Starry skies and Gardenias

Chapter 74

When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," said Ron. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

"No, it's not that," said Hermione. "I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."

"Good thinking!" said Harry, also looking up at the owls. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck —"

A grey owl was soaring down toward Hermione.

"It hasn't got a newspaper, though," she said, looking disappointed. "It's —"

But to her bewilderment, the grey owl landed in front of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" said Harry, seizing Hermione's goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.

"What on earth — ?" Hermione said, taking the letter from the grey owl, opening it, and starting to read. "Oh really!" she sputtered, going rather red.

"What's up?" said Ron.

"It's — oh how ridiculous —"

She thrust the letter at Harry, who saw that it was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.

'You are a WickEd giRL. HarRy PotTER desErves BeTteR. GO back wherE you cAMe from mUGgle.'

"They're all like it!" said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you. . . . ' 'You deserve to be boiled in frogspawn. . . . ' Ouch!"

She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

"Ow!" said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry as the owls around Hermione took flight. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone. . . ."

"I warned her!" said Ron as Hermione hurried out of the Great Hall, cradling her hands. "I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one . . ."

He read out one of the letters Hermione had left behind: "'I read in Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.' Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself."

Isabella woke up, rather dissatisfied. 

Her first dream in months, and all that it had was Hermione and Harry's apparent love triangle. And the worse part was that she had already read the book. 

Did she really have to wait until next year to find the clue to get to open the next book? 

That was ridiculous.

Isabella turned to her side, staring at Snow Wiffle who was snoozing beside her head. She smiled softly and closed her eyes again. 

Ah, whatever. If it wasn't going to happen, then there was nothing she could do, no matter how frustrating it might be. 

Professor Kettleburn was very excited for their next class too.