"Ruddy brilliant, you lot were!" Hagrid said, squeezing his bulk in behind the table; they'd somehow managed to fit the entire Weasley family, Padfoot, Harry, Moony, Dora, Stella, Marlene, Draco, Hermione, Luna, and Colin into Hagrid's hut, and things were very cramped indeed.

"Seconded," Bill said. "Great work with the rune challenge, Hermione." Hermione looked up at the sound of her name, pink-cheeked, not, Harry didn't think, from Bill's compliment, but rather because she had been since shortly after the task finished; she'd disappeared for a bit and only caught up with them on their way to Hagrid's, scent both pleased and flustered. While she hadn't explained her absence, Harry had overheard Krum's name in Hermione and Dora's conversation, so he thought that probably explained it. "...Ron, and Gin, in the tower-" Ginny looked up from the floor, grinning, then went back to stroking Fang's soft ears. "-and Harry that jump..." Bill shook his head, grinning.

"Don't encourage him, Bill," Mrs Weasley and Padfoot said in unison.

"Yeah, Bill," Fred said, and then turned to Harry. "Obviously you should have just let Ron fall, Harry - I think that's what Mum's trying to say, right?"

"Fred!" Mrs Weasley said, as sharply as she dared while she was holding Stella. Ron - who was in the corner with Charlie, Percy, and Mr Weasley, talking eagerly about fire magic - made a rude gesture at Fred that Mrs Weasley missed and that Mr Weasley pretended not to see. "That is not-"

Harry grinned at Padfoot and Draco. The latter was holding the egg, looking over the intricate designs on it with Moony and Bill, and didn't even notice. The former had his arm around Harry's shoulders and was complaining to Marlene and George about all the grey hairs he was going to have from watching the task. He must have felt Harry's eyes on him, though, because he tweaked Harry's ear then twisted as best he could in the tight space to return the grin.

"All good?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, honestly; he'd be exhausted in another hour or so, when all the stress and adrenaline and long hours of training properly caught up to him, but for now he was relaxed. Content. Here, safe and surrounded by good company, it was hard not to be; they'd all made it out unscathed, they had the egg, and Harry didn't have to worry about the next task until February.

Padfoot's grin eased into something softer, and his arm tightened around Harry's shoulders for just a moment.

"Good," he said. "You did well today, all of you." His gaze flicked to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, in turn. "Never doubted it, but-"

"There we-" Draco said, and there was a metallic click and then the egg's horrid shrieking started. Draco dropped it, expression shocked.

Harry clapped his hands to his ears, wincing. It was so loud it physically hurt, and Moony and Padfoot were clearly having the same issue; where everyone else simply started and scrunched up their faces and waved at Draco to close it, they also plugged their ears, expressions pained.

"Sorry!" Draco said, snapping the egg shut. "Sorry!" Stella was wailing on Mrs Weasley's lap, and whimpers were coming from beneath Hagrid's bed, where Fang had hidden.

"Blimey," Charlie said.

"Maybe the next task's a banshee, Harry," George said, and Colin's eyes lit up with excitement. Harry glanced at Padfoot, sure he was also thinking of Keira from Knockturn Alley, and whether she might be able to-

"That's no banshee," Moony said, rubbing his ears.

"Then what is it?" Harry and Padfoot asked in unison.

"S'Mermish," Hagrid said, with a thoughtful look at Moony. "Must be. Don't have the head for speakin' it, myself, but I've heard it a time or two, an' I'm sure that's what it is..." He gave Moony another look, this one hesitant, as if doubting himself.

"I'm afraid confirming that might be considered cheating by the Tournament organisers, Hagrid-"

"Fantastic," Harry said, while Padfoot rolled his eyes and pulled a face at Moony. "Reckon if we're obvious about it, they'll disqualify me?"

"With our luck, they'd punish Remus before you," Padfoot sighed.

"-but," Moony continued, as if they hadn't spoken, "I for one have always found merpeople to be fascinating beings and would certainly encourage anyone with even the slightest interest in them to do a bit of research. For purely academic purposes, of course." He winked at Harry. "You never know when it might come in handy."

"I reckon I know," Ron said. "February twenty-fourth."

Almost everyone grinned or made some sort of amused noise (or both), except for Stella who was too young to understand, and Moony, who kept an admirably straight face and said blithely, "Anything's possible, I suppose."

Hermione shifted and Harry could almost hear her mentally constructing a list of merpeople-related topics to research.

He was pleased by that, pleased and thoughtful, and he was also no longer in Hagrid's hut.

Harry was outside, sitting in a seat in the massive stands, beside Wormtail. Far below, the boy and his friends stood with the other competitors and the Tournament judges, receiving their scores.

The boy was still in first place; he'd out performed both Beauxbatons and Hogwarts by retrieving all four pieces of his egg, and he'd made up for being slightly slower than Durmstrang with sheer nerve and finishing the task with a remarkably unscathed team.

Bagman was calling for a last round of applause for the Champions, and much of it seemed directed at the boy; beside Harry, the Minister was calling his name and applauding. The boy had a way of winning affection, and any of the confusion and resentment surrounding him after he was drawn from the Goblet had since turned to support, excitement. Harry had not expected it, but he should have; the boy had always managed to thrive in less than ideal circumstances.

As if the boy could sense his attention his head turned up towards the stands, to where Harry and Wormtail were sitting. It was pure coincidence; to him they would have been empty seats. The boy's head kept turning, past them, to where his loudest supporters were, yet Harry could still feel him watching-

Understanding came and Harry stilled. Wormtail glanced in his direction, perhaps tipped off by a change in his scent, but Harry held up a hand before he could do or say anything, then ejected the boy from his head with a firm push of Occlumency.

Suddenly dizzy and disoriented, Harry sagged against Padfoot.

"Me too," Padfoot said with a chuckle, giving him a squeeze. "Reckon we should head back up, grab an early lunch?" His suggestion was met with approving sounds by the majority of the Weasleys, but Ron and Ginny were both watching Harry, and so were Hermione and Draco. Then, Padfoot must have caught his scent, or noticed his friends' stillness, because he drew back a little, careful, and said, "Harry?"

"He's at the task," Harry said in a low voice. Only Padfoot and Draco were near enough to be able to hear him over the rest of the noise in the hut; Hermione gave Harry a look that simultaneously approved of him talking to Padfoot about what had just happened, and made it clear that she expected to be filled in later, before allowing herself to be drawn back into conversation with Dora and Luna. Ginny's look was more assessing, but she too turned away after a moment. Ron was watching intently, perhaps trying to piece together the gist through their body language. "Just now, I saw- he was with Wormtail, and they were in the stands, watching us. Me."

"Here, at Hogwarts?" Padfoot looked disturbed, disbelieving, and a little angry, all at once. Harry nodded. "Disguised, or-"

"No," Harry said. "Just- normal. I- he was right beside Fudge. And they weren't far from where you all were, either-"

"Are they still here?" Padfoot stood, pulling his Sidekick out of his robes. Marlene didn't pause from her conversation with Charlie and George, but Harry knew she was watching Padfoot. Moony glanced at Padfoot, then at Harry, concerned.

"I don't- he must be, because I just saw him-"

"But the task's finished," Draco said. "You're here, not in the arena."

"I- yeah," Harry said, frowning. "So it must be delayed, or something." But why? How? Harry usually saw things as they were happening. Was Voldemort experimenting again, testing their connection? The thought made Harry feel physically ill; Voldemort already knew he could pull Harry into his head to feed him false information - like the plans to kidnap him during the first task - but this… memories… If he could show Harry memories, then he could show Harry altered memories, could maybe even show him fabricated memories… Panic crawled over Harry, prickling his skin and twisting his insides; if he could do that, Voldemort could show him anything, show him things to manipulate him, to make him doubt anything and everything, show him things to scare him, to drive him mad-

"Hey," Padfoot said, taking him by the shoulders, "kiddo, breathe."

Harry focused on Padfoot's concerned face and did just that until he was able to give a little nod to say that he was okay.

He glanced around the hut, a little embarrassed, but no one was paying him any attention; Ron appeared to have dropped one of Hagrid's enormous teacups - which Harry hadn't heard or otherwise noticed until then - and was being heckled by all five of his brothers and Ginny (with Hermione, Luna, and Colin watching on), while Mrs Weasley had been distracted by Dora and Stella; Dora was bouncing Stella and making loud hushing noises throughout an explanation that the sudden noise must have startled her. Harry could see Stella's little face over Dora's shoulder, though, and she looked perfectly cheerful, if a bit put out about being trapped against Dora's chest; with Dora as a mother, Stella was no stranger to the sounds of things being dropped (or tripped over, or knocked over, or otherwise broken). Harry felt a surge of affection for them both.

Padfoot was still watching him, worried, but clearly reluctant to push too hard.

"I'll- we'll talk on the way back to the castle," Harry said quietly, and Padfoot gave his shoulder a squeeze, eyes flicking to Moony, who was obviously listening in; his head was leaning slightly in their direction, even though he appeared to be in conversation with Marlene, Hagrid, and Mr Weasley.

"Are you hungry now?" Padfoot asked, at normal volume, and a few people looked over. Ron was amongst them, eyes on Harry and serious despite having been bickering good-naturedly with his siblings just a moment ago.

"I can wait," Harry said. Padfoot nodded slowly and Ron arched an eyebrow. Harry smiled, small and tired. "I- I was sort of enjoying not being stressed, and just being here with everyone. It'd be nice to go back to that, for a bit."

"Well," Dora said, "if we're not moving yet, I'm going to need the loo." She stood. "Do you mind, godbrother?" And then she was passing Stella over with a wink and making her careful way through the cluttered space (dodging Fang's wagging tail, and the foot Charlie stuck out to trip her) to Hagrid's bathroom.

Stella gurgled nonsensically and reached for Harry's glasses. He caught her hand and she immediately latched onto his thumb with her other hand. They had something of a staring contest and then she blew a raspberry and chuckled, tiny hands flailing. Harry grinned at her.

"Ooh, that sounds lovely. Harry?"

"Hmm?" Harry settled her on his lap, and glanced over her fuzzy head at Luna.

"Colin's offered to take photographs before the Ball," she said.

"Great," Harry said, and mostly meant it.

"Don't look like that," Ginny said, stretching out her foot to give his ankle a gentle kick. "It'll be fun."

"Not for you," George said. Ginny arched an eyebrow at him. "Little sisters aren't allowed to have fun at Balls."

"Longbottom's been warned," Fred added.

"And will be warned again, I hope," Charlie said, grinning.

"Probably another three times between now and then," Fred agreed.

"Neville and I are friends," Ginny said.

"Heard that one before," said Percy, of all people, and Harry laughed, surprised. George guffawed.

"All right," Ginny said. "And when N-Neville w-won't-" She adopted a dramatically upset voice. "-dance with me, because I must be u-ugly, and this was meant to be a n-nice night and now it's r-ruined, I can come and find you two-" She gave the twins a sharp smile, voice back to normal. "-and you'll dance with me and cheer me up, right?"

Fred and George exchanged a look.

"Of course they will," Bill said, amused. "Because big brothers always look after their little sisters."

"Always," Fred said, and George nodded.

"But I don't think it'll be necessary at the Ball."

"We'll revise Longbottom's instructions."

"Tell him you can have a pleasant night."

"But still no fun." Fred waggled a finger, teasing. Ginny poked her tongue out at him.

"And if you really do have an awful time, come and find us..."

"And by us he means Ron," Fred said, "because he's going alone so you won't be interrupting anything."

Ron made a rude gesture in the twins' direction.

"There's nothing wrong with going alone," Charlie said, with a warning look at the twins.

"He won't be going alone," Harry said, "he'll be with us." Ron shot him a look that was both embarrassed and grateful.

"You're a Champion now, or as good as," Ginny offered. "You'd be able to get a date if you wanted."

"She's right. You could probably go with anyone you liked," Bill said. Harry saw Ginny wince at that, and noticed Hermione was looking very uncomfortable. Dora, who'd returned from the bathroom, struck up a hasty conversation with her. Ron's expression flickered from grumpy to pained and then settled on awkward.

"You should ask Delacour, Ron," George said, sniggering.

"He might have to fight Bill for her," Charlie said.

"You've got a thing for Delacour?" Fred said, gaping at Bill, who shrugged. "But you never go for the pretty ones!" He nudged Percy. "Remember that Unspeakable trainee he brought home a few Christmases back?" Percy was too polite to say anything rude, but his face did go very carefully blank, which told Harry all he needed to know.

"She was nice," Ginny said.

"She was," Bill said. "And she was one of the best arithmancers I've ever met. And one day, you lot might realise those sorts of things are much more important than how someone looks." Fred swooned onto Percy, and Bill laughed and shook his head.

"Delacour has more going for her than just looks, though," George said.

"Delacour's a student," Bill said.

"She's of age," Charlie said. "And student or not, I haven't seen you look at a witch like that since what's-her-name. Ellis. That Slytherin."

"Tessa," Bill said. Harry was rather impressed with how cool and collected he was about the whole thing, how unembarrassed.

"She's a Hit Witch, now," Dora said, leaning around Hermione to have her say. "I bumped into her a few years ago."

"Doesn't surprise me," Bill said. "She was an excellent duellist-"

"I know, because you didn't shut up about her for my entire sixth year," Charlie said. "And I'm telling you, I was getting flashbacks up there in the stands today."

"She was impressive," Bill said, unapologetic, and either unbothered by the scrutiny or doing a very, very good job at pretending that was the case.

"She was," Moony said, "and it would be fantastic if you could either finish this conversation or have it somewhere I can't hear you, because she's my student." He grimaced.

"Yes," Padfoot said. "Having an interest in younger witches… terrible business, that." Moony gave him an exasperated look; Dora blew Moony a kiss and Stella chuckled - entirely coincidentally, Harry was sure, but he had to admire her timing. "Shall we head up for lunch?"


"I've humoured you thus far," Severus said, glancing at memory-Draco, who was seated between memory-Weasley-One and Black. He glanced back to Draco, eyebrow arched. "But I'm going to need an explanation if you expect me to be of any use at all on this little-" His gaze flicked down to the arena, where Diggory and Krum's teams were duelling it out. "-expedition."

"I have every intention of explaining," Draco said. "I just didn't want to do it in your office, because it's about Potter being pulled into the Dark Lord's mind again, and Karkaroff-"

"Has an unfortunate tendency to come visiting," Severus finished, pursing his lips.

"He said they were watching the task- or, the task's results, rather," Draco said, and knew Severus would understand that they were back to talking about Potter. "Only we were sitting in Hagrid's hut at the time."

"So the timing's wrong." Severus made a thoughtful sound and Draco stepped through memory-Black - grimacing in rather redundant apology - to get into the walkway above him.

"I think he was in a memory - the Dark Lord, that is." Draco bit his lip. "Maybe. Potter said they were near us…" He bounced up onto his toes, scanning through the pointed hats and colourful flags and waving hands for what he was sure he'd seen earlier…

"So you're looking for… the memory's owner?"

"No, I'm looking for-" The crowd gave a particularly loud cheer and Draco's eyes found what he'd been after. He squeezed past Severus and down into the next aisle, cautious. With more patience than Draco had any right to expect, Severus drifted after him and paused when they reached what Draco had seen only fleetingly that morning and yet had driven him to return through the pensieve; two empty seats in an arena packed tight with spectators, both bearing a small, neat sign with the word Reserved on it.

The seats were in the front row of public seating, and looked directly over the wall that separated the rest of the stands from the seating box that held the judges, Bagman, a cluster of photographers and reporters - including Skeeter - a handful of Aurors, and several harried-looking people wearing badges that read Tournament organiser. Behind the seats were what could only be Delacour's family - a stunning blonde woman, a girl that looked like Draco imagined Delacour would if she took a De-Aging potion, and a plump man with a neat black beard that bore little resemblance to either of them but wore Beauxbatons colours. One seat was beside the aisle, but on the other side of the other sat Minister Fudge. On Fudge's other side was Draco's own father, then an Auror he knew by sight but not name, and then a squat, toadish woman in pink.

"So how does it work?" he asked Severus, who was scanning the crowd immediately around them with narrowed eyes. He paused from his looking to bestow Draco with a scowl.

"We have covered pensieves extensively over the years," he said. "And you've done significant study of them in your own time of late-"

"Not pensieves," Draco said, scowling back. "Memories. I know how to take them and store them and find them and watch them, but only for the obvious things-"

"I should hope I've taught you more than watching for the obvious," Severus drawled.

"Everyone else's subtle is my obvious," Draco retorted. "But I don't know what I'm looking for here."

"But you are looking for something?"

"Obviously," Draco said tersely.

"Good." Severus turned and strode back up the stairs to the walkway, then set off along it. Draco trailed after him, slowing when their surroundings took on a hazy quality, and stopping entirely when the shapes and faces of the people in the stands around them blurred.

"Sir?"

"Draco."

"I- they're…" But they weren't all blurred; some people - like Hydrus and the Slytherins he was with - and some things - like a Support Harry Potter badge on a purple tartan hat, and a banner bearing Krum's name in a heart - were perfectly clear.

"A lot of what we see is unconscious," Severus said. "That's why your surroundings are often more detailed than you might expect - even if you could not recall them in that level of detail without a pensieve. The better your eye for detail, the further the clarity of your surroundings will extend, but eventually you will be so far from the memory's original viewpoint that the memory will become indistinct. With a few exceptions."

"These are the things I paid attention to," Draco said, looking at Hydrus, the hat and the badge, and the banner again. "That's why they're clear." Severus gave a curt nod.

"What else do you see?"

Draco looked around, then down at the arena, where Potter and She-Weasley were in the base of the invisible tower, while Granger and Weasley watched on from above. It was… off. The arena's happenings had a strange, slightly hazy quality to them, and occasionally one of the competitors below would flicker.

"That's not right."

"Why?" Draco thought about it.

"We're almost opposite where I watched from," he said finally, scanning the stands for himself. He found the Weasleys' bright hair first, then Auror Lupin's, then his own. "The perspective's different." He frowned. "Is it real at all? I didn't see it from this angle, so what we're seeing isn't actually memory, is-"

"What is memory?"

"It's what we remember."

"Partially," Severus said. "It's also partially what we know." Draco tried not to look lost but Severus could clearly tell he didn't understand. He gestured for Draco to follow him until they were standing on the stairs beside Hydrus and the other Slytherins. "He's breathing, is he not?" Draco glanced at his brother, at the rise and fall of his chest, the slight movement of his shoulders. He glanced back to Severus. "And yet, you cannot have remembered it, not from where you were."

"...No," Draco agreed, frowning.

"We make assumptions," Severus said, "based off what we know." He held up a hand and said, "Listen."

Draco did, and found that he couldn't hear their conversations or who was calling out what over the sounds of the rest of the crowd, even though they were standing right there.

"I was too far away to hear them, even unconsciously."

"Too far to lip read and make assumptions about what it might sound like, too." Draco nodded thoughtfully. "I also suspect, that were we to somehow capture what we can hear here and now, it would be identical to what you would hear were we back over there at this same point in time."

"Only I've filtered out Black and the Weasleys," Draco said; they certainly hadn't been quiet throughout the task. "Because there's no way I'd be able to hear them from over here."

Severus inclined his head and turned his attention back toward the competitors.

"You know where Potter was standing and facing in the task and how it looked to you, and you know that that will look different from a different angle."

"So why's it... off?"

"Because our minds are only so good at repositioning things." Severus said with a shrug. "We take in information consciously, we take in even more unconsciously, and we are able to make small assumptions to add a degree of realism, but there are limits."

"Does the memory stop?" Draco asked, suddenly curious. "If we walked back up to the castle from here, would we run out of space?"

"Pensieve memories have no edges," Severus said. "Here, we could probably walk right back to your common room and you are familiar enough with the castle and grounds that there would be no danger in doing so. If we were in an unfamiliar location, however, or if this was not your memory and you had no idea what its owner's familiarity with this-" He gestured around them "-was, then I would strongly advise against wandering and strongly advise you stay right on the heels of whoever you are following."

"What would happen if you did wander?"

"Either your surroundings become pure assumption and you get trapped in an endless hallway, or maze of rooms, or an infinite forest, or your surroundings lose all clarity and you end up in a fog of shapeless colour and faded sound - imagine being underwater with no bubbles or light to guide you back to the surface. People have been lost in pensieves."

"Can't they just leave the memory?"

"They already have."

Draco didn't know if that was terrifying, or if it was giving him ideas.

"So if we kept walking around-" He gestured further on, to the other side of the arena.

"We'd be in no danger."

"But it's unfamiliar-"

"The arena is circular - it is inevitable that you will end up back where you started." He started back upstairs again, but stopped in the aisle. "We've ventured off topic. You were here to find something. Have you?"

Draco didn't answer right away. He walked back to where his memory-self sat, then climbed the stairs to the highest row of seats. The competitors below flickered ever so slightly, but grew clearer and more solid as he walked back down the stairs to join Severus.

"The angle's affected by height as well as positioning," he announced, leading the way back to the two empty seats. Severus said nothing. "If the Dark Lord sat here to watch the Tournament, then the person whose memory it was has to be nearby." Draco looked around again. He discounted the Delacours, but anyone else could be responsible; Fudge, Father, the Auror, the pink woman, the judges, Bagman, the various Tournament organisers, the Aurors on security detail, Skeeter… "Do you know any of them? That I don't, I mean."

"John Dawlish," Severus said, pointing. "Dolores Umbridge." Then, gesturing to the box he said, "Bertha Jorkins, Auror Prewett, Auror Wellington, Auror Brown, Auror Thicknesse, Albert Runcorn." That still left quite a few people in the box unnamed, but Draco supposed that was to be expected.

"No one of particular interest, then?" He assumed not, since Severus hadn't indicated that was the case, and Severus said nothing, confirming it. Draco looked around again. "Who put Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire?" Severus turned to him slowly, expression supremely unimpressed. "One of these people, or someone disguised as one of these people?"

"Crouch's location remains a mystery," Severus said thoughtfully.

"We know he's at the Ministry, though," Draco said. "We know Black almost had him, too."

"Almost being the operative word," Severus said, rather wryly.

"Black had a list," Draco said. "If we could cross-check who was on it with the people here…"

"I can get a list to Black, and to the Headmaster."

"And I can-"

"Do nothing," Severus said, bluntly, but not unkindly. "You've done well here, but only you and I shall ever know it, lest we be too revealing of your loyalties - to either side. Such is the nature of this life."

"Yes, sir," Draco agreed, knowing he would be telling Weasley all about this when he could next get him alone. And, if he could find a way to bring it up, he was sure Granger would be fascinated - and horrified - to hear you could get lost in a pensieve.

Severus studied him for a moment, then flicked his eyes skyward. Draco nodded and then the memory melted down around them as they moved up, up, and out.