By the end of the week, Juliet had nestled in almost well to her imprisonment at Hogwarts, the idea of which she distained. In order to take her mind off of it, she spent her so called "free time"—meaning, the time in which she was not escorted around the castle like a new born pup that was about to take a piss on an antique rug—with Harry, Ron and Hermione, who, admittedly, were just as interesting as any Tibetan sorcerer or Armenian alchemist she had ever met.
The three of them laughed at each other's' jokes.
They smiled.
They had stories to tell.
Pranks to pull.
Studying to do.
Letters to write.
Music to sing along to.
More friends to introduce her to.
There was Seamus, who had a particularly concerning proclivity for pyrotechnics—regardless, she had always loved the sight of fireworks, even when they weren't meant to go off in the common room.
Dean, who was tall and lanky and usually had very nice chats with Juliet about Muggle football, of which she was increasingly familiar, albeit not with European teams. Sometimes she would even humor him by having a go at it with him and a very old looking football. The way she was able to balance it on her calves and throw it around with her ankles astounded Ron and Ginny, who weren't so familiar with the sport.
Juliet thought that Ginny was sweet, and she was the only one who could get so near to Juliet, that she was able to braid her long dark hair for fun.
It was something like a circus to watch, not because it was unruly, but because it was…normal.
How interesting.
The only thing that had been hard for Juliet to avoid explaining was meeting with Snape every night for her mandatory check-ins, and the occasional battering she came back with in the morning after she had given him lip. Snape tried to keep clear of her face, but Juliet could be so insufferable sometimes.
What really went on at these check-ins was less discussion about how she was doing in her charms class and more so taking a beating when she wouldn't answer questions about the whereabouts of ex-Death Eater Sir So-And-So or Madame Whats-It, because really, she had no idea.
"Where the bloody hell do you go all by yourself at night?" Asked Ron one evening as the four of them sat sprawled out in the Gryffindor common room, laboring over a potions essay. Two rolls of parchment on Murtlap Essence. Ron and Harry grumbled throughout the task, but Juliet supposed it was helpful to do the research, seeing as Murtlap Essence was used to soothe painful cuts and the sorts. "You're going to get caught eventually."
Juliet just shrugged and ignored the question, looking at the extensive list of ingredients in her potions book. A wizard in Ghana had taught her to use clay from the earth to treat her wounds. Using the tentacles of a Murtlap sounded silly and tedious at first.
Just because she had been accepted into this little circle and marveled at the well-mannered way they treated her didn't mean that she entirely trusted the three of them, and nor did it mean that she was allowed to tell them anything, anyway.
But as soon as Snape had come to know of her friendliness with Potter and his friends, he became livid, and even took it so far as to call on Dumbledore when he was alone in his private study.
"Miss d'Aragon," He wouldn't even look at her wriggling figure, restrained tightly in the same chair she bled on during her first night at Hogwarts. "Your first week here has come and gone, and I trust that you've been as civil as possible with the staff, as well as the fact that you've attended every check-in with your keeper, Professor Snape…. It has come to my attention that you've made quite an unusual group of friends."
Dumbledore was lying, he wasn't surprised that Juliet had made friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione at all. They were kind, and Juliet didn't fit in. It was a non-zero-sum game.
Juliet wondered why it was that Snape enjoyed ratting out students so much, and more specifically, why he enjoyed treating her like vermin.
"Did someone tell you to seek these three out?" Dumbledore asked very seriously, finally looking at her.
Back to reality.
Oh, so they meant something to old Dumbley-dore.
"No," she answered. "Everyone I have ever known is dead. You know that."
She had been quite fond of her last protector—the one that had been killed in Australia. He had lasted the longest out of any of them, and Juliet had been so fond of him, and she had begun to see him like a real parental figure.
"My dear child, I will make this very clear for you." Dumbledore sat on the corner of his desk, taking his hands and folding them into themselves on his lap. "I understand that you have ill will towards myself because of what happened to your mother, and subsequently, what happened to you. But if you intend to hurt any of these students, my colleagues and I will not hesitate to turn you over to the authorities at Azkaban."
"I'm not going to hurt anyone, not unless they try to hurt me first." She assured, referring to the fights that she had instigated with professors almost on the daily. In the past few days, she hadn't even bitten a single teacher, and prided herself on this good behavior.
Dumbledore pondered for a moment, thoughtfully touching the end hairs of his beard. "Miss d'Aragon, you feel trapped here, do you not? Used to being free to wander towns and villages on your own, traveling the world; walking, speaking, living without fear of—"
"I'm not afraid of anything," she interjected. Except Alastor Moody, but she opted to keep that to herself.
"Of course you're not. Neither was I at your age. But, we all must fear something Miss d'Aragon. This is what makes us whole."
"What do you think I'm afraid of?"
"You are afraid of being trapped—trapped in the same cycle of events, with the same kind of people. You are afraid of being caged." Dumbledore wasn't Headmaster of Hogwarts for any reason. He was the Headmaster because he was talented, and most importantly, thoughtful. "That is why I see it fit to lift the restrictions that have been placed on you. Your appointments with Professor Snape shall continue, but only when necessary. In addition, you have free range of the grounds during all hours, albeit, without a wand or a broom. That rule still stands."
Snape almost had an aneurysm.
Juliet narrowed her eyes.
"Why?"
"You are not an animal, Miss d'Aragon. There is no use in trying to put you on a leash. In that sense, you remind me of your mother. She was a free spirit—someone who loved the whole wide world: the sun, the moon and all stars and the mountains, and rivers; the good men, the bad men, and all the animals, and the insects—the whole bit. It would be a disgrace to her memory if this was how her only daughter was being treated."
"Professor Dumbledore, it would be criminal of me not to share my opinion: this is a horrible idea," Snape drawled.
Dumbledore merely put a hand up to silence him.
"A very powerful magical ward has been placed on the grounds. In the event that you were to attempt to go beyond the boundaries set in place for you, you will immediately be petrified. Do I make myself clear?"
"Is the option for Azkaban still up on the table?" Juliet asked before she could be cut off. "Because I really think—"
"Excellent! Now then, shall we go off to the Great Hall together? There is a very important decision to be made that the whole school has been waiting for, and I am sure that there are friends waiting for you, Miss d'Aragon."
A wave of his hand, and the binding of her limbs had come undone.
"I should learn how to do that," Juliet mentally noted.
Juliet followed Professor Dumbledore to the Great Hall as a greatly unhappy Snape stalked off, still carrying the notion that this was not a very good idea.
Upon entering, there were friendly waves from the Gryffindor table, gesturing Juliet over. Dumbledore encouraged her quietly to go off and sit with them.
Juliet was formally introduced to the two red headed twins, Fred and George, who she had asked Hermione about the other day—the ones who she thought were funny.
Fred was immediately smitten and attempted to flirt with Juliet by means of taking her hand in his.
She nearly broke his fingers.
Over the babbling of the hundreds of students, Dumbledore silenced the crowd from the front of the hall with the lowering of his arms. Even the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang quieted themselves, although some very small whispers could still be heard. Juliet could make out some French conversation from the Ravenclaw table behind them, where a handful of Beauxbatons girls had made themselves comfortable. Although she had not had a chance to engage in conversation in a long time, French was her mother's native tongue.
It was nice to listen to, even if most of it was criticism about the décor.
"Students!" Dumbledore began, the delegation of teachers at the head table nearly gripping their seats with anticipation. However, Barty Crouch's toothbrush mustache looked like it was about to slip off of his face with unease. He was looking around for someone.
Years ago, when You-Know-Who had been defeated and the Death Eaters had all either been scrambled or imprisoned, there were some rumors about a baby girl. A handful of Death Eaters had offered it up as information in exchange for their freedom from Azkaban, and with the disappearance of Estella Marielle d'Aragon, it all seemed to be something that the Ministry should have investigated. The task got passed around from one office to another, but there had just been one too many disappearances and tragedies to investigate at the time, and it was ultimately lost in paperwork somewhere.
But here she was, thirteen years later.
It was the girl, the one Dumbledore had told him about.
The one with a face like her mother's, but eyes like her father's.
The one who was sitting next to the absolute worst person she could have been sitting next to.
The one who had caught his beady little eyes and matched their gaze, causing him to falter in his disposition.
"Tonight, three champions from each of our respective schools—Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and our very own Hogwarts, shall be selected to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. These three champions will be selected by an impartial judge to compete in three very dangerous tasks that will test their skill, cunning and bravery..."
A shining goblet, some very impressive pyrotechnics, and three champions later, Juliet was ready to get up and leave. There was a collection of homework on her bed that needed to be done, and the fact that she hadn't learned to read and write until only a few years ago didn't make it any easier, as this made her a bit slower than everyone else. She didn't really care for the assignments, but if she showed up emptyhanded to her classes, Professor Snape would very literally ring her neck…again.
Juliet's mind had wandered off elsewhere when another name started to drift into her ear.
"Harry Potter…"
Her head lifted from its slouched position in her hand.
"Harry Potter!"
Juliet, and the entirety of the rest of the hall, looked wide-eyed at Harry, who didn't seem to want to look at anyone at all—that is, until Hermione pleaded with him to get up from his seat.
As Harry was swept through the side door of the Great Hall, Professor Moody got up from his seat at the head of the Great Hall. He clanked loudly and violently with his staff down to the Gryffindor table.
Juliet nearly groaned with realization.
"Come now girl," he grumbled, taking Juliet by the arm. "This isn't going to be pretty no matter how you look at it, so you might as well come quietly."
Hermione stood up defensively, her face flustered and panicked. One friend had just been taken from her by a cup, for crying out loud, and now another one was being hauled off with some sort of convoluted threat. This simply would not stand with her, nor any of the other nearby Gryffindors—Fred and George, Seamus and even Dean and Ginny. Protests began as several rude words were hurled, until Professor McGonagall quickly made her way over and settled them down.
"Mr. Weasely and Mr. Weasely, you will stay in your seats! And you Miss Granger," she said sternly. "I expect better from you. Anymore of this nonsense, and ten points will be taken from Gryffindor—each."
Seats were taken immediately.
Juliet was hauled to Professor Dumbledore's study so quickly, she was tripping over her own feet.
She was shoved through the doors of the Headmaster's office and thrown down to the floor. In front of her was the bickering group of Headmasters, Ministry officials and the controversial champion in question, Harry.
She did her best not to look him in the face.
"O, anozer one! Now we 'ave three 'Ogwarts champions!" Madame Maxime threw up her hands and began to swear in French. She had been more concerned with the fact that Hogwarts got to have two champions instead of one, and less so with the fact that Harry was underage.
Dumbledore remained in his composure.
If Harry had not put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and he had not asked any of the older students to do it for him, then—
"Only an exceptionally powerful Confundus charm could have hoodwinked a magical object such as the Goblet of Fire," stated Moody, who had one prosthetic foot clamped down on the hem of Juliet's skirt. His magical eye held her glare.
Juliet could perform exceptionally powerful Confundus charms.
"Cheers, Alastor. I don't suppose that would be me you're thinking of?" Juliet muttered incredulously.
She was ultimately ignored.
"You seem to have given this quite a bit of thought, haven't you?" Spat Karkaroff, his face much too close to Moody's for comfort.
"It was once my job to think as dark witches and wizards do…don't you ever forget that," Moody growled under his breath menacingly. "Maybe we should consider one in our midst."
"Alastor," Dumbledore warned. "That's enough."
Albus Dumbledore commanded respect in the wizarding world, and that included in his own study. The aged wizard spoke clearly, his inflection dangerously calm. He wouldn't even look at Juliet, who was longingly picturing herself driving knives into his back.
"Miss d'Aragon, did you put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire?"
The adults in the room were all very confused as to why Dumbledore would suspect this girl as the one who manipulated the Goblet. They remained silent to hear her reaction.
Madame Maxime held Fleur close.
Karkaroff stood defensively in front of Viktor.
Even Cedric, who stood on his own with his arms crossed, remained close to the Hogwarts teachers present.
The visiting ministry officials—Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman—had mixed reactions. Barty Crouch was sweating. Ludo Bagman, on the other hand, had a different approach. He was trying to make his way into the encirclement of bodies to eagerly get a good look at the girl in question. This kind of thing was really so exciting—students really getting into the spirit of sport! He would have started a celebratory dance if it wasn't for the fact that the buttons on his old quidditch uniform he had donned—yellow and black, like a honeybee—would have come flying off if he did.
Juliet was met with Ludo's beer belly poking out from the modest crowd of people. She scrunched her nose in disgust, before turning her head towards Dumbledore. Electing not to answer him, Juliet stared in distain.
That was all he needed from her.
"Alastor," barked Dumbledore. "Take Miss d'Aragon and leave. Barty, feel free to join them."
Barty Crouch's mustache was looking rather precarious again, as if it was going to slide off his face with fright.
Moody grunted in response, taking Juliet up off the floor by the arm.
However, it seemed as if Juliet was not going to go without a fight. She started screaming and thrashing about, like an animal that knows it's being led to slaughter.
Harry, who had been vegetizing in the corner up until now, had absolutely no intention of letting Juliet suffer. He took one step in Juliet's fleeting direction as she was very literally wrangled by half a dozen Hogwarts professors, but was stopped by Professor Dumbledore, who held out a wrinkled hand.
"Let it be, Harry," he said.
The rest of the group, including the other champions, were escorted out in the opposite direction so that they did not have to follow the racket Juliet was making in the corridor. Professor McGonagall promised that all questions would be answered in due time. She put on an excellent 'Screaming girl? What screaming girl? I don't hear anything' face for the visitors. The only person who really seemed to buy into it was Bagman and perhaps Krum, but as it would have it, the latter party's head was full of sawdust, so anything someone told him usually made sense to him, anyway.
"But Professor, she's my friend. Why do you think she put my name in the Goblet of Fire?"
Dumbledore held up a hand again and put another on the boy's shoulder.
"Harry, this is neither the time nor place to discuss this sort of thing. Why Miss d'Aragon is here should not be any of your concern. What needs to be your concern at this time is the Tournament. I'm afraid to say that I have consulted with Mr. Crouch, and the rules are absolute—you must compete. Go to bed now. I will send Professor Moody 'round on Monday to discuss with you what should be done."
Dumbledore knew this excellent bit of magic. It was a spell in which while he talked, the two had gotten closer and closer to the door, until finally the Headmaster had seen Harry out of the room, and closed the door behind him.
Harry was left alone in the corridor.
Somewhere in the distance, he could hear faint screams.