"Well apart from your eye you seem to be in perfect health, and I can't find any reason why this happened." Madame Pomfrey explained to me.
In the chaos of everything that had happened she'd only just realized that one remaining eye had turned a deep scarlet. Of course this had happen to me before, not that I was going to tell her, but usually it would have reverted by now.
"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong, but if you feel that anything is off come back as soon as possible." She told me.
I nodded in thanks to her, pocketing the small wooden case that contained my new prosthetic eye, pulling an eye patch over the empty socket and leaving the hospital wing.
Despite already having a new prosthetic eye I was still having trouble controlling it which meant almost constant headaches, and trouble walking with it in.
"How are you feeling?" Luna asked me. She was waiting outside the hospital wing, and had visited me everyday while I was in there.
"In all honesty not too bad." I said with a slight sigh. Molly had tried to come visit me everyday, although I asked Madame Pomfrey not to let her in, the same with Arthur as well. I was sick and tired with them now. They weren't even my real parents anyway.
Percy hadn't even bothered trying to visit, of course he didn't he didn't like me since I was sorted into Slytherin he would like me even less now that he knew I'm Voldemort's son.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Luna asked me. It was as if she could read my mind.
I just shrugged. "Not much to say really it is what it is."
Luna nodded at this. I knew if anyone would understand me it'd be Luna.
...
The rest of the month went by in a blur, most people seemed to keep their distance from me, whether that was because what I had gone through, the missing eye, or the now scarlet one I wasn't sure.
The worst thing, perhaps, was the meeting with the Diggorys that took place soon after I got out of the hospital wing.
They did not blame me or Harry for what had happened; on the contrary, both thanked us for returning Cedric's body to them, and told us they were glad we were safe. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of the interview.
Mrs. Diggory's grief seemed to be beyond tears.
"He suffered very little then," she said, when Harry had told her how Cedric had died, I mostly sat there in silence, knowing I would only make the situation worse.
Diggory died because he was weak, simple as that.
"And after all, Amos . . . he died just when he'd won the tournament. He must have been happy."
When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and me and said, "You look after yourselves, now."
Harry seized the sack of gold he had won, offering it to her.
"You take this," he muttered to her. "It should've been Cedric's, he got there first, you take it —"
But she backed away from him.
"Oh no, it's yours, dear, I couldn't . . . you keep it."
I rolled my eyes, course Harry was trying to give it away, only he would so easily give up all that money. It's not like he needed it.
In the follow days I mostly avoided Gryffindor tower, I didn't really want to be up there right now and just kept to myself in the dungeons, only leaving occasionally to see Luna, or Harry Ron and Hermione.
I liked talking with Luna she understood that I didn't want to talk about what had happened in the graveyard, and didn't seem to care about my eyes, or that I was Voldemort's son. She was one of the few people I had told, as well as the other three. People were going to find out eventually anyway, I had already made plans to change my surname back to Riddle.
The only time Hermione and Ron touched upon the subject was when Ron told Harry about a meeting Molly had had with Dumbledore before going home.
"She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer," he said. "But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first."
"Why?" said Harry.
"I'd rather go like the Dursleys at this point." I said bitterly, having no want to return to Molly and Arthur.
"She said Dumbledore's got his reasons," said Ron, shaking his head darkly. "I suppose we've got to trust him, haven't we?"
One of the worst things to come out of this whole thing was there was no longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and on top of that it meant I could no longer learn magic form Moody, or the imposter moody anyway.
So during one of the now free periods on Thursday afternoon we went to visit Hagrid in his cabin. It was a bright and sunny day; Fang bounded out of the open door as they approached, barking and wagging his tail madly.
"Who's that?" called Hagrid, coming to the door. "Harry!"
Course he only cares about Harry.
I glared, bitterly out of my one good eye at Hagrid.
He strode out to meet them, pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffled his hair, and said,
"Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh."
We saw two bucket-size cups and saucers on the wooden table in front of the fireplace when they entered Hagrid's cabin.
"Bin havin' a cuppa with Olympe," Hagrid said. "She's jus' left."
"Who?" said Ron curiously.
"Madame Maxime, o' course!" said Hagrid.
"You two made up, have you?" said Ron.
"Dunno what yeh're talkin' about," said Hagrid airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes.
"You all righ'?" he said gruffly.
"Yeah," said Harry.
"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. " 'Course yeh're not. But yeh will be."
Harry said nothing.
"And you (Y/n)? 'Part from the eye?" He asked me.
I just nodded, not saying anything.
"Ah knew yeh would be, resilient you Weasley's are."
"I'm not a Weasley." I corrected him quickly.
"Er what's that now?"
"I'm not a Weasley." I told him again.
"Don't be silly (Y/n) 'course you are, yeh may not have bin born one but yeh are now."
"I'm a Riddle Hagrid." I told him bluntly, causing him to miss his mouth with his tea.
"A-a Riddle? Yeh don't mean like-yeh can't be serious?" Hagrid spluttered.
"I'm sure Dumbledore has told you all about it."
"Err well yes 'e 'as, but still-"
"Well then there's nothing else to talk about." I told the cabin, taking a sip of my tea as everyone stared at me open mouth.
Nice way to drop news like that, I'm sure they're all so excited.
I had to admit their reactions were warranted, I hadn't told any of them yet.
"Knew he was goin' ter come back," said Hagrid solemnly after a period of silence. "Known it fer years, Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledore's plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried."
Tom snorted at this.
Dumbledore a great man? He's just using all of us for his own twisted game.
"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," he said. "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did, Harry."
Hagrid's chest swelled as he looked at Harry.
"Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that."
Harry smiled back at him.
"What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?" he asked. "He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him — that night."
"Got a little job fer me over the summer," said Hagrid. "Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou' it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe — Madame Maxime ter you — might be comin' with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded."
"Is it to do with Voldemort?"
Hagrid flinched at the sound of the name.
"Migh' be," he said evasively. "Now . . . who'd like ter come an' visit the las' skrewt with me? I was jokin' — jokin'!" he added hastily, seeing the looks on their faces.
...
It was with a heavy heart that I packed my trunk up in the dormitory on the night before my return to the Burrow. I groaned as I finished packing the last of my things before making my way up to meet the others.
When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I entered the Hall, we saw at once that the usual decorations were missing. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House's colors for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers' table. I knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric.
The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him, although he seemed to be quite comfortable around Edgar.
Karkaroff's chair was empty. I wondered, as he sat down with the Slytherins, where Karkaroff was now, and whether Voldemort had caught up with him.
Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to McGonagall, was Snape. His eyes lingered on me momentarily, a look of slight concern in them before he moved his gaze along.
Not long after 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 us 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 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 Cedric Diggory."
I rolled my eyes, annoyed at the useless gesture yet followed the others as the benches scraped, everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Cedric Diggory."
"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a
good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not.
"I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about. Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."
A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.
"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are.
"It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."
That shriveled up man.
I thought Tom was talking about Dumbledore for a second, but it didn't feel like he was.
The audacity to use m-our title like that.
I realized then that he was talking about Voldemort.
He's just a shadow of my former glory, we can become stronger than him (Y/n), believe me we can do it.
"There are two others who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter and (Y/n) Weasley."
"Riddle." I muttered angrily.
A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry's direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.
"Both managed to escape Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "Harry risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts, while (Y/n) was ready to sacrifice himself so that Harry could get out alive."
"No I didn't." I muttered to Tom, before I saw Edgar looking at me, as I caught his eye he raised his glass slightly to me.
Edgar must've told Dumbledore that you did... at least this should push some suspicion off of you.
"They showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor them."
Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet, before turning to me and raising his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured our names, as they had murmured Cedric's, and drank to us.
When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before."
Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum, i saw, looked wary, almost frightened, as though he expected Dumbledore to say something harsh.
"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.
"It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.
"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."
...
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I were waiting in the crowded entrance hall with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take us back to Hogsmeade station. It was another beautiful summer's day.
" 'Arry! (Y/n)"
We looked around. Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds, I could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harness. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off.
"We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," said Fleur as she reached us, holding out her hand to Harry and then to me. "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."
"It's very good already," said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him; Hermione scowled.
"Good-bye, 'Arry, Good-bye (Y/n)" said Fleur, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"
I rolled my eyes slightly as I watched Fleur hurry back across the lawns to Madame Maxime, her silvery hair rippling in the sunlight.
"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," said Ron. "D'you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"
"Karkaroff did not steer," said a gruff voice. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork."
Krum had come to say good-bye to Hermione.
"Could I have a vord?" he asked her.
"Oh . . . yes . . . all right," said Hermione, looking slightly flustered, and following Krum through the crowd and out of sight.
"You'd better hurry up!" Ron called loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!"
He let Harry keep a watch for the carriages, however, and spent the next few minutes craning his neck over the crowd to try and see what Krum and Hermione might be up to.
They returned quite soon. Ron stared at Hermione, but her face was quite impassive.
"I liked Diggory," said Krum abruptly to Harry and me. "He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang — with Karkaroff," he added, scowling.
"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" said Harry.
Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, then mine, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. Krum had already started walking away when Ron burst out, "Can I have your autograph?"
Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless carriages that were now trundling toward them up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for Ron.
The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King's Cross than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had managed to get a compartment to ourselves.
Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under Ron's dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion.
We talked more fully and freely than we had all week as the train sped them southward, we only broke off our conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the lunch trolley arrived.
When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in there.
"There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."
"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this."
"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," said Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. "As a matter of fact," she added, her voice now trembling slightly, "Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."
"What are you talking about?" said Ron.
"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," said Hermione in a rush.
I had the impression that Hermione had been dying to tell us this for days, but that she had restrained herself in light of everything else that had happened.
"How was she doing it?" said Harry at once.
"How did you find out?" said Ron, staring at her.
"What'd you do to her?" I asked curious.
"Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea, Harry," she said.
"Did I?" said Harry, perplexed. "How?"
"That's a first." I sneered.
"Bugging," said Hermione happily.
"But you said they didn't work —"
"Oh not electronic bugs," said Hermione. "No, you see . . . Rita Skeeter" — Hermione's voice trembled with quiet triumph — "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn —"
Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag.
"— into a beetle."
"You're kidding," said Ron. "You haven't . . . she's not . . ."
"Oh yes she is," said Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at us.
Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle. "That's never — you're kidding —" Ron whispered, lifting the
jar to his eyes.
"No, I'm not," said Hermione, beaming. "I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."
I looked and saw that she was quite right.
"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry said suddenly.
"Exactly," said Hermione. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."
"When we saw Malfoy under that tree . . ." said Ron slowly.
"He was talking to her, in his hand," said Hermione. "He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid."
Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass.
"I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," said Hermione. "I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."
Maybe the mudblood isn't as terrible as I thought she was. Quite smart what she's done.
"Hermione this is brilliant!" I said taking the glass jar from her before violently shaking it.
"(Y/n)! No!" She said quickly grabbing back from me.
Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag.
The door of the compartment slid open.
"Very clever, Granger," said Draco Malfoy.
Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him.
All three of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing, than I had ever seen them.
"So," said Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at them, a smirk quivering on his lips.
"You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal."
His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered.
"Trying not to think about it, are we?" said Malfoy softly, looking around at all four of us. "Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"
"Get out," said Harry.
"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!"
He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. "Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well — second — Diggory was the f —"
It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, I blinked and looked down at the floor.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the
doorway. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their feet, all three of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so.
"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred matter-of factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside.
"Interesting effect," said George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"
"Me," said a voice from the corridor.
We all turned to see Edgar making his way towards us. "Probably best not to tell Dumbledore about this though." He added. "I'd probably get fired for attacking students."
"Well then, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor." George said happily.
Ron, Harry, George, and Fred kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle — each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit — out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.
"I heard what you were saying earlier Granger." Edgar added, causing her to turn bright read.
"Er—well—it was just a joke, you see-" Hermione spluttered, but Edgar just put up a gloved hand.
"Trust me I'm not turning you in, she been a royal pain in my arse. Can I see her?" Edgar asked.
Hermione hesitated for a second before pulling the glass jar back out of her bag.
"Ah." Edgar said gently taking the jar from her, looking at it closely for a second, before violently shaking it.
Hermione let out a gasp, as I chuckled.
"That's for all the lies you've written." I heard Edgar mutter to the jar, before handing it back to Hermione.
"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, as he Harry, Ron, and George returned to the compartment pulling out a pack of cards.
"I wish I could." Edgar said as he left the compartment. "But I've got some work to attend to. Be good all of you." He told us, his eyes narrowing slightly as he met my gaze, before he left closing the door behind him.
...
We were halfway through our fifth game when Harry suddenly asked George "You going to tell us, then? Who you were blackmailing?"
"Oh," said George darkly. "That."
"It doesn't matter," said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."
"We've given up," said George, shrugging.
But Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I kept on asking, and finally, Fred said, "All right, all right, if you really want to know . . . it was Ludo Bagman."
"Bagman?" said Harry sharply. "Are you saying he was involved in —"
"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."
"Well, what, then?" said Ron.
Fred hesitated, then said, "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"
"Yeah," said Harry and Ron slowly.
"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."
"So?"
"So," said Fred impatiently, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"
"But — it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione. George laughed very bitterly.
"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."
"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."
"So we asked for our money back," said George glowering.
"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.
"Right in one," said Fred.
"But that was all your savings!" said Ron.
"Tell me about it," said George. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well, and even Edgar told us he's he got a bad gambling streak. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts.
"They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"
"How?" said Harry.
"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."
"So that's why he kept trying to help me win!" said Harry. "Well — I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"
"Nope," said George, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory and (Y/n), and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."
George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again.
The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough; although I was dreading going back to the burrow, and all too soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark.
Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put, along with me.
"Fred — George — wait a moment."
The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew out his Triwizard winnings.
"Take it," he said, and he thrust the sack into George's hands.
"You slimy git." I said to Harry as I tossed my sack of gold to Fred. "Stole my bloody idea."
"What?" said Fred, looking flabbergasted.
"Take it," Harry repeated firmly. "I don't want it."
"Don't get me wrong I want it." I told the twins in earnest. "But I'm pretty sure you two can put it to better use than I can."
"You're mental," said George, trying to push it back at Harry, as Fred did the same to me.
"No, I'm not," said Harry. "You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."
"They're is mental," Fred said in an almost awed voice.
"Listen," said Harry firmly. "If you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long."
"(Y/n), Harry," said George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, "there's got to be five hundred Galleons in here."
"And five hundred in the other one as well." I added.
"Yeah," said Harry, grinning. "Think how many Canary Creams that is."
The twins stared at us.
"Just don't tell your Molly where you got it" I added.
"(Y/n), Harry," Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand.
"Look," he said flatly, "take it, or I'll hex you."
"Oh are we cursing people now?" I asked pulling out my own wand."
"Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."
Harry left the compartment before they could say another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks.
"Make sure you buy the robes from Harry's winnings and not mine." I told the twins as I passed them.
...
Molly was waiting beyond the barrier. Uncle Vernon was close by her. She hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him, before turning to give me a hug.
I simply pushed past her arms. "No need to waste time giving me a hug." I told her coldly.
"See you, Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the back.
"'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.
"Harry — thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.
"I'll see you soon mate." I told Harry giving him a hug. "Don't do anything too stupid."
Harry winked at us, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station.
We've got a lot of work to do (Y/n), still got that book the fake Moody gave you? Good. We'd better get started as quickly as possible. Making a horcrux isn't going to be easy.