Lost Memories

xiv. saving graces

The Gryffindor common room was booming with noise and snacks, ready for a congratulatory party for Harry's successful task. There were mountains of cakes and canteens of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface.

Once everyone helped themselves to food, everyone was anticipating the reveal of the Golden Egg.

"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the Golden Egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules..."

"He was also supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on his own too," I muttered, so only Hermione could hear, and she grinned rather guiltily.

"Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!" several people echoed.

Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.

Right before he did, I smashed my hands against my ears, knowing the horror that was going to unfold. The egg was hollow and completely empty — but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. Harry quickly closed it and shivered.

"Sounded like a banshee," Seamus Finnigan pondered. "Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing... maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry."

"Want a jam tart, Lottie?" said Fred.

Looking down at the raspberry pastry he was offering and shook my head. Fred grinned.

"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch —"

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.

"Just my little joke, Neville..."

I held in a laugh at the look on his face. "Uh, no thank you. I'm fine with my butterbeer."

But just as I said it, Neville turned into a large canary, squawking in surprise.

"Oh — sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot — it was the custard creams we hexed!"

—:—

The only class time I don't have with the trio was my Tuesday free period. During this time I usually went to Dumbledore's office or to the library to read up on all the Charms and History I could think of. But this time, I didn't.

On my way to the library, I noticed that people in the halls were staring at me weirdly; pointing and whispering as I passed by. Feeling around, I didn't notice anything on my robes or in my hair, so I didn't know why they were until I found a stack of today's Daily Prophet.

Again, the front page was a picture of Harry but, this time, I was in it. It was after the First Task, on Saturday, when I gave Harry his congratulatory hug. The article had been about me; my friendship (and relationship) with Harry, along with interviews from my friends– who aren't my friends.

The terrible woman had written more lies about me than Harry's win during the First Task. Rita Skeeter spun my words into horrible lies about me and my friends: