Harry Potter & The Thousand Mysteries

AN EVENTFUL SATURDAY

12/?

The same sun that had dawned upon the epitome of middle-class bourgeois values six months ago dawned upon Hogwarts Castle and it's grounds, resplendent in white following the first snow of the season, which by sheer luck fell on a Saturday morning.

Harry awoke to find the bright, watery sunshine flooding in his dormitory window, the tips of the trees in the Forbidden Forest just visible, covered in a frosting of fresh, brilliant white snow. Signing, he opened the window, and felt the cold, refreshing breeze whip his face, as he hugged his dressing gown tighter.

'It's been snowing,' he told Ron, as the red-haired boy stumbled out of bed, looking groggy.

'Great deduction, Sherlock,' he replied, and stumbled towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of white sheets strewn across the floor behind him.

Harry sat in the chair beside the window for a long time, thinking. He thought about Sirius and Lupin. They hadn't said where they were, or when he would see them next. He thought about Voldemort, and his troupe of Death Eaters, stalking the country, preparing to strike. This thought disturbed him greatly. When, where, how, and upon who would they strike, and break their disconcerting silence.

He also thought about matters far more trivial, but no less important, if you understand. He thought about Ron and Lavender, each having affairs behind the other's back, and how stupid he had been not to realise. He thought about Ron and Cho Chang- It was true he was over her now, but still... Ron and Cho Chang!?!

Harry was sitting, perusing his Animagus progress (which was thankfully going well- he was able to transform for a few seconds, but he couldn't hold it), when he heard a familiar sound echo beside him.

He looked up, and saw Hedwig, his snowy owl, flying towards him. She was difficult to spot, with the sky being whitish-grey and everything else being covered in fresh snow.

'Hello,' he said top her, stroking her soft feathers and taking the letter from between her claws.

HE slit the parchment envelope open.



Dear Harry,

I've been speaking to an old friend of mine at Hogwarts, and I just thought I ought to write and tell you how sorry I am that I made last year any harder than it needed to be.

As I'm sure you'll understand, I wasn't looking at the whole picture, rather only the parts which concerned Yours Truly.

I heard about you becoming a Prefect- Congratulations! Your mother and father would be very proud (they were a year above me at school)

So that's all I was writing about- just a quick note to register my support. If there's anything I can do for you, you have only to ask....
Tell Hermione and Ron that I was asking for them,

Rita Skeeter



Harry sat and reread the letter, still disbelieving. Could it be that Rita Skeeter, the infamous Daily Prophet reporter who gave new meaning to 'Poison Pen,' was writing to apologise for her behaviour last year.

A lot of things are going mad round here, thought Harry, shaking his head, and he heaved himself out his chair.



'Good afternoon,' said Professor McGonagall briskly, as Harry entered the South Tower. 'Let's get cracking, shall we?'

Harry took off his cloak, and laid it on a chair. He started concentrating hard, so hard that it hurt. He focused every particle of his mind on changing into a phoenix.

Slowly, and painfully, he felt his body condense and change. He felt his feet curl into claws, and his hands melt into his arms.

'Excellent, Potter,' McGonagall praised. 'Quite remarkable. Just try and hold it. Walk, if you can.'

Harry felt his body start to pull, and try to return to it's normal form. He resisted it, however, and even though his entire body was filled by a dull ache, he tried to lift one leg and walk. It was surprisingly easy, he found, and also, concentrating on walking made it far easier to retain the phoenix-shape. Soon, he could walk across the room effortlessly, and open his wings, which had a much greater span than he had imagined.

Finally, however, it was too much, and he couldn't hold it any longer. He reappeared in Harry Potter form, glasses, scar and all, a tired heap on the floor.

'Really, Potter, that was exemplary. You really are picking this up much faster than I had expected you to. Just keep practising- it gets more natural every time you try.'



'Hiya!' said Hermione brightly, when Harry found her in the Library. (Where else?)

'Where's Ron?' asked Harry.

Obviously, this was the wrong question, as Hermione's face contorted in disgust.

'With Cho Chang,' she spat. Harry said nothing.

'Do you want to see something?' she asked.

'Is it porn?' asked Harry, grinning. Hermione slapped him playfully.

'Don't be horrible! It's not, but it's almost as good.' She reached under the table, and heaved out a large stack of parchment, at least three inches thick.

'What's this?' asked Harry.

'This,' said Hermione, bobbing up and down with excitement, is An Appraisal of OWL Course Magic, including forewords from Albus Dumbledore and Rita Skeeter, and edited by Rita Skeeter.'

'Who wrote it?' asked Harry.

'I DID!' cried Hermione, going red.

Harry looked at her for a moment. 'You wrote it?' he asked disbelievingly. Trust Hermione to write a book on school. Trust Hermione to write a book- period.

'All sixteen chapters, One hundred and twelve thousand words,' she said chirpily. 'It's going to be published by Obscurus books, and should be on the shelves in the next three months. I go under the publishing name of Joanne Rowling.'

'Well, I don't know what to say...' said Harry.

'How about "Well done Hermione, I always knew you had it in you!" Something along those lines?'

'Well done Hermione, I always knew you had it in you!' said Harry, smiling. Hermione laughed.

'Inspirational.' She hugged Harry.

'Just...do me one favour,' she said, looking shy all of a sudden.

'Whatever you say,' said Harry unquestioningly.

Hermione looked up at him through nervous eyes.