Chapter Five

Lucy in the Sky

:.:.:

All was somewhat quiet, nearly serene, above deck. Although, with whatever celebration undoubtedly awaited the four of us below deck, it was no wonder everything above it seemed so calming. But before descending down, I stole a moment simply to sit upon the starboard railing, one leg dangling over the waters and the other over the deck. The golden egg, glimmering where the setting sun hit it, I placed before me on the railing.

"What d'you reckon's inside?" I asked the blokes, eyes never leaving the egg.

"Open it," replied Grigor airily. "Do the finding out."

My fingers traced the groove which ran all the way around the egg. But just as I was about to open it, Viktor came in and snatched it out from under me. And when I looked to him for an explanation, he told me: "Let us open it among our brothers."

So I hopped down from the railing and made way for the stairs. I let Viktor continue to hold the egg because quite frankly, it weighed more than one might think. The three blokes allowed me to make my way down first, engulfed in complete darkness once I'd reached the cabin floor. But the moment my combat boots did make contact with that ground, every candle and torch was set aflame, the other Durmstrang blokes plus Karkaroff cheering. Shadows danced across the walls, a glow of orange tinted everyone's face as they began the chant once again.

"Who is our champion?!" came Karkaroff.

"HARRIS!" they all cried.

"Who will win?!"

"HARRIS!"

"For whom will she win?!"

"FOR DURMSTRANG!"

With each shout, they'd all shot their fists into the air. But finally, they dropped them and sent a thunderous applause echoing through out the cabin. All cheered again, especially Viktor, Finn, and Grigor… Well, all except Nikolai and Oskar Kowalski, his scrawny side-kick. But I certainly wasn't about to let those two gits ruin the evening…if that were even possible. I mean I'd just faced a bloody dragon for Merlin's sake!

"Demetria Harris!" Karkaroff called out. I made my way over to him in the center of the crowd as the excitement died down. "I believe I speak on behalf of everyone when I say…the Goblet of Fire has chosen you for a reason, and a damn good reason indeed!" Another round of cheers issued. "Today, you have shown your true strength and ability, and proved your worthiness to be in this tournament! You have given your rivals something to fear, and to us you have given a great hope — FOR DURMSTRANG!"

"FOR DURMSTRANG!" I joined the blokes in repeating.

"Vi vil seire!" Karkaroff led his few, fellow Norwegians in shouting. (We will prevail)

Next, even fewer in both Russian and Ukrainian overlapped one another with "My peremozhemo!" and "My pobedim!" (We win)

And last but in no way least, all who remained shouted out in Bulgarian: "Nie shte zavladee!" (We will conquer)

Regardless of my nationality consisting of only British and Bulgarian, I still knew what each of them were saying and it all made me feel the same — empowered. Viktor was right — these were our brothers. We'd all grown together since age eleven, and learned one another's languages. All along I'd been thinking my grandfather was the only family I had left… Never had I been so wrong.

"Demetria!" called out Aleksander. "Vill you open the egg?" The blokes commenced cheering in agreement.

My eyes scanned the cabin for Viktor but weren't searching long, for he was already striding towards me with the golden egg in his hands. Viktor smiled as he handed it off to me, the weight nearly catching me off guard once again. It seemed as though everyone was only getting louder upon digging my fingernails into the grooves which ran down the egg. As I did so, I stole a quick glance at Karkaroff who nodded his approval, and that was when I prised it open to find it completely empty… but a bloody horrible noise came from it. Everyone's hands flew to protect their ears from the loud and screechy wailing which now echoed throughout the cabin.

Practically forgetting I'd been holding the source of the noise, I dropped it to the ground to cover my own ears. However, that was no longer necessary, for the egg had shut once it hit the ground. Everyone stood frozen and gaping at the egg, silent as stars. Only when I went to pick it up, did someone comment.

"Vhat vas that?" Sergei spoke up first.

"It sounded of banshees!" added Grigor. "Perhaps you vill haff to fight those next!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Grig," I told him, handing the egg back to Viktor. Of course there was always the slim chance that he could've been right…But banshees? Honestly? I'd prefer the dragon again.

"She is right, Poliakoff," said Nikolai darkly, as though stepping out from the shadows. His lips were twisted up in their usual smirk. "Sounded more like torture if you ask me."

"Good thing no one asked you then eh, Pavel?" Finn stepped out from the crowd to challenge him.

Nikolai's smirk remained intact as he continued to droll. "Do not be so quick to do the ruling out," he said smoothly. "Anything is possible in this tournament…including torture."

"That is enough, Nikolai," silenced Karkaroff gravely. But even in eyes as seemingly dead as Karkaroff's, the fear was still visible. Because even he knew that, unfortunately, Nikolai had just as much of a chance as Grigor in guessing what the next task was. And though I never thought I'd hope to encounter a banshee, when it came down to them or being tortured…well, there's a first time for everything. Although the two truly weren't so far off.

"If everyone would please…" Karkaroff's voice trailed off before making his way to the steps. "Ready yourselves for bed. God natt og ser dere i morgen." (Good night and see you tomorrow)

"God natt," the rest of us chorused. We all then waited for the door leading above deck to open and close signaling Karkaroff's exit, to actual move to our bunk-beds. Viktor and I headed to ours, Finn and Marcus already occupying their's which was parallel to mine.

"Well, Pavel, you certainly know how to kill a mood," I couldn't stop myself from saying into the darkness which was now forming; everyone was beginning to kill the light from the torches and such. Viktor shot me a significant glance just before I commenced climbing the ladder to my top bunk. I knew he didn't want me to start anything between myself and Nikolai.

Nikolai, however, merely chuckled quietly to himself and said from his own bunk, "Sweet dreams, Lille Prinsesse."

My skin began to crawl at the nickname. I honestly would have been less offended if he'd shot back one of his infamously cruel remarks. But still, I didn't engage myself in his bullshite…regardless of the kick Viktor sent up to my bunk to ensure that I wouldn't. In all honesty though, I was far too tired, for it had only been a few hours ago that I'd had to battle a dragon. But it wasn't until I'd changed into my usual pajamas of plaid boxer shorts and a long-sleeved Bulgaria Quidditch shirt and my head was on the pillow that I realized just how tired I truly was. Sleep came almost instantly, only this time, it brought something along with it…

–

Night has fallen upon a graveyard, a thin layer of fog hanging in the air. A small army of both cloaked and masked Death Eaters stand in horizontal rows behind me, as I stand before a man by the name of Peter Pettigrew who carries the Dark Lord himself. I am clad in my usual dark apparel, as is Draco who stands at my side, but neither of us bare a cloak or a skeletal mask. Grandad stands at my other side with one hand resting on my shoulder — it is the arm which holds his Dark Mark; Lucius Malfoy is doing the same to Draco.

"Vie ste pochti tam," Grandad whispers to me, his voice shaking. (You are almost there). Even his touch begins to tremble, so I cross my left hand over my chest and place it over the hand he rests on my right shoulder.

"Demetria Harris," hisses Voldemort from his small, fetal body. Pettigrew, or Wormtail as they call him, takes careful steps toward Grandad and I. "You must help me…You WILL help me… You will help bring my body back."

My voice comes as stolid as ever. "I will help bring your body back, my Lord."

"You will bring the boy to me," Voldemort goes on, his voice still smooth and icy as ever. "You will bring Harry Potter to me…in this very graveyard."

"I will bring the boy to you," I assure him; the voice I use hardly sounds my own. "I will —"

But before I can finish, there is a beam of light breaking through the night sky. It rips through the dark velvet yet does not disturb the stars, even the moon remains perfectly in place. The light shines down upon me causing all Death Eaters to scatter, even Grandad backs away. I, however, continue to look into the tear in the sky, waiting for someone or something to appear. But instead, a voice echoes throughout — a woman's voice, and a familiar one at that.

"Demetria," she says gently. And then I know…

"Mum?" I call out hopefully. I feel another hand brush my shoulder, but upon turning, it's not Grandad this time. It's her — Lucy Harris, my mother. Her presence is angelic, a white glow all around her. And her hair falls in perfect, blonde curls down her back, a set of warm, brown eyes nearly filling with tears as she looks at me. She's beautiful, frozen at age twenty-two…but is she real? "Is that really you?"

She nods and then tells me, "I don't have much time, but I had to warn you…"

"Warn me about what?" I ask her urgently.

"Demetria, you must listen to me — do not let him steal it from you," And before I know it, she's unclasping a necklace from around her own neck and holding it out before me to admire. On a silver chain, there hangs a small, oval-shaped locket, bearing an inscription of sorts on the front.

"I don't understand," I try to tell her as she drops the locket into my hand. "Who's going to steal this?" I hold up the silver oval between us.

"What he wishes to take from you does not lie within the locket," she tells me, her cold hand now pressed against my heart. "It lies here."

"What does?!" I ask her, starting to panic as I watch my mother begin to fade away as the beam of light dims. "Who wants to steal it?! Wait! Mum, don't go! Don't leave me! Mum!"

–

"Mum…Mum, come back…Don't leave…Mum —"

"Demetria!" came a fierce whisper. My body began to rock as it issued again. "Demetria!"

Several things all happened at once — my heart nearly catapulted from inside my chest, my eyes opened to reveal the darkness of the ship's cabin, Finn could be detected hovering over me from the bunk bed's ladder, and something felt cold within my hand. Wait — something cold in my… I sat up and opened my fist to find a silver locket sitting in the palm of my right hand.

"Demetria, are you all right?" Finn asked me, worried. "Must've been quite the dream you wer — Why d'you have that?"

My heartbeat was then practically audible as I told Finn, "My mum gave it to me."

"So you…sleep with it?" he persisted, seeming a bit reluctant to believe this. After a moment of my expression not changing, he continued. "How long ago did you get it?"

Then it was my turn to be reluctant. "Tonight," I finally confessed. And I braced myself for however Finn would react next — confused, afraid, amused…or maybe he'd simply label me crazy and send me off to St. Mungo's.

But as it turned out, he did none of the above. Instead, he continued to gaze into my eyes and then told me in all seriousness, "Let's get you some tea, eh?" He then hopped down from the ladder and before I knew it, was back again tossing some article of clothing into my lap. "Mornings are getting colder."

"Finnick," I snapped, though managed to keep my voice hushed. He ceased scurrying about and turned to face me in the darkness. "I just woke up with the locket my dead mother gave me in my dream, and you're response is to get me tea?!"

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Finn spoke again, just as seriously as last time. "You're right…Better make it coffee. Come on then, cover up." And the next thing I knew, my combat boots had been tossed up to my bunk as well.

And to think…for a moment, I'd actually been thinking I was the crazy one. But regardless, I still made my way down the ladder, locket still in hand. Upon examining the article of clothing, I made it out to be a pair of sweatpants which I quickly pulled my legs through over my boxer shorts. Then after lacing up my boots, I followed Finn as we made our way above deck, and then off the ship entirely. We'd apparently risen just before the sun, for the sky seemed to have just shifted from dark to light. Finn and I walked silently across the grounds until we reached the castle.

"Oh honestly Finn, what're we doing?" I stopped to ask him; he shushed me, but I ignored it, my palm up to show him the locket. "Need I remind you I just got this from my dead mother?!"

Finn grabbed me by the shoulders and gripped me tightly. "You needn't remind me of anything," he said almost mockingly…or perhaps it just sounded that way to me. "I understand what happened."

"Then you can explain this?" I inquired brightly.

"No," was his simple reply, as though the answer had been obvious.

"But you just said —"

"I said I understood, I never said I could explain it," he clarrified, his hands dropping from my shoulders. "Demetria…the world is full of…unexplainable forces and mysteries and…magic. Whatever happened to you tonight…it was magic. You've got no reason to be afraid of it… I'm not."

My body succumbed to a shiver as a near-arctic wind swept through. Finn took notice and brought me to his chest with one hand. "Thank you," I told him, and I hoped he knew it was for more than keeping me warm. I took that time to reflect on how close Finn and I had grown in such a short number of days…weeks, really. But it was then that I realized just how little I actually knew about him. In fact, there were only about three things I knew for certain — One: he was born and raised in Scotland, but was also partially Bulgarian. Two: he possessed a great interest in Hogwarts. And three: he was a hell of a good Beater. So all in all…I truly had little next to no idea who he was.

But just as he started for the kitchen, I stopped him. "We don't have to go, I'm fine," I insisted. And I felt him smile against the top of my forehead just before he pulled away and was smiling down at me.

"May I?" he said, holding out his hand to me. I placed the locket delicately in his palm and then turned around, collecting and holding up my dirty blonde locks as he clasped the locket around my neck. "Have you opened it yet?"

Turning back to face him and dropped my hair, I held the silver oval as far away from my neck as possible and looked down at it. "You know, I didn't even think t —"

After a moment, Finn finally asked, "What is it?"

"I dunno," I told him. "I can't read upside down."

His hands then replaced mine as he examined the inscription on the heart. "It's — It's not English…"

"Well what is it then?" I prodded.

"No idea," admitted Finn. "It just looks like a bunch of odd squiggles."

I took a look at it. "I've never seen a language like that."

"Neither have I," Finn shrugged. "But it's got to mean something to you, or your mum… D'you reckon we could look it up?"

"I wouldn't even know where to look," I admitted, walking toward the edge of the castle upon where I could see a small, winged creature soaring toward Finn and I.

The sun was beginning to rise now, it's rays shining through the large, stone columns like fingers, touching and warming me. I slipped in between two of them as the bird drew closer, and I recognized it as the fair-sized brown owl which delivered my letter to Grandad not too long ago. Finn held out his arm for the owl to rest upon, which he did after dropping the rolled up parchment into my hands. Speaking of Grandad…

Demetria —

I believe it's now my turn to apologize for taking this long to write...or reply, rather. I have had my own fair share of some hectic things going on around here. But I'm glad to hear you're enjoying yourself at Hogwarts. Both of your parents made some of their best memories at that school.

As for this tournament business, I am sorry I wasn't able to console you through your time of worry, but I have heard from Lucius that you handled the first task exceptionally well. Faced a dragon, did you? Perhaps dragon keeping is in your future — or anything else besides Quidditch. You have a tremendous amount of skill, Demetria, but you have so many other magnificent talents that should be put to use instead.

While I do find it odd that you and Harry Potter have been selected as champions, I must say I find it a bit more odd that your wand core is an Augurey tail feather. I must admit, I'd never known that. But what can I say? My brother always was a bit of a tosser... Clearly where you get it from. Only teasing, sweetheart. But in all seriousness, do look after yourself and be careful in this tournament.

Stick with Viktor, Grigor, and even Draco, and as soon as you find something out about the second task, write me. I promise to reply much quicker. Tinker and I send all of our luck and love.

— Grandad

For a moment, I considered writing to Grandad about my dream, but decided against it. He was probably still busy with Death Eater business. Ugh, Death Eaters… I'd nearly forgotten I was required to become one. And once I was…What would people like Viktor or Grigor or even Finn think of me? Bloody hell… The only person I'd still have would be Draco… But until that time came, I didn't plan on revealing such a secret to anyone — I looked to Finn who was smiling at the hooting owl — no matter how close I was to them.

"Harris! Archer!" called out an unmistakably accented voice. A simple turn of the head confirmed it — Sasha Polinskiy. He was making his way toward us, but stopped a few feet away. "The Headmaster has something he wishes to discuss." And then he ushered his forward, to which we did just that and followed Sasha back aboard the ship.

Karkaroff was standing in full uniform and perfectly groomed up on the quarterdeck by the ship's wheel, while the rest of us stood on the lower deck still clad in pajamas, hair disheveled. And as soon as Finn, Sasha, and I had claimed our place among them, Karkaroff immediately began speaking.

"God morgen," he greeted as he always did. (Good morning) To which, we replied with the same. He continued: "The morning each of you were chosen to take this journey, you may recall me mentioning a rather important event. This event is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an oppertunity, not only to show Durmstrang's unity, but to…socialize."

Whispers began to weave through the small crowd, for everyone remembered exactly what Karkaroff was talking about, myself included. It was that ridiculous Yule Ball. But thankfully, despite the wishes of Karkaroff, that was one event I would not be attending.

"I am, of course, speaking of the Yule Ball," he finally revealed, confirming everyone's assumption. "This ball has a restriction of fourth years and above, but…that is not a problem for anyone here, korrekte?" (Correct) We echoed the Norwegian words. "Excellent. Now then, you are all to wear your heavier uniforms in order to represent our institute. The ball will be held in the Great Hall, beginning at eight o'clock on Christmas Day and finishing at midnight. This is a night for you all to enjoy yourselves, HOWEVER… I expect respectable and model behavior from every one of my students. If anyone is to bring embarrassment to myself, others, the institute or themselves, there will be consequences… Forstått?" (Understood)

That time, only the Norwegians were able to understand and echo it. But it didn't seem to matter to Karkaroff, for he then dismissed us to our cabins to ready ourselves for breakfast in the Great Hall. Well… he dismissed all but me, whom he summoned up to the quarterdeck. So after assuring Finn I'd catch up in a moment, I ascended up the steps and stood before Karkaroff who waited until the deck had been cleared to speak.

"Demetria, in regards to the ball —"

"I know what you're going to try and do, sir," I told him, already having figured this would be some sort of persuasion to get me to attend. "But my mind's been made up since you first mentioned this ball. Durmstrang will be perfectly represented without me."

Karkaroff then looked to me in mild amusement. "True enough, I did agree that you did not have to attend," he began. "However…" and then my heart sank. "…that was before you were selected as champion. Demetria, you must attend the Yule Ball, you must have a partner, and you must open the ball with said partner."

"And by open, you mean…?" My voice trailed off, afraid of where it would lead. But in the back of my mind, I already knew the answer to that question.

"Dance," was Karkaroff's simply, and yet still amused, reply.

I released a long, mournful sigh before sarcastically asking, "Any particular color my dress ought to be?"

"Red," replied Karkaroff in all seriousness. "To match the boys."

But before I could utter a single syllable, let alone protest, Karkaroff had insisted I get changed and go to breakfast. And I would've objected, had it not been for my stomach growling at that exact moment. So rather reluctantly, I made my way below deck and traded my pajamas for Durmstrang's lightest uniform, and was able to catch up with the blokes before they'd even entered the Great Hall. This pleased Karkaroff, for he told us to always enter any room or place all together and in two lines. Said something about it being intimidating. But personally, I didn't see anything threatening about two single-file lines. Nevertheless, that was how we entered the hall and made an immediate bee-line for the Slytherin table. Both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students already occupied the hall, though I'd imagined neither had heard of the Yule Ball yet due to the lack of birds animatedly speaking of dresses and dates, and blokes embarrassing themselves as they'd attempt to ask one of said birds to the ball. Unfortunately, there would come a time in that day when both of those percentages would rise.

–

Alright, honestly — Hogwarts was bloody enormous! How in the sodding hell did the entire school come to know about the ball before noon!? Finn and I had tucked ourselves away in the library in hopes of decoding whatever was enscribed on my locket, but it was a rather hard task to accomplish when random blokes would approach me and ask to go to the Yule Ball with them.

"Worst part about being champion — being forced to attend this Godric-damned ball." I scowled.

Finn gave a chuckle to my misfortune. "Why not ask the dragon to the ball with you?"

"At least if I did that, I'd have a brilliant excuse as to why I couldn't wear a dress," I said, making a turn down one of the many sections. Though honestly, I still hadn't the slightest idea of what I was looking for.

"Oh really?" Finn challenged in beguilement. "And what might it be?"

I turned to him and cracked a smile. "Dragon burned my dress."

He chuckled. "Ah, classic. Does it work for homework as well, or do I need a sep — ?" But he just stopped mid-sentence. And when I looked to him, he was gaping at where study tables were set up.

"What is it?" I whispered urgently; Finn went on ignoring me, still staring in bewilderment. "Finn, what're you staring at? Oi, Winifin!" I reached out to strike his arm. Finally, I had his attention.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed. "Why did y — Did you just call me Winifin?"

"Well you weren't responding to your real name!" I defended. "And besides, I think Winifin suits you far better. No honestly," I insisted upon seeing Finn's expression shift from being shocked to being unamused. "Has no one ever told you how much your hips sway when you're walking? Very feminine."

"Oh bugger off…Demetrius," But I took Finn's nickname like a good sport just as he'd done for mine. "Now, take a look at that."

Following the finger Finn was pointing outward, I found it led me straight to a couple seated at one of the studying tables. I immediately recognized the girl to be that Hermione Granger, her bushy hair truly defining her. But the bloke she was with was someone I couldn't automatically identify. He had the seat with his back to me, however. But all it took was a single turn of his head for me to call out, "It's Viktor!"

Several things then happened at once: Viktor, and a few others near the area, turned abruptly, Finn pulled me down to duck behind one of the bookshelves with him, and a woman I imagined must be the librarian approached us.

She was thin and rather irritable-looking with physical attributes like those of an underfed vulture. Not a word was said to us, she merely placed a single finger over her shrivelled lips with a surprisingly intimidating face. Finn and I nodded our understanding before she left us. I then stood up first, making sure there were no more eyes scanning for us — there weren't.

"A bit louder next time," said Finn sarcastically. "I reckon the others back on the ship didn't quite hear you."

But I allowed the comment to roll off my back for I was far more preoccupied with Viktor, who must've said something to get Hermione to sit beside him…because that's what she was doing.

"Would you just look at him?" I gushed. "All of this just to spend time with her! Vicky…Oh, he must really fancy her!" I knew despite all of the birds that clung to Viktor, that deep down he was really a shy bloke. I s'pose I was just glad he was putting himself out there, and it didn't hurt that Hermione seemed a right good choice, especially in comparison to the other slags that have thrown themselves Viktor's way.

"What're you on about?" Finn questioned. "Viktor doesn't even need tutoring! He's one of the top students back home!"

"Cover up, Finn, your naïvety is showing," I teased, catching Finn boldly looking down to check his fly from out of the corner of my eye…though it must've been for my amusement. Even still, I continued to ogle the two of them as they seemed to be drawn even closer to one another. "Viktor doesn't need a tutor, but he's clearly told Hermione that he does so he can spend time with her!"

"Well then why doesn't he just ask to spend time with her?" Finn asked as though it were completely obvious. Which, in all honesty, did make sense for him to think. But that was when I finally turned to face him and explain.

"Vik's much too shy for that. He's just a great, big teddy bear really." I clarrified. "He's got heaps of confidence out on the Quidditch pitch or even around his mates, but once a bird he fancies is involved…" My tone trailed off questioningly. "…he's got about as much belief in himself as he does in nargles."

Just then, the librarian returned and scolded Finn and I in both a stern and shrill voice, "If the two of you cannot keep quiet, I must ask you to leave the library.

In that moment, I looked to find every set of eyes in the library staring at the pair of us, including Viktor and Hermione's. A pang of guilt then hit me as I'd hoped Hermione didn't hear much of what I said in reference to Viktor's being like a teddy bear. But neither Finn nor I could stick around to find out, for the librarian was already ushering us toward the exit.

"Well," I said exasperatedly as we stood on the other side of the doors. "guess we're not decoding this locket today…"

"Such a disappointment… I'd cleared out my entire schedule for this," joked Finn.

I found a genuine laugh overcame me for a moment and he looked over and smiled at me. The two of us began walking, though I was sure neither of us knew where we were going. But I knew I certainly didn't have a particular destination in mind. Instead, I was more focused on Finn, himself. I was still so curious about him. It seemed he was the one I'd been spending all of this time with lately and yet, I couldn't tell you anymore than three facts about the bloke. But I wouldn't get any of my questions answered if I kept them in my mind…

"Finn," I began, overlapping his voice which said my own name. "Go ahead," I insisted.

He gave a nervous laugh. "Er, I was just wondering… Your parents — How long have they been…gone?" Apparently I wasn't the only one curious about the other.

"S'alright to say they're dead, Finn," I assured him. "I mean…it's what they are, ya know? But, erm, I was only a year old when I lost them…both of them. Well, my mum two months before my dad but…yeah." I then braced myself for the next, most obvious, question: How did they die? But either Finn simply wasn't interested or just didn't want to pry, because that question was never asked.

"Blimey…" was all he said at first, instead.

The two of us were now making our way down the stairs…or well, one of them. With how many there were versus which ways they moved and shifted, it was a bloody puzzle just to get to the ground floor.

"I'm so sorry, Demetria," Finn said to me. "I mean…Hell, only a year old — It's almost as though you didn't know them at all."

"In a way, it's sort of a —" I racked my brain for a suitable word, but ended up empty-handed. "Well, not exactly a good thing but…I feel like if I'd have gotten to know them, it would only hurt more to have them gone." That was how I saw it anyway. If you were to lose anything, it would be easier to leave it early on.

"Huh, I s'pose there's truth to that," Finn mused. Upon finally reaching the first floor, it seemed he'd completely shifted his mood as he turned to me and inquired, "So was there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Yeah actually," I replied. I just had to think of a single question to ask first. And when that failed… "Who are you?"

That earned a laugh from him, preceded by an entirely serious response, though while still wearing a grin. "I'm Finnick Simon Archer, born in 1979 on the fifth of November in Glasgow, Scotland. And yourself?"

I couldn't help it, I mirrored his smile. "I'm Demetria Evelyn Harris, born in 1980 on the eighteenth of February in Tutshill, England."

Finn nodded, still grinning and still appearing interested. "I see… Though I'm afraid I've got you beat here — I'm the oldest of two siblings; a ten-year-old brother, Callum, and a thirteen-year-old step-brother, Marko. You know him — Marko Rolek, a third year back at school."

And I did know him, barely, but I had heard of him and seen him around. "I had no idea you two were related," I admitted.

"I wouldn't've expected you to," Finn said. "We look nothing alike, we've got different last names, and we barely even interact with one another."

"What, you two don't get along?" I inquired, figuring if Finn was uncomfortable answering something, he wouldn't have a problem in saying so.

"Well it's not that we particularly don't get along," he explained. "We just — Well I dunno really. Marko mainly keeps to himself anyway, so it feels as though it's really just me and Callum."

I nodded and took a minute before asking, "So why is it you go to Durmstrang? Callum, Finnick — sounds like a Scottish family to me."

"Actually, Finnick doesn't have a particular nationality, and Finn is Irish," he pointed out. "But my mum is Fiona and my real dad is Adam and those are both Scottish, so you're not completely off base. But Marko and my step-father Ivan… In case you can't tell, they're Bulgarian all the way. And when my mum married Ivan, he insisted mine and eventually Callum's schooling take place at Durmstrang."

And all this time I'd simply thought Finn had a Bulgarian background much like myself… "D'you like him?" We'd finally come to the end of the winding corridors, and seated ourselves on the castle steps we'd usually take when entering from the grounds off the ship. "Sorry if I'm prying."

Finn gave a smile and assured me, "I don't mind. Ivan's a good man…just not the best father," Any trace of a smile vanished, his lips snapping back into a hard line. "He's Head Auror for the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, so you could say he sort of takes his work home with him."

"Finn, he doesn't…?" I left the rest up to the imagination. Beat, hit, curse, hex… I wouldn't know. But Finn seemed to understand.

"No, nothing like that," he quickly relieved my worry. "He's just…strict, and rather harsh at times. But then again, seemed I had things so good with my real dad…guess I'm just not used to Ivan's parenting yet."

This only continued to peek my interest as I asked him, "How old were you when your mum re-married?"

"Well she and my dad got their divorce when I was about eight, so I s'pose you've got me beat there," I looked to him in confusion and he explained. "It's harder knowing what, or whom, I'm missing," I nodded and he continued. "Yeah, they said it just wasn't working out. Tried to stay together for Callum and I, but my mum just kept saying she couldn't be in a love-less marriage any longer. And then it was…two years later that she and Ivan were married."

I just took a moment to let it all soak in, but mostly to let Finn compose himself. It must've been hard on him to just lay out his life story on a rather sensitive subject. And though I hadn't even planned on asking any further questions, Finn looked to me with tears glimmering at the brim of his sea-green eyes.

"I used to write to him, Demetria," he told me softly, and I knew he meant Adam. "Everyday… He's never replied."

I was speechless, no idea what to say. What could I have said? I knew what I could do though. My arms found their way around Finn's neck and his automatically snaked around my waist, his face buried in my shoulder. I could feel the silent tears dampen my sleeve, but I just let him cry. At least now I finally knew more than three things about Finn…