Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Thanks for the great reviews! I agree, yay for Cedric!

Here's the next chappie!

Chapter 23: Newspaper Articles and ... Dragons?

A few days later, the Gryffindors were sitting at breakfast in the Great Hall when the usual morning owls swooped in, delivering mail. The Daily Prophet, which Hermione had subscribed to, came to her, and she unrolled it. "What's in the paper today, Hermione?" asked Harry curiously as she scanned the headline. He noticed that she was scowling, and she tried to keep the paper as far away from him as possible. "What's wrong?" he asked, having a sinking feeling it had something to do with him.

"Never mind, Harry," said Hermione quickly. Ron rudely grabbed the paper out of her hands and waved it in front of Harry's face. Throughout the past few days, the two boys had still not made up.

"Look at this," said Ron. The headline read:

IS THE BOY-WHO-LIVED TOO GOOD FOR HIS ADORING PUBLIC?

This is the question we must ask ourselves today, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent. Earlier this week, this reporter arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to speak to the champions of the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, an event which has not been hosted in centuries because of the high death toll. Upon arrival at Hogwarts, this reporter discovered that none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and vanquisher of the evil known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was chosen as one of two champions to represent the famous wizarding school.

In this tournament, three schools participate: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Usually, one champion is selected to represent each school. So this reporter asks, why are there two champions representing Hogwarts? The Headmaster of the school, Albus Dumbledore, is reported to have drawn an age line so that only students seventeen and over can compete. Harry Potter is not in this category; he is only fourteen. So this reporter asks again, why is this boy competing? Did he cheat his way into the tournament? Does Albus Dumbledore know what trouble he is brewing in his very school? Do the ex-convict Sirius Black and the werewolf Remus Lupin, who he lives with, know that their adopted son resorts to things of this magnitude?

When this reporter requested an interview with the Boy-Who-Lived, he had the gall to refuse. Is this because he thinks he is too good for his adoring fans? Does he think he is above giving moral support to the wizarding community after the horrors of the Quidditch World Cup, and the escape of vicious Death Eaters from the fortress known as Azkaban Prison? Is he also known for bribery? This reporter wonders this because his fellow Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory, grew very defensive on his behalf when he refused an interview. "Leave Harry alone," were his exact words. "Don't you see you're making him uncomfortable?"

What did young Mr. Potter offer Diggory in return for this? Maybe some of the gold his parents gave him in their will? These are questions the wizarding population must ask themselves. Is Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, too good for the wizarding public?

Harry's face was white as he finished the article. "She's a liar!" he hissed angrily. "I knew she was never going to ask me about how I felt about the Quidditch World Cup or the escaped Death Eaters! And she had the nerve to bring Cedric into it as well!"

"Calm down, Harry," Hermione soothed, giving Ron the fiercest glare she could.

At that moment, Cedric came over from the Hufflepuff table and laid a calming hand on Harry's shoulder. "You've seen it, haven't you?" he said. "The paper, I mean."

"Yeah," muttered Harry. "I can't believe she said that about you!"

"Oh, never mind Skeeter," Cedric said lightly. "My parents told me all about her. Doesn't know when to keep her nose out of people's business."

"What are you doing here, Diggory?" said Ron rudely. "Go back to your own table."

"Shut up, Ron," Harry snarled. "Cedric can be here if he wants to. Don't mind him, Ced."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'm not paying attention," Cedric said.

"You can sit with us if you'd like," Ginny offered. Cedric smiled and sat down next to Harry, in the seat which had been taken by Ron when they were still friends.

xxx

Over the next few weeks, nobody could stop talking about the Rita Skeeter article. Draco Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins quoted it at every turn, embarrassing Harry when he least expected it. Snape even made some nasty comments to the boy regarding it. Sirius and Remus, however, were furious with Skeeter. They assured Harry that any real, sane person would pay it no attention.

It was now the Saturday before the First Task, and Harry's teeth were on edge. He couldn't stand the waiting, the anticipating. What on Earth was the first task going to be?

On that particular day, every student who was a third-year on up had permission to go to Hogsmeade. "Come on, Harry!" Hermione urged. "Let's go together."

"But what about Ron?" Harry asked. "Don't you want to go with him?"

"Well ..." said Hermione hesitantly. "I was thinking we could meet up with him in the Three Broomsticks."

"Then absolutely not," Harry refused adamantly. "I'm not coming if we're meeting him. He'll probably start spewing some garbage about that stupid article."

"Why do you pay him any attention, Harry? It's not worth the aggravation! And won't you two make up already? You miss him, I know you do!"

"No, I don't!" said Harry angrily. "All right, I'll go to Hogsmeade with you, but I'm wearing the invisibility cloak, and that's final!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry! People are going to look at me like I'm odd if you wear that thing! How is it going to look, me ordering two butterbeers?"

"It's either that or I won't go," said Harry, putting his foot down.

"Fine," snapped Hermione. "Very well. Wear the stupid cloak, then."

So after Harry's therapy session that day, he and Hermione went into Hogsmeade. People did look at Hermione strangely as they saw her by herself, wondering why she wasn't with a group of friends. Ron, Fred, George, and Lee were walking not too far away from her and Harry, and they were all laughing about something. Harry couldn't help feeling a pang of misery as he observed them. His friendship with Ron was definitely on rocky ground, and he did miss the way they had been, no matter what he'd told Hermione earlier.

The two friends went to some of the shops, looking at different items. Hermione, of course, couldn't help but buy a few books, and Harry looked in Zonko's, thinking of his dad and his mates. Sirius and Remus had told him this was the place they obviously liked the best in Hogsmeade.

Finally, they went into the Three Broomsticks. They sat at a table, and Harry put his elbows on it, looking miserable. He'd really had a hard couple of weeks. Why was the wizarding world so quick to believe what that foul Skeeter woman had written?

He thought over some of the other things that had happened in the last two weeks. As well as the constant quoting and snickers from Malfoy and the Slytherins, and the ugly looks from Cedric's ex-mates, he had even received some hate mail. He'd had to go to the infirmary one day because someone had sent him bubotuber pus, which really irritated his skin. Howlers also came in abundance, and he could distinctly remember some of the things they said: "HOW DARE YOU, HARRY POTTER! TO THINK THAT YOU WERE THE ONE WHO GOT RID OF YOU-KNOW-WHO FOR US, AND NOW YOU WON'T EVEN BOTHER TO OFFER ONE WORD OF COMFORT WHEN HIGHLY DANGEROUS PRISONERS ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN!"

But he also had to say that he had received plenty of support from Cedric, Hermione, Ginny, Cho, Neville, Hagrid, Sirius, and Remus. Even McGonnagall had taken him aside and offered her apologies. She was usually a very strict woman, but she did have a softer side, and she could see how much the taunts and ridiculous hate was getting to Harry.

Hermione ordered two butterbeers and two plates of fish and chips, and Madame Rosmerta looked at her oddly. Hermione glared at the invisible Harry, as though asking, "Why did you make me do this?" Harry just gave her a pleading look, even though she couldn't see him, and she turned her face away with a "Fine, fine, have it your way," look.

In the middle of drinking, they saw Hagrid and Professor Moody come over to their table. "How're you holdin' up, 'Ermione?" asked Hagrid, patting her on the shoulder with his huge hand.

"I'm fine," Hermione told him. "How are you, Hagrid?"

"Very well, thank yeh," Hagrid replied. Moody then whispered something to him, and then Hagrid said in a very low voice, "'Arry, meet me in my cabin tonight at nine-thirty, all righ'? Wear tha' cloak." Harry realized Moody must have told Hagrid he was there, for the boy knew that the ex-Auror's magical eye could see through invisibility cloaks. After Hagrid had said this, he and Moody proceeded to walk away.

"What was that about?" Hermione muttered. "Why does he want you to meet him?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "I hope it isn't about those stupid Skrewts, though."

Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts were getting very big now, and they were starting to kill each other. He was very confused and didn't know how to get them to stop. He continued to tell the class to take them for a walk, and of course the usual snide comments were made by Malfoy.

After the two friends had finished their meal, they walked out of the Three Broomsticks and headed back to Hogwarts. They had decided not to talk to Ron at all, since he'd been with his brothers and Lee.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the Gryffindor common room. In the evening, Harry, Cedric, and Cho enjoyed the night air by going for a fly on the Quidditch pitch. Harry felt exhilarated while flying; he could almost stop thinking about the upcoming First Task, the hate mail, and the fact that he and Ron were still not talking.

At nine-thirty, Harry slipped on the invisibility cloak and went to Hagrid's cabin. He quietly knocked on the door, and Hagrid was quick to answer. "Come with me," he said quietly. "Got summat ter show yeh."

He and Harry began to walk, and Harry noticed they were heading to the Beauxbatons carriage.

Once they arrived, Hagrid knocked on the door. Madame Maxime came out, beaming at him. "'Agrid!" she cried.

"Hello, Olympe," said Hagrid happily. "Got ter show yeh summat. Yer gonna love this. It's definitely worth seein'."

"Where eez eet you are taking me, 'Agrid?" asked Madame Maxime as the two started to walk again, with Harry following closely behind her.

"Ah, wait and see," smiled Hagrid. They seemed to walk for ages, and finally, Harry heard men shouting. Bewildered, he kept going, and then he suddenly thought he saw bonfires, with men standing around them. But then his mouth gaped open in shock, for he saw the real thing.

Dragons.

There were four absolutely huge dragons in a fenced-in enclosure. It was not bonfires Harry had seen, but huge torrents of fire from the dragons soaring into the air. The creatures looked extremely vicious, and Harry's mouth was still open in horror.

"Are you telling me, 'Agrid," Madame Maxime cried, "zat ze champions have to battle zese dragons?"

"Reckon so," said Hagrid. "But don' tell anyone I told yeh, yeh're not supposed ter know."

Harry could also see the men that were handling the dragons, and he recognized one of them as Charlie Weasley. He wished he could go up to him and express his relief at the fact that Charlie was all right. He had been seriously injured in the fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup, and the healers at St. Mungo's had said he was lucky to be alive. If he'd arrived there much later, he could have been dead.

"Keep back, Hagrid!" Charlie shouted.

"Will do," Hagrid yelled back. "Isn' it beautiful?" he said softly to Madame Maxime, as if admiring a cat instead of a beastly dragon.

"It's no good, Weasley!" another wizard yelled at Charlie. "Stunning spells, on the count of three. One, two, three-STUPEFY!"

The spells hit the dragons, and Harry watched them slowly fall. Then, each dragon keeper walked over to their fallen charge and tightened their chains, securing them to iron pegs.

"Want ter take a closer look?" said Hagrid, and he and Madame Maxime moved right up to the fence. Harry followed them, feeling numb inside. How on Earth was he supposed to battle a damn dragon, for Merlin's sake? This was too much! How could even a seventeen-year-old like Cedric, Fleur, or Viktor do such a thing, let alone an inexperienced fourteen-year-old like himself?

Charlie came over and patted Hagrid's shoulder. "All right, Hagrid?" he asked. "We put them out with a sleeping draught on the way here, but as you can see, when they woke up they weren't happy. But they should be all right now."

"What breeds have yeh got?" asked Hagrid, his whole face lit up in the moonlight.

"We've got a Hungarian Horntail, a Chinese Fireball, a Common Welsh Green, and a Swedish Short-Snout," replied Charlie. "And why did you bring her?" he said, frowning at Madame Maxime. "The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming. She's bound to tell her student."

"Jus' figured she'd like ter see 'em," Hagrid shrugged nonchalantly.

"So the champions have ter battle 'em?" asked Hagrid.

"Not battle them, just get past them," Charlie told him. "We'll be ready if things get out of hand, with our extinguishing spells and all. But I'm telling you, I don't envy the one which gets the Horntail. Vicious beast, that one." He pointed at its tail, and Harry saw with another thrill of horror that there were long spikes protruding from it.

Some of Charlie's fellow keepers carried a large cluster of eggs, and placed them at the stunned Horntail's side. Hagrid moaned longingly as he stared at them. Charlie sighed and gave him a stern look. "I've got them counted," he said. After a moment of silence, he asked curiously, "How's Harry?"

"Ah, he's all righ'," replied Hagrid. "Could be better, though. Yeh know, after that horrible article was written abou' him in the Daily Prophet, everyone was teasin' him, you know. Got ter tell yeh, though, he's gettin' a lot of support from his fellow champion, Diggory. The two of 'em are becomin' really close. I think Cedric thinks of 'Arry as his little brother. Very protective of 'im, you see."

"That's good," said Charlie. "Mum was furious when she read that article. Skeeter's always talking rubbish, you know. Worst damn reporter in the entire world, if you ask me."

"Yeah," said Hagrid. "I ain't seen 'im talkin' to your brother much. I swear, those two're on rocky ground or summat."

"You mean Ron?" frowned Charlie.

"Yeah," said Hagrid. "Dunno if he believes the article or what, but those two ain't talkin'."

Charlie's ears turned red, not a good sign for a Weasley. "That idiot," he sniped. "I wish I could talk to him. He should know better than to believe that cow."

Getting tired of the conversation, Harry walked away. He was sick of people analyzing the article, talking about Skeeter, talking about him. He knew the two were defending him, but just the thought of Skeeter made him angry. Did that woman write for the paper just to get things messed up, and spread gossip and lies about people?

Harry slowly walked back to the castle, his mind still filled with shock about the dragons. He had almost reached the castle when he bumped smack into Igor Karkaroff.

"Hey, who's there?" Karkaroff shouted. Of course, Harry didn't answer. He had a feeling where Karkaroff was going; he was going to investigate the dragons. Who had told him? Harry loved Hagrid dearly, but he wouldn't put it past him to have told Karkaroff he was taking Madame Maxime somewhere. Karkaroff was probably going to walk around until he found them.

That meant that Fleur and Viktor would probably find out about the dragons, and that meant that Cedric was the only one who didn't know what was coming. Harry knew immediately that he had to tell him, it was only fair. Plus, after everything Cedric had done for him, Harry wanted to give back. He regarded the Hufflepuff boy as a very close friend of his now, and maybe the two of them could work together on finding a solution to getting past the dragons. He decided that he'd look for him first thing in the morning and let him know.

Back in the common room, Hermione was still there, sitting by the fire. She was reading a book, and Harry plopped down next to her. He whispered to her everything that he had seen. At first, she was scandalized.

"Hagrid shouldn't have done that!" she exclaimed. "That's cheating!"

"It doesn't matter now," Harry sighed. "The fact is, Fleur and Krum'll probably know by later tonight or tomorrow morning. I have to tell Cedric, there's no question. He deserves to know."

"You really care about Cedric, don't you?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, I do," answered Harry. "He's done a lot to make me feel better about everything. And you have, too. I just wish that Ron would get his head on straight. I want to give him a big kick up the arse."

"Harry, watch your language," Hermione said, but she couldn't help but smile a little. "Ron does deserve to have common sense drilled into him, though."

"Reckon we should play a prank on him? I've got the book Fred and George gave me for my birthday, the same book Sirius has."

"Oh Harry, are you sure that's going to help?" She frowned.

"Well, it'll show that I can retaliate," Harry replied, a mischievous glint coming into his eyes.

"Fine, fine. I won't be able to persuade you not to do it, will I?"

"Nope." He grinned.

"I'm not helping you, though. Just as long as you know that."

"I'm not asking you to," he answered. "I can do this myself. Maybe Fred and George can assist me, though. Listen, I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Harry. And don't worry about the dragons. I can tell, even when you were talking about pranking Ron, that it was on your mind. If you'd like, we can go to the library tomorrow and look at books on them."

"Thanks, Hermione. I mean it. You're a big help."

"No problem, Harry."

As Harry climbed into bed, his heart was still heavy with the thought of getting past a vicious dragon. Would Trelawney's yearly prediction finally come true this year? Would Harry look death in the face while doing this crazy task?

Stop thinking about it and go to sleep, he told himself. After all, you've got friends that are willing to help you, and I'm sure your guardians will, too.

He finally managed to get to sleep after a while, his last thought being of Charlie Weasley, saying he and the dragon keepers would be ready for action if the task got out of hand. At least that's comforting, he told himself as his eyes drifted closed.