Life isn't fair, you realize, when one of your friends acts like a stubborn five year-old child.

Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall and watched as Harry scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment. My comment from yesterday night didn't seem to have registered on him at all, and he was adamant to let Sirius return. It was pretty obvious to me that not even Dumbledore would able to dissuade Sirius from course; after all, the man was more thickheaded than Harry himself.

I barely held myself from sighing out loud when he left the common room. Why, I wondered again, did I had to have to deal with these kind of troubles too early in the morning?

I rubbed my eyes, and finally decided to go back to my dormitory.

Nothing exciting happened for the next two weeks. Anything, except for Harry giving me the cold shoulder.

At the beginning of the second week, I wished it was my only problem. Following his accurate interpretation of the Unforgivable Curses, Mad-Eye decided it was time we experienced it first-hand and learned how to block it, or at least, fight it.

"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," Hermione stuttered as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," Moody said, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

My jaw clenched and I fought the urge to walk away from the class. It's not the first time, I told myself repeatedly, you already know how it feels like and how to dodge it a bit.

But really, did Dumbledore really agreed with Moody's method of teaching?

I watched silently as each of my classmates were called and did the most bizarre things, and I knew that on some level all of them enjoyed it while it lasted. The Imperius Curse's main purpose was to confuse the bewitched, making him or her to believe what she was doing was the right thing - and not to forget, it also made you feel like the most powerful, if not, invincible wizard.

Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room while singing the national British Anthem. Lavender Brown, my nosey roommate, imitated very well the sound of a squirrel. And Neville had done some strange pirouettes, worthy of a professional gymnast (He was going to be sore by the end of the day). But none of them got to throw off the curse until Moody lifted it.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"

Whatever worry or fear Harry had obviously expressed dissipated on an instant; his face blanched and turned somewhat blank, and not to everyone's surprise, a silly grin took place, his head hanging to one side as he began to absently stare at the ceiling. I was a bit disappointed he couldn't immediately fight it but then again, Harry was not the perfect hero everyone mistook him to be.

But when he began to twirl a little on the spot, I worried he might start to giggle.

Moody was clearly thinking the same. He cleared his throat.

"Jump onto the desk," he said. "Jump onto the desk, Potter."

Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.

"Jump onto the desk," Moody repeated. Harry frowned and for a moment, I thought he was going to ask why. "Jump onto the desk."

Just when Harry hesitated, Moody growled, "Jump! NOW!", but to my surprise, Harry smashed headlong into the desk knocking it over, and groaned, holding his kneecaps. I was tempted to go over and help him, but then Moody's voice rang in the classroom and I stopped that trail of thought.

"Now, that's more like it! Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that's where you see it - very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"

Harry was Imperiused four more times until on the last try, he threw the curse off completely.

Next were Ron and Seamus, both of them paired as Moody made them talk like if they were some old ladies from the Victorian Era, giggling and actually gossiping about their Quidditch teams. It was disturbing to notice how similar they were to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil in that moment.

"Barton, your turn." I glared at him, but eventually sighed and moved around the pile of desks.

Remember, don't fight it, tease it.

Once I walked in the middle of the room, Moody didn't stall and quickly pointed his wand at me, muttering, "Imperio."

The familiar pleasant sensation washed over my body and I gave a contented smile. I blinked owlishly at everyone and tilted my head. For a moment, I wondered if I forgot something, 'cause everyone was staring at me expectantly. Maybe I had to dance...

Barton...

Yes! That's me!

Barton, tell us...

Tell you what exactly?

... tell us...

Not if you don't tell me what you want me to tell you.

... your biggest secret...

Oh, that is easy. Except that I don't know, you know. I have a lot of them and all of them are very much precious to me, so...

Tell us!

And as I glanced around the classroom, my eyes connected with my friends. Neville, Hermione, Ron, and Harry, the four of them were looking at me with obvious concern. Even Harry seemed to had forgotten his anger at me, if only for a moment.

My mouth opened without my consent. "I..."

Don't hate me guys, please don't hate me!

"... am..."

Everything I've done was because of you, because I wanted you all safe, because I didn't want you to go!

They frowned and Hermione took a step closer, Ron grabbing her shoulder to hold her back. Their faces turned misty: huh... I was tearing up. When was the last time I cried?

I didn't tell you, I didn't tell you, and I won't, because I'm too -

I felt a lump in my throat. "... selfish..." I muttered, lowering my eyes.

That was the best word I could find and perfectly describe myself with, I supposed.

I wasn't sure if it was normal for us to stick together since we fought the troll in our first year but, I realized that as much as I loved to be with them I actually needed to be with them. I wasn't - I couldn't actually see my life without Neville, Hermione, Harry, and even Ron, all because they made me feel safe, cause I was too dependent on them.

God, when did everything start falling apart? I took a long glance at them, and noticed, not for the first time, that everything wasn't the same since the end of Second year. All thanks to Riddle.

I was honestly scared of what they would think once I told them the truth. Neville was more neutral, but the others... sometimes, I just wanted it to be me and him, him and me, but Hermione had been right - I was using him as my support. I didn't even consider what he felt with the whole situation. But it was so easy to forget, to ignore that not everything was right. Nothing was perfect in my little magical world; it was just as cruel and sad as the life I could've led in Little Whinging. Sometimes I wished, if only fleetingly, to have remained ignorant of heritage, and perhaps, maybe, I wouldn't be so... insecure.

That word always left behind a sour taste on my mouth, despite never having admitted it out loud.

"I am a selfish person."

Whether I wanted it or not, those four were my world now. There was no going back, and maybe, that's why I clung to them so fiercely.

I blinked, and turned to face Moody. I ignored the few snorts that rang around the classroom, focusing entirely on Mad-Eye.

"I am an utterly, selfish person," I repeated.

But, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron... were they aware that if one day they found the right words, they could have the ability to break my heart?

There was an infinite increment of homework from the teachers, specially from Professor McGonagall, and surprisingly, Trelawney.

Though, when she started to read Harry's and Ron's predictions from the other night, I found out it was very interesting to hear the whole class gasp at their 'unflinching acceptance of the future', as the Professor put it. It was more so when Trelawney told the dynamic duo they had to do the same thing for the month after next.

Meanwhile, Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had us writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century; Snape, in all his slimy glory, put us to search antidotes for every kind of poison known, and we took it seriously, 'cause he hinted he might poison someone before Christmas (" - and it will be a pity if your antidote doesn't work," he had said, looking maliciously in Harry's direction); Professor Flitwick had put the easiest, I believed, as he only asked us to prepare ourselves for the next class in which he would talk about Summoning Charms.

Even Hagrid was starting to request more workload from our part; given that no one knew what exactly they ate, the Blast-Ended Skrewts were starting to grow at a disturbing pace. Hagrid was delighted by the news, and as part of the 'project', he suggested we should come to his hut to make notes on their extraordinary behavior. Malfoy was the first to refuse but Hagrid put him down by reminding him of Moody's punishment; if the peroxide blond hadn't tried to sack Hagrid last year, I would've been sympathetic to him.

It was that at the end of his class, the Entrance Hall crowded by students of different years, that we saw the big sign hanging at the foot of the marble staircase:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING
AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN
HOUR EARLY -
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND
ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE
WELCOMING FEAST.

"Brilliant!" said Harry to my right. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

I let out a mall sigh and moved away, almost colliding with Ernie Macmillan.

"Oh, sorry Barton," he apologized. "I have to go and tell Cedric -"

"Cedric?" said Ron blankly.

"Diggory," said a familiar voice to my left. "I've heard he was interested on entering the tournament."

Ron snorted. "That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" Oddly enough, he was the only one who did not flinch when Marie made one of her silent entrances.

"He's not an idiot," said Hermione as we pushed through the crowd toward the staircase. "You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch. I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect."

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

"You only like him because he's handsome," Ron said scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" Hermione said indignantly.

Marie looked at her curiously. "Doesn't Gilderoy Lockhart count, then?" she asked, in that detached way of hers.

Ron sniggered, and Hermione turned to me sharply: her face was beat red.

"What?" I backed, raising my hands.

"You told her?"

"No!" I said. Then, "But she must have read it from my journal."

"Anya!"

"But you have to admit it, Ron," I said, moving beside Neville so I was out of Hermione's reach, "Diggory does have more brain cells that Lockhart did."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "He could actually win the tournament."

Ron gave him a look that said 'not you too!', but otherwise didn't comment.

No matter to where I went, the topic of conversation always was the same.

The TriWizard tournament was famous , as I'd read, because of the dangers it presented to the challengers. I honestly wondered who would be brave enough to put their name in, but the rest of the student population seemed more interested in our rival schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, who were about to arrive soon.

The castle looked like it had been thoroughly cleaned; the armors suddenly were shining and did not squeak when they moved, and the portraits' faces were too red or pinkish from all the scrubbing Argus Filch had done to them. Not to forget, whenever someone forgot to clean their shoes or left a bit of dirt on the floor, he snapped and Filch looked so ferocious that he managed to scare some first-year girls into hysterics (I heard they stayed all day hiding in the Hospital Wing, and Poppy had seriously considered throwing them out to St. Mungos to see if they were not traumatized).

Even the teachers were on a state: poor Neville had gotten yelled at by McGonagall because he had switched his ears to a cactus.

When the thirtieth of October finally came, the Great Hall had been decorated by silk banners hanging above the table, each of them representing the Houses: red and gold, blue and bronze, yellow and black, and green with silver. And behind the staff's table, hung a large banner bearing the Hogwarts' crest: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

We were about to join the trio when Hermione suddenly lashed out and began to speak loudly, her voice echoing back to us despite her being close to the teachers' table and us standing near the double oak doors.

"Er -" Neville started, but then dragged me over to the closest seat. "Let's sit here! More comfy and - well, sunny?"

I glanced at the ceiling, which bathed the Great Hall in red and orange hues of sunlight, and then turned my gaze to the nearest window. It was downright gray, full of clouds.

"You know," I said dryly, "if you don't want to be near Hermione, just say it."

Neville sighed in relief.

"I still can feel her eyes on me," he complained. And to make sure, he peered at her sideways.

Hermione's sudden determination to pursue justice for house-elves was something I treated as more of a taboo; she constantly annoyed everyone by suddenly lashing and then asking to join her S.P.E.W. club, and to cool her down, I bullied Marie, who in turn bullied Dennis, to buy one of her badges. Neville had been caught unaware, her pestering annoyed him until he too began to ignore to her, but in the end, he paid the two Sickle badge to stop her from glowering. This only made her badger me to take a more active role as 'vice-president' of S.P.E.W. Because I both agreed and disagreed, I just decided to tun her out until she finished ranting.

I dragged a hand down my face.

"You're all turning me bonkers. Ah," I perked up at the sight of Hedwig soaring down, but was confused when she passed by Harry and instead, landed neatly in front of me. "Hello," I murmured, petting her snowy head with two fingers.

Hedwig cooed, folding her wings gently, and held out her leg. A muddy paw had been printed on one of the two scrolls she'd carried.

"You're still mad at Harry, then?"

Hedwig ruffled her wings, turning her head to the side. I grabbed a lot of bacon rinds and a small plate to pour water on.

"Eat," I said gently, "then go back to the Owlery. You deserve a very long rest."

I wearily glanced at the other side of the table. The trio was already looking back at me anxiously.

I sighed.

"Don't wait up," I told Neville. I waved one of the scrolls. "I'm going to the lion's den."

Neville didn't say anything, but his terrified expression clearly said 'better you than me'. I stood.

"About time," Harry complained, but before he could snatch his letter (mine was hidden on my robes), I held it up high. He glared, but I only looked down at him with an eyebrow raised. Despite we were on speaking terms again, I was a bit resentful for insinuating I didn't care for Sirius' welfare. My problem was that I probably tended to care too much when Harry Potter was on the line.

"You're in public, wonder boy. Make sure you're safe before you even open it."

I knew he would ignore my advice completely when I turned to head back to Neville.

I completely skipped Potions in favor of reading my letter, even though I knew there would be nothing more of length than one page.

Dear Anya,

Harry's a worst liar than his father was. Now that I'm back on the country, I'll keep tabs on you two. Moony has been writing to me about your status and I think I'll be able to visit Hogsmeade after the Holidays. No promises.

Because I don't trust Harry to tell me everything of importance, I want you to post me anything that happens at Hogwarts, including the teachers' behaviors. I know I'm asking too much of you already, but please, look after Harry; I have the feeling something is going to happen. Whenever you write back, make sure you never use the same owl.

And remember, if there's one slightest second you see Harry flinch because of his scar, go straight to Dumbledore.

Sirius

PS. Do you think I'm Uncle material, or do you keep thinking of me as Sirius?

PSS. Moony says hello, and therefore, begs you to not answer my question. Isn't he a spoilsport?

PPS. Its Remus this time, Anya. Thea told me the news, give my congratulations to Marie for getting sorted in Ravenclaw, will you?

PPPS. Same. Give shorty a hug. Sirius

I crushed the letter on my hand and pointed my wand at the corner. As the paper lit up, I watched the ashes fall inside the loo. When I walked out of the stall, I caught sight of the small smile on my face, and I wondered, if for a moment, if the Marauders had been a lot worse than they appeared on the letter.

"Should I even bother to ask, Miss Barton?" were the first words of Professor McGonagall when she saw me sitting on the marble stairs.

I smirked up at her, still holding my head with my left hand as I leaned my elbow on the railing.

I peered down at my wristwatch. "Wait for it..."

The bell rang.

I looked up, smiling.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, not at all amused.

"Where is your hat, Barton?"

I shrugged. "Around, I suppose. Why?"

Almost out of thin air, she pulled a black pointed hat, making me groan at the sight of it. She waited impatiently, and with a loud resigned sigh, I took it and put it on.

"Now that we're arranged, help me organize the first years, Barton?" said McGonagall. Though by the ways her cat-like eyes were glinting, there wasn't another option. I stood, just as the chatter echoed from the top of the stairs.

"You're no fair, Minnie," I grumbled.

The Heads of Houses arrived and they separated their own students; meanwhile, I waved my hat, calling loudly, "In order, each year by rows, from my right to left!", or, "Move aside, first years on the front!"

"Do they pay you for this?" asked Dennis Creevey curiously. It was kind of odd not seeing Marie by his side, they usually were attached to the hip - when Marie wasn't busy visiting me and my friends.

"No."

"They giving you points, then?"

"Neither."

He frowned. "I don't understand," he said.

Blowing a raspberry, I said, "That's how detention works; they make you do something you obviously don't like, it's their way of torture."

Dennis' eyes widened in horror. "They torture you?!"

I closed my eyes. "Oh, god."

"Already traumatizing the first years, Anne?" said Ron when I walked by the fourth years' row.

I glared at him. "Shut it."

"Imagine if you turn out to be a Prefect," he continued. He visibly shuddered.

"I have in good sources that will not happen, ever," I said dryly. "Now, do straighten your hat. Parvati, take your brooch off!"

Parvati Patil threw me a dirty look. She scowled, but otherwise removed the butterfly ornament from the end of her plait.

"You're enjoying this too much," said Harry amusedly.

"Better make the best of it."

Professor McGonagall eventually returned and sent me to the lines, taking over the rains. She led the Gryffindors to the front of the castle, where the rest of the Houses were already lining up. The clouds had shifted as the day wore on, settling on dusk, the moon barely visible over the Forbidden Forest.

"Nearly six," Ron said, checking his watch. He looked down the drive that led to the gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," Hermione said.

"How then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"I don't think so...not from that far away..."

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

I snorted as Hermione voiced her annoyance at having to repeat it was impossible to Apparate inside Hogwarts.

I scanned the darkening grounds, except nothing was moving: everything was still, quiet and cold. Nothing out of the usual.

"They better hurry up," I complained to Neville. "My arse is freezing!"

Neville blushed, but before he could stutter out something, Dumbledore's voice rang excitedly from the back.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" many students asked eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" a sixth year yelled, pointing over the forest.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid," said Dennis. "It's a flying house!"

Dennis' guess hit closer than the rest: a gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and just as they neared faster, the castle's lights shone over and I saw that it was a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, almost the size of the St. Louise's Orphanage. Soaring toward Hogwarts, it was being pulled by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

The door fell open, and a boy in pale blue robes jumped down the carriage, carrying what appeared to be a set of golden steps. Settled, the boy sprang back respectfully, and a big, black high-heeled shoe emerged from the depths of the house-sized carriage. The size was explained immediately though, when the shoe was followed by largest woman I've ever seen in my life. She was certainly taller than Hagrid by one meter, at least, sturdier yet attractive; her skin was olive toned, her black shining eyes were framed by a round face, and her beaky nose seemed to match well with the rest. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madam Maxime in a deep, throaty voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," Dumbledore said graciously.

Madam Maxime waved a hand carelessly behind her. Behind her, about a dozen boys and girls shivered as the cold air hit them. Their cloaks seemed to be made of silk, and a few of them wore scarves and shawls around their heads. They were staring apprehensively at the castle, and I could've sworn I saw one of the girls (a tall, beautiful girl with deep blue eyes - though not like Marie's) wrinkle her nose in distaste.

"My pupils," explained Maxime. "'As Karkaroff arrived yet?"

"He should be here any moment. Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," Madam Maxime said. "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore said smoothly, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"Skrewts," Ron muttered with a grin.

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," Madam Maxime said, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Very well," Madam Maxime said, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," Dumbledore said, also bowing.

"Allons-y," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," Harry said. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," Ron said hopefully.

"Oh don't say that," Hermione said as she and I shuddered. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds..."

Many stared at the sky hopefully, shivering. Just as I was about to complain again, Neville said excitedly, "Did you see that?"

"Where?" I said, looking at him.

"The lake!" Lee Jordan shouted. "Look at the lake!"

The water began to ripple, a few bubbles forming on the surface; waves were now washing over the muddy banks - and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, and slowly a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the water.

"It's a mast!" Harry exclaimed.

"It's a ship!" said Neville in awe.

And slowly, in a magnificent way, the ship rose out of the Black Lake, gleaming eerily on the moonlight. There was this strange, menacing skeletal look about, making it seem as if it had been brought from the underworld, and the portholes looked like a pair of creepy, dimly lit eyes that belonged to a demon. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, there was a splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking, I could tell by the few silhouettes I saw walking past the ship's portholes. For a moment, I though all of them probably were gruff, bulky men, and then, as they neared, the light coming from the Entrance Hall reveled them to wear cloaks of brown matter fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle I saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small, ridiculous curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle. The smile on his face did not reach his eyes, which were cold and shrewd as they rested upon the building. "How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, I caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

Ron punched Harry on the shoulder, and as his friend groaned, the redhead hissed, "Harry - it's Krum!"

And then, he gave a sigh and promptly fell.

Sorry for the delay, and as always, a shout-out to Lion's Wing. Your reviews always make my day, and you inspire me to continue with my story.

To whoever is interested, I created a playlist of The Barton Saga Soundtrack Vol. I, containing the songs I think suits Anya's life. For now, it only ranges from first to fourth year, and once I start the fifth, a second one will be made. The link is on my profile.

And just to remember all, the poll as to who should be Anya's partner at the Yule Ball is still open. By now, there's been a draw, but to come to a final decision, I need a few more votes.

R & R please!