Chapter 294: Romance Falls Through, Freelance Writer, and Review
The mass breakout of Death Eaters sent shockwaves through the wizarding public like ripples spreading across a still pond, finally making everyone realise that something was terribly, dangerously amiss in their carefully ordered world.
Since the escaped prisoners were all individuals the young wizards were uncomfortably "familiar with" from their Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons and whispered horror stories, Harry's battered reputation at Hogwarts began to slowly climb out of the depths where it had been languishing for months.
In response to the crisis, Umbridge's iron grip on the school tightened even further, her control becoming so suffocating that students could barely breathe without permission. She issued Educational Decree No. 26 with the triumphant air of someone unveiling a masterpiece, prohibiting professors from discussing anything remotely unrelated to their assigned lessons during class time.
The decree's parchment crackled ominously as it was posted on bulletin boards throughout the castle, its official Ministry seal gleaming like a fresh wound.
After school reopened following the winter break, Cho actively sought out Harry with the determined persistence of someone on a mission, her dark eyes sparkling with nervous anticipation as she asked him to meet her in Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day.
"Oh, of course," Harry responded with the romantic awareness of a particularly dense brick wall, "is it to discuss the Dream Chasers organisation?"
"Hmph!" Cho's face flushed scarlet with indignation at this spectacularly unromantic response. She spun on her heel and stalked away, her robes billowing dramatically behind her like storm clouds.
Only then did the perpetually slow-on-the-uptake Harry finally realise she had been inviting him on an actual date, and he hurriedly chased after her retreating figure, his feet slipping slightly on the stone floors in his haste.
The two ventured to Hogsmeade together on Valentine's morning, the village looking simultaneously festive and ominous. Shop windows were draped with pink and red decorations that somehow managed to look cheerful despite being partially obscured by Death Eater wanted posters, their grim faces staring out like unwelcome party guests.
Inside Madam Puddifoot's famously romantic tea shop, the air was thick with the cloying scent of rose petals and chocolate, while every surrounding table seemed occupied by young couples engaged in enthusiastic public displays of affection that made Harry's collar feel uncomfortably tight.
The atmosphere between Harry and Cho grew increasingly awkward with each passing minute, filled with pregnant silences that stretched like taffy between them. Harry had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say in such circumstances, his mind as blank as a fresh piece of parchment.
Later, in a desperate attempt to ease the suffocating, uncomfortable atmosphere that pressed down on them like a physical weight, Harry made what he thought was a helpful suggestion.
"Uh, want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks later? I'm meeting Hermione at noon for something important."
Cho's perfectly shaped eyebrows rose toward her hairline in a gesture that somehow managed to convey both surprise and growing irritation.
"You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today? On Valentine's Day?"
"Yes, she specifically asked me to come," Harry replied with the oblivious honesty that was both his greatest virtue and most tragic flaw. "Do you want to join us? She mentioned it would be perfectly fine if you came along."
"Hmph... how wonderfully thoughtful of her," Cho's voice dripped with sarcasm so thick it could have been bottled and sold as a condiment.
But judging from her increasingly frigid tone, she clearly didn't think Hermione's consideration was wonderful at all. On the contrary, her voice had become as cold and distant as winter wind cutting through mountain peaks.
The conversation deteriorated rapidly from there, escalating into a full argument that drew curious stares from nearby couples. Cho accused Harry of having absolutely no business asking her out if he already had plans with another girl, her voice rising with each word until other patrons began shifting uncomfortably in their seats.
Then she fled the tea shop in tears, leaving Harry sitting alone among the floating cherubs and heart-shaped confetti, completely bewildered by the emotional minefield he had apparently stumbled through. He regretfully paid the bill with coins that clinked mournfully against the table, never understanding what exactly had gone wrong from beginning to end.
Harry scratched his perpetually messy hair in confusion and made his way to the Three Broomsticks, where the familiar warmth and bustle provided a welcome contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the tea shop. Hermione, Aiden, Edmund, and Luna were already waiting for him at a corner table, their animated conversation creating a bubble of normalcy in the crowded pub.
"Harry!" Hermione's face lit up with genuine pleasure when she spotted her dear friend appearing through the crowd, and she waved enthusiastically to catch his attention.
Harry made his way over and settled into the remaining chair, the familiar scents of butterbeer and roasted meat helping to soothe his frazzled nerves. Soon after, a visibly down-and-out woman pushed open the heavy pub door and walked inside, her once-elaborate robes now showing signs of wear and her famous blonde curls slightly dishevelled.
Since her professional fate had been thoroughly controlled by a certain Dream Weaver's machinations, Rita Skeeter hadn't been permitted to write her trademark gossip stories in quite some time. This enforced silence had caused her social status to plummet dramatically, perhaps serving as a perfect example of how those who manipulate public opinion can eventually find themselves manipulated by the very same forces.
"Well then, Miss Rita Skeeter," Hermione began with the businesslike efficiency of someone conducting an important negotiation, "we need you to write a comprehensive article about Harry's direct encounters with Vol... You-Know-Who, giving the public access to the truth they've been denied."
"But I'm currently being systematically excluded by the Daily Prophet's editorial board," Rita replied with obvious frustration, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "And Minister Fudge keeps blocking my writing credentials at every turn, effectively silencing my voice."
"About that particular obstacle, we can actually provide some meaningful assistance," Aiden said, straightening in his chair with the confident air of someone holding valuable cards.
He gestured meaningfully to Edmund, who handed Aiden an official-looking document with visible reluctance, then fixed him with a pointed glare that promised future retribution.
"We have launched a completely new newspaper venture, and we would like to extend a special invitation for you to become our freelance correspondent," Aiden explained smoothly, sliding the document across the wooden table toward Rita.
Speaking of which, this peculiar feeling of playing multiple roles simultaneously was quite marvelous, like being both chess player and chess piece in the same elaborate game.
"What? You're actually starting your own newspaper?" Hermione's finely tuned political instincts immediately sensed the deeper implications behind this seemingly simple announcement.
"Of course we are. You can also write compelling content about house-elf rights protection and publish it through our platform," Aiden replied with casual confidence. "In wizarding politics, you may not need to perform constantly, but you absolutely cannot afford to be without any performance at all. The fundamental key to becoming an influential political figure in the wizarding world is learning to become an entertaining clown for the audience's amusement."
Aiden's eyes narrowed slightly as he delivered this cynical observation.
"'Clown' sounds unnecessarily harsh," Hermione muttered, though her expression suggested she was beginning to understand the unfortunate truth behind his words.
"Clearly, Cornelius Fudge serves as a typical example of someone completely without any meaningful performance skills," Edmund added, his tone overflowing with barely concealed mockery.
"Perhaps he's simply become entangled by Wrackspurts," Luna contributed this non-sequitur comment with her characteristic dreamy detachment, as if discussing the weather rather than political strategy.
"Well then, Miss Rita, now you have the opportunity to use your considerable abilities to freely write content that will genuinely stir up the audience and create the kind of buzz this newspaper needs to succeed."
Aiden set the tone for this impromptu business meeting, and a brand new media venture was born right there on that crowded tavern table, surrounded by the cheerful noise of other patrons and the scent of mulled wine.
Harry proceeded to reveal every detail he could remember about his terrifying encounters with Voldemort, his voice growing stronger and more confident as he spoke. The weight of finally being able to tell the truth seemed to lift from his shoulders like a physical burden being removed.
Luna and Rita departed together with the precious manuscript tucked safely away, while Harry followed the others back toward the castle with lingering scepticism etched across his features.
"Won't this kind of sensationalist tabloid approach actually make my words seem even less credible to serious readers?" Harry asked Aiden with genuine confusion, his brow furrowed with concern.
"What do you think are the three most essential elements of effective news dissemination?" Aiden responded with a question of his own, his teaching instincts automatically engaging.
"Accuracy, truthfulness, and timeliness," academic Hermione provided the textbook answer without hesitation, her voice carrying the confidence of someone who had memorised countless journalism primers.
"Edmund," Aiden called out to their resident media heir with obvious amusement.
"Opposition, sensationalism, and taking things completely out of context," Edmund replied with the cynical wisdom of someone who had grown up in the newspaper business, clearly offering a very different perspective on the industry.
"But this approach is..." Hermione began to protest indignantly, then paused as a troubling realisation began to dawn on her features, her expression shifting from outrage to uncomfortable understanding.
"This is the fastest way to create genuine buzz and spread important news with maximum speed and impact," Aiden explained patiently, watching her internal struggle with obvious interest.
"Fine, but only this once, and only to fight against Voldemort's influence," Hermione conceded reluctantly.
Obviously, young Miss Granger hadn't yet realised what kind of journalistic Pandora's box she had just helped to open.
Meanwhile, their pure-hearted saviour listened to this entire exchange with visible confusion, shaking his head dismissively to clear away thoughts he couldn't quite grasp.
After all, Ravenclaw students always seemed to speak in frustratingly complex riddles that made his head spin.
"By the way, Hermione, I wanted to ask you about something..." Harry suddenly remembered his spectacularly unpleasant parting with Cho, the memory making him wince slightly.
Since there happened to be two Ravenclaws conveniently present, he decided to seek their presumably superior wisdom on matters of romance and interpersonal relationships.
He recounted in painstaking detail everything that had transpired between him and Cho at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, then asked with genuine bewilderment where exactly he had managed to go so catastrophically wrong.
"My god, are all Gryffindors really this devastatingly straightforward?" Edmund stared at him in complete disbelief, as if Harry had just announced his intention to juggle flaming torches while riding a unicycle.
Hermione was simultaneously amused by her dear friend's hopeless romantic cluelessness and exasperated by his complete inability to understand basic human emotions. "Ha! You must be missing a crucial part of your brain. How could you possibly tell Cho you were planning to see another girl while you were supposed to be on a romantic date with her?"
Mama Hermione's tone carried all the disappointed authority of someone explaining why touching a hot stove was inadvisable.
"But you're not 'another girl'…" Harry protested with the desperate logic of the truly confused. "I mean, you're Hermione. You're just Hermione."
Harry remained completely incapable of understanding such bewilderingly complex emotional dynamics.
"Can't wrap your head around it? Want to experience what she felt firsthand?" Aiden suddenly suggested with a mischievous glint in his heterochromatic eyes.
"Hm?" came three voices in perfect unison, their curiosity clearly piqued.
"Give it a try," Harry said with cautious expectation, while Hermione and Edmund leaned forward with obvious interest.
Snap! With a single crisp finger snap, everyone felt themselves being gently enveloped by soft, silvery clouds that seemed to materialise from thin air.
"This is... the training room?" Hermione asked, looking around at their transformed environment with fascination.
"To be more precise, this is my personal dreamscape," Aiden revealed with that familiar mischievous smile that usually meant someone was about to learn an uncomfortable lesson. "Are you all ready for this educational experience?"
A cloud drifted over with purposeful movement and somehow squeezed directly into all three visitors' bodies, merging with their consciousness in ways that defied normal understanding.
Suddenly Harry felt heart-wrenching sadness crash over him like a tidal wave, as if he were being repeatedly stabbed with invisible knives made of pure emotional agony.
Jealousy, resentment, heartache, and a dozen other painful emotions welled up from somewhere deep within his chest. Harry clutched desperately at the fabric over his heart and froze completely in place, overwhelmed by the intensity of feelings he had never truly experienced before.
Hermione nearby had already begun crying genuine tears, her face crumpling under the weight of emotions that weren't originally her own. Edmund also looked absolutely ashen, his usual composed demeanour cracking under the emotional assault.
"Wuu wuu... Aiden, please stop this immediately... wuu wuu." Edmund finally couldn't endure the intensity any longer and began crying openly, his dignity abandoned in the face of such overwhelming feeling.
Aiden raised his hand with gentle mercy, the clouds withdrew from their minds like receding fog, and he released a soothing calming effect that washed over them like warm sunshine after a terrible storm.
"I need to go apologise to her immediately," Harry declared with newfound understanding and determination.
Having recovered from the emotional demonstration, Harry finally comprehended the magnitude of what he had unknowingly done to Cho's feelings.
Hermione nodded approvingly beside him, though she still looked somewhat troubled by the lingering echoes of the emotional experience.
Aiden looked at Edmund with obvious amusement, making the young master shiver under that knowing gaze.
"What exactly are you staring at?" Edmund demanded defensively, though his voice still carried traces of his recent emotional vulnerability.
"I didn't expect you to be surprisingly pure-hearted beneath all that cynical exterior," Aiden teased mercilessly.
Accompanied by Edmund's indignant middle finger gesture, everyone finally departed from the dreamscape and returned to the normal world, each carrying new understanding about the complexities of human emotion.