Right Now Could Last Forever

“You said you’d already worked out that egg clue!” said Hermione indignantly.

“Keep your voice down!” said Harry crossly. “I just need to – sort of fine-tune it, all right?”

The four of us were sitting at the very back of the Charms class with a table to ourselves. We were supposed to be practising the opposite of the Summoning Charm today – the Banishing Charm. Owing to the potential for nasty accidents when objects kept flying across the room, Flitwick had given each student a stack of cushions on which to practise, the theory being that these would’ve hurt anyone if they went off target. It was a good theory, but it wasn’t working all too well.

“Just forget the egg a minute, all right?” Harry hissed, as Flitwick went whizzing resignedly past us, landing on top of a cabinet. “I’m trying to tell you about Snape and Moody...”

This class was ideal cover for a private conversation, as everyone was having far too much fun to pay us any attention. Harry had been recounting his adventure of the previous night (which he had when I was with Fred) in whispered instalments for the last half an hour.

“Snape said Moody’s searched his office as well?” Ron whispered, his eyes alight with interest as he Banished a cushion with a sweep of his wand (it soared into the air and knocked Parvati’s hat off). “What... d’you reckon Moody’s here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff?”

“Well, I dunno if that’s what Dumbledore asked him to do, but he’s definitely doing it,” I said, waving my wand without paying much attention, so that my cushion did an odd sort of belly flop off the desk.

“Moody said Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here because he’s giving him a second chance or something...” said Harry.

“What?” said Ron, his eyes widening, his next cushion spinning heavily onto Flitwick’s desk. “Harry... maybe Moody thinks Snape put your name in the Goblet of Fire!”

“Oh, ron,” I said, while Hermione shook her head sceptically, “we thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry’s life, remember?”

Hermione banished a cushion and it flew across the room and landed in the box we were all supposed to be aiming at. Harry looked at me, thinking.

“I don’t care what Moody says,” Hermione said, carrying on from what I had said, “Dumbledore’s not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn’t have given them jobs, so why shouldn’t he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit –“

“- evil,” said Ron promptly. “Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark-wizard-catchers searching his office, then?”

“Why has Mr Crouch been pretending to be ill?” said Hermione, ignoring Ron. “It’s a bit funny, isn’t it, that he can’t manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?”

“You just don’t like Crouch because of that elf, Winky,” said Ron, sending a cushion soaring into the window.

“You just want to think Snape’s up to something,” said Hermione, sending her cushion zooming into the box.

“I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he’s on his second one,” I said grimly, and my cushion, to my very great surprise, flew straight across the room and landed neatly on top of Hermione’s.

-

Two days before the second task, at Monday breakfast, the brown owl Harry had sent Sirius returned. Harry pulled off the parchment, unrolled it, and read the sentence that was written there.

‘Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl.’

I watched as Harry turned the parchment over expectantly, but it was blank.

“Weekend after next,” I whispered, since I had read it over his shoulder. “Here – take my biro and send this owl back straight away.”

Harry took my biro – I still preferred them over quills and used them whenever I could out of class – and scribbled the dates down on the back of Sirius’ letter, tied it back onto the brown owl’s leg, and watched it take flight again.

“What’s he want to know about the next Hogsmeade weekend for?” said Ron.

“Dunno,” said Harry dully. “Come on... Care of Magical Creatures.”

Hagrid had continued Grubbly-Plank’s lessons on unicorns ever since he had returned to work. It turned out that Hagrid knew quite as much about unicorns as he did about monsters, though it was clear that he found their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing.

Today he had managed to capture two unicorn foals. Unlike full-grown unicorns, they were pure gold. Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight at the sight of them, and even Pansy had to work had to conceal how much she liked them.

“Easier ter spot than the adults,” Hagrid told the class. “They turn silver when they’re abou’ two years old, an’ they grow horns at aroun’ four. Don’ go pure white ‘til they’re full-grown, round about seven. They’re a bit more trustin’ when they’re babies... don’ mind boys so much... c’mon, move in a bit, yeh can pat ‘em if yeh want... give ‘em a few o’ these sugar lumps...”
-
It was the night before the second task and Ron, Hermione, Harry and I sat in the library. As the sun set outside, tearing feverishly through page after page of spells, we were hidden from each other by the massive piles of books on the desk in front of each of us.

“I don’t reckon it can be done,” I said flatly. “There’s nothing. Nothing. Closest was that thing to dry up puddles and ponds; that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake.”

“There must be something,” Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired she was poring over the tiny print of ‘Olde and Frogetten Bewitchments and Charmes’ with her nose about an inch from the page. “They’d never have set a task that was undoable.”

“They have,” said Ron. “Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they’ve nicked and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate.”

“There’s a way of doing it!” Hermione said crossly. “There just has to be!”

She seemed to be taking the library’s lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before.

“I know what I should have done,” said Harry, resting, his face down, on ‘Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts’. “I should’ve learnt to be an Animagus like Sirius.”

“Yeah, you could’ve turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!” I said.

“Or a frog,” yawned Harry.

“It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything,” said Hermione vaguely, now squinting down the index of ‘Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions’. “Professor McGonagall told us, remember... you’ve got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office... what animal you become, and your markings, so you can’t abuse it...”

“Hermione, I was joking,” said Harry, wearily. “I know I haven’t got a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning...”

“Oh, this is no use,” Hermione said, snapping the book shut. “Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Fred’s voice. “Be a talking point, wouldn’t it?”

I laughed softly at the image, while looking up. Fred and George had just emerged from behind some bookshelves.

“What’re you two doing here?” I asked.

“Looking for you,” said George. “McGonagall wants you, Corey. And you, Hermione.”

“Why?” said Hermione, looking surprised.

“Dunno... she was looking a bit grim, though,” said Fred.

“We’re supposed to take you down to her office,” said George.

Hermione and I stood; we were both very anxious.

“We’ll meet you back in the common room,” Hermione told Ron and Harry. “Bring as many of these books as you can, OK?”

“Right,” said Harry uneasily.

We made our way out of the library, Fred and I just behind George and Hermione. Without thinking about it, I grasped Fred’s hand in mine.

“You alright, Coriander?” Fred asked me softly, so only I could hear.

I gave a slight nod of my head and smiled up at him. He gave my hand a light squeeze.

The boys left us just outside McGonagall’s office. Hermione walked in straight away, not wanting to keep a Professor waiting.

“You look after yourself, Blondie,” George said.

“You too,” I said, before entering the office.

-

I opened my eyes, expelling a great spout of water, and blinked in the bright light. I could hear the cheers of the crowd on the edge of the lake. I turned to Harry.

“Wet, this, isn’t it?” I said, before spotting Fleur’s sister. “What did you bring her for?”

“Fleur didn’t turn up. I couldn’t leave her,” Harry panted.

“Harry, you prat,” I said, “you didn’t take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn’t have let any of us drown!”

“But the song said –“

“Only to make sure you got back inside the time limit!” I said. “I hope you didn’t waste time down there acting the hero!”

“C’mon,” Harry said shortly, “help me with her, I don’t think she can swim very well.”

We pulled Fleur’s sister through the water, back towards the back where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying us like a guard of honour, singing their horrible screechy songs.

I could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets. Dumbledore and Ludo stood beaming at Harry and I from the back as we swam nearer, but Percy, who looked very white and somehow much younger than usual, came splashing out to meet us. Meanwhile Madam Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

“Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ‘urt?”

Percy seized me up and was dragging me back to the bank.

“It’s fine, Perce; I’m okay,” I said softly.

Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry upright; Fleur had broken free of Madam Maxime and was hugging her sister.

“It was ze Grindylows... zey attacked me... oh, Gabrielle, I thought... I thought...”

“Come here, you,” said Madame Pomfrey’s voice, she seized Harry and I and pulled us over to Hermione and the others, wrapped s up so tightly in blankets that we felt as though we were in straitjackets, and forced a measure of very hot potion down our throats. I could feel the steam gushing out of my ears.

“Corey!”

I recognised the voice instantly, and I spun around, a grin on my face. I raced forward to meet the tall red-head. I jumped into his open arms, and put my face in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. He spun me around for a moment, before setting me down again.

“You’re okay?” Fred said, his eyes looking over me to see any visible sign of harm or injury.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Weasley,” I chuckled, “I’m fine.”

“Forget to bring an umbrella, did you?” George said casually, finally having reached us.

“Must’ve,” I said, smiling at him.

Fred cast a quick drying spell on the pair of us – since I had got him wet when we had hugged – and the three of us headed back to the group of champions, and the people they had saved. We stood by Harry, Hermione and Ron – who had come down when Hermione had been pulled out by Krum. Fred stood behind me, his arms draped over my shoulder and wrapping around me; keeping me warm.

Dumbledore was crouched at the water’s edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild- and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges and said, “A conference before we give the marks, I think.”

The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms, and her robes were torn, but she didn’t seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.

“Look after Gabrielle,” she told her, and then she turned to Harry. “You saved ‘er,” she said breathlessly. “Even though she was not your ‘ostage.”

“Yeah,” said Harry.

Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek, then said to me, “And you, too – you ‘elped –“

“Yeah,” Fred said, “but don’t go kissing her.”

Bagman’s magically magnified voice boomed out beside us, making us all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached out decision. Mer-chieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows...

“Miss Fleur Delacour, htough she demonstrated excellent use of the Bublle-Head Charm, was attacked by Grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.”

Applause from the stands.

“I deserve zero,” said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head.

“Mr Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowds; I saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. “We therefore award him forty-seven points.

“Mr Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless affective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.”

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

“Mr Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Mer-chieftainess informs us that Mr Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.

“Most of the judges” – and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look – “feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However... Mr Potter’s score is forty-five points.”

The crowd applauded loudly, including Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and I.

“There you go, Harry!” I shouted over the noise. “You weren’t being thick after all – you were showing moral fibre!”

Fleur was clapping very hard, too, but Krum didn’t look very happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering Harry to listen. I felt sort of sorry for him.

“The third and final task will take place at duck on the twenty-fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The champions will be notified of what is coming, precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all of your support of the champions.”

It was over, and before Harry got swept off by Madam Pomfrey, I grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.

“Harry, can I ask you something?” I said softly, so only he could hear.

“Sure.”

“Why was I the one that ended up being your hostage, not Ron?”

Harry blushed slightly. “Well, you’re sort of the sister I’ve never had, and if I could pick someone to have as a sibling, I would choose you,” Harry mumbled.

I hugged Harry, and he seemed quite startled, but hugged me back.