Sequel to "More Than Just Friends". All credit to JK Rowling and my crazy brain.

Set Aflame
By: Weaselle7

Chapter 7
Alan Wainscott

"Cecille..."

Cecille could feel her breath blew warm against her palms that covered her face. No tears came out from her eyelids, they were all gone. She had been crying quietly on her bedroom and tired her cheeks all summer it nearly seemed impossible for her to make more tears came out of her eyes. Everything about her life were all desperate and hopeless; broken and pointless. The government denied the truth that had been paid by her brother's death, her friends went all fighting amongst themselves, and today she was about to get piles of nastily exhausting homework.

The first autumn breeze blew in the air, brushed her face and played with her hair. The surface of the Black Lake was so still that it looked like frozen. She was sitting by the Lake early (or, as she would say, at the ungodly hours for being awake for school) at the morning, waiting for some non-existent comfort.

Cecille absent-mindedly knocked the door of McGonagall's office twice... maybe thrice... or ten times. She didn't know. The facts that Cedric's voice couldn't leave her mind and that she had met a criminal that had vaguely mentioned her eldest brother's death last night were driving herself insane. She then entered the room and silently closed the door shut behind her.

"Ms. Diggory," a kind yet charismatic voice greeted. Cecille lifted her chin to see Dumbledore, instead of McGonagall, sitting on the desk before her eyes. Apparently, McGonagall had been standing behind the door and Cecille wouldn't notice her presence if she didn't choose to usher Cecille to a chair in front of Dumbledore. "Good morning. Please, sit down."

Cecille sat obediently, her eyes glued to her feet. "Good morning, Professor," she said hoarsely.

"I see that Professor McGonagall had informed you to come to her office?" asked Dumbledore politely. Cecille made a slight nod before freezing in her chair.

"I firstly want to say that I, as the represent of teachers and staffs at Hogwarts, am deeply sorry to learn about yesterday's tragedy. We, as one family of Hogwarts, also suffer a great loss. But, of course, it is irrelevant now to talk about comparison," Dumbledore spoke soothingly. Cecille snorted humorlessly inside. What kind of loss they felt, compared to hers? How deep their regrets went, compared to hers?

"From what I heard from Professor McGonagall, you encountered a criminal with the name of Bartemius Crouch Jr, no less, in his original form, last night. Correct me if I'm wrong," Dumbledore continued. Cecille shook her head lifelessly.

"He mentioned a vague hint about your relatives," said Dumbledore.

"My eldest brother," Cecille burst out tragically, "the blasted criminal mentioned the age when he died; eight years old." Cecille's agonizing cries faded into a faint whisper. Dumbledore, even though Cecille had said some intolerable words in front of him, nodded understandingly.

"Charles Diggory?" Cecille nodded at Dumbledore's question.

"We had his name written by the Magical Quill. We were so shaken to learn that he didn't have the chance to study at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said and paused. Cecille sniffled; she covered her face with her hair.

"After some investigation from the officials, we discovered that Bartemius Crouch Jr is found guilty -or at least, positively involved- upon the murder of Charles Diggory and Helga Greene. I modestly beg your forgiveness, Ms Diggory, for I have failed to give the said criminal a proper execution and that my failure is extremely shameful.

"The Minister of Magic had arrived earlier this morning and I unacceptably have failed to use my authority as the Headmaster to prevent the Minister from executing Crouch Jr under his own power as the Minister of Magic. Bartemius Crouch Jr had sentenced for a Dementor's Kiss by Cornelius Fudge, and it is my fault that he is no longer in a stable condition to provide a testimony.

"I beg for your forgiveness," Dumbledore ended weakly.

"Dementor's Kiss sounds better than death penalty. It's fine by me," Cecille muttered indignantly. It satisfied Cecille, that the murderer of her brother and her aunt was suffering a more dreadful punishment than death. Cecille, being who she was, saw Dementor's Kiss better than death for the death-sentence and she paid no mind about hundreds of unsaid testimony that left hidden.

"Ms Diggory-" McGonagall was about to start her usual sentence when it came to students saying unacceptable things when Dumbledore raised his hand to silence her.

"No need for a harsh scolding now, Minerva. Please understand Ms Diggory's current state."

Cecille felt hot rush of blood flowed quicker through the veins under her cheeks. "Forgive me, Professor Dumbledore."

"It is understandable," Dumbledore said.

"Now, as how I have informed your parents about their second son's death, I believe you have more rights than anyone to know. Cedric Diggory was killed by Voldemort." Dumbledore paused, probably waiting for Cecille to flinch at the name. Cecille remained silent.

"Voldemort has returned. Your fellow Gryffindor, Harry Potter, has witnessed his rebirth and fought him in flesh. The cup that was located at the heart of the maze, back to the third task, was no common cup. We did not design the cup to be a Portkey that would transport the users to an unknown place. I, once again, beg your forgiveness for my lack of security that once again resulted -not only death-resulting accidents that were common to the Triwizard Tournament- but a plotted murder. Mr Potter, the real target of the plot, escaped death by an inch. Crouch Jr, which in his daily disguised form was known as Professor Moody, was once again involved."

Cecille's eyes widened. Moody, the one who had gave Cedric and Cecille books about Transfiguration and Potion, had actually planned a dark plot to murder Harry. The fact that Crouch Jr had murdered two brothers and her aunt made her head pounded painfully.

"During the duel, Mr Potter's and Voldemort's wands were connected by a rare magic called Priori Incantatem; The Reverse-Spell Effect. In Priori Incantatem, one wand will force the other to regurgitate spells it had performed in a reversed order. Cedric Diggory-"

"He came back to life?!" Cecille urged. Dumbledore sighed heavily and shook his head sorrowfully.

"The dead cannot be reawakened," said Dumbledore sadly. Cecille tightened her grip on her chair as she fruitlessly tried to hold back her tears. "Cedric Diggory's echo came out and he had carried two important messages."

"What are they?" Cecille choked.

"All of these were witnessed by Harry Potter. I do not know what do you think of him, or of me who believed Harry. I can only beg for you and your family to trust him. Cedric Diggory's first message was a request for Harry to take his body back to his family. His second message was that he was sorry to leave his family and friends, and that he sends his love to his loved-ones."

"Fred loves me. Fred loves me not. Fred loves me. Fred loves me not," a chanting snapped Cecille back from her flashback. Cecille turned to see George was sitting next to her with a flower petal on his hands, half of its flower leaves were plucked out.

"George, what are you doing?" Cecille asked.

"Nothing. Just thought you ought to have some lesson on how normal girls would do to a unfortunate petal of flower," he said, smirking. Cecille rolled her eyes and gazed back to the Black Lake.

"It's okay if you don't want to admit that you were thinking of Fred. We all know," George teased. Cecille gave him a wan smile before looking back at the Lake and shook her head lightly.

"I was thinking of Cedric," she said truthfully.

"Oh- oh, Merlin- Sorry,"

"No, don't be. You're a twin too, after all. You do know how it feels," Cecille said lifelessly, squinting her eyes as she bowed her head down. George might know how it felt, with having a twin and all. But did he really know how it felt to lose one?

"You know, he wouldn't want you to spend your life grieving," George said slowly after a long pause. Cecille smiled to herself before looking at him.

"Some dramatic speech about how you'd feel if this happens to you and Fred, isn't it?" Cecille asked, chuckling. It might sound extremely strange to hear one chuckling on a topic like this. But George, being her best friend since they were eleven, knew how to ease her mind.

"Well yeah. But don't tell him that," George hastened to add. "He'll tease me to my doom."

"Secret safe with me," said Cecille in a noble tone.

"Your secret is safe with me too," said George lightly as he let himself land his back on the grass. His eyes were closed. Cecille eyed him suspiciously.

"What secret?"

"That you fancy my twin," George said, still with his eyes closed. His eyes fluttered opened when Cecille whacked him hard on the shoulder.

"That's not true!" she shouted, though she was cursing herself inside because it was true. Cecille's face heated as she looked back. "What gave you that kind of an idea?"

"He was so panic when you tested our Fainting Fancy on yourself," George said as he rubbed his shoulder caringly.

"Really?"

"Gotcha," he snickered.

"I'm serious!" Cecille shouted as she raised her palms, ready to whack him again in any part of his body.

"Well, to tell the truth, you spent five minutes being unconscious even after he made you force-swallow the antidote. Fred and I only need a minute. He went all panic and he almost kissed you to wake you up-"

The image suddenly struck her mind and she needed to cover her mouth from shouting... of joy.

"What?!"

"Gotcha," George said triumphantly as he laughed again.

"I'm serious!" Cecille said and she whacked him on the other shoulder.

"Ow. I'm being serious too," George said and shrugged. They looked at each other for a moment before George burst out laughing like crazy banshee. Cecille knew his weakness with lying and a staring contest was always her best weapon. "Alright, alright- Ow! Enough with hitting me, Silly. Alright, he didn't kiss you. I was there too, bet he's too embarrassed to do it in front of me, right? But alright, I'll keep that quiet that you actually want it- ow!"

"Stop talking non-sense things," Cecille said, as she retrieved to her earlier position.

"You're quite red on the face by only talking about him," George sat up and gained daring to tease her. Cecille was about to whack him again when George exclaimed, "Oh, look, that's your Mr Prince Charming. Merlin, I think it's only you who think that he's more breath-taking than me- alright, alright, sorry!"

"Georgie boy," Fred called. He was walking towards them with his arm draped brotherly around Lee. Lee was waving at Cecille and George as if it was a pleasure to have them to distract him from Fred. He almost tripped down over a big pebble but he recovered immediately. "Hey, Cecille!"

"George, what were you doing? We were looking for you," asked Lee.

"Yeah, I was wondering too," said Cecille, turning to George.

"Oh, of course!" Fred said and he sat next to Cecille (Merlin's pants, Cecille kept her shout in the mind). "I forgot this morning is the first day Angelina will be able to use the Quidditch Pitch."

Fred jerked his chin to the direction of the Quidditch Pitch. It was quite far from there but they still could see the three hoops on both side of the pitch and a figure that was zooming through the air on her broom. Lee whistled.

"Angelina, eh?" he asked.

"You'll want to keep that shut," George said but he shrugged anyway. Cecille smiled happily to herself as she thought of her friends. She knew that Angie fancied George since last Christmas and that Alicia had actually eyed Lee for a quite long time (though she never did admit). To see that those two boys were feeling the same way made her feel happy for her friends. With her mood enlightened, Cecille rose to her feet.

"Hey, we just arrived!" Fred said, mimicking an irritated expression as he clutched his hand to his right chest. Cecille snorted and shook her head.

"First, that face won't work on me. Second, honestly, Fred, your heart is in your left chest ("Look there, Fred being Fred," Lee snickered as Fred shifted his hand to his left chest). Third, we have Herbology first."

"Oh, like you're actually going to go to the Green House an hour before the class starts," said George.

"Yeah, I will," Cecille said and shrugged. "The benefit of coming an hour before the class starts is that no one will know that you've stolen a handful amount of dittany leaves."

Cecille was half running through the corridors, scanning her sides for the signs of her Potion Master. She hadn't seen the tip of his robe and it narrowed down the list of possible things that was happening: either Snape was still having his lunch or he was starting the class right now. The latter seemed to be the more obvious one.

The hallways was filled with bunch of juniors that seemed to be more capable to enjoy the life of a student than those who were already on their final years. They were talking, laughing, hanging with their friends as if those piles of homework were invisible to them. Cecille climbed down the stairs that led to the dungeon and found the door was closed. Damn.

Cecille knocked the door thrice and went in.

"Sorry, Professor, I'm lat-"

"Five points from Gryffindor, Ms. Diggory, and yes, I know you're late. Now, if you please, use your brain and find your seat," Snape sneered victoriously. Cecille, sharing her five first years of her Potion education with the twins, was used to this kind of mockery. Cecille's eyes traveled through occupied seats in the class until she landed on one empty chair, next to a Hufflepuff, Alan Wainscott. Cecille huffed silently; the chair was on the first row, but she hadn't a chance. Cecille approached the boy.

"Hey, Alan," she said quickly and patted his shoulder. "May I sit here?"

"Sure, why not?" he said and gestured towards the seat. Really, some Hufflepuffs are just too kind, like her twin. They stared at each other for a moment before Snape cleared his throat in a disgusting way and made Cecille rushed to settle herself.

"Alright. I see all of you have surprised me by passing the grade," he said bitterly. "From this day forward, you will be given grades you will have received in NEWTs standards. I will give you a clear hint as to how hard your NEWTs will be. Now, let's see how much your holiday-dead brain can do for me. Open page 17. Instructions are on the books, ingredients and utensils are provided."

Students flooded the front side of the classroom, weaving through each other to grab the ingredients and special utensils. Cecille, being one of the tallest students in the class, grabbed the ingredients and utensils as her arm craned through the sea of students. Alan, either feeling reluctant to move or he didn't care of etiquette anymore, summoned the ingredients magically.

Hours of potion-brewing shrunk into stressful minutes. Everyone on the class were sighing hopelessly or groaning in depression, back to the usual atmosphere of Potion classes. Cecille herself was biting her lips so hard it should've bled by now. Her breaths were held back as she didn't want to startle the calm surface of her Potion, passion of Potion-making flowed through her veins. Her Dreamless-Sleeping Draught were glowing in a calm turquoise colour, as described in the book. She had arrived to the end of the process and all she needed to do was to maintain the heat before she would give the exemplar to Snape in flasks. She felt a warm sensation she always got whenever someone was watching. Cecille lifted her chin.

Alan was staring at her in a very strange way, like he was having an internal battle with himself to blurt out anything he had been keeping away from her. Cecille tilted her head to her side.

"Uhm, Alan," Cecille started, but she somehow lost her nerves to splutter out the fact that staring was rude. Instead, Cecille's eyes fell to his cauldron, where the calm surface of his potion was slowly turning opaque as if ice crystals were floating above it. "Your potion is freezing, do you know that?"

Something in Cecille's reaction snapped Alan from his trance. He abruptly jumped back and he averted his gaze down to his cauldron. "What- oh, lovely, Evanesco!"

Alan flourished his wand to empty his cauldron. Cecille watched in horror.

"You don't have to do that!" Cecille squeaked guiltily, feeling that her notification had made him to lose his mind. "It's just freezing because the fire was dying down."

"No, it just sucks and it's unacceptable," Alan said darkly. Cecille raised her eyebrows. She wasn't a close friend of Alan but she didn't remember him as a gloomy self-destructive figure.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff because your poor management, Mr Wainscott. You could've undone it by heating it, as told by Ms Diggory," Snape whispered dramatically as he glided under her robes to Alan's place. Cecille threw him a disdainful look, ignoring the credit he had given her.

"Forgive me, Sir, but he apparently just got zero for today's work and he doesn't need for another point-docking for his house!" Cecille protested. At this, Snape smirked victoriously. Cecille knew she shouldn't have taken the bait, but she couldn't always help it.

"Drop it, Cecille," Alan whispered threateningly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Ms Diggory. I don't expect anything better from you," Snape sneered and he glid down to examine other students' progress. Half of Cecille was shaking with the urge to punch her teacher, seeing the unfairness that had been rubbed on her face, but the other half of her was enjoying the certain kind of satisfaction as she noticed how Snape hadn't found anything wrong with her work.

When the time was up, Cecille submitted a flask of her work to Snape when a wild idea struck her. She stared at her bluish reflection from the surface of her remaining potion. The soft voice of her twin calling out her name was ringing in a torturing way inside her mind. She had to stop her nightmare.

Cecille conjured some flasks from the empty air, poured her potion into each of them and corked them carefully before slipping them onto her robes. Smiling sadly to herself, Cecille submitted her work to Snape and exited the grimy-aired classroom.

A/N: OMFR siriusly I need to stop myself from creating so many OCs here. Aw, I'm sorry! I'll try my best to use Jo's characters though, so it's not that hard to keep up. Anyway, sorry for the long delay. I'm starting my first month of Senior High School, and really, it's more frustrating and depressing than I thought (did I mention this earlier? lol).