Secrets To Keep

Daily Prophet

"Harry!" Neville yelled, shaking Harry awake.

"What the—Neville? What time is it?" Harry muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

Two in the morning? Bloody hell.

Neville sat down. "Harry, you've gotta get up! There's something going on. Ron, George, and Arthur's here. They look worried."

Harry shot up, grabbing his wand and dragging on his pants. "Hand me that shirt Nev." He told him, catching the red shirt and putting it on before grabbing his glasses and running down the stairs.

"Harry! Thank Nerlin you're alright!" Ron whispered, pulling Harry into a hug. Harry stiffened in the hug, but patted Ron's back. "Uh, why wouldn't I be?"

Arthur handed him the Prophet. "The Minister sent out an emergency paper. There was an attack in Hogsmeade and there was someone who apparently looked like you there. He was reported dead."

Harry took the article, reading it back to back. "Woah. Is everyone else okay?"

George nodded. "Yeah. Madam Rosmerta called authorities, everyone except the dead bloke's fine."

Ginny came down the stairs in her robe. "I heard voices. What's going on?"

"Nothing huge Ginny. Just the Prophet. Take a look." Neville told her, handing it over.

Harry sighed. "I'm gonna go check on all the kids. Make sure no one's awake still."

"I'll help." Hermione and Neville offered.
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"Leftover Death Eaters band together? Hermione, what're they talking about?" Skye asked the next morning, reading that morning's Prophet.

"Well, Death Eaters are obviously still about." Harriet snapped. She was terribly cranky on mornings.

Hermione sat down with them. "What Harri says is true, Skye. Death Eaters are still about, and most want to kill Harry."

Harry nodded, his head propped up by his hand. "Yeah, been hunted since I was a year old. Lucky me. The Boy Who Just Won't Die."

Ginny smacked his head. "Don't joke about that."

"Sorry Gin."

"So. How's modeling going?" Damiana asked.

Hermione blushed. "Well, they wanted to put us girls in some rather embarrassing and quite inappropriate positions and someone—"

"—named Hermione," Ginny added.

"—I didn't deny that—but I threw a bit of a fit, and we were fired." Hermione grumbled.

Harry shrugged. "Made $50. Besides, you could be a magical model. I'm sure the magical world could do with tips and spells for makeup and the like from the Brightest Witch of Her Age."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Hey guys, I'm going—"

"Off to the library." Ginny, Harry, and Neville chorused.