A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.

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She was having a fairly good day, until she saw the article. Ron, Harry, and Hermione showed it to her. Genevieve read through, growing angrier by the second. How dare this woman say such a thing about Hagrid! So what if he was a half-giant?

"We've got to go and see him," Genevieve said fiercely.

After dinner that evening, they knocked on the door. Hagrid didn't answer. Genevieve called through the wooden barrier and knocked and threatened to barge in anyway, but he wouldn't so much as acknowledge their presence. After a long while, they were forced to give up.

Hagrid didn't come to meals, he didn't teach his classes, he didn't do his gamekeeper chores, and Genevieve became more and more worried every time this happened. She almost missed a Hogsmeade weekend to go down and try again, but the others convinced her not to.

Genevieve went with the three to the Three Broomsticks, where Bagman stole Harry for a few minutes to chat, and, once again, rejected Fred and George's attempts at conversation.

"What did he want?" Ron asked as Harry returned.

"He offered to help with the golden egg."

"He shouldn't be doing that!" Hermione exclaimed with surprise. "He's one of the judges! And anyway, you've already worked it out – haven't you?"

Harry gave a weak answer in the affirmative. Genevieve raised an eyebrow. Hermione continued.

"Well, I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat! I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much!"

The three continued talking, with Genevieve sometimes inserting a remark here or there, but otherwise being very distracted, anxious about Hagrid. Suddenly, Ron said:

"Uh-oh."

Rita Skeeter had just sauntered in. Genevieve felt her fists curl up in anger. She was chatting with her photographer with a sickly satisfied expression on her face. Harry cut in.

"Trying to ruin someone's life?"

Skeeter recognized him, and began talking enthusiastically. "Harry! How lovely! Why don't you come and join - ?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," Harry spat in disgust.

Genevieve snorted. "Try fifty. You make me sick."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't recall asking your opinion."

Genevieve smiled fakely. "I don't recall a reporter's job being to make wild accusations about innocent people for a second of fame."

"What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?" Harry asked, red with rage.

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my - "

"Who cares if he's half-giant? There's nothing wrong with him!"

Skeeter quickly seized the opportunity, grabbing what Genevieve recognized to be a Quick-Quotes Quill, and suggesting, "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"

Hermione had had enough.

"You horrible woman," she said venomously, trying to control her fury, "you don't care, do you, anything for story, and anyone will do, what day? Even Ludo Bagman - "

"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand - "

Genevieve laughed mirthlessly. "I think we understand better than you do, Skeeter. See, a lesson you could do to learn is that a person's blood doesn't determine who they are. Their choices do. Your choices separate you from everyone else, just like Hagrid's do him. And Hagrid is an infinitely better person than a cow like you could ever hope to be. With all honesty, Voldemort," Skeeter flinched, but her eyes looked coldly back at Genevieve, "is the only person I can think to compare you to right now, because anyone who would so eagerly try to destroy another person's life for the sake of a bit of glory is a true monster indeed. You're not worth the filthiest rags on the planet, and surely not the lies that quill spits out."

"Let's go," Hermione said, "c'mon . . ."

Genevieve walked out with her head held high, many people staring as they left. Rita Skeeter's quill was in non-stop motion.

"She'll be after the two of you next," Ron said with a hint of worry.

"Let her try!" Hermione responded. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid . . ."

Genevieve was equally unconcerned. "Like I care what the world thinks about me anyway. I'll send my dad and Charlie a letter explaining if I have to, but I don't regret a word I just said."

"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," Ron warned. "I'm serious, she'll dig up something - "

"My parents don't read the Daily Prophet. She can't scare me into hiding!" Hermione picked up her pace. "And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!"

Genevieve didn't have to do anything this time. Hermione did it for her, pummeling the front door all the while. "Hagrid! Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being - "

The door swung open. "About t - "

Hermione stopped talking. Dumbledore had answered, not Hagrid.

"Good afternoon," he said cheerfully.

"We - er - we wanted to see Hagrid," Hermione squeaked sheepishly.

"Yes, I surmised as much. Why don't you come in?"

"Oh . . . um . . . okay."

Genevieve walked in to see Hagrid looking an absolute mess.

"Hi, Hagrid," Harry said gently.

" 'Lo," Hagrid responded huskily.

"More tea, I think," Dumbledore said, conjuring a tea tray and some cakes. "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?"

Hermione blushed, while Dumbledore continued. "Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Genevieve still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry declared. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow - sorry, Professor."

"It's a lot tamer than what I just called her to her face," Genevieve mumbled.

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," Dumbledore said innocently.

"Er - right. I just meant - Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that - woman - wrote about you?"

Hagrid only cried more, though silently, which Genevieve regarded as progress. Dumbledore spoke again.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid. I have shown you the letters from the countless parent who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it - "

"Not all of 'em," Hagrid argued weakly. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time. Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh - yeh're not half-giant!"

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point. My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery . . ."

"Please, Hagrid, come back," pleaded Genevieve.

Hermione kept on. "Come back and teach, Hagrid, please come back, we really miss you."

Dumbledore stood to go. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday. You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

And he promptly left, only pausing to pet Fang. Hagrid began to bawl. When he finally stopped, he said, "Great man, Dumbledore . . . great man . . ."

He spoke for a while more, some of it incomprehensible to Genevieve, though the others seemed to understand. As she listened and comforted him though, one thought was racing through her mind: Rita Skeeter was not getting away with this.