He shouldn't have pushed. Perhaps he should have minded his own business entirely. Clearly, Rook wasn't ready to delve into the details of her upbringing with the likes of Fred, and he didn't blame her.

Fred redirected his focus to Quidditch. It was Tuesday night, and they only had two sessions before their match against Slytherin. The wind and rain showed no signs of letting up, and they needed to be prepared for the same conditions on Saturday. Fred put everything he had into practice, and his teammates did the same. The determination they shared was palpable, and served to distract Fred from thoughts of Rook, at least until they tramped back to the castle in their sopping wet uniforms.

While showering and changing for bed, Fred had to wonder what he'd done or said that made Rook change her mind. Perhaps she never intended to open up to him and George. In any case, she had been avoiding them all day, and, sure enough, she was not in the common room when they got there. Fred could sense George's disappointment. Fred hadn't told George any of what Rook told him in the library. It seemed as though it wasn't his place, but how was he supposed to explain that it was his fault Rook was being so elusive?

Fred decided to let it go, and didn't mention it at all the next day. On Thursday, when he happened to have a brief moment alone with Rook, he took the opportunity to set the record straight.

"You could have just said you didn't want to talk about it, you know," he said. "I don't want you thinking you need to avoid me and George. And I didn't tell him, if you were wondering."

Rook looked as though she wanted to say something, but Spencer appeared at her elbow. Dinner had just ended, and she had her usual study session immediately afterward.

"I'll talk to you later," she said as she left.

When Fred and George were in the locker room before Quidditch practice that same evening, Wood announced that they would not be playing Slytherin at all. Apparently Draco Malfoy was faking an injury to get out of playing Gryffindor in the torrential downpour that promised to persist through Saturday. To Fred's simultaneous aggravation and relief, Angelina joined Alicia and Katie in giggling over the mention of Hufflepuff's new Captain, Cedric Diggory. To Fred, he was just another Stefan Spencer, and the Spencer's of Hogwarts were incomprehensibly well-liked.

The next evening, Fred was surprised to find himself dragged aside by Rook before he and George went to bed.

"I wasn't avoiding you," she whispered, as they were not standing that far away from where George sat, watching them curiously. "For some reason, I thought that maybe… maybe you had changed your mind about hearing more about that stuff..."

"Why would I do that?"

Quite suddenly, Rook began to tear up. Fred didn't think he would ever get used to seeing her cry like that. He panicked. What was he supposed to say?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "This is exactly what I mean. You and George are fun. I wish I could just be fun, like you guys. When I think about my life before I came here, it's like… it's like it doesn't fit with everything else. It's almost like it wasn't my life at all." She wiped her tears away impatiently. "I just thought that maybe you realized that little orphan Rosey isn't the girl you want to be friends with."

"Rook, that's not true…" As much as he hated seeing her cry, he knew he wanted to know more about who she was and what she'd been through. In that moment, he wanted to be the type of person she could open up to and rely on to be there for her, not just the friend who cracks jokes to avoid talking about anything heavy. But he didn't know what that type of person would do in this situation. His first instinct was to hug her, but he worried about how that would look here in front of everyone.

"Is everything all right?"

George had interrupted them. She blushed deeply as he laid his hand on her shoulder. "Rook, what's wrong?" he asked gently. "Is this about Halloween?"

That's right. George was the considerate one. This sort of thing came a lot more naturally to him, after all. Fred stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped back as Rook turned to his brother.

To his surprise, however, Rook was evasive with George. Instead of telling him what she told Fred, she shrugged it off. "It's kind of complicated," she said dismissively.

"But we'll talk about it later?" Fred asked in a meaningful tone.

Rook smiled at him with a grateful expression and nodded her confirmation.

Fred and George left Rook to her homework in the common room, and were the first in their dorm room. They were the only boys in their year on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and they needed a full night's sleep if they were to face the tempest on the Quidditch pitch in the morning.

"What was that all about?" George asked Fred from where he lay on his bed. Fred could sense that George was burning with curiosity, and thought he might have also detected the smallest hint of jealousy.

"It's… It's like she said: complicated. It's nothing you need to be worried about, though, if that's what you're thinking."

After several seconds of silence, George said, "I do worry. I get the feeling she had a hard life before she got here."

Fred stared at the canopy of his four-poster. Through sheer circumstance, Fred shared a secret with Rook. For one selfish moment, he felt strangely pleased to be the sole keeper of her secret for a little while longer, but he realized that George was so much better-equipped to comfort Rook. George was obviously the perceptive one, the compassionate one. Fred lacked the emotional capacity to be more than comic relief.

"We just need to focus on the match tomorrow," said Fred, rolling over and shutting his eyes determinedly.

The next morning, Fred was a lot more nervous than he expected to be. He and George sat with the rest of the team in the Great Hall, as they usually did before a game, but, to Fred's great irritation, Rook was nowhere to be seen throughout breakfast. How was he supposed to think she wasn't avoiding them when she didn't even show up to wish them luck on their first game?

He concluded that there must be some good reason for it. Even if she was trying to avoid Fred, there was no way she would deliberately miss seeing George in action. She had probably just slept late and missed her chance to see them before the team had to depart for the locker rooms. As Fred walked through the sheets of rain toward the Quidditch pitch, he felt a thrilling sensation that could only be inspired by an impending match. His apprehension brought on by the bad weather and the pressure from Wood seemed to dissolve, and he was left with the urge to get into the air and start putting all their grueling practice to good use.

Once Fred was in the air, weaving in and out of the other players and hitting the bludgers toward the Hufflepuffs in canary yellow, he thought he was right in his assessment of the Hufflepuffs as pushovers. The Gryffindor chasers quickly and easily took a strong lead in the match, and they maintained it. All they needed now was for Harry to get the snitch, and he had never lost them a match.

Hours into the game, Wood called for a time-out. The sky was getting dark, and Hermione did a spell on Harry's glasses to improve his visibility in the rain. After that, it seemed like nothing could stop them from winning.

But then, a wave of cold passed over the stadium. Fred slowed on his broom as he was pursuing a bludger, a sickening dread overtaking him. Then he heard screaming from all around him. He whipped around on his broom just in time to see Harry plummeting toward the ground fifty feet below.

Everything after that happened so fast. Dumbledore ran onto the field, waved his wand, and Harry fell in slow motion. Diggory had caught the snitch, but he was also flying toward the ground now, along with every other player as they all realized what had happened. Fred saw that it was dementors that had glided into the stadium who had caused all this. Dumbledore furiously banished the dementors with a silvery, nondescript form from his wand. Fred and the other players gathered around Harry, but Dumbledore dispersed them wordlessly, conducting Harry's unnervingly still body through the crowd on a conjured stretcher.

"I want a rematch…"

Fred turned around and saw Diggory's pale face watching Harry being carried away to the Hospital Wing.

"It wasn't fair," he said weakly. "I didn't know—I want a rematch."

Fred looked around the stadium vaguely. The whole thing felt so surreal. How was he supposed to care about Quidditch right now?

Mercifully, George rested his hand on Fred's shoulder. He had forgotten how reassuring it felt, just knowing George was there.

"It was fair. It's how the game is played," George addressed Diggory. "What's important is that Harry's okay."

"Is he going to be okay?"

Fred felt George squeeze his shoulder, and he had the distinct impression that George was speaking more to him than to Diggory. "Dumbledore has him. He'll be okay."

George was right. Shortly after they had gathered in the Hospital Wing with the rest of the team (sans Wood, who they left in the showers), Harry began to stir. Harry himself seemed more upset over losing the match than he was about almost dying. Perhaps he had almost died so many times, he was entirely desensitized to it. Madame Promfrey didn't allow them much time to comfort Harry over the loss. After ten minutes or so, she demanded the team leave him in peace. Only Ron and Hermione were permitted to stay.

Fred and George cleaned up after they left the Hospital Wing. Once they were in clean, dry robes, they sat silently in the common room for several minutes.

"Where is she?" Fred finally broke the silence, saying what he knew they were both thinking. Rook hadn't been one of the many students who tried to follow them into the Hospital Wing after Harry's fall. She hadn't been waiting for them when they left. Harry was her friend too. Didn't she care what happened to him? Fred felt a sinking feeling not unlike the one he felt when the dementors had appeared earlier. Could something have happened to her?

Fred stood suddenly and made his way to their dormitory. George followed wordlessly, and looked over Fred's shoulder as he consulted the Marauder's Map.

"I don't believe it…"

In what seemed like moments, Fred and George had intercepted Rook outside the library.

"Oh, hey guys," she spoke casually.

"Where have you been?" Fred demanded immediately. Rook looked confused.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. I feel like I haven't seen anyone since I woke up."

Fred and George looked at one another, mouths agape. Fred then laughed incredulously. "You're joking," he said, turning back to Rook. "It has to be a joke. There's no way you missed it…"

"Missed what?" Rook asked impatiently. "Where were you?"

"You're telling me you missed the match, and you didn't even see what happened to Harry—"

"What happened to Harry?!"

"He's dead!" Fred lied impulsively.

"Fred!" George exclaimed. At this, Rook looked genuinely shocked and upset. "It's not true, Rook!" George spoke hurriedly. "Harry's fine!"

"He is. I'm sorry," Fred immediately retracted his words. "I just—I thought you were messing us about, and I—You really didn't see any of it?"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Quidditch!" the twins answered in unison. Rook stared.

"What is Quidditch?!"