Why was she cutting out pictures of them both? Harry knew what they were from ... he could see Rita Skeeter's toothy picture grinning up at him from her by-line. The fucking Triwizard Tournament. That would make Hermione fifteen, Harry thought. It made him feel slightly less creepy about ogling her as he was. But only a bit. But what was she doing with the pictures? Hermione froze again. Voices had sounded outside the door and she hastily stuffed her cuttings under her blankets. Harry could see her visibly quivering in nervous fright, as she sat there and tried to force a breezy demeanour into herself.