The landscape rolled on and on for miles. Scotland, the place that the boy called his home, held a beauty like no other. The deep, vast scenery that encompassed him never failed to bring him a sense of calm and a feeling of belonging, especially when he was with his best friend, like he was now. The view stretched on as far as the naked eye could see, making the boy’s eyes water for the heat and intensity the space beheld. The couple sat on top of a rolling hill that continued on for miles with immense splendour. The fresh grass rubbed stains into their shirts, gnats buzzing in their sun-tanned faces. Overlooking to one side of them was a pond, another a field of weeds and tall grass that went up to their knees.

They sat in the heat, the droplets of perspiration sticking to their backs and necks, soaking their hair and causing them to have an aroma of something particularly smelly. Dirt was smeared either on their foreheads or on their soiled clothes from their endless games of hide and seek, riding bikes, or swimming in their pool. They played just like small children, even though they were fifteen, not a care in the world but for each other and their school, which was out now. They lay on the dusty ground, uncaring of how much they would need to shower to get the smell out off their bodies, just enjoying the hot day and each other’s sweet company. A swing tire dangled off a distant tree in the far corner of their eye, swinging back and forth for the slight breeze, and the blue sky stretched out in front of them. They were happy.

One lay on a towel, the other on the actual ground, the boy being thoughtful and allowing his friend to not get even dirtier than she already was.

Brett and Emma.

They both sweated inside their thin, white t-shirts. The thin trickles rolled down the boy’s back, the tank top sticking to the girl’s abdomen as she lay there. As he reached behind him to wipe his own away and on his tattered jeans, he felt his best friend and companion, Emma, lying next to him on her stomach, just staring out. He looked over to her and just stared.

Emma had shiny, thick black hair that was beautiful and went a little past her shoulders, but it was usually pulled back in a ponytail or hidden behind her lucky headband. She had a cute face and was usually looked at twice by boys, making her popularity soar as she aged. You could get lost in her deep, blue eyes. They took on a misty form when she was excited, dancing with childlike simplicity nearly all the time. Her thin face accentuated her features perfectly, blending in with her perfect teeth and rosy cheeks. She was the biggest tomboy to come out of her town, but when she was at Hogwarts she resumed the role of a sophisticated, mature fifteen-year-old girl. Emma was now about to be in her fifth year at Hogwarts, in awe that something as wonderful as magic had entered her life. She had been a bit disappointed by her being placed in Ravenclaw, but had immediately elated when she had found that Brett had been positioned in the same house. It was not only lucky that they were both Muggleborn and had received letters, but that they were both smart enough to be placed in Ravenclaw, jointly. Emma wouldn’t have been able to make it if they hadn’t been able to be together.

Emma was a sensitive being; she cried just as much as others when deaths happened in the family or sad movies were watched, but when she was upset she wouldn’t scribble into a diary or bang things into walls or scream, she would cry. It wasn’t just any usual cries; it was terrible, pitiful screams that were heard all the way from her dormitory and into the common room. This had stopped in her second year, but they had started up again soon after her father’s death in her fourth year.

Her father had died the summer of the fourth year she would have gone off to Hogwarts, and it had nearly ripped her apart. Her father and her had been very close; they were the couple that had always stayed up late on Saturday nights until two or three in the morning during the summers and before school had started, watching movies that Emma had picked out and eating candy and sweets until they threw up. Literally, that was the two’s trademark--- buying loads of candy and consuming it. Anytime Emma was feeling sad she would find a bag or bar of candy and eat it, wallowing in sad memories but trying to find the strength to make newer, happier ones. Emma’s father had spoiled her with no mercy; if she wanted ice cream, she got ice cream, even if it was late and no store was open. Emma’s father, of course, was the best dad a child could ask for, and she truly was a ‘daddy’s girl’. She had only realised that she had always taken his company for granted after he was gone. She had cherished it, but she had never thought about death and its effects on the person it disturbed. She was too young and shouldn’t have been exposed to it that early anyhow, so why should she even ponder something so morbid?

While Emma’s family was not the richest, they considered themselves middle class and had enough to get what they needed. But when her father had died, her mother had sunk into a deep depression and not wanted to work, eat . . . do anything, really, but stare at an old picture frame and think about ‘what could have beens’. Emma had wanted to do the same, but she knew that she had been destined to do something great with her life. Even though her father had died, a piece of him still lived on inside of her, and she would never, ever forget him. She still mourned for him inside, but on the outside she eventually grew back to her old self, waning to make him proud.

But Brett had been the source of light throughout everything for her. He had comforted her at any time she needed; whether she’d call his house at four in the morning or three in the afternoon, he’d always put on his sneakers and a shirt, even if he were in the middle of something, and meet her somewhere to talk during the summers. While in school, they possessed special coins that would always grow freezing cold in their pockets if one were in need of the other.

Brett had sandy blonde hair mixed with a tinge of light brown that spun into small wisps of curls under his ears. His brown eyes were the casual eyes you would see, but Emma thought them the most beautiful thing on earth. His smile was adorable, some girls said, and while he wasn’t the most popular boy in his year at Hogwarts, he did have admirers and friends. Brett was mostly quiet unless he was around his very best companions. He didn’t make them easily for his shy nature, and if he had them they were cherished. Emma was his very best friend, and to say the least, he loved her.

He was in Ravenclaw, proof that he was intelligent, and he prided himself in his studies and helped tutor smaller children in his House when help was needed. He spent most of his time with Emma--- they had all of the same classes and they dined together and helped each other with homework. They both were exceptionally smart; they made good grades in nearly everything they worked on. Their professors thought them a good match for the next Prefects.

Emma and Brett were so close it was sickening to some. They could tell each other anything without being hesitant, which made them even closer. They could talk about friends, parents, magic . . . the possibilities were endless. Their parents thought it unhealthy, but after Emma’s father’s death no one really had paid attention anymore. Both sets of adults figured it was time for the two to grow up, and they knew that Brett provided the endless comfort Emma sought. Emma felt safe with Brett; nothing could harm her while she was in his arms. Then, one not so very special day, they were in love.

They had been best friends and neighbours since they were only a year old, their parents friends since their own school days. Muggles, they were called, but their children were different, both of them a witch and wizard. They had been showing it since the day they were born, being able to levitate objects and throw things across the room when they were angry or upset, and changing a colour of a dress or shirt when they didn’t want to wear it.

Being together was as normal as breathing for the two. And they knew that they would be together forever.

~ * ~
“No, Mom! I’m going to be the one to tell her, she’s my friend.” Silence followed for a moment before Emma had the courage to knock on the door of Brett’s home, and he immediately stepped out without taking a backwards glance and slammed the door. He looked extremely upset when he walked out, not even looking at Emma but acknowledging her presence.

“Let’s go back to the field. I . . . need to talk to you, Emma,” he told her softly, finally deciding to take a glance at her before walking ahead and crossing his arms, silently going to their hiding place.

Emma nodded and ran up to meet him. She took his hand, walking slowly and solemnly to their hiding place, bringing a red quilt to lie on and gaze at the stars. She knew not to ask anything about the quarrel he had just had with his parents until they got to their spot. The sun was now nearly out of sight, hidden behind a horizon of pretty blues, yellows, and pinks, and the limited light cast shadows on their faces as they finally sat down. All they did was sit there in silence. Emma decided to finally break it.

“What was that about?” she asked quietly, picking at the grass, the grains of dirt from the ground getting lodged under her fingernails. She didn’t look up, only voiced her question as she stared at the ground.

Brett sat there in stillness for a few moments. Then he shook his head, scoffing as he shrugged his shoulders.

“What is it, Brett?” she asked soothingly, reaching up to grab his hand again. He didn’t necessarily shove her away, but he didn’t recognize it. He looked at her fingers as if it was something he’d never see before, and didn’t take it. Emma noticed that he was gazing out at the sky through blurry eyes.

“Brett . . .” she asked questioningly. “Seriously, come on. You know you can tell me anything.” She gave him a soft but playful punch in the shoulder, sending him off balance and swaying, but his thin mouth still stayed in its grim line, not even allowing a smirk to play at his lips.

Brett shook his head again, finally making contact with her eyes and opening his mouth.

“We have to move.”

Emma’s heart felt as if it had just exploded.

“Wh- what?” she asked. She was surprised that he could even hear her answer, her voice was so small.

“Mom and Dad’s jobs require them to move somewhere . . . else. Somewhere up north. There’s no avoiding it.” He shook his head furiously again, shrugging his shoulders hardheartedly. He just looked into the sky, rolling his eyes back and forth irately from the forthcoming tears that he wanted, needed to shed, for they were comfort, but he just couldn’t in front of Emma. “It’s like I can’t. Like I’m not allowed. I can’t move away from here, away from you.”

She gave him a watery smile, reaching up her arms to wrap them around herself to warm her body. It was nearly eighty-something degrees, but she suddenly felt freezing. She caressed her shoulders with her fingers, her teeth chattering.

“Why? Why do you have to go?” she asked suddenly, looking up at him.

“I have to leave in two weeks.”

Two weeks? It might as well be today. That was no time at all.

“Well, we’ll still be able to see each other at Hogwarts, right? A summer won’t be that hard. We can write back and forth, and use the phone even if it’s long distance. And we can visit. I’m sure our parents will understand---”

“Emma, I have to leave Hogwarts, too.”

Emma’s eyes suddenly widened and all she could do was stare at him with her mouth trying to find something to do other than burst into a sob or scream and yell and hit him, telling him that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t leave her. She had been trying to convince herself in those last few split seconds that it wouldn’t so bad, just a summer . . . but when he had told her virtually no contact . . . not even school together . . .

“You can stay here.”

“Emma, please don’t make it harder than it already is.”

“No, maybe my parents could let you have the room upstairs, you know, the one we don’t use? Maybe your parents will let you stay here during the summers for a month or so, and you can stay with them the other half of it, and then we’ll be going to Hogwarts, so you won’t be seeing your parents anyhow, so---”

“Emma . . .” He blinked back his own tears and shifted on the blanket, bringing his face closer to hers.

“You know that I couldn’t impose myself like that.”

“No,” she said defiantly, rolling her eyes at him, “you know that my parents wouldn’t care. You know that. You’re already like a second son to them. It’s just a matter of your parents saying yes.” Her smile elated him and gave him a small ray of hope, but it was soon crushed because he knew he couldn’t. His parents would never allow it.

Brett just shook his head. “Emma, please. Don’t.”

Emma had pulled up more of the grass beneath her trembling frame, and she now had a small pile next to her. The small blades sliced at her palms, drawing small droplets of blood every now and then, but she didn’t care. Her life, as she knew it, was ruined. Her heart was torn apart, and her best friend was leaving her. She knew how hard it would be to keep a long distance relationship, whether he was a friend or a boyfriend. She set her head into her hands and she heard sobs emerging from her throat. She soon felt soft hands on her own, pulling them away.

“Emma, please don’t cry. I can’t bear it.” He reached out his arms and she snatched him closer to her, and before they knew it, they both were sobbing into each other’s arms.
And before they even realized what they were doing, Emma felt her arms wrapped around his neck and his lips pressed into her own. It felt so good; there were no words to express how sad she had just been, but to change her feelings so drastically from that last moment to this was amazing. She felt so free in kissing Brett; he had been her first and only kiss, and she cherished them so when they happened. But this one, she could tell, meant something. A lot of somethings.

But after it was broken, another one followed, and then another. His lips were soft against hers, and they could soon feel their ragged breaths from their former sobs still caught in their throats, but both of their breaths had been caught from this sudden kiss that they were soon found pulling apart for air. They both laughed in merry, then pulling in for another kiss.

By the time they had travelled home, it was nearly two in the morning. No, they hadn’t done anything they would eventually regret, but they both had spoken to each other about bottled up feelings, parents who ruined lives, and the forthcoming of their relationship and how it could work even though they were going to be so far apart. They had both heard the endless chatter of long-term relationships and how it eventually wore down the couple to where each wanted to see other people, but they knew in their hearts that they cherished one another, and would never allow that to happen.

Brett’s home was sold soon after the announcement, and all of their belongings placed into boxes and a moving truck soon after that. Emma suddenly realised that she may never see Brett again unless one of them begged their parents enough to pay for a visit. She could travel to see him any time after she got her Apparition License, but it would have to wait until her seventh year; she wouldn’t be of age until then.

As she watched Brett pull out of the driveway in the back of the station wagon that his parents owned and the moving truck in the rear of them, Emma realised that she already missed him. He placed a shivering hand onto the glass window as he placed his headphones of his music played in his ears, only staring at Emma. He’d soon return, and he’d always be faithful to her. He’d wait for her, just like he knew she’d wait for him.

The tears were falling thick and fast down Emma’s face before he was even out of sight.

A seventeen year old Emma Collins walked into the Great Hall and sat next to her boyfriend of three months, Seth. Seth was a high profile guy; he liked to brag about everything whether it be something he owned or something he had just received. Emma was his favourite thing to boast about.

Seth was a Slytherin, and was a relatively sweet guy and nice as long as you didn’t get on his bad side and that virtually meant that you didn’t go near him. He was a sometimes a sensitive being, but when he was angry, you best not be around him. Sometimes he even took it out on Emma.

Emma’s appearance had only changed slightly from her fifth year; she had an even prettier face and was taller and skinnier, but her shiny hair had stayed the same, and was always hidden behind a headband. The one Brett had given to her.

Brett and Emma had soon found that a long term relationship was as hard as it seemed. Even with the endless letters, emails, and phone calls to each other round the clock, the two had felt something missing with not being able to see each other, and had mutually broke it off, promising to still call and check up on things every once in a while.

There hadn’t been a call or letter from him in a year and a half. The best years of Emma’s life had passed, and while she didn’t find life empty without him, she still felt sad when anyone with the same name was mentioned or her other boyfriend walked and kissed her lovingly on the lips, her still leaning forward and allowing herself to indulge with him into the age of romance. But he was nothing compared to Brett; while Seth was sweet and charming to her most of the time, he liked to boast of his family’s wealth and of Emma, then talk bad about Brett and how he didn’t deserve her and that he, Seth, was the one. Emma didn’t agree so much after that, but she still held on to him.

Emma now sported a particularly sickly-looking yellow and purple bruise just below her left eye. While she told everyone that she had carelessly fallen down the steps and laughed it off, she knew, and loathed, what had really happened.

One night when Seth had returned from Quidditch practice, he had already been angered by the lack of ability on his team, but he had arrived to find Emma helping a sixth year with his homework in the library. The girl had been doing absolutely nothing but aiding the boy with his Potions, but Seth had taken it as cheating (but not with the work) and, being an extremely selfish human being, especially with his girlfriend, he had yanked her by the arm and hit her when they were out of sight of the other students. Afterwards, when Emma had been crying from the blows, he had held her and wept alongside her, promising to never do it again.

That would turn out to be an act of perjury.

But now, the next line of first years walked wide eyed and nervous up to the front of the Great Hall, and even though they had already done this themselves and watched for five years, Emma and Seth still turned around to see the ceremony.

“Allerhand, Aaron,” the headmaster stated, his grey, shaggy hair and beard accentuating his features. His wrinkly skin was plastered to his face, and the eyes that had seen a large number of deaths shined hazel and true. His name was Cornelius Groban and he was, to some, the best headmaster Hogwarts had seen besides a Professor Dumbledore that had lived about fifty years ago.

Headmaster Groban was well-respected in the magical world, as well as by his students (even some of the Slytherins). After the last student was sorted (Whittaker, Joshua), he announced the feast would take place, and before the students knew it, their tables were filled with mountains of food on silver platters. They dug in immediately.

~ * ~

“I must tell you all,” Professor Groban started, his eyes narrowing at the sixth and seventh years oddly, “There will be a very exciting thing coming to Hogwarts this year. But more on this later, as I’m sure that most of us have tucked into so much food that they could fall asleep in their seats with me droning on---”

“Yeah, like he is now,” Seth stated matter of factly. He scoffed and looked at the Headmaster with disgust.

“---more will be said on this subject at a different time. You are dismissed.”

There was soon the sound of scraping benches and yawning students as they filed their way out of the hall, Prefects and Head students calling out “First years, over here!” and waving their arms wildly to receive attention.

Seth passionately kissed Emma goodbye, hoping in his brain that everyone was watching, and he headed to his own dorm, yawning as he threw a leg of half-eaten chicken onto the table where it had already been cleaned. Emma’s eyes looked at him in an “I cannot believe you just did that” stare and she trudged on to her own.

~ * ~

“The Triwizard Tournament is returning to Hogwarts.”

Anxious students began to murmur, their eyes wandering the room to make sure that they weren’t the only ones who had heard such a preposterous thing.

“Though some rules have been changed, it is the same tournament as always.” His eyes twinkled in response to the subject. “Let me fill you in on the history.

“The Triwizard Tournament was customary some eight hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the likes of the three Wizarding schools: Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Beauxbatons. Only one champion was selected out of many hopeful applicants to represent the school in the many dangerous tasks that the tournament beheld. Once chosen, there is no backing out. There are three tasks; dangerous, competitive tasks that the faint of heart need not even dare apply.

“I warn you, I have seen a tournament such as this one myself and some of the after-effects are . . . shall I say, grueling. Most of you will know that I am referring to the last tournament that was held, in the 1990’s. One of the competitors, Harry Potter, was brought back from a mix-up of the last task unscathed but shaken up, and another was dead. In all of the other tournaments, deaths have always been apparent. The Ministry has since ceased the tournament, but now they have found it applicable to reinstate it once again. They just don’t want the death toll to amount to what it was back then. That’s what discontinued it in the first place.”

Students once again began to murmur through the Great Hall, hands clapping to mouths and whispers emerging from their lips as they realised how treacherous the tournament actually was. Most assumed right off the bat that they were not even going to try to enter; the Headmaster had already politely stated that the contest wasn’t for the feint-hearted. But some held frenzy in their eyes; they wanted that cup. They wanted that tournament to be theirs, and they’d do anything to get it.

“Now, the winner of this tournament will receive one thousand galleons, as always---“ Cheers erupted through the room and some children even clapped, their eyes alight with fresh excitement. “And a cup will also be in their possession,” he finished, a smile spreading across his lips. “Though, there is one rule that I’m sure some of you will not agree with, but it was put into effect for your safety.”

“Oh, Merlin, not an age limit, please,” Seth murmured in Emma’s ears, his body sagging already.

“No one under the age of seventeen is allowed to enter.” He raised his head slightly, continuing the rest of his speech in a louder voice because of the brouhaha that had just commenced from the angry students. “This was established in the last tournament, and the Ministry feels as if it should remain this way.”

“Thank Merlin,” Seth stated, straightening his robes on his shoulders and giving Emma a grin. “I turned seventeen last February.”

“So I must insure you all that an age limit wouldn’t be required unless it was needed. Do not enter this contest even if you are just a bit weary of this.

“Also, the other new rule that this contest has been put under is that it will be finished in one week, unlike the school year it usually takes, as all the rest of the tournaments have. This is to underwrite that all the students, champions or not, are able to keep up in their studies without having to make haste at last minute for all of the excitement. The other two schools that will be visiting us will still be accommodated throughout the rest of the year even after the tournament even though it’s over.

“Now, the main part of the tournament is to make friends. International magical cooperation. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang should be arriving any moment now, and I must warn you all---“ his eyes narrowed at the kids severely. “---if I find that any of my students has . . . mingled wickedly with one of the students of the other schools, you will be severely punished. But I know that you all will extend every courtesy possible to aid them in their stay with us. Let’s all be polite.” His eyes suddenly expanded again and became kind. “The tournament starts the day after tomorrow, and you will have tonight and tomorrow afternoon until three to put your name in the Goblet.” He motioned to the gleaming, ancient looking cup that stood beside him, its edges worn and facaded amongst all the colour in the room. Small, intricate designs were seen if you were to travel closer. Headmaster Groban then clapped his hands and the large doors of the Great Hall opened. Every head of every student turned around on their benches to gaze at what would enter.

No less than twenty girls entered the room, dancing in livelihood of the soft, tinkling music that burst forth from an unseen wand. They danced slowly, their arms moving in circles around and around for all to see. They were utterly graceful, their white and silver robes clashing behind them, their sweet faces smiling at everyone who dared look at their beauty. Their eyes gleamed as they spun around and around, but they came to a brisk walk as their own headmaster entered and they halted at the front of the room.
As soon as the doors were closed, another clap was issued from Groban and another group of children emerged from the doors, boys this time. They were extremely hulky; each one of them looked as if they could bench at least a hundred pounds or so. Some had buzzed hair, some had blonde locks, and some had none. They were all so very different except for their red robes that issued the word ‘Durmstrang’ on their hearts.

“I would like for you all to meet the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons,” Professor Groban stated, his eyes wandering over to the pretty girls on the right side of the hall. “And the challenging competitors of Durmstrang.” The men all bowed at the crowd staring at them in shock.

Professor Groban allowed a few more glances and whispers before exclaiming, “The Triwizard Tournament has officially begun.”

~ * ~

“Come on, Emma; just put your name in.”

“Yeah, Emma, please? I wish I were sixteen by now. I would have put my name in as soon as he announced its beginning.”

The two girls laid their chins dreamily on their fists, propped up against their pillows that they had brought over to Emma’s four-poster.

“I don’t know . . . Professor Groban said that if we had any uncertainties whatsoever that we don’t enter. I have doubts.”

“No, you don’t, it’s just nerves, girl,” one of them said, giving Emma a comforting pat on the shoulder. “You’d be the best candidate in your year.”

Emma smiled at the compliment, but just straightened her camisole with a free hand, the other grasping her knees and bringing them closer to her chest. She stared off the other way, not daring to look at the other two. Her wand rested on the night table beside her, its tip dusty and worn. It hadn’t been polished in a long while. She felt as if her skills were the same.

“I don’t think my ability is up to standard.”

“But this is such a great opportunity! You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wishing that you had entered, do you?” Their eyes widened at the question.

“I don’t know,” Emma stated, her eyes shining because of how highly her friends thought of her.

The girls sighed, then sagged onto the bed, now lying on their pillows.

From a quick spurt of bravery, Emma sat up and a sly smile suddenly was cast across her face.

“I think I’m going to do it.”

~ * ~

Almost a hundred had put their name in the goblet; the many handsome boys from Durmstrang, the lovely, valiant ladies of Beauxbatons, and the daring students of Hogwarts. Each had at least a scrap of fear in their in the actual thought of being chosen, but many figured that their torn scraps of paper placed into the goblet had been a waste of time; how thick could they be to actually attempt to be chosen to represent their school? The very thought chilled some to the bones about the dangerous tasks that lay ahead, but they knew in their hearts that if they were chosen that they were supposed to be. They were destined for great things, Emma had always thought, and she thought the same as she too had placed her piece of parchment into the goblet with her exquisite handwriting of her name and school on it.

Now, as they were called into the Great Hall for the second time in the past few days for the Triwizard Tournament, Emma’s heart was nearly beating out of its chest as she realised, I could actually be chosen.

The other Ravenclaws clapped and cheered as Professor Groban relieved the canvas that covered the Goblet, protecting it in case a careless student should knock it over, shattering it. That would be the end of the Triwizard Tournament forever, and no one wanted that to happen.

“Now, as you all know, the Triwizard Tournament has already begun.” His eyes shined behind an excited smile. They glanced around the room to make sure that he had full attention of the large group of children, but he may as well have not looked, for there was no way that no one was paying attention.

All of a sudden, the frail goblet turned a ghostly blue, its mist now forming a spectre around the front of the hall, all of the teachers staring in earnest at what names would shoot out of its mouth.

“We should be learning of the champions in just a few moments,” Groban said. He clasped his hands together and looked out amongst the students again.

Every eye in the Great Hall was looking at the Goblet, their breaths caught in their throats to know if they were going to be chosen for this honour.

And, then the Goblet turned a bright red, the mist now getting foggier than ever. A small scrap of parchment flew out of it, and every mouth formed a shape like an ‘O’ as Groban picked it up off the floor to read it.

“The Beauxbatons champion is . . .” the Professor stared out into the crowd, allowing the suspense to overtake the students. “Gregoria Bonaparte!”

A girl that didn’t even look fifteen stood up, her grey-blonde hair shining, her blue eyes open in great delight as she walked across the hall to shake the Professor’s hand, then walked back into the room that the other champions, the ones from years and years ago, had waited in to reveal the other champions.

Another fragment came out of the Goblet’s mouth as it turned its cloudy red again.

“The Hogwarts champion is . . .”

Emma glanced around to the Durmstrang table. She didn’t know what she would find, but she just knew that a familiar face was over there. His back was turned to her, but she saw shaggy blonde hair shining behind him. He chatted excitingly among his friends, but he was alert when the Professor spoke.

Suspense followed for another agonising minute, and Groban eventually opened his mouth again.

“. . . is Emma Collins!”

A roar of triumph erupted from the Ravenclaw table, and Emma soon found herself receiving cool pats on the back, hugs from her two best friends, and a lucky kiss from Seth on the cheek. Every mouth was open in cheer from the table, every smile elated, and some eyes of other hopefuls in a contemptuous stare at Emma.

Emma’s heart literally stopped. Me? she asked inside her mind again and again. Me? No, no, it’s made a mistake . . .

But she knew that it hadn’t. If there had been a vote for the best champion, then she would have received it. She was well-liked by many, but it now seemed as if she had made new enemies from being the chosen one for Hogwarts. She treaded slowly to the front of the hall, every eye upon her as Groban shook her hand and gave her a reassuring pat on the back. She couldn’t show fear now; it would look as if she shouldn’t have been chosen. Excitement now flooded through her veins and a smile lit up her face.

“Go Emma!” the Ravenclaws yelled all at once, their cheers once again deafening the Great Hall. The other tables too cheered, also reaching small claps from the Slytherin table because of their knowledge of who she was dating.

“If you could just go on back there . . .” the Professor stated, his finger being pointed to where Gregoria had disappeared; she soon found her legs taking form and walking there. She waked down the small hallway leading to the room and found Gregoria standing there with ears wide open.

“Congratulations!” she said excitedly, giving a friendly hug to the girl and smiling. She didn’t have a French accent like the other Beauxbatons girls, and she sounded quite a bit sweeter as well. Others had looked upon the other students with disdain and disrespect, as if they were better than the others. Emma hoped that the two would become friends even from all the competition that was about to stir up.

“Listen, you can hear him from here!” she stated, they both hiding behind the small corridor right beside the Great Hall. Emma figured she was talking about Professor Groban.

They saw a shadow of the Goblet that they knew was once again and finally turning red, and they heard the infamous rustle of the parchment being shot out.

“The Durmstrang champion is . . .”

Emma didn’t know why it was that she was so excited for the Durmstrang boys. She just felt at home with them; as if she already knew them. She tried to shake this feeling away.

The hall was deafeningly quiet.

“Brett Macauley!”

Emma’s heart stopped for the second time that day as she saw the blonde haired boy that had had her back turned to her walk up to the front of the hall.

Brett.

Brett? Brett . . . at Hogwarts? How did this happen? How could this happen? Emma wondered as she took what was supposed to be a peaceful stroll around Hogwarts at night. Her brain was reeling with possibilities of how he could have gotten here and how she had not seen him until that moment that he had strolled up to the front of the hall to shake the Headmaster’s hand. And then, he had walked straight up to her, already aware that she had been called as the Hogwarts champion, the words just not sinking into his brain yet.

And they had met again, for the first time in nearly two years.

Words had not been said, only hands extended, nods issued, and weak smiles. There was nothing to say--- no, that was lie, there was so much to say, just not the wondrous words to express them. It was a wonder that the both had not fled the spot in seeing their old friend. The letters that had ceased had also ended their friendship, and both of them had felt the guilt sinking deep into their hearts as they stared into each other’s eyes for those few seconds, wanting so badly not to tear their eyes away from the other, though daring to just to see what the other would do.

It had been a great moment in both of their hearts; they hadn’t wasted one minute of that two years apart not thinking of one another and what could have been if Brett had stayed around, but to actually be in the other’s presence was just . . . Emma didn’t know how to describe it. Nothing had been said, and after she had walked away she had felt a sinking sensation in her chest and felt utterly embarrassed that she hadn’t.

But so had he.

She walked back to her own common room, slinking in the shadows so she wouldn’t wake anyone, nor alert a Prefect of her presence. She soon found herself only thinking of him, Brett, and no one else. She didn’t even notice it when she ran right into her own boyfriend.

“Seth,” she breathed, her eyes widening at the way he was standing. His eyes were puffy as if he had been weeping; why, Emma had no idea, but she went to him.

“Seth, what’s wrong?”

He tottered for a moment, his eyes closing and opening as if trying to stay awake. His hair was matted to his forehead in wisps. Something registered as severely wrong to Emma.

“Why? Why did it have to be you?” He sniffed and choked on a sob. Emma reached comforting arms out to him, but he just shoved her away. He shook his head and spoke again.

“Emma, why did it have to be you?”

The girl just stood there, pondering what he could be thinking. Did he mean her, as in her being chosen as his girlfriend, or did he mean for the tournament? Emma knew how much Seth had wanted that glory that came along with the winning of that cup, but she had received it and now there was nothing she could do about it. She had been chosen, not him.

“Wh--- What do you mean, Seth?” she asked him. She was surprised at how little her voice sounded. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, taking in a deep breath.

“That tournament was supposed to be mine.” He spoke only those words, but they held deep meaning for him. That tournament had meant a great deal to him, and to see it taken away by someone he loved was just too much. “You know it was, Emma. Why did you even try for it if you knew that I wanted it?”

Emma opened and closed her mouth, trying to find words to say. Her eyebrows narrowed and she gave him an odd look. She couldn’t believe that he had even dared ask her that.

“What? Am I supposed to lay everything aside just so you can have everything you want?” Emma asked wildly, her cheeks reddening. “That’s not fair, Seth, and you know---”

But she was suddenly stopped by a harsh strike to the cheek. She staggered backward and fell to the floor, clutching her face, it reddening on the spot and already starting to swell. She breathed in intensely, trying to force back the tears that now welled in her eyes.

“Why do you always do that, Seth?” she asked pitifully, the tears now pouring forth from her eyes willfully, not caring now what he thought of her. She turned her side to him so he couldn’t see the tears stationed in her eyes. It was so unfair how he always hit her and how she put up with it. But now she wondered how she had ever put up with him in the first place.

All Seth did was just stand there, still swaying back and forth.

“I’m--- I’m so sorry, Emma, I didn’t mean to---” He reached down to pull her closer to him. “I don’t know what I do sometimes----”

“Don’t,” she told him, pushing his hand away softly. “Please, don’t. Please, Seth, just go.” She couldn’t even look at him. She still held onto her cheek as if it were her protection against his evil force. Emma’s eye was still bruised and a sickly yellow from their last fight. She couldn’t believe that he had harmed her again.

Seth began to walk away, but not before giving Emma a comforting kiss on the cheek where she sat, huddled in a corner, wishing she were somewhere else. He stroked her hair for a moment and held her, all the while she holding her breath as he dared to touch her. He eventually went at a brisk pace in another direction.

“Seth . . . I don’t---” She paused, thinking and taking in her words correctly. He stopped and turned around to look at her. “I don’t ever want to see you again. It’s over. I can’t take this anymore.” She closed her eyes as she waited for another bundle of blows to rain down upon her.

All he did was walk away, no words coming forth and breaking the silence the corridor now beheld. No more blows would ever be issued from his hand and harm her again.

~ * ~

Emma still sat an hour later in that same dark corner, each new sob coming forth from her lips louder than the next. She was surprised that she had yet to be heard by now; Seth had left a while ago and had not come back. Knowing him, Emma thought he would have come back with his entire gang to beat her up.

But he hadn’t, and for that Emma would be forever grateful.

In spite of everything she still sat, her reddened cheek still throbbing in its protective encasing of her hand. She didn’t look up from her death stare on the ground, afraid that if she did a hundred gossiping students would be standing above her, murmuring.

All of a sudden, she felt something inside her pocket grow freezing cold. She shifted in her spot, her eyes changing slightly to her pocket and she reached two trembling fingers in, pulling out a golden coin. The ridges had the word ‘Brett’ on it, and she finally realised that she must always still place it into her pocket, even though he was gone. They used to utilize them daily, so she’d always have it somewhere on her, whether it be in her warm hand or pocket. It was the same coin that they had used all those years ago to keep in contact with the other.

But, that would mean that he was trying to contact her now.

Brett stepped out from his hiding place around the corridor, his eyes widening as he came closer and closer. Emma hurriedly tried to stand up; she didn’t want him to see her this way, not at all. She turned her back to him, dusting off her robes and straightening her hair, and most of all, hiding her bruises. She didn’t say a word. Soon he was so close that she could hear him breathing.

“Emma?” he asked, his voice bursting into her ears like a sweet song as she closed her eyes, wishing he would just go away, but fighting the urge not to just allow him to pull her into his comforting arms. She wanted it to be just like it was those few years ago, anytime she sought comfort she finding it in him.

She ultimately found the courage to turn to face him. She spun around slowly, guilt still sinking into every corner of her being in not being the one to start the letters again; but all of that was lost deep inside of her when she gazed into his eyes. They were full of worry, full of love, full of hate for the boy that had just harmed her. But most of all, they were still those same brown eyes that had comforted her in all those years before. She had to smile; even through the pain that still pounded on her face and in her heart, his presence just made her whole life, her whole being so much happier.

“What has he done to you, Emma? Is he supposed to be the one who loves you?” he asked. It was the first words that Emma had heard from him since he had left his old him from that gravel driveway in the back of his parent’s station wagon, his fingers pressed against the glass and his breath fogging the side while she stood rooted in one spot, crying until he was out of sight; she had finally fled to her own room after he was gone.

She turned away and fought the tears again, shifting her gaze up to the ceiling. All he did was cup her chin in his hands and bring her eyes back to his. He gave her a sympathetic look and took a step back.

“Emma, he’s a jerk. A real jerk. How long have you even been with him?”

“You’re not my mother,” Emma told him, trying to show him that she was in control of the situation, but then she grinned again; she couldn’t help it.

“I know you’re kidding,” he said, taking a step closer. “It’s nearly three in the morning, you’ve just found that you’re a Triwizard Champion, and you’re out of bed at this time of night? It’s nearly two.” He flashed his shiny teeth again.

“Well, so are you. You’ve just found you’re representing Durmstrang, and you’ve come to find me.”

“I was hoping you’d be out; I didn’t know what house you were in; those stares just made me want to see you more.”

Emma knew that he was referring to their ‘staring contest’ between the two when no words were said a few hours before--- after the ceremony where they had learned of the Goblet’s decision.

Merlin, he’s gotten so much more handsome, Emma thought rationally, her thoughts making her cheeks turn a crimson colour. But, she was right. His hair had thickened and now was uncombed and flipped out a bit more than usual and his body had definitely filled out; those hard years at Durmstrang had given him full and solid muscles; they showed through his thin nightclothes, a t-shirt and a pair of faded boxers.

“I had wanted to see you, too. I just didn’t know what there was to say.”

“Emma, we’ve always been friends, we just . . . well, neither one of us could find the time to write. There’s always been something to say.”

Emma knew right then that she could have written nearly every night; she always had free time either during breakfasts or before bed, but every time she had picked up a quill she had put it right back down, not knowing what to pronounce. They used to talk about school and their friends, but Brett no longer saw those friends, so he couldn’t comment; that nixed one subject. They had already turned the subject of parents and their wishes for him to return to Hogwarts over and under a thousand times, always coming up with a dead end--- Brett couldn’t come back. So, that had put an end to that as well. Emma had, with Brett gone, always set aside a time each night at the beginning of her fifth year to write to him; but with new classes, new friends, and a new boyfriend, writing to Brett had become more of a chore than a hobby. Emma and Brett had always found so many things to speak about; why was just writing instead of speaking them so difficult now?

“I don’t know . . . it just never worked. We’d heard about long-term relationships. I guess what we heard was right.” She shrugged and looked away.

Silence followed for a moment, and Emma feared that their conversation had already ended; there was already nothing to converse about, and they had just found each other for the first time in nearly two years? Emma could feel herself digging her own grave and her cheeks reddened again.

“Emma,” he said, staring deep into her eyes and twiddling his thumbs, “why did you go with that jerk? Seth. Is that his name?”

Emma closed her eyes and wished above all wishes that he wouldn’t ask her this. She knew that he could possibly still have feelings for her; when they had mutually broke off the relationship even she hadn’t wanted to, but she just told herself that it wasn’t meant to be and had resorted to absorbing herself in school activities to be able to forget him for that while. Eventually, she had met Seth and Brett had been forgotten; the only time he being brought up had been when Seth had criticized him.

“I don’t know. I think that I felt that I needed to have someone, if you know what I mean. I always had you, you know? Ever since we could barely walk we had each other and I always had a friend and needed no one else. But when you were gone, I had to make new friends, and he is one of the few that reached out to me. He was a good guy.”

“He sure looks a like a good guy,” he said sarcastically, narrowing his eyebrows. His voice suddenly turned grave. “Emma, what did he do to you?” he asked, shaking his head. “Why did you feel as if you had to stay with that asshole if he hurt you like this?”

Emma stood silent for a moment, searching for an answer, but realising that she didn’t have one. She didn’t like his use of language, but she knew that Seth actually was one, and that took guts for her to admit that.

“I . . . don’t know. I guess that I felt if I didn’t have Seth, then no one else would love me anymore. The only reason I am where I am today with friends is because of him. I don’t know if I could have made it without him.”

Brett narrowed his eyes to the floor and shrugged. “Sounds as if I ruined your life.” He moved his foot around the floor, breaking the eye contact.

“No, Brett!” came the answer suddenly. “Oh, please, don’t think that. Please. It was just funny how I realised that I didn’t have time for any other friends at school besides you.” She let out a laugh.

He pushed an accumulation of hair out of her face, revealing the now-yellowed bruise around her left eye and the fresh one on her cheek, now turning an ugly purple-ish. “You really need to get those fixed, Em.”

He pulled out his wand and made a swift movement, and she suddenly felt her face grow cold. It acquired a tingling sensation for another instant, then it felt fine. It no longer throbbed, and she knew that he had patched her up. Her face no longer looked as if it had been to war.

“Thanks,” she told him softly.

All of a sudden she felt a warmness flood through her and before she knew it, she felt herself engulfed in an embrace from Brett. It took her a moment, but she returned it; she guessed she was more in shock because of his hasty arrival and the blow of the loss of her boyfriend. But, as she stood there, locked in an embrace with Brett, she found that she no longer even cared about Seth, and couldn’t even feel the wave of tears that usually approached when they had had a fight coming on. But this time, she realised, it wasn’t a fight. It was the end. The end of their relationship, for good she knew, and she would never have to put up with him again.

“Brett?”

“Hmm?” he murmured, neither one letting go of the other as they stood there.

“I really missed you.”

Brett hid his grin in the familiar scent of her hair as he replied the same sentence right back to her.

~ * ~

“The three champions step right over here, please. Hurry along, hurry along . . .” an old man voiced, his greying hair almost disappearing in the glare off his shiny, bald head. His ears looked a bit bigger than his widened eyes. He was excited; this was his first chance in his life to evaluate the wands of the Triwizard champions. He was the son of Ollivander, the famous wandmaker that had lived quite a few years ago before he was murdered. He, the son, James, had been waiting to serve a purpose for something other than collecting dust in the same shop his father had had. While students still came by the hundreds during the summers to purchase his hand-made wands that his father had spent hours upon hours teaching him to make every day when he was still alive, he became extremely lonely during the actual school year, only receiving a few purchases by owl for broken or damaged wands that needed repair. But this--- this event was momentous, and he felt utterly fantastic by being able to serve a purpose.

“That’s it. All right, wands out, please.” He pulled a thin card table out of the air for them to set their wands on, and the three champions stepped back, but not without first taking a look at one another.

He picked up the first, Emma’s.

“Emma Collins, is it? Well, I don’t remember purchases like my father did, but I do remember this one,” he said casually, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Made of Holly, I see, a good ten inches . . . is that Unicorn hair in the core?” he asked, shifting his gaze to Emma. She nodded solemnly and seemed embarrassed to look up, but then Brett squeezed her hand, and she knew everything was fine.

“Lovely,” he told her politely. “Accio!”

Another wand was flown to his hand as he set down Emma’s, giving her a thumbs-up sign as an approval that her wand was in perfect condition. Emma lightened and she smiled, taking it back and shoving it into her pocket.

“Ah, is this Gregoria Bonaparte’s wand? Very nice shape. Not my father’s or my own make, but very nice indeed. I see a dragon heartstring core? Very flexible, I see, and very well made. A good eleven and a half inches. Avis!”

A stream of yellow canaries was burst forth from the girl’s wand and they all gasped as the screaming birds came toward them, but with a wave of his own wand, Professor Groban made them disappear into thin air.

“Next please,” the short man said with a grin, giving Gregoria a thumbs-up as well. Brett nicely handed the man his own wand and he examined for a few moments, grinning and talking to himself the entire time.

“Nice . . . very nice, indeed, as well . . . Ashwinder ash core? Different, definitely . . . A supple twelve and three quarter inches . . . extremely nice craftsmanship.” He looked up at the small group. “It looks as if my father was the maker of this wand. Very lucky for you; it was most likely one of his last. There’s not many of his own making left, I suspect just one or two left in the shop . . .” Another pause as he examined it more closely and a wave and a scream of “Tarantallegra!” the flower pot in the corner of the room sprouted legs and danced for a moment, then with another wave, it rested and breathed in a sigh as it went back to the ground.

“Very well. All wands are in proper working order. I wish you all the best of luck in the tournament.” The man bowed and shook the contestant’s hands, his smile beaming into theirs as the approaching first task came their way.

“As you all know, the next tournament will be starting in two days. I expect you all to get your rest and shape up on your skills by then. My best advice would be to review spells and---”

“Groban, speak to your own student, I have my own words to give to Brett,” a man with a hunched figure said, his white beard and eyebrows almost overpowering his face. He seemed to know what he was talking about though, because he was the Headmaster of Durmstrang. He put a strong hand on Brett’s firm shoulder and pulled him off to the side, outlaying a game-plan for him to follow during the first task on his palm.

“And I to Gregoria,” a French woman said, her stocky posture overwhelming her plastic features. She too pulled Gregoria off to the side, murmuring something in a language that Emma didn’t quite understand. The Headmaster of Beauxbatons had on so much make up that it was ridiculous, and all of her clothes were several varieties of animal skin. Mink furs seemed to be her coat that she was thickly bundled in, no matter the warm climate Hogwarts beheld this time of year, in September, and some kind of mammal with thick, grey fur covered her legs. She also had on a hat of some other kind of fur that Emma didn’t recognise. She looked so ridiculous that Emma couldn’t stop staring at her.

Emma felt a firm hand grasp her shoulder as well, and she felt an empty space where Brett’s hand had just been in hers. She had to tear her eyes away from his as he was eventually pulled out of the room for more privacy to discuss their tactics.

“I just want you to do your best, Miss Collins,” Professor Groban told her, his eyes shining. “That’s the best advice I can give you, besides reviewing some basic spells.” He gave the girl an obvious wink, then led her back in the direction of her dormitory. She felt as if he had just given her a hint, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Just remember, Miss Collins. Don’t allow anything to stand in the way of what you want, whether it be gaining or losing a friend or winning this tournament.”

Emma didn’t know what he meant as he walked away, his brisk steps informing her that he had some other place to be. Did he know that she and Brett may be starting a new relationship, and he felt as if she should stay away from him because of the competition? Or did he find out about her and Seth? Fear clutched at her heart and she nearly felt as if she would retch; she didn’t want Seth to get into trouble, no matter how much he deserved it. It was all better now; Brett was her protector, and she felt comfort in his arms again.

And there was nothing anyone could do to take that away.

Emma released a gasp of air as she walked down the halls of Hogwarts, realising that she had been holding her breath all the while she paced. It seemed as if Brett and Gregoria, the two that accompanied her, had just done the same.

When the trio had stepped out into the chilly morning air, near devastation had met their eyes: the weather. Cold gusts blew in their faces, making the breath that they had just received catch in their throats. It was slightly drizzling, but the dark and ominous sky foretold them that they would be receiving much more than a drizzle. Trees were nearly bending over from the wind, some limbs and their leaves being torn off on the spot, then being trapped and swirled around on the ground.

They were going to get wet.

Emma pulled her cloak closer to her chest, wrapping her shaking fingers tighter around the soft fabric and taking a quick glance at the other two champions before stepping out into the dank conditions. Did they really still have to do this? she thought as the freezing rain hit her face, making her freshly straightened and washed hair already start to curl on its ends. She wiped the cloak across her dampened face, but as soon as she did the same wetness returned in a matter of seconds. She licked her lips to taste the rain, it giving her a type of comfort as she walked over to the Forbidden Forest with the other two where they had been told to go at this time after their first classes. They would be explained full-heartedly of the rules before their classmates were to be brought down to the competition to observe their race.

A small, dilapidated hut sat far off to the side, its paint now worn and faded against the foundation, the door looking as if it had been broken down by something and never repaired. Windows were rusty and glass shattered into the cracked floor. It was as if something had destroyed it, but no one dared to go near the house to tidy up. It just stayed there, every once in a while a ghost story or two coming from students in their older years attempting to scare the tiny ones. A rather large grave that a beast eternally rested in, most likely just bones now, sat off to the side of the house, its marker made out of withered limbs and scrawled handwriting on a stone. It too was worn. ‘Aragog’ was the name that was placed upon it.

No occupant had rested inside the home for an extensive period of time; Emma recalled something about the original occupant, someone known as the gamekeeper, had once lived there, keeping an eye on the creatures that lived in the forest. He had always had a particular care and like for dangerous things. Emma didn’t know what had happened to him, but she figured that it had something to do with the final battle that had gone on across Hogwarts’ grounds all those years ago. Emma only wished, as they headed to the forest, that he could aid her in the task if they were actually going to have to go in there.

“Welcome, champions,” Professor Groban said gravely as the three arrived at their destination, their brisk steps indicating that they just wanted to get this mission over with. Having to do something hazardous that hadn’t been fully identified to them yet was awful enough, but to have their classmates and friends (and even their enemies) watching them so they could be made fun of was going to be the cherry on top. There was no telling what their foes had already said; especially what Seth had whispered about Emma to the other Slytherins. He, Seth, had even caught a glimpse of the two, Brett and Emma, walking down the hall, hand in hand. Seth had gotten a look of pure fury and nearly walked over to the couple to have a few choice words with Brett, but he stood his ground and just stared on while the smile he had once had formed now into a dismal line on his lips. A plan of payback had already been forming inside his dark mind.

Emma broke her train of thought as she become conscious that they were at their desired destination. The three headmasters, along with several members of the Ministry stood gravely, some with wands clasped in their hands, others with their fingers over their mouth in a worried stance for the three, exchanging apprehensive glances.

“ . . . I must warn you, this task is exceptionally dangerous . . .” Professor Groban said, Emma only catching every few words because of her uneasiness. She was now starting to regret ever entering. How could she have been so stupid? One to enter, another to actually think she could win? She couldn’t understand half of what it was he was saying. She was intelligent, but now she couldn’t even think straight. She was having trouble understanding even the most basic things. But her ears suddenly perked up at the sound of the task.

“An Ashwinder is a creature similar to a snake. There will be one set free each time a new champion enters the forest.”

Emma’s eyes widened. Ashwinders? They had just studied the creature in one of her classes! She had aced the test, the homework, and that very class day, finding them exceptionally interesting and studying everything she knew about them. How ironic was it that something she had just wanted to learn about for her own benefit turned out be something she would actually need in the contest, now? She breathed in another sigh of relief at that moment. She looked over at Gregoria who, looking exceptionally worried, kept exchanging glances between Groban and her own plastic headmaster. The woman had on the same mink coat, but this time it actually accentuated the weather.

“The Ashwinder lays two to three eggs at a time; if they are not frozen within the next few precious minutes, everything around them can catch fire. Now, do not mistake this creature with common harmless snakes hidden in the brush, though do not overlook them, as they can easily blend in with the land. Their eggs are highly flammable; everything within them captures and ensnares heat, causing forest fires. You have to freeze the actual eggs, I cannot stress that enough. Your task will take place inside of the Forbidden Forest. Your mission is to save the forest before everything within it catches fire. It is very difficult to see inside the wooded area, anyhow; if you have smoke and flames to accompany you, that makes it that much more of a hardship. If you find yourself trapped, then you must send up blue sparks with your wand and I or the other Ministry members can cease the flames, allowing you access out, but you will receive no points. Do your very best, as you are representing yourself and your school.

“I know that you may believe that the weather may allow you easy access to water, but let me tell you, this is not the case. The rain will cease within the next few minutes--- I don’t believe that our lovely sun will visit us, but I predict that the clouds will remain in their dank places until the tournament ends. You are allowed only a wand.” Professor Groban gave Emma and the other champions a hasty smile, and he too clasped his hands together. Just as soon as a non-emotional line on his lips replaced the smile, Emma looked into the clouds and realised that the rain had indeed halted. No sun was trying to slip through the heavy fog, but without the rain Emma’s teeth that had been so quickly chattering stopped and she gave the Headmaster a grin back.

“Are there any questions?” the Minister asked, his name not yet heard to any of the champions. His feet were rather small, and it looked as if he had tried to wear comforting shoes that the Muggles wore out and about called something that Emma couldn’t remember at the moment. He wore dark robes that too went along with the weather conditions. His wide-brimmed top hat seemed out of place amongst the crowd, but Emma just figured he was old fashioned.

“Yes,” Gregoria said in a small voice, so unlike the one Emma had heard when she had first been chosen. The excitement of being the special contestant for Beauxbatons had obviously worn off on their walk down here. “How will we determine who goes first?”

Emma wondered as to why Gregoria had no French accent; she could very clearly understand the girl, whilst when she heard any other Beauxbatons student speak she had to mull over what they could have possibly have said in her brain for a moment, catching shady looks from the other French students at how unintelligent she had to be for not understanding. Perhaps Gregoria was an exchange student, just like Brett, and had moved to Beauxbatons against her own will but to follow her parents’ jobs.

“Ah,” he said lightly, his eye shining with excitement. He pulled out his wand, it too exceptionally small, along with a brown canvas bag. He glanced at the other adults.

“Reach your hand inside, please,” he told the three, indicating to Gregoria first, her eyes appearing weary as she slowly put in a shaky hand.

Something slivered between her fingers, and she pulled back from the bag.

The Minister laughed a high pitch laugh. “Do not worry, my dear,” he said, “It is only a replica of the actual thing, and it only slithers for a few moments after you pull it out. Cute charm work by my secretary.”

Emma wondered what on earth it could actually be and tensed her own fingers, hoping that she wouldn’t show fear for whatever it was that was inside the bag. If she was fearful of a paper bag, then she would die of fright from just entering the forest.

Gregoria worriedly (and hurriedly) reached in her timid fingers and pulled out what appeared to be a small snake, like an earth worm, only it glided in and out between her fingers before falling to the ground and crumpling, an extremely miniscule egg on the ground appearing a few seconds afterward. The Minister picked it up.

“Ah, you’re second, dear,” he told her, his eyes lighting up as he cracked open the small egg. A number had floated into the air and popped, sending a cloud of dust in every direction. The Beauxbatons Headmaster had sneezed loudly.

“You next.” He pushed the bag toward Emma, who, reaching in fearful fingers as well, pulled out a particularly orange-coloured snake that did the same as Gregoria’s; it slithered between her fingers before falling onto the dirt ground. The man picked up her egg and as fear clutched at her heart of not being the first, her wish did not come true.

“Number one! Congratulations, dear, you get to be the very first one to show us your skills in the competition!” he said gladly, patting her on the back. He allowed Brett to reach in after as he and Emma exchanged worried glances, pulling out a snake that eventually showed everyone the number three, as expected.

They turned around and saw, at a distance, the entire school coming excitedly down to the forest. Groban immediately cast an unheard spell, causing a large amount of bleachers and stadium chairs to come to rest on the ground, and the seats were immediately filled with the exhilarated, chatting children.

The three Headmasters again pulled their students off to the side, giving them their last words of advice before the contest was to be held. Emma saw many signs of Hogwarts’ students that bore her name, and it made her adrenaline rush and her heart soar that they were fond enough of her to do that. Though, they could just be representing their school. She glimpsed Seth sporting a Beauxbatons poster, waving it in the air as if to taunt her, as were his friends, checking out the pretty girl that had her back turned to the audience. Emma felt disgusted.

“Now, Miss Collins, did you hear every word I said about the Ashwinder?”

“Yes, sir, I think so. I already know a bit about them from the books we covered in class, so---”

“Good, very good, so you know what to do?”

Emma nodded, indicating she understood.

“Are you very sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I recommend that, in your beginning journey inside the forest, you take to the right side of the woods. That’s where all the creatures go at this time of day to feed. Though, be careful.” He winked again.

Emma stared open-mouthed at him as he walked away. She couldn’t believe this! Her Headmaster had virtually just given her the answer to the task! But then she realised that she could get it done much, must faster now that she knew where to find them.

“Now, there are more hardships than one inside this forest. You must hurry and find the eggs of the Ashwinder before the forest erupts into flames, yes, but you must also be on the lookout for other creatures as well. Some may be friendly, others will very well not be.”

Emma suddenly remembered a lesson in her first year on how there could be Werewolves, Centaurs, Acromantulas, Thestrals . . . any kind of beast, really, in the forest. No one knew what had become extinct and what still thrived because not a soul dared to venture inside any longer. The deceased gamekeeper had been the only one to undertake that task.

“At the sound of the whistle, I would like Miss Collins to venture into the forest,” the Minister’s words rang out across the ears of everyone there, causing nearly each person in the Hogwarts’ area (and especially the Ravenclaws) to stand up and cheer and stomp, reciting Emma’s name in a recurring, sing-song voice what seemed like a thousand times inside the girl’s brain. She couldn’t help but smile heartedly.

But the sound of a piercing whistle hit her ears and jolted her back to reality. She had a time limit, and she couldn’t disappoint her fans and school, most importantly herself. She took her first step into the forest, her heart pounding in her ears now louder than the cheers.

As soon as she took that earliest stride, she no longer heard the voices of her peers, but the sound of crickets suddenly burst forth, filling the air. They were the only things she heard but the deafening silence. Trees encompassed her every being, their limbs reaching out to scratch at her bare legs where her robes were too short to cover, along with her face and exposed arms. She could only hear that, the sound of the bugs and her clomping footsteps as she headed to the side of the forest that the Headmaster had told her to go near, her eyes fearfully scanning every corner of the wood before taking each step, in terror of what ghastly monster could be stealthily inspecting her at that very moment.

Her wand was pointed at her side, it clutched tightly between her fingers as she breathed in and out, in and out. She now had to tell herself to breathe; how amusing it was that you could do it involuntarily when you were doing something you enjoyed, but when the lights turned out you had to actually inform yourself to do it.

Emma turned a corner, trying with difficulty but not yet succeeding to find a small path to lead her on her way. She was at a brisk pace; she knew that she was being timed and that meant she had to hasten. Her thoughts were crushing her mind; every fearful thing she had ever thought of seemed to be coming to her conscious, causing her heart to jump at even her own footsteps. She was aware they were her own, but to be unaccompanied in a place such as this one finds themselves weary and terrified. There was no word coming to her intellect at how scared she was at that moment; the worst she had ever been in her life, definitely. But she thought of the people that were counting on her win to represent Hogwarts for ages and ages to come and how they were cheering her on. The other contestants that waited their turn, most likely pacing back and forth in fear of what too was to come for them as well wanted that win, and even if they weren’t enemies, they all wanted the triumph and weren’t going to stop at a little thing called fear. But then, she glimpsed the immense footprint hidden in the brush.


She stopped immediately, telling herself that that very print had most likely been there for hundreds of years--- a fossil, it was called, and it was imprinted into the ground from some enormous creature that lived long ago. Or, her mind could just be telling her what she wants to hear. She shuddered. Either way, she way got out of there very quickly.

She thought of Brett.

That thought alone allowed her to remain walking and not just send up blue sparks on the spot. Fear was getting the best of her and she knew it. But his face swarmed into her being, filling her up with joy and allowing her to continue on.

She soon found herself sprawled on the ground from tripping over a gnarled tree root, its rough edges poking her ankles. She picked herself up off the ground, dusting her robes hurriedly as she stood; her wand had rolled a few feet away. She didn’t even think to look around as she walked over toward the left side of the forest to pick it up. When you’re not aware of your surroundings, it makes it that much better for your attacker to overwhelm you.

Emma let out a cry as she was forced to the ground again, a body on top of her thin form. She hadn’t even seen it coming, but she was now on the soil with no protection. Her arms and legs were pinned, and try as she might, she couldn’t wriggle out from underneath the beast. She looked into the eyes of a monster of a spider, its venom dripping onto her face as it loomed over her, ready for a snack after its long night of hunting. An acromantula. Its eyes were beady; their frightening stares into Emma’s own making fear seep through her veins. And her wand was still a foot away. Her fingers stretched and stretched, reaching and groping for the thin wood, but to no avail. The spider was digging his sharp legs into her sides, causing more pain as she still reached out for the wand. She attempted to push the giant off her, but she only succeeded in wearing out her muscles and receiving more spurts of venom to the face. But then, she grabbed her wand.

“Stupefy!” she yelled, her shouts ringing out across the forest, causing any timid creature to run farther away than they already were stationed. The spider was forced backward, its bristly legs cringing into its body as it flew about twenty feet away. It began to creep back, but Emma was quicker on her feet. She gasped in air; it seemed as if the creature’s weight had hindered her breathing, and she now had to gasp to allow life access to her lungs.

It lunged for her again.

”Stupefy!” she screamed for a second time, the spider once again being blown backward, its legs again recoiling into its own body, then bouncing onto the ground. It must have realised that Emma wasn’t worth it, because it took one last ravenous look at the girl then crept away.

Emma, her breathing now extremely irregular, then broke off in a run toward her destination, her eyes becoming weary and her heart pounding in her chest. After a few minutes’ worth of the exercise, the monstrous stitch in her side forced her to slow down and take a quick breather.

She instantly smelled smoke. Her eyes widened as she rounded another corner. The heat hit her full in the face and made her lungs close. Fire illuminated the trees in front of her, a small creature resembling a snake stalking away from it, its eyes evil and narrowed. It slithered a cool slither toward her, but she knew it was harmless other than the eggs. She almost wanted to beckon it toward her just to kill it for the havoc it had just wreaked upon her challenging task, but she decided it would just have to wait.

“Aguamenti! Aguamenti! she yelled loudly, covering her eyes as a few drops of water flung into her eyes, soaking the blaze that now enclosed the burning trees. She still hadn’t found the eggs that had started the blaze, but she just wanted to stop the fire for now. She didn’t want her first task to go up in smoke as the forest did, though she didn’t want to be killed in the process. If she failed the first task and was the only one to do so, then she would no longer have any cheers for herself as she started the other tasks. Everyone would think that she wasn’t worth being chosen, and would hate her for losing.

When only smoke sprung up from the ground, Emma briskly searched through the rubble, looking for the eggs. And she finally found them.

But the only question was, how did she freeze them? She had been told to freeze and only freeze them; she couldn’t just shoot cold water to them while levitating them all the way out of the forest; she’d have to wrack her brain for the correct charm.

The flames were crackling again; she could feel the leaves being melted under her shoes from the intense heat, the smoke rising into her nostrils as she choked and gasped for air. She remembered something that her Mum had told her in case of a house fire--- she was supposed to get down low and breathe normally. At the moment she found this rather foolish; the leaves would surely just allow the fire access to her hair and cloak, and that wouldn’t go over well. She continued to wrack her exhausted mind for the answer, but it just didn’t seem to want to come to her.

“Freezing Charm . . . Freezing Charm . . .”

All of a sudden, a jet of icy blue light was shot forth from Emma’s wand, and she felt her very fingertips freezing from the cold that the spell beheld. It must have been a non-verbal spell, the one she had thought about. She continued on to levitate the egg, stepping over the hissing Ashwinder that still stayed to protect its eggs, recoiling as if to strike. Emma knew that it couldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t want to stay around extensively for a snake no matter if it could or not.

Emma could feel the ground shaking under her quick feet, but she thought nothing of it, thinking it was just her heart pounding in adrenaline inside her chest. She was only staring at the egg, her feet picking up in speed as she got closer and closer to her fans and friends, hearing their distant shouts and screams of excitement as the task time ended.

She didn’t even notice it when she ran right into a giant.

She struck the ground with a grunt, her skull hitting with great force and rendering her dizzy for a moment. Her head spun as she sat up, the egg rolling off into the bushes without the protection of the spell. Thankfully it didn’t crack open. She could faintly smell smoke and hear crackling as she finally found the strength to stand.

But she then wanted to sit right back down. A massive man towered over her, a rather large weapon in his hands. His tattered clothing was torn and old, looking as if it hadn’t been changed in quite a few months. His skin was pale and covered in dirt and some kind of fungus of which Emma could not identify. The black beard that filled out his face was straggly and filled with something that looked strangely like bones. Whether they were human bones or not, Emma didn’t know, but she truly didn’t want to wait around and find out.

She crouched to the ground awkwardly, her eyes narrowing up at the creature as she took two steps backward, praying and hoping that he hadn’t seen her yet. The giant lowered its massive head to her frail form below. He raised his foot and, still staring intently at the girl below him, made to lower it. Emma dashed out of the way, dropping her wand but thankfully it didn’t to fall under the giant’s foot as it hit the hard earth, shaking the trees and allowing birds to take flight. Emma breathed yet another sigh of relief. She grabbed her wand and levitated the egg again with undeniable determination, a grim line crossing her face as she made to pass the giant. She shot out another jet of water to calm the flames that now surrounded the small area of grass and twigs underneath the trees.

She ran as fast her legs would carry her, hearing the deafening roars of the beast as it tried to claw its way to Emma, only making her pump her legs faster to reach the end of the forest. And suddenly, she burst through it. The claps and cheers that she had been imagining and actually hearing that had been pushing her along erupted into the loudest sounds she had ever heard. She smiled as she sank down to the ground in exhaustion and the subsequent fear that had been eating her away that past task. It felt as if she had been in there all day; she squinted as she stared up into the clouds, seeing a small trail of sunlight trying to burst through.

“Forty-two minutes, exactly,” the Minister said, his cheeks reddening as he looked the girl over and breaking into a smile. Emma finally dropped her wand, allowing the egg to fall to the ground softly, and Groban helped her up.

“Good work, Miss Collins,” he told her admirably, “Good work.”

Brett came over and put his arm around her and helped her over to the hospital station. Madam Tippet, the school nurse, made her drink some disgusting, orange liquid that nearly made her retch, but she held it in because of Brett’s presence, though she knew it would have made her feel better. She looked down at her scraped and stinging knees, realising that she had nasty burns along her legs from the fires she had had to put out, most likely being second-degree or worse. It was comical, because she hadn’t even felt the pains until Madam Tippet had started the healing process.

“That feel better, dear?” she asked comfortingly, blowing thoughtfully on the burns to soothe and cool them from the humidity the air beheld.

Emma smiled and nodded, thanking the woman as she walked off to see the commotion that Gregoria had started by beginning her trek into the forest, just as Emma had.

“You okay?” Brett asked, crossing the tent to sit next to her. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, she bringing his eyes to his.

“ ‘Course,” she said, giving him a grin. “That was . . . so scary, though.” She shuddered. “Lucky you get to do it next.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, his words full of sarcasm. He still didn’t know if even he was ready to partake the competition, but if Emma could do it, then he surely could. His Durmstrang mentor would surely raise hell if he decided just not participate anyhow, no matter if he were scared or just didn’t feel like completing the tournament.

“Yeah, you have to keep to the right,” Emma said idly, “I got too close to the left side of the forest and almost got eaten by an Acromantula.”

“Oh, my gosh, Emma, that’s terrible,” he said with convincing regard. “You said an Acromantula. What . . . other type of creatures were in there?” He listened intently.

“Well, all I ran into was that stupid snake, you know the one that we had to find the eggs? And I also literally ran right into a giant, and then you know the Acromantula. I’ve heard that there are also centaurs, but I didn’t see any sign of them.”

Brett nodded and smiled at her, clasping his hands together and propping them on his chin as he stood.

They sat in silence for a moment, Emma occupying herself by staring at her knees and wincing, the potion she had taken just starting to take its effects as she watched the horrid blisters and burns start to heal before her eyes. Brett seemed to be deep in thought.

“Don’t you wish we had that at home?” he asked, indicating her healing injuries.

“Yeah, Mum would love that. She’s always cutting or burning herself on something. Stove, usually.”

Brett stood, hearing the distant chatter of students and looked out of the entrance flap of the tent, it swinging in the breeze.

“I guess I’m going to have to go,” he told her, tucking a thread of hair behind her ear.

Emma tensed her lips and nodded, looking up at him and straightening her position on the chair.

He still stood there, as if expecting something, but didn’t say anything. Emma’s heart started beating erratically.

“I guess I’m going to have to give you a good luck kiss, then,” she told him teasingly, reaching up to give him a peck on the cheek. She pulled back, her eyes widening at what she had just done. She had done it all compulsively; she hadn’t even thought about it.

But Brett pulled her closer to him, and their lips met for the first time in two years since that ghastly day he had gone. Emma realised that it felt even better kissing him now than it did then.

“Good luck,” she told him casually, her smile widening in comfort for him as they broke apart. He walked out of the tent, a sheer smirk on his face. Emma collapsed onto her chair, closing her eyes and savouring in her mind what had just happened.

She had completed the first task in an admirable time and gotten a kiss from a boy that she was starting to love all over again.

Brett stared into the eyes of the beautiful girl in front of him, a swooping sensation leaping in the pit of his stomach as he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met, and he soared.

Standing in another corridor, Emma peered on her tiptoes at the couple, the smile she had been beholding now contorting into a massive frown, her eyes filling to the brim with tears and overflowing. Her weakness turned her knees to mush and she slid down to the floor, her legs buckling underneath her thin, gasping form.

Brett had betrayed her.

“NO!”

Emma sat up in her common room four poster, her legs twisted in the thin sheets as sweat, mingled with tears, ran down her face and inside her nightclothes, her breath becoming more ragged as she began to think about what had just commenced before her eyes. She turned back over with a sob, muttering something that the girls around her thought sounded something like, ‘It was just a dream’.

She wasn’t going to convince herself that Brett wasn’t good for her; she just was still in astonishment at how good he actually was.

~ * ~

“Hey Brett,” Emma said as she glimpsed the boy, running over to him and giving him a peck on the cheek and entwining her fingers into his. He smiled at her as she pulled away, and they walked to the Great Hall, adamantly chatting about the day before and the challenging task they had partaken of.

“Nice job with the win,” she told him, knocking him in the shoulder with a soft fist. “You got it done nearly twenty minutes before I did. Great work. I know that your Headmaster is happy.”

“Oh, you have no idea. Thanks. And second is still good, Emma. Maybe just going first hit your nerves.”

Emma laughed. “Oh, I know it did. I was scared out of mind the entire time I was in there.”

“Well, poor Gregoria almost got murdered by Centaurs after she stumbled into their nests.”

“I know, those blue sparks were all over the sky, weren’t they?”

Brett nodded and smiled at her. “I thought that I remembered something about if you were a . . . young person, an innocent, they’d allow you to pass.”

“That’s what I’ve read in books, but I guess that that changed during the Final Battle. There were so many people that were young and were on the Dark side. They tried to kill the Centaurs, but they didn’t go down easily, so their trust for humans wavered, and I guess that it now just no longer exists.”

They both sat down at a table in the Great Hall together, digging into the breakfast that swiftly appeared before them.

All of a sudden, a lone person was heard applauding right behind Brett. He turned around and swallowed a bite of food, his eyes resting upon Seth. Emma’s eyes widened and she put a hand to Brett’s shoulder, whispering comforting words inaudible to Seth’s ears. He just shrugged her off.

Seth’s cheers continued, three of his Slytherin friends standing behind them with their arms crossed, staring Emma up and down as if she were something disgusting that they had never seen before.

“I believe that this is the Ravenclaw table, Seth.” Brett wiped his mouth with a napkin and turned back around, ignoring him. Seth looked as if he could punch Brett at that very moment but he just remained in that spot, tense fists clenching and unclenching. He dared to take a look back at his friends, who gave him a dirty smirk and nodded.

“Good work on your win yesterday, Brett,” he said, emphasizing and spitting his name. His friends snickered.

“What, is that supposed to make me laugh?” Brett asked, finally standing up and taking a step toward Seth. Seth took one back, his eyes suddenly showing panic, but for only a moment. By now, they had attracted the interest of a few other students that surrounded them, their eyes enlarged in fear as they realised that a fight was about to initiate.

“It’s supposed to make your girl laugh,” he said. “But I’m sure she’s too busy screaming into the night to be able to listen to what I’m saying.”

Emma didn’t immediately comprehend what Seth had just said, but when she heard the giggles of his friends and the astounded gasps of the onlookers, her cheeks instantly became crimson and she focused her eyes to the floor. Brett gave her a reassuring look, and then turned back to Seth.

“I’m warning you, Seth. Just leave her alone, she doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

“Oh, and she wants something to do with you, am I right?” He sniggered, taking encouraging glances from his friends to egg him on.

“Yes, I do,” Emma said, squeezing Brett’s shaking hand, it too tensing up as if to strike. “Leave us alone, Seth.”

“No--- No, I don’t think I will.” His eyes closed half-way, as if trying to comprehend something. “Someone that steals my girl is my problem. Even if I could care less about what happens to her now.”

“Seth, you idiot, I broke up with you before I ever even saw Brett again. I don’t want to be with you!” She was practically screaming now. Brett put a hand to her arm as if to silence her without even looking at her.

“Then I guess you’ll be eating breakfast with us, then?” Brett asked, his eyebrows raising and sitting back down in his seat confidently and picking up a fork. He motioned toward the table. “So?” Emma didn’t move. “You said you weren’t going to leave her alone--- I guess that that means you and I are going to be becoming great friends.” He gave him a grin.

“You son of a---” Seth muttered, the rest of his words becoming muffled as he clenched his teeth, taking off on his feet and rearing back a fist to punch Brett. Brett still hadn’t moved. Seth still just held his fist in place, waiting for some sign that he had the permission to clout the boy in front of him. Nothing stopped him, yet he still hadn’t done it. Brett then stood back up and Emma held him back.

“Come on, Brett,” she whispered, “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.” She continued to pull on his arm.

“Seriously, Seth, tell me something. I come to Hogwarts, I get the champion position you wanted and your girl got the other. I’d be upset too, yeah. But what makes you think that you own Emma?” Now Brett was just mocking him.

“I . . . I . . .”

“I . . . I . . .” Brett suddenly turned serious, his face changing from the mocking stare. “You don’t own her, all right? It may take you a while to figure that out, but she’s not your girl anymore.”

Emma pursed her lips and awaited a punch, but it still wasn’t coming.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Seth muttered, his eyes lowering.

“No, I don’t know everything about you, but I do know that you never treated Emma the way she should have been treated and you hit---” But he never finished the sentence because Emma cut him off by a soft kick to the shin. He immediately understood.

Seth shook his head and muttered something inaudible to the couple, a rigid fist finally pulling back. He leapt at Brett, his face contorted in a scornful, anger-filled look. His fist was only inches from Brett’s face, speeding faster and harder toward him . . .

And Brett caught it in his palm, spinning him around and forcing him onto the breakfast table, his dirty fork almost going into Seth’s apprehensive face. Emma gasped and backed up, yelling Brett’s name and telling him to stop, though for some reason she found delight in seeing his pain. Seth winced and wriggled helplessly to get away, but he only succeeded in getting Brett’s breakfast food in his face. Brett lowered himself to his ear.

“I don’t want to ever, ever see you even looking at Emma. You got that? I’ll do more than embarrass you next time. You’re not worth anything to her.” He spoke the words slowly as if Seth couldn’t comprehend them any other way.

Seth didn’t answer.

“I said, you got that?” He pushed him harder against the table.

Seth finally nodded in mortification, his hair falling down into his face and closing his eyes.

Brett let him go with great force, Seth almost falling into the table as he tried to stand. His friends till hadn’t moved.

“Come on,” Brett said to Emma, taking her hand and leading her out of the hall without a backward glance.

As soon as the doors had closed, Emma kissed Brett passionately, pushing him into a wall. She felt brilliant, utter love surging between them. Emma felt whole now that Seth was off her back, and her love went into the kiss. When it was broken, they just stared at each other.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes falling to the floor. “Seth doesn’t ever know when to stop.” She stepped back, putting her linked hands behind her back and leaning forward on her toes, glancing around the hall.

Brett took a step toward her to clear the distance between them. “Emma, back there . . .”

“What?” Emma asked, taking a hold of his hands and he looked away.

“I . . . never mind, it’s nothing.”

“No, come on. What is it?”

Brett shook his head and looked up at her, pushing a piece of hair out of his face with a blow from his mouth.

“Back there I realised something, when I was getting ready to fight Seth.”

Emma nodded, slightly confused, but continued listening.

“I realised . . . that, even after all these years . . . and with all the time we’ve been spending together lately. . .” He breathed in deeply. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Emma’s eyed widened in their sockets, her heart once again beating unsteadily.

“Funny,” she told him, a smile crossing her face. “Because I realised I loved you then, too---”

Brett kissed her again before her speech was finished.

~ * ~

Emma walked into the Ravenclaw common room, an utter smile on her lips as she walked past some lonely first years, just staring into the fire and trying desperately to finish some last minute essays for their classes the next day. Emma had the inclination to inquire if they needed help, but her first priority was to inform her friends about what had just happened. They had told her that they needed full reports on her developing relationship with Brett and they needed every scandalous detail.

She hurried up the stairs to her own dorm, opening the door and clicking it shut. As she turned around she glimpsed her pair of best girl friends, Kelly and Eva, sitting on the bed, chatting adamantly with one another.

“Emma!” Kelly said, a welcoming smile coming upon her face, replacing the angered one.

“Emma,” Eva started, sitting up on the bed. “I still can’t get over your first task and how well you did,” she said, her eyes becoming wide and admiring.

“Thanks,” Emma voiced, giving her a smile that signaled she was ready to go to bed, and she got under sheets after she changed into her pajamas.

“We just wanted you to know that, even after your break up with Seth and going out with Brett and all of this tournament havoc, we’re still going to be the best friends we can be for you, all right?”

Emma’s face contorted into an awkward look, trying to find the code hidden in her friend’s words. She finally turned around and smiled at them, though it was forced. She didn’t want to hear that they still wished to be friends after this tournament had made her famous; she didn’t even want them to say it. That meant that they had been thinking about it, how it felt to be a friend in the eyes of a champion. Emma didn’t wish for her friends to change just because of all this excitement. The tournament itself merely lasted a week, though Brett would stay throughout the rest of the school year. She could not wait until this contest was over, actually, because then the tension between the houses would end, and everyone would be free to be friends, aware that they didn’t have to be enemies just because of the opposition of their schools.

Emma rolled over in her bed, pulling the covers up as she continued to listen to her friends’ whispering. She caught pieces of the conversation as it unfolded.

”No, you tell her!”

“I can’t tell her, you’re the one that decided to go out with him!”

“Tell me what?” Emma asked, her brow furrowing. She sat up. Her mind was swimming with loads of possibilities of who could be going out with whom, and why it would affect her so much that her friends wouldn’t notify her.

“Emma, you may not want to know---”

“It’s fine, just tell me. I won’t be mad, I promise.” Though, Emma knew she could be lying, depending on what it was the girls were talking about. Perhaps it was Brett? She would surely die if it were him.

No, her thoughts interrupted. No, that would mean that one of them were going out with Brett, and that would mean that he was cheating on her. No. She prayed silently before they spoke that that wasn’t it.

“Eva is . . . Oh, tell her, Eva, I’m sure not going to, it’s your fault.”

“Well,” her friend said matter of factly, “I’m going out with . . . oh, Emma, please tell me that you won’t be mad! I know that it’s breaking the code of girl friendship and all, but I’ve liked him for so long---”

“Oh, spit it out!” Emma said, her anger rising, but still keeping her calm.

“I’m going out with Seth.”

Emma’s mouth nearly dropped open, half in relief that it wasn’t Brett but the other half in anger and sadness for her friend. She then felt guilty that she had ever thought it Brett in the first place.

“Wh-What?” Emma asked, her eyes expanding.

“I told you she’d be mad,” Kelly muttered before getting off the bed.

“No, shut up, Kelly, I’m not mad,” Emma said teasingly. “Se- Seth, right?”

Eva nodded, her eyes as round as nickels. “Please don’t be angry with me, Em---”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not mad.”

It looked as if both of the girls had been talking with extreme comfort for her, because they both breathed rather large sighs of relief and relaxed their postures. Eva grabbed a pillow and held onto it.

“But I do have to tell you something about him.” Her voice suddenly became grave and serious. Tears almost filled her eyes but she looked up to the ceiling and they dissolved.

“Seth is not a good guy.” She stared at the two for a moment before speaking again. “He’s not worth it, Eva, I’m telling you.”

“Oh, I know that you would know, Emma, but I just can’t stand not being with him.” She sighed and lay back.

Emma was happy that her friend had found someone to be with, but she wasn’t happy about who it was. Seth was a bad guy; she’d have to put up with him for the past year or so, dealing with those bruises and always lying for him, covering up the truth that she was actually abused by her perfect boyfriend.

“Do you two remember that bruise I had on my eye about a week ago? The one I told you that I got when I fell down the stairs?”

“Yeah,” they both answered at the same time.

“I didn’t fall down the stairs.”

“Then what could you have done to get a bruise that big---” Kelly suddenly stopped and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Emma, you don’t mean that . . . Seth---”

Emma nodded and they remained in silence for a moment.

“That’s ridiculous, Emma,” Eva said, sighing, her tone suddenly becoming tart. She cleared her throat and got into her own bed. “Seth could never do a thing like that to me.”

“Eva, I’m just warning you to be careful---”

“Besides, you probably just upset him or something. That’s why he did it.”

Emma opened and closed her mouth, her heart nearly stopping as she struggled to hold her mouth closed and not utter a word. She couldn’t believe that Eva, her best friend, Eva, had just told her that! How dare her!

“Let’s go to bed,” Kelly said cheerfully, trying to break the tension in the room.

Eva punched at a pillow, pretending it was Emma’s face before allowing her breaths to become shallow from the anger that was building inside of her. Emma didn’t get much sleep that night.

~ * ~

The candy lined the aisles, the bright, shimmering packages only drawing wide-eyed children closer to examine them. Purples and blues paired with yellows and reds, their silvery and gleaming wrappers matching their esteemed slogans that made the candy only taste that much more delicious. The girl that now walked here had been one of their regulars that had been beckoned toward, usually picking up quite a few sweets and dumping them into a near-empty shopping basket before it turned into an almost-filled one when finished walking down the aisle and back a few times.

“Emma, get over here!” the girl’s father said teasingly, waving a hand in her direction and smiling. The girl grinned right back and waved as well, charging over to her father and dropped yet another package into the hamper, a cute grin emerging from her before looking up at her father with pleading eyes.

“All right,” he whispered, bringing his face close to her ear. “But if your mother sees this---” He shook the basket filled with goodies. “---she will have my head, you hear?”

The girl gave him a massive hug around the leg, her small form not being able to reach any higher. But the man set down what was in his hands and scooped her up, giving her kisses along her neck and cheeks as she giggled hysterically, her thick, black pigtails falling out of their holders. Passersby watched with amused smiles as the two continued to play in the middle of the supermarket.

“I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, too, Emma.”

~ * ~

More Dreams.

Emma sat up in her common room, realizing she had fallen asleep over a scribbled piece of parchment. She yawned and stretched, her eyes opening and closing as she adjusted to the dim light that encompassed her seat by the sparkling fire. She was mesmerized by the glowing embers. She had just awoken from a dream about her father. It had been one of those dreams where she had reminisced on the past, and then forced her to contemplate it as soon after she awoke. The event she had witnessed all over again was one of those times that she and her father had gone and spent a wallet-full of money at a local candy store, her delight soaring even higher and higher with each sweet she had glimpsed. Her father took great enjoyment in seeing Emma smile, and took trips like those often, though always regarding she brush her teeth acceptably after their snack raids were over.

Those trips and smiles had brought out the best in Emma, and had been her favourite thing to do as a child.

She had dreams like this often, always recollecting the past with great intensity, and the love for her father always suddenly welling up inside of her when the dreams were had. While she enjoyed the dreams immensely, she hated the after-thought of them, always bringing up sad and lonely feelings she hadn’t felt for weeks and possibly even months. She would end up wallowing in the emotions for the next few days, ultimately forcing herself to forget the anguish by treating herself to loads of candy at Honeydukes. It was the only thing that kept her sane.

She impulsively went to the bulletin board in the centre of the common room, searching hopefully for an event poster on the scheduling of the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. To her dismay, however, it wasn’t for another month and a half; the excitement of the tournament returning to Hogwarts seemed to have become the first priority in anything.

Her heart burned; a monster scratched at her insides, telling her that she needed her father. She dissolved into silent tears, only an image of his unshaved face and stubbly moustache grinning down upon her and swooping down to give her kisses as a child. He would always tug at her messy pigtails playfully and that would make her giggles reach hysterics, forcing him to rain down more and more kisses down on her neck and forehead. As the tears fell, she could actually feel the familiar tug on her braids as she pushed a cluster of hair behind her ear.

He had been a great dad.

Crying comforted a saddened person who had experienced something as terrible as a death in the family; for Emma to lose someone as close to her as her father was just pure devastation in the eyes of anyone who knew her. The empty feeling in her heart that she still had, even three years after the incident, throbbed apparently and painfully, allowing the tears to come even more freely than they already had been. Nothing could take away this feeling; nothing could fill the space that now gaped a might hole in her heart. Only something that the two had been known for, the candy (as hilarious and childish as it could seem) was the only thing that pacified her in these horrid times. She herself even felt embarrassed at times and thought of what her friends would think if they knew that she sought comfort in sweets for the sad recollections of her father; she had not told anyone to date, but Brett had known when he had been there for her those few years ago. She didn’t know if he could still recall it, but he had been the only one she had confided in about this secret, expecting him to laugh. But he hadn’t. He had expressed sympathy for her, also telling her to come to him anytime she had needed to talk or say anything, so she had. Those many times where she had called him at all hours, day or night, had been the only thing that had kept her going in her most depressing times. Her mother couldn’t help her; she had been worse off than Emma herself, and no one had been able to comfort her; it was a wonder she had made it after all she had been through.

But Emma needed that Hogsmeade trip. Not just wanted, but literally had longing warmth for it. She didn’t want to feel the empty desires for a father that she couldn’t have, so she needed that very treat to calm her down. Nothing else would work; not the calming friendship of Kelly and Eva, not loads of homework to force her to forget, not counseling that her mother had made her go to the first year after her father had died, nothing. Literally nothing, and that’s what made her inconsolable. If she had stumbled upon a place that was as unattainable in the Muggle world as magic, then why couldn’t it bring her father back to life? She checked the clock out of the corner of her eye: it read nearly two-thirty in the morning. While she had no aspiration to break the rules, she couldn’t help but think that if she didn’t get the candy that she would definitely go insane. No other soul rested inside the common room; she would be able to slip out and in easily and quietly without being seen. That passageway that led to Hogsmeade cellar was just begging her to be used . . . She sure wished that she had some Felix Felicis right then.

Emma soon found herself pushing her chair back in as she passed, making an effort to formulate as little sound as possible while she prepared to leave. She had no Invisibility Cloak; she had heard quite a bit about them but never had been able to retrieve one for her own use; they would have cost loads, anyhow. She would just have to lurk into the shadows, breathing only when she needed as to not make any more sound than was possible. She pulled off her shoes; she wouldn’t need them, besides they would only make even more noise. Being out of bed and being a Triwizard Champion was enough; if she got caught sneaking off the grounds she’d surely be kicked out of the tournament and would lose all of her friends because of her foolishness and letting her entire school down for not receiving the win they had long since anticipated on her behalf.

She scratched the back of her head, still nearly in tears as she exited the common room, hoping to be in high spirits by the time she’d returned. She sniffed loudly from her crying spell a few minutes before walking any farther, in fear that she would alert a wandering Prefect or Head Boy or Professor that prowled around at this time at night just to catch someone like Emma doing something they shouldn’t.

She knew exactly where to go; the statue of the hump-backed witch rested firmly inside her weakened mind; she had all these things to worry about, what with the tournament, a bothersome Seth and her discovery of Eva now going out with him, and the developing relationship between her and Brett, that she couldn’t believe that she was actually risking it all by sneaking out at this late time.

Speaking of Eva and Seth, Eva had spoken of herself and her boyfriend highly, telling any passerby that the two were in love and needn’t have any interfering soul to break them up. After that conversation with her the next day, Emma had received word that the two had had a fight over something most likely not even worth mentioning. Later that night she had seen fresh bruises on Eva’s eye, and even a handprint of Seth’s on her arm.

There was little else to say but ‘I told you so’ to Eva, but being a friend she had only comforted, though Eva had not outspokenly told them. Emma had been the one to bring up the odd patches of colouring over the girl’s body.

A boy with brown, curly hair and glasses stepped out of a corridor and Emma breathed in a gasp of air, praying that she wouldn’t be seen. He looked her way and seemed bewildered. She needn’t have worried, though, because he soon exited from sight, leaving her alone once again.

As she glimpsed the form of the hump-backed witch, she soon remembered her reason she was seeking it (as if it had left her mind). Her father soon faded into her memory once again, his smile beaming down on her, his caring touch and kisses raining down upon her . . . her eyes were soon filled with tears once again. She prodded the witch all over its body with her wand, trying desperately to remember the form of incantation she was supposed to mutter to allow the passageway to open, but her grief made her feel as if she couldn’t do anything, and the next thing she knew Emma was on the floor, weeping worse than she had in a long while. She hadn’t had had a breakdown like this near since her father’s actual death, and the thought of the second task that loomed closer and closer (it was the next day) filled her mind and made her believe as if she was worth nothing and deserved the same. It had to be the stress that was making her feel this way. She shouldn’t have been chosen for the tournament; what would her school, the thing she was representing in the tournament, say if they found out that she had been sobbing her heart out the night before the second task because of a father that had died years ago? They’d figure her a depressed loon who needed counseling or help, not the recognition of a champion and representation of Hogwarts. These thoughts invaded her mind so deeply they caused her to stand up and wipe her face on the back of her hand, turning around.

A boy was walking toward her and Emma’s breath trapped in her throat. She had been caught. She had been caught out of bed at a late hour; she tried her best not to allow the sinking feeling inside her chest and down to her stomach not bother her. Perhaps she could possibly persuade the Headmaster not to punish her, but to only take her out of the tournament when she explained the situation to him. He seemed like a likeable enough and forgiving man when she had been with him; perhaps he would be lenient because she actually was the Triwizard Champion and he wanted the win for his school. But as the person came closer and the dim candlelight shone in his face, she knew that everything was going to be all right.

She wiped the tears and her dripping nose on the back of her sleeve, loving everything there was to love about Brett.

“Wh--- What are you doing out of bed, Brett?” she asked him hesitantly, hoping that her voice would work even though her throat had been blocked by an invisible barrier that prevented her from doing anything but sobbing every few seconds only a moment ago. She tucked a stray wisp of black hair behind her ear, damp with tears from her unusual crying spell a minute ago, but he clasped her hand in his and did it for her.

“I should ask you the same,” he said in a strangely comforting voice, his eyes narrowed to her tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes. “Emma, it isn’t---”

But she had already finished the sentence for him inside her brain. “Yes,” she said, closing her eyes and turning away in humiliation. “Yes, it’s because of my dad.”

Silence erupted into the room a moment later, neither one knowing what to say; only the sounds of Emma’s soft and concluding sobs and sniffs could be heard above Brett’s breathing.

“I just miss him a lot, that’s all,” Emma told him, her face scrunched up, trying to prevent another wave of tears in front of him. She didn’t want to look as if she were blubbering, sniveling girl that wanted attention.

“Emma,” he said, touching her shoulders with both hands, “When I told you that you could come to me anytime to talk all those years ago, I meant anytime.”

Emma looked up to the ceiling trying to fight back fresh tears, but this time to fight back tears of joy. Brett was so perfect . . . She smiled and carried her eyes to his.

“I love you so much,” she told him, and he looked away and beamed at her.

“What are you doing out of bed, Em?” he asked, fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re a mess.”

She giggled for a bit before speaking. “I needed some candy.”

He knew exactly what she was referring to. “Emma, you don’t need sweets, you just need something to hold on to.”

Emma pondered his statement for a moment, realising that those wise words were so true.

“You can hold on to me.”

Emma’s eyes filled with tears again. “I think I’m going to.”

And she fell into his arms.

“Seth and I broke up,” Eva said to Emma the next morning. “I’m sorry. You were right. I’m not going to hold onto someone that can’t keep his hands off me. And I don’t mean the way you think.”

Emma gave Eva a weak smile, muttering an apology to her about her upset feelings. She had been in a subdued mood the last few days, and she knew that Seth had been the source of this unhappiness.

“Thanks. I was expecting you to say something like ‘I told you so.’ I appreciate it.” Eva gave Emma a watery smile before embracing her in a quick hug.

The truth was that Emma had been itching to say that very comment ever since Eva and Seth’s first fight when she had first glimpsed the bruises, but she hadn’t said it in fear of losing their already crumbling friendship. She just continued to hold her friend until she released her.

“How are you and Brett?”

And Emma went into a long account about how well the two were doing, though she did see Eva’s passive and dejected looks of jealousy during the telling, and that made her conclude prematurely. But Eva did seem excited for her, which made Emma’s heart soar--- until she reached the Great Hall and remembered that the second task would take place within the next hour.

She didn’t feel like eating much; the crisp bacon and eggs that surrounded her plate looked utterly delicious to any onlooker (the house elves had really outdone themselves this meal), but Emma preferred an empty stomach for when she would enter the ultimatum she knew she would be facing. If she had a full stomach, she knew that she would most likely throw it all up minutes before she was supposed to perform in anticipation and fear. She didn’t want to embarrass herself more than she already figured she would. She knew that she had only scraped past with luck in the first task, but she didn’t know if it would be enough this time. The only thing she dreaded was the embarrassment that her classmates would thrust upon her if she failed; she too feared the actual task, but the humiliation terrified her most. She just didn’t want to be forced out of her tightly knit circle of friends because of a tournament.

Speaking of the approaching second task, Emma had no possible clue of what it would be. She had had a sort of block of thinking of the oncoming tournament, just like she did with thinking about the occupation she wanted to pursue when she left Hogwarts. Others may have found it odd, but she felt a sort of . . . barrier when she considered what she was going to do when she got older. It was like she wasn’t going to have future; she felt that her time would come to die before she got the chance because of this odd happening. She couldn’t help it; anytime she pondered being anything successful, she would think on something else or feel sick. It wasn’t in the cards for her to have a future, she had finally concluded.

Breaking her out of her thoughts, Gregoria tapped her on the shoulder. She smiled and extended her hand, showing Emma a roll of parchment. She took it and thanked her.

“A man told me to give this to you. I don’t know his name; I’m not sure if it was a Professor or a student, but he seemed older--- perhaps our age, or a few years out of school. I don’t know what he was doing here, but here it is.” She smiled again, showing her brilliantly white teeth. She suddenly gave her a sly look. “He looked familiar, but he was cute!”

“Okay . . .” Emma said, puzzled. She shook her head at the silly girl as she walked away. When Gregoria had gone off with her friends somewhere, Emma unrolled it, but not before firstly looking around to see if she was being watched. After finding no one, she resumed reading the letter.

’Song puts the beast to sleep so you can easily slip past.’

Emma stared at the parchment and reread it twice, searching for any kind of meaning, turning it over and under. This had to be a joke; it made no complete sense whatsoever. Why did she need a song? What beast were they talking about? And why on earth did she need to slip past it? She didn’t encounter any sort of beast at Hogwarts.

She shook her head, glancing around the Great Hall to see if a set of eyes was upon her, taunting her and seeing what she would do, but she found none. After a few more cautious looks around, she concluded that no one was watching her and decided to proceed back to her dormitory to get ready for the second task. It was before all classes were to start, so Emma didn’t have a great deal of time to do anything.

After last night’s excursion into the halls of Hogwarts and being comforted by Brett, she had stayed with him for nearly another two hours; they had merely sat in the hallway, chatting with each other about nearly everything: about their families, their own lives, the tournament and how it was affecting them, Emma’s father and her own feelings toward it, the move . . . the chatter had been endless. Even as the sun had shined dimly through a glass window, they hadn’t returned to their dormitories, but when they had seen students emerging for an early breakfast, they had figured it finally time to depart from each other’s company.

With virtually no sleep, Emma’s eyes sagged as she continued her walk back to her dormitory, but she rubbed them and they seemed to want to stay open. An energy drink or coffee would have been lovely, but Emma had never taken a liking to them, particularly because of their effects on her stomach. She would just have to put herself through the day, exhausted, especially because of the second task. She realised that it was only thirty minutes before she would have to be down to the seventh floor.

~ * ~

“Em, you on your way down?” Brett asked as she descended a flight of steps that immediately began to move as her foot touched the last step. They swept over to the next wall and Emma got onto another as Brett followed her. He seemed sick, but for only a moment. He took a deep breath.

“I’ll have to get used to these steps. I’d forgotten they did this.”

Emma giggled and slipped her hand into his as they chatted on the way down.

“Any idea on what this task is going to be?” he asked casually, squeezing her hand as the steps made another lurch and they were whisked another way.

“I got this letter from Gregoria,” Emma told him, showing him the piece of paper.

“Song puts the beast to sleep so you can easily slip past? What does that mean?” He swept a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, I’ve spent the rest of this morning trying to figure that out, and I think that it has something to do with our task. I mean, we know virtually nothing, right?”

“How do you know it has something to do with the task?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Well, do you come upon or communicate with any beasts during your everyday life?” Emma asked teasingly.

Brett shook his head. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“So clearly it does mean the task, I hope.” Her smile contorted into a funny, worried look and she looked over at him.

“That sounds correct, but you never know. How did this note get started?”

“I don’t know--- I told you it was just handed to me. You’d have to ask Gregoria who exactly handed it to her. But this beast--- something I’m thinking we’re going to have to get past--- has to be put to sleep with music. Music . . . Song . . .”

“Oh . . .” Brett pretended to play dumb for a moment, deep in thought, and then he broke out into a smile. “Maybe we can just Apparate out of the task.”

“You can't Apparate in Hogwarts, Brett!”

“Why not? You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“No, it’s really impossible." She suppressed a laugh. “Hogwarts is covered in enchantments that won’t allow you to. Professor Groban inspects them all the time. It's so we can stay safe from any outside forces--- I don’t know if there is any after You-Know-Who got defeated all those years ago, but it's just in case. Make sense?”

“I guess. Do you know if there is an answer as to why we’re going to have to slip past the beast?”

“That’s not in the note.” She scanned it twice, seeing if there was anything on the back. She threw up her hands. “I guess we’ll just have to figure it out in a few minutes,” she said as she stuffed the note into her pocket.

“Hi, you two!” Gregoria said brightly as she ran into them on one of the stairways. Emma admired Gregoria for not allowing the competition to get to her before it actually happened. Brett and Emma both gave a cheerful greeting back and they walked the rest of the way in silence, all contemplating the mission and what they were going to have to perform.

“Champions,” the Minister said gravely, nodding his approval as the three made their way down the hall to the large group of wizards.

“There will be no explanation of this event. I’ve been informed that a note has been circulating around clearing up this task already,” he added tartly. He narrowed his eyes at the three headmasters who just stared cheerfully back, one which rolled their eyes unnecessarily as soon as his back was turned. It was obvious that the Minister was irritated. Emma shifted for a moment and Brett suddenly became extremely interested in the ceiling.

“The same precautions have been taken, the necessary arrangements for your safety made.”

Gregoria’s hand went into the air once more. The Minister nodded his head toward her, indicating her right to speak.

“Minister, how do we decide who goes first?” came Gregoria’ question once again, just like it had in the first task.

“The ranks stand thus: Mr. Macauley came in first place in the last task by a sheer twenty minutes, so he will continue the competition by going first. Miss Collins was in a distant second so she will depart the same, and since Miss Bonaparte didn’t finish her first task---” Her Headmaster narrowed her glance at the girl. Gregoria blushed profusely and put her hands behind her back, inwardly cursing her stupidity and terror, “---she will set off last,” he finished with an air of humour, chuckling. It was as if the Minister was trying to poke fun at Gregoria, but Emma was the only one who seemed to have noticed; perhaps it was just nerves. Besides, if he were really joking about the champion, wouldn’t her plastic Headmaster have snapped?

“Ready?” When no hand or word came forth from the three champions again, the Minister nodded. “Good.”

“Oh, wait,” Emma said, blushing, “How are the other students going to see this task while we’re doing it?”

“That’s a very good question. You’ll see when they come down. Ah, here they are!”

The students, just like in the first task, came storming down the corridor, chatting excitedly and animatedly with their friends.

The Minister pulled out his wand and stared at the stone wall in front of him intently, as if pondering something. He then closed his eyes, deep in though, and walked across the hall and back three times.

And right before their eyes, a massive door appeared. It was wooden and looked as if it were going to pull down similar to a drawbridge.

“Right this way, students, please, right this way,” Professor Groban said, waving his hand to the door. It collapsed in front of them to allow the students access inside. The Minister lightly pushed the three champions out of the way so the other students could file past without harm. Emma, before she was shoved away, caught a quick glimpse of the room. She saw a large, sandy pit with large chandeliers hanging overhead where you came in, but then it led up to a stone flight of stairs (that’s where the other students were going) where onlookers could be seated so they could watch without harm.

”Brilliant”, Brett said, awed at how the Minister had brought the exact room they had needed to Hogwarts for the contest. At that moment, all fear of the tournament was lost and they stared at the beauty of the high-ceilinged room.

Intricate designs of warriors and beasts filled the pewter walls around the pit. Overhead, the chandeliers shined bright enough to make eyes squint if you were close enough. The pit was dirty and the sand looked to have been strewn around a good many times. Torches were strewn and situated along the walls around the spectators, spider webs and their owners crawling in the seats. Professor Groban put his wand over the spaces and emitted a fire-red spell that wiped everything clean of the bugs, insects, and dust that surrounded the place. It was clear that it hadn’t been used in a while.

But far on the other side of the room, a black-barred cage sat in the corner. Emma could faintly see something black (and extremely large) progressing inside of it. It emitted roars (of pain or anger, she didn’t know) that shook the floor, and she could hear great pants of breath being taken.

As the champions continued to look up at the ceiling, the Minister directed their attention toward him.

“Skill is required to guarantee your win in this task. None of you would have been chosen to represent your school in this tournament if you didn’t possess it.” The Minister gave a secret smile that the champions returned humbly.

“Mr. Macauley,” he said, motioning to Brett, who nodded solemnly and stepped into the room. The Minister closed it behind him, leaving Gregoria and Emma to stand in the hallway and remain until they themselves had to complete their part.

Roars, shouts, and murmurs from the crowd were heard through the wall, though when Emma and Gregoria turned around, the door that they had just glimpsed the Minister, Brett, and all of the students of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons disappear through had vanished.

“Where’d it go?” Gregoria asked hurriedly, her eyes wide and fearful. She quickly went over to the stone wall and felt along it, knocking it to find the hollow places and just waiting for someone to jump out and say ‘Surprise!’ but it never came. They just continue to stand in silence, contemplating what they would have to do. Would it be scary like the last task? Would it require only skill, like the Minister had said? Or was this all just a joke, and Emma was still in a dream that she had yet to wake up from?

She sighed and closed her eyes, putting her head in her hands. She sat up quickly, though, because she heard a great shout and a cry of pain. It had come from Brett.

She gasped inwardly and Gregoria looked at her abnormally. She knew what Emma was thinking.

“It’s all right, Emma, he’ll be fine. Brett’s strong--- he’ll be able to get through this.” Emma heard her mumble something like ‘If he can’t then I sure won’t be able to either,’. She raised her eyebrows and appeared to be mumbling to herself.

Emma just gave her a weak smile as her heart continued to beat faster than it ever had before--- well, if you didn’t count when he had pushed Seth into their breakfast the morning before and when she had entered the Forbidden Forest the day prior to that.

Another few moments later, Emma and Gregoria could hear the muffled applause of the crowd, indicating that Brett had obviously succeeded and the Minister and he would soon be returning to retrieve Emma.

Emma gave Gregoria a humorous look, indicating she was scared but still ready for the competition and what it had in store for her.

If it’s meant for you to win, then it’s meant for you to win, Em, she said to herself before they arrived, If God wants you to succeed, then he’ll allow you to succeed. If it’s his will, it will be done. She took a deep breath.

All of a sudden and without warning, the door magically appeared on the wall again and the Minister, a battered but pleased Brett, and his Headmaster emerged, bringing with them the no longer muffled shouts of the onlookers. It had felt like three seconds they had been gone Emma was anticipating this so, to what was really thirty-three minutes. Emma almost covered her ears to obstruct the sound of the audience, but it was soon shushed again by the door’s closing.

“Got bit once,” Brett stated calmly, wincing as he looked at the bloodied wound on the arm he sported. Madam Tippet immediately began to lead him down the hallway to heal it.

“Miss Collins?” The Minister beckoned her toward the door, where she soon saw the beauty of the inscriptions on the walls once again and a grinning Groban in the doorway, giving her a wink for luck. She returned it with a smile and, pulling out her wand, made her way slowly into the dome-shaped room after she’d given Brett a forlorn look.

Now that she had entered, Emma finally realised the beauty for the extent of the area. The round, dome-formed room held loads of space. While most of it was occupied by the stands where the audience sat and where the sand-pit and arena were, the walls around it were massive and stretched high above her head to the ceiling. The only light that illuminated the room came from torches. There were bars all along the ceiling and the walls, as if it someone had to climb them to get to something. Perhaps it was just to replace the torches.

“This way,” the Minister said gravely, once again gesturing to where she needed to go. He indicated the steps in front of her and she climbed slowly down them, scanning the crowd for familiar faces.

“On the count of three,” she heard the Minister’s voice boom again. She nodded as she descended the steps to the pit below.

“One.”

She pulled her wand stealthily out of her back pocket.

“Two.”

The crowd shifted in their seats for their own excitement and wishing Emma’s safety. Emma took a great breath as her heart beat erratically in her chest.

“Three.”

But this time, Emma or the audience did not accomplish the actions. The high, black-ironed gate that rested in the corner of the room swung open, and a monstrous beast emerged from it, looking scared and hungry to the third power.

The mighty monster that appeared had three heads, all of which were growling at Emma hungrily, great globs of drool falling fast and hard onto the ground and bits of spittle hitting her in the face. She wiped the beads out of her hair and a bit off her face and repositioned her wand in her hand.

Song puts the beast to sleep so you can easily slip past, Emma suddenly remembered.

How on earth was she supposed to put that beast to sleep? she asked herself, looking at those monstrous paws and sharp fangs. Three sets of eyes gaped at her. It was a giant, three-headed dog, it appeared, and she couldn’t fight it off any other way. She just stood there blankly, staring at the beast as it too continued to stare and not move. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she knew that she was on a time limit. And everyone was watching her. She couldn’t let Hogwarts down.

If she needed to get past it, she needed to distract it. Or put it to sleep, Emma thought again. Since she didn’t want to sing in front of all these people and embarrass herself (though she would do it if she needed a last resort), she would have to somehow summon a type of musical instrument, though she had never needed nor wanted to know how to play one. Even if she did somehow obtain an instrument, how would she play it? The parchment had said song not brutal screeching. She had magic, but not even magic could teach her how to play an instrument in a matter of seconds.

“Accio Instrument!” she yelled, though after a few moments’ waiting, she concluded that it wouldn’t be that easy. She had known that. Nothing came to her. She desperately searched the walls, the audience, and the ceiling for the device.

“Stupefy!” she yelled suddenly, for the large beast abruptly came lumbering toward her, its jaws snapping open and closed, starving for a good meal.

Emma ducked and the spell shot awkwardly to it, missing. She shot off another, though this time it hit it squarely in the chest. But it did nothing. If it did do anything, however, it only fazed it for a moment, before (even more angrier) it rushed toward her.

Why aren’t my spells working? she asked herself over and over as she sprinted to the other side of the coliseum. The dog suddenly let out a mighty roar from its huge jaws, causing Emma to double over in pain in her ears. She covered them, but by the time she had the noise had stopped. It had gone back to its original resting place.

Could her wand possibly be broken? She almost ‘Expelliarmus-ed’ herself just to see what the source of the problem was, but found that the most stupid thing she had ever thought in her entire life, and chose not to. Why didn’t they have a weighing of the wands ceremony before each task?

“Avis!” she screamed, and an angered flock of yellow canaries burst forth from her wand, demonstrating that the wand worked. They harassed the dog while it nipped playfully at them, creating a distraction.

Perhaps that was it? Emma wondered. That had created a distraction, and I can now easily slip past, though I don’t know how long a bird, not even the size of the dog’s eyes, can hold it off enough for me to go by. And that still didn’t explain the song part. Why would the note have said song if she could just get past with birds?

Even though she would worry about having to play it once she located it, she still searched for the instrument just to have something, just an option for a song. . . and she finally saw it.

High, high, high above her head it dangled on a string, its wooden markings intricately carved and just beckoning for her to come and get it. The flute was right above her, and the beast didn’t even know it was there. But she did.

But how in Merlin’s name was she going to get it? The ceiling was at least eighty feet above her; she couldn’t fly. Even if there was some kind of magical force that could push her up to that that height, she didn’t know it, and that didn’t aid her.

Since she had now located the item, she hoped against all hope that she could now summon it to herself. ”Accio Instrument!” she yelled, but the only thing the flute did was turn a circle from the wind that the beast had created by snapping its powerful jaws shut on the birds. Her distraction had been eaten.

She could see the barred enclosure behind the massive mane of black and shaggy fur as it heaved up and down from the dog’s heavy breathing, but she couldn’t get past the beast to reach it. If she even tried, she knew that she would be intercepted and most likely killed. She had seen the nasty bite on Brett’s arm--- she might even had seen bone. She winced at the pain that Brett must have been feeling at that moment, and wished that she wouldn’t have to go through that as well, and not worse either. She could readily imagine herself inside the beast’s crushing, razor-sharp incisors, her bones crushing while blood erupted from every spot of her body . . .

Emma, don’t be so morbid! she screamed inwardly, and tried desperately to shake that horrid image out of her mind. But every time that she closed her eyelids it reappeared. She shook her head as she rolled her eyes, dashing to the other side of the coliseum and trying to outline her method of retrieving the flute.

And then she remembered the bars along the walls.

No, she thought. No way am I going to have to climb those to get the flute.

But it was the only way, no matter how many times Emma told herself that.

She glanced quickly behind her to see the great beast just sitting there, panting as its tongue lolled out of its mouth, bits of slobber flying every which way. It didn’t even seem to care about Emma’s presence. It must have been trained to only guard what was in the cage, though Emma still had no idea on what it could be.

She checked the bar closest to the ground first by putting all her weight on it for a few seconds, then letting go. It seemed to hold in place. She put her right foot on top of it, then her left arm to steady herself. Once she had perfect balance, and only then, did she reach up quickly for the next one.

It was just like rock climbing. And Emma was deathly terrified of heights. How convenient, she thought. And I don’t even have a harness if I should fall. But once again, she figured that if it she were supposed to die, then God would make it happen. That relaxed her and she continued on.

After a few minutes’ climbing and the crowd gasping and ‘oohing’ anytime she slipped or rocks below her crumbled, she finally was only inches away. She reached out her fingers and tried to grab the instrument, though she only succeeded in more inward breaths of the crowd and almost falling. She gripped the wooden bar with all her might, but the sweat the beaded on her hands was now forcing her to slip, and she knew that if she didn’t grab now then she would fall to her ultimate death. She scooted over to the farthest end of the bar and groped for it again, but this time she felt it close around her fingers. She opened her eyes and proceeded to climb down.

But then she fell.

As she tried desperately to claw her way out to a bar, she felt the ten to twenty feet whizzing past her with a mighty wind in her ears each second. She had only another second before she would hit the ground . . .

Accio Chair! she yelled in a split second and out of breath, and a chair from the audience appeared right below her. Even though it had a cushion, she landed in it with a loud ‘PLUNK!’ and she could feel her bottom throb in utter and complete pain from the impact. Though, she was okay. The crowd clapped quietly to encourage her on.

She got up, wincing, fighting the urge to rub her backside because of the soreness. She felt as if she had broken her back it hurt so badly. She walked stiff-legged and doubled over to the dog and realised that the flute was still in her sweaty hand.

She put it to her lips and blew.

The first sound that emerged was squeaky, and she saw the beast’s eyes dart her way, as if saying something like, ’How dare you disturb me with that racket!’ but then the second time she blew, a beautiful, harmonious musical resonance emerged, and she herself even felt the need to go to sleep with the beautiful sound. She continued to play it as she moved around it, going farther than she had ever dared go behind the dog to its own cage. The dog was finally asleep, its eyes rolling gently back into its heads as its ears flopped down from their erect position.

She looked inside his cage and only found a great heap of some kind of animal that looked to have been killed--- it appeared to be a great mess of rabbit hair, though she then realised that it was some kind of night animal, like a coyote or a wolf. She pitied the poor animal, and it looked at her with a sad look (even though it was long deceased) and appeared as if it hated her for being able to slip by so easily and quickly. She could see its fangs leering up at her and she decided to step over it.

But in the back rested a small box. She cautiously opened it, afraid that if she did it fast she wouldn’t expect what came out of it, but nothing scrambled out of it or tried to murder her even when it was all the way unfastened. A small black skeleton key rested inside the frame and she picked it up to examine it. What could this go to? She hadn’t seen any place where she had needed a key! She almost groaned.

All of a sudden a great horn burst through the silence and told her that she had finished.

Emma woke up and remembered her victory from the day before and smiled. She had won. Since Brett had been injured, his points had gone down. Gregoria too had been wounded and once again had been unable to complete the task. Emma had seen many Beauxbatons girls hanging their heads or snickering anytime Gregoria had walked past, and that had sent the girl on the verge of tears at some points.

While Emma had not finished at an utterly amazing time, she had completed the task and found an item that had aided her, and it had been the smartest thing the crowd had seen in those three battles. While Gregoria had tried to run right past the beast and acquire the key, Brett had attempted to whistle, and that had gotten him nothing but a rather deep bite wound on the arm. Emma had been the only one that hadn’t been injured, thus she had received the most points, winning the task. No classes had really been serious throughout the rest of that day: all of the professors had known how hyped up their students would be, so they had only had to do a few things before being able to chat with friends for the rest of class. There had been quite a party in the Ravenclaw common room that night. Someone had managed to sneak in some fireworks from a shop in Diagon Alley (Emma couldn’t quite remember the name of the store, but thought it started with a W), a few rebels had crept down into the kitchens through a passageway and the house elves had brought them all food, and the music and chatter hadn’t died down until nearly four in the morning. Emma had been the center of attention nearly the entire time, and the night was dedicated to her discussing the task and how easy it had been, her friends bashing Gregoria and Brett’s good names (though Emma had cringed a bit about what they were saying), and a night of relaxation had been spent nicely.

Now as Emma sat up in her bed, she looked over to the side and saw Kelly sleeping peacefully. She turned her head and found Eva’s bed empty: perhaps she had fallen asleep over some homework or was still down in the common room, talking and partying. She smiled, thinking of how her life was finally coming together. She had made up with Eva, and Kelly and she were the best friends they could be. Brett and she were going steady and strong, and Emma knew that love was what she felt for him. There was nothing compared to the feeling she got in her heart when she thought of him. It was like flying over a hill in a car when she was with her mother, and it felt as if her heart were jumping every direction and leaping to create that funny feeling. She loved Brett. She just couldn’t think it enough.

She hadn’t spoken to her mother in a while. She had promised her (and had always done it) that she would write to her at least once a week to check up on things and speak about how her own life was going. She had to tell her mother how Brett had come back to Hogwarts, if only for the year . . . and the tournament and how she had done! She had already spoken to her about how she had entered the tournament and how she had done on the first task, but she had yet to write about how she had been doing on the other tasks. She had to inform her about her developing relationship with Brett.

Emma and her mother were very close. It was just saddening that it had taken something as horrific as her father’s death to bring them together that way. They told each other everything: Ms. Collins was as good as one of Emma’s best friends, and she couldn’t go long without hearing her voice or at least speaking to her.

The sun was just beginning to sneak in through the common room window, so she knew that it was sometime around five o’clock in the morning. Everyone would be getting up within the next hour. She tried to push the looming certainty of the third task out of her mind that took place the next day, but she couldn’t seem to not think about it.

Tomorrow’s the last one, Em, a voice told her, then you’re going to be free of doing anything during the course of the rest of your seventh year. Free to be friends without evil stares for last place in the tournament, free to spend as much time with Brett as you like . . . That last thought in itself made Emma smile and that flittering feeling in her chest started up again. Brett’s image formed in front of her eyes and she thought about him all the way down to the Owlry.

Brett and she had talked the night before about the third task, and they had turned the subject over and under as many times as they could, just contemplating on what it could possibly be. Emma had yet to speak to Professor Groban about the task, so no answer had come from him, and they hadn’t been a strange piece of parchment surface so far from Gregoria, so they had no assistance thus far. The only clue they had was Emma’s key, and that could have unlocked anything, so that didn’t really give them an answer to anything. She had kept it inside her pocket while they had both examined it the night before.

Emma walked quietly down the hall, just in case any students could possibly hear her. She didn’t want to wake anyone up at this hour, and she didn’t want to be followed. The letter she was supposed to be sending had yet to be written, but she found the Owlry a tranquil place to write or think, even with the unkempt environment and rotten smell of bird droppings.

She crossed the room to the window ledge, propping her feet against the wall as her back hit the other and she put the parchment she had brought with her in her lap. The quill she used was worn and the self-ink it held inside itself was beginning to dry up. She hadn’t realised that when she had grabbed it: she hoped it would hold out until the letter was finished.

After an in-depth account of the second task and how she had won, Emma felt even more proud of herself than she already had, actually writing it down like that. She then described to her mother about Brett, and all he had done for her in the past week. She didn’t go into detail about their relationship, but she did hint that they were a bit more than friends.

She finished her letter with ’Well, hope all is well, and signed it with her name. She now had a letter that took up three full pieces of parchment in her own cramped and cursive handwriting, and she shook her hand to rid it of the numb feeling she now had. She smiled as she sealed it and tied it around the owl nearest her’s leg. It then took off, leaving her alone. The sun was now shining quite brightly now, so she supposed that it must be time for breakfast, though many students would still be dressing and getting ready for their new day. She decided to find Brett, if he was up yet, and have an early breakfast with him.

She descended the steps slowly, a mounting feeling rising in her chest again of another meeting with Brett coming upon her. Even if it was just breakfast, it felt like a feast to Emma because of his presence. She sighed and hopped off the last step, spinning around in circles a full three times before almost running into a wall. Before she turned the corridor, however, she checked to make sure she hadn’t been being watched and made herself look like an idiot in front of a spectator.

And then, the next image she saw flash in front of her brain made her heart literally stop.

A boy with blonde hair that had ends that curled under his ears, the most beautiful eyes, and adorable smile was intertwined with another girl. Her leg was wrapped around his and their lips were touching the other’s. The girl’s hands were moving through his hair passionately. The girl even seemed to see Emma but ignored her and continued to stay in the embrace. The boy seemed to be grinning into the girl’s gentle kiss as he noticed the snivelling girl out of the corner of his eyes. Emma’s mouth dropped open.

Brett.

Emma nearly retched upon the sight. How could this happen? How could this happen? Brett, her boyfriend, was kissing Eva. Eva, her best friend, was kissing Brett. The two had betrayed her.

Emma closed her eyes and tried desperately to force the image from her brain. She ducked into another corridor to where she could still glimpse the two, though she couldn’t dare look. She tried to block the tears that were now falling pitifully from her eyes--- she tried to unblock the barrier inside her throat that was causing her to gasp aloud to acquire air--- she tried to keep her knees from buckling to the floor as she tried to keep consciousness. This wasn’t--- could not be happening. Not Brett. Not her first love, not her childhood friend from so long ago. Not Brett, the guidance in her life, her reassurance when she sought it. How could he do this to her?

Emma felt the world go black and her eyes gave in. She crashed to the floor, unconscious, as her boyfriend continued to kiss her best friend, the girl not even fazing them as they continued to stay in the other’s tight grip.

~ * ~

Emma lay in her bed, no emotion showing on her usually elated face. Her cheeks were now raw from being wiped at with the thick, cotton fabric from the sweater she wore, her eyes swollen from the endless amount of crying she had done in the past few hours. She felt under her pillow for the comfort of the key she had received in the second task, it being the only sign of reassurance that she was worth living: that she was meant to represent her school and not to give up. That was where she kept it now, and it hadn’t left her bed since she had put it there the night before. She hadn’t even visited all her classes, knowing that she would have automatically erupted into tears on sight of seeing Brett in his usual seat beside her. They had only that class together, and had cherished it. She couldn’t stand to see him inside her mind, couldn’t bear to hear his sweet, comforting voice inside her head, the voice she had long since remembered as the one she always sought after for guidance, and she definitely couldn’t stand to think of all the time they had spent together up to this point, kissing and holding hands anytime they felt, never feeling awkwardness or embarrassment when it was done. It had all been for nothing, and Emma couldn’t help but tell herself that over and over again. She couldn’t stand to think of any of these things, though she couldn’t stand to not think about her love for him, and how it had thrived like a monster raging inside of her, never ceasing. She had truly loved Brett. She had really, truly loved him.

And he had stamped on her heart as if it were a lowly piece of trash in Diagon Alley.

Brett now paraded around with Eva as if she were a trophy, showing her off and kissing her any chance he got, especially when he was in front of Emma. He had been doing it all day, ever since a wandering student had found Emma on the floor. The nurse had figured she had been hexed by a cruel passerby, but Emma had told her that that was not the case. She hadn’t let Emma go back to classes willingly, but Emma had gone right back to her dormitory, not even pretending that she was going to go back to classes after she had received a blow such as this one.

Emma usually burst into a crying fit and forced herself not throw up on the spot anytime she saw the two, running off into a lavatory or her own dormitory anytime she saw them together, no less showing affection in plain sight.

The third task was approaching, and Emma found it easier to crawl up in a corner and rot instead of breathe. She couldn’t even think. She couldn’t talk to anyone about this: no one had been through what she had been through. No one could comfort her without bring up heartbreaking memories, which made her feel even worse. Classes flew by her like a blur and she didn’t remember even one tiny detail few minutes after they were over. Brett had moved to another chair on the other side of the classroom next to Eva, leaving Emma friendless, boyfriend-less, and alone. Kelly couldn’t even speak to her she was so shocked by what Eva had done: there were no words to say but apologies, and Emma didn’t want to hear them from her; they meant nothing unless they were actually meant and came from the offender.

This was only the first week of school back and Emma found herself wishing she could either go back home or transfer. Transferring was out of the question, and going home would only be shown as a weakness: she couldn’t do either one. She would have to suffer through it. Suffer terribly through it.

She still had to represent her school, though. That was the only thing that kept her running.

~ * ~

The next morning Emma felt sicker than she had ever been in her entire life. She had been up all night, still weeping over her loss while Eva had dared come back to the common room (even early just to tease) and talk about her and Brett’s day together to Kelly right in front of Emma. Emma had fought the urge to grab the girl from behind and murder her, but she had also fought the urge not to run out of the room and throw up again.

Her body felt as if it had been hit by a train. If she even had gotten any sleep, it couldn’t have been more than an hour in the early morning. Her head throbbed, her nose was stuffed, and her throat still felt restricted from the endless amount of crying she had done. Sleep had been the only thing she had thought would make her forget, but she had been wrong. The few dreams she had had that night when had dozed off for those short periods of time were filled with Brett as the final task, and how she had had to get past a kissing Eva and him to finish. She had failed and the entire school had looked down upon her for the rest of her life and she had never been able to get a job because of how stupid she was for not being able to finish the task. She remembered again only a second after she had awoken what had made her feel that way.

She looked over at Eva and once again clashed with the recommendation inside her addled brain to strangle Eva in her sleep with her pillow. She shook her head and walked out of the common room. She was going to have to confront Brett before she completed the task that day. She had to face him before she did in front of the entire school.

She walked to the Great Hall an hour later to see him and Eva eating breakfast together, Brett disgustingly allowing her to eat off his own fork as she smiled.

Emma didn’t even know what she had done to Eva to make her act this way. She had just advised her to not go out with Seth because he was a bad guy. She was a friend and had been her friend; that was her job. She couldn’t understand why Eva had taken Brett from her, but most of all, why Brett had willingly gone.

She turned around to walk out of the Great Hall, but immediately stopped and closed her eyes to fight the tears again. She could not cry now. Not now. She wiped the tears away; she hadn’t even been noticed yet. With a grim look on her face and hoping her eyes didn’t appear puffy and tearful, she sat on the other side of Brett at the table. Brett motioned for Eva to scoot down for a bit with a kiss on the cheek to allow Emma and him to talk.

“Brett . . . H---” She closed her eyes, fighting tears once again. She didn’t want to show him any sign of vulnerability. She couldn’t show him weakness or he would just laugh. They hadn’t even spoken since the night of the second task. The next morning had been a blur to her, but she could remember fully what had been done to upset her. That revolting image was there anytime she closed her eyes. “How could you do this to me? Why?”

Brett only stared at her with an odd look on his face. It wasn’t one that was upset. It was one that was trying to decipher whether or not he should pity the girl.

“The price of being a champion is worth more than loving someone,” Brett said. “You should know that, Emma.” He stepped out from his seat and took Eva’s hand, walking away without a backward glance.

He hadn’t even given her an answer and he had strolled off. The price of being a champion is worth more than loving someone? That statement in itself brought Emma to tears. So, he had never even loved her? He had only feigned his love to get to her? What he was he even playing at? Why had he even pretended if there was no point, nothing to gain?

Emma ran back to her dormitory again to wallow in bitter memories. She would never again kiss Brett Macauley and call him her own.

And that killed a piece of her inside. Her heart no longer felt that jumping feeling when she thought of Brett. Now when she thought of him, she had to resist the urge not to get sick.

But as she got back to her dormitory, Emma reached under her pillow, searching for her one item of of comfort, the key, to find nothing there. Someone had stolen the key while she had been gone.

---

Yes, I am very sorry.

“The three champions to the stage please,” the Minister announced into his wand that now acted as a microphone, the trio’s admiring fans standing up to cheer as the three advocates made their way up to him. Emma walked on the other side of Gregoria, allowing the other girl to separate herself and Brett. She couldn’t stand to even look at him without the waterworks beginning once again.

“So far there have been no real injuries,” the Minister told the three at a whisper, silencing his wand. “I would like it to remain that way, but you must be at full alertness and stay attentive to your surroundings in this task. The other two tasks have been child’s play compared to this one, I tell you, and trust me.” He gave them a wide-eyed look and nodded. “This third challenge has been designed and tested by the Ministers of Magic committee and the three Headmasters of your school. We all feel that it is exceptionally dangerous, and without proper wand handling and knowledge you could very well perish if you’re not careful. Very dark creatures rest inside these walls---” He motioned to the left of them and Emma saw, for the first time, a rather large building. Its walls were thick and made of brick; the only thing that they did not understand, though, was that it was circular. It seemed to house loads of rooms, however, because of its size. Emma could already feel her heartbeat quickening for the approaching task she would soon confront. “---And as you can see, it is almost an exact replica of the Department of Mysteries that the Ministry houses inside its own walls.”

Emma had not seen, though she had noticed a familiar appearance about it; she had heard about it in the Daily Prophet and in books in the library. She grasped enough about it, nevertheless, to know that it was a hazardous place within itself; to have the knowledge that the Ministry had placed ‘exceptionally dangerous’ things inside of it just placed the cherry right on top. Emma was once again beginning to feel the regret of entering.

“The Triwizard Cup is placed somewhere inside this maze-like building. You must reach it to end the task and to win the prize.”

They all nodded, their eyes dancing with excitement. He continued to speak more and more, saying many things that had already been said numerous times, but Emma just nodded and pretended to listen.

“Any questions?” he finally asked.

Once again, Gregoria was the one to ask the question. “How do we know who goes first?”

“Miss Collins finished first in the second task, and the points she received tied her for first with Mr. Macauley. Well, seeing as the points stand that the two of you are tied---” Brett shifted for a moment. “---You all will enter simultaneously. Miss Bonaparte will enter three minutes after the other two.

Silence ensued for a few more moments while the Minister examined them all critically. “Anything else?”

The three shook their heads and the Minister’s wand lit again. “So!” his voice boomed out onto the grounds, the students all turning around and quieting to hear what he had to say, “The task is about to start!”

“Oh, Miss Collins,” he said, putting a hand over his wand, “The key that you obtained in the second task. It will aid you immensely, though it is not needed. Since the other two champions didn’t get it, they will not have as easy access as you do, but do not try and slow down just because you have an edge.” She nodded, even though she didn’t have it.

Cheering and applause was delivered as the Minister continued to speak again, and before she knew it Emma found herself placed right before the entrance of the Department. Then, right after she heard a blast of a horn, she felt her feet stirring underneath her to get inside quickly. Her wand was in her right hand and ready to strike if anything dared approach, though she felt as if she wasn’t the one issuing all of these instructions that her body was now performing.

‘The other two tasks have been child’s play compared to this one.’

‘. . . Without proper wand handling and knowledge, you could very well perish.’

The words of the Minister surged through her head, echoing more and more feelings of the remorse of entering she felt each time she entered a task. But she had never heard warnings like these before--- they had always just stated to be careful and remember basic spells. This time they had actually hinted that her death could be in the making.

She turned corner after dark corner, finding shadows every way she went, knowing that something was just waiting to jump out at her. “Lumos,” she whispered, as to not alert anyone of her presence. Her wand tip ignited and she found that she could see, but not that far in front of her. The fog was thick and ominous; she wondered as to why fog could be inside a building, but she tried to force that thought to the back of her mind. She didn’t know what creatures existed inside here and needed to stay alert. The shouts of the crowd were becoming less and less apparent and were becoming quieter.

A mighty roar erupted from behind her, followed by a scream of panic.

Emma covered her ears and sung a joyful song to mask the terrifying sounds. It had been Gregoria. Only three minutes had passed? she thought. She tried to ignore the noise, her eyes squinting only to allow her eyesight to function. She walked ahead, going slowly at first, then swifter, realising that the faster she went the faster she would get out and be able to go to her own bright, friendly common room . . . She tried to glimpse the glowing cup, but even above her song she could still hear the erupting shouts of humans and snarls of creatures that she couldn’t see.

”If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands . . .” Emma’s timid voice shook, the small sound barely existing above the now still air. No cheerful person was there to listen to her shaky tune, communicating with her by supporting with the hysterical clapping of their own hands. She made an effort to applaud herself, but with her hands shaking so badly, ears covered, and wand clasped in her fingers, it was hard.

”If you’re happy and you know it stomp your feet . . .” A dry sob issued from her throat, a terror-filled tear now running down her cheek.

And she had thought she had been scared in the first task. The second task had been more about skill than actual terror, but this time she didn’t know what waited for her as she rounded each corner.

She went inside one room, fearfully thrusting her head around the corner before entering. Immediately the room began to spin, and she fell to the ground clutching her wand, feeling as if she were the bait that had fallen into the lions’ den.

When the room stopped revolving she stood up and gripped her wand even tighter. Dozens of doors surrounded her. It took all of her willpower to choose one, knowing that of course, with her luck that the one she would choose the one that would house some monster and slay her as soon as she opened the door. She finally relaxed her wand when she chose and reached the next room, in fear that the thin wood would snap in two--- then she’d really be in deep trouble. Her breaths came in rasps, her shaky legs trembling as she walked, her palms sweaty.

And then, she saw something coming toward her. It . . . didn’t look human. But as it showed itself and she realised what it was, she knew that it definitely wasn’t. A sneer filled his face, his eyes narrowed and hatred etched into his features. Emma mustered the worst, evil gaze she could, though she knew that it wouldn’t even disturb him. She took a step back and muffled a sob in her hands.

“No. No, it’s not you, please.” She turned around to go back out the way she came, but the door had vanished. She turned back around, but soon found that her feet were too rooted to the spot to get away.

A young man stepped out from the shadows, his blonde, sweeping hair hiding his face, his arms at his side. In his fingers rested a wand, a superior grin hiding his good looks.

“Brett,” she breathed, her eyes widening in fear and trying to back up. “Brett, please, just leave me alone. I don’t want to see you.”

“But I thought you loved me,” he said. His lips quivered shakily and then they compulsively broke out into a smirk.

“Please, Brett, just---- just go.” She turned away: she couldn’t even look at him. “Just find your own way, leave me.”

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me out so much, Em,” he said in a mocking tone, his face breaking into disdain as he looked at her. “I can’t do that, Em?”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Emma snapped at him, finally turning around, her lips pursed and wand tight in her hand. She wanted to hex him so badly: she hated the boy in front of her--- no, she didn’t hate him, she realised, even after all of the things he had done to her. She still loved him even after all of this (that proved the crying fits and sad times in her dormitory), and that was one of the reasons she couldn’t bear to see him. She never would have thought that he, Brett, could have done something this horrid to her, so awful as to betray her, and then even dare to try and talk to her. He had allowed her to believe that he had loved her. It upset Emma deeply to know that it had all been a joke to him, where she had thought they could have been soul mates.

“Funny, I knew I loved you, too, Brett,” he said teasingly, a smirk playing across his lips as he stared at the snivelling girl in front of him. ”I always knew. He laughed evilly. “Emma, I swear, you’ve changed since your fourth year. You’re not as alert: you can’t sense disloyalty even when you know it’s coming to you. Merlin, it’s insane how I fancied you back then.” He shook his head, that signature grin still rooted on his face. “But you were always quite the looker, weren’t you?”

“So, I’m unintelligent and . . . you don’t even . . . you don’t even like me now?” she asked miserably, her eyes falling to the floor. She looked back up at him with a pitiful glance, trying to seek compassion from him, but it didn’t reap any results. She tried a different approach. “You told me you loved me, Brett! Lots of times, not just once! How could you do this to me?”

“How could I not do this to you, Em? You were so vulnerable, so pitiful.” He swept the hair out of his eyes. “Your abusive boyfriend and you had just broken up: I’m an old friend that you’ve been dreaming about ever since I left. The only reason you have friends is because of his old connections. Now you’re cut off completely, am I right?” He tittered. “That’s depressing.”

Emma sniffed, her eyes filling to the brim and overflowing with fresh tears, a sob escaping her throat at how unkind he was being, his touchy, cruel gestures reaching out to Emma and suffocating her.

“That first task--- you let me know that there were the Centaurs, Acromantulas, Giants . . . and you even told me which side of the forest to keep to to find that snake quicker. How do you think that I finished almost half an hour before you?”

Emma opened and closed her mouth, unbelieving at what he was saying.

“And the second task? I got Gregoria to hand that parchment to you to see if you could decipher it before me. I got it from my own Headmaster--- turns out that he really wanted to help me, but could only give me hints. So you’re smarter than me in at least some ways, Emma. Thanks for telling me the answer to the second task as well.” His grin became more pronounced; it seemed to be his evil trademark.

“But Gregoria didn’t recognise you! It couldn’t have been---”

“Polyjuice Potion is something that comes into great handy, Em. Who do you think Eva was hanging around with before you caught her with me?”

“I thought that she had found another Durmstrang boy to keep her company. That could have been why she was out of bed all those times. Not you!”

“I used the Polyjuice, but then I realised that it would hurt your spirit even more if you found out it was really me. Eva was in on the whole thing: your friendship must have had some rocky times for her to turn on you like that. You helped me with the tasks, always allowing me to place the best---”

“No. No, I just wanted to not allow you to get injured!” Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “And I wasn’t aware that I was helping you in the actual tasks---”

“Exactly. You were so blinded by love that you didn’t even realise that. I’ve just been pretending to care for you this entire time--- just so you’d give me what I needed to win this tournament.”

His words cut like a dagger in Emma’s heart. He had never even loved her? It had all been pretend to him? All those times they had kissed---- all those times they had exchanged words of passion, words of love--- all those times she had been comforted by him--- they had all been a waste of time and his way of gaining her trust; in other words, solutions in the tournament. She shouldn’t have bothered--- she had known it was too good to be true. She had known that there had to have been something to gain for him to cheat on her like that.

“I would have given up my own life for you and you think I’m nothing.” She shook her head. He was so appalling, so revolting, so changed from the amazing friend that she had once known. She tried her greatest not to cry: crying was a weakness to any attacker or foe, and Brett had certainly twisted himself into that. He was incapable of love it seemed.

“On the contrary, I do think that you’re quit the kisser. That was the most enjoyable part--- especially when Seth got jealous.” He smirked again. Emma felt nauseated. “I finally got the chance to redeem myself. I loved the admiring glances you’d get when we’d walk the grounds, hand in hand . . .” He was mocking her now.

“Shut up, Brett!” she yelled maniacally, bits of spittle flying at him as she attempted to gain control of herself. She put her face in her hands and stifled another sob.

His bantering grin faded and it turned into a scowl. “Oh, come on, Emma,” he spat, “you’re being such a bad sport.” He took a step toward her.

“What do you think that your parents would think of you?” She took a step back. “What they would say at what you’ve grown up to be?”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter--- I’ll be out of school this coming year, so they won’t have to ever look at my horrid, conniving face again.” He raised his wand. “Not like you will either.”

“You’re sick,” she said as she took another step back, trying to decipher a way to get away from him. Why had he raised his wand? Was he going to hex her so he could really win now?

“Oh, Emma, you’re so pretty when you’re angry.” He lowered the wand, but instead reached out a hand to touch her face, his slimy fingers only an inch away . . .

“Don’t!” She swiped an angry hand at him, but his reflexes were faster than hers. He pulled away before she made contact. “Please, please just leave me alone.” She had fallen to the ground, more and more gasps escaping her throat as he continued to speak to her. “Go and win this stupid tournament, that’s what you want, isn’t it? Please, Brett.” She crawled into a corner, leaning against a door for support as she managed to take in lungfuls of air. “GO!” she screamed. She couldn’t believe this: she wanted this event, this happening to all be a dream as well, but as she blinked her eyes again and again as she had before, the same ugly face of Brett rested in front of her.

She finally found the courage to get away from him. Her mind in total wreckage, she broke off into a sprint, knocking into him as he attempted to impede her, but she just pushed away and turned around another corner. She was going to hurriedly conclude the task and be rid of ever speaking to him again.

~ * ~

Throughout all of what she had been through, Emma was and still remained a Hogwarts Triwizard Champion. That within itself drove Emma into insanity searching from spinning room to darkened room to terrifying room, trying quickly and diligently to find the cup that housed her winning of the tournament. She only tried not to think of Brett as he too crazily searched the place for signs of the trophy.

Her search had heeded nothing, unless you counted the presence of a timid Ashwinder amongst burning eggs (of which she had had to put out and place an Everlasting Freezing Charm on), a curious and deadly Acromantula (curious to know what she tasted like), a room that had appeared give shelter to brains inside jars, a rather massive room with a twenty-foot pit in the center that she almost fell into, as well as benches and a fluttering veil that Emma oddly heard voices coming out of (she didn’t even try and go near it), and a terrified Gregoria, who, in an attempt to defend herself from anything that moved, had timidly shot spell after spell at Emma while she had dodged them, eventually exposing herself to the girl after she, Gregoria, had finally collapsed from exhaustion and trepidation.

The doors revolved around her every time she went out of another. The first few times it had happened she had thought something had gone wrong and alarm had streamed through her veins. But once she had been trapped in the same situation with Gregoria and she had looked as if it were nothing, Emma figured it ordinary. She had gone on with only doubts of losing.

But she soon ran right into Brett again as she was going into one room and he out another. He only smirked as he picked himself off the floor as they had knocked each other down, Emma cowering to it as if it was actually protecting her from his awful presence. He just made to walk right on past her, but something stopped him.

The door that he was no trying to enter was locked. His hands fumbled with the knob, an angered stare coming upon his face as he realised that he couldn’t get it open with basic charms and spells. He gritted his teeth and Emma saw a muscle twitching in his jaw.

But he suddenly seemed to remember something. He reached inside his pocket, pulling out a small, black skeleton key. Emma’s key that had been stolen.

Curse words surged through Emma’s brain as Brett put the key in the lock and turned it. Something clicked and Emma heard a soft, tinkling music playing. The door swung open to reveal a mystifying, beautiful room adorned with bright, shimmering lights. But as Emma peered closer, she realised that they weren’t stars--- the lights were the reflection of the cup.

Brett looked at Emma one last time, but something seemed to impede him from continuing on. Emma just wished that he would go in and grab the cup, announce his victory, and then get out of her life. She still lay sprawled on the floor.

The cup, gleaming in all its startling magnificence, rested only feet away from Emma, she finally realised bluntly. Brett’s eyes still darted from Emma to the cup, eventually realising that his feet had to get into gear if he wanted it. He picked up a foot, but then stopped.

Emma felt the air suddenly go freezing; she shivered inside her thin t-shirt, the threadlike trickles of sweat dripping down her forehead turning to ice. Her heart jumped and then began beat erratically. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Images of horrid, terrifying things filled her mind. She closed her eyes to rid herself of them, but the darkness under her eyelids only made them worse. She scooted into the room Brett had just unlocked and he filed in past her, brandishing his wand. She didn’t even think to grab hers: it had been knocked to the other side of the room by the sudden crash.

But Emma’s breath clogged inside her throat when she saw what was coming.

A Dementor. It slunk into the room, its cloak billowing and swarming the air, its putrid breath filling Emma’s nostrils and making her want to either retch or gag, but she couldn’t because she was so frozen in fear. Brett didn’t budge: he just gawked with a detached gaze at the creature that now was coming toward them. Emma stared.

They were the same distance away from the cup, both on opposite sides of the room, both aware that if they grabbed it they would win and be transported back to the outside of the task where their jovial fans waited to witness the results and congratulate the winner of the entire competition. The Dementor would disappear and so would their fear. But neither seemed to keen on alerting the Dementor of movement. They just stood there, waiting timorously to see what would happen, hoping against all hope that it would just leave. The suspense was killing them both. Emma dared to jerk her head toward Brett to see his plan, but he had his eyes closed, head bent as if praying, whispering something into the air that was out of earshot.

The creature finally began to slowly inch its way toward Emma. Her eyes widened: she backed into a corner, her legs not wanting to cooperate. Why had it chosen her?

But she soon could not wonder on her own accord anymore. Dark and evil thoughts erupted into her brain, making her want to scream not only out of terror but out of fury; she did not want these memories being brought back up inside of her. Anything that even attempted to was a horrid being.

Her mother’s tearful expression sought its way into her focus. She had to give in.

”Emma,” she started, “Your . . .” she let out another sob, allowing her eyes to divert to the other side of the room. Her eyes were half-closed, puffy, and swollen inside their sockets, her cheeks tear-streaked and red. Emma sat down on the couch with large eyes.

“What’s wrong, Mum?” she asked, scooting closer. She had never seen her mother in such anguish.

“Your father . . .” she finally dared look back at Emma and cleared her throat. “Emma, D---Daddy went to Heaven.”

Stillness filled the room, silence encompassing the two, but only for a moment. Emma’s heart felt as if it’d dropped a thousand feet and been stepped on. She didn’t know why, but she immediately knew that her mother was telling the truth: she didn’t know how but she did. This was not an idea of a joke, even for her mother, a very humorous person. They both broke into a sob at the same time, splitting the calm into bits and pieces.

“Please . . .” Emma muttered, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Please, Brett . . . I don’t know how to fight it . . .” The horrifying images still littered her mind, and she found herself reliving the worst moments of her life. The Dementor glided closer, the cup casting dim light upon its horrid cloak as it billowed toward her. She could feel it sucking on the air; she could see her breath and feel her own body weakening from its presence. She backed into a corner and tried to find her wand. She closed her eyes again as Brett trembled into a corner on the other side of the room.

“Brett, my Dad . . .”

But he wasn’t paying attention; his face remained unmoving in apprehension upon the Dementor. He knew what the beast was doing: frightening thoughts were most likely clenching Emma’s mind and she was reliving the most unpleasant moments of her life. Her father’s death would definitely be at the top of that list.

But he too could feel the effects.

“Macauley! I know that you just moved here from God knows where, but I’m damn tired of hearing you whine about how you miss your girl back home.”

“Sorry,” Brett mumbled, his eyes averting to the floor in his dormitory. He threw his half-written letter onto his end table and muttered under his breath. He missed Emma so much, but in an attempt to contact her he was always halted by this boy.

The boy, Aldric Delven, stood almost twice Brett’s own size, towering over him as he rested on his bed. His muscles bulged out from his blood-red Durmstrang uniform; it was clear that he prided himself in torturing others. He was a boy that didn’t like to hear about anyone else’s fears or guilt or pain; he was the one that mattered, he was the top student. He was the pride of Durmstrang and he wanted himself known. He was in Brett’s year.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it you stupid son of a---” He closed his eyes, trying to not allow his fury to get to him. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

“I’m tired of you picking on me,” Brett said, almost at a whisper. He sat up and picked his eyes back up to rest in the boys’ own raging ones.

The boys in his dormitory almost burst into laughter; that was not the type of thing that you wanted to say to a person of that volume, especially one that was already incensed. Their eyes widened in fear for Brett--- he was a well-likeable enough guy, but they couldn’t choose to hang around with him if he was going to stand up to the year’s bullies. They themselves would become a target as well.

Brett felt a harsh blow to the cheek before he even saw it coming. The next morning he was so bloodied, bruised, and humiliated that he couldn’t even go to classes.

That boy had stopped his letters to Emma.

Bret had learned to treat pain with pain. Others would have to suffer because of his own insecurities--- Emma also.

Emma shuddered from the cold and her teeth continued to chatter.

Brett leaned in to kiss the other girl, a smile erupting from his lips as he glimpsed Emma. Eva stood stock still, her expression firm and humorous as she saw her best friend staring at them. She closed her eyes for yet another kiss from the boy, a grin frozen upon her face.

Emma burst into tears before she had even left the corridor, the glimpse of the blubbering girl not even fazing the two as they continued to stare into one another’s eyes.

She raised her wand, searching for a happy memory to fill her up, instead only seeing the Dementor sliding toward her at an alarmingly fast rate. The tears continued to glide down her face. She knew what to do in these situations, she had just never had to perform it in front of one to save her life. He was only feet away from her now, the cup the same amount of distance the other way but still, she could not find the strength to even get to her feet.

She slowly turned her head to where Brett stood, his eyes wide and expressionless as he stared between the cup and Emma. He was trapped. A last piece of the sane part of his mind began to take over and he attempted to help Emma. He raised his wand.

The happiness was quickly sliding away from her. No cheerful thoughts could be found within her, Emma discovered, and she soon found herself sinking into nothingness as she stared at Brett’s face on the other side of the room, his wand raised in the air. But then he lowered it and only watched as he realised that the creature in front of them was not heading for him. The smirk returned. The Dementor was pulling back his hood. Emma could closely see its rotting, scabby hands reaching for her . . .

“Don’t do more damage than you’ve already done to me. Please help me!”

The voice was utterly pitiful: the sound in itself would have made any decent person’s heart melt and make them run to lend a hand, but Brett’s was stone. He cared for nothing and for no one. He was out of the Dementor’s icy grasp now. He took a step toward the cup.

“Emma,” he said, crouching to his knees and getting only feet away from her face with his, just far enough back to stay out of reach of the Dementor. His hand reached swiftly for the cup, but before he grabbed it he decided to speak. Emma closed her eyes, wishing for death and over and over again that she were anywhere but there. Brett smirked again. “My damage has just begun.”

A ghastly, terrified scream surged through the air only a moment later.

~ * ~

Emma’s mother sat in the front of the Great Hall, her eyes swimming with tears as the shed ones remained plastered to her face, making her cheeks turn a shade of crimson and her eyes puffy in their sockets. Her hands remained clasped together and she didn’t avert her eyes to anyone. She had now lost all of her family; her husband and daughter were both gone. She had only felt this way one other time, and that had been for her husband.

She too would never be happy again. It was as if an invisible Dementor was sucking on her life as well, never ceasing. She closed her eyes in anguish at how horrific her daughter’s death was.

“Emma Collins’ . . . death was a great blow to Hogwarts. Her vivacious appearance kept us going, while her intelligent mind and lively personality lit up even our darkest days.” Professor Groban began his speech in an air of sadness, his eyes shining with tears. “I myself had the opportunity to speak to Emma over the years, and I know that her sensitive being and intense friendship appealed to many. I know that her companions are deeply hurt by their loss, as well as her family.”

Sobs were issued and sniffles were covered by coughs and muffled by handfuls of robes.

Ms. Collins had always wondered about the special something inside her daughter. At the age of fourteen she had already experienced death, something that nearly killed her as well. But Emma had been Ms. Collins ray of sunshine on those days, and she had only stayed alive and not joined her husband because of that little girl’s silky black pigtails and shining eyes. She had been her only solace in her darkest times.

But also, Emma had told her things . . . disturbing things. She had spoken to her, twice in her lifetime, always apologising afterward but still being firm about it. She had spoken of her own death, first at the age of twelve, secondly just this past summer.

”Don’t be so morbid, Emma!” Ms. Collins retorted, a wave of shock coming upon her face.

“Mum, please--- listen to me. I don’t want my funeral to be gloomy. There’s no point. I want my life to be celebrated, not mourned over. I want it to be happy, with all of my friends there. I don’t want anyone to be dressed in black: all bright colours, colourful flowers, and cheerful faces.”

“Emma, please, I don’t want to talk about my daughter’s death--- I’m supposed to die before you---”

“Mum, look at Dad,” she said bluntly, “his death was unexpected, too---”

“I said that I didn’t want to speak of it.”

Silence ensued for at least a minute with only the sound of Ms. Collins’ dishes being scrubbed a she washed them before Emma spoke again.

“Mum, I--- I have this kind of . . . block . . . when I think about my life out of Hogwarts. I can’t think of anything but being a student there--- I can’t think of being an adult. There’s a barrier separating my childhood and adulthood. Every time I start to think of what I want to be when I grow up, I lose track of what I’m thinking or become bored or . . . or something. I just can’t think of it, it’s impossible. I’m approaching my seventh year and it still isn’t working. The only thing I can think of is that I’m not meant to live past Hogwarts.”

“Emma . . . please, don’t talk that way. Don’t hurt your mother---”

Now that she thought about it, Emma’s mother realised that she had never heard her daughter talk about what she had wanted to be when she was an adult. While most little boys wanted to be a fireman or a policeman and girls wanted to be ballerinas and beauty stars, Emma had never spoken once about what she wanted to do.

“Mum, I don’t want to upset you, please, let me allow you to know that. I know how hard Daddy’s death was to you: it was the same for me. I still shed tears when I think of him. I just wanted to let you know my wishes in case something ever happened to me.”

And now was the time that Emma’s mother finally realised that what she said was spot on, and she couldn’t stand it. Her father had always told her that she would do great things, but now he was gone and could no longer tell her that. There was probably no inspiration left for her. She had made it this far--- she would have finished school this year. She had been there to assist her mother in the shadowy times during her father’s death, but now was the time for her to do it on her own. She could no longer lean on a little girl to allow her life to go on.

But Ms. Collins would respect her wishes as best she could: happy colours and bright flowers she could accomplish for her funeral--- but cheerful faces . . . she herself would not be able to show that, but would definitely try--- for her daughter.

“Since Brett Macauley was the one to pull her from the intense wreckage inside the replica of the Department of Mysteries that myself and the Ministry members created for the third task, he will receive a medal for his services. I know that Miss Collins would have wanted one of her very best friends to hold such an honour, even if she isn’t here to see it.”

Kelly and Eva sat near the front, looking over to Emma’s mother occasionally, tears falling afresh down their faces and into their laps as their Headmaster spoke. Emma’s body, covered with a gold and crimson blanket lay behind him, unmoving. They both had stared, marvelled, at the sight of a body that had once housed a spirit they had loved so much, and had gasped in shock that it was now on display for humanity to see. They hadn’t glimpsed Emma’s actual body, but they saw her wrapped up and only feet away from them which caused enough heartache. If they had seen her face, her lifeless, unfastened eyes staring at them, they surely would have retched upon the sight and had to have left the room.

“I never should have kissed Brett,” Eva whispered over and over, the guilt etching into her face and she feeling as if everyone could see and knew what she had done. “I know she died hating me for it. I know she did.” She rocked back and forth in her chair while Kelly attempted to shush her.

Seth was even in tears; after all those years of Emma’s friendship, she was gone. Even if their break-up had been vicious, he realised that he hadn’t ever stopped loving his first love. But now Emma was no more and he would never see her again: he had already known that he would never be able to hold her in his arms again and kiss her, calling her his own, but he never would have thought she would have been dead before their seventh year had ended. It was heart-wrenching to him.

But the worst of all was Brett. As the sane and insane pieces of his mind began to battle with the other, trying relentlessly to take over and not let the other succeed before it did, he found mixed feelings surfacing.

You killed Emma. You let her die. All you had to do was utter two words and you didn’t. You’re sickening. You should have never allowed her to believe you loved her.

But she deserved it. She didn’t know what you had been through at Durmstrang. She only thought that you two could pick up where you left off. She was still a child while you had matured greatly. She wasn’t worth your time. Who cares even if you did kill her? It was the Dementor’s fault, not yours. That’s plain to see.

For every dispute, there was a counterargument. For every tear, there was a reprimand. Brett felt himself breaking down, but when the other voice would speak it would be like a slap to the face.

But you could have helped her. The Dementor was placed inside those walls to challenge you. She couldn’t triumph, so you should have helped her. If you would have saved her life then her kind-hearted being would have allowed you to win. But now her body lays up there on that table, lifeless, and it’s all your fault.

Brett cringed and felt tears appearing in his eyes. He had killed Emma. Brett had tried to tell himself that he hadn’t been responsible--- that it had been the Dementor’s fault and not his, which was true, but now that made no sense.

Who the hell cares? the insane voice came again, Macauley, Durmstrang prides itself on winning these tournaments--- you’re the only champion, it was your responsibility for the cup! Emma had to wait--- that cup was yours, and you took it. Your Headmaster would have murdered you if you had saved a life rather than won those Galleons.

Brett nodded, indicating he understood. This voice was starting to make some sense. He hadn’t after all. The Ministry should have been more careful with what they had put inside the task, he thought when the thoughts of his responsibility of her death entered his mind.

But now God will punish you for killing one of his innocent children. You let a precious life die for a few days’ glory and some coins.

Aldric would have murdered you. He already almost did because he wasn’t chosen and you were. You know that he prided himself in his schooling and beating up on kids--- if you had lost the tournament for saving a life (especially Emma’s) when he could have won, you wouldn’t have a life that could get glory. If you would have lost the tournament for Durmstrang you would have gotten an even worse beating than you did in your fifth year.

Brett didn’t know what to think. Between trying to build a defence telling himself that he hadn’t murdered Emma and keeping in tears of laughter and smirks of contempt, Brett’s mind was working overtime. One part of him was telling him one thing while the other told him another. One caused him remorse and pain, another amusement and scorn for the girl. Durmstrang and the evil within it had housed monstrous and terrible feelings inside of Brett.

But the sane part of him attempted to take over him again.

You made her believe you loved her. That’s the lowest thing, Brett. She had nothing but love for you and you just spit it in her face and murdered her. You are nothing. Nothing. How could you not love someone who you had spent so much time with over the past few days and years past? And worse, you did it to the other one too, but you didn’t hurt her like you did Emma. How could you not even come to like Emma, yet as a friend, even if you were pretending?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

“The days she spent on this earth and in our hearts will be forever treasured . . .” Groban continued. Brett could sense that his speech was nearing its end.

You didn’t have to love her. You can possess a friend that you hold hatred for. You’ve done it twice already, you’ve proved yourself. And you are something, a great something. You have to be good to pull off the kind of acting you did. Durmstrang would be proud.

And those words hit his heart. Durmstrang would be proud. Those words in themselves were his pride and joy, the ones he had been hoping to hear before he departed the school. His heart surged and a permanent smirk rested upon his tear-stained face. He wiped them away, battling within himself not to burst into uncontrollable laughter. It was so sad how she couldn’t even blast a Dementor away!

If guilt was what he was supposed to feel for the sane part of him mind, what did his insane part believe? Brett felt no shame for her death any longer. If he was meant to be charged with her murder then it would have been done--- everything happens for a reason, and since he hadn’t been caught then that meant that he still had a chance to do great things. But the fact that one ounce of sanity still raged on, battling inside his brain with the other part, was something. Even though it told him the truth--- that the dying girl could have been saved if he had opened his mouth and made a wand movement, he didn’t trust it. He had changed from the boy he once was at Hogwarts.

Something was terribly wrong with Brett.

He sat near the back, his face now showing utterly no signs of emotion. He wanted to leave--- this was the most boring thing he had been to in his life. Why was he even here? People only came to a funeral if they had loved the person that had died? Brett didn’t even like Emma, so there was no point in his presence. A smirk still attempted to burst through him, but he knew that (even though he was insane) if he let that smile slip then he would be charged. He felt no remorse for the death he had seen happen in front of him. He felt no remorse for what he had done. And he definitely felt no remorse for winning that tournament. He wasn’t a murderer, though any onlooker would have indicted him on the spot. What he had done was worse than murder. What she had experienced was worse than death.

When he had first entered Hogwarts, well aware that Emma Collins still stayed inside its walls, he had immediately thought of the plan that had commenced. While he had not thought it would get this carried away, ultimately resulting in her death, he knew that he couldn’t blame himself for not seeing it coming--- he wasn’t a Seer. He had known he would seduce her into thinking he loved her for the price of a thousand Galleons and a cup. He was just that twisted and sick. That one sane part of him lamented her death, though that part was gone.

But, a thought in his mind told him, If you wouldn’t have done what you had done, you wouldn’t have received the win. Brett nodded in understanding of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes as the reasonable piece spoke again.

But if you had just flicked your wand and uttered two words, Expecto Patronum, then her life could have been saved.

However, Brett was no longer listening. He was reliving that moment. The tournament’s cup had glinted with blazing glory across his eyes, and at that instant the sane part of his mind had dissolved, and he would much rather have had the win than helped another champion. It had been so beautiful. All of his hopes and dreams rested with just touching a finger to it. If he had helped Emma, hat would have given her a chance to prevail and his dreams would have been forgotten, just like they had already so many times in his life; besides, she could have been feigning her pain, only wanting him to come near so she could hex him and grab the cup for herself.

How very wrong he was, and the body in the front of the Great Hall proved it. That deceased girl would continue to haunt him in his dreams for years to come, never ending his penitence for the death of a person. The sane part of his mind would now only be able to take over in his dreams. He could never be sure if it was right to blame himself or not, though his dreams would continue to challenge that. If he asked another person, then he would be held accountable, he knew, so there was that answer right there. He was lucky no one else knew what he had done, not even Gregoria, who sat on the other side of the room, hushed tears being shed into her lap. She had been only in the next room during Emma’s death, fully aware of the competition that stirred inside of Brett; she had seen what he had done to Emma. He had blatantly cheated on her to crush her spirits. However she had no clue that he was actually responsible for her death.

The trusty thousand Galleon prize was safely within his locked trunk, given to him without ceremony by the Minister of Magic. He was just waiting on this stupid ceremony to finish before he could go back and finger the delicate bag he had placed the coins in, the shimmering gold flashing before his eyes and hallucinating about his dreams again. He had received word that his Headmaster would be transferring the remainder of his school back to their own the next morning, bright and early. There was no real use to remain behind, and Brett felt no sorrow in having to. There was nothing to stay for; he had only gone after Eva romantically to hurt Emma, and that task had been completed permanently now. He didn’t want nor need to stay to continue a relationship with Eva.

When the funeral was over, he made sure to go over to Ms. Collins and pay his respects to the grieving mother. It was the least he could do for giving her this gift, even though he could care less.

“Oh, Brett,” she said as she walked up to him. She wrapped her arms around his tall figure. She held him for a long while; Brett could feel her tears falling down his neck and into his dress robes. She kissed his cheek as she pulled away. “I haven’t seen you in such a long while. I always considered you as a second son. I only wish that Emma could have seen your friendship throughout all of her life instead of having to have missed out on it for those two years.”

He paused, searching for words that didn’t make him sound guilty. “Er--- So do I.” Ms. Collins heard no hesitance, though, for she had just sobbed into her handkerchief. That horrid memory of Aldric floated into his tattered mind. If it hadn’t been for him then maybe he and Emma could have been together and this wouldn’t have happened . . .

Don’t go blaming other people, his mind told him.

“But we made up for it,” he continued, “I know we did. Excuse me.” He fought a grin that wanted to surface.

And then he walked away without a reluctant look. Ms. Collins just stared after him.

She wondered why the boy had not been grieving; she knew that he was, even after all this time, best, best friends with Emma and had even been her boyfriend at times during her life. If she had looked back from her chair to see him or had heard the battle going on persistently inside his mind then she would have known why.

Ms. Collins had received letters from Emma all throughout the tournament, but her last one had been the day after the second task, and it had been full of happiness and best wishes: not of sadness and despair--- the very feelings that she, Emma, had been feeling right after that letter had been sent when she had caught Brett with another girl--- of course, even more heart-wrenching, Eva. But Ms. Collins knew nothing of Brett’s betrayal and of course the heartbreaking emotions that her little girl had had to feel because of him. She most definitely didn’t know that with his help he would have been able to save Emma, but he had chosen to stand in the shadows and only think of fame and Galleons.

Brett filed past the other anguished students, all wishing to go to either Eva and Kelly, Ms. Collins, or Professor Groban for comfort, who all seemed ready to leave and never glimpse sight of this room again. No other student knew of Brett’s betrayal of Emma except for Eva, Kelly, and Gregoria besides himself; it hadn’t been spread. Absolutely no one knew about what had happened during the hour that Emma’s death had commenced but Brett besides Emma, who was dead, so could tell no one. It would forever remain that way.

Or so he thought.

Brett walked to the massive doors of the Great Hall, that terrible grin escaping his lips as he looked at Emma’s sheltered body one last time. The funeral was over and so was Emma’s life. Whatever he had done in the past was finished. There was nothing he could do to change it, no matter how many times the other division of his mind attempted to seize control. He then walked out of the room, out of Emma’s mother’s life, and into one filled with dedication, hardship, and treachery.

Professor Groban watched Brett Macauley leave the room, thinking as he saw him that he was only leaving to get away from all of the sadness and grief of the loss of his best friend. But he turned back around and stared at Emma’s limp body on the table, and Groban saw no sign of regret, longing, or most of all, tears (Brett had vanished them when the combat had ended.

Professor Groban was an accomplished Occlumens. Only one voice filled his ears as he stared at the back of Brett’s head.

You did it. You succeeded in winning the tournament. You succeeded in getting what you wanted. And it all happened because of one little disposal . . . one little mishap . . .

Professor Groban saw the boy give a hearty grin and chuckle.

It wasn’t your fault. She was worth nothing anyhow. You didn’t even need to kill her yourself. You watched the Dementor do it for you. You could have helped but chose not to. You worked your plan brilliantly.

A secret smirk again.

Brett turned around and saw the Professor striding toward him, his mouth opening and closing in shock, shushing anyone who attempted to come near him. Brett, wide-eyed and panic-stricken, walked around the corner and when he was out of sight, broke off into a run. He didn’t know why the Professor was coming after him, but he wasn’t going to stay around and find out.

He couldn’t Apparate within Hogwart’s walls: she had been the one to tell him that.

Brett dashed from the hall as fast as he could, all the time thinking that there was no possible way that the man could be behind him--- that he could know what he had done, but he was incorrect.

“Stop!” Groban called out, his mind whirling and becoming dizzy in an attempt to catch up to the fleeing boy. There was no one to aid him; every soul in the castle (save for him and Brett) was within the Great Hall, still mourning over Emma Collins. They had no idea what they were missing. There was no way he could summon help without getting left behind.

Brett wheezed once, his feet flying underneath him so he could reach those black, high gates to escape. He soon hit fresh air as he opened the heavy front doors, gulping in mouthfuls of it as he still ran as fast as he could, a heavy stitch beginning to form in his side. The Headmaster wordlessly fired a blue hex right past his ear, just narrowly missing him. It appeared to be a binding curse, but Brett couldn’t be sure.

But as soon as the curse had skipped him, he disappeared into thin air right outside the gates, his evil grin being the last thing Groban had seen before he had Apparated. There was no point in continuing the pursuit; he could be on the other side of the world at that time.

Groban stood rooted in the unchanged spot for a while. Even after he had come to his senses and realised what had just commenced before his eyes, he still couldn’t believe it. Brett Macauley allowed a death to happen right in front of him? What in Merlin’s name could have driven him to stoop so low? And Groban had seen the way the two, Brett and Emma, had loved each other and gotten along during the past week--- they had been a perfect couple in the eyes of anyone who had looked upon them.

Groban couldn’t work out a definitive reason for Brett’s actions, but his only guess was that Durmstrang had changed the boy, turned him evil on the inside. The move he had taken in his fifth year had forced him to lose something that he wanted more than anything in the world: Emma. That in itself was enough to drive a person mad, especially Brett. But that still didn’t explain as to why the girl had had to be murdered for Brett to obtain the triumph.

He had been turned into a cruel being. His cruel actions just made that evident.

He would make no attempt to tell anyone what he had just heard or done. There would be no purpose; he knew that even with intense search that the boy would not be found. Professor Groban’s findings would heed no results; Brett would never return to either this school or his own to finish his education, and he would not spend his winnings generously, even though he was well enough off now--- it would attract too much attention and he knew it. He would never again be able to live a normal life, though his charm and intelligence would very likely get him far.

If Groban ever did find the bravery to tell Emma’s acquaintances, this would only hurt the mother and Emma’s friends even more, and there was no real point. While Brett would depart unpunished, that last, rational part of his mind would eventually take over, and Groban knew that he would either turn himself in or worse . . . end it. He would eventually get punished for what he had done, whether it be by physical, spiritual, or mental means.

Brett had marred his good name to Professor Groban, though many would continue to remember him as the winner of the Triwizard Tournament, Emma Collin’s boyfriend, and even worse, a hero.

But, Groban realised as he began to ascend back to the castle, What I had told Miss Collins was true.

That one piece of advice he had given her had turned out to be true, though Groban had not grasped when he had given it that it would ever need to be applied.

Don’t allow anything to stand in the way of what you want, whether it be gaining or losing a friend or winning this tournament.

Emma Collins had most definitely failed on her own part, but she would never again be allowed to have the chance to decipher it correctly. Brett had done it for her.

She is buried beside her father.

---

And yes, I know that you all utterly hate me now. I have an alternate ending in the works, and think I'm making an epilogue. These new writings may not be finished in time for the competition so they won’t count, so they'll be submitted as one shots. Thanks so very much to everyone who has read thus far, and I really appreciated all of the reviews I got on this story--- this story is very close to my heart and it has been nearly all I’ve thought about in the writing region in the month of July. Thanks to Fresca, my lovely beta. And to Kate, my best friend who allowed me to stay up until three in the morning at her house while I kept her awake with my incessant typing, for going over the chapters with me, and much, much more.