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Chatting with the Wizarding Worlds Most Mysterious Hottie, Harry Potter

For years, our world's hero, Harry Potter, has declined all interviews asked of him. Now, however, our very own Witch Weekly has managed to get an exclusive interview with The-Man-Who-Conquered-You-Know-Who. With Valentine's Day approaching, we have to wonder, what kind of girl, exactly, will convince Harry Potter to give up his bachelorhood? Harry saved all of our lives by defeating You-Know-Who, becoming our very own hero, and now, we want to know who will be saving him from his station as a single wizard. Who will be the hero's heroine? Well, you won't have to wonder for long, because we've asked him. Welcome to the mind of a hero, ladies and gentlemen. Hold on to your broomsticks, you're in for a wild ride!

Ladies and gentlemen, you are now the only people in the history of ever to be reading something written by a person who has had her heart stop. And then explode. Yes, that's right, my heart stopped, and then it exploded. I have an exploded heart and I am not dead and buried six feet under.

Now, you are probably wondering why you are reading about me and my exploded heart under an article entitled, "Chatting with the World's Most Mysterious Hottie, Harry Potter." Come to think of it, you're probably wondering why my heart is exploded as well… but we'll get to that later.

Anywho, if you bothered to read the subtitle and not skip over to the juicy stuff after you read a certain title referring to a certain hottie named Harry (Ha! Caught ya! Now you have to go back and read it), then you are holding on to your broomstick because, apparently, you're delving into the "mind of a hero" and "you're in for a wild ride." Well, I would advise you to keep holding on to that broomstick of yours because you are now about to delve into my mind, and if the past few days are any indicator, my mind is much more perilous than the hottie's. Trust me on this. I know what I'm talking about.

Don't worry though, you'll definitely be reading about the charming Mr. Potter. Cuz my mind is absolutely chock-full of him. In fact, he's the reason for my exploded heart.

Why, you ask?

Well, I'll tell you.

See I gave the hottie an interview. And not just any interview ladies and gentlemen, but an interview about his LOVE LIFE! Yes, I know, you're all in a tither now. Don't worry, I was too. Though I was also mildly miffed considering I had a HUGE crush on the guy, and I now had to listen to his ramblings about his fantasy girl. Not my cup of tea, I must say.

But yes, he caused my heart to explode and nearly killed me with the things he said. And I must warn you, ladies, if you're a romantic, sappy type of person, your heart might be in danger of explosion as well after you read this. Once again, trust me on this, I know what I'm talking about.

So, yes, I realize that you are probably shaking this magazine screaming, "GET ON WITH IT, WOMAN!" And I will. Right now, in fact.

Sadly, that does not mean I'll be writing down the interview. Cuz here's the thing, it occurred on my kitchen table just a few hours ago under rather…oh, let's just say…strange circumstances. So, if I wrote it down here, you would have absolutely no idea what I am talking about.

Therefore, I have decided that I'll just basically tell you what happened, no matter how mortally embarrassing it is to me. But this is only because I feel that you, the readers of Witch Weekly deserve to know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God.

And since this is no longer an interview on Harry, I've decided to rename this little article, "The Ramblings of a Crazed, Love-Struck Journalist Who is Writing this at One in the Morning and is High on White Chocolate Mocha Coffee with a Double Shot of Espresso and a Pinch of Vanilla." But that wouldn't fit in the title box, and I think my boss would fire me if I printed it anyways.

Anywho, alright, on with the story. I swear I'm really telling it now, so you can put down your torches and pitchforks and read on.

It started like this…

I woke up in the middle of the night last night (Actually I suppose that would be earlier this morning, but who cares about details like that? Besides you, Hermione.) after being out cold for three days. No, I'm not sick. I'm not hurt. I didn't have a confrontation with a man-eating refrigerator. I accidentally drank half a bottle of Miss Whirlybang's Headache Solution. Little word of advice… don't do that. It makes you go completely nutsoid and do embarrassing things like sing loudly and fall into anchovy and pineapple pizza. But that's a story for another time.

So, yes, I had a massive hangover (that stuff is STRONG), and I decided I needed to go downstairs and get some ice cream. Because ice cream fixes everything, right ladies?

Right, you're saying.

Anywho, I made my way downstairs, minding my own business, and went to the freezer, rummaging around for the ice cream. But then I realized that I wasn't in the kitchen alone. Oh, no, not alone at all. Harry was in there.

Which wouldn't have been so bad had I not been in my pajamas. Which consisted of nothing but a tank top and underwear. So, I was mortally embarrassed.

But that's beside the point. Here's the good stuff…

Harry, being the considerate and kind hottie that he is, remembered that I needed to have an article in by today and asked me if I would like to do the interview then, as he didn't want me to be fired.

On three ladies, AWWWWWW!

Yes, I know. I nearly melted. Of course, I managed to not melt, as I am writing this right now. I doubt I could hold my quill if I was melted.

But on with the story, I then began asking Harry questions. You know, interview questions that apparently EVERYONE wants to know about the Man-Who-Conquered. Like if he wears boxers or briefs. That was a comical question, me being in naught but my knickers and all that. But you don't care about that do you? You just want to know what he answered, don't you? Yes, you do.

Well, he's a boxer boy. Yummy, I know. Now stop drooling, and don't get all hot and bothered ladies… he's taken.

GASP! Oh, the horror! Oh, woe is the female population that has worshiped Harry the Hottie for all of time!

Well, get over it, she's not gonna give him up. And if you try to take him from her, she'll Bat-Bogey you from now until the day Voldemort returns. Which is never. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about.

Well now all you gossip lovers are on the edge of your seats, eyes bugged out, mouth hanging open, perhaps even holding your breath. Cuz this is the part where you learn who "the hero's heroine" is.

Sorry, nope. And once you're done with your little temper tantrum, you can begin reading again. Remember, patience is a virtue.

So, yes, this is a sad day in the world of singledom. But there are plenty of other fish in the sea, and I'm sure you will all find "Mr. Right" some day.

But anyways, I'm going off track. I'm not here to lecture you and attempt to build up your self-esteem so you can go out there and snag you a man. But you should anyways, it's Valentine's Day. You never know, a Cupid might show up to help you out.

So, after the boxers or briefs question there was the real clencher. Blondes, brunettes, or redheads?

Now why on earth would this be the real clencher? I bet you thought the boxers or briefs one was the real clencher. Well, you were wrong. It's this one. And you know why?

Cuz this is when my heart stopped.

Confused? I figured. But no worries, I shall explain.

Simple… he said redheads.

Still confused? Then refer to the top of the page and look to the right of the subtitle…no, no, down a little…now a little to the right…down a bit more…there you go. That's me, Ginny Weasely. Now note the red hair (A/N: I know the pictures are black and white, but let's just pretend, shall we? Thanx).

So that's when my heart stopped.

But then the next thing was when the explosion occurred. See, when my heart started beating again, I managed to squeak out the next question, "Describe your perfect girl."

This is the part where all the singletons would have been taking notes so that they could have become his perfect girl. Well put up the quills you harpies! He's TAKEN!

By who, you want to know?

Well, in answer, I'll tell you what he said in response to my perfect girl question.

He said, "Well, for starters, she's sitting right in front of me."

Cue exploding heart.

I was sitting right in front of him.

Now do you understand? I thought you might. I told you I knew what I was talking about.

So, that's how you are now reading an article written by a person who should be suffering from the effects of an early death by an explosion of the heart. That's also why you've had to endure three pages of endless rambling by a very tired and rather preoccupied journalist. It's hard to write when you think you'll be waking up from a dream any second now…

But anywho, as surprising as it is for everyone (myself most of all, I have a bruise on my leg from pinching myself so many times) I, Ginevra Molly Weasely, am apparently the "hero's heroine."

Yes, I know. I'm shocked as well.

But, before I go dunk my head in a bucket of ice water so I can be absolutely certain I'm not in an alternate universe, I can give you a firsthand account concerning the most popular question asked of Harry Potter…

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, his glasses most definitely DO fog up while snogging.