Chapter Fifteen
Snuffles and Tri
:.:.:
The next day I was still doing my very best to avoid Cedric, much like George had returned to doing with me. Cedric had tried approaching me at dinner the previous night and several times at the ship, and that morning was no exception. But every time, I had Finn and Grigor tell him that I wasn't ready to forgive him. I wasn't actually sure what the two thought of the situation, but I knew Viktor's view — that Cedric was innocent and there must've been some other explanation — which was why Viktor didn't help me out like Finn and Grigor. And though I was nearly positive that Cedric wouldn't betray me that way, Skeeter wasn't anywhere near the first aid tent when I'd told him my secret — Well, it wasn't exactly a secret anymore... All three blokes had been guarding the tent and the mediwizard was apparently too involved in a conversation with Dumbledore about my condition to be eavesdropping.
So, anyway, after breakfast, I spent the rest of the morning with Harry, Ron, and Hermione up in Gryffindor Tower until it was time for lunch. After that, I joined up with them again and, thankfully, didn't see any sign of Cedric.
Even though I'd asked Harry about a dozen times why he wanted me to come along, he wouldn't say anything more than "You'll see" even when we finally arrived in Hogsmeade. I wasn't sure why it put me so on-edge. I knew I should've just relaxed and been having fun with the Golden Trio. After all, I did enjoy spending time with them and never really got the chance to, but there were just so many things that kept making me uneasy. I worried that Harry had told his mates about my involvement in Death Eater business and perhaps they'd hatched some sort of plot to take me out...literally and then figuratively. Part of me knew that was ridiculous, but I couldn't get the other part to agree.
Around half past one, after a visit to Gladrags Wizardwear where Harry bought a pair of socks for Dobby (because it turned out Dobby gave him the same pair of the mismatched socks he'd given me for Christmas), I followed the trio's lead as we walked up High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village. That was when I truly started panicking, the rational part of me slowly becoming less and less convinced that I was being ridiculous earlier. I knew there wasn't much point in asking any questions about where we were going...and I also wasn't sure why I was so nervous. I was fairly certain I could beat the three of them in a duel...except perhaps Hermione, she was sure to put up a fight... Well, and maybe Harry... To be fair, I didn't even know Ron's duelling capabilities; for all I knew, he could've been the best out of the trio. The best I'd be able to do would be to disarm them, though, I wouldn't be able to get away with killing three students, and certainly not when one of them was the famous Boy Who Lived.
The winding lane continued to lead us out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade, somewhere I'd never travelled before. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; we were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then we turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for us, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth.
THIS is how they're going to kill me? was all that I could think. Well actually, that and about a thousand different ways I could make it out of this alive. I continued playing out possible scenarios in my head as the dog approached us until Harry finally broke the silence we'd been stuck in since leaving the village.
"Hello, Sirius," he said when the dog had reached us.
The dog seemed to almost ignore Harry and stared right at me. I moved to retrieve my wand from my combat boot.
"Oh, right!" said Harry, seeming to have just remembered I was there. "I'm sure you two met a long time ago but I hope it's alright I brought her — it's Demetria Harris."
My hand froze inside my boot as I stared blankly at the dog.
"What in the sodding hell is going on?!" I finally demanded of Harry.
"Harry, you didn't tell her?!" Hermione scolded in a way which reminded me of Viktor. It was honestly no wonder those two got along so well.
"I thought it would be better as a surprise!" Harry sheepishly defended.
Now that my head was clearing up, something clicked. "Wait, Sirius? As in Sirius Black?"
The dog gave a bark and began to trot away across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. The four of us climbed over the stile and followed, Harry finally explaining the situation, although it turned out, I already knew it.
Sirius Black was innocent of the crime he was sent to Azkaban for, and even though Harry, Ron, and Hermione had tried to clear his name, the real perpetrator had gotten free and so Sirius lived in hiding and this dog was his Animagus form. I knew this because the person who really committed the crime was Wormtail, someone I already had the displeasure of knowing.
"I thought maybe...since Lupin is...your godfather...you'd know Sirius too... and he could...sort of...help you see him," Harry told me between breaths, as we were now following Sirius up onto the mountain itself.
"Harry...that's very sweet..." I said, truly touched. "But the next time...you want to lead someone...to a secluded area... you'll let them know why... so they're not planning...how to take down three wizards at once."
"You thought...we were...going to kill you?" asked Ron, incredulously.
"Stupid, I know," I said to Ron and Hermione before speaking quietly to Harry. "I thought...you'd told them about me..."
"No...I promised you," he told me fervently.
"Thank you," I whole-heartedly told him.
He only smiled in reply, probably because it was truly getting harder to breathe.
For nearly half an hour we climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail, sweating in the sun. Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when we reached the place where he had vanished, we saw a narrow fissure in the rock. Upon squeezing into it, we were in a cool, dimly lit cave. There was a rope tied around a large rock with a hippogriff tethered at the other end of it. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, its fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of us.
"Buckbeak," Harry told me. I assumed that was its name.
We bowed low to Buckbeak, and after regarding us imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck. But I wasn't watching this long, because out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Sirius transforming into a human. When I turned to look, there before us stood an exceptionally thin man with long, untidy, black hair, wearing ragged gray robes. He looked so familiar to me...and not just because I'd seen his face all over England when he escaped from Azkaban...
"Demetria!" he said hoarsely after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth and throwing them onto the cave floor. He had his arms open wide but dropped them when I didn't respond. He began approaching me cautiously, probably unsure of how I would react.
"I take it old Carlisle never mentioned me," he said, bitingly.
A bitter chuckle escaped me. "There's a lot he didn't mention," I scoffed.
"That sounds about right," he sneered; but when he looked at me again, his expression and tone changed. It was much...warmer. "I was rather good friends with your parents."
That was honestly all I needed to hear before I ran up to Sirius and wrapped my arms around him; he immediately returned the embrace.
"I can't believe how grown up you are," he said, sincerely, before pulling away to take another look at me. "Merlin's beard, you look just like Lucy. I'd swear I was looking at her right now if it weren't for those eyes..."
I hadn't even realized how widely I'd been smiling until I tried to speak. "My dad's eyes." My voice came out just as hoarsely as Sirius's had before; I felt as though I actually might've cried.
"Remus has got to see you," said Sirius, decidedly.
"Where is he?" I asked almost immediately.
Sirius's face fell. "I'm afraid I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't exactly been keeping in touch with anyone...except Harry, of course."
Right. A wrongfully accused convict currently in hiding, living in a cave with a hippogriff — not the best choice to help you find your godfather.
"I'm sorry, Demetria," said Harry, seeming rather crestfallen as well, and embarrassed. "Maybe Dumbledore could —"
"I already tried that," I told him, despondently. "He said he didn't want to go against my grandfather's wishes."
"Why doesn't your grandfather want you getting in touch with your godfather?" Hermione inquired.
I didn't know for sure, but my best guess was that he didn't want me learning the truth about my parents. Now that I knew, however, I could've just asked Carlisle...but much like Cedric, I still didn't wish to speak with him.
"Bad blood," I shrugged. "Don't worry about it though, Harry, I'll find him. And I still really appreciate you bringing me here."
I looked to Sirius as I said the last part, the two of us grinning at one another. Azkaban had certainly altered his appearance, I was sure, but there was still something very familiar about his face. I only wished I could remember what little time I must've had with him...and Remus, for that matter.
"Now then, Harry, you brought some food, I hope?" asked Sirius.
Harry opened the bag he'd been carrying with him and handed over a bundle of chicken legs and bread.
"Thanks," Sirius said, tearing off a large chunk of a drumstick with his teeth. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."
"So what're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry questioned.
"Fulfilling my duty as godfather," said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. I'd almost forgotten Sirius was Harry's own godfather. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."
He was still grinning until catching the anxiety plastered on Harry's face; he, then, spoke more seriously. "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter...well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."
He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave floor, Ron picking up and unfolding them.
"What if they catch you?" Harry pressed. "What if you're seen?"
"You three — Well, now four — and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," said Sirius, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg.
Ron nudged Harry and passed him the Daily Prophets. I glanced over as well. There were two: The first bore the headline Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch, the second, Ministry Witch Still Missing — Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved.
I had no idea what Harry had written to Sirius about, but after scanning the article about Crouch, it was evident something was going on: hasn't been seen in public since November . . . house appears deserted . . . St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment . . . Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness. . .
"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here..."
"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron informed Sirius. Ah, yes, good old Percy. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."
"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry. "The night our names came out of the goblet..." He gestured to me. I'd honestly thought they forgot I was standing there.
"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione, an edge to her voice. I was still just trying to keep up, but it sounded like Winky was his house-elf. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."
"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron muttered to both Sirius and I, confirming my assumption.
"Crouch sacked his house-elf?" asked Sirius, clearly very interested.
"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," said Harry. He then launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave.
"Let me get this straight," he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"
"Right," the trio confirmed.
"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"
"No," said Harry. "I think he said he'd been too busy."
I hadn't been speaking because I didn't really have much to contribute...up until now. I continued to keep my mouth shut because I had a fairly good idea of what happened but I couldn't share it without letting it slip that I was in the Death Eater business. I wasn't even entirely sure if that was something Sirius knew... I could only assume considering he seemed to know all about Carlisle...
Barty Crouch Jr. was a Death Eater. I'd seen him around the meetings, though not all that much. He'd been convicted but his father smuggled him out of Azkaban, replacing him with his terminally ill mother, disguised by using the Polyjuice Potion. Crouch Jr.'s father had then placed him under the Imperius Curse to prevent him from running away.
The night of the World Cup, I'd heard some of the other Death Eaters talking about how Crouch Jr. would be there under an Invisibility Cloak, with Winky...
Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"
"Erm..." Harry thought hard. "No, he said finally. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars. Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"
"It's possible," said Sirius.
It's exactly what happened. Barty Crouch Jr. stole Harry's wand and conjured the Dark Mark.
"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insisted.
"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," said Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace. Damn, he was good. "Who else was sitting behind you?"
"Loads of people," said Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers...Cornelius Fudge...the Malfoys..."
"The Malfoys!" said Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak started nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"
"It wasn't." I couldn't help it. The words shot from my mouth before I could even think to stop them. The Malfoys were incredibly misunderstood, and yes, Draco and his father could certainly be tools at times, but there was always something about them that made me think they were like Carlisle and I — just doing what needed to be done to survive.
"That's right, you were there too," said Harry in realization. "With the Malfoys."
I thought for a moment there would be an interrogation, but that was all he said before Sirius spoke again.
"Anyone else?"
"No one," Harry told him.
"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Hermione reminded him.
"Oh yeah..."
"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Winbourne Wasps," said Sirius, still pacing. "What's he like?"
"Bit of a nutter, but he's harmless," I spoke again. Bagman wasn't one of us, er, one of them...a Death Eater.
"He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament," said Harry.
"Does he, now?" said Sirius, frowning more deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"
"Says he's taken a liking to me." Harry shrugged.
"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione told Sirius. "Remember?" she spoke to Harry and Ron, then.
Ron and Hermione went back and forth, the former arguing it couldn't've been Bagman, and the latter insisting it was more likely than Winky.
"It wasn't Bagman." That time, I'd finally said too much. Now there were curious eyes on me.
"How d'you know it wasn't Malfoy or Bagman?" Ron asked, tentatively.
And why did it matter to me whether they knew who really conjured the Mark or not? Why couldn't I just let them believe it was Malfoy or Bagman? Luckily, I didn't have to answer because Sirius spoke again after thinking rather hard.
"All these absences of Barty Crouch's...he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too... It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."
"D'you know Crouch, then?" said Harry. The spotlight was off of me, though Ron didn't seem all too convinced to drop it just yet.
Sirius's face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as the Sirius Black whose face had been plastered all over England not too long ago.
"Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban — without a trial."
"What?" said Hermione and Ron together.
"You're kidding!" Harry exclaimed.
When the three of them looked to me, I mustered a look of shock, but I wasn't all too surprised, honestly.
"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"
The trio shook their heads; I mirrored it.
"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," Sirius continued. "He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical — and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter. No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side...well, you wouldn't understand...you're too young..."
A cynical breath of laughter escaped me, but I immediately covered it by sniffling and looking to Buckbeak, feigning an allergy.
"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, a trace of irritation in his voice. "Try us, why don't you?"
A grin flashed across Sirius's face.
"All right, I'll try you..." He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing...the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere . . . panic . . . confusion . . . that's how it used to be.
"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning — I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers — powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you — plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something happened..." Sirius smiled grimly; I had a feeling this was the part I knew. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."
"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione.
"Yep," said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, tearing it in half. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while...gotten to know his son."
He began to wolf down large pieces of bread.
"Was his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked.
I was about to answer, but I stopped myself that time. Again, I wasn't sure why it mattered so much to me that they know the truth. I s'pose they were going to find out eventually, though...
"No idea," said Sirius before I could speak, anyway. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."
"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.
Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark, and at first, I thought it was because of how Hermione decided to phrase that question.
"Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy...then he sent him straight to Azkaban."
For some reason, it was beginning to bother me that this was what they thought was going on, but I didn't dare speak again.
"He gave his own son to the dementors?" asked Harry quietly.
No, he saved his son. He loves his son.
"That's right," said Sirius. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though...they all went quiet in the end...except when they shrieked in their sleep..."
"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry inquired.
"No. No, he's not in there anymore." said Sirius dully. At least that part was true. "He died about a year after they brought him in."
"He died?"
Nope. Wrong again.
"He wasn't the only one," said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."
Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask Harry had brought and drained it.
"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic...next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray." I wondered if people would think that about me... "The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
There was a long silence. Sirius had mentioned he and my parents were good friends... I wondered just how good, exactly. Maybe he knew about what my father did, joining the Death Eaters to protect my mother and me... I wondered what he thought about him, about both of them...about me...
"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told Sirius.
"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," said Sirius, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."
"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione. I was lost, once again.
"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," said Sirius.
"Yeah, it does!" said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head.
"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."
"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" asked Harry.
Hermione immediately broke in. "Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape —"
"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really Dark wizard couldn't fool him —"
"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"
"I dunno — maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out —"
"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry said loudly, Hermione and Ron stopping their bickering to listen.
I was curious as well. I knew Snape was on the Dark Side, I just was never fully convinced as to how much... After all, Dumbledore did trust him, and it was hard to believe that a wizard as wise as he was wouldn't know exactly what Snape was up to. I'd never paid much mind to Snape, but the others were always questioning his loyalty, much like they did with Carlisle...and apparently my father, as well... Perhaps I'd been wrong about Snape, myself. Perhaps he was someone Dumbledore could trust...
"I think they've both got a point," said Sirius, voicing my inner monologue. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," Sirius added; Harry and Ron grinned at each other. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."
"Sometimes you don't have a choice in becoming one," I spoke up again but didn't care if they questioned me this time. "You're all very quick to judge the Malfoys, but you don't know them like I do. Not everyone who joins the Dark Side does so by choice."
The trio looked to me as though I'd actually given them something to think about; Sirius was nodding in agreement with me.
"That is true, but there's no doubt this particular group made their own choices," Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names — names that I couldn't help but feel sick and guilty that I already knew.
"Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell." I didn't know them personally, being that they were dead before I could met them, but I'd heard about them, certainly.
"The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban." Another pair I'd never met, but Godric, had I heard of them... Quite honestly, they scared me, this coming from a girl who'd grown up around these monsters nearly her whole life. I knew some bloody awful people, but the Lestranges were the worst of the worst; truly mental.
"Avery — from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse — he's still at large." He certainly was. I'd seen him not too long ago...
"But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."
"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Ron. Hermione quickly elbowed him in the side and he seemed to look over at me as though just realizing I was still there.
"Er, I don't really know if Karkaroff's involved..." I fibbed.
"There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape," Sirius continued with a grimace of frustration. "and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."
"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" said Ron stubbornly.
"Well," said Sirius slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though...he's a different matter... Is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not...what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"
I may have known the answers to their wonderings before, but not anymore. I had no idea what was going on with Crouch, nor did I even know he and Moody had sneaked into Snape's office...
Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.
"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"
"I can try," Ron offered, though doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."
"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet.
I gasped. I couldn't help it, I didn't mean to. The name caught me off guard. I tried to play it off as more sniffling, though, and no one really seemed to notice, except Sirius...but he didn't bring attention to it.
Bertha Jorkins discovered Wormtail and he killed her for it. That was all Carlisle had told me on the matter, but he also implied that she may have seen Voldemort, as well, before her death.
"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.
"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there," said Sirius, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all — quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic... Maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long..."
Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.
"What's the time?"
The four of us checked our watches but Hermione was the one to respond.
"It's half past three," she said.
"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen..." He looked particularly hard at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."
"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, but Sirius scowled.
"I don't care...I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"
"Oh, and speaking of the tournament," Sirius looked to me with a much warmer expression. "Demetria, glad you came back to life."
We actually all chuckled. "You and me, both," I told him. "And I'm really glad I got to meet you, or I guess, see you again."
He grinned and wrapped me in another quick embrace. "Likewise," he said. "And I'll do my best to find Remus for you. C'mon, I'll walk to the edge of the village with you, see if I can scrounge another paper."
He transformed into the great black dog before we all left the cave, and we walked mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of us to pat him on the head before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. The Golden Trio and I made our way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.
"Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?" Ron said as we walked up the drive to the castle. "But maybe he doesn't care... It'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son."
Ugh, this again?
"Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors," said Hermione severely.
"I don't know," Ron said. "If he thought we were standing in the way of his career... Percy's really ambitious, you know..."
We walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward us from the Great Hall.
"Poor old Snuffles," said Ron, breathing deeply. "He must really like you, Harry . . . Imagine having to live off rats."
We all gave a laugh.
"I'm sorry again, Demetria," Harry said just as we'd approached the Hall.
"It's really all right, Harry," I insisted. "I really am glad I got to see Snuffles, and hanging out with you three isn't too bad either."
"As long as you don't think we're trying to kill you," Ron teased.
We laughed again.
"We really enjoy spending time with you, too," said Hermione, sincerely. "Don't be a stranger, all right?"
"All right." I mirrored her smile.
"We don't even really know much about you..." said Ron, uncertainly. I knew he was about to bring up something I'd said back in the cave, but for the first time in the last two days, I was actually glad to see Cedric.
"Hey, Harry, Ron, Hermione," he greeted the trio pleasantly; they returned the welcome. "Mind if I have a word with Demetria?"
The three looked to me to see if it was alright with me, first, and when I nodded, we all exchanged goodbyes as they went into the Great Hall.
Cedric appeared sort of taken aback. "You're really letting me talk to you?" he asked with genuine confusion.
"Well, yeah, but I'm also really hungry..." I said, the two of us cracking a smile, then. "Will you come by the ship after dinner?"
Cedric looked ecstatic, as though I'd just asked him to marry me. "Yeah, of course. I'll see you then."
I'd actually half-expected to see Cedric waiting for me when people began filing out of the Great Hall once dinner had ended, but I didn't. Instead, someone else appeared to be waiting for me, although I couldn't be sure, so I continued walking for a moment. They immediately stopped me.
"I was waiting for you, Princess." I turned back and saw George giving me his lopsided grin.
"I wasn't sure if we were speaking or not," I told him.
He gestured for us to move to the side, away from the bustling students.
"I'm sorry," he said whole-heartedly, without even a trace of a smirk. "I'm sorry for avoiding you, I'm sorry I keep...getting into arguments with you," we both gave a small laugh at that. "I've been acting sort of childish —"
"You, childish? Never," I teased.
"Oi, I'm trying to apologize here," he said, though in jest. "Anyway, it's just... I dunno, it's harder than I thought it would be...but I'll be fine, I'll get over it. I just want to go back to being friends again. So...friends?" He extended a hand.
"George Weasley, I died last month and have yet to receive my 'I'm so glad you're alive' hug from you," I told him, matter-of-factly.
He smirked. "You're right, I dunno what I was thinking," He then proceeded to wrap me up in his arms and even lifted me off the ground for a moment. "Thank Merlin you're alive, Princess! I was so worried we'd have no one to rule the kingdom!"
"You just had to go and ruin the moment, didn't you?" I teased when he set me back down.
"I can bring it back just as easily," he assured me. "Have you got a few minutes to come to my dormitory?"
"George!" I said, actually quite taken aback by his...boldness. I struck his arm.
"Oh, no! No, that's not what I meant!" he immediately insisted, ears reddening. "Not that I'd be opposed —" He looked almost as surprised as I was, then, red spreading to his face. "I just have something to show you, to give you, I...I know it was your birthday a few weeks ago."
"How d'you know that?" I inquired.
"Finn told me," he explained. "I asked him...how you were doing and he mentioned it."
"That's — You didn't have to get me anything," I told him. I felt bad knowing the Weasleys weren't exactly the wealthiest family...
"Well I already did," he said with a smirk. "So...?"
"Alright then," I conceded.
I'd say I followed George up to Gryffindor Tower, but there was no need for me to follow considering I knew the way so well. It sort of made me feel...weird, for lack of a better word, for a moment. I knew exactly where the Gryffindor common room was and had no idea where the Slytherins were. Not that it really mattered, I s'pose... After all, this wasn't my school. I wasn't in either House. And I kept forgetting that my mother had been a Gryffindor, herself.
George gave the password to the portrait of the Fat Lady and we made our way into the common room where I saw plenty of familiar faces.
"Oi, Georgie, where've you — Princess!" cried Fred. "Welcome, welcome! Can I take this to mean that you two are, dare I say, friends again?"
"Yes," we both told him.
"Ugh, it is so hard to keep up with you, honestly," Fred said fervently before speaking to Lee. "So hot and cold, these two, am I right?"
Lee only laughed and nodded in reply before someone I hadn't spoken to in a while stepped in.
"Oh, bugger off, Fred." It was Ginny. She gave her brother a slap upside the head, though smiled good-naturedly.
"Thank you for that," I told her.
"Anytime," she assured me. "So how're you and Cedric?"
Cedric...
"Son of a banshee," I cursed. "George, I'm sorry, I told Cedric I'd meet him after dinner to talk."
"Oh, well, this'll just take a second," he said, though slightly crestfallen. "C'mon, I'm already weeks late."
"Okay, okay, let's go," I said. "I guess a few more minutes won't hurt at this point."
George led the way up the staircase and I followed him into the sixth-year boys' dormitory. He rushed over to his four-poster and opened the trunk which sat at the foot of it.
"You have to close your eyes because I didn't wrap it," he told me rather sheepishly.
"Didn't have time?" I mocked, closing my eyes.
"Hilarious as usual, Princess," said George sarcastically.
"Just about as hilarious as that tired old nickname," I said, only half-jokingly.
"Aw, c'mon, I reckon it suits you." I couldn't tell whether or not he was kidding, but I could finally hear him make his way toward me.
"Yeah, Durmstrang's Lille Prinsesse," I scoff. "You think I'm a pampered, spoiled brat who gets everything handed to me?"
"Dem, Fred and I only tease you, you know that," said George, sincerely. I saw nothing but darkness but I could sense he was near me, then. "Does it really bother you?"
"I dunno, I guess not," I admitted. "Not from you two, anyway. Some of the blokes at school call me it because I'm the only girl and they reckon I get special treatment because of it."
"You and I both know that isn't true," he assured me. "Hell, I'm sure even they know it isn't true. They're only jealous, Prin — Demetria."
I smiled, and then said something I never thought I'd say. "If you want a new nickname for me, you could...call me Tri."
I'd almost expected George to chuckle at it. After all, it sounded like I'd just asked him to call me Tree. But I guess there was something about the way I'd said it, or maybe it was my facial expression, that told him that I was serious and that this really meant something to me.
"Tri?" there was a hint of laughter in his voice when he asked. "Oh, like Demetria?"
I was silent for a moment. Tri. I hadn't heard anyone call me that in a long time. Actually, not since I saw my parents...when I died...but before that, it had been years... And it wasn't even something I could remember considering how young I was...but Carlisle had told me all about it.
"What's wrong?" George asked, concerned.
I hadn't even noticed there was a tear running down my cheek until I finally spoke again. "My grandad used to call me Tria," I explained, softly. "And my dad... would call me Tri... But no one uses them anymore and... I dunno, I miss it."
"Are you sure?" said George. "I know it means a lot to you. Are you sure you don't want to...keep it between you and your dad?"
"Well, you mean a lot to me too," I told him, whole-heartedly. "If anyone's going to call me Tri...it's going to be you two."
I knew it was stupid to say, considering one of them couldn't call me anything anymore... But George knew what I meant. I heard him drop whatever my gift was and didn't even have time to look and see what it was before he'd wrapped his arms around me.
"So, Tri . . . are you ever going to give me my clothes back?" George asked me after a moment.
I laughed and pulled away from him. "D'you always have to ruin the moment?"
"I had to this time or else you'd never get your gift!" he exclaimed, chuckling a bit too.
I looked down and saw a pair of small, black Chuck Taylors with white laces.
"My first pair of sneakers!" I said, beaming. I immediately removed my combat boots and swapped them for the Chucks.
"You like them, then?" George was looking at me rather anxiously. "They fit? I had to get your size from Viktor."
I finished lacing them and walked around a bit. "Vik was right," I told him. That didn't surprise me, though. I was fairly certain I knew Viktor's shoe size as well. "And I love them, George! Thank you! But you really didn't have to —"
"Like I said, I already did so just enjoy!" he said. "And maybe now you could give me mine back?" He smirked.
"Right, sorry, I'll bring you your stuff tomorrow," I promised before catching a glimpse of my watch. "Shite! Okay, I really do have to go now. Cedric's waiting."
"Oh yeah, sorry!" he said, appearing slightly disappointed again. "Well, happy belated birthday, and I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you!" I called, rushing for the door now. "Thanks again, George!"
"You're welcome, Tri!"
I paused for a moment. It was certainly nice to hear that again.
I rushed down the stairs and through the common room with a quick goodbye to everyone in it. When I finally made it out to the dock, Cedric was making his way down the plank.
"Cedric! I'm so sorry!" I said, nearly knocking right into him. He had his arms outstretched, holding each of my shoulders; one of my hands was holding my boots, my other was on my left side. I thought my battle wound from the Second Task was healed up, but I s'pose I should've been a bit more careful.
"Are you all right?" he asked, worried. "Where were you?"
"I'm fine, this is from the tournament," I assured him, gesturing to the wound. "I lost track of time, I was just going to stop by really quickly bu —"
"Stop by where, love?" His expression and tone lightened up when he realized I hadn't been in any danger.
"Gryffindor common room," I told him. "George wanted to give me my birthday gift — See!" I looked down at my Chucks in admiration, Cedric following suit.
"You were with George..." If that were a question, he didn't phrase it as such. He sounded sort of distant, then.
"What're you thinking?" I grew a bit worried, myself.
"I just know that he... Well, it's no secret, he fancies you —"
"You think something happened?" I asked, incredulously.
I was surprised when Cedric gave a chuckle. "Y'know what?" he said, still grinning. "I don't. I dunno why I got so worried for a minute, there, because I know that just because he fancies you, that doesn't mean...anything would happen between you two."
I smiled then, too. "George wouldn't do that," I assured him. "And I certainly wouldn't either. I don't think of him that way, and I wouldn't want to ruin what we have."
Cedric leaned in to place a kiss on my lips just before his smile faltered. "So, Demetria, about this Rita Skeeter business —"
"I know you didn't tell her," I said. I was certain I knew that all along, really. "I dunno how she found out exactly what I'd said, but...I trust you."
His smile returned, possibly wider than before. "I'm glad," he said, softly.
"Nakraya!" I heard Viktor exclaim. (Finally)
He was standing on the ship, right where the plank met the railing.
"Sod off!" I told him, though smiling. "He thinks he's always right," I said quietly to Cedric.
"I am!" Viktor called out again.
I rolled my eyes; Cedric laughed.
"I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, see you," I told him.
He gave me a quick kiss. "Night, Viktor!"
"Goodnight, Cedric!" Vik returned.
When Cedric was a good distance off and I'd climbed back on to the ship, Viktor spoke again.
"Vhat about George?"
I dropped my boots and sat up on the railing. "What about George?" I inquired.
Viktor looked down to my sneakers in reply and then back at me, raising his eyebrows and smirking.
"Cedric got me a birthday gift, too," I defended, but Viktor ignored that.
"You do not feel anything for George?" he asked, instead.
"No," I said, airily. What I'd said to Cedric was true: I didn't think of George that way. At least, I didn't think so... Wait, no, what're you talking about? You don't like George, he's your friend! You like Cedric!
"Doing the arguing vith yourself?" said Viktor, smuggly. He could read me like a bloody book.
"Why're you even asking me this?" I demanded. "I thought you liked Cedric?"
"I do," he insisted. "But I know he is not the von for you."
"I'm fifteen, Vik, how could you possibly know who the von is already?" I teased. "What if I haven't even met him yet?"
"I know that I am not the von for Hermione," he said, matter-of-factly. "But I can see that Ron is."
"Anyone can see that he obviously fancies her, but that doesn't mean they're meant to, y'know, end up together," I debated.
Viktor didn't speak for a moment, though he still appeared rather smug. "Perhaps you are right," he said, though I knew he didn't really believe that. "Come, the others are vaiting to hear vhat happened in Hogsmeade."
Sometimes it really irritated me that Viktor always thought he was right about things... But what irritated me even more . . . was that he was always right about things...