a/n~are y'all seein this gif?? welcome back to me screaming

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

࿐ ˚ . ✦𝙰𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚎~ (𝚊𝚍𝚓.) 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝, 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚠✦ . ˚ ࿐

   (𝕪/𝕟) 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕥 the dormitory ceiling in paralyzed uncertainty. Her mind spun at a rapid pace with constant scenarios of the worst that could happen with dragons being the first task. As each thought got darker, it was like it was unraveling a spindle of fragile thread, the closer it got to the bare core representing the time that was ticking until she went utterly irrational and manic.

Nothing was how it was. There was never time to think about grades, flirty actions you were going to try and execute on Harry Potter-forget about trying to make plans to go have fun.

The minds of Harry and (y/n) were drowning in the philosophy of death and how they were going to cope with it lurking over their shoulders in a dizzy haze of readiness.

It was a forbidden lullaby of sadness. To cry in the night where your tears are swept away by nothing but your hand to make room for more. It is forbidden because if people hear your cries they will surround like a tribe of villagers seeking their injured cattle. Seeking answers to the tragedy that taints your pure and loving heart into a cracking blue of despair. If you sing this lullaby that floats through the air in notes of whaling fear, it brings people under the tide of your sadness, providing them with the same drowning feeling that you try so hard to drain through your tear-ducts.

The thought of losing Harry to the forceful dystopia of the Triwizard Tournament is making it hard for (y/n) to not sing this lullaby. She can't lose him. Not Harry. Not the Harry with the smile that chases away her doubts, who's touch is as warm and sweet as honey that's been warmed in the golden Sun to melt against the cold shadows in her veins. She already has to see herself lose people repeatedly through her inner eye, knowing soon it will be reality, the people collapsing around her in the flesh.

So she stares absentmindedly at the static of the pitch black darkness―numb. Knowing that there is no escape from these intrusive thoughts, because the minute she closes her eyes, her fear will become crippling from the demons that her seer abilities bring her.

Every. Single. Night.

It was around one in the morning and she could feel her eyes trying to droop, but her anxiety kept her mind awake while her body felt exhausted.

Another method of escapism creeps it's way between her thoughts about what to do and the thoughts about what she'd say at Harry's funeral. The only method she can always count on to bring her a sense of comfort. A sense of home to when she could sit under the Willow tree at the cottage―oblivious to any future events or abilities of hers.

Although the only source of light provided is the soft moon, she continues regardless.

𝘕𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 23, 1994

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦,

𝘏𝘦𝘺...𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯...𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯. 𝘉𝘶𝘵, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 𝘐'𝘮 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮-𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮- 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘺, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥..𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯...𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘵𝘴. 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯, 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘶𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘵...𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 '𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨',

~(𝚢/𝚗)

Her heart feels slightly less heavy as she closes the delicate binding of the aged journal. Even though she knows if she closes her eyes she'll be brought into a world of torture and grueling pain, she slowly closes her eyelids anyway. She knows that she can't keep running from this gift she was given; even if she wanted to, it was given to her for a reason. She was determined to make herself stronger by using it for its full potential, especially if it was trying to help her save a life.

The world becomes nothing but sounds and smells as she closes off her already limited sight. She grows increasingly anxious as she can feel herself drifting deeper and deeper into the crackling hazy plane of dreams. 

And so she arrives to her nightly premonition-but it's...worse than usual. It's somehow more vivid-more real. Her body seems more solid rather than a wisp that's merely observing and being blown around in the air. She doesn't know what to do; her breathing is echoing in her ears as the voices around her sound like they're underwater-muffled. She can physically feel her feet slightly sinking into the damp soil. Everything is still blurry, but, instead of the usual split second she gets in each section of the vision, she's staying for an alarmingly long time.

If she has to live this vision out to the fullest, she doesn't know if she'll came back to her dormitory sane. A possibility being that she'll have to stay with Madam Pomfrey for a week, sedated so her brain doesn't go into shock or psychosis. 

She knows that during this there is some sort of excruciating pain that vibrates throughout her body, but it's always only lasted for a millisecond. Is she going to have to endure it for seconds? Minutes? Hours?

(y/n) can't catch her breath, frantically spinning left and right to try and figure out where she is. Muffled yelling, fuzzy blasts of light―she hears it. The same thud of a body collapsing like she always does. But...she can see the body this time, her other sensory nerves are starting to be included.

Whoever it is crashes like dead weight onto the grass, a green light slowly fading around them. Although, there's something else that (y/n) notices that makes her body grow colder than it already was.

The corpse has a Hufflepuff long sleeve, Hogwarts crest on the black half. She begins to shake and as she can't tear her eyes away from the corpse, her inner eye harshly whispers to her over the muffled yelling that's been bombarding her hearing.

Death in the Triwizard Tournament. The prophecy will start with a death in the house of the badger, ending with the beloved...

"No," (y/n) grunts, clasping her hands over her ears. "Stop telling me about the prophecy! I don't know what you want, I don't know what you mean!"

Her knees buckle as tears slip from her eyes, her inner eye repeating the same sentence over and over. "Stop! Please," she pleads between sobs.

However, the wind is knocked out of her as she's blasted back, spine slamming hard into the ground as her body feels like there are a million knives carving into her bones and ripping out her veins. (y/n) tries to catch her breath, but she can't.

Eventually all she can do is convulse on the grass as broken, spaced out screams erupt so loud from her throat that she thought her mouth would soon start tasting like blood.

After about two excruciating minutes, her ears start ringing, her name being yelled and hands being felt lightly curled around her shoulder.

Everything collapses in an instant. The yells fading and her now painless body shooting upright in her dormitory bed, gasping for air.

Her eyes dart around to see her four dormmates standing near her bed with contorted looks of worry and fear. Three of them-Lavender, Katie Bell, and Parvati Patil- stand clustered behind a worried Hermione, who's sitting concerned on (y/n)'s bed, hand on one shoulder, nostrils flared and eyebrows raised like she always does whenever she's worked up or worried.

"Are you alright?" Hermione ask shakily, trying to keep her composure.

(y/n) nodded her head, "Um...what happened? Why do all of you look so...scared?"

The girls look at each other while Hermione gives a tight lipped smile. "You were, um, sort of shaking? The bed was starting to rattle on the floor which originally woke up Parvati and I. But...then you were making these horrible choking noises and whimpering like you were in pain. I waited to see if maybe it would get better, but it only got more severe, so I woke you up."

Hermione looked at the beads of sweat going down (y/n)'s forehead and the nauseous look on her face while her hands shook, Hermione opening and closing her mouth several times to try to say something. "Do you...want me to take you to Madam Pomfrey's? You don't look well."

(y/n) stared at Hermione for a second almost to try and process what she said.

No, she thought, I'm strong and I don't want people to know yet that this dream is getting alarming. I'm better than letting my power become my weakness.

She finally provided her dormmates with a fake and optimistic smile. "No, no, I'm good. Thank you though, Hermione. It was just a...really strong vision. I don't think it really had a lasting effect."

Hermione eyed her suspiciously, almost positive that this was an instance where her best friend was anything but ok. "Oh, uh, are you sure? It's really no trouble."

(y/n) rolled her eyes playfully, "Hermione Granger. The woman meant to be a mother. I'll be fine, 'Mione. I don't want to worry you unnecessarily. I mean look at all of you." She beckoned to the petrified girls, them all looking at each other and realizing they had forgotten to keep a straight face. "If you're going to freak out at least try to hide it. All of you, go back to bed before I give you Sleeping Draught."

Lavender, Parvati, and Katie all reluctantly went back to their bed's, mumbling shaky goodnights before slowly making the room dim. Hermione, however, stayed put, not even twitching a finger when the others left.

She leaned forward, whispering so the others didn't hear, "(y/n), I want you to be honest with me. You don't have to be scared alone, you know. You can tell me anything-you know that. Besides," she picks up the seer's hands, "remember how your hands would always shake last year? Especially during that period when you were getting all those visions about Sirius and that night in the Shrieking Shack? Well, they're doing it again. I know you won't say anything, but I'm just letting you know now for the future."

Hermione gets up while (y/n) put her hands under her knees, gingerly giving (y/n) one last look before dissapearing under her own covers.

The room returned to its dark abyss, providing nothing but silence and loneliness. However, (y/n) never went back to sleep...neither did Hermione. One stared at the fuzzy ceiling while the other bore their eyes into the slightly lit wood grooves of the floor.

The seer was scared from her recent experience with sleeping, while Hermione was scared something would happen while she was sound.

No one had noticed yet, but Hermione had lost more nights of sleep correlated to her best friend than she could count on her fingers and toes.

Ever since third year, Hermione had a sickening worry for (y/n) that constantly nested in the back of her head. Often times during the beginning of her seer abilities is when Hermione noticed that (y/n) stayed awake out of fear or contemplation in reference of her visions. So slowly she started to stay awake too. She at first did it out of guilt; if she has to lose so much sleep, how is it fair that I can rest next to her soundly for a full 8 hours? So eventually, she would suffer with her.

Until things got worse. (y/n) would start going asleep more often, excepting her visions in all their brutality. Hermione couldn't do the same, the guilt eventually turned to fear that while her eyes were closed, her best friend would need her; whether it be emotional support or the urgent need to be taken to Madam Pomfrey. Especially since this started in third year, the year of the big fight, the visions that no one knew the details of, making the anxiety worse-making Hermione's mind wander to the most horrific possibilities.

She kept telling herself it was just guilt, (It's just guilt, Hermione. If she has to face the most traumatizing visions every time she sleeps, why should you be able to sleep with zero disturbance?), but deep down she knew it was dreading concern.

Ever since then (y/n)'s visions have just gotten worse in fourth year, causing Hermione more guilt, more worry, and more sleepless nights.

And she knows she doesn't have to stay up, and that it isn't her job, or even that her staying up doesn't do any good.

But the truth is, Hermione didn't wake up from (y/n)'s convulsions or whimpers tonight. In fact, she was already awake, staring at the floor, anticipating, waiting.

She woke the seer up, and it might've not done anything, but Hermione had peace of mind knowing she might've prevented (y/n) from experiencing whatever pain or trauma it was any longer. The very thing she's been hoping she would be able to eventually do so that she knows she hadn't been staying up for nothing.

Even if she saved her suffering just for a few seconds, minutes, or hours.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(y/n) strutted into the Great Hall, robes partly undone while her tie hung loosely around her neck, under eye bags from her lack of sleep concealed by the distraction of her bright smile.

She headed over to Harry who was flipping through books while his cereal remained untouched, his free hand gripping his long hair.

He didn't even notice when she sat next to him, her having to put her hand on his to halt the one that was urgently skimming through pages in order to alert him of her presence.

"Harry, what on Earth are you doing?"

She waited for an answer after removing her hand from his once realizing it hadn't moved since he'd stopped. He stared at her, almost looking like he was trying to decide what side he should tell her.

He showed her the cover of the book he was previously looking through, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, a tattered book published in 1927 with a-z documentation of any beast you could think of ―including dragons.

Newt was very well known at Hogwarts, being a student here himself, especially for his interest in Care of Magical Creatures. Dragon wise, Newt, for a time, worked in the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau at the Ministry of Magic. He also spent World War I working with Ukrainian Ironbelly dragons on the Eastern Front.

Harry traced the words on the cover, "I'm trying to find all the information I can about dragons in general and about the specific ones I know will be a part of the first task. But, so far all I've learned that could be useful is that I definitely don't want the Hungarian Horntail and most of them could destroy me in seconds." He sighed, frustratingly straining his voice, "I just...don't know how I'm supposed to prepare. I don't know what exactly I'm doing with these dragons, I'm not allowed any magical item besides my wand, and frankly it probably be more useful to the task and my sanity if I just never even knew I was going against dragons." Harry let his forehead fall on the many books scattered around him, wishing he could run away from Hogwarts.

(y/n) grew increasingly sympathetic and worried for Harry, placing her hand on his back. "We'll figure it out, Harry. You said it yourself, our dilemmas always work themselves out. Why don't we take a break and then maybe at lunch something else will surface or Hermione can help us, ok? We will help you," she grabbed his pinky, "promise."

He groaned while he picked his head up and looked at her gratefully. "I do need to talk to Cedric. Fine, lets go."

(y/n) ears perked up at the sound of Cedric, now was her chance to start mission 'save Cedric Diggory from dying and starting the prophecy'. "Great!" (y/n) yelled, grabbing Harry's hand and racing out of the Great Hall and into the warmly lit, coldy negative, corridor.

Everywhere they looked as their feet carried them closer to an exit, people laughed while their badges spun dizzily as the words "Potter Stinks" scrutinized Harry.

Harry tried his best to ignore them, staring at (y/n) intently while she spoke reassuring words, but person after person purposely shoulder-checked Harry, tauntingly laughing, "You're a fraud, Potter" most of them ironically guys.

"Don't listen to them, Harry. You're better than all of them emotionally, personally, and physically," (y/n) pinched her lips together and looked forward with her eyes wide once she realized what she just said.

Harry let out a soft chuckle, trying to hide the fact that his cheeks were glowing a bubblegum color that was much too bright to not be noticed. Luckily, (y/n) was too nervous to look at his expression.

Cedric could be seen in the courtyard, sitting on a stone bench with his friends, all of them wearing the badges.

Harry and (y/n) were about to make their way through one of the stone archways, being purposely blocked by a group of older students. They towered over both of them, shoving the fact that they were wearing badges in Harry's face.

"Could you move please?" (y/n) scoffed. "You guys smell like you haven't showered in over a week and by you being this close the stench of your personality is making it worse."

Harry pushed through them, looking back as the two walked away.

Cedric lay horizontally with his robes cascading like a pattern of a softly calm waterfall, books clutched neatly against his fuzzy wool vest, all much too clean against the detail of the pollen that was stuck to the humid leaves. His hair was all placed like a plaster against the canvas of his scalp, unrealistically tame with zero effect from the humidity that sunk into everyone's skin. He was laughing peacefully, adjusting to an upright position once Harry and (y/n) stood before him.

All his friend were wearing the badges, laughing unjustly as Harry ignored them.

"Read the badge, Potter!"

Harry looked at Cedric antsy to run away, "Cedric, could I have a word?"

"Alright," Cedric said, getting up from his spot and laughing at the mockery being directed towards Harry and (y/n).

Harry waited a second, avoiding eye contact with Cedric most of the time. "Dragons. That's the first task. They've got one for each of us."

As soon as the word dragons left Harry's lips, Cedric had a face of worry and need of understanding, no longer displaying the childish persona that his smile projected.

"Come on, Ced!"

He ignored them, "Are...are you serious?" He asked with his brows furrowed, looking down seriously at the two fourth years. "And um...Fluer and Krum do they..."

"Yes," Harry answered quickly, trying to ignore everyone's yells.

"Come on Ced, leave them!"

"They're not worth it!"

Harry went to walk away, taking (y/n)'s hand with him, when Cedric held his shoulder. "Hey, listen, about the badges, I've asked them not to wear them-"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, still not making eye contact before dragging (y/n) away to an archway.

She could tell he became angrier from the increased pressure around her hand...and she saw why when she spotted a familiar redhead.

"You're a right foul git, you know that," Harry said angrily, not hesitating to release the words.

"You think so?" Ron said unbothered.

"I know so," Harry was breathing erratically, teeth grinding together.

"Anything else?" Ron asked sassily.

"Yeah," Harry thought for a moment, "stay away from me."

"Fine." Ron pushed Harry as he walked past them angrily, Seamus right behind him, eyeing them judgingly.

(y/n) finally managed to pry Harry away from the entryway, the poor Potter in his own daze about how everything turned against him in an instant. Like his words are nothing and he is the new face for the most hated.

"Come on, Harry," she would say repeatedly.

Finally breaking away, it was immediately the start of another conflict.

"Why so tense, Potter?" The voice bellowed from somewhere above them, and the annunciation couldn't belong to anyone other than Draco Malfoy himself. "My father and I have a bet, you see." Malfoy was siting in the center of a tree, Harry ignoring him and continuing to walk. "I don't think you're gonna last...ten minutes in this tournament."

Harry came to a stop, causing (y/n) to rub her temples with the palms of her hands, Draco jumping down from the tree with a smug smile. "He disagrees...he thinks you won't last five."

(y/n) held her breath, but knew it probably was the only select time that she doesn't get involved right away. Harry had anger, and many things he would like to say to every person that's been harassing him. Now was the time for him to let it all out on Malfoy, the perfect and most satisfying target.

Harry ripped from (y/n)'s grip, charging towards an overly confident Draco. "I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy." Harry shoved him with an angry glint in his eyes, immediately removing the smile Draco had only moments earlier. (y/n) would be lying if she said she wasn't proud and amused...or even more attracted to Harry. "He's vile and cruel...and you're just pathetic."

Harry turned around satisfied, before Malfoy had to open his mouth again, "Although, maybe if we're lucky your girlfriend will fail whatever task she decides to ruin. I'll give her two minutes tops till she's in bits."

Harry whipped around, (y/n) holding him back with the strap of his satchel. Surely, if she didn't, Malfoy would be knocked out on the floor at the moment. "Don't you ever talk to me about her like that. She could destroy you with her eyes closed."

He finally turned around with his best friend, (y/n) hearing Draco mumble something under his breath, "pathetic", before the booming voice of Moody cut through the tension like a fire being put out with poison.

"Oh no you don't, sonny."

The sound of a bewildered Draco Malfoy caused the two Gryffindors to turn back around, only to no longer see the platinum haired pureblood, but a bleach white ferret viciously pacing about the dirt.

"That'll teach you to cross someone when their back is turned." Moody grunted angrily.

Although his tiny paws weren't connected with the crumbling dirt shaded by the large trees for long, as his long and slender body was lifted into the air by the wand movements made by Moody, causing Draco to be vigorously thrusted up and down. 

People began gathering around, (y/n) looking over to see Harry have a genuine laugh come out of him, making her smile wide.

The urgent bustling of shoes was soon followed by the concerned tone of Professor McGonagall.

"Is that a...is that a student?" McGonagall asked frantically, switching her eyes between an entertained Moody and a distressed ferret.

"Technically it's a ferret," Moody answered matter of factly. Students kept gathering, stiffled laughter through clasped hands being heard from behind the Transfiguration professor as they watched the whole show go down.

Moody winked at Harry and (y/n) as Draco continued to be tossed around. Eventually, McGonagall gave a harsh glare as she noticed that the ex-Auror did not even flinch to stop the nonsense that she was clearly scolding. Taking matter into her own hands since she knew he wouldn't stop his antics, McGonagall waved her wand and muttered a counter spell, returning Draco to his true form with a swirl of colors.

"Come on, fessor'," (y/n) pleaded, "you could've let him learn his lesson by keeping him like that for a few more minutes...or days-," she stopped once the harsh glare McGonagall held was now directed towards her. "Fine, I suppose I can suffer through the Malfoy stench."

Draco scrambled fearfully to his feet, hair in multiple directions, disgusted and trembling expression etched onto his face. "My father will hear about this!" Draco yelled, and (y/n) can't help but roll her eyes in disbelief of his stupidity to challenge the professor, or to use the phrase that never seems to hold any truth no matter how many times he uses it.

"Is that a threat?" Moody grumbled, chasing towards Malfoy as the scared Slytherin went to cower behind the nearest tree trunk.

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall warned, trying to yell over the angry Alastor and hysterical crowd of students that had formed.

"Is that a threat!?"  Moody repeats. (y/n) muffles her laughter into Harry's shoulder, his eyes watery from his own aggressive laughter, Draco scrambling around the tree trunk.

"Professor!" McGonagall repeats, exasperated by the immaturity of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

The words of McGonagall pass through Moody's ears like wind, him continuing to chase and shout at the frantic Draco, who tries to run towards the castle for safety. "I could tell you stories about your father that would curl even your greasy hair, boy!" He continues to shout after the student even after he disappears from sight. "It doesn't end here-!"

"Alastor!" McGonagall yells, finally gaining the attention of Moody. (y/n) and Harry continue to chuckle in amusement as Moody finally makes eye contact with McGonagall with guilt, his eye twitching to spastic positions. "We never use Transfiguration as a punishment. Surely Dumbledore told you that."

Everyone was, for possibly the first time, frightened by the stone cold tone in McGonagall's voice. Even the ex-Auror that stood in front of her didn't dare to step anymore out of line than he already was.

"He might've mentioned it," Moody mumbles, glancing between the floor and McGonagall with his lips pinched, face representing a kid getting put in time out.

"Well, you will do well to remember it," McGonagall warned, face serious and wand pointed towards the man's scarred face. She turns around before waving her hands forward, shooing the crowd of students that has gathered around the scene in fascination and entertainment, "Away!"

The professor puffed his tongue out after McGonagall before speaking, "You,"  Moody said abruptly, shifting his gaze to Harry. He continued while limping past Harry, staff digging up dirt, "Come with me."

Harry looked between (y/n) and the escaping professor, a conflicted look on his face. "Do you wanna come-."

"No, no, you go and catch up with him, it seems important. I need to tell Cedric something, but I'll catch up with you at lunch, ok?" (y/n) pecked his cheek, laughing at his stuttering and lost expression as to where to go to follow Moody's voice that followed the innocent, light kiss. "Go," she shoved, him breaking out of his trance and jogging towards Moody.

She smirked as she stared after him before turning around and searching frantically for Cedric.

This was her start of the mission to save Cedric Diggory. It felt wrong but...right all at the same time. She holds a truth unknown by others, one that discreetly whispers to them the fact of his death through the wind, but (y/n) is the only one that has the power to actually listen and decipher the words into secrets. Everyone friends with Cedric sleeps soundly, dreaming of fairy tales and a place that provides warmth and magical wives tales, while (y/n ) dreams of the secret of death taking Cedric's hand brutally, a secret she wouldn't dare to speak. For her tongue creating melodic rhythms that are filtered as words detailing the Hufflepuffs demise creates the dystopian alternate reality of her messing up time itself; awful things happen to seer's who meddle with fate.

Maybe death in the Triwizard Tournament is Cedric's destiny-but maybe it's not. Well, because, what's the point of it? What's the point of (y/n)'s inner eye showing her this event over and over again if she was not meant to do anything about it? Could it showing her Cedric's death be more so a warning about whoever did it? Was she meant to save him? Being a seer has to mean something, but she just cannot figure out how to sort through the information she's given. It's not like all the future events she's presented are there just to torture her, there has to be a reason.

What is her purpose?

(y/n) finally catches sight of Cedric's fluffy hair, it moves as he turns his head over his shoulder to say goodbye to his friends. His cheeks flush like a rose being bled through his veins, and his smile suggests that happiness buds inside of his brain. This is confusing considering he has a life or death task tomorrow and Harry's nerves are flickering like pop rocks.

"Cedric!" (y/n) yelled, grimacing as the Hufflepuff drops a few books at the unexpected shout of his name from only a few feet away. He laughs nonchalantly, flashing his popular smile in amusement as he brings his long body towards the ground to retrieve his supplies.

"Didn't know we were randomly yelling each others names now," Cedric smiled, straightening up while looking down at the seer.

Flustered, she crossed her arms, "Cedric, I have to say, I never expected you to be the jumpy type. How are you going to face dragons if you can't even balls up to a fourth year?"

Cedric laughed teasingly, eyeing her amused, "Oh trust me, the Triwizard Tournament has got nothing on Cedric Diggory." The two laughed lightheartedly before the tension of silence was evident between them. He continued, "So...what's up? I'm assuming you're not here to talk about how unbeatable I am."

(y/n) smiled but paused, she hadn't thought this far ahead. All she knew was that she was going to go start her attempt to get closer with Cedric so that he'd trust her more in believing the advice she would give him, advice that he didn't know was saving his life. She would just have to slowly gain his trust.

Now, she stands in front of him wondering how. Maybe she could ask him to go to Hogsmeade? No, that would be kind of weird considering they've never had an exclusive time where they've hung out before. Wand lessons on how to defend yourself against dark magic so you don't die? Definitely not, too obvious and out of nowhere.

She thought for a moment, blurting something out once she realized Cedric was staring at her confused and growing more suspicious by the second. "I was thinking, we're both involved in this deadly tournament, why not help each other?"

Cedric raised an eyebrow, an intrigued side smirk growing on his pale face. He was deeply curious about what she could possibly do to help him with the tournament, or even why she would want to in the first place. "I'm curious...how so?"

She smiled, satisfied with his interest, answering with an overly confident tone, "It's quite simple, really. It all comes down to the tasks. We can help each other prepare for them and even just finding out what they are. I'm not sure which task I'm replacing Harry in, but I still need to prepare for each one just in case it becomes my task last minute. We'll help with researching any information we need to know, spells, everything. That way, we're prepared, have a good chance at winning, and lessen our chances of...um...dying."

She cringed at the last word, but soon realized that could be used as a general statement in regards to the Triwizard Tournament, and there's no way it could've hinted towards anything.

Cedric contemplated a moment, not being able to think of a reason this could be a bad idea. He released his grip of his books so that only one hand was firmly curled around the spines, his other hand outstretched in front of the pleased fourth year. "You've got yourself a new partner."

She grasps his free hand tightly, shaking it up and down in an aggressive handshake, "Very glad to hear it Mr. Diggory. Come to our table at lunch, we'll most likely be helping Harry prep for the dragons."

(y/n) bids one last goodbye, walking away excited, before Cedric's hand tugs her to a stop. She looks back in confusion, Cedric having a mischievous twinkle in his bright eyes. His aura radiating a joke-like feeling, almost close to that of the Weasley twins.

"I forgot to tell you," he began, going near her ears to speak a tad bit lower, "Ivan's in the library waiting for you, he just said to say 'homework' and you would know what it was about."

(y/n) tilted her head, brows furrowed, mouth frowning as the wheels in her brain smoked, "Homework...? Oh! Homework!" She ripped from Cedric's grip, racing in the direction of the library, hair billowing in the harsh breeze mixed up from her sprint. "Bye, Cedric!" She yelled one last time, before disappearing into the stone walls of the castle, leaving behind an amused Hufflepuff.

He shook his head, wondering how a girl could be so extraordinary and yet so confusing all at the same time.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(y/n) pressed her palms against the cold wooden doors that revealed a dusty library filled with crying students and books with cracked spines, falling out of their bindings.

It creaked on it's hinges, echoing like a warm melted ambiance of productivity and a sense of home not offered by a place; but a feeling.

She smiled as she could feel her shoes sink into the floor ever so slightly, the familiar scent of wood, old parchment, and pages of books to be read making her emotions flood with calm.

(y/n) stood still with her hands clasped in front of her, absorbing the aroma of crackling candles while her pupils absorbed every wave of light, converting them into shapes and colors, scanning for a particular combination of shapes and colors that correlate with Ivan Petrov.

She spotted him, frantically scribbling on a piece of parchment, barely even looking up whenever a cluster of girls would approach him. The Gryffindor couldn't tell if he was frustrated painfully by his homework (so much so that he had to ask (y/n) to practically tutor him) or if he was just downright anxious about a particular event burrowing in his brain.

(y/n) walks up to him gingerly, softly smiling down at his head of brown strands of hair. She lightly tapped her pointer finger against his broad shoulder, fingernail picking up some spools of brown wool from his sweater. "Ivan?"

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, (y/n) almost swears she saw him jump, but a bright expression washed over his features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she apologized, pulling out a seat next to him and sitting down.

Ivan cleared his throat, "No, no, you didn't scare me a bit I was just...really focused on this Divination homework."

"Right..." she laughed, slightly leaning over his shoulder to observe the words written on his multiple pieces of yellowed parchment, her hair cascading over his sweater. "So what ever happened to us doing this after the first task?" (y/n) asked teasingly, fiddling with the fibers of the feathers on his quill.

"Oh..." Ivan whispered, almost like he forgot to think of an answer earlier, "well...um...it just couldn't wait until then. A very urgent matter."

(y/n) scanned him suspiciously, "Uh huh...well, what are you struggling with?"

Ivan fanned out Tarot cards and multiple bunches of notes, "Palmistry and cartomancy are the main struggles right now. I'd like to start with palmistry...I had to sketch my palm and then say what each line is saying about my future, or something like that."

(y/n) nodded grabbing Ivan's hand, both of them slightly laughing at the warmth that cascaded all over. She traced her fingers over each groove, smirking at the blush growing on his face. "So, Ivan, this right here is your heart line and it curves upward to end between your middle and index finger, which tells me you have a caring and understanding personality. Very nice. This right here," she traces over a line curving near his thumb, "is your life line. Yours is curved completely around your thumb, which means you're in good physical and mental health. This one," she pokes at a mount of flesh below his index finger, "is called a mount. Yours is a Mount of Jupiter, which signifies love, beauty, and artistic sense. That's the basics. Did you write it down?"

He stared at her with a smirk, "Hm? Oh, uh, yeah right here."

She gathered the array of thick, rectangular cards that were scattered about the wooden table, detailed photos of the future colorfully illustrated. "Ok, now for cartomancy-."

The seer was interrupted by the feeling of Ivan's textured hands on top of hers, he was taking the tarot cards from her grasp, gently uncurling her fingers from around them. He began shuffling them in a skillful manner, "Sorry, I want to try to read your future first. That's how I'll learn right?"

She nodded her head, returning her hands to her lap, admiring the mesmerizing way he shuffled the cards, the sound of thick card stock rubbing together filling her ears as he stayed focused on his method.

Ivan tried to rub his lips together to hide his amused smile, a few cards dramatically jumping from the pile. Fanning the cards meant for her future on the oak table, Ivan disguises his laugh as a cough. "This one," he says, pointing to the first card, "means you will have guys showing interest in you because of your beauty and personality."

"Ivan, that's not-"

"This one," he interrupts, pointing to the middle card, "is the tarot card for love. Meaning you'll...soon experience...love."

"Well, that one's actually true. It's the lover's card which might mean a unique bond and deep connection between me and someone else and an authentic relationship that is built on mutual trust and respect." (y/n) smiles, having such a good feeling about how things are going to turn out for her and Harry soon. Everything has been smooth, and they're getting closer, bolder, and her butterflies only grow everyday.

His finger points to the last one, "This one says that you'll accompany me to a quiet trip to Hogsmeade...potentially." Ivan looks up hopefully, trying his best to keep his 'manly' composure, but ultimately failing.

(y/n) picked up the card and flicked it to his face, "Focus, loverboy. I'll go if you can tell me what this card actually means." She challenged, waving it in his face with an arched eyebrow.

He glanced between her and the card nervously, "Uhh, a new powerful group of wizards are going to come together?"

(y/n) sighed, "Sorry, no Hogsmeade trip this time. This is the four of wands, Ivan. A card of celebration and a safe and secure home environment, more seriously, wedding, engagement, or a relationship being more serious. Now seriously, let's finish your work."

For the next half an hour (much to Ivan's dismay) the duo slaved over palmistry papers and cartomancy deciphers, yawns escaping, but not from being tired, purely because Divination can truly be excruciatingly boring sometimes. Students came and went, candles melted shorter than parts of the wax could handle, some snuffing out completely.

Eventually, (y/n) looked at the time, jumping from the polished seat, "It's lunch! I'm going to be late!"

Ivan looks startled, but also slightly hurt by her sudden readiness to leave, "Ivan I'm so so sorry, I swear I'm not trying to leave, but I promised to help Harry and Cedric at lunch. This tournament is extremely dangerous, we have to try our best to be as ready as we can. Surely, you understand."

He nodded his head as he looked down, looking back up to meet her eyes reassuringly, "Don't worry about it, really."

She smiled at him gratefully before turning to leave, "(y/n)!" She turned back around, "Thank you for all your help, I really wouldn't have been able to do this on my own. I knew you would know everything and explain it well. Thanks again."

"Anytime," she smiled, yanking the old library door open, clattering the heels of her feet against the floor.

Wanting nothing more than to help Harry as much as she can...help ensure Harry's survival as much as she can.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(y/n) walked into the Great Hall, Harry whispering intensely to an obviously annoyed, bushy-haired Gryffindor.

"Hermione, I need your help," Harry whispered, leaning over the table slightly.

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Hermione snarled, frustratingly taking a bite out of her biscuit.

Harry huffed. "I need to learn the Summoning Charm by tomorrow."

(y/n) grew more confused as she approached closer to the table section where Harry and Hermione were sitting, she had completely forgot that Harry had been talked to by Moody. What had he told Harry that suddenly planted this urgent need to learn the Summoning Charm? He hates it, so he definitely wouldn't learn it unless he for sure knew he would need it.

She sits down next to Harry, making sure he could read her expression.

"Hey, where have you been? I started to think you were missing," Harry said, a slightly worried look on his face.

(y/n) was nervous to say considering she was with Ivan, but she would never lie about it. "I was...with Ivan in the library helping him with that Divination homework he was struggling with, remember?"

Harry's jaw clenched slightly, eyeing before turning his face back towards Hermione, "Yup, I remember. Have fun?"

(y/n) sighed, "It was just homework so nothing really exciting. Let's just move on, what's this about you needing to learn the Summoning Charm?"

Harry pulled his wand out, along with a couple items to practice with, "I just need to practice it for the first task, but I obviously don't have it down as of right now."

Cedric sat next to (y/n), smirking excitedly. "What's the situation, (l/n)?"

She smiled back at him, wishing she had useful information for him about the first task. "Hey, Ced. Still don't have much info on the first task, Harry's just practicing the Summoning Charm. You can do some research on dragons if you want, we haven't been able to find any useful information yet."

Cedric was handed a few books by a stressed Hermione, who opened them to certain pages that might be helpful for him.

"Knock yourself out," Hermione urged, turning back to Harry. "Now, Harry, I'm just going to give you random objects in the room and I want you to summon them. Starting with...that cold waffle on the floor."

She points to a neatly pressed waffle laying underneath a table behind Harry, most likely left from breakfast that morning.

Harry laughs, pointing his wand at the breakfast food, whsipering the incantation, successfully lifting it off the ground, getting it close to him before it falls solidly onto the floor. He sighs in frustration, anxiety becoming overwhelming as he thinks about what could happen if he doesn't master this charm.

"It's ok, Harry," Hermione reassured, "we just have to keep at it, you'll pick it up eventually."

That did not become the case. They practiced for the rest of lunch, but everything Harry tried to summon lost movement once it got halfway across the room. Almost like the more they practiced the more difficult it was for him to focus.

"Concentrate, Harry, concentrate," Hermione would repeat patiently.

"What d'you think I'm trying to do?" Harry snapped angrily. "A filthy great dragon keeps popping in my head, for some reason...ok let me try again..."

So he tried...and tried...and....tried, but Harry Potter, the great survivor, brave wizard that has dueled horrendous creatures and people wanting to take his life since he was eleven, couldn't master the Summoning Charm. One that is commonly used as a warm up since it's so simple.

"Harry, why don't you take a break. We have to go to Divination anyway," (y/n) suggested, gently taking his wand and putting it back, taking his hand to remove him for the Great Hall bench.

She knew he wanted, needed, to keep practicing, but Hermione wasn't going to skip Arithmancy, so there really wasn't a point in the duo staying without her.

Waving goodbye to Cedric, the two made their way to Divination, dreading the hour with Professor Trelawney.

She spent most of class saying how the position of Mars in relation to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths.

This just made (y/n)'s stomach flip, and not in the good way like it does when she holds Harry's hand. Yes, Trelawney is known for making absurd and inaccurate claims during her class, but she's also known for being a potential seer from making prophecies.

(y/n) had already been on edge about Harry's safety, especially considering her vision about Cedric and the fact that someone put their names in knowing they could be killed. The fact that Trelawney said people like Harry are going to have a sudden and violent death did not make her anxiety any better.

Harry didn't seem to be too enthused either, "Well, that's good," Harry said loudly, showing his temper, "just as long as it's not drawn-out, I don't want to suffer."

(y/n) tried her best not to start freaking out, "Harry," she whispered, "please just...don't."

He looked over at her, immediately regretting the sarcastic comment, he gently placed a hand on her back, "Sorry...I'm just fed up with it. I won't let anything happen, promise."

Ron was staring at them, wanting to laugh at Harry's comment, but standing his ground at being mad at him.

The rest of Divination was a disastrous blur. Harry headed to an empty room to meet up with Hermione and hopefully master the Summoning Charm.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Harry asked, concerned for how she'd been acting since Trelawney's comment.

(y/n) nodded, barely looking up, she couldn't. Looking at his face was much to difficult at the moment. "It's fine, really. You need to practice, I'll just do some homework back in the dormitory."

"Ok...well, I'll see you tomorrow before-" he stopped, not wanting to mention the first task, "I'll see you tomorrow."

She stood as he walked away, not being able to bear the thought of never getting the chance to experience thee feeling of loving Harry Potter, being loved by Harry Potter.

They were so close yet so far away, and she felt like each time they both started getting more bold and closer to crossing the lines of only being friends, they backed away. Returning to a normal teenage friendship.

She had to tell him how she felt tomorrow.

Because who knows if after he deals with dragons that there will even be a Harry for her to proclaim to.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The moonlight flooding the dormitory ceiling dripped into (y/n)'s crystal gaze. She thought endlessly in her own soliloquy of broken hearted what if's and a desire to melt like candle wax.

Thoughts filled with such sadness and a tragedy that poets search the universe to write about, to cry over a feathered quill and old parchment to mix a combination of metaphors that would break the hearts of whoever dared to decode their words.

In less than 24 hours, Harry would come face to face with fate trying to choose whether his path would continue with life or death. Statistical probabilities swarming her thoughts.

(y/n) constantly playing scenario after scenario of all the possibilities of tomorrow. Normally, people would at least try to fall asleep, think to themselves that the problem can't even be dealt with until the next day, so why bother stressing about it while not being able to do anything about it anyway?

Well, she can't do that for a multitude of reasons, starting with the fact that she has such an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness that she physically feels nauseous from, almost like motion sickness. Most obviously, if she dares to close her eyes even for a second, there's a good chance she will fall asleep. Falling asleep guarantees that she'll be met with her vision of Cedric that only gets more graphic each night, the pain gets more real each night.

She hadn't even noticed how long she had been blankly staring at the wood above her. She sometimes would notice how the shadow of the window panes stretched out as the moon changed positions. Most of the time, she couldn't see the wood because she was zoned out into her thoughts.

Hermione eventually creaked open the door, seemingly a little past ten, quietly climbing into bed without a word. (y/n) glanced at her, but immediately looked away once she saw the disappointment and defeat on the bushy-haired girl's face.

She knew what that meant and she refused to believe that she and Harry made no more progress with the Summoning Charm. Harry had told them the plan that Moody had brought up. He hinted the fact that Harry's talent resides on his Firebolt, and although they weren't allowed any magical items, they were allowed their wands.

Quite literally, Harry's success depends on his ability to execute the Summoning Charm.

This didn't make (y/n)'s task to get a decent night's rest any easier. However, her body overpowered her mind around eleven, her sleepily slurring, 'no no no', over and over, her eyes eventually becoming way too heavy to keep open as her subconscious drifted to the realm of sleep.

As colors and shapes started to form, she realized none of it was familiar. Soon she would find out that what she was about to witness was worse than the normal vision she experienced every night.

How had she escaped the Cedric vision? The one where her body was paralyzed with pain?

Her sight cleared, senses bombarded with bright light and excruciatingly loud cheering. (y/n) looked around, seeing every student and teacher at Hogwarts in the stands that surrounded a deep pit filled with...dragons.

She didn't like this in the slightest, her heart sinking to her stomach as her breath quickened.

The seer recognized the dragon from the textbooks her and Harry had drowned themselves in; it was the Hungarian Horntail, one of the fiercest, most dangerous dragons.

She continued to watch the scene unfold in front of her, but regretted that choice as she could see a stumbling Harry enter the area with the dragon.

The fear in his eyes could be scene from the top seats, his hand shakily fumbling for his wand. (y/n) didn't like this, not one bit. The cheering around her turned muffled and groggy, while her eyes remained locked onto Harry.

He was doing well, hiding behind rocks and casting spells, some advanced ones here and there. The trouble, as well as the fear, arose as (y/n) could tell by his wand movements and repeated muttering that he was trying to summon his Firebolt with the charm he had in no way perfected.

Many moments passed, as he continued to mutter 'Accio' while simultaneously dodging anything the Horntail threw-or breathed- at him.

It all became too much, too many things to focus on at once. You need concentration when performing the Summoning Charm, even more so when you don't have it down, and Harry couldn't juggle it all while trying to focus on the charm.

It all went downhill in only a millisecond, one swift movement and it was like the crowd was casted with a silencing charm, whispers and gasps filling the cold breeze.

(y/n) stood trembling, hyperventilating as she looks down at the pit to see Harry's bright eyes staring up at the cloudy sky dull as the life left them in an instant.

Blood. So...so much blood. She didn't even know a human had so much blood, I mean she knew the number but never considered just how much until Harry's, her Harry, was pooling into dirt and clumping into hard powder.

While Harry was trying to summon his Firebolt, the dragon had wound up it's sharp tail, swiveling it, hitting Harry square in the chest, sending him flying backwards as he slammed into a rock. Something in his body made a cracking noise, as the dragon continued to mutilate him to make sure her egg was safe. He became unrecognizable as the fire burnt his skin, melting and charring.

Charlie Weasley rushed to the pit, calming the dragon and containing it while Dumbledore and many other professors, faculty, and Ministry members rushed to cover the sight of Harry's body, bringing it back into the tent.

(y/n) hadn't even realized she had been screaming until she looked over to see a tear stricken Hermione trying to snap her out of it, pulling her into a tight hug.

The feeling of Hermione's protective arms slowly began to almost get softer as the feeling turned to merely a lingering sensation.

(y/n) sat up straight in her bed, back in her dormitory, back to reality, to the during.

She could feel beads of sweat sting her eye as they dripped down, not knowing if her cheeks were wet from the perspiration or from tears.

Whatever that was could be three things. A vision, an actual dream, or a vision tainted with her fears.

Although she didn't feel like she did after her nightly visions. No headache, no pounding, no whispering. But what if it was? Is she really supposed to ignore this? Suppose to take that chance?

The seer peeled the moist sheets from her body, gasping as she headed over to her heavy trunk, shakily pulling out the Snitch, tapping it three times repeatedly.

'If you ever need me, tap three times and I'll be there.'

She grabbed a sweatshirt, knowing Harry couldn't come up to the girls' dormitory, she rushed down to the Gryffindor common room.

Considering the frantic speed in which she walked, (y/n) arrived early to the common room, praying to whatever's out there that Harry happened to be awake, which she assumed he was, because how can you get sleep the night before you're supposed to face dragons?

She paced back and forth, biting her nails with her brows furrowed in concerned thought, as one arm rested across her chest, the elbow of the hand being bitten resting on top of it.

The seer stopped in her tracks as she could hear the fast paced footsteps of Harry speeding down the stairs.

He reached the bottom, hair a mess, gasping for air as he probably ran, the neck of his hoodie crooked. Harry scanned (y/n)'s expression, being able to tell she had been crying. He rushed over, gripping her arms.

Considering she spam tapped the Snitch at such an hour worried him greatly. He could see the pain in her eyes, the dark shadow that rested beneath them, the shine on her face from tears and sweat, the fact that her bottom lip was hidden from trying to stop herself from sobbing.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, sitting her down on the maroon sofa that they had shared many moments on.

She took a deep breath as she looked down at her lap, hands still on his forearms, hari cascading around her. "Harry," she whispered, finally looking up. "We need to practice that Summoning Charm, right now."

Harry stared at her confused, cautiously speaking, "Right...right now? It's nearly twelve-thirty in the morning, (y/n)."

"Yes, right now," she said seriously, voice trembling as she got up, gathering items from around the room and placing them in random spots.

He got up, standing behind her and grabbing hold of the hand that was frantically placing objects. "What is this about?"

She turned around, breathing harsh as her nostrils flared. "Harry, I feel like you should be able to figure this out by now." He stared at her blankly. "I'm a damn seer. Actively been one since third year. I'm a seer so I see things. Things that traumatize me and sometimes make it hard to sleep at night. I saw something, Harry. So I need you to trust me when I say we need to practice this Summoning Charm. By the look on Hermione's face tonight when she came back, something tells me you still don't have it down."

He nods, slowly releasing her wrist as she continues to set up the room, him returning near the fire, staring into it and thinking about all the things Sirius had said. How he wishes he was here to guide him.

(y/n) crouches down next to him, gently placing his wand into his hand. "We'll begin easy. I want you to remember to really focus, even if it's hard, your mind is strong. Now, bring that pen on the table over to us."

The lesson began as soon as Harry managed to pick up the pen, but, as uaual, it stopped midway.

(y/n) spoke reassuring words to him, urging him to not become defeated, to try again.

He tried, one item after another. Quills, books, parchment, pillows, pens, ink jars, pictures. Each and every one of them dropped mid path, some not even making it that far.

The fear in both of them grew with each failed attempt, for as time began running out faster, the reality that his life could possibly rely on a simple incantation weighed heavy.

Harry threw his wand to the couch, sitting down in a chair with his head in his hands. (y/n) rushed over, lifting his head. "Harry, you can't give up now, please."

He looked up at her and into her eyes, seeing the fear that took them over. "I'm sorry, but this is just useless. I don't know what I'm going to do. This was my only solid plan, and it's frankly impossible!" Harry yelled. He got up from the chair, moving back to the crouching position in front of the fire, again wishing he had Sirius to guide him. "This is life or death," he whispered shakily, "and I'll be honest with you, I'm bloody terrified at the direction it's leaning right now. I've always felt the chances of me dying with the things I've had to do, but this time feels inescapable."

She could hear the anger and worry in his voice as she sat on her knees next to him, taking his pinkie with hers. He turned to her, jaw clenched, and she could see his eyes become glossy with tears. "It all comes down to this one simple charm. Godric," he yelled again, "you know, if it weren't for this damn scar maybe my life could actually be normal for once. It's useless, just a permanent target for enemies to see."

"Hey," (y/n) whispered, grabbing his face gently, "I adore this scar. This is Harry Potter's scar, and his only. You are truly one of a kind, and every time I see that scar, it reminds me of just how special you are." She delicately moved his hair out of the way, his breath hitching as her skin touched his. She traced the lightning bolt shape as she spoke, "This is the mark that I love to see, purely because it belongs to you. You've been my best friend since we were eleven, and when this whole seer thing started, when you noticed I was breaking down you picked up my pieces. Although we had a rough patch, you still came back because you care. You came back because you're caring and a genuinely good person, Harry. That's what that scar represents."

He stared at her deeply, when his eyes flickered to her lips, (y/n) cleared her throat and stood up slowly, offering him her hand. "Now, let's just practice some more. You'll get it eventually, promise."

Harry took her hand, smiling at her gratefully as she grabbed his wand and placed it in his hand. "Now lets kick some Accio ass," she winked, as he laughed and pointed to a small pocket journal on the wooden table with his wand.

It flew much farther than the other attempts, only dropping once a couple feet from Harry. "Hey!" Harry yelled excitedly, "That wasn't half bad!"

(y/n) laughed excitedly, "Great! Do it again, you're almost there."

Forty-five minutes passed, and Harry finally managed to get a quill to fly into his hand. After that one success, it was as though something clicked, because after that, every try was a successful one.

He continued to seal it in one last time, "Accio Dictionary!" he yelled, ripping the Runes book from (y/n)'s hands.

"Much better, Harry. You've got it!" (y/n) exclaimed excitedly, a tired but accomplished expression on both their faces. "Ok, now you should go get some rest. Lord knows you'll need it tomorrow."

She continued up the stairs before Harry called after her, "(y/n)? Thank you, for...everything. Sleep easy tonight, alright?"

"Anytime. Especially to keep the Boy Who Lived...well, living," she said, before she continued to her dormitory.

That night, (y/n) was a little less afraid to close her eyes.

While Harry lay in bed, tracing over his scar and for once not completely hating it as he thought of the words she spoke to him with certainty.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The night did not treat (y/n) well. She had normal dreams for once, but occasionally got the flash of Harry again, making her extremely nervous for this task.

Classes stopped midday, the morning going by way too quickly. Everyone said either goodluck, or that they'd prepared a box of tissues for Harry, no in between.

Harry barely spoke all morning, most of the time he spent class practicing the Summoning Charm on small objects, although he did hit Professor McGonagall on accident. Of course, she didn't say anything about it, for she understands the stress and pressure he's feeling.

It was lunch and Harry was venting to Hermione about the charm.

"The Firebolt's going to be much further away than the stuff I practiced with, it's going to be in the castle, and I'm going to be out there in the grounds." Harry whined.

"That doesn't matter," Hermione said firmly. "Just as long as you're concentrating really, really hard on it, it'll come. Harry, you got this."

Professor McGonagall hurried towards Harry in the Great Hall, lots of people watching as she reached him.

"Potter, the champions have to come down into the grounds now. You have to get ready for your first task!" McGonagall yelled, freaking out about the time.

"Ok," Harry said hesitantly, his fork clattering on his plate.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"Harry, you'll do great, I promise you. Just concentrate, like we practiced," (y/n) smiled, squeezing his hand before he was dragged away and into the corridors.

(y/n) turned to Hermione dramatically, worry immediately taking over her expression. "Hermione, I'm terrified."

Hermione shook her head while playing with her cereal, "He'll be fine, (y/n). You made sure of it when you didn't come back to the dorm until two in the morning."

"No you don't understand. I had a dream, Hermione. That Harry died because he couldn't summon his Firebolt." (y/n) said, wanting to just take his place.

"Wait, (y/n), are you allowed to tell me that?" Hermione asked worried.

"I don't care at this point! Not if Harry could die, but besides, I don't even really think it was a vision, but you never know." (y/n) sat with her head down, wondering what she could do. "Hermione, we have to go see him."

"Can't it wait a few-"

"Come on!"

(y/n) drags Hermione to the first task, the two finding a seat in the overcrowded arena, having to make their way around the crowd of students that surrounded Fred and George with their bet money.

The day was gloomy, the grey clouds reflecting (y/n)'s feeling of hopelessness and dim isolation. Hermione was smart enough to put her hair in a low ponytail, a rolled design on the sides of her head. (y/n)'s was getting messier by the second as the wind ripped through it.

She stared shakily at the pit beneath her, dragons would soon be there. It was the same exact area that she witnessed the horrific scene.

The image of Harry lifeless flickered before he eyes in the very spot in front of her.

"I can't let him do this," she whispered. "Come on, 'Mione. Let's go wish him luck."

The two girls rushed over to the Champions tent, (y/n) furious as to why Harry is even allowed to participate in the first place.

"Psst.." Hermione whispers, as she presses against the thin tent cloth. (y/n)'s hand is clutching hers tightly, both of them desperate to break through. They feel the tent wall ruffle in the presence of someone on the other side. "Harry, is that you?"

"Yeah.." Harry answers, he too pressing against the cloth. He can slightly see Hermione through the slightly lifted section that she has in her free hand. (y/n) wanted to cry at the sound of his voice, the only comfort she has right now.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asks nervously, eyes glued to a spot in the tent as she nervously licks her lips. "Okay? The key is to concentrate." (y/n) wanted to scream, because lord knows that that very thought has already been racing through his head, and that's the best advice she gives? "After that, you just have to..." she cuts off, not wanting to finish the reality of things.

"Battle a dragon?" Harry finishes bluntly, seemingly unbothered. A stressed silence falls over the trio. (y/n) couldn't take knowing she was so close to him, they were only separated by a thin, patchy cloth.

She pushes it aside, slinging her arms around his neck, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist as he buried his face into her shoulder. Her lavender scent calming him down tremendously. (y/n) just hoped and prayed that what she saw was just a dream, because she wouldn't be able to take it if something were to happen to him and she knew about it.

They were startled by the sound of a loud click and the bright shock of a light. "Young love," the voice taunted dreamily. "How..." (y/n) blushed while Harry's hand remained on her back, the blonde woman staring at them to think of the right word. "Stirring," she finishes, pointing satisfactorily at a floating pad of paper, a floating quill scratchily scribbling. "If everything goes...unfortunately today, you two may even make the front page."

(y/n) gaped unbelievably at the woman, "There's a chance he could not make it out alive and your first thought is the publicity? Who are you anyway?"

The blonde woman smirked judgingly over the green glasses the rested just below the bridge of her nose. "Rita Skeeter, journalist and head of being able to get all the juicy details."

(y/n) faked a smile as she shook her hand harshly, "(y/n) (l/n), a journalists worst nightmare."

Rita eyed her amusingly, "So you're the Lupin..."

Before she could respond, a deep voice cut through. "You 'av no business 'ere," Viktor Krum stated suddenly, glancing over a few times to Hermione before glaring back at Rita. "Zis tent is vor champions...and friends."

"No matter," Rita says chipperly, eyeing Krum up and down, "we've got what we wanted."

"Good day, champions," Dumbledore bellows, entering the tent readily. (y/n) shuffles closed to Harry, wishing they could just do this together. "Gather round, please. Now, you've waited, you've wondered, and at last the moment has arrived. A moment only four of you can fully appreciate," Dumbledore, unknowingly, places an arm around Hermione, who awkwardly stands. Once realizing who was there, Dumbledore turned back around confused, "What are you doing here, Miss Granger? Miss (l/n)?"

"Sorry," Hermione muttered grumpily, grabbing (y/n)'s arm, "we'll be going."

"Hermione no, I have to stay," (y/n) whispered, hooking her arm with Harry's.

"(y/n)-"

"Nope, remember what I told you at breakfast this morning, 'Mione."

Hermione sighs, "Fine."

Harry looks down awkwardly, Dumbledore reassuring the bushy haired girl. "Miss Granger, (y/n) is technically considered a champion, it's alright. She'll meet you at your seats soon. Barty, the bag."

"Champions, in a circle around me. Miss Delacour, over here," Crouch goes around, putting the champions into certain spaces, leaving more from for Harry considering he had (y/n) and Dumbledore. "And Potter, Mr.Potter, over here. That's right. Now, Miss Delacour, if you will."

Crouch ushers the velvet, purple bag towards the blonde Veela. She reluctantly puts her gloves hand inside of the bag, her body jerking as she flinches from the sizzle of the 'dragons'.  She pulls out a miniature, grass green dragon, placing it in the palm of her fingerless gloves. She looks up at Maxime confused, as the dragon spits tiny clouds of fire.

"The Welsh Green," Crouch announces, drifting over to the next champion.

"Mr.Krum." Krum fearlessly places a bandaged hand into the bag, blankly pulling out a- "Chinese Fireball, ooh."

Crouch finally moves to Cedric, the Hufflepuff nervously placing his hand inside. There were only two dragons left, one being the Horntail. This made (y/n) nervous for two reasons. First, she's had visions of Cedric and his demise in the tournament. Second, the...dream or whatever it was she had last night of Harry.

Cedric pulled out his model dragon, that was also green. "The Swedish Short-Snout," Crouch smiles, "which leaves..."

"The Horntail," Harry whispered frantically to himself.

"What's that, boy?" Crouch asks abruptly, looking down closely at the Potter boy who winced and muttered a quick, nothing.

(y/n) gripped onto his sleeve tightly as he reaches his hand into the bag, seething at the hot flames. Sure enough, he pulls out the spiky bastard.

"The Hungarian Horntail," Crouch slowly announces, Harry sharing a look with Dumbledore.

(y/n)'s blood went cold. That's the kind that was in her dream. She can't take that chance, not when there's something she can do about it. "I want this to be the replacement."

Everyone stares at her confused, most hearing her speak for the first time.

"What are you referring to?" Dumbledore asks, tilting his head inquisitively.

"My task. The one task that I can replace him with? It needs to be this one."

It felt right, but she just hoped that she wouldn't just be following the same path. Hoped that she wouldn't gift Harry the pain that she had experienced in her dream.

Was this the right choice? The words can't be taken back. All she can do is take it one blazing step at a time.

-

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I've been wondering why it's been taking me so long to update and that's because these fourth year chapters are becoming 12,000 words long. I had to make it so the next chapter was the first task because i had 11,000 words and still hadn't gotten to it....so i think im going to lean away from the book reference because it's making my chapters too long I think. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this very messy chapter : )

I love u endlessly <3  until next time~i

#Mrs Potter Squad

#BEMSUPREMACY