I let out a breath, gritting my teeth together. Smiling through thinned lips, I turned to my right – and there he was.

"You're following me," I stated. The again hung in the air between us.

This time, James didn't bother to correct me. His eyebrows arched as his eyes kept skimming over whatever article he read from the Daily Prophet. For a second, his eyes shot up toward me, then went back to where they had been before.

"Have you read the paper yet?"

I raised one eyebrow. "Um, no. Should I?"

He hesitated. "That depends."

I tilted my head. "On what, exactly?"

He rolled his eyes with a loud sigh. "Skip over the first four paragraphs."

I snatched the paper from his hand without apologizing. Shooting him a small look, I began to read the first line, skipping the next few when I realized they were about Harry's parents.

"Yes, I think they'd be proud of me," I read. I blinked at the 'tears in his eyes' part. The more I read, the more ridiculous it was starting to turn. Not only it was over dramatic, but the title, which was among the lines of the TriWizard tournament didn't fit at all, as it just spoke about Harry. I certainly knew he hadn't said any of that rubbish; wonder boy was just as awkward as a turtle, perhaps even worse than Neville when it came to talking about himself.

I almost skipped over the sixth paragraph when my own name glared back at me in bold letters.

Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. According to Colin Creevey, a close friend of his, two stunningly girls always are on his wake; Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn and possibly the smartest witch of her age, and Anya Barton, daughter of the late Auror Alec Barton, inventor, and niece of Thea Rosenberg, the famous Potioneer and co-maker of the Wolfsbane potion.

Both girls are well-known around Hogwarts as top students of their class and have been part of Harry's small group of friends since their first year. Many do wonder who holds this Champion's heart, but the odds are -

A small snort left my mouth. To my surprise, I began to laugh as the next lines said about how the Ice Queen of Gryffindor could've been a great influence on Harry's choice to entering the TriWizard tournament. Even though the article continued talking about my 'rivalry' with Hermione, my eyes lingered on the very simple but accusing words that were almost at the end of the paper.

"There's a high possibility Harry Potter could have received help from her (Barton)," says Draco Malfoy, a handsome fourth year Slytherin. "Her aunt is the Thea Rosenberg, a woman who managed to cheat death.I mean, for all we know, Anya could have entered his name by herself and Potter is covering for her."

Minister Cornelius Fudge has been inquired about the possibility of such feat done by a mere fourteen year old girl and revealed, wary, that Miss Anya Barton has broken the Law before by using underage magic, just a few days after her twelfth birthday.

I sighed. "So much for discretion," I muttered and scowled, folding the paper neatly with violent movements, and shoved it toward James, whom to my surprise had been calmly waiting and accepted it without question. His eyes darted up and down my face, searchingly.

And suddenly, the copy of the Daily Prophet burst into flames. I jumped, staring wide-eyed at his hands as the newspaper slowly turned into ashes, the black powder dramatically contrasting with the gold and orange light. My breathing was shallow, filling up the silence in the corridor and echoing back to us, but James' didn't change, his silver eyes looking at me hollowly. I was reminded of Marie for a quick moment, but the thought vanished as a new one came – this boy was more powerful than her, and probably than me.

With a snap, the flames vanished, nothing but sooth and ash resting inside the palm of his hand. He shook it carelessly, the dirt falling out of the window.

I was still staring at him when he offered his hand. His eyebrows raised when I took a small step backwards, but didn't comment on it.

I realized then that he was teaching me a lesson. Why should I care what Skeeter had written about me? Why at all? It happened and I couldn't change it, and for some reason, I wouldn't, ever, 'cause that day absolutely changed my life. It was the start of everything, really, and it was the start of a slow and painful journey, way more than meeting Tom Riddle for the first time.

And he showed me that. James, the boy I absolutely distrusted, just showed me with his small display of pyrotechnics that there were more important things than just an article.

I took a deep breath. He waited patiently, and seconds later, I was grasping his hand tightly, the one who just burned down the paper with silent power.

I suppose that I knew I could trust him. But later, much more later, I realized that I had to trust this boy, because my life would depend on it.

"Ignore it," I muttered to myself for the tenth time that day.

It was three days after the article had been published. Students suddenly stopped looking at Harry in suspicion, and one I was in the library, I caught sight of Justin Finch-Fletchey apologizing to Harry in public for doubting him, just like he had done at the end of second year. Not many wore those ridiculous badges, and the Creevey brothers managed to get rid of them with Marie's help – after all, she was a Ravenclaw for a reason.

I was happy for him, at least it seemed no one was going to bother him anymore, except for the few Slytherins that still asked him if he wanted a tissue to clean his tears. But as I was told once, "nothing ever turns good, just neutral," and Natasha had been right. In exchange of Harry's own ethic, my own was exposed and I no longer could hide behind any of my masks.

The whispering started immediately after I read the article, as if all the Hogwarts population had been announced that they had the green light to go on and do as they pleased. Lavender and Parvati no longer talked when I walked in, which was a relief. Other classmates looked at me as if they were just noticing I was there, that I was a danger to all of them. Most just stayed clear out of my way, and others were brave enough to send me spiteful words.

I was more surprised from the Slytherins' reaction as a whole; they did not say or do anything against me but merely tilted their heads in acknowledgment, sometimes while wearing smirks, others, like the Greengrass sisters and Blaze Zabini, with grim expressions. It was kind of a relief to see that Malfoy was still the same insufferable git from before, actually.

"Ignore it."

I walked past Cho Chang, who jerked as she almost collided with me.

"Sorry," she said. She seemed flustered, and avoided my gaze. Rolling my eyes, I moved around her and turned around the corner.

I blinked. "What are you doing, wonder boy?" I asked.

Harry, who had stood in the middle of the corridor, jumped at the sound of my voice.

"Nothing!"

I almost didn't notice when he pocketed his battered quill inside his robes, but didn't comment on it. It was better if I didn't ask.

"So, how are you?" he asked. I puffed out one cheek.

"Fine."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Well, if you are wondering, Hermione and I still haven't ripped out each others hair yet."

He turned red and began to stammer, his expression turning annoyed as I started to laugh.

"Really, I'm fine," I assured him, ruffling his hair and allowing myself a moment of vulnerability by stroking his left eyebrow. I lowered my hand sheepish. "It's not like I'm not used to it."

"You shouldn't," he said, and turned even more red.

"Neither you," I said quietly.

The two of us fell silent and walked together, utterly uncomfortable.

Comments were also thrown in Hermione's way, but they were more teasing than hurtful, which only made her angrier. But unlike Harry, who tended to yell at bystanders from time to time, she started to take it out by burying herself on S.P.E.W.

In fact, my own muttering was inspired by her. She kept saying it over and over again until it was practically burned inside my head.

"Stunningly pretty? Her?" Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita's article had appeared. "What was she judging against - a chipmunk?"

While Hermione had been muttering, Neville had wittingly replied that Skeeter didn't have much to compare to, less with people like Parkinson around here.

I'd never been so proud of him.

I thought Harry's mood would improve, seeing as he wasn't as hated as before, but after our detention with Ron in Snape's dungeon, all my hopes flew out of the window. Arguing was normal, but to reach a point where both looked at me as if I was supposed to takes sides?

"I quit," I told Snape, dropping the towel on his desk. I eagerly left, not caring at all that he would put me into more detentions. Anything to be away from those two.

"Shouldn't you be with Hermione?" I asked, taking off my shoes.

Harry shrugged. He too was taking off his shoes. "It's too lousy back there."

"I thought Madam Pince would've kicked out Krum's fans by now. Guess that doesn't beat our record."

"I still don't understand how you two managed to burn a whole section of the library," said Neville, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Neither do I, mate," I said.

Harry hook his head. "I stand for what I said. It was your fault."

"Well, if you think about it, it technically was Hermione's fault. Just because you and I lost a game of rock, paper, scissors, it doesn't mean we had anything to do with it at all!"

"You two are worse than a married couple," said a voice, sounding rather bored. A grumpy looking Marie lowered her book, her blue eyes piercing down at us from her perch on the three. "But least you two are not reaching out to rip each of your throats."

"We are not a couple," I denied. I felt my twitch when I saw one of the corners of her mouth rising into an unmistakable smirk. It had been a while since she had tried to insinuate something was happening between Harry and I, but I was prepared for it.

But then Neville said, "She does have a point," and I deflated. He was standing deeper in the water, stepping carefully around as he walked, his trousers were rolled up to his knees to avoid getting them soaked.

"Excuse me, but whose side you are on?" I asked hotly.

Holding a long seaweed with one finger, Neville grimaced and mumbled something I didn't hear right.

I turned to look at Harry. He was staring at the water with a forlorn expression. I winced. I forgot he was not used to being around Marie and Neville like I was, to our dynamic, and not to forget, being without Ron and Hermione.

Puffing out one cheek, I thoughtfully looked at him. His black hair had grown longer, reaching past his chin and down his neck, looking like an unkempt wig. With the gray sky's light, his skin looked ethereally pale, making his emerald eyes stand out more. He'd also grown a few inches this summer, but I was still taller than him. It was Friday after classes, so he'd donned his normal clothes – a blue jean jacket with a gray hoodie underneath, a pair of jeans and his school shoes, which were resting next to Neville's and mine's under the tree were Marie rested.

To think he looked so normal now when he had more problems than anyone could imagine...

I kicked at the water, splashing Harry in the process.

"Hey!" he looked annoyed, but a large mischievous grin grew on his face and he jumped, the water rolling over toward me like a tidal wave, soaking my jeans and part of my jersey. I gasped, my teeth beginning to chatter the instant my skin froze.

"Harry!" Narrowing my eyes, I leaned down and grasped seaweeds with both hands. A tiny battle cry left my mouth as I threw them at him, but Harry was expecting it, and ducked. The green plants landed on Neville's head. I froze, staring at the horrible makeshift green wig, absolutely reminded of that old classic horror movie – the creature of the Black Lagoon.

Neville still hadn't moved when Harry called out his name tentatively. I took a step forward, raising my hand to take off the seaweed, when his shoulders started to shake. At first, I thought he was trembling, then I began to worry when tiny choking sounds began to come from him. But then I recognized it as snickering.

I jumped when Harry threw his head back and started to laugh. Neville was clutching his stomach with one arm and still snickering. I looked between the two of them, confused. But then I let out a slight grin and took off the rest of the seaweed on Neville's head.

Marie said, "You three are utterly ridiculous," but her mouth was twitching, so I didn't take her seriously.

"Oh, cheer up," said Neville just as James slumped against the wall. "We will bring lots of sweets from Honeydukes. Won't we, Annie?"

I raised an eyebrow. "And risk getting him -" I pointed at the boy in question, "- high on candy? No, thanks."

"Blimey, your faith on me astounds me," said James sarcastically. Today was Saturday, a day before the First Task, but despite the TriWizard Tournament taking place, students were still allowed to go to Hogsmeade. That's it, except for Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Not once I'd seen anyone from them taking one single foot out of the castle's grounds, and James had told me that Karkaroff didn't allow his students to step out of their ship, except for his favorite, Viktor Krum. For a moment, I noticed how young James really was compared to his others classmates, which bordered between seventeen and eighteen years old, but I didn't question it.

"Stop pouting," I said instead. "It doesn't look well on you." I was tempted to call him crybaby, but figured I would only make things worse.

"See you later, I guess," I waved at him and followed behind the line of students. Neville hastily said a goodbye and quickly came after me.

"I don't understand," he said suddenly. I slowed so we could walk together. "Marie, I understand, but one moment, you are all smiles and jokes with James and the other, you're very awkward, like if you didn't know what to say to him."

I licked my lips, noting they were quickly chapping in the cold weather.

"It's just – I... Neville, we don't know him, at all. You know that I can be friendly if I want to, but I can't risk trusting every person I meet. What if they have strange fetishes, or are murdering psychos -"

Neville touched my shoulder briefly. He was looking down at me with a sad, gentle smile.

"Not everyone is going to be like Tom."

I jerked back, both in surprise and anger. I opened my mouth to say something but I ended stuttering, staring after his back as he continued walking past me. Breathing through my nose, I quickly caught up with him.

"Look at it in the right way," I said, begrudgingly. "I still haven't cursed him, have I?"

"That worries me the most!" said Neville exasperated.

I shook my head.

"Annie! Neville!"

I half turned and watched as Hermione ran to us, stopping to catch her breath.

"Hullo," said Neville. He looked behind her. "Harry didn't come with you?"

Hermione uneasily looked at her side. There was no one of course, but then I lowered my gaze and saw two trails of footsteps in the snow, one belonging to Hermione, the other stopping to her right.

"How thick can Hogwarts be?" I muttered exasperated. "Why the Invisibility Cloak, Harry?" I added.

Neville jumped when Harry's voice floated in the air. "Just look behind you."

Neville and I turned around and saw a woman standing a few feet away from us next to a man who held a giant camera, not so different from Colin Creevey's. Her blond hair was set in very elaborate curls held up by two bright sticks and her cat eye glasses looked heavy with all the pink rhinestones glued to the frames. The woman had no sense of fashion whatsoever, I deducted and despite being a little eccentric in colors when it came to clothes, I knew that in no way that crocodile bag matched the brightly colored magenta suit she wore.

"Who's that?"

"Rita Skeeter," Harry hissed. "She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task."

"She has no sense of dressing," I muttered as she walked past us, not even glancing in our way once. Harry snorted.

"She's gone," Hermione said. "Why don't we go and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, it's a bit cold, isn't it? You don't have to talk to Ron!" she added irritably when he didn't say anything.

"Mind if we accompany you?"

"Anything to not look mad as I talk to thin air," Hermione huffed.

The Three Broomsticks was packed by the time we entered, both with Hogwarts students and other wizards and creature I'd never seen before. We – or I, seeing as it was only "me" - managed to take a spare table in the back while Hermione and Neville went to buy drinks. They joined us later and Neville slipped over mine while Hermione tried to subtly handle Harry his drink. The tank of butterbeer disappeared into thin air.

"I still believe we look silly talking to an empty spot," said Hermione. "Lucky I brought something for us to do."

And she pulled out a notebook in which she had kept a record of S.P.E.W. members. At the top, our names were firstly written. It seemed like it had been a long time since I saw Ron interact with Harry.

"You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W.," Hermione said wistfully.

"Yeah, right," said Harry from under his invisibility cloak. "Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?"

"Oh boy, here we go again," Neville muttered, leaning back fearfully. I sighed.

"When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!" Hermione hissed, like Neville had predicted. "You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens?"

"No idea," Harry said. "Ask Fred and George."

"You do know how to enter the kitchens, don't you, Annie?" Hermione questioned sharply.

I shook my head. "Sorry, don't have a clue," I crossed my fingers under the table. "I always ask an elf to bring food and that's it." Even if he was underneath the cloak, I could still feel Harry's laser-like stare boring through my head.

Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence, occasionally scribbling something into her notebook. I didn't know what Harry was doing. Neville, like me, awkwardly drank from his butterbeer.

I looked around at the carefree faces of the other students. None of them had to worry about the possibility of their friend dying in this tournament; they didn't have to worry about said friend's mental state nor his growing isolation against the world; none of them cared of what the dangers would be because they didn't care, just as long as they had some exciting entertainment.

I bitterly took a sip of my butterbeer at that.

"Look, it's Hagrid!" Hermione said suddenly.

I could see the back of Hagrid's head over the crowd – he'd thankfully stopped trying to brush his mass of hair. I wondered for a second why I didn't notice him earlier, but looking more carefully, I saw that he was leaning low. And talking to Mad-Eye Moody, who was drinking from his suspicious hip flask.

"All right, everyone?" said Hagrid loudly when they approached us.

"Hello," we said smiling back at him. I carefully avoided looking at Mad-Eye.

Moody limped around the table and bent down; I thought he was reading the S.P.E.W. notebook, until he muttered, "Nice cloak, Potter."

My eye twitched and my hand tightened around something sleek. I didn't realize I'd gone straight for my wand.

"Can your eye – I mean, can you -?"

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody said quietly. "And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you."

Hagrid was beaming down at Harry too. I was sure that Hagrid couldn't see him, but Moody had obviously told him Harry was here. Hagrid now bent down on the pretext of reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well, and said in a whisper so low that only they could hear it, "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak."

Straightening up, Hagrid said loudly, "Nice ter see yeh, Hermione, Neville, Anne," winked, and departed. Moody followed him.

"Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?" Harry said, very surprised.

That afternoon, Neville and I searched for James, whom we found talking happily with a certain Miss Ginevra Weasley on the courtyard.

I was surprised. Contrary to James' stalking tendencies, I wasn't really interested with what he did with his spare time. But now as I looked at him chatting with Ginny, it was like if an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. I wondered why did he want to be around me if it seemed that he couldn't lie back easily like he did with the redhead, or when he talked with Neville about some rare herbs I didn't know about?

As we neared them, I became aware that they both were actually arguing about Quidditch.

"No, Gwenog Jones is the best. To be a beater, she had a rough training since she started playing. Believe me; I live with a family of Quidditch fans to know it."

"I beg to differ, Ginny," James intercepted smirking. "But I think no one would defeat Gwendolyn Morgan in this century. Besides, Jones is a downright cow."

"But you can't deny she's a great player!"

"I didn't know you liked the Holyhead Harpies," said Neville in surprise. "Soft spot for chasers then?"

James coughed and looked away from Ginny. To my surprise, he appeared embarrassed.

"Hi Ginny," I greeted. She looked a little startled at being acknowledged by me, but like I told Neville, I could be friendly when I wanted to. Besides, I liked Ginny's personality; if she only wasn't so shy around Harry...

"Hello guys," she greeted too. "Oh, I see you too brought something from Hogsmeade."

Following her stare, I saw a red bag resting at James' feet. I arched my eyebrows but he cleverly avoided my amused stare.

We sat down next to them and Neville joined their conversation; I sat quietly and listened as they talked about Quidditch matches or about a few famous maneuvers. I realized that Ginny had to play Quidditch for her to explain them in such detailed way.

When they started speaking of personal experiences, I began to grow uncomfortable, and more when I told them about the spider incident in the Orphanage. To change tactics, Ginny quickly intervened and asked for Billy, the plush toy I'd gotten back from Sirius. Embarrassed, I just said it was an inheritance. And then James started calling me 'bunny'; I didn't know if I ought to be annoyed or grateful he would call me that instead of singing the 'itsy bitsy spider' song every time he could.

Just before I left, James had grasped my hand and slid in my palm a small piece of parchment.

In the Great Hall, I decided to read it.

Meet me in the entrance half before midnight. Come alone.

Glancing around, I pulled out my wand and quietly burned the note.

Leaving the common room was quite easy. No one was around to care what the Ice Queen was doing. I didn't tell Hermione I was going out, already imagining what she would say. Neville wasn't aware of my night escapade either. And basing from what I knew about James, he didn't mention this to Ginny.

Tugging my hoodie closer, I walked down the stairs and past the door to the Great Hall. Next to the entrance door leaned a thin shadow. And from it, a purring sound came.

I stared bewildered as the darker figure scratched Mrs. Norris ears, and let the Disillusionment Charm drop.

"I can't believe that evil cat likes you!" I hissed. James stepped out of the shadows and dropped down Filch's cat gently. With a flicker of her tail, she disappeared down the hall.

"I'm surprised just as you. I'm more of a dog person." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, let's go."

The grounds were very dark. We walked around the castle, past Hagrid's cabin and the Black Lake, almost into the Black forest but not quite.

"Why all the mystery?" Neville said I didn't trust James. But now, following him in the dark blindly, it was more a mockery of his words. If this didn't turn out with something good, I would make sure to rub it on his round face.

"Shh!" he hissed. James pointed to beyond the trees, where nothing but shadows awaited for us.

I anxiously walked behind him, twisting my wand inside the pocket of my hoodie. What if he wanted to do something to me? It was one thing to speculate, another to know that your theories were true. And for some reason, I didn't want James to be the enemy. As much as annoying as he was, I quite liked him to be around. He didn't judge, and to a certain level, he seemed to understand me more than any of my friends could, even Marie with her Empath abilities or Natasha with her Legilimency.

I wanted to trust James, I really did, but he was practically a stranger to me. Whenever I pried about his life, he seemed to close himself, and there was also the tension in his shoulders that disappeared when he wasn't around me. How could I trust someone who didn't trust me at all? In fact, how naïve could I be for walking alone with him in the outskirts of the Black Forest?

Suddenly, James' arm curled around my waist and he hauled me to one of the trees. I barely breathed as he held a finger to his lips, cocking his head to the side. And then I heard it.

Men were shouting up ahead, the loudest one barking orders, and the sky suddenly lit with red and orange fire, mingling together with the wind. James grasped my hand tightly on his and tapped his own wand on top of them. Slowly, we began to vanish, and when the Disillusionment Charm took place, James and I ran to where the mayhem lay.

"Holy shit," I breathed, staring wide-eyed at the men dancing around the flames.

Holy shit didn't cover half of what I was thinking. Dragons. It had to be freaking dragons. Harry had to fight against dragons! The words repeated themselves over and over inside my head, making me unaware of where James was leading us.

It was the roar of a dragon – the black one – that shook me out of my stupor. James had led us right next to where the dragons were fighting. The blue one was already stunned. The red and black ones were still putting up a fight. Panicked, I tried to back away – we were too close to them – but James still held my hand, and he said, "Don't let go! The charm will vanish and you will become invisible!" Reluctantly, I tightened my grip on his and laced our fingers with the same strength the Devil's Snare had done back in my first year.

Beyond the dragons, I saw Hagrid watching with something akin to awe at the black dragon, the only one who was still fighting. A few steps away from him, Madam Maxime was gazing at the fallen creatures.

I recognized the man who was barking orders. Since the last time I saw him, Charlie Weasley looked more ruffled and somewhat tanner on the face. He wore protective clothes around his body but from the distance, I could still spot the long gash traveling down his arm. Just imagining one of the dragons doing that to him made my stomach lurch. I seriously hoped I could last until I returned to my dormitory and then I would throw up all the food I ate today. At least, I would be safe by then.

"What do you think then?" James asked. He was leaning on his side against the lawn that had been put around the field. I knew that its purpose was to know where the shielding charm ended.

"They are huge."

He blinked down at me. "Huh, that's new." He pointed with his left arm to the blue dragon. "That's Swedish Short-Snout, quite tame, just like the Common Welsh Green over there. The red one's a Chinese Fireball, and the black one's a Hungarian Horntail. I pity the bastard that goes against it."

"They are huge."

"Yes, I heard that."

"Why are they so -" I struggled with the word, "- vicious?"

"They are all females. Because their nature it's to protect their offspring, they are more dangerous than their male counterparts."

I shook my head. "Who in their right mind created this tournament?!"

"It was the Dark Ages," said James nonchalantly. "They were quite the show-offs."

I looked at where he supposedly was standing. "Why did you bring me here? You knew I wouldn't hide this from Harry, so what is the real motive?"

He didn't answer.

The earth trembled once the Hungarian Horntail fell. Its head landed in front of us, its amber eyes staring right to where we stood. The dragon breathed heavily but its eyes didn't move. It was like if it knew we were there.

Tugging at my hand, James said, "Consider it a gift of truce," and we walked away from the magnificent creature, not once looking back at the destruction they caused to the forest.

I was out of breath when I stopped in front of the Fat Lady.

"Balderdash!" I muttered anxiously to the portrait.

She scrunched up her nose. "Twice?" she asked sleepily but the portrait still swung open. I jumped inside. I thought that everyone would be asleep by now but two familiar people were staring down at each other.

I looked from Ron, whose face was red with anger as he stared down at one of those POTTER STINKS! Pins, to Harry, who was breathing heavily as he lowered his arm.

"There you go," Harry said. "Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky... that's what you want, isn't it?"

He strode past his best friend and up the boys' dormitory, not looking back. Ron didn't say anything. He stared at the fireplace for a moment before he slumped and leaned heavily on the stairs' archway.

I stared at him, jaw slack. "That's it?"

Ron looked up tiredly. He didn't even ask what I was doing out of bed at this time.

I pointed up to where his dormitory was. "After everything we have gone through, three-headed dogs, killing plants, basilisks, Dementors, even meeting Voldemort twice -" he winced at the name, "- and that's it?"

"What do you want me to do?" Ron said forlornly.

"I want you two to stop being so, so – ugh!" I threw my hands in the air. "I want you two to be friends again; I want the two of you talking about Quidditch and moaning about Divination, or doing something different whatsoever! Don't you see it? He misses you, just as you miss him the same! Harry wasn't the one who put his name in the Goblet -"

"I know."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I know he didn't put his name in the Goblet," said Ron, more slowly. "I believe him. I started to after the week."

I felt my eye twitch. My fingers started to fiddle and I sat down heavily on the armchair.

"You know what the curious thing is in all of this madness?" I said after calming down. "Harry was hurt because this is the first time you didn't believe him, like you did back in second year when everyone accused him of being the Heir of Slytherin. But I think it stung more that you were jealous of him when all he wanted was to be like you."

Ron blinked. "What?" he gaped.

"Think of it. Harry lost his parents when he was a baby and he was sent to the Dursleys, who never gave him an ounce of affection whatsoever. And then he came here to Hogwarts and he had friends, a family he could trust because he was so sure we would be together, no matter what the odds would be. But the problem with Harry it's that he is too trusting and too unselfish... he never ever has been a little egoistic, not at all. Can you imagine, Ron? Can you imagine having a life like his, always wanting to be normal, as still be as kind as wonder boy is?"

I stopped, breathing harshly. The redheaded boy had gone ashen, his freckles standing out more, and he sat down the nearest sofa, his blue eyes shining with the light coming from the fireplace.

"You know, I thought that after that article about me being a manipulative bitch would've made you reconsider," I chuckled bitterly.

Ron shocked me, saying, "It never crossed my mind."

When I looked questioningly at him, he added, "From the three of us, you are the one who looks out more for him. At first I thought it was annoying," he admitted, "you always did things for him and I thought you wanted his attention; I was jealous he would actually look at you and I wouldn't matter anymore."

I raised my eyebrows. "What about Hermione?"

"Well," Ron scratched his head. "Hermione's Hermione."

I nodded with a shrug. I could see the logic there.

"So, I thought that if I ignored you, you would go away. But then I noticed the cool things you did – I mean, you lit Snape's robes with fireworks! And when Norbert bit me, you visited me at the Hospital Wing by yourself when you didn't have to. Then there was Neville; I guess he wasn't important to me but you always seemed to help him when he was in trouble."

I laughed quietly. "You make me sound like if I were a hero or something!"

"Er, I think you are one," said Ron. "I still remember how you were after, you know - the chamber and everything." I noticed how he carefully avoided mentioning Voldemort by either name. "It was like - like staring at an egg shell. Something empty. Hermione was afraid that if we said something to you, you would have had a breakdown or something. Even now, I still wish you would have let us help you... but I think you are scared, more than you let on."

He cleared his throat. "What I'm meaning to say is that, well, you look at Harry like if he meat the world to you. And he's my best mate and all, but I don't swing that way, Anne," he joked.

I gazed at him, not bothering to hide my shock. My mouth was hanging open by the time he finished talking. When I didn't say anything, Ron began to fidget awkwardly.

"Blimey, I think I'm turning daft. I didn't say something bad, did I?"

I cleared my throat. "No! No - actually, I think you just said what I need to hear." Who would have thought that Ron and I were so similar in many aspects? "But I still mean it. Harry needs you, just as he needs Hermione... and I."

"I was really an arse in this, wasn't I?"

I smiled, holding my forefinger and thumb closely. "Just a bit, yeah. Talk to him tomorrow."

"I think I will."

We fell into a comfortable silence. I was staring at the fireplace when Ron suddenly blurted, "Did you know that they are going to be dragons for the first task?"

Ron recoiled when I glared over at him so harshly I almost considered setting him on fire.

"Bloody hell!" he gasped. After all, I was probably wearing that face that he always said it made me look scary.

"One of these days I'm going to throttle you both," I hissed.

With a flicker of my wand, the fire died out.

I'm so, so sorry for the late update. Again. This must be the longest chapter I've written until now and yet, I'm not completely satisfied by it.

My life's been in some sort of turmoil, with my exam results (I didn't do bad, fortunately), family troubles (my grandma died), and the usual - writer's block.

I assure the readers, I'm not going to give Anya up. It may take a longer time to end Book Four and to begin the Fifth, but I AM NOT GIVING UP.

And thank you Guest, AmyRoxx123 and kamomille for your reviews. And to clear something to Guest, whoever you are, and for those that also thought the same, I didn't intend to bash Slytherin or something. I hate bashing and I actually am trying to take Slytherin on a new view. Anya will say something about 'being in Slytherin doesn't make you the bad guy' but I think that will be until the fifth book. Lots of things happen there.

And as for Ron, I hope he wasn't out of character - not too much. I know he wouldn't maybe say something like this, but after all, this is fanfiction. His personality has always been overrated or many write him as the 'bad guy', but this is a boy who is insecure and too young to care if what he says has consequences. Ron lives in a world were you have to grow quickly, whether you want to or not, but he stays true to a real person, a proper personality with lots of faults, and I admire his character for it. I hate what he does in DH, but my words still stand.

I hope I don't take much time to write the next chapter, but no promises.

crossMIRAGE19 off.