I'm literally so proud of myself for coming up with a clue that no one could figure out, since my plot twists always turn out to be pretty predictable! Allow me my small joys! Anyway, I obviously know what the clue means, so read on...

Sorry for the later update, I was busy procrastinating on reading a bunch of Voldemort's daughter fanfics for The Ultimate Guide to Harry Potter Fanfiction (which I finally updated a few days ago). In other news, happy (late) Halloween!!

My friend went as Hedwig (she made that costume out of duct tape!) and I went as Hermione! Favorite costume of all time!

~~~~

"Wait, say it again."

I repeated the clue as Colette hurried to write it down. It was nice that I was good at memorizing things quickly, because I'd forgotten to bring another sheet of paper with me to the Astronomy Tower the night before. We were in the Room of Requirement now, hoping for some privacy.

Colette, of course, insisted on actually writing it down, claiming it would be easier to decipher if we could see it. I thought that was absolute rubbish. I'd figured out what the clue said, but it was as much a mystery now as it had been before, and being able to look at it would help about as much as studying the theory of charms rather than just doing it.

"Do you know anything about poetry?" Colette asked, after staring at the words for a minute or so.

"No. Do you?"

"Not many spells come in the form of poems, Astra."

"Oh. So no, then?"

Colette rolled her eyes, then glanced around. "Who does know something about poetry, then? Because this looks rather like a poem."

"Um..." Shockingly enough, I hadn't had many conversations about poetry with my Housemates. We usually discussing a bit more important things like Quidditch or classes or any number of things that didn't have much to do with stuffy old books of verse.

"Fine," Colette sighed. "Maybe Wren and Albus and James can help."

"Albus can't," I said, crossing my arms.

"Whatever. Wren and James then, if you want to be a prat." Colette rolled her eyes at me. "Get over yourself."

"Get over yourself," was my remarkable comeback. Colette muttered something about being surrounded by idiots, then went off in search of Wren and James while I sat, staring at the clue.

In the heat of the day it grows hotter still. Water, life, is more precious, more spilled.
Recover your treasures and get out alive,
Or blackened remains is all they will find.

In the heat of the day? It was March. Days were still cold. Perhaps that was just "poetic license," then. And it grows hotter still? If anything, it was just going to get colder in March. There was still snow on the ground.

Before I could throw the clue in the fire from pure frustration, Colette returned, my two friends in tow. Wren sat down next to me, pulling the clue away as she did, and quickly read it out loud.

"Blackened remains?" James asked. "Does... Does that mean you'll die?"

"Considering that it says 'get out alive' just before then, I'd say yes," Colette said sarcastically.

"Your attitude is not helpful," James said indignantly.

"What could it mean by 'recover your treasures'?" Wren wondered.

"Maybe they'll take something of yours," James suggested. "When Dad was in it, they hid Uncle Ron in the lake. Dad had to save him."

"You don't think they'll do that this time," I said, frowning. "Make the 'treasures' a person?"

"I don't know." He leaned over Wren's shoulder to see the clue better. "Hang on, if water is 'more precious,' why's it ''more spilled'?"

I frowned. "That's a bit ridiculous..."

"Maybe they're banking on your being clumsy," Colette said with a shrug. "Seems a bit contradictory."

"Unless..." Wren trailed off, frowning in concentration. I exchanged a glance with James and Colette, who looked just as confused as I did. Obviously, Wren saw something we didn't see.

"Do you think it's talking about fire?" Wren asked after several moments of silence. "I mean, in a fire, water is a lot more precious, but you spill it to put out the fire. And that would explain the first line, too. And the last: if you don't get out alive, there would just be blackened remains."

I stared at her, then Colette and James, as a smile spread across my face. "You're a genius, Wren!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet and pulling her into a hug. "An absolute genius!"

Wren's cheeks were blazing red. "Well, it wasn't that difficult, anyway..."

"Yeah, right," James said, grinning. "We never would have gotten that, or it would've at least taken hours."

"So, it's fire," Colette said, nodding. "And I suppose Astra will have to recover some possession."

"Seems like it."

"Are there any spells for surviving in fire?" James asked. "I've never heard of any, and you'd think that would be on your OWLs."

"I've heard of a couple really complicated ones," Colette said, frowning. "I haven't done much research into that. Never really needed to survive in a fire before."

"Could you make a spell?" I asked hopefully. I knew Augamenti, of course, but if this was going to a fire, I had no doubt that it would be much to big to put out. It would probably be magical. I could use the spells to put out fires directly in front of me, probably, but that wouldn't assure that I didn't get burned. I didn't much fancy having my skin singed off.

"Making a spell like that would take much longer than a week," Colette said, sighing. "I could try, but I think it would be better if we tried to find another spell. Or maybe something else all together."

"Surely they won't let you die," said James, glancing at the scrap of paper uneasily. "I mean, if you can't do it, they'll come rescue you, I'm sure."

"I don't want to bet on that," I answered, trying not to imagine what would happen if they didn't.

"To the library, then?" Wren asked after a minute or two of silence. The rest of us nodded our agreement, and as a group we walked down to the library.

Exactly six days passed with no results except a lot of added stress for all four of us. Marcus helped as much as he could, too, but his mum had made it quite clear in a letter that he needed to keep his grades up this year, of all years. James had no such qualms, and threw his schoolwork to the wind and spent most of his time helping.

My dreams were filled with flames and screams, and I almost didn't want to sleep. Wren's nightmares were more frequent, as well—another result of the strain. I would often wake to find her screaming or crying out. A few nights, I actually fell asleep in her bed, after successfully calming her down.

James was actually reading, much to my shock. Every minute, he had his nose in some sort of spell book, and I thought his father would have been quite proud if he'd known. However, it was all in vain, because he didn't find anything. Neither did Colette or Wren, with their own hours of research. I skipped classes to skim through the indexes of library spell books, but every spell, charm, or even potion that had anything to do with fire either created fire, caused a burning sensation, soothed burns, or caused an explosion. Nothing that would help in the least. I also researched more powerful forms of Augamenti, but they were all so powerful that the spell books actually warned that the blast would knock a full grown wizard off his feet. I was neither full grown nor a wizard, and wasn't keen to try the more powerful versions in a burning hell where being knocked off my feet would probably mean falling back into flames.

The stress was getting to all of us. Colette actually snapped at Professor Patil, who took ten points from Gryffindor and sent her out of class. James yelled at the twins during lunch, who had just come up to say hello (even if they did giggle and say something in French). I almost started crying in Charms when Haverna decided to go into her usual "What an attention-seeking brat" speech (and not because I couldn't handle her speech). Wren had been become almost as withdrawn as she'd been at the beginning of the year.

That last one worried me the most, actually. Forget about burning or not burning, if it was going to send Wren back into the state she'd been over the holidays, I wasn't about to let her get this worked up over it. The afternoon before he task, I decided to tell her that.

I glanced up from the spell book I'd been reading. Wren was almost hidden by the stack in front of her (and still, Colette had gone off to get more), but I stood up and walked around so I was standing over her. There were dark circles under her eyes, testament to the sleepless nights I was well aware she'd been having.

"Wren, you can take a break if you need to," I whispered.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, her eyes still skimming the index of the book.

"You're not. You haven't really slept in about three days."

"Neither have you, then, if you know that," Wren answered, glancing up at me. When she saw my concerned look, she shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Please take a break."

"No, it's okay," Wren said. "The rest of you are still working. Why shouldn't I?"

James was listening now, from the other side. We locked eyes, stuck. Because you're not as strong as us, I wanted to say. We can handle stress and exhaustion better than you. But I couldn't exactly say that. I could bring up her nightmares as proof that she needed actual rest, but I knew she would wave me off.

"Because you need to," James said after a minute. "I'm used to no sleep to get my assignments done this year, and Colette's always studying something or other, and Astra's the champion. But you should go get some rest."

Wren sighed, then closed the book and stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. "No. just stop. Please."

"Wren, you're just stressed," I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. "You just need some uninterrupted sleep."

Wren glanced at me. "I... I don't think that's possible."

"I bet it is," I said, feeling a bit encouraged. "Just try. I bet you won't have nightmares..."

Wren didn't answer for a few moments. I couldn't tell if she was getting her thoughts in order for some other argument, or thinking over what I'd said in order to agree, but I hoped it was the latter.

Finally, she sighed. "Astra, I... I just think... Sometimes... Maybe I deserve it. The nightmares. I mean, it's my fault any of this happened."

"Wren, no, it's not your fault," I said adamantly, feeling like I'd said the words hundreds of times by now. Why couldn't she just understand?

"Except it is," Wren said, eyes on the floor. "It is my fault. You know it, and James knows it. Everyone does."

"Wren, please stop saying that," James said, sounding frustrated. He stood up as well, though seemed a bit reluctant to draw closer, as if afraid that Wren would shy away.

"You don't understand," she said, looking up at the two of us.

"No, Wren, we do—"

"You don't! You don't know what it's like to have to torture your friends. You don't know what it's like to have to hurt people. You..." Her voice caught. "You don't know what it's like to kill. I-I've done terrible things, things I can't live with. I can't live with myself! Y-You don't understand!"

By now, she was crying, and James was at her side, his arms around her. I could only stand, mouth open. Hurt people. Kill. But that hadn't been her. She hadn't wanted to. But for the first time, I realized that that didn't make a difference to her. She'd still done it. She'd... She'd killed someone, even. I couldn't even imagine.

"It's okay," James was whispering, "Shhhh. It's okay. You're okay." Wren was breathing more steadily, and after a minute, James stepped back and she slowly sank into her chair.

I dropped to my knees in front of her so I could meet her downcast eyes. "Wren, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"I don't want to talk about it," she whispered, avoiding my gaze.

"That's fine." I tried to smile, but it didn't work. "Let me talk then. I don't understand. I didn't know what I was talking about, did I? I won't ever. But I know that the person sitting in front of my would never hurt anyone. And that's what matters, okay? Not what happened before, but who you are now. You're my best friend. I love you, no matter what you've done."

Wren smiled a bit, then hugged me. "Thank you..."

I didn't say anything, just hugged her back. I still didn't know how to keep from burning to a crisp, but this was so much better than that. I wouldn't trade it for all the safety in the world.

~~~~

That night, Lucy came to tell Wren that Mr. Potter needed to see her. I assumed that James had told him what had happened. Knowing Mr. Potter, he was probably going to great lengths to make sure Wren felt comfortable and safe. Maybe he would even be able to talk to her. She would tell me when she saw me, probably in the morning, or after the task. For now, I needed to focus.

I had just about resigned myself to an early death. I was mentally planning my will (which left my broom to Albus (despite his awfulness), my owl to Lily, and my books to Wren, and included a request for Teddy and Toire to name one of their future children in my honor) when Elcie ran up to me.

"Faith Lindsey's outside the portrait hole, Astra. She said it's urgent."

I frowned. What on earth did Faith want right now? After thanking Elcie, I hurried over to the portrait hole.

Faith was indeed standing in the passageway, looking more than a little uncomfortable. Before I could even say hello, she asked, "You've figured out your clue, I hope?"

I nodded. "Last week, but yes."

"Good. I don't remember hearing about it until we covered the history of African magic in sixth year, so I was a bit worried." She took a breath. "Having trouble finding out how to stay alive?"

"Well... Yes, actually," I admitted. "Just a bit."

Faith glanced back and forth down the decidedly empty passageway, as if checking for spies. "I've heard you're a fast learner, Lestrange. Here's hoping. This is a spell you'll learn seventh year. Say you saw one of the older Gryffindors practicing it if you're questioned, all right?"

I nodded, intrigued. Faith was helping me. I mean, I'd let her know about the dementors, but I'd never expected a Slytherin to return a favor. Perhaps that was wrong.

Faith had me hold my hand up, and lit a small, harmless flame in my cupped palm. "Fumarenam," she said quietly, and the tongue of fire melted into a pile of sand.

"Wow," I breathed. "That's amazing!"

"And you didn't hear it from me," Faith said, glancing over her shoulder. "Good luck, Astra."

"You too." She turned to walk away, and I remembered my manners. "Thank you!" Faith simply smiled over her shoulder, then hurried away.

I rushed back inside the common room, almost knocking over a knot of first years standing near the portrait hole. Colette and James were at the corner table we'd been at earlier, but suddenly the pile of books seemed much less depressing. "Guys! I have a spell!"

James nearly jumped to his feet, butt Colette only frowned at me. "What? What spell?"

I pointed my wand at the candle sitting on one of the stacks of books. "Fumarenam." The flickering flame turned to sand, falling down the candle and getting stuck to the hot wax.

Colette's eyes widened. "I've never seen that one! It turns the fire into sand?" She frowned at the sand, then the smoking wick of the candle. She quickly relit it, then held her own wand up. "I wonder... Fumarenaris."

The fire just seemed to disappear.

"What did that do?" James asked. "At least the other one made sand. She could kick that onto other fires."

"Yes, but she'll still have to deal with smoke. This way, she doesn't have to." Colette grinned. "It turned the fire into clean air."

Now my eyes widened. "That's perfect!"

"I know," Colette said, nodding. "Hopefully it will work on bigger flames..."

"Try it on the one in the fireplace," James suggested.

"No! Everyone's going to be mad!"

"Fine, I will," he said, shrugging. Without waiting for either of us to protest, James leapt up and walked over to the large fireplace. He pointed his wand toward it, and I saw his lips moving as he whispered the spell. Suddenly, the room was cast into semi-darkness as the fire disappeared. Several first years screamed. The fire just as quickly reappeared, but James got many angry glares as he walked back to our table, grinning. "It works!"

Colette rolled her eyes. "Git."

"Well, it's not like we could light the table on fire," James said, motioning to the pile of books hiding the table. "It was the only way."

The rest of the night was spent perfecting the spell. I was so tired by the time I fell into bed that I slept the whole night through, not waking once.

~~~~

Question of the Day: If you could create a spell, what would it do and what would it be called?

Vote and comment!

~Ellie