EDITED
July 21, 2014
If you find any grammatical/spelling errors, please politely let me know. I am not a professional, nor do I claim to be an experienced author. I do make mistakes that I am trying to clean up. Thank you, enjoy.
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Okay, so Allow me to say, this story has only a few chapters left before the next book 'Girl Who Survived: Book Two' comes out.
This chapter is a filler... well, technically it shouldn't even be considered a chapter... and the reason for that is Because the next one is extremely sad and eventful.
I cried just thinking I'd have to write it. Sad day Thanks for listening to my rant.
[Chapter 18: Love and Fear]
I was closer than ever before with Cedric, and though I still carried a looming fear with me over the trial, I didn't let it hold me back from my feelings for him.
We were alot more affectionate in days to come, which I was secretly eating up--but not in the gross "you're cuter--no, you're cuter" way because that really wasn’t my style. Cedric made me a sap at heart, but I was still fighting to keep my sarcastic, witty Ivory façade on.
The next day, after the odd events of Harry rolling around on the floor in pain, no one questioned him as thoroughly as I had hoped for. I wanted some bloody answers, but I was reluctant in pushing for any myself. He probably would have told me if I asked enough times, but something told me he didn't really want to talk about it.
"Dumbledore reckons You-Know-Who's getting stronger again as well?" Ron whispered to Harry, Hermione, and I. (Hashtag SQUAD)
Harry shared with us everything he had seen in the Pensieve and everything Dumbledore had told and shown him afterward. He had also told Sirius, to whom Harry had sent an owl the moment he had left Dumbledore's office. I was almost afraid Sirius would slip up and mention my visit the other day. Granted, I hadn't told him it was a secret to be kept, but I'll kiss Merlin's beard if Harry wouldn't be upset with me for not telling anyone.
The four of us sat up late in the common room once again that night, talking it all over until my mind was reeling with unanswered questions and theories and jumbled information.
"And he trusts Snape?" Ron said. "He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?"
"Yes," said Harry.
Hermione had not spoken for ten minutes. She was sitting with her forehead in her hands, staring at her knees. She too looked as though she could have done with a Pensieve.
"Rita Skeeter," she muttered finally.
"How can you be worrying about her now?" said Ron, in utter disbelief.
"I'm not worrying about her," Hermione said to her knees. "I'm just thinking... remember what she said in the Three Broomsticks? 'I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl.' This is what she meant, isn't it? She reported his trial, she knew he'd passed information to the Death Eaters. And Winky too, remember... 'Ludo Bagman's a bad wizard.' Mr. Crouch would have been furious he got off, he would have talked about it at home."
"Wait, you guys saw her that day too?" I asked, turning to face Hermione fully. That wasn't the best day. I'd let my temper snap on her.
She nodded, "And I'm surprised an article about me didn't pop up."
"Mione--Bagman didn't pass information on purpose, did he?"
Hermione shrugged.
"And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?" Ron said, turning back to Harry.
I felt my heart jump to my throat. Madame Maxime was now getting blamed? I was there. I know it didn't happen. It would have been the honorable thing to come forward about what I'd witnessed, but somewhere in the back of my mind I was afraid if I did, that they'd just blame me for the attack. I didn't want to stir things up worse than they already were.
"Yeah," said Harry, "but he's only saying that because Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage."
"We never thought of her, did we?" said Ron slowly. "Mind you, she's definitely got giant blood, and she doesn't want to admit it--"
"Of course she doesn't," I said sharply, "Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita found out about his mother. Look at Fudge, jumping to conclusions about her, just because she's part giant. Who needs that sort of prejudice? I'd probably just say I had big bones if I knew that's what I'd get for telling the truth."
Hermione looked at her watch. "We haven't done any practicing!" she said, looking shocked. "We were supposed to do the Impediment Curse! We'll have to really get down to it tomorrow! Come on. Harry, you need to get some sleep."
Harry and Ron slowly trudged upstairs to their dormitory while Hermione and I stayed behind.
"I'm going to bed." I said stiffly, standing up and stretching. I felt as if she knew all about the fact that I was hiding secrets, so I decided it would be best to slip out before she could ask. Just as I turned around, Hermione had my hand and was pulling me back down to the floor.
"I just needed to get rid of them," She whispered, her eyes darting to the entrance of the boys dormitories and then back to me, "I needed to talk to you."
I nodded, sitting back down next to her. I couldn’t say no, that would only make me look more suspicious. Oh, here it goes. If she wasn't so bloody smart I wouldn't have had to act so oblivious. "Don't you tell Ron and Harry everything?"
"No, actually." She gave a soft smile, but it was soon once more replaced by her seriousness, "Ash, I know you were in the woods with Mr. Crouch and Harry the night Viktor was attacked."
I felt like I was about to be sick. This conversation was about to lead to a line of very uncomfortable questions. I could only hope Hermione had enough faith in me and my goodness that she didn't think I did it.
"Yes." I whispered reluctantly, "Mione, I'm not so sure I want to talk about thi--"
"I need you to tell me what happened when Harry left to go get Dumbledore."
"If-- if I tell you, will you promise never to repeat it?" I asked hesitantly. She shook her head no, and crossed her fingers over her heart. I wanted to grin at the gesture, as it was sort of odd for her, but my lips couldn't preform the action. "After... after Harry left, Crouch was still pretty convinced that the tree was Percy. When I asked him if he was going to be alright he said that it was too late for him. I wasn't sure what he meant, and was half convinced it was still just crazy babbling, but then told me I was in grave danger..." I began to spill my guts out to Hermione, not passing up a single detail. She looked a good mix of shocked and fearful the entire time I spoke. "... And then the two figures took him. I don't know how, and I don't know where, because I hadn't been watching that part. I was too busy getting to Viktor and calling for help. I told Dumbledore I didn't see who attacked Vik, which is the truth, but I heard their voices, and it wasn't anyone that I recognized."
Hermione nodded, looking both grave and thoughtful, "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Are you really asking me that?" I gave a harsh laugh, "Think about it. They're putting the blame on anyone they can right now. If I were to come forward and say this, I can guarantee Karakoff would to point a finger at me. These magazines and articles all portray me as some sort of mindless hot-head. Who's to say people wouldn't believe Karakoff after the things they've read about me?"
...
Ron, Hermione, and I were supposed to be studying for exams, which we would finish on the day of the third task, but we were putting most of our efforts into helping Harry prepare.
"Don't worry about it," Hermione said shortly when Harry pointed this out to us and said he didn't mind practicing on his own for a while, "At least we'll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class."
"She's right, Harry," I smiled, "If anything, you're helping us!"
"Good training for when we're all Aurors," said Ron excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a wasp that had buzzed into the room and making it stop dead in midair.
...
The mood in the castle as we entered June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry was practicing hexes at every available moment. Difficult and dangerous though it would undoubtedly be, I had the up-most confidence in all of the champions. They had already made their way past magical barriers and fierce creatures.
Tired of walking in on Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I all over the school, Professor McGonagall had given us permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtimes. Harry had soon mastered the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, which would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; and the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermione's that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses; Hermione managed to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx, and Harry wobbled around the room for ten minutes afterward before I looked up the counter-jinx.
"You're still doing really well, though," Hermione said encouragingly, looking down the list we made and crossing off the spells we had already learned. "Some of these are bound to come in handy."
"Come and look at this," said Ron, who was standing by the window. He was staring down onto the grounds. "What's Malfoy doing?"
Harry, Hermione, and I went to see. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it.
"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," said Harry curiously.
"He can't be," I said, "Hermione and I have both told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts. Come on, Harry," she added briskly, turning away from the window and moving back into the middle of the room, "Let's try that Shield Charm again."
Sirius was sending daily owls now. He reminded Harry in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry's nor my responsibility, nor was it within our power to influence it.
If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, my priority is to ensure your and Acacia's safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you two while you are under Dumbledore's protection, but all the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters.
...
Though I was confident in the champions, my nerves still mounted as June the twenty-fourth drew closer; they were not as bad as those I had felt before the first and second tasks. For one thing, I was confident that, this time, Harry and Cedric had done everything in their power to prepare for the task. For another, this was the final hurdle, and however well or badly they did, the tournament would at last be over, which would be an enormous relief.
Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry seemed to appreciate it all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it.
"What?" said Harry and Ron together, staring at her.
"Nothing," said Hermione quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but I grabbed it. I stared at the headline that read 'HARRY POTTER DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS.'
"No way. Not today. That cow." I scoffed.
"What?" said Harry. "Rita Skeeter again?"
"No," I said, and just like Hermione, I attempted to push the paper out of sight.
"It's about me, isn't it?" said Harry.
"No," I said in an entirely convincing tone. "It's just a piece on hair restoration."
But before Harry could demand to see the paper, Draco Malfoy shouted across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table. "Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"
Malfoy was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet too. Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry's reaction.
"Let me see it," Harry demanded, staring at me. "Give it here."
Very reluctantly, I handed over the newspaper. Harry turned it over as Ron leaned in closer to have a look too and found himself staring at his own picture, beneath the banner headline.
The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.
Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying.
It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potters brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion.
"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention."
The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public.
"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power."
Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence."
Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening.
"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" said Harry lightly, folding up the paper.
Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were laughing at him, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces, and waggling their tongues like snakes.
Again, I found myself wanting to choke the life from Malfoy. He's making my job not to care for him extremely easy.
"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron said. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard--"
"The window was open," said Harry. "I opened it to breathe."
"You were at the top of North Tower!" I said. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds! Even if it did, why would that bloody woman just be waiting at the ground?"
"She's right, you know." Hermione agreed.
"Well, you and Acacia are the ones who're supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" said Harry. "You tell me how she did it!"
"I've been trying!" said Hermione. "But I... but..."
An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione's face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair.
"Are you all right?" said Ron, frowning at her.
"Yes," said Hermione breathlessly. She ran her fingers through her hair again, and then held her hand up to her mouth, as though speaking into an invisible walkie-talkie. Harry and Ron stared at each other, while I continued to look at Hermione curiously.
"I've had an idea," Hermione said, gazing into space. "I think I know... because then no one would be able to see... Even Moody... and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge... but she's not allowed... she's definitely not allowed... I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library--just to make sure!"
With that, Hermione seized her school bag and dashed out of the Great Hall.
"Oi!" Ron called after her. "We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey," he said, turning back to Harry and I, "she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class--read again?"
"S'pose so," Harry said to Ron; but just then. Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward him.
"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said.
"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.
"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."
She moved away. Harry gaped after her.
"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" he asked Ron blankly.
"Dunno," said Ron.
"Harry, Ron and I'd better hurry, we're going to be late for Binns. See you later!" I said, waving goodbye to Harry, and then pulling Ron off.
Needless to say, the test was boring and far too easy for me, so I kept bobbing asleep and then jolting awake again. I finished long before the other students and then began thinoing to myself about the champions and their families. Maybe the Weasleys would greet Harry instead of the Dursleys. They were much more like family to him, after all, and I could imagine he'd rather have them there. Cedric's family would be there too! I began to daydream about what his family was like, and if they'd like me if I got a chamce to meet them. They couldn't be all bad to have raised such a wonderful son.
...
Once it was time for lunch, Ron and I took our normal spots next to eachother.
"Where do you s'pose Harry is?" Ron asked.
"If it's the Dursleys he had to meet, he's either hiding in a broom cupboard or in trouble for cursing their faces off." I replied cheerfully.
I looked up from the table and saw two strangers with Harry, making their way to our table. The male had long, fiery red hair, with a long and haunting scar across his face. He wore what appeared to be a band t-shirt, with fang earings. He was sort of attractive to me. The woman also had red hair that was tightly curled and slightly fringed. She was a short, plump, kindly-looking woman, wearing a bright smile and had vivid blue eyes.
"Mum--Bill!" said Ron, looking stunned as the three joined the Gryffindor table. "What're you doing here?"
"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"
"Oh... okay," said Ron. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's all right," he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, "They're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."
"Redclaw the Ravenous." I muttered under my breath. "You make them sound cute, Ronald, but they were bloody goblin wars."
Mrs. Weasley sent a smile my way, "Who is this?"
"--Oh, this is Acacia Ivory." Ron introduced me with a big smile, "We all call her Ash. She’s a dork, but you get used to it."
I fought away a scowl.
At hearing my name, the smile dropped from Mrs. Weasley's face and she looked most unpleased, almost disgusted, "Oh. This is the girl."
I froze, not at all liking how she had said it. Despite the blow to my cheerfulness, I did my best to remain such anyway.
"Mrs. Weasley..." Harry shook his head; she immediately looked away from me and paid him full attention, "The things Rita Skeeter wrote about Ash in those articles aren't true. She never broke my heart, nor did she use any of the people mentioned in Rita's stupid article. She's one of my best friends, and she hasn't done anything wrong."
Mrs. Weasley's expression had been changing during his entire speech. From anger and disgust, to weariness, to puzzled, to thoughtful, to the final smile that showed her fondness.
I couldn’t help myself but to smile at the end of Harry's statement as well. I was absolutey flattered at how much he valued our friendship that he was willing to speak on my behalf.
"Oh, well, I'm so sorry dear." she apologized with sincerity.
I laughed under my breath a bit, "It's perfectly fine, ma'am. I assure you."
Fred, George, and Ginny came to sit next to us too, and I was having such a good time that I almost felt at home with the family that wasn't mine; I had forgotten to worry about that evening's task, and not until Hermione turned up, halfway through lunch, did I remember that she had had a brainwave about Rita Skeeter.
"Are you going to tell us--?"
Hermione shook her head warningly and glanced at Mrs. Weasley.
...
After lunch I was buzzing with excitement because Cedric and I were going to meet up.
"Hello, stranger." I winked, striding forward and reaching up to kiss him.
"Hello." He replied politely, sparing me the smallest of grins. His eyes looked a million miles away from where we were, and I frowned, wondering why.
"Are you nervous about the tournament?"
His gray eyes trailed away from me, "No."
"Cedric..." I took his face in my hands and forced him to look back at me, "It's okay to be afraid sometimes, you know. No one's going to judge you for being on edge about this. You've been through hell in the other tasks."
He was quiet for a few moments. His eyes were closed in what I wasn’t sure was nerves or possibly even a tinge of sadness. He grabbed the hand I had on his cheek and held it tightly. "I have a really bad feeling about this, Ash."
His words were what truly struck me. He wasn't the only one with a bad feeling about it--I had one too. Hearing him say it as well made my fears a bit more concrete. How could everyone idly stand by and let four teenagers run off into something so dangerous? Something was stirring inside me uneasily, threating to manifest more than it already had.
"I-I'm sure it's just nerves," I recovered from my slight stuttering and managed to fake a pretty convincing smile, "You're going to do great. You always do, Diggory."
"If we ever have children together, I hope they have that sort of optimism." He gave an affectionate laugh. I felt my heart rise to my throat. Kids? He actually thought about a future with me? "It's an admirable virtue of yours, Ms. Ivory."
I could think of nothing else to say, so instead I blurted the first thing that came to mind, "You think about having rugrats with me?"
"That's not weird is it?" He began backtracking nervously, "I understand if you don't want to talk about it."
"It's just that, well, I have a terrible mouth, unsuitable for children, and the maternal instincts of a sea turtle. I couldn't--my kids would grow up to be convicts and--" I stopped babbling midsentence when I noticed him laughing and tried to collect my thoughts. "All that aside, I think it's brilliant you actually think of me that way."
"You know what, Ash? I don't mind that we're young. I think you'd make a lovely bride." he smiled that Diggory smile, making my stomach do backflips, "I hope you'll be with me for a very long time."
I bit my lip and nodded my head yes, "For the rest of our lives. I will be."
With those last words, he leaned down to kiss me again, and time stood still.
...
When I had returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast, Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and her eyes looked rather red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.
There were more courses than usual, but I was starting to feel really nervous now and couldn't eat much. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."
Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; the Weasleys, Hermione, and I wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.
As promised, five minutes later we walked into the stands on the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of the Champions: the entrance to the vast maze. Just from what I could see, the passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.
The air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. I was sitting with The Weasleys and Hermione. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.
"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," said Professor McGonagall to the champions. "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"
The champions nodded.
"Off you go, then!" said Bagman brightly to the four patrollers.
Hagrid whispered something to Harry, which made him smile a bit, and the four of them walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze. Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, "Sonorus," and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each--Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points--Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" More applause. "And in third place--Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"
Cedric turned and scanned the crowd, but once his eyes found me, he looked no further. He smiled and waved. I blew him a kiss before beaming and mouthing 'I love you'.
"So... on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three--two--one--"
He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze. As soon as the two boys vanished into the maze, I felt my stomach plummet. Something very bad was going to happen. Something very bad to both my best friend and the boy I was head over heels for.