CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX;

RITA SKEETER

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Boxing Day that year was unnervingly quiet – Hermione and Ron seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement to not speak of their argument, though they did send each other befuddled glances when they thought the other wasn't looking. Harry had apologize to Cassie for not spending much time with her at the ball. She accepted, however much she still wanted to shout at him.

   The end of Christmas holidays meant the impending cloud of upcoming classes that hung over their heads drew nearer and nearer, and along with it, their homework over the break. The task that had seemed so far away in December was now closer than ever, leaving Harry with only one month to decipher his clue.

   "You said what about the bath?" asked Cassie, tossing the heavy egg between her hands and watching it intently. Something had been bothering her about the whole thing; the egg, the second task in its whole.

   "Diggory told me to mull things over in the hot water," he said, banging his head on the book in front of him with every word. He sighed and looked up at her. "Don't suppose you've any clue what he's on about?"

   "Why would I?" She bit her thumbnail. With a groan, she stood and set the egg back on the table. "Just.. head to the Prefect's bathroom, okay? It might sound weird, but I'm sure it worked for him. Why would he lie?"

   "To throw me off?" suggested Harry, though he stood and picked up the egg. "I'll try it. But we've got Hagrid's class now, we should best get going."

And so they left the library for Hagrid's hut – however, upon arriving, it was not Hagrid that stood in front of his own hut, but Professor Grubblyplank, the short woman with an even shorter temper.

"What's she doing here?" Cassie muttered to Harry as they approached the cabin. It was not unusual for Hagrid to leave school – in fact, Cassie had been informed that he'd left at least once every year – but during the Triwizard Tournament?

"Let's ask them," he said, nodding towards Ron and Hermione, who were staring begrudgingly at Malfoy and his gang. Harry and Cass approached the two.

"We've already asked," said a put-out Hermione when Cassie opened her mouth to query about the new professor, "she says he's been indisposed."

"Whatever that means," added Ron, still glaring and rolling his jaw at the Slytherins. They were laughing, presumably at the fact that they, the Gryffindors, were so confused. "How much you wanna bet they know something?"

"This way, please," called Professor Grubblyplank to the class, gesturing towards a paddock where the Beaxbatons horses were shivering. Cassie, Harry, Hermione, and Ron followed her, each sparing a glance back at Hagrid's cabin. All the curtains were closed, and no light seeped out from underneath the crack of the door.

"What's wrong with Hagrid?" Harry asked Grubblyplank, hurrying to catch up with the surprisingly quick woman.

"Never you mind," she said in a tone of such that suggested he was only being a nosy child, and not worried about his friend.

"I do mind, though," replied Harry hotly. "What's wrong with him?" He repeated, yet Grubblyplank ignored him (probably purposefully) and led the fourth-years past the paddock and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large unicorn was tethered. Many girls cooed at the sight of it.

"Boys, keep back!" warned Professor Grubblyplank. "They prefer the woman's touch.. go on, girls, easy does it.."

Hermione and Cass shared a nervous glance with their boys, then inched up towards the unicorn, along with Lavender, Parvarti, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass. Once they stood not three feet from the creature, it lifted its head and watched the girls with its dazzling brown eyes. Then, ever so slowly, it bowed its head down in front of Cassie.

"He trusts you then, Lupin," said the now quiet voice of Grubblyplank. Cassie stared at the unicorn, stunned, until Hermione gently prodded her arm. Carefully, Cassie reached out and placed her hand delicately onto the unicorn's snout.

It felt softer than anything Cassie'd ever touched in her lifetime. Its texture was very indescribable, but the thing closest in comparison must have been a veela's hair. The color of the mane struck out brightly against the snow, making even the whitest patch of snow seem grey.

   "How does it feel?" Lavender whispered over Cassie's shoulder. Cassie could feel the eyes peering down from all of the girls behind her and it suddenly made her quiet unnerved.

   "Um.. it's very soft," she replied, also in a whisper. "And– and smooth, I suppose?" It was infinitely more difficult to describe the feeling of a unicorn to someone who'd never touched it than she'd expected it to be, so she moved to the side and allowed the others to reach out and stroke it.

   "Are you boys listening over there!?" shouted Professor Grubblyplank to the others. Cassie and Hermione picked up their heads and watched Harry practically shaking with anger, clutching a newspaper in his hand. Ron, seemingly just as angry, glared at Malfoy with absolute hatred.

   "That can't be good," muttered Hermione, just loud enough so Cassie could hear. She nodded in agreement, biting her lip.

   "What d'you suppose the Prophet's about today?" she whispered, though apparently not as quietly as she'd meant it to be. Pansy and Daphne both looked over the unicorn's back.

   "It's about that halfbreed of a teacher," sneered Pansy. "He's truly a halfbreed – I'd've thought you two would know by now, though I suppose you are a bit dense – he's half giant." She cackled, which would normally call the attention of Professor Grubblyplank, though the woman seemed to be in her own world as she described the magical properties of unicorns.

   "And? So what if he is?" Cassie bristled, furrowing her eyebrows at Pansy. She'd never had much of a personal vendetta against these two Slytherins, but both were giving her very good reasons as they laughed in her face. Well, Daphne, to her credit, wasn't so much as laughing – it was more of a half-smirk; in an attempt to please Pansy, probably.

   "That's not all it says," continued Pansy as though Cassie hadn't even spoken. "Malfoy got a direct interview from Rita Skeeter–" Cassie had since learned that this was Harry's dreadful interviewer "–and told her everything; about how he was nearly killed in third year–"

   "He had a scratch!" Hermione huffed, glaring across the unicorn. "He was not nearly killed!"

   "That's not what the Prophet says," Pansy shrugged, still smirking. "It'd do us some good for Hagrid to be fired, I think, if we get to have lessons like these for the rest of the year!"

Hagrid did not show his face once for the following week. Professor Grubblyplank continued to teach Care of Magical Creatures in his absence. Luckily, the next weekend was a Hogsmeade visit.

The Three Broomsticks was feverish as ever, but it had been very obvious within only a moment that Hagrid was not there, as there was no sign of his big head around. Harry, Cassie, Hermione, and Ron approached the bar and ordered four butterbeers.

"Does he ever go into the office?" Hermione whispered suddenly, staring at a place on the opposite side of the bar. "Look!"

She nodded her head to where her gaze had been and there sat Ludo Bagman, sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was talking very fast and in a low voice to the goblins.

His eyes lifted briefly to meet Harry's and Bagman did a double take, and stood very suddenly. He said something to the goblins, then appeared by Cassie's side, brightly smiling at Harry.

"How are you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything all right?" he asked cheerily, clasping Harry's hand with both of his own in a very enthusiastic handshake.

"Fine, thanks," replied Harry, nowhere near as cheerfully.

"Wonder if I could have a quick, private word?" said Bagman eagerly, oblivious to Harry's mood. "You three couldn't give us a moment, could you?"

"Er.. okay," said Ron uncomfortably, leading Hermione and Cassie off to find a table. He chose one in the corner of the pub, but upon closer look, Cassie realized it was right between a table where Cedric sat and a table where Atticus sat. She didn't sit down.

"Actually.. I think I'm going to go visit Zonko's," she said quickly, setting her butterbeer down. She didn't risk a glance in neither Atticus's nor Cedric's directions. Hermione glanced to the sides and caught on quickly, however confused she must have been.

The truth was, Cassie had not spoken to Atticus since the night in the library when he'd snapped at her for asking about him and Cedric. Cedric and Cassie hadn't spoken since the Yule Ball, though not necessarily out of an argument, more rather because Cedric was more closed-off as the second task drew near. And Atticus and Cedric... well, Merlin knew what went down between those two, but they hadn't spoken, either.

As Cassie exited the pub, she ran directly into a spritely woman with blinding yellow robes and equally as blinding blonde hair. She carried a notebook, though its quill floated beside her head. This woman laid one look on Cassie and gave an overdramatic gasp.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed brightly, tossing her notebook into the air next to her quill, which began writing promptly. "I'm Rita Skeeter, of The Daily Prophet, and you're–"

"The Daily Prophet?" Cassie repeated, raising her eyebrows. "As in the newspaper that's been writing all this rubbish about Harry and Hagrid?"

   If Rita Skeeter was taken aback by Cassie's bluntness, she did not show it. Instead, she grinned, showing off her pearly teeth. "Now, now, it's not rubbish, per say. In fact, I get my articles straight from the sources." She eyed Cassie in a way that made the teenager very uncomfortable. "If I'm correct, you're Cassidy Lupin, the last puzzle piece to this love triangle between Harry Potter, twelve, suspect entrant of the Triwizard Tournament, and Hermione Granger, eleven, Muggleborn witch who–"

   "Please," Cassie snorted, holding up a hand to stop her. "What did you say? Love triangle? Absolute rubbish, Miss Skeeter. Now, if you'll excuse me–"

   "No, no, please stay, I've got all the time in the world," said Rita, her smile now becoming much more poisonous than before. "I've got loads to ask you. Mind if we take a seat? Brilliant." She pulled a speechless Cassie by the arm to sit at a table next to the door. "Alright. Ahem," she glanced to her quill, which was poised directly above the notebook, ready to write, "Cassidy Lupin, age.. thirteen. I've heard rumors about you, dear–"

   "And what might those rumors be?" Cassie asked defiantly, lifting her chin.

   Rita smirked and leaned in, lowering her voice, though the quill continued to scribble down her words. "That you are not quite who you say you are. In fact, I've heard you're quite the dog when it comes to school. That with the grades you get, you should be a convict. That you're a killer student."

   "Ruining someone else's life then, Rita?" Harry asked loudly from behind Cassie.

Rita Skeeter raised her eyebrows and looked up to the boy, then smiled wickedly. "Ah, how lovely. Why don't you join us, Harry?"

"I wouldn't go near you with a ten-foot broomstick," seethed Harry. "What'd you do that to Hagrid for?"

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely–"

"Oh, shove it where the sun doesn't shine, Skeeter," said Cassie, standing and storming out of the pub. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were on her heels quickly.

"What'd she say?" asked Hermione cautiously, struggling to keep up with Cassie, who was walking very quickly back to the castle. "Actually, it doesn't matter, anyway – just don't listen to her, Cass, she's only–"

"I think she knows about my dad," said Cassie abruptly, causing all three of her friends to stop where they were and stare at her in shock. She turned and nodded. "I– I don't know how, but.. but if this gets out–" The realization suddenly dawned on her and her eyes widened. She began breathing rather quickly. "If this gets out– oh, oh– no, she can't–"

"Cassie, it's okay," Hermione said, quickly stepping forward to wrap her arms around the girl in a hug. "She doesn't know, I bet you're only overthinking this. It's alright."

"Yeah, and nobody believes Skeeter's tosh anyway," said Ron supportively, mustering a smile from behind Hermione.

"The Slytherins do! Malfoy– oh, Malfoy, no, no!" Her breathing picked up again as she imagined Malfoy's reaction; cackling, jeering, all of the evil things he'd already done times twenty. "He's already suspicious of me, this can't– she can't–"

   "Cass!" someone shouted, and she peeled her eyes open to see Cedric and Atticus wading through the snow towards her. She sucked in a sharp breath then exhaled it in a short sob, digging her palms into her eyes.

   "She just– how could she know? Nobody knows!" She muttered to herself, barely registering the arms wrapping around her shoulders and leaning her head into the person's chest. "This can't be happening."

"It's not," Atticus whispered into her hair, holding her tightly to his body. His voice was quiet and his touch was gentle. "I promise, it's okay. It's okay."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I thought you didn't like hot cocoa."

"I can put my differences aside for once, I suppose," said Atticus, though he pouted jokingly. Cassie rolled her eyes and took a sip from the mug in her hands, smiling softly to herself.

"Thank you, Atticus," she said quietly, her eyes on the ground. "I... freaked out a bit, when I thought Skeeter had been onto me. I'm sorry."

"Never apologize for something that's not your fault," advised Atticus. "And it truly is okay. I'm sure she was just.. being Rita Skeeter."

"I'm just so paranoid," she sighed, placing her hot cocoa on the table in front of her. "It sounds like I'm ashamed to be his daughter, like I'm embarrassed to be related to him, but it's not that. It's just– if people found out that Cassie, the new girl who turned up the year Sirius Black broke out from Azkaban, is really his daughter.. do you know what kind of hell would break loose?"

   "I can imagine," said Atticus, raising his eyebrows. A grin grew on his face. "Yep, I already see it; people cowering as you saunter down the halls, clutching your murderous wand in your hand, waiting for a student who dare defy you to step forward so you can watch the life leave their eyes as you–"

   Cassie had broken into full-on laughter at this point, clutching her stomach and shaking her head. "You're horrible," she said between giggles. "So bloody foul."

   "You love me," he said, grinning. She nodded and shrugged.

   "I do, I'll admit it." A silence fell over the pair and it was comfortable. At least, for a moment. Cassie cleared her throat. "So.." she began to ask about Cedric, but didn't want to put a damper on Atticus's good mood, so she quickly changed her question. "What does Dyslexia mean?"

   "It's a Muggle thing," shrugged Atticus. "Got it from my mum, they think. Get my d's and b's and my p's and q's mixed up, mostly." He stopped talking, and Cassie could tell there was more to it, but she didn't want to push him. This had been the most she'd been able to get out of him since she'd found out about it. He cleared his throat. "So, where's your loverboy these days? I mean, besides fighting a dragon and fending off bugs like Skeeter."

"In the Prefect's bathroom," she said, choosing to ignore his loverboy comment. "Cedric gave him a hint on how to figure out this egg thing, so he's trying it for all its worth."

"Really?" said Atticus, impressed and raising an eyebrow. "Huh. Fleur said she's had it figured out for days now."

"Speaking of," said Cassie, now very eager, "you went to the ball with Fleur Delacour and didn't think to tell me? What is wrong with you?"

"I didn't think it was important," he said, wincing and rubbing his arm. This earned himself another whack from Cassie. "What? It wasn't!"

"She's Fleur bloody Delacour! And you asked her to the Yule Ball!"

   "And? I like her."

   "You've never even spoken to her before the ball," she pointed out, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "Listen, Forbes. I know how to spot a liar when I see one, so my question for you; who're you trying to make jealous?"

   Atticus choked on his cocoa and coughed, dripping hot cocoa down his front. "What!?" he asked, making a point to keep his head down so she wouldn't see his red cheeks. He dabbed at the cocoa with a towel.

   Cassie waved her wand and the cocoa disappeared. "Wipsy wouldn't like that you spilled her drink," she teased, then fell serious again. "You didn't deny it. You're trying to make somebody jealous. Who?"

   "None of your bloody business," he said, matter-of-factly.

   "C'mon, you can trust me," she said, standing as he did and following him to put their mugs on the counter. "Tell me who you fancy."

   "I do not fancy anyone," he said flatly, pushing the painting door open and swiftly exiting the kitchen. She scrambled to follow after him.

"I'm going to get it out of you," she said firmly, watching as he walked down the hall to the Ravenclaw common room. "Mark my words, Forbes!"

"Marked," he said sarcastically as he turned the corner. "I'm terrified."