'Harry, you're worse than Ron . . . well, no, you're not,' she sighed, as Ron himself came stumping into the Hall splattered with mv.d and looking grumpy. 'Look - you upset Cho when you said you were going to meet me, so she tried to make you jealous. It was her way of trying to find out how much you liked her.'
Seen and Unforseen
'I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly.'
'Hi,' said Cho slightly breathlessly.
Hagrid jumped and looked down at Harry as though he barely recognised him. Harry saw that he had two fresh cuts on his face and several new bruises.
Everything was going nightmarishly wrong; Roger Davies's girlfriend had even unglued herself to look round at Cho crying.
'Oh,' said George, looking mildly impressed. 'Well - that'd explain it.'
'Er . . . listen, d'you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I'm meeting Hermione Granger there.'
'So . . . where d'you want to go?' Harry asked as they entered Hogsmeade. The High Street was full of students ambling up and down, peering into the shop windows and messing about together on the pavements.
'Well, it does!' she said impatiently. 'It's only a game, isn't it?'
He took a great swig from his tankard.
This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St Mungo's,' said Hermione, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.
' "Important stories he thinks the public needs to know", eh?' she said witheringly. 'I could manure my garden with the contends of that rag.'
'You should write a book,' Ron told Hermione as he cut up his potatoes, 'translating mad things girls do so boys can understand them.'
Rita stared at them both for a moment, then let out a great whoop of laughter.
Ron and Ginny went off for baths after dinner; Harry and Hermione returned to the busy Gryffindor common room and their usual pile of homework. Harry had been struggling with a new star-chart for Astronomy for half an hour when Fred and George turned up.
'What can I get you, m'dears?' said Madam Puddifoot, a very stout woman with a shiny black bun, squeezing between their table and Roger Davies's with great difficulty.
'Is that a crime now?' said Fred loudly. 'Getting mail?'
And he told her what had happened in Madam Puddifoot's teashop.