Chapter 93: Peace Talks
Luna woke up in a daze. As her mind cleared, she discovered that she was in her room. She noticed a furry black object nestled against her.
<Tutela, is that you?>
<Yes, Moon. Are you alright?>
Luna thought back to her dream. Beautiful candles hovering over the dance floor, her in a bright, multicolored dress, dancing along with her partner.
She shook her head, her face flushed.
<I don't think so.>
<What was your dream about?>
<The ball, I think. Did I go?>
<No, Moon. Third-years weren't allowed without an escort, and no one asked you.>
Luna nodded to the dark room. Tutela rested her head beside Luna on the pillow.
<You insisted you didn't mind.>
Thoughts and memories danced in her head as she tried to make sense of them. Luna didn't mind that she hadn't gone. There weren't any boys with whom she'd wanted to go, were there? No, she was certain there weren't.
<I didn't.>
A face flashed in her head, but she put it back in the store cupboard of that Luna's memories where it belonged. She was like Brain; she didn't care for boys that much.
<I don't think I do.>
Tutela's ears perked up.
<If I ask you about boys, who comes to mind?>
<Cohort, but I think that's because another Luna went with Ron to the ball.> She paused and thought some more. She'd had more than one dream that night. <Another one went with Harry, I think.>
<And you? With whom would you have gone?>
<No one… I don't know.> Tears welled up in her eyes. <I don't know. I can't tell. It's all jumbled.>
She tried putting everything into her filing cabinet as her mum had taught her, but she couldn't sort out the emotions. Who was happy? Who was sad? There was one Luna that just hated everyone, but they all avoided thinking about Mean Luna. Another Luna loved everyone, but that wasn't her. She didn't love anyone apart from her dad and Rose. Was she like one of the other Lunas that liked girls instead of boys?
<Help me.>
Tutela nestled against her. Unlike every other time, her soft fur did little to bring comfort to Luna. Luna still held tightly to Tutela and buried her face in Tutela's fur. It helped to muffle the sobs so her dad didn't worry. She hated making him worry.
<It's going to be worse when we leave. Then I won't have Rose to sort it all out.>
She forced the thoughts to stay inside the store cupboard. If they didn't escape, they wouldn't overwhelm her again. She stayed safe so long as they stayed inside.
<I can't keep the emotions straight. What do I do?>
<Does your dad know?>
<I don't think so. Maybe. Maybe I shouldn't say anything. I don't want him to worry.>
Luna remembered the days when her dad didn't do anything. When he just sat in his chair and stared into space. That was when Luna had learned to cook.
<I used to make cupcakes for Daddy. He always smiled when I did. We ate cupcakes for dinner once.>
Luna stopped crying and rolled over to stare at the ceiling.
<Those are my memories. I know it.>
The storm inside her head found peace, and she with it.
<Tutela, I'm scared.>
<Of what?>
<What if I forget who I am? I only remember because of you and Rose.>
<Just now, you remembered who you were. You knew which memories were yours. Perhaps you don't need us.>
Luna didn't have an answer. She wanted it all to be okay. Not for the first time, she wished she had normal dreams. Dreams of unicorns, or books, or thestrals, like normal girls did.
She held up her hand. A ring glistened in the light of the crescent moon outside.
<I'm not tired anymore. I think my ring finished attuning.>
She was grateful for it. The last thing Luna wanted was to go back to sleep. Only two hours of sleep meant fewer dreams. At least, she hoped it did.
Luna sat up and stretched. The lights came on in her room. With the ball gone from her mind, she picked up her Care for Magical Creatures textbook and started reading.
"Sally-Anne, we're home."
Sally-Anne opened her eyes and saw the welcoming sight of her house. Taltria sat on their porch, patiently awaiting their return.
"How long have I been asleep?" Sally-Anne asked.
"You fell asleep not five minutes after we left King's Cross," her dad said. "You must've been worn out from last night."
"I guess so," Sally-Anne said, rubbing her eyes. "Rose says I should only need two hours of sleep once my ring finishes attuning."
"What's that mean?" her mum asked.
"No idea."
Once she got inside, Sally-Anne took her pack to her room and collapsed on her bed.
"I'm so glad we sent you to Mrs. Walker," her mum said. "I see she was a resounding success."
Sally-Anne mumbled her response into her pillow.
"What was that, Dear?"
"She prefers 'Madame Walker'," Sally-Anne said after picking her head up. "And she'd give me such a scolding if she saw me like this."
"Did Viktor wear you out that much?" her mother asked, a sly smile on her face.
Sally-Anne waved her leg around in a feeble attempt to kick her mother.
"Taltria!"
"Lady Princess?" Taltria poked her head in Sally-Anne's room.
"I need you to punch Mum for me."
Taltria exchanged glances with her mum.
"Why?"
"She's picking on me."
"Like you said: She's your mum."
Her mum sat down on her bed as the phone rang.
"I got it!" her dad called.
"Really, though," her mum said, "how was the ball?"
"It was nice." A smile formed on her face. "I had fun."
Her mum turned to Taltria, who'd also taken a spot on Sally-Anne's bed.
"Taltria?"
"She was treated with the upmost respect. Viktor was a perfect gentleman. Alex made sure of it."
"Mum!"
"Although there was once I lost sight of them, and they came back with their clothes out of place."
"Taltria!" Sally-Anne screeched. She sat bolt upright. "That never happened! I swear! She's lying!"
Sally-Anne stared at her mum as her mum eyed her. Sally-Anne stole a glare at Taltria, who was doing all she could not to laugh.
"Taltria?" her mum said at last.
"Yes?"
"Don't do that."
"Of course not. Lady Princess just looks so cute when she's distressed."
Sally-Anne and her mum gave identical glares to Taltria.
"What did you think of him?" her mum asked, turning back to Sally-Anne.
"He was nice," Sally-Anne replied. "He memorized a passage from Romeo and Juliet to make me smile."
"I wouldn't have thought he knew enough about you."
"We've talked a few times," Sally-Anne said. "Mostly about him, but I'm sure I mentioned something about Shakespeare somewhere in there."
"Well, you are your father's daughter," her mum said with a sigh. "And what about Harry?"
Sally-Anne flushed for just a moment. After taking time to recompose herself, she said, "Viktor said I looked at him a lot."
"That's no good," her mum said, grimacing. "It's one thing to stare at another boy the whole night, but your date shouldn't catch you."
"I know, I didn't think. He's probably just as observant as Harry."
"Even if he weren't, you've got to let Harry go," her mum said. "Don't waste your life pining away for a man that will never love you back."
"I know, I'm trying," Sally-Anne said. "I thought I had it, but then we were working together to get information about Rose, and I thought he'd notice me, but he never did. Then I set him up with Ellie and I keep wondering 'What if I'd just asked him?' He spent the train ride back with Ellie, and they looked so happy at the ball, and… I just wanted it to be me!"
Sally-Anne didn't realize she was crying until her mother's arms were around her.
"It's not fair." Sally-Anne melted into her mother's arms. "It's not fair!"
They heard a quiet knock on the open door.
"Sorry to interrupt," her father whispered, "but Dear, the phone's for you. Can I tag in?"
Her mum kissed her on the head, then took the phone from her dad. She walked off with the phone, talking cheerfully to someone, as her dad took her mum's place.
"What happened?" he asked. "Do I need to wag my finger menacingly at someone, or hold them while Taltria punches?"
Sally-Anne laughed a little, thankful for her dad's sense of humor.
"Neither." Sally-Anne wiped some tears out of her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's not that important."
"Is it about Harry?" he asked.
Sally-Anne thought for a moment about not telling him, but it was her dad. If Alex didn't have the answer, then her dad always would.
She nodded.
"Any boy who doesn't fall madly in love with you after spending so much time with you isn't good enough for you," he said. "This other boy, Viktor, sounds like a nice young man. Maybe a little old, but if he sees how magnificent you are, you should take the sun and moon when he offers them."
"He quoted Romeo and Juliet at the ball," she said softly.
"Cherishes you, treats you with respect, and knows Shakespeare. That's my three requirements met. Are you going to wait until after you graduate, or get married now?"
She smiled and elbowed her dad.
"Don't let Madame Walker catch you doing that," he said. "She'll have your head for breakfast."
Sally-Anne let her head fall on her father's shoulder.
"Thanks, Dad."
He squeezed her shoulders. "Anything for you, Princess."
They sat in silence for a minute, listening to the faint conversation her mum was having with her friend.
"Who was on the phone?" Sally-Anne asked.
"Your mum's friend Maggie," her dad replied. "But she's not my concern right now, you are. Do you like Viktor?"
"I don't know."
"Then take some time and think about it. I think he's worth giving a chance. Why don't you spend some time in that place around Hogwarts? Get to know him better."
Sally-Anne tried to imagine herself with Viktor. He was sweet, more so than she'd expected him to be. Maybe they were well suited.
"Aren't you supposed to say something like 'If he hurts you, I'll make him regret it'?" she asked.
Her dad chuckled. "Of course not." He stopped laughing abruptly. "Your mum and Taltria handle that."
Sally-Anne glanced over at Taltria. She sat patiently listening to them, quieter than Sally-Anne had ever seen her.
"I've got instructions to drag him to Alex," Taltria said.
"That's a scary thought," Sally-Anne said.
One particularly cold morning, an owl flew into Hermione's kitchen and dropped a parcel in front of her.
"What's that?" her mum asked.
"No idea," Hermione replied, feeding the owl a piece of bacon. She always found it odd that delivery owls ate bacon, considering normal owls didn't.
She slid her finger along the parcel, slicing it open with magic.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," her mum said, a trace of hostility in her voice.
"No one's around, it's not hurting anyone, and it's faster than fetching the letter opener," Hermione said as she opened the package.
Inside was a framed photo of the Yule Ball Colin had taken of her and her friends. Seven faces smiled back at her with varying levels of enthusiasm, although none topped Rose's excitement.
"Don't you all look nice," her mum said as her dad sat down.
"Am I allowed to put it in my room, or are we still pretending Hogwarts doesn't exist?" Hermione asked.
"Talk to your father," her mum said.
Hermione turned to her dad, who glowered back at her.
"It doesn't move," Hermione said.
"There's a card," her mum said, reaching for the card that sat beneath the photo.
Hermione picked it up and read it.
"'Happy Holidays, from our family to yours'," she read. "Signed by the staff at Hogwarts."
"All of them?" her mum asked as Hermione handed her the card.
"Even Professor Snape," Hermione said, "and Professor Moody, even though I've never had him."
"Probably for the best," her dad muttered.
"There was nothing wrong with Professor Lupin," Hermione said. "And–"
"'Nothing wrong'?" her dad asked. "What about that dragon?!"
Hermione looked to her mum for an ally, but wasn't surprised when she didn't find one. Like many times in the past four months, Hermione felt as if her parents had turned against her.
"I'm not hungry," Hermione said, excusing herself from the table.
Without looking at her parents, the card, or the picture, Hermione ran up the stairs to her bedroom. She stayed on her bed and didn't move until that night when she had a knock on her open door.
"May I come in?" her dad asked.
"Would it matter if I said 'no'?"
"Of course it would. It's always mattered to me what you say."
"Does it?" Hermione asked. "Since when?"
Her father sighed.
"I brought you your picture. It was still on the table when your mother and I got home."
She glanced at her door and saw her father holding the photo.
"Have you spent all day in your room again?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Most days you sit around and read downstairs. There's a spot on the couch where you curl up that's always worn when we get home, even if you're not in it. Then there are days when everything's exactly the same as when we left. Today's one of those days."
"What?"
"We're worried about you. You hardly eat when you're here, and we've heard you calling out in your sleep."
"What does it matter?" Hermione snapped. "It's about Hogwarts, which you two are determined to convince everyone doesn't exist!"
"Of course it exists, but reminding you it's out there isn't fair to you."
Hermione reached out her arm, whispered an incantation, and summoned a book. She placed it on her lap then glared at her father.
"I'm reminded of what I'm missing every day. It's a part of me!"
Her father sat down and looked at the picture.
"It's been nearly a week, and you still haven't told us how that night went. Or the rest of your week, for that matter."
"It went the same as every night goes. I fight off a panic attack when I'm outside, and dread going outside when I'm not."
Hermione and her father sat in silence. She knew the drill. Every time she talked about her attack, there would be a few minutes of awkward silence, then he'd make some excuse and leave her alone.
"What would you have us do?" he asked, breaking the pattern.
"Princess says there's a therapist on site at St. Mungo's," Hermione said. "She went there last year to help with her own panic attacks around Dementors."
"I'd rather send you–"
"What am I supposed to tell a Muggle?" Hermione snapped. "'While I was at a sporting event that involves flying around on brooms, I was attacked by a bunch of pureblood supremacists that believe all Muggles should die. Oh, and a Muggle is someone who can't use magic.'"
"I doubt this St. Mungo's is any better," her dad shot back.
"At least I could talk to them!"
"Then what? How much good do you think it will do you? You think they've got any understanding of how the human mind works?"
"It's better than nothing!"
"It might not be!"
"It has to be!"
They both jumped when the light in Hermione's room burst and the hallway light flickered.
"What just happened?" her mum called from downstairs.
"Don't know," her dad called back. He looked at Hermione. "What did happen?"
Panic creeped into her mind, but she held it back. She convinced herself it wasn't her fault, just a coincidence.
"I don't know, but I can fix it." She activated her night vision. Calculations ran through her head, then she waved her hands over the broken bulb, muttering incantations under her breath. The pieces formed together, then reattached themselves to the fitting in the ceiling.
"Still can't believe she can do that," her dad muttered as the light flickered back on. "Was it you that—?"
"It couldn't have been," Hermione said. She held her hands to stop them from shaking. "That's never happened before."
The lights flickered back to life. Her father didn't speak a word. Instead, he stared at the wall behind her.
It's fine. I can control it when I'm awake.
She didn't want to turn around. She didn't know what she'd find, but Hermione knew it wouldn't be good. If she didn't turn around, then she couldn't have lost control.
No. Please, no. Don't take this from me.
She caught sight of cracks in the ceiling that hadn't been there that morning. Without thinking, she followed them back to the wall behind her. As she did, she found more cracks, until she found the source: her. Dozens of cracks branched out from the wall where her back had been just a moment ago.
"What happened here?" her mum asked, appearing at her door with a torch in hand.
"I didn't… I couldn't have…" She turned to her parents, pleading with them to believe her. "It's not…"
"If this is your way of trying to convince us that you need help, then–" her mum started.
"I didn't! I swear I didn't!"
Her parents exchanged looks.
"I didn't!"
"We know you didn't mean to," her mum said. She spoke slowly, as one would to a mad person. "But you've been using magic a lot lately, and we think it's time you took a break."
"No!"
"Hermione–"
"NO!"
As she screamed, her parents flew back through the open door, which slammed shut behind them. Hermione gasped as she realized what she'd done. She nearly lept off her bed, but caught herself. If she did, she'd have to see her parents' faces, and that wasn't something she ever wanted to do. They'd just have the same subtle, disappointed look that Rose gave her ever since the World Cup. Even if no one else saw it, she knew it was there. It was unbearable from Rose, and it'd be worse from her parents.
Hermione sank to the floor and cried. Neither she nor her parents said another word the rest of the night.
"Are you sure she's gone?" Cornelius asked.
"Ms. Peta-Lorrum is staying with a friend for the holiday," Albus replied, reminding himself once again to thank Xenophilius for agreeing to take the girl. "I watched her board the express myself."
Cornelius looked at the door to Albus's office.
"And you're sure?"
"If anything goes wrong, then I will take full responsibility, and you may feel free to toss me aside without any concern for my retaliation." He looked Cornelius dead in the eye. "Cornelius, childrens' lives may be at risk. The longer we delay, the more time either Crouch has to draw up a plan."
Cornelius took another look behind them, as if hoping someone else would come in and take the fall for him. Knowing Cornelius, that was exactly what he wanted.
"Very well," he said at last.
The two men walked into Albus's office where Madame Bones and Barty Crouch waited for them.
"Sorry for the delay," Albus said as he took his seat at his desk. "Shall we begin?"
"I still don't see how this is necessary," Crouch said. "I assure you I had nothing to do with that boy's name in the Goblet of Fire."
"Then you should have no trouble with this," Albus said. "Madame Bones, if you would?"
"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue," she instructed, taking a vial from her pocket.
"Really, I–"
"Or do you want me to do it for you?" she asked, eyeing him with all the contained ferocity of a crouching jaguar.
Crouch slowly opened his mouth and allowed Madame Bones to put a few drops of veritaserum on his tongue.
Albus watched one of the clocks in his office for exactly a minute, then turned back to Crouch.
"What is your name?"
"Barty Crouch."
"What is your son's name?"
"Barty Crouch." This time, he frowned when he answered. "Why?"
"Did your son die in Azkaban?"
Crouch flinched, fighting back against the veritaserum. "Y-No."
"Who did?" Bones asked.
"My wife," Crouch grunted.
Albus looked to Cornelius, who was clearly shocked by this new revelation.
"Did you put Neville Longbottom's name in the Goblet of Fire?" Albus asked.
"Yes."
"Why?" Bones asked.
"I was ordered to put a name in."
"By whom?" Cornelius asked, clearly not believing the evidence in front of his eyes.
"Barty Crouch."
"Why did you listen?" Bones asked, resuming control of the interrogation.
"He… put me under the Imperius Curse."
Albus and Bones exchanged glances.
"Start from when your wife died in Azkaban," Bones said. "Tell us everything."
"No!" Crouch exclaimed. "I can't! I'll end up there myself!"
"Crouch, none of this has to leave this room," Cornelius said. "I'm sure we can forgive anything you've done. After all, we can't prove any of it."
Crouch looked at Cornelius, then to Bones.
"What about her?"
Bones glowered at him and said nothing.
"Madame Bones knows we can't use anything said under veritaserum without a signed confession," Albus said. "I am only interested in what your son is planning, but to know that, I must know the whole story."
Crouch looked at each of them in turn, then relaxed in his chair.
"My wife insisted that we save his life. She used polyjuice potion to impersonate him and take his place in Azkaban. Barty came home with me, but… he was still a loyal follower. I thought maybe it was just some phase, but then I found him planning something, so I had to stop him."
"What did you do?" Bones asked.
"I put him under the Imperius Curse to keep him at home," Crouch said with some resistance. "He stayed out of sight when people were around, and made no attempt to leave the house."
"What went wrong?"
"Bertha Jorkins showed up, looking for me. I still don't know why. She'd probably got confused again, but by the time I found her, he'd grabbed her wand. He put us both under the Imperius Curse, then learned everything she knew about the Ministry and Hogwarts."
"Why Hogwarts?" Albus asked.
"He wanted me to put Harry Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire and help him to the final task," Crouch said. "Then turn the cup into a portkey so when he touched it, he'd be transported to a graveyard where Barty would be waiting."
"What graveyard?" Albus asked.
"Little Hangleton."
Where, if I'm not mistaken, Tom Riddle, Sr. was buried.
"Why did you put Longbottom's name in the Goblet of Fire and not Potter's?" Bones asked.
"I tried to fight back," Crouch said. "The boy brought an end to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's rule. I thought I owed him that, so I put another name in the Goblet of Fire instead."
"Why Longbottom's?"
"I think I know the answer to that," Albus said. "He's the only name you knew for sure went to Hogwarts."
"I remembered his name because of what Barty did," Crouch said. "Then I found out that he was friends with that girl, and after what she did to Bagman–"
"There is no evidence that suggests Ms. Peta-Lorrum was responsible for what happened to Mr. Bagman," Albus said quickly.
Even if it is something she'd do.
Seeing that his companions were giving him strange looks, he added, "Besides, I hear he's going to make a full recovery and has even decided to break his nasty gambling habit."
"Where is your son now?" Bones asked, returning them to the present discussion.
"I don't know," Crouch said. "He was at my house last I knew, but I doubt he's there anymore."
"How did you get Mr. Longbottom's name in the Goblet of Fire?" Albus asked.
"It was Barty's idea," Crouch said. "He was always clever. I transfigured a piece of parchment to a thin layer of stone. Barty drew a rune on it that faded over time, so when the goblet was lit, the stone turned back into a piece of parchment and unleashed a Confundus Charm on the goblet to trick it into thinking there were four schools."
Exactly as Rose said, Albus thought.
He admitted to himself that he was concerned how accurate the story Rose gave him was. Her friend could've known what happened, but she also could've influenced events.
Just how powerful is she?
"Have you already enchanted the cup?" Albus asked.
"No."
Albus exchanged glances with his companions. He nodded to Bones.
"That will be all," she said. "Please wait outside."
Crouch did as he was told. No one spoke until after the door had slammed shut behind him.
"Now what?" Cornelius asked.
"We find Junior and put a stop to his plans," Bones said.
"I believe the cup is the important part of all this," Albus said. "Come June, we'll want to have Aurors posted at Little Hangleton, just in case."
"If we can spare them," Bones said. "We've been stretched thin ever since the World Cup. It'd be easier just to ensure your cup isn't enchanted."
"It may have to be, although I can talk with the people responsible for building the third task," Albus said. "Perhaps they will have a better idea."
Admittedly, even Albus didn't know what Rose was building inside the Quidditch Pitch, although he'd given her strict guidelines for it, so he hoped that it wouldn't present a danger to any of the audience. Adding to that would be the presence of students and their parents, which meant the Grangers and Lovegoods would be present to keep her honest.
"What about Crouch?" Cornelius asked, staring at the closed door.
"We should take him into custody," Bones said. "He's still imperiused, so–"
"We can't just ruin his reputation like that," Cornelius argued. "Surely there's a better solution."
"What would you suggest?" Albus asked.
Cornelius shifted uncomfortably.
"Junior will know we're on to him by now," Bones said. "He won't risk anything big, but he'll start planning around us now that he knows."
"If we keep Crouch here, I can have him monitored every second without him knowing," Albus said.
"You can?" Cornelius asked.
"Indeed," Albus said. "Between the portraits and house-elves, we should be able to keep a constant eye on him. He will also not be allowed anywhere near the Triwizard Cup."
After everyone had agreed, Cornelius and Bones left his office. He caught sight of Minerva, who escorted them down the staircase and out of sight. Once his door closed, he called Dripty.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore? You is needing Dripty?"
"Please inform Ms. Peta-Lorrum that I wish to speak with her at her earliest convenience."
Dripty took a hold of the seashell that hung around his neck.
"She says she is being on her way."
"Thank you, Dripty. And… you're sure you don't want to be head elf? The position is only filled temporarily at the moment."
Dripty nodded, a sullen look on his face.
"Dripty is not wanting to replace Ms. Atrien, but Professor Dumbledore is being kind for offering."
Rose appeared beside Dripty.
"Salutations, Dripty!"
"It is being nice to see Miss Rose, but Dripty must be going."
"It was good to see you too! I'll have to come visit some time!"
Dripty smiled then vanished, leaving Albus and Rose alone.
"You and Sylvia were right," Albus said. "We interrogated Mr. Crouch, and he explained to us everything we needed to know."
"Kethé!" she exclaimed. "Are we— wait, did you say Sylvia?"
Albus looked at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
"Did you really expect to bring an unfamiliar guest to the ball and have me not assume she was your friend from the Chamber of Secrets?"
Rose stared at him with her unnerving, unblinking stare.
"Crab apples."
"Didn't expect I'd figure it out?"
"No, just hoping Brain would've figured it out first."
"I'm surprised no one else questioned it, although I suspect you two were responsible for that too."
"Kinda." Before Albus could ask her any further questions, she changed the subject. "Are we ready for the second task?"
"Just about," Albus said. "Of course, most of the preparation can't be done until that night. Do you have the list of names?"
Rose pulled out her notebook. "Right here. Whenever you're ready."
"How did you get them?"
"Princess. She doesn't know why I need them, apart from just the tournament."
Albus was uneasy with her enlisting her friends' help, but of her friends, Sally-Anne was the least likely to ask questions. If it'd been Hermione, he'd have been far more concerned. Harry was likely to ask and keep it to himself, but Hermione would keep digging. At least, that's what he'd gathered about her friends.
Another idea popped into his mind. He wrote down a reminder to talk to Minerva about it.
"I haven't started talking yet."
"Oh, no. I was making a note about something else." He turned his attention back to Rose. "I won't need the names just yet. Best to see how things play out."
Rose shrugged and stowed her notebook.
"What about the orbs?" Albus asked.
Rose nodded. "They activate tonight, so it won't be long before they start to work them out."
"Are you sure? You didn't exactly make it easy for them."
"Still easier than the eggs would've been! How were they supposed to guess water?"
"Well–"
"They'd guess! It'd take them forever to work it out, and it all came down to blind luck! This way, they've got to work together, and I know they'll figure them out!"
Albus gazed at Rose, who looked quite proud of herself. He sighed.
"I suppose you're right."
That night, Neville found himself looking at the orb. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling it was a good time to start thinking about the second task.
As he turned it over in his hands, golden letters appeared on the smooth orb:
P os lacx ophn crzxx
Iiz E nvowy kkap
Z ysks oj tyx dpunp
Blm lofore zg los jwrb
Bx fca herkf tm ozeemaam
O sice kocc uol rgbf taxk mszy
After a minute of staring at the orb, his mouth hanging open all the while, he uttered a single word.
"Huh?"
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