Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Except for Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.

Chapter 27- The Third Task

"Dumbledore reckons You-Know-Who's getting stronger again as well?" Ron whispers.

Everything Harry saw in the Pensieve, nearly everything Dumbledore told and showed him afterwards, he has now shared with Ron, Hermione, and me — and, of course, with Sirius, to whom Harry sent an owl the moment he left Dumbledore's office. We four sit up late in the common room once again that night, talking it all over until my mind is reeling.

Ron stares into the common room fire. I think I see Ron shiver slightly, even though the evening is warm.

"And he trusts Snape?" Ron says. "He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?"

"Yes," says Harry. I grip my hands tighter at the thought of being taught by a former death eater, if he even is former. They took away so much from me, and now he has to hang around as a morbidly cruel reminder of that.

Hermione has not spoken for ten minutes. She is sitting with her forehead in her hands, staring at her knees. I think she too looks overwhelmed.

"Rita Skeeter," she mutters finally.

"Please not again." I groan, running my hands through my hair.

"How can you be worrying about her now?" says Ron, in utter disbelief.

"I'm not worrying about her," Hermione says to her knees. "I'm just thinking . . . remember what she said to me in the Three Broomsticks? 'I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl.' This is what she meant, isn't it? She reported his trial, she knew he'd passed information to the Death Eaters. And Winky too, remember . . . 'Ludo Bagman's a bad wizard.' Mr. Crouch would have been furious he got off, he would have talked about it at home."

"Yeah, but Bagman didn't pass information on purpose, did he?" Hermione shrugs.

"And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?" I ask, turning back to Harry.

"Yeah," says Harry, "but he's only saying that because Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage."

"We never thought of her, did we?" says Ron slowly. "Mind you, she's definitely got giant blood, and she doesn't want to admit it —"

"Of course she doesn't," snaps Hermione sharply, looking up. "Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita found out about his mother. Look at Fudge, jumping to conclusions about her, just because she's part giant. Who needs that sort of prejudice? I'd probably say I had big bones if I knew that's what I'd get for telling the truth."

Hermione looks at her watch. "We haven't done any practicing!" she says, looking shocked. "We were going to do the Impediment Curse! We'll have to really get down to it tomorrow! Come on, Harry, you need to get some sleep."

With that Hermione jumps to her feet and looks expectantly at us to follow her lead. Slowly the three of us get up from the comfortable couches, and bid our goodnights. I have a feeling that Hermione is going to be drilling Harry, and by default us hard tomorrow. I follow Hermione up the spiraling stone steps until we get to the fourth year dormitories.

"What do you think of it all?" Hermione asks me softly as we push open the door, to reveal the snores of Lavender Brown. Quietly we make our way over to our beds, so as to not wake up the beauty queens. If woken Lavender and Parvati would whine for an hour about how they were so rudely woken. Unfortunately I know this from experience.

"I think that something very fishy is going on, but that we're not going to make sense of it until more pieces fall into place. Goodnight Mione." I tell her, climbing into my bed, and pulling the curtains closed around it. There is no way that I'm going to be able to fall asleep with a head as full of thoughts as mine is.

Ron, Hermione, and I are supposed to be studying for our exams, which will finish on the day of the third task, but we are putting most of our efforts into helping Harry prepare. A dead friend wouldn't do us any good after all.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione says shortly when Harry points this out to us and says he doesn't mind practicing on his own for a while, "at least we'll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class."

"Good training for when we're all Aurors," says Ron excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a wasp that has buzzed into the room and making it stop dead in midair.

I freeze the wasp, and give Harry a level look. "I'm actually pretty prepared for my exams. When not here helping you, Luka and Ariana have kidnapped me and held me hostage in the library with all our books. I swear that when I close my eyes I see words on the back of my eyelids." I shudder. Harry snorts at that.

I wanted to veer away from the thought that we were all going to be aurors. What if I didn't want to be an auror? I barely know what I want to do for the rest of today let alone the rest of my life. Could I handle a job where I could be potentially in danger everyday?

The mood in the castle as we enter June becomes excited and tense again. Everyone is looking forward to the third task, which will take place a week before the end of term. Harry is practicing hexes at every available moment. He feels more confident about this task than either of the others. Difficult and dangerous though it will undoubtedly be, Moody is right: Harry has managed to find his way past monstrous creatures and enchanted barriers before now, and this time he has some notice, some chance to prepare himself for what lay ahead. That relieves me the most.

Tired of walking in on Harry, Hermione, Ron, and me all over the school, Professor McGonagall has given us permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtimes. Harry has soon mastered the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, which will enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; and the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermione's that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. He is still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This is supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses; Hermione manages to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx, and Harry wobbles around the room for ten minutes afterwards before she looked up the counter-jinx.

I was attempting to help with all the charms since it took me half as long as the others to master the charms, but it turns out that I am not that very good of a teacher. I grin at the thought, thanking Merlin that I will not have to be stuck at school for longer than my required seven years.

"You're still doing really well, though," Hermione says encouragingly, looking down her list and crossing off those spells we have already learned. "Some of these are bound to come in handy."

"Yeah Harry, at least you got the spell to appear. That's more than Ron can say." I attempt to cheer my friend up. Ron glares at me, while Harry just blinks.

"Coming from the girl who has perfect mastery of every charm that we have learned to date." Harry grumbles back.

"Come and look at this," says Ron, who is standing by the window. He is staring down onto the grounds. "What's Malfoy doing?" That immediately has my interest.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seem to be keeping a lookout; both are smirking. Malfoy is holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it.

"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," says Harry curiously.

"He can't be," says Hermione, "I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts. Come on, Harry," she adds briskly, turning away from the window and moving back into the middle of the room, "let's try that Shield Charm again."

With that Harry groans, and Ron and I share a confused look. "What's a walkie-talkie?" I ask.

Breakfast is a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appear, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It is only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciates it all the same. A screech owl arrives for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolds the paper, glances at the front page, and spits out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it.

"What?" says Harry, Ron, and I together, staring at her.

"Nothing," says Hermione quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but Ron grabs it. He stares at the headline and says, "No way. Not today. That old cow."

I have the distinct feeling that I am not going to like this article one little bit. It seems like Hermione is thinking along those same lines, for she waves her hand in the direction of the Hufflepuff table, and suddenly Ariana Dumbledore is slipping into the seat on my left.

To say the least it shocks people in the hall that a Hufflepuff is sitting at the Gryffindor table, but truthfully weirder things have happened before. "I guess that we're going to be practicing our breathing exercises with a volatile situation today." Ariana says softly. She scoots over so that her arm and hip is pressed next to mine.

"Okay, let's get this disaster over with Gryffindors." She says calmly, placing her hand on my knee. I freeze for a moment, not suspecting the contact, before I relax into it.

"What?" says Harry. "Rita Skeeter again?"

"No," says Ron, and just like Hermione, he attempts to push the paper out of sight.

"It's about me, isn't it?" says Harry.

"No," says Ron, in an entirely unconvincing tone.

But before Harry can demand to see the paper, Draco Malfoy shouts across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table.

"Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?" Oh I'm so not going to like this, and it may end up with me setting Malfoy or Skeeter on fire.

Malfoy is holding a copy of the Daily Prophet too. Slytherins up and down the table are sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry's reaction.

"Let me see it," Harry says to Ron. "Give it here." Very reluctantly, Ron hands over the newspaper. Harry turns it over and finds himself staring at his own picture, beneath the banner headline, while I read along with him:

HARRY POTTER "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"

The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.

Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying.

It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter's brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion.

"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention."

The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the Wizarding public.

"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power."

Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence."

Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening.

"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" says Harry lightly, folding up the paper.

Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are laughing at him, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces, and waggling their tongues like snakes.

I clench my fists in anger at the horrific article. I need so badly to just get to Skeeter, but the pressure of Ariana's hand on my knee strengthens. I let out a breath that I had been keeping in shakily, and turn my head to see the blond girl smiling at me.

"See that wasn't so hard was it?" She asks me softly. I shake my head slowly, knowing that if the Dumbledore wasn't there, that my new friend blue fire would have made another appearance.

"I still feel like I need to punch something." I admit softly. Ariana merely chuckles, and strokes my knee absently, making me freeze under her touch. She doesn't seem to notice thankfully.

"But you haven't so I'd call that an improvement." Ariana tells me. I shudder, and place my hand over hers that's on my knee. I give her hand a soft squeeze.

"Yes, but now I've become reliant on you." I sigh hating the fact that I can no longer seem to control myself properly.

"Is that such a bad thing?" She husks softly. I shake my head quickly, and she chuckles, before pulling away from me, and standing up from the table.

"Well this has been fun Gryffindors." And with that she's gone back to the Hufflepuff table. I close my eyes for a second before focusing back in on the conversation that had been going on around me.

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron asks Harry. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard —"

"The window was open," says Harry. "Jamie opened it so we could breathe."

"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione says. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" says Harry. "You tell me how she did it!"

"I've been trying!" says Hermione. "But I . . . but . . ." An odd, dreamy expression suddenly comes over Hermione's face. She slowly raises a hand and runs her fingers through her hair.

"Are you all right?" I ask, frowning at her.

"Yes," says Hermione breathlessly. She runs her fingers through her hair again, and then holds her hand up to her mouth, as though speaking into an invisible walkie-talkie. Harry, Ron, and I stare at each other.

"I've had an idea," Hermione says, gazing into space. "I think I know . . . because then no one would be able to see . . . even Moody . . . and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge . . . but she's not allowed . . . she's definitely not allowed . . . I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library — just to make sure!"

With that, Hermione seizes her school bag and dashes out of the Great Hall.

"Oi!" Ron calls after her. "We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey," he says, turning back to us, "she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class — read again?"

"Merlin I hope not. If I have to read about some troll rebellion again, I think I'm going to fall asleep and just never wake up again." I groan, finally starting to feel normal again, which is great.

"S'pose so," Harry says to Ron; but just then, Professor McGonagall comes walking alongside the Gryffindor table towards him.

"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she says.

"But the task's not till tonight!" says Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she says. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them." She moves away. Harry gapes after her.

"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" he asks us blankly.

"Dunno," says Ron. "Harry, we'd better hurry, I'm going to be late for Binns. See you later." I wave by to Harry as well before following Ron towards out History of Magic exam or more aptly named, our doom.

Finally the dreaded exam is over, and its time for lunch. I think that my stomach was the only thing fueling me through those last few questions. Afterwards, all I could do was keep my head on the desk, and think that soon I would be free of boring, dusty, torture.

Ron and I walked out of the classroom together, commiserating on what we thought that we had gotten right, and what we had totally and irrevocably gotten wrong. I have a feeling that there will be more wrong for Ron than right. Hopefully I manage to pass this exam at least.

We sit down at the table and start loading food onto our plates, as it is much needed at this point for us to be sustained. "Mum — Bill!" says Ron, looking stunned, Harry, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill join the table. "What're you doing here?"

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" says Mrs. Weasley brightly. She scoops Ron into a strong hug, then turns to me.

"Jamie dear! Good to see that you're all right!" Mrs. Weasley exclaims bringing me in for a bone crushing hug that I return. It hits me right then, how much I had really needed a hug like that after everything that been going on with Harry, and with me this year. Molly releases me, and looks around the hall for the Ravenclaw table.

"Now to get that brother of yours." She says good-naturedly. She doesn't have to worry though, for Luka comes to her accepting the backbreaking hug, and well wishes. He eventually returns to his own table though, for he doesn't wish to sit with all the Gryffindors.

"I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?" Mrs. Weasley says sitting down beside Bill, across form us.

"Oh . . . okay," says Ron. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's all right," he says, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looks stern, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

Fred, George, and Ginny come to sit next to us too, and I'm having such a good time I feel almost as though I am back at the Burrow; I had forgotten to worry about that evening's task, and not until Hermione turns up, halfway through lunch, do I remember that she had had a brainwave about Rita Skeeter.

"Are you going to tell us — ?" I start. Hermione shakes her head warningly and glances at Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello, Hermione," says Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual. Oh great we're still in battle mode between the two of them are we? I'm not looking forward to this.

"Hello," says Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley's face. Someone is going to have to do something about this fast.

Harry looks between them, then says, "Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."

"Oh!" says Mrs. Weasley. "No — of course I didn't!" But she becomes considerably warmer towards Hermione after that. I send Harry a grateful smile, and he grins back at me. There is indeed a reason why he's quite the Boy Wonder, scar or no scar.

We laze around that afternoon until it is time to go back for the Great Feast before the third task. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge have joined the staff table now. Bagman looks quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who is sitting next to Madame Maxime, looks stern and is not talking. Madame Maxime is concentrating on her plate, and I think her eyes look red. Hagrid keeps glancing along the table at her.

There are more courses than usual, but Harry, who is starting to feel really nervous now, doesn't eat much, not that I blame him. As the enchanted ceiling overhead begins to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rises to his feet at the staff table, and silence falls. This is it; the tournament is about to start its final leg. I can't help but let the thrills of anticipation get to me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

As Harry gets up to follow Bagman, the Gryffindor table leaps to its feet to roar with applause for Harry. The Weasleys, Hermione, and I wish Harry good luck personally, and I watch as one of my best friends disappears out of my sight. Oh I hope that this will work. Don't you dare get yourself killed Potter! I will never forgive you if you do.

They had completely destroyed my Quidditch pitch. That's the first thought that comes to my mind when our rather large and slightly odd group files into the stands. Fred and George look just as thunderstruck as I do by the twenty foot high hedge that runs all the way around the pitch.

"Monsters every last one of them." Fred says vehemently.

"Off with their heads!" George decrees. Mrs. Weasley shoots the twins a scathing look each before turning back around to converse with Hermione and Luka. The two of them will manage to keep her occupied and not as worried as she usually would be for the duration of the wait time, while the final task is running.

Ginny slips onto the bench beside me, with Ariana flanking my other side. Her outfit was one of wonder yet again, for on one cheek the crest of Hufflepuff is emblazoned, and on the other the proud Gryffindor lion roars. "I can root for both Cedric and Harry can't I?" She says simply to the unasked question. Fred and George take up seats directly behind us, so that we can hear their commentary the whole time.

"I'm a bit nervous. Are you Jamie? Harry's going to be in there all alone, and all the other champions know a lot more magic than he does." Ginny tells me as she squeezes closer, because of the tight ranks that we're all having to form, to fit in the stands.

"He'll be fine Gin, or at least he better be. I gave up all my free time for a month to help Harry learn some new charms." I tell her. Ron snorts from behind us on George's left side.

"You mean that you showed off you charms genius, while watching us flounder." He says. I roll my eyes, and turn my gaze up to address Ron.

"I can't help it if teaching academia isn't where my strengths lie. I just happen to be adept at it, I can't explain that." I say truthfully. Before any more bickering can be started up though, a loud throat clearing is heard from the small form of Ludo Bagman below.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each — Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause send birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points — Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" More applause. "And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

We watch the Champions standing down there, and Harry waves to us, so his cheering section the Weasleys, two Pendragons, a Granger, and a Dumbledore wave back at him wildly. I know that he can do this. I just know that Harry will make it though! He can probably even win this thing!

Harry and Cedric Diggory line up in front of the big dark opening to the maze. Oh boy, this is where all the fun for Harry begins. Okay so maybe not so much fun but still. I am probably going to get driven mad worrying about him while just sitting here like a bump in a log in the stands.

"So . . . on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" says Bagman. "Three — two — one —"

He gives a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurry forward into the maze. I watch the retreating red back of Harry until he is totally absorbed the darkness around him. Please be prepared for this Harry.

After all the champions had been sent into the maze, all that was left was the buzzing, excited murmurs of the crowd. "So… what are the odds on Harry?" Ron asks suddenly breaking the lull of silence that had fallen over us. Ginny, Ariana, and I turn around in our seats to face the boys. This was definitely going to be an interesting response.

"48% think Cedric will win, 44% on Harry, and 8% on Krum." George relays, pulling out a sheet of paper from his pocket.

"The bets on Krum are the highest since he has the lowest expectancy to win." Fred adds, with a manic glee in his eye. I shake my head at the twins. Only they would find better on the winner, the loser, and who will most likely die in the tournament entertaining.

As an hour slowly slips by, the members of the audience start to get a little nervous, especially when the professors bring out Victor Krum and Fleur Delacour. It's safe to say that both of them are not in the greatest of shape. That leaves Cedric Diggory and Harry still in the maze. Has one of them gotten to the cup?

Is this whole tournament finally over? Should we have heard something by now? All of these questions race through my head, and I smile gratefully at Ariana when she distracts me with conversation. It's almost another hour later when with a flash of light; Harry, Cedric, and the cup appear on the stage before the stands. Neither of them are standing, and the cup is forgotten instantly.

Dumbledore and the judges race forward to understand what is happening. Harry climbs closer to Cedric holding him closer to him, and crying over him. As more people start to surround the two champions lying on the ground a horrified shout starts to come over the crowd. "Oh my!"

"No it can't be!"

"Diggory!"

"Cedric Diggory is…"

"Is dead! CEDRIC DIGGORY IS DEAD!"

Ariana stiffens in her seat next to me, as we watch Dumbledore and Moody whisk Harry away from Cedric, and his weeping and wailing parents. I lose track of them however because of the outcry, and mourning that's suddenly swept over the crowd. I turn to Ariana worriedly for she was his friend, in his house after all. Silent tears are streaming down her face, as her gaze stays glued on where she had last seen Cedric's body, though you can no longer see him now.

The loudest sounds are the wails of Cedric's mother, and the booming "no" of his father. Slowly I reach out and grasp Ariana's hand, not a hundred percent sure what to do. She is the one who is always so good at the comforting of others. There's a reason why it's so easy to relax around her. I on the other hand have no clue as in how to comfort her.

It seems like my gesture is enough though, for I soon have an armful of sobbing Ariana Dumbledore to care for. I draw her closer to me, making cooing noises, while rubbing my hands up and down her back. Over her shoulder I make frantic eye contact with Mrs. Weasley.

I have no idea what I'm doing, but she's done this plenty of times. I feel like she really should intervene here, and give Ariana the best comfort possible. All Mrs. Weasley does though, is gather Ginny and Ron close to her and give me a gentle nod.

I guess there's nothing else that I can be doing for her right now. This is what she needs at the moment. Luka squeezes over to us, and wraps his arm around her back so that she's in the middle of a Pendragon hug, something that she used to love as a kid.

"It's going to be okay Ariana. I promise, it'll get better." Luka whispers softly, trying sooth the still sobbing girl. We could understand the pain that she's feeling. We've all lost people that we love here. There's no doubt about it.

Slowly people started moving up towards the castle. "Harry! We have to check on him!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed suddenly, and she started pushing her way through the sluggish crowd and up towards the castle.

"We'd better go make sure that no one gets hurt by her." Ginny says uneasily before running off after her mum, with Hermione and Ron on her tail. The twins share halfhearted grins, and follow suit. I look at Luka from over Ariana's shoulder. We have been still holding the girl through all this.

"I think we should go up to the castle Ari." I tell her softly beginning to shift her out of my arms.

"Yeah you'll get cold if you stay out here too much longer." Luka agrees shifting back so that we can start getting up. Ariana makes a whimper of protest at the movement, before allowing me to detach her, and help her up. Before we can get too far though, she latches her hand onto mine in a death grip. Luka is a few paces in front of us clearing a path.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" I ask her softly. Ariana raises of puffy red eyes to mine, and I can see nothing but sadness in them.

"J-just keep holding m-my hand…" She sniffles. I bite my lip, and nod my head resolutely, strengthening my hold on her hand. With that we following Luka up the winding path back to the castle, slowly but surely. I never let go of Ariana's hand.