Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm really happy you like this story so much, especially since I had no idea of the plot until about the fourth chapter : I have a new Art Gallery on my site, which I'd LOVE for you to visit. Take the shortcut: http://uk.geocities.com/witch_of_the_snitch/Lart.html
Hope you enjoy the story. I had such fun writing this chapter, I think you'll really like it. By the way, if you think I've misspelt the title, that's the Australian way.
Disclaimer: I don't own the idea of Harry Potter or any of the characters, except Jill, Mme Heinzel and Cho's friends.
Rumours
Ron turned on his side and lifted one heavy eyelid. All he could make out through the slit in the curtain was the rough shape of Harry's bed, hangings drawn back, and neatly made. Then he noticed it was Harryless. Ron sat up in bed and fumbled to open the curtains.
Maybe Harry just woke up early and, by some miracle, decided to make his bed, thought Ron. But as he emerged from a tangle of scarlet material, he saw Harry's pyjamas piled neatly at the foot of the quilt, untouched since the house-elf had brought them up from the laundry yesterday. Feeling slightly alarmed that Harry hadn't even made it back to the dormitory last night, Ron scrambled downstairs, and as he was passing through the common-room to go ask the Fat Lady if she had let Harry in last night, glimpsed a figure lying on the couch in front of the fireplace. It was gently rising and falling as it breathed and when Ron edged closer, he recognized it as Harry by the scruffy tuft of black hair.
"Harry," Ron said, more out of relief than wanting to wake Harry up. But it did anyway. The green eyes beneath the jet-black hair flickered open and Ron ran around the couch to face him.
"Whossatime?" Harry asked groggily.
"Harry, why didn't you go to bed?" said Ron, completely ignoring Harry's question.
"Where am I? Was it a dream?" Harry asked, sitting up slowly. He looked around the common-room, then at Ron, and dropped his head back down on the pillow with a moan.
Ron, utterly confused, shook Harry and said, "What's the matter, mate? What happened last night? You didn't have a shower, did you? You smell a bit funny…."
"Too…..much……Butterbeer," came Harry's muffled voice from the pillow.
"Oh," Ron answered. "You feeling the effects really bad?"
"You have no idea," the voice from within the pillow answered.
Ron glanced around for something or someone to help Harry, but everyone was still in bed. "Maybe I should take you to the Hospital Wing. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey'd have something for a hangover…."
Harry attempted to sit up for a second time and tried to focus his eyes on a loose thread in the couch, but it was too difficult. He gently swung his body around to face Ron, who was watching him closely, lest he do something drastic in his condition.
"She used me….," Harry murmured, more to himself than to Ron.
"Who? What?" Ron asked, straining to hear through Harry's quiet tone.
"She used me….," he repeated, an expression of angry realization dawning on his face.
"Ah…..right," concluded Ron. Obviously that was supposed to explain everything, but he was just not getting it. "Fraid I need a bit more details, mate."
"I should have known," Harry told himself. "She's never shown any interest before….before…." he looked down at his hands, then rose and walked over to the mirror on the wall, closely followed by Ron.
"Look, there's you, Harry!" Ron said, pointing at the mirror, when he saw Harry looking deeply into it.
Ignoring Ron completely, Harry continued talking to himself. "Am I really that irresistible?" he said, analyzing himself in the mirror.
Ron gave Harry a shocked look, glanced from him to the mirror and back again and said, "Okay………Harry, I think you should come back and lie down."
As he grabbed Harry's arm and started to tug, Harry turned on him and said forcefully, "I'm fine! I'm just trying to sort out…" He returned slowly to the couch and beckoned to a stumped Ron to follow.
"Look, Ron," Harry said, making sure he was paying full attention. "I had a horrible shock last night, and I'm still sort of recovering from it."
Harry told Ron about his day in Hogsmeade and how wonderful he had believed Cho was. He told him of his terrible experience that night, and even about the pain on his forehead. Ron listened intently, now thoroughly convinced that Harry was NOT having a hangover. He was both surprised and disgusted to hear that innocent Cho, who Harry had once thought the world of, had tried to take full advantage of his friend. Ron was so enthralled in Harry's ordeal that neither of them noticed people starting to drift through the common-room to breakfast. They didn't even see Hermione descend from the girls' dormitory having a deep discussion with Jill about their Arithmancy homework, as they crossed the room.
By the time Harry had finished explaining everything, as baffled as they were, the both of them were extremely hungry. However, Harry was hesitant about going down to the Great Hall.
Ron noticed this and said, "C'mon Harry. What's the chance that she'll be there the same time as us? It's Sunday. Half the school will still be in bed."
Harry agreed and decided to go and have some much-needed breakfast.
"Right, let's go," Ron said after his stomach had sounded a loud rumble.
Harry, who was still dressed in the clothes he was wearing yesterday, scanned over Ron's old Hinkypunk pyjamas, and said, "Er…Ron, I think you'd better go get changed first."
* * * * * * * * *
The Great Hall was usually fairly empty on Sunday mornings, but when Harry and Ron entered, it looked like half the school had decided to abandon their regular sleep-ins today. For a second time, the atmosphere in the room changed once Harry entered. Unsettled whispering broke out across the tables as he slowly made his way down the aisle. There were rustlings of newly-delivered newspapers as people glanced up from them to watch Harry cautiously.
Suddenly a yell broke out from the Ravenclaw table. "Good one, Harry!" came a male voice. Then a few excited whoops followed. As Harry passed a Slytherin boy with a ponytail, he was given a hi-5 and a "My man!"
What on earth is going on? thought Harry anxiously, as he felt his heartbeats speed up.
The whispers and cheers continued even after Harry had taken a seat beside Seamus Finnigan, who was rolling up a newspaper and eyeing him strangely. Ron sat beside him and collected his owl deliveries from the centre of the table. The cheers started to develop into restless chattering amongst the houses.
Harry leaned across his empty plate and gave a 'psst' to Hermione. Her and Jill were drawing Arithmancy diagrams on their napkins, completely oblivious to the rest of the hall.
"Hey, Hermione!" he whispered, and both girls looked up. "What's all the chattering about?"
"Oh, well it seems to be something in the Sunday Sorcerer. I wouldn't know, I don't order it. Load of rubbish, isn't it?" She nodded with Jill in agreement.
"The Sunday Sorcerer?" Harry turned to Seamus. "Can I borrow your newspaper?" he motioned to the paper partly hidden under Seamus' plate. But all he got in return was another strange look and the paper was slid out of his sight. He heard a horrified gasp behind him and turned around to see Ron clutching his copy of Sunday Sorcerer.
"Oh no!" Ron was saying to the paper. "Oh no, oh no, oh no!"
"What is it?" Harry asked with a panic-stricken voice. He tugged the paper out of Ron's grip and lay it flat on the table. Right on the front page, staring up at him, was a picture of himself. He couldn't remember it being taken, or maybe that was because of the feeling of total dread that had just developed at the bottom of his stomach. He raised his eyes to the top of the page and couldn't believe them when he read:
Harry Potter, the Man Who Lived?
He stared at it in disbelief as he tried to read the first line, but everything had gone out of focus. He had a sudden urge to be sick.
Hermione, who had noticed the strange behaviour of her two friends, leaned over the table and whispered, "What is it?" Ron, still in shock, pried the paper from underneath Harry's outstretched palms and passed it in silence to Hermione. Jill leaned over and they both gasped as they read the title.
"It's not true!" Harry told them frantically. He couldn't bear it if Hermione thought he was going around doing that sort of thing.
To his surprise, she thrust the paper aside and said, "I believe you, Harry." Then she picked it up again and read to herself, "Rumour has it that Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived…..But who would write this horrible…" she scanner the page, searching for a reporter. Her brown eyes came to a stop, her hand came up to her mouth, and the paper dropped from her hands.
"I don't believe it," Hermione said softly, then looked at Harry and added, "Harry, it's all my fault!"
Harry stared at her in bewilderment as she pushed the paper back across the table. He looked down the page and stopped at four words in tiny font, as if they were trying to hide:
Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Back in the common-room, Ron had flattened out the now worn newspaper and was scanning the article.
"It doesn't even mention Cho here," he said. I thought it would've been her who told Rita."
"Cho? What's she got to do with it?" asked Hermione, who was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.
"Quite a lot, actually," Harry admitted from the couch.
Hermione came over and sat beside him. "What do you mean?" she said cautiously.
Harry plunged into the story he had told Ron earlier that morning. He covered the day in Hogsmeade, his long fascination with Cho, then his shock when he realised she was only using him. He considered telling her about the vision he had that save him, but decided there was no need to.
Hermione sat there, her face trying to decide between fury at Cho or empathy for Harry.
"But…you knew all along, Hermione!" Harry said after he had finished. "You saw right through her, didn't you? And then you tried to warn me."
Ron sat down beside Harry, interested in where this was leading. Hermione looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. With a sudden mixed feeling of comfort and affection, Harry leaned over and placed a hand gently over hers. Hermione raised her eyes to his and, after a moment said, "Harry, people will try to use you, especially someone like you." She motioned to his scar with her eyes.
"But how did you know this would happen?" Harry asked again.
Hermione hesitated. "How did I know this would happen, Harry?" she said. "Because it happened to me, too."
Author's Note: And we have contact! Thanks for reading, thanking you, before you go, PLEASE REVIEW!
