Disclaimer: I still own nothing, except maybe that darn plot.

Chapter 3— The Super-journalist

"…Mum says she can't wait for you to come. She always looks forward to when you visit the burrow and so on. (You know how she is.) Yeah, I agree with Lupin—he'd know anyway. Fred and George have had great luck with their joke shop. They also said that they have a bunch of stuff to show you. That's all mate. Maybe I'll get to call you on the fellytone…I mean telephone and let you know when we are coming for you, it will be a blast, mate! Ron."

Harry put the letter in the drawer under the nightstand. The thought of spending the rest of the summer with the Weasleys was something that Harry was hoping deeply for. But with that hope, came also fear. Fear because Voldemort was still out there somewhere…waiting. Harry hadn't felt his scar hurt lately or any news of attacks anywhere, which scared him more than Voldemort finding him. Because when Voldemort was being quiet, he was planning something…something big.

When Harry thought of all this, he also thought of Dumbledore, who may be very adamant on him staying with the Dursley's. But he couldn't think of that now. Hannah Hanson, the super journalist, was coming to the Dursley's home to present them with the Best House on the Block Award (BHBA) and the entire family was ordered to clean the house. Harry, of course, was given the most work.

"Are all of you ready? Hannah Hanson will be here soon and we have to look presentable," Aunt Petunia reminded again. "Get down here Ickle Diddykins and let mummy fix your tie."

Harry held in his laughter as she fussed with Dudley's tie, hair and then shirt. "What are you smiling at? You're lucky to even be here!" Uncle Vernon yelled.

"Why is he here?" Dudley asked. "Is he going to be in the story? He's not really even part of this."

"Yes, well… she knew about him and wanted the entire household present. But it won't matter. He will say only "Hello," "Thank you" and "Goodbye," and will not add anything else and only answer questions if they are directed to him. Won't you, Harry?" Aunt Petunia said.

"Yes." Harry stated. Uncle Vernon started to say something but the doorbell rang instead.

"She's here! Hurry up everyone; Get into place! Vernon, not you—answer the door!" The door opened and a lady dressed in a red pinstripe dress suit walked in the door. She was very pretty. She had black hair that was up in a bun but pieces were falling down here and there; she had plastic frame glasses on the tip of her nose and had a red notepad and pen in her hands. Harry couldn't help but think that she reminded him a Veela.

"Hello. Are you…"she looked down at her tablet. "Vernon Dursley?"

"Yes, I am. Come in, Miss Hanson," he said, putting on his most polite face. She came in followed by a photographer. They made their way into the sitting room as she looked around her and made notes on the surroundings. "I am Hannah Hanson, journalist at London Press and you are?" she asked them, pen in hand.

They all went around and introduced themselves. Hannah Hanson smiled and told everyone to sit down so they could begin the interview. "It is really easy. I don't want anyone to be nervous. Just be yourself and answer the best you can. This will be over as fast as possible." Hannah Hanson continued talking and then asked the first question. "So, tell me where you were when you received the news that your family had won the Best House on the Block Award?"

"We were sitting right here in the living room and the phone rang…" Aunt Petunia's voice trailed off as Harry looked past Hannah Hanson and out the window. There it is again, Harry thought. The black cat had appeared outside the window again. "OW!" Harry said, grabbing at his forehead and interrupting the interview. But the pain was still there. When it had gone away, all eyes were on him; some of those eyes were furious.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. Please…continue," Harry requested. And so they did. Harry looked back out the window but there was nothing there. He was sure he had seen it. He didn't know why he had seen it again. And even more, why seeing it made his scar hurt.

"Harry!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "The lady asked you a question…"

"You did? Oh sorry. What—"

"Yes. How do you feel about your aunt and uncle winning?" she asked.

"Oh. Yes. It is a great honor for them to have received. They always work hard to make this place look presentable and it is good to have people recognize it," Harry spewed out the answer that they had all rehearsed. She asked a couple more questions to the family and then drew her attention to Harry again.

"So, how did you come to live with the Dursley's?" The question took everyone off-guard but Harry answered it with the thing he'd been told for 11 years of his life: "They died in a car accident." But the questions didn't stop. She asked where he attended school, who his best friend was, if he had any girlfriends, how he got that scar on his forehead, how he liked living there with them and a bunch of questions—all about Harry. At the end of the hour, the photographer had taken pictures of the family individually and together. Then she left.

By the time she had left, Harry's scar was throbbing profusely. So much so, he had to go to bed. The Dursley's didn't seem to notice that the lady had directed practically all her questions at him; if they had they didn't say anything for once in his life. Harry reckoned that was because he had said exactly what they would have had him say.

He made his way up to his bedroom and pulled out some parchment and a quill to send another letter to Remus and the rest of the Order about his scar, which was still throbbing. Hedwig gladly took the letter and flew off. Now Harry was alone again. Alone so he could sleep. But when he lay down on the bed, sleep did not come to him—worry, however, did. Why was all he could wonder... Wonder why this and why that…

Hedwig's hooting woke him up. It was 4:14 AM. She was sitting on his chest, a letter attached to her foot. "What's wrong? Could you not get to him? Its not a full moon tonight…" Harry wondered aloud as he took the letter off. He noticed that parchment was different. She had found Remus and he had responded immediately. Harry unrolled the letter and read it to himself.

"Harry, I was working on a letter to send you when I received the one earlier. Harry, this is not good. Perhaps, we were wrong about the cat…has your scar ever hurt before when you saw it? I wasn't sure. If it has then maybe it does mean something; if it hasn't maybe it is something or someone else. Moody had a theory that maybe it's not the cat and rather it is the reporter, since that is when it began hurting. It makes no sense why a Muggle would need all that information about your history for some award that you say is real. Nothing adds up, and we all agree on that. We are sending word to Dumbledore about all that you said and he will let us know what to do. As for spending the summer with the Weasley's, that, too, will be up to Dumbledore. You know what he told you about protection but if there is trouble there, it may be for the best. Just try to stay away from the Hanson lady. If she's asking questions about you that could mean trouble. Take care and I'll send word soon. Until Later, Remus"

The familiarity of Remus' letter and one had once received from Sirius when Rita Skeetor was after him, made him shiver. That hadn't turned out to be a good situation and he could feel that this one wouldn't either. He rolled the letter up and saw something written on the back. "PS Moody asks that you send us a copy of this article when it comes out—for Order purposes." Harry added the letter to the rest and went back to sleep. Whatever was coming would come. And he would have to be ready.