"Miss Weasley!"

Rose turned, half her body exposed to the bitter chill of the night air, half still bathed in warmth from the Entrance Hall. A small figure was hurrying towards her. As it ran beneath a torch sconce, she realised who it was.

"Timmy!" Bringing her foot back inside, she pulled the door to, a slight shiver running through her as the crash echoed through the high-ceilinged room.

"I...I have a letter for you." The little boy held out a trembling hand. Curiously, she took the envelope from him.

"Who's it from?" She didn't recognise the writing.

"I don't know..." He sounded strangely terrified. "There's been a bit of a problem in the Owlery, something about droppings, so I've had to deliver all the letters for my detention."

"Thanks, Timmy." She smiled as she slid her finger beneath the seal.

"I'd better get back. P-professor Lycon will kill me for being gone too long."

"Professor Lycon? Is he that one who spoke at the Feast?"

"Y-yes. He's in charge of this Tournament, b-but...he's..." Timmy glanced around, as if the teacher could hear him, and beckoned Rose closer to him. He whispered in her ear. "Evil."

Rose let out a small laugh, but stopped when she saw the grave expression on his face. "Hey...everyone said Professor Snape was evil. Remember not to judge a book by its cover, all right?" She gently wrapped her arms around the small Slytherin (whose head barely reached her chest) and sighed. It really wasn't fair the way Malfoy treated him. She'd always had a soft spot for the boy.

"But you can get a pretty good idea." His voice was muffled against her.

"Come on, kid, you should get back." She ruffled his hair and pulled away. He clung to her like a toddler, but she carefully prised him off. "I promise you, Professor Lycon is not going to murder you. It wouldn't be very good for his job!"

As his silhouette faded away, Rose gazed down at the letter in her hand. It was half sticking out and she could see the writing was printed in block capitals. Disconcerted, she ripped it free and read:

TO ROSE,
EXPELLED, BUT WHAT FOR?
DADDY WOULDN'T BE PROUD IF HE KNEW THE TRUTH.
DON'T FORGET – I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST TERM.
YOURS TRULY

-ANON

The parchment slipped from between her fingers.

"You look like you 'ave seen a ghost." was Jacque's greeting as she returned to the Beauxbatons carriage.

"There are plenty of ghosts around Hogwarts." Rose muttered, sitting on the bottom step.

"You know what I mean. Is everytheeng all right?"

She shook her head. "I hardly know."

Did Rose Weasley like being a champion? No.

She was sick of Beauxbatons students swarming her to offer their 'félicitations' that she didn't want. She was sick of being followed by a constant horde of boys all begging to 'explore her Chamber of Secrets' and she was sick of the images that plagued her mind as she thought of the upcoming task.

Did Scorpius Malfoy like being a champion? You may as well ask 'were Fred and George Weasley twins?' The answer could only be yes.

He loved the constant cheers that arose every time he walked past. He loved the way girls fawned over him. He was completely willing to answer their pleas of 'letting them ride his broomstick'. He loved seeing the indignation on Albus Potter's face and knowing he caused it. He loved the pride he got in writing to his father to boast how he managed to, once and for all, beat Potter.

They were as different as day and night. But as surely as day came, night would follow.

One night, a week before November 30th, Rose sat in the Library. A stack of books surrounded her – but she lay fast asleep on the scrubbed wooden table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She jerked awake, her neck shrieking with stiffness. The tapping repeated. Blearily, she pushed her head up and looked around.

An owl was at the window.

Cautiously, she lifted the pane and it gave an annoyed squawk, casting a letter in her lap along with something else rather less pleasant. Now she understood the problem the Owlery had had. A rumour had been spreading round that Filch had put cat food out for the birds. She narrowly avoided it hitting her. However, when she unfurled the letter and saw the writing, she almost would have preferred the droppings.

DID YOU LIKE MY LAST LETTER? THERE ARE MANY MORE TO COME!
I CAN'T WAIT!

-ANON

Scorpius lounged across the sofa in the Slytherin Common Room. Lorcan sprinted over to him and he sat up expectantly.

"There's a letter for you. But...it's not from your dad." Lorcan passed over the envelope, swallowing hard. Scorpius turned it over to see the seal had already been broken. "Sorry...you said you wanted to know immediately if it was your father-"

"Shut it." Scorpius held up a hand, his voice dead. He stared down at the letter.

TRIWIZARD CHAMPION IS ONLY A TITLE. DADDY DOESN'T SEEM TO CARE!
HAHA, SUCKS TO BE YOU!

-ANON

A/N: Aaaaaaand...the plot thickens. Thick plots are always better. Thick thick thick thick thick. Thick no longer sounds like a word.