Jealousy

"...I'm sorry, Harry. It's obvious someone set a trap for you by putting your name in as Champion..."

Ron had come to apologize. Harry grinned and pulled him into a hug as though he'd been waiting for exactly this.

"Don't worry about it. Honestly, you sulking bothered me more than the trap did."

"Still, though. If someone's out to get you, shouldn't you at least explain the situation? Because you don't exactly look like someone whose life is in danger."

"Just because someone's after me doesn't mean I have to go around cowering and holding my breath."

"Most people would, actually..."

"I haven't done anything wrong. Why should I hide? I'll carry on as normal."

Ron shook his head slowly, then seemed to realize how foolish he'd been and burst out laughing. Hermione, who had been watching the reconciliation from nearby, wiped actual tears from her eyes and threw her arms around both of them.

"You're both idiots. One of you refuses to say anything, and the other refuses to listen! Do you have any idea how impossible it's been, stuck in the middle of you two?"

Ron, caught off guard by the sudden embrace, held his arms out awkwardly and just opened and closed his hands, not quite sure where to put them. Harry laughed and answered.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I had reasons I couldn't talk about. I've had to be careful because of what Professor Dumbledore and I have been looking for."

"Oi, Harry. If you say it like that, what does that make me? It's not like I had some reason I couldn't hear it. Now I look like the one who was so jealous he ignored his own friends."

Ron grumbled, and both Hermione and Harry dissolved into laughter.

Harry had received Dumbledore's permission to share information about the Horcruxes with people he trusted. But he still hadn't told Ron and Hermione.

It wasn't a matter of trust—not at all. He simply hadn't been sure whether he had the right to burden them with something this heavy and this dangerous.

Carina had been directly involved with the diary, and there had been reasons she needed to know. But Ron and Hermione were his friends. Until now, he'd been too afraid to drag them into something so perilous.

But it was getting harder to keep it from them. And he found he no longer wanted to.

Harry settled into a chair in the common room and told them everything.

"I'm looking for Voldemort's Horcruxes—spare lives, you might call them, fragments of his soul stored in objects."

He told them that the diary which had thrown Hogwarts into chaos in second year had been one of those Horcruxes, and that they had recently found another at Sirius's house. Ron and Hermione listened in stunned silence.

"Professor Dumbledore's investigation has identified the previous owner of Salazar Slytherin's Locket, and he's discovered that Helga Hufflepuff's Cup disappeared along with it. That's likely a Horcrux as well. He's tracking those down while asking me to search for objects belonging to the other founders."

Hermione, having absorbed all of this, raised a question.

"Wait. Why does it have to be something belonging to the Hogwarts founders? If an ordinary diary can be made into a Horcrux, couldn't he just buy a blank notebook and hide it in a Muggle corner shop somewhere?"

Harry had wondered the same thing, and he had an answer.

"A Horcrux is an object that holds a piece of your soul. Because of the nature of what it is, it has to be something that carries genuine personal meaning to you. But he had no possessions he was truly attached to. I'm not even sure he's capable of attachment. The only thing he ever seemed to care about was a diary he'd bought from a Muggle shop—one he'd used for seven years."

And so Voldemort had collected the treasures of Hogwarts's four founders. Hogwarts was the only place he had ever felt anything for, and those relics were worthy vessels for the pieces of his soul.

Ron nodded slowly, thinking it through.

"So you've been here looking for something belonging to one of the four founders?"

"Yes. It's probably something connected to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

"Then why didn't you tell us sooner? We could have helped..."

Ron muttered, then caught Hermione's pointed look and pulled a face.

"You're both about to say I would've been too sulky to listen, aren't you? If you're trying to make me feel guilty, congratulations—it's working brilliantly."

"Well, that's part of it. But you've both had plenty on your plates."

Harry laughed, then let the smile fade and spoke seriously.

"I can't move around freely anymore. I've got the Triwizard Tournament to deal with, and I need to watch out for whoever put my name in that Goblet. I don't know who it is, but if they're here, they most likely slipped in with the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons delegations. They'll be making moves, so I have to be careful."

"So you want us to investigate in your place?"

"If you're willing."

Ron and Hermione both nodded, though they still looked worried. Harry smiled to reassure them.

"Professor Moody is keeping an eye on my safety. His eye can see through Transfiguration and Invisibility Cloaks, so it would take something extraordinary to get to me."

"Ron, do you understand now? Do you see how childish you were being?"

"I already said I was sorry..."

Talking with Ron and Hermione again so naturally, Harry felt something solid settle beneath his feet. He'd been working so hard to seem unbothered that he hadn't noticed—but there was a world of difference between having his friends as a foundation and not having them.

Hermione dabbed at her eyes and asked, "Ron, how did you know someone was after Harry?"

"Malfoy... told me."

"Ah. Malfoy."

Of course, Hermione thought, nodding—and then she turned to Harry with a warm, quiet smile. Harry felt a complicated mix of surprise and gratitude, and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

She must have noticed the falling-out between Ron and Harry and quietly arranged for them to make up. She'd been watching over him more carefully than he'd realized.

If his friends were the ground beneath his feet, then Carina was something else entirely—a fixed star. The ultimate destination, the one that showed him the way forward while being the destination itself. And now, she was his.

Even if it was only beneath an Invisibility Cloak—the fact that he could hold her freely and press his lips to hers made him, right now, extraordinarily happy. Harry smiled at the thought, almost surprised by it.

That was when Ron spotted something through the window and murmured, "Oh, it's Viktor Krum. He's got a broomstick— wait. Malfoy?"

Hermione leaned toward the window as well.

Carina and Viktor Krum were walking side by side. Out on the Quidditch pitch, Krum was examining Carina's Firebolt with an expression of keen interest.

Hermione turned around. The smile had vanished from Harry Potter's face.

By the time Harry sprinted down to the pitch, the two of them had already disappeared somewhere. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and fixed a hard stare on the boats moored at the distant lakeshore.

After that, Harry tried to find Carina several times. But every time he spotted her, she was with someone, and there was no way to slip in.

If it had been Crabbe and Goyle, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. He would have pushed past them without hesitation, leaned close to her ear, and whispered a time and place. The way he always had.

But when she was with students from Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, it was different. They were outsiders—and among them, a Death Eater might be hiding.

Harry had no intention of giving any of them even the faintest reason to guess at his relationship with Carina.

His only opportunity was a shared class. Potions, which Gryffindor and Slytherin attended together. Harry finished his potion and, on his way to submit it, slipped Carina a note.

Tonight at seven. The broom cupboard on the west side.

He handed in his potion, endured Snape's scowling attempts to find fault with it, and when Snape finally said "Pass" with a look of profound reluctance, Harry bowed deeply and turned to leave.

On his way back to his seat, he noticed a small, neatly folded note sitting on the corner of his desk. With a Seeker's reflexes, he snatched it up, returned to his seat, and read it.

I have a prior engagement. Sunday.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

Hermione's worried voice made Harry reflexively touch the corner of his mouth. Without realizing it, his expression had gone rigid.

There was nothing to be angry about. Carina had her own schedule, her own commitments. And the alternative she was offering—meeting on a relaxed Sunday after the Hogsmeade trip on Saturday—was perfectly reasonable.

But today, of all days, he didn't want to wait.

He needed her encouragement before the Triwizard Tournament drew any closer. He needed to hear her praise him for finding and destroying a Horcrux. And—just in case he was assassinated tomorrow—he needed to see her today.

Harry stacked up every possible reason he could think of for why he absolutely had to see Carina right now, and stood up from his seat. His plan was to catch her on the way out after class and pull her under the Invisibility Cloak. Once she was inside it, they'd have all the time they needed to talk.

At that moment, the classroom door opened and Colin Creevey came in. He beamed at Harry and went straight to Snape's desk.

"What is it?"

Snape asked curtly.

"Professor Snape! I need to take Harry Potter upstairs. All the Triwizard Champions are being called together..."

Harry's expression faltered, and Snape didn't miss it. He smiled with unpleasant satisfaction and nodded.

"He has just finished his potion. Take him."

With permission granted, Colin made his way over to Harry. Harry glanced toward Carina and said, "Er, Colin—do I have to go right now?"

"Yes! Mr. Bagman called for you. They're doing a wand weighing before the first task! You need to bring all your things!"

"...All right."

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and got to his feet. It seemed today wasn't going to work out after all.

The woman called Rita Skeeter, who apparently wrote for a newspaper, was a textbook tabloid journalist. Before Harry had even sat down, she had already decided he was "the tragic young Champion who lost his parents," and her Quick-Quotes Quill was busily recording things Harry had never said.

Harry gripped his wand and, with a simple Confundus Charm, replaced every instance of "Harry" in the Quill's notes with "bachelor Professor Snape, of the lustrous hair." He then strongly requested that it be printed without edits, and walked out of the broom cupboard.

When he emerged from the interview, the other Champions were already outside. Cedric and Fleur were talking, and Viktor Krum was leaning against the wall with an expression of profound boredom. Harry approached him with a sociable smile.

"Hello, Viktor Krum."

"You are..."

Viktor Krum recognized him and frowned.

"...Her... friend?"

"Not just a friend. A very close friend..."

Harry said it sharply, then caught himself a moment later.

Wait. Krum had never seen him and Carina together.

"What? Mar-foy said you and she were nothing to each other."

Mar-foy clearly meant Malfoy. Which meant the "she" Krum was referring to wasn't Carina...

Harry, having worked that out, turned to Krum with a genuinely warm smile this time.

"Friend. I think we could get along very well."

Viktor Krum explained that Carina had shown him her Firebolt at his request, and that in return, he had let her ride his broomstick, the Black Pearl.

Bulgarian players, apparently, commissioned their brooms from master craftsmen and received instruments entirely their own. Each one had different properties, though the overall stability tended to be lower—meaning the gap in performance between riders varied enormously depending on skill.

Carina took Quidditch seriously enough that Harry was certain she would have found all of this fascinating.

The misunderstanding was cleared up quickly enough, but the ache in Harry's chest didn't cool. Carina moved with a kind of relentless purpose, as though she couldn't spare a single moment, and Harry found it harder and harder to get near her. Even in Hogsmeade, the streets were so packed with Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students that they couldn't even catch each other's eye.

Maybe Carina didn't particularly want to see him. Maybe something more interesting had come along, and she was simply avoiding him.

Harry waited for Sunday in a cold, sunken mood.

That Sunday, Carina arrived at the meeting place thirty minutes late. She was slightly out of breath, as though she'd been running, and pushed her hair back from her face.

"I'm a little late. Sorry to keep you waiting."

Harry glanced around. The weather was fine, and there were people moving in every direction. It was the perfect opportunity to slip together under the Invisibility Cloak without raising suspicion—but he wasn't sure whether Carina would want that.

He said, "Carina. You've seemed busy lately."

"And you've been far too relaxed, if you ask me. What exactly have you been doing with yourself? Anyone watching would think you were a spectator, not a Champion."

Carina fanned herself with her hand to cool down. Harry had the impression she was slightly flushed—not just from running. Had she come from something that had put her in a good mood? Something she'd done before coming to meet him?

It felt like something heavy had been hung around his throat. Harry forced himself to speak.

"A stand-in like me might as well be a spectator."

"What kind of nonsense is that? Even if you're just a stand-in who'll be knocked out in the first round, you should at least know what the task involves, shouldn't you? That way you can prepare—or decide not to bother."

"How am I supposed to know what the task is? It's secret until the day itself."

"What?"

Carina's expression shifted. She looked at him as though he were hopeless, then narrowed her eyes and took one step toward him, then another.

Harry quickly threw the Invisibility Cloak around them both. Their figures dissolved into the air.

Carina, now inches from his face, grabbed his tie and snapped at him.

"You idiot. Didn't you hear what Dumbledore said? He told the students from each school to help their Champion!"

"Right. Cheer them on—"

"Not cheer them on!"

Carina let out a small, exasperated breath, then lifted her head and looked him directly in the eye, enunciating every word.

"Do you know what that means? It means use every resource available to you—your abilities, your connections, your circumstances—to gather information and prepare in advance! Why do you think every single student from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons came here with their headmasters? To stand around and watch? Absolutely not! They're here to help their Champions prepare!"

Harry thought back over the past weeks. Carina had been spending time not just with Crabbe and Goyle, but with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students to an unusual degree.

If that had been her way of gathering information on his behalf—while he sat back and did nothing—

It seemed there had been a colossal misunderstanding. A deeply embarrassing, deeply touching one. The kind he could never fully repay.

Carina didn't give him a chance to speak.

"Do you know why Madame Maxime and Karkaroff kicked up such a fuss when two Champions came out of Hogwarts? It's already Hogwarts's home ground. Every circumstance favors the Hogwarts students. And on top of that, two Champions? At that point, playing fair is just stupidity! They will do whatever it takes to get their Champion to win!"

Carina fired the words at him one by one—but Harry Potter, the one receiving them, was smiling faintly, barely listening.

"So there's Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, naively doing absolutely nothing, sitting there like an idiot waiting. Planning to find out what's going to try to incinerate him on the day of the first task! He was actually going to walk into the first task completely unprepared? Even knowing someone is out to kill him! Do you have any idea how much I've had to do to find out—"

Harry's hand came up and cupped the back of her head. Carina, mid-tirade, felt the touch and finally registered what was happening. The small oh that escaped her lips was swallowed by Harry's.

She struggled for a moment against the sudden kiss—then closed her eyes.

When their lips parted, Carina had entirely forgotten what she'd been about to say. Her head was spinning, and it felt as though Blast-Ended Skrewts were exploding one after another beside her ears. She couldn't form a single coherent thought. The only sound that came out of her was something a newborn might make.

"Hoh..."

"I missed you."

"Mmh, I—me t— mmph."

Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang, was a former Death Eater. A man who had somehow settled his past and climbed to the position of headmaster—and who almost certainly had some connection to the Malfoy family, given their similar histories.

Carina had been using every means at her disposal to help Harry. While keeping watch on the movements of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

"Thank you."

Harry whispered it, and Carina opened her eyes to narrow slits.

"More... thank me more..."

"All right."

He did. It was repayment for her, and reward for himself.

They had both been standing at first, but as the minutes passed, they drifted steadily closer to the ground. Gravity, it seemed, acted with particular cruelty on couples. Before long they were leaning against the wall, kissing—half-reclined.

Their lips had not parted once.

At some point, Carina pressed lightly against his chest and lifted her head. A flushed face, damp in various ways, met his gaze.

Carina's reddened lips moved.

"Dra... drag—"

"Yes?"

Carina pushed the words out between unsteady breaths, like an exhausted messenger delivering a report.

"The first task... it's dragons... I saw the Durmstrang students studying them. Dragon hide carries magical properties, but the weak point is... mmph."

Even breathless, Carina was trying to get every last word out. But the explanation went no further. Harry had pulled her back in.

They spent the remaining half of their time together not in conversation, but breathing into each other.