meant to be

♦ 027 ♦

The Goblet of Fire

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Harper was sat on the end of Harry's bed and sent him a smile.

"Here," Harry said in an expressionless voice as he handed the blonde the winnings. "You have it, you deserve it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been M-Mike's."

Harry could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling. Harper took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault. Harry," Harper whispered.

"I told him to take the cup with me," said Harry.

"And it wasn't your fault he took it," Harper said, "thank you."

"For what?" Harry asked.

"For making sure Mike wasn't alone," Harper said, "for being there with him so he had someone with him. I'm not mad at you, I'm glad you were there."

"Your potion," said Mrs. Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand as she handed  Harry a potion. Harper sent Harry a smile before she got up and walked out.

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It was with a heavy heart that Harper packed her trunk up in the dormitory on the night before her return home a month later. She was dreading the Leaving Feast, which was usually a cause for celebration, when the winner of the Inter-House Championship would be announced. She had avoided being in the Great Hall when it was full ever since she had left the hospital wing, preferring to eat when it was nearly empty to avoid the stares of his fellow students.

When she, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Hall, they saw at once that the usual decorations were missing. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House's colours for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers' table. Harper knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to her brother. Harper stopped walking as she stood in the entrance of the Great Hall and her breathing became uneven. Hermione took her hand, smiled lightly and walked in with the girl.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. Sadie couldn't blame him. Moody's fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor Karkaroff's chair was empty.

Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to Professor McGonagall, was Snape. 

Professor Dumbledore stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet.

"The end," said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, "of another year."

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and not including Harper, theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Mike Cooper."

They did it, all of them. The benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Mike Cooper."