The Ambitions Of Rebekah Potter

Chapter Fifty Nine

The Potions class was assigned antidotes, easy enough. Everyone began their potions, it was more like a revision lesson for her little group. They had done Antidotes before, just to see if they could make them without failing. Snape had overseen it and dubbed their potions "acceptable", which was pretty good coming from him.

The doors of the dungeon classroom opened and Colin Creevey almost tumbled in. Rebekah remembered him from her second year, he had been taking photos on the Quidditch match when her arm was deboned, and he had been petrified later that same year. She had nothing against the younger Gryffindor but she didn't quite like his attitude, Rebekah would prefer it if he asked her permission for photos instead of just taking them.

Snape stared at him as he walked all the way to Snape's desk.

"Yes?" Snape drawled with a raised eyebrow in annoyance.

"Sir, I've been sent to take Rebekah Potter upstairs,"

"Miss Potter has another hour of Potions to complete. She will come when this class is finished."

"Sir, Mr Bagman wants her. All the Champions. She needs to be upstairs because of photographs I think, sir," Colin said.

Snape looked at Rebekah who sat directly in front of his desk, her own face was blank. Snape gritted his teeth at Colin and said with venom, "Very well. Miss Potter, you are free to leave but I expect you to do the antidote in your own time and present it to me by Friday lunch."

"Of course, sir," Rebekah nodded and shoved her textbook away after finishing the notes from the board.

Colin was completely silent until Rebekah had shut the door to the classroom, abruptly stopping Snape's words to the class.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Potter?" He smiled brightly "Isn't it, though? You being champion?"

Rebekah didn't look at him. "Somewhat. I didn't choose to be, remember that. What about photographs, Creevey?"

"Oh, you can call me Colin!" He said and watched her look out of the corner of her eye.

"You may call me Rebekah then, Colin," She turned and smiled softly. "If you don't take photos of me without permission. And the photographs of the Champions? What are they for?"

"The Daily Prophet, I think," Colin stopped when they reached the right door. "Good luck!"

Good luck followed Rebekah Potter like a lost puppy. Half the time, she was surprised she had gotten away with what she did, the other half was because she had used her brain and got out of trouble without a hitch. Rebekah sucked her teeth when she saw Rita Skeeter, she knew the women's reputation on exaggerating the truth and twisting it to fit whatever agenda she had.

Rebekah forced a beaming smile as she strode up to the woman. "Hi, I'm Rebekah Potter. Are you doing an article on the tournament?"

"I am," The woman smiled back, showing three gold teeth. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter."

The young Witch was quickly pulled into a tiny room, barely fit to be called a broom closet.

"Testing! My name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter." As soon as she started to talk, the quill zoomed across the parchment, writing what she said but very much exaggerated:

Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations—

"Great!" She said to herself before ripping that piece of parchment away. Rita Skeeter leaned towards Rebekah. "So, dear, what made you decide to enter the tournament knowing that it would give you eternal glory?"