Harry surfaced, wiping his sopping hair from his eyes. There was no sign of Ginny and he spun in the water, looking for her. Just when panic had begun to creep into his gut, something brushed against Harry’s legs. Thoughts of the Giant Squid flitted through his mind before Ginny bobbed out of the water immediately in front of him, and he realized that it was her limbs, and not squid tentacles, that were entwined with his legs. She grinned cheekily at him before using those limbs to pull him to her.
“Harry! Harry!” Ron cried excitedly into his ear, effectively bringing the rather enjoyable dream to an abrupt end. “Get up, mate. It’s the nineteenth!”
Vaguely wondering at Ron’s uncanny knack for disturbing his dreams of Ginny, Harry snatched his glasses from the bedside table and shoved them onto his face. “So?” he retorted testily. He noted that his friend, rather uncharacteristically, was already dressed.
“The nineteenth,” Ron repeated. Hermione’s birthday.”
Harry swore under his breath.
“Forgot, did you?” Ron deduced, cheerfully. “No worries. You can go in with me, if you like.”
Harry paused as he got out of bed. “Why? What’d you get her?” he asked, somewhat warily.
Ron beamed at him and produced a large bag from behind his back. “Rucksack.”
He looked so pleased with himself that Harry wasn’t sure how to break it to him that women usually preferred something more personal for gifts. He would have thought that there would be a large chapter devoted to that topic in Twelve Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches. Before he could find the right words, though, Ron was speaking again.
Gesturing to the bag, he said, “I used that expansion thing she showed us so she can cram whatever she wants into it, but I reinforced the bottom so it won’t burst on her all the time like her old ones did. Plus,” he added, not without some pride, “I added a Lightening Charm, so it won’t strain her back.”
“That’s thoughtful,” Harry had to admit, not able to keep the surprised note out of his tone.
Luckily, Ron didn’t notice, but continued to beam at him. “Well, come on,” he urged, “help me to wrap it. I want to get down to the Great Hall.”
The girls weren’t in the Great Hall, though. Descending the marble staircase, Ron and Harry saw them standing together in the Entrance Hall, their backs to the steps.
“Happy birthday, Hermione!” Ron called before he’d reached her.
Harry was about to add his own wishes for a good day as well, but the girls turned first. They both looked miserable, their eyes bloodshot, Hermione with tears streaming down her face. She saw her boyfriend and sobbed, “Oh, Ron,” as she flung herself into his arms. “It’s awful,” she wailed into his neck. He held her tightly, the gift forgotten on the floor beside him.
Completely bewildered, Harry turned to Ginny who answered his unspoken question. “It’s Fleur,” she said, tears shining in her eyes as well. “She’s lost the baby. Miscarried yesterday.”
“Oh,” Harry said, not sure what else to say. Reaching an arm around Ginny, he added, “You okay?”
She nodded. “Mum’s really cut up, though. She sent an owl first thing this morning. She’d been so happy at the thought of a new baby in the family, but now ...” Ginny’s voice caught in her throat. “But now, it’s just another death ...”
Harry merely squeezed her shoulder, not having anything to say that wouldn’t sound trite. She slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder and he knew that she was unable to speak as well.
After a few minutes, feeling Ginny slacken her hold on him, Harry pulled away slightly, about to suggest that they should join the others for breakfast. McGonagall swept by them just then, though, beaming and holding a few pieces of parchment.
“Come!” she cried, heading towards the Great Hall. “I have news!”
Confused, but certainly intrigued, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry followed her, Hermione wiping her eyes as she went.
They took seats together in their usual spots, Ron tucking the gift for Hermione under the table for later, and turned to the headmistress. Her expression, atypically, was one of great excitement. Before she could start, Professor Oblongata and Dean entered the Great Hall. Deep in conversation, they each raised a hand in greeting, before taking seats at the table themselves. Harry reflected that the new professor and Dean had been almost inseparable since Dean’s arrival the week before, choosing to work only with each other. Harry was pleased for his friend, glad that he was finally able to learn of his birth father and find the peace he had always lacked regarding it all.
McGonagall was waving the parchment in her hand. “I’ve just received a letter,” she announced. “From Mister and Missus Diggory.”
Harry sat up a little straighter. He wasn’t the only one.
“Years ago,” the headmistress went on, “Cedric’s parents put aside some gold for their son’s future. After his untimely passing, they invested that money. In the four years since the boy’s tragic death, his parents have made a substantial amount of gold and now wish to use it to honour Cedric’s memory in some way.” She paused to draw breath and Harry could tell that the others were all as eager as he to hear what the Diggorys had planned. Would they wish a plaque placed at Hogwarts? Some sort of statue? Perhaps a scholarship for underprivileged students?
“They’ve decided,” McGonagall continued, “after consultation with the Department of Magical Games and Sports, to establish a fund to continue the tradition of the Triwizard Tournament “ a safer, more closely-regulated version “ to be re-Christened the ‘Cedric Diggory Memorial Inter-School Tournament’!”
There were a number of gasps and exclamations at the news. Whatever the staff and students had been expecting to hear, this wasn’t it.
“A Triwizard Tournament?” Ginny repeated, stunned.
“After what happened to Cedric?” Ron put in.
The headmistress nodded. “His parents mentioned that they know how pleased and proud Cedric had been to represent Hogwarts as one of its champions. They believe that it would be a fitting tribute to offer the same opportunity to other students.”
She let this sink in for a few moments before adding, her face lit with pride, “And this year, the Tournament is to be held here.”
Seamus was the first to speak. “Blimey,” he muttered. Immediately, the others began chattering excitedly about this new development. All except Ron, who sat, apparently deep in thought. He looked so earnest that Harry opened his mouth to take the mickey out of him about it, but Ron, still mulling whatever it was over to himself, got up abruptly from the table and headed over to McGonagall. Hermione called to him, but he neither acknowledged nor turned around.
“What’s wrong with him?” Hermione demanded, looking at Harry.
“Dunno,” he replied, and they watched as Ron spoke briefly with the headmistress before striding purposefully from the Great Hall with not even a glance to spare for his friends.
“Wonder where he’s off to,” Ginny piped up.
They didn’t have long to speculate for he was back within a matter of minutes. No sooner had he sat back down between Seamus and Hermione, than Pigwidgeon flew into the room and soared just above the table to land immediately in front of Hermione, a folded piece of parchment in its beak. When Hermione didn’t take it right away, he bobbed his head towards her and shifted his little feet impatiently.
Hermione turned to Ron. “What is it?” she asked him, somewhat suspiciously.
He exhaled forcibly, obviously exasperated. “You’ll find out when you open it, won’t you? Go on, then,” he urged, when still she hesitated. “Won’t bite.”
Tentatively, Hermione reached out her hand to take the letter from the owl. Pigwidgeon hooted and looked from his owner to Hermione and back again, pleased with himself at the task he’d performed, and seeking praise. Harry, Ginny, and Seamus laughed at the tiny owl’s antics, but Ron was too busy watching his girlfriend’s expression to notice. Hermione’s squeal effectively tore her friends’ interest from the bird.
She threw her arms around Ron and half-shrieking, half-sobbing, she cried, “You remembered! You remembered!”
Harry and Ginny each shot out a hand at the same time to snatch up the piece of parchment.
Hermione, it read.
Would you do me the honour of going to the Yule Ball with me on 24 December? I ask now to make sure no one else beats me to it.
Ron
Ginny smirked and raised her eyes heavenward as Harry, without a word, passed the note to Seamus to read.