The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|44| Dragons

Rita Skeeter's article had appeared ten days ago, and I still got a sick, burning feeling of shame in my stomach every time I thought about it. Rita Skeeter had reported Harry and I saying an awful lot of things that we never said.

A daring, bright girl, almost top of her class, Maisey Potter decided to enter the Triwizard Tournament with her brother, Harry Potter, to try and outshine him. The Boy Who Lived has always held the view of the public, but now, The Girl Who Hid has come out of hiding and into the spotlight and seems to do anything to take it.

But Rita Skeeter went above and beyond in interviewing other people about us.

Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school. His twin sister, Maisey, has taken an eye for their mutual friend, Ron Weasley, the fifth and youngest boy in his family.

From the moment the article had appeared, Harry and I had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting the article at us as we passed and making sneering comments.

"Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?"

"Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Your sister has higher scores than you. Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?"

"Let's give Potter attention, so she doesn't cry like her brother!"

"Hey — Harry!"

"Yeah, that's right!" Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more..."

"Harry," I whispered, turning him around to face Cho Chang.

"No — it was just — you dropped your quill."

"Oh — right — sorry," he muttered, taking the quill back.

"Er— good luck on Tuesday," she said. "I really hope you do well. You too, Maisey."

Hermione had come in for her fair share of unpleasantness too, but she hadn't yet started yelling at innocent bystanders; in fact, I was full of admiration for the way she was handling the situation.

"Stunningly pretty? Her?" Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita's article had appeared. Rita Skeeter claimed she was Harry's girlfriend. "What was she judging against — a chipmunk?"

"Ignore it," Hermione said in a dignified voice, holding her head in the air and stalking past the sniggering Slytherin girls as though she couldn't hear them. "Just ignore it, Harry. You too, Maisey."

I am not as self-restrained as Hermione is.

"Stuff it, Pansy," I turned around. "You're just jealous of her. You wish you could be in the Prophet."

"Jealous? Me? Of her? That Mud—"

"Say it," I stepped up to her. "I dare you."

Pansy took a step back towards her little gaggle of girls. She was just as bad as Draco Malfoy, perfect for one another.

"That's what I thought," I said and turned back to Harry and Hermione.

Despite everything, Ron still hadn't talked to Harry and me since the day I grew antlers. Ron and I never finished our conversation, so we hadn't solved anything. Hermione was absolutely furious with the three of us; constantly having to be an owl. I wasn't as angry at Ron as Harry was at him: He would only talk to Ron again only if Ron admitted that Harry hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire and apologized for calling him a liar.