About a month later we'd received no word on whether or not the team of Aurors had been able to find a suspect in Crouch's murder, most of us assuming they hadn't been able to find anything.
I sat at a table in the courtyard with Fred and George, who were enthusiastically discussing an idea for a sweet that would make you vomit, thus providing a quick escape from any unpleasant situation or boring class. I scanned over my Potions textbook, trying to make sense of the latest chapter while also enjoying the new warmer weather and the company of my two favourite boys.
"Here, eat this." George handed me what looked like a toffee.
In my distracted state, I took the toffee without question and popped it in my mouth. When the taste wasn't as I expected, I froze with horror.
"What did you just give me?"
Fred was watching me closely. "Wait and see."
"I don't want to wait and see." I looked between the twins, feeling trapped under their intense golden stares. "George, what did you give me?"
"Nothing permanent." George frowned, squinting a bit.
"George Weasley, I swear to—" I broke off as I felt my face burn. Not my whole face, really, just around my mouth. After a couple heartbeats, the burning stopped.
"Wicked," the brothers said in unison.
"What—" I raised a hand to my face, running my fingers over my skin, then stopping as my fingers brushed what felt like... fur? I reached in my bookbag and dug out a small compact mirror, flipping it open and feeling my blood freeze in my veins. "Is that a MOUSTACHE?"
"Rather good one, too, better than anything we've seen Percy grow on his own—" Fred started, but I silenced him with a fiery glare.
"Get rid of it."
Fred and George exchanged a glance, and my eyes widened. "I thought you said it wasn't permanent!"
"It's not," George reassured me.
"Nothing a quick shave can't fix," Fred added.
"I have to shave it off?"
They nodded.
"It won't grow back, promise," said George.
"But..." My heart sank. "I have to walk all the way back to the Slytherin common room like this?"
"If it helps, you look quite handsome," Fred offered.
"It doesn't help, Fred," I snapped, cramming my books into my bag with a huff. I turned to George, who was smiling at me. "What?"
He leaned across and kissed me, then sat back, still wearing that irritatingly adorable smile. "Sorry."
I stood, annoyed that his simple apology had softened my heart. As I walked away, holding a hand over my mouth and nose, I heard them speaking in low voices.
"What was that about?" asked Fred.
"Well, it wasn't very nice," said George. "But also I've always wondered what it would feel like to kiss someone with a moustache."
"And?"
"Tickled."
* * * * * *
I met with Hermione one afternoon in the Charms classroom, waiting until the previous class had cleared out before stepping inside.
"May we borrow the classroom for a bit, Professor Flitwick?" Hermione asked politely. "We'd like to practise a few spells we've been learning."
Professor Flitwick looked up from where he was packing his briefcase. "Miss Granger! Miss Doyle! I didn't know you two were friends."
"We've several friends in common," I explained with a smile at Hermione. "It was only a matter of time before we found one another."
"Mackie is the only student I've met who has mastered the Silencing Charm," said Hermione, mirroring my smile. "It's quite impressive, really."
Professor Flitwick nodded proudly. "Well, seeing as the two of you are my top students, I suppose I'll allow you to use the classroom, so long as you promise to clean up after yourselves."
"Of course, sir." I assured him.
"And lock the door when you leave!" Flitwick called as he disappeared through the door.
"Right," I said once he'd gone. "The protection spell."
I dug in my bag and pulled out a single mitten, laying it on a desk in front of us.
"It's a bit like the shield spell, in the way you cast it, but it's contained within an object that then becomes the shield, rather than the spell itself."
Hermione watched me closely as I pulled out my wand, tapping the mitten. "Protego Omnis."
The mitten lay unaffected, the charm I'd placed undetectable.
"How exactly did you learn this spell?" Hermione asked.
I pulled on the mitten. "My dad taught it to me when I was small and the neighbour's kids wouldn't stop turning my hair different colors."
"And how does it work, exactly? I mean, how effective is it?"
"What I've gathered over the years is that its efficacy depends on who casts it. The stronger the caster is, the stronger the shield is." I held up my mittened hand, putting a few strides between Hermione and myself.
"So..." Hermione thought for a moment. "Do you think it protects from every spell that the witch or wizard themselves know? Say I know a spell you don't and you cast the charm, then I use the spell you don't know. The shield wouldn't be effective, then, because your shield charm wouldn't know enough to block it?"
"Well..." I took a moment to mull that over. "Yes, actually. You're a genius. I'd never thought of it that way, I just reckoned I was getting better at it as I got older."
Hermione grinned. "How long does it usually last?"
"Hard to say," I frowned down at my mitten. "A couple of hours, at least. Want to give it a try?"
I set my wand aside, holding up my hands to present myself as a target.
"Are you sure?" she asked, a little hesitantly.
"Well, don't hex me or anything!" I said quickly.
Hermione raised her wand slowly, then gave it a swish. "Levicorpus."
Her spell hit me square in the chest, but I remained solidly on both feet. I exhaled a small sigh of relief, not quite in the mood to be yanked into the air by my ankle.
Hermione's eyes widened. "That's brilliant."
"Glad it worked," I laughed lightly. "Now, let's give your theory a go. Think of the most obscure spell you know, something I might not have learned."
Hermione raised her wand again, and suddenly I was sweating a bit, wondering if this was a good idea. Before I had the chance to change my mind, she spoke. "Relashio."
The mitten fell cleanly off my hand and onto the floor. I looked down at it, bemused, then back up at her. "What was that spell you used?"
"Grip-releasing jinx."
I smiled and shook my head, rifling through my bag and pulling out the other mitten. "Now you try."
* * * * * *
The final task of the tournament was comprised of a massive hedge maze that had been constructed overnight, its tall green walls stretching as far as the eye could see.
I sat with Jamie, having not quite forgiven George for the moustache escapade. Though I did notice he and Fred sat only a few rows away, both of them casting looks in my direction every so often.
Someone approached the empty seat next to mine, and I looked up, surprised to see Miles.
"Mind if I sit with you?" he asked, a little nervously.
I gave a curt nod, and he sat down next to me.
"I've been meaning to talk to you," Miles started, unable to meet my eyes. "I wanted to apologise. For what I said at the Ball. I was being atrocious."
"You were," I said coolly.
"And I really am sorry," he went on, glancing up at me now. "You're one of my best friends, Doyle, and I don't want to lose you because I was a jealous prick."
I was taken aback by the sincerity in his words. Slowly, I nodded.
"Thank you, Miles." He gave me a small smile, and I felt my heart warm. "You're one of my best friends, too."
His smile widened, and he threw his arms around me. I returned the hug with a grin, relieved to have dissolved the tension between us.
"Although, if I'm being honest, Miles, you'd have to do a lot worse to be rid of me," I chuckled as we pulled apart. "We've been friends for too long. You're stuck with me."
Miles laughed. "I didn't know what I was getting myself into that day at Platform 9¾."
I shrugged. "It's your fault for taking pity on the little blonde girl standing by herself."
"You looked so lost," he recalled. "It's a good thing I nabbed you, or else you might've stood there and watch the Hogwarts Express leave without you."
"No one told me I was supposed to get on the train," I said with mock exasperation.
Jamie snorted. "You two are ridiculous."
We grinned over at her. I ruffled Miles's dark curls, delighted that we had fixed things, and he batted my hand away with a snort.
"I missed you," I admitted.
"Missed you, too, Doyle," he muttered, his dark eyes sparkling with a smile as he slung his arm around my shoulders.
"Sorry, Bletchley, she was saving this spot." I looked up to see Fred and George quickly relocating to sit between Miles and myself, forcing Miles to move further down the row.
"These spots," Fred corrected as they settled in, giving Miles a hard stare.
Beside me, Jamie covered her giggle with a hand.
I rolled my eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Sitting by the prettiest girl in the whole world." George regarded me with wide-eyed innocence. "Is that alright with you?"
I fought to keep the smile off my face. "I suppose it's alright."
George grinned, leaning over to give me a peck on the lips. Jamie cleared her throat pointedly.
"Oh!" I said. "Fred, George, have you met Jamie?"
"We haven't had the pleasure," Fred said, leaning forward to look at my friend.
"Hello, Jamie." George fixed her with a friendly smile.
"This is George, and next to him is Fred." I turned to Jamie, who was looking between the twins confusedly.
"How do you tell them apart?" she murmured.
"It gets easier with time," I laughed, feeling George's fingers lace through mine.
Dumbledore's booming voice caught our attention, then, and we turned to watch the final task begin. After a brief explanation of how it all worked, the four champions entered the maze.
What felt like eons later, the crowd had begun to lose its stamina. Fleur had retreated from the maze fairly early on, and Krum a bit later, but that had been most of the excitement. Cedric and Harry were still wandering the maze.
"They've got to be close, right?" asked Jamie. "It's been ages."
"You'd think so," I murmured, eyes on the maze in case any red sparks went up.
"Maybe they're lost," said George.
"Maybe they're having a good time in there and don't want it to end," said Fred.
Jamie giggled at that, and Fred looked rather pleased with himself.
On Fred's other side, Miles leaned forward to cast me a distressed look. Fred was ignoring him entirely, leaving him isolated at the end of the row.
I stifled a yawn, my body feeling stiff. George nudged his shoulder against mine. "Don't be falling asleep on us, Doylie, there's eternal glory on the line still."
"They should get a move on, then," I replied with a dry smile. "Eternal glory seems like quite the motivation."
Just then, Harry and Cedric dropped into the center of the arena, causing an uproar of applause.
"Finally!" Jamie cried. "I was beginning to think we'd be here all night."
The band played loudly, and George pulled me by the hand to the stairs, heading down to congratulate Harry. I lost Jamie in the crowd but allowed myself to be carried along, until suddenly a scream split the air, and I bumped into George's back as he stopped in his tracks.
"What's going on?" I craned my neck to see over his shoulder, but he was too tall, my view blocked. "George?"
When he turned, his face was white. "Diggory's dead."