Something's coming to Hogwarts

"Did you guys hear the exciting news?" Hermione asked elatedly as she waved the Daily Prophet in front of her friends' faces when they sat down for breakfast. Harry and Ron seated themselves, both shaking their heads in the negative. Ron didn't need any motivation to start eating before his ass had even touched the chair. Harry grimaced at his friend's plate and already stuffed mouth as it had only been mere seconds since they had sat down. Hermione shook her head disapprovingly at Ron's fervent consumption of everything within arm's length.

"Whaisi'Ermione?" Ron asked around a mouthful of bacon, eggs and, strangely, tart.

"Ron, don't talk when you're eating!" Hermione barked harshly. Ron sunk back a little into his seat and averted any further confrontation with her by delving into the abundant helping of food.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, filling his plate with pancakes with syrup and butter, and getting a glass of pumpkin juice. He had noticed that the kids in the hall were all talking excitedly, with a few wildly giggles, mostly from Hufflepuff, erupting in a string, and every so often with a copy of the newspaper in their hand.

"Well," Hermione started, pointedly glaring at Ron, clearly indicating that to him that only Harry's comprehensible question was worthy of an answer, "apparently there's going to be a modelling competition, here at Hogwarts. Can you believe it!?" she screeched.

Harry stared incredulously at her. "A what?" he asked, bemused.

"A modelling competition at Hogwarts. This is going to be so great Harry, you have to enter, I mean look at you, you er, you, er..." Hermione cleared her throat, a light flush colouring her cheeks. "Harry you have to enter!" She finished off, trying to save face.

Harry still couldn't believe that the event was actually going to take place or was just a joke. And he didn't think at all that he was model material and he certainly wasn't going to making himself a fool in front of everyone. Quidditch practice only did so much. That is if this thing was actually going to happen.

"When is this happening?" he asked quickly, also trying to save Hermione from her impassioned vote of confidence. Of course he was flattered, but only slightly; Hermione was his friend and more than anything she would try to have utmost confidence in him by that mere virtue. But his 'fan-club' had to be right about something right? Otherwise there wouldn't be one in the first place. God he hated those nagging, ogling ingrates!

"Fourteenth November," Hermione answered quickly. She took a bite of toffee biscuits.

"That's only next week," Harry pointed out, a little puzzled.

Hermione nodded fervently, beaming at him. She then looked questioningly at him. "So, are you entering?" she asked hopefully. She tried to motivate him, "Malfoy's probably going to do it you know. The guy is an absolute git, but Merlin look at him!" Hermione paled and made a panicky noise at the back of her throat and cleared it. She looked down into the paper she was reading, obviously embarrassed about admitting that Malfoy was anything positive. In looks, especially.

Harry laughed softly at his friend's mortification and then turned to look at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was was enjoying his meal, his mastication modest and his hair falling over the side of his face and over his eyes a little. Harry hated to admit it but Malfoy was anything but a ferret, with his perfect hair and perfect body and perfect strut and perfect skin! He scowled and quickly turned back to his table and began eating.

"So, what does the paper say about this modelling thing?"

"Hm? Oh, it says here that both girls and guys can enter and that Sorcey SorcererTM will be showing off its new designer labels with the students here. Isn't it exciting?" Hermione said jubilantly once again.

"Aren't you entering, if both guys and girl can enter?" Harry asked, evading her question and feeling slightly ticked off by her enthusiasm and earlier comment about Malfoy.

Hermione blushed and waved her hand dismissively. "Of course not, Harry. I don't do these kind of things," she answered with a trace of spite. She knew of her unambitious and nondescript looks. To be completely honest, they were leaning towards the negative; this mostly due to her large front teeth and bushy mane.

The Gryffindor table was alive with fervent chatter and now it seemed that all were waiting for something as they were looking imploringly at Harry. "You still haven't answered the question, Harry," Colin Creevey chided in curiously. There was a general agreeing noise from the whole of the Gryffindor table. Harry was perplexed by this, were they actually expecting him to run for his house in a modelling competition!? All eyes at the table were on him now. The rest of the hall was noisily chatting.

"You want me to model in front of the whole school?" Harry asked incredulously at them, looking around the table and making sure not to look at a specific pair of eyes for too long.

"Yeah," was the general enthusiastic response.

"I don't know," Harry said uncertainly, he wasn't all that confident in himself as his housemates were in him.

"Leaimalone!" Ron warded off with bulging cheeks. "If Harry doesn't want to he doesn't have to," He all but shouted, releasing flying debris of his bolus at anyone with radius of the epicentre that was Ron's mouth. The other guys backed off immediately, not wanting to fall victim to Ron's projectile food pieces.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry muttered to his friend with a grateful smile. Ron nodded vigorously, eyeing his glass of pumpkin juice as it ascended to his lips. Little did Harry know that Ron hadn't done it for entirely selfless reasons. Hermione didn't need any more motivation to fawn over Harry like she always did.

The Gryffindor table, nonetheless, returned to their fervent chit-chat, with the occasional flash of Creevey's camera directed at Harry. Harry had learned to tolerate this, the kid wasn't going anywhere and he certainly wasn't going to give up his camera, so he learned quickly to conform rather than resist, less tedious. Where were all those pictures going if not the Daily Prophet? (because the newspaper seemed to always conveniently have a fitting picture of him for every occasion and scenario).