Chapter 18
Rebecca struggled with the letter from Sirius days later, catching her finger on the end of the envelope and cutting herself. "Bloody hell!" She hissed, sucking on the end of her finger without pausing her now-one-handed attempts at getting to the contents therein.
"Would you like some help?" Fred asked from beside her, watching her struggle with the smallest of smiles.
Rebecca held the letter out after considering his offer, a sinking feeling filling her middle. Sirius had read everything now after she'd sent back what had happened with the unicorn in the forest. He knew that she had- "Just read it to me, Fred. I can't."
"I don't know why you're letting yourself get so nervous, RJ." Fred pulled his feet up onto the couch they were on so they were under him, moving closer to her with the letter opened at last and in his hands. "It's Snuffles, he won't care."
Rebecca shook her head, unable to explain anything until she knew what Sirius had said.
Fred sighed. "He says, 'so you are a zombie then. We will talk about this on a later date.'"
"And?" Rebecca inspected the cut on her finger before wiping it on her trousers and leaning towards where Fred flipped the letter over.
"And that's it." Fred's amusement flashed across his face. "Nothing to worry about, just like I told you so."
Rebecca scoffed and laid her head against his shoulder, sighing heavily. "Just like I told you." She mimicked before turning her head up to him. "Stress leaves me in need."
"In need of?"
"A kiss."
Fred grinned and pecked her lips. "Well, I would never wish for you to be stressed but..."
*******************************************
Rebecca's breath fogged her glasses underneath the Invisibility Cloak as she followed Harry out of the castle the night of the twenty-fourth of March. Harry was glad that she insisted on coming, he'd been ill with nerves in the hours leading up to the vague-summoning and he didn't think he could go alone.
But that was the end to which Harry would allow himself to rely on her. Before he could even rest after the second trial, he had to have the bones of a plan laid out with their friends and the other champions. If there was a feeling, even the slightest insinuation of another taking for the third and final task, all of the champions would bring their treasured people to the Room of Requirement where they would remain until the task was completed.
Cedric fell into step beside Harry as they exited the boundaries of the castle and made their way towards the Quidditch pitch. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he feared Cedric would mention something of their back-up plan, since the older boy didn't know that she was behind them. "Ready?" Cedric asked, his exhaustion clear.
"Ready." Harry answered and caught sight of Viktor and Fleur ahead, both already on the pitch where Ludo Bagman was in the center.
"Champions!" Ludo called, waving them over. "You, at this very minute, are currently standing on what will become the final task of the Triwizard Tournament." Harry and Cedric looked around a moment, mourning what had once been their beautiful pitch, as Ludo continued. "A maze is to be grown and filled with obstacles and creatures, things that you will have to evade, outsmart, or defeat in your trek to the centre. Once you find yourself in there, the tournament will come to an end when the first champion lays his hand on the cup."
"Or hers." Fleur corrected, rightly offended.
Ludo gave her a condescending smile. "Of hers."
Rebecca scowled from under the cloak where she lingered near the edge of the pitch, adding yet another reason to hate Ludo Bagman to her list. Ludo spoke a few minutes more before allowing the champions to disperse and ask questions individually if they had.
"Harry." Viktor said gruffly, unknowingly leading Harry to the side of the pitch directly in front of Rebecca. "I vanted to speak vith you."
Harry nodded, slightly intimidated.
Viktor looked Harry over head to toe before continuing. "Vat is vith you and Herm-o-ninny?"
Harry was shocked for a moment, needing a moment to understand what it was that Viktor was truly asking. "Hermione? We're just friends."
"Zat is all? Nothing romantik?" Viktor crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Harry, hinting towards a poor outcome if Harry was to be found lying.
"No, not at all." A thought occurred to Harry as Viktor turned to return to the center of the pitch. "Viktor?"
The Durmstrand turned back. "Yes?"
"You should tell her not to worry about the mail."
"Vat mail?"
Viktor's tone was so demanding, Harry balked a moment before summoning the courage to continue on. "The hate mail? You know, the curses and letters she and Rebecca have been getting since the article about the whole potion thing."
"No, I do not know. Vat 'potion-sing.' I do not read your papers here." Viktor closed the distance that he had put between he and Harry as the explanation he had asked for fell forward.
"Well, it said something abotu Hermione having to have given you a love potion..." Harry's voice only returned when Viktor made no indication that he had understood, only a glare forming on his face. "To explain why you spend so much time with her. They tried to say Rebecca did the same with Fred."
"Ze red boy? How stupid." Viktor turned his head and spat on the ground, wishing for a moment that Harry spoke Bulgarian as that would make this entire interaction all the easier. "Istinska. They are istinska."
Harry nodded, telling himself to remember the word so he could look it up in the library next time he had a moment. "I know, I know. It's stupid. But, I think Hermione would appreciate you saying so too."
Viktor turned and returned to the others, not looking back at Harry. He was so angry, so consumed with disappointment that the papers would believe that Hermione had tricked him into spending time in her company instead of believing that she had enough charm herself.
"That was nice of you." Rebecca whispered, taking Harry's side. "Get on with them, in case Bagman gives any clues." Rebecca nudged him forward and stayed close by to hear too.
"That concludes the announcement of the third task, which shall take place June 24."
Rebecca's jaw dropped. "Harry!" She whispered near his ear. "Ask about those who have exams!"
"Mr Bagman!" Harry called, hurrying towards the man who had begun to leave. "What about the students who have exams? How will they attend?"
Ludo grinned. "Not to worry. Exams are being scheduled around such a momentous event."
"And no one is to be taken this time, are they?" Harry's voice took on an edge that narrowed Ludo's eyes.
"No." Ludo's jovial character returned almost immediately. "I think you'll find the maze to be plenty filled, no need to add additional incentives to better your performance."
Harry was the last champion to leave the Quidditch pitch, stuck last in the line that quickly became only he and Cedric once more as Fleur and Viktor split off to their schools' quarters.
"One more task, then everything will go back to normal." Cedric tried to cheer Harry from the grey he had fallen into.
Harry nodded, wishing they could have walked in silence so he could gather his thoughts. "As normal as things have ever been, at least."
"I've been meaning to ask you something about that, actually." Cedric pondered for a moment, remembering the section in the paper that had piqued his interest. "What did the article mean exactly?"
"Which one?" Harry asked dryly.
"The one where Skeeter said something about Rebecca living with the Weasleys, about why the Weasleys were her guardians and that's why she's got their name tacked onto the end of hers. Why is all of that?"
Harry narrowed his eyes, protective of Rebecca and still bitter about Cho and Cedric's growing closeness. "That's not about me, is it?"
Cedric raised his hands in surrender, Harry's tone dark enough that it wasn't worth pushing on. "Retracted, sorry."
The boys split with polite good nights at the conjunction of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor corridors and Rebecca took the opportunity to free herself from the confines of the cloak. Harry, thinking she had been at his right and not his left, jumped and cursed when the sight of her startled him. "Damn it, Rebecca!" He whacked where her arm should have been if it had been visible.
"Whoops." Rebecca giggled, growing more serious as what they had just heard at the meeting climbed in both of their thoughts. "So. It's going to be a maze."
"Yeah. A great, big, obstacle-and-creature-filled one."
Rebecca sighed. "It could be worse, I guess."
Harry looked at her incredulously. "How?"
"Could always have been an underwater maze."
*******************************************
The Potter twins crept into their respective rooms quietly, not wanting to disturb their friends who had gone to sleep at the usual hour. Rebecca stifled a scoff as she closed the bathroom door behind her, the mug with the vial of draught next to it alongside a note.
"In case you forgot, don't."
Ginny's handwriting and her cheek, though it came from a place of caring.
Pulling her pajamas on and drinking on her way to bed, Rebecca had no idea Harry was across the tower plagued with discomfort. He had caught sight of his body in the mirror as he changed and couldn't tear his eyes away from the new scars and still-fading marks of the tournament. Grindylow marks across his chest to the not-entire-gone wound from the dragon months before. Harry turned away and leaned against the counter, distracting his wavering self-image with the revelations learned at the meeting.
"A maze..." His mind wasn't able to work past the word, his heart beginning to beat faster. He jumped back around and turned the cold water on, bringing his now-shaking hands to his face and trying to calm himself, to strengthen himself. His hair had dampened and opened in a window just for his scar to show.
Harry didn't look in the mirror again and climbed into bed not knowing who he had seen looking back at him. Where Rebecca's draught hurried her to sleep, he struggled until even his racing thoughts couldn't keep him awake any longer and his mind was hurried to the same location as before: The house where Harry had seen Wormtail killing the old man.
"You think you can deceive me?" Voldemort's voice hissed from behind the tall chair that's back was pointed at Harry. "Deception is an edged blade! You will find that you have tried to cut me but only bled yourself!"
The shadows of the room showed the thin arm attached to Voldemort's voice raising, a hiss of a spell seeping out into the room. "Crucio!" The man the spell had been directed to screamed horribly, his body falling to the ground and writhing in agony.
"Rebecca!" Harry cried out in his thoughts, not knowing what to but knowing that she would. Little did he know that his cry rang out not just in the confines of his thoughts but, instead, out into the realm Rebecca's mind tried to get to every night. The sound of Harry's voice was enough to give her the strength to overpower the draught--Rebecca's sleeping consciousness began to make its way towards Harry.
When she was aware that something had changed, Rebecca realised she was watching from above the scene. She could see Harry, who wasn't a part of what was going on deeper in reality.
Her vision began to flash and flicker, the room changing with a graveyard momentarily before returning dimmed. A statue of an angel with black wings was seen before Rebecca watched how Wormtail forced the man closer to the figure in the chair. Rebecca saw an image of a severed hand, bleeding heavily.
Harry sensed a new presence in the room, the prickling weight of eyes on him telling him that someone new had arrived. He had just begun to consider the idea that Rebecca might have joined him, impossible as it seemed, when he sat up in his bed awakened by the burning of his scar. It was early morning, the night had disappeared in a flash.
Rebecca woke at the exact moment Harry had, the burning of her scar overshadowed by the throbbing of her head. "Hermione?" Rebecca whispered, even the quiet sound sending waves of pain throughout her skull. "Hermione?" She managed a little louder, though not by much.
"What?" Hermione asked, sitting up tiredly with a stretch and a yawn.
Rebecca bent forward after sitting up, holding her forehead against her knees as the world began to spin at her movement.
Hermione was fully awake in a instant, worry forcing her so. "It happened again, didn't it?"
Rebecca wanted to answer, but was unable to. The nausea that had forced its way over her peaked and she only barely managed to throw herself out of bed and make it to the bathroom before retching.
Hermione hurried out of bed clumsily, afraid. "Your tea? Didn't you drink your tea?" Hermione took Rebecca's side and patted her back as she continued to heave after her stomach had been emptied. Looking around the bathroom, Hermione didn't find Rebecca's mug left behind.
Rebecca stomach settled slightly after it had been emptied, the immediacy of another bout of sickness unlikely. Rebecca sat back and held a hand to her temple before trying to get to her knees for a drink of water.
"Sit back down." Hermione commanded, filling the cup on the counter from the sink. "Sip it, don't-or not."
Rebecca closed her eyes when she was done, finding that the darkness did nothing to soften the pain. "I drank the tea."
"But how could you-"
"Harry." Rebecca managed, turning to her side and letting the chill of the bathroom floor climb up through her pajamas and lessen the heat she felt across her skin. "Harry...called me. I think he brought me to him."
"To his dream?" Hermione asked.
"I-it wasn't a dream." Rebecca wondered if she might be sick again and knew in an instant that she'd be sick where she lie on the floor, unable to get up even the little bit to get to her knees. "Harry brought me to somewhere real."
Hermione disappeared out of the bathroom only to reappear seconds later with Rebecca's trainers and a jumper. "We need to go to the Hospital Wing." Rebecca didn't move. "Rebecca?"
Rebecca managed to bring her hand away from the side of her head to cover her eyes, her shoulders shaking softly. Her head hurt. Nearing levels the pain had reached when she had looked for the World Cup's results but not fading, the idea of getting up pushed Rebecca over the edge.
Hermione was more frightened by the fact that Rebecca was crying openly than her not getting up. Hermione did all that she could think to and crouched down beside her, slowly rubbing her friend's back until she calmed herself back down.
Minutes faded, silence taking the place of the quiet weeping. When Hermione sensed that Rebecca was gathering the will to get up, she hooked her arm under Rebecca's and helped every inch of the way back to their feet. "We need to get Harry, too. You should both go."
Rebecca used the wall as an anchor, her jumper hanging off her crookedly as Hermione had hardly managed to get it over Rebecca's neck before she had stumbled forward. Harry was now consuming every one of Rebecca's thoughts: Wondering if he was in pain like she was, needing to get him to the Hospital Wing if he was.
The squeak the girls' dormitory hall door alerted Harry to the fact that someone was leaving their room as early as he had been awakened and he jumped up from the chair he had been in. "Rebecca!" He shouted, seeing that it was two of the exact people he had been hoping it had been. "You were-"
Hermione raised her hand for Harry to lower his voice as they got closer, forcing Harry to notice how Rebecca was whiter than a ghost and how her jaw was clenched tightly.
"You were there at the end, I felt it. Why didn't you drink the tea?"
Rebecca's voice was level, but quiet. "I was there and I did. I think-I think you brought me."
Harry took Rebecca's other arm in his, Hermione giving him a look that said more than she could have with words. "You saw something, didn't you?"
"A little." Rebecca slowed to a stop before they had even reached the portrait hole, bending to one knee and holding her head tightly. Without a rest, she knew she would have been sick right there.
"You two get to the Hospital Wing." Hermione directed, staying behind in the common room. "I'm going to make sure the others know you haven't both disappeared." Make sure Fred knew, Hermione was really saying.
Harry walked as slowly as Rebecca needed to, pausing every time she needed to and finally coming to a decision. "Let's go, Becs." Harry said gently, guiding her down the corridor opposite the way to Madam Pomfrey.
"This isn't-"
"We're not going there." Harry gave no room for disagreement, though she couldn't have argued if she wanted to. "We're going to Dumbledore."
Rebecca and Harry stopped outside of the statue that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office, the pain had lessened to a degree that made the threat of sickness less of a danger. Harry chewed at his lip, finding no divine intervention blessing him with the password. "Lemon-lollies? Acid pops? Erm-Chocolate frogs?"
Rebecca closed her eyes and tightened her grip on Harry's arm as a pang rang out behind her eyes before fading again. "Try Candy Quills."
"Candy quills?" Harry asked the statue, eyeing Rebecca carefully as the statue began to turn.
"What do you mean Barty Crouch is missing?" Dumbledore's voice demanded of whomever was in his office with him.
Moody's voice was the one to answer first. "Missing: Not knowing the location of and no indication of where that might be."
A third voice joined the clamour, Harry lingering by the top of the stairs mostly out of sight with Rebecca beside him. "Alastor, this is not the time for wise-arsery! A Ministry official is gone!" A silence grew until Dumbledore broke it.
"Now we don't know that for sure, do we Cornelius?" Rebecca thought that the third must have been Cornelius Fudge, since he seemed to care so deeply about Ministry workers.
"I bet it had something to do with that she-giant you have here." Cornelius spat angrily. "Fueled by rage at Miss Skeeter's words, she probably killed him! You can never trust a giant!"
"Your prejudice gets the best of you." Dumbledore warned. "You are well aware of the fact that Madam Maxine is a guest of honour at this school. What's next? Shall you try to indict my gamekeeper as well?"
Harry felt certain that there was an 'again' Dumbledore had let dangle at the end of his words that Cornelius chose to ignore.
"You have guests, Albus." Moody interrupted whatever Cornelius had decided to say to defend himself.
Harry and Rebecca stepped forward slowly, all three sets of adult eyes settling on them as Dumbledore beckoned them forth. "What is it, children?" Dumbledore asked, peering over his half-moon spectacles at them curiously.
"Whatever it is, it will wait!" Cornelius stood and marched to the stairway Harry and Rebecca had just climbed. "You both are to accompany me on a search of the grounds for Bartemius."
Dumbledore sighed and raised his eyebrows slightly, saying nothing directly. "As you wish, Cornelius. I shall be back shortly, please have a seat." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk and left with Moody and the Minister.
Harry immediately nudged Rebecca towards the seat and dragged a second one next to it, laying his hand onto her knee. "Is it as bad as it was?"
"It fades." She said, not lying. It had faded slightly, just not by much.
"Fawkes!" Harry said happily, holding his hand out as the phoenix left his perch to sit on the edge of Dumbledore's desk and look at them. "How are you?"
"How do you know a phoenix?" Rebecca asked, confused.
"He brought the Sorting Hat to Ron and I when we were in the chamber, while you were-"
"Useless." Rebecca finished, raising her hand slowly to not scare Fawkes away.
"Not useless." Harry sighed, not getting into an argument he couldn't win and finishing his explanation. "Fawkes' tears are what saved me from the basilisk venom."
Rebecca ran her hand down the top of Fawkes' feathers, speaking softly. "Then I have the world to thank him for."
Fawkes let out a little chirp and took flight, returning to his perch on the second floor of the office. Harry watched Rebecca carefully in the few minutes that began to pass, noticing how despite the fact that a little colour had returned to her face, she was still pale.
"What is that, you think?" She asked, nodding to the basin with strange symbols--runes, she thought--carved around the edge. It was pulled out from a hollow in the office walls where it seemed to stay when not in use and Rebecca felt almost as if it were whispering. Not enough to be heard or even acknowledged, but enough to garner attention.
"I don't know." Harry wished Rebecca would stay seated, but he knew better than to insist. He followed her to the item of her curiosity. "Strange though." He leaned over with her to look down into it, seeing something swirling in the depths.
The effect was instantaneous: The Potter twins were swept away in a sensation of falling while their surroundings were washed with shades of grey and took shape.
"It's Dumbledore!" Harry said, pointing. "He's so..."
"Not old?" Rebecca offered, looking around slowly. They were in the spectators seats of a courtroom, besides a younger Dumbledore. "That's Karkaroff, isn't it?"
Harry nodded and stood in front of Dumbledore, waving. "Hey! Where are we, professor?"
"I don't think he can hear you." The wheels were turning in Rebecca's head faster than she would have thought possible after the awakening she had. "Harry, I think we're in a memory."
"How can that be?" Harry's question went unanswered as the dementors left Karkaroff's side and Barty Crouch began to speak from the judge's raised seat at the very front of the room.
"Bartemius Crouch Sr., acting judge in the case against Igor Karkaroff. How does the accused plead?" He leaned forward in his seat, staring down at the Bulgarian on trial.
"I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help! I-I know that the Ministry is trying to-to round up the last of the Dark Lord's supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can." Karkaroff's desperation was evident. "Antonin Dolohov. Evan Rosier. Mulciber." Karkaroff looked around the room and found that those in attendance were uninterested.
"Dolohov was captured and Rosier was killed at the time you were captured last year. The Ministry has no need for useless information." Barty Crouch seemed almost proud of his words.
"Severus Snape!" Karkaroff blurted out, looking around the room in a panic.
"Severus Snape has been cleared by this council. He had been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."
Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood up beside Harry and Rebecca unknowingly. "Snape is no more of a Death Eater than I am."
Rebecca looked down at her arm as Harry grabbed it tightly, the room beginning to spin again. A new courtroom appeared when the next memory had begun. Ludo Bagman had taken the seat Karkaroff was in moments earlier.
"I know, I know." Ludo smiled sheepishly at the jury. "I've been a bit of an idiot." The court laughed, except for Moody and Barty. Harry's head whirled around madly as the court continued to laugh at Ludo's self-deprecation.
One woman, a narrow-nosed, fair-haired woman, stood in the jury's box. "The jury would like to congratulate Mr Bagman on his splendid performance for England in last week's Quidditch match against Turkey."
Ludo raised a shackled hand to his heart and bowed to the woman, winking as he did so.
"I guess he's been gross for forever." Harry whispered, forgetting that those around them were unable to see or hear them. Rebecca and Harry had to sit through the rest of the short-lived trial and watch as Barty got angrier and angrier as the jury decided to unanimously drop all charges against Ludo.
The room spun once more and, despite the fact that he felt he should have gotten used to it by now, Harry grabbed hold of Rebecca once more. He was doing it for her sake, he told himself. The room, once steady, had a far more solemn tone than either trial seen before. A boy who couldn't have been much older than Fred and George took the cage in the center of the room with three other adults in cages behind him.
Barty Crouch's face was pinched and wrinkled, his hair more grey than it had been in the previous memory. "The court is now in session for the case against Barty Crouch Jr."
"This must be the one who died." Rebecca said, leaning closer to the edge of her seat as the charges began to be read.
"The accused is charged with the position of accomplice in the using of the Cruciatus curse against Alice and Frank Longbottom to the point of insanity. How do you plead?" Barty stared down at his son emotionless.
"No, no father! Please don't send me back to the dementors!" The boy shook his head inside the cage quickly. "It's worse than death--Just kill me here, don't send me back!"
"You don't think he meant Neville's parents, do you?" Rebecca asked as Barty began to lay out the proof against his son. She couldn't shake the feeling that her suspicion was entirely correct.
"I don't know how common the name Longbottom is." Harry felt a wave of sadness wash over him. "He does live with is grandmother. That's awful."
"It explains his reaction to the curse in class." Rebecca couldn't help another notch of hate against Moody.
Barty Crouch, standing behind the judge's stand, grabbed the gavel tightly. His knuckles were white around the wooden handle. "The accused is charged with life in Azkaban." He pounded the gavel and officially sentenced his son.
"NO!" Barty Crouch Jr's voice peaked and echoed through the room. "Father, please!"
"You are no son of mine."
The room began to fade away and Harry and Rebecca fell away from the basin that had transported them to the past just as confused as they had been beforehand. Dumbledore caught sight of the two of them stepping away, both pairs of glasses beaded with liquid.
"Curiosity is not a sin, but you should exercise caution." Dumbledore leaned against his desk as Harry and Rebecca rejoined him in the center of his office. "It's called a pensieve. Very useful if, like me, you find your mind a wee bit stretched. It allows me to see once more things I've already seen."
"So they are memories." Rebecca stated, seeking clarification.
Dumbledore nodded, glancing at the cabinets near the pensieve. "I've searched and I've searched, looking for something. An explanation as to why these terrible things have happened." He looked back at the Potter twins, both of which most terrible things seemed to revolve around. "Every time I get close to an answer, it slips away."
"Mr Crouch's son, what exactly happens to him." Harry asked. "How dies he die, sir?"
"It destroyed Barty to do it, truly. But he had to." Dumbledore sighed. "The evidence was overwhelming. Why do you ask?"
Harry lowered his eyes, trying to remember everything he had seen in the dream from months and months ago. "Over the summer, I had a dream with him. I was in a house and Voldemort was there too. But he wasn't human, not fully. Wormtail was there, too. But Mr Crouch's son, he was the last person there."
"The snake. The snake was there too." Rebecca corrected.
Harry whirled on her incredulously. "How do you know about that?"
"I think you brought me there, too. The old man who was watching, that's what you were looking through?"
Dumbledore watched and grew more curious as Harry and Rebecca revealed that they'd not only shared the same dream then, but again the night before--The reason they were there.
"It happened again last night, I brought Rebecca to me. I only saw the house but-She can say better."
Rebecca's pain had lessened enough that Harry could feel she was able to speak for herself. "I just saw images again. They mean nothing until it's too late."
"What were they?" Dumbledore asked.
Rebecca tried to bring up thoughts of what she'd seen. "A graveyard with a statue of an angel...There was a hand, too."
"A hand?" Dumbledore echoed.
"Cut off, but a hand all the same."
Dumbledore thought on that a moment. "Have there been others like these dreams?"
"No sir, not together." Harry answered and Rebecca nodded in agreement.
"And the premonitions, they don't occur usually, do they?"
"Not as long as I drink the draught before bed, which I do. I did last night. Harry managed to get me there even with it." Rebecca admitted only one thing more freely. "And both times now, when I've dreamt with Harry, we've woken up to our scars hurting."
Harry turned and looked at her, waiting for more information to come and finding none. Rebecca shook her head subtly, though not enough to escape notice entirely.
"What isn't being shared?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"These dreams--the premonitions--they make her ill."
Rebecca scowled. "For a little, then it fades."
"That's not true!" Harry argued. "Hermione says she's sick for ages and her head hurts so badly she can't think, can't walk straight, can hardly talk. She-Hermione said she 'ceases to function.'"
"Why would you hide this?" Dumbledore asked.
"I'm not hiding it!" Arguing was only exacerbating her head. "It's not our biggest concern though, not by a long shot!"
Dumbledore stood and walked away at Rebecca's words, eyeing the pensieve as if he had had a thought. "I don't think you two should linger on these dreams." Dumbledore raised his wand to his temple and pulled the tip away with a simmering thread on the end, a memory. "I think you should cast them away."
Dumbledore didn't look at them again, asking if they were able to find their way out by themselves. "Yes, sir." Harry said angrily, storming out of the office without even waiting for Rebecca.
"Sir?" Rebecca asked, pausing at the top of the stairs back to the corridor they'd entered from. Dumbledore glanced at her and nodded for her to continue. "I was wondering it, perhaps, you could write to our aunt and uncle. I'd like to try and meet them for a few weeks over the summer. Asking myself would only get a no but...Well, a letter from you? A touch better chance."
Dumbledore agreed, though it occurred to Rebecca that that might have just been to get his office to himself quicker. "I shall write when I have the chance. Good day."
Harry was waiting for her impatiently, scowling all the while. "I brought us here to get help, to get answers. We can't do that if you don't tell the truth about what's going on. Damn it, Rebecca! I-" Harry's voice rose to a shout at the end that was cut off by a shout of her own.
"What is going on? We don't have a bloody clue, Harry! Not a single bloody clue!" Rebecca crossed her arms in front of her, catching herself from holding the side of her head. She would not come off as weak, not if it meant giving Harry the satisfaction of thinking he was right. "I will continue to drink the draught, you will continue to prepare for the final task. We don't have time for this!"
"We need time for your health!" Harry took a step closer to her, forcing Rebecca back into the wall. "How am I supposed to prepare if all I can think about is you?"
"I don't know." Rebecca's voice was soft and far from the shout it had been. The conflict had teased the return of the headache. "Harry, I don't know. I don't know what to do."
"I know we shouldn't be shouting at each other." Harry said gently.
"My head would appreciate it."
Harry was quiet a moment. "I didn't mean to. Shout, that is." Another moment passed. "I need you to help me take care of you, make sure your not-"
"Your preparation is more important. It's the most important thing right now." Rebecca's stomach rolled dangerously. "Arguing further is only going to make me ill right here, so I suggest we agree to disagree."
Harry nodded and pulled her into a hug, letting her chin rest on his shoulder a long while before starting a slow walk back to the common room. Down one of the corridors, they heard voices. "Do you hear that?" Harry cocked his head to the side, listening closer. "That sounds just like Karkaroff from the memory."
"It's a sign, Severus! You know what it means as well as I."
Karkaroff's voice for sure, Rebecca thought. The door immediately to their right squeaked as it opened and unfortunately, all eyes in the hall realised they were not alone. Snape and Karkaroff, in the closet with Karkaroff holding his arm out--his arm marked with what had been in the sky the night of the World Cup--and Harry and Rebecca outside the hall.
Karkaroff shoved his sleeve back down before slamming past Harry and Rebecca's shoulders while Snape narrowed his eyes at them. "What's your hurry, Potter?"
Rebecca had only managed a step before Snape had spoken. Harry sighed and turned back. "Which one? You tend to call us both just Potter even though-"
"Gillyweed, wasn't it? The herb that contributed to your...surprising performance in the second task. Ingenious." Snape turned and walked back into his closet, forcing Harry and Rebecca to follow as he continued to speak on the ladder to the upper shelves. "A rather rare herb, gillyweed. Not something found in your everyday garden. Nor is this." Snape plucked out a small vial and descended the ladder, holding it up to them. "Do you know what this is?" The vial was dark green and had a golden stopper, though there were no distinct qualities that would have allowed Harry or Rebecca to name it.
"Why?" Rebecca asked cheekily. "Do you want me to drink it?"
"Veritaserum." Snape said, looking from Rebecca to Harry. "Although the use of it on a student is regrettably forbidden, I think you'll both find yourself well-versed in its taste if I find either of you in my personal stores again. My hand might just...slip...over your morning pumpkin juice."
"I haven't stolen anything!" Rebecca's refusal was strong, too strong.
Harry noted the strangeness in her response, the something that seemed to be luring under her voice, but denied the accusation as well. "I certainly haven't either."
"Don't lie to me." Snape enunciated before speaking slower than before, as if to imply that him speaking at a normal pace would cause them to not understand him. "Gillyweed may be innocuous, but boomslang skin? Lacewing flies? You have been brewing Polyjuice Potion and I'm going to find out why!" Snape's hand shot out and slammed the door to the Potions storage in Harry and Rebecca's faces.
Harry led Rebecca away from the door quickly, but gently. The colour had seeped from her face again. "Tell me the truth, I'll know if you don't." He warned as they began to climb the stairs to the common room. "Is it any better?"
Rebecca was silent a moment before answering. "It is a little better from when I first woke up. This is just the longest its stayed. The match...that was the worst."
The Fat Lady let them in with only the briefest of conversations, sensing how badly they wanted to enter.
Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George were sitting at the back of the room but stood immediately at their arrival. Harry found himself swarmed with questions while Rebecca was surrounded only by Fred. "Hermione said you were ill! What's wrong?" He was panicking. He had been in a constant state of panic ever since he had heard.
"It was a dream-premonition thing."
"Why didn't you come get me?" Fred asked, hurt slipping into his voice at the thought that she hadn't wanted him.
"It wasn't like that, Fred." Rebecca reached up and slid her glasses to the top of her head, holding her hands to her eyes as the throbbing, blinding pain was growing unignorable.
"Here, sit a moment." Fred cupped his hand under her elbow and guided her to a chair before perching on the edge next to her. "That's not what I meant, I'm sorry. Upsetting you isn't going to help anything, not at all."
"It wasn't like that." Rebecca said softly, leaning into his chest and finding his arms wrapping around her instinctively. "I would have i-if I had been able to think. To have a thought."
"I don't understand, love." Fred murmured into the top of her head.
"It was bad." Rebecca closed her eyes as Fred's fingers began to rub the back of her head. "I only left the floor because of Hermione and then Harry was supposed to take us to the Hospital Wing and took us to Dumbledore and-"
"Okay, okay." Fred turned his body slightly so that he was against the back of the chair and she against him. "Okay, RJ. I shouldn't have asked, not when you're hurting."
"That feels good." Rebecca admitted, not opening her eyes and honestly wondering if she was even able to at the moment. Between the warmth emanating of off Fred and the routine, gentle patterns he was stroking on her, she was finding a peace she hadn't all morning.
"Then I won't stop until the pain is gone." Fred kissed her forehead. "Entirely gone."
"That could take a while." Rebecca admitted.
"Love, I've got nothing but time."
Rebecca breathed deeply, letting her envelope herself in the comfort he brought her.
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