Annoying Rita Skeeter

The next second, Snape turned around, and a Nonverbal Spell was already flying toward her.

Clara reflexively cast a Shield Charm, then turned the jars and bottles on Snape's wall into three birds again and controlled them to obstruct his view.

Then, when Snape had to raise his hand to deal with the birds, she lowered her center of gravity and stepped diagonally forward to the right, casting almost as she moved—a Stupefy shot toward his left side, cutting off his escape in that direction.

Another followed close behind, flying toward his right side and blocking his path backward.

The two streaks of red light, one on each side, worked with the silver birds circling overhead to weave a web of attacks with almost no gaps in the narrow dungeon classroom.

In an instant, she went from defense to offense.

"Oh, Merlin, Clara's amazing." Harry and Cedric stood in a corner of the dungeon, watching the two exchange blows in the middle of the classroom, and Harry spoke in genuine amazement. "Snape's even using Nonverbal Spells against her!"

But Snape gave Clara no chance to counterattack.

At the same instant he sidestepped the two spells, he raised his hand and struck back. A streak of red light flew past her ear, forcing her to dodge left.

The second Nonverbal Spell was already at her feet, aimed not at her body but at the spot where she was about to land. Clara barely managed to twist aside, but she was already somewhat off balance.

Snape didn't miss the opening. A third spell followed close behind at a trickier angle, forcing her to keep retreating. Then came a fourth and a fifth—his Nonverbal Spells surged toward her one after another like a relentless hidden current, giving Clara almost no chance to regain her footing.

She was forced back again and again. Each time she tried to change direction, Snape's spell had already blocked her path.

This damn familiar feeling! She didn't miss it one bit!!! Not one bit!!!

At last, her back hit the stone wall. With nowhere left to retreat, she was driven into a corner.

The wisps of hair on her forehead were damp with sweat, and her chest heaved as she leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.

Suddenly, a different idea occurred to her.

When a streak of red light hit her, she seemed not to dodge it.

The wand in her right hand flew out and fell to the floor.

Harry gasped, worried for her, while Snape prepared to call a halt.

Cedric raised an eyebrow and asked him, "Harry, where's your wand?"

Before Harry could react, he heard a shout.

"Expelliarmus!"

The red light struck Snape's right hand. His wand flew from his fingertips, traced a short arc through the air, and landed neatly in Clara's outstretched right hand.

She leaned against the stone wall, her original holly wand still lying on the floor where it had been knocked away. But Harry's wand, gripped in her left hand, was pointed steadily at Snape, its tip still faintly red from the spell she had cast.

Clara wore a satisfied smile.

In the corner, Harry was utterly stunned.

Wait, you could do that?

Snape looked down at his empty hand and fell silent for two seconds.

"Interesting," he said. For once, there was no faultfinding in his tone; he was simply stating a fact. "You deliberately dropped the wand in your right hand, then, when you thought your opponent had let his guard down, you drew Mr Potter's wand from your sleeve with your left hand and counterattacked. Miss Albert—that was an excellent performance."

Clara straightened away from the wall and handed Snape his wand.

Then she picked up her own wand from the floor, walked over to Harry, and handed his back to him.

"Here you go. Sorry for taking a potshot at you just now. I'll definitely bring you some Fizzing Whizzbees next week."

Harry pursed his lips. Although he was a little annoyed that Clara had tricked him, he had seen her trick Snape too. All right, he forgave her.

"Hey, so he didn't hit you just now?"

Clara lifted her sleeve, revealing a small hole.

"Enough. Save the idle chatter for after class." Snape's voice came from the direction of the lectern, back to its usual coldness.

With a wave of his wand, the three wooden practice dummies slid back to the center of the classroom. He immediately added another spell, and the dummies began moving irregularly at different speeds.

"For the rest of the lesson, basic practice. Fifty sets of each spell."

By the time the three of them had finally finished practicing all the spells, Clara felt as though her mouth was about to blister.

Cedric was a little better off. After all, he had learned Nonverbal Spells, and using one every third time gave his mouth some rest.

But obviously, the three of them couldn't collapse on the floor in front of Snape, especially Harry. His pride wouldn't allow it.

He forced himself to keep walking until he reached the corner of the dungeon corridor, then dropped onto the floor.

"Just thinking about having three lessons like this every week from now on, I just..." He didn't finish. He merely raised one hand and waved it weakly in the air, as though appealing to some nonexistent deity.

Clara smiled and sat down beside him, pulling a piece of candy from her pocket.

It was a habit she had brought back from her previous timeline: she took a few pieces of candy to every special training lesson to keep from collapsing from exhaustion in the corridor afterward.

Cedric stood across from them. He was tall, and when Clara looked up, she couldn't quite make out his expression.

After a while, he crouched down, held out his palm, and curled his fingers slightly, a small request in his gray-blue eyes.

For some reason, he reminded Clara of the neighbor's big golden retriever.

She lowered her head and smiled, her dimples a little more visible than usual in the candlelight. She fished another piece out of her pocket, unwrapped it, and placed it in his palm.

Hogsmeade was as lively as ever on Saturday.

Students stocking up on candy over the weekend crowded the line outside Honeydukes, the aroma of Butterbeer drifted out of the Three Broomsticks, and the window display at Gladrags Wizardwear had been changed to a Christmas theme—a mannequin wore a set of green dress robes that gleamed softly under the magical lights.

It was exactly as Clara had seen it last time.

She went straight to the silver-white dress robes with practiced ease. She had wanted to skip even trying them on, but Rowle clearly wasn't going to let her.

When the curtain to the fitting room was drawn back, Rowle and Cersei stopped talking at the same time.

Clara stood on the fitting platform, the skirt falling to her ankles, its white satin sheen glimmering faintly under the lights.

"Merlin," Rowle exclaimed, "I swear Cedric Diggory will forget how to dance when he sees you."

Clara smiled and shook her head. She wanted to tell them both that he had actually seen her in it once already.

Rowle helped her straighten the folds of the skirt, stepped back to examine it, then nodded in satisfaction.

"This one. I told you my taste couldn't be wrong. If you dare say you want to look at something else, I'll use your wand to put a Permanent Sticking Charm on you."

Clara offered no resistance, of course.

She paid and watched the shop assistant put the dress in a garment bag.

Tsk, it hurt to spend the money just as much as before.

This outfit really was expensive.

She saw the article at breakfast two days later.

Banban flew into the Great Hall with a rolled-up copy of Witch Weekly in her beak and nearly plunged headfirst into the Pumpkin Juice on the Hufflepuff table.

When Clara untied the magazine, she thought it was some routine report on the Triwizard Tournament. She flipped through a couple of pages, and then her fork stopped in midair.

The headline on page three was printed in bold purple letters: "Triwizard Champion's secret romance? Cedric Diggory and Clara Albert-Hogwarts' newest couple exposed?" Beside it were two photographs taken without their knowledge from some angle:

One showed the two of them on the stairs outside the Owlery. The other had been taken in Hogsmeade yesterday: she was carrying the bag containing her dress robes, and Cedric was a little way behind her to one side.

"Merlin! We didn't even see Cedric yesterday! Where did this photo come from?" Rowle snatched the magazine from Clara's hands, her eyes wide as she practically buried herself in its pages.

"Listen to this-'Champion Diggory and Miss Albert were spotted in intimate conversation in the Entrance Hall before the First Task. Since then, they have been seen entering and leaving the library and classrooms side by side on numerous occasions, and last weekend they even appeared together in Hogsmeade to shop for dress robes, apparently in preparation for the Yule Ball.'"

Clara didn't need to look to know that the article was definitely Rita Skeeter's work.

Across both timelines, she still couldn't figure out how many informants Skeeter had, or how she had managed to get a photograph even in a remote place like the Owlery.

And such a clear one?

Her gaze fell on the candid photograph in the magazine—the stairs outside the Owlery, photographed from below at just the right angle to show half of her and Cedric's faces clearly.

But the angle was too low. The Owlery staircase was a folding spiral staircase, and there was very little room at that spot. Maybe only an animal could fit there?

The thought made her eyes light up.

Cedric sat down in the empty seat beside her. At that moment, Clara could feel gossip-hungry gazes coming from every direction, though none seemed malicious.

"Clara, I'll write to the paper and clear this up. She's invading our privacy and spreading rumors," he said seriously.

"You can give it to me. I'll have my father put it on the front page." Rowle joined in, visibly angry. "Skeeter still has to show my father some respect. She's been getting a little too outrageous lately."

Seeing Rowle so indignant, Clara suddenly felt a warmth well up inside her.

She knew why Rowle was so angry. It wasn't because someone else had gotten to the gossip first, but because her good friend had been placed under the magnifying glass of public opinion and subjected to people's judgments in a frivolous tone.

Whatever Clara and Cedric's relationship was, Rowle didn't think it should be entertainment for other people at their breakfast tables.

"Thank you, Rowle. But there's no rush for now—I might need you to get me some photographs from Skeeter's reports." She lowered her voice and said a few words that only Rowle and Cedric could hear.

Rowle froze for a moment after listening, then her eyes lit up with the gleam of someone ready to do something big. "What did you find?"

"I'm not sure yet, so I need more evidence."

Rowle made an OK sign.

Cedric seemed a little confused at first, but Clara pointed out the Owlery staircase in the photograph, and he quickly caught on.

That evening, as Clara sorted through her Potions Class notes by the fire in the common room, Rowle crept down the dormitory stairs and sat cross-legged on the sofa beside her.

The fire had already burned down, its light flickering softly and crackling.

Clara had long known this would happen. She closed her book and signaled for Rowle to begin.

"Lyla," Rowle said, lowering her voice. She pulled the blanket a little farther over Clara and leaned against her shoulder, the two of them huddling together as they had during countless late-night talks before.

"That article of Skeeter's was awful, but there's still one thing I want to ask—what exactly is going on between you and Diggory now? Is it really as simple as you two just being good friends, so he invited you to be his partner at the Yule Ball?"

Clara unconsciously twirled the quill in her hand, something she did when she was thinking. The firelight danced in her amber eyes.

"Rowle, it's a very complicated story. I can't sum it up for you in a few sentences. But I like him, as you know."

Rowle nodded. They had been best friends since their first year, and Cedric had been Clara's girlhood crush from her first year all the way through her fifth. Of course she knew.

"Actually, we weren't close at first. Not until something happened. Because of an accident, I saved him once."

Rowle frowned, somewhat puzzled. She clearly hadn't known about that.

"After that, I realized our relationship had changed a lot. He began to enter my world, and we seemed to become close friends, just like I'd dreamed of countless times. I even had the illusion that we could go a step further."

"But every time I started wondering whether I was finally going to get what I wished for, I'd ask myself: did our relationship change because of that accident? Was he really good to me because he liked me? Or was it because he felt guilty and grateful?"

"Rowle, I'm very greedy." Clara turned to look at her friend. "But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I take that step, I'll really just be taking advantage of his guilt. And when it all comes to light, we might not even be able to stay friends."

So she would rather be like a turtle, tucked inside a shell called friendship, enjoying the warmth that had been so hard to come by.