"... to Bagman-" Fred and George fell silent and Ron stopped beside their place at the table. "Morning."

Ron opened his mouth to ask why they were talking about Bagman, then thought better of it and said, "Morning." When he stayed waiting by the table, Fred arched an eyebrow.

"Take a seat," he said, with a sweeping gesture.

"Thanks," Ron said, and dropped down beside George.

"Need a break?" George asked, inclining his head further down the table, where Harry sat with Hermione, Malfoy, and, as had been the case all week, Fleur. Fleur was talking, hands gesturing elegantly, and while Hermione and Malfoy both looked to be avid listeners, Harry was shovelling down his porridge, and not really paying her much attention. Ron saw her elbow him and Harry looked up, smiled, nodded vaguely - Ron was sure he had no idea what had been said - and went back to his breakfast.

"Nah," Ron said. "They're fine."

"If you're not avoiding them, then, you must be actively looking for us…" George leaned back, fingers steepling. "What do you need, Ronnikins?"

"I need a way to carry something, on me, and where I can get to it really easily, but where it's not going to be easy to find or forget, and where it's not going to be confiscated," Ron said.

"What is it?" Fred asked. Ron glanced around to make sure no one was paying them much attention, then leaned forward.

"Gillyweed," he said. "It's-"

"We know what gillyweed is," Fred said, looking amused. "Are we talking the recreational kind, or the gives-you-gills kind?"

"What's the recreational one for?" Ron asked.

"If you don't know, then never you mind," George said to Ron.

Fred pressed a hand to his heart and said, "Ickle Ronnikins - so innocent." George sniggered, then cocked his head:

"What do you want gills for?"

"Next task's in the lake," Ron said.

"Ah, so Harry sent you-"

"No." Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry's still exploring his options." Sirius had spoken with Snape and seemed adamant that gillyweed was their best option, but Harry had been oddly resistant to the idea once he'd learned of Snape's endorsement of it ("Luna suggested it too," Hermione had said, and Ron hadn't been sure if that was supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing). "And if he goes with gillyweed, he won't need to smuggle it, I don't think. It's for me."

"Why?"

"We think there's a good chance I'll be in there with him," Ron said, voice still low. Fred and George exchanged glances that were, Ron thought, a little worried. "And we don't think I'll be going in on my own terms, necessarily, so I figured it's best to be ready."

Fred and George exchanged another look, one Ron couldn't read.

"How much gillyweed do you need to carry?" Fred asked.

"As much as I can," Ron said, shrugging. "Without being, y'know, obvious."

"And what day's the task, again?"

"Twenty-fourth of February."

"It'll have to be sealed to keep the water in," Fred said to George, who was eyeing Ron up and down with unnerving intensity. George nodded.

"Water?"

"Gillyweed dries out if it's not in enough water, and then it's-" Fred grinned. "-well, not useless, but no good for gills." George snorted.

"Right," Ron said.

"Undetectable extension charm?" George wasn't talking to him.

"Can't. If they search him for magical traces, they'll find it-"

"Ah, of course-"

"But..." Ron glanced between them. "If it's undetectable-"

"The extension part of it's undetectable," George said. "But it's still a spell-"

"Still magic," Fred said. "Which means certain detection spells'll pick it up."

"Only certain ones?" Ron asked.

"Only certain ones," George said, nodding. "But if they used them, they'd probably confiscate it on principle for being magical, even if they couldn't work out what the spell was."

"Can't risk it," Fred said.

"So-"

"Leave it with us," George said. He clapped Ron on the shoulder and also gave him a bit of a push. Ron took the hint and stood, heading further down the hall to join the others. Behind him, he heard Fred and George discard transfigured gillyweed as an option, and begin muttering about skin pockets. Ron grimaced.

He'd barely reached Harry, Malfoy, Hermione, and Fleur when the latter got to her feet. She cast Ron a quick, speculative look, then, turned to Harry, and- Merlin, even from behind she was-

"Walk me to ze carriage, 'Arry?" she asked, sweeping her long, lovely hair over her shoulder. Hermione made a cross sound.

"Can't," Harry said; it took Ron conscious effort to look away from Fleur to look at Harry, but he managed. Harry looked a bit dazed, but even as Ron watched, he blinked and seemed to shake off Fleur's influence. "Ron and I are meeting Dora." He didn't look all that sorry about it; he'd been trailing after Fleur all week at her request, carrying her things, and playing the role of diligent boyfriend. He'd lost points from both Snape and McGonagall for being late to lessons as a result, and had voiced his concerns to Ron on several occasions about how much time he was wasting when he ought to be preparing for the third task, but seemed determined to keep up the charade anyway. "Sorry," Harry said, entirely too cheerfully. Ron sniggered, at least until Fleur turned and narrowed her eyes at him. Then he fell silent, ears burning.

"'ow nice!" Fleur said. "What for?" Harry shrugged. "For ze Tournament?" Harry shrugged again. "It is!" Fleur said smugly. "Why are you so shy about saying so? Are you worried you'll give something away?"

"Not really," Harry said. "I just figured you'd want to try to win on your own, not because I'm giving you hints."

"'ow thoughtful," Fleur said, with a close-lipped smile and narrowed eyes. "I shall not tell you what I will be working on now either, zen, mmm?"

"No point," Harry said. "I don't care about winning." Even if he did, Ron wasn't sure that he'd want the information; Harry was doing pretty bloody well in the Tournament as it was. Harry turned back to his porridge, and then, somewhat resignedly said, "See you at lunch, I s'pose."

"Oui," Fleur said, voice suddenly a bit louder - loud enough for the people around them to glance over, "I shall see you all later."

She swooped down to kiss Harry on the top of the head, in a way that looked - and must have felt if Harry's stiff shoulders and scowl were any indication - pretty condescending, and then turned with a swish of silvery hair. Harry took a deep breath and looked up to smile at her retreating back, and if Ron didn't know him better, he'd have been convinced; a few seats down, Romilda Vane stabbed at her eggs, sulky.

Hermione shoved her breakfast away and stood, a scowl on her face.

"Where-"

"I need to talk to Ginny," she snapped and Harry blinked, raising his hands in surrender.

"Poor Ginny," Harry muttered, once Hermione had moved out of earshot; she'd marched over to Ravenclaw, where Ginny was sitting with Luna and Corner, from Ron's year. "Any idea what that's about?"

"None," Ron said. "Best leave them to it, though, eh?" Hermione was scary when she looked like that, and Ginny - who'd now stood - wasn't much better. Luna stood as well, a thoughtful frown on her face, and trailed after the other two. "You joining us?" Ron asked Malfoy.

"No," Malfoy replied. "I had a letter from Father this morning." He waved a hand at the thick parchment envelope on the table; Ron hadn't noticed it until then. "He's asked me to Floo the Manor, so I'm going to try to use Severus' office."

"Is everything all right?" Harry asked, uncertain. "I was going to ask when I saw the seal, but-"

"He didn't give details," Malfoy's voice was polite, but curt; Ron didn't know if he was telling the truth or not, but he knew Malfoy wouldn't say any more about it while Harry was in earshot.

Harry cocked his head, giving Malfoy a troubled, searching look, and Ron wondered why he'd picked now to press the point; he'd asked Ron twice about Malfoy - once just after it was decided Ron would compete in the second task, and once just before Christmas - but both times Ron had been able to tell him just enough (which was not much) and get him to drop it.

This was the first time Harry'd brought it up to Malfoy directly, and Ron wasn't sure what to do, so he did the only thing he could do, and got between them, physically. He leaned over Harry to pour himself a goblet of juice and drained it in a few mouthfuls. Malfoy's mouth twitched once, and then smoothed out again so quickly Ron thought he might have imagined it.

"Well," Ron said, loading a napkin up with a couple of pieces of buttered toast, an orange and poppyseed muffin, and a pear, "give old Lucius our regards-"

"Ron," Harry said, sounding half amused, half exasperated, and elbowed him out of the way. He looked back to Malfoy. "Is it-" Harry looked awkward. "-does it have to do with- at the World Cup, by the fire, you said-"

"I remember what I said, Potter, and I'd rather you not repeat it in a very public breakfast setting," Malfoy snapped.

"I wasn't going to," Harry said, and Ron racked his brains to find a way to interrupt them, to give Malfoy an excuse to leave, or get Harry to come up to the Room. "I just- so is it-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Malfoy said. "Suffice to say I'm handling things, so leave it." Ron glanced between them, at the worried, stubborn set of Harry's jaw, and at Malfoy's high chin and cool, challenging look.

"What-"

"Mate," Ron said, nudging Harry. "Maybe not the time?"

"At least Weasley can take a hint," Malfoy said, and Ron pulled a face at him because that seemed like the right thing to do. Harry smiled, wry, and for the second time that morning, put his hands up in surrender.

"Fine," he said. "I'll leave it for now."

"You have to," Malfoy said, amused and smug, eyes going to the door of the Hall. "Lupin's arrived."


"Is Harry feeling guilty?" Fleur asked, glancing over her shoulder as Granger, Weasley, and Harry's Yule Ball date - whose name she couldn't remember now - caught the castle's front door and stepped out onto the cold grounds after her. "Has he sent you to escort me?"

"No," Granger said, rolling her eyes. "We were actually hoping to talk to you." Fleur gestured for them to fall into step with her and the four of them set off across the frozen grounds.

"About what?" she asked, pleased that Granger was rubbing her hands together to keep them warm, and Weasley's cheeks, nose, and ears had gone pink with cold. The blonde girl didn't seem bothered by - or even aware of - the cold at all. Fleur drew her cloak closer around herself, shivering.

"Harry," Weasley said, and Fleur raised an eyebrow.

"What about him?"

Weasley opened her mouth but Granger put a hand on her arm and whipped out her wand. Fleur's hand went to her own wand, but Granger didn't attack her, just gave her wand a quick wave, frowned, then made a curling motion and small purple stars showered over the four of them.

"Since we don't know how Skeeter's been eavesdropping," she said, and Weasley nodded. Granger turned to Fleur. "Now, back to Harry: he deserves better." Weasley gave her an impressed but somewhat surprised look.

"Better how?" Fleur asked, stung. "I am a Triwizard Champion."

"So's Harry," Weasley said dismissively. "He's doing you a favour and you're-"

"A favour?" Fleur asked. "What favour-"

"We know the whole thing's fake," Granger said, rolling her eyes again. Fleur watched her for a moment, not sure if Granger knew or only suspected, but Granger didn't strike her as the sort to be much good at bluffing, so...

"He told you?"

"Before Christmas," Weasley said.

"He said nothing to me about this," Fleur said, frowning down at the other girls.

"Skeeter," Granger said, shrugging. "Or maybe he assumed you'd have worked it out." Fleur folded her arms.

"And so he has sent you to complain to me, oui?"

"Oh, Harry wouldn't do that," Harry's Yule Ball date said, looking at Fleur with wide blue eyes.

"Then you are here on your own terms, and you are overstepping," Fleur said.

"I don't think it's overstepping at all," the blonde girl said. "I'm not one for complaining either, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it when people see something's bothering me and step in to help. It's nice to know people care, sometimes." She smiled serenely at Weasley, who smiled back.

"I think it's overstepping," Fleur said firmly. "Even if it is fake, this is between Harry and me, and if he has a problem with the way we are, he will tell me-"

"No, he won't," Granger sighed.

"Would you listen if he did?" Weasley asked at the same time.

Fleur looked down at them, baffled, unsure if this was a scolding or a warning, or something else, and unsure what had prompted it in the first place.

"Look," Weasley said, "You've spent the week parading Harry around like a show crup-"

"And kissing him on the head like he's a pet or a baby," Granger said. "Only… not nicely."

"He is a baby," Fleur said. Weasley's eyes narrowed to slits, and even though she was even younger than Harry, the effect was a little bit frightening. Granger eyed Weasley.

"He's young, but-"

"You say so as if you are not also young," Fleur said, amused.

"I'm almost sixteen, actually," Granger said, frowning. A strange, almost sheepish expression crossed her face and she rubbed at her neck. "I think."

"You think?" Fleur repeated, bemused.

"Yes," Granger said, waving a hand to dismiss that tangent. She cocked her head, frowning. "So that's the issue then, Harry's age?"

"That is none of your business," Fleur said.

"It is," Granger said, at the same time as Weasley said, "You're right." The younger girls exchanged chagrined looks.

"It is if we have to watch you belittling him," Granger continued. "And using your… veela magic to try to manipulate him." It seemed she was trying to have two conversations at once; while her words were still clearly directed at Fleur, she was frowning and making a series of quickly-changing expressions at Weasley.

"Sorry, Hermione," Weasley said, "I agree with you there. I meant it's not our business what Delacour's problems with Harry are." She folded her arms and looked up at Fleur. "You're allowed to have problems with him, by the way-" Although it was clear from her begrudging tone and slitted eyes that while such a thing may have been allowed, it was neither accepted or encouraged. "-but-"

"I don't know why you would," the blonde girl said, looking bewildered. "Harry's wonderful."

"You're welcome to him," Fleur told her. The girl laughed and shook her head.

"Great," Weasley said. "You'll cut things off, then? Stage a break up over lunch? If he's so awful, you ought to be glad to be free of him." She raised her eyebrows, expectant.

"It is too soon," Fleur said reluctantly. "The article over the holidays-"

"Exactly," Weasley snapped.

"This was his idea," Fleur snapped back.

"Ginny," Granger said. "Look, Fleur, what Skeeter wrote about you was awful, and unfair, and if I was in your place, I'd resent the situation as well." Fleur eyed her. "But-" Granger's gentle, imploring tone turned suddenly stern. "-the situation's not Harry's fault. He wasn't involved at all, until he chose to be, because he wanted to try to help-"

"I didn't ask-"

"No, but you agreed to let him," Granger said smartly. "You could have told him no, but you didn't because being thought of as Harry's girlfriend is much better than being thought of as Remus' mistress. You're coming out of this better-"

"So is he!" Fleur said. She wasn't sure how she'd ended up on the defensive against two barely teenagers and a maybe-sixteen year old, but she didn't like it. "You know how boys are, how they talk - or perhaps not. Perhaps you are too young." Granger cleared her throat, raised her eyebrows, unimpressed, and so it was to her that Fleur spoke to next. "You think I have not seen the pats on the shoulder, or heard them congratulating him when they think I am not nearby? You think that I cannot imagine what Harry says about me to the other boys in his dormitory? I am doing what I must to keep him uncomfortable so he thinks better of it, but-"

"Firstly, I don't expect Harry's saying anything about you to the boys in his dormitory, since the two of them he's closest to already know it's pretend, and I know for a fact that he gets uncomfortable with the congratulations." Granger curled her lip. "But let's say I'm wrong. Harry's a boy, and boys are- well, we know what boys are like." Granger sounded very reasonable; Fleur folded her arms and nodded. "Do you really think that treating him the way you are is going to encourage him to behave? That that wouldn't be more likely to make him brag, if only as a way to get under your skin in return?"

"Would he?" Fleur asked, eyes narrowing at the thought.

"I would," Weasley said, glowering at her.

"No, he wouldn't," Granger said. Then, almost hopefully, she added, "But he's more likely to defend you to other boys if he thinks of you as a friend. If you're nice to him-"

"I cannot be," Fleur said.

"Of course you can," the blonde girl said encouragingly. She paused and cocked her head. "Unless you've had a run in with a magagali moth, in which case, irritability and general resentment is to be expected, but it'd be very, very unusual for one to have made it into this hemisphere-"

"Why?" Granger asked.

"Because they're native to-"

"Not-" Granger sighed. "I actually meant Fleur, Luna - why she - you - can't be nice to Harry."

"Because," Fleur said, "I am older than he is, and a Champion, and I know what I look like." Weasley rolled her eyes. "He is young, he is a boy, and he has only had one girlfriend - maybe? He was not sure." Granger and Weasley exchanged exasperatedly amused looks. "I do not want this to feel real between us and confuse him, or blur the boundaries. I do not want to lead him on, and I do not want him to develop feelings that will never be returned. It is better this way - he knows exactly where he stands, that he has no chance. And that way, when I beat him in the Tournament, it will be because I am better, not because he cares about me and is going easy, or is trying to- to woo me."

"Okay," Weasley said, eyes narrowed again, but this time it was considering rather than disapproving.

"No," Granger said, "not okay-"

"Having been led on by someone older and exploited because of it, yes, okay," Weasley said, giving Granger a pointed look.

"If Harry develops feelings for you and they're not returned and you've made it clear that's the case, then that's his problem," Granger said firmly. "But for the record, Harry's pretty good about having girls be nice to him and not take it for anything more than friendship." She gestured between herself, Weasley, and the other girl - Luna. "As for the Tournament, Cho stopped talking to Harry because he beat her at Quidditch, so you don't need to worry about him going easy."

"I didn't think Harry cared about winning," Luna said.

"He doesn't," Weasley said. "He just cares about surviving."

"Yes, that seems sensible." Luna said, humming.

Granger opened her mouth, apparently not finished, but Fleur was. She held up a hand and Granger frowned.

"No more," Fleur said. "I have other things to do this morning that are not listening to you."

"But-"

"Non. I shall see you at lunch."

Fleur waved them away, tightened her cloak around herself again and resumed her trek across the snow-dusted grass to the carriage.


"Yeah- oh." Sirius blinked, having been expecting Harry or one of the other kids, or maybe Remus or Dora. "Professor."

"Professor." Vector nodded at him. "May I come in?" Sirius gestured her into the seat in front of his desk and sat down in his own chair. Vector sat with a rustle of heavy red robes. He'd not had much to do with Professor Vector, before; she taught Arithmancy, and mostly kept to herself, and so - with the exception of feasts and special occasions - was rarely at dinner; either she ate in her quarters, or came early or late to avoid the busy times. Sirius had heard Hermione talking about her very positively, but Harry'd never had much to say about her - positive or negative.

"What can I help you with?"

"It's about Potter," Vector said. "Usually I'd take these sorts of concerns to a student's Head of House, but seeing as you're here…"

"What's he done?" Sirius asked.

"I had a visit from him this morning, after breakfast," she said. "He was asking about the deep-water variation of the bubblehead charms, of all things, and the formulas and diagnostic spells one needs to get it to work." Sirius' surprise wasn't even feigned; he thought Harry'd given up on that and was planning to use gillyweed, like Snape had suggested. "It's well above fourth year material, and I'll be honest, Potter's a capable student, but he's not really an academic." She said this a little apologetically, but Sirius shrugged, unbothered; Harry was an underage animagus, could cast a corporeal patronus, and was a hell of a duellist for his age, which were all far more useful than academic prowess as far as Sirius was concerned. "Even some of my better seventh years struggle to understand the layers of detail within the theory, or demonstrate the precision required to pull off this sort of spell."

"Did you tell him that?" Sirius asked; perhaps hearing it from someone else would help, since Harry clearly hadn't believed Sirius.

"Of course - I made it very clear," Vector said. "He didn't seem dissuaded, though, and- well, I've certainly never discouraged academic interest, even if it is a lost cause-"

"But- so you- you're saying you gave him the calculations and spells-"

"I gave him the formulas," Vector corrected. "Calculations are something you do with formulas, Professor, once you've identified the values of the variables within them." She eyed him. "I take it you yourself never studied arithmancy?"

"No," Sirius said, but with a sinking feeling he was going to have to start now. Vector nodded, apparently unsurprised, and Sirius wasn't sure if he ought to be offended by that.

"And - to answer the rest of your question - yes, I gave him the spells as well. I daresay he won't have much luck with any of it, but it is an advanced and potentially dangerous branch of magic to be exploring."

"And now you want me to stop him from drowning?" Sirius said, a bit grumpily. "That's why you're here?"

"Oh, no, I really wouldn't worry about that," Vector said, scent amused. "Like I said, Potter's not going to be able to do anything with what I've given him, so it's really quite safe - purely theoretical. The worry, at least the way I see it, is about what Potter starts looking into next - there are other magics that are far more dangerous and require far less finesse that he might get himself into trouble with once he gives up on this particular interest. That's what I've come to warn you about - his interest in obscure and risky magics."

Privately, Sirius thought a warning to keep Harry from drowning himself (again) would have been more appropriate, and wondered, absently, what McGonagall would have said if Vector had taken this conversation to her instead.

"Well, consider me warned," he said, managing not to sigh or roll his eyes, or sound too sarcastic. If nothing else, Sirius now knew that Harry was looking into bubblehead charms again, which he hadn't before. That was something to be grateful for.

"Wonderful," Vector said. She stood. "I won't take any more of your time then, Professor." She strode to the door and pulled it open. "Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

"You too," Sirius said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, then got up to shut the door behind her, only to almost close it on Ron, who was just lifting his hand to knock. Sirius stepped back to let him inside. "What do you know about Harry still looking into bubblehead charms?" Sirius asked. Ron grimaced and glanced back out the door, obviously deducing the reason for Vector's visit. "I thought he was using gillyweed."

"He's exploring his options," Ron said vaguely. "He was looking into transfiguration - either giving himself gills that way, or turning himself into a fish or something. That's what we were doing with Dora yesterday, or he was - I'm nowhere near good enough-"

"Neither's Harry," Sirius said. "Complete human transfiguration from a living thing into another living thing's horrendously difficult, and even giving yourself gills… you could make yourself look like you have gills, but to get them working…"

"Dora could," Ron said, and then grinned, relenting. "But yeah, Harry didn't have any luck. Didn't even get close." Sirius grunted.

"Why's he against gillyweed?" Ron shrugged. Sirius narrowed his eyes but Ron didn't seem bothered, didn't cave and explain, though Sirius was sure he knew. "Fine, I'll ask him myself." Ron grinned. "You're using it, though, yeah?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "I'm not thick. Or- well, I am thick, so I know better than to try to learn something complicated. Especially when I know there's a really easy alternative." He gave Sirius a thoughtful look. "Speaking of… how would you smuggle gillyweed so it was with you, but no one would know you had it?"

"Put it in my pocket, transform into Padfoot," Sirius said, shrugging. "Transfigure back when I want to retrieve it." He smiled. "But I assume you're looking at ways you can manage it?"

"Yeah," Ron said.

"Well," Sirius said, "actual body cavities aside-" He laughed at the look on Ron's face. "-you could make a fake one. Dora did that once to hold blood-"

"Skin pockets," Ron said, resigned.

"Er… yeah, I s'pose," Sirius said. "There'd be other ways though - I'll give it some thought…" He rubbed a hand over his chin and made a mental reminder to ask Remus if he had any ideas; he'd always had a good mind for sneaky magics. "Is that what you wanted to see me about?"

"No," Ron said. "Just figured I'd ask while I was here - I've got Fred and George thinking about it too."

"Merlin help the Tournament organisers," Sirius said, huffing a laugh. Ron grinned, then sobered:

"I actually came to see you about the Imperius curse."

"Ah," Sirius said. He hadn't been expecting it, but that was mainly because he'd forgotten. He ought to have expected it.

"I want it back on. Please?" They'd taken it off for the second task - a second taken to scratch his nose could have been the difference between getting a spell off or not, or could have distracted him at an important moment - and they'd left it off over Christmas as well.

"You're sure?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," Ron said, with a sharp nod. As he had last time, Sirius marvelled at the trust Ron was putting in him.

"Same as last time?"

"Please." Sirius let out a gusty breath.

"Imperio." He set the instructions as Ron stood there, too still and eyes distant. Slowly, Ron blinked and came back to himself. "It's working?"

Ron's nose twitched and he made several complicated expressions before reaching up to scratch it.

"Yeah," he said. "It's working."