The Only Magic I Need

Chapter Twelve: Rita Skeeter

                                                                Pansy's POV

I smirked happily as I glanced at Rita Skeeter.

She had came, she actually had came. I guess my letter from 'Hermione' offended her so much that she actually had to come here to Hogwarts and confront her.

"This is perfect," I whispered wickedly to my fellow Slytherin, "Just so juicy."

I scanned the Gryffindor table and my eyes finally landed on Granger. She looked so shooken and nervous. I love it. Just to see Granger this scared brought so much joy to me it's like christmas came early this year!

I saw her little friends, Ginny Ginger Weasley and Neville Whimpy Longbottom, look at her uncertainly. They looked nervous and scared themselves. Even better!

This was an amazing day. Just an amazing, amazing day.

                                                               Hermione's POV

I gasped at the crazy woman I had once turned into a cockroach during my fourth year of Hogwarts. She looked as ugly as ever although she looks older and more tired these days, plus those curlers in her hair does not help with it.

The whole great hall was silent, including the teachers who were sitting frozen at the teacher's table, not knowing what on this wizarding earth is going on. Everyone was looking around at each other, wondering who Rita Skeeter is refuring to. Any little whisper, cough, or sneeze would echo through the great hall louder then it actually is.

"Huh?" yelled Rita Skeeter, pushing aside Flich who had come to try and get her to leave the great hall quetly, "Why don't you show yourself."

Ginny and Neville looked at me with raised eyebrows. I could see Luna looking at me from the other table. I looked at them with a confused exspression, my fingers fiddling nervously in my lap.

"Come on," Rita Skeeter called, walking around the isles between the long, wooden tables now, "Don't be so shy. You weren't too shy in the letter you sent me."

When nobody answered the aged woman in a tacky green uniform, she went on slyly,

"Well, why don't I give you guys some hints?" Rita Skeeter suggested.

She turned on her heel in front of the teacher's table, winking at Professor Flitwick as she did so. She scanned the great hall like a hawk, her eyes dropping on me longer then any other student. She was waiting for me to stand up, or say something. But I did not think I had too. I was not mean in my letter; I was reasonable. A merrily apologie would have been nice, and maybe a small paragraph in the Daily Prophet noting how what she wrote in her book was false.

"She has brown hair," Rita Skeeter dragged on lazily, still walking around the open area, "Brown, frizzy hair."

Many students turned to look at Ellena Rosefelt, a shy second year Hufflepuff, whom let out a squeal similar to a pig's and hid her face in her hands, one of her friends, an older Hufflepuff, hugged her from behind.

Everyone looked back at Rita Skeeter, whom shook her head to tell the students that was not Ellena Rosefelt. Her eyes scanned over me for another moment, then looked on.

"Brown eyes." The reporter hinted.

I glanced over at Draco at the Slytherin table, who was already looking at me in consern. He raised his eyebrows to ask if it was me and I slowly nodded to say yes, allowing a conserned look slip onto my own face.