Death Eaters... Forever?

The night before the second challenge, I was helping Fred with his homework when Barty (or ‘Moody’) asked me for a word. I caught the warning look he gave me, so decided to follow him. After all, he wouldn’t kill me.

“You know me for who I am?” Barty prompted.

“Yes.”

“Who’ve you told?”

“No one but Severus.” I kept my answers precise, knowing that I could be digging myself a hole.

“Are you sure?” I felt the tingling at the back of my head – an effect of sensibility to Legilimency, which he was attempting to work on me.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now will you please get out of my head,” I snapped at him. He walked away without another word.

The day of the second challenge, many people were excited. Ron and Harry had made up, which made it a whole lot easier. Fred came up behind me and grabbed my shoulder. I jumped.

“Wanna make a bet?” I laughed and slapped him playfully on the chest.

“Harry’s my friend, you git!” I thought about it. “40 galleons on Harry!” I decided playfully. Fred looked surprised, but pleased. I gave him the money, saying under my breath, “Harry better not lose.”

I watched as the champions got ready for their hours’ swim in the Black Lake.

“Right, on the signal, the champions will start-” Dumbledore was drowned out by the explosion from a cannon manned by Mr Filch. That was the signal. I sighed. This was the second time Filch had mistimed the signal – out of two times.

“Good luck, Harry,” I said under my breath, and readied myself for a boring 50 minutes or so.

“I should get at least 80 galleons from that, since he still technically won!” I protested as Fred gave me only 42 galleons.

“I’m not exactly rich, Kyera,” he replied jovially. I knew he’d made a fortune from those bets, but sighed and let it be. I was plenty wealthy from my parents’ inheritance in Gringotts Bank.
I’d heard that the Minister for Magic, Barty Crouch, had been murdered, and I could guess the culprit. Fudge was the new Minister for Magic, whoever he was.

I went and congratulated Harry, who’d saved not only Ron, but also Fleur Delacour’s little sister from possible drowning. Ron was still talking about the kiss he’d received for ‘helping’ save her little sister, so I decided to go back to my own common room.

Unfortunately, Draco was there. He was strangely without his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, but he was bad enough. He looked to be having trouble with some homework, and as I got closer, I saw it was Transfiguration. I sighed. Trust me and my stupid urge to help anyone and everyone.

“Try flourishing your wand a little less,” I said after he’d tried and failed repeatedly to turn a piece of string into Liquorice. He started, but seeing only me, relaxed again.
“I don’t need your help, Wilson,” he sneered.

An hour and a half later, I went back down to the common room.

“Kyera, can you– I mean, I can’t…”

“You want me to help you.” He nodded gratefully. I sighed. I should say no just to teach him a lesson, I thought. But I sat down with him and, five minutes later, was rewarded when the string was Transfigured.

“Ah, thanks, I guess,” Draco said awkwardly.

“No problem,” I said, walking away. No need to make this any more awkward than it already is.

The next day, we had the strangest new lesson – Waltzing. It was for the upcoming Prom, which all the girls – except me – were talking about, and all the boys were complaining about.

I laughed along with Fred and George when Ron had to dance with Professor McGonagall.
“Put your hand on my waist, Mr Weasley,” McGonagall told him.

“Where?” He asked, shocked. I couldn’t help but giggle, and as the dance began, Fred mimicked Ron, making me laugh harder. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Professor McGonagall when Ron stepped on her foot, though.

After that, we had dinner, and already, some people had dates. I was secretly jealous, although I’d never admit it out loud.

A week later, I had been asked by three guys, all of whom I’d politely turned down. For some reason, I wanted to wait.

And then the day came. I was reading under my favourite tree in the snow when Fred came over.

“Hey!”

“Hey Kyera, can I join you?” Fred grinned charmingly.

“Sure!” I patted the ground beside me, closing my book. It was a Muggle fantasy book, ironically about magic.

“So, are you going to the Prom?” He asked.

“Well, I dunno, I turned down a few guys coz I’m just not interested. But maybe I’m just waiting for that special someone,” I grinned.

“Could I be that special someone?” He asked. I nearly choked on my tongue.

“What?” I managed to choke out.

“Will you go to the Prom with me?” I actually thought about it. And found that the idea didn’t seem so ludicrous after all.

“Ok,” I replied. Smooth, I know.

I met Hermione in the common room, which was deserted.

“Kyera! Are you ok?” Hermione looked at my flushed face and frowned.

“I’m fine, good. I’m great,” I knew I was babbling, so I stopped.

“What happened?”

“Uh, nothing, nothing,” I replied quickly. Too quickly.

“Tell me,” she said in a warning tone.

“I…I…I… Fred… he asked me…”

“Oh my god! You’re going to the Prom with Fred Weasley?”

I laughed hysterically. “Yeah!” I grinned. Hermione looked at me, amused.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“You’re just so cute,” she replied. She knew I hated being called cute.
I sighed. I couldn’t help it this time; it was as though everything were going right for once.