Bertha Jorkins didn't deserve any of the events that led to her unfortunate death. She had an addled mind by the end - despite Mister Crouch's skill with the Imperius Curse, he was not well practiced with the Mind Arts. He was of far too rigid a discipline to really master such immaterial magicks. The clever girl that Crouch Senior had been thrilled to employ as direct secretary to himself was far too clever, and he was loathe to hurt her. She was trapped in a haze of memory spells, well-powered but indelicate, after her discovery of the son in the attic.

She had had an addled mind since that day, but she knew perfectly well what was happening to her in the summer of 1994. She had enough acuity left for the terror to consume her. Once her use was complete, the Dark Lord moved toward Britain once more to reclaim Barty Crouch Jr., and her death was done in an instant. An afterthought. She had yearned for it, even without her full faculties. The horror of what happened was not lost on her, even after the Lord Voldemort had plundered her thoughts and Pettigrew her very self. She had sustained Him in life until the snake's venom was sufficient enough, and when she died she was hopeful for it. Perhaps death could wash away the touch of evil.

The creation of a new life is not always a thing of beauty.

Peeling away from the shadows of the Forbidden wood edge came the familiar hulking figure of the groundskeeper, Hagrid, who lived in a hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Beastly," Henrietta said, watching Blythe's line of sight. But there was a twinge of interest that Blythe knew better than to tease. Henrietta was not to be teased. That was a job better left to the Carrow twins.

The Feast had been dry in her mouth, struck tasteless by the introduction of the Triwizard Tournament. She was not old enough - she was fifteen years old, and would turn sixteen in the next April. She was a year and half away from the seventeen years needed to compete... not that it wholly interested her. Sure, it was exciting, but she wasn't confident in potentially winning. According to her adept (not) history of defending herself, she reckoned she was more likely to add herself to the death toll, if she even managed to be selected.

Her and the Carrows and Henrietta sat in the Clocktower courtyard, seated swinging their feet over the stone edge of the outer roofed-in ring. She looked up - not that roofed-in anymore. No one bothered to repair the missing bits it seemed, or maybe it wasn't such an easy fix. Lots of magic over lots of time can be quite unreliable in effects on its surroundings. It can be quite stubborn.

"I've never seen the boys so cross," Hestia said.

"Yet so thrilled," Hestia said. "Those who are old enough that is- "

"Or stupid enough to think they can beat Dumbledore's age line."

"We have to wait until October before anyone gets here," Blythe said. "Because they start later in Durmstrang, don't they?"

"Would be nice, wouldn't it. September is such a lovely month that I wish we wouldn't have school," Flora said.

"And then we'd have to be in here until July sometime," Henrietta argued. "A waste of the sun."

"It's sunny already in May," Flora said. "It's not to do with having school or not when the sun's out, just that September is perfectly cool. Favourite weather by far by temperature."

"Does it matter? We're not ever going to Durmstrang," Hestia said.

"Reckon they're terribly handsome?" Henrietta thought aloud - to which Blythe elbowed her.

"Thanes?" She reminded her.

"I don't trust him, I'm not stupid," Henrietta said. That sounded rather sad, Blythe thought, but terribly practical if boys didn't change much after graduating. "Options open is all."

Mister Hagrid proceeded to lift up a handful of pumpkins, as wide as Blythe was tall, and gently roll them from his grasp into a wooden wheelbarrow. The girls watched him fill the cart in silence, the cool air rippling the pleated twists of their skirts and nipping through the thin wool of their high socks.

"He's fit," Hestia said. "Thanes Nott."

"Yeah," Henrietta sighs wistfully. "At least he's that - and brilliant, and rather rich."

"Barely meets your standards then," Flora snorted. Henrietta pushed her hard enough that she shrieked and wobbled on their ledge - she pushed her right back but the sudden appearance of Professor Vector into the courtyard hushed all four girls.

"Afternoon, Professor," Blythe called. The woman inclined her head and swept on through to the wooden bridge. Her robes were made of a rich purple that didn't particularly suit her ghostly skin. Though she was beautiful, she looked half-dead in that tone.

Blythe pays for that politeness. "Afternoon, Professor," mocked Flora in a nasal tone. They all broke out into laughs again, as hopefully Vector had walked far away enough.

"Shame we've got Astronomy tonight," Blythe said. "I've heard that Bittner - that Ravenclaw - he's got a few handles of firewhiskey and even, well, some pepper-up variants. If you know what I mean. I could use a break."

"It's not even been a week," Henrietta scolds.

"So you don't want to go?"

"We could," Flora shrugs. "It's only Astronomy, after all."

Henrietta and Blythe share a look of consideration, but in the end -

"No," Blythe says. "It's only the first week, after all. Speaking of, any of you met the Defence professor yet? An Auror ought to be halfway decent."

"Retired," Henrietta corrected.

"I've heard stories," Hestia hedged. "Moody used to be quite something in his day. And the fourth years were telling some wild tales about their first class. I dunno about the younger years - maybe he goes easy on them."

"What sorts of things?"

"I can't believe your boyfriend's little brother didn't tell you," Blythe teased.

Hestia went on. "Well, I was talking to Draco and he said the old man threatened them all and went over the Unforgivables. Used them, too - on rats, mind you."

"That can't be," Blythe scoffed. "Malfoy needs to grow up soon, or else he'll have bigger problems than schoolyard fights with Harry Potter."

"So you heard about that, at least," Flora said.

"I think the entire Great Hall heard," Blythe exclaimed, swinging her leg higher than usual. "They were shouting across half of it."

"Boys," Hestia said.

And she had a point.

Later, as the light drained from the sky and dinner was nearly upon them, Blythe was thinking of truly skipping Astronomy for she had spoken with Bittner herself and he was being quite charming. She was still upset with Terence for putting such pressure on her. She had thought he was quite over all that, and it made her feel a bit sick and nervous when he was around. She was still acting as if all was just fine, but she wanted almost to cleanse herself of the experience.

Maybe getting to know Bittner, the nice Ravenclaw, could help with that. And she wanted the dreams to stop, too. Now a sick mix between that night at the World Cup and her oldest friend holding her in place by the weight of his body leaning over hers -

She wasn't always sleeping well these days. It was now, like that perilous summer after she had turned thirteen, that she wished she had a mother. There seemed to be some strange connection, understanding, safety between daughters and their mothers, and also some inexplicable tension. Ignoring that last bit, having no personal experience with it, Blythe craved at such times a mother. Her father was her world, but he was at the same time a cold and distant moon. A wise one too - a moon that was admirable. But still quite far away. He cared for her, yes. But it was a quiet dedication.

Sometimes she wondered if her dad would be happier if it had been her, and not her mum who had died that night. After all, she was just a little babe. A responsibility on top of losing his wife. Her father was generous and kind to her - but her mother... she'd heard of her. Never from him. He was different before, said Wendy Parkinson at a luncheon a summer ago. Oh how sweet they were, and lively too. Always hosting such extravagantly themed parties, oh we were all so envious When Blythe's mum died, it was like her dad had died too.

"Never saw much of him since," Wendy had said to her, with a slight uptick of interest in her brow as she watched a young man pull aside a woman into an alcove. "But he still wanders about this things now and then, doesn't he? That's good. Getting out a bit still. I think you must be what's left of his joy and jolly that I remember so well, but it's such a shame that we never see him anymore with the old crowd."

"Reckon we should go in," Henrietta said. "Dinner, and get some sleep before Astro." The girls stood and brushed off their skirts, and Blythe looked back over the gorge to Hagrid's hut in the fading light. She hitched her bag over her shoulder, eyes glancing over the approaching shadows from the forest beyond. Mr. Hagrid must've gone inside his hut, because it was a still scene.

She frowned. "Where did Professor Vector go off to?"

Flora glanced back with some interest, and when she also didn't see anyone, she giggled. "Off to see her new beau, I'd imagine?"

Henrietta snorted. "Who, Hagrid?"

Blythe ignored them and squinted into the dark. "She was there just a moment ago, wasn't she? Where was she going anyway?"

"Maybe the Forest," Hestia offered, already turning back towards the school proper with the others. "Snape's always rooting about in there for creepy ingredients."

"So, Snape or Hagrid?" Henrietta said slyly, kicking at the gargoyle by the water fountain. The meaning wasn't lost on anyone.

"Snape!" Hestia shrieked.

They all laughed, and Blythe figured it wasn't any of her business what Vector was doing with her free time. She was rather known for her dating life, after all. She really could be sneaking off the grounds to a new partner - which she would tell them all about in excruciating detail next class.

They slid into the dungeons before the night reached its claws over the castle, and unfortunately saw Snape when passing his office - this inspired another round of laughs, remembering what they'd said earlier. Blythe had the terrible sensation he knew they were laughing about him, and said as much.

"If he knew why he'd probably find it flattering," Henrietta shrugged, and began a brisk walk up to their dormitory.

Blythe sincerely doubted that.

Nothing else interesting happened that night. They both sincerely regretted not going to that Ravenclaw mixer and pined for it all of Astronomy. It didn't help that half the class hadn't shown up, which Blythe found so devastating she tried to turn right around and walk out again. It was far too late for that, and it was far later when the two girls left class again, too exhausted to attend the rest of the party anyhow. Blythe was so tired she nearly tripped over Professor Vector. She apologised profusely, to which the Professor merely tilted her head quite sidewards at. Eventually, the woman smiled and waved her off, looking quite hazy all the while.

Crawling into bed, finally, and not looking forward to an 8 a.m. tomorrow, Blythe mumbled into her pillow, "I don't think Vector's date went well." Henrietta barked out a laugh.

"What's new, really now."

"What was she even doing on the ground like that?"

Henrietta looked around the dead quiet dorm before saying, "And didn't you see she was muttering to herself all odd? She's clearly pissed." Blythe considered that.

"Does she even drink?"

"I mean look at her dating life, I'd drink too."

They both snorted a bit, rather uncharitably. But to be fair, Professor Vector was rather unprofessional.

"She'll be telling us all about it tomorrow," Henrietta said. "Don't you worry."