XXV. UNBEKNOWNST
01:03 ─❁────────── 01:80
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❝Even in my momentary dreams
The illusions that torture me are still the same❞
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IT WAS THE MORNING AFTER the Hogsmeade trip, and the school was bustling with students going down for breakfast as per usual, but Lucia, who've been particularly silent since yesterday evening, went the opposite way from the others. She didn't want to be surrounded by an overwhelming crowd of chattering students and him.
She thought that at least a few hours of sleep could help cure the bubbling distress within her, but she guessed wrong, and she hated it. After the sudden revelation of whom the imposter Moody really was, her stomach wouldn't stop from doing summersaults to the point of sickening her and she couldn't help but be vigilant of everything.
Just the reminder of him made her sick, just the mere thought of him made her want to puke until it becomes unbearable.
She didn't like it.
She didn't like the fact that he was walking around the place she calls home so idly with no care in the world. She already felt unsafe as it is when he first came, but knowing whom he really was now, she felt as though her world was slowly crumbling.
He was being too nice, and that didn't sit well with her. Like, the calm before the storm.
She hated it.
Lucia sighed in distress, running her fingers through her locks, combing it down as though it was the only means to calm herself. But as much as she tried, she could not help but fidget in fright at the thought that he could be anywhere around her.
What if he already caught onto her suspicions?
The thought frightened her more as she doubled her pace, walking quicker than before until she reached the kitchen.
The cosy... cosy... kitchen. She felt like she could stay here forever, and the house-elves were all so nice — better than the humans that she had to force herself to be associated with...
"Does Miss need anything else?" Dobby asked Lucia kindly, setting down a tray of mushroom stew and garlic bread that she had asked for in front of her.
She stared at the dish in front of her blankly. Sometimes, in times like this she wished that her mum would still be with her, cooking those dishes that felt so foreign right now, to make her feel better.
But for now, she just needed to suck it up.
"That's all right, Dobby. Thank you," she said earnestly.
"Then Dobby'll go and get Miss's tea," he nodded and said at the same time, and before she could say anything, he had already waddled off.
She gazed down at the stew, stirring it aimlessly like it was the most intriguing thing in the world as her mind subconsciously went to be filled by thoughts, she wished she had left in the past. The paranoia she was feeling was everything but welcoming.
All of this... because of a man? Lucia had to scoffed, why was she so afraid?
Oh yeah.
It was because Barty Crouch Junior was not only a known Death Eater, but as well as a confirmed murderer that was thought to be dead. That's why.
Apart of her wished she didn't figure this out, probably wanting to be in ignorant bliss as much as she could. But then again, she was also glad that she did, so she could try and stop whatever he's planning.
But what if she was wrong?
What if this was all in her head, and she was just making it all up to feed into her paranoia? It's not like it would be the first time either...
"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!"
Lucia snapped out of her pondering thoughts at the sound of Dobby's shrill voice. She dropped the bread into the soup and turned around and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Lucia clutched her skirt, clenching her jaw.
Should she tell them what she thinks?
Nah, there's no way they would believe you...
After all, Moody's been in their good graces since the start of the year. There's no reason for them to be suspicious of someone who've been known to be suspicious of everything.
And who are they going to believe anyway? The girl they became close friend just this year, or the man who has a long reputation of capturing and killing dark wizards?
They would only be a fool to not believe in Moody, and she knew that.
She sighed and picked up her tray, trying to move away from them as quietly as she could. Right now, she needed time to herself. Perhaps this would go away tomorrow, but right now, alone was enough.
"Dobby will help Miss move to Harry Pot —"
"It's okay, Dobby. I want to eat by myself," said Lucia quietly.
Dobby looked up at her confusingly. "Miss don't — did Miss and Harry Potter had a row? Dobby understands if Miss doesn't want to be around Harry Potter now, but Dobby hopes Miss and Harry Potter would get along once more..."
"Everything's fine between us, don't worry," she chuckled. "It's just that... that I have a lot in my mind... Can you just do me a favour and not tell them I'm here? If I want to join them, I can do it by myself," she told him with a faint smile.
Though Dobby understood Lucia, he couldn't help but feel worried. Nonetheless, he heeded her wish and didn't spoke a word of her presence within the kitchen to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, just like how Lucia had told him not to do.
Lucia leaned on her palm, gulping stew down her throat, but all she wanted was to puke it all out. The flashes of that excruciating trial were all she could remember. She could barely speak then, and yet the universe chose to let her remember those memories instead of persevering it like how they did to her memories of them.
As much as she would love to believe that being alone work as a means of comfort for her, it didn't seem to be working as she remembered. She walked down the corridors, her eyes close, not caring as to where her legs would take her.
She was just too tired to care anymore.
When she opened her eyes once again, she realised she was in the surroundings of the Owlery. Well, that explains the unpleasant smell that broke her away from her thoughts.
With her arms out, an owl immediately went to perch on her. She smiled as hard as she could, but to no avail, her smile finally drops. Her face had never been so monotonous, but she wanted to believe that this was temporary.
The truth will come out, she had a feeling it would.
Whether it'd be the easy or hard way.
"I wished I was born as an owl," Lucia whispered under her breath, stroking the owl's feathers softly with care. "At least I don't have to worry as much and could fly whenever..."
"I didn't know you were here,"
She jumped in startlement of the sudden voice. The owl flew away, frightened as well. She whirled around and was surprised to see Harry with his hands occupied by a whole ham.
Lucia looked from the ham, to Harry, and then back at the ham. She furrowed her eyes, puzzled.
"Maybe I'm just hallucinating, but is that a ham?" she asked, pointing at the meat.
Harry's eyes widened in shock, forgetting about the particular ham he had brought just to send it to Sirius. He let out a nervous laugh.
"Do I still have the chance to say yes?" he asked hopefully.
She stared at him with a deadpanning, yet amused gaze. "No,"
"Can you do me a favour and not feel suspicious of what I'm doing?"
"No,"
"Can I bribe —"
"Depends," she said, shrugging. "What are you offering me?"
Lucia watched with amusement as Harry's face scrunches in deep concentration. He then beamed, "What about a boo —"
"Next,"
Harry huffed. "What about Money?"
"Already have 'em," Lucia replied easily.
"I'll buy you anything you want,"
She raised a brow. "Anything?"
"Anything." He nodded.
"This is too dangerous of an offer on your part, Harry," a rare sly smile made its way to her lips. Lucia leaned forward to him, "Are you sure you're okay with me asking anything?"
The close in proximity they were in somehow made Harry nervous as he swallowed the lump in his throat, hard.
"Just tell me what the bloody hell you want already," he said impatiently.
She giggled, retreating. "Okay, okay," she patted his cheek, "There's no need to get so defensive,"
"I wasn — ugh, never mind," Harry his fingers through his tousled hair. Lucia smiled at the indication that he was annoyed. "So, what do you want as an exchange?"
"I don't know,"
"You don't —"
"— now. I don't know now anyway," said Lucia airily. "I'll come back to you in the near future when I'm done with being indecisive,"
Harry heaved out a sigh, "Fine."
"Good," Lucia beamed. "I guess you're going to send that ham to someone now?" she studied his expression subtly and saw him tense. She closed her eyes for a moment, before saying, "or I guess something. You're hiding a secret pet, aren't you?"
He blinked.
Pet?
To say he was astonished would be an understatement, but this was his chance to divert Lucia's suspicion on whom he was about to send the ham to. He quickly grinned.
"You caught me," he feigned defeat, which did not go unnoticed by her. "I guess that bribe isn't going to be of any use —"
Lucia scoffed a laugh. "Who says?" she said patronisingly. "I'm going to use it one day, Harry, and you better watch your vault when the day comes,"
"Ooooh," Harry mocked, "I'm so scared,"
"You should be," she said. "I'm always known as a shopaholic once I enter a market with a bag filled with money in my pocket,"
Harry shook his head amusingly, before he turned back to the topic at hand.
"So," he began, shifting his weight 'nervously'. "Are you going to go and tell McGonagall about it?"
"Goodness no, Harry," said Lucia, incredulous. "You said that as though I am a snitch, and I am offended. I catch snitches, not am one,"
"You're being dramatic,"
"Bugger off and hurry up with that ham of yours," she pushed him forward. Harry smiled at her gratefully and went toward an owl.
Pigwidgeon was much too small to carry an entire ham up to the mountain by himself, so Harry enlisted the help of two school screech owls as well with the assistance of Lucia, who had effortlessly befriended them with a simple stroke on their beaks.
He was honestly still comprehending of the fact that she did not have any other magic that could make her understand creatures yet could still make friends with them. Admittedly, at first, he thought that she was merely lying to hide her secret, but the more he spent time with her, he began to believe otherwise. But of course, Lucia would speak to creatures just for fun.
She's Lucia. And that was what makes her endearing to him.
When the two owls set of into the dusk, looking extremely odd carrying the large package between them, Harry leaned on the windowsill, looking out at the grounds, at the dark, rustling treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the rippling sails of the Durmstrang ship as Lucia sat across from him, admiring the view.
"Look!" she pointed towards Hagrid's cabin. An eagle owl flew through the coil of smoke rising from Hagrid's chimney; it soared toward the castle, around the Owlery, and out of sight.
Looking down, the pair saw Hagrid digging energetically in front of his cabin. From where they sat, they could see that he was making a new vegetable patch. As they watched, Madame Maxime emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage and walked over to Hagrid. She appeared to be trying to engage him in conversation. Hagrid leaned upon his spade, but did not seem keen to prolong their talk, because Madame Maxime returned to the carriage shortly afterward.
"What d'you reckon is going to happen between them now?" Lucia asked, curiosity beaming through her eyes.
Harry leaned back and hummed in wonder. "No idea," he said. He then noticed that her attention was no longer on Hagrid, rather she was looking around the Owlery, joy masking her beautiful expression. He smiled softly. "You know, you should get a pet next year. Maybe an owl?"
"You think?" Lucia puffed her cheeks thoughtfully. "I dunno... owls aren't really my thing... I love being their friends and all, but they are a bit... what is the word?"
He quirked his head with a confused look. Perhaps it was because that he rarely seen it happen, but it was weird to see someone struggling to find the right word of vocabulary for a word that was seemingly so easy to use. But then again, he couldn't judge her, could he? From what he knew, she could speak three languages. She was bound to forget some words...
However, he suddenly mischievous and saw a somewhat of an opportunity in this.
"What word?" And he took it.
"You know," Lucia struggled, snapping her finger continuously, trying to search for the word desperately. "That word. It's... it's like at the tip of my tongue... Harry help me out here!"
"How in the hell would I know?" Harry howled with laughter. "It's your mind!"
"Well, t-the least you could do is help me figure it out!" she fumed.
"Okay, okay," he began, snorting a bit. She gave him a menacing look. "Okay, okay, I'm good now. So — what does that word sounds like?"
"That isn't helping!"
"Oh, I know. I wasn't helping. I was just teasing you and hoping that you've already remembered," said Harry, a glint of mischief shone in his forest green eyes.
"Listen here, pretty boy. Just because you have a pretty face, doesn't mean you're not pretty unsmackable, because you are." Lucia threatened.
Harry leaned back, an amused smirk appeared on his lips as he ran his fingers through his tousled black hair.
"And I'm not afraid of a little panda," he said dauntingly.
"Well, you should be," Lucia claimed, "This 'little' panda is not only taller than you by a few centimeters but could also beat a Bludger. So, thread lightly, oh stag."
"Speaking of Bludgers," he started, eyes locking with hers, "You never told me whether you enjoy Quidditch or not?"
Lucia was surprised by this question. Suddenly, she felt flustered to speak.
"I've participated in a couple of sport before, and I could definitely say that Quidditch is an amazingly confusing sport." She fiddled with her finger gingerly, "But It's... It's an okay sport, I guess."
Her tone was hesitant, as if holding back what she really thought of the sports. Nonetheless, Harry didn't pry her to say more, not wanting her to revert to uncomfortableness she had always been associated with most of the time.
Lucia rose her eyes back to look at him, "Why?"
"No reason," he pursed his lips awkwardly. "It's just that we've known each other for a while now, and I think it's pretty important for someone to say whether or not they like Quidditch..." he blushed tremendously.
"And... and what would you have done if I didn't?" Lucia asked quietly, tilting her head to the side, curious.
Harry had never thought of that — well, that's probably because he never had a reason to think about it, since the only person he knew that didn't enjoy Quidditch was, well, Hermione. Everyone else he knew at least had an interest toward the sport, but what would've happened if he were to meet someone that didn't?
"I guess I wouldn't think much of it and just shrug it off," he said after a long pause. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her smiling with such tenderness that he didn't think it was possible. Harry bit his lip, "Have you ever think of maybe trying out for our team?"
At his mere words, it brought Lucia into fits of coughs as she choked on her own saliva. Did she hear him right? Did she?!
DID I, OR DID I NOT HEAR. HIM. RIGHT?!
Lucia mustered out a calm smile, sensing her hand gradually becoming clammy. "Our team? Like — Gryffindor House Quidditch team? — Your Quidditch tea —"
"Yes, I meant our team," said Harry. "So?"
Harry watched admiringly as her face grew red, redder than he ever thought it could be.
"W-Well... Well, I'm not that good at it and it it's not like I'm an athlete kind of person. I don't even think that I've played it a lot of time to the point that I could tryout — sure I know the rules and the basic, but for someone like me to tryout would be like jesting others because of how ridiculous it sounds!" she spluttered out the words uncontrollably.
He eyed her suspiciously. "But... didn't you say that you've participated in a couple of sports before? Wouldn't that make you athle —"
"That doesn't count as being athletic," said Lucia firmly.
Yeah right, "Fine, whatever you say. But if you could've tried out, would you?" he asked genuinely.
Then, a look crossed her face. A look that told Harry very much that she was contemplating. A look that said: Would I?
"You thought of it before, didn't you?"
If she were to say she didn't, it felt like she was lying. But if she were to say yes, it'll only make her go through some turmoil that she rather not deal with.
Especially with the already unbearable stress on her shoulders. She wanted to avoid it at any cost.
"It's hard to say if I did..." said Lucia aimlessly. "Maybe, and maybe not? Also, even if I did, like I said, it's just ridiculous of me to even do so,"
"Why?"
"Because not only am I mediocre, but I also I know my limits well enough to not tryout. I'm not good enough for it, and I'll never be. Plus, even if I could, I won't be able to get into the team because the position I want to try would be..." she glanced up hesitantly, locking eyes with him, "Taken."
"What's the position?"
Lucia gnawed on her bottom lip. "Promise not to laugh?"
Harry didn't understood why there was a need for promise, because he would never. But nonetheless he did.
"I —" He leaned forward with interest, but she chickened out. Lucia felt all her confidence depleting. "Nothing."
"What — ?"
"It's nothing," she said, eyes downcast. "A-Anyway, should we go back?"
He frowned slightly. It was clear as the sky above them that she didn't have much confidence whatsoever to tell him about the most trivial of matters. It would be a lie if he says that it didn't pain him, because frankly, it did. His heart was screaming to assure her that she could tell him anything and he wouldn't laugh at whatever it is, but what approach would be the right approach?
Harry wished that he could do more than just the bare minimum. He wished he knew how to deal with this type of stuff. It was too complicate, and it was a real wonder how everyone ever dealt with this type of stuff. How did she do it? How was she able to always be by his side all years, making him trust her, when it didn't seem that he was even capable to break down even one of her walls.
Why couldn't he do the same for her?
Unwilling to go back to Gryffindor Tower and listen to Ron and Hermione snarling at each other, Harry switched the topic of the conversation into something more lighthearted as the pair watched Hagrid digging until the darkness swallowed him and the owls around the two began to awake, swooshing past them into the night.
By breakfast the next day Ron's and Hermione's bad moods had burnt out, and Ron's dark predictions that the house-elves would send substandard food up to the Gryffindor table because Hermione had insulted them proved false; the bacon, eggs, and kippers were quite as good as usual.
When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something.
"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," said Ron. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."
"No, it's not that," said Hermione. "I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."
"Good thinking!" said Harry, also looking up at the owls. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck —"
A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione.
"It hasn't got a newspaper, though," she said, looking disappointed. "It's —"
But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny
"What the — ?"
"Did you... um... perhaps accidentally took out multiple subscriptions without knowing?" said Lucia, seizing Hermione's goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first. "I pity your vault — well, I guess your parents' bank account is more likely..."
"What on earth — ?" Hermione said, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. "Oh really!" she sputtered, going rather red.
Lucia peered over Hermione's shoulder and her eyes went wide with amusement as she let out fits of giggles. This must be a dream. A fever dream in fact.
"Oh, this is hilarious!" Lucia bit her lip, trying to stop herself from laughing.
"For you maybe," said Hermione dryly.
"What's up?" said Ron.
"It's — oh how ridiculous —"
She thrust the letter at the two boys, who saw that it was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.
You are a WickEd giRL. HarRy PotTER desErves BeTteR. GO back wherE you cAMe from mUGgle.
"They're all like it!" said Hermione desperately. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you...'"
"I-I didn't know you had a fanbase, Harry," giggled Lucia, going through the bunch of letters as well. "I wonder what this says," she opened the letter and read it out loud. " 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn...' Wha — ouch!"
The last envelope she had opened, a yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hand and Hermione's. Large yellow boils began erupt from it.
"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.
"Oh, just my luck!" Lucia shrieked; face twisted in pain of the burning feeling on her hand.
"Ow!" said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.
Holding onto her hands that were thickly covered in painful sores, wincing, Lucia went into low fits of curses in, what they could assume, was some type of Chinese when she realised that nothing could be done and if she were to wipe the pus off of her, it'll only worsen. Just like how it was for Hermione.
Clear tears brimmed her eyes. She turned swiftly to the parliament of owls that were around them, sniffling, trying to remain calm. "P-Peck them until they bleed," she hissed and the owls hooted, indicating that they understood before they were sent away.
Harry's jaw clenched, dabbing a napkin on Lucia's face to wipe away the tears she asked him to wipe off. Surely you could sue people in the Wizarding world?
"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you two've gone..."
With a long and breathy exhale, Lucia nodded. "We... we'll see you guys later," she said before going after Hermione, who was long gone from the Great Hall.
This year is just not her year, and Lucia should've known from the moment she had gotten that scar from Malfoy. She was still bitter about that, especially since the scar took its damn time to heal, but she wasn't even sure how long this will take to fully heal. Lucia closed her eyes, imagining those who sent those letters to Hermione fall into a bottomless pit for all of eternity.
Not only did they made Hermione cry, but they also humiliated her.
After getting treated by Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wings for hours, the pair's hand was heavily bandaged. They set off for Cares for Magical Creatures and Lucia took it upon herself to try and make Hermione look less miserable.
"They're, you know, just bitter," she said. "Don't... Don't go taking their words personally..."
"Undiluted pus..." sniffled Hermione.
It's not going as well as she planned.
When they finally reached to where the rest of the class were, Hagrid was the first to notice, taking a pause from his lesson to greet them.
"Oh there y'are, Hermione! Lucia!"
"We didn't — uh — miss anything, did we?" Lucia asked for the two of them.
"Oh, just handling nifflers!" Hagrid grinned.
"NIFFLERS?" she shrieked.
Lucia swore that she'll find a way to send them all down to the depths of hell. Not only did they sent those letters in an intent to injure Hermione, but they also made her miss out on one of the most anticipated lesson in Cares for Magical Creatures in all her life. She'll never get the chance to touch those cuties and their chubby cheeks ever...
Of course, Lucia didn't voiced out her anguishing thoughts as she merely led Hermione to where Harry and Ron were, aware of Pansy Parkinson, who was watching them both — Hermione specifically — beadily.
"Well, let's check how yeh've done!" said Hagrid. "Count yer coins! An' there's no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle," he added, his beetle-black eyes narrowed. "It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."
Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. It turned out that Ron's niffler had been most successful, so Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of Honeydukes chocolate for a prize. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch; the rest of the class set off back to the castle, but Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lucia stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in their boxes.
"What yer two done ter your hands?" said Hagrid, looking concerned.
"Nothing to worry about, Hagrid. It was just hate mail." Lucia beamed, feeling jubilant that Hagrid was kind enough to give her a chance to pet the nifflers.
Hermione told him about the hate mail she had received that morning, and the envelope full of bubotuber pus that hit both her and Lucia.
"Aaah, don' worry," said Hagrid gently, looking down at her. "I got some o' those letters an' all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou' me mum. 'Yeh're a monster an' yeh should be put down.' 'Yer mother killed innocent people an' if you had any decency you'd jump in a lake.'"
"No!" said Hermione, looking shocked.
"Yeah," said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. "They're jus' nutters, Hermione. Don' open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the fire."
"You two missed a really good lesson," Harry told them, gently caressing Lucia's bandaged hand as they headed back toward the castle.
"Oh, I can imagine," downcast Lucia. "At least I got to pet one..."
"They're good, nifflers, aren't they, Ron?"
Ron, however, was frowning at the chocolate Hagrid had given him. He looked thoroughly put out about something.
"What's the matter?" said Harry. "Wrong flavor?"
"No," said Ron shortly. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"
"What gold?" said Harry.
"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup," said Ron. "The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"
Harry had to think for a moment before he realized what Ron was talking about.
"Oh..." he said, the memory coming back to him at last. "I dunno...I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"
They climbed the steps into the entrance hall and went into the Great Hall for lunch.
"Must be nice," Ron said abruptly, when they had sat down and started serving themselves roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. "To have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."
"Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night!" said Harry impatiently. "We all did, remember?"
"I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes," Ron muttered. "I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't've given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas."
"Forget it, all right?" said Harry.
Ron speared a roast potato on the end of his fork, glaring at it. Then he said, "I hate being poor."
Harry, Hermione, and Lucia looked at each other. Neither of them really knew what to say.
"It's rubbish," said Ron, still glaring down at his potato. "I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler."
Lucia mumbled under her breath. "I mean..."
Harry sent her a bemused look, clearly saying that she shouldn't.
"Well, we know what to get you next Christmas," said Hermione brightly. Then, when Ron continued to look gloomy, she said, "Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus." Hermione was having a lot of difficulty managing her knife and fork, her fingers were so stiff and swollen. "I hate that Skeeter woman!" she burst out savagely. "I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"
Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the following week, and although she followed Hagrid's advice and stopped opening it, several of her ill-wishers sent Howlers, which exploded at the Gryffindor table and shrieked insults at her for the whole Hall to hear. Lucia went as far as to ask all the owls that sent them the letters to peck them until they bleed.
But that didn't help whatsoever.
Even those people who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all about the supposed Harry–Krum–Hermione triangle now. Harry was getting sick of telling people that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend.
"It'll die down, though," he told Hermione, "if we just ignore it... People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time —"
"I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds!" said Hermione angrily.
During Defence Against the Dark Arts, Lucia sat with tension filled her body. Now that she knew who Moody really was, every time she laid eyes on him, all she could think of was the trial from years ago and exactly how to execute the plan to find proof that Moody isn't actually Moody but instead, Barty Crouch Junior. It was extremely frustrating.
And you know what was worst? He's actually a pretty decent teacher.
In one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson they had, Hermione hung back to ask Professor Moody something. The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small injuries. Lucia had a bad case of a Deterioration Hex; Ron had to help her walk, as she kept on feeling fatigue. Harry couldn't help her since he had to hold his hands clamped over them due to the Twitchy Ears Hex.
"Well, Rita's definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!" Hermione panted five minutes later, catching up with them in the entrance hall and pulling Harry's hand away from one of his wiggling ears so that he could hear her. "Moody says he didn't see her anywhere near the judges' table at the second task, or anywhere near the lake!"
"Hermione, is there any point in telling you to drop this?" said Ron.
"No!" said Hermione stubbornly. "I want to know how she heard me talking to Viktor! And how she found out about Hagrid's mum!"
"Maybe she had you bugged," said Harry.
"Bugged?" said Ron blankly. "What...put fleas on her or something?"
"N-No..." Lucia yawned suddenly. "Not... not... that kind of bugged... s-silly..."
Seeing as Lucia was like a sloth now, Harry took the lead and started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment. Ron was fascinated, but Hermione interrupted them.
"Aren't you two ever going to read Hogwarts: A History?"
"What's the point?" said Ron. "You know it by heart, we can just ask you."
"Hermione... you're like... a library!" said Lucia giggling into Ron's shoulder a bit too slow.
"All those substitutes for magic Muggles use — electricity, computers, and radar, and all those things — they all go haywire around Hogwarts, there's too much magic in the air. No, Rita's using magic to eavesdrop, she must be... If I could just find out what it is... ooh, if it's illegal, I'll have her..."
"Haven't we got enough to worry about?" Ron asked her. "Do we have to start a vendetta against Rita Skeeter as well?"
"Yes!" yelled Lucia suddenly into Ron's ear. She hopped off his back, finally recovering from the hex. "Yes, yes! She started all of this!" She brandished her bandaged hand.
Ron groaned. "But this is Rita Skeeter —"
"I'm not asking you to help!" Hermione snapped. "I'll do it on my own!"
She marched back up the marble staircase without a backward glance.
"What's the betting she comes back with a box of I Hate Rita Skeeter badges?" said Ron.
Hermione indeed did not ask either of her friends to help her pursue vengeance against Rita Skeeter, for which Harry and Ron were grateful, because their workload was mounting higher in the before the Easter holidays.
Lucia was also thankful that her friend didn't ask her to help her pursue vengeance as well. Lately she had been busy with more than just schoolwork; the investigation of Mad-Eye Moody and Bartemius Crouch Junior lingered idly in her mind. Planning it all was not easy, but she needed to find proof that Moody was actually Bartemius Crouch, and that the real Moody was around the castle somewhere — she hope so anyway.
As they sat together for lunch in the Great Hall, a familiar snowy owl came swooping towards them. Hedwig, who hadn't return until now the end of the Easter holidays, greeted them with a package of Easter eggs that Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley had sent for her children, Harry, and Hermione, along with a letter from Percy, one of Ron's many older brothers, that was enclosed in it.
"Here you go, love..." Lucia moved her goblet-filled water to Hedwig, who soon stuck her head in it.
Ron opened the package and his eyes glittered just at the sight of the three-dragon egg sized eggs that were filled of homemade toffee. Lucia watched with an envious smile as he passed one to Harry before helping himself with his. She wished she had someone to send her chocolate eggs...
As Hermione reached for hers, her face fell.
Instead of a dragon egg sized, she was graced with an egg that was even smaller than a chicken egg.
"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."
Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg.
"Oh, really..." huffed Lucia, having enough of this. "This... this is absolutely ridiculous! H-How could your mother believe the press over her own son's best friend!"
"Don't go blaming it on me now," whined Ron. "I'm only her son!"
"Maybe someone ought to write to your mother about it the —"
Hermione placed a hand on Lucia's shoulder, "It's okay, Lucia. Really,"
"No, it isn't!" said Lucia, frustrated. "Clearly you... you're not okay with this,"
"You're already judging her by this, aren't you?"
Lucia looked away. "Yeah, so what? I feel like it's valid..."
"She is kind of right," pointed Ron, nibbling on his toffee. Hermione glared at him, before turning back to Lucia.
"Don't let this be the reason you think of Mrs. Weasley badly. Trust me, she's a nice woman,"
"A nice woman would never treat someone like this without any proof..." she mumbled stubbornly.
Hermione breathed out a defeated sigh, though she felt down, she couldn't help but smile encouragingly of Lucia's reaction to all of this. It just reminded how far they've come from being sometimes indifferent to one another, to being, perhaps, friends?
"Don't you want to see what Percy's written?" Harry asked them, changing the topic quickly.
"What did you guys write to him about?" Lucia inquired.
"About Mr. Crouch," said Ron vaguely.
Percy's letter was short and irritated.
As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumors. Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter.
Weeks past since Percy's letter. The summer term finally arrived, which meant that the third task was slowly approaching, and Lucia was growing anxious.
She was running out of time and if she does not exposed 'Moody' now, who knows what would happen. Hell, she had little-to-no idea of what his real plan was and that, yet again, frightened her.
What was the real reason for him to come to Hogwarts aside for seeking vengeance against Harry for basically causing the downfall of his master?
But the thing was, why hadn't he done anything to Harry yet? There were so many times that Harry could've died this year and that wouldn't bloody his hand, yet nothing happened. He sought to help Harry instead. What really was going on here?
Was there more to this tournament than meets the eye?
Lucia sat in the still and empty common room in wonder, holding closely her dad's journal over her chest as her belongings were scattered around her on the floor. She was alone. Ron and Hermione were in their dorms, while Harry was out doing some champion business, leaving her all alone in the common room. She wasn't going to complain, though; it was rather peaceful than usual.
It was too peaceful in fact.
Needless to say, she was going to enjoy the moment while she could. Flipping though the pages of the journal, Lucia reached a page in which was covered by dried petals, hearts adorning it, looking like it belonged in a hopeless romantic's diary or something.
Well, that's probably because her dad was a hopeless romantic. Maybe.
Recorded on the 24th of March, it seems the relationship between her mum, Rose — or, perhaps, Mawar, and her dad, Florian, was blossoming into something more...
Dear book,
I am nervous like never been before. All of this just because Mawar suddenly came up to me and asked to meet me at the alley behind the restaurant. Maybe she was finally going to kill me off? You know since the cendol trick did not work. If there was even poison in the first place.
Anyway, I did not die at that time, which meant I will probably die this time. I'll see you later, book. Please pray for me.
Then it cut off to the paragraph below, which look anything but bland.
Dear book, dear book, dear book!
Guess what? Turns out Mawar wanted to see me for a reason. And you could not believe what the reason is!
Mother and Father always thought me to be proper even with the littlest of things, but have I ever listened to them? No! Which means, I can react to this in any sort of way possible, because they are not going to dictate my life any longer! Hah!
As you already know, I was a nervous wreck when meeting up with her. And she was acting so dodgy that I thought I would die right there and then, especially when she suddenly stuck her hand into the pocket of her flowery apron. You really would not think someone with that kind of apron would be dangerous at all!
But then, something happened.
It was not a knife she was taking out from her apron, but a stick.
At first, I thought she was going to beat me with that tiny stick or something, but then I realised that I, myself, have a tiny stick. And that tiny stick so happens to be my wand...
Yes, what I am trying to say is: Mawar is a witch.
That is —
She wasn't able to finish reading, for, once again, living in Hogwarts was just a reminder how peace was never an option here as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, disturbing the tranquility of the evening. Lucia whirled around and was about to greet Harry when suddenly, before she even got a word in, he went straight into her arms.
He wrapped his arms around her, hiding his face into her shoulders, as though desperate to find salvation.
This left Lucia perplexed. Nonetheless, she reciprocates and cradled his head into her shoulder much more comfortingly.
"H-Hey," she started softly. "What's wrong?"
"So many things," Harry croaked quietly, in the verge of shattering.
"Want... to... um... to talk about it?" she asked softly.
"Later," he said, tightening his hold around her, "Just... can we stay like this for a while?"
"O-Of course," she said soothingly. "We can stay like this for as long as you want too..."