Hogwarts Train

The next day was the start of the school year.

As usual, the Alberts took her to King's Cross Station. Unfortunately, they couldn't go inside and see the train for themselves.

Mrs. Alpote was still checking her things one last time, while Mr. Albert drew Clara aside and whispered, "Lyla, I know there must be something going on with you lately. Mum and Dad don't understand that world, but if you need us, we're always here. Maybe sometimes, looking at things from a different angle will help you find the answer?"

"I know, Dad," she said. Then she stood on tiptoe and gave him a hug.

She still hadn't figured out how to tell them. Should she simply tell them about the Dark Lord Mark appearing? Or about her strange dream?

Either way, they would worry, and she didn't want them to be frightened.

Besides, Dumbledore was there. Everything would be all right.

She pushed her luggage trolley through the wall. Banban gave a disgruntled hoot in the cage, probably because the trunk had pressed against her on the way through.

On Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the Hogwarts Express was billowing white steam. Students were saying goodbye to their parents on the platform, all sorts of owls were screeching and flapping wildly in their cages, and a few first-years were bumping into things as they pushed their luggage trolleys around.

She had just pushed her trolley up to the train door when she saw Rowle leaning halfway out of a window in the third carriage, waving frantically at her.

Clearly, she had arrived early enough to secure an advantageous position.

"Lyla! Over here! I've got seats!"

Then Rowle's head disappeared back inside. She was evidently rushing out of the carriage.

Clara smiled and shook her head. She was just about to lift her trunk onto the train herself when a hand reached out from beside her and picked it up first.

Cedric appeared behind her.

"It's what a Prefect should do." He smiled at her, his gray-blue eyes shining, and effortlessly passed her trunk, which was half again as tall as she was, onto the train.

He wore his Hogwarts Prefect robes over a white shirt, with his tie still undone-probably because he had only just boarded and hadn't had time to straighten himself up.

"Lyla, I'll-" Rowle rushed to the train door and saw the scene before her, swallowing the last word.

Cedric greeted her, then carried Clara's trunk toward the back of the train.

Rowle obediently stepped aside for him, evidently still too stunned to react. After a moment, she finally broke into a grin, her expression shifting from enthusiasm to knowing amusement.

She raised an eyebrow at Clara. The gesture said it all.

"He's a Prefect. Prefects do seem to have that duty, don't they?" Clara sounded a little uncertain.

She had already boarded and was standing beside Rowle, watching Cedric's back disappear through the connection between carriages.

"Maybe he really does." Rowle raised a hand. "I really don't know why no kind Prefect was willing to help me."

Clara turned her face away, pretending to take a keen interest in the train timetable.

By the time they had settled into their compartment, the train had left London.

Rowle pulled Krum's poster from her bag and began admiring it from every angle. Sitting opposite her, Clara took her fifth-year Potions textbook out of the bag she carried with her. She was genuinely worried about Professor Snape's deadly questions: in a single class with Slytherin, Hufflepuff could lose twenty or thirty points.

Erm, a quarter of that was because of her, which always made her feel guilty.

About an hour later, someone knocked softly twice on the compartment door.

Clara looked up and met Cedric's eyes.

He gestured to her, seemingly asking whether he could come in.

Clearly, Rowle enjoyed watching the drama. She immediately pushed the door open and gave Hufflepuff's newly appointed Prefect a warm welcome.

The previously spacious compartment became somewhat cramped.

It wasn't that there wasn't enough room, but that they didn't know where to have Cedric sit.

Cedric had evidently realized the problem too.

The three of them remained at an impasse for a while. Then Rowle seemed to make up her mind about something, snatched up Krum's poster, and scurried over to sit beside Clara as though fleeing.

She let out a breath, pointed to the seat she had vacated opposite them, and gave Cedric an "after you" smile.

Cedric accepted the arrangement without hesitation, and the compartment fell silent again.

Rowle was a talkative person, and this kind of silence was practically torture for her. She looked at Clara-Clara had her head down, pretending to read. She looked at Cedric-Cedric was leaning back in his seat, unconsciously tapping his fingers on his knee.

She took a deep breath, as though making up her mind about something, and broke the stalemate. "Um, I heard my dad say something big is happening at school this year. Any ideas what it could be?"

"Er... I guess it might be a Quidditch Match hosted jointly by several schools? Or maybe they're reforming the OWLs?" Cedric was evidently happy to join the conversation. His tone was casual, and he glanced at Clara from time to time between remarks. "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than last year's Dementors and the Chamber of Secrets."

"Lyla, what do you think?" Rowle nudged Clara, who was staring at who knew what, with her elbow.

Clara had been looking at the same page for a long time. Rowle was sure she wasn't reading.

Clara's mind was suddenly full of her dream.

The blue Goblet of Fire, dragons, a maze?

Lyla, try looking at it from another angle. Maybe that'll give you the answer?

Right. Look at it from another angle.

Was it really a dream? What if it wasn't?

Even if it really was a dream, what had she seen that day when the Dark Mark appeared and her head hurt?

Cedric had been struck by a flash of green light.

So was that how Cedric died in her "dream"?

Was her ability to use Sectumsempra connected to it too?

A bold idea suddenly occurred to her.

She had to check whether it really was a dream. Or rather, whether it was an ordinary dream or a prophetic one.

"It couldn't be... the Triwizard Tournament, could it?"

She spoke in a deliberately casual tone.

Cedric abruptly looked up.

He rarely got this worked up, and this was the second time in two days. In Knockturn Alley, it had been because of that strange wizard. Now, she had only mentioned the Triwizard Tournament in passing.

"That's impossible, Lyla. The Triwizard Tournament hasn't been held for years and years. Books say it was too dangerous and a lot of young wizards died." Rowle rested her chin on her hand and thought for a moment. "But if it really is that, it would be interesting. Do you think Durmstrang would come? Would that mean we could see Krum?"

Ever since the Quidditch World Cup, Rowle had become a genuine Krum superfan. She said the first thing she would do after her OWLs was go to South America and watch all of Krum's upcoming matches.

Cedric was still looking at Clara.

Did she remember?

No. If she remembered, she would soon realize that everything was different from last time. She was so clever that she would surely notice that he had changed.

Starting with the Quidditch World Cup, the world's timeline had already changed too much on this return. If she remembered, she couldn't possibly have failed to come looking for him.

But how had she been able to name the Triwizard Tournament?

The Ministry of Magic was keeping a tight lid on it. Even his father had refused to tell him, and Clara was Muggle-born. There was no way she could have access to the Ministry of Magic's confidential information.

"Hey, Cedric, I was just guessing," Clara said, waving a hand in front of him. "I read about it in a book a couple of days ago. It said the tournament used to be the most important competition for magic schools."

Well, even Clara herself didn't believe that.

But from the surprise in Cedric's eyes, she seemed to have found the answer to her question.

It was the Triwizard Tournament.

That meant her dream was most likely more than just an absurd dream.

Clearly, Cedric knew about it too. Or rather, he knew at least part of the truth.

And he seemed shocked that she knew about the Triwizard Tournament?

So she wasn't supposed to know about it? Or rather, her knowing about it was something he hadn't expected.

If that was the case, then things could gradually start to make sense.

Her use of Sectumsempra was most likely connected to this too, which was why he had been so certain when he told her it would be resolved soon.

So did Professor Dumbledore know about it too? Or had Cedric convinced him?

Professor Dumbledore had said in his letter that the inventor of Sectumsempra taught at Hogwarts and was a professor. So it seemed that Professor Dumbledore wasn't the only one who knew about this?

Sectumsempra was probably a very important key, but she still knew nothing about it.

For now, though, that wasn't important.

Cedric's attitude was what mattered most.

She didn't remember Sectumsempra, but she did remember the Triwizard Tournament.

The two were closely connected. As far as Cedric knew, she either remembered both or neither.

That was why Cedric had been so shocked when she revealed that she knew only one of them.

But nothing seemed to be missing from the scenes in her dream.

What was Sectumsempra used for?

She couldn't possibly have hurt Cedric. That was absolutely impossible.

Right, Cedric had died in the dream? But he was standing perfectly well in front of her now.

So was it a prophetic dream?

But Sectumsempra was in her muscle memory. Whatever connection she had to it must have come from something that had happened in the past.

How could it be connected to a prophetic dream?

She seemed close to the answer, yet a vast fog still lay between her and it.

"Hey! Lyla! What's wrong? You look awful." Rowle's concern pulled her out of her tangled thoughts.

Clara shook her head. She didn't know how to tell Rowle what she was thinking about, especially when she hadn't figured it out herself.

"Just back-to-school syndrome. Probably because I don't want to see Professor Snape."

"That's true. I don't want to either." Rowle stuck out her tongue, accepting her explanation. "Oh, Merlin, now that you mention it, I'm starting to feel dizzy too."

Cedric was back to normal. He was looking out the window, his brow furrowed unnaturally and the fingers of his right hand tapping unconsciously on the tabletop.

He was thinking too.

That was the conclusion Clara reached.

She should have realized earlier that something was wrong with how much attention Cedric had been paying her lately. But perhaps joy had gone to her head before, because she hadn't suspected a thing.

They hadn't been close before this. Even if it was because of the Quidditch World Cup, he wouldn't suddenly have become so close to a girl. It wasn't in keeping with Cedric Diggory's usual conduct, not to mention that the girl he liked in her dream was Cho Chang.