There are plenty of fictional fan stories regarding the wizarding world. Some are feasible, others aren't. But by far the most accurate one that I've ever seen is All the Young Dudes by Miss Kingbean89. Yes, Wolfstar did happen in real life! So for all of you lot out there that like that "ship" rejoice, because it's legit!
Later, my whole group were waiting in the entrance hall for the carriages that would take us back to Hogsmeade station.
"Arry!"
We looked around. Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds, We could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harness. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off.
"We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," said Fleur as she reached him, holding out her hand.
"I bloody hope not" I muttered.
"I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."
"Please don't for fuck's sake" I muttered.
"It's very good already," said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him; Hermione scowled and I punched Ron on the shoulder.
"Good-bye, 'Arry," said Fleur, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"
"Good riddance" I muttered
"Alright, alright, bloody hell Ginny, we get it, you don't like her, you don't need to voice it every 5 seconds!" Ron snapped at me.
"Karkaroff did not steer," said a gruff voice. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork." It was Viktor Krum. "I liked Diggory" he continued, "He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang — with Karkaroff," he added, scowling.
"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" said Harry. Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done and shook Harry's hand.
Ron burst out, "Can I have your autograph?"
Krum smirked at this and obliged, in the knowledge that even though Ron had beaten him to Hermione, he would always be more famous than Ron (or so he thought lol).
The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King's Cross than it had been on our way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. We had managed to get a compartment to ourselves. Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under Ron's dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. We talked more fully and freely than we had all week as the train sped us southward. We revelled in the news that Ron and Hermione were now officially together, and although Fred and George were wrong about February, it was still great to see.
We felt as though Dumbledore's speech at the Leaving Feast had unblocked us, somehow. It was less painful to discuss what had happened now. We broke off their conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the lunch trolley arrived. When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in there. Harry looked at it, unsure whether he really wanted to know what it might say, but Hermione, seeing him looking at it, said calmly, "There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."
"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this."
"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," said Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. "As a matter of fact," she added, her voice now trembling slightly, "Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."
"What are you talking about?" said Ron.
"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," said Hermione in a rush, and I shared a subtle grin and wink with her.
We had the impression that Hermione had been dying to tell us this for days, but that she had restrained herself in light of everything else that had happened.
"How was she doing it?" said Harry at once.
"How did you find out?" said Ron, staring at her.
"Well, it was just as much on Ginny as it was me" she said
Everyone stared at me.
"You remember when Hermione and I shared that little moment at breakfast?" I said
"Yeah" said Ron
"Well that was me telling her how I thought she was doing it. We'd both come to the same realization at exactly the same time"
"How was she doing it then?" said Harry
"Rita Skeeter" — Hermione's voice trembled with quiet triumph — "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn —" Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag. "— into a beetle."
"You're kidding," said Ron.
"You haven't . . . she's not . . ."
"Oh yes she is," said Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at us.
Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle.
Most of us laughed.
"Oh Hermione mate, you are fucking brilliant honestly! That's what you were doing when you ruined that moment in the hospital wing right? Trapping her!" I said
"Yes" she confirmed
"I forgive you" I told her "you did what was needed"
"That's never — you're kidding —" Ron whispered, lifting the jar to his eyes.
"Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears." said Hermione
"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry said
"Exactly," said Hermione. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."
"When we saw Malfoy under that tree . . ." said Ron slowly.
"He was talking to her, in his hand," said Hermione. "He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid." Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass. "I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," said Hermione. "I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."
Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag.
"Mate, you should never let her out, let alone when we get back to London" I said "It would serve her right"
"People would notice she was missing eventually" said Demelza
"Who cares?" said Andrew
"A lot of people would unfortunately" Hermione said, "and as much as I'd like to keep her trapped forever, I wouldn't want to be arrested for kidnapping"
The door of the compartment slid open.
"Very clever, Granger," said Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. All three of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing, than Harry had ever seen them.
"So," said Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at us, a smirk quivering on his lips. "You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal." His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered. "Trying not to think about it, are we?" said Malfoy softly, looking around at us. "Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"
"Get out," said Harry
"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!" He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. "Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well — second — Diggory was the f —"
It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, I blinked and looked down at the floor. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. We were all on our feet, all having used a different hex. Nor were we the only ones to have done so.
"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred matter of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside.
"Interesting effect," said George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"
"Me," said Harry.
"Odd," said George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face"
"I assume the Bat Bogey Hex was you, Gin?" Fred said. Bats were still flying around Malfoy's head and clawing at him as bogeys flew out of his nose.
"Of course" I said
"I noticed there was a distinct lack of Snifflewifflers when I hit Crabbe with my Shoulder Clang Jinx" said Luna "they're a by product of that spell, little insect like creatures that attack the stomach. Perhaps those 3 are immune, oh well, they still look beaten up enough anyway"
"Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor." said George
We kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle — each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit — out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.
"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.
The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough, and soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as everyone began to disembark. I noticed once on the platform that Harry, Fred and George hadn't followed us right away. They did soon enough though, and as we passed through the barrier I saw the Dursleys as well as Mum. Even though I knew much darkness and despair lay ahead, I thought, as Harry and I hugged before going our separate ways, that there still may be a few decent weeks of the summer to enjoy...
There we go! That was the true story of my third year! Join me again on Sunday when I will start the tale of my fourth year, and believe me, this is not one you'll want to miss!