‘Blake, do you honestly think thats the problem?’ He asked me again.

‘Yeah, she writes about me everyday and yet she thinks I’m called Blare! I am writing and angry letter to the daily prophet demanding that they fire Riley Skeeter!’ I said, storming out of my bed.

 

“There’s something going on” Potter whispered to me.

“I thought we already established that” I told him, pulling my mouth away from his hand. 

“This is how you get to Hogsmeade? You just walk through the gate, no secret passages or anything? I thought you said you were going to be subtle!”

 

My entrance into the stunning hall was postponed when a hand pulled me into one of the corners.

"What is your problem?" I hissed at Potter.

"Wood, are you not concerned? Nothing has happened about the issue" 

"James, Blake has just been telling me how you have been 'an idiot most of the time'" She told her son. He turned to me, his look a mixture of being annoyed that I said this to her and fear of his mother. I just smirked in reply. 

After spending twenty minuets in a carriage listening to second years discussing the second year boys (none of whom were my type), I realized that no matter how long the train journey had been, I needed more time alone. Again, I was not ready to face everyone, where they would be staring at me and rumors would be flying around like owls. 

Sometimes, I just wanted to snatch the beaters bat out of either Roxy or Nick's hand and throw it at that commentator. He needs to shut up.


 What made this worse was that this was a beginners book for children. Ava would probably be able to cook better than me.