I used to know where the bottom was
Somewhere far under the ocean waves
Up on a ledge I was looking down
It was far enough to keep me safe
But the ground was cracked open
Threw me in the ocean
Cast me out away at sea
And the waves are still breaking
Now that I awaken
No one's left to answer me

My inside's out, my left is right
My upside's down, my black is white
I hold my breath, and close my eyes
And wait for dawn, but there's no light
Nothing makes sense anymore, anymore

"Nothing Makes Sense Anymore"
Mike Shinoda

LUCY:

The farewell feast was the first time I'd left Gryffindor tower since the funeral.

Hermione would bring me food that I was never able to finish. I would sit in silence with Harry while we watched Ron and Hermione play chess, both of us just trying not to think about anything other than the game in front of us. Ron was sure to hug me every morning when I came down once everyone was back from breakfast and again every evening when I went to bed before everyone left for dinner. The twins tried to make me laugh sometimes, and occasionally I was able to manage a smile. Ginny and Neville smuggled Luna up to the common room one day when Harry and Ron and Hermione went down to see Hagrid, the only time other than when I was asleep that Harry left my side, and I just sat in silence as Luna and Neville talked about creatures and plants respectively and Ginny braided and unbraided my hair.

I couldn't bring myself to be awake when the sky was anything but blue. The sunset reminded me too much of the last moments I got to spend with him. The stars reminded me too much of the nights that I had already spent by myself but with the knowledge that he'd be there in the morning, with the knowledge I'd never have again. But the sky, the blue sky, reminded me of my family, somewhere halfway across the world, blissfully unaware of the way my world had just been shattered... again. Somehow... the blue sky gave me the slightest glimmer of hope.

I didn't really want to go to the farewell feast, but Professor McGonagall was able to convince me the morning of. I had always liked her, of course, but she had never seemed so... human. She said she was sorry she hadn't gotten the chance to talk to me on Tuesday before it had gotten to be too much for me and that she was always just an owl away over the summer if I needed anything. Tears glistened in her eyes when she reminded me that Cedric was the most gifted Transfiguration student she'd ever had --- no offense to me, of course, but ash wands were among the best at Transfiguration, and it helped to possess natural talent beforehand --- and said that she understood how it felt to lose someone who had once been so foundational. She also reminded me that though attending the feast would surely be difficult, the first step was always the hardest.

"Life will unfortunately always have its difficulties," she said. "Some will be relatively trivial, while others will seem absolutely insurmountable. But what makes life so significant is that you have the choice to keep going, even when it seems that it would be best to give up. Once you make the decision to start moving forward, I think you will see that your path from here will become clearer with every step you take out of the darkness."

So, that evening, I didn't go to bed when everyone left. I walked into the Great Hall with my friends surrounding me and filled in the empty seat between George and Fred. My distress must have been written all over my face, because Harry's foot found mine under the table, and his eyes pulled me in like gravity.

"I know," he said softly. "I know. It's hard. But you did it."

"If you leave, Cub," George muttered, glancing around the room, "they'll just stare even more."

"Yeah, Cub, don't let those stares get to you," Fred echoed. "People are just concerned. At least they're staring for the right reasons. It's not like you have a unicorn horn growing from your forehead."

I managed to smile for half a second at the utter ridiculousness of his attempt to cheer me up. "Yeah, I guess."

The Great Hall filled slowly. Everyone at the Hufflepuff table stared at me at one point or another. I met Henry's eyes at one point, and we exchanged a look laden with meaning. I couldn't bring myself to look at the empty seat next to him. His eyes filled with tears, and I clenched my fists under the table to prevent myself from doing the same.

I could already see how worried everyone was for me. I refused to cry and give them even more reason to worry.

When one of Henry's fellow Hufflepuffs got his attention and he looked away, I glanced around the room and blinked rapidly to keep the tears away.

The banners over our heads, usually brightly colored, were black this year. My chest hurt at the sight. I realized I would be wearing black on Saturday. My chest hurt even more.

I glanced up at the teachers, and I felt my face heat when I realized that most of them were looking at me.

I offered a small wave to Professor McGonagall. I did it. I'm here. She offered a small smile in return. I know. I'm proud of you.

Professor Moody --- well... the real one --- was looking at me, too. His facial expression was impossible to read. But I didn't feel threatened by him. Not anymore. Barty Crouch Jr.'s interpretation of Mad-Eye Moody was clearly good enough to fool those who knew him well, but I could already see the difference between the false and the true. This Professor Moody kept his eyes on mine; his gaze didn't wander down to the scar on my stomach. This Professor Moody had a different light in his eyes, too. It was almost gentle as he studied me --- gentle was never a word I would have used to describe Barty Crouch Jr.'s Moody.

I glanced over to Professor Dumbledore just as he rose from his seat. The Hall was quiet in the first place; it went silent.

"The end of another year."

His eyes found me first, then drifted to the Hufflepuff table. I didn't need to follow his gaze to know he was staring at the empty spot.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here, enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

I could barely whisper his name along with everyone else, but I did. I stared down at the table as Professor Dumbledore continued.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

Harry and I exchanged a panicked glance.

All of the air seemed to disappear from the room.

I bowed my head as if to brace for what I knew was coming. Blood roared in my ears and nearly drowned out the sound of Professor Dumbledore's voice.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

As expected, the room erupted with whispers. Everyone who had been in the stands had been cheering too loudly on Saturday night to hear Harry's shouts. I felt the twins go rigid next to me.

"You knew, didn't you," George whispered, more of a statement than a question.

I managed the tiniest nod, keeping my eyes fixed on my hands in my lap.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so, either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

My head shot up. "People have been thinking it was his own fault?" I asked in a voice that trembled violently.

When nobody would answer me, I had half a mind to storm out of the Hall, but George kept me in place.

"Some people," he whispered. "The rumors have been brutal. But everyone knows the truth now. It's okay."

Professor Dumbledore went on. "There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

Harry glanced over at me, pain in his eyes.

I suddenly understood.

Some of the rumors speculated that Harry had killed Cedric.

That thought was even worse than people blaming Cedric.

"I believe you," I whispered urgently. "I believe you. I don't care what the rumors say."

He nodded once before Professor Dumbledore spoke again and we both turned to him.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Harry's name was easier to say. Once everyone --- except a couple of Slytherins, of course, who refused to stand for Harry --- had resumed their seats, Professor Dumbledore continued.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened --- of Lord Voldemort's return --- such ties are more important than ever before. Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again: in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief --- and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken --- that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst. Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

With that, the feast began, but I could no longer hold back the grief like a wave that swept over me. I kept my head bowed as a steady stream of tears fell into my lap.

George ate with one hand, rubbing small circles on my back with the other. Fred passed me my glass of water every couple of minutes.

Eventually, the storm passed. I scrubbed my cheeks with the sleeve of my robe, coughed a couple of times, and looked up.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all studying me with concern. I swallowed hard and wiped my eyes.

"Sorry," I managed. "Just... just hearing about..."

"Don't apologize, Lucy," Ron said. "We understand. Try to eat something now, mate, it doesn't get much better than this feast."

I nodded. I might have smiled if I hadn't just cried for ten minutes. "You're right about that," I replied. I plunged a fork into my mashed potatoes and managed to swallow.

The warmth was nice. It combatted the darkness and cold that was slowly overtaking me from the inside out.

Harry and I helped each other pack after the feast. It seemed too monumental a task for either of us to attempt alone. It also gave Ron and Hermione a chance to be alone without having to worry about us.

Once everything was packed, we wandered back down to the common room.

As tradition would dictate, we found ourselves shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the fireplace. Neither of us spoke until the common room was empty.

"I've never dreaded going home so much," I admitted. "If this is how you feel every year, I..."

My head found his shoulder.

"A year ago, we were excited about the World Cup," he commented. "And laughing about the Scabbers/Peter Pettigrew situation."

"A year ago, I was upset about having to go two months without my brother." I choked on my tears. "Harry, I don't want to go home, because home is where he always was. Here, there are places that I can hide. He was never in my dormitory, at least not that I can remember. He only came up to this common room a couple of times. But at home, he was everywhere, I'm going to have to look at the pictures on the wall and walk past his room and- and-" The tears spilled down onto my cheeks, and Harry wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I covered my face with my hands, a couple more sobs escaping. "It physically hurts, Harry," I said weakly. "It feels like someone's punched a hole through the center of me. I can't breathe, it's so cold, I... I..."

Harry pulled me closer. "I wish there was something I could say to make it better," he said in a choked voice. It sounded like he might cry, too.

"Just please don't leave me," I whispered. "Please. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, too."

I had always felt safest when Harry was around. Which, come to think of it, was somewhat contradictory. Danger seemed to follow him wherever he went. And yet... I didn't care. I knew that we were strongest when we were together, like Professor Dumbledore had said.

We were now inextricably tied together. Whatever the future held in store for one of us would affect both of us.

"I'm here, Lu," he said. "Right here."

I nodded, letting a new wave of sorrow and fear sweep me away in the tide as I buried my head against the warmth of Harry's chest, the warmth of Harry's presence.

He was there. He was right there.

"Goodbye" and "I'm sorry."

Those were the words that defined the day after the farewell feast.

I wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not to Fleur, not to Viktor, not to any of the Beauxbatons or Durmstrang students. But they all seemed to want to say goodbye to me. They all seemed to want to see how the poor boy's poor little sister was holding up.

I would have been a lot better if I hadn't been also dealing with "I'm sorry" after "I'm sorry" after "I'm sorry."

A couple of people seemed to understand. Fleur, for instance, didn't say much, opting instead to hug me tightly and promise to write me whenever she could. Viktor did say "I'm sorry," but before I could choke out some type of reply, he hugged me too, saying that if I ever wanted to see one of his matches, I'd have the best seats in the house because he had always promised that to Cedric. Hagrid nearly broke my ribs with the ferocity of his hug, since I hadn't been able to make my way down to his hut with the others.

And Harry... Merlin, Harry.

At one point, Maxence tried to make his way over to me. Poor kid, really. Harry's Don't you dare glare was enough to keep him fifteen feet away from me.

Harry never left my side, with only one exception. He trusted Archie enough to let him grab me by the arm just before we got on the train.

Archie pressed his well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings into my hands. "Take it this summer, too. You need it more than I do. It'll help. You'll understand it more now."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I don't know how much reading I'll be doing-"

"It'll help," he said again. His voice softened. "Please just take it, Diggory. Open it to where I placed the bookmark."

I obliged, only to discover it wasn't really a bookmark at all. Instead, a picture of a sunrise fell into my hand. The date on the back was June 25, 1995. The familiar sting met my eyes, and Archie took the picture from me before a tear could land on it.

"When Cam's brother died in February, we went to Cedric first. I knew he'd be able to help, somehow. And well, what he said that night has stuck with me ever since. He said that the fact that the world keeps spinning after it falls apart isn't really as cruel as it seems. Because-"

"Some things never change?" I finished for him, my voice cracking.

"Exactly. Like sunrises."

A tear escaped and coursed down my cheek, and I hurriedly wiped it away.

"I never went back to the castle that night," Archie said. "I had my camera with me, to take pictures of the third task to show my parents. Once they let us out of the stands, I told Cam I'd see her in the common room in the morning, and she left with the Hufflepuff girls in our grade. I wandered the hills all night, wanting to stay up to see the sunrise. I thought maybe you'd miss it."

I shook my head, eyes fixed on the picture in his hand. "I did. That night, I just- I just-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You have it now. And look... it's bright yellow." Archie tucked it back into the book and closed it gently. Then he wrapped his arms around me, and I let myself relax the slightest bit. He had been like an older brother to Archie, too. He had loved Archie, too. Archie pulled away and managed a smile. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

I nodded. "I'll try."

"Well, that's not very convincing." Archie gave me a pointed look. "I'll be there tomorrow. Give me a better answer then."

With that, he turned around and gestured for me to follow him onto the train.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had snag a car that the four of us could have to ourselves. I put the book into my bag and shoved it into the overhead compartment. My bag was next to Cedric's trunk. Mum and Dad hadn't wanted to take it home on Sunday, so the responsibility fell to me. Henry had been nice enough to pack it so I didn't have to, but I was still the one who had to take it home.

I was still the one whose room was right next to his.

I was still the one who had to return to one less light in the house.

I was still his sister.

I took a deep breath through my nose as I sat down, feeling drowsiness tug at my eyelids. Harry and I had been up much later than usual, even for the last night before heading home, because neither of us wanted to be alone. Long after my tears had dried, I had kept my ear pressed to Harry's chest, taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart.

He was there. He was right there.

As the train pulled out of the station, Harry's voice broke the silence.

"Lu?"

I blinked and turned to face him, sitting up straighter in the seat. "Mhm?"

"I think I'm ready to tell Ron and Hermione about it. Do you want me to wait until you fall asleep?"

"Who said anything about me falling asleep?" I asked through a yawn.

Harry managed a small smile. "Stubborn as always. Do you want to stay, or do you want me to go find the twins or Ginny and Neville for you so you're not alone while we talk?"

I bit my lip, weighing my options. I wanted to leave, I didn't want to hear it again. But I didn't want to leave Harry, either. I was always safest with him.

"I'll stay," I whispered.

I pulled my Gryffindor scarf tighter around my neck. The day was sunny and warm, but I'd been cold all day. Hermione muttered something to Harry about a low-grade fever, something about a respiratory infection from how much I'd been crying, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I just knew I was cold and my head pounded and my chest hurt, and the scarf helped with all three.

Harry nodded. "Okay."

He held out a hand, the question in his eyes, and I accepted it, my right hand sliding easily into his left. I inched closer to him, and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. It was how we'd been sitting the first time he told the story. It felt right to do it again.

I couldn't bring myself to look at Ron or Hermione as Harry talked. I traced the pattern on the carpet with my eyes, I watched the countryside roll by on the other side of the window, I let my eyes unfocus as I stared at our intertwined hands.

Once the story was through, Hermione wondered aloud what Professor Dumbledore might be doing even as we spoke to combat the rise of Voldemort. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier as the conversation swirled around me in indistinct mutters and murmurs, and I woke up with my head on Harry's shoulder a couple hours later. I realized we were still holding hands. I gently released my hold and sat up.

Three heads immediately turned my direction.

"You missed the lunch cart," Ron said, holding out a sandwich. "You hungry?"

I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. My headache had somehow gotten worse with sleep, and my eyes felt puffy.

Hermione shot Harry a meaningful look, and he reached forward to feel my forehead. His eyes widened slightly, but he quickly regained control of his facial expression and reached down to loosen the scarf around my neck.

Hermione shuffled around in her bag and pulled out a jar full of water. "I thought you might need this," she explained, passing it to me.

"Thanks, Hermione," I said, my voice little more than a croak. I took a long sip, wincing slightly as the water aggravated my raw throat, and glanced over at Harry. His eyes were fixed on Hermione's bag, and I soon saw why. The Daily Prophet was poking out of the top.

She followed his gaze and looked back at him. "There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."

I choked on my water, making all three of them jump and turn to me with concern written all over their faces. I coughed a couple more times and managed to choke out, "Nothing at all? My brother was... was... nothing?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief and turned back to Hermione. "He'll never keep Rita quiet. Not on a story like this."

Hermione's demeanor changed. A slight puff of her chest, a slight flush in her cheeks, a slight glint in her eyes. She was proud of something.

"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task. As a matter of fact, Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.

"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds."

Harry blinked. "How was she doing it?"

"Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea, Harry."

"Did I? How?"

"Bugging!"

"But you said they didn't work-"

"Oh, not electronic bugs. No, you see, Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn..." She reached into her bag and pulled out a second jar, though this one didn't have water. "...into a beetle."

My jaw fell open. Hermione was brilliant.

Ron stared at the jar. "You're kidding. You haven't... she's not..."

"Oh yes she is!" Hermione passed the jar to Ron, and he examined it for himself.

"That's never- you're kidding!"

"No, I'm not. I caught her on the windowsill in the Hospital Wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."

Ron passed the jar over to Harry and me. Surely enough, the markings were there.

"She was there the night Hagrid told me about his mum," I said.

"Exactly! And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day Harry's scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."

"So when we saw Malfoy under that tree...?" Ron started.

"He was talking to her, in his hand. He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid."

Hermione took the jar back. Beetle Skeeter was pressing up against the glass, looking directly at me.

I managed a smirk. Good luck getting my secret now.

"I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London. I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people," Hermione said with a triumphant smile as she tucked the jar back into the bag.

Suddenly, the compartment door opened to reveal Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Very clever, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "So you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal."

None of us spoke, and his smirk widened.

"Trying not to think about it, are we? Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out," Harry snapped, his hand white around the wand in his pocket but his neck growing red.

Malfoy didn't heed him. "You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!"

He jerked his head vaguely toward Ron and Hermione, but his gaze fell directly on me.

"Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well, second. Diggory was the f-"

I shielded my face with my arms as something like a bomb went off in the compartment. A gentle hand lowered them, and a grinning Harry looked back at me.

"Don't worry, Lu, we took care of it," he said, intertwining his fingers with mine and pulling me to my feet.

He was right.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Ron and Hermione had drawn their wands, too, and two redheads appeared through the smoke hanging in the doorway.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," Fred said as he planted his foot on the small of Crabbe's back.

George followed him into the compartment, stepping on Malfoy. He glanced down at Crabbe. "Interesting effect. Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

Harry raised his wand hand with a smirk, still holding mine with his other hand. "That would be me."

George smiled and quirked his eyebrows. "Odd. I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron and the twins wasted no time in kicking the three unconscious boys into the hallway. I absorbed the scene with disbelief.

Harry laughed when he saw the dazed expression on my face and released my hand to pat my shoulder. "Don't worry, Lu, Malfoy won't get away with anything anymore."

I blinked, watching as the compartment door slid closed again and Fred made a show of dusting off his hands. "I can see that," I managed after a moment.

Fred smiled and pulled a deck of cards from his back pocket. "Exploding Snap, anyone?"

I curled up on my side across the seats and watched the five of them play, not feeling terribly up to it myself but appreciating the distraction.

Halfway through the fifth game, Harry's head snapped up. "You going to tell us, then? Who you were blackmailing?"

George frowned. "Oh. That."

"It doesn't matter. It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway," Fred said.

"We've given up."

"What?" I asked, sitting up. "Why?"

My question prompted the other three to bombard them with several more questions --- primarily "Why does Lucy get to know and we don't?" --- and Fred caved.

"Alright, alright, if you really want to know, it was Ludo Bagman."

Harry jolted. "Bagman? Are you saying he was involved in-"

George shook his head, glancing at me with a look of concern before turning back to Harry. "Nah. Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?" Ron asked.

"You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

Ron cocked his head. "So?"

Fred cut in. "So it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"But... it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" Hermione asked hopefully.

George barked out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty. Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back."

Hermione gasped. "He refused?"

"Right in one," Fred mumbled.

I slapped my hand to my forehead. Slimy git.

"But that was all your savings!" Ron burst out.

"Tell us about it. 'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" Harry asked.

"He put a bet on you, mate. Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win! Well... I did win, didn't I? Technically? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope. The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Cedric, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

I muttered a couple of choice words about Ludo Bagman under my breath, but in the silence of the compartment, everyone heard.

Ginny came in a couple of minutes later and joined the game. She begged and begged for me to join, but I refused time and time again.

She finally convinced me to join the last game. I was rubbish, of course, being as exhausted as I was, but for the first time since Saturday night, it was like I could breathe just a tiny bit more easily. Something about sitting between Harry and George with Hermione and Ron and Fred and Ginny laughing across from us felt like home. More like home than my actual home would feel, anyway.

When the train slowed to a stop, Ron reached up and grabbed Cedric's trunk as I grabbed my own. I held my hand out to take it from him, but he shook his head.

"Mum owled this morning. We're driving you home today. Your parents weren't up for it and asked if we would mind, which of course we don't."

"Oh," I said, flushing slightly. "Alright. I can still carry his-"

Ron shook his head again. His gaze lingered on the bag in my hand for a second before he met my eyes again. "I think you have enough. You don't need to carry this, too."