Chapter 2
Dearest Gentlewixes,
Spring has been said to induce a near-magical euphoria in humans and creatures alike. The sun inspires not only napping flowers to leave their safe winter-bed and bloom, but also all those individuals who spent the cold months in lonely isolation, noses stuck in books, bodies wrapped in blankets, to show their best side to the world at large.
It seems like the Boy Who Lived Twice Over to Defeat He Who Must Not Be Named is one of those individuals. After his surprising break up with the youngest Weasley daughter last October he seems to have come out of his romantical hibernation just in time for the first rays of sunshine.
This author has it on firm authority that our esteemed Mr Potter has been seen in the company of a certain gentleman on the Hogwarts grounds. Word is, they seemed too cozy to be mere acquaintances.
For more information on the identity of this mysterious gentleman, look out for my next column.
Yours Truly,
Lady Fairhair
Harry glowered at McGonagall as she finished reading the flyer. She sighed, her expression tired as she put it down on her desk.
“I can see that this is troubling to you, Mr Potter,” she nodded.
“Troubling?!” Harry hissed. “She’s dishing out my private life all over the school!”
“I can see that,” the Headmistress pointed out. “Be that as it may, I’m not sure what you expect me to do about the situation.”
“I expect you to stop it!” Harry called, waving his hands in exasperation.
“Mr Potter,” she sighed, folding her hands. “Believe me, if I could, I would. But this -” she checked the pamphlet for reference, “Lady Fairhair? Well, she’s done everything to cover her tracks. There is no traceable magical signature, and no one has been seen planting the flyers. So all we can do is wait and see if she makes a mistake and reveals herself.”
“That’s not enough!” Harry snapped. “Have you interrogated suspects?! How about using Veritaserum?!”
“Mr Potter,” McGonagall said sternly. “This is not a criminal trial. This is a school prank. Professor Umbridge might have thought it respectable to question students under Veritaserum, but I do not.”
Harry flushed, suddenly ashamed of himself. “Right,” he mumbled. “Sorry, Professor. I guess I’ve been fighting in wars for too long.”
McGonagall gave him a sympathetic look. “It’s understandable, I guess. But this is still a school, Mr Potter.”
“I know. Sorry,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I just -” he gestured to the pamphlet. “I hate this. Don’t I deserve some peace, after everything?”
“You certainly do,” she agreed. “And this will be investigated. But unless we receive a lead on the identity of the author, there is nothing I can do, Harry. I’m sorry.”
Harry sighed and nodded.
“So, we just need to find her ourselves,” Hermione shrugged, feather and notebook in hand. “Who are our suspects?”
“Half the female population of our school?” Harry grumbled.
“I vote Pansy Parkinson,” Ron volunteered. “Isn’t she all about gossip? And she always hated Harry. Remember what happened at the final battle?”
Hermione hummed and put her name down.
“What about Pavarti and Lavender?” Ginny asked. “They seem the type?”
“Lavender quieted down a lot since she got hurt in the final battle,” Harry reminded them.
“I’ll still put them down,” Hermione noted, writing furiously. “I also think we should consider Romilda Vane. She is still obsessed with you, Harry.”
Harry groaned, closing his eyes.
“There are a couple of third years in Ravenclaw,” Luna said conversationally. “They talk about Harry all the time.”
“Half of the school talks about Harry,” Neville frowned. “Do you want to question everyone?”
“I think it’s a Slytherin,” Ron declared. “It has to be.”
“Of course you do,” Hermione sighed, looking up. “Why don’t we all do some discreet investigation?”
“Ron is as discreet as a Bludger,” Ginny pointed out.
“Hey!” Ron glared.
“Just saying,” she smiled innocently.
Harry ignored them. He knew who he was going to ask for information first.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Potter,” Draco rolled his eyes, looking up from his Charms essay.
“I want you to tell me who Lady Fairhair is!” Harry glared.
“I told you, I don’t know,” Draco said, slowly and clearly, as if he was talking to a particularly daft toddler. “Why would I know?”
“Because this is exactly the kind of thing you and your friends would find amusing,” Harry deadpanned.
“I thought we were in agreement that we had better things to do this year than agonising each other,” Draco glared. “I helped you when that cow Romilda Vane tried to cast a love spell on you. You’ve been showing me the ropes in my quest to achieve a passable Patronus. I’m not out to get you, Potter, for Merlin’s sake.”
“Maybe not,” Harry admitted. “But you might be covering for people who are.”
“I promise you, I’m not,” he stressed. “Why would I? This stupid column was most probably referring to me, you realise that, right? Someone saw us on the grounds together when you helped me with the Patronus and they’re spinning it into something romantic and believe me, the last thing I need is another thing for the whole school to be on my arse about.”
Harry realised that Malfoy was right. He relaxed slightly.
“What about Parkinson?” he asked anyway.
“Pansy has been trying almost as hard to fly under the radar as I have,” Draco scoffed, shaking his head. “She wouldn’t risk her hard-won anonymity for something as silly as this.
“Greengrass? Bullstrode?”
“Millie couldn’t care less about what you do,” Draco rolled his eyes. “She’s too busy snogging her Puff girlfriend. And Daphne can’t write a grammatically correct sentence to save her life. She’s a diagnosed dyslexic and used self-correcting quills. Nothing she writes would be as eloquent unless someone checked it first.”
Harry frowned.
“I can’t vouch for my younger housemates,” Draco shrugged, “I’m not what you’d call ‘popular’ anymore. But I think it’s very telling how you’re focusing your investigation on the Slytherin house when they have the most reason to just lie low and not cause trouble out of any house.”
Harry flushed. “Ron said -”
“Oh,” Draco snorted. “I can see why you’d trust Weasley’s deductive genius.”
“Fine,” Harry threw up his hands. “Where would you search, then?”
Draco raised his eyebrows. “For one, I’d find out who had a free period while we were practising together. And cross-refernce that with club-activities that afternoon. That should give you a good idea of the actual pool of subjects.”
Harry blinked at him. “You should be an Auror,” he pointed out.
Draco snorted. “As if they’d take me.”
“That is our list of subjects,” he told Hermione that afternoon, handing her a parchment. It had taken some pleading with McGonagall but eventually, she had acquiesced and given out the information he needed.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she had warned, staring at him long and hard.
He had quickly crossed off all the Slytherin Eighth Years, and his friends, and highlighted the female part of the list before running to Hermione.
She looked at him, impressed. “How did you get this, Harry?” she asked.
“Long story,” he shrugged. “It’s the only people who would have been free to witness me and Malfoy hanging out together.”
“Why is Parkinson crossed off?” Ron asked, looking over Hermione’s shoulder. “And all the other Slytherin girls?”
“Because Malfoy made a very credible case for them,” Harry shrugged.
“And you believe Malfoy?!” Ron asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Harry answered calmly. “I do, actually.”
Ron huffed, clearly unconvinced.
“This list was his idea,” Harry continued.
“Oh, that makes sense,” Hermione nodded, before flushing. “I mean, not that you couldn't have done it on your own, Harry! It just seemed… incredibly logical, for you.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Hermione. Good thing I don’t want to become an Auror anymore or this would have really stung.”
“There are still around twenty names on here,” Ron frowned.
“Sixteen,” Harry corrected. “Five Gryffindors, three Hufflepuffs, six Ravenclaws and two Slytherins, ranging from year six to eight.”
“Right,” Ron nodded, meeting his eyes. “How are we going to find out who is our Lady Fairhead, then?”
Harry grimaced. He hadn’t thought that far yet.
Dear Gentlewixes,
with the first anniversary of the war and the end-of-year exams right around the corner, the entire student body is practically craving a distraction.
Well, this author is here to deliver.
It is Hogwarts’ worst kept secret that everyone’s favourite Saviour prefers stags to does. It seems, though, that a certain stag in the herd has gathered his special attention.
This author will give you some clues for you to draw your own conclusions.
Firstly, this certain someone has been very involved with our Saviour for a long time, in one way or another.
Secondly, he has undergone a remarkable change this year.
Thirdly, please have a look at my name and ponder it over.
More next time.
Yours truly,
Lady Fairhead
“Look at my name and ponder it over?” Draco read, his eyes flashing. “Yes, very funny, I’m a blond. That’s not even very clever. What a crappy wanna-be journalist.” He looked up at Harry expectantly. “So, who do you have on your list?!”
Harry sighed, sitting down next to Draco and handing him the parchment. He leaned over, and Harry was momentarily distracted by the scent of his cologne.
“Why did you highlight only girls?” he asked, frowning.
“Well, it’s Lady Fairhead, not Sir or Mister ,” he shrugged.
“You are so naive,” Draco groaned. “It might be a way to throw you off their scent?!”
“You think it’s a boy?” Harry frowned.
“Well, I wouldn’t rule it out,” Draco shrugged.
“But why?” Harry muttered. “Girls would make sense.”
“Would they?” Draco deadpanned. “It’s all in here. Everyone basically knows you’re bent now, Potter. If someone does it out of morbid interest in your dating life, it might be someone who actually has a shot.”
Harry blinked. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Of course, you hadn’t,” Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised.”
Harry looked at Draco. His eyes were very grey.
“What about Zabini?” Harry asked.
Draco groaned, banging his head against the wall in frustration.
“Have you considered,” Ron frowned, “that Malfoy is just sending you on a wild goose chase, and it’s actually him?”
“I’m past my ‘Malfoy is up to something’ phase, Ron,” Harry said, tone bored.
“I’m just saying!” Ron muttered. “This all sounds pretty insane. He has you suspecting random blokes now!”
“Everyone is a suspect!” Harry glared. “If you keep protesting, I’ll put you on the list.”
“Woah!” Ron blinked, holding up his hands in surrender. “There is no need for threats!”
Harry grumbled, looking back at his list.
“It’s interesting, though,” Ginny grinned. “That you’re putting so much stock into Malfoy’s opinion. Maybe, Lady Fairhead is onto something.”
“I can put you on the list, too!” Harry glowered. Ginny just laughed.
“I don’t know how to find them!” Harry whined. “And my friends are just making fun of me!”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Draco deadpanned. “You’re basically begging for it.”
Harry threw his list at him. Draco just caught it, grinning. Harry tried not to focus on how handsome that made him look.
“Have you tried deciphering the name?” Draco asked.
“What name?” Harry blinked.
“Lady Fairhead ,” Draco stressed. “There are a lot of names that at least partly translate to ‘fair’. Finn, Fiona, Anwen, Elvira - and then, there are the names who translate directly to ‘fair-haired’, like Finley, Blake, Sherlock - Finnegan.”
Harry blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“I believe you have a Finnigan in your house?” Draco deadpanned.
“Yes,” Harry said slowly. “But we’re mates. He wouldn’t -”
“Are you sure about that?” Draco interrupted.
Harry had been sure until Draco had brought it up.
“I - I don’t know why I’m here,” Seamus laughed nervously, glancing at Hermione’s wand.
“Don’t worry,” Ron said pleasantly. “We just have a couple of questions.”
He nodded at Hermione, who cast the truth charm.
“What’s that?” Seamus asked.
“Just something to tell us whether or not you’re lying,” Harry said pointedly. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ve got nothing to hide, right?”
Seamus blinked, then laughed hollowly. “Right,” he muttered.
“Seamus,” Ron said. “Are you Lady Fairhead?”
“No,” Seamus shook his head vehemently. The truth spell flashed green. Harry sagged in relief, sitting on the couch.
“Do you know who Lady Fairhead is?” Ron continued.
Seamus hesitated. “No?” he said again, but this time, it sounded more like a question.
The truth flash turned red. Seamus winced.
“Mate!” Harry hissed, eyes wide.
“I told him not to do it!” Seamus shook his head. “He wouldn’t listen!”
“Told who not to do it?!” Ron growled.
“It was you?!” Harry snapped.
Dean looked at him, his expression not in the least guilty. “I guess the kneazle’s out of the bag then.”
“But why?!” Harry demanded, uncomprehending.
“You really don’t know?” Dean snorted.
“No,” Harry shook his head. “I don’t.”
“Well,” Dean sat up straighter, “disregarding the fact that you basically stole my girlfriend in sixth year -”
“I did not steal Ginny!” Harry protested, eyes wide. “Nothing happened until you broke up.”
“Yeah, but you guys were flirting all over the place when we were still together,” he rolled his eyes. “Everyone knew it. I knew it, too, but I was stupid enough to tell myself you wouldn’t be interested. Look how that worked out.”
“So that’s what this is?!” Harry asked incredulously. “Ginny?”
“No,” Dean laughed. “That just set the scene. Remember our Halloween bash this year?”
Harry flinched. “I said I was sorry about that.”
“You said, in front of everyone, how Seamus and I had been hot for each other for years and we should finally get it over with and snog,” Dean glared. “I was working my way through a sexual crisis and highly confusing feelings for my best friend and you just walk up in front of everyone we know and expose me like that!”
“I’m sorry!” Harry groaned. “I was drunk and I was in a bad place! I know it’s no excuse, but the anniversary of my parents’ death hit me extremely hard last year, so I drank half a bottle of Firewhiskey on my own. I sicked up in the courtyard after.”
Draco had found him and had safely brought him back. It had been the beginning of their truce.
“Well, you didn’t even apologise after,” Dean deadpanned. “So I figured, turnabout is fair play.”
“What do you -”
“You and Malfoy,” Dean raised his eyebrows. “I could tell that you two were into each other. And you’ve been dancing around it for months. So, honestly? I did you a favour.”
Harry gaped at him. “Malfoy and I aren’t -” he began. “We’re not -”
He looked at Ron and Hermione for help.
“Of course, you’re not!” Ron nodded.
Hermione bit her lip.
“What?” Harry hissed.
“Well,” she said softly. “You sort of are.”
He stared at her. Then he looked at Seamus, who shrugged apologetically. Then, he looked at the ceiling, as if Merlin himself would appear to help him out.
He’d probably tell him to get over himself and snog Draco if he did appear, knowing Harry’s luck.
“Hi,” Harry said unsurely as he sidled up next to Draco in the library.
Draco frowned at him. “Hi,” he said. “Did you talk to Finnigan?”
“Yes,” Harry nodded. “He admitted that it was Dean.”
“Thomas?” Draco asked, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t see that coming but alright. Did you tell the Headmistress?”
“We made a deal. He puts down the feather and I keep his alias to myself.”
“I see,” Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to his book. “Well, as long as he keeps quiet, I guess I don’t care.”
Harry nodded. “Don’t you want to know why he did it?”
“You’re going to tell me, anyway,” Draco pointed out.
Harry smiled, shaking his head. “Well, I said something stupid and he wanted to get back at me.”
“That sounds believable.”
“Now, will you shut up? He didn’t just randomly write about me, though. He had a plan.”
“Sounds very unlikely. He’s a Gryffindor.”
“Git. He wanted to expose me with the person I actually liked… since I’d done the same to him.”
Draco held in then, looking at him sceptically. “Well, that’s stupid,” he declared, going back to his book. “You clearly don’t like me.”
Harry was silent for a long moment, his heart racing. “Actually,” he murmured, “he got it right.”
Draco froze. For a moment, he didn’t move.
“Are you pranking me, Potter?” he asked without looking up.
“No,” he said softly. “I’m serious.”
“Promise me you are, or I swear to Salazar -”
“Yes, I’m serious, Malfoy!” he snapped. “Merlin, do you have to be so bloody difficult, you -”
But his rant was cut off when Draco turned to him, cupping his cheek and drawing him into a kiss.
Oh, Harry thought, before closing his eyes and kissing him back.
Dear Gentlewixes,
due to personal reasons, this author has to put her feather to rest, so this will be your last column.
I could not leave you hanging, though.
Those of you who have argued that our esteemed saviour could only be dating his housemate Seamus Finnigan - be assured that he’s currently in a happy relationship with his best friend, Dean Thomas.
Those of you who guessed that it was Dennis Creevey were also on the wrong track. Mr Potter’s tastes lie more in his own age group.
Zacharias Smith, too, is the wrong answer. He is clearly lacking the character development given as a clue and which would be necessary to catch Mr Potter’s attention.
One lone bet was placed on Anthony Goldstein. I applaud that person for their creativity but they, too, are wrong.
No, the person who Harry Potter kissed this afternoon in the library was none other than his long-standing arch-nemesis Draco Malfoy.
And with this, I must bid you farewell.
Yours truly,
A very pleased Lady Fairhead
“DEAN! DEAN, WHERE ARE YOU!”
“Dean is currently unavailable. You can reach him via owl or -”
“Seamus, I swear to Merlin -”
“Harry, calm down, you’re waking the whole castle.”
“He even included a PHOTO?! I mean, REALLY?! How did he develop it that quickly?!”
“I wondered that, too, that is fascinating -”
“Shut it, Hermione!”
“Really, though, Harry? The ferret?”
“NOT the point, Ron!”
“Actually, completely the point, Harry. Is he a good kisser?”
“Seamus, you’re walking on very thin ice, you know that, right?”
“All right, all right, I’ll stay in my lane.”
Silence.
“Was he, though?”
Harry groaned.