way, unable to tear her eyes from the three front page headlines.

Girl-Who-Lived?

The first article told Harleen's story, the truth of her birth gender as well as how and why the world had been convinced that James and Lily Potter had had a son. Amazingly, it was done without embellishment or exaggeration and simply laid out the facts. The most amusing part to Harleen was the line in the article that read: 'The truth of Miss Potter's gender will likely see the breaking of young witch's hearts the length and breadth of this country. The hero they have crushed on for years does not exist, but perhaps they might find instead a heroine, a role model to look up to'.

I wonder how they'd feel if they knew I might still have given some of those girls a chance if it wasn't for Hermione? Can't say I like Rita setting me up as a symbol still but oh well.

Fourth of Three Champions?

This was a much better article than the one that Rita had written the last time. It told how Harleen had not entered her own name into the goblet and that the Minister had promised to investigate the matter but, in the meantime, Harleen was bound by contract to compete whether she wanted to or not.

More than just that, instead of focusing on her, the article actually included the other champions, and spoke favorably of them. That alone could have shocked Harleen to the point that someone could have knocked her over with a feather. It was the last headline however that truly caught her attention and held it.

Sirius Black: Innocent!

Yes, dear readers, the headline above is not a misprint, but please, allow me to set the stage. Yesterday, the 14th of November of 1994, I heard that there was going to be an emergency session of the Wizengamot, called by Director of the DMLE, Madam Amelia Bones, herself.

I was expected that afternoon to report on the Triwizard tournament taking place at Hogwarts (see above) but I just had to go and see what the fuss was about. Am I glad now that I did!

After getting the emergency session underway, all eyes turned to Director Bones for an explanation on why they were called. Imagine our collective surprise when it was revealed that we were there for the trial of Sirius Orion Black! The surprises didn't stop there, dear readers, as Director Bones went on to reveal that Mister Black never received a trial all those years ago when he was accused of betraying the Potters to You-Know-Who…

It read like a fantastic piece of fiction. A story of friendship, loyalty, heart break, and betrayal. Harleen was so stunned that she barely registered when Hermione squealed and threw her arms around her, pulling Harleen into an ecstatic hug.

"He's free!" she practically screamed, finally pulling Harleen from her stupor.

"I can't believe it," she whispered faintly. "She actually did it. Madam Bones did it!"

It honestly took every shred of willpower that Harleen possessed not to grab her girlfriend and kiss the girl right there in the middle of the Great Hall, just out of sheer joy. Luckily, Neville provided a timely distraction when he suddenly caught her attention from across the table and pointed over their shoulders toward the doorway.

Harleen and Hermione both turned and, at the sight of Sirius standing in the entrance with Amelia and Augusta on either side of him, Harleen was out of her seat like a shot, sprinting her way up the length of the Hall. Sirius burst out laughing, spinning her around as he caught her to kill her momentum, thus preventing them both from ending up sprawled out on the stone floor.

Around them, Harleen could hear a rising murmur of conversation sweeping through the room but she really didn't care.

"It's real?" she asked, pulling back from Sirius to look up at him, smiling broadly at the amused look on his face. "Rita wasn't just making things up? You're really free?"

Sirius' grin grew even broader than it already was as he nodded his head. "It's real," he told her. "I'm officially a free man, and you have Amy here to thank for it," he added, half turning to gesture to Madam Bones.

Harleen stepped back and before she could move Amelia was holding up one hand in a stopping gesture.

"As appreciated as it might be, a hug really isn't necessary," she said, her lips quirking up into a smirk as the hand she was holding up stretched out toward her. "I was only doing my job, but if you have to express any gratitude, a handshake is more than enough."

Harleen didn't waste a second, grabbing the Amelia's hand with both of hers as she profusely thanked the woman.

"I already said you don't need to thank me."

"I do," Harleen insisted as she let go and allowed her hands drop to her sides. Absently, she noted that Hermione had come over to stand beside her and was quietly greeting Sirius with a bone crushing hug of her own. "You might say you were just doing your job, but plenty of other adults didn't do theirs when we first told them that Sirius was innocent.

"We were told that no one would listen to kids and that we didn't have any proof. You listened to us. You listened, and maybe you didn't believe us right away, but you investigated. You looked into what we said instead of just dismissing us for being kids. That almost means more to me even than the mutt being free."

"Oi!" Sirius barked out indignantly. "I'll have you know that I am no mere mutt, young lady," he growled, wagging a finger admonishingly at her.

"Is there something lower than mutt?" Harleen asked innocently. "Mongrel, maybe?"

"You know I could have gotten this kind of abuse back in Azkaban, I don't need to put up with it here."

The fact that Sirius was laughing as he spoke put paid to his attempts at affront. "I'm not gonna take this abuse much longer, you know."

Before Harleen had a chance to respond, Hermione touched her arm, drawing her attention to the other witch.

"We have to get to class soon, Harleen," she said a regretful note to her voice.

"Hermione is right," Sirius cut in before Harleen could protest. "As much as I'd love to chat, I didn't really come to talk to you right at this moment, pup. I wanted to see you and let you know that I was okay, but beyond that, I really wanted to speak to Dumbledore."

The harsh tone in Sirius' voice along with the glare the old Marauder directed toward the head table almost had Harleen feeling sorry for the Headmaster.

"Don't be too hard on him," she said. Leaning forward to give him another hug, she whispered in his ear, "I need to talk to you before you leave."

Almost imperceptibly he nodded his head before pulling away and flashed both girls a bright smile.

"Alright, leave the old man to the old dog," he said. "Have fun in class. Remember: 'knowledge is power'. So, learn lots and take over the world."

Both girls snorted out a laugh then quickly said their goodbyes and returned to their seats to finish eating as Sirius, Augusta, and Amelia started toward the staff table at the front of the room.

A few minutes later, as they were walking toward their first class of the day, Harleen felt, more than saw, Hermione look over at her.

"You asked Sirius to talk?"

Harleen nodded. "He needs to find the locket," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. "Once he has it we'll be able to show it, and the diadem, to a group of people that we can trust, as well as Dumbledore. I think that might be the best time to lay down my ultimatum for the old man."

The fact that the Headmaster was not included with the people they could trust, Harleen felt, didn't need to be expressly stated. Her less than veiled reference would be enough for Hermione.

"Did you want me to be there?"

"Absolutely. There is no one else I would want with me other than you," Harleen told her, looking intently at the girl beside her.

Hermione smiled softly and nodded her head.

"When do you want to have this group meeting?" she asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Harleen admitted. "After the first task, I think. As far as a specific date, I can't really think of anything closer than that."

"Why wait?"

Harleen looked around, noting the many paintings lining the walls. "We don't know what the task is going to consist of," she said, keeping carefully to a normal speaking tone. "Probably best to concentrate on that for now."

Hermione nodded and Harleen could practically feel the girl tensing at the reminder that their discussion was not necessarily private, despite there being no other living beings in the area. Nothing more was said as they continued walking and before long they reached the door to their class and went inside, both of them resolved to focus on their lessons and pushing everything else of concern out of their minds until later.

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The days continued to pass by after that until, on Friday, the other three champions revealed that what Harleen had told them about the first task had been confirmed. Hermione was annoyed that Harleen had still refused to tell her what was involved and had even enlisted the other champions help in keeping that secret from her.

Despite that annoyance they'd used their time as wisely as they could, working with the study group in the evenings and continuing to train every morning. After seeing Harleen's dodging drills, Hermione had insisted on adding that to her routine while Harleen disappeared for an hour or so most days to meet and train with the other champions.

Finally, it was the Wednesday before the first task and Hermione had already sent Harleen to bed at nine o'clock. When Harleen protested being sent to bed like a child, Hermione's response was simple. She'd grabbed the smaller girl by her shoulders and pulled her into a deep kiss.

"Tomorrow, you are facing a dangerous task that you have adamantly refused to tell me about," she'd practically growled after breaking away from her girlfriend's lips. "I understand your reasoning, even if I don't like it or agree with it, but I love you, and I want you to be safe. Since I can't keep you safe from this, I will do everything I can to make sure you're as ready as you can possibly be for tomorrow.

"Part of that means you getting enough rest so that you won't be tired tomorrow while you're trying to stay alive so you can come back to me. I will be extremely upset with you, Harleen Potter, if you don't come back to me in one piece, do you understand me?"

Harleen's protests died at that and she'd pulled Hermione into a tight hug, laying another lingering kiss on Hermione's lips before she went about getting ready for bed. Minutes later, after a half-dose of a dreamless sleep potion supplied by Madam Pomfrey, she was sound asleep.

An hour later found Hermione sitting in bed next to the sleeping girl, unwilling to be alone despite the fact that Harleen was asleep and completely unaware of her presence. Open on her lap rested a brown, leatherbound journal, a gift from her mother for her fifteenth birthday. She'd received a journal every year since her first year at Hogwarts and she'd written in them each year, filling their pages with her experiences at school.

She refused to even think the word 'diary', feeling the term was entirely too juvenile and preferred to think of her books as journals. She would allow that, whatever she called them, the end result was the same as the book was a place for her to write her thoughts and feelings.

Tonight, she picked up her pen and addressed a growing thought that had been niggling at the back of her mind.

November 23rd, 1994

Harleen isn't being completely honest with me. She warned me that she wouldn't be able to, and she's clearly trying to be as honest as she can, but I think there may be a loophole in whatever contract she says that she signed.

She can't tell me, but she never said that I'm not allowed to figure it out for myself. If I can.

Hermione paused and looked at what she'd just written, resisting the urge to scoff. Of course she would be able to figure it out. She was known as the brightest witch of her age and even if she wasn't she would still refuse to give up until she solved this mystery. The more she knew, the better she would be able to help Harleen survive what was coming.

My biggest problem is that I don't think that I can tell Harleen what I'm doing and I hate the idea of hiding this from her. It's just, I think that if she knew about it then the contract she signed might force her to attempt to stop me. If she's being compelled to keep this information secret who knows how it could cause her to react?

Right now there are inconsistencies to her story, slips of the tongue that I don't think she's aware of. Each slip gives me more data to work with so I need to keep her ignorant until after I am sure of my findings. If the contract would have her try to stop me I can only confront her once. If I'm wrong, she'll tighten up her mistakes and deny me further information. I can't let that happen.

Not to say that the things she has let slip so far are significant really. In fact, it's quite possible that I'm reading too much into things. I just have this feeling. The way she talks sometimes, there's something there.

Sometimes she talks about remembering things that might have happened but now won't. Other times she says something like 'last time this happened' or 'this time I won't let that happen' and it might seem like stretching the bounds of credibility but Harleen's own story is already pretty incredible as it is.

Hermione paused again in her writing, her eyes drifting to the sleeping figure beside her. That just how things tend to go, isn't it? she thought. When Harleen is involved the incredible and impossible are bound to happen more often than not.

Sighing softly she turned back to her journal and continued to write.

The thing that really strikes me is that her speech patterns are very familiar to me. I found I was often thinking and saying very similar things to myself last year when I was using a time turner to attend my lessons. The problem with that theory is that there is no known way to travel back as far as she is claiming.

The second problem is if she did travel back there should be two of her walking around, but that doesn't appear to be the case. She also talks about actively changing events that she knows have already happened, from her perspective, and the rules of time travel say that's not possible.

Right now this is only wild conjecture as I don't have nearly enough data to form a solid hypothesis so I will have to continue to observe. I will need to listen carefully to everything she says and pay close attention to everything she does. I can only hope that she'll forgive me for doing this but I truly feel that it would be a mistake to attempt to include her with the limitations she says that she's been placed under.

Tomorrow is the first task of this awful tournament. I'm more worried for her now than I have ever been but I have faith in her and her abilities. I just hate that I can't do more to help her. I think sometime very soon we need to get away from everyone and spend some quiet time together. I'm pretty sure that I, at least, will really need to just hold her for a while after whatever happens tomorrow.

Setting her pen on the nightstand she slipped out of the bed and closed her journal, carrying it over to place it in the third compartment of her trunk. Wand in hand, she tapped several runes that she'd carved over the summer and a moment later the journal shimmered out of existence as the small ward scheme hid the book from detection.

She carefully closed the trunk, silently promising that she would find a more secure way to protect Harleen's secrets as soon as she could before she turned and made her way back toward the bed. Climbing in, she slipped beneath the covers and wrapped one arm around her girlfriend, pulling her as close as she could as Hermione closed her eyes and settled in to sleep.

Tomorrow would bring its own problems and worries, but for tonight she only wanted the comfort of the girl in her arms.