❝YOU'RE NOT ALONE, HARRY...❞

.・。.・゜✭・.

"D'you feel any different?" Lee asks anxiously, staring at Fred. It is early on Saturday morning, and Ara is sitting cross-legged on George's bed in the sixth-year boys' dormitory, wearing Fred's jumper with Jasper on her shoulder, waiting for both twins and Lee to take the Aging Potion. Fred has just taken a swig from the phial and is shuddering as he lowers it from his lips.

"No." He grimaces, passing it to George. "But it tastes like arse!"

"Well, what'd you expect from a potion with newt spleens in it?" Ara giggles, shaking her head.

George endures his own sip with similar theatrics, and when it's Lee's turn, he stares apprehensively into the phial, then shrugs. "Well, cheers, I suppose." He tilts it up into his mouth and just as quickly passes it to Ara, gagging. "Oh, bloody hell, that's shit!"

Ara laughs, replacing the cork and stuffing the phial into the pocket of Fred's jumper. "You boys are so dramatic. Do you feel older?"

"And wiser." Fred nods, winking. "Let's go! I feel lucky."

He takes Ara's hand, pulling her off George's bed, and after she drops Jasper off in her dormitory, they all head down the stairs and out of the common room, chattering excitedly about the prospect of being chosen as the Hogwarts champion.

When they reach the entrance hall, there's a small crowd milling about, staring at the Goblet of Fire, which is sitting on a stool in the center of a thin golden circle drawn on the floor. Ara guesses this is Dumbledore's Age Line.

"Ready to kick that Age Line's ass?" George whispers, and Lee laughs out loud.

They hurry over to the edge of the hall, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione are standing, staring at the goblet curiously.

"Done it," Fred says excitedly in a low voice. "Just taken it."

"What?" Ron frowns.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains." Fred rolls his eyes.

"One drop each," George says. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee adds, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know." Hermione is wearing her signature stern expression now. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

Ara leans in close to Hermione and mutters, "You know, I don't either, but after six years knowing the twins, I've learned they've got to touch the stove to find out if it's hot. Let them have their fun, Hermione."

"Ready?" Fred says, glancing at George and Lee apprehensively, who both nod. "C'mon, then, I'll go first."

He pulls the parchment with his name on it out of his pocket, and Ara covers her mouth with her hands, her chest tightening anxiously, as he steps up to the line carefully.

There's a pregnant pause, in which everyone in the hall seems to hold their breath, and then Fred steps over the line.

And nothing happens.

George gives a jubilant shout and leaps after him–

POP.

There's something like an electric zap, and Fred and George are thrown back out of the circle, skidding across the stone floor and hitting the wall. Another loud POP, and both of them have instantly grown long, white, Dumbledore-esque beards.

Oh, thank God. Ara breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that the Aging Potion really didn't work, and then joins the rest of the hall in laughing at the twins' misfortune. Fred and George are laughing, too, climbing to their feet and examining each other's brand new facial hair.

"I did warn you." Dumbledore appears in the doorway of the Great Hall, his tone rich and full of amusement. "I suggest, Mr. Jordan and Miss Sayer, that you escort your friends up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Mr. Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little, too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Lee is nearly useless, doubled over with laughter, so Ara takes both twins by the arms and leads them up the stairs to the hospital wing.

"So," Fred says, turning to face Ara, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "am I handsome with the beard?"

Ara finds, curiously, that he is, but chooses instead to say, "I think it suits George better, actually."

George is quite pleased with himself at this, and Fred is outraged, and Ara just laughs as they argue over who is better-looking. She can certainly breathe easier, knowing she won't have to worry about either of them making it through the Tournament alive.

Luckily, Madam Pomfrey is able to solve their rather hairy situation with a single potion, which she says will reverse the growth within an hour, so Ara and Lee lie at the end of their hospital beds, talking about who they think will be champion for Hogwarts at the end of the day. All of them are hoping for Angelina, who said she was entering, and Ara is the only one who wouldn't mind Cedric being the champion. He's always been kind to her. However, they are all opposed to Warrington, who is rumored to have gotten up early this morning and put his name in.

Once Fred and George are beardless again–although George complains fiercely about his chin being itchy, and Fred confesses he rather liked the beard–the four of them leave the hospital wing and head back to the common room, where a warm fire is blazing in the fireplace and rain patters softly against the windows. Ara curls up in a corner of one of the sofas, reading Hogwarts: A History, which she's had to wait on for nearly two months from the library, while Fred naps on her lap, and George and Lee play Wizarding chess across from them.

Before any of them know it, the afternoon has turned to evening, the sun is setting, and it's time for the Halloween feast–and the selection of the champions. Butterflies tickle in Ara's stomach as she follows the boys down the stairs into the entrance hall, joining the queue of students from all three schools milling into the Great Hall.

They are some of the first Gryffindors into the hall, and Fred, George, and Lee insist on finding seats at the very front of the hall, nearest the Goblet of Fire, which is sitting on its stool in front of Dumbledore's place at the staff table.

After a few minutes, Harry, Ron, and Hermione appear through the crowd and choose seats next to them. Harry sits down next to Ara, and she wraps an arm around him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head affectionately. "Hi, Harry. You okay?"

Harry nods, eyeing the goblet excitedly. "Fine. Wonder who it's gonna be."

"Hope it's Angelina," says Fred from across the table.

"So do I!" Hermione's eyes are as round as dinner plates. "Well, we'll soon know!"

And as things often do when you are waiting for something, the Halloween feast seems to drag on for days. Ara loses count of how many times she glances up at the staff table, hoping to see Dumbledore standing to address the hall. But he is always focused on his plate, or engaging in conversation with either Mr. Crouch or Ludo Bagman.

Until finally, after about a thousand years, the sparkling golden plates clean themselves, and Dumbledore pushes back his chair. All conversation instantly ceases, like a candle quickly snuffed out. On Ara's left, George's shoulders tense; on her right, Harry presses against her arm, leaning around her to see Dumbledore better.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," says Dumbledore, his voice echoing through the otherwise-silent hall. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them, please, to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber, where they will be receiving their first instructions."

George grips Ara's forearm tightly, nearly falling out of his seat with excitement as Dumbledore pulls out his wand and extinguishes almost all of the candles in the Hall with a sweep of his arm. The only light comes from the candles inside the carved pumpkins and the blue-white flames of the goblet, which everyone in the hall is staring at, waiting for anything to happen.

"Any second," Lee hisses from across the table, next to Fred.

And then the flames go from blue to white, the entire hall gasps collectively, and a piece of parchment flies out of the goblet into Dumbledore's hand. He holds it out, looking down through his spectacles at it, and reads aloud: "The champion for Durmstrang...will be Viktor Krum."

The hall erupts into cheers. Ara cranes her neck to look over at the Slytherin table and sees Krum rising to his feet, walking up to the staff table and disappearing through the door off the chamber, which Dumbledore had mentioned earlier.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Professor Karkaroff shouts loudly, clapping enthusiastically. "Knew you had it in you!"

It is only seconds after this that the goblet flashes red, and another bit of parchment lands in Dumbledore's outstretched hand. "The champion for Beauxbatons," he says clearly, "is Fleur Delacour."

More cheers and applause ring out as a tall, thin girl rises from the Ravenclaw table and glides up to the staff table. She is almost too beautiful, with long white-blonde hair, pale skin, and an odd shine to her movements, as if everything she does is magic.

But as she disappears through the side door, the hall hushes once more. This is the moment nearly all of them have been waiting for: the choosing of the Hogwarts champion. Ara heard that Roger Davies also put his name in, so every House has a stake in this tournament now. Everyone is rooting for their own potential champion.

George's grip on Ara's arm is so tight she's losing feeling in her fingers, and he squeezes even more as the goblet's flames turn red for the third and final time. The butterflies erupt in her stomach once more when Dumbledore pulls the parchment from the air and reads aloud, to total silence: "The Hogwarts champion...is Cedric Diggory!"

Fred scowls and says something, but his words are drowned by the uproar of the next table: Hufflepuff students are screaming at the top of their lungs, leaping up and down with joy, as Cedric, grinning and blushing embarrassedly, makes his way up to the front of the Hall and follows Fleur and Viktor into the side chamber.

"At least it's not Warrington," says Ara into George's ear, as his shoulders slump disappointedly. She knows how very much he would've liked to cheer on Angelina in the tournament.

"Excellent!" calls Dumbledore, as the Hufflepuffs finally quiet down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real–"

Dumbledore stops abruptly, and Ara gasps, clapping a hand to her mouth.

The goblet's flames have flashed red once more.

"What–?" George sucks in a breath, eyes wide.

Dumbledore pulls this last piece of parchment from the air, frowning slightly, and looks down at it. His frown deepens, and for a moment, Ara is unsure if he will read it at all.

But then he clears his throat and says, "Harry Potter."

No one applauds. The hall is deafeningly silent.

Ara glances down at Harry, who is sitting still, mouth slightly ajar, staring at Dumbledore as if frozen.

Then he seems to wake from a trance and look around him. The entire hall is staring at him now.

"I didn't put my name in," he says blankly, looking first at Ara, and then at Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindor table. "You know I didn't."

Ara is very confused. If Fred and George weren't able to fool the goblet by aging themselves up a few months, how was Harry able to convince it to think him three years older?

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore calls his name, which echoes hauntingly in the silent hall. "Harry! Up here, if you please."

Ara nudges Harry's shoulder pointedly. "Go."

Slowly, as if drugged, Harry rises from the table and makes his way up to the staff table. Everyone is staring at him, intensely quiet, until he reaches Dumbledore, who gestures him to the side door without a smile. In fact, no one is smiling. Everyone is utterly confused.

Moments after Harry disappears into the side chamber, Ludo Bagman rises from his own chair and follows him, plastering an excited smile onto his face and waving at the students. Whispers are now rising from the hall, as students turn to one another and ask bewilderedly how a fourth-year was able to get beyond the Age Line.

Dumbledore leans to the side, as Mr. Crouch whispers something into his ear, and they converse seriously for a moment, and then Dumbledore turns back to face the hall, now smiling graciously. "Thank you all. I confess it is late, and I am growing old and tired. Tomorrow begins a new day! Good night."

With that, he turns and follows Mr. Crouch, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Professors McGonagall and Snape into the side chamber.

"How the bloody hell did Harry get his name in?" George bursts out, the moment they reach the entrance hall with the rest of the students.

"Wonder if he asked a seventh-year to put it in for him," Lee says excitedly. "At least it's a Gryffindor, as well, if Angelina didn't get in–"

"George, let's go down to the kitchens." Fred has moved past his initial shock and is now rubbing his hands together with glee. "Get some food, butterbeer, have a great party waiting for Harry when he gets back."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Ara says quietly, shaking her head. She is still in shock herself, and now worry is beginning to set in: Harry has a major disadvantage, being three years younger than the other champions, and the tournament is historically dangerous and requires great magical ability. But she knows Harry well enough to know that a loud and raucous party is not what he will want when he returns to Gryffindor Tower.

But Fred and George are set on the idea, and there is nothing Ara can do to change their mind. So she excuses herself from helping, retrieves Jasper, a notepad, and a pencil from her dormitory, and heads to her favorite spot: a hidden wing of the clock tower, concealed behind a tapestry. It is quiet, and Ara sometimes needs to be alone for a while with her thoughts. Just like someone else she knows, who might end up joining her, if her intuition is correct.

And it usually is.

Ara climbs the steps up to the tower, Jasper swaying on her shoulder, and when she reaches the top, the view out the window takes her breath away, as it always does. Looking out over the grounds, the moon and stars shining brightly in the sky, Ara feels on top of the world.

She curls up next to the window, letting Jasper down and passing him a hazelnut from the pocket of Fred's jumper, and retrieves her notepad and pencil. There's an unfinished sketch of a kelpie she'd like to complete tonight.

For a long while, the only sounds are the scratch of Ara's pencil against paper and Jasper's claws on the stone floor, and then there are quiet footsteps on the stairs, growing nearer and nearer.

Ara looks up and smiles when she sees him. He is the only person who knows she likes to spend time up here. Often, like tonight, he joins her. "Hey."

Harry slides down the wall opposite her, pulling his knees up to his chest and staring out the window. "Hi."

"Loud in there?" Ara asks, turning back to her notepad.

He nods. "Everyone's excited."

There's a moment of silence, and then Harry says, "I didn't put my name in. Honest."

"I believe you," Ara replies, glancing over at him seriously. "If Fred and George couldn't have fooled that Age Line, you couldn't, either."

Harry's shoulders sink in relief and he gives her a tired smile. "Thanks. No one else believes me. Not even Ron."

"They'll come around," Ara says, smiling back encouragingly. "I know they will."

Harry sighs, staring out the window again, as Jasper sniffs his shoe curiously. "Dunno. Before, I thought entering the tournament would be fun, you know, but now... I've got less than a month till the first task, and it doesn't feel fun at all. I wish my name hadn't got put in. Everyone's treating me like some sort of hero, except Ron, who thinks I'm an arsehole, and I can't say how I feel."

"How do you feel?" Ara asks softly.

"Afraid," Harry says, looking back at her with soft eyes. "Alone."

"You're not alone, Harry." Ara reaches over and puts a hand on his knee gently. "I promise."

Harry gives her a small smile, and they return back to their silence, Ara focused on her drawing, Harry staring out the window at the stars and petting Jasper absentmindedly. But the quiet is comfortable, a mutual understanding between them. Ara makes a silent vow in her heart to give Harry whatever he needs, no matter what. He will never be truly alone as long as she has something to say about it.

.・。.・゜✭・.

i love harry and ara's friendship so much <3