I'm so sorry for the late update, but I currently have a bit of writer's block and school just started. I already have exams next week, starting this Friday.

Nothing happens here much, except maybe for a few insecurities being brought again.

As I walked down the dark hallway, students moved away, looking completely terrified when they took one look at my face. I felt one of the corners of my mouth rise slightly. Amused, I held back any sort of expression because it really was making them clear the path, which was a vast difference from my first days inside the castle.

"Miss Anya!" I heard a childish voice call. I stopped walking and turned; it had been one of the portraits who I usually passed, its occupant being a little girl of at least eight years old, with blue eyes and short, curly blond hair. Her round face peered nervously at me as she played with the hem of her pink dress. It reminded me a lot of one of the atrocities I had worn back at St. Louise's. "Is it true Harry Potter has been chosen to join in the TriWizard Tournament?"

I didn't have the heart to snap at her. She was one of those timid portraits that didn't usually talk to the others, as she was one of the few around the castle that contained children. "Yes, Millie. Unfortunately so."

She turned more nervous as she spoke. "Do you think he will survive, Miss?" she all but whispered, wringing her hands.

My lips thinned. "I hope so, Millie," I said, shooting her a small smile that felt so out of place.

The stout man in the portrait across from the stairs sat up straight, his Hitler-like mustache trembling as his lips began to move wordlessly. I watched as he disappeared from the Renaissance picture, probably to spread the gossip down the dungeons. With a small salute on the little blond's way, I kept my march up to the Gryffindor Tower, adopting my condescending look once more.

The murmurs about last night's events still hadn't stopped and I doubted they would until something equally shocking happened. I had not seen Harry since his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, and I was worried about him.

Speaking of the devil, the bespectacled boy was just walking out of the Gryffindor common room with a forlorn expression. Before he acknowledged my presence, I grabbed his wrist and hauled him in the opposite way I had come from.

Harry spluttered. "Anya! What are you -"

"Not here," I hissed and nodded at the small group of third years standing a few feet away from us. They had gone very quiet when they saw us.

He stopped whatever argument he had on mind. I softened my grip on his wrist and snatched his hand, tugging him the times he slowed down. Fortunately where we were going there weren't many students, just the few oddballs here and there, and all of them didn't look at Harry with the stink-eye.

We found ourselves in the second floor and walked past Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, down to the dark corridor were I definitely knew nobody came through, and soon, we were just a few windows away from a familiar wall of bricks. I didn't slow down nor let go of Harry's hand. With my left one, I pushed the third brick from right to left, fifth row from bottom to top, a shiver going down my spine as reflex when the rest of my arm disappeared through the wall. I felt Harry flinch.

"Close your eyes if it bothers you," I said. Then everything turned dark for a brief moment as we crossed the wall. It was like a stepping over a dark and heavy curtain, but the feeling never lasted.

I blinked hastily at the light pouring from the wide holes on the left. For such a gray sky, I was surprised that the light was just as strong as it is when the Sun is out.

I dropped Harry's hand walked over the nearest hole and leaned back on my elbows, looking at him as he watched me silently. I patted the empty space next to me. Harry obliged and he leaned back on the balcony too. The more I watched him, the more uncomfortable he appeared to grow. Just as he was about to snap, I pulled out the small box full with pieces of toast and shoved it under his nose.

Harry jumped. Shocked, he finally looked at my face, first noticing the amused smile I was shooting him, then his eyes settled on the box. Waving it a little, I bit back a grin when he all but snatched the food away. Thank God I already ate down in the kitchens.

"Tell me everything." And because I was sure there would be a lot to tell, I slid down until I was sitting down, Indian style.

Between bites, Harry told me everything that happened after he left the Gryffindor table; how Fleur had thought he had gone to call the Champions back, how Karkaroff and Madam Maxime seemed to think they needed to add two more students from their schools, of how Dumbledor asked him if he had asked someone to enter his name. He hesitated for a moment, then, he said, "Snape asked if one of my friends did it," which meant it put me entirely under the spotlight too, at least on the Headmasters' and Champions' radar.

Harry finished with a dreadful tone. I was staring too hard at the wall across from us.

"D'you think I entered by myself too?" he asked abruptly.

Blinking, I blurted, "You're kidding me, right?" when he didn't answer, I slapped his shoulder, scowling. "Of course I believe you, you butthead! What do you take me for?!"

He winced. "Sorry."

Feeling my eye twitch, I changed the topic back. "I have a lot of theories, you know, but the one that stands out the most would be if someone had somehow hacked the goblet's rules and put your name in with a different school written under it," I scoffed lightly. "To think it's considered the most powerful object in the Wizarding world."

"Funny, Moody said the same thing," Harry muttered. "But he also said that a Confundus Charm was performed on it."

"Did he now?" I asked coolly. I shoved my resentment toward Mad-Eye aside. "Of course he did," I muttered. "He was an Auror, after all. It's his job to notice these things. But if we are right, then someone very skilful is residing in Hogwarts, someone who is very well acquainted with the Dark Arts..." but as I began to count the suspects, I realized that the list would be practically endless.

"Could you have done it?"

I looked over at him sharply, my eyes narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?" I almost growled.

He must be very, very brave, because Harry did not look deterred. Instead, he turned to look me in the eye, his green ones staring back defiantly. I was too angry to care how our noses were almost touching.

"Put my name in the Goblet," he said. "Do you think you could've done it?"

I pursued my lips, silently tilting my head to the side as I thought. Yes, it was easy. Yes, with a lot of practice, I could have done it. But was it me?

"Harry," I started quietly, "I would never, ever, do anything that could hurt you," not anymore, not after Tom, "if it was for me, I would've locked you in a safe ages ago. And if you think I am lying, then say it to my face."

He leaned back, not looking away from me. A small, disbelieving smile lit his face, and a chuckle escaped him, the light making his eyes shine like sparkling emeralds instead of the dull green they'd been just seconds ago.

Raising an eyebrow, I crossed my arms and waited for him to get himself together.

When he finally was composed, he turned serious, saying, "I'm sorry. It just – it just occurred me that you are dangerous."

"I think anyone can be dangerous," I countered. "If they have the right purpose." Smiling slightly, I punched his shoulder. "Don't scare me like that again, wonder boy. For a moment there, I thought you were serious."

"I'm not the one who's Sirius," he said cheekily. I groaned.

"Oh god, that was so lame!" I laughed. I dropped my head on his shoulder. "Don't say it again."

Harry made a face. "Yeah."

"Have you written to Snuffles, though?"

"Come off it, he came back to the country just because my scar twinged! He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament -"

"If you don't tell him, I will. Or maybe I won't have to, might be already late."

"What do you mean?"

I looked at the ceiling and muttered, "Oh god, give me strength. Harry, you think this is going to be kept quiet? This tournament is very famous and more so since it has just been revived. Just add the boy who lived, and well, I can assure you the Daily Prophet just got the story of the century."

Harry sighed. "Okay, okay, I will write to him," he said, munching rather quickly on his last piece of toast.

I nodded. "Yes, you will. Now."

"Are you serious?"

"Let's not go there again."

The following week after Harry wrote to Sirius was less than pleasant. In fact, it was downright terrible. I was awfully reminded of first year, when Neville, Hermione, Harry and I, lost two hundred points to Gryffindor House by trying to get Norbert, the dragon, off the castle. Except this time, the Gryffindors did not act like a band of incompetent arseholes, but I supposed it was because if Harry won the tournament, Gryffindor would have the glory and all of that; they surprisingly had a sneaky streak and were supportive when it concerned them, just like Slytherins were.

Just like I'd guessed before, the Hufflepuffs' pride had been wounded and in return began to act as if the whole of Gryffindor didn't exist, their usually neutral reaction to a House conflict arising. Except for Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchey, who were more nosy and arrogant than their Housemates and liked to laugh at any tiny misfortune that happened to Harry, none of the Badgers looked like they were going to relent any time soon, if Professor Sprout's cold demeanor toward Harry was anything to be told.

Many started channeling their inner Trelawney each time they saw Harry, dropping small comments about how he wasn't going to last when they walked past him. The Slytherins appeared to have prepared alright, as they almost appeared in small flocks around every corner, sneering at Harry.

The Ravenclaws, despite supposedly being the smartest, turned up their nose each time they saw Harry, and Marie told me it was because and quote, "Jealous. Because Harry may be the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, but he isn't exactly brilliant. They are more outraged at the fact that none of them found a way of sneaking into the TriWizard Tournament."

Later I learned that Ron and Harry weren't speaking to each other. When I asked Hermione, she simply said, "If you had paid attention you would have known," and wrinkling my nose, I asked Neville, who explained that Ron didn't look like he believed Harry didn't enter by himself.

I was not exactly surprised by his reaction. Disappointed, very much, but not surprised. After all, he came from a family of many sons in which he was often pushed aside by their accomplishments, and when you were friends with the boy-who-lived, it was like if a tickling bomb had gone off.

"I just don't understand!" said Hermione frustrated one day, when Ron had decided to sit by the end of the table and Harry had stayed back in his dormitory. "They are friends, they are supposed to look after each other -"

I snorted, bringing her attention to me. "If you had paid attention, you would know," I'd mocked, smirking at the dirty look she sent me.

Grabbing my things, I walked out of the Great Hall, making my way up to Charms' class. A shadow fell over me briefly. Without glancing at him, I said, "Stalking now, are we? Have they told you before that you are not exactly subtle?"

James scoffed, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his red trousers. Durmstrang always wore their uniform and he was no exception to the rule, but he always dared the rules by just leaving his coat open and showing the black vest top they had to wear underneath.

"I can be subtle if I want to," he said, offended.

"Ah," I nodded, looking sideways at him. "You want me to notice you. Sorry to disappoint, sweetie, but I'm not looking for any kind of relationship. And -" I looked him up and down, "- you're not my type, not at all."

"No, your type is short and scrawny looking, with ridiculous John Lennon glasses alike and a famous scar," he said, and I turned to him, gaping as he continued to rant off. "With green eyes, and a very depressive background. And, oh yes, from what I gathered, his also Hero Complex and brooding personality."

"Harry's not broody," I said. But as an afterthought, I added, "Not much."

James smirked. I backtracked once his comment registered on my head. "Wait a second – I do not fancy Harry!"

"Of course you don't," said James slowly as if soothing a small child. Looking down at me – I cursed my height whenever he was around, despite being quite the average size – he said, "But I'm not stalking you. You just happen to be where I want to go."

I hummed, not convinced.

"Really!"

I rolled my eyes but otherwise fell silent and let him accompany me up to Professor Flitwick's classroom. It was not the first time he had appeared out of nowhere when I went to my classes, sometimes Neville was there and they surprisingly hit off with whatever topic they could think of, from Quidditch to Herbology, to classes and new inventions that came out of the market recently, and to Snape's rather dubious discussion if he does or not wash his hair. It was in those moments in which I started to wonder what were his real intentions. He was always genuine when it came to Neville, when he laughed at something that they only understood or when he clapped his shoulder in support, and his trademark farewell, "See you 'round, my chap!", always made my round-faced friend smile fondly at his back.

But then Neville wasn't there and it was like speaking to a whole different person. His eyes turned calculating, the easy-going James evaporated as if he had never been there, and he looked down at me as if he knew more than he wished.

It was the Thea Rosenberg argument all over again, except this time it was a boy, a boy I rarely knew and was far more ambiguous than my secretive Aunt. But I learned from my mistakes: for now, I would let him roam by my side whenever he felt like it, but it didn't mean I was entirely happy about it.

The other two who seemed just as bothered (if not more) were Marie and Harry. If the former seemed to be anywhere before, she was everywhere right now. From time to time, Marie popped out of nowhere, just when James was around, and she was very clear about her displeasure with his presence. If looks could kill...

As for Harry, his reaction toward him was puzzling. When they had met, I'd thought he had liked James , but now every time he saw him, he sort of scowled and answered begrudgingly when talking.

"Potter, Granger," said James with a nod. When he left, some of the girls (mainly Lavender and Parvati) giggled.

"I don't understand why he's always with you," Harry muttered as he stared after James with a dark look.

I puffed out one cheek and shrugged. "Maybe he likes me."

Harry startled, rather badly. He blinked owlishly at me, as if it had never occurred to him. Offended, I scowled at him. "Oi, it can happen you know!"

For the rest of the class, I didn't talk to him. I wasn't sure why, but it bothered greatly he would think I wouldn't catch someone's eye. I mean, I was good looking, wasn't I? I know that my personality is not exactly... bright, or even friendly. And now that I thought about it, why was I fussing about it when I didn't even care about those matters on the first place?

When I performed the Summoning Charm, Professor Flitwick gave ten points to Gryffindor for a well perfect spell, despite the quick and vicious movement when it flew. Feeling somewhat smug, I didn't dare to admit I had been glaring daggers on Harry's way when I had done it.

Perhaps it was only Potions Class that had not changed. The Slytherins were still rivals with the Gryffindors, and the Gryffindors still hated the Slytherins. Snape's dreadful behavior toward Harry still was the same, except it dimmed slightly whenever Mad-Eye was around vicinity.

Today was no exception. I was walking down the last few stairs when I heard Malfoy's drawl echoing over his Housemates' snickers.

"What's going on?" I asked Ron quietly. He was leaning on the wall and watching Malfoy and Harry.

"Look for yourself," he said, and I did so.

For a wild moment, I almost thought they all were wearing S. P. E. W. badges, but then I saw Malfoy twisting his to his chest, the letters changing from, "SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY – THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!" to "POTTER STINKS."

"Congratulations, Hogwarts students, for the most incredible and witty comments ever," I drawled.

"Want one, Barton?" said Malfoy.

"You won't caught me dead wearing one of those," was my reply.

"What about you then, Granger? After all, I've got loads – just don't touch my hand, I've just washed it and I don't like to have Mudblood staining my clothes."

"The only one here who has dirty blood is you and your band of merrymen!" I snapped. "Accept it, Malfoy. Daddy's never going to say how proud he is of you because you make fun of those who are better than you."

"You little -"

I was ready to pull out my wand but Harry beat me to it. "Watch your tongue, Malfoy!"

Sensing a fight, everyone backed down the corridor.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed.

"Go on, then, Potter," said Malfoy, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now – Barton's not always going to defend you -"

Harry had been staring down at him, his eyes narrowing the more Malfoy talked, but the mention of my name was what set him off. He yelled, "Furnunculus!", catching Malfoy off guard before the blond shouted his own curse. Both spells hit on the center and ricocheted at different angle's – Harry's spell hit Goyle and Malfoy's hit Hermione on the face.

"Oh my god," I gasped.

"Hermione!" Ron jumped away from the wall and crouched down in front of her.

"Move your hand away," I said. She was covering her mouth with one hand, the other clutching Ron's shoulder tightly. Her eyes were starting to turn glassy from the effort.

As she made no move, Ron quickly dragged her hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's overgrown front teeth were growing longer and longer by seconds, passing her upper lip and almost reaching her chin. She let out a terrified cry.

Although I felt nothing but calm, I quickly grabbed her from her upper arms and helped her to stand.

"Take deep breaths," I ordered. "And stop trying to touch them, I think they react the more you move."

She went so still I almost lost my grip.

"And what is all this noise about?"

I turned my head as the Slytherins and Gryffindors moved to the sides, Snape walking out from the made-up path. He stopped in front us, raising an eyebrow. As everyone began to talk at once, he pointed a long finger at Malfoy. I rolled my eyes as he inmediately began to weasel out of trouble.

"Potter attacked me, sir -"

"We attacked each other at the same time!"

"- and he hit Goyle - look -"

Snape eyed Goyle, whose face resembled that of a fungus. A dangerous and ugly one.

"Hospital Wing, Mr. Goyle."

"What about Hermione, huh?" I yelled. "Look at her!"

Ron forced Hermione to show her teeth, at this point, having grown past her neck. The Slytherin girls gave a few giggles and pointed at her behind Snape's back. The Potions' master looked at her coldly, then said, "I see no difference."

Before I could stop her, Hermione was running away, hiding her face from view. Her bushy hair disappeared up the stairs and down the hall. Harry and Ron started to shout a string of curses at Snape, their voices mingling together and not making any sense to what they were saying. I paid them no attention, kneeling down to get Hermione's bag. I started up the stairs as Snape started to give detention to the boys.

"And where do you think you are going, Barton?"

I didn't look back. "Where do you think?" I said sardonically.

"I warn you, Barton, if you leave I will take fifty points from Gryffindor."

I snorted. "With the utmost respect, sir, go and play with your chemistry set."

"One last warning, Barton," said Snape in his silkiest voice yet.

I turned on my heel and glared down at him, my nose upturning as I spoke. "You think I give a care about your little rules? Try and stop me, I'd like to see you try." Really, I would love to see him try.

When he didn't move, I chuckled quietly. "Thought so," I said, the corner of my mouth turning up briefly. With a whirl worthy of the dungeon bat, I climbed the rest of the stairs and went directly to the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey was fussing over Hermione when I entered the medical ward. Hermione kept whimpering, trying to work out something, but like I'd said before, the more she moved, the more her teeth would grow. Unfortunately at this rate, her teeth almost were down past her knees.

"Say again, Miss Granger?"

"I think she's trying to tell you what happened. 'llo, Poppy," I said, tucking my hands inside the pockets of my robe.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Barton. Why I am not surprised?"

"She was hit with Densaugeo. I think you may first want to apply some ointment before you shrink her teeth back."

"Refrain from telling me how to do my job, Miss Barton. Good thinking, though," said Madam Pomfrey with approval.

"To be honest, I just guessed."

I watched in interest as Madam Pomfrey brought a small jar of pinkish goo, and started to smear it all below Hermione's gums.

I peered down at the Matron's work. "That looks absolutely disgusting," I whispered. At Hermione's affronted look, I said, "What?", sheepishly.

"I will start shrinking back your teeth, dear. Just tell me where to stop. But I may warn you, Miss Granger, this might hurt a little."

Hurt a little was an understatement. Hermione had snatched my hand the moment the process began, and literally squeezed the life out of it. Whatever they said about the suffering alone type, it wasn't true; they probably had something to bit or to crush nearby.

In the end, it was me who had to take a painless potion. My wrist was bandaged, the red band around it still visible, a few fingers distinguished by my hand.

"I can't believe you bruised me," I repeated for the fifth time.

"Oh, just get over it," said Hermione fondly. When I looked up, I noticed her staring hesitantly at me.

"What?"

She blinked. "Oh... nothing. It's just... it's been a while since I had seen you be... well, you."

"Sarcastic? Complaining at everything?"

"You are smiling," she corrected. At my look, she continued, "You smirk, you grin, but I haven't seen you smile genuinely for a while."

I avoided her eyes. "Things happened."

"I know," said Hermione, gently. She bit her lip. "But Anya, there are times I look at you, really look at you and... you're my best friend, but I don't think I know you anymore."

I nodded absently. It was the first time she called me other name that wasn't 'Annie'.

"Is that why Harry asked me if I put his name on the Goblet? Please," I added when she opened her mouth, "don't lie to me. Not you."

"Like I said," she said after a moment, "I don't think we know you anymore."

"Do you even trust me?"

"I trust you more than anyone, Annie. But your methods, I don't approve of them. They are very..."

"Slytherin like?"

She chuckled. "Yes."

We walked out of the Hospital Wing, our conversation quite finished despite the many questions it left me with. But when we walked around the corner, I could've sworn I saw the shape of a body hiding behind a pillar.