A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.
•~0~•
Genevieve couldn't talk. She moved her mouth in disbelief, but no words came out. Harry looked just as baffled. The silence was deafening; no one had applauded this time.
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore announced again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
He got up, and walked slowly up to an unsmiling Dumbledore and into the chamber where the other champions awaited.
When Harry returned to the common room, he caused such an uproar that Genevieve jumped, knocking over a chair. It was, she supposed, much worse for him.
"You should've told us you'd entered!"
"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!"
"Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor - "
Beside her, Katie shouted, unnaturally high pitched. Genevieve put a finger in her ear. "You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!"
"Good heavens," Genevieve scolded. "Give him a break. Is Quidditch all you people talk about? And -"
she lowered her voice. "I don't think he put his name in."
"Of course he did," Katie said.
"No, just look at him."
Harry looked positively miserable, despite the fact that everyone was fussing over him; Lee had even tied a Gryffindor banner to him. Katie shrugged.
•~0~•
Harry wasn't at breakfast when she ate the next day, but Genevieve resolved to talk to him, and let him know she was on his side. Despite Gryffindor's support, the rest of the Houses weren't so keen on congratulating him. Actually, borderline hate was a more accurate description.
Nevertheless, when she caught him at breakfast the next morning, she said, in the best imitation of a typical teenage girl she could manage, "Merlin! I can't believe it!" She said shrilly. "It's Harry Potter! How did you enter your name into the goblet, Harry? Oh you're so brave, Harry! Will you sign my book bag, Harry? Oh damn, I haven't got a quill! Can you use lipstick?"
He grinned. "So you don't believe I put my name in the goblet?"
"No," she said as though it were obvious. "No offense, Harry," she said in a very Percy-like voice, "if I couldn't figure out how to help the twins enter - I doubt you could. Plus," she sat down next to him. "You should've seen your face when Dumbledore called you. Either you didn't do it, or you're the best actor I've ever seen."
"Thanks," he said.
She stood up. "I'm begging you though, knock some sense into Ron; I'm getting sick of the bloke."
"No promises," he muttered.
"He'll come around," she said. "You can't shake those Weasleys; trust me, I've been trying for six years."
He smiled. Satisfied, she walked away, going to the library to a bit of studying.
•~0~•
Genevieve managed to ditch the twins, Lee, and Ron in the Three Broomsticks and walked over to a table where Hermione was sitting, seemingly alone, working, of course, on S.P.E.W., though her lips were moving.
"Hi," she said. Hermione looked up, surprised and a little awkward. "I'm going to guess that, based on the fact that Ron's over there," she motioned to the twins' table, "and you're over here, and Harry's nowhere to be seen, that it's safe to . . . sit down."
Genevieve moved so that it looked as though she were about to sit across from Hermione. The younger girl's mouth opened in protest, but she never had to say the words, because Genevieve's hand, instead of pulling out the chair, came to rest on the thin air above the chair. She felt something solid, and smiled.
"Having fun, Harry?" she asked casually.
A disembodied voice answered, sounding amazed. "How do you know everything?"
She chuckled. "It's a beautiful, useful skill that I will never, ever teach you."
•~0~•
"I thought I told you not to break the rest of the bones in your body." A teasing voice echoed into the hospital wing.
She smiled widely. "Pssh - it's definitely not like I tripped over my own foot and fell down the stairs. Madam Pomfrey fixed me up though, good as new."
Genevieve brandished her mended leg. Charlie laughed.
"But what are you doing here?" She asked, confused. "Don't you have a job?" she joked.
"I did say that you might get to see the Hungarian Horntail," he said. "Here's your chance."
"Now?" Genevieve asked; it was almost nine.
Charlie didn't answer her. "Madam Pomfrey?"
Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room. "Yes?" she asked suspiciously.
"Seeing as how you've done such a wonderful job on Genevieve's leg here, and she's all well-rested, could she leave to visit a dear friend?" he asked with almost convincing innocence.
She tutted disapprovingly. "Oh all right," she said.
He turned to her. "Let's go."
Charlie led her outside the castle. It was dark. Finally, they approached a group of men.
"Now, you can't tell anyone about this," he warned. "Especially not Harry. But Dumbledore asked my friends and I for a little favor, to help with the first task, and . . ."
He gestured past the talking men, where, laying unconscious on the ground were . . . dragons?
She gasped. They were so beautiful. There were four: one, a silvery blue; another, smooth and green; a third, fiery red; and the last, pitch black.
"The Hungarian Horntail," he pointed to the black one, listing, "the Common Welsh Green, a Swedish Short-Snout, and a Chinese Fireball."
Genevieve frowned. "Do the champions have to fight them?"
"Just get past them, I think," he said. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why . . . but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. It can be absolutely vicious. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."
Large spikes decorated the dragon's tail. Genevieve winced, imagining what it could do to someone trying to get past it.
"Mum's all worried about Harry, of course." He did an uncanny impression, " 'How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit! And that Daily Prophet article had her in floods." Charlie shook his head.
"He didn't enter," Genevieve said. "And that Rita Skeeter's a lying cow."
He chuckled. "What's Mad-Eye say about it?"
"Reckons somebody's trying to kill him. Don't know if I believe him, but I think his theory's a hell of a lot closer than what everyone else thinks."
Charlie shook his head. "Just hope Mad-Eye's wrong."
"Me too."
The Horntail stirred. Charlie turned to her.
"We put them out with a Sleeping Draft, but it's wearing off, and I don't think they're going to be too happy when they wake up. You have to go. I'll see you after the first task."
Genevieve nodded. She gave Charlie a hug anyway, and departed for the common room.
•~0~•
Catching up on the time she'd lost lying around in the hospital wing, Genevieve stayed up late in the common room, long past most others. The longer she stayed up, however, the more anxious Hermione seemed to get.
"Calm down," she said. "It's just me left." She motioned to the empty room. "Do whatever you want - I'm not a prefect."
"It's not me that needs to do something with an empty common room, it's Harry," Hermione explained.
"And I'll go to bed as soon as he gets back. You're exhausted, go upstairs already."
Hermione examined her for a moment. "I reckon you're alright. Good. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to drop any Dung Bombs."
And with that random comment, she went up to the girls' dormitory.
The portrait hole opened. Nothing came in.
"Hi, Harry," Genevieve said, yawning.
Harry materialized, having previously been under the cloak. "Look," he said. "I don't have much time, and certainly not enough to explain."
"It's fine," Genevieve told him, packing up her books and standing up. She stretched for a moment and walked toward the dormitory, then stopped.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry scrambling the kneel in front of the fire.
Without looking back, she said to Harry, "Just tell the fire he better not be lying about Buckbeak."
As she left, she heard a quiet, bark-like laugh.