"Just rumors, I'm sure," he said, "Though you were right about Whitehall and Morgenson. They ambushed me outside of the locker room."
"I knew it!" Clyde announced, looking thoroughly indignant, "I knew it had to have been one of those bloody Slytherins!"
"Oh really?" Hermione said, her expression blank. The boy looked a bit sheepish.
"Well, I never disagreed with you."
"Anyway," Harry continued. He went on to give them the contrived story about being confunded and abandoned in the muggle world, WYRA's rescue, and his return early that morning. He tried to play it off as a bad prank, keeping the telling light and even humorous. Clyde listened rapt with his tale, but the more he talked the more angry Hermione seemed to become.
"Of all the wretched..." she fumed, "You could have been killed! You could have been mugged, beaten, kidnaped, or even raped! I can't believe those two would do something so horribly irresponsible and petty over a silly game!"
"Hey!" both boys protested on behalf of their 'silly game'.
"Well, really!" Hermione huffed.
Before an argument could breakout over the merits of Quidditch, the portrait opened to let in a couple of third years. Their reaction, like Hermione's and Clyde's, was to let out shrieks of surprise and then stare stupidly for several moments. Feeling a bit awkward under their awed study, Harry forced a smile and a little wave.
"Hello."
"No way!" cried a tawny haired girl. "You're alive!"
"I think so," Harry agreed, and then took his pulse to make sure. "Yep, still here."
"Oh my God, no one's going to believe this!" said her companion, a lightly freckled boy., and then an instant later disappeared back through the portrait hole. The girl looked suddenly flustered with being alone with the now infamous, Harry Potter. She opened her mouth as if to ask something, shut it, opened it again, changed her mind and ran after her escaping companion.
The trio stared at the portrait hole for a moment, then looked to each other.
"What was that?" asked Clyde.
"I dunno," offered Harry, "but I hope everyone doesn't react that way. It was funny the first time, but it gets old fast."
Hermione looked a bit amused, her previous worry dissipating with the realization that he really was hereand he was safe, unharmed, and in good spirits. With her good mood restored, her next words were a bit teasing.
"What do you expect? It's not every day one of your housemates wins a Quidditch match against Slytherin, is kidnaped, presumed dead, and then returns. You can bet this is going to be in the Wizard Weekly too."
Harry groaned at the thought. He, like most people, had his fair share of daydreams about being famous, but it had never occurred to him that it would be quite this... embarrassing.
"And then of course, there'll be interviews," Hermione continued. "There's already been several reporters following this story who visited the school, and interviewed the students and teachers, so you can bet there will be at least three times as many as before."
Clyde made a grimace.
"Bloody nuisance they made of themselves too. They must of heard we were good mates, 'cause they seem to follow me and Hermione like puppies... creepy puppies with cameras and notebooks and no respect for privacy. One bloke followed me into the bathroom! Can you believe it?"
Harry wished he didn't.
"I know!" Hermione said, her teasing tone now indignant. "I think the same fellow tried to follow me up into the girl's dormitory! He set the wards off and McGonagall came storming in. I've never seen her look so mad! She transfigured his notebook into a bird and threw it out the window. Then, he actually had the gall to yell at her about freedom of the press and the right to free speech!"
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"She transfigured his camera into a fish and threw out the window and into the lake! Then she said if she ever found him in the tower again she'd turn him into a pig and let him loose in the Forbidden Forest," Clyde said, and then let out a long hooting laugh.
"But it's going to be ten times worse for you, Harry," she said, looking sympathetic. "Not only are the reporters going to come after you for the story, so is every other over curious classmate and teacher. And they can follow you anywhere in the school."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Harry had hoped Hermione was exaggerating, but it was less than an hour before her prediction came true. The two third years had rushed off to immediately tell their entire house that the Black Cat of Gryffindor apparently still had an extra seven or eight lives. The other tables near by quickly learned of what was happening, and dinner wasn't even half over when half the student body got out of their seats in order to storm Gryffindor tower. A few reporters who had lingered for the day managed to slip into the crowd with them.
Harry and his friends were soon cornered in the common's room, and no amount of verbal or physical aversion could get them away or around the curious horde. A continuous stream of questions was poured out, most of which Harry couldn't answer and the rest he had to lie about if he said anything at all.
Some of the questions were obvious: Where have you been? Why did you disappear? Who was responsible?
Other questions were just bizarre: Where you influenced by the alignment of the planets? Do you have any injuries now of a magical nature? Have your eyes always been that bright?
And some were just plan inappropriate: Did any of those London Muggles touch you, Harry? If you could take revenge on your abductors, what punishment would you choose? Do you think the love of your girlfriend ('I beg your pardon!' Hermione snapped.) guided you home?
To everything Harry replied either, 'I'm not allowed to say, it's under investigation,' or 'I don't know. I was confunded most of the time,'. After half an hour of this, several repeats of the same questions and answers, and no end in sight, Harry said nothing and settled himself in for a long night.
It was almost midnight, when McGonagall finally arrived at the commons room and sent everyone to bed. Their own beds, and that included the other houses and the reporters who had invaded her domain. She spared a clearly exhausted Harry a pat on the shoulder, and sent him on his way. Even here his dorm mates tried to question him, until a rather protective Clyde told them all to leave Harry the bloody hell alone for eight bloody hours.
The next day wasn't much better, and Harry had to use every bit of his (and Hermione's and the Weasley twin's) wits to get to his classes without being cornered, questioned, and made tardy. Classes were a welcome reprieve, as none of the reporters dared interrupt a professor's class- they were all extremely short tempered it seemed and with collections of hexes that only the most deviant intellectuals might acquire- and they were all being extra firm on the 'no talking in class' rule. Harry had actually been relieved when Professor Snape had informed him he would be making up his lab practicals that Saturday. The prospect of that weekend without any privacy was bleak enough without the benefits of his professor's protection..
Meals were taken in the kitchens with the house elves, who cooed and clucked over him, but didn't ask any questions beyond 'how many lumps of sugar would Mr. Potter like in his tea?' Studying was the trickiest venture, since regular trips to the library were required and reporters liked to hang outside and wait for him or one of his friends to come through. Removing his glasses and transfiguring his tie and badge different House's colors worked twice, but they quickly caught on. Luckily, the twins thought it hilarious fun to help their 'idol', and they were a treasure trove of disguises, pranks, and distractions.
By Friday, Harry was on the verge of hexing someone.
"Bloody hell, when will this end?"
Clyde shrugged, his demeanor almost as sullen as Harry. Constantly being questioned when Harry wasn't around, and then completely ignored when he was, was a blow to his pride as well as his patience. Hermione was also irritable, but she had experience dealing with reporters because of her father's activity in politics and could see the end in sight.
"The Dark Lord has been gone for most of the week," she said, "And the Headmistress has been too busy trying to salvage the situation regarding her failure to protect a student to deal with it all properly. That's the only reason this nonsense has been allowed to continue. When he gets back, those reporters won't be allowed anywhere closer than Hogsmeade."
He didn't think it possible, but Harry was actually looking forward to Voldemort's return. A return which would be the Saturday after next at the latest, when Slytherin and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams would face off.
That weekend Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were playing. Harry wished he could go and watch them, but with the enormous amount of overdue homework and the castle mostly empty, Hermione had succeeded in convincing him to spend the morning in the library. They were unexpectedly joined there by Draco and Natalie. Both complained it was too cold to watch a bunch of Powderpuffs and Bookworms fumble around on broomsticks. Ron, who was sulking over Potion's essay, didn't look like he agreed, but had tagged along anyway.
Their whispered discussions over alchemy, aconite, and the Elven-Orcan War of 1222 gradually lapsed into more casual matters in more casual tones.
"Where's your other fellow today? What's his name? Claude or something," asked Draco, not looking up from his DADA textbook.
✨Visit my site at tiendup for more advanced content...✨
✨Read the complete novel in PDF, available at my Store!…✨
✨https://smithnovels.tiendup.com/✨