Those eyes || Harry J. Potter

a black in the fireplace||XXIII

Chapter Twenty-Three
"a black in the fireplace"
XXIII
☆:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✯☆:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✯☆:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✯☆

Weeks had gone by, and the first task was drawing steadily nearer. Ara was nervous for Harry, considering he still had no idea what the first task even was.

In the meantime, life became even worse for Harry within the confines of the castle, for Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament, and it had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as a highly colored life story of Harry.

Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harry; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Cedric hadn't been mentioned at all.

"Look at you." Ara had joked around at the photo of Harry. He didn't seem to find it funny.

The article had appeared ten days ago, and Harry still tried to trash every copy. What Rita Skeeter had said clearly wasn't anything Harry told her.

I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now. . . . Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it. . . . I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me.

But Rita Skeeter had gone even further than transforming his "er's" into long, sickly sentences: She had interviewed other people about him too.

Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Arabella Snape, a stunningly pretty Half-blood who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school. Her father is indeed Severus Snape.

From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments.

"Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?"

"Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?"

"Hey — Harry!"

"Yeah, that's right!" Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more. . . ."

"No — it was just — you dropped your quill."
It was Cho. "Oh — right — sorry," he muttered, taking the quill back. Ara smiled at her. Cho seemed to be one of the only nice people around at this time.

"Er . . . good luck on Tuesday," she said. "I really hope you do well."

Ara had started to experience troubles of her own from the report.

"Stunningly pretty? Her?" Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Ara after Rita's article had appeared. "What was she judging against — a snail?"

"Ignore it, Harry." She grabbed his wrist and pulled it down.

Ron hadn't spoken to Harry at all since he had told him about Snape's detentions.

Hermione and Ara were furious with the pair of them. The two went from one to the other, trying to force them to talk to each other, but Harry was adamant: He would talk to Ron again only if Ron admitted that Harry hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire and apologized for calling him a liar.