On the way, Hermione looked at Snape.
"Why does the Daily Prophet suddenly want to interview me?"
Snape did not break stride, his voice as cold as ever.
"You nearly tore the Ministry of Magic apart. I hope you have some idea of where you stand now."
He turned his head. "Once you become famous, you should expect the flies to swarm."
Hermione understood.
As they approached the Interview Room, they could faintly hear an argument inside.
It was not particularly heated, but one of them was clearly agitated.
Hermione softened her footsteps and peered through the half-open door.
A woman in tight, bright-green robes sat on a chair, wearing a pair of jewel-encrusted glasses.
At that moment, her lips were stretched into a malicious grin.
Harry sat opposite her.
His face was flushed, and he was practically leaping out of his chair as he protested something.
A Quill hovered in midair, furiously writing on a roll of parchment all by itself.
"Oh, don't be nervous, Mr. Potter. We're just having a little chat... But everyone is curious. Someone saw you and Mr. Malfoy meeting secretly in a grove in Hogsmeade, spending quite a long time alone together. Could you tell us about that hidden relationship between you?"
Harry's face turned scarlet with anger as he desperately denied it.
"We didn't! It was a coincidence! I was only thanking him for saving me on the Quidditch pitch!"
But his protests sounded feeble.
Rita Skeeter's smile deepened, smugness creeping into it.
Smiling, she addressed the Quill:
"At the mention of Mr. Malfoy, Harry Potter blushed, clearly overcome with emotion, and personally admitted that he had decided to give himself to Mr. Malfoy in gratitude for saving his life..."
Harry could take no more. He stormed out, then stopped short when he