Falling Star

The Mystery of the Second Task

The next term began just as it always had. We all got back into our routines of classes and studying and Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade trips. Before we know it, it's a week before the second Triwizard task.

"Harry, have you figured out what the second task is yet?" Hermione asks, looking at him from across the table we were sitting at in the library.

I also look up from my potion's notes, curious about Harry's answer as well. Harry shifts in his seat and runs a hand through his hair.

"I've been trying," he mutters.

"Harry!" Hermione and I both squeal in alarm.

Harry rubs his hand over his face. "I know, I know, okay? I'm running out of time. But I've tried bloody near everything and the blasted egg just screams every time I open it."

I reach my hand across the table and lightly touch his arm. "I'm sorry, Harry. We know you're trying." I give Hermione a pointed glance. "We are just worried about you."

Harry still looks tense, but he doesn't knock my hand away, and he nods slightly.

"Li is right. How can we help?" Hermione asks.

Ron, who has been very quiet through all this, chimes in. "You're Harry Potter, the Chosen One, for crying out loud. You've got this."

The corners of Harry's mouth turn up slightly at first, and then he's full on beaming and laughing.

"Don't go around giving him a big head now, Ronald," I chuckle.

We all laugh and Ron sticks his tongue out at me.

Once all of us catch our breath, we agree to spend the next few days trying to discover all we can about Harry's Golden Egg.

***

Draco clears his throat loudly. We are in the library doing our weekly study session. I tear my eyes away from the book on magical creatures that I've been poring over for the last hour.

One of Draco's eyebrows is raised at me, and he has an overall sour expression.

"What?" I snap, a bit more forcefully than I intend.

"What's the matter with you? You keep sighing and I can't concentrate," he replies in such a calm tone that it gets under my skin.

"Nothing's the matter," I grumble. "Am I not allowed to breathe?" I look back down at my book.

I can feel Draco still staring at me when, all of a sudden, he snatches my book away.

"Hey!" I exclaim, earning me a warning look from the ancient librarian.

Draco starts flipping through the pages. "What are you reading anyway? This isn't one of our textbooks. Is this what has you in such a crabby mood?"

I yank the book out of his hands. "For the past few days I've been trying to help Harry get ready for the next task. We've been researching all day and night. We have barely slept, and we are still no closer to figuring out the second task than we were before," I groan.

"Maybe he shouldn't have put his name in the Goblet if he couldn't handle it," Draco sneers.

"He didn't put his name in there, you git," I glare at him. "Harry doesn't know how it happened."

"And you just believe him?"

"Why shouldn't I? He's my friend."

"And that automatically means you can always trust him?"

"He's never lied to me before. And you should always be able to trust your friends." Concern shadows my features. "You can trust your friends right, Draco?"

Draco's mouth forms a thin line, and his eyes sink into a scowl. He doesn't say a word, but he doesn't need to. His silence is my answer.

I sigh, suddenly feeling very sorry for my brother. When we first got to Hogwarts and were sorted into different houses, I envied his seemingly easy friendships and popularity. Draco was always surrounded by other kids. After the sorting, I was alone. The kids we had grown up with shunned me, afraid my unfortunate sorting was a contagious disease that would bring disgrace to them and their families. My new housemates didn't trust me yet. My last name carried a lot of weight, and so my first year was spent earning that trust and friendship.

"Why are you friends with them if you don't trust them?" I question.

Draco shakes his head and huffs. "You wouldn't understand," he says softly, picking up his stuff to leave.

Those words should infuriate me, and I feel the sharp retort come to my lips, but then I pause. Draco's tone wasn't angry or malicious. He just sounded resigned and sad. I realize the truth in his words. I truly don't understand. My retort dies in my throat, and I only nod slightly as I watch him walk away.