Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Except Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 29- The Beginning
The next few days after the end of the tournament where honestly some of the worst that I've experienced at the castle. Everyone was in a deep state of mourning, and confusion was still running rampant. Harry had attempted to give the winnings that he got from the Tri-Wizard Tournament to Cedric's parents, but all Cedric's mum did, was turn the offer away.
She had said that Cedric would have wanted Harry to have the winnings, since he won it fairly. That didn't help Harry out much though. Everyone in the castle was giving him a pretty big berth. Most people are skirting him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whisper behind their hands as he passes.
The main thing that has been on our minds though, was the information that Voldemort is back, and that the Ministry is going to cover it up. The general consensus between Ron, Harry, Hermione, and me is that we're not going to mention it to others, until we hear more news from the outside.
The only time we touch upon the subject is when Ron tells Harry about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had with Dumbledore before going home.
"She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer," he says. "But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first."
"Why?" says Harry.
"She said Dumbledore's got his reasons," says Ron, shaking his head darkly. "I suppose we've got to trust him, haven't we?"
"Still rather crummy. At least you won't have to share a room with Ron and Luka any longer then you have to. I swear that those two fight more than cats and owls." I comment stretching. Ron glares at me.
"You and Ginny have your moments too you know Jame." Ron spits back. I only arch and eyebrow in response, he just signed his own death sentence.
Of course one of the only other people that Harry felt comfortable talking about all of this was with Hagrid.
As there is no longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, we have those lessons free. We use the one on Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid in his cabin. It is a bright and sunny day; Fang bounds out of the open door as we approach, barking and wagging his tail madly.
"Who's that?" calls Hagrid, coming to the door. "Harry!" He strides out to meet us, pulls Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffles his hair, and says, "Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh."
We see two bucket-size cups and saucers on the wooden table in front of the fireplace when we enter Hagrid's cabin.
"Bin havin' a cuppa with Olympe," Hagrid says. "She's jus' left."
"Who?" asks Ron curiously.
"Madame Maxime, o' course!" says Hagrid.
"You two made up, have you?" snickers Ron.
"Dunno what yeh're talkin' about," says Hagrid airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he has made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leans back in his chair and surveys Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes.
"You all righ'?" he says gruffly.
"Yeah," says Harry. I don't actually believe him for a second, since everyone has changed after Cedric's death. I try not to think about the hard glint that now resides in Ariana's eyes.
"No, yeh're not," says Hagrid. "'Course yeh're not. But yeh will be." Harry says nothing.
"Knew he was goin' ter come back," says Hagrid, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I look up at him, shocked. "Known it fer years, Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledore's plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried."
Well it would have been nice if someone had shared all this information with us a while ago. Hagrid raises his bushy eyebrows at the disbelieving expressions on our faces.
"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," he says. "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did, Harry." Hagrid's chest swells as he looks at Harry.
"Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that."
Harry smiles back at him. It is the first time he's smiled in days. "What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?" he asks. "He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him — that night."
"Got a little job fer me over the summer," says Hagrid. "Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou' it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe — Madame Maxime ter you — might be comin' with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded."
"Is it to do with Voldemort?" I ask cautiously, trying to keep my hands from shaking, for that's what they want to do.
Hagrid flinches at the sound of the name.
"Migh' be," he says evasively. "Now . . . who'd like ter come an' visit the las' skrewt with me? I was jokin' — jokin'!" he adds hastily, seeing the looks on our faces.
Usually I feel a pang of sadness when I'm packing up my trunk to leave for the summer, but this year, closing the last bolt on the steamer isn't as hard as previous years. It might be that I actually am looking forward to seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley when I get out. Mrs. Weasley had hugged me so hard when she had left school a month ago, that I feared she cracked a rib or two.
No longer would Luka and I be going back to an empty house. Now we'll be in one full to bursting with people, laughter, and love. It was definitely a nice warm feeling to have in my chest, now that there's uncertainty around every corner, and the world is nose-diving into chaos again.
Harry rightfully so isn't looking forward to going back to the Dursleys. At least he won't have to spend the whole summer there though. The other thing that he's been sulking about the most is the Leaving Feast. Usually it's a grand time, but we all have a feeling that it's going to be more of a solemn affair.
"You ready?" Hermione asks me, appearing at the side of my bed. I look up at her and nod my head silently. When we turn to leave, I catch sight of Ginny hanging by our doorway.
"Come on then, we can do this together." I state, trying to inject some sort of levity into my voice.
When we meet up with Harry and Ron in the common room, the five of us walk silently down to the Great Hall. When we arrive I immediately notice that all of the usual decorations are missing. The Great Hall is normally decorated with the winning House's colors for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there are black drapes on the wall behind the teachers' table. I know instantly that they are there as a mark of respect to Cedric.
The real Mad-Eye Moody is at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He is extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone speaks to him. I can't blame him; Moody's fear of attack is bound to be increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor Karkaroff's chair is empty. I wonder, as we sat down with the other Gryffindors, where Karkaroff is now, and whether Voldemort has caught up with him.
Madame Maxime is still there. She is sitting next to Hagrid. They are talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to Professor McGonagall, is Snape. His eyes linger on Harry for a moment as Harry looks at him. His expression is difficult to read. He looks as sour and unpleasant as ever. I glance around looking for the two faces that matter to me most in all the other houses.
I catch Luka's solemn face as he stares at the plate in front of him; his brow is furrowed like he's trying to figure out the answer to an extremely hard problem. I swivel my gaze to the Hufflepuff table and manage to just see Ariana as her friends surround her. Her eyes are rimmed in red like she had been crying again, but there was something different about her in her posture. She sat a little more rigidly, and a steely glint in her eye caught my attention.
I think its safe to say that Cedric Diggory's death has changed her, whether its for the better or the worse I do not know.
My musings are ended by Professor Dumbledore, who stands up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case has been less noisy than it usually is at the Leaving Feast, becomes very quiet.
"The end," says Dumbledore, looking around at us all, "of another year."
He pauses, and his eyes fall upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs has been the most subdued table before he got to his feet, and theirs is still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.
"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," says Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestures towards the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."
I catch a glimpse of Cho Chang through the crowd. There are tears pouring silently down her face. I turn my attention back on Dumbledore after we all sit back down. I feel Ginny worm her hand into mine, needing the comfort of the emotional scene we just went through. I squeeze her hand extra tight in mine, to let her know that she's not alone.
"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff House," Dumbledore continues. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."
I raise my head and stare at Dumbledore. Is he actually going to do this?
"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."
A panicked whisper sweeps the Great Hall. People are staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looks perfectly calm as he watches them mutter themselves into silence.
"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continues, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."
Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall is turned towards Dumbledore now . . . or almost every face. Over at the Slytherin table, I see Draco Malfoy muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle. I feel a hot, sick swoop of anger in my stomach. I forced myself to turn my attention back to Dumbledore, and focus on my breathing exercises.
I don't think that Ariana is prepared to be dealing with another one of my magical rage bursts now, truthfully I'm not ready to either.
"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore goes on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."
A kind of ripple crosses the Great Hall as a few heads turn in Harry's direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.
"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," says Dumbledore. "He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."
Dumbledore turns gravely to Harry and raises his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall follows suit. They murmur his name, as they had murmured Cedric's, and drink to him. But through a gap in the standing figures, I see that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and many of the other Slytherins have remained defiantly in their seats, their goblets untouched. Dumbledore, who after all possesses no magical eye, does not see them.
When everyone has once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continues, "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before."
Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum, I see, looks wary, almost frightened, as though he expects Dumbledore to say something harsh.
"Every guest in this Hall," says Dumbledore, and his eyes linger upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."
"It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst."
"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."
I nod my head solemnly, adding his name to a growing list of people that I will remember to fight for in my mind. The sad part is that it only seems to be growing.
My trunk is packed, and Dionysus hoots softly at Hedwig from his cage atop my trunk. Hedwig is sitting in her cage atop Harry's trunk as well, and I can't help but think that they're telling each other something meaningful. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I are standing around with all the other fourth years in the Entrance Hall waiting for our turn to use the magical carriages to take us down to Hogsmeade Station.
It is a beautiful summer's day out, and part of me can't wait to get back out into the countryside at the Burrow and run around for a while. Our quiet conversations are interrupted by the sudden appearance of Fleur Delacour.
"'Arry!"
He looks around. Fleur Delacour is hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds, I can see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harness. The Beauxbatons carriage is about to take off.
"We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," says Fleur as she reaches him, holding out her hand. "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."
"It's very good already," says Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiles at him; Hermione scowls. I can't help but snicker over the whole situation. I now have even more ammo to use in making fun of Ron over the summer!
"Good-bye, 'Arry," says Fleur, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"
"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," says Ron. "D'you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"
"Karkaroff did not steer," says a gruff voice. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork." Krum has come to say good-bye to Hermione.
"Could I have a vord?" he asks her.
"Oh . . . yes . . . all right," says Hermione, looking slightly flustered, and following Krum through the crowd and out of sight. Wow teen love is in the air. I can't believe that this year has so much of it, and that my friends all got hit with it so hard.
"You'd better hurry up!" Ron calls loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!"
He lets Harry and me keep a watch for the carriages, however, and spends the next few minutes craning his neck over the crowd to try and see what Krum and Hermione might be up to. They return quite soon. Ron stares at Hermione, but her face is quite impassive. This day just keeps getting better on the Ron front.
"I liked Diggory," says Krum abruptly to Harry. "He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang — with Karkaroff," he adds, scowling.
"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" I ask him. Krum shrugs. He holds out his hand as Fleur did, shakes Harry's hand, and then Ron's. Ron looks as though he is suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. Krum is already walking away when Ron bursts out, "Can I have your autograph?"
Hermione turns away, smiling at the horseless carriages that are now trundling towards us up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signs a fragment of parchment for Ron. I don't even bother turning away, as I break out into howling laughter, which later Ron smacks me for. Oh I have a feeling this summer will be priceless.
The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King's Cross than it was on our way to Hogwarts the previous September. There isn't a single cloud in the sky. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I managed to get a compartment to ourselves. Pigwidgeon is once again hidden under Ron's dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig is dozing, her head under her wing with Di next to her, and Crookshanks is curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I talk more fully and freely than we have all week as the train speeds us southward. I have a feeling that Dumbledore's speech is what made the difference. It is less painful to discuss what happened now. We brake off our conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the lunch trolley arrives.
When Hermione returns from the trolley and puts her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodges a copy of the Daily Prophet that she has been carrying in there. Harry looks at it, unsure whether he really wants to know what it might say, but Hermione, seeing him looking at it, says calmly, "There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."
"He'll never keep Rita quiet," says Harry. "Not on a story like this."
"She's been oddly quiet though." I mention popping a Bertie Botts Every Flavored Bean into my mouth.
"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," says Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. "As a matter of fact," she adds, her voice now trembling slightly, "Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."
Wait a minute… is this what Mione's been hiding from me? She's had this big secret for the past few weeks, and its been driving me insane trying to figure out what it is when she won't just tell me.
"What are you talking about?" says Ron.
"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," says Hermione in a rush. I get the impression that Hermione has been dying to tell us this for days, but that she has restrained herself in light of everything else that has happened.
"How was she doing it?" asks Harry at once.
"How did you find out?" demands Ron, staring at her. I just lean back in my seat and wait for my best friend to explain herself.
"Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea, Harry," she says.
"Did I?" says Harry, perplexed. "How?"
"Bugging," says Hermione happily.
"But you said they didn't work —"
"Oh not electronic bugs," says Hermione. "No, you see . . . Rita Skeeter" — Hermione's voice trembles with quiet triumph — "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn —"
Oh hell no! Merlin's saggy pants! Hermione pulls a small sealed glass jar out of her bag.
"— into a beetle." I resist to empty the contents of my stomach. Of course she would turn into a bug. Who on earth wouldn't want to turn into something small, gross, and skittery?
"You're kidding," says Ron. "You haven't . . . she's not . . ."
"Oh yes she is," says Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at us. Inside are a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle.
"That's never — you're kidding —" Ron whispers, lifting the jar to his eyes.
"No, I'm not," says Hermione, beaming. "I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."
"Well I can say that this form of her is a right sight better than the other." I say with a grin. Hermione gives me a scandalized look for a second before smiling along with the boys' laughter.
"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry cries
"Exactly," says Hermione. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."
"When we saw Malfoy under that tree . . ." says Ron slowly.
"He was talking to her, in his hand," says Hermione. "He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid."
"All the more reason to make it so that Malfoy has to suffer for his words." I mumble darkly under my breath, trying to get my sudden anger under control.
Hermione takes the glass jar back from Ron and smiles at the beetle, which buzzes angrily against the glass.
"I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," says Hermione. "I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."
Smiling serenely, Hermione places the beetle back inside her schoolbag. The door of the compartment slides open.
"Very clever, Granger," says Draco Malfoy. Oh no this isn't going to end well, I can just tell. Already my hands are clenching into fists at the sight of him.
Crabbe and Goyle are standing behind him. All three of them look more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing, than I have ever seen them.
"So," says Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at them, a smirk quivering on his lips. "You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal."
His smirk widens. Crabbe and Goyle leer.
"Trying not to think about it, are we?" says Malfoy softly, looking around at all four of us. "Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"
"Get out," I say through gritted teeth.
"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!" He jerks his head at Ron and Hermione, glancing at me. "Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first, then the Blood Traitors! Well — second — Diggory was the f —"
It was as though someone exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that blasts from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, I blink and look down at the floor.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are all lying unconscious in the doorway. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I are on our feet, all four of us having used a different hex. Nor are we the only ones to have done so.
"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," says Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He has his wand out, and so does George, who is careful to tread on Malfoy as he follows Fred inside. Stepping in last is none other than Ariana Dumbledore with a satisfied, fiery gleam in her eyes.
"Interesting effect," says George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"
"Me," says Harry.
"Odd," says George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor." I smirk slightly at that, as Ariana slips onto the seat beside me.
"For once Pendragon, I'm glad that you can't seem to keep yourself out of trouble. I've been itching to give Malfoy a good hexing for a long time now." She says with a victorious grin. I cock an eyebrow at that, for I can't remember a time when Ariana was happier with violence than a peaceful option.
"Come now, don't give me that look. I am Queen when it comes to dishing out vengeance. Don't tell me you've forgotten already." She teases. I smile, glad to see that Ariana's slowly getting back to the same person that she was before.
Ron, Harry, and George kick, roll, and push the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle — each of whom look distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they have been hit — out into the corridor, then come back into the compartment and roll the door shut.
"Exploding Snap, anyone?" says Fred, pulling out a pack of cards. We are halfway through our fifth game when Harry decides to ask them.
"You going to tell us, then?" he says to George. "Who you were blackmailing?"
"Oh," says George darkly. "That."
"It doesn't matter," says Fred, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."
"We've given up," says George, shrugging.
But Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I keep on asking, and finally, Fred says, "All right, all right, if you really want to know . . . it was Ludo Bagman."
"Bagman?" says Harry sharply. "Are you saying he was involved in —"
"Nah," says George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."
"Well, what, then?" asks Ron.
Fred hesitated, then says, "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"
"Yeah," says Harry, Ron, and I slowly.
"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots." I wince at hearing that.
"So?"
"So," says Fred impatiently, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"
"But — it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" says Hermione.
George laughs very bitterly. "Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."
"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," says Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."
"So we asked for our money back," says George, glowering.
"He didn't refuse!" gasps Hermione.
"Right in one," replies Fred.
"But that was all your savings!" I cry devastated for the twins on their behalf, and the fact that I had leant them some of the money as well.
"Tell me about it," says George. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"
"How?" says Harry. I'm not so sure that I'm going to like the answer to this.
"He put a bet on you, mate," says Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."
"So that's why he kept trying to help me win!" says Harry. "Well — I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"
"Nope," says George, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."
George sighs deeply and starts dealing out the cards again. The rest of the journey passes pleasantly enough. Everyone is able to relax until we pull into King's Cross Station, and I can tell by the look on Harry's face that he's not looking forward to going back to stay with the Dursley's. I wouldn't either if I was him.
As everyone in our compartment struggles with their trunks, and getting past the still knocked out idiots in the corner Harry stops Fred and George, and I hang back as well.
"Fred — George — wait a moment." The twins turn. Harry pulls open his trunk and draws out his Triwizard winnings.
"Take it," he says, and he thrusts the sack into George's hands.
"What?" says Fred, looking flabbergasted. I break into a huge smile while looking at Harry. I knew there was a reason why I stuck around Boy Wonder!
"Take it," Harry repeats firmly. "I don't want it."
"You're mental," says George, trying to push it back at Harry.
"No, I'm not," says Harry. "You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."
"He is mental," Fred says in an almost awed voice.
"Listen," says Harry firmly. "If you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long."
"Besides, with the money that I have been investing in your products as well, you'll have a shop up and running in no time. Just accept it boys." I tell them with a wide grin.
"Harry," says George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here."
"Yeah," says Harry, grinning. "Think how many Canary Creams that is." The twins star at him.
"Just don't tell your mum where you got it . . . although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it. . . ."
"Harry," Fred begins, but Harry pulls out his wand.
"Look," he says flatly, "take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."
With that Harry slips out of the compartment without a second thought. "I can't believe him." George says softly. I smile at the twins in front of me.
"I can. Harry sees something in you and your products. I see something as well, and you are definitely worth investing in. Now come on! Molly has to squeeze all of us to death, and then we have to get back home so that we can get some delicious food into us." I declare starting out of the compartment. I make sure to squish Malfoy's face.
"Jamie dear you just called our house, your home." Fred says coming up behind me with a teasing tone to his voice. I blush, and refuse to respond to their laughter and high fives behind me.
Once we're onto the platform it's exactly as I expected it would go. Mrs. Weasley crushed the three of us into giant python like hugs, then we were passed on to Arthur who hugged us softer but no less vigorously. I share hugs and tears with Hermione, and Harry, watching them disappear into King's Cross, with their muggle families. I was sad to see them go, but I knew that I was going to see them again soon.
Ariana slides up beside me as the Weasleys start gathering everyone and everything up. "Things are going to change now. The world isn't ready for what's coming." She says in an oddly hard voice, that I haven't heard her use before.
"Well that's the thing about the world Ari. It changes whether we want it to or not. At least we'll have each other for when it gets rough." I tell her with a lopsided smile. Ariana gives me a slightly shocked look.
"Since when have you become the optimist Jamie Pendragon?" She asks me with a smirk of her own. I look up when I hear my name shouted from Mrs. Weasley and see the whole of their family, and Luka gathered around the exit, ready to go now. My family.
"Since the people that I've surrounded myself with, became that much more worth fighting for." I tell her, looking into her eyes seriously. Ariana blushes, and I grin at her giving her hand a squeeze, before I take off running after the large group of people, that I honestly can't see myself living without.
Come what may, I'm prepared to fight for what I care for… for what I love.
The End
(For now…)
Thank you all so much for continuing to read this story! I hope you all enjoyed Book Four! It was a wild ride, and I for one am glad for it to be done. The fifth year is coming! Personally my favorite one book wise, and plot wise for what I have in store. I promise you that it will be worth the wait! I will post information on the sequel as soon as I have the first chapter up and ready! Again, thank you! :)