"Potter! You're awake!"
Ron was the one who visited Harry Potter most often. In his spare time, he frequently came by, keeping Harry company and eating Harry's food—gifts brought by visitors, some from fellow Gryffindors, others from professors and admirers.
Ron often ate with great enthusiasm. After all, Harry hadn't woken up all this time!
That day, all the Gryffindors were deeply grateful to Harry for shielding them from the enemy's final attack. Peter Pettigrew's "mutual destruction" was terrifying: the overwhelming blood rain and the sight of his short, fat body exploding became the Gryffindors' nightmare.
They were sincerely impressed by Harry, who had managed to block such an attack with a spell in the end.
Half of the gifts here were from them, though very little remained thanks to Ron's appetite.
"How long have I been asleep?"
Harry, still groggy, instinctively reached for his glasses at the bedside, but quickly realized he no longer needed them. Ever since merging with Voldemort, his nearsightedness had disappeared.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked up and saw piles of gifts. The brightly wrapped packages were pleasing to the eye.
Yet beneath those gifts were newspapers. The moving images on the front pages filled Harry with unease.
[A mysterious battle erupted at the Department of Mysteries. According to members of the Order of the Phoenix, they clashed with a number of escaped Death Eaters.]
[Veteran Death Eater and hardliner Peter Pettigrew reportedly died in the battle, detonating himself in a suicide attack.]
[The Ministry of Magic strongly condemns the Order of the Phoenix for spreading rumors, insisting no such battle ever occurred and everything is normal.]
[The Ministry has announced stricter protections for both the Department of Mysteries and the Hall of Prophecy, vowing that outsiders will never be allowed to enter freely.]
[Sirius Black was buried yesterday. Many attended the funeral, while Harry Potter collapsed into a coma from overwhelming grief.]
[Duke Black stated Sirius died in a magical accident, but noted that his bloodline descendants are already on the way.]
The Daily Prophet editions piled one after another. Those missing a few dates were likely unrelated to Harry.
"Potter! You've been unconscious for half a month. These newspapers were brought to pass the time when we visited you," Ron explained carefully.
Passing time should have meant saving every day's paper. Keeping only those related to Harry clearly meant they were left for him to read himself.
"You can't go in! Only patients are allowed inside. No interviews here!"
Madam Pomfrey stood firmly at the hospital wing door, blocking a blonde woman with golden curls.
"Who's that?"
Still distressed by what he had read in the Daily Prophet, Harry's attention was caught by the commotion at the entrance.
"That's Rita Skeeter. Ever since you fell unconscious, she's been trying to interview you. She's been at Hogwarts nearly every day."
Ron had already been warned by both professors and his mother, Molly, never to say a word to that woman. Who knew what stories she might invent? And if she provoked you, never lose your temper—just treat her as if she were invisible.
"I don't think you should see her right now. Don't say anything at all. Dumbledore is under tremendous pressure, and the Ministry is picking fights. If she bursts in, just pretend to be asleep—that's the best way."
Ron looked nervously at the hospital wing door, as if expecting someone to storm in at any moment, transform into a monster, and devour them down to the bones.
Hearing Ron's warning, Harry of course wasn't going to step forward and get interviewed. He pulled the blanket over himself again, peeking secretly toward the door.
At the entrance, the two women argued, but neither shoved nor raised their voices. Both remained restrained.
"Miss Rita Skeeter, what are you doing here?"
The voice of Regulus Black cut through, immediately separating the quarrelers.
"I'm only here to check on Harry Potter, to see if he's awake yet," Rita Skeeter said, licking her lips at Regulus Black. With him standing between them, she had no fear of Madam Pomfrey's scrutiny.
But this clearly wasn't about Harry. She was here for Regulus Black.
"You see, this is a school. The quietest places must be the hospital wing and the library. Of course, if you went to a classroom, the professors would throw you out too. Why don't I take you to the Headmaster's office? You can bother Dumbledore and maybe eat some of his candy while you're there."
Regulus Black, adopting an insistently polite posture, escorted the troublesome reporter away.
Madam Pomfrey let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness Regulus appeared in time. Otherwise, she might have been tempted to pour a whole bottle of Draught of Living Death down that woman's throat.
"Good thing. Only Professor Black can handle that troublesome woman. I must admit, being handsome really does work on women. But me? No chance."
At that, Ron, nearly an adult, began to worry about his own looks. After all, Hogwarts currently had more boys than girls. If he didn't find a girlfriend before graduation, it would be even harder later.
Look at Bill Weasley, the eldest in the family. He'd worked for years since graduating, yet was still single.
Ron didn't know someone actually liked him. A girl in Gryffindor admired him silently. But in the original story, Ron distanced himself deliberately for Hermione's sake. In the end, that girl was bitten by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback—at least in the movie. In the novel, she escaped that fate.
Harry didn't have a girlfriend either. Even Voldemort, who shared a body with him, had no lover. He might have had female admirers, but the fact remained—Voldemort never married.
It had to be said, two generations of Dark Lords had devoted their lives to their cause. The previous Dark Lord still had Dumbledore as a lover, but Voldemort was utterly scandal-free, living like a puritan. Perhaps only tormenting others and casting "Avada Kedavra" gave him satisfaction.
Picture a lifelong bachelor using "Cruciatus" and "Avada Kedavra" on couples, savoring a twisted sense of revenge, or using Legilimency to pry into people's private lives. That might have been Voldemort's greatest pleasure.
If that were the case, then indeed, he had no need for a girlfriend or wife. Their presence would only diminish such twisted joys.
But the King of Lonely Bachelors, Voldemort, could never know the pleasures of keeping a harem.
"You're here again? Didn't we agree that when Harry woke up, you'd be informed?"
Regulus Black had not taken Rita Skeeter to the Headmaster's office but instead led her into his own Room of Requirement.
"I just happened to pass by, and I'm borrowing your bathroom to take a shower."
With a wave of her wand, Rita Skeeter raised the large bed in the center of the room, revealing a bath beneath it.
The witch had been here countless times and knew the layout well. With practiced charm, she slowly undressed. By the time she stepped into the bath, she was completely bare. Steam rose from the pool, surrounding her in a hazy, seductive glow.
With her making such an obvious move, Regulus Black naturally couldn't remain unmoved—especially since there was still time before his next class.
He sealed the Room of Requirement to keep others out, preparing to bathe as well before heading back to lessons.
The bathroom ceiling rained down like a storm, the downpour concealing everything. At the pool's center, a stone platform rose, perfect for reclining. Its smooth, warm surface was soft on the skin—neither cold nor abrasive. Without support from below, anyone lying there would slide off.
Regulus Black repeatedly pressed against her slipping body, pushing her back into place again and again.
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