Skylar, Hermione and Ron went down to breakfast the following morning, after Ron informed them that Harry was already gone. His bed had already been empty when the red-head had woken up.
"Don't blame him, probably so worried about Padfoot he couldn't sleep." Skylar confessed.
Harry was at the breakfast table when they arrived in the Great Hall and when they asked what he'd been up to, he informed them he'd sent a letter to Sirius.
"I told him I imagined my scar hurting and that I was fine. He doesn't need to come back." He said.
"That was a lie, Harry," said Hermione sharply. "You didn't imagine your scar hurting and you know it."
"So what?" said Harry. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."
"Drop it," said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him, and fell silent.
"You know Padfoot won't believe you, he knows you too well Harry." Skylar said in a softer tone, glancing around them to make sure no one was listening. "What are you going to do if he doesn't listen?"
Harry didn't respond.
There was no response from Sirius over the next few weeks, and with him looking up at every owl post, and having horrible images of Sirius caught by the dementors, it was clear this worried Harry. Hermione, Ron and Skylar made a silent pact to say nothing as to not worry him more.
It was easier to keep their minds focused on school as their classes got more demanding and difficult than ever before, particularly Moody's Defence Against the Dark Arts.
To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.
Skylar had never been more stunned by something before in her life.
"But — but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said — to use it against another human was —"
"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swivelling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way — when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely — fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."
He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. They knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.
Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. The rest watched as, one by one, their classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.
"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."
Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"
Harry was still for a minute before he bent his knees and then there was a pause. Then, Harry did a very surprising thing, he went to jump, but tried to prevent himself from doing so at the same time, resulting in him smashing headlong into the desk, knocking it over and bashing his knees.
"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice. "Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that's where you see it — very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"
The rest of the lesson everyone tried to copy Harry's example after Moody had put Harry through the test four more times until he could throw off the curse entirely.
"The way he talks," Harry muttered as he hobbled out of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class an hour later, it turned out Harry had seriously hurt his knees in his first attempt. "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."
"Yeah, I know," said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. He had had much more difficulty with the curse than Harry, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. "Talk about paranoid…"
"What do you expect, what with all he's been through?" Skylar sighed. She rolled her shoulder, but she didn't have any injuries like the boys did. Skylar had actually had a considerable time with the Imperious Curse, but having a mind gift like hers, she was able to resist it completely, though it took her a while. She did it by opening her to everyone else in the room. This concentration gave her the power and control.
Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot and went on. "No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted 'Boo' behind him on April Fools' Day? And when are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?"
All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.
"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told them, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer —"
"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Dean Thomas indignantly.
"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"
Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself.
"Oh and Miss Rosenwald, if I could see you at the end of the lesson, I have something to discuss with you." She added.
Everyone looked at Skylar curiously as the girl simply nodded with a smile.
"What does she want to talk to you about?" Ron asked.
"Oh, I just asked for her help on something, nothing major." Skylar assured with a shrug.
Hermione and Harry shared a curious look.
At the end of the lesson, Skylar told the three to save her a seat and go on without her while she stayed back to talk with the professor.
"I have spoken with the headmaster, and he has no objections to you learning to be an animagus." She said,
Skylar grinned. "So, when do you think we should start?"
"Well, given that we get our worst storms in Autumn through to Spring and we need one of those, I suggest we start immediately. You need as much time as possible to prepare a mandrake leaf, in case you lose it and have to start over. I've looked over the lunar cycles and the Full moon is next Tuesday, come and see me and I'll give you a Mandrake leaf which Professor Sprout graciously gave me."
"Are all the teachers aware I'm undergoing this process?" Skylar wondered.
"No."
She nodded. "Thanks Professor."
With the confirmation that she was actually allowed to try becoming an animagus, Skylar became rather enthusiastic much to the surprise of Hermione, Ron and Harry, especially given their homework load, after all, Skylar had more Rune translations to do than ever and was having to constantly learn new symbols and signs to translate things.
"What do you expect? It's almost October and Dumbledore said the Tournament would begin then." Was her excuse for being happy.
It didn't stop their homework load. It seemed Professor Trewlawney had been very pleased with Harry and Ron's fake predictions, except that she asked them to do the same thing again the following month.
Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.
Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behaviour.
"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."
Hagrid's smile faded off his face.
"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy." The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting. He glanced at Skylar, who remained the only Gryffindor who didn't laugh, even if it was rather amusing. He seemed to brighten up at that fact.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.
When they and Skylar arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregating there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of the four, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early —
"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"
Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.
"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him…"
"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.
"As in the seeker?" Skylar wondered.
"Diggory," said Harry nodding. "He must be entering the tournament."
"Hufflepuffs are very pleased about the idea." Stephen had appeared from within the crowd. "Exciting huh, getting international guests?"
"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron, concentrating on only the single fact of Cedric Diggery.
"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student — and he's a prefect."
She spoke as though this settled the matter.
"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.
"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.
Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"
Stephen couldn't help but chuckle and Skylar nudged him. He gave her a shrug before leaving the four as they climbed the staircase.
The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumours were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.
The castle too seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armour were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.
Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too. "Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.
Skylar also received her mandrake leaf during the week and she took a deep breath as she held it in her hand.
"Remember," Professor McGonagall told her. "If you spit it out or swallow it, we will have to start again, this part is the best time to figure out if you're dedicated to this process also."
Skylar nodded. "Don't swallow, chew or spit it out. Wouldn't be so hard if I didn't have to eat." Skylar admitted. But if even someone like Peter Pettigrew could do it, and her father and friends could do it without the assistance of anyone, then she felt confident she could do it with the help of her Transfiguration teacher, a woman who'd gone through the process herself.
Skylar put the Mandrake leaf in her mouth and Professor McGonagall nodded to her. "Good luck."
Skylar nodded back.
It took her a while to get used to the leaf in her mouth, it either dried her mouth out completely, or caused too much saliva to cultivate. When it came to eating her dinner for the first time, she was slow and careful, much to the confusion of her friends. Ron questioned her but she just shrugged and said she wasn't entirely hungry.
She was very proud to make it to the thirtieth of October without having ruined the process so far.
When they went down to breakfast that morning, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.
Harry, Skylar, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.
"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."
"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.
"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.
"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.
"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.
"You know," said Skylar simply, moving the leaf in her mouth to her cheek. "you should write to my dad about it, he could give you some inside information that can help." The twins shared a glance.
"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"
"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."
"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before…"
"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."
"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.
"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."
She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."
"What are you on about?" said Ron, Skylar however rolled her eyes and Harry thought he knew what was coming.
"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"
Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs. His and Ron's lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves. True, both of them had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. badge, but they had only done it to keep her quiet. Skylar however had refused, she liked her house elf, and her house elf liked being a part of the Rosenwald family, and she was not going to let Hermione break them apart and upset Midori, leaving her homeless.
The two girls had had quite the row about it, but unlike Hermione and Ron, it didn't put a kink in their friendship where they ignored one another for several weeks.
The boys' Sickles had been wasted, however; if anything, they seemed to have made Hermione more vociferous. She had been badgering Harry and Ron ever since, first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same, and she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.
"You do realise that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.
Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke.
Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.
"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"
"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to —"
"Well, we have," said George, indicating to Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world —"
"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. Harry looked up at once, and saw Hedwig soaring toward him. Hermione stopped talking abruptly as Skylar nudged them both and pointed when she noticed the bird; the three of them watched Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily.
Harry pulled off Sirius's reply and offered Hedwig his bacon rinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry read out Sirius's letter in a whisper to Skylar, Ron and Hermione.
Nice try, Harry.
I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar.
"Told you he wouldn't believe you." Skylar said.
"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Ron asked in a low voice.
"Hedwig'll attract too much attention," said Hermione at once. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding… I mean, they're not native birds, are they?"
Harry rolled up the letter and slipped it inside his robes, "Thanks, Hedwig," he said, stroking her. She hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his goblet of orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.
"Now what we have to look forward to is the arrival of our guests and finding out more about the Tournament." Skylar grinned. "Oh this is getting exciting."