Dawn Rivera

The Seer Overheard

The fact that Harry Potter is going out with Ginny Weasley seems to interest a number of people, most of the, girls, yet I find myself newly and happily impervious to gossip over the next few weeks. After all, it makes a very nice change for Harry to be talked about because of something that is making him happier than I can ever remember him being for a long time, rather than because he was involved in horrific scenes of Dark Magic. At least, that's what I tell people.

"You'd think people had better things to gossip about," says Misty, as she sits on the common-room floor, leaning against Danny's legs and reading the Daily Prophet. "Three Dementor attacks in a week, and all Romilda Vane does is ask Ginny if it's true Harry's got a Hippogriff tattooed across his chest."

Ron, Hermione and I all roar with laughter. No one seems to notice my smile is strained. Harry and Danny ignore us. Harry's been avoiding me a lot lately.

"What did you tell her?" Danny says.

"I told her it's a Hungarian Horntail," says Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. "Much more macho."

"Thanks," says Harry, grinning. "And what did you tell her Ron's got?"

"A Pygmy Puff, but we didn't say where," says Misty.

Ron scowls as Hermione and I roll around laughing. Real laughter, this time. As real as it can be.

"Watch it," he says, pointing warningly at Harry and Ginny. "Just because I've given my permission doesn't mean I can't withdraw it - "

"'Your permission'," scoffs Ginny. "Since when did you give me permission to do anything? Anyway, you said yourself you'd rather it was Harry than Michael or Dean, like how Misty's going out with Colin Creevey now? Wouldn't you prefer that to Terry or Michael?"

"Yeah, I would," says Ron grudgingly. "And just as long as you don't start snogging each other in public - "

"You filthy hypocrite! What about you and Lavender, thrashing like a pair of eels all over the place?" demands Misty.

But Ron's tolerance is not to be tested much as we move into June, for Misty's and Colin's, and Harry's and Ginny's, time together is becoming increasingly restricted (which I don't particularly mind for the latter). Ginny and Misty's O.W.L.s are approaching and they are therefore forced to revise for hours into the night. On one such evening, when Harry and Danny are finishing their Herbology homework, Hermione and I drop into the seats between them and Ron with purposeful looks on our faces.

"We want to talk to you, Harry and Danny," says Hermione.

"What about?" says Danny suspiciously.

"The so-called Half-Blood Prince," I say.

"Oh, not again," Harry groans. "Will you please drop it?" I try to hide my surprise; it's the first time he's talked to me since the aftermath of the Quidditch match.

Harry and Danny have not dared to return to the Room of Requirement to retrieve Harry's book, and their performance in Potions is suffering accordingly. But I am not that Snape has not yet given up hope of laying hands on the Prince's book, and I'm determined for them to leave it where it is while Snape remains on the lookout.

"We're not dropping it," says Hermione firmly, "until you've heard us out. Now, we've been trying to find out a bit about who might make a hobby of inventing Dark spells - "

"He didn't make a hobby of it - " says Danny.

"He, he - who says it's a he?" I say.

"We've been through this," says Harry crossly. "Prince, Dawn, Prince!"