She was the first one to climb down the stairs, her footsteps so light; it felt almost close to floating.

But Hermione's head hurt. Her hands ached from washing her hair thoroughly in the shower; the greasy feeling going away as she'd massaged her scalp. She had looked so beautiful last night, so unlike her normal self she didn't think about the bother she would go through in the morning.

Hermione winced, making a soft sound of discomfort as she crouched down to glance at her feet. They didn't look so bad, she thought. Viktor had convinced her to discard her shoes at some point. And while she'd been hesitant at first, Hermione had let him carry her shoes for her while she danced.

She made a mental note to thank him next time she saw him.

The sound of water dripping called her attention. In the corner of the common room, Colin Creevey was leaning over a worn tray. He was holding a blank sheet of parchment with a pair of pincers, twice the size of his hands. Moving shapes were beginning to appear on the paper. It clicked on Hermione's mind that Colin was developing photographs.

She had seen him last night on the Great Hall, and she was sure she was one of the few to know he attended. Professor McGonagall had personally asked him to take photos of the Yule Ball and close picks of the Champions. Hermione was curious to know how he'd managed to not be seen by the rest of the students and still get them smiling full-front at the camera.

Just as she was about to ask him, one particular picture caught her eye and she approached the table hesitantly. She tilted her head, squinting at the photo.

"Colin, can I take a look at this?" she asked.

"Sure, Hermione!" said the boy enthusiastically.

Hermione nodded her thanks, absently; her eyes never strayed from the picture. Her fingers touched the surface of the picture but the people on it didn't seem to care like all magical photographs did. In fact, they were too absorbed on each other to notice at all.

She waited for the couple to make a return. She wasn't disappointed.

The Harry in the picture looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. Anya though, looked like she was concentrating too hard. The frown on her face looked like it'd been there all night when Hermione knew her friend had been happier than normal. She wasn't surprised at all to see it was Harry who stumbled first, dragging Anya with him. The girl's arms tightened around Harry's neck, and pausing, she started to laugh. It was so sudden; throwing her head back and her eyes glinting from happiness, Anya then hid her face on her partner's shoulder. Harry looked lost as she shook with laughter. But then he gave in, smiling, and Hermione wasn't sure if she had seen him smile that before.

The next picture looked sillier. When she went over the next ones, she noticed how relaxed they were getting, holding to each other. Just laughing.

Creevey had also taken photos of the surprise Anya had prepared for Marie. Hermione mourned not going, but her row with Ron in the common room erased any wishes to linger. The Asian girl looked happy when she blew the candles, looking up at the ceiling as snow began to fall.

From all the photos, Hermione's eyes kept straying to the one where they were smiling. None of them were looking at the other's face, so they probably didn't know they were following the other's steps.

Taking a deep breath, she tucked the photo inside the pocket in her bathrobe. Moments like those, she told herself, shouldn't be forgotten.

There was a silent agreement between all us to not speak of Hermione's and Ron's quarrel from last night. I didn't stop wishing I could just hex Ron's ass off though.

After much insistence, Hermione confessed what she'd done to her hair to get it straight.

"– but it's way too much bother to do every day," she said matter-of-factly, scratching a purring Crookshanks behind the ears. Then she asked Ron to pass her the mug of juice. The redhead gave in without a fight, and she thanked him politely.

At some point, Harry and Ron told us about the conversation they overheard between Madame Maxime and Hagrid. Discovering our friend was half-giant wasn't much of a surprise. ("There had to be a reason he was that tall," I told Ron, who goggled at us because we didn't fuss over it).

It was amusing to see the rest of my friends getting hassled because of homework. While I kind of considered it like cheating, I didn't regret having James helping me do part of it: he wrote what I had to do, I wrote what he said. But the difficult part was to take care of a small plant Professor Sprout gave me for almost burning the crop of Chinese Chomping Cabbage. She said I had to learn to be gentle - one way or other. It was a relief that watering was part of the task, seeing as it was the only thing I knew what to do.

The more stressing part of the holidays were when the common room filled with wailing sounds and shrieks. Because everyone wanted Harry to win the Tournament, no one ever complained about the egg. Some even took to wear headphones to block out the sound and had started to talk loudly, going so far as yelling to everyone's faces.

I lifted one leg over the other to not get stuck in the snow, shivering and hugging my bag close to my chest. I was wearing a new pair of boots, supposedly charmed to warm my feet, but at this point all I felt was the chattering of my teeth.

Harry was in charge of keep me moving. He was walking a few steps ahead but he would often look back to check I was still breathing. Since the Yule Ball, he hadn't talked to me properly, not a full conversation like we used to. Words seemed to fail him every time we were in the same space and it was starting to annoy me. But I admit he wasn't the only one who was acting out of the ordinary too. I couldn't even look at him in the eye without blushing! Every single time I would remember the ball, and I had the impression the same happened with him.

A tiny sound of distress left my lips and I ducked my head just as I saw Harry turn to look. One of the advantages of the snow was that it numbed most of the body - which worked as a warning at the moment.

Thankfully, Hagrid's cabin came into view. I rubbed my hands together and gently blew air on them to warm them up. I was sort of expecting to hear the Skrewts fighting, but it was silent.

When the class was finally complete, an elderly woman with a prominent chin and short gray hair walked out of Hagrid's home. The man in question was nowhere in sight.

"Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago," she barked.

"Who're you?" said Ron, staring at her. "Where's Hagrid?"

"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," she said briskly. "I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"What happened to Hagrid?" I asked, making sure to raise my hand so she could see me.

"He is indisposed."

The familiar sound of laughter reached my ears. I didn't turn to look at Malfoy but the following snickers of the other Slytherins made my stomach knot unpleasantly.

Professor Grubbly-Plank led us past the haddock where the Beauxbatons horses huddled. We were almost getting close to the edge of the forest when I spotted the large white horse tied to a tree. I quickly realized my mistake when I saw the golden horn protruding from the creature's head.

It was so strange, because the last time I saw a unicorn the poor creature had been dead and covered on its silver blood. But this one glowed with life, breathed, and padded the ground as the girls tried to get a closer look.

"Boys keep back!" Professor Grubbly-Plank barked, throwing out an arm and hitting Harry on the chest. "They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it..."

There was no point in trying to as for Hagrid – she was tight lipped and evasive. So, feeling apprehensive, I followed the other girls. The unicorn seemed scared as we slowly approached him. Not that I blamed him. Half of the girls (mainly Lavender, Parvati and Pansy Parkinson) seemed ready to squish the life out of him. It was minutes later that we all were finally stroking the Unicorn by turns (said three girls returning for more).

I took a moment to silently move until I was next to Daphne Greengrass, who was stroking the unicorn's back gently.

"Barton," she greeted coolly.

"Daphne," I said, smirking a little when I saw her scrunch her nose. She never liked it when I said her name without using formalities. "Why is your bunch so happy today?"

She sighed and said, "Haven't you read the paper yet? There was an interesting article about your Giant friend."

I tensed. I didn't bother to deny it. "Half-giant," I corrected her.

"It's the same. There's no difference when we know who we are."

There was a reason I liked her younger sister better. Astoria would rather have an attack than to hurt someone's feelings. But Daphne's personality was a mix of quiet cleverness and flowing insults.

"I hope she stays, that woman!" said Parvati at the end of the class. "That's more what I thought Care of Magical Creatures would be like... proper creatures like unicorns, not monsters..."

"Yeah, because it's likely a unicorn will attack us from behind," I say sarcastically.

Parvati glared at me. "Stuff it, Anya."

"No, really, I think if more girls showed up, it could have turned into a dangerous situation. I mean, the poor animal could've been smoothed to death what with all the cooing."

I winced when I felt the air leave my lungs. I touched my rib, looking after Hermione with a grimace.

"I was just joking," I whined.

Hagrid did not appear for the rest of the week. We tried to get him to come out of his hut at the end of the day, and he never came out.

A visit to Hogsmeade was programmed for this Saturday. This was convenient at the time, seeing as I felt Neville had been pulling away since the Yule Ball was announced. My fears were confirmed when he tried to squirm out of the date.

It was awkward. Really awkward. Without James acting as a buffer, Neville kept trying to worm himself out of my side, stammering just as he had done back in first year. But the tight grip on his arm stopped him from escaping.

We visited Zonko's first, having promised to bring some items for James. In one hand, I held a basket. In the other, I had a list.

"Smoking Gum," I read aloud. Neville quickly snatched a bright packet from the highest shelf.

"Check."

I raised my eyebrows at the next one, scoffing. "Rolling Stones?"

To my surprise, Neville returned with a small bag of marbles.

"Check."

Next was Honeyduke's, where I bought a big red lollipop for Neville. He eyed the candy curiously while I fidgeted, but in the end he accepted it wordlessly. When we were at the Owl Post, I found a box of chocolate teddy bears in one of my bags – the bears were wearing ghost costumes. I hadn't bought this, which brought a smile to my face.

Our final stop was the Three Broomsticks. The pub was crowded like always. We fought our way to the bar and ordered Butterbeers.

Over the crowd, Neville yelled, "Hey, there's Ron and Hermione!" He was right. In the corner of the pub, where it was surprisingly less crowded, the two of them sat in a table next to the window.

Hermione was quick to spot us and waved a hand.

"Hey guys," I said, shaking off the snow from my hair. Neville, ever the gentleman, dragged my chair and waited for me to sit.

"Where's Harry?" he asked, out of politeness.

"Right here." The chair to my right scrapped loudly the floor and I fought the urge to hide behind Neville.

"What's up?" I asked, scratching my eyebrow. My eyes were firmly stuck on my tar.

"I just finished talking with Ludo Bagman."

"What did he want then?" Ron asked.

"He offered to help me with the golden egg."

Hermione slammed her tar on the table. "He shouldn't be doing that! As one of the judges, he's supposed to follow the rules! And anyway, you've already worked it out, haven't you, Harry?"

Harry choked. "Err – nearly!"

"Well I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat! I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much."

"He's not, I asked."

Ron frowned at the ceiling. "Who cares if Diggory is getting help?"

"Because Cedric would be at high disadvantage," said Neville reprovingly. "And we still want Hogwarts to win, whether it's Harry or him." I rolled my eyes.

"Those goblins didn't look very friendly," said Hermione, sipping her butterbeer. "What were they doing here?"

"Looking for Crouch, according to Bagman," Harry said. "He's still ill. Hasn't been at work."

"Maybe Percy is poisoning him," Ron mused. I snorted as he carried on, "Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it, he'll be the new Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Hermione deadpanned. "Funny, Ronald. Goblins normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It doesn't make sense they are searching specifically for Mr. Crouch."

"He speaks loads of languages. Maybe they need an interpreter?" Neville suggested.

"Worrying about poor 'ickle goblins, now, are you?" Ron asked Hermione. "Thinking of starting up S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins?'

"Ha, ha, ha," Hermione said sarcastically. "Goblins don't need protection. Haven't you been listening to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?"

"No," Harry and Ron said together. I cleared my throat, clapping my hands.

"Let me put it this way for you two: Goblins do not take prisoners, but they do like to play with their victims for a while." I made a cutting motion with my finger, adding a little choking sound. "Get the idea?"

"Very clear," said Harry.

Ron, who was about to take a sip of his butterbeer, looked at the entrance of the pub; his eyes went wide, and he muttered, "Uh oh."

I looked over my shoulder. My cheeks instantly puffed out at the sight of Rita Skeeter. Today, she was wearing a banana-yellow suit, her long fake fingers painted in shocking pink.

She bought drinks, and she and her paunchy photographer (whom I just noticed) made their way through the crowds to a table nearby us. Skeeter was talking fast and looking very satisfied as she did so.

"...didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights...what nonsense...he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman...' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo - we just need to find a story to fit it -"

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" Harry said loudly.

"Probably," I muttered.

Rita looked around, annoyed. Her eyes widened when she saw who spoke though.

"Harry!" she beamed.

"How lovely! Why don't you come and join-?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," said Harry furiously. "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?"

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry," said Rita, raising her eyebrows. "I am merely doing my-"

"Who cares if he's half-giant?" Harry shouted. "There's nothing wrong with him!"

The place went quiet. Behind the bar, Madame Rosmerta let the drink she was pouring overflow.

Looking faintly amused, Skeeter snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled her Quick-Quotes Quill out. "How about giving me an interview, Harry? Who is the man behind the muscles, his heritage? The man you grew to think of as a father substitute for you. Did your friendship begin under suspicious circumstances?"

For a moment, the only thing I could do was gap. Then, the familiar burning in my eyes started.

Before I could speak, Hermione's tiny voice broke through my anger.

"You truly are a horrible woman."

It was so quiet her voice carried all over the place.

"You don't care who you bring down, don't you? Nothing matters as long as you get your scoop; in your eyes we're nothing but sheep for the slaughterhouse! Even Ludo Bagman -"

"Sit down, little girl! I know things about Ludo that would make your hair curl – not that it needs it," said Skeeter.

"Say that again?" I growled, slamming my hands on the table as I stood. For once, not a single drop of drink fell on my clothes.

Rita adjusted her glasses with a finger. "And you are –"

I smiled sardonically. "You must know about me, after all, I've been one of your writing subjects not long ago. But, seeing as you really don't remember, the name's Barton. Anya Barton – and if I were you, I would put an emphasis on the name if you intend to criticize me in one of your next articles."

"The daughter of Alec Barton," said Skeeter, her eyes wandering up and down my body in curiosity. "And the niece of mass murderer Sirius Black, if I'm not wrong?"

There was a collective gasp, and soon, the room broke into furious whispers.

I crossed my arms. "Not bad. Now, as a direct source, I will tell you everything I am so you don't get it wrong this time. My name is Anya Carina Barton, daughter of the deceased Auror, Alec Barton, and of Cassiopeia Black, Sirius Black's twin sister. I grew up in an orphanage until my aunt, Thea Rosenberg, took action on the matter while she was considered dead. I'm a fourth year, and like you've mentioned before, I am very good with spells. No, I'm not Harry's girlfriend and I'm not competing for his 'affections'. Yes, I've done underage magic, but who hasn't? And yes, I'm a bit of a bitch and do have a gob that doesn't seem to run out of words when I'm angry."

"Anything else?" Skeeter asked, looking utterly bored at my speech.

Neville had grasped my elbow the moment I stopped for breath. He had dragged me toward the entrance of the pub, with the trio ahead of us. But, I still had something important to say.

"Actually, yes – your fashion sense is completely terrible."

I shoot the reddening woman a winning smirk and let myself be dragged.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron said. "Mental too, she will be after you next – but it was still brilliant!"

"Oh, Anya," Hermione was moaning. "What have you done? I already knew she was going to write something about me if I confronted her but with your tirade –"

I stepped on her way. "Tell me what I did was wrong then! Say it – I dare you."

I was breathing harshly. I felt the adrenaline running in my blood, the exhilaration, and the smile that was utterly out of place in this kind of situation.

Hermione's lips twitched. "You shouldn't have said anything about her wardrobe choices."

"You know I was right."

Chuckling, Hermione set the pace toward a new direction.

"They both have gone bloody mad," I heard Ron say to Harry and Neville.

"To be fair, I already knew she was this way," Neville said.

"No more hiding!" Hermione said. "We're going to Hagrid's and tell him he shouldn't listen what the likes of Rita Skeeter say! That excuse of a woman doesn't deserve to be paid attention for any rubbish she writes! Good thing my parents don't read the Daily Prophet though –"

She broke into a run and we followed suit. Hermione led us all the way back to Hogwarts, through the gates flanked by the winged boars, and through the grounds to Hagrid's cabin. The curtains were still drawn, but as we approached, I heard Fang starting to bark.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you!"

"Hagrid, you're just being ridiculous!" I shouted. "Open that damned door or I am going to blow it into pieces! You know I will!"

"How are you going to do that without a wand?" Ron asked.

I glared at him, watching in mild satisfaction as he shrunk back. "That was a very clever lie to get Hagrid to open the door, Ron. Now I will really have to blow up something!" I pulled out my wand and pointed it at the handle. I stuck a finger on one ear. "Cover your ears!"

"Bloody hell Annie!" "Are you crazy?" "Put the wand down!"

"One –" I counted. "Two – three –"

I jumped when the door flew open. Neville actually dived away, thinking I had exploded the cabin. But the door was intact. I followed the arm holding it open, expecting to see Hagrid. Instead, I found the amused smile of Albus Dumbledore.

Gaping, I faintly said, "Afternoon sir."

He smiled pleasantly. "Good afternoon, Miss Barton." I quickly lowered my hands tucking my wand safely.

"We - er - we wanted to see Hagrid," Hermione said in a rather small voice.

"Yes, I surmised as much," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he slyly looked down at me. I avoided his stare, biting my cheek. "Why don't you come in?"

"Oh… um… okay," said Hermione.

The five of us entered the cabin. Fang launched himself upon Neville the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Snickering, Ron fended off the dog from him.

Hagrid looked horrible. His face was all blotchy from crying and his hair looked like a bunch of tangled wires. He was also nursing a large mug of tea. Judging from the sweet smell surrounding Hagrid's home, I was sure Dumbledore brought it with him.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

"'Lo," he said hoarsely, looking up at Harry with swollen eyes.

"More tea, I think," said Dumbledore gently, closing the door. He drew his wand and twiddled it; a revolving tea tray came from the small kitchen, along with a plate of cakes. Dumbledore magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat down. There was a slight pause, and then Dumbledore said, "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?"

Hermione went slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiled at her and continued, "Hermione, Harry, Ron, Neville and Anya still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

His eyes twinkled merrily as everyone looked in my way. Huffing, I crossed my arms. "I wasn't going to until I got ratted out," I mumbled, looking away.

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said quickly, staring at Hagrid. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow - sorry Professor," he added quickly, looking at Mr. Dumbledore.

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," Dumbledore said, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling.

"Err - right," Harry said sheepishly. "I just meant-Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that -woman - wrote about you?"

Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it -"

"Not all of 'em," Hagrid said hoarsely. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time," said Dumbledore, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles. "Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh - yeh're not half-giant!" said Hagrid croakily.

"Oh, Hagrid," I said softly. I moved to sit next to him. "Haven't you heard? It doesn't matter where you come from or who your parents are. It's the choices we make," my eyes flickered toward Dumbledore briefly, remembering a time when he said something similar, "and you're not horrible or dangerous. You're an amazing person with a beautiful personality – never think we would turn our backs on you."

"She's right, Hagrid," said Harry. "Look at my relatives – remember the Dursleys?"

"An excellent point," said Professor Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery..."

"I don't think that's the point, sir," I muttered.

"Come back, Hagrid," Hermione pleaded, Ron and Neville nodding with her. "Come back and teach us, please. We miss you."

More tears fell from Hagrid's eyes. Dumbledore stood.

"I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," he said. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch Fang's ears. When the door had shut behind him, Hagrid began to sob into his dustbin-lid-size hands. I kept rubbing his arm comfortingly, and at last, Hagrid looked up. "Great man, Dumbledore... great man..."

"Yeah, he is," Ron said. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"

Neville elbowed him.

"Help yerself," Hagrid said, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "Ar, he's righ', o' course - yeh're all righ'... I bin stupid... my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'..." More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully, and said, "Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here..."

Hagrid went to retrieve a photo from his dresser. The man on it was short and had Hagrid's warm, crinkled black eyes. He was beaming as he sat on top of young Hagrid's shoulder; his face was young, round and smooth, but he was already seven feet tall.

"Tha' was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed... thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum... well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really... but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year...

"Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job… trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances... tha's what sets him apar' from other heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent."

I thought of Marie, whose abilities were a secret and also kept her from legally practicing magic. Of me, when my magic got out of control when I was under stress.

Hagrid was still talking. "Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'... well... all tha' respectable. But some don understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh… there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say - I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones… I'll give her big bones."

I smiled sadly. We all knew he was referring to Madame Maxime, but no one said anything.

"Yeh know wha, Harry?" Hagrid said, looking up from the photograph of his father, his eyes very bright, "when I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it... an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion!"

He looked at Harry for a moment and then said, very seriously, "Yeh know what I'd love. Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all... yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"

"Great," Harry said. "Really great."

Hagrid's miserable face broke into a wide, watery smile.

"Tha's my boy… you show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat 'em all."

But Harry did not answer. He was looking down at his lap, his shoulders stiff as a wall.