☤ Pseudonym ☤

~Chapter Seven~

Wherever I turn people are talking about the tournament and making ridiculous suggestions as to what the first task will be. It is really grating on my nerves. Serving as a constant reminder of what I have to do. 

If I am to help Harry get to the cup at the end then I have two options. One, befriend him and give him friendly advice that he would listen to. Two, leave clues around as to what he needs to do and remain anonymous throughout. With the lack of communication going on between us, option two is looking a lot more likely. 

After dinner I am exhausted from stress about Harry. As soon as I enter my dormitory I feel something is off. I am not sure what it is exactly but there is something in the air. The curtains on my bed are closed. I swear that I left them open this morning. 

Slowly I approach the bed. I reach out to the soft velvet fabric. I get a firm grip and tug it open. Everything is as I left it. Messy, but the same. Except for the folded envelope on my pillow. I pick it up and examine the red wax seal. It is a coiled serpent, one that I recognise. 

I sigh and tear open the envelope. A small letter is written on it in rough scribbled letters. 

It read:

Florence,

The first task will be in a month's time. 

Potter must be ready. That is your responsibility.

The first task is to fight a dragon and claim an egg. 

If Potter does not complete the task then you will be held personally responsible.

Get. It. Done.

I lift my wand and incinerate the note. A small pile of ashes lies in my closed palm. I brush them off quickly. It could have been worse I guess. But how on Earth am I going to help Harry defeat a dragon. Firstly I need to tell him what the task is, so he can prepare spells to use. 

I grab the first object I could see, which happened to a small goblet. Oh the irony. And I transfigure it into a little dragon. It is obviously not a real dragon, but rather an animation that is on a loop of small movements and breathing a small flame. It had green and blue scales that glinted in the sunlight. I am quite proud of my creation but I do not have time to relish in my accomplishment. 

I rip a piece of parchment in half and write in large capital letters, so my handwriting would not be recognised, 'BE PREPARED'. Then I snuck up to the boys' dormitory. I tread lightly so no one would hear my presence. Listening outside the door for a minute I ensure that it was empty and went in. 

I place the tiny dragon on his wooden bedside table with the note in front of it. I just hope that he figures out what I am trying to communicate. 

I open the heavy door to the dormitory once again, but this time I crash into a tall, lanky boy. I look up and my eyes meet a big pair of brown doleful ones.

'Dean.' I breath and take a step back from him. 'I was just... um... I was... seeing if Ron was around.' There is silence for a minute, 'And he isn't so... I am going to go then.' I squeeze past Dean but his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.

I try to pull it away from him, but only halfheartedly. 

'What are you hiding Renn?' I avoid his accusing gaze.

'Nothing.'

Dean grabs my other wrist and pushes me against the wall. I groan as my still healing wounds make contact with the hard stone.  'Are you sure about that Renn?' 

I open my mouth but the words catch in my throat. I look into his searching eyes and falter. 

'Why?' Dean cries.

'Why what Dean?' I reply with a surprisingly strong voice.

'Why do you keep secrets from me? Why Renn?' a tear rolls down his cheek. 'You are my closest friend and you know everything about me. I tell you everything. My deepest and darkest secrets are yours too. Why don't you trust me enough to give me yours? I can help you carry the burden that I know is on your shoulders. But you have to let me in.' Dean leans forward and places his forehead on mine, staring into my eyes. 'Let me into this stupid head of yours.' 

Dean closes his eyes, tears now properly flowing down his face. I follow their path as they reach his lips. And there my gaze rests. 

Minutes fly by. Our position unrelenting. I feel so connected with Dean. I want to tell him everything. My heritage, my mission, my abuse. 

But I can't. It would put him in danger from Barty and all of the Dark Lord's followers.

I didn't hear the footsteps approaching us. I am too wrapped up in my conflicting thoughts. But I do see the mop of messy black hair, followed by a pale ginger. 

Quickly Dean and I break away from each other. We must look quite a sight. Dean's tears have stopped by his eyes are red and his hair is messed up like mine. 

After one more look at Dean I hurry away. As I leave I make eye contact with Harry. He holds my gaze for a second. I can see the questions in his eyes. But I ignore his stare and rush down the stairs. Away from the questions, his and Dean's.  

It is now that my tears conquer me, having been held back for so long. 

I fling open the door and collapse onto my bed. Sobbing continually into my pillow. I feel the bed dip as a small person lies next to me. I turn over and hug Hermione firmly. She returns the hug and I ignore the pain on my back. I need human contact. Hermione doesn't even know what's wrong, but she doesn't care. But I know that if she knew my secret she would not be doing this. So I relish in her comfort while I can.