Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Tensión

"Would you look at this!"

The Funny Farm, who had previously been lounging around doing nothing, promptly obeyed Katelyn's command, crowding around her. "Look at this article," she said, jabbing a finger at the magazine. "'Potter's Secret Heartache'. What is this nonsense doing in Witch Weekly?"

"Ssh!" said everyone else as they read the article.

After a long, silent pause, Rachel straightened. "I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound like Harry."

"Or Hermione," said Hannah.

"Or Pansy," said Seamus, pointing at the line referring to the Slytherin as 'pretty and vivacious'.

"'Rita Skeeter'," said Tanya. "Isn't she that obnoxious blonde witch that's always sneaking around in the corridors? I don't like her."

"Sharkbait has spoken," Hannah said solemnly.

Tanya nodded imperiously.

--

Poor Tanya. She quickly realized how little the rest of the school cared about her opinion of Rita Skeeter, and Hermione was tormented day in and day out.

"If it's any consolation, Hermione," Rachel said as everyone was getting ready for bed one night in early April, "we all know that article was nowhere near the truth. Ms. Skeeter was wrong to publish it."

"Thanks, girls," Hermione said tiredly, her bandaged hands struggling to button up her pajamas.

"Did Viktor Krum really ask you to visit him in Bulgaria?" Lavender asked excitedly.

Hermione sniffed haughtily and closed her bed curtains.

"You've only asked her that a thousand times, you know," Hannah said chidingly to her classmate.

Lavender pouted. "I know, but I still want to know all the dirty details!"

The Funny Farm rolled their eyes.

--

Two weeks later, it was Easter, and the week after that, Rachel turned fifteen, the last of the Funny Farm to do so. Pink with pleasure and her arms weighed down with the several tons of books ("A History of the Wizarding World" from Hannah, a new Herbology textbook from Tanya to replace the one Katelyn'd dropped in the bath, "Muggle Studies VII: Muggle Fiction from 1800 AD" from Katelyn, a box of new Wit Quick candies from Dean—"not that you need help or anything"—and "Phileas B.F.R.O. Fizzard's classic: Minié Balls and Broomsticks: Wizards in the American Civil War" from Seamus) and the many affectionate hugs and rugby tackles she'd gotten from her friends, Rachel happily led the Funny Farm out of the castle, intent on spending a nice lunch on the banks of the Lake. One step on the grounds, however, and she gave a shriek, dropping all her gifts on the grass.

"What was that all about?" Seamus asked, scooping the dropped presents into his arms.

Rachel pointed towards the Quidditch pitch. "Look what they've done!"

They all looked. Ten-foot hedges rose up all along what had once been the greenest pitch east of Ireland. "First they forgo the season," Rachel said mournfully, "and now they've turned the pitch into a garden!"

"From what I've been told," Katelyn mused, "it's supposed to be a maze. I think it's for the third task."

"That'll be sweet," Dean enthused.

Rachel still looked put out. "Don't worry, Rach," Tanya said. "I'm sure they'll bring Quidditch back next year."

"I sure hope so," said Hannah. "I never know what to do with myself on Saturdays anymore."

"Aw, chin up," Seamus said to Rachel. "If it would make you fell better, you could read the Fizzard book out loud."

Everyone groaned, but Rachel brightened a bit. "Really?"

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" Katelyn yelled, sinking to her knees in the grass.

"Get a grip," Seamus said. "I think the Civil War is kinda interesting, especially the way Rachel describes it."

Rachel looked as though she could have kissed Seamus. Katelyn flopped facedown.

Significantly happier, Rachel led the Funny Farm down to the shade of the trees, where Dean, Hannah, Tanya and Katelyn writhed in agony as Rachel read to an attentive Seamus.

--

The Funny Farm was loath to return to actual work. But Professor McGonagall threatened to hex them so bad they wouldn't be able to sit down for a week, so grudgingly they returned to the castle and unhappily climbed the stairs to the stifling Divination room.

"It really is hell in here," Seamus muttered, loosening his tie and squirming in his too-warm sweater and robes.

"No. Kidding," was Katelyn's dark reply.

"My dears…" came Professor Trelawney's voice. Rachel slumped forward onto the table she shared with Seamus, nearly dead.

"…We have almost finished our work in planetary divination. Today, however, will be an excellent opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is placed most interestingly at the present time. If you will all look this way, I will dim the lights…"

The lights went out. Someone snored, and the other students. By the light of the fire, Trelawney shot the class an evil look and began to describe the planetary angles.

"This…is…boring," Dean hissed under his breath, just loud enough for Hannah and Tanya to hear.

Fortunately, there came a distraction in the form of a scream. Everyone jumped, and the lights snapped back on. Harry was writhing on the floor, his hands clapped over his forehead, screaming in agony. Ron dropped to his knees beside him, shaking him roughly.

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry stopped screaming and seemed to wake up. A sigh of relief fluttered through the crowd of students at this, and Tanya began to lose interest.

"You all right?" Ron asked, sounding scared.

"Of course he isn't!" Trelawney burst between Seamus and Rachel, knocking the two aside in her haste to get to Harry's side. "What was it, Potter? A premonition? Apparition? What did you see?"

"Nothing," Harry said, getting up.

"You were clutching your scar!" protested Trelawney. "You were rolling on the floor, clutching your scar! Come now, Potter, I have experience in these matters!"

Dean snickered.

"I need to go to the hospital wing, I think," Harry replied firmly. "Bad headache."

Everyone backed away.

"My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room! If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever seen before!"

"I don't want to see anything except a headache cure," Harry replied, and left.

There was a rather confused silence for a moment, which Seamus broke by muttering, "Bad trip?" Everyone snickered, and then Trelawney herded them back to their seats, still obviously miffed by her lost opportunity.

--

"Something seems to be up with Harry," Tanya said for the umpteenth time.

Groaning, Katelyn dropped her head into her arms. "We've been over this a gazillion times, Tatiana Rogers. He's a teenage boy under a lot of stress. Now keep studying."

Dean didn't look too happy about this unnecessary interruption. "Harry's not the only one under a lot of stress," he said loudly.

"Tanya, dear," said Seamus, sweetly, "open your mouth one more time and I'll snap your neck."

Rachel quickly moved between the tiny, wide-eyed Russian and the lanky, glowering Irishman.

"Exams start tomorrow," said Hannah. "We've been studying for two weeks. I think we deserve a break."

"I can't," Seamus said shortly. "If I fail Transfig, my mam'll have my hide."

"But I worked with you," Rachel protested. "You Transfigured my notebook so well I had to have McGonagall turn it back."

"And the you Transfigured my Potions book into a tea cup and dropped it," Katelyn said with a strained smile.

"What are you having trouble with?" Rachel said, abandoning her books to look over Seamus' shoulder. "It can't be the application…is it the theory?"

"Sorta," Seamus grumbled. "I can't remember any of the spells or the—the, y'know…yeah. The theory."

Hannah sighed. "It's a bit late to be learning Transfig theory, don't you think?"

"Thanks for the reminder," Seamus snarled.

"Well, Transfig isn't until Wednesday," Rachel said. "Why don't we all work on Potions? That's tomorrow."

"Joy," Katelyn said, with none in her voice.

Dean dragged the tattered book from his bag and slammed it on the table. Everyone looked at it in disgust, but no one made any move to open it.

"You know what," Hannah said, "I feel like going outside for a moment."

"Me, too," everyone chimed in, and in a flurry of skirts and loose ties, everyone got up and fled the common room.