The next few days were clearly tough for Potter. And after the initial excitement, the Gryffindors found themselves shunned by the other houses. As for the Slytherins, the likelihood of Gryffindor and Slytherin getting along was lower than the probability of Merlin coming back to life. The Hufflepuffs, who had always had a good relationship with Gryffindor, started to mock and sneer at the Gryffindors, and the Ravenclaws evidently thought it was a dishonorable act against the tournament rules for Potter to participate.
Indeed, no matter how much Potter tried to explain to everyone that he hadn't put the parchment with his name into the Goblet of Fire, no matter how aggressively Black shouted at his cousin Susan Burns, and no matter how patiently Hermione showed her analysis to those around her, it didn't change the views of most people. What probably bothered Potter the most wasn't the cold looks from students of other houses, but that Ron Weasley seemed determined never to be friends with him again.
Hermione spent almost all her time with Potter and Black, who were becoming increasingly irritable. It was a wise decision. Otherwise, during Charms class, Black would surely use the flying blackboard erasers and wastepaper baskets, which were zooming around in the air due to failed Summoning Spells, to attack the laughing Slytherins, and Potter would scowl and crumple up the letter from his mother and throw it into the fireplace in the common room. She also sternly told me not to make any comments, even in Potter's favor, about the Slytherins' sarcastic remarks and slander against Potter.
"Iris, you're only making things worse." She came to this wonderful conclusion. "Harry knows you believe in him. I told him that, and it's already a great comfort to him. Right now, all I hope is that he can fully prepare for the first task—no information provided at all! It's incredible. Don't they really care whether Harry lives or dies? Anyway, I've made a table of useful spells I've come up with. Talus and I will go and practice with him after dinner—What are they up to again?"
We reached the door of the Potions classroom. A group of Slytherins were gathered there, giggling. Each of them had a huge badge pinned to the front of their robes. At first, I thought it was nothing much. It just said, in bright colors, "Support Cedric Diggory - The True Hogwarts Champion!" (To be honest, I know they've always looked down on Hufflepuff, but the competitor of their enemy is apparently a friend in their eyes.)
After Potter and Black came over, Draco, looking smug, led the way and pressed the badge. Badges all around turned towards Potter's face, showing the words "Potter Stinks" in glowing green.
"This shows you have some self - awareness, doesn't it?" Talus stopped Potter and burst out laughing. "Using the green of your house to match such words? You know this is the only kind of word you deserve?"
"Very funny performance art." Talus held out a hand to Draco. "I admire your courage to recognize yourself, Malfoy. Next time, remember to draw a cute little white weasel hopping around on the badge."
Draco's face instantly darkened. He moved quickly, but Talus and Potter already had their wands in their hands. As for Crabbe and Goyle, they could almost be ignored. I couldn't hold back Hermione, who was trying to step forward to stop the corridor fight. I had just taken out my wand from my pocket when I watched in horror as she was hit by a jinx that was deflected by the impact.
"What's all this commotion?" Dad appeared at the edge of the crowd at some point. He calmly scanned the fallen Goyle with boils all over his face and Hermione, who was looking terrified and desperately covering her mouth. The Slytherins gathered around him, chattering and starting to explain. I interrupted them loudly.
"Black and Malfoy had an argument. They both attacked each other at the same time. Potter tried to use the Impediment Jinx to separate them, but all three jinxes were deflected. Black's jinx hit Goyle, Malfoy's jinx hit Granger in the face, and Potter's jinx has left Longbottom and Weasley stuck at the corridor entrance and they can't get through." I tried to describe the process as objectively as possible, looking into Dad's eyes with a bit of pleading. "Dad, can I take them to the hospital wing?"
It's my habit to call Dad "Professor" or "Sir" in public at school. I think it can reduce my sense of being special a little bit. But today, I thought a different form of address might achieve twice the result with half the effort. I saw Dad freeze for a brief moment, then he waved his hand and said expressionlessly, "Go."
Hermione almost turned around and started running. Her teeth were almost over her collar. I heard the ear - piercing laughter of the Slytherin girls led by Pansy Parkinson. I was squatting down, trying to help Goyle up, when Goyle, who had been lying on the floor, groaning exaggeratedly, suddenly rolled over and got up, mumbling incoherently that he could walk by himself.
"What happened?" I was running desperately forward, trying to catch up with Hermione, when I met Viktor Krum. He actually frowned and stopped me. "I saw that girl running forward crying. She didn't pay attention to me. I wanted to help."
I suspected that Hermione, who was eager to get to the hospital wing, didn't even hear what he said. She left in a hurry, saying, "She's ill! I'm rushing to the hospital wing to see her. Sorry!" and left him there.
"I'm really afraid they'll cause more trouble in Potions class again..." Madam Pomfrey kindly drew a curtain for Hermione. I sat outside the curtain, waiting for her to return to normal and come out. I heard Hermione express her concerns vaguely (because it was hard to pronounce with her long teeth) inside. After Goyle was given a cup of a seemingly disgusting - tasting potion by Madam Pomfrey, the boils on his face disappeared, and then he was sent back to class.
"You can't always be around them, taking care of everything for them." I comforted her. "If they want to do something, they should bear the consequences themselves."
Hermione was silent for a while, and I heard her sigh.
I didn't want to go back to Potions class. This was really a first. Maybe it was those shiny badges with malicious words that made me feel annoyed. Needless to say, Draco must have made a great "contribution" to it. I wasn't interested in who could really represent Hogwarts, Potter or Cedric. It was obvious that the Slytherins represented by Draco didn't really support Cedric wholeheartedly either. They just wanted to seize a good opportunity to mock and provoke Potter.
"I've always wondered why Draco and Potter seem to have a deep - seated hatred for each other." Looking at the sky outside gradually getting darker, I twirled my hair idly and said, "Is it just because of Quidditch? But they both seem to have lost to each other more than once."
Hermione drew back the curtain. Her face had completely returned to normal, yet there seemed to be something different about her, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"You'll understand one day." She tidied herself up, wiped away the tear stains left from crying, and seemed to be in a slightly better mood. "Boys are a lot more boring than you think."
"It seems to be dinner time already - God, I didn't think we'd wasted that much time!" Hermione said ruefully as she took out her Potions textbook from her schoolbag and flipped through it. "I missed the part about the antidote. This part is very flexible, and I may have a lot of things to ask you - "
"Miss Iris Snape? She should be in the same grade as Harry and attend classes together. Um... well, I'm not sure. Do you think you should ask other students in the same grade as her?" Just as we turned a corner, we saw the short - statured Colin Creevey, carrying a camera, talking to a heavily - made - up woman with curly hair. Our footsteps made them both turn their heads. The woman stood up and gave me a smile that made my skin crawl.
Rita Skeeter. I recognized her face almost immediately, which often appeared in the columns of the Daily Prophet. She didn't look as caustic as the things she wrote, but that didn't stop me from taking off running.
"Wait a moment, dear. Let's just have a little chat - just a few words, okay?" I didn't understand how she could be so quick. I simply couldn't shake her off, and I almost stepped into a stair that could suck one in while going upstairs. "Dear, we just want to talk about your thoughts on Harry participating in the Triwizard Tournament - it won't take up any of your time!"
"What are you doing?" When I ran breathlessly around another corner and saw Draco, who was wearing a badge and looked in a bad mood, he grabbed me. "And since when did you start calling me Malfoy - "
I didn't have time to say a word to him. Seeing that Rita Skeeter was about to appear around the corner, I couldn't imagine what kind of nonsense she would make up if she saw Draco holding me. So I just grabbed Draco's wrist. "No more talking. Follow me and don't let her see you! I'll explain later - "
"Who sees?"
I'd lost track of which floor I was on. My mind was filled with the thought of finding a place this woman couldn't find to hide myself, but her footsteps seemed to follow me everywhere, as if she wouldn't stop until she caught me to get her story today.
I'd never run so wildly and desperately in Hogwarts before. Looking back on it now, it's quite funny. Hogwarts is a huge place, especially for children. Even if they've lived here for many years, most students don't have the opportunity to explore all its mysteries in detail. Running past row after row of portraits that became nothing but blurry figures in my vision, almost crashing into the freshly - polished armor, passing through the bodies of ghosts like being poured with a basin of ice - cold water from head to toe, running up a staircase without even knowing which floor it led to, until —
"I think no matter who you're running from, you've shaken her off." Draco stopped, gasping for breath. I also felt a faint taste of blood in my throat. "Who on earth are you running from?"
"Er," the rapid heartbeat from running made me a bit uncomfortable. Instead of leaning against the corridor wall to rest like Draco, I decided to pace back and forth on the spot. "Do you remember that article in the Daily Prophet before? The one that, er, said something about me and Potter — "
My eyes widened as I was certain I heard the unhurried footsteps again, along with the woman's laughter like the tinkling of bells: "Little girl, where are you? I just saw a boy with you. It wasn't Harry Potter, was it? This is getting interesting..."
Just as I looked up, an inconspicuous small door appeared on the originally blank wall. I was sure there was nothing there just a few seconds ago. Opening a strange door randomly is a very dangerous thing. After all, you never know what unimaginable things are hidden behind it. But in my mind at that moment, the most terrifying thing in the world might be the persistent woman behind me. I almost instinctively twisted the doorknob (without realizing it wasn't even locked). Draco, who had been looking at it suspiciously from the side, grabbed my collar and pulled me behind him when I was about to rush in, and he drew out his wand.
"What the hell is this place?" His tone turned sour. "Lumos."
Draco Malfoy wasn't exactly a very brave person at that time. That was putting it mildly; he probably had only a teaspoon of courage, though it didn't stop him from acting as if he had a hundred spoons' worth of bravado. The sudden appearance of this obviously strange room made him extremely uncomfortable. I could sense that his breathing was even more ragged than after I'd dragged him running.
"Don't move forward randomly! I think I see something ahead, something really tall..." His voice was trembling. His left hand, which was gripping my wrist, was covered in cold sweat. "I think we should go back to the door. That reporter you mentioned, if she knows who my father is, she probably won't give us a hard time..."
There was a faint crackling sound overhead, and he almost jumped. But it was just a lamp being lit. Gradually, the whole room was illuminated — it seemed incredibly large, and we couldn't even see where the opposite wall was. The "really tall" thing Draco had mentioned earlier seemed to be a long pillar made up of a heap of junk. We could see all kinds of books and strange metal objects stuffed inside, all covered in thick dust.
"Is this a maze?" I peeked over his shoulder, trying to look inside (he wouldn't let me move forward even a step, as if he was certain that some monster was about to pop out and devour us alive). "Or a storage room? Look, there's a broomstick over there. It looks really old... I don't think there's anything alive in here. Don't be scared."
"I'm not scared!" he shouted at me, his face pale. "What's there to be afraid of? What could there be in Hogwarts..."
"There was the basilisk," I said, successfully turning his face bluish - white. "You forgot about the basilisk in second year — "
"Shut up!" he snapped, yanking me back behind him again as I, out of curiosity, tried to take a few steps forward. "This is why Gryffindors are so annoying... What's that?!"
"It looks like a motionless troll. Hmm, a specimen?" I was straining my neck so much it hurt (I had to look over his shoulder). I could tell from his voice that he was really frightened. Since I knew he was scared, I wanted to walk in front and lead the way, but it seemed like he'd transferred all his fear to the hand gripping me. I was worried that if I pulled any harder, my sleeve would tear. So I tried to soothe him. "Don't be afraid. If there really was some monster, the noise we've made would have attracted it already."
With my insistence, we cautiously shuffled forward a few steps (this is why Gryffindors dislike Slytherins so much). It seemed to be a maze made up of piles of junk. I saw some books with the owners' signatures scrawled on them, and there was a notebook with the Ravenclaw house badge on its cover.
"We seem to have entered a treasure maze," I said, looking around. "These things seem to be left behind by Hogwarts students."
"Treasure?" Draco dryly sneered at me. "You call this... this pile of junk treasure? Old books, broken broomsticks, ragged clothes..."
"At least there's no basilisk," I said, starting to examine the troll specimen that had startled him earlier. "Ugh, it still stinks a bit. There's also a broken cabinet here, but it looks a bit different from the others — "
"Don't touch it!" He immediately grabbed the hand I'd extended to touch the cabinet's patterns. "I finally understand why every time I go to Borgin and Burkes, Father tells me not to touch anything... I seem to have seen this pattern somewhere, where..."
He seemed to be lost in thought. I was more interested in those things with names on them. By now, I'd already found three seemingly sharp canine teeth, and at least ten bottles of what looked like half - finished potions. I thought my guess was right. This place should be where students had hidden all kinds of things since the founding of Hogwarts. And since I'd been desperately looking for a place to hide myself just now, it had opened up to us.
"This place doesn't seem very stable," Draco said, seemingly giving up on recalling where he'd seen the cabinet. He looked at the things piled up to the ceiling around us. "The slightest touch could make it all collapse. I think it's better if we leave."
"I don't want Rita Skeeter to make up any more nonsense about me and Potter," I said with a shiver at the thought of that woman's voice. "I'd rather stay here a bit longer."
Draco's tone became a bit more cheerful. "In your opinion, all that was nonsense?"
I looked up at him, puzzled. "Why do you question that? I only met him for the first time when I got on the Hogwarts Express. If anyone's childhood friends, it should be you — but we didn't spend all our time together as kids either, so that's not right either — anyway, that woman was making things up. What's there to talk about?"
He seemed quite satisfied with my answer. He paced around and almost knocked over a wall of junk. "So, so why did you call me Malfoy just now? You've never called me that before."
"I also call Hermione Granger," I said, blinking, not understanding why he cared about such a trivial matter.
"You're comparing her to me?!" Draco grimaced and kicked a nearby pile of garbage.
That was a really wrong decision. It set off a large section of the junk wall to shake precariously. A shower of dust and all sorts of unidentifiable things came fluttering down. In this situation, we didn't even dare to cast a spell to stop them from hitting us — in case they knocked over even more things, we might end up buried here.
We quickly ran towards the door to avoid the seemingly collapsing junk maze, which appeared to be collapsing on one side while slowly repairing itself.
"Ouch!" A book landed on my head. I spat out dust, picked up the crumpled book, and a witch in scanty clothing with a coquettish expression smiled at me from the yellowed cover.
"Custom - tailored to your innermost thoughts, a highly - praised wizard's reading material," I said, frowning at the advertisement on it. "Hmm, do the things on it change? Draco, come and take a look? I can't open it. It seems to be stuck inside."
"What is it?" He frowned, patting the dust off his clothes, and turned to look at the book I held out to him. Suddenly, his face flushed bright red, and he quickly snatched the book from my hand and threw it back inside.
"What's wrong?" I watched as his ears turned red all the way down to his neck. "Was there something dirty on it? Er, we can go to Madam Pomfrey to check..."
"You didn't see what was on it just now, did you?" he asked me in a strange tone. "When I was holding it?"
"You threw it in so quickly," I said. A dull thud came from behind, as if more things had collapsed. The choking dust forced me to open the door. I decided that if Rita Skeeter was still outside, I'd have another race with her. "Shh, let's be quiet and see if that woman is still around."
