Courage

-92-

Book: Courage
Chapter 92
Word Count: 3488

The fact that 'werewolf girl' Layla Lupin was going out with the famous Harry Potter, best friend since first year, seemed to interest a great number of people.

"There are better things to be gossiping about then a new couple, no matter how hot we are together," said Layla as she sat on the common room floor, leaning against Harry's legs and reading the Daily Prophet. "Three Dementor attacks in a week, and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it's true you've got a Hippogriff tattooed across your chest."

Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry ignored them.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her it's a Hungarian Horntail," said Layla, turning a page of the newspaper idly. "Much more macho."

"Thanks," said Harry, grinning. "And what did you tell her Ron's got?"

"Easy. A scorpion on his butt cheek."

As Layla said those words so nonchalantly, it had Hermione rolling around laughing. Ron scowled.

"I do not!"

"Yet," Layla smirked at Ron.

They were soon moving into June, and Layla and Harry was sitting beside the window in the common room on a little study date, finishing their Herbology homework, when Hermione dropped into the seat on the other side of Layla. Ron trailed behind with an unpleasantly purposeful look on her face.

"I want to talk to you, Harry," said Hermione.

"What about?" said Harry suspiciously.

"The so-called Half-Blood Prince."

"Oh, not again, Hermione," Layla groaned. "Will you please drop it?"

"I'm not dropping it," said Hermione firmly, "until Harry has heard me out. Now, I've been trying to find out a bit about who might make a hobby of inventing Dark spells—"

"He didn't make a hobby of it—"

"He, he — who says it's a he?"

"We've been through this," said Harry crossly. "Prince, Hermione, Prince!"

"Right!" said Hermione, red patches blazing in her cheeks as she pulled a very old piece of newsprint out of her pocket and slammed it down on the table in front of Layla and Harry. "Look at that! Look at the picture!"

Harry picked up the crumbling piece of paper and stared at the moving photograph, yellowed with age; both Layla and Ron leaned over for a look, too. The picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty; she looked simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy brows and a long, pallid face. Underneath the photograph was the caption: Eileen Prince, Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team.

"So?" said Harry, scanning the short news item to which the picture belonged; it was a rather dull story about inter-school competitions.

"Her name was Eileen Prince. Prince, Harry."

They looked at each other and Harry realized what Hermione was trying to say. He burst out laughing.

"No way."

"What?"

"You think she was the Half-Blood...? Oh, come on."

"Well, why not? Harry, there aren't any real princes in the wizarding world! It's either a nickname, a made-up title somebody's given themselves, or it could be their actual name, couldn't it? No, listen! If, say, her father was a wizard whose surname was 'Prince', and her mother was a Muggle, then that would make her a 'half-blood Prince'!"