Disclaimer:
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka The Goddess – a real one)
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot
I own nothing :o)


The Goddess Diaries - Part Seven

The shit hath hitith the fan... ith.
– Michael, 10 Things I Hate About You

Wednesday 24 October, before Potions

No Ginny again today. She must have to get up really early to have breakfast before I get down there. Talk about stubborn.
It was really weird when I walked through the Entrance Hall after breakfast to go to the library this morning (where I am now). Heaps of people where all clustered into these little groups on the marble staircase looking at something. I suppose somebody's dad has been accused of fixing a Quidditch match again. Parents can be so self-centred: before they do something illegal, they should totally stop and think about how their kids are going to feel if they get caught.
If I were Ludo Bagman's kid, I would change my name move to Australia.
I just walked right on by to show that I wasn't going to have any part in gossip. The Daily Prophet is just nothing but gutter trash these days. I cancelled my subscription; it was just such a waste of money. Without Rita Skeeter printing her reams of Booker-Prize winning (not) fiction, it's not even funny anymore.
A bunch of people stared at me. I guess Ron's right: it really has gotten around about me assaulting Pansy with a custard tart. Either that or my hair was sticking up in some weird way. But I checked it in the mirror in the Girls' Bathroom and it wasn't.
A bunch of 2nd Years ran out of the bathroom giggling like crazy when I went in, though.
Sometimes I wish I lived on a desert island. Really. With nobody else around for hundreds of kilometres. Just me, the ocean, the sand and a coconut tree.
And maybe my wand and a library, including a copy of Hogwarts, A History, for when I get bored.

Little-Known Facts:
1. The most commonly asked question at Hogwarts is, Do you have any Droobles?
2. Gertie Keddle only knew the name of one of the days of the week (Tuesday).
3. In the library, it sometimes takes less than 2 seconds for Madam Pince to catch
you if you have snuck into the Restricted Section.
4. I miss being friends with Ginny Weasley.

Later on Wednesday, after Potions

This totally weird thing just happened. (Not counting all the Syths gawking at me all lesson.) I was just cleaning up after class – Professor Snape yelled at me again for helping Neville so I had to stay behind – and Draco Malfoy walked past as he was heading out, and he stopped at my cauldron and said, How you doin'? to me as I was wiping up newt blood.
I swear to Queen Mab I am not making this up.
I was in such total shock, I nearly knocked over the barrel of horned slugs that was standing next to my cauldron. I don't have any idea what I said to him. I think I said I was fine. I hope I said I was fine.
Why is Draco Malfoy speaking to me?
It must have been one of those synaptic breakdowns, like the one he had in Hogsmeade.
Then Draco swung his backpack over his other shoulder, looked right down into my face – he's really tall – and said, see you later.
Then he walked away.
It took me five minutes to stop hyperventilating.

His eyes are so grey they hurt to look at.

Wednesday, Professor McGonagall's Office

It's over.
I'm dead.
That's it.
Now I know what everyone was looking at in the Entrance Hall. I know why they were all staring and whispering and giggling. I know why those girls ran out of the bathroom. I know why Draco Malfoy talked to me.
My picture is on the cover of the Prophet.
That's right. The Daily Prophet. Read by millions of witches and wizards every morning.
Oh, yeah. I'm dead.
Well, you can't actually see my picture; I keep trying to hide behind the front door of the Ritz. I guess somebody took it as I was leaving the Ritz on Sunday night after dinner with Grandmamma and my Mum. I don't remember anybody taking my picture, but I guess somebody did.
The headline above the photo is, Goddess Hermione, and then in smaller letters, Hogwarts' Very Own Deity.
Great. Just great.
This is worse than last time. Last time I didn't have my photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Last time it was all lies (as if I would ever date Harry).
This time, I'm dead.
Professor Dumbledore, the only other person who knew, talked to my Mum, and apparently she blew a gasket. She told Prof. D that until she could get there, I should be sent somewhere .
So here I am. Prof. D needs to get to know Prof. McG better, if he thinks it's here.
Actually, I shouldn't say that. She hasn't been so bad. She showed me the paper and said, kind of sarcastically, You might have shared this with me, Hermione, when I asked you the other day if everything was all right with you.
I blushed. I said. I didn't think anyone would believe me.
It is, Professor McGonagall said, a bit unbelievable.
That's what the story on page 2 of the Prophet said too. Fairy Tale Comes True For One Lucky Hogwarts Kid was how the reporter, one Ms. Darla Prattellez, put it. Like I had won the Lottery, or something. Like I should be happy about it.
Ms Darla Prattellez goes on at length about my father, handsome wizard Phillip Granger and my mother, raven-haired Goddess Helen of Mount Olympus, who have both spent the last fifteen years living as Muggles and working as dentists. Oh, thanks, Darla Prattellez, for letting all of Great Britain's Wizarding community know that my parents' previous occupation was one of the most boring and detested jobs ever imaginable.
Then she went on to describe me as the petite beauty who is one of Hogwart's top students.
HELLO??? DARLA PRATTELLEZ, WHAT ARE YOU ON?????
I am NOT a petite beauty. Yeah, I'm smart. Yeah, I'm SHORT. I'm way SHORT. But I am no beauty. This one's worse than Skeeter! Where does the Prophet GET these people??? St Mungo's??? Is the only prerequisite for becoming a journalist the ability to spin lies like it's cotton??? I want what Darla Prattellez has been smoking, if she thinks I'M beautiful.
No wonder everybody was laughing at me. This is SO embarrassing. I mean, honestly.
Oh, here comes Mum. Boy, does she look mad

More Wednesday, History of Magic

It isn't fair.
This is totally and completely unfair.
I mean, anybody else's mum, if her kid's picture was on the front cover of the Prophet, would say, Maybe you should skip school for a few days, until things calm down.
Anybody else's mum would have been like, Maybe you should change schools. How do you feel about Australia? Would you like to go to school in Australia?
But oh, no. Not my Mum. Because she's a goddess. And she says members of the heavenly realm of Mount Olympus do not go home when there is a crisis. No, they stay where they are and slug it out.
Slug it out. I think my Mum has something in common with Darla Prattellez: they are BOTH on something.
Then Mum reminded me that it's not like I'm not getting paid for this. Right! One hundred lousy Galleons! One hundred lousy Galleons a day to be publicly ridiculed and humiliated.
Those house elves better be grateful, that's all I have to say.
So here I am in HoM with the Hufflepuffs, and everyone is whispering about be and pointing at me like I'm the victim of and alien abduction, or something, and Mum expects me to sit here and let them, because I'm a goddess and that's what goddesses do.
But these kids are brutal.
Harry's blinking at me a lot, and Ron's just staring like he did when Fleur Look At Me, Look At Me Delacour asked him for the bouillabaisse last year, and Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati keep shooting glances over to try and get a look at me. As if I don't live in the same tower as them already. And Hufflepuffs are supposed to be nice. No wonder Harry's turned into such an introvert. Or maybe it was duelling with You-Know-Who.
I tired to tell Mum that this would happen. I was like, Mum, you don't understand. They're all laughing at me.
All she said was, I'm sorry honey. You're just going to have to tough it out. You knew this was going to happen eventually. I'd hoped it wouldn't be quite this soon, but it's probably just as well to get it over with
Um, hello??? I did not know this was going to happen eventually. I thought I was going to be able to keep this whole goddess thing a secret. My lovely plan about only being goddess in Greece is falling apart. I have to be a goddess right here in Hogwarts, and believe me, that is no picnic.
I was so mad at Mum for telling me I had to go back to class, I accused him of having ratted me out to Darla Prattellez herself.
Mum just rolled her eyes at me like she does when she's mad at me and said she's going to have to get Nick to come over and be my bodyguard. I'm not kidding, now I have a bodyguard trailing around after me from class to class. Like I'm not enough of a laughing stock already.
I now have an armed escort.
I totally tried to get out of it. I was like, Mum, I can seriously take care of myself, but she was like completely rigid, and said that even though Olympia is a small heavenly realm, it is a very wealthy heavenly realm, and she cannot take the risk of me being kidnapped and held for ransom. Honestly, our current DADA teacher is a vampire for Merlin's sake. We all survived with a werewolf and a Death Eater. And she's worried about kidnappers??
I said, Mum, no one is going to kidnap me. This is a school, but she wouldn't go for it. She asked Professor McGonagall if it was all right, and she said, Of course, Your Holiness.
Your Holiness! Professor McGonagall called my mother Your Holiness! If it hadn't been all serious and stuff, I would have wet my pants laughing.
The only good thing that has come out of this is that Professor McGonagall let me off detention for the rest of the week. She says having my picture in the Prophet is punishment enough.
Here here.

More Wednesday, Free Period after Flying

I guess I should have my picture on the front page of the Prophet more often (for things that don't make me out to be a Scarlet woman, that is).
Suddenly I am very popular.
I walked into the Great Hall (I told Nick to keep five paces behind me at all times; he kept stepping on the back of my Docs), and Pansy Parkinson, of all people, came prancing up to me and said, Hey, Hermione. Why don't you come and sit with us?
I am not even kidding.
That lousy hypocrite wants to be friends with me, now that I'm a goddess.
Lavender and Parvati were right behind me (well, Nick was right behind me; Lavender and Parvati where right behind Nick). But did Pansy invite Lavender and Parvati to join her? Of course not. The Daily Prophet didn't call either of them a petite beauty. Plain old boring Gryffindors aren't good enough to sit by Pansy. Oh, no. Only pure-bred Olympian goddesses are good enough to sit by Pansy.
I nearly threw up all over the books I was holding in my arms because they didn't fit in my bag.
No, thanks, Pansy, I said. I already have people to sit with.
You should have seen Pansy's face. The last time I saw her look that shocked, a custard tart had been stuck to her chest.
Later, when we were sitting down at our end of the Gryffindor table, away from Harry and Ron and Ginny, Lavender and Parvati were only nibbling at their lunches. Meanwhile though, everybody in the Great Hall – including the Hufflepuffs who never noticed anything – was staring at our end of the table. Let me tell you, it was way uncomfortable. I could feel Ginny's eyes boring into me. She hadn't said anything yet, but I think she had to have known. Nothing much escapes Ginny.
Anyway, after a while, I couldn't stand it anymore. I put down a forkful of rice and beans and said, Look, guys. If you two don't want me to sit with you anymore, I understand.
Parvati's big brown eyes filled up with tears. I mean it. She shook her head, and her long black braid swayed. What do you mean? she asked.
Lavender looked down at her plate. Don't you like us anymore, Hermione?
It was my turn to be shocked. What? Of course I like you two. I thought maybe you might not like me. I mean, everyone is staring at us and talking about us. I could see why you might not want to sit with me.
Parvati smiled sadly. Everyone always talks about us. They think we're cookes because we like Divination.
So you see, Lavender said, We're used to people thinking we're weird. It's you we feel sorry for, Hermione. You could be sitting with anyone – anyone in the whole Great Hall – and yet you're stuck with us. We don't want you to feel you have to be nice to us, just because no one else is.
I got really mad then. Not at Lavender and Parvati. But at everybody else at Hogwarts. I mean, Lavender and Parvati are really, really nice, and no one knows it, because no one ever talks to them, because they keep to themselves and they're kind of quiet and they have the Inner Eye. While people are worrying about things like the sweetshop over-charging some people by five Knuts for sugar quills, there are human beings walking around our school in abject misery because no one will even say Good Morning to them, or How Was Your Weekend?
And then felt guilty, because I week ago I had been one of those people. I had always thought people who believed in Divination were freaks. The whole reason I hadn't wanted anyone to find out that I was a goddess was that I was afraid they'd treat me the way they treated Lavender and Parvati. And now that I know Lavender and Parvati, I know just how wrong I'd been to think badly of them.
So I told Lavender and Parvati that I didn't want to sit with anyone else but them. I told her that we needed to stick together because everyone else at this stupid school is absolutely NUTS.
They both looked a lot happier then, and started filling me in on the dress robes they are wearing on Saturday night and how they're going to do their hair and stuff. They are both so excited. I smiled and nodded.
Then I saw Ginny staring in my direction. It wasn't the kind of stare someone who was about to apologize would use. So I wasn't too surprised when later, as we were heading out of the oak front doors to go outside for our classes, Ginny walked near us and stared some more. Harry kept trying to talk to her, but she obviously wasn't listening. Finally, he gave up, and went off to get his Firebolt from the broomshed.
Meanwhile, this is how my tutoring session with Ron went, although we never got off the ground:

Me: Hi, Ron. I was thinking about what you said about the vertical pivots, and I just can't seem to figure out how I hold on to the broom properly so I don't slip right down it.
Ron: So. Goddess of Mount Olympus, huh? Were you ever going to share that little piece of info with the group, or were we all supposed to guess?
Me: I was kind of hoping no one would ever find out.
Ron: Well, that's obvious. I don't see why, though. It's not like it's a bad thing.
Me: Are you kidding me? Of course it's bad!
Ron: Did you even read the article in today's Prophet, Hermione?
Me: No way, I'm not going to read that trash. I don't know who this Darla Prattellez thinks she is, but –

Then Ginny got into the act. It was like she couldn't stand to not get involved.

Ginny: So you're not aware that the Queen Goddess of Mount Olympia – namely your mother – has a total personal worth which, including real estate property and the palace's art collection, is estimated at over three hundred million Galleons?

Well, I guess it's pretty obvious that Ginny read the article in today's Prophet.

Me: Um

Hello? Three hundred million Galleons?? And I get a lousy 100 Galleons a day???

Ginny: I wonder how much of that fortune was amassed by brainwashing the common labourer?
Ron: Considering the deity of Greece have been around since the beginning of time just about, since before there actually was people to I would say none of it. What is with you anyway, Gin?
Ginny: Well, if you want to tolerate the excesses of the deity, you can be my guest, Ron. But I happen to think it's disgusting, with the state of the world being what it is at the moment, with You-Know-Who running around again like a manic, that one person can have the powers to cause the destruction of the globe or have a total wealth of three hundred million Galleons. Especially some one who never did a day's work for it!
Ron: Pardon me, Ginny, but it's my understanding that Hermione's mother works very hard for her heavens and the people whom it supports. And I'm surprised you didn't know, Ginny, with your overarching obsession with feminism, that Ancient Greek religion first proposed the concept that women were more important than men. Tens of thousands of years ago, as the evidence of cave art and artefacts make clear, humanity was focused on the female body, either pregnant or fit to bare children. Childbirth was the closest humans came to the great power that caused the earth to bring forth new life in the spring. These distant ancestors of ours were evolved enough to think of worshipping this power. And this great power was female, for the human female has the ability to procreate – to bring forth new life.

I could only stare at Ron after that. Wow. Since when did he become so articulate? And why doesn't Grandmamma teach me stuff like that at our goddess lessons? I mean, this is information I could actually use. I don't exactly need to know which direction to tip my soup bowl. I need to know how to defend myself against virulent anti-deitists like my ex-best friend Ginny.

Ginny (to Ron): Shut up. (To me): I see they already have you spouting of their populist propaganda like a good little girl.
Me: Me? Ron's the one who –
Ron: Aw, Ginny, you're just jealous.
Ginny: I am not!
Ron: Yes, you are. You're jealous because she got her hair cut without consulting you. You're jealous because you stopped talking to her, and she went out and got new friends. And you're jealous, because all his time, Hermione's had this secret she didn't tell you.
Ginny: Ron, SHUT UP!
Harry: (hovering past on his Firebolt) Ginny? Did you say something?
Ginny: I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU, HARRY!
Harry: Sorry. (Flies away)
Ginny: (really mad now) Gosh, Ron, you sure are quick to come to Hermione's defence all of a sudden. I wonder if maybe it ever occurred to you that your argument, which is ostensibly based on logic, might have less intellectual that libidinous roots?
Ron: (turning red for some reason) Well, what about your persecution of the Honeydukes? Is that rooted in intellectual reasoning? Or is it more an example of vanity run amok?
Ginny: That's a circular argument.
Ron: It isn't. It's empirical.

Um, since when did Ginny and Ron start using words that even I don't know the meaning of?

Ron (to me): So does this guy (he pointed to Nick) have to follow you around everywhere from now on?
Me: Yes.
Ron: Really? Everywhere?
Me: Everywhere except the Ladies' Room. Then he waits outside.
Ron: What if you were to go on a date? Like to the Halloween Ball this weekend?
Me: That hasn't exactly been an issue, considering that no one's asked me.
Neville: (hanging on a turret on the castle wall) Um, can someone help me up here? I lost control of my broom and I sort of got stuck.
Everyone in the Flying class: NO!!!
Madam Hooch: (looking up from her copy of Quidditch Refs Weekly) What's all this noise? I can hardly hear myself think. Neville, why are you hanging off the castle wall? Get down now. Harry, Ron, go and help him. Hermione, come here and show me your braking.

I need to take a closer look at that article in today's Prophet. Three hundred million Galleons?? Does Gringotts actually hold that much gold?
And if we deities are so powerful, WHY CAN'T I RIDE A BROOMSTICK????

Note to self: Look up the words empirical and libidinous.

Continued in Part Eight...


Author's Notes: (you guys didn't honestly think I'd go without doing one, did you??)
Ron's spiffy account of feminism's roots in Greek mythology is based on material from Mythweb's page on Hera – http://www.mythweb.com/gods/Hera.html.
Now, before you yell at me for Ron & Ginny being OOC, remember this magic word: JOKE. And anyway, I think it's quite plausible that Ron's a genius who doesn't show off about it. I mean, just look at him playing chess.
Fleur Look At Me, Look At Me Delacour is a salute to one of the greatest teen movies of all time, 10 Things I Hate About You, which is where the epigraph for this chapter comes from too.

Special mentions to: Mundungus, Jade Star, hermionegirl, Athena**MEG, Megan, Penny Weasley, Chrissie, krazy4life (oh, calm down!! But thanks for making me feel wanted!), Dragon2088 (Yeah, I tired to do some of my own stuff too, and Ron's towel was included firstly as a special treat for Hermione, and secondly to make up for the fact that Hermione's dad isn't dating Madam Hooch ::wink:: Oh, and thanks for pushing up my review count, tee hee!), yolande, LisaQT3 (I feel your pain I was addicted to HP ff for the 3 months leading up to my university entrance exams BAD move), Sango-sama, rupert grint or ronald weasley oh i can't decide (tough choice, hey? ::grin::), Rachel (glad you get it now sorry for earlier, and about Draco, well, hey, look, this certainly ain't canon), Astria, HPMystery, Sailor_V_Light, IckleRonniekins, Kax, Kiana and Lauren.

And ::mwah:: to everyone who keeps coming back for more, you know who you are! (And if you've forgotten, check the previous chapters!) Love you all!! KEEP GRINNING!! (and drooling over Oliver)

Oh, and guys, if you read any of my other stories, REVIEW THEM TOO!! Please? :o) I love reviews!