February's chill brought Valentine's Day, and Valentine's Day brought the first Hogsmeade visit of the New Year. In anticipation of the holiday, there had been a whirlwind of couples getting together and breaking up and getting back together. Emily was grateful, at least, to not have to worry about that.
That morning over breakfast, the Great Hall bustled with gossip over who was taking whom and going where and doing what. And amidst all the chatter, Emily couldn't help but indulge herself in wondering what, if anything, Fred had planned. She hardly considered him a romantic, but there was always the chance of surprise…
The Great Hall was all dolled up with lace tablecloths and pink-and-red streamers that hung from the walls. Each table was lined with a spectacular variety of breakfast foods — chocolate covered fruits, raspberry-flavoured porridge, even pancakes adorned with strawberries in the shape of a heart. Champagne glasses magically filled themselves with a sweet-smelling sparkling grape juice to toast the holiday. Emily dodged chocolates and balloons and the lot on her way to her usual seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table. Violet wasn't there, but these days it wasn't atypical for her to be running late for breakfast.
While Emily peered around for her housemate, Fred and George fell into place opposite the table from her, each mumbling an almost-obligatory hello to her as they did.
She chirped a greeting back, but they didn't pay it much mind. They both seemed distracted, perhaps even more so than usual. Fred busied himself with gathering breakfast, looking like he hadn't eaten in days, while George glanced back longingly — and not too subtly — at Angelina Johnson.
"Are you planning on asking her to Hogsmeade for Valentine's?" Emily asked, and George suddenly straightened.
"Why on earth would I do that?" His face was flush and left in a grimace, as if her question had been an accusation.
She lowered her voice a touch. "I assume it would be because you fancy her, but —"
George nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.
"Irrespective of my stance on that," he argued and wiped his face with his napkin, "it would be bloody insane for me to try anything today, of all days."
"Completely mental," Fred agreed.
A gaggle of third year girls ran between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, gushing over a girl in the centre of their group who had a big bouquet of roses in her arms. The boys both scoffed and rolled their eyes at the sight.
"Speaking of today, Fred," Emily started, her voice a playful teasing rhythm, "any big plans?"
What she expected was to catch him off-guard, to listen to him stumble about for a moment while she revelled in his discomfort. But, of course, like always, Fred was two steps ahead of her...
"Oh yeah, I've got the whole day scheduled out for us," he said, between spoonfuls of porridge, sounding surprisingly sincere, "starting with high tea at Puddifoot's and ending with a guided walking tour of the Shrieking Shack."
It took Emily a moment to realize what he was doing. And for that moment that she thought he was serious, she tried to keep her face as straight as possible despite the disappointment.
"You're a prat," she said finally.
His face broke into a twisted grin, and he took a sip of juice. "You should've seen your face though."
She rolled her eyes and looked expectantly at him. "Well, what are we doing, then?"
"Oh, am I seriously supposed to plan something?" he asked. When she pursed her lips, he defended himself, "You're a bunch of complicated creatures, you girls. Who knows what you expect on a flouncy holiday like this?"
"I'm hardly a complicated creature, Fred," she argued, her hands snapping into place on her hips.
He paused, looking briefly thoughtful for a moment before smiling at her. "Think I can figure something out."
The carriages were set to depart for Hogsmeade at exactly 10am, which left Emily with just enough time to find Violet before it was time to go. She went back up to the girls' dormitory and found Violet sitting on cross-legged on her bed, still in pyjamas.
"You okay?" Emily asked tentatively, as she took measured steps towards her. A silvery card and an opened envelope sat on the edge of the bed in front of her.
"Edvard sent me a letter," Violet said, and a blush rose in her cheeks. "And some Swedish chocolates."
"Aww," Emily cooed, admiring the box of chocolates that sat in Violet's lap. "That's so sweet."
Was it wrong of her to feel a tinge of jealousy that Violet's Durmstrang not-boyfriend had already paid more mind to the stupid holiday than Fred would? She knew the answer, so she tried to push the thoughts away, maintaining her happy façade for Violet. After all, she was happy for Violet.
"Just delectable!" Violet agreed as she set another candy on her tongue.
"Edvard or the chocolates?" Emily teased. "Maybe both?"
Violet went even redder in the face but didn't answer. She finally stood up and moved to her trunk at the foot of her four-poster.
"You coming along to Hogsmeade?" Emily asked. The question lingered for a moment in the air before Violet answered.
"Not this time," she said. She dug through her trunk, searching for something. "I need to write him back."
"A letter won't take all day, Vi," Emily argued
But Violet shook her head and smiled. "You go and have fun, all right?"
Emily grabbed her coat and a wool hat from her trunk. She hesitated in the doorway and turned back to Violet. "You sure?"
Violet chuckled and sat back on her bed, parchment in hand. She pulled out her fountain pen from her nightstand. "I'm sure. Couldn't bear to be a third wheel today."
Emily couldn't bear to point out that there wouldn't be much third wheeling, considering she and Fred didn't have any Valentine's plans, but she knew it wouldn't change Violet's mind anyhow. So she took a deep breath, checked her lip gloss one last time, and headed down to the Entrance Hall.
Winter was blowing full-blast outside Hogwarts, and Emily snuggled under the purple wool hat and scarf Mrs. Weasley had knit her for Christmas. Over the course of the trip, the weather had calmed down to light flurries, though still bitter cold.
Emily and Fred caught a carriage with George and Lee, who she joked were their own sort of weird Valentine's dates, and for a moment things seemed almost back to normal. Their carriage lurched to a stop at the entrance to the small village, and George and Lee hopped out first.
"Fancy a stop at Zonko's?" George offered to the group of them. Lee was practically already on his way to the joke shop by the time the question left George's mouth.
Emily was about to nod, but Fred shook his head.
"We'll pop off there in a bit."
She was surprised that he would ever say no to Zonko's. "What are you —?"
He cut her off. "You wanted big plans, yeah?"
"Suit yourselves, I guess," George said before running off to catch up with Lee.
Soon enough, Emily and Fred were the only ones left at the carriage stop.
"Oh, come off it, Fred; I was only joking," she said, and it wasn't exactly untrue. "We can go to Zonko's with George if you want."
"Later." He nodded towards the end of the street and said, "First, follow me."
They walked against the wind as it blew down the straight, narrow streets of the village until they reached Fred's intended destination: their janky old pub.
They approached the Hog's Head, and Emily realized it would be their first proper visit together for the whole term. She had missed this…
The doorbell jingled as they entered, breathing in the stench of goat and mould. It somehow never smelt as bad when she was nostalgic, but at least it was always warm inside, regardless. And today it was even empty. The normal patrons likely knew to stay far away from Hogsmeade during the Hogwarts students' annual Valentine's visit, and the patrons of the Hog's Head certainly had little patience for the intrusion on their drinking space.
Emily and Fred shook the flurries from their coats at the doorway before they continued inside.
"Ah, Weasley, Prince... The usual table, I presume?" Aberforth asked, half-sarcastically. He flung his dirty dishrag over his shoulder, waiting for an answer. "And will the rest of your motley crew be joining you?"
"Just us today," Emily answered, but it felt presumptuous, and she quickly corrected, "erm, for now, at least."
They lingered for a moment at the counter before Fred asked, "Actually, can we sit out back?"
"Out back?" Aberforth laughed. "What do you think this is, some sort of fancy restaurant? You expect twinkle lights and a bloody gazebo?"
If Emily wasn't familiar with Aberforth's sense of humour, she might have thought he was actually incensed by the very idea.
"We'll just take our usual to go, then," Fred answered with a challenging smirk, "and you won't have to know where we take 'em."
As he set down their Butterbeer, one for each of them, Aberforth grumbled, "You'll bring those mugs back, Weasley, or I'll have your head; you hear?"
"Outside?" Emily started as she followed Fred back through the front door and around to the side of the Hog's Head. She shivered against the cold wind, clutching her warm Butterbeer between her hands. "What's wrong with inside?"
"It's arguably cleaner out here," Fred joked as he cleared some fallen snow from an empty table and bench. "Better atmosphere..."
"And colder, Fred; I'm freezing." She collapsed herself onto the freshly-cleared bench.
He scooted closer to her, and his body heat helped warm her up a bit. "More private too."
Emily tried not to flash back to Roger and the back booth of Madam Puddifoot's, and she braced herself, but Fred didn't press any further.
"You never know what load of mess'll wander into the Hog's Head..." he mused. "Besides... we can be alone out here." When he saw Emily's face wrinkle with concern, he continued, "What I mean is... there's no expectations, no pressure. You don't have to be Prefect Princey, in a courtship for Head Girl. You can just be you… us."
She let out a deep breath that billowed out as a cold cloud in front of her, then took a sip of Butterbeer. It was warm and smooth as it travelled down her throat, heating her up from the inside. Fred did the same, and they sat quietly together as flurries fell around them.
"I got something for you," he said after a while.
"Gifts?" Emily squeaked out in surprise. "Fred, we never said anything about —"
"Just shup up and take it, yeah?" He held out a folded piece of parchment, creased and wrinkled at the edges from having sat in his pocket.
She unfolded it gingerly, hesitantly, and read its contents:
Dear Em,
Feels silly to be doing this, but I know how much you wish I would write you. I may just end up hand-delivering this to you to save Wheezy the trip, the poor sod.
Not sure what to say in a letter that I can't just say to you in person. Guess that I'm glad everything worked out at the Yule Ball, though I don't know why I wouldn't just say that to you anyway.
Now I remember why I don't do this. At any rate, I hope it still counts for something.
Yours,
Fred Weasley
P.S. Happy Valentine's as well, I guess.
Emily reread it once and again, her eyes admiring Fred's swooping, lovely cursive, the way his quill had etched in the two letters of her name, the neatness of his signature. She grazed her teeth along her bottom lip and glanced up over the parchment at Fred "Is this a —?"
"It's a letter, yeah." He shuffled in his seat.
She folded it back up and held it in her hand. "That's kind of sweet."
"Only kind of?" he asked, feigning insult. His lips upturned into a smirk.
She let out a chuckle and joked, "Well, it's not a particularly heartfelt letter, is it?"
Fred let out a huff that sent clouded breath from his nostrils. "Keep on moving the bar, why don't you. Not good enough that I write you a letter now if it's not all heartfelt and sentimental."
"To be fair, I haven't even brought you a gift," she admitted with a chuckle, "so I don't have much room to complain anyhow."
At the risk of an awkward silence interrupting their space, Fred was quick to change the subject as he shook falling snow from his hair.
"I brought Exploding Snap, if you'd fancy a game," he offered, pulling the deck of cards from his pocket.
Emily smiled and adjusted herself to face him. "Sure, I'd love to kick your arse."
"Wanna bet on that?" he said, and she couldn't tell how much he was joking.
"What's the wager?"
Fred thought for a moment. "If I win, you've got to pull a prank — under my guidance and with my support, of course."
"And if I win?"
"No pranks for a whole day," he said. "George and I will be on our best behaviour."
"A week," Emily challenged.
"A week?" His eyes widened in what looked to be fear, and he grumbled under his breath for a moment before finally agreeing.
With a flick of his wand, the cards were dealt face-down across the table in a giant circle that covered the surface area of the space.
"What are you doing?" Emily asked. Although she had played her fair share of Exploding Snap, and found she had a pretty decent knack for it, she was no pro, and it seemed a bit cheap to change the rules now.
"Bavarian rules," said Fred with a smirk. "Makes things more interesting."
The game was fairly well-matched as it progressed, though Emily's eye tended to be slightly quicker than Fred's reflexes. And at the start of what would be the last round, Emily took a moment to pride herself on her all-but-won victory. She imagined what a week without Fred and George's troublemaking might look like.
The halls of Hogwarts would be quiet. Students could walk up and down staircases without fear. Emily could take a break from cleaning up their messes to ensure they didn't get in too much trouble.
But what would they do?
No troublemaking meant no product testing, no dungbombs in the third floor boys' lavatory, no sales or development or, well, anything really.
She just couldn't do that to them.
So when the final pair flipped themselves upright, Emily pretended to be distracted. Even though it was her turn. Even though she had seen it. Even though it was the winning point. Even though she knew what losing meant.
Fred's wand tapped the match, which exploded upon impact. "Ha!"
"You win," she admitted with a sigh of defeat.
"Which means you have a prank to pull." A sly grin crossed his face. "This'll be good."
She swallowed the last gulp of Butterbeer, which had gone cold by then, and sat back as the smoke cleared itself from the table. "Such a sore winner, you are."
He stared at her, his eyes intently focused on her as she set her mug back down, and he wiped his wet hair from his forehead. "I know what you did, you know."
"What?"
"You threw the game."
"Is it that hard to believe you could've beaten me on your own?" she joked.
"I watched you throw it," he explained, looking suddenly serious. "I waited to see if you'd claim it when you saw it, and you didn't."
"If you waited, then technically you threw the game too," she was quick to point out.
"Why'd you do it?"
Emily absent-mindedly ran her fingers through the locks of hair that stuck out from beneath her wool hat. "I thought about a week without your nonsense," she admitted, "and it just felt wrong."
For a moment, he just stared at her, his eyes fixated on her face until his lips opened into a smile. "You know, that's what I love about you, Princey."
She didn't draw attention to what he'd said, the specific word he used, but he noticed anyway and went immediately pink in the ears.
But he didn't correct himself.
"I love that you called me out for throwing the game," she said and inched closer to him. Her gaze bounced from his eyes to his lips, back and forth.
A breathy chuckle passed through his lips, his mouth curling to one side. "Couldn't let you get away with it. Would've driven me mad."
Emily leaned over and kissed him; she couldn't help herself. And although he seemed initially surprised by it, he took her in his arms and kissed her back. He held her for a while like that, warm breaths passing between them. When it was all over, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her, and a comfortable silence enveloped them until Fred dropped their mugs back to Aberforth and they caught the carriages back to Hogwarts.
As the Second Task approached, the halls filled with gossip over which Champion would likely win and what the next task could possibly entail. Nobody knew anything, of course, so it was all little more than baseless speculation. When Fred and George described Harry's egg clue as 'the sound of a banshee being lit on fire', Emily wasn't sure she even wanted to know.
Still, the weekend was coming, and they'd all know what the Second Task had in store soon enough.
For now, Emily was running late, and she had class to worry about — specifically Defence Against the Dark Arts and the afterclass lessons that accompanied it, and as she headed down the stairs to the Great Hall for breakfast, she couldn't help but focus on the mixed excitement and dread she felt.
Moody had said she was doing well, that the lessons were progressing nicely. She had moved on to practicing offensive spells on a duelling dummy, and Moody seemed rather pleased with her skill. There was a part of her that wanted to share the achievement with her mother. She even considered sending a letter.
Dear Mum, she imagined, I've got a world-famous auror giving me private lessons, and he says I'm pretty good. I've done mostly duelling the last few weeks, which I think I've got a knack for. Can't even imagine what I'd have a knack for at normal school… Biology? Anyway, I know you hate me talking about magic, but —
Emily let out an involuntary squeak of surprise as her body was pulled backwards and into the shadows beneath the stairwell. There waiting were Fred and George.
It took a moment for her to regain her bearings and catch her breath; then she let out an exasperated groan. "Can't we chat over breakfast like normal people?"
"This is no normal chat, Emily," came George's voice, sounding almost sinister, and she couldn't help but find the whole circumstance suspect.
Fred continued, with a contorted smirk, "We've come to collect."
Emily barely remembered promising an unwritten IOU to the twins in exchange for their silence about her sneaking around in the Restricted Section of the library — but Fred and George clearly hadn't forgotten.
"What's this all about?" she asked, keeping her voice a hissed whisper. Even though she knew what they were talking about, and she was reasonably certain that they knew that she knew what they were talking about, it couldn't hurt to play dumb.
"Here's the deal."
They explained their plight — how they bet everything they had at the World Cup over the summer and won. Emily wondered aloud how exactly that was a problem, but they shushed her and continued.
"That slime Bagman paid out in Leprechaun gold, and now it's gone."
"Nothing to show for it," George punctuated.
"Maybe it was an honest mistake?" she offered.
Fred groaned. "Now you sound like George. If he'd only listened to me sooner, we'd already be done with this mess."
"Have you tried talking to him?" she asked. "Seem like the obvious —"
George cut her off and explained, "Last time we heard from him, he got nasty. Told us not to come calling again."
She blinked hard at them. "So?"
"So we won't come calling," Fred clarified.
And she suddenly didn't like any of the possibilities that implied. "What, d'you expect me to harass him for you?"
"Of course not."
"No way we're getting that money anymore; we know that," George answered. "Now it's about vengeance."
"We've a score to settle," Fred continued with a nonchalant shrug, "to speak in sports metaphor."
"That's an idiom," she corrected and rolled her eyes.
He waved his hand away at her. "Irrelevant."
"Well, why did you wait so long?" she asked. "You could've taken care of your grudge at the First Task. Or before the Champion selection on Halloween."
"Because he won't be expecting it now."
"Got to strike while the iron's hot, as they say."
"While he's not paying attention."
Emily was tempted to point out that Ludo Bagman didn't seem the type to ever pay attention to anyone but himself, but it wouldn't change anything. Outing him as a narcissist certainly wouldn't discourage the twins from exacting their revenge; if anything, it could only convince Emily that maybe he did deserve whatever it was they had in store.
"Well then, what does any of this have to do with me?" she asked instead and immediately regretted it.
"Glad you asked."
"You see," George continued, "we have a gift for ol' Ludo."
"Call it... a peace offering."
"A parting gift, so to speak."
She back and forth between them from beneath a raised brow. "I know you two well enough to know that whatever you've got planned it's not a gift."
A knowing grin sneaked across Fred's face. "Well, whatever it is, all you've got to do is get it to Bagman for us."
"And why can't you just do this yourselves?"
George smiled. "Because you're a prefect, so everyone trusts you."
"Isn't my being a prefect all the more reason to not have me do it?" she asked. "Or are you suddenly fine with the idea of someone less sympathetic to you as Head Girl next term?"
"No, you're the perfect prefect for the job," Fred clarified.
George explained, "Nobody will suspect that you're up to no good if you deliver a package that came addressed to a Tournament guest."
"And besides," Fred said and smirked, "you owe us."
She had to admit that this was not what she had in mind when they first mentioned an IOU. And she never anticipated there being a time when she would owe Fred anything twice over. That kind of power over her would only go to his head. Unless…
"If I do this," she started as her eyes met Fred's, almost challengingly, "it counts as my prank."
"Your prank?" asked George. He looked frantically between Emily and Fred. Apparently nobody had thought to catch him up.
"It most definitely does not," Fred argued, ignoring his twin. "This is completely separate."
George repeated, "Her prank?"
"Why shouldn't it count?" Emily demanded and folded her arms hard against her chest.
"Because," Fred said and took a step forward, leaning over her, "you owe us this one."
"This isn't fair," she grumbled under her breath.
"Is nobody going to explain the her prank thing?"
Fred brushed off his brother's question. "Later, later..."
"Fine then," she agreed, begrudgingly. For a moment, she tried to walk through this convoluted plan in her head. She couldn't rightly march into the Second Task with the package in-hand. The last thing she'd want was to risk her chance at Head Girl over some stupid favour to the twins.
"Good."
She was careful to lower her voice before she spoke again. "But I'm setting some ground rules."
Both boys looked pensive. "We're listening."
She raised a finger and started, matter-of-factly, "No identifying marks on the package. It can't look like it's come from you. I won't be able to defend you if you put your bloody names all over the thing."
"Fair," they agreed.
A second finger. "Leave it in a conspicuous place. Not too obvious or anyone else could grab it." Her brow furrowed. "Too hidden, and nobody will believe I'd just stumble upon it."
"You're really giving this a lot of thought..." George commented.
"A scary amount of thought," Fred agreed.
She let out a huff. "If I'm going to put my neck out like this, we can't be stupid."
"Remind me never to piss you off," Fred said with a chuckle, and Emily let her features soften with a deep breath.
"After this, we're even. Got it?"
Fred shook his head, and George grinned.
"Oh, Princey," they laughed together and pulled her between them, "we're just getting started."
And she didn't much like the sound of that at all…
On the morning of the Second Task, Emily made sure to keep her distance from the twins and Violet as well — anything to avoid suspicion and questions and uncomfortable explanations.
She waited to head to breakfast until the Great Hall had nearly cleared out, grabbing a goblet of water and a buttered crumpet before leaving the castle. The brisk wind was chiller than she expected, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat to keep them warm.
Emily was about to run down the stairs and out to the docks when she saw it, a brown-wrapped package no larger than her Potions textbook, labelled in an indiscernible script with the name 'L. Bagman'. It was tucked in the corner of the Entrance Hall, just near the door, turned on its side as if it had been haphazardly left and knocked around as the flurry of students rushed off.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Emily grabbed the box and held it under her arm as she rushed toward the docks. The sooner she could give the thing to Bagman, the sooner she could stop dreading it altogether.
She hopped into a boat with a trio of second years and hid the package in her lap as best she could while she made polite conversation with them until the boat lurched to a stop.
There was a set of large stands in the centre of the Black Lake, where the boat let them off. On the far side there was a medical tent, surely set up like a makeshift hospital wing to handle any injuries that the Champions incurred. After the First Task, she imagined that Madam Pomfrey had her work cut out for her.
The judges' stands were on the other side, and Emily took cautious steps toward them. When she approached, they were empty save for Ludo Bagman, sitting in the centre, his legs crossed on the seat in front of him. He ran a hand through his short blond hair, but otherwise sat still as a statue.
She held the package tightly in her grip and took a deep, measured breath. This was it.
"Excuse me, Mr Bagman," she started, her voice quieter than she expected. She cleared her throat to catch his attention.
"I'm not doing autographs today, young lady," he said with a flippant wave of his hand. His eyes were closed, his head leaned back casually. "I'm far too busy with my duties here."
"Oh, I'm not —" she started to explain but decided against it. "I found this package with your name on it."
She held the plainly-wrapped box out in front of her, grateful that the twins had at least managed to follow her instructions about discrete packaging.
Bagman sat straighter in his seat and peered at the box. "What is it?"
"I don't know exactly," she said, and she was grateful to have found one moment of honesty in her role in all this. She took a few more steps toward him. "I just saw it was addressed to you."
"Give it here, then." He practically snatched the thing from her hands, his blue eyes wide with greedy wonder, and Emily would've gotten the hell out of dodge if he had stopped talking for long enough to make her exit. "You know," he said, starting to tear off the paper, "I get fan mail all the time, so it's not surprising that —"
Before he could finish, the box popped open, launching a bellow of sweet-smelling, purplish smoke into the air. There was a card below that transformed itself into a Howler and read aloud in what Emily recognized as Fred's voice in a faked falsetto: "Ludo Bagman, thank you for your many years of gracious service to the community of Wizarding Sport. Please accept these sweets as a token of our gratitude."
Emily didn't recognize the pinkish-coloured sweets in the box, even thinking over the twins' usual fare.
Bagman was quick to dig in and shoved several of the candies unceremoniously into his mouth.
For a moment, Emily wondered what was supposed to happen. But then she saw it.
One by one, boils erupted over Bagman's forehead in a pattern that may have vaguely resembled the word 'CHEAT'.
"Would you like one, my dear?" Bagman asked, offering a candy to her. "They're quite delicious, and after all, I have you to thank for —"
"Oh, no, thank you," she answered. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face. "Um... Mr. Bagman, do you have an allergy or...?"
"Hm?" he asked, his mouth still full of sweets.
"Your face is..."
He touched a hand to his cheek and seemed confused until Emily motioned his hand to go higher. As his finger pressed against one of the new boils, it burst beneath the pressure, and he let out a shriek of horror.
Emily stood horrified, frozen in place.
"I'm taking you to Dumbledore, you wicked girl," he growled as he stood up and grabbed her by the arm, the nearly empty box of sweets clattering to the ground. "You won't get away with this!"
"But I —" she started to argue.
As he moved to pull her from the judges' stands, Dumbledore appeared at the top of the stairs. Emily wondered if his ears were ringing.
"Dumbledore!" Bagman bellowed in furious rage, but the elder wizard didn't even flinch.
"Good afternoon, Ludo," Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Are you enjoying your time before the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Enjoying my time?" Bagman spat back. He gestured toward his face. "Can't you see I was poisoned?"
Dumbledore looked at him through his moon-shaped spectacles. "Ah, yes. I see."
Ludo thrust Emily forward. "And this girl's the one who done it!"
"Professor, I didn't —" she began to contest, but Dumbledore raised a hand to interrupt her.
"Ludo, I assure you that Miss Prince is one of our best and brightest, and I trust absolutely that she had no willing role in this."
A scowl crossed Bagman's face, but he didn't question Dumbledore's defence. "Well, what the devil am I supposed to do about this then, Dumbledore?"
"Madam Pomfrey surely has something to help with that in the medic tent. I trust that Miss Prince would be happy to escort you there."
"Of course," Emily agreed and went to lead Bagman to the far side of the spectators' stands. If they were quick, she might have been able to get him there before too many students saw his face. With a grumble under his breath, Bagman stomped down the stairs of the judges' stands.
Dumbledore spoke again, his voice quiet and tempered, "But a word first, if I may Miss Prince."
Emily stopped and turned back to him. "Yes, Professor?"
"Though I imagine whomever is responsible for this believes they had a valid reason in doing so..." He paused for a breath, and Emily could have sworn she saw him wink. "I would advise you to remember your ambitions, Emily, and encourage good behaviours in your friends, rather than the opposite."
"Yes, sir."
Dumbledore smiled at her. "Good. Now please escort Mr Bagman to Madam Pomfrey."
Emily nodded and left to catch up with Bagman. As she walked him to the medic tent, she was sure to stand between him and the stands, doing her best to block the students' view of him as they passed. It was the least she could do to atone for her unwitting involvement.
When they arrived at the medic tent, Emily poked her head inside. "Madam Pomfrey?"
The medic tent did, in fact, look like a simpler, smaller version of the hospital wing. There were several beds lined against the far wall of the tent, a table near the entry stacked with dry towels and blankets, and a large shelf in the centre piled high with potions and herbs.
She heard the clinking of potion flasks and asked again, "Madam Pomfrey?"
A head popped up from behind the shelf, but it wasn't Madam Pomfrey.
"Em?" Adrian Pucey stood the rest of the way up and stepped quickly toward her. "What are you doing here?"
"I've got a... well, I guess you could call it a, um, a medical emergency," she said, nodding toward the door where Bagman was waiting. Amidst the chaos, it was nice to see another friendly face. "What are you doing here?"
"Madam Pomfrey recruited help this go, so..." He shrugged, and a grin crossed his face. "I'm helping."
"Mind helping with, um...?" she started as Bagman stepped through the door of the medic tent, and Adrian was practically rendered speechless at the sight of the dripping, puss-filled boils along Bagman's forehead.
"Oh," he said and tried not to stare, "let me go get Madam Pomfrey for you."
Adrian rushed out of the tent, the curtain door fluttering behind him. Bagman let out a frustrated-sounding groan and laid himself down on one of the beds.
"Adrian's a great guy," Emily said, almost more to herself than to Bagman, as she stood awkwardly to the side. "And he's fantastic at Quidditch too, so you've that in common. Might make for some good conversation."
Bagman let out an unimpressed snort and rolled his eyes.
"Gee, thanks, Em," came a voice from behind her. "Glad to hear you still think so highly of me."
"Just stating the facts," she said with a playful shrug.
"Out of my way, out of my way!" a shrill voice called out, rapidly approaching. Madam Pomfrey burst through the door of the tent, nearly knocking Adrian sideways. She didn't even look once at Bagman. Instead, she rushed over to her shelf of potions and poured a bit of one into a small cup. "I've a crisis to deal with."
Both Emily and Adrian stepped to the side, giving Madam Pomfrey a clear shot to Bagman's bedside. She pulled a small tin of jelly-like substance from the shelf behind her and gooped it onto her fingers. There was no concern for bedside manner as she smeared it on Bagman's forehead.
"So, I trust there's a good story behind this?" Adrian whispered to her as they watched Bagman suffer through little sips of the potion Madam Pomfrey gave him.
Emily tried not to laugh as she nodded. "Long but good."
"Mister Pucey, was chit-chat in the job description today, or do you plan on making yourself useful to me?" Madam Pomfrey demanded, breaking up their conversation.
Adrian snapped to attention. "Sorry!"
Madam Pomfrey turned sharply to Emily, "And Miss Prince, are you going to stand in my way and ogle all afternoon?"
"No, ma'am," Emily said, and she nodded a silent goodbye to Adrian before she sneaked out from the medic tent.
She wasn't sure how long there was until the Task was to start, though she imagined it wouldn't be too soon, with Bagman still otherwise occupied. And that meant she had time to find the twins.
As she tried to scan the stands for Fred and George, Emily saw Severus slink off behind the stands with Igor Karkaroff following closely behind. Curiosity got the better of her, and she hid on just the other end of the bleachers to listen in.
"Severus, please..." Karkaroff's hissing voice was drenched in desperation. "The Dark Lord trusts you. You must know —"
"You should lower your voice, Igor."
It was strange to hear Severus refer to anyone else on first-name terms, much less the headmaster of a rival school, and it was even stranger still to hear someone use the phrase 'The Dark Lord' rather than 'You-Know-Who'. It seemed almost reverent in a way that made Emily's skin crawl.
But what did he mean that he trusted Severus?
Karkaroff winced and gripped his left forearm. He looked pleadingly at Severus. "The Dark Mark burns worse than before, so surely that must mean —"
"I know full well what it means, and so do you," Severus snarled, keeping his voice low. "But I have already made clear to you that this is not a conversation I will have here."
Severus moved to leave, but Karkaroff spoke again.
"You were his right hand," he said, his eyes focused on Severus, "but I am beginning to suspect you may have fallen out of favour with —"
Severus spun around where he stood, his face close to Karkaroff's. "Don't think I've forgotten how you tried to sell me out, Karkaroff."
Karkaroff opened his mouth to retort, but Severus strode past him with a whip of his cloak and rounded the corner without a backwards glance.
The conversation left Emily reeling. The Dark Lord, the Dark Mark... surely, that made him a —
Severus stopped short just steps in front of her, and she couldn't help but wonder if he suspected how much she'd heard. His eyes met hers for only a moment, and he straightened the sleeves of his robes. Without another word, he continued to the top of the stands where the faculty were to sit.
Emily reached into her back pocket to feel the old article from The Daily Prophet. She had kept the torn paper there for weeks now, and it seemed crazy at first. But not anymore. Now she felt justified in wanting to question Severus. After all, it seemed he knew more than he let on about what happened that night...
"There you are!" called Fred and George as they swung up next to her at the bottom of the stairs to the spectators' stands. "Finally!"
Emily pushed the article back into the bottom of her pocket and made a mental note to go back to it later. For now, she could just enjoy the Second Task and the relief that her involvement in the nonsense was over and that she'd come out the other end mostly unscathed.
"Oi!" They nudged her between them. "How'd it go, then?"
"Boils? That was your master revenge plot?" she demanded. She dropped her voice to a low hiss. "You couldn't come up with something simpler? Maybe something that wouldn't disfigure a known celebrity?"
"Oh, come off it."
"They'll heal on their own," said George.
And Fred continued with a chuckle, "In a month or two."
Emily pursed her lips into a harsh line. "Well, I hope it was worth it to you."
"Did you get in trouble?" George asked, and for a moment Emily wondered if they felt sheepish about the whole thing.
She let out a huff of breath. "Not technically, but —"
"Then of course it was worth it!"
"You could practically read his face from here!"
"Got a little worried after that," Fred admitted.
But George added, "But we knew you'd be fine."
"You did perfect!" Fred said with a grin as he draped his arm casually over her shoulder.
"And now that we know it works," George continued, "we can start selling —"
"Absolutely not," she interrupted, her voice stern.
"What?" Fred dropped his arm from around her, and she couldn't tell if it was intentional or out of surprise.
"I'm setting a two-month moratorium, at least, before you can sell any of that," she explained. "Otherwise it'll lead right back to you."
"Drat," they said in sync. They knew she was right, after all.
Ludo Bagman emerged from the medic tent, his boils shrunk to the size of large pimples, much to his relief, it seemed. He whipped out his wand, and his amplified voice started the announcement that the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament was about to begin, now that the Champions were ready. He gave an overview of the Task itself, that the Champions had one hour to recover what was taken from them. Then he started the countdown.
On the count of three, the Champions dove into the Black Lake to the sound of thundering applause, and after that... silence.
"Is this it?" Fred asked, almost to no one.
"Better hope they finish quick, I s'pose."
"They've got an hour," Emily reminded them, matter-of-factly, "which, I'll admit, is an awfully long time to stare at a lake..."
"Maybe the Squid will cameo," Fred joked.
"That would be better than this," Emily agreed. She wondered how the judges would manage to keep track with all the action happening underwater.
After what felt like ages of no movement, they all grew weary of staring at the waterline, and individual conversations broke out in the spectators' stands. There was enough commotion and chatter that it was a shock to everyone when Cedric and Cho came up from below the water.
"Hold on," Fred started, with his binoculars up to his eyes. "The thing they took was a person?"
Emily squinted against the glare on the lake's surface before Fred invited her for a look through his binoculars. The whole idea seemed barbaric.
There was quiet again for a few more minutes as Cedric and Cho were warmed and covered and checked over for injury at the medic tent. Then there was a splash, and two more figures emerged from the water.
"That's Krum," George said, glancing down at the waterline at the Durmstrang Champion who shook off a slapdash self-Transfiguration. "And Granger?"
Emily shrugged, watching as Krum rushed over to make sure Hermione was safe and fine, as he escorted her back to the docks to ensure that she was taken care of first. It was kind of sweet. "Strange pairing, but it works, I guess."
Fred opened their betting box and glanced at the numbers. "Diggory, then Krum..."
She wasn't sure if that result was what they expected so far, though she imagined they had learned the lesson not to put down any of their own money anymore on foolish betting.
Fleur Delacour came to the surface of the water with a frenzied gasp of air. She flailed about for a moment until she regained her bearings and swam back to the medic tent. Her arms, face, and chest were covered with stings and scratches.
"Delacour next," George said, and they all looked at the lake to see if anyone followed Fleur up. But the water was still.
Fleur was pulled up onto the docks and draped in a warm blanket. While her body shook, she shrieked about grindylows and let out a horrible sobbing wail. She wouldn't look at the lake.
"So whoever was taken from her… are they still down there?" Emily asked, her body suddenly tensing with worry. She couldn't imagine being in Fleur's place right now. "Are they just going to leave them there?"
Fred and George were quiet for a moment before George finally spoke up, "They did say people could die in the Tournament..."
The clock ticked down to the last minute, and there was still no sign of Harry. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder until the surface of the water broke again.
Emily took Fred's binoculars and glanced at the two who emerged, one red-haired and one much younger with white-blond pigtails. "Is that...?"
Fred took them back from her and peered through them himself. "Ron?"
"You think it's bad we didn't realize he was missing?" George said, and Emily couldn't quite tell if he was joking.
She turned her attention to the other figure in the water and added, "I think the girl might be Beauxbatons."
When the two of them arrived at the medic tent, Fleur dove for the girl, pulling her into an embrace, all but confirming her theory.
The clock marked the end of the hour, and everyone wondered aloud what happened to Harry until suddenly he shot out from the lake like a dolphin and landed with a hard slam against the dock. Fred and George cheered so loudly that Emily thought she might go deaf, and she gladly joined them. She was relieved enough that that there was no one left at the bottom of the Black Lake that the results didn't rightly matter — but they did to the twins.
"So does that make Harry third, then?" Fred asked, counting the bets. "Since Delacour didn't finish?"
Bagman's voice boomed into the stands again to announce that Cedric had won the Task, with the judges generously granting Harry second place due to his "moral fibre" for rescuing Fleur's sister as well as Ron. Krum came in third, and Fleur received an incomplete ranking, which moved her into last place in the competition overall.
"So did you win?" Emily asked. She leaned against the barrier of the stands, watching Fred and George go through the bets again.
Fred glanced back at Ludo Bagman, who was staring horrified at his reflection in the water while the students loaded onto the boats back to Hogwarts, and he smiled. "Honestly, Princey, after what you did for us today, I definitely feel like we won."
Hello, dear readers! Long time no see (my fault, I know)!
I hope everyone is staying safe and sane during this crazy year. As always, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and reviews are greatly appreciated! :)