ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴛᴛᴇᴅ ʟɪʟᴀ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇꜱ || ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ x ᴏᴄ || ʏᴇᴀʀ 4

waitin' for a sign from you

There was a tap at the window. Much to my surprise, it was Hedwig. Harry jumped up, launching himself at the window to open it excitedly. Hedwig flew inside and landed on the back of Harry's now empty chair.

"About time," he said, grinning. "And look, she's got an answer!" He untied the filthy looking parchment from Hedwig's leg, sitting back down to read. Hedwig hopped down to rest on his knee. Harry skimmed over the paper first, frowning, but then began to read out loud.

"Harry —

I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.

I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius."

Harry looked up at us, and we stared back at him.

"So he's coming back?" Hermione whispered.

"After all that we did to get him out," I muttered.

"Dumbledore's reading what signs? Harry — what's up?" Ron frowned. Harry and I exchanged a look. I could tell he was remembering our conversation from last year.

"Lila has this theory-"

"Dumbledore is preparing us for something," I explained. "That's why he's got Moody here, to teach us. And I've got the idea that the whole Triwizard Tournament is to distract us from more sinister ploys that are afoot."

"Like what?" Hermione pursed her lips. "You don't mean-"

"Think about it!" I exclaimed. "Pettigrew escapes, Trelawney makes her second real prediction ever that Voldemort's coming back, and now Harry and I are having matching nightmares!"

"You've got to tell Dumbledore!" Hermione insisted.

"That's my point, Hermione," I replied. "He already knows, whether Harry and I tell him about our dreams or his scar hurting or not."

Harry suddenly smacked a palm to his forehead, startling all of us. "I shouldn't've told him!" He said angrily.

"What are you on about?" Ron asked. I belatedly realized he was talking about Sirius.

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" Harry hit his fist on the table. "Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," Harry looked irritably at Hedwig, "you'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig looked at him affrontedly before taking back off through the window, hitting him in the head with her wing as she left. Hermione pursed her lips.

"Harry," she tried, but he shook his head.

"I'm going to bed," he said sharply. "See you in the morning."

As Harry marched up the stairs, Ron and Hermione both looked at me with questions in their eyes.

"So, what then," Ron began, "you think the Tournament is meant to hide what's really happening? Why would Dumbledore do that?"

"I don't know, Ron, that's the issue. But think of the timing!" I gestured grandly with my hands. "This is objectively the worst time to be having this kind of event. And I can't bring myself to take anything Dumbledore says at face-value, anymore. He's deceived me too many times, deceived others. . ." I trailed off, then sighed. "I had a dream, a memory of a conversation between him and my mother."