Chapter Sixty Seven

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Despite the fact that Lexy had been awake for exactly twelve seconds, so good were her romance reflexes that she could instantly tell something of interest had happened. It appeared Aubrey was half decent at reading faces too, figuring this all out from a mere smile alone.

"Aubs, is it just the lighting or are you blushing?" she asked, her voice soft and hoarse.

"No, I don't blush ... and honestly, Lexy, you've been under the Imperius curse for months and that's the first thing you have to say?" Aubrey scolded, glancing over at George who was asking the real questions:

"Fred, what happened? I feel like I've had Moody talking in my ear for .... days now."

"Try months."

Aubrey stuck her hand out towards the twins, "See, hon? That's what you should be asking!"

Although she'd intended to knock some sense into her friend, it flew straight over Lexy's head completely who simply giggled, "I have my priorities and George has his ... mine are the correct ones, obviously."

However, Lexy's priorities changed pretty quickly upon glancing at her wrists and realising they were riddled with rope burns. Fred and Aubrey had been in such a rush to untie them, they hadn't even realised the George and Lexy had moved from the places they'd been laid to rest in. Clearly, their knocking out spells hadn't been great but interestingly their rope tying skills were impeccable: neither George nor Lexy had been even close to breaking free.

It appeared the rope burns weren't the only problems as when the pair tried to stand, their legs seemed to give way. Sprained ankles, bruised arms, aching backs ... the list went on, more injuries being discovered as time passed. Clearly Crouch had been sloppier than previously thought or just plain apathetic. When they took the pair to the hospital, they cited the explosion as the cause although Madam Pomfrey was deeply sceptical, clearly believing there were more mature causes for their injuries. Well, that's what Fred had whispered anyway although she wasn't really sure what said mature causes were.

Luckily, Aubrey evaded questions that night (despite Lexy's excited suggestion of a Hospital wing sleepover) thanks to the magic of the sleeping draught. When she awoke the next morning, she half expected to see Lexy already up with wide, over tired eyes but instead realised the girl was fast asleep. In fact everyone was but Aubrey really wasn't in the mood for just lying there.

Across the other side of the room, one of the Healers was slumped in their chair, snoring softly. More interestingly, lying just below their open fingers, was a Daily Prophet, crumpled onto the floor. Tiptoeing so as not to wake anyone, Aubrey gently pulled it away from him before returning to her bed, desperate to read an informed take on the events of the night before.

Sadly, there was nothing. 

At first, she was sure this had to be a mistake:  her father had got a full piece for just being a little bitch to Fudge. However, after flicking from cover to cover several times, reading everything carefully and articulately, it became clear, she hadn't been wrong, there literally was nothing. No mention of Cedric, nor the official who'd gone missing trying to rescue her and most crucially, no mention of Lord Voldemort.

The one that stung the most was Cedric. She'd been thinking of him a lot since word of his death, suddenly running over all the events of the past year and wondering that if she'd just looked a bit harder, that perhaps he could have been saved. They'd never been close but he'd let her sit with him a couple of times when her friends were away and was by all standards, one of the purest people she'd ever met. 

Just then it occurred to her why they were doing it, why they were being so slow to react. Cedric would be the perfect person to report on, acting as a martyr to inspire unity against the threats. The omission was no accident. They weren't going to report on it at all.

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