Author's Note: This is becoming routine now, isn't it? The long, long wait for chapters? It irks us too, but somehow, something or the other keeps coming up and we end up having huge breaks between writings that sort of makes me lose link with the story. This time, it was a trip to Europe (I went to Harry Potter WB Studios and it was so awesome!), and a little too much work in July. We were aiming for uploading this chapter on 31st July – JKR and HP's birthday, but we missed our target as usual.

Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows, favourites and the PMs. I know I've yet to reply to some of the PMs… but I don't quite log in to FFN that often. I'm aiming to remedy that soon :)

Anyway, I won't ramble on now. Let's get on with the story. We've gone a little off the usual course in the latter half of the chapter that I'm very nervous about. You'll know when you read it. Hope you enjoy it :)

oOo

Chapter Two – The Goblet of Fire

The clocked ticked, agonisingly slow.

Draco paced around in Father's study. He stopped for a moment by the window, watching himself mirrored in the glass window panes. His hair was brushed back, not a strand out of place. His robes were one of his richest ones, the colour dark against his pale skin. His face was marred by the scars that Greyback had given him, the scratches silvery white darkening to a deep red from his cheek to his neck.

He looked composed despite how irritated and on edge he felt.

He felt a rush of pride at how Malfoy-like that was. But the feeling didn't last long as he dwelt on where he would be in a few minutes' time: at Diagon Alley, where hundreds of witches and wizards would recognise him as the lycanthropic son of an Azkaban prisoner.

Last year at this time, he hadn't been a scarred boy. He had been happy and eager, thinking he would cajole Father into buying a Firebolt for him. Father had been home back then, not rotting in Azkaban like he was now. For a moment, Draco felt a cold hand gripping at his insides at the thought of Father among the Dementors, imprisoned with scum like that Peter Pettigrew.

But there was nothing to do about that now. Father was gone; he wasn't coming back for the next half a decade. Draco was the man of the house now.

But Mother didn't even let me be that, he brooded. She didn't let me do my duty to Father, to House Malfoy. She gave it all to Sirius Black instead.

The insult still hurt him every breathing moment – Mother making Sirius Black the Lord Protector of House Malfoy, handing everything to him on a platter: the Malfoy wealth built by tens of Malfoys over the centuries, the ultimate say in every decision taken by House Malfoy, handing him authority over Draco himself until he turned seventeen, which was three long years away.

Mother betrayed me, he thought, pained and furious in equal measure. She never even told me what she was going to do. She signed away all my inheritance to Black, for him to do as he wills with it all. She betrayed Father. She betrayed our House, my forefathers, the very legacy of everything House Malfoy has stood for over the years.

The clock struck five, rousing him from the bitter thoughts, from the hurt that had cut him to the bone.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said curtly, knowing it was Mother.

"Draco," she said, tall and imposing like Mother usually was. But there was something different about her, a sense of vulnerability that had been there since Father had been arrested… but a sense of underlying power too, something he had never seen in her before.

She looked at him with what seemed like pride. "You look good. The robes bring out the colour of your eyes, dear." Mother walked to him, her hand reaching for him, to cup his cheek or kiss his brow perhaps.

But he looked away, making her withdraw her hand, hurt.

"Draco," she sighed. "Are you still angry with me?"

He glared back at Mother, noticing the lines on her face that had come up overnight since Father had been sentenced.

For a moment, her wearied expression made him bite back his words. But he found that he couldn't. "I am angry with you, of course!"

"Draco," Mother sighed, looking at him as if he was a little boy despite how he was as good as the Head of their House now.

Mother cannot treat me like this, he thought, turning away from her. Mother cannot give away everything that belongs to me to Black, who didn't raise a finger to get Father a reduced sentence.

But Father did wrong, pointed out a quiet voice at the back of his mind. Father cast the Dark Mark, Father tried to attack Acquila…

His head spun with the conflict between his mind and his heart, between Father and Acquila, between loyalty and love.

He hadn't been allowed at Father's trial, but he knew it was Acquila who had given the statement that landed Father in Azkaban. Her and that Cedric Diggory. But it wasn't her fault… she had always had reason to hate Father for the things that Sirius Black claimed Father had done – attacked Acquila's aunt, killed her grandfather Edward McKinnon.

The very thought of Father killing someone made him feel queasy.

But it wasn't Acquila's fault. It was Diggory's. If Diggory hadn't taken her to the woods, Father wouldn't have seen them, Father wouldn't have attacked them, Father wouldn't have cast the Mark and he wouldn't have landed in Azkaban, forcing his House and his wealth and his lone heir into Sirius Black's power hungry jaws.

"Let us go down," said Mother quietly, "Sirius will be here any moment."

"He should have been here fifteen minutes ago." Draco pointed out, annoyed. "He's deliberately keeping me waiting. To—to show the hold he has on me!"

"I'm sure something's come up at the Ministry, dear. Sirius is usually punctual," said Mother, defending the man like she had done from the very time he had been acquitted from Azkaban… something Father would never be for the next half a decade…

Azkaban, the mere thought of it made Draco feel queasy again – the Dementors hovering around Father, sucking all the happiness and good out of him, leaving him dark and bitter and crazy like Aunt Bellatrix… Draco shuddered, shutting his eyes and willing the images away. But they would haunt him, he knew, once it was nightfall and he lay in his cold bed… images of Greyback sinking his teeth into Draco's shoulder, Greyback lunging at an unconscious Acquila, Father being led away by a bunch of faceless Aurors, the Dementors clustering around him, sucking at Father's joy and memories and his very soul.

"You can take me to Diagon Alley instead of forcing me to go with Black," he told Mother, wrenching his mind away from the horror. "It's the least you can do as my mother. Or have you given this to him too? The right to be my parent? Is he going to replace Father now? Is this why you're having him take me shopping for my books?"

He could hear Mother's sharp intake of breath at his harsh words. For a moment, he regretted uttering them. But it was true, wasn't it? Mother should have come to Diagon Alley with him. It was what they had done every year. Mother, Father and him… gone shopping for his books and robes to Diagon Alley. Father wasn't here this year, but Mother could still have done her bit in keeping up the tradition, taken him along, shouldered part of the burden of the stares and whispers that would surely follow him everywhere, doubly harsh now that he was the son of a convicted criminal.

"I will let that pass this time," said Mother, her voice level but anger simmering in her blue eyes. "But you shall not be disrespectful to me again, Draco. However wrong you may think I have done, I am still your mother and the lady of this House."

Draco scoffed, turning away from her, the anger returning now.

"Do you think I do not want to come along with you?" Her voice was softer now. "But it is best Sirius takes you. He is the Lord Protector of our House now. We need everyone to understand that. We have to make a statement to the world at large." Mother's hand was on his shoulder now, making him want to turn around and find himself enclosed in her warm embrace. But something stopped him.

"You are still young, darling." Mother sighed, withdrawing her hand when Draco made no move to respond. "But when you grow up, you shall know why I did what I did. And perhaps then, you shall forgive the wrongs you think I have done you, my child."

"Tell me what it is," demanded Draco, something in Mother's tone tugging at his heart. "Why did you do this? Tell me what's wrong. I'm fourteen now, Mother. I shall understand. Did Black force you to hand over everything to him? Did he hurt you, Mother? I shall protect you! I won't let him—"

"Sirius has done nothing to hurt me, darling." Mother sounded honest. "He could have if he wanted to, seeing how I treated him when he needed a Black most. But he did not force me to do anything, and he will never hurt me. He has sworn to protect us. He shall keep his word. He is a good man. If Lucius had recognised that and made the right choices, perhaps we wouldn't have been where we are now."

Don't blame Father! Draco wanted to shout, shake the words she was uttering about Black out of her. But there was a part of him that told him she was right. Black had never yet done anything to Draco or Mother to make him suspect him.

Yet, old grudges took a lot of time to bury; and the sordid past that Black had with Father would never make him view the Lord Protector favourably.

"Someone's arrived," said Mother suddenly.

Draco curled his fingers into a fist, readying himself for spending an evening with Sirius Black. Oh, Acquila would be there too. But so would Potter. Draco didn't think even Acquila's presence could tide over the unease and distaste that Potter and Black evoked in him.

But when he followed Mother's gaze and looked outside the window, he saw that it wasn't Black but Remus Lupin, Potter with him.

Glad at Remus' unexpected arrival, Draco followed Mother down the staircase to the parlour below.

"Mrs Malfoy," said Remus, nodding politely to Mother. "Ah, Draco!" He smiled a genuine smile the likes of which very few people gave Draco since he'd been bitten. "It's been such a long time."

Like always, Remus knew his mind. He didn't question him about how he was feeling after the recent full moon or how he was doing since Father's imprisonment.

Potter, his hair falling unkemptly almost to his shoulders, nodded at Mother. "Mrs Mal—I mean, Aunt Narcissa," he said, polite but visibly uncomfortable in the Manor. "Hello, Malfoy."

"Potter," drawled Draco, wondering where Acquila was. Why wasn't she here? She should've been with Potter; they lived together after all.

"Acquila will meet us at Diagon Alley." Remus answered his unasked question. "Dora is with her. I'm afraid your son will be stuck with my fiancée and me today, Mrs Malfoy." Remus turned to Mother. "Sirius is caught up with some unavoidable work at the Auror office. He can't make it today."

Draco almost smiled at that. He would even take Nymphadora Tonks' annoying ways if it meant he could avoid having Sirius Black take him to Diagon Alley.

A quarter of an hour later, Draco stood in the Leaky Cauldron, brushing the soot from the fireplace off his robes. He was glad to see that he had grown taller than Potter had in these last few months. Potter had put on a couple of inches, but Draco was a little taller than him, making him feel a queer sort of pride.

"Where's she?" Potter asked Remus, looking visibly uncomfortable, which didn't quite make sense.

"Dora said they'll be at Twilfitt and Tatting's," said Remus, leading them out of the Leaky Cauldron. Draco saw Tom the barman smile a toothless grin at Potter; some of the other wizards and witches there watched the Scarhead, awed. But when their eyes fell on Remus and then Draco, they muttered to each other, whispers of Azkaban and werewolf audible even over the crowded noise.

"Come on, we'll meet the girls. I doubt they're done with shopping for Acquila's dress robes yet." Remus led the way, unaffected by the stares. He kept a steady hand on Potter's shoulder, Draco noticed. And he seemed to be extremely wary and alert as he looked around, his wand in his hand. Perhaps, the lack of Potter's usual Auror guard was making Remus doubly alert given that he was responsible for precious Potter's safety now.

"We've to buy dress robes for you too, Harry. Sirius said you need new ones now that you've grown taller," Remus kept talking, seeing that Draco and Potter weren't really contributing to any conversation. "You should get new dress robes too, Draco. Maybe you could help Harry choose his, seeing how neither Dora nor I have been to Twilfitt and Tatting's before."

Months earlier, Draco would have looked down on Remus on knowing he'd never visited the expensive robe shop. But now, he decided it didn't make any difference to how he viewed Remus. Maybe, he thought grudgingly, I'll even help Potter choose his robes if it makes Remus happy. Suggest him something that'll make him look foolish, he thought smugly.

"Why do we need dress robes, though?" asked Potter. The Scarhead had his hand in his pocket inches away from where he'd stowed his wand, as if ready to grab at it and cast a spell at the slightest sign of anything untoward.

It made Draco uneasy, making him wonder whether he should keep his own wand within reaching distance too, even though casting a spell was against the laws on Underage Magic.

"I don't know why you need dress robes, Harry," replied Remus. "But seeing it's specifically mentioned in the Hogwarts list, we'd better get you both good ones."

Remus kept up a stream of steady chatter all the way to the shop. But neither Draco nor Potter contributed much to the stilted conversation.

Finally, they reached Twilfitt and Tatting's, the door opening magically to let them in.

"Ooh, you look so beautiful, Lady Black!" They heard Madam Twilfitt, the owner of the shop, exclaiming.

When they walked to where Madam Twilfitt was, Draco saw her, her mirrored reflection rather, as she stood in front of the tall mirror: the emerald green silk shimmered as Acquila watched herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to see how the dress fit her. When she finally stood still, her hands on her waist, staring at her reflection, Draco saw how tightly the bust of the dress hugged her. Oh, she was nowhere as voluptuous as some of the other girls at Hogwarts were, but seeing the neckline of the dress dipping a little too low made strange things happen to him.

"Ah, you're finally here!" exclaimed someone. It was only then that Draco noticed Nymphadora Tonks, standing there with her bright pink hair. She kissed Remus lightly on the lips, then ruffled Potter's hair, and then grinned at Draco.

"Hi, Draco!" said Acquila. She came forward and kissed his cheek, making Draco wish she had done more than just that, making him wish she would hug him or—or—just do something other than walk away from him and greet Remus instead.

"You look lovely, Acquila," said Remus. "Lady Black, eh?"

Acquila chuckled wryly. Draco knew she was probably a little uncomfortable with Madam Twilfitt calling her Lady Black earlier. But the old witch was always very much into addressing her pureblood clientele by their proper titles.

Acquila looked at Potter then. She said nothing for a long moment. "Hello, Harry," she said, finally.

"Acquila," said Potter.

They looked at each other for a long time, silent. It all seemed pretty weird to Draco.

"How are you?" Acquila asked Potter.

But that didn't make any sense! They lived together at Grimmauld Place. Why would Acquila ask Potter how he was when they were together all the bloody time?

"I'm okay," said Potter. "I hope—well, you're doing good too?"

Salazar! What was wrong with them? Why were they both being so formal… and—and uncomfortable with each other?

"I'm fine, Harry. Thank you," said Acquila, turning away from Potter and looking at the mirror again, while Madam Twilfitt greeted Draco and asked politely about how Mother was keeping.

"So, Acquila," said Nymphadora, "I think we should buy this one. It looks gorgeous on you."

Yes, get this dress! Draco wanted to tell her, staring at how pretty the green looked on Acquila. She never wore green much, he mused. But now that he'd seen how pretty she looked in green, he wished she would wear it all the time. It looked so… elegant and… Slytherin like… like a proper pureblood heiress, which was what Acquila was…

"I don't think so," said Acquila quietly, and Draco saw that she was staring at Potter in the mirror. Potter wasn't looking at her, though. He had his hands in his pockets, seeming very ill at ease with everything as he stared around. "I think I'll take the other one, Dora, the one I tried earlier. I like that better."

"Okay." Tonks smiled brightly. "We'll have the other dress, Madam Twilfitt! And now, dress robes for Harry, eh? I saw some maroon ones for you, but Acquila said you wouldn't like them," she grumbled.

Potter's gaze snapped to Acquila, Draco saw. But he looked away as soon as Acquila looked at him.

Weird. So very weird!

"Yes—I don't think I'll like maroon ones," muttered Potter, rubbing his neck a little sheepishly.

"Ah, Draco will help us decide," put in Remus, putting his hands on Draco's shoulders and leading him to the section for wizards. "We want two sets of dress robes, Madam Twilfitt. One for Harry and one for Draco. Our boys should look their very best."

"Of course, of course! Such an honour having the Boy Who Lived at my little shop!" exclaimed Madam Twilfitt, waving her wand and having half a dozen of dress robes fly out of the shelves and stand neatly in the air for Potter and him to examine.

It took quite some time for Draco to decide on his own robes and for Tonks and him to help Potter (who had really horrible taste in colours and robe styles) select his dress robes. And then the five of them walked out of Twilfitt and Tatting's, Madam Twilfitt wealthier by a few galleons.

Remus led them to Flourish and Bolts. While Remus purchased the books for them, Tonks kept talking and talking and talking. Draco couldn't see how the usually quiet Remus could put up with her constant chatter.

It was only a little later that Draco realised that the Metamorphmagus' chattering was helping mask the very strange thing that was happening: Acquila and Potter not really talking to each other. Oh they put in a few words when Tonks spoke of everything under the sun, discussing who would be the new DADA teacher (something a smug Tonks told them she already knew but would wait for them to find out) and the upcoming Quidditch league season, but Potter and Acquila never really spoke to each other. There was none of their usual sickeningly sweet hand holding and exchanging those frequent glances and the playful bantering… something was wrong, something was very wrong,

Potter and Acquila having a tiff boded very well for Draco. But it still irked him, not knowing what went wrong between the two of them.

It wasn't until they were finally done with shopping for school robes and Potions ingredients and pet food for their respective pets, that Draco finally got a chance to talk to Acquila alone.

They were sitting in Florean Fortesque's ice cream parlour. Remus was treating them all to ice cream, and he had taken Potter along to take a look at some new flavour of ice cream Fortesque had come up with. Tonks was a table away, talking with one of her old Hogwarts mates she met at the shop. That left Draco alone with Acquila at the table – something he'd been looking forward to since the evening began.

"You don't seem happy," he told her, getting straight to the point, knowing he didn't have much time before the Remus and Tonks and the annoying Scarhead returned to their table.

"What do you mean?" asked Acquila. She was frowning now, not smiling at him like she'd been a moment ago.

"I mean, Potter and you. What's wrong? You're always so friendly with each other, and today you're barely talking."

Acquila stared at him mutely, then sighed. "It's nothing… just a little fight we had…"

"I don't think the fight was all that little if he isn't living with your father and you," Draco pointed out, deciding to try his luck and see whether she would answer him than be annoyed at his prying.

"We just fought, alright? It happens between friends. No big deal. I'd fought with you too after the Diary incident? We got over it too." Acquila sounded a little irritated now.

But Potter and you didn't seem like you were just friends, he wanted to point out, though even thinking of them together made him mad.

What did they fight over? Why did Potter get so mad that he left their home? Unless—unless they'd fought over Diggory! Over Acquila and Diggory going on that moonlit walk that had ultimately landed Father in Azkaban.

"Was it because of Diggory?" Draco blurted out, unable to contain his curiosity now.

Acquila looked rather miffed now.

"Is something going on between Diggory and you?" Draco pressed his luck, unable to hold back.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, annoyed. "Why would—"

"Here we are!" exclaimed Remus from behind Draco, handing him his ice cream cone. "This is yours, Draco. And here, Acquila, your ice cream. Dora, come on! I got you the raspberry one you like so much."

Tonks walked over to them, almost tripping over a chair. Acquila and Potter tucked into their ice-creams quietly.

But Draco watched the two of them, knowing he would have to get to the bottom of the matter.

If there wasn't anything going on between Diggory and her, and if things were over between Potter and her, perhaps this was the chance to be with her that he'd been waiting for since the day Father and Mother had promised he would wed Acquila Black.

oOo

She woke up to Nyx mewing loudly, the kneazle pawing at her arm through the covers.

"Go away, Nyx," grumbled Acquila, pushing the feline away with a sleepy hand.

Acquila wanted to sleep. It had been quite a while since she'd had a peaceful, uninterrupted sleep. Most nights, she tossed and turned in bed going over her conversation with Harry that dratted night, feeling angry and bitter and sad, her emotions jumping from one to another. Most of the times, though, she was more pissed off than guilty, though both sentiments left her feeling gloomy and hollow within. She'd thought she wouldn't be affected by it all for so long, but it still bothered her.

"Shoo, go away," she told Nyx again, turning to her side so that the feline fell off the covers with an angry purr. Nyx kept mewing angrily, jumping up onto Acquila's stomach, mewing and mewing and scratching Acquila lightly with her clawed paws until she finally sat up in bed, catching hold of Nyx and kissing her furry head.

"What's up with you, huh? Waking me up like that? Are you hungry or something?" she asked the kneazle.

Nyx only purred, staring at Acquila with her bright green eyes… like Harry's. It was why she'd chosen Nyx from the pet store three years ago, because the black coloured kneazle with the green eyes had reminded her of Harry.

Shaking her head, she got off her bed, Nyx waiting impatiently for her as she brushed her teeth. She glanced at the large clock when she was done; she had slept in pretty late. Wanting to meet her Dad before he left for work, she went down the staircases to the huge dining room, Nyx at her heels.

Harry was there already. He looked at her when she entered, and then turned his gaze quickly to his toast.

"Hey, sweetheart," said Sirius, grinning at her as she took the chair to his right.

"Good morning, Dad," she said cheerfully.

"Good morning, love," replied Sirius. She took a piece of toast and began buttering it, only for Sirius to give a fake little cough.

Acquila rolled her eyes. "Good morning, Harry," she said.

"Hey," said Harry quietly.

Another time, they'd both be grinning at each other at Sirius' suggestive little cough. But now she only looked away, concentrating on the butter on her toast as if it was something very fascinating.

From beside her, she heard Sirius sigh audibly.

The last couple of days, her Dad had tried to get her and Harry talking again. But his efforts had not yielded anything yet. He was bound to try again. He was never the one to give up, although it was a tough task Sirius was facing.

Oh, it wasn't like they didn't talk at all or something. They did talk… living in the same house, you couldn't go without conversing at all. They sat in the library sometimes, going through stuff on Horcruxes. They had breakfast and lunch and dinner together, telling each other politely to pass the fruit bowl or the sausages. Then they went to their separate rooms. Sometimes, Sirius had them practice spells in the evening if he came home early. But that didn't require much talking, really. Just casting spells and muttering incantations.

It didn't anger her anymore, really, seeing Harry. Oh, she hadn't forgotten how he'd invaded her mind, but she didn't feel that hot burst of rage she'd felt in Twilfitt and Tattings' – the one that had followed the instinctive joy at seeing him.

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to him. It was just that she didn't know what to say. She had racked her brains dozens of time, searching for anything that would mark the beginning of normalcy, but she just couldn't come up with the right words to say. They had gone for so long with their conversations being instinctively reading thoughts in the other's mind, knowing what the other was feeling with just a little twinkle in the eyes, a slight shake of the head, or a simple gaze and a sudden racing of the heart, that it seemed strange finding words that could make up for what they had lost, for what was broken, perhaps irreparably, for the end that she had begun and Harry had finished.

She knew, she knew that maybe if she reached out to his mind again, to his soul even, maybe she could set things right again, get back what she had pushed away – that comfort, that affection, the little gestures that had become a part of her life now… holding his hand and ruffling his hair and sitting squished together in that Muggle bean bag Dora had brought before she left, staring at the starry skies and talking about random things, and sometimes not even that… just sitting in a comfortable silence, hearing his deep breathing as he fell asleep next to her sometimes, his mind blank, almost peaceful, before a loud car zooming by on the street below made him wake up with a start, green eyes bright and his hair sticking up in every direction… the mere memory of it made her miss him, even though he was sitting right there in front of her, staring at his glass of water.

"So, what plans do you two have for today?" asked Sirius, a little too casually.

"I'm going to Black Manor," muttered Acquila, "Spending some time with Calliope. Dora said she'll come with me. She's got a day off."

Nyx mewed loudly. Though Acquila hardly spent any time with her Winged Horse, Nyx could get pretty jealous of the Winged Horse, wanting Acquila's attention all to herself on the odd occasion that she took the kneazle along to Black Manor. Acquila patted Nyx's head affectionately, the kneazle purring in satisfaction.

"That's great," said Sirius. "You surely want to meet Thunder too, Harry?" He looked at Harry.

"Um, I'll just sit in today… read up on this book I found Spells and Beyond." Harry pretended to sound excited.

Acquila knew he was lying. He'd have loved to come to fly with Thunder. But with things so awkward between them, he was holding back, of course. It was a very Harry thing to do – deprive himself of something that gave him happiness just to avoid conflict and make someone else happy.

Sirius sighed audibly. "Look, I know I should leave it for both of you to get over it on your own time, but just… just try to sort this out, alright? You can't go on like this, love," he told Acquila. "Nor you, kiddo. Long before the relationship and the break up came in, you both were friends, remember? You were friends long before you even knew about magic or the Soul Bond… don't lose that, alright? Good friends are hard to come by…"

Her Dad seemed a little uncomfortable, like he always got when he spoke of matters like this.

"I'll see you tonight, alright?" Sirius got up from his chair, Kreacher rushing towards him with his coat and his watch. "Just think about what I said, please?" He kissed Acquila's brow and ruffled Harry's hair.

When Sirius left, Acquila looked at Harry, her thoughts wrestling with each other. Harry looked back at her, seeming to struggle with himself. She said nothing, waiting for him to start a conversation. But Harry seemed to be thinking the same.

Huffing, she looked away from him.

Why couldn't he talk? Why couldn't he say something to break the ice? She didn't even know what to say, how to go about setting things right, how to admit that she'd been wrong, how to get over that feeling of Harry ripping through her mind.

Sighing, she put her plate away.

"I'll—umm, I'm not too hungry. I'll go have a shower. Dora will be here to pick me up," she muttered.

"Okay," said Harry, looking like he wanted to say something more but then decided against it.

"Mistress!" called Mopsy as Acquila was halfway up the staircase. "Master Phineas is calling for you!"

Sighing (she wasn't quite in the mood for a talk with Phineas now), Acquila walked to the room which had Phineas' portrait.

"Ah, there you are, girl," drawled Phineas. "I've been waiting for you."

"What is it?"

"Look at you. You don't even have the courtesy to greet me. Me, your esteemed forefather—"

"Good morning, Grandfather Phineas," cut in Acquila. The portrait could go on and on about respecting your ancestors if she didn't do what he wanted her to.

"Now tell me. What is it? Is it Dumbledore? Or did you find something about the Horcruxes from somewhere?" she asked him.

"I wouldn't call you to meet me unless it was something important, girl. I have better things to do, you know, than sit around with someone as mopey as you've been recently," said Phineas, surveying her with a disappointed sort of look.

"Mopey? I haven't been mopey or anything," huffed Acquila.

"Nyx! Nyx, wait—oh!" Harry stumbled into the room.

Acquila turned around to meet Harry's confused gaze. "Is Nyx here? She kept tugging at my sleeve and made me follow her—where's she gone? I saw her get in here!" He looked all around the room. But Nyx wasn't anywhere. Acquila would've known if the kneazle had come in.

"The great Boy Who Lived," said Phineas, "Fooled by a mere kneazle. Come here, boy."

Harry walked in, the door shutting softly behind him.

A flicker of triumph flit across Phineas' sharp features. But before Acquila could remark on it, Phineas went on speaking. "I've sat back and watched you both carry on this little tiff of yours for quite some days now." He stroked his pointy beard. "All the brooding and the running away from home—"

"I don't brood!" protested Acquila.

"I didn't run away!" exclaimed Harry at the same time.

For a moment, their eyes met, a ghost of a grin at Harry's lips. But they looked away and back at Phineas.

"—the formal talks and the heavy silences. I cannot tolerate your juvenile gloom and doom," went on Phineas. "I've told you, Acquila. You are the Black heiress for Salazar's sake! You are not supposed to be so sentimental!"

"I can't even brood in my own house now?" muttered Acquila, rolling her eyes.

"Ah!" exclaimed Phineas. "So you admit you were brooding—"

"I'm not—"

"Look," Phineas cut in, "I don't care what goes on between you two. I can't deny I'm rather glad you ended that business between you and Potter here. After all, he's a half-blood—"

"Hey!" protested Acquila, outraged on Harry's behalf, even though she knew Phineas was only teasing Harry in his own twisted way. Despite Harry's half-blood status, Phineas had grown fond of him, though he'd never admit it.

"But," Phineas went on, "I cannot have you both behaving like this in public. You'll be at Hogwarts in a few days. And House Black has to put on a united front, especially with all Malfoy business Sirius has got into—not that I'm not glad about it, mind you. Lord Protector of House Malfoy! Abraxas Malfoy must be rolling in his grave!" Phineas rubbed his hands gleefully. "But that's beside the point. House Black will not be maligned by this childish behaviour you both are carrying on with. The world has never known the infighting that went on within House Black—yes, that's never mentioned in the history books." He said at Acquila's confused expression. "Nobody knows how Caelum and Aries Black killed each other in a duel for Cordelia Lestrange's hand—"

"I thought they died of dragon pox," muttered Acquila.

"No, they didn't. They duelled to the death, those foolish twins, all for a half-mad witch. There's no need for you to know the details now. If your father was a better Black, you'd already know of these dark parts of our House's history. Of course, your little fight with Potter here isn't as tangled a matter as some of those our ancestors put each other through. But in these times, when Sirius is finally taking our House to the gloried heights that we've always deserved, I cannot have you two being so unfriendly with each other for the whole world to see. We cannot be perceived as weak, at any cost."

"We're just kids!" burst out Harry. "Nobody's going to think your house is weak because Acquila and I broke up! It's not like we're never going to talk properly, alright? We'll sort out things at our own time."

"Harry's right," put in Acquila, secretly glad that Harry was so sure they'd sort this out. "You can't force us to reconcile."

"You'll find that I can," said Phineas slyly, glancing at the door.

"What do you mean?" demanded Harry.

"You locked us in!" cried Acquila. She'd had a suspicion about that since the door shut on its own. She rushed to the door, trying to pull it open. But it wouldn't budge, not even when she tried the Unlocking Spell.

"Let me try," said Harry.

"My magic isn't that weak that I need you to open the door for me," snapped Acquila.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I didn't say it was!" He looked hurt, then annoyed. "I just thought I'll try opening it—"

"It's not going to open," said Phineas smugly from his portrait, sounding extremely pleased with himself. "You'll find that elfish magic can work wonders. The door will open only when you two have sorted out your disagreement. And pretending won't work. Ingenious, isn't it?"

Acquila looked at Harry, who was looking back at her. She knew they were both on the same page. Neither of them was ready to talk about their… situation. Phineas' stupid interference wasn't going to help matters.

"Dad!" shouted Acquila loudly, looking away from Harry. "Are you here, Dad? Are you in on this too?"

"Stop shouting like an uncouth Weasley! That foolish father of yours knows nothing about this," said Phineas. "He'd have been glad to let you both go on like this if it meant he didn't have to speak to you about it. He's quite a coward at times, isn't he? For all his Gryffindorish tendencies? I always knew that boy should've been in Slytherin. Such a shame—"

"This is ridiculous!" exclaimed Acquila. "You can't lock us in like this, okay? Kreacher! Let us out!" she shouted for the elf. But there was no answering crack of the elf apparating.

"Do you think I'm a fool?" Phineas looked almost affronted. "I've sent the elves away. Given them orders that ensure they won't let you out unless you both make up. Now, I'm going to give you both some… privacy," he said delicately. "That's one good thing to come out of the end of your short-lived relationship: I don't have to worry about leaving Acquila alone with you, Potter, now that there's no danger of you defiling my heiress."

"Hey, I never defiled her or whatever!" protested Harry. "She was the one who snogged me first—"

"I didn't!" exclaimed Acquila. "You did! In that secret passage! You got all drunk on that Firewhiskey we sneaked out of the Hog's Head, and then you kissed me—"

"For Salazar's sake, I don't need to hear all this!" cried Phineas, looking mighty disgusted. "Sort this out, this disagreement of yours. Or you'll have to stay locked up here forever."

"Dora's coming to pick me up," pointed out Acquila. "She'll let us out."

"Looks like being with Potter for all these months has affected your wits, girl," said Phineas condescendingly. "When I took care to ensure the elves won't interfere, do you think I won't have handled that little half-blood? Your Dora isn't coming here today. I'll go annoy Dumbledore a little now. By the time I'm back you'll have this sorted out if you know what's good for you."

Acquila stared at the empty portrait that Phineas left behind, then she huffed and sat in one of the squishy armchairs.

"Looks like we're going to be stuck here, then," said Harry, taking the seat opposite her.

"Yes. I don't think we can find a way out of this," she agreed, "He seems to have planned this really well."

"So… I guess we're going to have to talk." Harry sounded uneasy.

Acquila finally looked at him… the green eyes meeting hers, his hair that had grown even longer now, the jet black ends falling to his shoulders, that air of solemnity around him. For a moment, all she wanted to hug that gloom out of him. Smell his familiar scent and have her fingers mussing up his hair and feel the steady thrum of his heartbeats against her palm…

He seemed to have sensed her thoughts, because there was a sudden flash of joy in his eyes, relief and hope – it gladdened her own heart for a moment, before she felt the now familiar fury simmering within her.

"You shouldn't have done that," she heard herself saying, her voice calm despite the rage and betrayal underneath. She could still feel it if she tried to remember – the force with which Harry invaded her mind, tugging ferociously at every thought she wanted to keep concealed, finding herself powerless to stop him—she wrenched her mind from the memories, meeting Harry's guilt gaze.

"I'm sorry for that," he said quietly. "I was sorry the moment I did it. It was wrong of me—it won't happen again."

She nodded mutely. She had never expected Harry, of all people, to invade her mind like that, to force himself into thoughts she never wanted anyone to know.

But she pushed down the fury now. Harry was sorry; and she wouldn't drag this on any longer, not when she too, despite how she hated admitting it, had things to apologise for. Her inability to come to a decision regarding their relationship had taken a toll on Harry. He had patiently waited for an answer from her for a long time. He had deserved better, and she hadn't been fair to him at all.

"I have to say sorry too," she began, squirming a little, "I shouldn't have kept you waiting. I'm sorry I didn't make up my mind." Once she started, she found that it wasn't so hard to go on. "I wasn't ready to decide about us—I… well, I could never not want you, Harry, you're my best friend. What you saw in my thoughts, that was just because I was annoyed with the Bond and my magic… it doesn't mean I don't want you—"

"I know," cut in Harry, ever so understanding. "You don't need to—"

"I do," she persisted. "I should—"

"No," he said, "We both made mistakes… and—you know I can't be mad at you for long."

"I missed you," she blurted out. "I missed you a lot. I didn't know it could hurt so much, being away from you."

"I missed you too," he said. He went quiet for a moment, and then slowly held out a hand to her. She clasped his hand with her own, her heart singing when she felt his warm skin against hers. Suddenly, she didn't feel all that hollow within.

For a moment, all she wanted was to hug him. But it didn't feel quite right; hesitation held her back, and some lingering confusion. They weren't together anymore like that. Now that she thought about it, it had been so long since Harry and she were just friends, without any romantic sentiments on either side, that she'd forgotten how it was to be just a friend to him.

It would take time, she knew, a lot of time for them to work this out properly. But for now, she found enough solace in the feel of his hand in hers.

"You're coming flying with me, right?" She asked him with a smile.

"Of course I am," he replied, smiling a smile that seemed to set his face alight with genuine joy.

"Come on, then," said Acquila, walking to the door and finding that it opened at her touch.

"You know Grandfather Phineas is going to gloat about this for months, right?" said Harry.

"Yes," she chuckled, glad, despite herself, that Harry had known she'd been thinking about Phineas without even needing to access her mind.

"Let's go," said Harry, holding her hand tighter as her heart soared at the thought of flying the skies with him.

oOo

"Doesn't look like the rains are going to stop any time soon," muttered Sirius as they stepped on to platform 9¾. Now that they were under the roof of the very crowded platform, Sirius took off the water repellent charm he'd cast on them, Harry feeling a slight tingle as the charm was negated.

"Come on quick, and stay close to me. Looks like it's extra crowded today than it is every September. And ah, puddles… just what we wanted," muttered Sirius, his mood as grey as the pouring skies. But that was quite understandable. His godfather never quite liked seeing Acquila and him off to Hogwarts. He would miss them fiercely, Harry knew.

"Be good at school, both of you," said Sirius quietly, as they spotted the Weasleys. "And call me, on the Two Way Mirror. You know I'm always there for you, right?"

"Yes. I'll miss you, Dad," said Acquila quietly, squeezing Sirius' hand, their trunks magically following them.

"Me too," said Harry. Like every year, his excitement at returning to Hogwarts was tinged with a bit of sorrow at parting from his godfather. He knew Sirius would be lonely at Grimmauld Place now. It was different when Remus lived with them. Now that he'd moved in with Dora, Sirius would be all alone with only the elves for company.

Harry shared a glance with Acquila, who looked just as upset as him.

It was strange how quickly the summer had passed. The trip to France, the World Cup, breaking up with Acquila … it seemed like it had all happened in just a few weeks instead of the two months that had been since they left Hogwarts for home. But at least Acquila and Harry had patched up… that would put Sirius' mind at ease, knowing both his children were together at Hogwarts.

Oh, they weren't completely back to normal yet. But things had improved between them; it rather irked Harry that he had Grandfather Phineas to thank for their rapprochement, something the old man had taken to bragging about day and night, much to Acquila's irritation.

But Harry couldn't deny he was glad that Phineas forced them to reconcile that day. Or they'd both probably have gone on and on like that. All those day living at Remus' place and not talking to her had been hard. He had missed her a lot and he kept wondering if he had done the right thing. Now that they'd become friends, the world seemed right again, even though there was none of the romantic entanglements that had been part of their relationship for more than a year now.

It was still a little awkward between them. He couldn't deny he missed what they had been, what they could have been—but that was a thought best quelled. Acquila was his best friend; she had always been. And although it would be tough to stitch back all the strings of their bond that they'd both unravelled painfully the day of the break up, being around their friends at Hogwarts would, perhaps, make it easier for them to be the friends they'd been since they were eight.

"I'll miss you too. Both of you," said Sirius, as Harry felt his rough hand ruffling his hair.

"Ah, hello, Molly," Sirius exclaimed loudly, sporting a polite smile when they neared the Weasleys. Unlike the others on the platform, the Weasleys were soaked through their skin. Harry saw Malfoy smirking at the drenched red-heads as he came over to talk to Acquila.

"Ron!" exclaimed Harry happily.

"Hello, Ron," said Acquila. But Ron seemed a little miffed with her; he only nodded at her coldly. Acquila shrugged and went off to talk to the twins.

Ginny told them that Mr Weasley was out on urgent Muggle business; Mrs Weasley kept grumbling about some "please-men" investigation in a wizarding house. As Mrs Weasley went on with her story, Sirius dried all the Weasleys with a swish of his wand.

Within no time at all, the train's horn went off and the Weasleys scrambled to get on board.

"Call me, okay?" said Sirius, kissing the top of Acquila's head and pulling Harry into a one-armed hug before they both got onto the train.

"See you at Christmas!" Mrs Weasley waved her kids goodbye. "Well, maybe not. I'm sure you would want to stay at Hogwarts with everything that'll be going on."

"What do you mean?" Fred asked.

"What's going to happen at Christmas?" George asked.

"Dad! You know too, don't you?" Acquila called out from the window. Harry watched Sirius smirking at them both.

"Come on, tell us!" exclaimed Harry.

But Sirius only winked at them. "You'll find out soon. Goodbye, love. Goodbye, Prongslet!" He called out, as the train started, and Acquila and Harry waved goodbye to him until Sirius went out of sight.

"What do you think they meant?" asked Hermione curiously when they caught up with Neville and her and found an empty compartment.

"I don't know. Even Percy went on and on about it all summer," grumbled Ron.

The discussion went on for quite a while, but they couldn't zero in on what would make them want to stay back at Hogwarts for Christmas. Harry was glad they were all so interested about the mystery – it gave them something to talk about. This was the first time the five of them had met together since the breakup, and he didn't quite want them talking about the whys and hows of the end of the relationship, especially Ron who still hadn't forgiven Acquila.

All in all, everything was back to normal… well, kind of back to normal. During the train ride, Cedric Diggory had passed by their compartment, and Acquila spent a good fifteen minutes talking to him about Merlin knew what. It bothered Harry a bit. He didn't want it to bother him, but he couldn't quite help it. He would have to learn to get over it, he knew.

It was still raining when they finally reached Hogsmeade. Hermione cast a water repelling charm on all five of them, and they got into a carriage, the Thestrals whinnying as the rains lashed at them.

They finally reached the Castle, tired and hungry, only for Peeves to cause a huge disruption with throwing a water balloon right on Ron's head, and another that narrowly missed Acquila and burst at Harry's feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks; it sent everyone shrieking and pushing each other to get out of the line of fire… water, rather. It took a furious McGonagall's arrival (the deputy headmistress almost tripping on the wet floor and grabbing at Hermione's neck for support) for Peeves to finally flee the spot.

By the time they reached the House table, Harry's stomach was growling with hunger. He couldn't quite wait for the feast to begin. But the mystery of the empty seat at the staff table took his mind off the hunger a little.

The chair set for the DADA professor was unoccupied, and Harry wondered who they'd have this year. As his gaze swept past each teacher, he spotted Snape. The greasy-haired professor held his gaze for a long moment, glaring at him with his dark eyes. Harry, uncomfortable, finally looked away at the rest of the Great Hall.

When he glanced at the Slytherin table, he saw Daphne, who was also looking at him. She smiled and waved at him. Harry smiled back, before his view was blocked by Colin Creevey informing them about his younger brother joining Hogwarts this year.

"Do you think it'll be someone we know?" whispered Acquila suddenly. "The DADA teacher? Dad was awfully secretive about it all summer."

"It could be," said Harry. "If Sirius had his way, I'm sure we'll have someone as good as Remus. But it's hard to say…"

Acquila nodded, before pointing to the shivering first years who had just walked in with terrified looks on their faces, except for the one who was wrapped in Hagrid's huge moleskin coat.

"That's my brother!" exclaimed Colin.

Finally, the sorting began and then ended; Colin's brother was sorted into Gryffindor. And finally Dumbledore stood up, Harry's stomach growling audibly loud now.

"I have only two words to say to you," Dumbledore told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

Harry wolfed down his food almost as quickly as Ron did, tucking into the dishes almost as soon as they appeared on the table. There was cacophony in the Hall; everyone seemed to be talking at the same time, no one really listening to anyone. The warmth of the castle had made them forget the storm that was brewing outside, despite the loud thunder and the frequent flashes of lightening on the enchanted ceiling.

It was good to be back.

When the feast was finally over, Harry so full that he doubted he would even be able to get up from his seat, Dumbledore stood up for the beginning of the year announcements. He began with the usual warning and rules like he did each year.

"I am pleased to announce," said Dumbledore happily. Harry listened, drowsy. "That Hogwarts is hosting an event this year. It will begin in October, and continue throughout the school year. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

There was a deafening roar of thunder. The doors of the Great Hall burst open. A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a long staff, shrouded in a black travelling cloak. Everyone stared, the Great Hall breaking out in chatter.

Illuminated by the sudden flash of lightening outside, Harry thought the man looked familiar.

"That's Moody!" exclaimed Acquila suddenly. "Mad Eye Moody! Look!"

She was right. The former Auror walked in, scarred as ever, blue eye whirring furiously in its eyeball, staring at all the students. A dull clunk echoed through the sudden silence that fell, as Moody made his way up to the staff table.

"He's our DADA teacher?" whispered Harry, a little stunned. "He's our DADA teacher!" he repeated, immensely excited now.

Mad Eye Moody! The man who had trained Sirius and Harry's own father and turned them into such brilliant Aurors! He'd be Harry's DADA teacher! The man who made Sirius what he was today! Oh, this was brilliant! He would teach Harry—that would help him so very much when he grew up and applied to be an Auror himself! Sirius Black and James Potter's mentor! Dora's mentor! And he'd teach Acquila and him now! This was wonderful!

"Ron!" he turned to Ron. "Ron, this is Mad Eye—"

"I know!" exclaimed Ron, grinning widely. "Mad Eye Moody! Is he going to be our DADA professor?"

"I think so… no wonder Sirius sounded so smug about it!"

Moody walked past the Gryffindor table. For a moment, Harry wondered if he'd look at Acquila and him with his fake eye. But Moody passed by them without a glance, went straight up to Dumbledore and shook his hand. They whispered for a while, and then Dumbledore gestured for him to take the seat that was empty.

"This is our new Defense Against Dark Arts professor," Dumbledore announced. "Professor Moody."

Unlike how new staff members were usually greeted with applause, nobody except Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped. But Acquila, Harry and Ron began clapping too, still exhilarated that Moody would be teaching them. Taking their lead, some of the Gryffindors followed suit, before the clapping faded into silence. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him. Harry couldn't blame them. Moody did give off a strange vibe.

"This was Dad's idea," said Acquila, smiling a little. "Sending an ex-Auror as a professor to protect us. But Moody is good… I mean we know him, sort of."

"He'll be great!" said Harry.

"But if Moody tails us around school, I'll have to have a word with Dad," said Acquila. She was still smiling though.

"This is incredible!" put in Hermione. "We'll be trained in DADA by an ex-Auror!"

"His eye gives me the creeps," muttered Neville. "He looks a little scary."

"He's cool!" said Ron.

"As I was saying before Professor Moody's arrival ," said Dumbledore loudly, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're joking!" said Fred loudly.

"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," chuckled Dumbledore, launching into the rather dangerous history of the tournament, the changes they'd now made to the tasks to make them less life-threatening, and how they'd compete against Beauxbatons and Drumstrang who would be arriving in October.

"Fleur's in Beauxbaton," muttered Harry, remembering what the French girl had told them. But nobody quite heard him as Dumbledore announced that there'd be one champion selected from each school and the prize would be the Triwizard Cup and a thousand galleons. Fred and George and even Ron looked tremendously eager to participate, only for Dumbledore to add that only those who were seventeen years of age or above could take part in the tournament, much to the Weasleys' chagrin.

Finally, Dumbledore ended his speech. Some of the students were grumbling about the age restriction, but everyone looked very excited for the tournament.

Harry, though, looked at Acquila.

"Looks like we'll finally have a quiet year," he said.

"Yes. The spotlight will be on the champions. We'll get to stay in the background… now that's something to look forward to," she said, unthinkingly reaching for his hand.

Harry smiled, lacing his fingers with hers.

oOo

"So, they're talking again now, huh?" asked Remus.

"Yes, they are. And I have Phineas to thank for that," grumbled Sirius. "I mean it's great the kids are friends again… but Phineas locking them up in a room—he had Kreacher put a spell on it, you know? They would have stayed locked up until they truly buried the hatchet! That could have taken ages for all that cunning old man knew!"

Remus laughed. "Well, turned out Phineas was right in the end, eh? As long as the kids are friends again, I don't think it matters how they patched up, Sirius. I mean, I was afraid what would happen if they carried on like that for long…"

"They're fine now, at least that's what I think from whenever I've spoken to them on the Two Way Mirror," said Sirius. "I mean, I doubt they'll be as… close as they were. But this is better than that cold war they'd had going with all the not talking to each other…"

Remus smiled. "You miss them, huh?"

"'Course I do. They won't even be coming home for Christmas this time," muttered Sirius. "Yule ball at Hogwarts and all that… Anyway, how's your work going?" He changed the topic, not wanting to dwell on how he missed the children.

"It's going well," replied Remus, sipping his tea. "Some of the older men aren't really dealing with the rehabilitation well," he went on, referring to the werewolves his Werewolf Liaison Office looked after, "But the younger ones are doing really well. Amos Diggory's granted our office some funds for having a couple of teachers come to Cepheus' Castle to teach the children… you know, basic stuff… I'm hopeful some of them will even be able to handle studying at Hogwarts in future if they keep up their progress."

"That's great!" Sirius grinned, genuinely pleased. There was no better man than Remus for taking charge of the rehabilitation of the many werewolves who were arrested from the forests during the Greyback episode. While some of those who belonged to the murderous werewolf's pack were rather tough to handle, he knew some of the other lycanthropes genuinely wanted to lead a normal, crime-free life.

"How's your work going?" asked Remus.

"Not that great, really, seeing we still have no leads on Crouch Junior," Sirius muttered, calling for another serving of the pudding. "The only thing we know of his whereabouts is that he attacked Snape in Knockturn Alley. But that seems a little fishy, you know. I mean, Snape claimed Crouch attacked him and then went off when Snape tried to retaliate, but we have no witnesses. Not that folk who visit Knockturn Alley are going to be truthful to us Aurors or something, but we've got informers there. None of them saw Snape getting attacked or anything. And that's the only thing we've known about Crouch recently… that he was in Knockturn Alley to attack Snape."

Remus nodded, sighing. "I don't think Severus would lie to you, though. He has nothing to gain by lying."

Sirius thought back to the Unbreakable Vow he'd had Snape swear. "You're right, Snape won't really lie to me," he conceded.

"Apart from Crouch, how's work going? With Scrimgeour, I mean," asked Remus.

"Ah, Scrimgeour's sort of forgiven me for punching Malfoy." Sirius grinned. "Mostly because I cracked that Atherton case with Robards. Thank Godric for that. I can't tolerate Robards… he's an insufferable man."

Calling for yet another serving of the pudding, Sirius went on. "It's been a dull last couple of weeks, though. Not many cases on hand, which is good of course, but it gets boring at work. I mean, if there's no case to work on, I'd rather be out looking for the Horcruxes than sit in the Auror office doing paperwork."

"Is that where you were Thursday night, then?" asked Remus.

"Huh?" said Sirius absently, tucking into the pudding, still ravenous seeing he hadn't eaten since an early dinner last evening.

"Thursday night," repeated Remus. "I came over to Grimmauld Place, thought we could have a drink together. But you weren't home. Mopsy said you were out on a case."

"Oh that… I was helping Kingsley with one of his cases," Sirius lied easily. In truth, he'd been at Irene's house.

Damn, he should've known Remus could get suspicious. He would need to keep better excuses ready. It wasn't that he was hiding whatever he had going on with Irene from Remus… it was just that he didn't think Remus would… approve of it. And he didn't want to listen to Remus lecture him about relationships and moving on and being serious about life. He'd had that enough from Phineas and even Andy who wanted him to settle down with a good witch.

"Isn't Kingsley in charge of Azkaban, though? I thought Scrimgeour gave the prison security to him completely… took him off usual cases and stuff…" Remus was unusually curious.

"Ah, you know I can't tell you everything about our work, Moony," Sirius waved his questions off. "Confidentiality and everything."

Remus frowned, but then nodded. "I get it. Have you made any progress on the… Horcruxes yet?" Despite the privacy charm they'd put on, Remus was careful enough to look all around before uttering the word.

"Not much. I think I'm going to pay a visit to Bellatrix again. Or maybe Rodolphus this time. Even Snape thinks if there's someone Voldy trusted enough it was Bellatrix. And you know Voldemort Obliviated her of some memory—it has to be something to do with the Horcruxes," mused Sirius.

"Take me along then, to Azkaban. Not that I think you'll get anything out of Lestrange if she's been Obliviated," said Remus quietly. "If you don't get any information out of her, what do we do?"

"I don't know," muttered Sirius. "You know I went to her house, right? Checked every bloody inch of it… found nothing Dark enough to be a Horcrux. Remember that dark sort of vibe the Locket gave? There was nothing like that at Bella's house. Maybe I need to have a look at—"

"Kingsley's here," cut in Remus, watching the door.

The tall Auror came in, looking different in the casual Muggle clothes he'd donned. Unlike his usual genial look, Kingsley looked worried.

With a whispered word, Sirius altered the privacy charm to allow Kingsley in.

"Remus, Sirius," Kingsley greeted them both, taking a seat at the table. "Tonks told me I'd find you here."

"What is it?" Sirius asked him warily, knowing Kingsley wouldn't have come here unless it was something serious. "What happened?"

"It's Morfin Gaunt," replied Kingsley.

"Gaunt?" said Remus, "What about him?"

"You found him, then?" asked Sirius, remembering how he had found the Gaunt shack empty when he'd visited Little Hangleton last time.

"Gaunt was missing?" hissed Remus, frowning. "You never told me, Padfoot."

"We didn't find him," cut in Kingsley, "the Muggle police did."

"The police?" Sirius didn't have a good feeling about this. "What do you mean?"

"He killed a Muggle man, in the middle of the street. It's not good, Sirius. He attacked the police too—one of them is in St Mungos… the DMLE got called—the Muggle Prime Minister called Fudge… it's not good… you better come along now. Madam Bones is furious," said Kingsley.

Sirius stared at him, a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. "The Muggle he killed—"

"And elderly man, no family," said Kingsley. "But the policeman might not make it."

"Damn it!" Sirius growled, banging a fist loudly on the table.

"Padfoot—" began Remus softly.

"I got him out, Moony. I got Morfin out of Azkaban—and he's gone and killed an innocent man now! Damn it!" Sirius growled, running a hand through his hair, all the pudding he had had churning nauseatingly in his stomach at the thought of the murdered man who had died only because Sirius got a bigoted Muggle-hating lunatic out of Azkaban.

"You didn't know this would happen," said Remus quietly. "It's not your fault. You only got him acquitted because he was imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit. He didn't kill the Riddles—"

"But he's killed a man now, and injured another one grievously. I should have seen this coming the moment I knew he was missing. I should have tried to track him down given his past track record. Damn it!"

He stood up. "I'll see you later, Remus. Come on, Kingsley." With that, Sirius walked out of the restaurant, feeling guiltier than he'd felt in quite a while.

oOo

"I'm sorry I made you wait for me—but I got so busy doing Snape's detention," said Neville as Acquila and he walked up the staircase, "Disembowelling horned toads!" He made a face. "Thank Merlin Hermione taught me the Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under my fingernails—"

"It's alright, Neville." Acquila smiled at him, the thought of slimy frog guts making her lunch churn a little in her tummy.

After Neville melted his fourth cauldron in Potions the previous day, a furious Snape had given him a harrowing time at detention today, which had resulted in Neville turning up late for lunch at the Great Hall.

The bell hadn't even rung yet, but the rest of the Gryffindor fourth years had already left for Mad Eye Moody's classroom, they were so excited for their first DADA class. Fred and George were so awed by Moody, it had only made Ron and Hermione eagerly look forward to the class. To be honest, even Acquila was quite excited to learn from Mad Eye; after all, he was the one who had mentored James and Sirius and even Dora now. They'd be learning defence from one of the greatest Aurors of all time!

"I hope Moody's not like Professor Snape," said Neville a little nervously as he almost missed skipping the trick step in the staircase. "I mean, he looks so scary…"

"I doubt he'll be like Snape. He gets along really well with Dad. Even Dora likes Moody, though she was always complaining about how hard he made them work during Auror training. He's a tough taskmaster, but he's good. He's not a bully like Snape," said Acquila.

"Do you know him well?" asked Neville curiously. "Because he's related to you, I mean. Gran once told me he was in charge of House McKinnon until you—you know, were declared legally alive and everything…"

Acquila shrugged a little uneasily. With pureblood students, especially those in Slytherin, very well versed with genealogy, most of them knew that Mad Eye was related to her from her mother's side and that he'd been in charge of the McKinnon estate after her Mum was killed. That Mad Eye had kept funding the Orphanage all the years she was there was something only Harry and she knew.

The news that their new DADA professor was closely related to Acquila Black had spread pretty rapidly through the school. She'd even had Denis and Colin Creevey asking her all about what happened to Mad Eye's eye and where he lost his leg and whether he was always so jumpy and what kind of a teacher would he be. She didn't have any answers to most of their questions; she had met Mad Eye a few times but she didn't know him well at all. Whatever she knew of him was from what her Dad had told her, and Dora sometimes.

"I don't know, Neville. I've only ever spoken to him a few times," she told Neville. "But I guess he's a good teacher… he was in charge of the Auror training programme for years."

Neville nodded. "I just hope the class is better than the others we've had so far. Double Divination day before yesterday, Hagrid and his Blast Ended Screwts, Potions with Snape… it hasn't been a good start to the year so far."

"You forgot to add Herbology to the list," she told him teasingly. "All that Bubotuber pus."

"It was fun!" protested Neville. "Herbology was the best class we have had yet… Compared to the Screwts, collecting pus was so much better! At least you didn't have to try feeding frog liver to the Screwts! I still don't know where their mouths are! You're lucky you haven't taken Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid's great, but one of the Screwts exploded right on Dean's hand. Even Hermione reckons they'll only get more dangerous when they grow bigger."

"I'd rather take exploding Screwts than Arithmancy," said Acquila gloomily. "Professor Vector's cool, but Arithmancy is only getting more difficult… all the numbers and the calculations. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with it if the lessons only get tougher. But at least Ancient Runes was great! We're working on Egyptian runes this term. It's going to be fun!"

"I hope to do better at Transfiguration this year," said Neville quietly. "Gran wants to me take Transfiguration for my NEWTs, like my Dad did… but McGonagall won't let me unless I get better at my spells, and—" Neville stopped suddenly, nudging Acquila with his shoulder.

"What—oh," said Acquila, watching Cedric Diggory walk towards them.

"I'll—I'll go ahead, alright?" said Neville, looking suddenly very awkward. Yet again, Acquila realised how weird her break up with Harry had been for her friends, especially because Ron was adamant that Cedric was to blame for what had happened.

"I'll see you at the DADA class," added Neville, almost running up the staircase.

"Looks like your friend was in a hurry," said Cedric as he made his way to Acquila. He held a hand out, which Acquila shook, smiling. "How have you been? Quite a busy first couple of days, eh? I've hardly seen you around," he said.

Acquila smiled.

Cedric grinned at her, but then seemed to hesitate a little.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"I was wondering… well, how's Draco? And his mother? Mrs Malfoy looked troubled that day… when I gave my testimony against Lucius Malfoy…" Cedric trailed off, a little uneasy.

Acquila had barely got to talk to Cedric at Lucius' trial. Cedric had led his father away almost immediately after Lucius was sentenced, avoiding the flashing lights of the media photographers and the torrent of questions they rained on him.

Because Acquila was a minor they hadn't called her to testify. They only read out her statement. But they'd made Cedric the main witness and had even asked him a handful of questions about what exactly had happened before they judged Malfoy guilty based almost entirely on Cedric's testimony. That Cedric was concerned about the wife and son of the man who almost attacked him only showed he had a good heart, Acquila thought.

"They're not doing that well." Acquila decided to be honest. "But they'll be fine. With Dad being the Lord Protector and everything… Aunt Andy and he'll be there for Aunt Narcissa, even for Draco."

"That's great." Cedric sounded a little relieved. "Anyway, I was wondering—"

Suddenly, the bell rang.

"Damn, I'm late for DADA!" exclaimed Acquila.

"You've got Moody? You better rush to class, then."

"Have you had his class yet?"

"Yes," he said. "You'll see. Now go on or you'll be late. I wanted to talk to you… but we'll catch up later?"

"Alright. Bye!" She told him, rushing up the stairs two at a time in her haste.

"—Lupin's taught you well last year, eh? Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, it says here—"

A panting Acquila heard Mad Eye Moody's voice as she rushed to the classroom. The students seemed eerily quiet, almost like it was a Potions class going on and not DADA. Remus and even Lockhart's DADA classes had always been rather noisy. But now, there was silence in the class except for Moody's gruff voice.

"Professor," said Acquila as she stood at the door. He'd kept the register away, she saw, he'd already called out their names then. She was really late for Moody's first class. Damn, she shouldn't have stood there talking to Cedric.

"Come in, Black," said Mad Eye.

He, thankfully, didn't comment on her lateness as she took a seat next to Harry. Ron, Hermione and Neville had taken the chairs right in front of Moody's desk. Well, at least Mad Eye didn't look like he was one to dock House points for lateness like Snape did.

"So, while you know all about tackling Dark creatures, you're rather behind in dealing with Dark curses. We can't have that now, can we? I can't have my students all at sea when it comes to dealing with nasty curses and rogue witches and wizards—put that away, Miss Brown," said Moody.

Lavender, who'd been showing Parvati her completed horoscope, jumped and blushed, looking astonished that Mad Eye's magical eye could see through solid wood.

"You aren't even alert in my class. How do you expect to face what's out there if you aren't watchful always, huh? One moment you aren't vigilant and you could end up maimed or dead!" exclaimed Moody gruffly, his wooden foot stomping on the floor.

Some of her fellow Gryffindors seemed a little terrified at that, Acquila noticed. But Harry was watching Mad Eye keenly, almost eagerly. She knew he wanted to be good at defence, to learn how to tackle magic of the sort that Moody had fought in his long career. That Mad Eye was an Auror only added to Harry's eagerness… he wanted to be an Auror too when he was older.

"Constant Vigilance!" barked Mad Eye loudly, and Neville jumped.

"Now," went on Moody, "according to the people at the Ministry, I'm only supposed to teach you counter curses this year. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? When you don't even know how a real fight is like? There's no time to think when your life's at stake… you have to be quick, act faster than you can even think. Black!" Moody barked.

Acquila, a little startled at Moody suddenly calling out her name, stood up instinctively.

"Come on here, Black! Lupin told me that you duel like your father. Let's see how good you are at defending yourself!"

Acquila walked to the front of the class, a little uneasy. Why did Moody have to mention her Dad? Agreed he'd mentored Sirius and everything, but she didn't really need that burden of standing up to her father's legacy of being a brilliant duellist.

"We need some more space, huh," muttered Moody, getting heavily to his mismatched feet, his claw-like wooden foot clacking on the stone floor. He flicked his wand swiftly, and there were sudden yelps from all the students. Startled, Acquila saw that Mad Eye had pushed all the chairs and tables away, taking the seated students along, leaving a largish expanse of place for them to duel.

"So," said Moody, standing facing Acquila now; a sudden hush fell in the classroom.

Acquila's gaze flicked to Harry for a moment. He smiled encouragingly at her. She looked back at Mad Eye, whose blue eye too was staring back at her.

She had her wand out; her heart was racing for some reason, her palms a little clammy.

She hadn't expected this, she realised suddenly, the gravity of duelling Mad Eye Moody in front of all her classmates suddenly sinking in.

She hadn't expected to fight Moody in her very first lesson! He was Mad Eye Moody for Godric's sake! Auror par excellence! And he knew that Sirius and Remus had been training Harry and her over the vacations. He wouldn't hold back while duelling her.

But why did he have to call her out like this? And my magic is weak, she thought, panicking suddenly. I couldn't even cast powerful spells while practicing at home. How will I fight Mad Eye?

"Incarcerous!" exclaimed Moody suddenly.

She wasn't even ready! He hadn't even given her time to take a duelling stance!

She dodged the jet of light by a mere centimetre, her hair flying as the spell whooshed past her.

"Constant vigilance, Black!" barked Mad Eye.

The class wasn't silent anymore.

"Come on, Acquila!" she heard Ron call out.

"Constant Vigilance!" exclaimed Mad Eye again. Midway through uttering the words, his wand slashed the air again. He didn't even utter the incantation this time.

Acquila's Shield Charm came up at the very last moment, stumbling a little at the force of Mad Eye's spell.

"Not good enough, Black!" growled Mad Eye. "Defend! Take control of your magic—Deprimo!"

Acquila jumped away in the nick of time, the spot where she'd stood a moment ago now a hole in the stony floor. Moody's curse had blasted off part of the floor.

"Is that the best you've got, Black? Jumping away like a Muggle? Use your magic, girl!" said Moody, his scarred face flashing a grin that infuriated Acquila.

"Stupefy!" she exclaimed, the red jet of light from her wand rushing at Moody before he deflected it at the very last moment. But she was ready for him. She knew he was magically very powerful for her spells to get past his shields. But she knew other nifty spells that could try to contain him. That was the only way she could get him, using jinxes he wasn't expecting, aimed at his weaker spots.

She pointed her wand at the floor at his wooden foot, shouting a jinx that Remus had taught her one sunny afternoon at Black Manor last year.

The floor at Moody's foot turned into a patch of marshy quicksand, but Moody had already jumped away from it, surprisingly agile for a man with a wooden foot. She didn't stop, though. She was ready with her next spell, a Leg Locker Curse that Moody blocked easily, followed by a potent Stinging Hex at his face, which he flicked off with a lazy wave of his wand.

"You're improving, you're quicker, Black, but is this all you've got, really?" growled Mad Eye, sending a spell that came rushing at her, shining a bright maroon. She didn't even know what spell it was, seeing he wasn't casting them verbally. But the spell hit her before she could react, hitting her left arm painfully, making her feel like her arm was being stung by a hundred little creatures.

"Oww—what the—" The next spell came before she could even scream out in pain or try to soothe her arm that felt like it was afire now. It was surely a Blinding Curse, and Acquila fended it off with a well-cast Diverting Charm that had the spell turning paths and speeding right at Moody, who ducked and let it race over his head and crash into the wall behind him with a loud bang.

She used the moment to cast a Numbing spell at her own arm. It suddenly left her with no feeling in her arm, but that was better than how it was burning painfully moments ago.

When she looked back at Moody, she saw he was up already, with an effortless-seeming flick of his wand that had the teacher's table slide swiftly towards her, seeking to trap her as she backed into the wall.

"Confringo!" she cried, the first spell that came to her mind. She flung herself into the wall, turning her face away to shield it, her left arm hanging uselessly by her side. The table exploded, sending shards of wood flying all around, the students yelping and shouting.

"Stupef—" she shouted, trying to get to her feet, aiming at Moody who seemed unperturbed and unhurt. But his spell came flying at her, her quick Impediment Jinx arresting its speed as she rolled away, almost ramming into the empty chair lying there.

"Stupefy! Petrificus Totallus!" she cried again, knowing she'd misjudged him, chosen the wrong strategy. It was no use aiming at his legs or using the Marauders' jinxes. She couldn't beat him that way. She would have to use all her power, dig deep and bring out the magic that had deserted her since even before the Greyback episode. She would have to incapacitate Mad Eye or he'd have her beaten within moments.

She was already panting, tired and exhausted, her arm numb and feeling lifeless, with wooden splinters from the blasted table sticking in her hair and digging a little painfully in back of her neck which had been exposed to the blast.

"Stupefy!" she cried again, as Moody waved off her previous spells away. She cast the Jelly Fingers spell, following it up immediately with another Stunner.

But then, without even realising what she had done, without even meaning to have cast it, she saw a burst of magic fly off the tip of her wand… a spell that managed to get past Mad Eye's defence and hit him right on his good leg – the Knee Reversing Curse.

"Argh!" Moody let out a pained cry, stumbling, his knee reversing with a loud crack.

But he swiftly grabbed the table for support, still remaining standing on his wooden leg that the Curse couldn't affect. He was obviously super tolerant to pain, given his War history; but she had literally brought him to his knees, and she now noticed that his wand had slipped in his effort to grab at the table.

Jubilant, the room loud with her fellow students' cheers, she swished her wand, meaning to end it with a Stupefy as she stared into a hunched Moody's eyes, both of them glaring back at her.

That was when it happened – a presence in her mind, trying to delve in, to grab at her memories, at her thoughts—kissing Harry in the secret passageway, watching Lucius cast the Dark Mark in the sky—she pushed back with all her might, furious at the intrusion. It reminded her agonisingly of what Harry had done that night, digging into her mind, pulling out thoughts she'd wanted to keep buried forever—watching her Dad cry at her Mum's grave, watching her Mum emerge from the Locket, ghostly yet beautiful, calling out for her daughter—no! That was private! Her Mum, Voldemort's Locket, her Mum calling to her, Acquila, my sweet girl, my child, Acquila—

"NO!" she screamed aloud, throwing Moody out of her mind with all the force she could muster, her trembling legs almost buckling with all the effort she used.

When she opened her eyes, Mad Eye Moody was lying on the floor, Ron and Neville were cheering the loudest, the others clapping. If she had looked at them, she would have seen how ashen-faced some of them were.

But Acquila slowly slid to the floor, feeling suddenly weak and exhausted with all the effort she had put into pushing Moody out of her mind. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, the beginning of a nasty headache in her head, rage and bitterness wrestling each other.

Moody sat up, setting his knee right with a grumbled spell and then getting to his feet.

"There's a lot of room for improvement, Black," he growled, as she stood up on wobbly legs, making her way to her seat.

Harry was there, of course. Even seeing him reminded her that he had done similarly that day, violated her mind, grabbed at thoughts that were private, for her mind alone.

"You were good there in the end," Moody conceded, as he got into his seat, one eye on her and the artificial one on Harry, his wand held tight in his hand now. "But you can get a lot better, Black. You need to. And that's what I'm here for." He turned to the class at large. "Did you see what it's out like in the real world? Did you see how good you've got to be to fight even the simplest of curses? One moment of indecision, of moment of inattention and you'll get blasted off your feet or have an Unforgivable Curse used on you. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills...copy this down—a list of defensive spells that you can use. I'm going to tell you about each one of them, the incantation, the wand movement, and you're going to take notes. And in the next class, you're all going to practice casting these spells. We have a lot of ground to cover and only one year of time left."

"What—aren't you staying?" blurted Ron.

"I'm here just this one year… special favour for a friend," he looked at Acquila as he said this. She knew he was referring to Sirius. "Next year, I'll finally get into a quiet retirement. I've had enough of training Aurors, and I don't think I can take more than a year of teaching kids like you. The would-be Aurors I train take lot less work than you do. Now, what are you waiting for? Copy this down, all of you!"

Acquila took a quill from her bag, but she didn't start writing.

This wasn't fair – Mad Eye, the spells he used, invading her mind… Is that why Dad had him teach us this year? To prepare us for what's out there? To make sure we keep practicing spells and getting better at magic?

But what Moody did today, it didn't seem like her Dad would approve of it. Hell, all the times Sirius had practiced magic with her, he'd never cast spells that were even half as powerful as Moody's. Remus and her Dad always held back, keeping Harry and her young age in mind.

Maybe she could tell her Dad, tell him what Mad Eye did.

But she didn't want to complain… she didn't want to act like some little girl who went running to her father… and hadn't Mad Eye made her Dad into the great Auror he was?

She would need that, if Trelawney's prophecy came true and Voldemort arose again, darker, more powerful. She would need to be strong, to improve her magic, to do all she could to keep Harry safe.

"I told you to copy that down, Black!" barked Moody.

"Yes, professor," she muttered, glancing at the blackboard and then proceeding to copy the notes down. But her hand was still trembling, a blot of ink seeping into the parchment.

She found Harry's hand slipping into her left hand, making her feel suddenly calm. The feeling of his warm palm against hers made her realise that Harry had set her numbed arm right again. She hadn't even noticed it with all the brooding she'd been doing.

She looked at him, squeezing his hand gently, meeting his eyes.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to put his arm around her, like he always did when he wanted to comfort her. He hesitated, and then looked away from her, suddenly awkward.

She pulled her hand gently from his grasp, and began writing down notes on the Shield Charm, still uncertain about what had happened.

oOo

The wooden floorboards creaked as he put another foot forward, the air heavy with the scent of dust and long disuse. The darkness only gave the long passageway a sinister tint as Severus made his way to the end of the passage, masking the sound of the creaky floor with a non-verbal spell.

When he reached the end of the narrow passage which ended in a large blank expanse of stone wall, Severus breathed in deeply, only to regret it when he inhaled the dusty odour. Kneeling down, he moved his palm along the stones that made up the wall, almost blind in the unnatural darkness that prevailed around him. He counted the uneven stones – two to the right, one down, and down and down until there it was: the little engraved symbol that he now traced with his fingers. He pulled back his sleeve, and pressed his forearm to the cold stone, feeling something emerge out of the stone and make the Dark Mark on his skin feel suddenly warm.

It lasted only a second.

Before he could even get to his feet, brushing the dust of the knees of his robes, he found the stone wall sliding down into the ground.

"There you are," drawled the wizard sitting in the tall chair in the room that lay open to him now.

"Nott." Severus nodded at the man, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness of the circular room that was lit by the torches along its curving walls.

It was a storeroom in the basement of an old dilapidated Muggle factory long abandoned by its owners. During the War, Evan Rosier had magically secured it to use as a sort of safe house for him and his fellow Death Eaters. Severus hadn't been here for almost a decade and a half. But he remembered the last time he had been in the stony room, along with Regulus Black, to report on Rabastan Lestrange's successful attack on an unyielding Ministry worker.

"We thought you wouldn't come," sneered Yaxley.

"We thought you'd switched sides, become that old coot's lapdog," cackled Macnair.

"Unlike you, Macnair, I still have a job to do," Severus said coldly, taking the sole empty chair in the room. "Pesky students to teach, Dumbledore's trust to hold, Alastair Moody's suspicious gaze to evade – far more trying tasks than you have ever had to do."

Macnair scowled, making to retort heatedly. But a raised hand from Lord Theodore Nott had him remain silent.

Severus gazed around the room. Crabbe and Goyle looked strangely smaller despite their relatively big girths. It probably had to do with the absence of Lucius with them. There was Nathan Rosier; he nodded slightly at Severus. Wilkes was there too, as was Gibbon.

The Carrow siblings were missing. But they'd gone underground months ago when the Aurors had released them after interrogating them on the Greyback's whereabouts when the werewolf was on the run.

"What news do you have for us, Goyle?" Nott asked the senior Goyle. "Did you manage to speak to Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Not yet," muttered Goyle. "My mother even sent Narcissa a letter, asking to come over for the usual party the witches hold. But Narcissa only sent back a polite refusal."

"She has gone over to Black completely then," said Macnair angrily.

"She's locked herself up in Malfoy Manor," put in Crabbe. "Vincent said she didn't even take Draco to Diagon Alley this year. Lupin and that half-blood Tonks did, with Potter and Acquila Black—"

"That was more of Narcissa making a statement to the world at large," put in Nott. "For all that her father and Lucius kept her away from politics and despite her questionably parentage, Narcissa grew up a Black. I always suspected she has a little of her sister's political shrewdness in her—I mean her sister Andromeda, Gibbon, not Bellatrix," Nott told Gibbon who had made to interrupt. "Bellatrix was powerful and feisty, yes, but she never quite had the cunning and diplomacy that politics requires."

"That is beside the point, Theodore," cut in Yaxley. "We aren't here to discuss the fucking Black sisters. What do we do now?"

"Severus," Nott turned to him. "Crabbe and Goyle claim to have had no inkling at all of Lucius' actions at the Quidditch World Cup."

A sudden hush fell across the room. Severus saw Wilkes rub unconsciously at the Dark Mark on his forearm.

"We were wondering if you knew something about it. After all, Lucius and you always kept in contact, didn't you?" Nott went on.

"Not really. He did send the odd owl asking about Draco's progress at classes. But we were never close enough for him to tell me what made him resort to that extreme step," replied Severus.

"I don't get it!" burst out Macnair. "How does nobody know what was up with Lucius? What the fuck made him cast the Dark Mark at an international event?"

"That Diggory boy and Acquila Black testified that he was heavily drunk," said Nathan Rosier. "He had taken to drinking excessively lately, after what Greyback did to Draco—"

"Lucius was never a fool, Nathan," said Crabbe. "I know him since we were children. He did take to drinking lately, but he would never lose his mind enough to cast the Dark Mark and put himself in danger with the Aurors. You know how many strings he pulled to stay out of Azkaban all these years. Even Barty Crouch and Amelia Bones couldn't get him convicted. He would never have done something like this… unless…" he trailed off uneasily.

"Unless the Dark Lord made contact with him," completed Nott. "Unless the Dark Lord reached out to him, instructed Lucius to do something like this—"

"It makes no sense!" exclaimed Yaxley. "Why would the Dark Lord contact Lucius first when all of us have been far more loyal to him? You know how Lucius had gotten the last time we met: telling us to keep low and contribute to the bloody Werewolf fund and keep away from anything Dark because he was bloody scared of Black sniffing around us like a blood hound—he as good as turned his back on the Dark Lord—"

"The Dark Lord doesn't know that—" put in Wilkes.

"The Dark Lord knows everything!" roared Macnair. "He chose Lucius for a reason! He had Lucius cast the Dark Mark for a reason, to tell us that he is back, waiting for us to join him again!"

"Lucius is in Azkaban now," ventured Rosier, "He could have already lost half his wits for all we know. We don't even know for certain that the Dark Lord—"

"Why else would a man as prudent as Malfoy do something that was sure to land him in Azkaban?" cried Yaxley. "And in front of Black's daughter, for Salazar's sake! Lucius was upset after Draco got turned, but he wasn't an idiot, Nathan! He wouldn't land himself in Azkaban unless he was made to, forced to even—"

"I don't know what to do!" cut in Wilkes, who had been silent yet. "I don't know! I keep thinking the Aurors will come knocking on my doors any moment—you know how it was when Greyback attacked the orphanage… high and mighty ones like Nathan and you remained safe, Lord Nott, but it was us little fish Black sent his hounds after—they came looking for me, they detained Alecto and Amycus—I fear they'll come for me again, to question us, to know what we are up to, to know whether the Dark Lord is truly returned—whether we are returning to his fold again—"

"He's right," ventured Gibbon, staring at Wilkes who was trembling now. "I've been keeping a low profile too… I keep wondering what I should do—the Mark's getting darker every day… if the Aurors get their hands on me, if they even know we've all gathered here today, they'll have me locked up in no time… I kept looking over my shoulder while coming here today—I'm afraid… but—but if the Dark Lord is truly back, I should go look for him, offer my loyalty to him again… I don't know what to do…"

Nott said nothing, while Nathan Rosier watched not the two frightened men but Yaxley and Nott.

"I—I have tried to look for him," admitted Yaxley quietly. "But if the Dark Lord is truly returned, he does not want to be found yet. I have looked everywhere, all our old safe houses and the Dark Lord's favourite haunts. But our Master is nowhere."

"But he shall need us!" exclaimed Macnair. "He shall need his faithful followers! Why is he not reaching out to us? Why won't he let us serve him again?"

"Because he already has someone working for him," said Nott quietly. "Or he would have demanded our services long before now."

"Tell me truly," said Yaxley, "Has the Dark Lord established contact with any of you? Theodore? Nathan? Severus?"

"No," Severus' tone was calm and direct. "I do not know where he is. Nor do I intend to go looking for him yet, not when I have Moody keeping a watch on me every minute of the day."

Severus wasn't lying about Moody. His magical eye always seemed focussed on Severus, watching and watching and watching for the slightest sign of suspicious behaviour. Coupled with his deep hatred of Death Eaters, his paranoia, and the fact that Black hadn't told his former mentor of the Unbreakable Vow that ensured Severus could never harm Lily's son, Moody's suspicions weren't unwarranted given Severus' history with the Dark Lord's followers.

Even the Dark Lord himself had told Severus not to come seeking him at Riddle Manor. It wouldn't do to have one of his only two servants caught venturing out of Hogwarts at unusual hours by Mad Eye Moody.

As for lying to his fellow wizards about not knowing of the Dark Lord's whereabouts, Severus preferred to keep it that way for now. The Dark Lord, for reasons Severus could fathom, had agreed for his followers to remain in the dark about his location and the fact that Barty Crouch Junior was alive and that Severus was aiding him.

He trusted no one, the Dark Lord. He didn't even trust Severus yet… he wouldn't, not until he did what the Dark Lord would demand of him when the time arose. It wasn't something Severus was looking forward to, but something he would have to do when the Dark Lord commanded him to, whatever the task may be.

"If there was someone the Dark Lord would want back in his service, I think it is you, Theodore," Severus went on, deftly diverting the attention to Nott. "With Lucius joining the Lestranges in Azkaban, you are the highest-ranking Death Eater among us all now. Your wealth, your position on the Wizengamot… if the Dark Lord will contact someone, it will no doubt be you… unless he has already done so."

"He hasn't," admitted Nott gruffly. "I do not know where he is. I would give anything to know of him. Black is rising rapidly—the protectorship of House Malfoy… it doesn't send out a good signal to the lower ranks of our fellow followers. Even though Lucius has nothing to do with Narcissa's decision, it is seen as House Malfoy surrendering to Sirius Black, to Harry Potter even. Sirius already got the Werewolf Act passed, he got Umbridge out of her job, he put Urquhart in Barty Crouch's job, created a new official post for Lupin, got Moody to teach at Hogwarts… his power is rising, and we need to nip it soon before he has even the fence-sitters eating out of his hands. We need the Dark Lord for that… to galvanise those who aren't here today, to bring back those who have left us, to get back all that we have lost and stand to lose."

"I will look for him again," vowed Yaxley. "I won't stop until we find him."

"You will tell me, then, if the Dark Lord makes himself known to you?" said Gibbon. "I am going underground. I cannot risk being taken by the Aurors again. You know where to find me if need be."

"Both of us as well," said Crabbe. "With Lucius imprisoned, Goyle and I look up to you to take over, Theodore. We—we were questioned by Rufus Scrimgeour after Lucius was arrested."

Goyle wiped at his brow. "So many questions, and Savage shouting at us, twirling his wand—you do not know how terrifying it was. I will not be detained by them again, Theodore… I do not even have Lucius to protect my family and me now. Gregory and Gertrude… I have to think of my wife and my son too. I cannot be found looking for the Dark Lord. Black has his informers everywhere. But if you find the Dark Lord, I shall return to his service, I promise I swear… I shall surrender myself to him and his mercy…"

"You share Goyle's sentiments, I presume, Nathan?" Nott turned to Rosier.

"I shall wait and watch," Nathan Rosier said with a smile.

"We are done here, then," said Nott, standing up. "We shall not meet again. So many of us at one place, we cannot risk being watched or espied or caught. Yaxley and I shall look for the Dark Lord. When he reveals himself to us, I shall contact you the usual way."

"You shall inform us of any developments, Severus?" asked Crabbe. "After all, Dumbledore always knows everything, and the man trusts you."

"Of course," said Severus. "I shall tell you what I find out."

"Until next time, then," said Nott, "and if all goes well, we shall have the Dark Lord presiding over us when we see each other next. And it shall be the beginning of Black's fall from power—and what a bloody and fatal fall it shall be for the pesky dog!"

With that, Severus swept out of the room, robes billowing around him, a queer sense of foreboding descending upon him.

oOo

"I'm really glad I read through the chapter during the holidays," said Hermione as they walked out of the Arithmancy classroom.

"I didn't get half the stuff Professor Vector explained," muttered Acquila glumly. "I didn't know Arithmancy would be this tough. Maybe I'll drop the subject later on."

She didn't want to, though. She knew a good NEWT grade in Arithmancy made it easier getting to work with the Department of Mysteries. She didn't want to give up the subject. She'd have to work harder… there was no other choice.

"We can do some of the charts together," said Hermione reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll get through it. It's not as tough as it seems once you've grasped the basic concept. And you always have Cedric to help you with it, huh?" The bushy-haired girl winked teasingly.

Acquila giggled, suddenly relieved that Hermione was joking around with her again. Conversations between them had been a little stilted since Hermione had got to know of her break up with Harry. Acquila could very well understand the kind of dilemma it had put Hermione in… but it had hurt a little, having one of her best friends be all awkward and hesitant with her.

They chattered all the way to the Great Hall, about Moody's latest class and the new Weird Sisters' single that had released over the weekend, and how they both preferred Muggle bands to wizarding ones. It was nice having that in common with Hermione – their Muggle upbringing, their shared love for Muggle music and movies that Ron and Neville and even her Dad never quite understood. Harry was brought up by Muggles too… but the Dursleys had never taken him to the theatres to watch movies unlike how Mrs Smith sometimes took the kids from the orphanage. It brought a little pang in her heart, the thought of Mrs Smith… sometimes it felt like a dull, constant ache, that she'd lost the only woman who'd been a mother to her.

She shook her head, strangely looking forward to seeing Harry, who was probably in the Common Room with Ron and Neville, enjoying their free lecture. Her stomach grumbling a little, Acquila walked down the staircase, listening to Hermione go on about the plays her parents had taken her for over the holidays.

"Acquila!" Someone called out to her just as they were entering the Great Hall.

Recognising the voice, Acquila turned around. "Hello, Cedric."

"I'm glad I found you here," said Cedric, smiling at Hermione and her, panting a little, looking like he'd run all the way to them.

"What for?" Acquila asked him curiously.

"Well, we've barely spoken to each other recently. I thought we could… catch up, you know. How about we go for a walk?"

Acquila hesitated; she was a little hungry, and with the sun so harsh outside, it wasn't quite the time for a walk. But she could have a late lunch; she had the next hour free anyway, with the others having Care of Magical Creatures. A beseeching little smile from Cedric made up her mind.

"Alright," she told him. "I'd like that."

Cedric grinned, something about his smile making her tummy flop a little.

"Hermione, don't wait for me," she told Hermione. "I'll have lunch later if I get back late."

"Okay," said Hermione, looking curious, giving her a rather conflicted sort of smile.

"So," said Acquila as she walked out of the Castle and onto the lawns with Cedric. "Isn't it too sunny for a walk?"

"Let's keep to the trees by the Great Lake, then," he said, smiling.

Acquila smiled back, wondering why he'd suddenly sought her out for a walk. The last time they'd done this hadn't ended up well – with Lucius Malfoy and the Dark Mark.

"Let's hope this walk doesn't go the way of the last one," she told him teasingly.

Cedric only laughed. "Come on, this way."

"Where are we going?" She asked him when he led her in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Distaste pricked at her as she watched the tall towering trees in the distance. She hadn't come to the Forest since the night of the Greyback incident. She sure as hell didn't want to go anywhere near it.

"You'll know when we reach there," replied Cedric.

"You're sounding secretive," she complained.

"Not at all," he told her, "Let's talk about something else, huh?"

"You can't even be subtle about it!" she laughed. "Tell me, where are we going?"

"You'll see," he told her vaguely. "Now, about changing the topic—umm, how about how you beat Professor Moody in the duel? Everyone was talking about it."

"I didn't beat him, not really. I guess he's a little lenient here in Hogwarts. My Dad told me grown men cry when they're training under him," she muttered, feeling uneasy at the memory of Moody tinkering around in her mind. News of the class had spread around the school pretty soon; even Fred and George had seemed in awe of her when they found out she'd lasted that long against Mad Eye Moody. But only Harry knew how the memory of that duel made her uncomfortable instead of proud.

"That's not what I heard," quipped Cedric. "That little Creevey fellow was telling everyone you had Moody bound up in ropes and your wand pointed at him as he kept saying I yield." Cedric's lips were twitching, a twinkle in his eyes.

"You know that's bullshit, don't you?" she laughed. "If all the rumours were true, Harry and I would've had dinner with the entire Auror Force every night of the vacations, and Aunt Andy would have been the real power in the Ministry."

"Nah, the real power's your father," Cedric chuckled. "That's what everyone says, even my Dad and his colleagues."

"Is it?" Acquila frowned. She did have an idea about what people thought about her Dad, but it was strange hearing it from someone else. Oh, the newspapers too frequently implied that Lord Sirius Black III had more power in the Ministry than a mere Auror should, but they were never so direct about it.

"What else do people say?" asked Acquila curiously. "About us all, in general… my family, I mean."

"Only that your Aunt Andromeda's got a lot of friends in the Wizengamot, your Uncle Ted has a lot of influence over Professor Dumbledore because he's on the Board of Governors, that your father and Minister Fudge are the best of buddies, and that you looked really pretty giving your statement against Lucius Malfoy trial…"

"They say all that, do they?" Acquila raised an eyebrow. Oh, she could believe the first three – her father and Aunt Andy's political mechanisations had been noticed by one and all. It wasn't surprising that people knew that so many members and friends of the Black family were in positions of power, whether it was Aunt Andy on the Black family seat on the Wizengamot or Helphius Urquhart, who rather apparently owed his new position as Head of the International Magical Co-operation Department to his friendship with her Dad.

"They do say the first three, but that last point was all mine. You were looking really pretty that day…" said Cedric. Acquila met his eyes, feeling suddenly coy, looking for something witty to say in reply. But the smile her gave her only made her blush a little, and she looked away, suddenly a little uncertain of herself. Maybe this walk wasn't such a good idea. Damn, this wasn't even a walk that Cedric had suggested on a whim, was it? He seemed pretty sure of where he was leading her to… Perhaps she shouldn't have come… made up some excuse and avoided him like she'd done a couple of times before when—

"And we've reached!" exclaimed Cedric, stopping beneath the large oak, its branches spread far and wide, casting dark shadows on the wild grasses that grew in its shade, the waters of the lake rippling gently a few metres away, shimmering yellow and gold under the bright sun.

"This is a nice place," she said, watching the reflection of the leaves fluttering in the lake as a gentle breeze flew past her. The waters of the Great Lake were clear here; she could even see the little fish weaving through the weeds that grew at the shallow bottom of the lake, their scales glimmering in the sunlight, swimming too fast for her eyes to follow. She looked around her, a little entranced; the mountains stood tall and proud in the distance, the sun beaming at her from between the clouds.

"This is a beautiful place," she said, turning around to smile at Cedric, only to see that he'd laid out a carpet, on which was a basket that contained something that smelt delicious.

"A picnic!" said Acquila, a little surprised, and – she had to admit it – rather pleased with it.

She took off her shoes, feeling the soft grasses tickle her feet, and then sat down beside him, leaning against the trunk of the oak that stood over them, noting how the Castle was now hidden from view, the tall shrubs and grasses in the distance towering a little over their seated selves.

"I thought we could… you know—I don't know, talk and eat, I guess," Cedric seemed to be searching for words, but when she smiled at him, he was more at ease. "I smuggled sandwiches out of the kitchen. The elves were very helpful when I told them I wanted something for a picnic with Acquila Black. You're pretty famous among the elves, huh?"

"That comes with having a father who spent more time in the Hogwarts kitchen than in his classes," she told him as he handed her a sandwich. Sirius had told them where the kitchen was… she had never yet gone there… well, she'd need to pay the elves a visit soon, she thought, deciding that the sandwich tasted better than even the food at the Welcoming Feast for some reason. She'd go to the kitchens one day with Harry, she decided. He would like that… he knew how much of food the Marauders had charmed the elves into giving them over the years… and they could pay Dobby a visit too. They hadn't met the elf since last Christmas Eve when he'd helped them spike Professor Slughorn's drink with alcohol to make him part with the Horcrux memory… The thought of that night reminded her of what had happened after – getting drunk on the Firewhiskey in that secret passage, kissing Harry, needing and wanting and—damn it!

Suddenly, the sandwich didn't taste all that great anymore. She thought of Harry, back in the Great Hall, waiting for her maybe, wondering where she was, wondering what she was doing with Cedric—no! It wasn't helping, thinking of this. Whatever they had was done with. Harry—they weren't together anymore. It was unnecessary, thinking of Harry… then why is it hurting me so? she asked herself, wondering whether that emotion that was pricking at her now was despair, of that now familiar void within her mind and heart where Harry had been so very deeply entrenched until recently.

"—surprise you?" Cedric's voice roused her from her thoughts. Damn, she hadn't even heard what he said, but she could fathom a guess.

"Yes, this is a surprise, and a really great one," she told him, watching how the sunlight made his eyes look blue than grey.

"So," said Cedric, sitting down beside her, his hair flying softly in the breeze. "How has Hogwarts been so far?"

"Pretty good," she told him. "How has sixth year been for you? Quidditch Captain, Prefect and future Hogwarts Triwizard champion if the rumours are to be believed."

There was a lot of speculation about which of the students would compete in the tournament, about the criteria for selecting the champion for Hogwarts. Fred and George were already planning tricks to get past the age limit that Dumbledore spoke of, while Angelina Johnson was certainly going to try for it.

"I am going to put my name in for the Triwizard Tournament," said Cedric easily. "If I do get chosen, it'll be a great honour. I mean, this tournament is taking place after years! If I win it—hell, if I'm even chosen to represent Hogwarts, it'll be such a great thing. My Dad will be so proud… It's a little scary of course. I've already heard rumours about what the tasks are going to be."

"I've heard some of them." Acquila laughed. "I'm pretty sure Fred and George cooked up half the stories."

"No wonder," chuckled Cedric. "They sounded too creative to be true."

"I hope you'll win the tournament," she told him genuinely.

"Thank you," he said, smiling easily.

They went on like that, talking about random things. He told her about his parents, how his Dad thought the world of his only child, and how he was always a little lonely growing up because his parents remained underground for quite a while during and after the War because his Mum was a Muggleborn. She told him a little about her childhood too – about Mrs Smith caring for her, and some of the accidental magic she'd done as a child, and how shocked she'd been when McGonagall came to tell her about her place at Hogwarts.

It was strange, Acquila realised, how every memorable thing in her life, every little matter, most of the memories she had of her life, contained Harry. Even when she thought back to the day when McGonagall came to visit her at the orphanage, she remembered how happy she'd been to know that Harry would be at Hogwarts with her too. When she told Cedric of the cakes Mrs Smith baked her for each of her birthdays, she remembered the card Harry had given her for her ninth birthday, the boy and the girl drawn in his rather inartistic hand, made so adorable because of the effort he'd put in colouring in the pretty blue dress he'd drawn for the girl, remembering how Acquila had once told him she loved the blue dress worn by Cinderella in the Disney movie. When she told Cedric of her time at the Muggle school, she remembered those early days with Harry, when they were still getting to know each other, all awkward and shy around each other… the first time she'd held his hand, the time she'd called him to join her on the swing, Harry squeezing in next to her, and then shyly putting his arm around her waist so that she wouldn't fall off when she swung the swing higher and higher up.

He's a part of my life, she thought, an inseparable part of my life, even without the Bond. They hadn't known they were soul mates back then, in Muggle school. But that hadn't stopped them from being the best of friends, from caring for each other, finding immense joy in the little smiles that she always brought on Harry's face, the fierce protectiveness she felt for Harry when Dudley sent his vile barbs at him, that wintry snowy morning when Petunia Dursley sent Harry to school with a rather tattered sweater, and how Acquila had had him share her large cloak, both of them huddled close together for warmth, Harry's head resting on her shoulder as she told him one of the tales she'd heard from Mrs Smith.

There was something churning within her now – loss and longing, the feeling that she'd done something wrong, the feeling that nothing would ever be the same again, that something had broken, perhaps irreparably.

But it was done now. Whatever Harry and she had was over. He had walked out on her; she hadn't stopped him. She'd got what she always wanted – to put the Soul Bond behind them. She couldn't even sense him as intensely as she'd done over the summer, she couldn't feel his presence in her mind every waking moment, she couldn't feel his emotions as acutely as she felt her own. She was her own person now; like she'd wanted.

Then why does it still hurt so bad? she wondered. Why do I feel like there's a big hole inside of me?

"You alright?" Cedric roused her from her brooding. "You seemed lost there for a moment."

"I'm okay," she told him quickly.

They heard the peal of the school bell from the Castle, signalling the end of lunch time.

"We should leave," she told him.

"We could sit here longer if you want to." He smiled at her. "I have a free class now. Same as you." His eyes were twinkling.

"Did you track my timetable or something?" she asked him, chuckling.

He laughed a little sheepishly. "Did you have a nice time?"

"Of course, I did," she told him honestly. She had liked talking to him. Agreed they didn't have many topics in common; but it was still nice getting to know him, having him be so interested in what she had to say.

"I'm glad you did. I was a little nervous, I must admit. I mean, it isn't every day I arrange a picnic date with a pretty girl like you." Cedric smiled.

"A date, huh?" said Acquila softly, feeling suddenly uneasy and eager and delighted and guilty all at the same time.

"Yes, I'd call it a date," Cedric grinned easily. "You know I've been meaning to ask you out for months now. But I guess the timing wasn't right, eh? This time I decided to just… surprise you, I guess. Skip the whole waiting to find you without being surrounded by your friends and asking you out thing."

"That was rather sneaky of you." Acquila smiled. But within, her insides seemed to be dancing vigorously in her tummy. She wasn't ready for this, really. She hadn't expected Cedric to do this – plan a picnic for her and everything… a date with Cedric Diggory.

"You alright?" Cedric looked suddenly concerned. Acquila wondered whether she looked as confused as she was feeling. Blacks never display their thoughts on their face, girl, Phineas' voice rang out in her mind for a moment, making her half want to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"I'm fine… just surprised, I guess." She managed a smile.

He grinned back brightly, making her smile widen for some reason, her tummy flopping in a rather eager way again.

"So, as I was saying," began Cedric again, pushing his hair off his brow, "I'm not expecting a reply from you this very second or something. But I do want to go out with you… properly, seriously."

She stared at him, her breaths suddenly quickening, her heart racing wildly. She ran a hand through her hair, perplexed, not seeming to find the right words, not knowing what to say.

"Well, I—" she began, her throat suddenly dry, gazing at how Cedric's own breaths seemed to have quickened, how blue his eyes looked as he came closer to her, how she could literally count the faint freckles on his face if she tried to.

He gently tipped her face up, his fingers at her chin, leaning in towards her, a question in his eyes. She found herself nodding, alight with anticipation, her limbs feeling like jelly, gazing at just how handsome Cedric was, how warm his breath felt on her face, how gentle his lips were when they touched hers, slowly at first and then rather welcomingly insistent as he put an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. She could taste the Butterbeer he'd just drunk, every nerve pleasantly afire as his lips moved against hers, her hand hesitant as it settled on the nape of his neck, his hair tickling her palm.

It was short, and sweet, and probably everything a good first kiss should be like… For a moment, she was reminded of something else, though – the memory of Harry's mouth devouring hers in that secret passage the very first time they'd kissed… the feel of Harry's tongue caressing hers, his hand on her breast, feeling him hard against her thigh, that desperate need for him, her frenzied breaths and her hands tugging at his hair to prolong the kiss, never wanting to get his mouth off hers, enveloped in that heady scent that belonged to Harry, feeling his hand on the small of her back, that dizzy feeling of yearning and wanting and finding when she straddled him, moving against him, feeling him against her in the most delightful way that made all of her seem to tingle with something she couldn't ever put into words.

But that will never happen again, she told herself sternly, feeling that desolate longing again. That chapter is closed now. I cannot look back at it. It ended for the best. It's all done now.

"Acquila?" said Cedric softly, his eyes alight now, grinning so happily it only made him look more handsome.

"Yes," she told him quietly, smiling. "Yes."

oOo

"I knew it! It was happening right in front of our eyes!" Ron fumed. "I'd told you, hadn't I?" Ron looked at Neville, who was sitting at the foot of Harry's four poster bed. "Tell him, Neville! How we'd predicted Diggory's going to snatch Acquila away!"

"Ron," said Neville a little awkwardly. "This isn't the time to talk of that. We should give Harry some space. This must be tough for him to take."

It was evident that Ron had taken Acquila's date with Cedric as a personal affront or something. Additionally, Ron seemed to think that the best way to support Harry was by complaining about Acquila or Cedric whenever the three of them were alone without the girls around.

"See, she's made Harry so upset, he isn't even saying anything!" sighed Ron. "You don't worry, mate. Acquila doesn't deserve you at all!" He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry suppressed a sigh. Oh, he knew Ron meant well. He only sought to be a good friend to him. But this wasn't exactly the way to go about raising Harry's spirits.

"Ron, why don't we go check out the new toffees Fred and George made. Denis Creevey's volunteered for tasting them—come, it'll be fun," said Neville tactfully.

"You should come too, Harry!" said Ron. "It'll be fun to watch if the new ones are anything like the one that had Seamus turn all purple the other day."

"Nah, I'll just turn in early tonight, alright?" said Harry quietly, putting on a smile.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I am." Harry waved the two boys away, settling in onto his four poster bed.

Hurt and envy grappled within him as he wondered what Acquila was up to at this very moment.

Was she holding hands with Cedric Diggory? Kissing him maybe? The very thought of it made him want to rage and scream, throw things around, or maybe just crawl under the covers and never sit back up again.

This was very unlike him, he knew, these extreme feelings he was having. But there was nothing he could do about it.

He shouldn't be dwelling on it, he knew. But he couldn't help but think back to that moment when he'd walked into the Great Hall, seen that Acquila wasn't at the table with Hermione, and got a very funny feeling within. Hermione telling him that Acquila had gone for a walk with Cedric had only made his heart sink.

When he'd watched Acquila sheepishly walk up to him later that day, defiant yet slightly guilty, embarrassed yet beseeching him to understand, he had only heard her mutely when she told him that Cedric had taken her out on a date of sorts.

She hadn't needed to say anything else. One look at her and he knew it all – how she was sort of with Cedric now, how she'd let the older boy snog her under the tree—damn it! He didn't need to think of that now.

It was strange how the Bond between them – one that he'd valued and cherished mere days earlier – only evoked detest and revulsion in him now.

Oh, he couldn't sense Acquila like he could do before their break up. He couldn't sense her in his mind all the time, nor could he sense her thoughts like he'd been able to do before. But that didn't mean he didn't know what was going on with her. He could still feel faint traces of whatever she was feeling – a sense of newness and curiosity, eagerness and anticipation, coyness and delight… there was pain and guilt and longing too, right beneath the surface of all the new sentiments she was feeling. But that wasn't enough to assuage Harry's hurt.

He couldn't help but wince when he thought of her with Diggory, imagined the Hufflepuff holding her hand, or tucking an errant strand of dark hair behind her ear, listening to her laughter and having her smile those secret smiles at him. It hurt him like someone had slashed him deeply with a Slicing Curse, imagining Diggory kissing her, having his hands run through her hair, holding her tightly against him – everything Harry still wanted to be the one doing.

But what hurt worse was wondering whether Diggory would be the one who'd get to spend all his mealtimes with her now. Maybe she'd go to Hogsmeade with Diggory and not them now. Maybe she'd spend every free class with him instead of spending it with Hermione, Ron, Neville and him. Maybe she'd go and watch Diggory's Quidditch sessions now instead of Harry's… maybe she'd spend hours and hours talking to Diggory instead of Harry. Not that he'd been talking to her a lot lately… but it was still something they'd shared for years now – being each other's best friends, confidantes, the one person he trusted over anyone else, even Sirius… she knew all about him, everything there was to know. She'd been there for him since almost forever – been his first friend in Muggle school, the only one who knew the extent of what he'd faced at the Dudley's, the only one he'd freely spoken to about his childhood, the only one who had been there with him through thick and thin – the day they'd first met Sirius and found a family, the one who'd faced Quirrel with him, the one who'd put her life in danger to battle with Ginny-Voldemort, the one who knew the sickening fear he felt when Sirius fought for his life after Greyback's pack attacked him, the one who'd been with him when they'd visited his parents' graves at Godric's Hollow—she'd been everywhere, been with him through it all, understood him like no one else had… It wouldn't be the same anymore, would it? Diggory would take over now. She wouldn't have time for Harry. They wouldn't be friends like they'd been for so many years.

She wasn't his now, despite everything, despite all they'd gone through together, despite all the precious moments they'd had, good and bad, happy and heartbreaking. She wasn't his anymore, despite being bloody soul mates! And that hurt him most of all.

These morbid thoughts didn't leave Harry alone for days after that. In front of Acquila, he acted like he was happy for her. He wondered if she had bought his act – he wished she didn't, so that she'd know how hurt he was and maybe set everything right again; but he also hoped she didn't know… it made him feel puny, her knowing he still had feelings for her when she had clearly moved on.

He wondered what would have happened if they hadn't broken up that day. Would she still have been with Harry? Or was that never meant to be? Maybe they'd have broken up anyway and Acquila was meant to go with Diggory? The questions plagued him often, unanswered.

It only got worse over the next few days.

Though Acquila tried not to show off her budding relationship of sorts with Cedric, it was becoming obvious to everyone that they were seeing each other. Oh, Acquila tried to keep Harry away from it all. She rarely discussed her time with Cedric when all of them were present. But sometimes, Harry saw her talking to Hermione about it. The girls used to gossip and giggle in one corner when Harry, Ron and Neville were busy doing homework.

When she began sitting with Diggory at the Hufflepuff table sometimes, though, the whispers got louder. When a couple of chatty Hufflepuffs saw them walking arm in arm by the Lake one evening, it got everyone talking about the new couple.

Worse was when some girls would come up to Harry and ask him if Acquila was really dating Cedric. They knew he was her best friend, and assumed he would know every detail.

It hurt Harry like hell, but he couldn't tell any of this to anyone at all. Nobody would understand; none of his friends knew about the Bond.

Anyway, Ron still kept grumbling about it all; he said that it was affecting Harry's Quidditch practice and that it was Cedric's entire conspiracy all along. Neville kept giving him hopeful words and commiserating looks. Hermione told him that everything would be fine, and he would get over this in time, and that he needed to move on slowly.

Fred and George, though, cheered him up sometimes. Once, Acquila received a rose along with a note with Cedric's name on it. As soon as she picked it up, it squirted green ink all over her face! But his spirits rose only for a little while as he struggled to contain his laughter as a green-faced Acquila chased the twins all over the Common Room, swearing bloody revenge.

The only one he could talk to about Acquila and the Bond was Sirius. Oh, he was a little hesitant about it given how Sirius was Acquila's father after all. But Sirius would understand him; Harry knew he would. But he couldn't talk to Sirius about any of this, because Acquila hadn't told him yet!

Sirius was in blissful ignorance about Acquila and Diggory's relationship. Agreed it had only been a couple of weeks since they'd been going out. But it wasn't like Acquila to keep secrets from Sirius, especially such a big matter; which only meant she wasn't sure about Cedric or perhaps she knew Sirius wouldn't respond to this nicely. To be honest Harry wanted to tell Sirius about it all, crib about Diggory with him, maybe look forward to Sirius threatening to flay the Hufflepuff if he hurt Acquila… but he wouldn't do that… he couldn't do that. It was for Acquila to tell her father… it wasn't Harry's place to tell, no matter how much he wanted to.

And so it went on – Harry grappling with emotions that ranged from one extreme to another. Sometimes, he just felt cold and indifferent to it all, deciding all the heartache wasn't worth it, and maybe he should move on from it all. But sometimes, he felt so sad and gloomy, he just couldn't help but brood, picking at his food moodily, and wishing the skies were clear enough to go for a long broomstick ride.

Strangely, it took Luna Lovegood to make him feel better.

"Don't do this, Harry," she told him seriously in the corridor once gloomy afternoon. "You're only making it worse, don't you see? Your aura's turning darker and darker day by day, and I'm rather afraid you'll disappear into it one day. I don't have too many friends, Harry. But you are one of the few I have. I don't want you to disappear, Harry, I really, really don't want that."

Staring into her dreamy, wide eyes, Harry decided that Luna was right.

Oh, he knew he wouldn't disappear, of course. But all this brooding and moping was only making him bitter. It wasn't helping anything or anyone.

Acquila was with Diggory now; that couldn't be helped.

It was time for Harry to let it go… it would be hard, of course. It would be very, very hard. But he would do it, he had to start some time… perhaps, it ought to be now.

oOo

"I don't know why we couldn't have Disapparated," said Kingsley conversationally, as they walked towards the Ministry, watching the crowd of Muggles walk quickly past them.

"I like walking," muttered Sirius, "helps me think."

Kingsley only grunted in agreement.

"You seem worried," Sirius told his fellow Auror, noticing how Kingsley was frowning.

"Auror Travis at Azkaban says you visited the prison last week," said Kingsley.

"I did," said Sirius carefully.

"You used my name again, he says," went on Kingsley as if nothing was amiss, but there was an undercurrent of wariness in his voice. "You told him I asked you to survey the security of the prison."

"I'm sorry," said Sirius. "I should've told you."

"It isn't that," said Kingsley. "I don't mind you using my authority to go to Azkaban. But at least let me know, yeah? What's going on?"

Sirius thought back to that day last year – Voldemort sneaking into Azkaban, Obliviating Bellatrix of her memories, having Proudfoot attacked by the Dementors…

"Remember what I'd told you back then?" said Sirius, "During the whole Proudfoot incident? About gradually taking the Dementors out of Azkaban? I sort of put it on the back burner with all the Greyback mess and the Werewolf Rights Act… but now, do you think we should go ahead with it? Have a dedicated force guard Azkaban rather than the Dementors? Tell me honestly, Kingsley. You know I value your views."

"What you're saying has merit," mused Kingsley, "The Dementors have been so restless recently, almost as if they're waiting for something… someone…" The tall Auror had a faraway look in his eyes; Sirius knew he was remembering Voldemort's wraith fleeing past their wards – a cloud of black dust with those frightening red eyes staring at them, promising retribution.

"It must be on the top of his agenda," said Sirius quietly, casting a quick Muffliato. "Breaking all his followers out of Azkaban. He only has Crouch with him now; and he's useless because he knows we're on the lookout for him. Voldemort will want more followers to do his bidding. The most loyal of them are rotting in Azkaban. He'll want to break them out… and if your hunch is right, he'll use the Dementors, turn them against us…"

Kingsley nodded, worried.

"I'll speak to Andy. Prepare the ground for it," said Sirius.

"Nobody will agree. People sleep peacefully at night because they know the Death Eaters are locked up in Azkaban with the Dementors guarding them. If we speak of taking them off the island, it won't find easy acceptance, even with Minister Fudge. And this will require the Wizengamot's approval, the DMLE—hell, even Scrimgeour won't stand for this so easily. Even if we phase out the Dementors, raising teams proficient enough to guard Azkaban will take years, Sirius—"

"But we can start now. We need to," he said, remembering Trelawney's prophecy about Voldemort returning stronger and darker.

Kingsley was silent for a long time. Then he nodded, saying nothing for a long moment. "Does this have anything to do with Lestrange too?" he asked finally. "You met her, didn't you? You didn't go there only to check the defences? Is this related to the Obliviated memory? You won't even tell me what it was."

Sirius met Kingsley's curious gaze. The man had stood by him since his reinstatement in the Auror Force, even bypassing rules at times to help Sirius have his way. It didn't seem right hiding things from Kingsley, especially when the man was helping him with visiting Bella despite having no official sanction to enter Azkaban.

"I'll tell you," he promised Kingsley. "Soon."

An hour later, Sirius was in the atrium of the Ministry, musing over Bellatrix and the Obliviated memory and his utmost certainty that it had to do with a Horcrux… perhaps, even the Cup of Hufflepuff that he'd seen in Hokey's memory: the golden cup with badger engraved on it, the flash of red in a young Voldemort's eyes… He wasn't even sure the Horcrux Bellatrix had been entrusted with was the Cup, but he could imagine it: Voldemort handing over the cup to an overjoyed Bellatrix, full of gratitude that her Master had entrusted her something precious, her dark curls streaming down all around her ecstatic face, those dark, glimmering eyes, that joyous laughter he'd loved listening to when he was just a little boy and Bella was just his older cousin… oh, she could be frightening if she wanted to, even slapping him once when he'd made her mad. But once, she'd let him sleep in her bed and held him close when the loud thunder outside had frightened him. He was just a little boy then, but it was one of the clearest memories of his childhood: knocking at Bella's door, knowing Mother and Father would yell at him if he told them he was afraid of the thunder… worried Bella would jeer and laugh at him too… but she hadn't. She had let him snuggle into her warm side and told him some magical tale that he'd long forgotten, unlike this memory which was so fresh in his mind despite the years that had passed by and the insurmountable schism that had put an end to what Bella and he had once shared.

"Damn," he grumbled under his breath. Visiting Bella in—Bellatrix, not Bella! Bellatrix, damn it! Meeting her brought back long-forgotten memories… picnics by the lake with Bella, Andy, Cissa and Reg… Grandmother Melanie regaling them with stories… getting lost in the woods behind Gamp Manor with Cissy once, and the joy and relief when Bella and Andy had finally found them at night, lost and cold and trembling under one of the giant oak trees, huddled into each other for warmth. He remembered Reggie too, a hazy memory of the day he was born… the four of them around his crib, Andy holding a baby Reg carefully in her arms and handing him to over to Sirius… or maybe that was just something his mind had made up. He was so young when Reg was born… it wasn't possible he could remember something from that young an age… But still, these childhood memories were far better than the other memories Bellatrix evoked – of blood and Unforgivable curses, of angry altercations over widely differing ideologies, of fatal misses and a well-aimed Crutiatus, of magical blasts and the corpses of his friends and family and Bellatrix' triumphant cackling laughter during the years he'd spent in Azkaban at depriving him of the people he loved most.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, barely aware of where he was. He had to stop this. He had to stop letting Azkaban affect him so much. He had to get over it, get a grip on his mind.

"Sirius Black!" called someone from behind him, rousing him suddenly from his melancholy.

He turned around, putting on a calm façade; it was Amos Diggory.

"Ah, Amos," he greeted the man, smiling. "How are you? It's been quite a while."

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Amos Diggory, shaking Sirius' proffered hand cheerfully. "The last time we met was at Malfoy's trial, I think. But that matter is best forgotten now, eh?"

Sirius knew how worried the man had been that the Dark Mark had been cast with his son Cedric's wand. It wasn't surprising he wanted to put the whole issue behind him.

"Of course, Amos," he told the man. "But your son was brave that day, on the night of the World Cup final as well as at the trial. I've seen older people tremble when faced with the entire Wizengamot. But Cedric's clear testimony clinched the case against Malfoy."

"Indeed!" beamed Amos Diggory. "My son is a brave boy! I am so proud of him! I'm sure he'll do something great in life! We Diggorys aren't as high up the wizarding order like your House, but I'm certain Cedric will bring glory to my family name. And to yours too, eh, if things continue like they are?"

Sirius frowned. "What do you mean?"

Amos Diggory only laughed. "I'm talking about Cedric and Acquila of course! She's a nice girl, your daughter. Of course, they've been together barely a few weeks. But my Cedric seems enamoured with her, as I'm sure she is with him. We may not be as high and mighty as you Blacks, but my son is a wonderful boy! I'm sure even you'll see that soon, Sirius!"

"Of course, of course," said Sirius, a smile plastered to his face. But within, he was astonished, and then furious and hurt.

Acquila was dating Cedric Diggory? Since a few weeks? And she hadn't even told him! If Cedric had told his parents, there was certainly something serious brewing between the two.

Why didn't she tell me? he wondered, as he bid Amos Diggory a rather hurried goodbye and made his way home instead of going in to the Auror office, hoping Kingsley, who'd already gone ahead, would make up some excuse for his lateness.

And what about Harry? Merlin!

Harry must feel so hurt with all this, he mused, annoyed with the whole thing for more than just Acquila not telling him. And why didn't Harry tell me what's been going on? Poor boy.

"Damn it," he muttered. He would always find himself torn between his two kids. While he was sort of glad Acquila had moved on (of course, he'd need to have a little chat with this Diggory boy first), but he knew Harry would be mighty affected by this. He didn't like it – seeing the boy all hurt and solemn. He knew Acquila had made quite some mistakes with Harry… and the boy had been more than kind and understanding with her… To see her with Diggory mere weeks after she'd said she didn't want to be with Harry… damn!

"Acquila! Acquila!" he called on the Two Way Mirror.

Be calm, he told himself. But that was easier said than done.

"Acquila!" He called louder, glaring at his own reflection that stared back at him in the mirror, when suddenly, two green eyes appeared beneath a mop of untidy black hair.

"Sirius! Hi!" said Harry.

"How are you, kiddo?"

"I'm alright. How are you? I called you on the Mirror last night. You weren't there."

"Sorry about that," said Sirius. He'd been at Irene's last night. But that wasn't important now. "Is Acquila around?"

"No," said Harry.

"Where is she?"

"She's out by the lake. We've got a free lecture… so…"

"Out by the lake? Alone?"

"Uh—no—not alone," Harry seemed a little hesitant.

"So she's with someone, then?"

"Yeah, I guess." Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable now, like on the rare occasions he did when he lied or tried to hide something from Sirius.

Sirius sighed. "Is she with Cedric Diggory?"

Harry only shrugged uneasily.

"I know about it, alright?" Sirius decided to put the boy out of his dilemma. "I just met Amos Diggory—"

"Cedric told his parents about them?" exclaimed Harry, looking surprised and then hurt. He said nothing, fidgeting with a stray thread on his cuff, suddenly downcast.

"Oh, Prongslet," sighed Sirius softly. "You know you can always talk to me, right? You should've told me, kiddo."

"I didn't know if she wanted me to," said Harry quietly. "And I don't know—I mean, she didn't say they were going out… officially as such… I mean, they have meals together sometimes and long walks by the lake. But I didn't know—she didn't say—she didn't even tell you, and she usually tells you stuff—but if Cedric's told his parents…" Harry trailed off, looking heartbreakingly sad, making Sirius wish he could jump out of the Mirror and give the boy a hug.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sirius asked him gently.

"I don't know. I'm not jealous or anything, I thought I was, but I don't think I am. I'm just… hurt. I didn't think she'd go on like this… move on so soon…" said Harry, looking thoroughly downcast, making Sirius wonder whether he hadn't even told his friends about how he felt. Perhaps, he hadn't. With the whole Soul Bond angle, both the kids only had Sirius, Remus and Dora to confide in about their relationship of sorts.

"I try not to think of it—and I know she tries not to make me sense it whenever she's with him… but sometimes I can… faintly… the Bond isn't as strong as before… but I still know what she's feeling if I try hard enough… I just feel hurt a little… I can't explain it," mumbled Harry. "She's free to do what she wants, of course. She owes nothing to me or to the Soul Bond. She told me straight out that night we argued that she wishes she could get rid of the Bond… and me…"

For the first time since he'd gotten to know Harry, Sirius heard something he'd never heard before – bitterness for Acquila. He'd never thought Harry would ever feel something like that. After all, he loved Acquila, he truly did, long before he even knew of the Bond. Sirius knew that. He'd always had a soft spot for her, no matter how much she'd kept him waiting and inadvertently, or even deliberately at times, hurt him. Harry had always loved her, despite everything.

It pained Sirius to see Harry so hurt. But he knew that this was good for Harry – taking the blinkers off, seeing Acquila for what she was… the Bond had affected Harry. Sirius had seen how a mere smile from the girl could lift up Harry's spirits, how much joy he took from the little thoughts of him that he sensed in her mind, how a single touch of her hand could ignite a sudden jump in his mood from one deep emotion to another. It isn't healthy, Ted had told him once, with all the experience of a Mind Healer. Perhaps, this was good for Harry in the long run, disentangling himself from Acquila… reducing the effects of the Bond.

But they are soul mates, said a worried part of him, the first soul mates in six centuries, after the Flamels. The Soul Bond exists for a reason, like Dumbledore had told me long ago… two parts of the whole, two halves of the same soul… what if this hurts them? This distance between them?

Sirius suppressed his panic, unwilling to drag Harry into it, not when the boy looked so glum.

They are just children, he told himself, they don't have to bend themselves to the stuff the Bond thrusts on them. It's their life to live… I promised Acquila that right when I told her about the Soul Bond… and I promised Harry the same – the freedom to live their lives the way they want, without letting the existence of the Soul Bond dictate their paths and their decisions…

"Maybe it's time for you to put it all behind you," he suggested to Harry softly, "All this business with Acquila over the past few months. It was good while it lasted. But it's over now. She's moved on from it, and you should too, kiddo. I'm not telling you to go out and date someone for the sake of it or something… but just, don't upset yourself thinking about Acquila."

Harry looked a little uncomfortable again.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Sirius told Harry quietly. "I know Acquila's my daughter. But you're my child too. I'm not going to be mad at you if you bitch about her or something. You should just get it all out… that's what Lily used to tell some of the girls I broke off with… get everything off your mind, and then try to move on from it—it's not easy, of course. It's never easy to get over someone you love. But you deserve to be happy too, kiddo. And if Acquila can't or won't make you happy, then maybe you don't need to dwell on her and be sad about it..."

"I can't help it," said Harry, in a sudden rush of emotion. "I—I don't know!"

Sirius watched the boy, green eyes meeting grey. It was strange how Harry's eyes were like Lily's but how Sirius could read them like he'd once been able to read James'. He didn't need for Harry to speak, he didn't need to hear what he thought. He could read it all – Harry's hurt, his loneliness, how he had kept everything suppressed over the past few days, how he still liked Acquila, how hard he found it to watch Diggory with Acquila, how he wished none of it had ever happened – getting together with Acquila and then breaking up, but how he was glad it had happened too… how he wished Acquila would leave Diggory and get back together with Harry, but how he wished he'd just put it all behind him, be indifferent to her, be able to meet her eyes and talk to her without letting on how affected he was by it all, without being as hurt and frustrated as he was…

"I know," he told Harry softly – two simple words, but they made Harry smile… a sad, but relieved and comforted sort of smile. The sort James used to give him when Lily turned him down the umpteenth time and went to Hogsmeade with some nerdy Ravenclaw whose name Sirius had long forgotten.

Damn, I shouldn't be doing this, he told himself, seeing James in Harry.

Prongs was long dead… and Harry was Harry, not James, no matter how much he looked and was like James.

"It'll all turn out right in the end, I promise you that," he told Harry gently. "But just—just—" he trailed off, at a sudden loss of words.

But Harry, like always, seemed to understand his wordless thoughts. He held Sirius' gaze for a long, long moment. "I will," he said finally, smiling a little. "I'll get over it… over her. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes. You're right… it's no use brooding over it when she's—well, when she's out there all happy with Cedric. You're right," said Harry with a lot more conviction now.

Sirius smiled at him, and Harry grinned back – a genuine smile now.

"Now, tell me how's your Quidditch practice going, and Mad Eye's classes?"

That cheered the boy up. "I beat Hermione in a duel, Sirius! It was brilliant! Even Moody said I was great—"

The talk with Acquila would have to wait. For now, Sirius was content watching Harry laugh as he told him all about Mad Eye's classes.

oOo

Her heart raced a mile a minute, her breaths erratic as he pulled her closer, his tongue sweeping through her mouth, her tummy all aflutter as he nipped at her lip. His arms were around her waist, her feet tingling with how she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him. His hands slid lower down, almost as if he wanted to lift her up to kiss her even harder… but then he collected himself, gently letting go of her, his hand settling on her shoulder now, the other running through his own hair.

She watched him, her heart thudding, her nerves alight with eager want, wondering why he had stopped, wondering what was going on in his mind, wondering what to do with her own hands now – should she put her arms around him, or cup his face and kiss his lips like she wanted to, or just—damn, why was it like this? The sudden awkwardness that came over her sometimes, not knowing how to proceed, not knowing what Cedric liked, whether he was enjoying what they were doing, what he thought about her, about them…

It had never been like this with Harry. She knew everything about him; she could feel what he felt when they had kissed, she knew what he was thinking about her when she pushed closer to him and felt him stirring against her, he knew what she liked, what she felt—Merlin! She shouldn't be thinking about Harry now, not with Cedric smiling at her, blue grey eyes twinkling, and a flush in his cheeks.

She smiled at the Hufflepuff, half wanting to kiss him again, half wanting to ask him why he'd stopped. It was so tough to tell with Cedric. She didn't know him as well enough to go about understanding his thoughts from his little gestures like it had been with Harry—and damn, there she went thinking about Harry again… comparing the two of them…

It wasn't fair, neither to Cedric, nor to Harry.

Cedric kissed her cheek, a sweet, chaste kiss that made her smile. "You don't know what you do to me, Acquila," he murmured in her ear.

"Why did you stop, then?" she asked him.

"Because I thought we're going a little too quickly with this, I guess." Cedric grinned easily. "You're—well, a lot younger than me. We'll take this slow, eh…"

She hesitated for a moment, thinking of her conversation with her Dad last night, then said it anyway. "I thought you liked quick." She added a teasing note to her voice, "I mean, you did tell your father about me…"

Cedric looked surprised for a moment, his cheeks a little adorably pink from not just the heated snogging they'd been doing moments earlier. "How do you—"

"Your father met my Dad in the Ministry the other day," said Acquila, "He said you're going to bring glory to the Black family in future, if things go as they're going on now."

"Holy Helga!" Cedric groaned, looking so mortified that Acquila couldn't help but laugh.

He rubbed a hand over his face, and then, watching her laughing, he laughed too. "My Dad said that to your father—to Lord Black? Tell me, do I have to practice my defensive spells now? Is your father going to corner me somewhere in the castle and give me a threatening talk or something?"

"He might," quipped Acquila, remembering her talk with Sirius. Her Dad had promised that he'd hex Cedric's balls off if he did anything he wasn't supposed to be doing with his little girl. But she also remembered how hurt her Dad had looked at having to hear about Cedric and her from Amos Diggory instead of having Acquila tell him about it first.

"What happened?" Cedric asked her quietly, seeming to have noted her sudden silence.

"It's nothing," she lied.

Why didn't you tell me? Her Dad's grey eyes had asked her wordlessly when they'd spoken on the Two Way Mirror last night. She remembered the promise they'd both made to each other, months ago, when Sirius still fancied Nigella Flint – that Sirius would tell her if he ever liked some woman enough to think of a future with her, and that Acquila would in turn tell him all about the boys she dated. No secrets between us, love, her Dad had promised, and she'd promised him too…

Why didn't I tell Dad, then? she asked herself. Why didn't I tell him about Cedric? Why did I keep it hidden for all these days?

She knew the answer, of course, tough as it was to admit. She felt guilty… she knew she would disappoint her Dad – not because he disliked Cedric or something (though he probably did), but because, somewhere, deep within, she felt like what she'd done wasn't right…

"You sure?" Cedric asked her, rousing her from her thoughts. "Acquila, look, you know my Dad, right? He can go a little overboard at times, especially when it comes to—"

"I know," she told him, as he took her hand. It felt strange to her, Cedric's palm against hers… when she ran her thumb over his skin, she couldn't feel the familiar scar that she'd felt on Harry's hand, courtesy an incident with chopping onions for Aunt Petunia when Harry was barely a kid. Cedric's hand was larger than Harry's… he was a lot taller than Harry, he wasn't anything like Harry, yet she couldn't help but like him… she liked having lunch with him, she liked how he'd waited for her outside the Divination the other day, she liked walking with him by the Lake, she liked listening to his stories – about his childhood and his friends, about his cousins and Quidditch… Cedric in turn liked listening to her too – about Muggles and some of grandfather Phineas' old tales, of Black Manor and Calliope…

But it isn't the same, she thought. It was nothing like being with Harry… none of the knowing smiles and the way she'd meet Harry's gaze and know exactly what he was thinking, none of the walking together through secret passages to reach the Astronomy Tower quickly, none of the long talks at night in the Common Room long after everyone had dozed off, when they'd sit and talk about their days at school or about their parents and Remus and Dora, whisper about their failing quest for the Horcruxes, on the rare occasions, talk of Quirrel or Ginny-Voldemort and all that they'd been through together…

"You're quiet," said Cedric, putting an arm around her waist again. "Is this about what my dad said? You know you don't need to take him seriously, don't you?"

Acquila nodded silently. She couldn't tell him what she was thinking, of course, whether about Harry or about the talk with her Dad.

"I like you, Acquila," said Cedric softly. "I like you very, very much. And I don't want to rush into things if you don't want to… I told my dad about you because I just share everything with my parents… I didn't mean for him to make such a big deal out of it, especially in front of your father… you hadn't told your father about us, I take it?"

"I hadn't," she agreed. "I was going to. But I just…" She trailed off.

"I understand," said Cedric, smiling gently. "As I said, I don't want to rush you into anything. I like what's going on between us… and I don't want to—"

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, cutting his words off.

This was nice… just kissing him, not having to think about anything, pulling him closer to her, her fingers threading through his hair, only to realise that his hair wasn't as long as Harry had grown his in recent months, realising that she'd never had to stand on her tiptoes like this to kiss Harry, that Cedric's scent was nothing like Harry's warm, familiar one… that Cedric didn't know how she wanted him to snog her harder, not be all careful with her like he sometimes got…

She finally pulled back, Cedric taking a moment to collect himself.

"Merlin, it's eleven already," he said, checking his watch. "Come on, I'll take you back to your tower."

"You don't need to drop me," she chuckled. "And aren't you supposed to be patrolling the hallways?"

"I am, and I'm also supposed to dock points from you for being out after curfew," he laughed. "But because you're my girlfriend, I'm going to let you off easy … all I want," he pulled her closer to him, "is this." He cupped her face, kissing her deeply.

She was all flushed and breathless when he finally let her go.

"Get back to the tower now," he told her, grinning. "If I find you wandering the corridors after curfew again, I'll need more than just a kiss to let you go without docking points."

"Maybe I should roam around the castle tomorrow night just to see what you mean by more than just a kiss." She winked at him.

Cedric laughed. "Don't tempt me."

She could see his eyes darkening with desire again; and she knew that they'd probably spend the entire night making out if she didn't leave now.

"Good night, Cedric," she told him, kissing his cheek.

He grinned a brilliant smile at her, and then rushed down the stairs, while Acquila made her way up the staircase to the Gryffindor Tower.

It was a lonely way back; without the Invisibility Cloak, she felt almost naked. She wasn't used to roaming around the Castle like this without the Cloak, nor without Harry.

Pushing that last thought away, she finally stepped onto the seventh floor, and muttered the password to the Fat Lady.

"Out late again, girl?" said the lady in the portrait on the wall. "You seem to have a rather nice taste in wizards, eh? Potter first, and now that Diggory."

"Just like her father she is," said the Fat Lady, "Remember Black with a different girl on his arm every other day? Acquila will be just the same."

"I won't!" cried Acquila, offended. Rolling her eyes, she stepped through the portrait hole, finding the Common Room empty, except for the two people sitting by the fireplace: Harry and Hermione.

They seemed to be doing some sort of homework; well, at least Hermione was. Harry was merely watching the bushy-haired girl, rubbing his forehead absently.

"Is your scar hurting again?" she asked him quietly, startling them both.

For a moment, she was almost hurt. It was never like this before, she thought, I could never startle Harry. He could sense me coming, he knew whenever I was near him.

She swallowed the sudden bitterness that arose within.

"No, it's nothing," said Harry. He wasn't quite meeting her eyes. It was how it had been since that picnic date with Cedric – Harry not meeting his eyes, her trying to avoid him whenever she could, especially when she was with Cedric. She didn't want to hurt Harry. She didn't want to give him any more pain, if he did feel any, that is…

Does he miss me? she wondered, like I miss him. Does he feel what I feel sometimes? Like there's this hole inside of me where he lived for all these years?

Weeks ago, she wouldn't even have had to ask these questions. She'd have known how he was feeling. Even if she did think them, Harry would've heard and answered them wordlessly. Now, he merely looked back at the parchment Hermione was writing on.

"Where are Ron and Neville?" she asked them.

"Neville went to bed early," said Hermione, "Ron said he didn't want to wait up for you."

Acquila sighed. Oh, Ron wasn't as rude to her as he'd been in the early days of her date with Cedric, but he still wasn't back to normal. He was cold and snarky with her, barely exchanging more than a few terse words.

"There, all done," said Hermione, gathering her books. "I think I'll turn in now. Good night, Harry, Acquila."

Hermione met her gaze, brown eyes conflicted. She knew her friend would stay awake, knowing why Acquila had returned to the tower so late, giggling as she told her about Cedric. But she also knew why Hermione had stayed up awake with Harry – to talk to him, to be the good friend that she'd always been to both of them.

"Good night, Hermione," said Harry, as Hermione walked off to their dormitory, leaving Acquila alone with Harry.

She stood stunned, not quite knowing what to say or what to do. She hadn't been alone with Harry for days now… avoiding each other, ensuring their friends were always around to act as a sort of buffer between them…

She finally looked up at him, wondering how long it had been since she had last seen him, properly. His hair had grown even longer now, sticking up messily, there were pale shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept properly for days, there was a little mark on his forearm, she saw, as her gaze slid lower, a patch of skin that had turned a bright red.

"What happened?" she asked him.

"One of Hagrid's Screwts blew up when I tried to feed it," he said quietly.

She stood quietly, half wanting to take his hand, to inspect the burn, childishly kiss the reddened skin and tell him it would get all better – like she used to do when they were younger and at Muggle school, and she would kiss the bruises Dudley gave him sometimes, and Harry would blush shyly and say the pain was gone and he was feeling all better.

How did I not feel it? she asked herself, asked him, if he could even hear her anymore. How did I not feel when the Screwt burnt his hand, how did I not feel his pain?

For a moment, she shut her eyes, willing herself to feel him, feeling a sudden dull burning sensation prick at her own forearm, and then feeling something seeping into her skin – a bit of hurt, a bit of bitterness, a bit of envy, a bit of her Dad's voice ringing in her ears – It will all be fine, Prongslet, I promise you.

And then suddenly, it was all gone, Harry staring at her with his green eyes that contained something she couldn't decipher.

"Good night, Acquila," he told her.

She held his gaze. She always used to kiss his cheek whenever they bid each other good night, hug him lightly, feel his breath tickling her.

But she couldn't do that now, she wouldn't, not with how she'd kissed Cedric mere moments ago, how she'd hugged Cedric oh so closely, not with how she had—Merlin!

"Good night, Harry," she told him quietly, feeling hollow and sickened.

Harry smiled feebly, nothing like those smiles he'd once reserved just for her. He walked away, not looking back once, leaving her standing there, pained and conflicted, knowing she was in for a long, sleepless night.

oOo

It was an amazing night – the eager chattering all around the Great Hall – even in French and Bulgarian (of which Harry could sadly understand nothing), the ceiling reflecting the hundreds of stars that lit up the night sky outside, the air heavy with the delicious scent of the feast the elves whipped up especially in honour of the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the tangible sense of excitement in the air…

Even the professors seemed excited, except Snape, of course, who was unaffected by it all.

It had been fascinating to watch the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arriving earlier that evening.

The French students had arrived in a huge carriage drawn by Winged Horses the size of elephants, a lot larger than even Calliope and Thunder and the Thestrals; the most massive horses Harry had seen yet. The shock on seeing the abnormally-sized horses, though, was nothing compared to when everyone saw the biggest woman they'd ever seen step out of the carriage. Never yet had Harry seen someone bigger than even Hagrid. Madame Maxime looked like she'd jumped straight out of the illustrated old books of wizarding tales Harry used to flip through in the library at Grimmauld Place.

A pleasanter surprise, however, was watching a familiar golden-haired girl step out of the carriage right behind Madame Maxime – Fleur Delacour, more beautiful than ever, looking like she was literally floating over the path leading to the castle, the mere sight of her making quite a few male mouths fall open in awe.

Before Harry could call out to Fleur, the Durmstrangs had arrived from a whirlpool in the lake. First, the long mast had risen, and then the entire ship popped out of the water, looking like a far larger version of one of the skeletal ships Harry had seen in the scary movie they'd watched at Hermione's place one summer evening.

It hadn't taken long for Ron to notice a certain Victor Krum among the Durmstrang students.

"IT'S KRUM!" Ron had shouted deafeningly. "That's Victor Krum!"

It was Krum, much to Harry's surprise. When the Bulgarian entered the Great Hall later with two of his burly schoolmates, looking unsure of where to sit, Ron had tugged hard at Harry's sleeve. "You've met him, Harry! I'm sure he remembers you! Call him here to our table! Call him now!"

Ron said it was the happiest, most unforgettable moment of his life – Krum walking towards the Gryffindor table, recognising Harry and shaking his hand, Harry introducing Ron, Hermione, Acquila and Neville to the Bulgarian, and Krum finally sitting down at the table, Harry on one side and a starry-eyed, awed Ron on the other, and a horde of envious Hogwarts students watching them.

Fleur had entered the Great Hall soon after, followed by some of the prettiest girls Harry had ever seen. Fleur had scanned the hall – she was certainly looking for Harry and Acquila, given how they'd told her about studying at Hogwarts when they'd met her at her French mansion in summer. She had spotted them at the Gryffindor table, given them a delighted smile that had elicited an awed audible sigh from boys all over the hall. Almost all eyes in the hall had followed Fleur as she made her way to the Gryffindor table; Harry was used to the part-Veela having that effect on people by now, though.

Fleur had hugged Acquila, kissed both of Harry's cheeks, leaving his heart beating a little faster, and then let Fred and George kiss her hand in an exaggerated way, and even waved at Ginny and Ron (who looked almost as awestruck as he looked for Krum). Harry found it a little odd that Fleur was so warm towards the Weasleys, but he reckoned she remembered them from when Harry had introduced all seven of the siblings to her at the Quidditch World Cup.

It was a fascinating evening, Harry mused, as he watched Fleur chatter and Krum grunt as their fellow schoolmates spoke, in heavily accented English, about their chances in being chosen as champion. Beneath Krum's rather reticent manner, Harry thought the Bulgarian was inwardly confident about being chosen as the Durmstrang champion. Fleur did seem very eager about the tournament too, but Harry thought he could sense some nervousness beneath her carefree demeanour. He hoped she'd be the champion for Beauxbatons; he quite liked the French girl… from the little he'd got to know Fleur, she was smart and feisty.

Ron, literally drunk on admiration for Krum and his awe for Fleur, suddenly whipped out a piece of parchment and asked an embarrassed Krum to autograph it for him. The rest of the meal passed by with most of the Gryffindors pulling Ron's leg about his fan-boying for Krum.

Red-faced, Ron frowned, glaring at the twins who kept ribbing him, and trying to ignore Hermione, who was annoyed that the red-head had torn the piece of parchment from the History of Magic notes she'd taken earlier that day. Laughing at something George said, Harry looked around the table, only for his eyes to fall on Acquila.

She was laughing at something one of Fleur's friends said, and he wondered at how quick she could be at making new friends if she wished to. He wasn't like that, really. He wasn't one to go out and actively get talking to people… Acquila was different… she was the one who had first befriended Hermione, who had slowly helped bring Neville out of his shell, who had even made friends with Luna Lovegood whom most people found weird.

But she won't talk to me, he thought quietly. Not that he wanted her to talk to him, with how very awkward things were between them.

No, he wanted to talk to her, at least tonight, because of what tomorrow would be – the anniversary of the night that everything had changed for both of them all those years ago… not that either of them remembered anything about it, except those screams Harry had heard on his first encounter with the Dementors – not Harry, please! Mercy, have mercy!

There was a chill down his spine, a sudden lump in his throat that took him by surprise. His gaze flew to Acquila instinctively; after all, he had always looked to her for comfort. To his surprise, she was already looking at him, almost as if she knew his Mum's pleading words that were ringing in his ears.

Only Fleur's whisper made him look away from those dark grey eyes.

"You should ask her out, 'Arry!" said Fleur, winking at him.

"She's already dating someone," he replied, gesturing vaguely at the Hufflepuff table.

He didn't hate Cedric, really; the Hufflepuff had done nothing wrong to him. But he no longer liked the older boy, and he avoided looking and speaking to him as much as he could. Harry was nowhere as sad and aloof as he'd been earlier; that talk with Sirius had somehow helped him a great deal. But still, he didn't think he could ever be friends with Diggory.

Despite himself, his gaze flitted to the Hufflepuff table. Cedric was looking at Acquila, he noticed, but when he looked back at her, she was still watching Harry, her gaze conflicted, until she looked away when Hermione called her.

"The moment has come!" announced Dumbledore, getting to his feet, excited murmuring all around.

The headmaster introduced Helphius Urquhart, the man who had taken over Crouch's post, and Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They were going to be on the panel of judges along with Dumbledore, Karkaroff and Madam Maxime.

Dumbledore went on with the details of the tournament, the instructions, the warning about how those below seventeen weren't allowed to compete, how the tasks would challenge the champions' magic prowess and talent and ability to cope with danger and everything… Harry was barely listening, though… he wondered what Sirius was doing tonight. It always made his godfather sad – the days leading to Halloween, everyone and everything he had lost that October night years ago.

"—the champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire!" Dumbledore's voice shook Harry from his thoughts.

Dumbledore tapped the casket before him thrice with his wand, reaching inside the now-open lid and pulling out a large, roughly hewn cup that was filled to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Then Dumbledore went on, announcing how aspiring champions would have twenty four hours to put their names into the Goblet.

"Finally I wish to impress upon you that ought to enter into this tournament lightly. Once champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. There can be no change of heart. Please, therefore, be sure you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the Goblet. Now, I think it if time for bed. Good night to all of you." Dumbledore ended his speech with that one final warning, leaving excited chatter in his wake.

Fred and George were discussing ageing potions and whatnot, Krum was staring determinedly at the Goblet, while Fleur bid them all goodbye and watched the Goblet closely as she passed by it. Hermione was already telling Neville something about the magic she thought the Goblet used to decide on the most deserving champion. Ron was watching Krum's retreating figure as the Bulgarian shook Harry's hand and made his way to the Durmstrang ship.

Acquila, though, sat quietly in her place. She didn't go to the Hufflepuff table, Harry saw. She merely sat quietly, almost as if she was waiting for him.

"I'm glad we're out of the spotlight this year." She stood up when he did, walking to him. "Aren't you?"

He nodded.

"Let's go back to the Common Room?" she asked him quietly.

He only nodded, wondering what had brought this on.

"Have you spoken to Dad?" she asked him as they walked up the stairs together. He wondered when was the last time they'd done this, only the two of them walking somewhere together.

"I did," he told her. "Sirius seemed fine… at least, he tried to act like he's fine."

She only hummed in agreement.

"Are you fine?" he asked her softly.

When she raised her gaze to meet his, she saw her eyes were glistening.

"I am," she lied, and he knew, without her telling him, that she was thinking about what had happened last Halloween night – Mrs Smith dying, Greyback ripping her throat out, Acquila watching those memories in her dream that night.

For a moment, he wished he could hug her tight, kiss her cheek, promise that he'd be with her always, that Mrs Smith wouldn't want to see her sad, that she would only want Acquila to be safe and happy, that he understood what Mrs Smith had meant to her and that he too was sorry that she'd died.

But it seemed like it was something forbidden now, reaching out to Acquila, touching her…

How long has it been since I've felt her hand in mine? He wondered.

Shouldn't she have spoken to Cedric about this? Asked another shrewd voice in her mind. Shouldn't she have told tell him? Shouldn't she have looked to him for comfort?

But he said nothing, until they reached the portrait hole. There was nobody in the Common Room; people have yet to come up.

"Good night," he said softly. It was more of a question, he half wanted to never see her again, and half didn't want her to ever go.

"Good night," she said, not meeting his eyes again.

"Harry," she called him when he was about to climb up the staircase.

"Yes?" He turned around, green eyes meeting grey.

I miss you, she said, unsaid, but words he could hear all the same. Or perhaps he was only imagining hearing them. He couldn't feel her thoughts any more like he could mere weeks ago. Perhaps he could if he tried hard enough, but he hadn't had reason to.

I miss you too, he wished he could say. But he only stood there as mutely as she did.

"Let's talk to Dad tomorrow night?" she asked him. "Both of us together?"

It had been days since they'd both used the Two Way Mirror together. Acquila didn't visit his dormitory anymore.

He nodded, recognising the emotion flickering in her eyes in the light from the glowing torches around them. It was their shared pain, their shared loss, the sense of comfort that only they could provide each other with because of all that fate Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew and Fenrir Greyback had snatched from them on Halloween.

No wonder she hadn't told any of this to Cedric, no wonder he himself could never share this with anyone else. It was theirs alone, just the both of them – his Mum's screams that he'd heard, the image of Greyback sinking his teeth into Mrs Smith's throat, seeing that bright green light blasting everything apart, the grief pricking at his heart when he first visited his parents' graves, Sirius breaking down before Athena's tomb the very first time he took Acquila there, the taste of Mrs Smith's blood that they'd felt on their tongues that terrible night…

He didn't know who moved first, but suddenly, his hands were in hers, her forehead leaning against his, their breaths mingling, neither of them moving, but their hearts beating in tandem, the same terrible images flickering behind both sets of closed eyelids, the welcome sense of calm and comfort and home that he felt she whispered his name.

Suddenly, the portrait door swung open, a loud Fred and George sauntering in with the rest of the Gryffindors.

Quick as a Snitch, Harry pulled away, suddenly aware of where he was, of what he was and who Acquila was with now… she wasn't his anymore… he wasn't hers… none of this felt right, despite how right it was.

He turned away from her, walking up the staircase quickly, not once looking back at her.

oOo

"I'm feeling as nervous as I did before my first Quidditch match," confessed Cedric, unlike his usual confident, cheerful self.

"I'm sure you'll be Hogwarts champion," Acquila told him as they both walked towards the Great Hall. She could see some students staring at them. But she was almost used to it now, to the curious stares and the jealous glares. She'd even caught Cho Chang watching her eerily the other day, almost as if she was wondering what Cedric was doing with Acquila when he could have been with Cho. Sometimes, it perplexed Acquila too – what Cedric really liked about her enough to date her. She was younger than the girls he had previously dated, she supposed. They didn't have too many things in common too.

"You're only saying I'll be chosen because you're my girlfriend," said Cedric, grinning slightly. "You're supposed to say encouraging things like that."

There was a flutter in her belly when she heard those words. She was Cedric's girlfriend, but that still seemed very strange to her at times – exciting yet conflicting, new, yet leaving her longing for the old.

"You told me even Angelina Johnson's put her name in," Cedric went on, "I think she might be champion, or Terrence Roberts from Ravenclaw—"

"No, it'll be you. It's just a gut feeling I have." She entwined her fingers with his; his hand was far larger than hers, and a little colder too.

"I know you're saying that to make me feel better, but—"

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, nothing like the deep kisses they'd shared the other night, but just a long, sweet peck on his lips. "You will be Hogwarts champion. I know it," she whispered in his ear. Pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, she squeezed his hand, and then walked to the Gryffindor table, grinning eagerly.

She hoped Cedric would be chosen. Of course, House loyalty should probably have made her root for Angelina like the others were. But she couldn't help but support Cedric; the Triwizard championship meant a lot to him, and not just because his father wanted him to win. Cedric himself wanted to win it too… not for the thousand galleons, but for something else – well-earned fame and victory, the sense of achievement…

When she sat at the Gryffindor table, she saw that Cedric was still watching her, smiling. It made her smile too, also because of how she could make him grin so often.

She took her place between the Weasley twins who had finally managed to rid themselves of the beards that their ill-fated attempt at crossing the age line had given them.

Harry was sitting in front of her, next to Viktor Krum, who was glaring at the Goblet as if threatening it to select him as champion.

She gave Harry a hesitant smile which he returned. She could still remember the feel of his hands in hers last night, the sense of homecoming a simple touch of his skin had given her, how merely feeling him close to her had made a sense of comfort diffuse into the sorrow and loss she'd been feeling for Mrs Smith. Oh, it wasn't that she couldn't have spoken about this to Cedric. Her boyfriend had even remembered Mrs Smith's death last year. But despite Cedric telling her that he was here for her, she didn't quite have words to explain what Mrs Smith had meant to her. But with Harry, she hadn't even needed words. He knew everything, he'd always done.

"She's looking so beautiful!" Ron's dreamy voice took her attention to Fleur entering the Great Hall, looking ravishing as always. Some boys at the Ravenclaw table invited her and her friends to sit with them, and the Beauxbatons graciously accepted. Fleur waved to Harry and her as she caught her eye and took a seat next to Roger Davis.

Acquila could feel the growing anticipation in the Great Hall now. The delicious-smelling dinner appeared on their tables, and everyone happily tucked into the feast.

Acquila didn't quite feel like eating, though. She wondered what Sirius was doing. Halloween wasn't a good day for her father. She was looking forward to talking to him tonight with Harry. She hadn't quite got the time to call her Dad since morning; she'd been busy all day in classes, and then with Cedric on the lawns, and then with her friends watching the students putting their names in the Goblet.

She only hoped Remus was with Sirius tonight, at least to accompany him to Godric's Hollow to visit Harry's parents in the cemetery there. She guessed her Dad would go to the McKinnon cemetery too; but that was one visit he'd probably make alone.

Acquila herself wished she could go to that little plot of land behind that quaint little Church near the Orphanage where Mrs Smith was laid to rest. Perhaps she could do that in the Christmas vacations, have her Dad take her there.

When she looked to the Hufflepuff table, she saw Cedric just toying with his food like she was, not really eating. He was nervous.

Her gaze flew to Harry next. He was laughing at something Victor Krum said, Ron watching them both almost jealously. She curbed a smile at that, when the buzz in the Great Hall to suddenly come to a stop – Dumbledore stood up.

"Here we are," said Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling. "The moment you have all been waiting for. The Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. When the champions' names are called, I would ask for them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through to the next chamber, where they'll be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it. All at once, all the candles except those inside the pumpkins were extinguished, plunging the Hall into semi-darkness, the Goblet of Fire shining brighter than everything else with its blue-white dancing flames.

Everyone watched the Goblet with bated breath, when suddenly, the flames in the goblet turned red. The very next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it. The whole room gasped as one.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion from Durmstrang is—" The Durmstrang students seemed to collectively hold their breaths "—Victor Krum!"

The entire Hall broke into cheers and applause, Ron getting to his feet as Harry and Neville made way for Krum.

"Congrats!" Harry told Krum happily.

The Bulgarian thanked him in his gruff voice, his face almost breaking into a smile as the cheering continued, and then walked to the aforementioned chamber. Igor Karkaroff, Acquila noticed, was still clapping even after the cheering had all died down.

"Now for the Beauxbatons champion," announced Dumbledore once Krum was out of the Hall.

Acquila glanced at Fleur; the girl was pale-faced, her knuckles bright pink with how tightly she was clutching at her glass.

The flames in the Goblet burnt red again, and a second piece of parchment flew out of it.

"Fleur Delacour!" announced Dumbledore, to a loud applause from many of the male Hogwarts students, including a brilliantly grinning Harry; they were all in awe of Fleur. The other Beauxbatons didn't seem too happy, though. Two of the girls had even started crying. Fleur got up gracefully and gave a stunning smile as she walked into the chamber.

"And now," said Dumbledore, "for the Hogwarts champion."

Acquila watched Cedric; he was looking at her too. She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile just as the third parchment flew into Dumbledore's hands. She hoped with all her heart that Cedric would be the champion; he deserved to, she knew.

"The Hogwarts champion," announced Dumbledore, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Acquila couldn't even hear the rest of Dumbledore's words, so deafening was the applause and cheers that rose from the Hufflepuff table. She heard a loud whoop, only to realise that she was the one who'd let that out; she was on her feet, clapping as loud as she could.

The Gryffindors weren't really happy, though. Nor were the Slytherins who looked visibly disappointed. The Ravenclaws were clapping politely. She beamed as Cedric walked towards the chamber behind the staff table. When he passed by her table, Cedric grinned widely at her. Acquila wished she go to him and hug him tightly, but she had to settle for blowing him a kiss, cheering for him until he was out of sight.

She couldn't wait to see him alone, to hear what they told him about the tasks. She'd support him all through it; maybe she could even help him, maybe with some research or something… she didn't even know what the tasks were supposed to be like. Well, she'd hear all about it from Cedric once he was done with the instructions and everything.

The Great Hall had finally settled down a little, though everyone was still discussing the champions. Dumbledore made his way to the chamber himself, only to suddenly stop in his tracks. Before Acquila could wonder why the headmaster had stopped, she saw the reason why – there were red flames glowing in the Goblet again. As gasps and shocked exclamations began broke the steady chatter, a parchment was already flying out of the Goblet.

"A fourth champion?" Acquila whispered. It didn't make sense at all.

The lines on Dumbledore's aged face seemed to deepen when he read the name on the parchment. His blue-eyed gaze flew to the Gryffindor table, and Acquila knew it would be nothing good.

"Harry Potter," said Dumbledore, almost hesitantly. "Harry Potter," he repeated aloud.

There was pandemonium now, not that Acquila heard it. She was looking at Harry, stricken and stunned.

Harry stood rooted to his seat, his face almost pale, green eyes wide and disbelieving. All of a sudden, he didn't look fourteen, but like that little boy she'd first met at Muggle school – nervous and scared and alone. She could feel it all – his confusion, his panic, his anxiety.

"Harry," she whispered, making to go to him, knowing he needed her.

Almost as if he'd heard her over the din, he looked at her, still stunned.

I didn't— He seemed to say.

I know, she thought. I know you didn't.

"Harry, come up here please," said Dumbledore.

Harry didn't move. He seemed to be frozen, watching the headmaster now.

"Go, Harry!" Hermione tried to push him out of his seat.

He looked back at Acquila.

She nodded at him, and then he stood up, his legs all shaky as he made his way to the chamber meant for the champions. She saw some of the other professors standing up and following Harry into the chamber with Dumbledore.

"How did he get past the age line?" demanded George, "I'm sure you know—"

"I need your help," she told the Weasley twin. She couldn't stay here. She had to be with Harry. She had to.

"I need a distraction," she told him and Fred. "Please."

"We're always ready to create some chaos!" Fred winked at her.

She didn't care about the loud uproar that had broken up. She barely looked at the twins rummaging in their pockets for something. She only wished she'd brought the Two Way Mirror along. Her Dad would need to be told about this. Someone had put Harry's name in the Goblet, someone wanted him to compete in this dangerous tournament meant for people far older! Someone who was probably in the Castle this very moment!

Something red and shining soared over her head in a graceful arc, and before she knew it, the centre of the Hall was suddenly alight with bright fireworks – pink and red and yellow and blue, the fireworks drew carved pumpkins against the night sky of the ceiling, cheers and whoops of surprise all around. The professors still seated at the table rushed out of their seats to inspect who'd set off the firecrackers.

In all the commotion, nobody noticed Acquila easily slip out of her place and behind a pillar. There wasn't time to even tell Hermione who had noticed her slipping away and was watching her, wide-eyed and curious.

Harry… all she needed now was Harry.

"C'est impossible... Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust." Madame Maxime's voice was loud enough for Acquila to hear as she neared the chamber.

"We were under the impression that your age line will keep all the younger contestants from entering, Dumbledore." Acquila could hear Karkaroff. "Or we would have brought along wider selection of candidates from our schools."

"It is no one's fault but Potter's," said Snape softly, "Don't blame Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules."

"Harry didn't do anything!" exclaimed Acquila as she entered the room.

"Miss Black," drawled Snape sternly, "You are not supposed to be here—"

"Harry didn't do anything!" she repeated, looking straight at Dumbledore now.

Though she disliked the headmaster, Acquila hoped that just this once, he'd be of use to her, to help get Harry out of this mess, to believe what she was saying because she knew Harry hadn't done anything… she'd have known if he had, she'd have felt if he had, Soul Bond or not, Harry would never circumvent the age line to get into a tournament that he was hoping would keep him out of the spotlight this year.

"He didn't cross the age line or put his name in the Goblet or something! He didn't—I'd have known if he did—"

"Calm down, Miss Black," said Dumbledore.

"But—"

"I believe you, Miss Black," said Dumbledore. "I do not think Harry has anything to do with his name coming out of the Goblet."

"But why should we believe the girl?" demanded Karkaroff. "Just because she's Sirius Black's daughter—"

"This has nothing to do with my Dad!" retorted Acquila, the same time as Harry exclaimed, "Leave Sirius out of this!"

"Oh shut up, Karkaroff!" growled Mad Eye Moody, glaring at the Durmstrang headmaster, and then at Snape.

"This eez not right, Dumblydore," said Madam Maxime. "I do not theenk I believe this girl—"

"I do," said Fleur. "If 'Arry says 'ee didn't do it, I don't think 'ee put his name in the Goblet."

Madame Maxime said something in rapid French, which Fleur replied to swiftly. Acquila hardly understood a word of their exchange, but by the end of it, Madame Maxime was nodding reluctantly.

"Madame Maxime might believe this nonsense," began Karkaroff heatedly, "But I will—"

"I trust Harry," grunted Victor Krum. "He's an 'honest boy."

Krum's words made Karkaroff rage in fury and disapproval, but he said nothing to his star student.

Harry, though, looked touched at Krum and Fleur's faith in him. They hadn't even known him that long, but they both trusted his word.

It was how Harry was, Acquila thought fondly. Whoever knew him would know he was honest, there wasn't a scheming bone in him, especially for something like this.

"Now that Miss Delacour and Mister Krum have given their views on this, let us see what our third champion has to say," said Urquhart.

With a start, Acquila looked at Cedric. She had forgotten he was even there. She was so worried for Harry, so intent on defending him, Cedric's presence, his selection as Hogwarts champion, her happiness for him, it was all forgotten when Harry's name flew out of the Goblet.

Cedric met her gaze, blue-grey eyes dark in the light from the torches. The expression on his face was unreadable, and it annoyed for a moment. With Harry, she could read even his blankest of looks wordlessly. It wasn't so with Cedric. Was he miffed with her? Didn't he trust Harry? Didn't he trust her?

Cedric nodded mutely, looking at Dumbledore now.

"Ah, brilliant!" said Ludo Bagman. "Since the other three champions are in agreement, we are going to have four champions battling for the Triwizard Cup now!"

"Not that we could have done anything about this even if the three of you disagreed," put in Urquhart, looking rather worried. "I'm afraid Mister Potter would have had to compete anyway. Once your name comes out of the Goblet—"

"Black," whispered Snape. "You have caused enough trouble already. Go back to your Common Room. Now."

Not quite wanting to piss off Snape, Acquila slipped out of the room, after one last glance at Harry, and then at Cedric.

As passed the staff table, she noticed that the Great Hall had already emptied out. A grumbling Filch was cleaning ashy dust in the middle of the Hall, remnants of the twins; fireworks, no doubt.

Avoiding Filch's eyes, she snuck up the staircase and hid behind a suit of armour, thinking.

It didn't make sense. Was Voldemort behind this? But what would he want with a school tournament? And if it was Voldemort, who was helping him from inside Hogwarts?

She had to talk about this with her Dad. He would know what was going on. He would help them get Harry out of this mess. This was one year Harry had been looking forward to, a year of peace, away from the spotlight… he wouldn't compete in the bloody tournament. She wouldn't let him if he didn't want to. Her Dad would sort it all out. She knew he would.

She should have gone to her dormitory and retrieved the Two Way Mirror. But something made her wait where she was.

As she stood there, deep in thought, she heard the sound of nearing footsteps.

"Acquila," Harry whispered.

He had known she was here, just like she knew he would know.

"Harry," she said, as he stood before her, the light making his green eyes look almost hazel.

"I—I don't know—I didn't—" He looked lost… still stunned and flabbergasted and nervous.

Before she knew it, she was hugging him, her arms around him, her face resting in the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent.

How long has it been? she wondered, feeling Harry like this.

She felt his arms go around her, everything about his gestures so achingly familiar – his hand settling on her back, his cheek against hers, his fingers resting in her braid. It felt like—no, she couldn't even begin to describe what it felt like… like being put whole again, like the brightest of summer days, like the world had been set right again, like she'd finally come home… not to Black Manor or Grimmauld Place, but to where she had always belonged.

Until she remembered, and she pulled back from him, settling for holding his hand instead, the gesture suddenly feeling forced and awkward unlike how natural the hug they'd shared moments ago had felt.

"Dad will help us," she told Harry, wishing she could run circles on his palm until she felt the familiar scar, the calluses on his fingers, the nails he was still used to biting during boring History of Magic lessons…

"I thought—I never thought… I don't want this," he admitted. "I just wanted some peace and quiet for once… just this once…"

He sounded very unlike Harry – frustrated and almost bitter… which was something he didn't feel often, even in situations like this.

"Let's talk to Dad," she repeated. "He'll know what to do. I know he will."

Harry nodded, hope flickering in those green eyes. "You're right," he said. "Let's talk to Sirius."

She didn't let go of his hand all the way to Gryffindor Tower.

oOo

The wind howled long and loud, making the leaves of the ancient trees rustle loudly, the dark branches swaying in a wild dance. The dried foliage on the unshorn grasses flew tall and high, and then showered over the tombs of long dead witches and wizards when the wind suddenly lost its pace, making the cemetery fall into an almost frightening silence… only for the light breeze to pick up pace again, the cold making Sirius pull his coat tighter around him, grimacing because the flowers he'd brought along wouldn't stay put on her grave.

He watched the long-stemmed white flowers being swept away, as did the dead leaves and twigs that couldn't hold their own against the might of the winds, a swirl of white and yellow and a lifeless brown.

Sighing, he stared at the tomb again. She'd never been a flower sort of girl anyway. She wouldn't really have minded whether he brought flowers for her or not. It was how she was… always content, always happy with whatever little he did for her… never demanding, rarely butting heads with him… until that night thirteen years ago, when she'd begged and begged him to take her along to Godric's Hollow.

He shut his eyes. For a moment, he could see her – those auburn locks tied in an untidy bun, a wailing Acquila in her arms, the way she was reluctant to let go of him when he kissed her goodbye… the feel of her lips against his, her fist clutching the lapel of his coat, a sobbing Acquila squished tightly between them, her cries for Hawwy ringing in their cosy little flat.

"I should have taken you along," he whispered, opening his eyes and tracing his fingers over the Athena McKinnon-Black engraved over the headstone. "I should have listened to you, my love. I should've taken you along—" His voice broke, a hitch in his throat.

Damn.

No matter how well he thought he'd moved on from his past, the anniversary of Athena's death always dragged him right back into the dark abyss, making him feel like he was still in Azkaban, Bellatrix gleefully informing him that Peter Pettigrew had killed Athena, that Acquila was dead too, that he had lost all who were dear to him.

"I'm sorry I don't come to visit you often," he whispered hoarsely. "But—well, you know…" He trailed off.

She knew, of course. Athena knew him better than he knew himself, almost as well as James had known him. She would know why he didn't come to her grave often, she would know how it would only have made it tougher for him to tide over her loss.

Thirteen long years since you've been gone, Athena, he thought.

But sometimes, it felt like it was just yesterday that he had asked her out to Hogsmeade, asked her to marry him, swung her around in his arms when she told him she was expecting a child, made love to her until dawn, sobbed in her arms when he learnt of Reggie's death—damn! It was strange how every Halloween seemed to make the dead more alive to him than those who were truly alive. Athena, James, Lily, Reggie… he could go on and on…

"She's doing well," he told the unmoving headstone. "She's grown taller than you, you know… and though she looks so much like a Black, I swear I can see you in her sometimes… especially when she laughs, and her eyes just… sparkle in the way yours used to… and she loves Florean's blueberry ice-cream, just like you did, remember?"

He trailed off again, remembering the days in the summer holidays when Athena and he would spend hours in Florean Fortesque's ice-cream parlour, before the War intensified and had most of Diagon Alley down their shutters.

"She's got a boyfriend now," he told her. "Cedric Diggory… I think you knew his father Amos. Works in the Ministry, remember? I can't say I'm too happy about it. I liked it much better when she was with Harry… you'd have loved seeing them together, my love. They're just…" He trailed off again. It was tough trying to put into words what he thought of Acquila and Harry.

"I just—I just think it would've been better if you'd been here, you know. For Acquila… for just… everything she's had to deal with. I think she needs a mother figure in her life. Even Mrs Smith is gone now… and, well, Andy's here… but it's not the same, is it? I wonder if Acquila would've done things differently if you were here… if you'd helped her deal with the Bond… just, you know, spoken to her about it…" He sighed. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm not up for it, my love. I wasn't there for most of their childhoods… and with the Soul Bond and none of you around… if—if you were here, or Jamie and Lily were…" He trailed off again, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Damn, I'm making you all sad with my whining, am I not?" He chuckled hoarsely. "I should be here telling you all the good stuff, not complaining about everything under the sun. Well, Acquila's doing quite well now… it was hard watching her after the whole… Greyback thing…" His hand curled into a fist. "But she's better now. She's put it behind her… and though she might not admit it, we do have Harry to thank for it. He's such a sweet boy, my love. If we'd ever had a son, I'd have wanted him to be like Prongslet. He's got the best of Jamie and Lily, you know. Oh, I do wish he'd have some of Prongs' wit and humour and how he was always laughing and smiling all the time. Harry's a lot more solemn… but he's a very good lad… you'd be proud of him too…"

"Moony's doing great," he went on. "Nymphie and he have moved in together, you know. Nice little flat in central London. Andy's given them her blessing—you should've been there when Remus proposed to her. You'd be so happy for him, sweetheart. Remember you always told him he deserved a nice girl who'd see him for the wonderful man he really is? Nymphie's all that and more for him. I've never seen him happier… they're so good together…"

"And… then there's me," he said, uncomfortable now. "I… well, I'm doing okay, I guess. There's still so much to do, and hardly any time… I won't deny it gets lonely at home alone. But I guess it's how it is…" He trailed off again, but more out of unease now, fiddling with his wand. "I—I'm—well, you know about it, don't you? About her?" He squirmed a little. "It's just… it isn't anything serious… you know that, don't you? Irene and me—it's just—it's all just physical… nothing like what you and I had—"

There was a sudden flash of bright light, a big spurt of flames. Quick as ever, Sirius raised his wand, pointing it at the intrusion, a Shield Charm up in a trice.

But it was a very familiar Phoenix that trilled aloud, extending a talon that had a piece of parchment gripped in it.

"Fawkes," muttered Sirius, wondering why Dumbledore was contacting him at this late hour.

There has been a new development. I await your arrival at Hogwarts, said the parchment in Dumbledore's distinct hand.

Satisfied that he'd read it, the Phoenix trilled again, and then took off in another spurt of bright, warm flames.

"You could've taken me along," muttered Sirius to the now-gone Phoenix, wondering what had made Dumbledore call him now. Was it something about a Horcrux, perhaps?

"I guess I'll know when I get there," he muttered, staring at Athena's tomb. "Goodbye, my love," he said quietly, his palm brushing over her name again.

And then he was gone, the winds swallowing the soft crack as he Disapparated to Black Manor.

Minutes later, he stepped out of the flames in Mad Eye's soot-lined fireplace.

The room looked far different than it had when Remus had occupied it months ago. There was none of the warmth, the familiarity that the stone walls held when Sirius had visited Remus over the past year. Instead, the room now looked like a bigger version of Mad Eye's office when he'd headed the Auror Department years ago, the familiar foe-glass there, the large Sneakoscope in the corner, a pile of oft-fingered books lying in a heap on the messy table, and a large magical trunk under the table. That was a new addition that hadn't been there in Mad Eye's old Auror office, the trunk. But then he hadn't needed a trunk at work, of course.

"Black," growled Mad Eye on spotting him, gruff as ever, the big blue eye staring at him as intensely as his real one was, the thin lips pulled into a thinner line on his grisly face, unsurprised at seeing him.

"Hello, Mad Eye," greeted Sirius. "Dumbledore said he wants to meet me—"

"I know. I told him to send Fawkes to you," Mad Eye cut him off. "There's something you should know."

"What happened?" Sirius recognised the tense note in his mentor's gruff voice. "Is it the children? What happened?"

"The Goblet of Fire spit out Potter's name!" barked Moody, stomping his clawed foot on the ground. "That's what happened!"

"Harry—what—what did you say?" sputtered Sirius. "Harry's name! Out of the Goblet of Fire?"

"Yes!" snarled Mad Eye, looking furious at himself. "His name came out of the bloody Goblet! Someone put his name in, under a fourth school if I'm not wrong—Potter's claiming he didn't put his name in—"

"Of course he didn't! Harry wouldn't do that!" exclaimed Sirius, stunned. "But I don't—damn it! You think Voldemort's behind this?"

"He might be," growled Mad Eye. "But I don't understand how—"

"Damn it! Damn it!" Sirius shouted, enraged.

Harry chosen for the Triwizard tournament—he would have to compete in the tasks! Tasks that were ridiculously tough—meant for seventeen year old adults, not a fourteen year old boy!

"He won't be bloody competing in the tournament," Sirius fumed. "I'll see to it that he won't have to—he isn't even seventeen—"

"It's a binding contract, Sirius," said Mad Eye tersely, "You know that as well as I do—"

"But Harry didn't fucking put his name in! He didn't ask for this! I don't care! I'm going to find a way out of this! If Voldemort did this, and I'm sure he did, then he has something planned for Harry! I'm not going to let him rush headlong into danger! I'll find a way to get out of the magical contract—there has to be a way—"

"You know there isn't, Sirius. Don't delude yourself. All we can do now is prepare the boy—"

"Prepare him? Merlin knows what the tasks even involve! He didn't ask for this—someone did this purposely—Voldemort has something to do with this—"

"But it's done now," barked Mad Eye. "You have to stop panicking, and think of what we can do next—"

"How could you let this happen?" Sirius burst out. "This has Voldemort written all over it! I told you to keep a watch on Karkaroff!"

"It wasn't Karkaroff! I've got my eye on that bastard, and it wasn't him! He didn't get anywhere close to that bloody Goblet," fumed Mad Eye.

"Damn it, Mad Eye," swore Sirius angrily. "You are here to keep the children safe—I could bloody sleep peacefully at night because I knew you're here! How could you let this happen right under your nose! How could you—"

"Damn you, Black!" roared Moody, stomping his wooden foot on the ground.

Sirius bit back his words, breathing heavily now, feeling the anger ebb and surge within him. He watched his mentor take a swig from his hip flask, and then looked away, controlling his panic and fury, watching the faint shadows in Mad Eye's Foe-Glass.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said finally. "That was uncalled for."

"You are right, though," grumbled Mad Eye. "I should've been on my guard—kept a watch over that dratted Goblet day and night. Something like this shouldn't be happening on my watch."

"I need to talk to Harry," Sirius muttered, more to himself.

"Call the lad here… this room is secure. I'll go see what Karkaroff's up to while you talk to the boy. I'll have a look at Snape too," said Mad Eye brusquely.

It can't be Snape, thought Sirius, remembering the Unbreakable Vow he'd had his childhood nemesis swear. But he couldn't tell that to Mad Eye, of course.

"Go meet Dumbledore after you're done talking to Potter," said Mad Eye gruffly. With another swig from his hipflask, he walked out of the room, his wooden foot clacking on the stone floor.

Wearily taking the Two Way Mirror from his pocket, Sirius called Harry.

His godson arrived barely a few minutes later, Acquila by his side.

"Dad!"

"Sirius! I knew you'd come," exclaimed Harry.

There was something in the visible relief in Harry's green eyes, the trust the boy held in his godfather, which made Sirius feel like he'd taken a blow to his gut.

There's no way out of this, Mad Eye's words rang in his ears.

"Dad, Harry's name came out of the Goblet!" Acquila's panicked words only made him grit his teeth.

"They're saying I'm the fourth champion! I didn't put my name in, Sirius, I swear!" said Harry earnestly.

"I know, Prongslet, I know you wouldn't do something like that," Sirius told him, putting an arm around the boy. "I'll get you out of this, I'll do all that I can."

"Hermione's read about it, Dad," said Acquila, tensed. "She said it's a binding contract—if Harry doesn't go through the tasks, he'll break the contract and it will strip him of his magic!"

Sirius supressed an anguished sigh. He'd thought as much when Mad Eye mentioned a binding contract.

"Do you—do you think Voldemort's behind this?" asked Acquila. "Someone in the castle put Harry's name in the Goblet, Dad! Someone wants him in danger—"

"I'll find out who's behind this. I swear I will," said Sirius, noticing how worried Acquila looked, how she had clasped Harry's hand in hers, the both of them looking just like they'd been before the whole break up.

"Look, even if there is someone in the castle out to hurt you, Mad Eye's here… I trust him, alright? You feel the slightest sense of something fishy, go to Mad Eye. He'll keep you safe."

Something flashed in Acquila's eyes at the mention of Mad Eye. But it was gone before Sirius could remark on it, and he had more pressing matters at hand anyway.

He looked at Harry, wishing he could promise the boy that he wouldn't have to compete. But he wouldn't lie to the children; he wouldn't give Harry any false hopes.

"I'll do all that I can, kiddo. I promise you," he told the boy quietly.

Harry watched him, understanding dawning in those green eyes, a flash of frustration taking over the hope that had been there.

"There's no way out of this, is there?" Harry muttered, turning away from Sirius. "I don't get it—I'm tired of this! Why is it always me? I don't want to be Triwizard champion—I don't want all this. I just wanted to have a quiet year for once… away from all the attention… I just—" Harry stopped, the outburst over as suddenly as it had begun.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "I know you'll do all you can, Sirius. It's just that…"

"I understand," Sirius told him, ruffling his hair quietly. "I know you're mad about this. Anyone in your place would've been. I'm sorry I can't—" He broke off, not willing to give up yet. "I'll do all that I can. I'll talk to Dumbledore. There has to be a way out. You can't be made to compete when you didn't even volunteer for it—when you don't have anything to do with this at all. I'll—I'll handle it, don't you worry. I will."

It was the anguished frustration in Harry's voice that he thought of when Sirius stood before Dumbledore a while later that night.

"You keep telling me Hogwarts is the safest place for the children. Yet something or the other keeps happening," he snarled at the headmaster. "How in Merlin's name is this happening? Who put Harry's name in the Goblet? Why do they want him to compete in the tasks? Why is Voldemort after Harry again when we know he's made up his mind that I'm his arch nemesis?"

"I do not know, my boy," said Dumbledore, calm as ever, his blackened hand lying on the table, dead and unmoving. "I do not know."

"But what is Voldemort going to get with this? You think he's meaning to have Harry hurt or killed while doing the tasks? Make it look like an accident? But that's not Voldemort's style. You think he's using Harry as bait again, to trap me or something? Like he tried with Greyback? But that doesn't make sense," grumbled Sirius.

"I do not know," repeated Dumbledore.

"That's all you keep saying!" exclaimed Sirius. "That you do not know! I want Harry out of this! He's not going to participate in this, for Merlin's sake! We know someone means to hurt him. I'm not putting him in danger knowing what could be in store for him."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. The magic that's spun into the Goblet ensures that—"

"—that it's a binding contract," interrupted Phineas from his portrait on the wall. "I'm sure my great grandson already knows that. Do not be foolish, Sirius." His forefather looked at Sirius now. "You've learnt wizarding contracts at Arcturus' knee. You know there isn't any way we can circumvent the magic of the Goblet—though this is what happens when you squeamish people of today fool around with ancient tradition. Earlier, the participants needed to write their names on the parchment with their own blood, you know, until they did away with that. Cowards."

Sirius only looked quietly at Phineas. "But it isn't fair to Harry. It isn't. You know that, Grandfather."

"You are a Black," said Phineas imperiously. "Life is never fair. Stop whining and find a way to make sure the boy doesn't lose his limbs, or worse, his life, in those tasks. You know the bloody history of the tournament. Dumbledore here says nobody's going to die this time, but with Potter and his penchant for trouble… you need to prepare him, boy. He has to compete. There's no way out of this. So he'd better give it his very best instead of moaning and complaining like you. You are a Black. You've worked hard to rise up so high, to be the man in whom so much power resides. Use it."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of that, because I'm afraid I cannot mutely watch you plotting to interfere with the tournament, Sirius," said Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eyes, "Neither as a parent, nor as Lord Black. The champions are to compete against each other fairly."

"Life is never fair, as Grandfather Phineas just said," said Sirius quietly, getting to his feet.

"You're going already?" said Phineas. "No yelling at Dumbledore this time? That's the only entertainment I have here in this office, boy. You screaming and ranting at this old coot."

Sirius only smiled, winking at Phineas and reaching for the door.

There was a lot of work to do.

oOo

It had been a strange few days since his name had flown out of the Goblet, mused Harry, as Snape drawled on about some Dissolving Potion. Beginning with when Acquila and he had returned to the Common Room after meeting Sirius, everything had been rather strange.

The Fat Lady and her friend Violet had fawned over Harry, elated that a Gryffindor was Hogwarts champion. They'd gone on and on asking him how he managed to get past the Age Line, before Acquila had finally got annoyed and told the Fat Lady to leave Harry alone. They'd barely opened the portrait hole when a deafening cheer had almost had Harry reached for his wand to defend Acquila and him. Next thing he knew, he'd been wrenched into the Common Room by half a dozen pair on hands, carried over the shoulders of his celebrating housemates, had Dean and the Creevey boys singing a very off-key Muggle song about being a champion, and had the Gryffindors shower him with a hundred questions.

Everyone was dying to know how he had managed to enter his name in the Goblet. No one was ready to believe that he hadn't had anything to do with being chosen champion. Hermione had believed him, though; and Neville, of course.

But Ron hadn't… in the dormitory that night, Ron had sat stiff and cold, asking Harry why he hadn't taken Ron along to put his name in the Goblet too. It hurt that Ron, of all people, wouldn't believe Harry. Even Fleur and Krum had believed him, and neither of them had known Harry as long and as well as Ron did.

He didn't want to dwell on that now… Ron's pigheadedness, his sheer lack of faith in Harry…

Instead, he thought of the upcoming first task of the Triwizard. He had no bloody clue what it was.

Nobody knew, not even Sirius, who had promised him he would find out what the task was so that Harry could be prepared. He had protested, of course. He wouldn't cheat; he wouldn't do that to Fleur, Victor and Cedric who deserved to win and have a fair battle for the Triwizard cup.

But Sirius wouldn't listen to him, and when Harry had brought up the topic again, his godfather had merely given him a stern glare that had ensured he didn't raise the matter again. Oh, he hadn't been offended at how Sirius refused to see how unfair and dishonourable it was to find out what the task would be. Harry knew why his godfather was doing what he was… because Sirius loved him, because he didn't want him in any danger… and because Sirius had failed in protecting Harry.

Sirius had sat him down in Mad Eye Moody's quarters that night, Acquila watching dark-eyed and furious when Sirius told them about binding contracts and what not participating in the tasks could mean for Harry.

I am sorry, Prongslet, Sirius had said quietly, grey eyes not meeting his as his godfather ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair. I am sorry. Dumbledore says there's no way out of this. Even Phineas says the bloody contract is binding. But we'll get through this, I promise you. I'll do all I can to keep you safe, kiddo. I won't let you down again.

It had moved Harry, Sirius' words, just how much he loved him. And he had found his own rage and frustration fleeing when Sirius had hugged him and ruffled his hair.

For all that he wished it, his godfather wasn't infallible; none of his fame and power and wealth could get Harry out of the tangled web he'd been dragged into. But he knew Sirius would be with him all along wherever path would lead him. And that in itself meant more to him than he could express.

Moreover, Harry didn't want to worry Sirius anymore. Though his godfather hadn't said it, Harry knew the burdens he carried, and he knew how worried he was with how any sort of danger Harry got into would affect Acquila too because of the Soul Bond.

And anyway, it was no use worrying and brooding now. Done was done. He had accepted his fate, he knew that he would have to compete in the damn tasks… and that was what he would do. He would divert all his frustration into coming up with ways to stay unhurt… and alive. That was all he wanted. He didn't care about winning the championship at all. Fleur, Victor and Cedric – they were the people who wanted to and deserved to win.

Harry looked up at the front of the classroom absently. Snape was pointing at the blackboard, saying something about herbs and cauldrons that Harry didn't quite care about. Snape had been terrible since Harry had been chosen champion. He would glare daggers at Harry all through the class, pass snide remarks on how big-headed and hungry for fame he was, just like his insufferable father. He had even given Harry detention twice for no genuine reason, made him dust one of the old, high-ceilinged unused classrooms, without magic.

Glad that for once Snape wasn't watching him, Harry looked at the rest of the class.

Ron was frowning, clearly not listening to what Snape was saying. Oh, Ron wasn't as miffed with him as he'd been on Halloween. (Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Acquila had given the redhead a piece of her mind that had resulted in Ron suddenly being a little friendly with Harry). But he'd still pass the occasional snarky remark.

He knew Ron wished he were in Harry's shoes… he sort of understood that. After all, even Harry sometimes wished he was someone else. Too many things had happened in his life, and too many things were going on. He sometimes wondered how he managed to stay alive after each incident…

His glanced at Acquila, watching her scribbling something on her parchment. Tendrils of her dark hair fluttered, and Harry half wished it was his hand tucking them behind her ear.

He looked away, thinking back to the time she had hugged him tight that night. She hadn't done that again… but felt better even thinking of the memory of how quick she had been to come to his defence, how she had barely even noticed Cedric in her worry for Harry, how she'd waited for him behind that suit of armour, like he'd known she would… For all that things had changed between them, some things hadn't changed at all, and he felt good knowing that.

He caught Hermione's eye, and she smiled at him. Hermione had been very supportive of him these past few days, as had Neville. Neville had even stood up to a Slytherin who had deliberately roughly shouldered Harry in the hallway. The Slytherins seemed to have taken the Goblet fiasco very badly, even more so than the Hufflepuffs. Harry had expected some snide comments from the Hufflepuffs considering he had stolen their champion's glory. But they didn't bother him much except for some glares during Herbology. He knew their lack of anger was probably because of Cedric telling them he had no problem with Harry (and he knew Cedric sort of believed him only because Acquila did). The Ravenclaws were normal with him too.

Only the Slytherins used to call him names during their shared lessons. Surprisingly, Malfoy had not said anything to him, but Harry could see it in his eyes. He knew that the only reason he was holding back his comments was Acquila. He wouldn't do anything to upset Acquila.

Completely different from all her housemates was Daphne Greengrass. She believed that Harry had put his name in the Goblet despite him telling her otherwise, but she was impressed with him, with his cunning and his wits, which he'd never used in the first place! She had spoken to Harry once Care of Magical Creatures lesson, told him she was supporting him… it had made him faintly happy.

Half of the Potions class, Harry just realised, had passed by with him just blankly staring at the blackboard and thinking about all that was going on in his life. Harry couldn't believe that Snape hadn't yet noticed him daydreaming and not paying any attention to his drawling.

Maybe his luck was improving.

"How would you define antidotes, Potter?" Snape's voice rang out loud in the quiet classroom.

Damn, just when he thought his luck was getting better. When had Snape moved to antidotes? Hadn't he been going on about Dissolving Potions?

"Err, well…" Harry mumbled as he rummaged his mind for an answer.

"This," said Snape, mocking, "is our champion!"

The Slytherins laughed.

Daphne didn't, Harry noticed.

"Just because you are exempted from the end of the year exams, Potter, it does not mean you are exempted from paying attention in my class," said Snape, eyes glinting, "Detention this weekend, Potter."

Harry didn't know how he managed to suppress the groan. Yet another detention with Snape! He didn't think he could take it anymore.

Just then, Colin Creevey peeped through the dungeon door.

"Yes?" said Snape curtly.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry upstairs."

Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.

Harry hoped Snape would agree. He couldn't sit through another hour of this class.

"Potter has another hour of Potions," Snape said coldly. "He will come upstairs when the class is finished."

Colin went pink. "Sir—sir, Mister Bagman wants him," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs. . ."

Harry changed his mind quickly. He would suffer through Snape's taunts and the Slytherins' laughter than go through a photo session.

"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter, take your bag and get out of my sight!"

Harry glanced at Acquila. She smiled reassuringly at him; she knew of his aversion for things like photo shoots.

He glanced at Ron too. He was staring determinedly at the ceiling. He knew Ron was going to be mad with all the attention Harry was getting. He would surely be cold and snarky with him later.

Well, he couldn't do anything about it. Ron would just have to grow up.

oOo

He slept, dreaming of shining goblets and golden cups and a familiar stag who stared at him sorrowfully, until he was shaken awake by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Andy," he greeted her, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

Andromeda watched him carefully. "I should've let you sleep," she began, "but—"

"No, it's alright," he told her, sitting up straighter in his chair. It was time he woke up anyway; he had a rather important business coming up in an hour's time.

Wondering when he had fallen asleep, he cast a glance at the table before him, full of sheaves of parchment covered in various handwritings, copies of old newspapers, his Penseive, and dusty old tomes that he'd had Kreacher bring him from the library.

"I asked around," said Andromeda. She looked troubled.

"You shouldn't have," he told her firmly. "I told you, I cannot have you involved in this. You're on the Wizengamot, and I need you there. If anyone finds out you're trying to get information on a bloody interschool tournament to help your nephew—"

"I'm not a fool, Siri," she told him sternly. "I know we've made enemies, and I know they'll jump at the slightest hint of any wrongdoing on our part. I was discreet. And I care about Harry too, you know that."

He nodded grimly. "Did you find anything out?"

"Only that your sources were right. Everyone involved in the planning of the Triwizard tasks have inked a magical contract. Try as they might, they cannot divulge details of the tasks," said Andromeda sadly.

"Damn it," Sirius swore under his breath. "I spoke to Helphius Urquhart… he's worried. He agrees with us that Voldy or his minions have got something to do with this, but he cannot divulge anything too. I even had Remus speak to Bertha Jonkins… she's this poor woman, a little bird-brained… you know how Remus is good with meek people like that. But she let nothing on, damn it. Ludo Bagman seemed very eager to help Harry, mind you. One of my informants says he's bet a lot of money on Harry winning the tournament. But he didn't tell me jack shit about the first task. Just went round and round in circles—I guess the contract ensures he can reveal nothing. I had to bloody Obliviate him, lest he go around telling people I was trying to get information out of him."

"You need to be careful," Andromeda told him.

"I know," he muttered. "But we have to know what the bloody first task is, Andy. Harry's just fourteen! Having him compete in something that's meant for adults—"

"He's better at magic than any boy his age," Andy told him reassuringly. "You've ensured that over the past three years, Siri. Harry is well equipped to deal with anything thrown his way."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to let him get into danger like this!" he exclaimed, shutting one of the old books he'd been reading on the history of the Triwzard. "What are people saying? You went to the Greengrass's party the other night, didn't you? Do they think Harry put his name into the Goblet?"

"Well," said Andy. "Theodore Nott went about saying that Harry cheated… he's inherited his big-headed godfather's hunger for fame. Daniel Greengrass thinks Harry's a smart lad to have got past Dumbledore's age line. Lady Augusta Longbottom was brusque with Ivy Brown for suggesting that Harry and you had something to do with it. By the end of their talk, Ivy was rather convinced that Harry played no part in it… but that only had her wondering who is behind this all. Nathan Rosier didn't speak to me… but he's a smart man. I'm sure he has his own suspicions."

Sirius nodded, saying nothing.

"What do you think?" Andromeda asked him quietly.

Sirius sighed deeply. "I don't think it's Voldemort."

"You don't?" Andromeda looked only a little surprised.

"I know I said it could be him – that was my first reaction when I heard of this. I was sure Voldemort had something to do with this. But it doesn't make sense, Andy. Operating like this—using an interschool tournament of all things isn't Voldemort's style. If he wants to get Harry, beat him or kill him or whatever, he'll want to do it out in the open, to prove to everyone that he's vanquished the child who killed him all those years ago. He won't do something like this… it just isn't him…"

There was another argument that went against Voldemort's direct involvement – one he couldn't tell Andy. Months ago, Harry had those visions of Voldemort, been in his mind when the Dark Lord decided that his arch nemesis wasn't a teenage half blood, but Lord Sirius Black, with the purest blood in all of Britain, with all the power in the Ministry that Voldemort once held. It was why Greyback had attacked Harry and Acquila that night, to bait Sirius into going to their rescue and giving Voldemort a chance to finish him off once and for all. But things hadn't gone Voldemort's way that night. Voldy wouldn't try the same thing again – putting the kids into danger to incite Sirius to do something stupid. Moreover, Harry couldn't be the prime target now, because Voldy had already decided Sirius was his nemesis, not the Boy Who Lived.

"It has to be one of the Death Eaters," Sirius told Andromeda. "I don't know who, but one of them, out to prove their loyalty to Voldy or something. Lucius casting the Dark Mark, they must all be stunned by it…"

"If only we had someone in the Death Eater ranks to tell us what they are up to," said Andromeda meaningfully.

"I'm not going to ask Snape to spy for us, Andy," said Sirius. "He won't do it. He swore the Unbreakable Vow only to protect Harry. This playing informant for us… he won't do it. Moreover, I don't think he knows anything about this. If he did, he'd have tried to stop it, or told me about it. He's bound to protect Harry's life."

Andromeda sighed. But he could see she wasn't pleased with his reply.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Sirius went on, "One of Voldy's lapdogs somehow engineered all this to trap Harry into going through the tasks. I don't know what they intend to do – maybe hope Harry loses his life in the process without having to do anything that'll land them in Azkaban like Malfoy? Gain points with Voldy for vanquishing the Boy Who Lived?"

"How did they put Harry's name into the Goblet, then? You say Moody swears Karkaroff has nothing to do with this."

"I wish I knew," muttered Sirius. "If it's one of Nott's pals, you think they had their kid put Harry's name into the Goblet? I mean, they do have children studying at Hogwarts—"

"Most of the Death Eater's children aren't of age, Sirius," Andromeda pointed out.

"Then I guess they had an older kid do it? Or an older cousin or something? Everyone's related to everyone, Andy, you know how it is. Anyway, none of that matters now. What matters is getting to know what the task is going to be to prepare Harry for it, make sure he won't get hurt."

"And will he agree? Harry? The boy has a lot of Lily's honour. He's a Gryffindor." Andromeda smiled fondly.

"I'm not giving him a choice. Honour and fair play don't matter when it's your life at stake. The sooner Harry understands that, the better. It may be a mere tournament for the other champions, but it could be a matter of life or death for Harry."

The clock struck suddenly, loud and clear.

"I have to go," Sirius said, getting to his feet.

"Go where? At this hour?"

"Cissa visited me the other day," said Sirius quietly, "About Lucius."

Understanding dawned in Andromeda's dark eyes. "You're taking her to Azkaban." It wasn't a question.

Sirius shrugged. "She said she wants to visit him. I couldn't deny her, could I? She knows I can pull some strings, take her there… going through the official channels would take her months… attract some attention she doesn't want… she's already been in the news too much after I became Lord Protector."

Andromeda hesitated. "I know you're—well, that you're all better now, but should you really go to that place again, Siri?"

"I'll be fine," he assured her. She didn't know he'd been to Azkaban a handful of times to interrogate Bellatrix. Andromeda couldn't know that. He hadn't told her about the Horcruxes. Knowledge of the Horcruxes could only put her in danger; and he'd burdened her with enough already.

"I worry about you," she said quietly.

"You shouldn't. I have a grown up daughter of my own, Andy. I'm not the little boy who used to come running to you frightened of Bella's rages." He chuckled.

Something flashed in Andromeda's eyes. "Bella," she said. "You said Bella."

At times like these, Andy's keen observation and shrewdness was a curse. He shouldn't have said Bella. He always called her Lestrange or Bellatrix, never Bella… but the Azkaban visit was already affecting him, reminding of the times he had visited him cousin, heard her laugh wildly, sob pitifully, and had her try to strangle him that one time. So many memories, so many regrets – Bella and Reggie… James and Lily and Athena… damn, the mere thought of Azkaban made a giant cloud of gloom and darkness shower over him.

He wondered what Andy would say if he told her he had visited her older sister more than once. That was something he hoped she'd never know… what her sister had turned into…

Blood ties, he thought, family.

"I better leave now," he told Andromeda, putting on his Auror badge and taking his coat.

"Take care," she said, kissing him lightly on his cheek.

"I will." He grinned at her, knowing he'd set her a little at ease when she gave him a fond smile.

A quarter of an hour later, he was smiling a similar reassuring smile at his other cousin. But Narcissa looked nowhere as calm and collected as Andy was. She only nodded at him, mute, her face pale and drawn, her lips bloodless as she clutched her coat tighter around her.

They weren't even at the prison yet, but in the watchtower on the seashore yet – the one that he'd convinced Fudge into setting up the previous year, with a round the clock guard of Aurors keeping a watch on the Dementors in the fortress.

"Auror Adair," he greeted the Auror on duty.

"Auror Black. Mrs Malfoy. I wasn't told to expect you here." Auror Adair looked rather wary.

"We're here to visit Lucius Malfoy," said Sirius coolly, slipping a piece of parchment into the Auror's hand.

Adair's face cleared when he read Minister Fudge's words. "Ah, of course. Come on, Auror Black, Mrs Malfoy. I will take you to the prisoner."

The fortress towered above the dark, swirling waters of the North Sea, tall and imposing, casting a pall of terror and gloom all around it, invoking a sense of fearful foreboding in Sirius' very heart.

Azkaban, he thought, when they got into the magical boat, the waves loud and huge as the boat struggled over the dark waters. His palms were cold, his breath a white mist that mingled with the heavy fog and the salty spray of the sea as his boat bobbed over the fierce waters. He turned, facing away from Azkaban and towards the far-off seashore that seemed oh so warm and inviting.

The air turned colder and colder the closer they got to Azkaban, tendrils of white swirling before he face as the dense air make it a little tough to breathe.

There was a hand gripping his insides in its chilly grip, a dozen voices ringing in his ears – Reggie, Jamie, Mother, Lily, Bellatrix, Marlene, and Athena – loud and sorrowed and quiet and furious at the same time, nothing like she'd been in real life, but the nearing Dementors bringing to the fore the worst of his memories with her – the rare fights, the tears when he refused to give up a dangerous mission, her last words, the cruel barbs thrown at him when Athena's false apparition emerged from Voldemort's Locket.

For a moment, he felt like he would plunge into the oh-so-familiar darkness, his much-hated companion during his decade of incarceration, the ever-present sorrow and hopelessness that he was more acquainted with than with the joy he had felt over the past three years with his children… his children… Harry – his shy smiles and his bright green eyes, taking him for Quidditch matches, teaching him magical spells, ruffling his messy hair, hearing Harry say that he loved him and he was glad Sirius was his godfather… Acquila – holding her in his arms the day she was born, watching the little pink fingers clutching curiously at his hand, hearing her hum softly as she braided her long hair, her warm hugs, her tinkling laughter…

"Sirius." Narcissa sounded worried.

"I'm fine," he told her, memories of the children clearing the dark fog that had been threatening to swallow him whole.

Narcissa was shivering, he saw, looking unnaturally pale, staring unblinkingly at the looming prison. She had been to Azkaban before, he knew, in the early days of Bella's imprisonment. But now she had a whole lot of new depressing memories the Dementors' presence could torture her with – Draco being bitten by Greyback, Lucius' hand in it, his incarceration, losing – even if it was voluntarily – control over House Malfoy…

He muttered a spell under his breath, to warm her up. Silently, he slipped his hand in hers, almost wincing at how chilled her hand was.

"Are you sure you want to—"

"Yes," she cut him off. "He is still my husband. I need to see him… tell him about the protectorship… and tell him about Draco. Whatever he may have done, I know Lucius still cares for our son. He should know what's going on in Draco's life… read his letters and get news of his son. I will not deprive him of that."

Her voice was trembling as she spoke; but Sirius could see how the mention of Draco seemed to give Narcissa a little courage.

"Auror Black," called Adair. "Now."

"Of course," muttered Sirius, watching the half a dozen Dementors flying over the fortress. "Expecto Patronum!"

A shimmering Padfoot lunged gracefully out of the tip of his wand, warm and silver, huge and proud, sprinting over Narcissa's head and onto the stony ground ahead, sending the two Dementors at the gate of the fortress running. Adair's fox Patronus remained on the boat, jumping off it only when Sirius had helped Narcissa safely onto the ground, the boat magically anchoring itself in place.

"This way," said Auror Adair, leading them up a flight of stairs.

From farther away, they could hear the loud wail of a woman, cackling laughter, followed by a fit of coughing and sniffling.

"Is that—" asked Narcissa, her face whiter than ever.

"No, no!" he told her. "It isn't Bella. She's further that way."

It was better Narcissa never knew that Bellatrix was worse off than most prisoners here. Narcissa probably did have an idea of that, but Bella had only gotten worse since the time Voldemort had infiltrated Azkaban and Obliviated her of that one particular memory.

Sending the Dementors away with his Patronus, Adair stopped before a cell barred with a giant stone door – similar to the one Bellatrix was kept in.

"Step back," Sirius told Narcissa.

Adair bent down and muttered a series of spells, his wand simultaneously drawing golden runes on the stone floor. He could feel the hair stand on end now, a strange-feeling magic swirling in the very air they breathed – it was Auror Strongboar casting his own magic through the monitoring spells from the watchtower, an added security measure for the high-security prisoners.

Finally, Adair opened the door.

"Mrs Malfoy," he said quietly.

Narcissa met Sirius' eyes. He squeezed her hand that he held in his, and kissed her cheek softly. "Go on."

She nodded, clutching her coat closer. Taking a deep breath, she entered the cell.

"Cissy!" Sirius heard a hoarse voice – one that sounded nothing like the proud Lucius Malfoy.

"Let's wait outside," Sirius told Adair. He had no wish of standing there listening to the Malfoys talking. Oh, he'd have loved to watch Lucius reaction on hearing that Sirius Black was Lord Protector of House Malfoy. But his gloomy surroundings made him decide it wasn't worth it.

"She can't be there long. I know the Minister's agreed for this, but if the Head Auror comes to know Mrs Malfoy and you came here without permission—"

"Ten minutes. That's all she'll take," Sirius promised him.

They walked out, screams of a prisoner shattering the sickening silence of the stone walls.

"Things going fine here? Any more trouble with the Dementors?" Sirius asked Adair.

The Auror frowned warily, then sighed. "I guess Auror Shacklebolt already shares everything that goes on here with you, huh? No use hiding anything from you, I guess."

"No," Sirius agreed, smirking.

"Shacklebolt wants to have more Aurors here. We're already stretched thin, and the Head Auror thinks it's a waste of man-hours putting trained Aurors here to do the Dementors' job of guarding the prison."

"What do you think? You're here often, eh?"

"Far more often than I'd like," muttered Adair. "And Shacklebolt's right. We need more Aurors here—hell, we need a specially trained force to handle the Dementors. They aren't really as much under our control as they used to be… I don't know what's happening, really. Having new prisoners coming isn't helping things… Malfoy, that Gaunt man who killed a Muggle recently… the prison's already bursting to seams."

"But—"

"You've only been to high-security areas where people like Bellatrix and Malfoy are kept in solitary confinement… like you were, I guess," said Adair uncomfortably. "There's hundreds more prisoners in the dungeons. We keep putting Silencing Charms down there because the wailing gets so loud and unbearable when we come for our daily visits here…"

"I'll look into this, I promise," said Sirius.

"That's what you'd said when you were here last year too, from what I heard," pointed out Adair, unafraid. "But you never did anything, did you?"

Sirius sighed, guilty. He hadn't got time for that last year. He'd been so busy with Greyback and Mrs Smith's murder, Draco getting bitten, and then with Crouch Junior and the Horcruxes, he hadn't got time for handling the Azkaban issue.

"I will now," he promised. It was one of the things on his immediate agenda anyway, getting Dementors gradually out of Azkaban.

Adair nodded, unconvinced. He extinguished his Patronus with a wave of his wand.

"The Dementors won't come here," he told Sirius. "You can take down your Patronus if you wish. It is a rather strength-sapping bit of magic."

Sirius nodded, uncomfortable at the thought of standing in Azkaban without his Patronus. But Adair was right; and he'd have to learn to be in the dratted prison without constantly needing a shimmering Padfoot's warm presence around him, for all he knew, Narcissa and the Horcrux-hunt would necessitate more Azkaban visits in future.

"Morfin Gaunt," said Sirius conversationally, "He giving you any trouble?"

"He's nuts already, that man. Just keeps muttering all day… hissing and spitting like a bloody snake. I heard you were the one who got him out of Azkaban earlier, didn't you?"

"I did," Sirius admitted. "He was imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit."

"But he went and did it, didn't he? Killed a poor man, and landed in here again. Not all prisoners are like you, Auror Black. Once you're in here, the darkness never leaves you."

Sirius nodded grimly, not wanting to dwell on Gaunt now. Getting him out of prison had cost a man his life – Sirius wouldn't be able to forgive himself for that any time soon.

"Ten minutes are up," said Adair suddenly.

"She'll come," Sirius assured him. He knew Narcissa wouldn't take more than the granted time. True to her word, she emerged out of Lucius' cell, the stone door slamming shut behind her.

She looked even paler now – if that was even possible, shaking and trembling.

"You alright, Cissa?" Sirius asked her; meeting her husband had obviously affected her a lot. Lucius had probably raged at her on hearing about the lord protectorship – if he still retained his wits to understand the gravity of that, that is.

"Siri—" Narcissa began, gasping, only for her knees to buckle, her tall figure falling to the ground.

"Cissa!" Before he could move towards her, he felt the air around them thickening, a chill seeping into his veins, into his bones, gripping his very heart. He could hear Athena pleading now, Walburga screaming, Reggie sobbing, Acquila lying motionless on the forest floor, her blouse torn, the werewolves lunging at him, Greyback killing Mrs Smith, the only mother Acquila had ever known, realising a part of Voldemort dwelled inside Harry, sobbing as he thought of his unborn child that had died along with Athena…

"NO!" he screamed, struggling against the hopelessness, the memories, the impotence that seemed to arrest his actions, his magic.

"NO!" He screamed louder when he opened his eyes, aghast, for he saw one of the frightening creatures, tall and dark and hooded, descending upon Narcissa's fallen form, dark fingers elegantly touching her pale jaw, waiting to kiss her cold lips and suck her soul out.

"Expecto Patronum!" But nothing happened; he could hear Auror Adair screaming, a wisp of silver emanating from the Auror's wand and then disappearing, as seven more Dementors glided in from nowhere, flying over their heads, one of them joining the one who had taken hold of Narcissa.

His own wand sent out a feeble stream of silvery wisps, making a Dementor who was gliding towards him turn track and go to Adair instead.

"Expecto Patronum!" he cried, a slightly stronger spell sending the Dementor that was about to attack Adair away.

"Malfoy!" Adair cried.

Sirius turned around, stunned to see five of the Dementors hovering around Narcissa now, one of the hooded faces getting closer and closer to Narcissa's pale one.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He cried, hearing Adair's shout joining in with his. Padfoot sprung out of his wand again, racing towards the Dementors, sending them scattering away, while Adair's fox Patronus followed the fleeing creatures, ensuring they wouldn't come back.

"Cissa! Narcissa!" Sirius rushed to her on weak legs, breathing hard, feeling cold and hollow. "Cissa!" He shook her by the shoulders, patted her cheek gently, until she came around.

"We've to get out of here," said Adair urgently, his fox Patronus returning and standing next to Sirius' dog. "We've to leave. Now!"

"Siri—what happened? Did I—did it—" Narcissa stuttered, clinging to him, teary-eyed and dazed, weak and drained as she struggled to stand.

"Come on," Sirius told her, putting an arm around her shoulder and half-dragging, half-carrying her.

"Come on, quick! Before they come back!" exclaimed Adair, running ahead to get the boat ready.

And as he led Narcissa to the safety of the magical boat, the silver Padfoot protecting them all along, Sirius only regretted not having taken up the matter of the Dementors last year.

oOo

She saw him sitting by the Lake, which was very unusual for him. He looked paler than usual, blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight, a forlorn figure in sharp contrast to the chattering group of Ravenclaw girls and the boisterous group of seventh year Gryffindors on either side of him.

"Hey," she greeted him softly, sitting next to him.

"Hey," Draco said quietly.

"Dad told me what happened… Aunt Narcissa—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he cut her off.

Acquila watched him, the scar pink against his skin, silver eyes staring into the far off mountains, his lips pursed as he refused to even look at her.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked him, though she couldn't think of a reason why he'd be miffed with her. Agreed she hadn't spoken much to him lately… since she'd started dating Cedric, to be precise. It was almost as if Draco was avoiding her. He would sit with Daphne during their shared classes, and he'd disappear after mealtimes before she could even reach the Slytherin table.

"No, I'm not," he muttered.

"So you won't even look at me now?" she asked him.

Draco sighed, finally meeting her eyes.

"It's nothing," he said.

"Is Aunt Narcissa fine now?" she asked him.

It had happened the day before yesterday – the Dementors turning on her Dad, Aunt Narcissa and another Auror in Azkaban. It had scared Acquila – the thought of her Dad in Azkaban, the target of Dementors. She still remembered the nightmares she had had, years ago when Sirius was an escaped prisoner from Azkaban, when she would wake up sweating and shaken at the images of a Dementor sucking out his soul, erasing his heart and mind before she could even meet him, extinguishing whatever good and human was left in him…

Her Dad had assured her he was fine, and that Aunt Narcissa was too. But she still couldn't help worrying what would have happened if Auror Adair and her Dad hadn't responded in time. She couldn't imagine a world without her Dad. She couldn't imagine what Draco would have gone through if he lost his mother along with everything else that he'd lost in the past few months.

"Mother is better," replied Draco.

Acquila smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. She half thought Draco would pull back from her. But he didn't.

"It's all over the newspapers," he said instead, staring at the mountains again. "Your father didn't need to leak the news like that. I've had enough of my family name being dragged through the mud in the past year."

"Aunt Narcissa's name wasn't given out," reasoned Acquila.

Her Dad had told Harry and her briefly about how he intended to handle the mess with the Dementors. To gather support, he would first need to tell the public of how the wretched creatures were getting out of hand. Minister Fudge wasn't so keen on changing things in Azkaban, knowing the public backlash at the prison's security with no Dementors around. But because the Minister knew of Voldemort's existence and the danger he posed to the world at large, he'd agreed on gradually releasing news of Dementors attacking a visitor to the prison, to shape public opinion on the danger of the Dementors getting out of control.

"I know Mother's name isn't mentioned, but it won't take long for people to piece two and two together. The Prophet mentioned that your father was probably on the site too. Won't take long for people to figure out that Mother had gone there to visit Father," said Draco. "She's already been through a lot… all the letters and the questions from Father's friends, this protectorship business. She's my mother. I have to keep her safe."

His voice trembled at the end.

Acquila couldn't help but put her arms around him, pull him into a hug. He remained still for a moment, then returned the hug, almost half-heartedly.

"What's wrong? Why won't you tell me?" she asked him when he pulled back.

"It's nothing," he said again, though she didn't look as aloof as he'd done before.

"Is it because… we haven't spoken properly since I started dating Cedric," she said. "But you're the one who's been avoiding me. Why?"

"It's not been great, alright," he muttered.

"What hasn't?" she prodded him.

He only sighed, looking like he was struggling to contain what he really wanted to say. "I've got some homework to complete and Quidditch practice later. I'd better get back to the castle."

"Draco," she called to him when he stood up. "Are we—are we alright with each other?"

He sighed, then gave her a small smile. "We are. I can't ever be mad at you for long. You're my—well, you're my best friend."

She watched him walk away until he disappeared from view, wondering what had brought this on. She knew he had been through a hard time; the Dementor attack on Aunt Narcissa had obviously worsened matters. But his behaviour with her wasn't making any sense. It hurt her a bit. After all, Draco was like the brother she never had. Agreed they hadn't always been on the best of terms, but he was the first person from her family she had ever met. They had shared things and events and memories that would always ensure Draco had a special place in her life.

"You don't seem too happy." She heard a familiar voice.

She felt more than saw Cedric sit down next to her, kissing her cheek.

"It's just Draco being Draco, I guess," she said, returning Cedric's smile.

"Is it because the full moon's nearing?"

"Maybe," she lied. Draco had grown used to the transformation now. Having Remus with him each full moon night helped, as did the Wolfsbane.

She watched Cedric smile at her, bright-eyed. Something made her lean in and kiss his lips, after a quick glance to make sure Harry wasn't anywhere around.

"I've hardly seen you these past few days," she told Cedric.

"Well, it hasn't been all that great," he said, a little curtly.

Oh, things hadn't been as good as they'd been between them since Harry's name flew out of the Goblet. She could understand why Cedric was probably a little disgruntled. He should have been the toast of all of Hogwarts, the pride of House Hufflepuff. But Harry being the joint Hogwarts champion had sort of taken away much of the glory that should have been Cedric's. Her defence of Harry that night and the way she hadn't joined the celebrations that night, choosing instead to stay with Harry, meet her Dad and celebrate with the Gryffindors… it hadn't endeared her to him.

"Did your father say something?" she asked him quietly, unsure of how to carry this conversation. It was what made her mad sometimes – how she had to think twice and thrice before saying something to him, never able to pre-empt his thoughts and response like she did with Harry.

"Dad's still a little miffed… but you know how he is," Cedric let out a dry chuckle. "He thinks it should've been my name splashed all over the newspapers. He didn't appreciate how they pushed my photograph to the bottom corner of the Daily Prophet, while there was this big article on Harry. I told him to be glad I was at least mentioned… I mean, Delacour and Krum didn't even have their names on there…"

"Does it bother you?" she asked him, taking his hand, running her thumb over his palm.

"Not really." He shrugged, and she couldn't see any dishonesty in those clear eyes. "I just don't like seeing Dad disappointed. He was a little annoyed because I refused to let that Rita Skeeter interview me too…"

"Did you tell him I told you to refuse her?" Acquila asked him.

"I did… he didn't say anything about it after that."

"She's not a good person, Rita Skeeter, or I wouldn't have told you to say no to her." Acquila told him. "She'd written things about Harry and Dad and me that—"

"You don't need to explain anything," said Cedric. He squeezed her hand lightly, looking at her now, brown hair almost golden in the sunlight. "I trust you, Acquila."

There was something so touching about those words that she couldn't help but kiss him again, blushing when a group of Hufflepuffs nearby whistled and hollered teasingly. She spotted two of Cedric's friends among them – Alec and John.

"Are you nervous?" she asked him, "about the first task?"

"I am, a little. I just wish they'd told us something about it. We know absolutely nothing," he sighed.

Acquila looked away from him, suddenly guilty. She knew her Dad was trying to find out information about the task, to help Harry. It would be unfair to Cedric… oh, she knew Harry wouldn't keep whatever Sirius told him about the task from his rivals; his principles wouldn't let him. But still, Cedric wanted to win, he deserved to win, and she hoped he would win.

"How are Harry's preparations going?" Cedric asked her.

"Alright, I guess. He's all at sea about the task too… just like Fleur and Krum and you. But well, he doesn't care about winning unlike the three of you. He never wanted this in the first place."

Cedric shot her a sceptical look.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Do you still not believe me? Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet. He has nothing to do with this. He never wanted any of this – all the attention, the pressure…"

"It's the Triwizard tournament, Acquila," said Cedric. "I know you folks are wealthy, but a thousand galleons isn't a small amount, nor is the fame and glory that comes with winning."

"He doesn't want any of it, neither the fame nor the money. He'd be happier if he was just left on his own, away from all this."

Cedric smiled an indulgent smile. "I'll take your word for it," he told her, but she knew he wasn't convinced. "I just hope that on the day of the task my girlfriend will be cheering for me."

She couldn't but shoo her irritation with him away when he put an arm around her contentedly.

"Oh, I will," she promised, pulling him close for a kiss.

oOo

It was warm and cosy in the rather comfortable armchair. The scent from the merrily burning candles wasn't the heavy, sickly sort of scent that usually lurked about the Divination classroom, but a nice lavender-y smell which, coupled with the dim light and Trelawney's droning voice, should have made Harry feel rather sleepy.

Instead, he found himself unable to sit still, fidgeting with the quill in his hand, feeling hot under his collar, wishing he could open the curtains that were shut.

He looked at Hermione, she was scribbling away, looking none too pleased with whatever Trelawney was saying. Harry dully wondered why she had even continued taking Divination when she clearly didn't believe in the subject at all. If he was right, Hermione was probably already poking large holes in the logic of whatever topic Trelawney was droning on about.

Ron was busy staring at the pack of tarot cards Trelawney had spread out on the table. Harry was sure his pensiveness had nothing to do with the subject. He was probably dreaming of talking to Victor or having Fleur notice him again or something.

Neville looked like he was half-asleep. His eye lids were partly shut, and his mouth was almost comically open.

Acquila, though, kept watching Harry every few minutes, almost as if she knew how anxious he was. She probably did.

The First Task of the Triwizard Tournament was the next day, and Harry had absolutely no idea what was going to happen. They had been told nothing and they had nothing to prepare for. The past few days, all Harry was doing was practising the spells that Sirius and Remus had taught Acquila and him. That was the best he could do to prepare. It was what Sirius had told him too – keep practising all that you know until I find out what exactly the Task is going to be. That was easier said than done, Harry thought. Despite his best efforts, his godfather had no inkling of what the first task was going to be, none at all.

All the students suddenly turning to face him and the gasps that rang throughout the classroom shook Harry out of his thoughts.

"What—what happened?" he muttered to Hermione, who was sitting next to him.

Had Trelawney asked him a question or something? Were they all waiting to for him to reply to her?

"She just predicted that there will be blood spilt in the arena tomorrow," replied Hermione under her breath. "Well, anybody could have predicted that given the history of the tournament."

Seeing the look on Harry's face, Hermione turned pink. "Harry, I didn't mean—"

"It's alright," he said dully, glad that the rest of the class had gone back to doing whatever they did to pass time in Trelawney's class. Lavender and Parvati, however, continued to glance at him, whispering to each other, until the glare Hermione shot them made them look away.

"Do you think—" Harry stopped midway through his question when he saw Daphne Greengrass standing at the door.

"Professor, Harry Potter's been called to the Great Hall. It's to do with the Triwizard tournament," said Daphne.

"Very well," said Trelawney, as Harry gratefully got to his feet. "But be careful, boy. Every step you take ahead, you will take two back."

Not knowing what to make of that, Harry merely shrugged and walked out of the door, feeling everyone's eyes on him. He felt a sliver of curiosity that didn't quite belong to him… maybe it was Acquila, he thought, brushing it away.

"I'm so glad you came," he told Daphne when they walked away from the classroom.

"Oh!" Daphne turned a bit pink.

"I mean, I'm glad that you rescued from that lecture," Harry clarified sheepishly. "I couldn't sit there any longer."

"Glad I could be of help." Daphne grinned her pretty smile. He had forgotten just how blue her eyes were.

"So, I'm to go to the Great Hall?" he asked her.

"To the same chamber you went to when your name was announced, actually."

"Thanks." Harry smiled.

"You know I'll be supporting you tomorrow, right?" said Daphne, smiling a little shyly.

"Thanks," said Harry, quite touched. She'd be the only Slytherin supporting him, he reckoned.

It made him feel a little queasy, the thought of the whole schooling watching him make a fool at himself at the task. He didn't even know what it would be. He didn't even know as much about magic as Fleur, Victor and Diggory did.

It wasn't fair, he thought petulantly.

"You look worried," said Daphne.

"No," he lied.

"Okay," she said.

"You don't really need to worry, you know," she went on when he said nothing. "I know you're not as old as the others. But I think you're just as capable as they are. I mean, you've been involved in real things – like the retrieving the Philosopher's Stone, rescuing Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets, the thing with Greyback. None of the others have had real life experience like you have. I'm sure you'll do well, whatever the task is."

"Thank you," said Harry, touched by her words again.

She was a nice girl, he thought, remembering the date he'd had with her in Hogsmeade. He remembered that he had enjoyed her company. It had been fun talking to her now that he thought of it.

"We haven't spoken in quite some time… like this, I mean," he mused aloud.

"We should do this more often then," she quipped, smiling almost coyly.

Before he could reply, Harry felt the Two Way Mirror vibrating in his pocket.

"I—I've got to go!" he told her.

"But—" She looked put out.

"I'll—we'll talk later, alright? And thanks again—" He fled down the stairs, touching a particular spot on the stony wall at the end of a corridor with his wand. He slipped into the secret passage that lay there, suddenly excited, couple with the apprehension for the task tomorrow.

"Sirius! Sirius!" He called on the Mirror.

"Hey, Prongslet." Sirius' face appeared in the Mirror. He looked triumphant.

"What happened?" Harry asked him, feeling suddenly relieved.

"It's a Kelpie! The first task!" exclaimed Sirius.

Harry stared at him, half-relieved he at least knew what was coming (whatever a Kelpie meant) and half-ashamed. He hadn't wanted to know beforehand, have an unfair advantage over the others. Remus and Sirius had him convinced that it wasn't wrong to take their help; survival was his only goal. What's that Muggle saying? Everything's fair in love and war, isn't it? This isn't quite war yet, kiddo, but nothing's unfair or out of bounds for me when it's your safety in question, Sirius had said.

"I just found out—one of my informants—he said there are Kelpies being transported tonight—those huge creatures being transported in the dead of the night. It's certainly for the task… the bloke's almost sure. He's got his sources in the—anyway, that doesn't matter—"

"What's a Kelpie?" interrupted Harry.

Sirius stared at him, then let out a hollow chuckle. "Sometimes I forget how Muggles know nothing about magical creatures. People like James and I grew up listening to scary tales about Kelpies… anyway, a Kelpie is—well, how do I describe it? They're shape-shifters… water demons… they live mainly in Scotland, you see… that's why I got no wind of it. You don't need import licences and everything to transport them to Hogwarts. They look like horses, but they can also take a human form… well, they can take literally any form…"

"That sounds a little dangerous," said Harry.

"Oh, they are," sighed Sirius. "Grandmother Melanie would tell us never to go swimming in the lake near one of our manors because the Kelpies would eat us up—"

"Eat you up?" exclaimed Harry, horrified.

"Yes," muttered Sirius. "When I first heard the story as a kid, I couldn't sleep that night—"

"What story?" asked Harry curiously.

"Never mind that," said Sirius. "Look, Kelpies… they usually take the form of a horse, lure humans into a sort of trap and make them ride them… then they drag people to the bottom of the pool or the lake they're in… and then they… you know, eat them all up except the entrails… so the entrails are sort of the only remains that float up in the water when the Kelpie's done eating…"

"Hey, take a deep breath!" exclaimed Sirius suddenly. Harry wondered how pale and horrified he looked. His limbs did seem to have turned suddenly cold, his breakfast churning in his belly.

"Look, I don't want to scare you. Dumbledore says they've put all precautions in place. And I'm sure the Kelpies won't be the ones that are completely wild. Maybe they'll be semi-tamed ones or something. But you should know everything you need to know, that's why I told you. I don't want you to be unprepared. And look, kiddo, they sound frightening, but there's a way to handle them—"

"What?" asked Harry urgently.

"The only way to subdue a Kelpie is by placing a bridle on it," said Sirius.

"It's that simple?" exclaimed Harry.

"It sounds simple. But you've to place the bridle on it with a Placement Charm. You can't touch the bridle—"

"Where am I supposed to get a bridle from?"

"You can't take one along with you for the task. Or everyone will know you already knew about the Kelpie… which I don't really give a damn to—I mean, you didn't even ask to be in the bloody tournament. But then it won't go down with people, and I don't want anyone mocking you or picking on you or something. So you'll have to create a bridle with magic," said Sirius.

"I—I don't think I can conjure a bridle, Sirius. I can barely conjure a tea cup." Harry's mouth was a little dry, wondering how he could keep himself from being eaten by a Kelpie.

"But you're good at Transfiguration. You can transform yourself into a lion, you've achieved the toughest of transfiguration. I'm sure you can transfigure something into a bridle. You can do it, kiddo, I know you can."

Something in Sirius' voice made Harry calm down a bit. It couldn't be that hard, could it? Not when Sirius trusted he could do it.

"I can practice with Hermione and Acquila," said Harry, more to himself. "I have all of today to practice—"

"Another thing," said Sirius.

"What is it?"

"You'll need to breathe underwater, Harry. I'm sure they'll have the first task in the Great Lake… Kelpies are at their most dangerous in water bodies."

"Merlin," muttered Harry. He could barely swim. How would he breathe underwater for the duration of the task? "What do I do?"

"You need to—" Sirius stopped abruptly, looking at someone behind him. Harry could only see the ceiling of Sirius' office, but he could hear urgent voices, and Sirius swearing aloud.

"I've got to go, kiddo—"

"What happened? What is it?" Harry was worried.

"I'll call you back, alright? As soon as I can—"

"Sirius!"

But his godfather was gone, the Mirror only showing Harry's own pale face and messy hair.

How—why—how had Sirius just left like that! How would Harry breathe underwater now? He had no damn clue! Something had happened then… something very important, or Sirius wouldn't have just left without telling him what to do. But he'd call back… Sirius had promised he would…

I can practice transfiguring something into a bridle until then, thought Harry, shuddering at the thought of his bloody entrails floating on the waters of the Great Lake.

Harry looked around, suddenly realising he was in the secret passage. For a moment, he forgot what he was doing there, only thinking of monstrous horses with giant sharp teeth.

He was supposed to have gone to the chamber near the Great Hall. Damn!

He was extremely late. He rushed down the stairs as fast as his legs could take him.

He entered the chamber, panting for breath. "I'm—sorry—I'm late!"

Fleur, Krum and Diggory were already there. So was Ludo Bagman, who gave him a big smile and greeted him with a one-armed hug.

"So, my dear champions, tomorrow is the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. You will assemble near the Great Lake at 8:30 am sharp. The task will begin at nine."

The Great Lake, thought Harry. Sirius was right then. It had to be Kelpies.

He noticed that the other three champions were looking at Bagman expectantly.

"Well, that's it," said Bagman. "That's all I'm allowed to divulge at this point. So, all the best! See to it that you have a good night's sleep. You'll need all the energy you have tomorrow."

The others looked at each other, wondering what the task would be. Harry, though, merely stared at the floor, guilty. It wasn't fair. It isn't fair how I knew and they don't!

Ludo Bagman gave them a smile and made to leave. Reaching the door, he turned around almost dramatically. "Don't forget to wear your swimwear!" He winked at them as he left the chamber.

Fleur looked at Harry, smiling a little. Krum only grunted, making to leave. Cedric looked pensive.

No, he couldn't do this. He couldn't cheat them of a chance at winning. They'd entered their names themselves. They wanted to win, whereas Harry shouldn't even have been here. Moreover, the Kelpie sounded too dangerous a creature to keep any of them in the dark about it.

"I've something to share," said Harry before any of them could leave.

"What eez eet?" Fleur asked, while the boys stared at him curiously.

Harry suddenly realised what they must have made of his sentence. They were probably thinking that he was confessing about putting his name in the Goblet or something.

"I've found out... more like I heard that that first task involves a Kelpie," he admitted.

He watched them for their reactions. Krum looked as tense as ever, and grumbled something that didn't make sense. Fleur looked taken aback. Cedric looked really sceptical.

Krum walked towards Harry. He patted his shoulder and left without a word.

"I 'ave to go." Fleur departed quickly.

Only Cedric remained. He watched Harry thoughtfully. "Why did you tell us this? You could have kept it to yourself."

Harry only shrugged. "It wouldn't have been fair."

Cedric watched him, then nodded quickly. "Okay," was all the Hufflepuff said as he followed Fleur out of the room. Harry wondered what Diggory thought about all this; but he didn't quite have time to dwell on that now.

Hearing the bell ring when he reached the Great Hall, Harry made him way to the Common Room, hoping his friends would be there too. He hoped Hermione would help him practice the bridle part.

They were waiting for him – Ron, Hermione and Acquila.

"What did they say?"

"Did they tell you about tomorrow's task?"

"Is the task in the morning, because I really don't want to wake up early," remarked Ron.

"It's at nine in the morning tomorrow," said Harry.

Ron groaned.

"Near the Great Lake—"

"The Lake?"

Harry sighed, launching into what Sirius had told him.

At the end of it, Ron looked rather peaky. Hermione was watching him wide-eyed, her mind no doubt already busy thinking of Kelpies and ways to deal with them.

Acquila said nothing, holding his gaze for a long moment. "You told the others too," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Why would you do that?" exclaimed Ron.

"I did," said Harry. He didn't need to explain the why of it to Acquila. She knew already.

"Did you try calling Dad again?" asked Acquila, as Hermione was already grabbing a parchment and scribbling something on it furiously.

"I did. There's no answer."

"Do you think it's something related to—" Acquila stopped abruptly. He knew what she was thinking thought – whether Sirius had got a lead on the Horcruxes. What else would make his godfather rush off so urgently?

"Here's what we'll do," said Hermione, looking like she had devised a plan. "Harry, I think you should transfigure something into a bridle than conjuring it."

"That's what Sirius said," he told her.

Hermione smiled.

"Hey, where's Neville?" asked Harry suddenly.

"He's got detention with Snape, remember? He won't be back until dinner," said Ron.

"Acquila," went on Hermione, "I think Ron and you should go to the library and look for books that will have something on breathing underwater. They might be in the Restricted Section, though—"

"I'll take the Cloak, and the Map," said Acquila.

Ron perked up at that.

"We'll be back. Soon," Acquila told him. He half wished she would stay with him too to practice transfiguration. After all, they'd practiced magic together for almost three years now. She knew him and his magic, sometimes better than he understood it too, like she'd done when she possessed him and transformed him into his Animagus form.

Acquila met his gaze, grey eyes bright.

He looked away as Hermione called to him. "Come on, Harry. We've got quite some work to do."

oOo

"I can't believe these are the only books we found," grumbled Acquila, flipping through the pages of a giant tome that contained absolutely nothing on breathing underwater.

"There's nothing in this one too," complained Ron, keeping another book away. "I'm sure the other champions took all the books away."

Ron gave Acquila a rather filthy look.

"What exactly are you implying?" she demanded.

Things between Ron and her hadn't been that great lately. He was still miffed about her breaking up with Harry and dating Cedric. She was still miffed with the way Ron had hurt Harry when his name had come out of the Goblet – disbelieving Harry, being all rude and snarky with him. Oh he'd stopped that once she'd had a talk with him about how much of an arse he was being to Harry. Neville had spoken to him too. Ron had stopped blaming Harry for being selfish and hungry for fame now. But that didn't mean he was cool with Acquila.

"Nothing," muttered Ron. "Did you look in the Restricted Section properly? Maybe we could ask Madam Pince—"

"And have her know we're helping Harry? He's supposed to do it alone… You saw the look she gave us when we walked in. It's good there are barely any people around. One look at you and it's obvious there's something fishy going on. You never come to the library, Ron… Anyway, I grabbed the books from the Restricted Section that looked like they'd be useful." She patted her bag where the books and the Cloak were kept securely. "Let's get back to the Common Room and look through them."

"I don't get it. How isn't there a single book about breathing underwater," wondered Ron.

"I don't get it either."

The books they'd perused only stated the properties of water when used in potions and alchemy. There was no mention of anything related to surviving underwater, even in the books on charms relating to water. It was almost as if someone had deliberately done away with all the books on the topic.

Gathering her bag, heavy with the books she'd sneaked out, Acquila got to her feet, Madam Pince glaring at Ron when he walked stomping his feet too hard on the stone floor.

She was barely out of the door when she almost collided into someone, her bag slipping off her shoulder.

"Cedric!" she exclaimed.

"Acquila," he said, holding her bag before it could fall off. "Holy Helga, what have you got stuffed in this? It's so heavy!"

"We just came out of the library. So it's books, obviously," said Ron rudely.

"Ron," muttered Acquila. "Could you give us a minute?"

Ron glared at her darkly, then went a little away, quite within listening range of them.

"Books, huh? I guess you know that the task is in the Great Lake, then?" said Cedric. He wasn't smiling like he usually did.

She nodded. But she knew that wasn't the question he really wanted to ask.

She was torn, between supporting Cedric and Harry. She hated that they were both pitted against each other. She hated that, in her heart, she already knew who she would root for.

"Cedric," she said quietly.

"You're helping him, huh?" he said, blue-grey gaze boring into her eyes now. "He told you about the Kelpie, did he?"

"Yes… he's so young—and he never asked for this—"

"It's fine," Cedric cut her off. "You don't need to explain yourself. All I wanted was to see my girlfriend rooting for me tomorrow—"

"I will!" she told him. "I'm helping Harry because I want him to survive the task unhurt. But I want you to win the tournament—"

"Survive?" said Cedric. "Of course, he'll survive, Acquila. Didn't you hear Dumbledore say they've taken care of everything—wait! Is there more to this? Is there something you aren't telling me?"

She looked away from him. She couldn't tell him the truth, her Dad's suspicions, her own suspicions, about Voldemort's existence.

Nor could she lie to him. She wouldn't lie to him. He didn't deserve to be lied to. If she couldn't give him the truth, she would tell him that she wasn't free to divulge what it was, but she wouldn't outright lie to him.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow. After we're done celebrating you winning the first task," she told him, taking his hand.

"Acquila," he sighed irritated. "You know I don't like to be kept in the dark like this."

"I want you to think only about the task now. This isn't important."

"Come on, Acquila. Don't give me this now—"

She did the only thing she knew would improve his mood. She stood on her toes and kissed him, kissed him until she felt his tongue making something delightful flare in the pit of stomach, kissed him until he put her bag down and tugged her closer, kissed him until they both finally let go, flushed and breathless.

"That was a rather splendid distraction, but I've not yet forgotten that you're hiding something from me," he told her. But he was grinning now.

"You go and prepare for the task now," she told him. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck, Cedric."

He flashed her a wide grin which she returned, then went off to the library, whistling a tune softly.

"I really didn't want to see that!" Ron complained.

"I told you to give us some space. You were the one who stood there and watched." She shrugged.

Ron grumbled all the way to the Common Room, where Acquila sat and went through all the books that she'd taken along, finding nothing suitable. Could it be that Krum and Fleur already took the books away or something?

She sat there all evening, watching Harry practicing with Hermione by the window. She went to her dormitory half a dozen times and called Sirius. But there was no response.

"Find anything?" Harry asked her.

"No. But I will," she assured him. "You go down for dinner with the others. I'll wait here and try calling Dad again."

"I'm not hungry," muttered Harry.

"Oh come one. We've been stuck here practicing all day. And you need some nourishment if you're to swim for an hour tomorrow." Hermione sounded almost motherly as she led Harry down to the Great Hall for dinner.

Acquila sighed at the dark waters of the Lake. It was worrying her now. What if they couldn't find a way for Harry to breathe underwater in time? Hermione had suggested the Bubblehead Charm, but there was no way for Harry to learn it. The one potion she'd come across would take a week to brew. She didn't know of any other charm that could help him.

What is that's why all the books are missing? She wondered, dread pooling in her tummy. What if someone wants Harry to die in the Lake, unable to breathe? What if they want the Kelpie to—she couldn't even finish the thought. Perhaps she could go to Mad Eye Moody. He wasn't supposed to take sides, being a teacher. But her Dad had told them to approach him at the slightest hint of trouble.

"Acquila, you alright?"

"Yes," she lied, turning around to face Neville. "How come you took so long?"

"Snape wouldn't let me go," sighed Neville. "I must have cleaned around a fifty cauldrons. Slughorn had come to visit him for something. Even he told Snape he should ease up on putting me in detention every time… anyway, what about the first task? What was Harry called to the Great Hall for?"

Acquila sighed, telling him all they knew.

Neville smiled at her at the end of it.

"Why are you smiling?" Acquila asked him. "You should be worried."

"Looks like the detention wasn't a waste of time after all." Neville grinned widely.

"Huh?"

"Slughorn and Snape were discussing potions! One of them was a potion can make people breathe underwater—"

"I know about that," sighed Acquila, disappointed. "It takes a week to brew."

"But Slughorn has it! In his office! He was telling Snape he always keeps a vial of every type of potion he's ever brewed… for emergency purposes or something. He kept talking of how it was during the war—"

"You sure about this?" Acquila asked him breathlessly.

"Yes, I am!"

"Thank you so much, Neville!" She kissed his cheek, and then fled out of the portrait hole, suddenly hopeful.

oOo

Harry jumped into the dark lake, shivering, a chill racking through his body when he plunged into the cold. He swam through the dark waters aimlessly, searching for something he didn't really know, struggling when something grabbed at his hand and pulled him down, something grappling at his throat as he struggled for breath, a pain shooting in his chest, struggling and struggling and struggling—until he heard her voice… Acquila.

"Harry! Harry!" She called out to him in panic.

Harry!

"Harry!"

He awoke with a start, breathing in deeply, feeling sweat beading on his brow, his heart racing.

"Acquila," he breathed, seeing her sitting on his bed beside him, the light from her wand illuminating them both, grey eyes wide and shining.

"You were having a nightmare—what was it—is it Voldemort?" She took his hand.

"No, no it wasn't him," he assured her, sitting up. "Just a bad dream."

He didn't want to tell her about it, he found, which was strange in itself. He always shared everything with her.

"I found a way for you to breathe underwater!" She told him, the worry gone once he'd confirmed it wasn't Voldemort. She grinned at him happily.

"You did?" He couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, before the panic took over again. "Is it a charm? I don't even have enough time to practice."

"No, you don't have to practice anything." Acquila smiled, taking something out of her pocket. It was a little vial, clear blue liquid in it. "This will help you breathe underwater. You just have to come up for breath every fifteen minutes. The effects will last for an hour. Enough time for you to complete the task!"

"How did you get this?" asked Harry, taking the vial from her, staring at the swirling blue liquid inside it.

"I didn't. Neville told me about it, and Fred and George filched it from Slughorn's office. That's a long story… all that matters is you don't have to worry about tomorrow, Harry! You can do it! I know you can!"

He watched her, sensing she was as relieved as he was, knowing how much it meant to her that he wouldn't be all at sea tomorrow, that he would be able to do the task, that even if there was danger, he'd at least be capable of dealing with it.

"Are you nervous?" she asked him, looking down at their clasped hands.

He realised suddenly that she was sitting on his bed, just the both of them, within the shut curtains around his four poster, under the Muffliato that she'd surely cast, late at night. How long had it been since they'd shared a moment like this? How long had it been since she'd come to his dormitory in the middle of the night, crept into his bed, their hands clasped, just the both of them…

"Harry," she said quietly, "I—"

"Harry! Acquila!" Sirius' voice ringing out of the Mirror in Acquila's pocket made them both start.

"Dad!" Acquila exclaimed, retrieving the Mirror and staring at Sirius' dark-eyed, tired face that appeared in it.

"Where's Harry? Did he practice the bridle? And the Bubblehead Charm?" Sirius looked worried, a little panicked.

"Where were you?" demanded Acquila. "We needed you."

"Sorry—I'm so sorry. We got a tip off that Crouch was in one of the old Death Eater hideouts—bloody waste of time. I thought it was a reliable tip… but led us on a wild goose chase. I'm so sorry I couldn't call you. But I thought if we caught Crouch…" Sirius trailed off.

"It's alright," said Harry. "You don't need to worry about the bridle. Hermione helped me practice transfiguring. I think I can manage it tomorrow."

"And the Bubblehead Charm? That's the best way you can breathe underwater."

"We didn't have time for that, Dad. We've got a potion from Slughorn's office. It'll help Harry breathe underwater for an hour," said Acquila.

"Slughorn's office? Show me," said Sirius, frowning.

Harry showed him the vial.

"It looks alright. Slughorn had taught us to brew this in sixth year, I think. Lily topped, of course. Just come up for breath every once in a while, alright?" Sirius watched Harry intently. "You know you can do this, right, Prongslet? You'll get through the task. I'm sure you will. Just be aware of everything around you. The Kelpie could transform itself into any form. Keep the bridle ready."

"I will," said Harry, curious when Sirius seemed to struggle with something. "What is it?"

"You could just keep away from the Kelpie," said Sirius simply. "You're not in the tournament to win it. You just need to stay alive. You don't need to go after the Kelpie like the others will. You could just while the hour away. Nobody's going to think less of you if you don't win the damn task… least of all me. You didn't ask for this, and you're not obliged to risk your life with a bloody Kelpie."

"Dad," sighed Acquila.

Harry shot her a look, then nodded at Sirius. He could quite understand why Sirius was saying that. "I won't go looking for trouble. I'll be fine."

Sirius smiled at him fondly. "You go to bed now, kiddo. You need to be well rested for tomorrow."

The look Sirius gave him told Harry his godfather knew he wouldn't quite be able to sleep tonight. He was nervous about the task.

"I just wish I could be there to watch you," said Sirius.

"Why can't you come?"

"None of the other champions' families have been invited to watch. It won't be fair if I'm the only one coming." But the twinkle in Sirius' eyes made Harry wonder if hid godfather would find a way to come and watch him after all.

"If you feel like Harry's in trouble, go straight to Dumbledore or Mad Eye, love," Sirius told Acquila. "Now good night, both of you. Good luck, Harry."

Flashing a smile at Sirius, they put the Mirror away.

"You should sleep now," said Acquila.

Quickly, before he could respond, she kissed his cheek and went off into the dark, leaving him staring into nothingness.

oOo

Morning dawned in no time at all.

One moment Harry was tossing and turning in bed, the next moment, sunlight was filtering into the room and Nyx was pawing at him to wake up.

The other boys in the dormitory were still asleep.

His insides squirming, Harry got to his feet, the cold floor making him shiver a little. By the time he got out of the washroom, freshly showered, Ron and the others were already up. Dean and Seamus wished him luck, Ron looked half-scared, half-jealous. Neville only clapped his back, whispering good luck in that calm, supportive way of his.

When he got down to the Common Room, a loud roar of cheers greeted him. It didn't do much to allay his nerves; instead, only doubling the queasiness. He somehow put on a smile and nodded at them all, glad when Acquila and Hermione followed him out of the portrait hole.

Despite Acquila's steady presence, Harry felt like he was in his own little bubble, separate from everyone else. He wondered if the other champions were feeling likewise too. He could hear Acquila, Hermione and Ron saying something. But he couldn't quite make sense of the words. After a while, Acquila fell silent, no doubt realising he wasn't listening.

Everyone cheered when he entered the Great Hall. Diggory was already there, surrounded by a crowd of admiring Hufflepuffs. From the corner of his eye, Harry caught Acquila blowing Diggory a kiss. But that didn't affect him in the slightest, his mind only fixed on the upcoming tryst with the Kelpie.

"I'll be back," said Acquila quietly, going off to the Hufflepuff table. Harry only stared at his plate, not quite feeling up to either drinking or eating.

Ginny came up to him and shyly wished him good luck, as did Daphne and her sister Astoria. Luna told him to catch some Plimpies for her from the Great Lake, claiming she could make some delectable Plimpy soup.

"Mister Potter." McGonagall suddenly stood beside his seat, tall and imposing. "The champions have to go down to the Great Lake now."

Harry barely registered himself nodding at all the words of encouragement, the pats on his back, the hug he got from Hermione.

"You'll be fine," Acquila told him, kissing his cheek again. He met her eyes, something flickering in those grey depths, something that gave him quiet courage.

He nodded, and within no time at all, he found himself walking alongside Cedric, leaving the castle behind as they made their way to the Lake in silence. Professors McGonagall and Sprout followed them, a sudden silence descending on the lawns the further they walked from the loud castle.

Diggory smiled at him… Harry managed to smile back. Though the Hufflepuff seemed confident, Harry thought he the older boy was as nervous as he felt. They walked together in a surprisingly comfortable silence, until they came to a stop outside a large tent near the stands that had been erected for the spectators.

"You are to go in here with the other champions," said McGonagall in an unusually quiet voice. "Mister Bagman will tell you about the task. Good luck, both of you."

"Thanks," Harry said in a flat, distant voice. Cedric echoed him. Leaving the two professors at the entrance of the tent, Harry followed Cedric insie.

Fleur was sitting in a corner on a how wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. She gave Harry a weak smile, nothing like the bright, vibrant grins she usually smiled at him. Viktor looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. The Bulgarian gave them both a short nod, and then went back to staring intently at the floor.

Only Ludo Bagman got to his feet and gave them a broad smile. "Ah, wonderful! You are finally here!"

Fleur stood up too, as did Krum. The four of them faced Bagman.

"So, it's time to fill you all in, eh?" Bagman rubbed his hands in glee. "I'm going to offer each of this bag." He shook a small sack of purple silk. "You will know which Kelpie is the one you are supposed to tackle."

Bagman looked at them expectantly, a little surprised when none of them responded like they would've done if they didn't know of the Kelpies.

"Your task," went on Bagman, a little deflated, "Is to collect the oyster from your Kelpie."

"An oyster?" whispered Fleur, the four of them staring at each other.

This information was new. Harry thought they just had to subdue the Kelpie. But now they'd have to retrieve the oyster from it. Harry's hands felt suddenly clammy. He didn't quite think a flesh-eating water demon like the Kelpie would let a human steal an oyster from it without causing some serious injuries.

You don't have to go and look for the Kelpie, he remembered Sirius saying. You could just while the time away. You don't have to put yourself into unnecessary danger. You have to play to survive, kiddo, not to win.

Sighing, Harry struggled with himself. He didn't think he could sit back and do nothing. It wasn't like him. But someone hadn't put his name into the Goblet for fun or something. They'd done it with the intention of causing him harm. Maybe Voldemort did it, he thought. It would be stupid of him to rush headlong into danger just for winning some trophy that he hadn't even wanted in the first place.

There was a sudden loud noise that shattered the silence in the tent – the sound of hundreds and hundreds of pairs of feet passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking… I should have been with them, thought Harry sadly, not here, facing a task I didn't even ask to fight.

"Witches first," said Bagman, holding the purple sack before Fleur.

The part-Veela put a trembling hand into the bag, and came up with a tiny, perfect model of a bluish-green coloured Kelpie, complete with a pretty, flowing mane, two little hooves, and a long, long tail that almost shimmered blue and green.

"Ah," said Bagman. "You've drawn the most attractive of the four Kelpies, and also the most docile of the four if the handlers are right."

Fleur said nothing, staring at the miniature Kelpie.

Bagman held the bag before Victor next, and the Bulgarian pulled out a pale brown model of a Kelpie. The model was smaller than Fleur's, Harry noticed, wondering if the Kelpie that carried Victor's oyster would be proportionately smaller than Fleur's too.

"Ah, this is a cunning one you've drawn, Mister Krum. You'll need all your wits to retrieve the oyster from this one."

Victor only grunted.

Cedric went next, drawing a dazzling white equine water demon, its tail long and two-lobed, like a whale's. Its mane was a rich golden, as was its tail. It was even larger than Fleur's Kelpie.

"The largest of the four," said Bagman. "Good luck, Mister Diggory."

Bagman finally stood in front of Harry. His hand shaking slightly, Harry put his hand inside the bag and drew out the last remaining one – a black red model of a Kelpie, its flying mane resembling dancing flames of various hues of dark red. It was beautiful, making Harry wonder how brilliant the real Kelpie would look when its miniature model was so awesome. It had a long tail that wasn't like nothing like a horse's tail or even Thunder's, but long and almost delicate, branching out into brilliant red ribbon-like tapering ends that swished together in an almost mesmerising motion. Its eyes were like two rubies – shining red, terrible and frightening, yet beautiful.

"Good luck, Harry. You'll need it. You just drew the fiercest Kelpie of the lot," remarked Bagman. He wasn't smiling much anymore.

Harry felt the battle that raged in his belly intensifying.

The fiercest Kelpie.

Perfect. That was just his luck, wasn't it?

"So," Bagman went on, looking at the others. "You have each pulled out a different Kelpie. You have to obtain the oyster only from your Kelpie, remember that."

Harry nodded blankly. How would he even know which Kelpie was his when the water horses could take any form they wanted? It wasn't like they'd retain some of their colour when they transformed into another form, was it? He didn't remember Hermione or Sirius telling him anything like that. Then again, they hadn't really looked up Kelpies properly. They had relied on Sirius' description, spending a majority of his time practicing the bridle part and looking for ways to breathe underwater.

"Good luck, all of you," said Bagman brightly. "I have to go now. I'm commentating, you see. You will all begin the task together. Whoever completes it first will be the winner."

He returned as soon as he left. "I almost forgot. Better change into your swimwear. You'll be called out soon. It's almost time."

They changed, as instructed. There was a separate room within the tent for Fleur, Harry noticed.

He looked around at the others. Another time, he'd have marvelled at how stunning Fleur looked in the one piece swimsuit she'd worn. But he had worrying things to dwell on now, like a terrifying water demon that could eat him alive. Diggory and Victor looked like they'd stepped straight out of a Muggle movie poster… especially Cedric. Sitting beside them, Harry felt rather self-conscious in his swimming trunks, lanky compared to the other two boys.

They waited, nervous yet almost excited, waiting for their names to be called out. Harry, for one, couldn't wait to begin. He just wanted to get done with the task, once and for all.

None of the others seemed to want to talk. Fleur caught his eye. She gave him another weak smile which he returned, when suddenly Ludo Bagman's loud voice rang out all around. He was in the middle of a sentence, and Harry realised the magic of the tent had silenced his voice until now.

"—now, for our champions! Victor Krum from Durmstrang! Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons! Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter from Hogwarts!"

The cheers rose louder and louder as each name was announced, almost deafening when Cedric and his name was called out.

Harry followed the others out of the tent, his legs feeling like jelly, shivering in his swimming trunks.

It was a magnificent sight – the massive crowd on the stands that were set up by the shore of the Lake that faced the castle and the lawns. Row after row of red and yellow dotted the stands, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and Hogwarts banners. The Durmstrangs and the Beauxbatons sat group together separately, holding up banners of their own school crests. Harry looked for his friends in vain. He couldn't spot them in the crowd. He would've known where Acquila was if he tried, he knew. But he only looked ahead at the lake waters now, stopping before the shimmering golden line that was drawn on the ground at a distance of a few hundred metres from the Lake.

Did they have to run into the Lake or something? Like the running races at Muggle school? There was even a little golden whistle in Bagman's hand, glinting in the sunlight.

"It's almost time!" Bagman announced. Silence fell around the stands, before the cheering started anew.

Harry held his wand tighter, and ran his palm over the pocket of his trunks that held the little vial Acquila had given him the previous night.

"As soon as I blow this whistle, you, my dear champions, will cross the golden line! You know what you have to do, of course. Obtain the oyster from your Kelpie, swim back to the shore with it, get to the golden line. Whoever completes the task first will be the winner!"

Harry wondered if even Diggory, who stood next to him, could hear the loud thumping of his heart.

"Good luck," he whispered to the Hufflepuff.

"Good luck, Harry," said Diggory.

"It is almost nine," announced Bagman cheerfully. "Three! Two! One!" Ludo Bagman blew the whistle.

Taking a deep breath, Harry broke into a sprint, feeling the others do the same, staring at the calm waters of the Lake.

But suddenly, almost immediately after he crossed the golden line, the Great Lake disappeared from Harry's sight. Instead, he was suddenly enveloped in a thick fog. He could hear the cheers from the stands turning into astonished gasps.

Harry came to an abrupt stop, stunned. He couldn't even see his own hand when he held it in front of his face, so thick was the fog.

What the hell was this? They were just supposed to enter the Lake, find the Kelpie, take the oyster and come back up! Bagman had said nothing about this damn fog!

"Merlin!" he swore, wondering where the others went. Cedric, who had been right next to him at the golden line, was nowhere to be seen. Although even if he was even metres away from Harry, he wouldn't have been able to see him in fog.

"Lumos," Harry drew his wand and whispered. His wand lit up, but it didn't really help. He could only see things a metre ahead of him, the light failing to pierce the fog.

He walked ahead step by step, very cautiously; glad Hermione had cast a spell on his eyes – something like Muggle contact lenses that ensured he could see clearly without his glasses until the effect of the spell wore off. It was a complicated bit of magic; Harry could only hope it worked.

As he walked further, the silence in the fog a sharp contrast to the sounds in the stands. He noticed that ground under his feet was turning wetter and wetter. That was natural, given how he was getting closer to the Lake. It took him a few moments to realise that the ground was turning marshy, quite unlike the wet ground near the shores of the Lake. Before he knew it, he was ankle deep in thick, sticky, marshy water.

Struggling a little as he trudged through the muddy water, a soft buzzing sound caught his ear. He tried to ignore the buzzing, only for it to increase.

Suddenly, something flashed past him – bright and blue in the white of the fog.

"Aah!" Harry cried, grabbing at his arm. Whatever it was, the blue buzzing thing had stung his arm, painfully. His arm was turning red rapidly where the creature had bit him.

Trying to ignore the pain, Harry walked on, alert for signs of the blue creature.

The fog seemed to turn thicker, making it almost impossible for him to see anything. It was making his vision blurry, it was making him feel like he was getting a massive headache, a sudden giddiness taking over him, making him feel like everything around him was moving in circles, making him feel weak and dizzy…

Groping for something to hold on to, his hands curling around only air, Harry found himself clutching his head, the world around him spinning faster and faster. There was a sudden feeling in the pit of his stomach, a rush of air swooshing past him, his feet no longer touching the ground.

When he opened his eyes, the fog had thinned. He could see the Lake clearly now.

The only problem was – he had risen above the fog! He was staring down at the Lake! He was afloat, in the air, with the fog below him, a deafening cacophony in the stands.

Panicking, he almost let out a scream!

What the hell was happening? How was he floating on air? He couldn't even grab on to anything for support to tug himself back to the ground! What if he fell? He craned his neck, glancing below, only for his belly to churn as he saw how high above the ground he was. Zooming through the fog, he could see them – the bright blue creatures, like big flies, emitting a faint buzzing sound.

Merlin!

He wind-milled his arms, sure he was looking like an idiot to the people in the stands. However, that only resulted in him turning upside down instead, feeling like a slender something holding his foot was the only thing that lay between him and a certainly injurious drop to the ground.

The vial in his pocket threatened to slip out; he clapped a hand to his pocket, indubitably looking very comical – upside down in the air, one hand on his pocket, the other waving wildly in the air.

He could hear laughter and jeering from a section of the stands (Slytherins, no doubt).

It came to him suddenly – the spell they used to drag the Quaffles to the ground before they put them into the trunk after the Quidditch practice sessions. Pointing his wand at himself, Harry muttered the incantation under his breath.

Immediately, he felt himself falling towards the ground gently. The lower he fell, the thicker the fog got again. Moments later, he found himself falling into something with a loud splash, spitting out the icky-tasting muddy water that splashed onto his face.

He wasn't feeling giddy anymore. Falling into the water had probably helped. He couldn't see the blue flies too. They were all gone.

But the sigh of relief he breathed was short-lived. He had lost all sense of direction now. Which way was the Lake? Which way was the golden line and the stands?

Harry remembered the Four Point spell Remus had taught them one cold New Year Eve in Black Manor. Waving his wand, he muttered the incantation, relieved when the spell worked, his wand pointing him in the direction of the Lake.

His feet making squishy sounds as he walked through the water, Harry wondered what else he'd face in the fog before he finally reached the Lake. He had never felt this blind in his life, and that was saying something as he usually could hardly see anything without his glasses.

He wondered where the buzzing blue creatures had gone too. Whatever they were, he would need to be alert. Hermione would have known what the blue flies were. Maybe Luna too would've had her weird take on it. Whatever the creature was, Harry was sure he was the only one of the four champions who got bit by it and then floated in the air like a fool. He hadn't seen any of the others afloat above the fog. They had probably learnt about it in their lessons. After all, they had two more years of studying than him, especially Diggory who had taken Care of Magical Creatures.

Harry walked on and on, taking each step very sceptically, only to see a small light ahead. It was right in the middle of his path; there was no way he could avoid it. Rubbing at his arm where the blue creature's bite was still stinging him, Harry held his wand at the ready. The closer he got to the light, the farther the light went.

It's leading me in the direction of the Lake, he thought, wondering what it was.

But this seemed familiar to him – the light leading him… like a—it looked like a lantern! Remus' lesson in DADA— on Hinkypunks. That was what it was – a Hinkypunk!

They lead unsuspecting travellers into bogs, Harry remembered Remus telling them in their DADA class, they lure them with lanterns. Travellers follow the light and end up in the marsh.

But the Hinkypunk was leading him in the direction of the lake itself! Did that mean—Merlin, would he have to get past a bog to reach the Lake? Was the Hinkypunk a clue?

Without any warning, he saw a ball of fire zooming at him.

Harry ducked just in time, the fireball soaring over his head.

It was the Hinkypunk, of course, furious that he had stopped following it. The smoky, one-legged creature kept throwing fireballs from its lantern at him.

Harry jumped out of the way, once, twice, a third time, annoyed with the dratted creature. But he'd faced them before, in the practical exam Remus had set them for their end-of-year tests last year.

"Lumos!" he exclaimed, aimed the wand right at the Hinkypunk, blinding it with the sudden light.

"Flipendo!" Harry cried. "Flipendo! Flipendo!" He cast the Knockback Jinx half a dozen times before the Hinkypunk vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Yes!" Harry threw his fist in the air, glad that he was finally done with the pesky creature.

He looked around, wondering if there were more of them. But he couldn't see any more lantern lights or fireballs. He resumed walking again, itching to get to the Lake. The other champions had probably already reached the Lake; they were probably looking for their Kelpie already. Of the hour and a half that he had, Harry was sure twenty minutes were already up.

He was now knee deep in the marshy water. It was getting difficult to walk. He was getting slower with every step. His feet kept sinking in the marsh… though the fog was thinning now, Harry couldn't help feel uneasy.

There was something floating on the water ahead. He approached it slowly, the marshy water almost waist-high now. He got closer, noticing that the floating thing was only a piece of dead wood.

Grabbing on to it for support, Harry moved through the water, finding it easier to partly walk and partly wade holding on to the wooden log. The farther he went, the more of the wooden logs there were, almost as if they'd been placed there solely to ease his journey towards the Lake.

This doesn't seem right, he thought, grabbing on to the next log. This is too easy—

Out of nowhere, he felt something sharp sink into his ankle from behind him, agonising pain shooting through his leg.

"What the—" He turned around, trying to tug his ankle out of the grasp of whatever had caught it, only to see that the thing that had grabbed hold of his ankle was the log of wood that he'd earlier used for support!

It was alive!

The wooden log!

Alive, with beady little black eyes, and sharp teeth that were currently digging into Harry's ankle!

"Hey! Let me go!" He cried stupidly, pain hitting him in waves as the creature's teeth sunk further in. "Reducto—"

Before he could complete casting the Blasting Spell, the creature dragged him down into the marshy water, Harry's legs kicking at it wildly, the bruised ankle screaming in agony, coughing and coughing as he struggled for breath, wanting to spit out mouthfuls of the filthy water he swallowed.

His feet touched the ground beneath the water. Glad the marsh wasn't too deep, he tried to propel himself upwards, finally managing to get his face above the water to breathe in welcome gulps of air, the creature still holding his ankle tightly between its sharp teeth.

He shook his hurt leg, trying to throw the creature off, but to no avail. It just wouldn't let go of him. Grabbing on to the nearest wooden log after he'd made sure it wasn't one of the creature's friends, Harry raised his leg up with all his might, pulling the creature with it.

"Reducto!" he cried, aiming his wand right in the creature's face, hoping he wouldn't blast his own leg off. Fortunately, it worked! With a loud yelp, the creature went flying through the air, freeing Harry's ankle from its hold.

Harry wanted nothing better than to sink to the nearest patch of dry land he could find. He wasn't even at the Lake yet, and he was already exhausted!

They did put my name in to kill me, he thought dryly, wondering what the log-like creature would have done to him if it managed to get him down into the water long enough for him to lose breath. Nothing good, he imagined, wanting to sit somewhere and have a look at his ankle, see whether it was bleeding. The pain wasn't unbearable, but it was still hurting him.

Keeping a watch out that none of the other wooden logs were alive, Harry made his way through the marsh, completely soaked before he'd even reached the Lake, dragging his bruised leg, stumbling intermittently, wishing he was lying in bed with the covers around him, not wading through a damn marsh with logs that could attack him any moment.

But there was something pumping in him, something surging and surging higher and higher. It was adrenaline, he realised, that familiar rush that he hadn't felt since that night he had fought Greyback. It felt welcome, like an old friend, taking away the last remnants of the dizziness, empowering him, strengthening him despite how tired he was.

But the fog was thinning now, he noticed gratefully, the marsh growing shallower and shallower until he was on proper land again, on the familiar banks of the Great Lake, with the crowds breaking into loud cheers for him.

The fog wasn't there anymore. He could see the sky again. He could feel the familiar smooth pebbles under his feet.

But when Harry turned around and looked back, all he could see was the lawns and the golden line that Bagman had drawn – no fog, no blue flies, no bog and no living wooden logs.

Had it all been an illusion, then? Some clever bit of magic? Like he'd once seen when Sirius took him to the Auror office, where they could transform an empty room into a Muggle city or a forest with a few powerfully cast illusory spells?

He didn't know, and he didn't quite care.

All that mattered was that he was out of the bloody fog, and right on the bank of the Lake, the waters lapping gently at his feet.

He almost fell to the ground, sitting down. His arm was still a bright red where the blue fly had bit him… his ankle was red too, the skin broken where the creature's teeth had sunk in too deep, the marks of the sharp teeth red against the rest of his pale leg.

He couldn't see any of his competitors, he realised suddenly, neither in the Lake, nor anyone behind him. Had the three of them already cleared the fog and swum so far into the Lake that he couldn't even see them?

It was, strangely, that thought that made him get to his feet again. That and the familiar rush of anticipation, of battle, of something brilliant and spending lying just within his reach.

Don't go looking for the Kelpie, Sirius had told him. But his godfather's voice seemed fainter and fainter as Harry watched the waters of the Lake, remembering the black Kelpie he had drawn – those backward hooves, and that brilliant flaming tail.

He retrieved the vial of potion from his pocket, uncorked it, and drank it all in a single gulp.

The potion slid down his throat, hot yet cold at the same time, sending a sudden shiver through his entire body. He half expected himself to sprout gills or something. But nothing of that sort happened. Apart from the shiver, Harry felt no different.

Harry frowned, his heart beating faster now, nervousness mingling with the adrenaline. Had Acquila got hold of the wrong potion?

But there was nothing he could do now, was there? He trusted Acquila. He did. He would have to take the plunge, literally and figuratively.

Walking deeper and deeper into the Lake, his ankle burning as waters sloshed against the bite wound, goose pimples erupting all over him, Harry kept wading in until he had to stand on his tiptoes to hold his head above the water.

He took a deep, deep breath, hoping to Merlin Slughorn's potion would really work. He let go of his hold on the lake floor, delving into the cold waters completely, as he looked for the elusive Kelpie.

To his surprise, he didn't feel the need to breathe! Oh he had taken a long breath before he dived into the waters, but that breath shouldn't have helped him last this long underwater. But Harry found that he was perfectly alright, his lungs functioning normally, not finding it necessary to go up and breathe in air into them. The potion was working!

Grinning as he pushed apart a clump of weeds, Harry wondered where he should head to. As he swam deeper and deeper into the Lake, discovering that swimming wasn't as tough as he remembered it being when Dora had tried to teach him one summer long ago, Harry could see nothing that looked like a Kelpie or like some form the Kelpie could have taken.

He swam on, father and father into the Lake, preferring to swim on the surface than continue underwater, only for something to grab at his feet and pull him down into the water.

He was ready, this time though. Wand raised, his incantation sounding garbled in the water, Harry saw his spell hit the creature that had grabbed him, sending it spinning downwards into the dark waters of the Lake and out of sight. It was a Kappa, those scaly monkey-like creatures Remus had taught them about. Glad that he had responded so swiftly, he swam further away from the castle and the stands, hoping there were no more Kappas around. Though they weren't dangerous, he didn't quite want to waste his time dealing with them the proper way – which involved making them bow until water poured out of their snouts, weakening them.

Taking a deep breath, Harry dived in again, wondering whether his Kelpie was somewhere underwater and not swimming on the surface of the Lake. It was all eerily silent, the spectators in the stands too far off for him to hear them, only the sound of the water as he pushed himself deeper.

Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other champions or any Kelpie.

He swam on and on, frustrated now.

Where was everyone else? Why couldn't he see Fleur or Krum or Diggory? Were they still stuck in the fog? That was almost laughable. Had they swam even farther away? Perhaps they were already battling their own Kelpies somewhere.

The Lake was so vast he couldn't see either ends of it now, the waters darker the deeper he swam, the sunlight barely filtering in. Weren't there supposed to be many creatures in the Lake? Grindylows and Merpeople? Harry wondered where they'd all gone… perhaps into hiding because of the Kelpies or something? He had no clue.

He pondered over it, glancing at his watch that Hermione had water-proofed. He was already thirty five minutes into the task. He had less than an hour to go. He wondered how long it would take him to swim back to the shore and run to the golden line; he would have to consider that time too while calculating how long he had to find the Kelpie, when suddenly he heard a soft sound seeping into the hitherto silence.

Listening hard, Harry was surprised when he finally heard it clearly – it was a sweet voice, high and melodious, singing words he couldn't understand, but words that made him smile despite himself, remembering happier days spent with Sirius and Acquila in Black Manor, flying on Thunder, winning the House Cup for Gryffindor. The singing filled him with a sort of happiness, with warmth and light, joy and hope, and longing, a powerful longing that made him switch directions and swim towards the singing voice, dazed.

Unmindful of the little school of fish that suddenly swam past him, unmindful of how time was slipping past him, Harry swam in the direction of the singing, swimming upwards towards the surface of the water, slowing down when he finally saw the source of the voice – a surreal figure metres ahead of him, a beautiful woman, the most beautiful, the most attractive woman he had ever seen, with golden hair that shimmered in the sunlight, big blue eyes, her hands spread out, as if she was calling him to her…

One look at her, and Harry felt light-headed… he felt like he could literally fly if he wanted to, his heart soaring, yearning to get hold of that beautiful woman whoever she was, wishing she would never stop—wait! a voice in his mind told him. He'd felt this way before… this sense of attraction, of intense want, of feeling awed by someone's beauty. He'd felt this way the very first time he'd met Fleur.

It was a trap!

The realisation snapping him out of his daze, Harry turned around as quick as he could, wand at the ready, swimming away from the singing woman who didn't look all that pretty anymore when she saw him turning his back on her.

Looking at her over his shoulder, Harry almost came to an abrupt stop. Her golden curls were turning into an alluring bluish-green shade, darkening, turning into a straightened, lengthening mane. Her hands that had been held out to him were changing, twisting into a pair of hooves—it was a Kelpie! It was no singing siren, but a blue Kelpie… Fleur's! The most attractive of the four, Bagman had said. No wonder it had chosen to take the form of a siren. Perhaps Bagman's descriptions of the Kelpies were clues for them to figure out which one was their Kelpie. But if the most attractive Kelpie of the lot had taken on the form of a siren, which most people found hard to resist, Harry bleakly wondered which form his Kelpie would take, the fiercest of the four, Bagman had said. It would be nothing good, he reckoned.

Sighing, Harry swam as fast as he could, when the singing started again. He wondered why it was singing again, only to see what looked like a shark swimming towards him. Panicked, Harry changed his course, swimming away from the fast-approaching shark, when he realised that it was no shark at all. Attached to the shark head was the torso of a man. It was Victor Krum! He'd clearly done a bad job of transforming himself into a shark.

"Wait! It's not a—" Harry tried to warn him. But Victor had already swum past him, deaf to his calls, already under the Siren-Kelpie's spell.

Harry had to let it go. Victor was older. He could deal with the Kelpie, he knew. It wasn't his brown Kelpie anyway, it was Fleur's. Victor would figure it out.

Harry turned around, took a deep breath and swam underwater again, wondering again about what form his Kelpie would take, wondering whether he would even find it before the time was up.

Perhaps he didn't need to. Like Sirius had said, he could just swim around aimlessly.

But I can't, he thought quietly. He couldn't give up like this without trying at all. Agreed he hadn't wanted to compete in the first place. He didn't want the thousand galleons or the fame and the glory. But he couldn't do this – doing nothing, giving up, not even trying wholeheartedly. It wasn't right…

And somewhere deep inside him, he wondered how it would be to hold the Triwizard Cup in his arms, to see Remus and Dora and Aunt Andy watching him proudly, to see Hermione and Neville and maybe even Ron cheering for him, to see Acquila happy at his victory… but most of all, he imagined the smile on Sirius' face, pride and admiration for his godson… he wanted that… he wanted to make Sirius proud of him… Oh, Sirius always told him how proud he was of him, how proud Harry's parents would have been too… but he wanted this… to be like Sirius was – brave and courageous in the face of danger, like his godfather had been half a dozen times in the past three years, unafraid and ready to tackle whatever came in his path, emerging out of it bloody but victorious, like a Gryffindor, like one of the best Aurors the force had ever had…

Nodding to himself, feeling suddenly all charged up, he swam on. Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass. Harry was staring unblinkingly ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the gloom… and that was when he noticed the huge shadow heading his way.

Thrilled, Harry swam closer to the nearing shape, which was certainly some giant creature, only for his hopes to dash as quick as they'd risen. It was the Giant Squid. He let his guard down. After all, the Squid wasn't really dangerous; it had even rescued Dennis Creevey when he fell into the Lake on the day of the Welcoming Feast.

Harry stared at the Squid for one long moment. He had never seen it this close – the thick eight arms and the two huge tentacles.

He swam past it, Harry looked ahead, trying to make out the dark shapes that dotted the water, only to feel one of the Squid's tentacles wrap around his injured leg.

"Hey—"

But the tentacles wouldn't let go of him, the Squid taking advantage of how he'd let his guard down like an idiot, how he hadn't even expected it to attack him. The next thing he knew, Harry was being shook around like a rag doll, the tentacle tightening around his leg. For the second time that morning, Harry felt bursts of pain shooting into his leg. But this time, the pain was unbearable. He wondered if his leg would break into two. Gritting his teeth, everything swimming haphazardly around him as he was being shook violently, Harry shot spells at the Squid—though it was no Squid at all, he knew now. It couldn't be. It was a Kelpie… he was sure of it.

None of his spells hit the dratted creature, though, all of them missing as he was being flailed around, shaken wildly as if he was just a doll. He could feel himself slowly yearning for breath now. The potion needed him to breathe every once in a while... He needed air now… his lungs needed oxygen… there was a sharp pain in his chest, black spots in front of his eyes. He tried to cast spells at the Kelpie for it to let him go… But it kept dragging him deeper…

He wondered if this was the end of him. He had survived Fenrir Greyback, he had survived Voldemort thrice… would a wild water demon make an end of him?

A blurry collage of images flitted past his eyes – the green light that took his Mum's life, her screams in his ears, the Dursleys, finding Sirius, Voldemort on the back of Quirrel's head, Ron and Hermione and Neville, Ginny speaking in Voldemort's terrifying voice, finding a family in Remus, Aunt Andy, Uncle Ted and Dora, flying on his now-destroyed Firebolt, Greyback lunging at him, Hedwig and Thunder, Sirius hugging him and ruffling his hair, calling him Prongslet, and then it was all Acquila – sitting beside the black-haired girl on the swing, the cake she'd brought him on his birthday, kissing her that first time, then breaking up with her, her kissing his cheek for luck in the morning… her grey eyes, those long black tresses, the pretty pink in her cheeks when she laughed too hard, how soft her hand felt in his, feeling her heart beat in tandem with his, the sound of her voice, sweet and familiar—and then bursting into a scream, until he saw no more.

oOo

The scream escaped her, lost in the loud cheering of the eager crowd as something rose out of the middle of the Lake, Fleur's tiny figure rising over the waters for a moment, before both creature and witch disappeared underwater again.

"H—Harry," she gasped, feeling weak and breathless, her lungs fit to bursting as they screamed for air. She stumbled as she tried to stand up, Hermione grabbing hold of her arm.

"Acquila! What's wrong?"

"Are you unwell? Acquila!" Neville's voice sounded like it was coming from far off, as she doubled over with the intensity of the sights and the sounds he was losing touch with, the last thoughts in his darkening mind's eye, the unassailable strength with which he was being flailed around and then dragged under the water, his chest feeling like it would tear open in its quest for air.

She hadn't felt him for weeks and weeks now. And to feel this, so sudden, so powerful, so intense—the images in his mind, Remus and Dora and her Dad, their friends, herself—

"I'm going to get McGonagall—something's wrong with her. She needs Madam Pomfrey!" She could hear Ron's shaken voice.

"No—wait," she gasped, half trying to stop Ron from calling a teacher, half trying to stop Harry from slipping out of her grasp as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, seeing Hermione's face one moment and the waters Harry was being dragged through the next, breathing in huge gulps of air one moment and struggling for breath the next, hearing the cheering of the crowds, and then hearing Harry's thoughts as he wondered if he was about to die.

"Sit down, Ron!" She heard Hermione say.

"She looks like she's dying and we shouldn't do anything?" Ron sounded outraged.

I'm fine, she wanted to say, it isn't me, it's Harry! Help him!

But the words wouldn't escape her, her lips stringing a chant of just one word – Harry, Harry, Harry.

He needs help! He's dying! She wanted to scream, stuck between her body and his mind, in the power of the Soul Bond that wouldn't let him die without taking her along too, that wouldn't let him suffer without paining her too, just like he had always felt every single one of her hurts, her bruises, both the physical ones and the mental ones that Greyback gave her.

He was dying, and the Bond would kill her too along with him.

But what does it matter? she thought faintly, what is life without Harry?

She couldn't imagine it – a world without him in it, waking up to a morning where he wouldn't smile at her at the breakfast table, exchanging those glances even though they weren't the all-knowing ones they used to share just months ago, never holding his hand, never seeing his face again, never feeling his breath on her lips, never feeling his heart beat as one with her own—I can save him, she thought, feeling the last of him slip away from her mind, screaming agonisingly as she tried to hold on to him, though she heard no scream, just her lips mouthing his name soundlessly.

I was wrong, she thought vaguely, I thought I could break the Bond, I thought I could live my life—but I can't, I don't want to, not if it is a life without him—

She had tried to fight it so hard and so long, since the night of Greyback's attack. She had fought and fought and won a semblance of victory, especially after breaking up with him. She had managed to keep from hearing his thoughts strongly, from feeling what he felt as powerfully as before, from sensing every little thing about him like she could do earlier. But she would give up the fight now, she would bow down, she would surrender to the Bond… she had to… she would, without another thought.

She'd do anything to save him, she'd take all that it did to keep from losing him.

She opened her eyes suddenly, finding the blue sky and the sun winking at her, Hermione and Neville's worried faces above her.

She shut her eyes, letting go of that last bit of hold she still held, pulling down the crumbling walls she had put up so painstakingly, giving herself in completely to the beckoning pull of the Soul Bond. It should have been a tough thing… after all, she hadn't accessed the Bond like this in months. But it was easy, as if she'd never stopped being one with Harry at all, as if this was something she was born doing, as if this was what she was always meant to do…

When opened them, she could see only water all around her. It was long-forgotten yet familiar – the feeling of being in Harry's body; she could remember it from that night of the Greyback attack, when she had possessed Harry… this was similar, yet different.

There were spasms of pain in her ankle, her leg hurting where the tentacle had held her tight. Luckily, she could still feel Harry's wand in his hand, the familiar touch of it giving her courage. Her heart seemed about to shatter into a million pieces as it yearned agonisingly for air, but she was also breathing in huge gulps of fresh air—it was all so jumbled up, the sound of the water rushing past her, the sound of the cheers from the stadium, Hermione's comforting hand on her back, and the tail that had wound itself tightly around her leg—a tail! It was a tail, not a tentacle anymore! A long, golden tail that belonged more to a pretty fish than the Giant Squid! The Kelpie had transformed into the form it usually chose to devour its prey – a dazzling white horse with two front hooves, a long golden mane, a longer golden tail.

Her hand moved, grabbing the wand tighter even as she felt the black dots appear into her vision. She stared at the Kelpie, conflicted for a moment on where to cast a spell at it. What if she mis-hit and it caused the Kelpie to get further mad and do something to Harry?

It struck her suddenly. It was easy, so easy.

The Holly and Phoenix feather wand slashed, not the quick motion it would've had in the air, the flow of the water restricting her action. But the curse hit the Kelpie just where she'd intended it to – there was a sudden spurt of red in the water, the water demon letting out an agonised scream as the Slashing Curse slashed at its tail, just where it had Harry in its grip, a deep red gash against the smooth golden tail.

In a trice, she felt herself loose of the Kelpie's hold, stunned for a moment as she floated untethered in the lake waters. Then, she was waving her arms and legs; she didn't know how to swim, but she was doing all that she could to lug Harry's body, which seemed to get heavier by the moment, upwards. The pain in her chest was agonising now; she knew she couldn't hold on for long. But she had to do it. She had to take Harry to safety. She had to get air into his lungs, breath into his unmoving body. He couldn't be dead yet, or she'd have known. She could still feel him inside, faint and speechless, but there.

She heard the Kelpie shrieking madly behind her, fright taking hold of her as she wondered whether she'd be able to drag Harry to the surface in time. But then she saw someone approaching them – someone human, familiar: Cedric.

She only swam upwards, almost faint herself, until she felt Harry stirring within, coming to his senses, the sunlight getting closer and closer, his head breaking up to the surface with a loud splash, the blessed air rushing into his lungs, coughing and coughing as he spat out the water, his chest burning with the sudden influx of air, still coughing, still gasping, but alive—

"Harry," she wanted to say, but as suddenly as she'd entered him, she found herself coughing as Ron, Hermione and Neville surrounded her. Fred and George too, their faces identically worried.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked her quietly, a spark of understanding in her eyes.

"Yes, we are," replied Acquila.

oOo

As the slight warmth of the sunrays descended upon him, a welcome respite from the cold waters of the Lake, Harry stayed still, feeling like he'd literally cough his lungs out if he coughed anymore. His throat felt rough and sore, a sort of stitch in his side, his breathing still laboured. But he was alive, and that's what mattered.

He knew what Acquila had done, yet again. But this time, it left him feeling bitter-sweet, only a little of the awe and the sense of gratitude and pride he'd felt for her last time. But he was glad to be alive, glad that the Soul Bond existed, glad that Acquila had helped him survive yet again. He felt like he could still feel some of her lingering within him, a subtle presence… there, yet not there too.

But he didn't quite have the time to dwell on that now. He glanced at his watch. He had just thirty minutes in hand now. It almost made him laugh – how he'd come across both Fleur's Kelpie and Diggory's, but now his own black one. He had all the luck in the world when it came to these things, didn't he?

But he was glad he didn't have to fight Cedric's white and golden Kelpie. It was huge, from what he remembered from Acquila's view of it, and vicious. But he was reminded of Bagman saying that Harry's black Kelpie was the fiercest one; and that only made him uneasy.

He wondered if he even had a chance. Victor had maybe found his own Kelpie quite a while ago. Cedric had found his white Kelpie too. He didn't know of Fleur yet, but Harry reckoned she'd probably already reached the shore with the oyster or something after fighting the Siren-Kelpie. She was a smart girl. That left only him, with twenty five minutes in hand, no Kelpie in sight.

You have nothing to lose, he remembered Remus telling him on the Two Way Mirror once.

Remus was right. He had nothing to lose. He had twenty five minutes, he'd make the most of them. If he found his Kelpie, well and good. If he didn't… well, he had at least given it his best shot.

Taking a deep breath, he delved into the water again. Just a few minutes, he told himself, then I'll be out of here. He couldn't wait to get out of the cold waters. Maybe snuggle into his four-poster with a couple of thick blankets, a cup of Mopsy's hot cocoa…

He watched every dark shape, every shadow intently. He even stared at the school of rather large fish that swam past him. But it didn't look like the Kelpie had donned their form.

A strange creature approached him – greyish skin, long hair, yellow eyes, a long spear in hand. It was a merperson, he supposed, the first one had had come across. It looked far scarier than he had imagined it to be.

Harry gripped his wand, alert for any sign of it being the water demon. But the merman only swam past him mutely, poisoned spear-tip pointed at him in warning, yellow eyes glaring, but making no move to attack him.

Sighing, bubbles floating out of his mouth as he sighed, Harry wondered if he should give up now. He had to swim back to the shore before the time was up. He turned around, pushing past a clump of weeds, when it came- strong, sudden and unexpected, the waters of the Lake seeming to rise above him like a giant ocean wave, water splattering all over him, and before he could react, a gigantic tail slithering around him swiftly.

For a moment, stunned and motionless, Harry only watched the creature that towered over him – it was at least eighty metres long, a horse-like head and a snake-like body, easily as frightening and fearsome as the Basilisk he had fought with the Aurors in his second year at Hogwarts. It was a sea serpent, he was sure of it. He had seen it in a painting at Gamp Manor.

Your Kelpie is the wildest and the fiercest one, Harry, Bagman had told him.

It struck him almost too quickly, the way to make certain this was a Kelpie.

He opened his mouth, the water rushing in. He stared at the sea-serpent's dark eyes, at its forked tongue, at its fierce face, even as the tail coiled tighter and tighter around him, ready to drag him into the Lake's watery depths.

Talk to me, Harry hissed in Parseltongue, the words a little garbled in the water, are you a snake? Can you hear me? Talk to me!

For a moment, he expected the sea serpent to react like the Basilisk had when he had spoken to it in Parseltongue. But this serpent did not react at all; it was as if it hadn't even heard Harry. He knew why – it wasn't a serpent at all! It was his Kelpie; he was certain of it, surer than he had ever been.

As the serpent pulled him downwards, Harry did nothing, lying limply in its massive coils. After the experience with the Squid he knew that Kelpies liked their prey very still. It was better he remained like that rather than being flung all around wildly like Cedric's Kelpie had done.

For the second time that day, Harry was forced into the excruciating journey to the very depths of the Lake. But this time, he was prepared for what was to come. Cedric's Kelpie had turned from the Giant Squid to its equine form only when it had dragged Harry to the bottom of the Lake, ready to eat him up. He would have to do the same with the sea serpent, wait for it to take its equine form so that he could place the bridle on its back.

The tail coiled around him loosened the lower he got, before he was suddenly thrown to the lake floor with a painful, watery thud. He groped around, his fist curling over a smooth piece of stone.

Before his very eyes, the sea serpent began turning and twisting, turning smaller and smaller, the blue scales turning into a smooth, almost dazzling black, the long tail turning shorter, red slipping into the blue before the entire tail turned an almost ghostly red, the same colour as the mane that was sprouting on the horsey face, the large teeth turning shorter, but sharper, the Kelpie's equine face, with its terrible red eyes, its scary-looking teeth looking sharper as it opened its jaw, almost bowing over Harry as it sought to sink those teeth into Harry's stomach.

He waved his wand, quicker than he ever remembered doing, muttering the incantations one after the other, feeling the smooth rock turn into a large leathery bridle, watching his Placement Charm levitating the bridle upwards. The Kelpie's teeth were mere centimetres away from his belly, the terrible head bowed, the angle only making it easier for him to land the bridle neatly over the Kelpie's head.

There was a loud sound from the Kelpie. It reared its head back, neighing in fury, trying to throw off the bridle, struggling to fight the charm. But it was Hermione who had taught him the Placement Charm, it was she who had so painstakingly taught him to transfigure rocks into bridles. Harry knew he wouldn't fail. The Kelpie struggled and struggled, until finally, when Harry looked at it, his heart thudding, adrenaline in his veins, realising just what a close shave he had had, he found the Kelpie standing over him, hooves on the floor of the Lake, mane fluttering lazily in the water, the red eyes not so terrible now, but almost docile.

Harry got to his feet, feeling it almost unbelievable that he was standing on the floor of the Great Lake next to such a fearsome creature.

There, pearly white against the dark red mane, lay the oyster, almost as if it had been glued to the Kelpie's mane with magic. How hadn't he noticed it before? Perhaps, the oyster appeared only after the champions subdued their Kelpies?

When he touched the oyster, it fell almost gracefully into his palm, feeling warm against his cold skin.

Petting the dark head almost fondly, Harry began swimming upwards, impatient to finally get out of the Lake. He was certain he wouldn't even want to glance at the Lake for at least a couple of weeks now. He had more than had his fill of it.

He was almost out of breath as he broke the surface of the water. All he wanted to do was get back to the shore and feel ground under his feet. He was sure he wouldn't be swimming for a very long time. He had done enough swimming in this one task to last him a lifetime. It was only now that he realised how his arms were aching, his legs too, along with the terrible pain in his ankle which had seemed insignificant earlier, but with returned back with a vengeance now that his adrenaline in his system was declining.

As he neared the shore, he could hear the crowd cheering loudly. He couldn't see any of the others, though. They'd either reached long before him, or they were still in the lake. Harry reckoned they'd completed the task long before him. He sighed at the prospect of finishing last. But somewhere, deep within him, he wondered whether all the cheers were for him, whether the others had been unable to retrieve the oysters from their Kelpies, whether maybe, just maybe, he would come first.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when far ahead, he heard the roar of the crowd reach a crescendo, a figure swimming swiftly towards the shore – Cedric Diggory.

Harry picked up speed, his arms aching like they'd fall off any moment. But he knew there was no way he could overtake the Hufflepuff. He saw Cedric wade through the shallow shore of the Lake, then get to his feet and run towards the golden line where they'd begun.

He barely felt himself follow suit, his legs almost sagging in blessed relief when his feet finally touched the dry ground. He limped towards the golden line, thankful that there was none of that dratted fog this time.

He heard the Gryffindors erupt as one, his name being chanted loudly all over as he finally stepped over the golden line.

Cedric was ahead of him, smiling at the crowd. He called Harry over, but he shook his head, collapsing to the ground, finally taking a good look at his ankle. It was still bleeding, while there were angry red marks on his knees and thighs and his belly where the Squid and sea serpent had gripped him tightly.

He could heard Ludo Bagman announcing Cedric's name as the first of the champions to have reached the finishing line. Harry's name followed, almost drowned in the deafening roar that cheered for Cedric. Then Victor, and Fleur – the two of them had made their way out of Lake too.

Suddenly, on a whim, Harry looked up, watching a figure running towards them from the stands.

It was her, Acquila, with a furious Filch behind her, yelling that students weren't supposed to leave the stands yet.

He watched her almost blankly, knowing she would go and hug Cedric, maybe kiss him too. After all, he did come first.

But she ran past Cedric and towards Harry, his arms extending to her of their own accord. She flew into him, her arms encasing him, her lips on his cheek, saying nothing, though he heard all she had to say.

oOoOo

A/N:Yet another long chapter. We hope the first task was alright. We didn't quite want to take the books route again, so we aimed for something different with the Triwizard tasks.

I can't quite promise when the next update will come. But we'll try to work on it more often than we could on this chapter.

As we'd said last time, I'm finally changing my author's name on FFN. Centaur Princess sounds a little too childish given how young I was when I took the name from my Pottermore account. So, the next update for Black Bond II will appear in your inbox under the author's name Rajatarangini. It is a rather too Indian a name, which I doubt most of you have heard before. Rajatarangini literally means the River of Kings; it's a very old book, one of my favourite ones, written in the 12th century – a historical chronicle on the Kings of Kashmir, the land of my ancestors.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Suggestions are always welcome, as are reviews. Thank you for reading :)