Harry and Hermione sat in a corner of the library, discussing the first task.

Harry had said nothing about his father's visit, and Hermione was debating whether to press him or not.

"I will talk about it, you know," said Harry suddenly. "Just not now."

Hermione stiffened. "I'm sorry," she said, "I just don't know what to do or say!".

She leaned into him. He kissed her forehead, and made knots in her hair. She smacked his hand, and all was well in the universe. For a short while.

"I made a mistake today," said Hermione. "And you're going to be very angry with me."

Harry stiffened. "I'll try not to be."

Hermione bit her lip, the fear in her eyes evident. "I told James you were an eagle Animagus." And then she cringed from him, as a betrayed expression spread across his face.

"How could you?" he asked. "I trusted you with that!"

"I'm sorry," she said, putting her head in her hands as he stormed out of the room.

Harry flew over the Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest, looking for any signs of preparation that could do with the upcoming First Task. Hermione - who he trying hard not to think of at the moment - had spent a lot of time looking over lists of previous tasks with him. Some had included Dragons, others Acromantulas, and one rather ill fated task had involved Nundus. If there were large dangerous creatures involved, then there would be preparation required. And preparations could be spotted.

But so far, he had spotted nothing after several hours of flying, and it was dark.

He supposed that it wasn't really that big a deal for her to tell his father that Harry had become an Animagus. Legality was not a concern, since Harry was actually registered. Hermione, who had insisted on him doing things legally, had found a loophole in the regulations that meant that anyone registered in Switzerland did not have to register in Britain.

But that still didn't make it right for her to tell James about his form, did it? He did not think so. His secrets were important.

He landed near the Quidditch Pitch, and turned back into a human. He sighed, and prepared to walk to the dungeons. He would see Hermione tomorrow, and ask her why she had betrayed his trust. Was it an honest mistake, or...

"Mr Potter." The voice was soft and feminine. And inhuman.

He was already crouched in a standard dueling position, ready to strike. His shields were up, though not to their maximum extent.

"Who are you?" he shouted, keeping his tone even.

"Professor Vanescu." The vampire stepped out of the shadows, and watched him. She transfigured a table and two chairs. It was a round stone table, the kind often found in outdoor courtyards. "I would like to talk for a while, if this is acceptable." Her voice betrayed no emotion.

"I have to get back to Slytherin," he said, backing off. Memories of Mary's approaches were coming to mind rather quickly. "Snape will kill me."

"Professor Snape."

"He'll kill me as well."

She gave a short laugh. "I am sure you have a dozen ways of avoiding his clutches. I have some news about your mother."

"What?" he cried, flustered. His wand was still out, and pointing at her. "She's dead!"

"Yes," replied the DADA professor. "But that doesn't mean she's not alive and kicking. Well, kicking at any rate."

"What? How can she be dead and ... your people killed her!"

"I suppose that is technically true," she said, motioning to him to take a seat. "One does die when one is turned."

"Eh?"

"Sit down, Mr Potter."

He did not sit down.

"Please."

He enlarged the table and sat down as far from her as possible. His wand was still aimed at her face.

She laughed again. "I won't hurt you. That's the last thing I'd like to do. And remind me to give you a list of spells that actually work on vampires."

"What do you want?"

"To tell you about your mother."

"How do I know I can believe you?"

"You will. And you can call me Crina out of class, if you wish."

Eight years of longing for his maternal parent crashed down on Harry. More accurately, a year of longing, four years of suppressing such longing, another year of subconsciously thinking of Hermione as a maternal surrogate, and two more years of not feeling the need for another woman in his life.

"Why did she leave me?"

Crina winced, and he could see the look of hurt and sadness on her face.

"She made a mistake. Other people kept you from her. She was ashamed. She made more mistakes. She has worked very hard to be able to see you again. She would like to return to your life, if you will have her."

"She's a vampire, isn't she?" said Harry. He was still trying to dodge the informational bludgers she had just hurled at him. But they were refusing to leave him alone.

"Yes."

"And you know her."

"Yes."

He transformed again, and flew to the castle.

Blaise was in the Slytherin dormitory. It was actually the third year dormitory, where he and Harry had been allowed to move to by Dumbledore against Snape's wishes.

Draco and his goons had received a stern lecture from the Headmaster, but no punishment. After all, there was a possibility that the imagery was faked. Dumbledore believed in 'innocent until proven guilty', and did not want to set a precedent or encourage the use of Scrying Charms. They had been, after all, banned in Hogwarts since 1732. The Headmaster had not, however, punished Harry for using them.

Blaise supposed that was an acceptable compromise, though he was still very angry about it. At least it had lost Draco substantial political capital within Slytherin.

It had been three days since Harry and Hermione had argued. His male friend had been walking down in an angry tizz, his magic flickering around him in a black cloak. Any doubts amongst the student body about whether Harry was too young and magically immature to participate in the Tournament had been quashed.

Unfortunately, any attempts to talk with Harry had also been met with severe resistance. From anyone. Almost anyone - Blaise had been told by the Beauxbatons Quidditch team that Harry had been fairly pleasant, though aloof, when practising with them. But that was it.

Blaise hoped, for Harry's sake, that the First Task involved blasting things and creating loud explosions.

Hermione had not been much better. He did not talk to her directly, because he did not want Harry - or anyone else - to think that Blaise was coming between Hermione and him during a temporary break in their relationship. And it had to be temporary, even with the way Harry was behaving. It was hard to believe that Potter's abysmal mood was due to anything Hermione had said - there had to be more to it.

Padma had been acting as an intermediary, and had said that Hermione was very upset. The Ravenclaw had had trouble trying to get the brunette to say anything, but had found that Hermione had revealed one of Harry's secrets to his father.

Blaise figured that it must have been one hell of a secret.

Harry burst in to the room and slammed the door. The walls shook. Blaise decided it was a good time to pretend he was sleeping.

Paul Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was in a bad mood. People were not paying attention to him, and a number of those who were were laughing at the way he had been stunned by his brother in the Great Hall.

Harry. What was he doing, dating Hermione Granger? It would all end in tears, Paul knew. Granger was being led along - the poor girl was so desperate for male attention that she would fall for any boy who talked to her. He supposed Harry had told her she was pretty, along with a bunch of other lies. Harry had never spoken up for her when other Slytherins had called her a Mudblood, had he?

In contrast, Ron Weasley had punched for Slytherins her when they called her that vile name. Could she not see that that meant Ron was paying attention to her? True, his friend did suffer from a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease whenever he talked to her, but that was a sign of true love, wasn't it? Granger read books - hadn't she read the ones that said that when a boy insults a girl, it was a sign he liked her?

And the Tournament. How had Harry got his name in the Goblet? Paul had even managed to get his own name into the Tournament, by directing a charmed paper aeroplane with his name on it into the cup. And the bloody tumbler had picked Harry's name over that of the Boy Who Lived!

Dumbledore said Paul was special. Dumbledore had never said Harry was special. It made no sense.

The attack on his brother had been odd. Paul had gone to see him in the infirmary a few times, but Granger and Zabini were always there, and he hadn't wanted to talk to them.

And now Harry was walking around the castle with a face like a thundercloud, surrounded by a menacing aura that scared the shit out of everyone. And he had left Granger in tears. (And the pathetic girl still refused to speak a civil word to Weasley.)

Harry was using Dark Magic. It was obvious. Harry was jealous of his attention, and had decided to learn Dark Magic and enter the Tournament. And now it was consuming him. Sirius had explained this to Paul several times before, about how Dark Magic tempted its users into using it and that it resulted in them losing their souls.

Harry was Paul's brother, and Paul would save him. It was his fraternal duty, after all. And Granger would be freed, and Ron could have her.

And everyone would love him again. But that was just a bonus.

"Nice work, Mr Zabini," said Flitwick, flicking his wand at the errant fluffed toy that was in love with his left leg. "But I do not believe you heard my instructions correctly."

The normally stoic Slytherins had lost all sense of decorum. Even Harry was smiling slightly.

Today's lesson was Charming teddy bears to display 'appropriate animate behaviour'. Humping the leg of targeted individuals was decidedly inappropriate, and Flitwick knew he would be providing the countercharm to all faculty members the moment this lesson finished.

Though perhaps he would fail to bump into Severus until the next day.

Blaise was still suffering from intermittent attacks of the giggles ten minutes after Flitwick had sent the lecherous teddy to the basket containing its more harmless counterparts at the front of the classroom.

Hermione heard about the teddy bear attack a few hours later. She was at the same spot in the library where the argument had happened, where she had stayed so that Harry would know where to find her. Why was he so angry? How many other girls had thrown themselves at him? Would he break up with her?

"Can we talk?" asked Harry. The cloud of anger around him had dissipated somewhat, and she thought he might be nervous. Which was ridiculous, of course. Besides, there was no way he could be more nervous than she was.

"Yes, please," she said, after she had recovered from the surprise of seeing him. "I'm really sorry, Harry." She didn't know what else to say. She could think of lots of things she would like to say, but choosing between them was difficult.

"I'm sorry, too," he added.

She shivered. Was he sorry for what he was about to do, breaking off their relationship?

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," she said.

"Why did you tell him?" he asked.

"I .. er .. made a list." She took a folder out of her bag, and began perusing through it.

"A list?" asked Harry, bewildered.

"A list of reasons why I told him," she replied, having found the appropriate piece of parchment. She gave it to him, her hands trembling.

Harry looked at it.

"Holy Mother of Morgana!" he cried.

He was laughing! He was laughing! She felt the weight in her chest lighten. He walked over to her with a smile, and she was sobbing into his shoulders and saying that she would never do it again and no she probably would do it again because she was a human and would he still keep forgiving her and would he ever leave her and she was sorry she was a bookworm and had bad hair and couldn't control what she said and ...

"I missed you, Mione," he said, kissing her bad hair. "Forgive me? And I'm not leaving you. I'm stupid, but not that stupid."

She stopped sniffing and looked up at him.

"Thanks, Harry," she said. "But I made the mistake. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I wasn't angry at you," he admitted. "Well, I was, but that's just a part of it. Something else happened."

"Oh," she said, and sat down. She motioned him to take the opposite seat, and he began explaining his encounter with the DADA professor.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. She was starting to get angry with him, and tried to stop it. She didn't want to argue again. But she did smack him on the head.

"Ow," he said.

"That's for not telling me and leaving me in hell for three days! Do you know how much sleep I've gotten?"

"More than I have?"

She calmed down a bit.

"Your mother is alive," she said, trying to turn her mind to the intellectual problem. "She is a vampire. Professor Vanescu knows her. And your mother wants to talk to you."

"Yes," he replied. "And you're going to tell me to talk to her, aren't you?"

She did not bother denying it. "Why would you not want to talk to her?"

"She's dead, Hermione. I've spent the last few years building up a life without her, and I'm comfortable now. Why would I want to change that?"

"Because she's your mother and loves you?"

"If she loves me, then why wouldn't she send me any letters?"

"Erm," she replied. "Maybe other people stopped the letters. Maybe she was in prison and couldn't send any letters. Maybe she was so ashamed of being a vampire that she couldn't say anything to you. Maybe she thought your family wouldn't treat you like a carpet. How would I know?"

"Oooh, the great Hermione Granger admits she doesn't know something!"

She gave him another smack on the head, with more force than was necessary.

"OW! That really hurt!"

"Sorry," she replied, not sounding particularly apologetic. He glared at her, and they both stared in silence for a while.

"Perhaps we should talk about this later."

"Yeah."

"We can talk about something else now."

"Yeah."

"How about the first task?"

"Yeah."

"I've been adding to our list of possible tasks. Padma and Blaise made some suggestions too. Would you like to go over them?"

"Yeah," he said. He looked at his watch. "Not right now, though. I've got Quidditch practice with the Frenchies in twenty minutes."

"Want me to come and watch?"

"I'd like that," he said. "And thank you for the list."

"Which one?"

"Lists."

As she gathered her books and papers, Harry told her about Blaise's teddy-aided attack on Flitwick. They laughed as they left the library, and word spread that the Slytherin Potter was no longer a walking time bomb.

Harry's clique of friends spent the week before the tournament preparing him for it. Harry decided, now that Hermione had let the Kneazle out of the cage, that he might as well let others know about his Animagus form. Blaise and the Ravenclaw couple had been most impressed by the revelation. Blaise had immediately embarked on a verbal voyage of discovery into the world of avian jokes and insults.

The teachers left them off the hook during lessons, even Snape. Harry figured that that his success would bring glory to Slytherin, and Snape did not hate Harry enough to get in the way of that.

Harry did get a few more weird nightmares like the ones he had received during the summer before school began, but those stopped once he began sharing Hermione's bed. Blaise remarked on the advances in interhouse relationships that could be achieved with the aid of an airborne Animagus form and an Invisibility Cloak. Terry said he and Padma would also do some joint research of their own on the effects of cuddling on sleep patterns. Padma had said 'In your dreams, bootlicker' but hadn't sounded like she would stay aloof from such research. Though she had smacked him when he had offered his opinion of who the Boot licker really was.

Harry brushed up on Summoning Charms, Blasting Hexes, Freezing Charms, self levitation (in case there were anti-Animagus wards), duelling, invisibility spells, illusions, and even Potions - Hermione had found that a few of the tasks in previous tournaments were brewing contests. They had also investigated the possibilities of creating telepathic links, but this had proved unsuccessful. Hermione was rather relieved by that, since she thought that that would be more cheating than she could handle.

"But you don't have any objections to me flying around the forest looking for clues!" cried Harry, as he tried to understand her views on inappropriate assistance during the Tournament.

"That's called reconaissance," she replied, "not cheating."

There were other disturbances as well. Rumours were spreading through the school about the Slytherin Potter. Cedric Diggory, who had been fairly neutral about Harry's unexpected entry into the tournament, approached them one day and suggested that they put a stop to the rumours. This was just after his Hufflepuff team had defeated Slytherin in the first unofficial Quidditch match of the year.

"Hello Cedric," said Hermione. "Nice catch!"

"Yes," added Harry. "I loved the look on Malfoy's face when you caught the Snitch. And it's not like you're practising as much as he is!"

"Thanks," replied Cedric, "Though that was his first match as Seeker. He's a good Chaser, you know. What I'm really looking forward to is the look on his face when Slytherin plays you Frenchies."

Harry's eyes shut for several moments as his face adopted an expression normally associated with a monk entering Nirvana.

"Oy Potter!" said Hermione, lightly punching his arm. "Get back down here!"

"Um?" asked Harry, returning to earth.

Cedric laughed. "Look," said the Hufflepuff Seeker. "Cho and I have been talking. We don't like all the rumours that have been spreading around the school about you. About you both. And we owe you with this idea of the Quidditch League. We have an idea to stop them."

"Oh?" prompted Hermione. She sounded more interested than Harry was. He supposed she was feeling protective of him.

Cedric explained.

"I think Blaise is going to love this," said Harry with a laugh once Cedric finished speaking.

"Come on," said Hermione excitedly, dragging her boyfriend to the library. "We have another list to make!"

Harry and Blaise walked to the House-neutral table that Dumbledore had recently placed in the Great Hall. Hermione, Cedric, Cho, Padma, and Terry were already there, chomping on breakfast. Cedric and Terry appeared to be having a bacon-eating contest, much to their partners' disgust and chagrin. There were some other students at the table, but they were sitting at the other end of it.

"I thought punctuality was a Slytherin trait," said Cho, passing the toast to Blaise while Hermione gave Harry a non-verbal welcome.

"Guests of honour are always fashionably late," retorted Blaise, lifting the toast in thanks.

"I think I'm having hearing problems," said Padma. "I heard Zabby here say he's honourable."

"Zabby?" said Zabini, scandalized.

"Zab-Zab sounds better," added Harry. "At least Bulstrode thinks so!"

"I didn't know Bulstrode liked guys," said Padma.

"So what if she does?" asked Terry. "And whether she is or not, we shouldn't be teasing her because she's got muscles and stuff!"

Everyone else at the table looked at Terry like he'd grown horns.

"What?" said Terry. "I just don't understand why girls should be teased if they've got the physical build of a guy. Or vice versa, I suppose. One of my cousins is like her, and she's always getting teased about it."

Guilty glances began to appear across the table.

"You're a good man, Terry," said Cedric.

"Not really," said the Ravenclaw. "If it wasn't for my cousin, I'd be teasing her as well. Anyway - I think we've got a full audience now. Should we get the show started?"

"Yes," said Hermione slowly. I made copies of the list of rumours Harry and Blaise and I made last night, in case anyone had any trouble thinking of what to allege." She handed out duplicated forms.

"See, Cedric?" said Cho, smacking the back of her boyfriend's head. "I told you we should have made a list!"

"Feel free to make anything up, though," added Harry.

"Are we allowed to tell the truth?" asked Blaise.

"I realize it may be difficult for you," said Harry solemnly, "but yes, you're allowed to tell the truth. Especially if it's outrageous." Blaise whispered something to Harry, who visibly stiffened.

"Okay, not that bit of truth," replied Harry.

Harry could see the enquiring looks around the table and realized that he had made a mistake in saying that aloud. He whispered a quick word to Hermione, who made an 'o' with her lips.

"Alright, I made a mistake. I'll tell you since you've all stood by us," said Harry, placing an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "But this is going to cause some discussion between us, and we may need to postpone our show to dinner tonight."

There was silence for a while. The three Ravenclaws and single Hufflepuff looked at Harry, while Hermione and Blaise looked at them. Harry looked at his plate, and wondered if the scrambled eggs on it came from chickens or some more exotic creature.

"Perhaps I should explain," said Hermione. Harry looked at her, surprised. She looked back at him with a Trust Me expression. He nodded. "Harry here has an ability shared by Merlin, Salazar Slytherin, and Helga Hufflepuff."

"Helga?" asked Harry, his mouth open. "She wasn't a -"

"Yes she was," replied Hermione, "I read a book about it. And then I checked with the Fat Friar."

"Oh," replied Harry, "but why didn't you -"

"Sorry to interrupt," said Cedric, "but we really would like to know what you two are talking about."

"I'm a Pa -"

"Stop!" hissed Hermione. Harry did so, while she placed silencing wards around their section of the table.

"Merlin, Granger!" said Boot. "Is Harry the love-child of You-Know-Who or something?"

"No," replied Harry, "that would be my brother. Thanks for putting the wards, Mione. We'll certainly need them."

"Yeah," added Blaise, "I bet two sickles that Patil's going to squeal like a boy with his balls blasted off."

Harry, Terry and Cedric winced. Padma brightened up visibly as she added the feminist-sounding phrase to her mental lexicon.

"Go on, Harry," said Hermione. "I've done my bit."

He nodded. "I'm a Parselmouth."

Padma squealed, and Blaise punched the air in triumph before remembering that he hadn't actually got anyone to take up the bet.

"What!" said Cedric, pushing himself from the table slightly. Then he remembered what Hermione had said about Hufflepuff, and dragged himself back to the table. Besides, Cho had a very firm grip on his collar.

"Watch it, Diggory!" she hissed. "My grandmother was a Parselmouth!"

"Really?" asked Hermione, learning forward.

"Speaking to snakes is more common in China than in Britain," the Ravenclaw Seeker explained. "My ancestors viewed snakes as having the traits required to run a good business."

Cedric opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped. "I'm sorry, Harry. Sorry, Cho. This goes against a lot I've been told about. Give me some time, please."

"And tell us about Helga!" said Padma, looking to Hermione.

"I read about this in a book about Parselmouths that's in the library. I'll get it for you if you like. Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin were second cousins - Hufflepuff was her husband's name. She said Parseltongue was very useful for keeping her garden free of rats."

"My Founder asked snakes to take care of her rodent problem?" asked Cedric, shocked.

"Don't forget Merlin," said Terry, looking at Diggory. "But there's something I don't get here. I thought being a Parselmouth was hereditary, so how did Harry here become one?"

"And what do snakes talk about?" asked Padma. Cho looked very interested in that question as well.

"I have no idea why I'm one," said Harry honestly.

"It's possible that previous Potters were Parselmouths and were too embarassed to admit it," speculated Hermione. Diggory nodded to that, understanding the pressures in old Light Pureblood families.

"I've not talked to snakes much," admitted Harry. "I mostly tell them not to bite me, and then they see me as a really big snake and run off."

"Run off?"

"Shut it, Blaise. Slither off."

"I'm sorry to have to say this," remarked Cedric. "But this could be really bad for you, Harry. Reputation-wise."

"British customs are so stupid compared to Chinese ones," muttered Cho.

"We do treat our witches better," her boyfriend pointed out.

"Which is why I found it so easy to get on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team," retorted Cho.

"They don't like girls to play Quidditch in Ravenclaw?" asked Hermione, horrified.

"They don't," said Cho bitterly, "I'm the first female player in a decade. And the first female Seeker in two hundred years. It's completely ridiculous. Look at Gryffindor - all their Chasers are witches! Not to mention the Harpies. Ravenclaw is better than Slytherin, though. There's never been a female player in Quidditch there."

"Harry James Potter!" cried Hermione. "You never told me this!"

"I never realized it!" he said, holding his hands in front of him as a natural (and completely useless) defensive barrier.

"How could you not realize..." she exclaimed before Padma put a hand on her arm to calm her down.

"Relax, Hermione!" said her friend. "You can kick his butt later. We've got other things to talk about now."

"She's right," said Terry. "We have to make a decision on whether to make this public or not."

"On how to make this public," muttered Cho, still sounding miffed at the general unfairness of the world she lived in.

"I thought it was my decision," said Harry stonily.

"It is your decision," said Terry, "but it is the duty of friends to offer advice about choices that you can make your decision from. Isn't that what Hermione and Blaise do for you?"

"No, I'm just there for comic relief," said Blaise.

Harry said nothing, but seemed to be thinking about the Ravenclaw's words. Two months ago, he could only call Hermione, and to some extent Blaise, friends. Now his set of friends had suddenly expanded, and he wasn't sure what to do with it.

Fortunately for him, no-one said anything about that.

"Would it be alright if we offered some suggestions, Harry?" asked Terry quietly.

Harry nodded.

"Option One, then." Terry wrote on his parchment, the one with Hermione's duplicated list. "All of us shut up about all this. No-one ever finds out that you are a Parselmouth. The risk with this is that you have to hide a talent. If you have to hide something for the rest of your life, how is that much different from not having it? You will probably reveal your talent during some emergency, and then people will find out, and they will be suspicious of you because you've been hiding it."

Everyone understood why Terry Boot was in Ravenclaw. Even Cedric was leaning forward, his elbows firmly on the table.

"I begin to see your point," said Harry slowly.

"What's Option Two?" asked Hermione.

"Option Two," said Terry. "We tell everyone now."

"Now?" asked Harry, surprised.

"What if the emergency is the First Task, Harry? What if involves snakes?"

"Man, that will be a riot!" laughed Cho. "Imagine ... there's a cup in the middle of a pit of vipers, and the task is to get it. Everyone does all kinds of fancy stuff to do their task, and then you come along and politely ask the snakes to move aside! It will be hilarious!"

"I'm claiming unfair advantage right now," said Cedric. But he was smiling. "Go on, Terry."

"Right. Option Two. Go public as soon as possible. The problem with this is that, with all the rumours running around, this will not be good. It's like Option One when the emergency turns up. Which brings us to Option Three."

"There's an Option Three?" asked Padma.

"Yes. Option Three is to do like Cho says things are in China. We need to prepare the ground first, to tell people that being a Parselmouth is not a bad thing. Then, when we feel it's safe, we start spreading the word that Harry's a Parselmouth."

"Spreading the word? Like Harry jumping up on the table and hissing a ballad?" asked Cho.

"Here's an example," said Terry, ignoring Cho's sarcasm. "Padma and Hermione can stage a conversation where Padma wishes there was a Parselmouth in the school so that she could do a research project on - I don't know - Runespoors. Then Hermione casually mentions that her boyfriend is one."

"And preparing the ground?" asked Cedric.

"You're actually in the best position to do that," said Terry, giving Cedric an evaluative look. "No-one suspects Hufflepuff of any Dark stuff. If you could stage a public conversation with the Fat Friar, asking him if Helga was a Parselmouth, then..."

Terry stopped speaking, as his girlfriend was busy snogging the living daylights out of him.

"I'll do it," said Cedric as they laughed at the liplocked Ravenclaws. "Can you point me to that book, Hermione?"

"Of course," replied the Gryffindor, writing down its title and author and passing the details to him.

"And thanks very much, Cedric," said Harry. "It's a great idea. Thank you, Terry. I'm very impressed. And Hermione, for knowing things like this." He proceeded to snog his girlfriend.

"Shouldn't you be giving your boyfriend breathing problems?" asked Blaise to Cho.

She gave Cedric a kiss on the cheek. "I'm not that used to public displays of affection," she explained. "And we're doing you a favour by not leaving you as the only single person here."

"I am?" asked Blaise, looking around as if he hadn't noticed it till then.

"Feel free to bring a charmed teddy bear next time to keep you company," smirked Cedric. "Look everyone, breakfast is nearly over. This has been extremely informative, but not what we planned. Harry was right - should we do the show at dinner?"

Everyone nodded.

"Thanks, all of you," said Harry. "And none of the rumours we will discuss will be about Parseltongue."

They stood up to go to classes. Blaise was the last to leave, as he had to finish making a sandwich with three slices of bread, half a dozen slices of fried tomato, eight rashers of bacon, two large chunks of scrambled egg, and no lettuce. Blaise had never understood the concept of lettuce.