"So?" Hermione pressed, looking at Harry in a rather agitated manner.

Harry tried to search his brain, wondering what on earth the woman was going on about now. He threw Ron a glance, begging him to help him out. But his so called best mate just shrugged unhelpfully, looking gormless as usual.

"Uh-" Harry said, panic making sweat prickle at the back of his neck. "I... um- I think I'll go for the lasagne."

She was asking about dinner options, wasn't she?

"Merlin, Harry," she sighed, rolling her eyes heavenwards and tutting impatiently, sounding not unlike Molly Weasley upon discovering her kitchen sink clogged up with Arthur's ginger chest hair, "you're worse than Ronald, you know that?!"

"I-" Harry's mouth fell open, lost for words.

"The meeting at the Hog's Head, tomorrow?" Hermione said, talking to him slowly as though he were a toddler needing potty training advice. "You'll be there, won't you? After all, everyone is expecting you."

Oh for fuck's sake, not this again.

"Um- yeah... sure," he muttered, feeling his face grow hot. "But it's not something I want to make a song and dance about. I mean... I'm not that good."

"Maybe not," Hermione rudely agreed, "but I'm afraid you're the best bet we've got. Plus, loads of people fancy you so we're expecting quite a good turn out."

"Who fancies me?" Harry asked, his interest finally piqued. If he could get a girlfriend out of this, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all.

"Well, Cho Chang for a start," Hermione said brusquely, flipping her bushy mane back over her shoulder. "I heard her giggling about it in the girls' toilets this morning."

"Lucky git," Ron grumbled, glancing enviously towards the Ravenclaw table where Cho, who was admiring her stunning reflection in a hand mirror, looked very much over her dead boyfriend.

Harry felt a flutter of excitement. He didn't half have a thing for the Ravenclaw Seeker. Despite his best efforts of late, he was still a virgin, and the bonus about getting with Cho was that she'd at least be of legal age already.

"Alright," he drawled, slowly buttering a bread roll, "I'll be there. Just one thing though..."

"What's that?" Hermione frowned.

Harry glared over to where Draya Malfoy was sat exchanging furtive whispers with those stupid baboons she insisted on hanging out with, the mere sight causing anger to spark in his stomach.

"No Slytherins allowed."

*****

Harry was up to something.

I caught him sneaking into the Hog's Head with Ron and Hermione.

Keen to catch the golden trio dabbling in a bit of underage drinking, I got rid of Crabbe and Goyle by telling them I had period pain and therefore urgently needed them to fetch me some Chocolate Frogs from Honeydukes, and quietly sneaked towards the pub.

But it wasn't Firewhisky they were after - no, it was much worse. They were participating in some kind of club meet in which Harry stood up in front of everyone and told them all how great he was.

His audience literally lapped up his every word, gazing at him as though he were some kind of god.

"Remember," Harry said sagely, pushing his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, "I defeated Voldemort when I was still shitting in nappies."

"And that was just last year!" Seamus Finnigan hollered loudly, causing the room to roar with laughter. 

I watched as a chuckling Harry wiped a tear from his eye, waiting for everyone's laughter to subside before he continued with his speech.

"In all seriousness, what I'm trying to say," he continued once he had everyone's attention again, "is that even though none of you can ever be as awesome as myself, I can at least demonstrate my powers to all those who want to see how magic is really done."

Okay, so maybe those weren't his exact words, but he may as well have said them.

In fact, I never actually made it inside the pub as apparently it was 'too full', so I had to make do with standing outside on the street and lip reading through the dirty windows.

But I'm fairly sure that was precisely how the meeting went.

*****

Cho definitely wanted him. This had been clear as day to Harry as, during the meeting in the Hog's Head, she spent the entire time coyly looking at him and giggling.

"She couldn't take her eyes off you!" Hermione gushed as they skipped back towards the castle, all three of them on a high after the successful turnout of the meeting.

"You best play it cool though, mate," Ron warned, as though he were some kind of ladies expert. "You don't want her to think you're desperate."

"Oh, don't be silly, Ronald," Hermione scolded, throwing him a fierce scowl. "What use has playing it cool ever done for anyone? Was Cedric playing it cool when he asked her to the Yule Ball? No. Was Viktor playing it cool when he asked me if he could write to me over the summer-?"

"HE DID WHAT?!"

"Asked if he could write to me. And I said yes, and for your information, Viktor is most fluent with the written English word. He's quite the pen pal..."

She tailed off, her face flushing. "The point is, if they hadn't asked, they wouldn't have got."

"Well it didn't do Diggory much good in the end," Ron huffed angrily. "He's dead!"

"That has nothing to do with him playing it cool with Cho." Hermione said tartly, sticking her nose in the air.

"Well," Harry shrugged, feeling he should play peace maker here, "If Cedric had played it more cool in the graveyard, then perhaps...?"

"See," Ron said smugly, his eyes flashing jubilantly.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT I AM HEARING HERE!" Hermione screeched, her good mood very much evaporated. "YOU ARE BOTH SO FRUSTRATINGLY DENSE, DID YOU KNOW THAT?!"

And with that, she stormed off up ahead, leaving them both behind.

"So, you gonna snog that Chang chick, then?" Ron grunted as they continued their slow trudge up to the castle.

Harry shrugged, feeling the lift of his jaw as his lips helplessly twitched up at the corners. "Yeah... maybe I will, Ron. Maybe I will."

******

I informed Umbridge at once about what I witnessed in the Nag's Head, of course.

She was so proud of me that she appointed me leader of this new group called the Inquisitorial Squad and gave me the authority to deduct house points.

I refused to let the power go to my head, though, and only used it for the greater good.

"What do you mean I've lost ten Gryffindor points for being a Mudblood?!"

I shrugged at the first year boy, acting as though the situation was out of my hands. "Sorry, but Umbridge is a big fan of keeping it pure. Now run along before I dock you another ten for questioning her methods."

It felt good to finally be in a position of importance. I felt for sure my father would finally be proud of me, but when I wrote to him, all I got back was silence.

"Well, it's not exactly something to brag about," Blaise drawled as he threw his magazine down onto the table next to the sofa, "having your head so far stuck up Umbridge's power-hungry arse that your fucking nose has turned brown."

I flinched. Things were getting hugely stale between us, and I didn't much like where our friendship was heading.

"Shut up, Blaise," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at him, "just because you're jealous that Umbridge didn't put you on the squad-"

"You think I want to be a part of her dumb little minion crew?!" he scoffed. "She's just as bad as You-Know-Who. My god, Dray, maybe you really are your father's daughter, after all."

That hurt. It hurt so much that I stormed out of the common room and didn't talk to him again for five days.

But it didn't matter because Umbridge had me busy with Inquisitorial Squad duties. She was relying on me to make Hogwarts a better place, and by Merlin, I wouldn't let her down.

******

Of course, it wasn't all about bringing Harry's stupid club down. I still had hobbies of my own to be getting on with.

"What are you doing, Dray?" Pansy asked me as instead of going to sleep, I sat up in bed and scribbled manically on a piece of parchment long after lights out. "Surely not homework?"

"Nah," I muttered, squinting through the wand light at the words I'd just written. "Tell me, what's a good derogative word that rhymes with 'king'?"

My question was met with a thick silence, the only sound assaulting my ear drums being Millicent's ghastly snores.

"Dray," Daphne's voice yawned sleepily from across the room, "do something useful and just chuck whatever you are doing in the bin. It's late and I need my beauty sleep."

"Aha!" I cheered as a wide grin tugged at my lips. "You're a genius, Daph."

I quickly finished what I was writing, silently read it over, and felt a pleasant warmth spread through me.

Celestina Warbeck, eat your heart out.

******