𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐄𝐋 ; h.potter

nineteen ; confessions

I sent Harry a sympathetic look as he slumped over to the teachers' desk, before proceeding out into the bustling corridor with Hermione and Ron.

. . . . .

As the Christmas holidays approached, the list of people staying at Hogwarts for the winter holidays grew longer than I had ever seen it before. It was to be expected, of course, what with the ball and everything, but it was still strange to see that nearly everyone in the fourth year and above seemed to be staying.

To add to the peculiarity of the early December weeks, everyone seemed to be obsessed with the Yule Ball, and would talk of nothing but what they were going to wear on Christmas night, and who they would take as their date.

Dates. It had occurred to me that if I wanted to go to the ball (which Hermione and Ginny would insist on, anyway), I should probably go with someone. I definitely knew who I wanted to go with, but my hope of that happening was very low — Harry was a famous Hogwarts champion; he had defeated Voldemort twice, slain a Basilisk, and had even gotten past a dragon (not to mention the fact that he was very good-looking). Why would he want to go with me?

Nevertheless, it still irritated me greatly when several girls had asked him within the first week we had been informed about the ball. Luckily, Harry had turned them all down, but it was only a matter of time before he said yes to somebody, or even found someone to ask himself. The only people who had asked me were a random boy from Durmstrang, and a rather brave second-year. Both were easy "no"s.

Aside from stressing out about the Yule Ball, life had definitely improved. I got a nine out of ten on a Potions essay, Dad had sent me a very funny letter about how he had caught a man who had transfigured himself into a rubbish bin on a mission, and no story about Hagrid had appeared in the Daily Prophet.

"She didn' seem very int'rested in magical creatures, ter tell yeh the truth," Hagrid said, when Harry, Ron, Hermione and I asked him how his interview with Rita Skeeter had gone during the last Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term. To everyone's great relief, Hagrid had given up on direct contact with the Skrewts, and we were merely sheltering behind his cabin today, sitting at a trestle table and preparing a fresh selection of food with which to tempt the Skrewts.

"She jus' wanted me ter talk about you, Harry," Hagrid continued in a low voice. "Well, I told her we'd been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the Dursleys. 'Never had to tell him off in four years?' she said. 'Never played you up in lessons, has he?' I told her no, an' she didn' seem happy at all. Yeh'd think she wanted me to say yeh were horrible, Harry."

"'Course she did," Harry said, throwing lumps of dragon liver into a large metal bowl and picking up his knife to cut some more. "She can't keep writing about what a tragic little hero I am, it'll get boring."

"She wants a new angle, Hagrid," Ron said wisely, as he shelled salamander eggs. "You were supposed to say Harry's a mad delinquent!"

"But he's not!" Hagrid said, looking genuinely shocked.

"She should've interviewed Snape," Harry said grimly. "He'd give her the goods on me any day. Potter has been crossing lines ever since he first arrived at this school . . ."

"Said that, did he?" said Hagrid, while Ron, Hermione and I laughed. "Well, yeh might've bent a few rules, Harry, bu' yeh're all righ' really, aren' you?"

"Cheers, Hagrid," Harry said, grinning.

"You coming to this ball thing on Christmas Day, Hagrid?" Ron asked.

"Though' I might look in on it, yeah," Hagrid said gruffly. "Should be a good do, I reckon. You'll be openin' the dancin', won' yeh, Harry? Who're you takin'?"