Hello, hello! Happy New Year to you! I hope you all had safe and happy holidays, but I'm glad to be on the other side of it. That time of year is always so hectic. We're near the end of this one now, so enjoy! It's about to get rough soon….

I think I'm going to try to get the next chapter of this up by Friday, barring anything crazy that happens this week.

Iv'e been trying to post this to FF for a few days now but the site is having issues. I've done things the hard way and used the app to post, but again, my stories are also on AO3 if you're also having issues. Be kind to those working on fixing things for the site as I believe it's LA based and the wildfires are making things difficult for them. I know it can be frustrating when these things happen, but they've got bigger concerns at the moment.

If any of you are from that area, I'm thinking of you. Please stay safe.

Calypso: Thank you for reviewing, and I'm glad you liked the last chapter! I hope you had a great holiday season!

Gi-L-Ha: The twins' money is honestly something I almost forgot about with everything else going on, but I'm glad they finally know as well! No more secrets between them that I can recall now. As always, thank you for reviewing! I appreciate you! Enjoy!

Chapter Forty Three

"Listen here, you idiotic creature: You're going to let me in or I'm going to blow you to bits."

She didn't know what she'd expected to happen, but the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office did nothing at all. She swore viciously for what felt like at least a minute, and was much more creative than she had ever been before as far as she could remember.

In her defense, she was panicking. Harry falling over and holding his scar was not a good sign. Good signs from him were few and far between, but Sirius had told him the next time his scar hurt, he should go straight to Dumbledore. She hadn't had to guess where he'd gone after Ron had dropped a bombshell like that, and she'd merely taken off running. The twins and Tori had been to see Dumbledore before — which really wasn't surprising — and they'd told her once where his office was. Only problem was she had no idea how in the hell to get into the place. She'd never been there before, and she was not the headmaster's favorite, unlike her brother, who had been here before on a number of occasions. He probably knew the password to the stupid place, and had gotten in just fine.

As it was, she'd been standing here snarling angrily at a stone statue for the last twenty minutes, trying to threaten it into submission. It did not work. She was entirely certain it could understand her because how in the hell else would it know to move over with a password — and she might be crazy, but she swore she saw it smirk at her when she'd started pacing back and forth in front of it.

"I don't have time for this," she snarled. "I'm not here to attack your stupid office. I just want to check on my brother. You know, the bespectacled, untidy kid who just went up here?"

Nothing.

Fine. She was sick of this and she was true to her word, if nothing else.

Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at the gargoyle, and said, "Bombarda!" Nothing happened to the gargoyle, but she went flying across the corridor, landing in a heap of limbs and school robe. There was a moment of shock as she stared down the hall at the gargoyle — again, she thought it might be grinning at her — and blinked several times in surprise. With a growl, she untangled herself from the floor and stomped back over to it.

"Well, of course he has the bloody thing charmed, Vanessa," she muttered, coming to a stop in front of it. She balled her fists and glowered. "You know what you are?" she said angrily to the stone in front of her. "And I save this word for times when it's truly deserved…but you are a cu —"

She jumped back in surprise when it leapt to the side. There was a moment of pride at having been able to bully it into submission before her brother appeared down a narrow staircase behind it. She snarled at the stupid thing again as Harry, looking pale and sweaty, stepped into the hall and looked both ways in confusion.

"Who were you talking to?" he queried, perplexed.

"No one," she said, glaring at the gargoyle that had already jumped back into place.

Harry looked between her and the gargoyle, seeming confused about if he should be amused or concerned.

"It can't understand you, you know," he said blandly.

She rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she said, grabbing her brother's arm and glaring at the gargoyle as she passed. "I swear it smirked at me."

Harry gave her an incredulous look.

"And I thought I was mental," he muttered to himself.

"Nevermind that," she said, shoving him into one of the stone benches that had been built into the castle walls and turning her focus elsewhere. Now that she was looking at him again, the anger from being bested by a statue was fading into concern again. She rested the back of her hand on his forehead. "You're clammy. Have you been to the hospital wing yet?"

Harry swiped her hand away.

"I don't need to go to the hospital wing, Vanessa," he said with an eye roll. "You'd be clammy too if you saw what I did. How'd you even know —?" He stopped talking as if he'd just now figured it out, and muttered, "Ron told you."

"Well, of course he did!" she said in exasperation. "I've never seen him so panicked. What happened? What did you see?"

He sighed heavily, leaning back into the wall behind him, and went into the story. He'd been in Divination, and they were supposed to be doing planetary divination. It had been swelteringly hot in the room from Trelawney's perfumes and the fire she always had blazing, no matter the temperature outside, and he must have fallen asleep, though he didn't remember doing so. To the best of his recollection, he had heard Voldemort accusing Wormtail of some sort of blunder, something or other about losing someone he was supposed to be watching. Wormtail had been begging for forgiveness when an owl had arrived, telling them that the blunder had been repaired and somebody was dead, so Voldemort would not feed Wormtail to his snake (an action Nessa deliberately ignored thinking about).

That was until he told her that Voldemort planned to feed Harry to the snake instead.

"I'm sorry, what?" she said, blinking at him.

Harry ran a hand over his face before he put his glasses back on.

"He wants to feed me to the —"

"I don't need you to repeat it, Harry!" she said, standing from where she'd been kneeling before him, suddenly panicked and antsy. "I — what did Dumbledore say? You told him?"

"Yes," he said, sounding exhausted. "You aren't going to like what he told me though."

She crossed her arms and gave him an exasperated expression, waiting impatiently for the answers she so desperately needed. She could have guessed that herself, but it didn't change her need for the information anyway. Harry sighed heavily.

"He thinks that Voldemort and I are connected by the curse that failed to kill me. That my scar hurts both when he is close to me, and also when he feels a surge of a particularly strong emotion. He thinks — well, he thinks the dream was real. That it really happened."

She gaped at him, her legs feeling a little weak. She stumbled forward to take a seat beside him, putting her face in her hands.

He was right about one thing — she definitely didn't like that. Not at all. And it left more questions than it answered. Did Voldemort know of this connection? Surely not or he'd find a way to block her brother from seeing those things, wouldn't he? She suspected he would have. Even if Harry didn't remember much, he remembered enough to give Dumbledore a heads up. He knew enough to know that Voldemort was in the sort of condition that allowed him to hold a wand to threaten Wormtail with, though it didn't make sense how that was the case.

If he was aware of it, could the information even be trusted? Could he manipulate the connection to fit his needs or was it something uncontrollable because it had to do with his emotions? How close did that mean he was currently? Or had it been his anger that had opened the connection this time?

There were too many questions running around her head, but it was the biggest one that she asked of her brother.

"Does he think that Voldemort is getting stronger?"

Harry didn't answer at first, seeming pained to even say the words out loud. She knew what that meant even before he nodded, and her breath stalled at the confirmation. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of terror that bowled her over, trying to remind herself that Harry's fear must be much stronger than her own. He was her concern.

"He said that the first time Voldemort came to power, there were unexplained disappearances. He said what you did about Bertha Jorkins…that she'd disappeared in the place that Voldemort was rumored to be last. And now Barty Crouch is missing. And there was a Muggle disappearance…Frank Bryce? He disappeared from the town that Voldemort's father grew up in. The Ministry doesn't keep track of Muggle news, but Dumbledore has been. Dumbledore thinks that the disappearances are linked somehow, but the Ministry — well, Fudge was up there when I first got here, and he didn't seem convinced."

Shit, this was bad.

She didn't know how Barty Crouch could be connected, but Bertha Jorkins and Frank Bryce both disappearing in places that were of some significance to Voldemort was certainly not a good sign. There had to be some importance to that. It seemed an odd coincidence. But what purpose did killing either of those individuals serve? Bertha would have known about the tournament…is that what this was about?

She was going to be sick if it was. But nothing she thought of could explain killing a Muggle? If there was any reason at all that that would be justifiable at all was an entirely separate question.

"That isn't all," Harry said, interrupting her panicked thoughts. She gave him a miserable look because of course it wasn't. "You can't yell."

Immediately, she wanted to yell.

"Why? What did you do?"

He must have been able to tell that she was preparing herself to do the opposite of what he'd asked of her because he sighed heavily again as if he were under a great deal of turmoil.

"Dumbledore had a Pensive up there —" Noticing her confusion, he clarified, "This basin that you can put memories in to replay them back. Anyway, when he'd left to go and check the spot where Crouch had last been, I might have gotten a little…over curious."

Her jaw dropped.

"Harry, you didn't," she said, horrified. When he didn't deny it, she smacked him on the arm in reproach. "That's a huge violation of privacy, Harry! Why would you do something like that?"

"Well, I didn't know what it was!" he said defensively. "But that's not the point anyway because I want to tell you what I saw in there…"

She nearly wanted to tell him not to bother because it felt like another violation to share the memories he'd seen without permission, but if it had something to do with Voldemort, then she wanted to know. So, apparently, she was no better than her brother after all.

"He's been looking at old trials that Mr. Crouch presided over," he explained, blowing out a breath. "Sirius was right — he was a bit…overzealous. The first one I saw was of…Bagman —"

She gaped at him.

"Ludo Bagman?" she said, totally flabbergasted. She didn't like the man, but she'd never thought him a Death Eater or even a supporter of them. Her brother was nodding though and she was beginning to question her own judgment.

"He was seen passing information to some of Voldemort's supporters. Crouch wanted to send him to Azkaban, but Bagman insisted he'd had no idea. He thought he was passing information to the Ministry to help them and whoever he'd been talking to was an old family friend. The council seemed to agree with him and they let him off, and Dumbledore says he's never been accused of anything similar since."

It wasn't totally comforting as Voldemort had been gone so long now that she didn't know what he could have been accused of, but she'd take it.

"Then there was his son's case," Harry said, looking pale. "It was…well, it was horrible to tell you the truth. Crouch made it sound like he'd done something horrible with a group of other Death Eaters that he came in with. There was a woman sentenced with him that said Voldemort would rise again."

"Did you — well, did his son seem guilty?" she asked curiously. She still didn't understand how Crouch could have done it. How he'd had no qualms sending his own son to the dementors and it was…it was truly incomprehensible.

"I — no, not really," Harry said. "He was — he was begging him not to send him there and — and Crouch just ignored him. At the end, he said he had no son and sent him off."

God, she was going to be sick, she thought, lifting a hand to her throat.

"The other case was Karkaroff's," Harry continued, seeming thrilled with any excuse to change the subject from that particular trial. "What Sirius had heard was true. They made him a deal and he was granted leave from Azkaban if he could give them enough names. Moody wasn't thrilled about it, but Karkaroff gave a few names, most of which couldn't be used."

"Well, how did they grant him leave then?" she said incredulously. "I don't suppose they did it for the simple sake that he'd been willing to try to give them names."

Harry shook his head, waving impatiently.

"No, but he gave them the name of some bloke within the Ministry that they didn't realize was working for him," he said as if this were of no importance at all. "That's not what I'm trying to tell you. One of the names he gave them was Snape's."

She almost didn't know if she'd heard him properly. She couldn't have, could she? Not over that pounding in her ears.

"What?" she said, her voice sounding more strained than she remembered.

Harry didn't seem to notice. There was a smugness in his expression, and she knew it was because he'd been right about Snape. He didn't care about the rest of it.

"Snape was a Death Eater," he said. "Dumbledore confirmed it. He turned spy for us supposedly, but — where are you going?"

She didn't bother answering.

It felt like something had shifted beneath her feet, like her entire world was rearranging itself to fit this new image of her Potions professor that she'd defended him against.

Numerous times.

She'd defended him numerous times against her own brother and her friends. She simply couldn't reconcile the man her brother knew with the man that she did, and she certainly couldn't reconcile this. A Death Eater?

Why in the hell was he working at a school? Why in the hell did Dumbledore think he'd switched sides? Had he actually or was this simply a ploy?

She had never once been so enraged, and she couldn't even remember the last time that she hadn't been on the verge of losing her shit completely. But this was different. This was a man she'd trusted. She'd made excuses for his behavior and had turned a blind eye to the way he treated her brother because her brother was a pain in his ass in return.

She would kill him.

Blood pounded in her ears as she made her way down to the dungeons, the sound of it so loud that it overshadowed the sound of her stomping feet. She didn't bother announcing herself when she stormed into the man's office.

He sat behind his desk, his gaze lifting from the papers in front of him as if he intended to rip the entrails out of whoever had disturbed him until he noticed it was her. He rolled his eyes insolently.

"Perhaps you've gotten too comfortable in my presence, Miss Potter —" he began, sounding just the same as he always had.

She stomped forward so that she was directly in front of his desk, and slammed her hand down on it. He looked more amused than frightened, but that changed the moment she opened her mouth.

"You were a Death Eater?" she snarled at him accusingly.

There was a momentary shock on his features, the emotion slipping through his carefully curated mask, before he managed to cover it up.

But it was too late. She'd seen it.

"Unbelievable," she said angrily. "I defended you, you know. People always think that you're something evil, and I told them you weren't. You're just misunderstood. But you were one of them?"

"Touching as that is, Miss Potter," he drawled casually, though there was a spark of irritation in his eyes. "I never asked you to do such a thing. I don't need your pity or your help."

She snorted, wanting to chuck one of the potions knick knacks on his desk at his stupid, oily head.

"Of course, you'd see it as pity," she said derisively. "I trusted you. I trusted you more than anyone else in this stupid, godforsaken place, and you were — you were one of them, weren't you?"

"Are you asking me, Miss Potter, or is this merely rhetorical?" he said coldly.

"I want to hear you say it," she snapped, crossing her arms across her chest because she was afraid she actually might throw something at him.

"Whatever for?" he said petulantly, looking back down at his papers as if she were merely an inconvenience to his day. "It appears that you've already come to your own conclusions —"

"My parents are dead because of the man you supported," she snapped. She thought he might have flinched against the words, but the movement was so subtle she might have imagined it. "My mother is dead because of him. And you sit here trying to act superior as if you aren't part of the reason that that happened to her. Did you have anything to do with their deaths?"

She thought he wasn't going to answer, but to her surprise, he did.

"I didn't kill them, no," he said softly, still refusing to look at her and still appearing far too relaxed for a conversation of this magnitude. "And I have had no interest in working for the Dark Lord since —"

"The Dark Lord," she snorted derisively. "I'd sooner cut off my tongue than call him that —"

"Don't tell him that or he might make that a reality," Snape said casually. "Who told you?"

"It doesn't matter who told me," she snapped. "It's the truth, isn't it?"

He said nothing, but she knew. They both did. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to hurl things at him. She wanted to break his nose.

As if she'd conjured it by her thoughts alone, a book from one of his bookshelves went flying in his direction, straight for his nose. He sent it in another direction with a mere flick of his and, looking bored.

"You really ought to get that magic of yours under control, Miss Potter," he said as if he were bored.

It irritated her. She already knew that, and there'd been a smug satisfaction in watching that book fly toward him, which was much less satisfying when he brought up the struggle she'd been having in controlling herself.

"Well, if I knew I might have the opportunity to use it against you, I might have tried harder," she snapped back. "Did you put his name in the goblet? Is this some ploy to get him expelled? Or just something the Dark Lord asked you to do and you fell over yourself to do it? Do you still kiss at his feet or is that —?"

She had absolutely no time to prepare herself before he stood, anger contorting his features, and sent her flying back into the wall behind her without a word. She bit her lip to keep from groaning because she refused to give him the satisfaction, even though her back was throbbing painfully now.

"It might be prudent of you to remember that I am still your professor, Miss Potter," he said, his voice dangerously smooth. "I don't owe you any explanations, and your opinion of me or my actions is not of my concern. Dumbledore is aware of my past transgressions, and his is the only opinion that matters. Now get out of my office."

She snarled at him, pulling herself to a stand.

"I don't give a damn what Dumbledore thinks," she said storming for the doorway. "If I find out you had anything to do with his name coming out of that goblet, I will bring this castle to its knees…Professor."

"I told you there was something wrong with that git," Tori said the next day when she relayed all of the information to her and the twins.

She'd gone straight to bed the evening before, her mind reeling from every thought tumbling around in her head. She'd had no interest in rehashing everything with any of them the evening before, and she had been too pissed off to go back to the library.

"God wouldn't have given him hair that greasy if he were a good person," Tori continued.

Nessa snorted, rearranging the pillows they'd been using to help Harry practice for the third task. It was weeks away now, and they'd taken to using the trophy room for spell practice. No one ever came in here unless it was for detentions with Filch, so they were free to use it for the majority of the day outside of classes.

"You aren't even religious, Tori," she said with an eye roll.

"Don't have to be to know he's a slimeball," she retorted.

"And Dumbledore really thinks that Voldemort is getting more powerful?" Fred asked from beside her, snorting indelicately when Harry sent Ron flying backward, missing the cushions entirely.

He'd said the name so casually that she'd never have even guessed that he'd been avoiding it and flinching when it was said not even a year before.

"Renervate!" Nessa said, pointing her wand at Ron. George pulled him to his feet, slapping him on the back bracingly.

"Can we move on to something else, please?" Ron grumbled, rubbing the back of his head with a scowl. "Before I end up with my brain so scrambled I don't know which way is up."

"Afraid that ship may have sailed," George said happily. Nessa smacked him on the chest. "I wouldn't mind moving on to something else though. Something that doesn't put mine and Fred's pretty faces at risk."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and Hermione, but Nessa nodded toward Hermione in agreement. Her brother was doing remarkably well against a Stunning Charm, and none of the rest of them appeared to have an issue with it either. It wouldn't hurt to try something else.

"If we need partners for the next spell, someone else needs to take Nessa," Tori said with an irritated look in her best friend's direction. "She's not toning down her power at all, and I'm not trying to leave here in a pine box."

Nessa rolled her eyes. It was a bit dramatic, and she didn't really have all that much control over how strong the spell came out. Besides her, Harry was the only other one of them who managed to cast spells so strongly, and she'd have felt badly about that if she had any control of it.

"We can try the Impediment Jinx," Hermione suggested helpfully. "We don't need partners for that, so long as we can charm a few things to come flying at us."

"Sounds good to me," Tori muttered.

Hermione explained the jinx to Harry in great detail, demonstrating the wand movement and incantation, as the rest of them worked at charming objects to fly in his direction. Nessa snorted when Harry attempted the jinx for the first time and was forced to duck when the trophy came hurtling toward him.

"He did say that," Nessa said to her friends the moment they'd gotten back into the groove of things again and her brother had become distracted. When the three of them turned to look at her in confusion, she clarified. "Dumbledore said Voldemort was getting stronger."

"Right," George said, clearing his throat and focusing his attention on sending another trophy hurling at Harry. "That's not exactly reassuring. No offense or anything, love, but I really would have preferred to think you were just going mental than know Voldemort was trying to take over again."

She rolled her eyes at him, but didn't say anything. Truth was, she'd have preferred that too, and there wasn't a whole lot she could do with the new information either. Nothing except order the Daily Prophet and search the newspaper for news in hopes that she wouldn't see something alarming. She sort of hoped she'd see something within the pages that would be evidence to the contrary of Dumbledore's supposition. Like maybe they'd found a dead body in Albania that appeared to be the remnants of Voldemort's essence.

But May had passed, and they were now at the beginning of June, and there had been no such reprieve for her. She'd told Remus, of course, but his response had not been of much help. He didn't seem all that surprised by the information, and that really hadn't soothed her anxieties at all. The mood in the castle as they entered June became excited and tense again, but she couldn't even begin to pay attention to the student body around her.

Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry was practicing hexes at every available moment, and she was feeling more confident about this task than any of the others. For one thing, her brother appeared more confident and that helped her some. But, difficult and dangerous as it would undoubtedly be, Harry had done things like this before. He'd faced monstrous creatures and enchanted barriers before now, and this time, he had some notice, some chance to prepare himself for what lay ahead. Unlike when he'd gone to get the Sorcerer's Stone, gone to save Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets, or been forced to face a den of Acromantulas. All situations with which he'd been forced to think on his feet and had not been at all prepared to face.

Harry had mastered spells that even Nessa had either not learned yet, or had only recently learned herself, and, despite her constant anxieties about Voldemort's plans, she couldn't help but swell with pride every time she watched him master another. He'd managed the Reductor Curse, which would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermione's that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going the right way within the maze; and the Stunning Spell, which would allow him to knock his attackers unconscious.

He'd had problems with the Shield Charm, though, and he'd been getting too frustrated to continue with it, so they'd moved to practice old charms he'd succeeded in. This was their first attempt at an Impediment Jinx, however. His confidence had grown some when he'd still managed to cast all of the spells he'd mastered before and the Impediment Jinx would be very helpful in the event he needed to slow or stop an attack. Knowing Hagrid, he would have to slow some sort of creature within the maze, so she was glad that Hermione had suggested it.

They'd have to go back to the Shield Charm eventually, but she was interested to see how well Harry would do with this new spell.

When he accidentally sent a trophy flying back in her direction, she held out her palm, and said, "Impedimenta!" It slowed and she caught it in her hand before sending it back to her brother faster than she had before. He swore, ducking when the spell didn't work for him as it had for her. He narrowed his gaze at her.

"You know, I'm starting to think that you do that wandless thing just to be a show off," he said sourly. Tori snorted.

"She does," she said with an eye roll. "She barely uses her wand at all anymore unless we're in class. It's very annoying."

"Only because you can't manage to do a single spell without your wand," Nessa smirked.

Tori, eyes flashing, pointed at her with a finger and said, "Locomotor Wibbly!" There was a flash of orange light, clearly demonstrating that she could cast wandless magic, but Nessa smirked, and said, "Protego!" The charm bounced off the shield charm without issue, and Tori rolled her eyes.

"See?" she said to Harry, pointing at Nessa. "Annoying."

Harry grinned at her, but they all went back to helping him master the Impediment Jinx without a word. Nessa had told the twins and Tori on numerous occasions that they didn't have to help her with this, but they'd brushed her off.

"If it's important to you, then it's important to us," Fred had said, dismissively. "Besides, it's not like George and I have any classes to worry about, and we do most of our product selling during free periods."

Tori had had a similar sentiment, even though she had upcoming O.W.L.s to concern herself with. All the same, Nessa couldn't help from being forever grateful for the three of them. They were so different from her in so many ways, but they'd become unlikely friends anyway, and she'd never get over the shock of that.

It took Harry a few hours, but with all of their help, he mastered the Impediment Jinx as well, and when he'd told all of them that he could probably practice alone so that they could study for approaching exams, they'd all waved him off, the same as her friends had done to her.

"This isn't horrible practice for our practical exams anyway," Tori said when Harry looked at her and his sister guiltily, and reminded them that they had O.W.L.s in a few weeks. "If I don't get an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts after this then the exams are a joke. Let's try the Shield Charm again. You were close before."

So they did. For days after, they attempted to help master the Shield Charm. The castle was bursting at the seams to get to the third task, and Sirius was now sending daily owls — to both Tori and Harry — and it was clear that he was as anxious as she was about what appeared to be coming. His focus remained on Harry getting through the third task, and his advice had been to worry about Voldemort later, but Nessa could not shake the growing pit in her stomach.

Harry had done everything correctly this time. He'd prepared well in advance, had mastered spells above his own grade level, and had practiced day in and day out to make sure that he maintained that mastery. She should have been more relaxed than ever, but she didn't. She could feel something in the air changing. Despite the warm weather, the sky was filled with grey, gloomy clouds. It was dreary and overcast, but they hadn't seen a drop of rain, and it didn't help with the dark thoughts that were running rampant in her head. There was a persistent chill along her spine, and she was tense and pensive most days, even when she was helping her brother with his practice.

She hadn't spoken to Snape since she'd confronted him in his office, and they avoided each other at all costs outside of classes. She and Cedric had gone back to awkwardly waving at each other in the halls, even though she was anxious to ask him if he was prepared for the task. He didn't seem different than usual, other than his clearly increased attempts at convincing Cho that there was nothing going on between them, but her anxiety didn't allow her to brush away the upcoming anxiety.

She'd taken to having anxiety-ridden nightmares, all of which had been about Professor Moody. They woke her early on the morning of the third task, and she slipped out of bed and padded down to the common room quietly. There was no way she'd be able to sleep again, knowing that the task was only several hours away, and she had no interest in staring into the dark void of the dormitory.

The fire in the common room was lit, and she draped the throw blanket on the couch around her shoulders, curling her knees up to her chest, the remnants of the dream starting to get lost in her mind's eye.

Flashing lights from thrown spells going back and forth…her raging, burning anger at whatever he'd said that had pissed her off so badly…Krum asleep on the ground behind her…In the dream, she'd managed to hit him with a Cutting Jinx, and she'd smirked. She'd gotten cocky, and that had been her downfall. Because next thing she knew, she was hurtling backward through the air, her head smacking against a tree limb that left her head spinning and stars appeared behind her eyes. She didn't know how the dream ended because she ended up turning her head to the left of her every single time and her eyes met the unseeing gaze of…

Someone. She had no idea who because she awoke with a jolt every time. Her brother, maybe? That would explain the crippling fear, and that's what her bogart had been before. Her dead brother. She definitely didn't want to see that, but no matter how hard she tried, the images never stayed in her mind. They faded within minutes after waking, and her head burned sharply until they did.

She had no idea what the hell was wrong with her anymore. She'd been prone to migraines and pain before because her anxiety caused so much tension in her body that there were physical symptoms as well, even with the daily potion she'd been taking since the year before.

But this was different. The dreams, they…they felt real. And of course, dreams always did, but they were almost…it felt like a memory of hers. Like she was remembering things in her sleep that she was too afraid to face while she was awake, and she couldn't shake that feeling at all. That dread when she awoke that she had information that should be shared with someone. Someone important.

But of course, she couldn't say anything to anyone without knowing for sure if that's what it was, and there was no way that it had been. She couldn't accuse a teacher of attacking a student without some sort of proof, no matter how much of a lunatic he was. Could she? Already, she jumped out of her skin every time Moody appeared from nowhere, and she'd begun to think that he was following her, that he was watching her closely, like that eye of his was always on her even through the walls of the corridors.

She was too afraid to say anything to her friends or to Harry because they would probably just tell her she was overthinking. She was paranoid. She was under a lot of stress, and this reaction was totally understandable.

She felt like she was going crazy. Like she'd lost herself completely somehow and she had no idea how to get back.

She startled when noises appeared from the dormitory stairs, and wiped her eyes hastily before whoever was coming down would realize she'd been crying. To her surprise, it was Ginny. The redhead wasn't particularly a morning person, but she was wide awake, and already dressed for the day in jeans and a light jumper. The youngest Weasley paused in surprise at the sight of her on the couch.

"Nessa?" she said, blinking away her shock at seeing her. "Merlin, you scared me. You're up early." The younger girl came toward her, taking a seat next to her without preamble. "Couldn't sleep?" When Nessa shook her head, she nodded in understanding. "Me either. I — I know it's probably nothing compared to what you're feeling, but I — I'm nervous for Harry today."

Nessa smiled at her bracingly, and opened the blanket to allow her friend underneath. Ginny smiled at her gratefully, moving closer to her. A part of that tension and panic in her shoulders relaxed some at being so close to someone she trusted, and she tried to convince her racing mind to let go of the dream entirely. Whatever it was about, she could figure it out after today was over and done with.

She had bigger things to be worried about.

"Harry is prepared this time," she told Ginny confidently. And she meant it this time. There was some concern in her gut, and she knew that that wouldn't dissipate, but she didn't feel like she was anywhere close to being sick like she had the last two times. And she hadn't had to sleep in George's bed last night to calm her nerves, which she was taking as a win. "We've been practicing for weeks. He's gotten really good."

Ginny nodded and sighed, some of her nervousness appearing to fade with the sound.

"That's good," she said, still nodding to herself. "I mean, I know he's done this sort of thing before, but it's…it's crazy that he's actually in the tournament, isn't it? I don't understand how it happened."

Neither did Nessa, but thinking about it made her head hurt. She hit Ginny gently with her shoulder with a grin.

"Be careful or I might think that you still fancy him, Gin," she said jokingly, but to her surprise, Ginny flinched, and bit her lip anxiously. "What's wrong?"

Ginny shook her head, waving away the concern in her voice.

"No, nothing, you don't have to sound so worried. It's just…" Ginny paused, thinking to herself for a moment. "Well, can I ask you for advice? About — about a boy?" Nessa's eyebrows shot up her head in surprise, and Ginny blushed. "I mean, I asked Hermione already, but you know, sometimes I worry she might have just gotten advice straight out of a textbook, and it — well, I can't ask my brothers. Ron has no idea what he's doing with women and if I ask the twins, they'll probably force feed him a Canary Cream, and Tori would tell them about it. But we're — I mean, you wouldn't say anything to them…would you?"

"No, of course not," she said, brows furrowing. "Not if you didn't want me to. Are you dating someone?"

Ginny blushed a little — nothing like when she turned as red as when Harry looked at her, but there was a definite color to her cheeks.

"Well, no, not — not yet," she said, blowing out a breath. "You all said, during the Ball, that I should…put myself out there, right? Try to move on from my crush on Harry and see if he notices me when I'm more myself," Nessa nodded patiently. "Well, I really didn't want to, you know, but he's always staring at Cho, and I thought — well, I thought that maybe you were right, so I started talking to this Ravenclaw boy. Michael Corner?"

"I've seen him around," she nodded. He was a fourth-year and had dark hair, nearly the same color as Harry's, although he wore his hair much longer than his and often swept to the side or falling into his eyes. " He's cute."

Ginny grinned to herself.

"Right," she said. "Well, we were talking at the Yule Ball, and he was — he was really nice, you know? He was definitely interested in me, and it felt….nice. Exciting, even. So, I — I mean, we've been hanging out a bit more recently and I think he's going to ask me out soon…"

Nessa waited, but when Ginny didn't say anything else, she prompted, "Do you not want him to?"

"No!" Ginny said immediately. "I mean, I want him to. I'm pretty sure, it's just ...well, I feel a bit guilty, you know. I still fancy Harry a little bit, and I'm afraid that — well, is it wrong of me to date Michael if I know that I fancy someone else?"

Nessa could have laughed at how similar the situation was to the one she'd been through with Cedric and George, except she knew how horrible that had turned out for her. She sincerely hoped that it didn't turn out the same for Ginny, except as far as she knew, Harry didn't even look at Ginny the way that she looked at him, and that would likely save her the extra drama. Hopefully.

"I think that if it's something you want, you should go for it," she said eventually. "Harry isn't interested, and there's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself. If it doesn't work out then it doesn't work out, but I don't think that there's any harm in trying. As long as you aren't being vindictive and trying to get Harry's attention at the expense of Michael's feelings, I think you're okay."

Ginny released a breath, smiling at her.

"Thanks," she said gratefully. "That's what Hermione said, but at least I know now that I'm not being a prat. Did you want to get breakfast with me?"

It was probably better than sitting here wallowing, so she nodded.

"Sure," she said. "Just let me get dressed and I'll be right back.

She left Ginny and hurried back upstairs, going through the motions of getting ready for the day. She dressed comfortably, assuming that it might be cooler in the evening when the task was ongoing, and knowing that she was supposed to help Pomfrey with any injuries for the evening, rather than sitting in the stands with the rest of her peers.

Breakfast was a very noisy affair that day, and Ginny kept her spirits up and distracted her from her anxious ponderings. The ceiling of the Great Hall was as gray and overcast as it had been all week, and she hoped that that wasn't a sign for what was to come. When the twins and Tori arrived, Ginny waved her off with a grin, moving to greet Michael Corner happily. Nessa smiled to herself slightly, distracting her friends from noticing where the redhead had disappeared off to.

The owl post arrived shortly after, and Nessa took the letter from Remus, and today's post, feeding the owls in front of her a bit of the egg she'd been eating. They took off with a hoot, and she opened Remus' letter first. It was short, only telling her to remain calm and let him know what happened after the task was over. He told her to wish Harry luck, and that he was sure he would end up the Champion, if his previous DADA marks were to be trusted. She smiled gratefully, her heart swelling for her godfather as she unrolled today's paper.

She spit out her apple juice so quickly that it coated the front page of the paper the moment that she'd seen the front page.

"What?" Tori said, looking across the table at her from her spot next to Fred.

Nessa had no words past her rage.

"That — that — I'm going to kill her!"

Several students turned to eye her in alarm, and several of the students seated at the Gryffindor table on either side of her and George moved over nervously. George leaned over to read over her shoulder and swore.

"Rita Skeeter?" Tori said, sounding hopeful that she could be wrong.

Nessa was shaking with anger, so much so that the paper was moving too much for her to read it. George pried the paper from her grasp gently, leaned closer to them, and quietly read:

HARRY POTTER

"DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"

The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.

Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying.

It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter's brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion.

"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention."

The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the Wizarding public.

"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power."

Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parseltongue of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue as "worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence."

Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening.

"How in the hell did she find out?" Tori exclaimed incredulously.

Nessa felt like she was going to chuck something again. She did not have time for this. She had O.W.L.s starting today and she did not have time for this ridiculous, half-truthful version of events.

"How does she still have a job?" she seethed, ripping the paper from George's hands so roughly that it tore slightly. He shared a look with Fred, but had the intelligence to not say anything. "How does she manage to find the most ridiculously prejudiced experts that I've ever heard of? If I ever find out who this specialist at St. Mungo's is, I'll rearrange his insides."

"Well, in their defense, no one has survived the Killing Curse before," Fred said. "So I'm sure they'd say that anything was possible in that case —" He swore when Tori stomped on his toes pointedly to get him to stop talking. He blinked at Nessa, who was glowering at him angrily. "Which, you know, really isn't the point, I say. That bloke should lose his job —"

"Do you even listen to yourself?" Tori said in irritation. Fred gave her an incredulous look.

"I always listen to myself," he said arrogantly. "It's one of the great joys of my life, as I'm sure it is yours —"

"I'd sooner give myself a lobotomy with a rusty knife than listen to you talk some days, Fred."

"Only some days?" Fred said, looking proud of himself. "I must be getting better then."

Nessa did not know why she bothered with the two of them. They were so weird, and very easily distracted, and she could tell that George was about six seconds away from joining the fray in a desperate attempt to keep the mood light. Before he could, Professor McGonagall rushed toward her.

"Miss Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off of the Great Hall after breakfast, and you've been invited to join," she said promptly and without any other explanation.

"Er, don't I have exams?" she said, perplexed. "And I'm not a champion…"

"The families of the champions are invited to watch the final task, Miss Potter," McGonagall explained as if she should already know this. "Your brother is expected to be there to greet them, and as you are his family, you are invited as well. You'll still be expected to attend your exams, Miss Potter, so be conscious of the time."

She moved away. Nessa gaped after her.

"She doesn't actually expect the Dursleys to be here, does she?" she asked her friends, suddenly anxious. It would be so embarrassing to turn up to this family event and have it be only her and Harry standing there while everyone else's family members milled about excitedly.

"Dunno, but I, for one, hope they do show up," Tori said, grinning wickedly. "I'd love an opportunity to wrap Petunia around one of the goalposts on the pitch."

It was the work of a decade to keep herself from laughing at the thought, but she finished her breakfast and made her way toward the side room without much else, wishing Tori good luck on her Potions theory exam just in case she didn't have enough time to do so before it started.

She didn't see her brother at the table anymore, and sighed sadly. She hated things like this. It was always a reminder that they had no one other than each other, and while she was eternally grateful to have him in her life, it was painful to watch other people with their own families, while she and Harry sat in the corner by their lonesome.

When she entered the room, Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. He waved at her happily, and she smiled back tightly. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. He had inherited his father's hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother, and Nessa waved at her in greeting. Fleur smiled brightly at her and waved back without even breaking her stride. Fleur's little sister was holding her mother's hand, and she waved at her as well.

She searched the room for her brother, expecting him to be standing on his own, and her entire heart stopped. He stood by the fireplace, but he certainly wasn't alone. Mrs. Weasley and Bill were standing next to him, beaming and chatting with him excitedly. She blinked away tears when they caught sight of her, and it felt like her heart might just burst out of her chest.

"Surprise!" Mrs. Weasley said, pulling her into a tight hug. It made it much more difficult for her to keep herself from crying when she was hugging her exactly as a mother would hug her own child. She blinked rapidly when she pulled back. "We thought we'd come and watch Harry in the last task!"

Bill wrapped her in a one-armed hug, squeezing tightly.

"How you doing, big Potter?" he said, grinning down at her. "Charlie and Dad wanted to come too, but they couldn't get off work. Charlie said Harry was incredible against the Horntail."

Fleur was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother's shoulders, and she bit her lip to keep from grinning. Clearly, as proper as Fleur appeared, she had no problem at all with a man who wore his hair long and earring with fangs on them.

This is really nice of you," Nessa said, truthfully. "Both of you. I — I really thought that it would just be me and Harry…George didn't say…"

She was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, she really was. She'd had friends in primary school, but none of their families had ever welcomed her so warmly into their home as the Weasleys had. And they certainly hadn't shown up to any of her or her brother's school events unless their own children had been participating as well.

"We didn't tell them we were coming," Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "We thought it would be a nice surprise for all of you! And we didn't want to miss something like this! It's all very exciting!"

There were no words. Absolutely none.

"Thank you," she said, pulling Mrs. Weasley into a hug again. Partially because she couldn't help herself, but also because she really thought she might start crying and she refused to do so with this many people in the room. "Thank you so much."

Bill immediately distracted Harry, asking him a great number of questions about what had changed in the school, as Mrs. Weasley pulled back, looking teary-eyed. She patted her cheek warmly with a sad smile.

"Oh, dear, don't go making me cry now," she said kindly. "It's really no trouble. How have you been doing? I know how you worry…"

Nessa cleared her throat of the burning sensation and tried to distract herself by answering the question posed to her.

"I've been…alright," she said, unsure how else she should answer. "I've gotten better the more tasks that pass, but I'll be glad when it's over. If I never hear about dragons or Rita Skeeter again, it would be too soon."

Mrs. Weasley tsked angrily.

"Oh, that woman," she said, immediately up in arms. "She's a disgusting, horrible woman. I knew she was a viper of a woman before with everything she's written about Arthur, but I'd have thought she'd leave children out of it."

"Rita Skeeter?" Bill said, rejoining the conversation with a knowing grin. "Mum's been going off about her every time she sees a new article in the Prophet. She's really been laying into you lately, hasn't she?"

Nessa rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to answer, but Harry snorted, and said, "Well, in her defense, Nessa did threaten her if she wrote anything else about me."

"As she should have," Mrs. Weasley said angrily. "That woman has no business writing about either one of you." She gave Nessa guilty look, and said, "Although, I must admit, when I read that article about you and Cedric Diggory, I was a bit upset. I knew that he was interested in you before…"

"There's nothing going on between me and Cedric," she assured the older woman immediately. "I promise you. We're just friends."

Or at least they had been. She hadn't seen or spoken to him personally since that last article had come out, and she really didn't know what that meant.

"George mentioned," she nodded, looking pleased with this response. "He's quite taken with you. But I'm glad to hear it anyway…you're a good girl," she said, patting her on the cheek again before grinning at her widely, pointing at the badge that was ever present on her robes. "And a prefect! You should have said! We would have celebrated!"

"Oh, well, that's really not —" Nessa stuttered, hating the very idea of that.

"Nessa would love that," Harry grinned, ignoring her glare. "Maybe we could celebrate this summer?"

"A wonderful idea!" Mrs. Weasley said excitedly, clearly not picking up on Nessa's glare, Bill's chuckle, or Harry's playful grin. "You're such a lovely brother —"

"I'm going to kill you," she muttered to her brother when Mrs. Weasley prattled on. Harry hid his laugh under a cough.

"Well, it's been some time since I've been to Hogwarts," Bill said, changing the subject much to Nessa's relief. "Fancy giving us a tour?"

"Sure," Harry said immediately, but Nessa shook her head apologetically.

"I would, but I have my Potions O.W.L. soon," she said.

Mrs. Weasley clapped excitedly and waved her off.

"Oh, of course, you don't want to miss that, dear," she said, pulling her into a hug. "We'll see you again at lunch, I'm sure, and you can tell us how it went. Don't mention that we're here to Tori? We want to surprise the rest."

"Of course," she said, nodding with a smile.

Bill ruffled her hair affectionately with a grin.

"Good luck!" he said, and she rolled her eyes, fixing her hair, and heading off toward the Great Hall again.

As she waited outside the hall with the rest of the fifth-years, she realised that she didn't even feel anxious at all anymore.

The Weasleys had shown up for her and Harry, and it felt like nothing would bring her down now that she knew that.

The third task is so close. I'm so anxious, you guys.