𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗡 𝗕𝗢𝗬

ACT TWO, CHAPTER THREE
rita skeeter is awful, but venus
and harry roll with the punches.

VOLDEMORT HAD BEEN happy last night, and it was suddenly revealed as to why.

Venus was in the middle of drinking her morning pumpkin juice when Hermione's Daily Prophet arrived. Hermione smoothed it out, gazed down at the front page for a moment, and gave out a yelp that caused everyone in the vicinity to stare at her. Venus jumped slightly and accidentally spilled some pumpkin juice on the table.

"What?" Harry and Ron demanded together.

Hermione didn't answer verbally. Instead, she spread out the newspaper on the table in front of them and pointed to ten black-and-white photographs that filled the whole of the front page. Nine showed wizards' faces and the tenth was a witch. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering while others tapped their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each one of the pictures was captioned with a name and the crime that made these people go to Azkaban.

Antonin Dolohov, a caption read beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

Augustus Rookwood, another one read beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking terribly bored, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic Secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Venus' eyes trailed down to the picture of the witch. She had long, dark hair that was unkempt and straggly. The witch glared up at her through heavily lidded eyes with an arrogant, disdainful smile playing on her thin lips. Even though Azkaban had taken most of her beauty, Venus still knew who she was — one, from the picture back in Kreacher's bedroom, and two, from how much she looked like Penelope.

Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

She then looked at the headline over the pictures.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN
MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

"Black?" Harry repeated loudly. "Not—?"

"Shhh!" Hermione scolded. "Not so loud — just read it!"

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night
     that there has been a mass breakout from
Azkaban.
Speaking to reporters in his private office,
     Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, confirmed
     that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the
     early hours of yesterday evening, and that he
     has already informed the Muggle Prime
     Minister of  the dangerous nature of these
     individuals.
"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the
same position we were two and a half years ago 
when the murderer Sirius Black escaped," said
Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two
breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this
magnitude suggests outside help, and we must 
remember that Black, as the first person ever to
break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to
help others follow in his footsteps. We think it
likely that these individuals, who include Black's
cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around
Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all
we can to round up the criminals and beg the
magical community to remain alert and
     cautious. On no account should any of these
     individuals be approached."

"Bellatrix," Ron repeated quietly, his eyes widening. "Bloody hell, Penelope." His head snapped up, and Venus glanced over to see Penelope quickly leaving the Great Hall with Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. "I've gotta go."

He pushed himself up off the table and followed after her. Venus watched after him for a moment before looking back to her boyfriend (she still can't believe she gets to call him that!)

"You told us Voldemort was happy last night," Venus stated. "This is probably why. I mean, Penelope always said Bellatrix was Voldemort's most loyal Death Eater. He's probably extremely happy she's out."

"I don't believe this, Fudge is blaming the breakout on Sirius?" Harry asked.

"What other options does he have?" Hermione countered bitterly. "He can hardly say, Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort, and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out too. I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?"

Hermione ripped open the newspaper and started to read the report inside. Venus looked over to see Harry glancing around the Great Hall. Very few of them got the newspaper every day like Hermione did, so they didn't look scared and weren't discussing the horrible news. All they were talking about was homework, Quidditch, and rumors. Meanwhile, outside of the walls of the castle, ten more Death Eaters joined Voldemort's ranks, one the most crazy loyal of them all.

The staff table, however, was a different story. Dumbledore and McGonagall were both looking extremely grave as they had a deep conversation. Sprout had the Prophet leaning against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she didn't seem to notice how the egg yolk from her stationary spoon was gently dripping onto her lap. Meanwhile, at the very far end of the table, Umbridge was eating a bowl of porridge. Her pouchy toad's eyes weren't sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students for once. She scowled as she gulped down her food. Every now and then, she would shoot a malevolent glance up the table where Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking intently.

"Oh my—" Hermione began, still staring at the newspaper.

"What now?" Harry questioned quickly.

"It's . . . horrible."

Hermione looked shaken. She folded back page ten of the newspaper and handed it back to Harry and Venus. Venus peered over Harry's shoulder to read while he held it.

TRAGIC DEMISE OF
MINISTRY OF MAGIC WORKER

     St. Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry
     last night after Ministry of Magic worker
     Broderick Bode, 49, was discovered dead in his
     bed, strangled by a potted-plant. Healers called
     to the scene were unable to revive Mr. Bode,
     who had been injured in a workplace accident
     some weeks prior to his death.
          Healer Miriam Strout, who was in charge of
     Mr. Bode's ward at the time of the incident, has
     been suspended on full pay and was unavailable
     for comment yesterday, but a spokeswizard for
     the hospital said in a statement, "St. Mungo's
     deeply regrets the death of Mr. Bode, whose
     health was improving steadily prior to this
     tragic accident.
          "We have strict guidelines on the decorations
     permitted on our wards but it appears that
     Healer Strout, busy over the Christmas period,
     overlooked the dangers of the plant on Mr.
     Bode's bedside table. As his speech and mobility
     improved, Healer Strout encouraged Mr. Bode
     to look after the plant himself, unaware that it
     was not an innocent Flitterbloom, but a cutting
     of Devil's Snare, which, when touched by the
     convalescent Mr. Bode, throttled him instantly.
          "St. Mungo's is as yet unable to account for
     the presence of the plant on the ward and asks
     any witch or wizard with information to come
     forward."

"Wait, we saw him," Venus whispered. "He was in the bed opposite of Lockhart's in St. Mungo's, remember? The guy who was lying there mumbling while staring at the ceiling. And that plant . . . that plant that the Healer said was a Christmas present, it was Devil's Snare."

Harry looked back at the story in horror. "How come we didn't recognize Devil's Snare . . . ? We've seen it before . . . we could've stopped this from happening . . ."

"This couldn't have been a mistake," Venus admitted darkly.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I don't think anyone could put Devil's Snare in a pot and not realize it tries to kill whoever touches it? This — this was murder . . . a clever murder, as well . . . if the plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?"

"I met Bode," Harry suddenly announced slowly. "I saw him at the Ministry with Mr. Weasley . . ."

Venus suddenly straightened up. "Wait. Remember how yesterday I told y'all how my parents didn't really talk about the Ministry much to me? Well, I overheard them talking one day in the kitchen while they didn't know I was there. Bode was an Unspeakable, one of those people Ron were talking about yesterday that work in the Department of Mysteries." She looked over at Harry with wide eyes. "It has to be linked."

Hermione then pulled the newspaper back towards her, closed it, glared at the pictures of the ten escaped Death Eaters on the front, and finally got to her feet.

"You, okay, Hermione?" Venus inquired in concern.

She nodded as she swung her bag over her shoulder. "I'm going to send a letter. It . . . well, I don't know whether . . . but it's worth trying. . . and I'm the only one who can . . ."

Venus sighed as she looked back to Harry, who looked very lost in thought. "And what are you thinking about?"

"Things are getting darker, Star," Harry responded gravely. "Much darker. I just wish people would believe me so that they realize it, too."

"They'll come around," Venus reassured him. She then stood up and offered him her hand. "Now, come on. We can go take a walk around the Black Lake and get some hot chocolate from the kitchens afterwards, if you'd like."

Harry smiled softly at her and took her hand, lacing their fingers together as he also stood up. "Yeah, come on."

"I wonder who Hermione's writing to," Venus voiced as they walked out of the Great Hall, ignoring how everyone was intently staring at them. "She can be quite mysterious sometimes — oh, hi, Hagrid."

Hagrid was standing beside the doors of the entrance hall, waiting for a crowd of Ravenclaws to pass. He was still heavily bruised, just like the night he had come back from his mission to the Giants. There was also a new cut right across the bridge of his nose.

"All righ', you two?" Hagrid asked, trying to smile at them but only managing a pained grimace.

"Are you okay, Hagrid?" Harry questioned, tugging Venus along to follow him as Hagrid lumbered after the Ravenclaws.

"Fine, fine." His response had a feeble assumption of airiness. He waved them off, narrowly missing a frightened-looking Professor Vector who could've been concussed as she passed. "Jus' busy, yeh know, usual stuff — lessons ter prepare — couple o' salamanders got scale rot — an' I'm on probation."

Venus immediately frowned. "Oh, Hagrid, I'm so sorry. That woman is absolutely dreadful."

"Yeah. 'S'no more'n I expected, ter tell yeh the truth. Yeh migh' not've picked up on it, bu' that inspection didn' go too well, yeh know . . . anyway." Hagrid let out a very deep sigh. "Bes' go an rub a bit more chili powder on them salamanders or their tails'll be hangin' off 'em next. See yeh, Harry . . . Venus . . ."

He trudged off out the front doors, down the stone steps, and into the damp grounds. Venus and Harry watched him go. She felt him squeeze her hand a little tighter. Bad news was hitting him left and right, and Venus had a very horrible feeling that he might reach a breaking point soon.

Over the next few days, the news that Hagrid was now on probation was common knowledge within the school. Nobody seemed to be particularly upset about it. Some people — Draco Malfoy being the most prominent among them — were actually happy about it. It took all of Venus' strength to hold back Charlotte from absolutely beating Malfoy to a pulp. As for the freakish death of an obscure Department of Mysteries employee in St. Mungo's, Venus, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Charlotte, Elijah, and Penelope seemed to be the only people who knew or cared.

Only one topic of conversation filled the hallways now — the ten escaped Death Eaters, whose story had finally spread around the school from the few people who read the newspaper. Rumors flew that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and planning to break into Hogwarts like Sirius Black had done back in third year — at least, of what Venus knew.

Those who came from Wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these escaped Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemort's — especially Bellatrix Lestrange. The crimes those individuals had committed during the days of Voldemort's reign of terror were incredibly legendary. There were relatives of their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now found themselves having a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the hallways. Susan Bones had even admitted that she now had a good idea of what it felt like to be Harry and didn't know how he stood it. On the other hand, there were actual relatives of the escaped Death Eaters themselves. Penelope was obviously the most prominent, and whispers and glares followed her everywhere she went.

Harry was mostly the subject of muttering and pointing in the hallways these days. However, unlike the beginning of the year, the tone of the whisperers' voices were now curious rather than hostile. There were even one or two revelations that the speakers were not satisfied with the Prophet's version of how and why ten Death Eaters had managed to break out of Azkaban so easily. In their confusion and fear, these doubters seemed to be turning to the only other explanation available — that Voldemort was actually back, something that Harry and Dumbledore had been preaching about since the previous year.

Not only the students' moods were changing. Now, it was quite common to see two of three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the hallways. They broke off their conversations the split second they saw students approaching.

"They obviously can't talk freely in the staffroom anymore," Hermione stated in a low voice as her, Venus, Harry, Ron, Penelope, Charlotte, and Elijah passed McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout huddled together outside the Charms classroom one day. "Not with Umbridge there."

"Reckon they know anything new?" Ron inquired, glancing back over his shoulder at the three teachers.

"If they do, we're not going to hear about it, are we?" Harry replied angrily. "Not after Decree . . . What number are we on now?"

Ah, yes. Another Decree. New signs had appeared on the House notice boards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout.

━━ BY ORDER OF ━━
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖎𝖌𝖍 𝕴𝖓𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖔𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝕳𝖔𝖌𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘

Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.

The above is in accordance with
Educational Decree Number Twenty-six.

Signed:
𝓓𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓙𝓪𝓷𝓮 𝓤𝓶𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓰𝓮
High Inquisitor

This latest decree had created a lot of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had even pointed out to Umbridge that according to the terms of the new rule that she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.

"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor!" Lee had exclaimed. "That's not information relating to your subject!"

Lee was then found with the back of his hand bleeding rather badly. Venus felt the own scars on the back of her hand reading blood traitor sting a little. She remembered how she was — a bleeding hand, a spinning mind, a feeling of how she was going to pass out. Both her and Harry had recommended the essence of Murtlap.

If the breakout from Azkaban had any effect on Umbridge, it only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control instead of humbling her after a catastrophe like that happened right under her precious Fudge's nose. Umbridge seemed determined to achieve a sacking, and the only question left was if it would be Trelawney or Hagrid who went first.

Venus didn't know about Divination, but every Care of Magical Creatures lesson was now occurring in the presence of Umbridge and her stupid clipboard. Hagrid was now following Hermione's advice and was showing them more tame creatures since before Christmas, such as a Crup, which looked like a Jack Russell terrier except for its forked tail. He had also seemed to have lost his nerve. Hagrid was oddly distracted and jumpy during his lessons. He lost the thread of what he was saying when addressing the class, giving the wrong answers to questions, and glancing anxiously at Umbridge all the time. Hagrid also seemed to be more distant with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Charlotte since he had ever been before — well, not that Venus knew how close they actually were, but Charlotte was particularly upset about it. He instructed them not to come visit him anymore.

"If she catches yeh, it'll be all of our necks on the line," Hagrid told them flatly.

With no desire whatsoever to do anything that jeopardized his job further, they stopped walking down to his hut in the evenings as well. Harry looked like he couldn't take anymore, which worried Venus — Umbridge had taken away his visits to Hagrid's house, his letters to Sirius, his Firebolt, and Quidditch. That only, however, made him want to take revenge in the only way he had: the D.A. meetings.

Due to the news of ten more Death Eaters were now on the loose, all of them worked harder in the D.A. than ever. Nobody was improving more than Penelope and Neville, however. The news of her mother, who had attacked Neville's parents to the point of insanity, had seemed to bring a change to the both of them. Being kind of off-guarded and a little angry might've been normal for Penelope, but definitely not for Neville. He had not mentioned anything about his meeting with Venus, Harry, Ron, Penelope, Hermione, and Ginny on the closed ward in St. Mungo's, and all of them had kept quiet about it as well. Neville also hadn't said anything about the subject of Bellatrix and her fellow torturer's escape. In fact, he didn't really speak at all during D.A. meetings anymore. All he did was work relentlessly on every new jinx and countercurse Harry taught them, his face screwed up in concentration, apparently not carrying about injuries or accidents, and working harder than anyone else in the room with the exception of Penelope. Him and Penelope were improving so fast that it was a little unnerving. When Harry taught them the Shield Charm — which deflected minor jinxes so they rebounded upon the attacker — Hermione was the only one to master the charm faster than Neville and Penelope.

Harry had also admitted to Venus, Ron, and Hermione that ever since he started Occlumency, his scar was always hurting and he often felt lurches of annoyance or cheerfulness that were unrelated to what was happening to him in the present moment, and that they were always accompanied by his scar giving a painful twinge. That only made Venus' worry heighten. Voldemort was really messing with him, and Harry continued having that dream of the black door in the Department of Mysteries.

"Maybe it's a bit like an illness," Hermione suggested when Harry confided in them. "A fever or something. It has to get worse before it gets better."

"It's lessons with Snape that are making it worse," Harry argued. "I'm getting sick of my scar hurting, and I'm getting bored walking down that corridor every night." He rubbed at his forehead angrily, making Venus frown. "I just wish the door would open, I'm sick of standing staring at it—"

"That's not funny," Hermione snapped. "Dumbledore doesn't want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn't have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You're just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons."

"Hermione," Venus lightly scolded.

"I am working!" Harry insisted. "You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it's not a bundle of laughs, you know!"

"Maybe . . ." Ron trailed off slowly.

"Maybe what?" Hermione demanded.

"Maybe it's not Harry's fault he can't close his mind," Ron admitted darkly.

Venus' eyebrows knit in thought. "What are you trying to say?"

"Well, maybe Snape isn't really trying to help Harry . . ." The three of them just stared at him. Ron looked at each of them individually with a dark expression on his face before continuing in a lower voice. "Maybe he's actually trying to open Harry's mind a bit wider . . . make it easier for You-Know—"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione ordered angrily. "How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough."

"He used to be a Death Eater," Ron reminded her stubbornly. "And we've never seen proof that he really swapped sides . . ."

"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione repeated. "And if we can't trust Dumbledore, we can't trust anyone."

╞════════ ༺ ༻ ════════╡

THE FACT THAT Venus Black and Harry Potter were dating seemed to interest basically the entirety of Hogwarts. Along with that and the talk of Ron and Penelope dating, the whole castle was bustling with gossip. Venus didn't really pay attention to it, though — January passed at an alarming rate, due to piles of homework for the fifth years that kept them up past midnight and secret D.A. meetings. February then arrived with wetter and warmer weather and the prospect of the second Hogsmeade visit of the year. Venus and Harry had talked about their plans, and by plans, they both agreed to just wing it — because, after all, that was just how they rolled.

Venus arose on the fourteenth, her heart racing and her stomach fluttering with butterflies. She waved her wand so that her hair was neatly placed into two French braids. Venus picked out an outfit of black boots, jeans, a black sweater, and a red jacket.

"Are you excited?" Hermione asked as they walked through the hallways to get to the Great Hall.

Venus nodded, not being able to wipe the smile off of her face whatsoever. "Yeah. It's our first date, and it's on Valentine's Day . . ."

They sat down and began to have breakfast. Just as Venus was sipping on some water as the post owls came, she glanced over to see Harry and Ron walking into the Great Hall. Venus' heart did a little leap at the sight of her boyfriend. Despite only wearing a pair of jeans, a sweater, and a Gryffindor scarf since it was still a little cold outside, he looked good. Her face burning, she turned to look back down at the table with a stupid grin.

"Morning, Star," Harry greeted, sitting down next to her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day, darling."

"Good morning," Venus replied. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Hermione then pulled a letter out from the beak of an unfamiliar brown owl. "And about time! If it hadn't come today . . ." She tore open the envelope and pulled out a small piece of parchment. Hermione read through the message with a grimly pleased expression on her face before looking up at Harry. "Listen, Harry. This is really important . . . do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"

Venus resisted the urge to frown. Hermione knew about her and Harry's plans, they were even just talking about it a little while ago.

Harry blinked at her. "Hermione, Venus and I are going on a date."

"V, you can come too. Will you both come?"

Venus and Harry shared a glance. In their eyes, both of them knew they didn't really want to, for they wanted to spend all day with each other running around the streets of Hogsmeade. Finally, Harry gave a little shrug. Venus quietly sighed and shrugged as well.

"Well . . . all right, but why?" Harry questioned.

"I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly—" Hermione responded.

Hermione then hurried out of the Great Hall, clutching both the letter and a piece of toast in her hands.

"Huh," Venus commented. "I wonder what's got her so frantic."

"Are you coming?" Harry then inquired to Ron.

Ron shook his head, looking glum. "I can't come into Hogsmeade at all, Angelina wants a full day's training. Like it's going to help — we're the worst team I've ever seen. You should see Sloper and Kirke, they're pathetic, even worse than I am." He sighed deeply. "It's even worse because Penelope wanted to spend the whole day together in Hogsmeade. I dunno why Angelina won't just let me resign . . ."

"It's because you're good when you're on form, that's why," Harry stated irritably.

It was obvious that Harry no longer wanted to talk about Quidditch since he probably would've given anything to play in the upcoming match. Venus sat there awkwardly as the two boys were stuck in a tense silence during the rest of breakfast. Finally, she had enough.

"Ready to go?" Venus asked Harry, standing up from the table.

"Yeah," Harry answered, getting up as well and interlocking their hands together. "See you later, Ron."

There was a slight frostiness in the way they said goodbye. Venus waved to Ron as her and Harry exited the Great Hall. They stayed in comfortable silence as they joined the long queue of people being signed out by Filch. Finally, once they exited the castle, they entered a fresh, breezy sort of day. Venus glanced over to see Harry staring wistfully at the Quidditch stadium once they passed it.

"I'm sorry you're not able to play Quidditch this year," Venus stated, making him look down at her. "If only Umbridge wasn't screwing everything up . . . even after watching you play only one game, I can tell you've got a talent for it."

"She's dreadful," Harry replied. "I hate her more than Snape, and that's saying something."

"Hopefully she'll be gone next year. I mean, MACUSA was strict on Ilvermorny like the Ministry is strict on Hogwarts, but not to this extent."

Harry gently nudged his shoulder with hers. "Hey, what House do you think I would be sorted into if I went to Ilvermorny?"

"Thunderbird," Venus said at once. "My House. They're kind of like Gryffindors — I don't know, it would just make the most sense. Ilvermorny Houses are quite different from the ones here at Hogwarts."

They finally reached the Hogwarts gates, when suddenly, a large gang of Slytherin girls passed them, which included Pansy Parkinson.

"Potter and Black!" Pansy screeched. "Urgh, Black, I don't think much of your taste . . ."

"At least I have a date, Parkinson," Venus replied. "Did Malfoy turn you down again?"

She raised an eyebrow and pulled Harry along, leaving behind a very stunned Pansy. Once they were out of earshot, Venus and Harry fell into a fit of giggles. After a while, they finally entered Hogsmeade. The High Street was filled with students, peering into the shop windows and messing about together on the pavements.

"Honeydukes," Venus decided at once before Harry could even ask where she wanted to go. "I'm low on sugar quills."

Harry grinned at her. "Okay, come on."

They walked over to the candy shop. Once Venus entered, she was instantly hit with the smell of sweets. She breathed it in happily as she pulled Harry down some of the aisles inside the shops, dodging around the other students. Venus finally found the sugar quills and grabbed two five packs — it probably wouldn't last her that long, she went through those things like there was no tomorrow.

After waiting in line while having a debate about the best flavor of sugar quills, Venus finally reached the register. She reached into the pocket of her coat to pull out the right amount of money, but Harry had already placed it down on the counter.

"Harry, no," Venus protested as the witch at the counter took the money from him.

He smirked at her. "Harry, yes."

The witch handed Venus her bag. She took it with a quiet thank you before exiting the shop. Finally, once they were outside and made their way up to a corner where it was a little quieter, she stopped and faced him.

"You seriously didn't have to," Venus told him.

Harry shrugged. "I wanted to." He squeezed the hand he was still holding. "Don't worry about it, Star."

"Okay, but I'm buying butterbeers," Venus stated. She noticed Harry opening his mouth to protest. "Nope. No arguing. It's settled."

"You're impossible sometimes, you know that?"

"I've been told once or twice."

Harry shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. Venus then shivered upon feeling a sudden drop of cold on her. She glanced up at the sky — it was a stormy gray, and raindrops were starting to steadily fall. Harry noticed this and let go of her hand. He reached up and took off his Gryffindor scarf before wrapping it around Venus' neck instead. She smiled at the gesture, but then Harry used the both sides of the scarf he was holding to pull her in closer. He instantly pressed his lips onto hers, sending Venus' mind into a whirlwind. She placed her hands on the sides of his arms to balance herself as she rose up onto her toes to kiss him better.

Suddenly, more raindrops began to fall at a steadier pace. Venus suddenly pulled away from the kiss with a gasp as a particularly cold drop hit the back of her neck. Harry made a noise of protest and pulled her back into him. Venus grinned through the second kiss, now completely unaware of the way the rain was falling all around them. Most people were ducking for cover, but not Venus and Harry — it was like they were in their own little world. After a couple more long moments of kissing, they finally pulled away from each other.

"Kissing in the rain?" Venus asked. "I didn't take you to be a cliché, Harry Potter."

"I'm not, but you've made me rethink some things, Venus Black," Harry voiced, moving even closer to her, now wrapping his arms around her waist underneath her jacket. "You're my first girlfriend, so why wouldn't we be cliché?"

"Hmm, true." She then shivered again. "I hate to stop this moment, but the rain is cold and I'd rather not get sick. The Three Broomsticks is just over there, you up for going early?"

Harry nodded and kept a secure arm around Venus' waist as they ran to the Three Broomsticks. Both of them were laughing, shivering messes from their run in the rain. Venus wiped some of the water off of her face before looking around. It was extremely busy now, but the two of them noticed Hagrid sitting in a corner, looking morose. They squeezed through the crammed tables and pulled up two chairs beside him.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry announced.

Hagrid jumped and looked down at them, two fresh cuts on his face and several new bruises. "Oh, it's you, Harry, and Venus. You all righ'?"

"I'm brilliant," Harry responded truthfully, his cheeks turning a little pink which made Venus feel her face burn as well. "Er — are you okay?"

"Me? Oh yeah, I'm grand, Harry, grand . . ." He gazed into the depths of his tankard, which was approximately the size of a large bucket, and sighed. Venus and Harry shared a glance, obviously not knowing what to say, but then Hagrid continued on. "In the same boat, you an' me, aren' we, Harry?"

"Er—"

"Yeah . . . I've said it before . . . both outsiders, like. An' both orphans. Yeah . . . both orphans." He took a great swig from his tankard. "Makes a diff'rence, havin' a decent family. Me dad was decent. An' your mum an' dad were decent. If they'd lived, life woulda bin diff'rent, eh?"

"Yeah . . . I s'pose," Harry said cautiously, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing up and down the fabric of Venus' sweater on her waist.

"Family," Hagrid continued gloomily. "Whatever yeh say, blood's important . . ." He then wiped a trickle of blood out of his eye.

"Hagrid, how are you getting all those injuries?" Venus questioned. "Every time we see you, you've just been more and more beaten up."

"Eh?" Hagrid inquired, looking very startled. "Wha' injuries?"

"Um . . . the ones on your face."

"Oh . . . tha's jus' normal bumps an' bruises, Venus," Hagrid told her dismissively. "I got a rough job." He drained his tankard, set it down on the table, and got to his feet. "I'll be seein' yeh, Harry, Venus . . . take care now . . ."

With that, he lumbered out of the pub looking wrenched and then disappeared into the torrential downpour of rain.

"Those are not normal bumps and bruises," Venus insisted.

"It was strange how he was talking about family," Harry added. "Something's going on with him, I just wish I knew what . . ."

"Harry, Venus!" a voice suddenly shouted. "Harry, Venus, over here!"

Hermione was waving at them from the other side of the room. Harry latched onto Venus' hand again and kept her close as they navigated their way towards her though the crowded pubs. As they got closer, Venus noticed Hermione was not alone. There was Luna Lovegood and an older woman with blonde unkept hair sitting with her.

"You're early!" Hermione exclaimed, moving down to give the couple room to sit. "I thought you and Venus would be out for another hour at least!"

"Venus?" the woman repeated at once, twisting around in her seat to stare avidly at Harry. "A girl?" She snatched up a crocodile-skin handbag and dug in it for a moment.

"It's none of your business if Harry's been with a hundred girls," Hermione stated coolly. "So you can put that away right now."

The woman had been in the middle of withdrawing an acid-green quill from her bag. With a very unpleasant expression, she snapped her bag shut again.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Venus asked.

"Venus, this is Rita Skeeter," Hermione explained. "Ex-journalist for the Daily Prophet. Rita, this is Venus Black, Harry's girlfriend."

"What are you up to?" Harry questioned as him and Venus settled down, Harry resting their interlocked hands on top of his knee.

"Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived," Rita revealed, taking a large slurp of her drink. She then looked at Hermione. "I suppose I'm allowed to talk to him, am I?"

"Yes, I suppose you are," Hermione answered rather coldly.

Rita took another great gulp of her drink. "So . . . girlfriend? Oh, she's a pretty girl, Harry."

"Um . . ." Venus trailed off. "Thank you?"

"One more word about Harry's love life and the deal's off and that's a promise," Hermione cut in irritably.

"What deal?" Rita argued, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "You haven't mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, you just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days . . ." She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Harry and me, probably some about Venus as well. Find someone who cares, why don't you?"

"They've run plenty of horrible stories about Harry this year without my help." Rita shot a sideways look at Harry over the top of her glass. "How has that made you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?"

"He feels angry, of course," Hermione responded in a hard, clear voice. "Because he's told the Minister of Magic the truth and the Minister's too much of an idiot to believe him."

"So you actually stick to it, do you, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?" Rita inquired, lowering her glass and giving a piercing stare to Harry, whose grip tightened on Venus' hand. "You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness—?"

"I wasn't the sole witness," Harry countered angrily. "There were a dozen-odd Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?"

"I'd love them." Rita was now fumbling in her bag again and was gazing at Harry like he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, making Venus feel a great sense of discomfort. "A great bold headline: Potter Accuses . . . A subheading: Harry Potter Names Death Eaters Still Among Us. And then, beneath a nice big photograph of you: Disturbed teenage survivor of You-Know-Who's attack, Harry Potter, 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the Wizarding community of being Death Eaters . . ." The acid-green quill was actually in her hand and halfway to her mouth, but she suddenly lowered the quill and glared daggers at Hermione. "But of course, Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"

"As a matter of fact, that's exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want," Hermione said sweetly.

Rita stared at her, as did Harry. Venus raised an eyebrow. Luna, on the other hand, was singing Weasley Is Our King dreamily under her breath while stirring her drink with a cocktail onion on a stick.

"You want me to report what he says about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Rita asked Hermione in a very hushed voice.

"Yes, I do," Hermione confirmed. "The true story. All the facts. Exactly as Harry reports them. He'll give you all the details, he'll tell you the names of the undiscovered Death Eaters he saw there, he'll tell you what Voldemort looks like now — oh, get a grip on yourself—" she added, giving Rita a napkin from across the table since Rita had jumped and slopped half her glass of firewhiskey down herself from the sound of Voldemort's name.

Rita blotted the front of her grubby raincoat with the napkin, still staring at Hermione. "The Prophet wouldn't print it. In case you haven't noticed, nobody believes his cock-and-bull story. Everyone thinks he's delusional. Now, if you let me write the story from that angle—"

"We don't need another story about how Harry's lost his marbles! We've had plenty of those already, thank you! I want him given the opportunity to tell the truth!"

"There's no market for a story like that," Rita replied coldly.

"You mean the Prophet won't print it because Fudge won't let them," Hermione insisted irritably.

Rita gave Hermione a long, hard look before leaning forwards across the table towards her. "All right, Fudge is leaning on the Prophet, but it comes to the same thing. They won't print a story that shows Harry in a good light. Nobody wants to read it. It's against the public mood. This last Azkaban breakout has got people quite worried enough. People just don't want to believe You-Know-Who's back."

"So the Daily Prophet exists to tell people what they want to hear, does it?"

Rita straightened up with her eyebrows raised and downed her glass of firewhiskey. "The Prophet exists to sell itself, you silly girl."

"My dad thinks it's an awful paper," Luna admitted, joining the conversation unexpectedly. She gazed at Rita with her enormous eyes while sucking on her cocktail onion. "He publishes important stories that he thinks the public needs to know. He doesn't care about making money."

"I'm guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter? Twenty-five Ways to Mingle with Muggles and the dates of the next Bring-and-Fly Sale?"

"No, he's the editor of The Quibbler," Luna announced, dipping her onion back into her gillywater.

Rita snorted so loudly that the people at a nearby table looked around in alarm. "Important stories he thinks the public needs to know? I could manure my garden with the contents of that rag."

"Well, this is your chance to raise the tone of it a bit, isn't it?" Hermione interjected pleasantly. "Luna says her father's quite happy to take Harry's interview. That's who'll be publishing it."

Rita stared at both of them for a moment before letting out a great cackle of laughter. "The Quibbler! You think people will take him seriously if he's published in The Quibbler?"

"Some people won't. But the Daily Prophet's version of the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it. I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn't a better explanation of what happened, and if there's an alternative story available, even if it is published in a—" she glanced sideways at Luna for a second "—in a — well, an unusual magazine — I think they might berather keen to read it."

Rita didn't say anything for a while, but eyed Hermione shrewdly with her head tilted to one side. "All right, let's say for a moment I'll do it. What kind of fee am I going to get?"

"I don't think Daddy exactly pays people to write for the magazine," Luna revealed dreamily. "They do it because it's an honor, and, of course, to see their names in print."

"I'm supposed to do this for free?" Rita demanded, rounding on Hermione and looking like she just swallowed something horrible.

Hermione took a calm sip of her drink. "Well, yes. Otherwise, as you very well know, I will inform the authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus. Of course, the Prophet might give you rather a lot for an insider's account of life in Azkaban . . ."

Venus' eyes widened. Oh snap. She had never seen this side of Hermione.

"I don't suppose I've got any choice, have I?" Rita voiced, her voice shaking slightly as she withdrew a piece of parchment from her bag and raised her green quill.

"Daddy will be pleased," Luna stated brightly.

Hermione turned to Harry. "Okay, Harry? Ready to tell the public the truth?"

"I suppose," Harry replied, squeezing Venus' hand slightly.

"Fire away, then, Rita," Hermione ordered, fishing a cherry out of the bottom of her glass.

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idk what the fuck hermione was talking about I sure as hell don't trust dumbledore