XVI

O CANADA

O Canada,
You drive on the wrong hand,
'Tis the title, 'cause
there's no word with 'O' planned!

Ô Canada,
Ch'suis trop nul en français.
Prétendre que c'est traduit
car ce j'ai mon orgueil, t'sais

As of late, I put much more than I should on my plate, and got a bit delayed with the update, but—alas—this tale is very much dear to me, so let's go on, shall we?

It fits beginning this chapter by saying sorry, especially at this point in this story, where Katie and her parents had planned a holiday to a place where the people seemed particularly fond to say it—they needed it, even if their trip was brief, and this time they visited the land of the Maple Leaf.

The Bells chose to visit the Beasleys in Canada for holidays that year. The Lowelands unfortunately had other plans, but The Cod wrote them a letter that made Katie and Leanne cheer, as apparently Mr Loweland cashed some favours with the Phanagorian Premier and got tickets for the Quidditch Cup Final Match.

The Cod had remembered to attach, too, a picture of the family in a beautiful landscape, with looming mountains of snow and tall trees giving shape to the background.

"I think I never came around to say it before, but The Cod's mum is so charming," said Katie.

"Yeah, she really is disarming. Hey Dad, look at what The Cod sent," said Leanne, as she handed the letter to Mr Beasley and the Bells, who were at the moment half-asleep on this big reclining chair.

Katie looked at the bright blue sky as she recounted the last few days that passed by.

Canada was alright fair and square; and the Quebec, particularly, was cool and all. She especially liked going to Montreal and seeing all the buildings and the cute boys—but, o, there was so much noise! There was a strange captivating energy to that city, particularly fit to its grandness and its grit. But some of the people there had this poor habit—in Katie's opinion, to be fair—of speaking French! It was a real wrench when Leanne decided to nag her about it and to brag about her proficiency with it—even though it was far from ideal.

But overall the place was neat—but Katie still didn't get the deal about that blue flag that was on almost every street.

And Mr Beasley decided to move—and the Bells were not far behind. He'd bought a house in the countryside, a place blessed with lakes and beautiful trees, and an ever-present gentle breeze, much welcomed in that simmering heat.

The place was somewhere called southern Ontario, and even though Katie smiled at yet another funny name, she quite liked the change in scenario, where the people seemed to be more sensible—there, Leanne couldn't claim that learning French was useful in any way! But it seemed getting away from the place that spoke it only motivated Leanne to learn the thing, and badger Katie about it above all..

Katie's tongue twisted and turned as she wrestled to drawl and to spew out that uncomely language. Leanne took to it like a native, already putting on airs around herself every time she corrected Katie's terrible pronunciation; just to mention:

"Silvus plate," the girl tried out.

"S'il vous plait," corrected Leanne. "But that was great, really close," she said, as Katie's eyebrows rose.

Eh, even to her that was a bit too much on the nose.

"Oi Leanne, Welsh and English are already enough languages for me," Katie said. "Don't suppose making it three will be worthwhile."

Leanne just gave her a sweet smile at that.

"But French is one of the most important languages there is to know. And you know who can speak it also? Cho!"

Katie rolled her eyes at Leanne's attempt to get a rise out of her.

"There was a good reason they made a sea between our Isles and them, even though they forgot to make another and set England free from the rest of us. I don't really get the fuss you're making, it's not like you want to live here after Hogwarts, do you?"

Leanne hesitated.

"Well …"

"Oh, no. Not you too. First it was The Cod becoming dazzled on his trip, and now you? Get a grip, you two. I need the both of you there with me."

"Oh, I'm sure you would prefer someone else, don't you agree? Someone with green eyes, a pretty face and with messy hair …"

Katie answered her with a glare.

"Oi, just give me that book, will you, ye little fay!"

Leanne clapped.

"Yay! I'm here if you need my hand, anyhoo."

"I'll do it now in a minute, you cheeky little witch!"

"I'm sure you will!" Leanne deadpanned.

"Well, f*** you, too, b****."

Katie had already travelled by Portkey when the family went to Quebec, but, o boy, that thing was still a total wreck. Only Mr Loweland and Katie's father managed to land on their feet. Katie went on to greet the floor and fell quite ungracefully on her side; and The Cod absolutely smashed Leanne's face with his backside.

"Get off from me, you stinky fish!"

"Alright Princess, as you wish, there's no need to be so violent. Chill!"

Leanne in that moment was quite motivated to kill our Big Fish, but suddenly they saw the camp and put their bickering to rest. Mr Loweland had said that the Ministry was trying its best to keep it all hidden from the muggles, but it seemed the wizards saw fit to put that to the test.

They were making a fest of everything. Katie saw people flying around in their brooms, she saw enchanted balloons getting caught up under the trees, she saw spells flying in the air and she heard the fanfare that had come for the show; she saw that and much more. There was a kind of magic in the air that made all of them grin for what was in store.

But things soon became not so very good, for while they were negotiating with the muggle who stood at the front of the camp, there suddenly apparated a wizard right at his side, pointing his wand with a jab:

"Obliviate!"

His expression became quite drab, and the green light illuminated all of them, as the spell went on to hit the man, his gaze now empty, despondent.

The Cod's face was drained of all colour, and in Leanne's there was an expression of horror.

Katie didn't think hers was also very good. She looked in anger at the wizard where he stood, when he suddenly grinned.

"Loweland, my friend. I didn't know you would come," the wizard said, cosying up to him as if Mr Loweland was his great chum.

Katie's eyes narrowed at The Cod's father, when he shook the hand of that other wizard.

"Avery, they put you on scale, eh?"

Mr Bell gazed with suspicion at this 'Avery' guy; and Katie tried to remember where she had heard that name.

"Aye. And it's been years since I had even a reason to use that trick—my wand-work is a little lame; and my aim is also not so slick these days. Would you believe I almost got a couple of goblins in a daze with that spell, ha," he said, with a weird smile. "Well, I wouldn't mind taking the blame for that one, would you?" he chortled, and then glanced at Katie's father. "Bell, how unexpected to see you here. How is Jodie?" he asked, and this time he couldn't contain his sneer.

Katie's dad had a weird expression on his face as he answered that.

"She couldn't come for the game, so I came in her place," her father said, talking about Aunt Jo.

"What a shame! Never imagined she would miss such a game. Send my regards to her, will you? It's been ages since I've seen her! She always manages to slip through whenever I get too close."

He then made a mocking appreciation pose as he glanced at the blank expression on the muggle gentleman once more, who was staring blankly at the space in front of him, before looking at their group with a grin.

"Enjoy the game, all of you. And a tip: don't bet against Krum! I've heard he finally mastered the Giles Corkscrew against Argentina last week. And this time he didn't even wreck his broom! Bye," he said, before apparating away.

There was a brief moment of silence after that display.

"What a ****-head," said Mr Loweland with a wry tone.

"Come this way, you lot. Let's find a spot on this field that we can claim as our own," said Mr Bell as he went on to walk ahead, engaging Mr Loweland in hushed conversation.

And Katie tried to process it all as she kept her pace: Mr Loweland's soured face, her dad's hard-set expression, The Cod's eyes showing his feelings all over the place, Leanne's countenance trying to keep her feelings in suppression.

And herself …

She glanced backwards to that muggle man, who was sporting now a rather placid expression as another group approached him.

And Katie's expression was grim as she …

As she turned her head away and looked around the camp.

And all that vivid red and green became bleaker, and everything seemed to be tinted with a bit of grey.

She remembered what Leanne had said just some months ago.

'You know, I think Obliviate is a greater threat … than the Imperius.'

And seeing her friend's face, it was clear that was something she didn't forget.

Katie remembered where she had heard the Avery name. It was from a sixth-year Slytherin that tried to claim, to everyone that wanted to hear it, that they'd cheated when they won the last game of Quidditch.

"That … gentleman, son, girls," began Mr Loweland, when they were settled in their tent. "Is not someone I'd like to know, but he is not someone you'd make a foe. He's a Hit-Wizard. Every now and then he and his little crew go visit one of the family's business, always saying that they were investigating something or another based on an anonymous clue. A few galleons here and there manages to shut them up, but he and his fellows are very prone to dare, nowadays. Serves them right to work on the day of the Cup!"

Mr Bell snorted at the portrayal, while The Cod looked at his father with an expression of betrayal.

"Do not look at me with that glare, Ophiucus. We'll never descend to the likes of Mr Burke, bur there are some very unsavoury parts to our work. But—and this can also serve to you too, girls—as long as your hearts know that you're not being unfair in the profession you choose to do, do not let these folks wear you out. Play his stupid game, and don't react at what comes out of that snout. One of these days, they'll finally get what's coming for them, no doubt!"

Katie blinked at that, as Leanne and The Cod tried to understand it.

"What do you mean Mr Loweland?"

It was Katie's father who answered her question.

"Do you remember Uncle Elmer, Katie? He was not the only one subjected to the Imperius, but let's just say that it's very mysterious that so many of them used the same excuse when You-Know-Who disappeared that night—a very convenient ruse, wouldn't you say?"

'Including for Uncle Elmer,' thought Katie, but she didn't want to voice that and spoil their day.

"Now, none more of this lame serious stuff. Loweland and I will work on making sure the rest of the things are done before the game. Now go and have fun. Would you and your friends find me an animated model of Ivanova? Jo asked me to get her one," Mr Bell asked, and they made to leave the tent. "Katie, a word before you leave."

Her dad looked in her eyes searchingly before setting on that warm gaze of always, looking at her as if she was his great prize.

"Alright there, cariad?"

Katie smiled at him.

"Yes, Dad, everything is tidy, it's just …"

She hesitated, but seeing the trust and the warmth on her dad's eyes, she continued.

"What are the ties between that Avery and Aunt Jo? He talked about her as if she was … I don't know …"

There was a hardening on her gentle father's expression that told her even more than what he related to her.

"Avery had a somewhat … obsession with Jodie when he was—" and here he quoted with his fingers. "Imperiused by a Death Eater. There hadn't been a repeat of that ever since You-Know-Who had his defeat, but she never stayed put since then, that's why we only we'll see her again on Christmas next year. But she's enjoying her life travelling, that much is clear."

Jodie Campbell was Katie's aunt from her mother's side. It was her that got together with her parents to gift Katie her great ride: a beautiful, well-maintained and sleek Cleansweep Five.

Katie had much to know about the world still, but even so she understood what ill her father had expressed in Avery's obsession. It filled her expression with anger and contempt, but what could she do?

Nothing. That man was free to roam, and the world seemed not to care. It was so unfair!

"Now, none of that. Go and enjoy the day, I think your friends went that way."

She tried to—but couldn't—let go off that, and clasped her hands with Leanne and The Cod as they went around the camp to buy some trinkets and find their friends.

The Cod had seemingly found a game where they chucked him on a pool where he had to grab a watermelon at the bottom to win a prize. The crowd was full of laughter and cries, because they had weaved spells and charms on the fruit so it could grow quick legs and fierce arms, running on the bottom of the see-through container escaping our Big Fish.

"Go and get it, you slippery Codfish!" Leanne yelled.

Leanne laughed at the scene, and The Cod resurfaced cursing out loud when the green fruit gave him a mighty kick in the head.

"You're dead now, fruit!" he said, before diving once more.

Katie smiled at her friend and wondered if she should even say anything about—

"I know what you're brewing in there, Katie. Just spill it out and let's get this over with."

Katie sighed.

"How you're feeling, with what happened over there?"

Leanne hesitated and looked at The Cod's limbs flaying around before answering.

"It did shock me and gave me quite a scare, but … what can I even do? Am I horrible for trying not to think about it anymore? You heard what Mr Loweland said: that man even has his little crew and the Ministry supporting this operation. It's clear that a great part of wizardry thinks of themselves above our station; and of us as nothing more than stains on their floor, as something to step on and give no more of a thought."

Us—Katie didn't miss the word, and it gave her stomach a knot.

But she embraced her friend, and they talked a little before a cheer went all around them. She then saw The Cod with the remains of the watermelon pressed on his pasty chest, red pieces of the fruit falling off the sides of his mouth and his chin like some kind of silly drool, jumping on the ground and getting out of the elevated pool.

Katie laughed as he made a ridiculous dance, all awkward pale limbs flaying around much like the big ridiculous fish he was. Leanne at her side turned her face, her cheeks red, mumbling how The Cod was 'not totally right in the head'.

Katie looked between them in that short pause, a bad-intentioned grin showing on her face, echoed in that of the writer's.

They should really brace themselves for what's to come, but I think it will all turn alright once when I'm done.

At least I think so—but for now let's take it slow.

But not so slow!

I'm already 2.7k words in on this chapter and Harry has yet to show his ugly mug. And I'm not even past the Quidditch Cup—and the readers must be thinking I'm quite a slug, 'cause I'm taking too long to update. I beg your pardon for being a little late.

So hold on tight now, because I have to write both the First Task and the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match before I post this batch of words.

And to the nerds who noticed the one odd thing there, don't worry, I'm not forgetting canon, I swear. Now, to the story, before I pull out my hair:

Katie, The Cod and Leanne saw Harry and friends when they were walking around the camp. Harry had Luna sitting on his shoulders and his arms were linked with Ginny's for some f****** reason. She glared at the Weasley girl, who suddenly let go, blushing, as Katie remembered the advice she'd given her.

'That's treason!'

She could not believe Little Ginny Weasley could be so sly! She was always so shy and cute! But now Katie had her eye on the girl.

Hugs and pats on the back and playful tugs and cuffs on the back of the head were exchanged as the groups crossed ways. And during all of this, Luna remained where she was, occasionally pulling Harry and his hair, here and there, as if he was her little puppet.

It was cool and all, but we haven't the time for that, so we'll just go right to Harry and Katie's little chat.

Luna jumped off Harry's shoulders before giving Katie a quick embrace and pushing her not so subtly at all in Harry's direction with a completely blank face. Harry caught her with with a great big hug, red marring his complexion as they engaged in conversation.

And suddenly, by the not-so-subtle manipulation of Leanne and that big talking fish, our favourite pair found themselves walking around the camp, much like when they did it in Hogwarts, except that now the flag with 'The Shamrock for World Champ!' took the place of the Giant Squid they occasionally saw on many a walk.

And even the scenery remained the same, as the trees were just exchanged for Irish lads and lasses wearing bright gold-and-green singing silly songs before the game. Some of the more forward of the bunch sang songs about some kind of queen, but I have a hunch they were no doubt were talking about—

STOP! Not on this story, please!

"Let's find a place we can talk in peace," said Harry, grabbing Katie's hand. It was good that she looked down at that, because the red on her face just might have her penned as a Bulgarian supporter.

And she had finally a good look at him, and noticed now that this time she was the one a little shorter.

They soon found a place more calm and they sat side-by-side under a tree as they gazed at the Bulgarian side of the camp. They stayed in silence for a while before she eyed him and put her foot on her mouth again.

"What's wrong with your hair? I swear that every boy this year forgot to cut it."

Harry blinked at her, before making a mocking sneer that didn't withstood a second more. And soon the both of them laughed on the forest floor.

"Did you receive my letter?"

She nodded. He'd written her for her birthday telling that he would get her a gift together with someone else, and that he would explain it if she went to see the game. She thought that it was all very weird. And then, he said the name:

"Katie, what do you know about Sirius Black?"

And then she was taken aback by a most grand tale. She couldn't believe they had put an innocent man in jail, and that Harry—

And that Harry once more lost the opportunity to escape the muggles.

"I tried to catch him, but couldn't. And because of my fail—"

"There's no fail, Harry! You have to put things on scale: you helped an innocent man escape an unfair sentence and you gave an opportunity for a man's repentance. And it is as Gramps would have said (at least I think so): every day until The Rat draws his last breath, he'll know he only does so because you saved him from certain death—or worse!"

Harry pondered her words for a moment before letting out a small smile. Katie slapped his forearm.

"Hey, this is no laughing matter. My taid is very wise," she hmphed before getting away from him, lying on the ground looking towards the skies.

And then he came over to where she laid and grasped a strand of her hair playfully.

"It's not that, you crazy witch. It's just—" he interrupted himself looking at her hair strands before smiling. "Oh, now I see it, I got it right with the Snitch."

Katie did not understand him at all.

"English, Harry? Do you know it? Or Welsh, though I don't think you got mynadd to learn our wonderful way to speak."

Harry just let that simmer for a moment where his eyes moved between her hair and her eyes, and a blush began to show its ugly head on her cheek.

"I had missed talking to you, Bell."

She couldn't contain her smile as the blush enveloped all of her face in a rush.

"Well … I missed it, too, you …"

She paused, not knowing what to say. Harry laughed at her anyway.

"Leanne said it to me but just now I understand what she was trying to convey. It's always The Cod, The Bat, The Cat, and now The Dog and The Rat. Does Leanne have one, too? Don't tell me you insisted on The Bee? Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny? What about me?"

Katie did a facepalm, and tried to stay calm, not believing she was having that conversation once again.

"Oh, Leanne won't like what I'll do to her, that I guarantee—I can already feel the pain and hear her plea! What was she thinking telling you that?"

Harry made a pause. And when he talked, his voice was flat.

"I remember now. I was The Seeker, remember?"

Of course she did—she was the worst offender! Katie felt quite uncomfortable when he mentioned that fiasco on her Second Year, when Harry and his friends had run their house-points dry and she quite brattily made that horrible nickname. She glanced towards her side, now in fear of looking him in the eye. It seemed so silly looking in retrospect, but she saw how it had affected him all the same.

"I … remember. But I prefer not to. What do you think—I mean, what about you?" she asked tentatively.

To her surprise, there was a smile on his face.

"I … don't mind it now."

Katie blinked at that—she was quite ready to erase that from her memory.

"But—but why, though?"

And at that Harry's smile widened.

"Wouldn't you really like to know?"

And they talked and laughed and smiled and Katie even punched his arm this one time. But the match was coming so they dusted the grime off their pants and made their way back.

"By the way, were you made Quidditch Captain? Or Fred, or George?" she asked as they followed the track in the camp.

Harry blinked.

"No. What about Angelina and Alicia? What about you?"

"Nothing. They received nothing, too."

They hadn't much more time to think, because then they saw their friends. And in a blink of an eye, Katie was once again surprised when out of the blue, Luna not-so-subtly-at-all and for Merlin-knows-why pushed Ginny in their direction, and Harry caught the girl, crimson rapidly overtaking her fair complexion.

Katie looked at Luna's innocent expression, her own quite struck.

And here it comes—she did not say it, but only by a little.

'Luna, what in the flying f***?'

And now to the game, it went really all the same to universes more familiar to the reader, and it would make me content not to write a word about it, too. Perhaps the reader may have already noticed, but writing Quidditch scenes is a painful process for this author to get through.

But they had to open their big mouths during the match, which is why now I have to scratch this scene out, and rub my two tough remaining brain cells against each other to write this stuff.

"Is Lynch going for it? Or is this another bluff?"

The whole crowd heard the narrator on the loudspeaker and turned their wonky devices and binoculars towards the Irish Seeker as he dived towards the ground. Mr Bell laughed and soon Katie and Mr Loweland followed.

"What's going on?" asked The Cod.

And then it came the sound, a crash echoed by the crowd as the Irish Seeker tried to sit back and come around.

"That was a very underhanded tactic. Surely they will punish them this time around," said Mr Bell.

Somehow, some Bulgarian fanatics managed to slip a Snitch of their own in the match and broke through the spell barrier. Lynch only saw the glint of it and went on to catch the thing. Katie looked at it and noticed it looked off and not quite right—a knock-off, glowing with some kind of red-ish light, clearly enchanted to distract the players and set them off their flight

"If Ireland loses this thing, there will be hell," said Mr Bell. And Leanne took The Cod's omniocular and looked towards the more agitated crowd in green, with leprechauns shaking their fists, their faces mean, and she gulped as she saw that scene.

But the Bulgarians, closer to their stand, were not much far behind and responded in kind, making rude gestures with one hand while the other waved their red flags; and even their Veela drew up to their full height, tearing the ends of their pretty dresses and getting ready to a fight.

"This is horrible!" said Leanne, her voice filled with fright.

"This is awesome!" said Katie and The Cod at that sight.

And then Katie pinched The Cod's arms.

"Bad fish! Snap out of their charms!"

"Ow, you said it too!"

"But I only said it because it was cool. You, on the other hand—look, I can almost see you drool!"

Mr Loweland laughed and put a hand on both of their shoulders.

"Calm down, kids. Let's just see what happens, shall we?" he said as Lynch got on his broom, much to the glee of the Irish supporters.

And the match continued at a heightened pace, as all players flew with grace and made Katie's heart fill with wonder and cheer. She especially liked the Irish Chaser Mullet's style, as she weaved around them with a smile, full of daring dives, shooting and whizzling around without fear, brave yet full of grace, cutting the skies fast, like she was in a race. Katie made a mental note to try several manoeuvres already when she next had an opportunity to fly.

But it had come to an end—a very strange one, that got cheers from both sides, as there was confusion at first when they tried to comprehend it.

Krum had caught the Snitch, but Ireland had already too great of an advantage.

"Why did he get it? I don't understand," said Leanne.

"Lynch is very good. He was a bit injured with that fake Snitch, but he wouldn't let it pass again if he could," said Mr Loweland.

"So Krum just ended the match by his own will," exclaimed The Cod. "Wow. He is cold, man. I couldn't imagine being so chill."

Katie frowned.

"But he hadn't the right to do that. Bulgaria could still try and score more!"

The Cod huffed.

"Impossible. They only scored twenty points until now," said The Cod.

"Well, I don't think it was fair to his team," said Leanne with a frown.

"Yeah, he had to trust they would find a way somehow!"

Mr Bell and Mr Loweland just looked with amusement at the kids as they dragged them through the crowd.

"I still think he was right to do things on his own terms," said The Cod, very loud.

"And I still think he had no right to do so, just so you know," Katie yelled back.

"He still won!"

"His team still lost!"

"Alright both of you, that's enough," said Leanne, a bit crossed. "And it wasn't even England vs Wales, why are you so worked up? From the way you two are bickering it almost seems you've won or lost the Cup!"

"Bravo, Leanne!" — "You said it very well, Leanne!" said Mr Loweland and Mr Bell.

"So, what do you think? I don't fancy an Irish party right now. Mrs Bell said she would make pizzas if we managed to leave early somehow. What do you guys think?" asked Mr Bell.

And there it was: the three of them immediately became in sync as they were fast to agree.

"Alright, and the rest of the food and drinkstuff is on me," said Mr Loweland.

And life was pretty swell for the friends and family of our dear Katie Bell.

The attack and the Dark Mark shook Britain to the core. Katie, Leanne and The Cod woke up on that day to Mr Bell kneeled on the floor in front of the fireplace, gazing at the face of Mr Weasley in the fire. The rest of the parents then called them to the dining room and explained the dire situation.

They all had read about the Dark Mark or heard about it somewhere—but seeing it in its green-and-grey terrible gloom flying proudly in the air on *The Daily Prophet's* front page was something else. She gazed at the parents and could almost feel their grief and rage—and their age finally catching up to them.

You-Know-Who never did die that night. That was proved when Harry got into a fight with that monster in her Second Year. But things now seemed much more palpable—and Katie felt the smallest part of it: of that fear that crippled generations.

Ms Skeeter wrote that an official said it was 'nothing more than the hijjinks of a rowdy bunch after too many drinks', and the Ministry had the gall to follow this through in conversations with the other nations. Katie did not get politics at all, but even she saw it for what it was: they seemed comfortable enough to finally crawl out of the hole in which they remained for almost thirteen years. She remembered Avery's face and the way he seemed to stroll around as if he owned the place.

She remembered, too, Leanne's face when she said it: us.

'Us and them'.

And where did Katie Bell fell into this thing? Would they pass her over just because of her very old magical family, or because of her pretty hair? No, those folks wouldn't stop there.

The Dark Mark flied over Aunt Claire as she drew her final breath. It flew over some of the Lowelands, too, when they went to deliver death to many of theirs. This time only some muggles were shaken around—but they were muggles, who cares?

That wasn't written, but it was very easy to see it all the same—there was no name, description or even an effort to describe it more: 'twas a tragedy, but now 'tis done.

And no consequence would ever befall anyone.

The sneers and jeers of the Slytherins—and particularly of Millicent, Derwent and Vincent—seemed like a distant memory, of no consequence to this story. But Katie had only learned to ignore them—the Dark Mark flying again in all might and glory certainly spelled something more.

It was not over. Her parents's and Aunt Claire's war was still there for them to take over.

But … was it? Or could she just get away from it?

Though Katie played the grumpy part, most of it was just to annoy Leanne, at any rate—Canada (including Quebec) was great! And The Cod just couldn't shut up in his letters and in person about the beauty of the Swiss Alps—of kind people and beautiful green mountains with snow at the peaks, and a whole bunch of villages spread-out.

But they weren't the only friends she had to think about.

There was Harry, Ginny, Luna, all the Weasleys, Hermione, Alicia, Angelina—and … well, Katie Bell had to admit she would miss even McLaggen! She wouldn't keep them at bay or simply go away.

But she would not again turn her face the other way!

But bravado went only so far. She had to build something of substance to get her things up to par. And she would dedicate right now: to learn—everyday—a new spell, to her friends, to fly well, and to get good marks for each and every O.W.L.

This promised our dear Katie Bell.

This chapter is a rollercoaster—better: it's like a Chaser too brave for her own good taking more risks than she should to score.

But that's why we chose our dear golden girl to show what she has in store.

Her parents and her friends saw the changes each day more and more—Mr Bell was particularly delighted when his daughter decided to follow Claire's footsteps in the study of Runes and Wards—in Ancient Runes there were forty-seven different tales just concerning the carving of the fancy 'H' in the Hogwarts crest, and many details that just made that elective the best.

Leanne strived towards deciphering Arithmancy—which Katie could only barely follow, even though she got nice marks. The subject to Katie just felt very theoretical and hollow, but she supposed being an accountant's daughter had to mean something at least.

And Katie had this small guess that Leanne's father just said he was an accountant so they could process. The glass building he worked was just too fancy—so Leanne dedicated to Arithmancy.

And last but not least, The Cod was already a beast when it came to take care of … well … any beast! My rhymes are turning to sh**, but trust me, our fish got it!

Though Leanne did say that he preferred doing so at least a few feet away from any claw or beak with more than thirty teeth on them—which was fair, because those things were only meek and gentle on Hagrid's hands, and tended to have a vicious streak whenever he wasn't looking at them. The Cod was particularly suspicious of beasts that looked like birds—which only proved that words did have magic in them, as only that explained why our big Codfish™ felt his hairs stand near their wild stares.

What am I talking about? I need to just shut my mouth and bang out this thing. A fish with hair? Katie studying the Secret Notes of Aunt Claire™? Leanne getting knee-deep in Arithmancy?

Man, I think I really need some sleep.

But before doing that, I'll type out some fluff. After all, this was a pairing story, wasn't it? I can't remember it much, as memories of the days before writing this are just very rough.

I remember it now! And—wow, isn't that just wonderful?

Well, I don't know if you remember it too, but Harry did promise to send a gift to our dear Katie Bell—a gift that another person would join in sending, mind you.

Hedwig rested on the back of Katie's chair, munching on some bacon and occasionally on some of Katie's hair as she supervised it all with her unusual intelligent and stoic stare. There were two pieces of parchment—one in which someone went on to draw (or imprint, but they hadn't Katie's hint) a paw, with elegant calligraphy below it saying only 'Sorry about the scare', and another lengthy one from Harry, which Katie just held close to her chest as a great prize, away from prying eyes, her cheeks quite red, her expression trying to be neutral, but a small smile giving it all away, slowly beginning to spread, making its way onto her face as she read it.

And in a small box, there was a gift that made her breath hitch: a well-polished and jittery Golden Snitch, that flew around her as if it was just some well-behaved bird—I suppose Hedwig's presence and authority was duly noted by it, even if that sounds totally absurd.

Katie felt strange as something of a change stirred inside her as she read his letter: it was the Snitch that had won them the Cup. He thought about sending it to Wood, but she was the one who spurred and helped him the most since he joined the team, even with that little fiasco of her second and his first years. Katie felt her vision blurred, and she convinced herself those were not tears, and she felt like steam would just burst out of her ears.

And to top it off, he'd also sent a bunch of sweets. But those sweets were … well …

They sent a message alright. Katie wondered if Harry was in the known—he was great but she didn't think he would be capable of thinking this through on his own.

"Either the lad is very well-advised," said Mrs Bell, as she and Leanne picked around it, them both sporting a sh**-eating grin. "Or he's just overdoing it and already playing for the win." And then, Katie was surprised as her mother took a seat, her eyes a bit glassy. "I'm not prepared yet for someone being so sweet on my bonnie wee lassie."

"Mum!" said Katie embarrassed.

"Katie!" Mrs Bell shot back at her daughter.

They glared at each other, but Katie turned her eyes away from her mother as a smile once again threated to crack on her face. She fished a chocolate-thingy and stared curiously at the hearts on its wrapping—very subtle, don't you agree?—when suddenly they all heard a tapping on the window, where they could see three owls carrying a new package.

And this one was addressed to Leanne for some reason.

The letter that came with it had the same drawing of a paw, but this one had a different albeit very familiar scrawl.

Leanne, Katie and Mrs Bell blinked in confusion as they all read 'I'm 98.3% sure it's Harry's' letter; and it only said: 'from a special friend.'

"Oh, I get it now! He's playing for the win alright, but he's just not very bright and didn't go all-in. Daring, isn't he? Or rather foolish. Michty me, I didn't know wee Harry had it in him!"

Leanne blushed and just could not look up towards Katie's eyes—which was very wise, because in hers there was only confusion, as her mind tried to draw some kind of conclusion.

Katie could only think: is this serious?

No, Katie, it was Sirius!

Sorry if that made you choke or have a stroke; I just never made that joke, I think—and I had to, you know? At this point, it's almost a rite of passage through which a Harry Potter fanfiction writer must go.

Sirius wanted to do something nice for the girls after he scared them both—he left that part for Harry, and just provided some advice and enough gold for a gift that would suffice, especially as only the Bell girl would know about his tale (and that's only because Harry wanted to tell it all to her in detail), but he hadn't accounted for the boy's special brand of stupidity and charm.

But it was great fun, and there shouldn't be no permanent harm—or at least I think so.

And the explanation for what happened is down below:

It seemed Sirius needed to be a little more specific in his advice letters on what he meant by a 'special friend', especially now that Hermione's birthday was getting dangerously close. When Sirius received Harry's last letter before the start of the term, he just froze—and Padfoot tempted him just for a slight moment to let it all simmer for a few weeks or so, and see what kind of woe Harry would put himself through.

But now it wasn't the time to exercise that fine art of pranking—the Marauders's glory belonged to the days of yore, and he should now play the part that he so neglected before: that of the responsible godfather.

Or rather: of the dogfather—(I'm really, deeply sorry!)

He smiled as he wrote back to that stupid little guy he liked so much—James and Lily would love to pry and to spy on their boy's bumbling attempt to catch that bird.

Though from what Harry wrote and from what Sirius heard from gossip when he roamed around the school, he wouldn't be surprised if one of the—many!—birds managed to get him first—that fool!

And it was beautiful seeing that gleam come back to his eye after so many years of absolute terror. Katie would never know it, but her vivacious presence in this story was already serving to right many-an-error.

And just before we get to Hogwarts, we have to show this very simple scene. It had nothing but a baffled Harry reading the last Sirius's letter, full of less-than-adequate but well-intended advice to the life of a teen. I'll spare the reader of the minutiae, as that stuff was of the world of myths—with its horror twists! But I'll gladly show you this bit:

p.s.: about the gifts — you missed badly on this
p.p.s.: but there's still a fix. I'll write it in the next letter
p.p.p.s.: please tell me that at least the snitch you sent only to the Miss — you better!

And we're seven thousand words in, and my patience is running low, so hold on tight friend, because we'll now go on a lightning fast spin towards the end of the First Task, lest this thing continues to grow—now absolutely out of control.

We find ourselves in front of the beautiful Hogwarts Express, amidst excited chattering, with friends greeting each other, with many kids conflicted between embarrassment and sadness giving a last hug to their father and mother, with purebloods unflatteringly turning up their noses and putting in practice their 'I'm better than you' poses.

But I must finish this quick, so I'll just write what is absolutely needed for this tale.

However, it wouldn't be so slick if I omitted writing about The Cod pulling out his latest trick. Katie and Leanne stopped dead on their feet when they saw Susan Bones flail her arms at their direction to greet our big fishy friend.

It seemed The Cod had found himself a girlfriend!

Katie and Leanne went on to greet and to exchange the usual 'it's nice to meet you, too' with the other girl; all the while them both thinking when the f*** that happened—The Cod hadn't given them a clue!

He had good reason for that, mind you—well, that's at least what our dear fish thought so!

That's something I'd like the reader's opinion on, because—you know—the situation was a bit complicated, you see …

"Ophiucus Vebruary Loweland III, You cheated on me!" exclaimed Katie when The Cod finally unlatched from the girl and explained that, joining Katie and Leanne on the train.

He shook his mane vehemently—he really should cut his hair!—and shot back.

"That's not fair, it's not like there was anything there. We just pretended to date so we could, you know, practice … that spell. So I didn't cheat on you, at any rate, Katie Whatever Middle Name Bell!"

"But nobody knew that, you prat! And Susan … I don't know her well, but Harry, Ron and Hermione never told me Bones was like that!"

"She did nothing wrong, Bell. I told her that you needed a guy off your back, and just needed me as your friend to get along until he gave up. Oi Leanne, I'm right, am I not? Back me up."

Leanne blinked owlishly at the pair, with a frightened expression as both of them glared at her spot. She said the first thing she had in her head:

"Your middle name is really Vebruary? Like, with a 'V'?" she said, absolutely gobsmacked.

That was indeed quite strange, I had to agree.

"You're the one to talk, you fake Weasley. And what the hell is your first name, Bell? Catherine, Katia, Ekaterina, Caitlin, Kathleen? There's no way it's only Katie."

"All right, you are the one to say, Ophiucus."

And their little fight dragged on some more, but writing the rest of that would really be a chore, so we'll just cut right towards the next event relevant to the plot.

The compartment door was opened by Millicent, Derwent and Vincent. Whereas Katie would be quite delighted to ignore that lot until she graduated, the Dark Mark flying once more sure would be enough to make them annoying once again. Katie, Leanne and The Cod didn't paid much attention to them ever since their Second Year, as Professor Snape's chewing had seemingly kept them at bay.

But not so much anymore—that sneer came back to stay.

Harry occasionally talked about Draco Malfoy and his two sidekicks as the equivalent in his year, and Ginny and Luna talked, similarly, about the narrow-faced Carrow Twins—same prejudice, same sneer.

But there was something of a change. She just hadn't bothered with those three, preferring to keep them in long range (and out of reach!)—Professor McGonagall's speech was still fresh in her mind, after all.

Vincent Rosier was as gross as ever, with his stupid face and mocking drawl. But she would be unkind to say that of the other two—but that was perhaps only because their sneers weren't as clear.

Was that—was Derwent uncomfortable with the situation? And was that frustration on Millicent's face?

Mind you, reader, I'm quite partial to our dear Katie Bell's understanding of the situation, so don't be so quick to take her—and mine—words as truthful assessments of that scene. But, indeed, Rosier once again repeating that amount of obscene and hurtful words towards Leanne only made it worst for our lads (and lass!) in green.

And Katie did not hold back this time—neither did Leanne or The Cod.

Perhaps they'd just grown tired of doing nothing, and ignoring the very real red flags ever since their first meeting. But it would also be unfair to treat the trio of snakes as just a convenient assortment of punching bags. They still had a story to tell—one I do not have yet the time to write well, but that will no doubt appear soon.

Katie had hit Rosier waving her wand in the shape of a particular Futhark rune—an idea she had while reading the notes of Aunt Claire. Whereas in her First Year, she only gave them a rat's tail, now they could only stare as her spell completely altered Vincent's face—now with two prominent yellow teeth, whiskers all over his mouth and nose, and fur to cover the rest, ending at the top of his head in a furry crest where two gross flappy ears sprouted.

The boy shouted in anger and tried to tackle her, but Leanne promptly blocked him with a spell.

She didn't even want to know what Prof. McGonagall would do this time, but she knew that there would be hell because of that transfiguration.

But in that short moment, she did not care much about that, as Leanne tried to hide her smile at her cursing that prat, as The Cod implored her to teach him how she did that.

The school-year hadn't even begun and already things had spun wildly.

And wilder they spun, still—for then, Harry and the rest of their group of friends arrived, and Katie didn't just get what was happening anymore.

Why were Luna and Ginny linked on Harry's arms? And why was Hermione on Ron's? The scene set off all kind of alarms on Katie's head, and she just didn't get what has happening exactly.

And it seemed Hermione and Ron were in the know—that is, if you considered Hermione's calm and playful stare and Ron's queasy glare as some kind of hint. That and the glint on Luna's eyes told Katie there was something crafty in the guise of that lovely whimsical girl.

But the better part of it is to not know—or at least not until the next chapter; but I'll give you just a hint for now: 'tis the time of Luna Lovegood's show!

Amidst all the cheering and greeting, there seemed to be a building tension, least of all not helped by no one bothering to mention that the compartment they got was a little too cramped for all of them to fit.

But our dear Luna Lovegood had already thought this through, and knew just how everyone would find a seat.

"Katie, if you sit besides Harry—yes, all right. This will be a bit tight, but it will work. Leanne, why don't you sit on Harry's lap? I might just fit that gap on the bench if you do that."

Leanne glanced quickly between Harry and Luna, before quickly looking at Katie, her face quite red, probably remembering Harry's anonymous letter.

"N-no, Luna, there's no need. I can sit on the floor—that will be better for everyone. And I have to find the Prefect's carriage, too. So, err, see you later, guys."

She did not lift her eyes from the floor as she exited the compartment. There was a short pause—where nobody noticed Luna's calculating gaze—before Hermione broke their collective daze.

"So Leanne was chosen as Girl's Prefect for Gryffindor this year?"

The Cod snorted.

"Yes, and her peer was that bookworm boy with red hair. I'm convinced that McGonagall only chose him because he looks like her doll pair."

Katie grinned at that.

"'That boy with red hair', you say? The same one you share the dorm every single day for the last four years, wasn't that right?"

The Cod raised his eyebrows at her.

"Yes, something like that. I'd forgotten to write his name—I think it was one quite lame, Katie."

"I bet he couldn't say the same, Ophiucus."

Everyone stared between them, trying to understand what the f*** kind of game was there. When it seemed they hadn't wanted to share more, things began to settle somewhat—Luna chose to sit on the floor, and was glancing every now and then towards Katie's direction.

The conversation was light at first, but soon things took a more natural tone—particularly helped by Ron and Katie immersed in an enthusiastic discussion over the Quidditch Cup Final Match. And here and there, for those careful enough to catch it, there were some very interesting signs: odd glances, measured words, too-long stares, shy advances and easy smiles at the worst kinds of jokes.

This awkward stage of growing up was kind of mad for our folks—but it was nonetheless comforting to see these dearest characters facing some problems fit to their age.

Katie still hadn't the opportunity to thank Harry for that wonderful gift—and to ask that git what was his idea with Leanne. He shouldn't raise her expectations in vain!

And she only thought of her friend when she wanted to ask him that, alright? There's 100% no other motivation behind it that I should cite—wink-wink.

Now, I think you already know that there comes Dumbledore announcing the new creepy DADA teacher, and that Triwizard thing and blah, blah, blah. I could write that and more, but … nah. That story you already know, so now let's just cut to the part where it pays to take it slow.

There was no Quidditch that year!

And albeit Katie did find the situation a bit of a drag, she was surprised to find that the sentiment of indignation she felt at that wasn't so sheer as it would be—for example—in her Second Year.

Our dear Katie Bell had flown well, had won the Cup, had beautiful memories at that, and had already done her part. She loved flying, but there were some things to Quidditch that just didn't tug as much as before in her heart. She had other interests, too, mind you!

And her forays into that were equal parts daunting and thrilling, motivating and demoralising, inspiring and overwhelming. But these were the throes and woes everyone would have to pass through—which she knew, but it didn't make anything easy.

She eyed Professor Babbling—of Ancient Runes—apparently zoning away, her face a completely neutral veneer, amidst the protesting students, and tried to think of a way to stand out in class this year. Ancient Runes were truly a fascinating field—and she thought there was a chance there she could make something out for herself that would not make her depend only on taking risks on cutting the air dangerously with her broom; rather: she could find a comfortable room to get on with her study, and try and build upon the notes of her Aunt Claire.

But while Quidditch didn't seem to tug so much at her heart, there was something else that albeit she distantly recognised (and only to herself), she refused to give more importance to that part. She liked to think herself as mature and wise, but I saw right through her guise, and the lies she would tell herself.

Harry Potter was one of the main reasons she was discontent with the Headmaster's decision—which she pretended not to know, but alas, bit-by-bit, things were becoming clearer and easier—but let's not push our girl and just go with her flow.

'Twas perhaps the reason why in this story that sorry excuse not to have a Quidditch Cup didn't fly—and to think that it only took a girl's most hidden crush to make someone act up!

But for now Katie could only sigh as she eyed Prof. McGonagall looking in her direction. Katie, Leanne and The Cod just groaned and followed the Transfiguration Mistress in dejection—for their chewing and to see which detentions they'd be doing.

Life was not so swell for our 84th-percentile in height for her age Katie Bell.

The Cod would serve his sentence with Madam Pomfrey and her assistant in the Hospital Wing; Leanne would help Hagrid in organising and fencing the pen for some Niffler/Billywig offspring the man had « » laying around when he was walking in the forest.

Katie served exactly one detention with Prof. Moody—she was just let go at once as the man laughed (a sharp contrast to his weird, broody way) at what she'd done to Vincent Rosier on her first day. Perhaps it helped that one Evan Rosier, Vincent's uncle, had taken a good piece off the man's nose.

But then, the dude was a Death Eater in disguise, wasn't he? So, who knows what got a rise out of him.

Prof. McGonagall discovered that, and didn't think it was enough for the lesson to stick, and made Katie serve her detentions with herself.

O, Katie was so ready to kick a certain cat!

But it wasn't so bad. Prof. McGonagall was even interested in her use of Runes with the advanced Transfiguration—after a terribly long chewing, I might add.

And Katie noticed conveniently that she did not take any points off, and that she liked gazing at the beautiful Cups from last year just a bit much, making her scoff. Perhaps such fixations with shiny things came with being part-cat, but seeing that, Katie had an idea to pull at the Professor's heartstrings.

It was a shame that Percy Weasley wasn't there. That boy knew the Hogwarts rules-book by the letter, I swear!

And why, you ask? Well, our dear Katie Bell and her friends would try to get the Quidditch Cup back again, by trying—hopefully not in vain—to get the fanatic Prof. McGonagall on their side, by playing on The Cat's massive pride of her Lions's Cup.

But she did not need Percy after all, for someone already had answered the call.

When she told her friends her plan, she had another Weasley on the case—and this one had a determined face as he doubled down on it. She was surprised by Ron's enthusiasm, but he explained it to her and Harry one night in the Common Room.

Charlie was apparently scheduled to visit the family over the next month and would gift him his old broom now that he'd managed to buy a Nimbus—and Ron would like to try out for Keeper, now that he would have a nice broom that wasn't just a toy—'even if I probably won't get the place,' the boy saw fit to add at the end, shame colouring his face.

Katie wasn't as sensible as Hermione on the boy, but even she could almost smell the self-doubt.

"If we manage to get this, I have no doubt you'll flat-out make it to the team. And even if our little scheme doesn't go right, we'll practice anyways, so that next year you're there with us to smite those snakes," said Katie.

Ron smiled, his face scarlet red but with a timid smile full of joy, as Katie, Harry and the rest of his friends said their words of support to the boy.

And this Ron, different to the many redheaded boys of other stories more familiar to the reader, wouldn't so easily be a quitter on his friends—and it was just wonderful to see how it was the little things that paid the highest dividends.

"Prof. McGonagall, I was reading the Hogwarts rules-book the other day—" began Katie very innocently, prompting all red flags to raise up in the Professor's vision.

Prof. McGonagall scrutinised Katie's face with a healthy amount of suspicion as she went on to try and sway the professor to their side.

"—about who gets to keep the Quidditch Cup when it is cancelled," she said, glancing at the wide-eyed Professor.

Honestly, it was a bit comical how the formidable Transfiguration Master embraced her cause so fast! But it was for nothing, as they had apparently to convince the Headmaster.

But we have to remember that this was the professor who conveniently made it so that our dear Harry could compete toe-to-toe with the other Seekers by getting him a Nimbus somehow, on top of making Prof. Dumbledore allow him to keep it and get into the team even after the trials were already done.

She would prompt Miss Bell here and there, but she would do her thing as well—but, of course, with her distinctly discrete and prudential flair.

"I suppose Prof. Dumbledore wouldn't be so opposed to the idea if every team asked as one," Prof. McGonagall mentioned casually at one point in the night. She looked at Katie once more and continued. "Perhaps we can schedule the rest of the detentions after we manage to … set these things right."

And Katie did not dare lift her face as Prof. McGonagall said that, not trusting the smug grin that would appear there.

Now she just had to convince the other dunderheads to join her cause. Surprisingly, she didn't see them making much of an effort against it. And then suddenly a thought made her pause. She looked up at Prof. McGonagall's face, who was just innocently checking a poorly transfigured vase—(it chirped!)

Too innocently!

Had … had they planned that?

Prof. McGonagall raised her eyebrows at her, her stare betraying nothing now—quite different from how her expression was, just some minutes ago.

Oh, Katie so wanted to hit a certain cat!

She'd sent a letter to everyone, but she was quite surprised when even the Slytherins sent someone. They exchanged niceties and spoke about the tournament as they awaited everyone to arrive.

Draco Malfoy had snorted when Harry said he didn't want to compete in the Triwizard Tournament.

"As if you could stand to take a backseat, Scarhead. It would drive you mad," said Dracon in an outburst. "You might just as well try to cheat and put your name in."

And if you were wondering which blockhead was late on that day:

"By the way, Flint said he is coming right ahead—he said he just had to return some books first."

Harry frowned at the insult, but Katie's hands on his forearms stopped him from saying something back to that airhead. Cho looked at her curiously, with a small smile, all the while a bit too close to Cedric and that Pomeroy girl from Hufflepuff—the first one quite red, the latter with a facial expression most queer.

Harry patted Katie's hands and nodded.

"If there's no one trying to get me dead, it's good enough for me, to be sincere. But it would be grand to have at least one calm year," joked Harry.

The Pomeroy girl blinked in confusion.

"Besides the Dementors, you mean? What happened before?"

"Oh, that's right, you're in the Second Year. You wouldn't believe the stories—there was one about the Forbidden Corridor—" Cho began to explain to the girl, with Harry timidly correcting her now and then.

It was rather good that it was Malfoy who had gone first to represent the Slytherin team, as the boy had it in him to challenge Harry's wild tales of the past years. Katie knew that gossip in Hogwarts run wild, but not those marvellous details. There was even this absurd story about Harry setting the Basilisk free to go to Brazil!

"So you did not kill those Dementors with the Sword of Gryffindor?" asked Davies, the captain for Ravenclaw, after a time from where he was sitting on the floor.

Katie and Draco snorted at that—the latter because of the ridiculousness of that rumour, the first because of the absurdity around what really happened that day.

"No way! Who would be crazy enough to do that?"

Katie smiled.

"Apparently you, you prat! Our daring and brave knight!"

Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

"Behave, Katie. And you already know that story."

Cedric then asked:

"How did you do it, then?"

And Katie smiled—it seemed Harry just didn't quite get it that the corporeal Patronus was very absurd as well.

"With the Patronus Spell, of course!"

Davies blinked at that.

"Come again?"

"Well, I did the Patronus Spell …"

Katie looked at the doubtful faces of the others with not quite a small amount of glee, as the players from the other three houses seemed even more sceptical of it all. He glanced at Katie, with the question in his eyes, not even needing to say a word.

Harry didn't like to brag much, but Katie felt that being too much humble was sometimes a drag—she'd bet that even Harry would be glad for a little confidence boost from time to time.

And the stories around him were already so absurd that she honestly thought it wasn't so bad—I mean, if they thought that Harry had the Sword of Gryffindor on him at all times, maybe it would even be good to make it clear that wasn't true, so there wouldn't be anyone that would challenge him for a duel to get the Founder's legendary gear.

She squeezed his hand as he brandished his wand. And then the magnificent stag sprung forward, surprising the other students—that were now sporting quite the odd faces.

"Hi, Prongs," said Harry, touching the gentle animal's snout.

It then looked at Katie and sniffed out her hand, where she felt the welcoming and warm traces of Harry's magic.

"Hello there, Prongs. As grand and pretty as always, aren't you?"

The stag licked her fingers before nuzzling Harry one final time before dispelling on his cue.

There was silence for a short while, before Cho said with a small smile:

"You really weren't kidding then, eh, Harry? I mean, I believed you, but I did not know you managed to beat those vile things."

Our favourite guy just blushed ferociously, while Katie's eyebrows rose at the girl, who just winked at her for Merlin-knows-why.

"You really weren't joking when you said that you wouldn't try to compete in the tournament, weren't you?" asked Cedric.

And they talked for some time before Flint finally showed up—when Katie would convince them to make a united effort to bring back the Quidditch Cup.

And all-as-one managed to get the job done. Prof. Dumbledore smiled kindly at their effort to band together to make their request. Perhaps a few tweaks to the Third Task would be needed, but that could easily be addressed.

'Had they passed the test? Was there even a test?' Katie wondered, a bit stressed.

She did not want to know anymore—the good thing was: Quidditch was back, to the cheer of all students of Hogwarts's Four.

And if she thought that that was it for her, there was a little surprise when she woke up the next day.

There was no way that Katie Bell would get away with being the Quidditch Captain. There were O.W.L.'s, Quidditch, Runes and her friends to tend to—the only way she would get things done was if she was split into two! She supposed that this was Prof. McGonagall's funny way of payback. She affixed the badge to her black robes and smiled as she prepared for the day.

Things would be rough, but Katie would handle them as best as she could when they came her way.

The trials were alright. Katie may or may not have sent a few Quaffles a bit too hard on McLaggen's way out of spite, but hey, our girl is not perfect, okay?

She was very partial to Ron and her friends, and even said so to The Cat, but the professor just told her that she'd chosen her for a reason, and that at the end of it she would know what was best.

She made everyone on the team go through her test, and trial for their position—even herself!

In the end, even though McLaggen performed better overall than Ron, there was no way he'd get a spot on the team—only if she was gone! She had a soft spot for the boy, but that was crushed when he began taunting Ginny Weasley when she went to throw.

The girl had surprised everyone. Katie even felt a bit apprehensive when she trialled for Chaser, but alas the girl had to train hard before she could take on the seasoned trio of Chasers off guard. She took not being on the team well enough, however, which was one more reason why Katie was angry at McLaggen for his terrible words—he hadn't any right to say that whatsoever.

Oh, he was just saying those words to toy with the girl and make her lose her game—but Cormac McLaggen would still have to learn that arrogance and confidence were not the same, and that there were some things you should not do (or say) to win a game—or a Keeper trial!

Ginny missed her shot on McLaggen. Ginny scored on Ron with grand style.

But the reason why Katie chose Ron was there: while McLaggen mocked the girl and offered to correct and point out what was wrong with a vile and mocking inflection, Ron just gave his sister a confused half-frown half-smile, his expression mixing affection, humiliation, pride and vexation, all of them colouring his voice tone—but he still nodded and said to her: 'good one.'

McLaggen still looked like he wanted to stir things up, but Fred and George were in a foul mood—and then it occurred to the boy that they had Harry, Ron, The Cod and about half of the Gryffs watching in their backup, and wisely chose to shut up.

In twenty years or so, McLaggen would be known as a great Quidditch player, leading an underdog team to win many titles; and he would reminisce his years in school about a block-headed fool that thought he knew best. It would do well to remember that most of us would rather forget some of our terrible decisions we made when we were to young to get what they truly meant.

Perhaps McLaggen's words were bad, but not overly so—you have to remind that I'm a bit partial to Katie and her friends. McLaggen would find the redemption of many of his errors—he was still so young after all—but not in Hogwarts. Life would tumble down on all of his McLaggen Situations™, and cut a few inches off his tall attitude.

And if you're asking yourself if he was that rude, I must say that a great part of life and of this show is to not know. And I use 'great' as in 'big'; as in 'important', too, by the way.

Ron got the spot on that day—for better or for worst.

Let's get immersed on this new path and see which way it will take us, shall we?

Ron was very good, but he was also not very reliable. At times, he was as formidable as a Mongolian Keeper; sometimes he was so bad he just fumbled and let Katie, Angelina and Alicia score like he was a Bulgarian Keeper—hahaha.

The Cat had heard about it, which is why she was much more amenable to, err—a workaround to Katie's detention, so that she would pelt the newest player on the team with Quaffles, so he could do his part and getting Gryffindor their win. Katie would not mention it to anyone, and The Cat would pretend they were already done with her detentions. Katie grinned at Prof. McGonagall when they both reached their quite shady and not-so-subtle-at-all deal. But there still remained a very real threat:

"Prof. Babbling has been quite interested in your work. I suspect that if you keep your level of dedication, it would be hard not to get a good score at your exams, and even Bathsheda's … attention."

The Cat had a very fancy way with her words, but Katie had been there every other day, steadily on her detention, which is only why we as readers can readily understand that particular inflexion in her voice.

Katie considered that. At that point, they had already been introduced to a great body of runes and magic traditions that gave them meaning and power. This year, they were prompted to do a thorough investigation on a rune or symbol of their own choosing. The Cod had chosen the 'french Flower', the fleur-de-lis that emblazoned the arms of France historically. It was amusing for Katie to notice that there was someone that had been using the symbol on a beautiful silvery hairpin these days.

A significant part of Quebec's culture had its roots in France, we have to remember—Leanne may have only lived there for a short while, but it still served to make a great deal of memories that would always bring a smile to our favourite redhead's face, and she got a pretty pin to remember those days, that complimented her—now—short hair very nicely.

The Cod, of course, had the grace to make a convenient reason for his choice, quite lackdaisical and du jour, when he'd relayed it to Katie with zero enthusiasm in his voice—par for the course for our Elegant™ and Mature™ friend, who'd forgot that only by being absolutely unhinged in his reasons would be enough not to raise suspicion.

Oh, and he broke up with Susan—The Cod's fault, by his own admission. Make of that what you wish.

While our big fish had his own plan, Katie also took steps of her own.

She'd chosen a different rune, however—and this one is quite well-known by the reader:

Sōwilō · Sigel · Sól · the sun · the lightning bolt

It was even Harry who suggested it to her, pointing to his forehead. Katie had a jolt when she glanced at it, different feelings beginning to spread on her body as she traced it with a parchment atop of his head. She spent so much time around Harry and yet she never seemed to glance at his scar. It was absolutely weird to notice how our minds just seem to ignore things right in front of us when they slip our attention—especially one that was one of the only things that seemed to mar Harry's kind face.

It seemed like the first time in months since she had seen the jagged lightning bolt, the trace of the Avada Kedavra.

The Cat didn't elaborate much more, however. Good for her, too, cause that's for Chapter Seventeen, mind you.

So let's just concentrate on getting through this chapter for now.

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had arrived.

Leanne could be see now and then with quite the smug face as she spoke with some of the Beauxbatons boys in French. Parvati, Lavender and Angelina decided there and then that Leanne was always their favourite friend and joined her in her efforts to further Anglo-French International Cooperation—which basically amounted to Leanne playing translator every now and then much to her frustration.

The Durmstrang bunch was just very strange. They each spoke a different language and seemed to understand each other somehow—from what Katie had learned it was a kind of secret, very much protected by the school, as they seemingly couldn't find the words to explain how that worked anyhow.

But this chapter is becoming a fifth of the whole fic in wordcount, so I'll just speed things up for now.

Harry gets selected as the fourth champion—hooray!

Oops, I mean—

Golly! Oh Merlin, there's no way! Who would ever be so folly to think that the protagonist of the British Shōnen would be chosen for the dreadfully dangerous tournament where people tended to die in a rather gruesome way?!11!1eleven!

I'm quite certain that no one expected some kind of foul play!

Anyway, Harry's life was a rollercoaster and a complete sh**-show, wasn't it? But our dearest protagonist would grow and face the problems ahead—that's why he is our favourite dunderhead.

But cutting to the part properly proper for a promisingly pleasant and prudentially puerile fan-fiction: The Cat absolutely freaked out with worry and promptly forbade Harry to play Quidditch anymore.

And Katie's mind was slurry with yet another batch of problems to add to those she already had: of a new Seeker to train before the game—in which Ginny Weasley would thankfully fill the position; of one of her closest friends in terrible danger—that is, if Granger don't pass out from stress before Katie; of dedicating a good part of her week between her friends to help Harry prepare for his unfair situation; of a Keeper that was getting better each day, but that would sway with insecurity just with the thought of Viktor Krum coming to see him play; of Vincent Rosier provoking her now and then—yes, again; of Babbling suddenly deciding to stare at her as if she was the lost letter of the Basque alphabet; of the O.W.L.'s each day all the more closer, weighing on her head; and, amidst other problems, the growing dread that she felt deep within—that some things were moving too fast, and that others were so terribly slow.

Oh, and she had to write a f****** song, too.

At least she got The Cod and Leanne to turn to on that.

Oh, and she also had the help of Daphne Greengrass—surprise! Couldn't write this without the greatest and most powerful of characters: Salazar's pride, Slytherin's potency and coiling personified, the girl who dared to rise out of only the two words that composed her name and make herself again through will and ambition—the bastion of the power of fanfiction.

And you may ask: Daphne Greengrass? What the **** is she doing here? How this came to pass?

It's simple my friend, and very cute and short; two words suffice:

Astoria Greengrass.

"Daphne, Daph, oi, you little hwitch, wait!"

Katie, The Cod and Leanne hadn't paid mind to the girl at first, but they certainly did so when the girl grabbed a fistful of Katie's robes and moved her around in an nervous and urgent swirl.

"You won't believe what Malfoy has done. At first he was going for Weasley, so I thought 'whatever', but then he gave up, especially as his crazy-for-dragons brother was coming to watch the first match of the Cup. But now he's turning to Harry and … oh," Astoria Greengrass stopped, taken aback as she let go off Katie's robes, shame colouring her face. "You're Katie Bell. I'm sorry, I just saw the pretty hair and thought it was … sorry about that, and for the scare. Did I tear your robe or something?"

The Cod glanced at Astoria with an odd gleam on his eye, and just because of that Katie knew she couldn't just let this die.

"Well, yes, I am. Who are you? And what was that about Weasley and Harry? And how do you know my name?"

It was then that she learned of Malfoy's plot—he and his slimy lot were going to make some horrid pins and a song to mock Ron and about everyone with the Weasley surname—and even the 'Beasley' one, much to the anger of our trio.

'It's difficult to rhyme anything with Weasley,' said Astoria with a shrug.

But because Malfoy was a total coward and there was this tale of a hot-headed, brawny, scarred Weasley that had a Hungarian Horntail as his pet dog, the wimp preferred to pick on the orphan, unfairly put into a situation he had no control of.

And this—and only this, mind you—injustice Daphne Greengrass wouldn't let happen!

Katie had only a worn-out expression on her face as she glanced at the cute, stammering fair-haired girl, trying to pretend she was too cool for school, and not to make herself a fool in front of her Most Certainly Probably Kept at Secret Very Much Many Secret Crush™.

Leanne glanced at Katie with an odd expression.

"I think I'm having a déjà vu, Katie."

Katie rolled her eyes.

"I already told you to stop eating that French stuff, Leanne, but yes, I think I might vomit too."

Greengrass was a very, very weird lass.

She would be the most sweet person talking to you about anything at all, and then—out of nowhere—she would give you quite an opinionated opinion on what was the true reason for magic's downfall—deranged enough to appal even the likes of Lord Malfoy.

The Cod was absolutely fascinated with her—which she reciprocated with the exact opposite, resorting to many-a-thing short of a slur, calling his family a bunch of fake upstarts, and hinting that their gold was made by using some less-than-adequate magical arts.

Oh, and she was absolutely terrible with rhyming, too—but they finished the thing before the time was due.

'POTTER STINKS' had become 'POTTER IS ADEQUATE AT SHOWERING'—quite a nice change of words, eh? I'll give you three chances to guess who came up with that flowering exchange.

But whenever the girl didn't go on an absolutely deranged tangent she was even kind of nice. Katie realised that the rumours about this 'Ice Queen' or 'Ice Girl' or whatever strange name that had followed her fame had only one reason: the girl was extremely hard to talk to—she acted like this dignified dame, but said some things that would shake everyone's game, all the while with a placid expression.

Katie still wasn't sure how much of that was just sarcasm and how much of that was just the girl's natural indiscretion.

But for now only this short introduction will suffice. Her role in this story begins only in the next chapter, methinks.

For the time, let's all just honour our favourite girls and fish and change the 'POTTER STINKS' to the new hijinks of Katie, The Cod, Leanne, and that strange lass—that weird Daphne Greengrass.

Oh, but there's Quidditch first.

Charlie Weasley appears! And people were right about the lad—if it weren't for his easy smile, one would think he was always looking for a fight. But it seemed he didn't come alone—rather, his dragon-handler peers all had come to see the show.

Hmm, that was suspicious, very much many too much suspicious, I must say so.

From my limited knowledge on the Triwizard Tournament, it seemed the First Task always involved a chonky creature of some kind—could it be? No, that would be too cruel—truly an assault against the civilised, compassionate and rational mind.

Were they thinking of …

Were they thinking of sicking Charlie Weasley onto the champions?!

Oh, and Gryffindor won. 'Twas a very merry Weasley party after the match, with little Ginny managing to catch the Snitch and Ron absolutely kicking balls—out of the hoops of course.

The reason for his colossal attitude was very simple: a letter had been delivered by Charlie on match day, which set his face on a hard expression and gave Ron a special kind of fortitude that had come to stay. I wasn't partial to the contents, but I knew of a few details: apparently the rumour of a song draft called 'Weasley is Our King' reached Arthur Weasley's ears—at that moment he called upon all the Weasleys to write about and to intrepid Ronald Billius Weasley, assuaging his insecurities and fears, with many well-wishes and cheers, and more than a bunch spots of ink blotted with tears.

He was a Weasley of Weasley!

And the contents of the letter, I imagine you already have a guess how this will go: a great part of it is to not know.

And to top off this very long chapter, Harry fights the dragon. Some of the slow and more vicious ones in Slytherin showed up with the 'POTTER STINKS' badge, quite ready to sing that dreadful chant. But there was a change here in this universe, kicked off by the author being a little averse to some of the more usual parts, but, too, by the hearts of a very precious bunch.

And I just have a hunch on who I'd say was the driver of it all.

Sirius wrote back to Harry a lot more—and perhaps with more time and a deeper connection with the boy, besides the much more sane mind, helped greatly by the persistence of his assigned house-elf (long story, but be prepared for a repeat of the elf-himself soon) Toby (or something like that), and with the help of his friends, they managed to finally find recourse.

Prof. Moody's idea was great, but Harry wouldn't tempt fate by waving around that beast like meat on a stick—a very expensive stick, to say the least.

When Harry told Sirius's idea to Luna, the girl opened a very nice smile—"of course it will work!"

Surprisingly (or not!) the quick acceptance of magical quirk personified didn't assure Harry much. But he would try it—it wouldn't hurt to try the crazy approach. Or it would, but then by that time, if the broom idea didn't work, he would be already toast-n-ghost.

That chat with the other Quidditch players in that small room at the beginning of the term went a long way. Albus looked on with pride as the school accepted the Other Champion, as Harry and Cedric made their way together to the Dragon Pit.

Some of the stupider of that bunch didn't get it, but quickly felled to peer pressure and donned off that badge. Slow Slytherin tried to sing its ridiculous, mean-spirited song, but our dear witches and wizards held on strong, and sang aloud that even more ridiculous chant, as one unified crowd:

Here's-to our great friends:
Krum, Delacour,
Good luck! You-will need it,
Our Champions will rule,
We just have-to have two,
Because they're so cool,
And-the-Cup will be ours, too!

To-the-French we will sing:
Do not be so blue,
When Harry and Cedric
Break-the-Cup into two,
And one will go with-you,
The other by boat,
For-our victory is already due!

To Durmstrang we sing:
That boat is so cool,
But how do you breathe,
When you get out of pool?
We think y'all are weirdos,
But we have to admit,
That really was kind of cool!

Our Cedric is great,
Our Harry tempts fate,
The first one can choose
Whomever to date,
And I think that Harry
Showers daily as well,
Our backup is also swell!

But don't sell him so short,
'Cause this boy kills in sport,
'Tis the best Seeker,
This side of the world,
Don't try to defy him,
He's out of your class,
Cuz' you just will eat some grass!

The music was so bad that just for a moment Harry felt his heart a little less heavy—and, who knows, Sirius's mad plan could even work. He was the last to go, with Fleur, Cedric and Viktor already putting on a great show to the crowd.

Great Gryffindor, Honourable Hufflepuff and Rowdy Ravenclaw sang to him before he appeared. And then he saw the monster he so feared.

And in this tale, because Harry is set to become such a bad-a**, there could only be one way to overcome that Hungarian Horntail. Harry Accio'd his broom, and not long after he wrote a rune on the rocky floor and pointed the wand to his throat. And the crowd crowd heard a low roar, a grave hum, showing to the world a great power—the power of choice!

Harry would not use his voice to murder any king or usurp any throne—he would use it to talk to that magnificent creature! And it answered back, in a low, terrifying tone. And Harry's eyes widened at the answer: it would not part from the Egg unless through a fight!

But that didn't meant that might was right, for even dragons can appreciate poetry, too—even if it was quite bad, mind you.

And for centuries they would sing the song about the tale of Harry and the Horntail, the boy who won a fight of words by singing about flying after golden birds.

It seemed some of the meaning behind the Golden Snitch was lost on the translation. But that still was satisfying to the dragon, who tossed the Golden Egg from his side of the pit.

And, just for a good measure, because the boy had an annoying slippery accent, the dragon sent a column of fire in his direction, too—just in time for Harry to conjure a magnificent Golden Shield, to get out of the dragon's view (and aim).

And then it seemed the volume button on the crowd had been pressed once again, as it went mad, shouting Harry's name, and that ridiculous song again.

And this time, Harry didn't die.

Katie let out a sigh as she jumped on Harry to give him a tight hug, as she repeated the adage to herself: 'alive and well', 'alive and well'.

Our dear Harry, our dear Katie Bell and our dear many other friends and colleagues that jumped on our favourite champion's bandwagon had passed through much already. But I fear there was next something which would make many a boy prefer to take on the dragon, and to scream for their momma.

And what comes next, you ask?

Well, if you must know: here it comes—the Yule Ball's drama!

On a completely unrelated note: it has been observed that some dragons, as of the year 2024, can be seen sitting in mountains overlooking Quidditch pitches. Specialists observed that they are particularly attentive towards the end of the match—one Scottish Seeker said he could've swore one of them gave him a thumbs up once.

Notes:

"s'il vous plait": 'please', in French

"now in a minute": like, 'I'll do it now, anytime now, trust me, alright'. It's an Irish saying, too, if I got that correctly

"cariad": term of endearment for dear, love, beloved (not romantic love however)

"tidy": great, cool, alright, awesome, very good

"taid": grandfather

"mynadd": bother, in this case perhaps patience

"bonnie wee lassie": so, I don't know if I got this right, but I intended it to mean 'my pretty little girl'. Bonnie is 'pretty, beautiful', 'wee' is 'small' and lassie is 'little girl'—if anyone knows, was that too far off the mark for a Scottish mother's term of endearment?

"Michty me": an exclamation of surprise

I'm very sorry for the late chapter. I'm having to organise things on my life and just can't manage to sit and write this properly—I just can't do it in short bursts, so the updates are getting a bit late.

I've been drawing some art to decorate some of the chapters on AO3. It's quite crude at the moment, and I'm not a very artistic person (to say the least), but I think it compliments the story quite nicely, what do you think?

I didn't want to get in too deep in political references, so I just skimmed there. It is a very interesting story for those who are too interested in Canadian and Québécois culture, history, customs, and quirks. I quite like the French language even if it seemed not to be the case. Remember: this story follows Katie (and her flaws) and a grumpy unreliable narrator, and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the author. If sometimes, too, I appear to be a bit grumpy or too critical of some aspects of the original work, please consider that I'm playing the part of the unreliable—and a bit mad—narrator. I only write this fanfiction because I deeply appreciate the Harry Potter books and related works.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate any and all feedback.