Harry Potter and the Trouble With Neurotypicals: Book Four.
Or, "Autistic Potter and the Goblet of Fire."

Notes: I do not own this. J. K. Rowling does. This is just fan fiction. No money is being made. Not by me, anyway.

There may be a few bits and pieces lifted word-for-word from the canon material. I tried to do that as little as possible, though, but there's a lot more in this one than usual because it was unavoidable. Still, lots of details are changed, so don't skip by familiar parts or you might miss something.

Just as a reminder, so I don't have to shoehorn in descriptions in the text of the story as a reminder, but in this fanfic Harry and Hermione, apart from having Asperger's Syndrome, are both black as well.

'Italicized text between single quotes is almost always Parseltongue.'

Note: Samhain is pronounced "saw-when."

Chapter 11: “If I Die In Battle”

Sunday morning, Harry woke up, and for a few moments he was fine. Then he remembered the events of the night before, and felt a knot twisting in his guts that began to restrict his breathing. He closed his eyes and kept telling himself he had a plan, it was a good plan, he'd be fine. Sirius would be fine. He just had to convince himself it would be fine, and it would be.

It wasn't working. He ended up taking a Calming Draught, then checking the Potions book about the potion to find out how often he could take those before overdosing, because obviously.

He ended up dressing so inattentively that it was a while before he realized he was trying to pull his hat onto his foot instead of his sock. When he’d finally got all his clothes on the right parts of his body, he hurried off to find Hermione and Ron, locating them at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, where they were eating breakfast with Ginny. Feeling too queasy to eat, Harry waited until Hermione and Ron had finished eating, then dragged them out onto the grounds. There, he and Ron told Hermione all about the dragons, and about everything Sirius had said, while they took a long walk around the lake.

“Well you've got a plan, our brainstorming session helped, so you're prepared.”

“Yeah, I guess. And I can keep practicing for that. I've got it pretty good, but another two days of practice will distract me and make me even better. Even with the Calming Draught, I'm feeling pretty anxious.”

While on their walk, Harry Summoned a fallen branch and practiced cutting it into disks and carving the Second-wand Sigil as quickly as possible, empowering it to function and then casting the spell he was using into it. He tested it out, satisfied it was working, and kept practicing. He spent most of the morning doing that, then spent the afternoon practicing the other part of his plan, which was a lot easier; the trick there was doing it quickly without it exploding in his face.

~

Harry's dreams that night had him practicing his plan in his dreams, for what felt like hours, and he woke up on Monday morning feeling not very rested. His anxiety was growing despite his planning and practicing, and he briefly contemplated running away back to Sirius's house before dismissing the idea. He didn't want the Goblet of Fire to think he'd chickened out and punishing him for it, maybe in a fatal way.

As he, Hermione, and Ron got up from breakfast, he saw Cedric Diggory and realized Cedric didn't know about the dragons. Sure, the point of the task was to see what you could make of an unexpected danger, but he was the only one of the Champions who didn't know the task was dragons.

“I'll catch you lot up, I've got something important to do,” he said.

“Harry, you’ll be late, the bell’s about to ring —”

“I’ll catch you up, okay?”

By the time Harry reached the bottom of the marble staircase, Cedric was at the top. He was with a load of sixth-year friends. Harry didn’t want to talk to Cedric in front of them; they were among those who had been quoting Rita Skeeter’s article at him every time he went near them. He followed Cedric at a distance and saw that he was heading toward the Charms corridor. This gave Harry an idea. Pausing at a distance from them, he pulled out his wand, and took careful aim.

“Accio Cedric's bag!”

Cedric's bag jerked out of his grip, flying across the room but giving up halfway to drag on the floor. Harry Summoned it again, and Cedric went running after it, his friends staring in confusion after him.

When Cedric got to the bag, Harry was there.

“Wait, was that you messing with my bag?” Cedric asked.

“I had to get you on your own to warn you. Cedric, the First Task, it's dragons. They’ve got four, one for each of us, and we’ve got to get past them.”

Cedric stared at him. Harry saw some of the panic he’d been feeling since Saturday night flickering in Cedric’s gray eyes.

“Are you sure?” Cedric said in a hushed voice.

“Dead sure,” said Harry. “I’ve seen them.”

“But how did you find out? We’re not supposed to know. …”

“Never mind,” said Harry quickly — he knew Hagrid would be in trouble if he told the truth. “But I’m not the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know by now — Maxime and Karkaroff both saw the dragons too.”

Cedric straightened up, his bag dangling off one shoulder. He stared at Harry, and there was a puzzled, almost suspicious look in his eyes.

“Why are you telling me?” he asked.

Harry looked at him in disbelief. He was sure Cedric wouldn’t have asked that if he had seen the dragons himself. Harry wouldn’t have let his worst enemy face those monsters unprepared. Not even Knott or Snape. Well, maybe the Dursleys.

“It’s just … fair, isn’t it?” he said to Cedric. “We all know now … we’re on an even footing, aren’t we?”

Cedric was still looking at him in a slightly suspicious way when Harry heard a familiar clunking noise behind him. He turned around and saw Mad-Eye Moody emerging from a nearby classroom.

“Come with me, Potter,” he growled. “Diggory, off you go.”

Harry stared apprehensively at Moody. Had he overheard them?

“Er — Professor, I’m supposed to be in Herbology —”

“Never mind that, Potter. In my office, please.

Harry followed along, wondering what was going to happen. He hoped Moody wouldn’t turn him into a ferret, he might need his hands and wand, even if it would be easier to get past a dragon as a ferret.

He followed Moody into his office. Moody closed the door behind them and turned to look at Harry, his magical eye fixed upon him as well as the normal one.

“That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter,” Moody said quietly.

Harry didn’t know what to say; this wasn’t the reaction he had expected at all.

“Sit down,” said Moody, and Harry sat, looking around.

Moody was talking about his Dark Detectors, the Foe Glass and so on, but Harry wasn't really listening. He was worried Moody would punish him for doing the right thing.

“So … found out about the dragons, have you?”

Harry hesitated. He’d been afraid of this — but he hadn’t told Cedric, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Moody, that Hagrid had broken the rules.

“It’s all right,” said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. “Cheating’s a traditional part of the Tri-wizard Tournament and always has been.”

“I didn’t cheat,” said Harry sharply. “It was — a sort of accident that I found out.”

Moody grinned. “I wasn’t accusing you, laddie. I’ve been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won’t be. They’ll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They’d like to prove he’s only human.”

Moody gave a harsh laugh, and his magical eye swiveled around so fast it made Harry feel queasy to watch it.

“So … got any ideas how you’re going to get past your dragon yet?” said Moody.

“Yes. Weeks ago, my friends were wondering what the First Task might be, Ron guessed dragons, we prepared for that with a plan that would work equally well for most other creatures.”

“Mind telling me about it?”

“Um, okay,” Harry said, and outlined the idea for him.

When Harry was finished, Moody whistled. “Clever idea. A little bit time consuming and probably boring to watch until you really get it going, but clever nonetheless. Well good. Sounds like you're in for a good chance of getting out of that alive, which is the important part. Good on you. I look forward to seeing it.”

“Um, thanks.”

“Well, you'd better run along to class now. Here's a note to excuse your tardiness from me.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking the note and leaving at once.

~

Harry had his plan practiced so thoroughly he firmly believed he'd be able to do it at a moment's notice just as quickly years from now, all he had left to do now was hide the things he needed over by his favorite boulder in the woods, so it would be easier to Summon. He cast warming charms on them, and some other spells to keep animals and vandals away. He contemplated putting a stasis charm on them, but decided it wasn't necessary.

Whenever the panic would start to creep in again, Harry recited the steps of his plan in his head, making it into a sort of mantra that calmed him. Time was behaving in a more peculiar fashion than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so that one moment he seemed to be sitting down in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch … and then (where had the morning gone? the last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to him in the Great Hall. Lots of people were watching.

“Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now. … You have to get ready for your first task.”

“Okay,” said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.

Luna came over to the Griffindor table then, looking very worried. He wondered if someone had told her what was going on.

“Mr. Potter has to go to the First Task, Miss Lovegood.”

“I know. I just want to wish him luck first.”

Luna's voice had lost some of its airy quality. She sounded tense. Harry worried about her now. He opened his mouth to say something comforting to her, but before he could get any words out, she kissed him on the cheek and said, “Be safe, Harry. Come back to me.”

Harry stood there, stunned. He vaguely registered several people wolf-whistling at him, Fred and George among them. His face felt hotter than it had ever been, barring once when he'd had a very high fever when he was in second grade.

“This way, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, nudging him forward. “Your godfather is just outside in the entrance hall.”

Still stunned, Harry walked along obediently until they got to Sirius. Even in his stunned state, he thought Sirius looked nervous, too.

“Heya, Harry. It's time. You ready?”

Harry nodded vaguely.

“Now, don’t panic,” McGonagall said, “just keep a cool head, both of you. We’ve got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand. The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Harry heard himself say. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Oh Harry, I had a thought,” Sirius said. “I'm gonna take my dog form during the Task, only turn human if it looks like you need me to talk to you. That way, nobody can say I'm really helping you. Everyone knows Animagi can't talk in their animal forms. Well, I suppose Animagi who become parrots or ravens might be able to, but I don't become anything that's capable of speech.”

“Right,” Harry said, still sounding far-off.

McGonagall was leading the two of them to where the First Task was going to be, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.

“You’re to go in here with the other champions,” said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, “and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there... he’ll be telling you the — the procedure. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. She left him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside.

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn’t look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working rather hard, as though they had forgotten how to do it.

Mr. Bagman was indeed there. So were Karkaroff, Maxime, and Ms. Selby. Ms. Selby confiscated Sirius's wand, checked him all over for spare wands or other suspicious items, then thoroughly checked Harry's sunglasses, earmuffs, and dragon-skin bracelet, then checked him for suspicious items that might help him. Then they reviewed the rules Sirius was expected to abide by, and she cast an eavesdropping charm on both of them, making it so she and the other judges would be able to listen in on everything either of them would say. Sirius asked if the charm would stay on him through Animagi transformations. They tested it out and found that it did. When she and the other two judges were satisfied, they left the tent. All except for Bagman.

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again.

“Well, now we’re all here and ready — time to fill you in!” said Bagman brightly. “When the audience has assembled, I’m going to be offering each of you this bag” — he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them — “from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too … ah, yes … your task is to collect the puzzle box!”

Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman’s words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn’t reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths; that was certainly how Harry felt. But they, at least, had volunteered for this.

Sirius was pacing back and forth in dog form, probably because his emotions were less complex in animal form. Harry was reciting the plan in his head again. As such, he almost didn't hear when Bagman got the bag out and offered it to each of them in turn. There were little moving dragon figurines inside the bag. Fleur got the Welsh Green, Krum got the Chinese Fireball, Cedric got a Swedish Short-Snout, and Harry of course got the nasty Norwegian Ridgeback. They all had numbers on them as well, and the order was Cedric, Fleur, Krum, Harry.

It was Hell waiting for each of the others to go first, hearing the shouts and screams of the crowd and the occasional vague commentary from Bagman. Harry felt close to a panic attack by the time it was his turn, and when his turn was announced, he thought he was very close to going over the edge into full-blown hysteria. But Padfoot nuzzled his hand, calming him down at once, at least enough to get moving. He put his earmuffs on and walked forward into the arena.

He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he’d last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, standing there agitated, his wings half-furled, his evil, yellow eyes upon Harry, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing his spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn’t know or care. Sirius was at his side, in dog form, a comforting presence. It was time to do what he had to do. He lifted his wand.

“Accio cauldron!”

He waited. A few moments later, a cauldron full of supplies flew into the arena and right at him. He caught it, and hurriedly lit a fire and began to brew his potion. Once he had it to where he could set the stirring stick to stir by magic, he stood up again.

“Accio branch!”

A moment later, a small branch flew into the arena and into his hand. He immediately set to work cutting it into disks with his wand, and carving the sigil he needed, looking up every now and then at the dragon in the distance, which wasn't moving much.

When he had the first set of sigils carved, he copied the others with his wand, empowered the sigils, cast the spells he needed into them, and levitated them into place. This took a few minutes. Once they were in place, he Summoned one last thing – the Basilisk-skin shield, put it on his arm and deployed it with a SNAP! Then he Disillusioned himself and Sirius, levitated the potion contents out of the cauldron, and chucked it through the air at the dragon, activating the sigils once the potion was on its way. They activated just as the potion exploded, filling the entire arena with the stench of rotten eggs. He heard the crowd reacting in horror to the stench, but wasted no time thinking about it; instead, he ran forward.

Anyone distracted by the stench of the potion he'd dispersed would be excused for missing the gigantic, razor-thin mirror suddenly standing right in front of the dragon. Even the dragon didn't notice at first, distracted as it was by the stink assaulting its giant nostrils. But once it noticed, it tensed up and glared at what it thought was another male dragon invading its territory. The reflection, delayed by a half second, tensed up as well. The dragon growled, clawing at the ground threateningly. A half second later, so did the reflection. The dragon roared, flailing its tail. A half second later, so did the reflection, complete with an actually noisy roar.

It was working; the plan was actually working. He'd been right to guess that a dragon wasn't smart enough to recognize itself in a mirror, especially a mirror on a slight delay. Add to this the fact that its nose was full of nothing but the stink of rotten eggs, and it had no way of knowing that this other dragon wasn't a real threat. But who knew how long it would be until the dragon attacked? So Harry ran for it.

The magic mirror illusion the sigils were conjuring was far enough away from the other dragon to lure it away from the puzzle box it was guarding, but close enough to be a threat. And so once the roaring challenge was accepted with the mirror's own roar, the dragon leaped forward, flapping its great wings in a display that said 'Look at how big and impressive I am!' Naturally, the mirror followed suit. Harry was halfway to the puzzle box, hoping the dragon would be distracted long enough for him to make it.

He glanced back and saw the dragon leaping forward again, right at his opponent, and then right through the mirror. The dragon emerged from the other side looking very confused and angry, turning back to see the back of the mirror, which – because it had been simpler to do it that way – was also a mirror. The dragon looked even more confused and angry than before, swiping at the mirror with one of its fore arms; it passed right through, like moving through mist.

Harry and Sirius were almost to the puzzle box when the dragon figured out he had been tricked. He reared up, looking around the arena for something to attack for this indignity, but didn't see anything. He took a tentative sniff, but the air still reeked of rotten eggs, and the dragon sneezed, a giant gout of flame rushing forward as he did. Harry snatched up the puzzle box, but got burned by the fire, his robe sleeves on fire, because the Basilisk-skin shield was on his other arm and he hadn't pulled it up in time. He screamed, which drew the dragon's attention to him, where it saw the fire moving as Harry hurried to put it out by beating his arms on the ground. Sirius whined in concern, but Harry managed to put the fire out on his own, but the Disillusionment Charm had collapsed, he was visible again.

The dragon roared again and rushed forward at Harry. The fire out, Harry grabbed the puzzle box in his burned hands and ran full tilt for the exit, but they wouldn't make it in time to avoid another jet of flame, so Harry stopped, grabbed Sirius with his burned hand, and knelt, shield up, the fire splashing against the shield. Some magic in the shield shot the fire to the sides so it didn't spill over the shield and burn him anyway, but he still felt uncomfortably hot.

When the dragon's fire stopped, Harry activated another set of sigils he'd prepared at the same time as the main mirror's sigils as a 'just in case' measure, and ran for it, Sirius ahead of him. The newly-activated sigils – also set with variations on the mirror spell – made it look like there were a dozen sets of Harry and Sirius running in a dozen different directions, confusing the dragon long enough for them to get away and through the exit.

Harry ran right into Hagrid, falling over backwards but getting caught by his robes and pulled back up just in time. Moody and McGonagall were there too, sharing Hagrid's look of concern at his burned hand.

“Oh my goodness, Potter! You're injured!” cried Professor McGonagall. He noticed that her hands shook as she pointed at his burned hand. “You’ll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score. Over there, she’s had to mop up Diggory already.”

“Yeh did it, Harry!” said Hagrid hoarsely. “Yeh did it! An’ agains’ the Horntail an’ all, an' yeh--”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” said Harry loudly, so that Hagrid wouldn’t blunder on and reveal that he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand.

Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket and he escorted Harry to Madam Pomfrey. His remaining normal eye was focused intently on Harry's Basilisk-skin shield, which he'd retracted just before following Moody to the medical tent.

Harry walked out of the enclosure, still panting, and saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried. That must be the medical tent, he thought.

“Dragons!” she said, in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; he could make out Cedric’s shadow through the canvas, but Cedric didn’t seem to be badly injured; he was sitting up, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry’s shoulder, talking furiously all the while. “Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? Oh my, that looks painful. Hmm... you're lucky, though, Potter, these burns don't look very bad.”

She smeared some orange-colored salve over the skin of his hand, and it immediately felt better, healing in a couple of minutes.

“Now, just sit quietly for a minute — sit! And then you can go and get your score.”

She bustled out of the tent and he heard her go next door and say, “How does it feel now, Diggory?”

“I did it, Sirius! I really did it! Got hurt, but I did it! I'm alive!”

“That you did, pup!”

At that moment, Ron ran into the tent.

“Brilliant!” Ron said. “Absolutely brilliant!”

“Where's Luna and Hermione and the others?”

“Oh they'll be around, I ran ahead. Anyway, you were the best of all of them. Fleur did some kind of sleeping charm but got burned when the dragon blew fire in its sleep, Krum used the Conjunctivitis Curse and nearly gotten trampled for his trouble, and Cedric used transfiguration to distract the dragon, but it didn't work all that well, and he got burned, too! But really badly.”

Harry was going to answer, but several people barged into the tent. It was the judges. Maxime and Karkaroff looked furious.

“Cheater!” Karkaroff shouted at him. “You cheated again!”

“Say that again, Karkaroff, I dare you,” Sirius said angrily.

“Sirius,” Harry said. “Don't.”

Ron scooted back a bit, trying to look like he wasn't there. Probably he didn't want to get himself or Harry in trouble by saying the wrong thing.

Karkaroff looked at Sirius furiously and said quietly to him, “Been on any nightly walks, Black?”

“No more than you have,” Sirius said quietly back.

Karkaroff glowered at Sirius, but nodded slightly, apparently admitting they had a stalemate on that point.

“CHEATER!” Karkaroff bellowed again, pointing at Harry.

“Now now, Mr. Karkaroff,” Ms. Selby said, “let's not rush to conclusions.”

“There is no way he could have done all that on his own, and ahead of time no less!” Karkaroff shouted.

“Harry,” Ms. Selby said, “as angry as Mr. Karkaroff is, he has a point that it looks very suspicious. You clearly had this planned ahead of time.”

Stopping Sirius with a look again, Harry said, “Well I did. But I didn't know for sure it was dragons until today.” Which was a lie, of course, but close enough to the truth.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean my friends and I made an educated guess, weeks ago. We figured you'd want something big and flashy for the First Task since it had been so long since the Tournament had been held, and since the First Task was usually a creature of some sort, we figured it would be a dragon. Well, Ron thought of it. We couldn’t think of anything bigger or flashier. Still, I came up with a plan that would work on a great many creatures just in case.”

“Your godfather helped you!”

“I did not!”

“No, he really didn't. He wasn't there when my friends and I thought it might be dragons. And I came up with the plan myself.”

“Then you cheated with the help of your friends!”

“Now Igor,” Dumbledore said, “there is no rule against Harry's friends helping him, none of them are in the Ministry nor work at the school.”

“They didn't think of the plan. They helped me with the arithmancy a little, but the idea was all mine, and I probably could have figured it out without their help, it just would have taken longer.”

“You expect us to believe a fourteen year old wizard guessed correctly that the Task would be dragons, came up with a complex plan on his own, and only needed a little help from his friends to figure out how to do it?”

“Well yes. Because that's what happened. Anyway, as I said, it was Ronald Weasley who figured out it would be dragons, you can question him and the rest of my friends if they let you, that's Ron right there in fact. As to the rest, I ran into a useful sigil in dueling club and adapted it to a simple illusion, which was the one thing I could find that was within my ability to do. I couldn’t do transfigurations, I don't know any sleeping spells powerful enough for dragons, I didn't want to risk lives hurting a dragon with a Conjunctivitis Curse (and couldn’t safely practice it anyway), but it occurred to me that I might be able to do an illusion. As it was, I had to use that stinky potion to make up for the fact that the dragon would be able to smell that there wasn't anything there.

“Oh, and also, two of the friends who helped me were almost old enough to have entered the Tournament themselves. Angela Whitechapel and Antigone Dreyfuss.”

“Dreyfuss? Like the artificer?” Karkaroff looked at Harry's Basilisk-skin shield.

“Yes. Her father is the artificer you mentioned. He made this shield for me, gave it to me as both a gift and as free advertisement for his business. I included it in the things I decided to Summon.”

“I see. And you figured out how to do all this in just three weeks?”

“Yes. I'm pretty decent in Arithmancy class, the sigil instructions were simple enough, I've been friends with older students since year one, and ever since I found out I was a wizard I've been trying to learn everything about magic that I could, because it's amazing and cool to be able to alter reality with willpower and words, so whenever I'm not studying for classes, I'm usually reading ahead. I've been able to do the Summoning Charm for years. Also, the stink potion was pretty simple. Some eggs, boom berry juice, diluted bundimun solution, heat and stir, then deploy. I just put the things I knew I'd need outside where I could easily Summon them, and I've been practicing the sigil thing so much I could do it in my sleep.”

“I don't know about you, Igor, but that sounds reasonable for a fourteen year old wizard to manage with a little help from his friends. Especially such a bright student as Mr. Potter. Ms. Selby, am I correct that there's no rule against getting help from friends?”

“It's not against the rules. It's not encouraged, but it's not forbidden. I could show you the relevant passages, Mr. Karkaroff, if you wish?”

Karkaroff snorted. Maxime was looking at Harry like she'd suddenly realized she'd grossly underestimated him, and was now very wary. Or at least, that's what it looked like to Harry.

“Fine! But I'm taking points off for that horrible stench you made!”

He stormed off. Dumbledore tipped his hat at Harry, then he and the other two judges followed Karkaroff out of the tent. A moment later, two people came darting into the tent – Hermione and Luna.

“Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. “You were amazing! You really were!”

Luna ran up to him and hugged him, making his cheeks heat up again. “You're alive,” Luna said into his ear. “Thank the fair folk!”

He thought he felt wetness where her cheek was touching his neck. Had she been crying? He felt bad that she'd been crying, but he felt oddly good, too, some emotion he couldn’t identify, almost like... pride? Pride, at being cried over by Luna? That didn't make sense, that couldn’t be right. He wondered what this emotion was, and wondered how people knew what emotions were which. Anger was usually obvious, he had a lot of experience with anger. Fear, too. But others were not always so easy to identify. This one was especially odd.

“It's okay, Luna, I'm alright. There's no need to cry.”

“I know, silly. These were tears of joy. Well, relief anyway. You're my first ever friend. I don't want to lose you. I'm relieved I didn't, when I was terrified I would.”

She pulled away at last, smiling at him and dabbing at her eyes. She was looking at him oddly. He couldn’t identify the emotion behind the look, but it seemed familiar for some reason.

Harry finally noticed she was wearing a pin that said, in great glowing blue letters, 'Support both Hogwarts Champions!'

“Nice button. Did you make it yourself?”

She smiled at him. “Yes, I did. I'm glad you like it. I wanted it to say 'Support Harry Potter AND Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts Champions,' but there wasn't room.”

“It's brilliant. You're very clever.”

Luna blushed. “Thank you, Harry. That's kind of you to say. Oh, it does something else as well.”

She pressed the button and it changed to a sickly orange color, saying 'Bullying stinks!' Harry laughed at that. Even Ron and Hermione chuckled at that, and as they left the tent to go find out Harry's score, Ron and Hermione were asking Luna for buttons just like it.

“Oh, by the way, Luna, you should give some of those pins to the Creevy brothers, they'll want one.”

“Yes, I had planned to do that. Thank you for the reminder, though.”

Soon, they all reached the edge of the enclosure, meeting Danzia there, who had come to get the news for the rest of Harry's Slytherin friends; they hadn't wanted to crowd him, and knew there were three people with him already. Now that the Horntail had been taken away, Harry could see where the five judges were sitting — right at the other end, in raised seats draped in gold.

“It’s marks out of ten from each one,” Ron said, and Harry, squinting up the field, saw the first judge — Madame Maxime — raise her wand in the air. What looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.

“Not bad!” said Ron as the crowd applauded. “I suppose she took marks off for your burns.”

Ms. Selby came next, giving Harry an eight as well.

“Looking good!” Ron yelled, thumping Harry on the back.

Next, Dumbledore. He put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.

Ludo Bagman — ten.

“Ten?” said Harry in disbelief. “But I got hurt. What’s he playing at?”

“Harry, don’t complain!” Ron yelled excitedly.

And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too — three.

“What?” Ron bellowed furiously. “Three? You lousy, biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!”

“They really should get judges from somewhere else,” Luna said. “Someone who can be as objective as possible. The heads of the schools shouldn't be allowed to be on the judges' panel, nor Ministry employees either. It's too biased.”

“Well it worked in his favor this time, Luna.”

“For the most part, yes. But I stand by my statement.”

“I'm with Luna on this one,” Danzia said.

“Second place, Harry! Right behind Krum!” said Charlie Weasley, hurrying to meet them as they set off back toward the school. “Listen, I’ve got to run, I’ve got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I’d tell her what happened — but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah — and they told me to tell you you’ve got to hang around for a few more minutes. Bagman wants a word, back in the champions’ tent.”

Ron, Luna, Danzia, and Hermione said they'd stay behind, so Harry reentered the tent the Champions had waited in, Sirius following him in from the medical tent. The tent somehow looked quite different now: friendly and welcoming. He thought back to how he’d felt while dodging the Horntail, and compared it to the long wait before he’d walked out to face it. There was no comparison; the wait had been immeasurably worse.

Fleur, Cedric, and Krum all came in together. One side of Cedric’s face was covered in the thick orange paste that was the burn salve. He grinned at Harry when he saw him.

“Good one, Harry.”

“And you,” said Harry, grinning back.

“Well done, all of you!” said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as though he personally had just got past a dragon. “Now, just a quick few words. You’ve got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth — but we’re giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those puzzle boxes of yours, I know they don't look like much. But press your hand to a side and it will ask you a riddle. Answer the riddle, and the box changes slightly. Answer all six riddles in the right order and the box will open up and tell you what the Second Task will be, thus enabling you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!”

Harry left the tent, rejoined Ron, and they started to walk back around the edge of the forest, talking hard; Harry wanted to hear what the other champions had done in more detail. Then, as they rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them.

It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them.

“Congratulations, Harry!” she said, beaming at him. “I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring?”

“You can have a word,” Luna said before Harry could. “Well, several words: Harry will be giving an exclusive interview to my father, Xenophilus Lovegood.”

Skeeter made a face like she'd smelled Harry's stink potion again. “That nutter? You're talking to him, but not me?”

“That's right, Rita,” Harry said. “His article about the World Cup was much more factual than yours, I trust him more.”

“Also,” Luna added, “it was very lucrative. If his article about the interview with Harry does well enough, he's going to launch a second magazine, one with nothing about fantastic creatures. I'm glad; articles like that don't really match the tone of the Quibbler.”

“Why, because they're grounded in reality, unlike that rag he prints?” Skeeter asked disdainfully.

“What would you know about reality, Skeeter?” Sirius asked. “Your own articles have a very tenuous affiliation with reality. That last one was riddled with false assumptions and speculations.”

“Sirius, come on, don't give her anything to work with. NO COMMENT!” Harry said, and pulled Sirius and Luna away.

To distract Harry from Skeeter having been there, Ron continued his play-by-play, which had been interrupted at the part where Bagman had explained Harry's coping tools and Sirius's presence.

Halfway to the castle, at the part about Cedric's attempt going badly, Harry froze. His friends and Sirius stopped shortly afterward, when they realized he had stopped walking.

“Griffindor is going to want to throw me a party, aren't they?” He knew they threw parties whenever the Quidditch team won, it made sense they'd do it for this, too.

“Probably, mate. I'll bet Fred and George are nicking things from the kitchen as we speak.”

“Is there any way I can get out of it?”

“Hmm... well, you could Disillusion yourself again, but you might bump into someone.”

“I don't suppose telling people I don't want to join the party is going to help?”

“Probably not.”

Harry sighed, but then he looked thoughtful and turned to Sirius. “Any chance you could get Dora to pretend to be me for the night?”

Sirius barked with laughter at the idea. “Oh my goodness, yes, I should ask. I'm gonna go to Dumbledore's fireplace, see if I can Floo-call her. Yes, what a prank that would be!”

He handed the puzzle box back to Harry and took off for the castle.

“Who's Dora?” Ron asked.

“Nymphadora Tonks, though you should call her Tonks if you value your life. She lets family call her Dora, but I don't know if that applies to you or not, Ron.”

“How's she supposed to pretend to be you?”

“She's a metamorphmagus.”

“Really? Cool!”

“I want to go to Hagrid's place,” Harry said.

“You do that if you want, Harry, but I wanna meet this Tonks girl. What're you two gonna do?”

“Do you want company, Harry?” Luna asked.

“Yeah, you two can come with if you want.”

The two girls nodded and followed Harry to Hagrid's.

~

When Harry got up the next morning, Seamus welcomed him.

“Wild party last night, Harry! Your cousin really had us fooled for a couple of hours. We thought you'd gotten drunk until she revealed the truth. That was a hoot and a holler!”

“Right. I'm just glad I didn't have to be there. Too many people.”

“You don't like parties, Harry?”

“No. They make me ill. Crowds always do. I think the only reason I didn't get ill yesterday was because the crowd were so far away. Also I was a bit too focused on the dragon to pay them any mind.”

“Ah, alright then. Well we'd better get to breakfast.”

Harry nodded, and followed Seamus and Ron down to breakfast. Harry thought back to last night, spending time at Hagrid's with Luna and Hermione. Then he realized he'd forgotten to try the puzzle box at all.

The mystery of the puzzle box bothered him all night long, until he could get back up to his room to try it out. Ron, Seamus, and Dean happened to be there when he tried it. First, Harry studied it. It looked like if the colored squares of a Rubik's cube was made with a hodgepodge of different shapes instead of squares, like diamonds, triangles, squares, star shapes, pentagons, and other assorted polygons.

He put his hand on one of its sides, activating the light and the riddle-telling part of that side of the box. The voice coming out of it sounded calm, polite, and androgynous.

“If you're 8 feet away from a door and with each move you advance half the distance to the door, how many moves will it take to reach the door?”

“Ooh,” Seamus said. “Um... four! Four moves!”

The box buzzed, turning briefly red. Harry reactivated the same side, and as soon as the box asked the question, he said, “You'll never reach the door, you'll always be going half the distance, no matter how small.”

The box turned green this time, and suddenly expanded into hundreds of floating pieces, rearranging itself. When it reassembled itself, the shapes were all different.

“Interesting.”

He tried another side.

“What relation would your father's sister's sister-in-law be to you?”

The boys all thought for a few moments before Ron said, “Your mum!”

Once more, the box turned green and rearranged itself. Harry didn't think any of the sides were any more or less one color or another, either time it had changed. He tried a different side.

“What begins but does not end, ends all things that begin, but begins nothing?”

“Death,” Seamus said.

It was correct. When it was done reassembling itself, one of the sides looked more red than it had before.

“You can easily touch me, but not see me. You can throw me out, but not away. What am I?”

“Air!”

Wrong.

“That was a stupid guess. How do you throw out air?”

They tried other answers.

“A quaffle?” Wrong. “Emptiness?” Wrong. “A house guest?” Wrong. “A pet?” Wrong. “Your hopes and dreams?” Wrong. They gave up on that one.

“I am a protector. I sit on a bridge. One person can see right through me, while others wonder what I hide. What am I?”

“Glass bottomed bridge?” Wrong. (“Of course not, you idiot, it sits ON a bridge!”) “Invisibility cloak?” Wrong. (“How would outsiders even know they were wearing one? And why would they be on a bridge?”) “Camera?” Harry asked. Wrong. (“You doofus, who wonders what's inside a camera?”) “Glasses?” Wrong.

“Sunglasses!” Harry said. That was right. The box reassembled itself, and suddenly looked more jumbled than ever.

“How was that the answer?” Seamus asked.

“Because they sit on the bridge of your nose, you twit!” Ron said.

“And they hide your eyes, so while you can see through them, others wonder what they hide.” Harry added.

There was one last riddle to try.

“I am a word of seven letters. My first three letters is the past tense of cut; my last four letters refer to a girl. My whole refers to a sharp metal object. What am I?”

“Well the past tense of cut is cut,” Harry said. “So that part is dumb. Cut... girl?”

“Oy, it's a cut lass!”

They tried that answer, and it was right. But the puzzle still wasn't solved. They tried the one about throwing out something you can't throw away.

“Oh wait, I think I know this one,” Ron said. “My dad said something about someone he worked with. I think the answer is 'your back.'”

Harry smacked his forehead. “Of course! Throwing out your back!”

They tried it, and it was the right answer, but the puzzle still wasn't solved.

“Puzzle unsolved. Resetting to original configuration,” the puzzle said, then rearranged itself to its original state.

“Hey Harry, I just noticed something,” Ron said. “Look, there's little numbers on the middle of each side!”

Sure enough, each side was numbered. They answered one of the riddles, and the box rearranged itself again, but the numbers remained.

“Bagman said we have to answer the riddles in the right order. These numbers must be the numbers of the faces, we have to get the right combination,” Harry said. Then he sighed deeply.

“What's wrong?” Ron asked.

“I don't know offhand how many possible combinations of six numbers there can be, but it's a huge number. A massive number, in fact.”

“How big could it be?” Ron asked.

“Let's put it this way: Muggle computers can calculate combos of numbers like that at a speed of hundreds, maybe thousands, per second, and it would take one of them probably 100 years or more to come up with all possible combos. And I may be way off, too. It could be some number so high that a Muggle computer would still be calculating it when the universe started to die.”

“Oh, well,” Seamus said, “there's six sides. I reckon you have to use all six sides, no repeats. Does that cut the number down?”

“I'm sure it does. Don't know by how much, though. Still probably more combos than we can go through before the Second Task, even going through them as fast as we can nonstop the whole time.”

“Well, what combos have we used already?”

They checked which riddles went with which numbers, then figured out from that that they'd first used 6, 4, 2, 1, 3, 5.

Harry wrote out something on a piece of paper then, related to their task:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 || 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 || 2, 4, 6, 1, 3, 5 || 5, 3, 1, 6, 4, 2 || 6, 4, 2, 1, 3, 5
6, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 || 1, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 || 5, 2, 4, 6, 1, 3 || 2, 5, 3, 1, 6, 4 || 5, 6, 4, 2, 1, 3
5, 6, 1, 2, 3, 4 || 2, 1, 6, 5, 4, 3 || 3, 5, 2, 4, 6, 1 || 4, 2, 5, 3, 1, 6 || 3, 5, 6, 4, 2, 1
4, 5, 6, 1, 2, 3 || 3, 2, 1, 6, 5, 4 || 1, 3, 5, 2, 4, 6 || 6, 4, 2, 5, 3, 1 || 1, 3, 5, 6, 4, 2
3, 4, 5, 6, 1, 2 || 4, 3, 2, 1, 6, 5 || 6, 1, 3, 5, 2, 4 || 1, 6, 4, 2, 5, 3 || 2, 1, 3, 5, 6, 4
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 1 || 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 6 || 4, 6, 1, 3, 5, 2 || 3, 1, 6, 4, 2, 5 || 4, 2, 1, 3, 5, 6

“So that's just 30 possible combinations, not even close to being all of them,” Harry said.

“Well,” Ron said, “we could try some of these each day, write down any promising changes to the sides and which number combo those went with, and that at least would let us narrow it down some.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “then we could put X's by the combos we'd tried, maybe put a little P for Promising, circle the part of the number that gave a positive result.”

“Great plan,” Harry said. “With thirty combos to start with, maybe we'll get enough of a positive hit to narrow it down. The more we narrow it down, the faster this will go.”

“Yeah, set this thing on your desk with the list of number combos to try, and we'll help you cycle through them, Harry,” Seamus said.

“Thanks, guys. If we do that, maybe the thing will actually get solved in time!”

~

The start of December meant wind and sleet for Hogwarts. It also meant they had to deal with the skrewts while being outside in the cold weather. As if that wasn't bad enough, the fumes from the whiskey that Madame Maxime's giant flying horses preferred were making them fuzzy-headed at the same time.

About the only good thing about the skrewts, besides providing a warming exercise as they chased you around the grounds, was the fact there were only ten of them left. It seemed the skrewts' favorite activity was killing one another.

Hagrid had also decided to try putting the skrewts in the boxes to see if they hibernated, which, as it turned out, they did not. They also did not like being forced into boxes. As such, the class was in a state of bedlam when the worst possible sound of all was heard.

“Well, well, well … this does look like fun.”

Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid’s garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.

Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the skrewt that was cornering Harry and Ron and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby.

“Who’re you?” Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt’s sting and tightened it.

“Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter,” Rita replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted.

“Thought Dumbledore said you weren’ allowed inside the school anymore,” said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows.

“Hagrid, don't talk to her, she'll twist everything you say,” Harry said, not caring if Skeeter heard.

“Yeah, I kinda got that idear,” Hagrid said. “Seemed ter think Danzia and the others was trying ter court yeh. Ha! What little she knows.”

“Hagrid, hush! Don't give her any ammunition!”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Harry.”

“What are these fascinating creatures called?” Rita asked.

“Blast-ended skrewts,” Hagrid said automatically.

“Really?” said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. “I’ve never heard of them before … where do they come from?”

Harry noticed a dull red flush rising up out of Hagrid’s wild black beard, and his heart sank. Where had Hagrid got the skrewts from? Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along these lines, said quickly, “They’re very interesting, aren’t they? Aren’t they, Harry?”

“What? Oh yeah … ouch … interesting,” said Harry as she stepped on his foot.

“Ah, you’re here, Harry!” said Rita Skeeter as she looked around. “So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?”

“Yes. Now please go away; as Hagrid said, you're trespassing.”

“No, Harry, what he said was I wasn't allowed inside the school. I'm not inside the school, I'm on the grounds.”

“We're having a class here, so I think it counts as 'inside the school,'” Harry said.

“Toe-may-toe, poe-tah-toh,” Skeeter said.

“The expression,” Hermione said, “is toh-may-toe toe-mah-toe.”

Rita shrugged. “Been teaching long, Hagrid?”

Hagrid smiled and opened his mouth to answer, but noticed Harry's and Hermione's expressions, froze, his face falling. He said, instead, “No comment. Now git out before I have ter kick yeh out!”

“Whatever for?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Fer trespassing, as I already told yeh!”

She sighed. “Fine, fine, if you insist, Mr. Hagrid. But you know what they say about angering writers. Good day to you, Hagrid!”

With a little wave, she took off. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other fearfully. “Let's hope that wasn't her declaring war,” Ron said.

~

With the First Task over, most of the school had warmed up to him some. He no longer saw “Support Cedric Diggory” buttons except among Knott's group of Slytherins, and he was seeing far more of Luna's “Support both Hogwarts Champions!” buttons instead, anyway. Even Draco and his new entourage were sporting Luna's buttons. The Hufflepuffs were nicer, too; maybe seeing the danger they were in had helped. Also, he suspected Cedric had a hand in it as well; while he couldn't tell them that Harry had warned him about the dragons, Harry had still done that, and Cedric likely felt he owed Harry.

His mind free from worry about the First Task, and figuring out the puzzle box being such a tedious task of going through several permutations of the six sides every day, his mind was free for other things, now. Like who he was going to take as a date to the Yule Ball. It had been announced in transfiguration, after all. McGonagall had been surprised Harry already knew he'd need a date for the ball, at least until he told her that Draco had warned him about it weeks ago.

Before the ball had even been announced, he'd been thinking about who to take. The only girls he really knew who were available were Angela, Antigone, Danzia, Hermione, and Luna. Obviously the first two would be going with each other, Danzia being asexual might not be interested, Hermione was like a sister to him, and Luna... well, he liked Luna enough that he thought about asking her out as a friend. But he had a problem there, too, because he had figured out that Luna had feelings for him.

The first clues had been the good-luck kiss before the First Task and her tears of relief after it, but he hadn't figured it out then. Over the last two weeks, though, she'd been around him more often than ever before, like she was afraid he'd vanish if she didn't keep an eye on him. And when she was around, she held his hand a lot. The first time she'd done that, he had stared at her hand in confusion, heat rising in his face, but hadn't said anything about it.

So yeah, he'd figured it out. And now he didn't know what to do. Would asking her out as a friend hurt her feelings? There was also the fact that he felt a really strange feeling when he thought about asking her out as just a friend. A different strange feeling happened if he thought at all about just asking her out normally, as a date. The first feeling felt... kind of bad. Like guilt, or shame. Probably guilt; he didn't want to hurt her feelings, after all. But it also felt like there was something else to it, too, something he wasn't getting.

The second feeling was a bit harder to sort out. When he thought about asking Luna out to the Yule Ball as a regular date, something wriggly felt like it was squirming inside him, but unlike the nervous knots he sometimes got in his belly, this was different. It was a loose kind of wriggliness, not a tightening. In fact, it felt almost pleasant, but unpleasant at the same time. It was very confusing.

Still, he thought it likely he'd ask out Luna one way or another, and so he needed a script for all the other people who would be asking him. One had already asked him, and he'd just sort of stared at her in confusion; he didn't think he'd seen the girl in his life, and had no idea what to say. She had ended up walking away looking very hurt and confused.

“Antigone, I need your help,” he told her the day after the Yule Ball's announcement during class. “It's about the Yule Ball.”

“Harry, I'm flattered,” she said, “but Angela and I are already going with each other. And I'm not interested in boys that way.”

He stared at her. “Uh... I wasn't... I mean, I sort of figured that out already.”

She chuckled. “I was just having you on, Harry. What were you gonna say?”

“Um,” he said, since he had to pause to remember. “Oh, right. Uh... well first, I was curious if Danzia is going to the ball.”

“She is, but she's going by herself. She says she's determined to dance with everyone there. Boys, girls, doesn't matter.”

“But I thought she was asexual?”

“Well I don't think she's also aromantic, though I don't know for sure either way. Anyway, she's a huge flirt despite being ace, I thought you knew that already.”

“Um, what does 'aromantic' mean?”

“It means 'doesn't experience romantic attraction.' It's distinct from 'asexual' because some asexual people still have romantic partners. There's lots of different kinds of attraction, after all. Attraction is a whole mess of possible types that often overlap. There's not a lot of agreement on the different types, either. Some say the options are romantic attraction, aesthetic attraction, platonic attraction, sensual attraction, and sexual attraction. But I've also heard of emotional attraction, intellectual attraction, and physical attraction.

“Aesthetic attraction is when one is attracted to someone based on their looks, and can be sexual, but not necessarily. It's mostly just wanting to look at someone because they're pretty or handsome. So I think that could also be called 'physical attraction.'

“Platonic attraction... I'm honestly kind of confused by that one. I think it might be kind of an umbrella term that includes intellectual attraction – being enamored of someone for their mind and ideas, but can also include aesthetic attraction, or sensual attraction – which is when you want to be physically close with someone without being interested in a sexual relationship... things like cuddles, hugs, hand-holding, that sort of thing. But I've also heard Platonic attraction defined as wanting to be friends with someone, so I'm not sure.

“When young kids have crushes on people, they're usually experiencing aesthetic attraction, sensual attraction, and/or possibly platonic attraction. Maybe intellectual attraction, depending on the kids and their personalities.

“I think it's also possible that 'romantic attraction' might be a kind of nebulous umbrella term itself, in a way, since it can include any combination of aesthetic, physical, sensual, sexual, emotional, intellectual, or platonic attraction. It's kind of like a Venn diagram; you can take any of those kinds of attractions by themselves, in pairs, or in groups and make a Venn diagram of them and call it 'romantic attraction.' So uh, yeah... it can be confusing. But a person being 'aromantic' basically means they don't experience romantic attraction, however they define that.”

“Okay. That's... that's a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, sorry. Also, I got sidetracked. You said the first thing was curiosity about Danzia and the ball. What was the other thing?”

“What? Oh, right. Um... well, I thought Danzia might not be going, so I'd already decided I'm going to ask Luna. I just don't know whether to ask her as a friend or as a date. I think she has feelings for me.”

Antigone sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, she does. I've known for months. And anyway, you---er, never mind.”

“Um... okay. But what I really wanted help with was, what do I say to other people who ask me?”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don't know what to say. I need a script for this situation, I don't already have one.”

“Oh, right. Okay, well that depends. Easiest one I can think of is asking Luna out, then telling everyone, 'Sorry, I'm already going with someone.'”

“What if they ask who I'm going with?”

“Well that depends on if you want them to know it's Luna or not. There's pros and cons to both, and it depends on if you ask her as a friend or as a date, but you might want to ask Luna which she prefers, assuming you ask her before someone else does. I don't really see that being a problem with Luna, sadly, but you never know.”

“Yeah, the cons of telling everyone it's Luna is she might get teased or harassed for me choosing her.”

“That's a good point. They might even accuse her of using a love potion. Of course, anyone who's been paying attention would... but never mind.”

“What are you not telling me? That's twice now in this conversation you've stopped yourself saying something.”

“I don't think you'd believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

She looked at him appraisingly, then sighed. “Okay, fine, but don't say I didn't warn you that you might not believe me.”

“Just get on with it, will you?”

“Fine, fine. It's just... the people close to you and Luna – the girls and I, Draco, Hermione, even Ron – have noticed you and she seem to be rather into each other. We've been noticing it for years.”

“I... what?” Harry asked, confused.

“I mean you have feelings for her, too, we think. It's kind of obvious to us. What those feeling are exactly is up to you to decide, but well... You hang out with her a lot more than any of your other friends except Ron and Hermione, you're always holding hands or touching each other in some other way, and you routinely talk with her at night via that two-way mirror thing. You don't do that with any of your other friends, not even your Slytherin friends. Oh, and you give each other the most beautiful, thoughtful gifts. You put more effort into giving gifts to each other than you do for your other friends. So clearly something other than mere friendship is going on there.”

“I...” Harry said, trailing off, his mouth open.

“And there's the way you look at each other. You're both clearly smitten with each other in some manner.”

Harry stared at her, his eyes wide.

“Anyway, if you can remember all that stuff I said about the different kinds of attraction, maybe you can sort out your feelings with it. Or maybe I confused you even worse, I dunno. But whether you ask her as a friend or as a date or whatever, you need to decide that yourself. Oh, and there's other options as well.”

“Um... like what?”

“Well, friends can have dates too, so you could ask her out both as a friend and as a date. And you can always just set aside the question of yours or her feelings for another day and just ask her out. And of course, whatever you decide, you could always ask Luna for her opinion about it all first.”

“Ask Luna about---I can't do that! That's mortifying! I'm not even sure I can ask her out without tripping over my own knotted tongue!”

Antigone shrugged. “Who said you had to ask her verbally? You could make her a card that asks her.”

Harry sat there for several minutes, thinking, and Antigone went back to her homework.

“Well, thank you for your input, Antigone,” Harry said, getting up. “I'm going back to my room to think.”

She smiled at him. “Well good luck, whatever you decide.”

He nodded at her and left.

Endnotes: Once more I titled the chapter after a song. It seemed fitting. :)

A little shorter than usual, I know, but at least it's done and published. :)