Sirius's son

Transfiguration Trophy

"Yea, that seemed more plausible," Rigel agreed.

"Everyone knows you two have been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you two really have fought him in the graveyard. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One'-well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"

"Yea, that seemed more plausible," Rigel agreed.

"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One'-well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"

Harry stiffed.

"And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway..."

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Hermione finished.

"What about Eliza? She was there with me when Voldemort returned." Harry retorted.

Eliza snorted. "I already got four boys asking me for a Hogsmeade date. You are not killing them Rigel!" she added when Rigel suddenly took out his wand. "And besides I already have a reputation -courtesy of Rita Skeeter- but you don't so many would take an interest in you than me."

The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. Most people were receiving more posts than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. With a pang, Rigel realized that this year, he won't receive a letter from his dad. Sure Andromeda's picked his mood up but it didn't do much. Though Hedwig, Harry's owl circled among all the brown and gray owls before landing in front of Harry carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.

"Ha!" said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a copy of Advance Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted. "Now you can give that graffitied copy back."

"Are you mad?" said Harry. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out -"

He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, "Diffindo!" The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione looked scandalized). He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said, "Reparo!"

There sat the Prince's copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly second-hand.

"I'll give Slughorn back the new one, he can't complain, it cost nine Galleons."

"I don't know whether to be proud of you or disappointed." Eliza shook her head. "So I'll be proud."

Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.

"Anyone we know dead?" asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice.

"No, but there have been more dementor attacks," said Hermione. "And an arrest."

"Excellent, who?" said Harry, thinking of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Stan Shunpike," said Hermione.

"What?" said Eliza, startled.