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RUMOUR HAS IT

act two ━ chapter seventeen

. . . . . .

━ BIANCA LARSSON ━
november 1993

GRYFFINDOR CELEBRATIONS WERE WELL UNDERWAY FAST, but nothing really happened until the team arrived. As the bottles were opened and the banners strung high in the common room, the team were just heading back from the Quidditch grounds, showered and dressed appropriately, ready for their champion's welcome.

On the way, Fred and George took it upon themselves to prepare Morgan for what she was about to encounter.

"Soak it all up," Fred said.

"Really revel in it," George continued.

"Okay," Morgan replied, unsurely. She thought it was just another party ─ was she about to be thrown into the air or something? "I can do that."

Fred grinned and George slapped her harshly on the back.

"You're gonna love it," the first assured her.

"Just don't drink anything unless it's from us," George then added with a creased forehead.

Now, Morgan was even more unsure. "Why not?"

"The other team always try and sneak in to spike our drinks," Fred nodded solemnly.

George rolled his eyes. "Such sore losers."

As if they hadn't just frightened her near to death, the two of them jogged to meet the rest of the team as they headed for the changing staircases.

Oliver was trailing somewhere behind, shaking his head with a smile.

"How much of that is true?" She asked him.

"None of it," Oliver told her, still grinning. "We have bouncers on the door, so no Slytherins will be allowed in tonight."

Morgan felt momentarily saddened by this. She hadn't seen Casper since they shook hands at the end of the match and now she probably wouldn't see him until tomorrow. She understood it would be weird for him to celebrate her win against him, but all of his friends would be there. Did he just sit in his room now or something?

But Morgan knew the Slytherin players could be aggressive, and it was for the best that no one from the losing house be let in. Best friend or not.

"But the twins were right about one thing," Oliver said, as they approached the entrance to the common room. The music was already blaring and joy radiated through the concrete walls. "You are going to love this."

The portrait swung open and as soon as Harry Potter made his appearance in the lounge, cheers erupted all over again, just like they had in the stands an hour before. Morgan followed the rest of the team inside to chants, big smiles, and applause after applause after applause.

She felt like royalty.

People smiled at her who had never smiled at her before. People laughed with her, people cheered with her. She was handed drinks and claps on the back. It took her ten minutes just to get through the crowd of people to get to her friends.

They were sitting on a far sofa, each two drinks down, waiting with open arms and big grins. There was just one thing missing.

"No Casper, then," Morgan pointed out sadly. Some part of her had hoped he would be there, that he had used his charm or wit to sneak in.

"He'll get over it, Em," Bea said. "And he'll always love you, you know that."

Morgan shrugged. She did know that but it didn't make her feel any less guilty that they were all in here celebrating even when only one of them was a Gryffindor, and he wasn't.

"It's just that Quidditch means so much to him," she pointed out.

"I know," Kira shrugged. And ear-to-ear grin then split her face, "but maybe if Edie finally gives him a chance, he'll feel better."

Greg snorted. Morgan tried her best not to. And Bea descended into fits of laughter ─ she liked it when the jokes weren't always about her Beatles-named brothers.

"What?" Edie croaked.

Morgan flattened her lips into a straight line to suppress her laugh. Edie was unaware of Casper's feelings towards her and Kira may have just let that slip. Morgan, however, did not want to be here to explain any of that, in case it made Casper hate her even more, and when she spotted someone not far behind the group, she found her escape plan.

Excusing herself, still giggling, as Edie turned her interrogation onto Kira, Morgan walked over to her brother where he was engaged in conversation with Fred and George, of all people.

"You're not supposed to be here," Morgan wasted no time in announcing.

Jason stood up from where he was leaning against a sofa and came to tower over his little sister. He ran his tongue along his bottom row of teeth. "I finally have it in me to be proud of my little sister, and you want to have me kicked out?"

Morgan didn't quite know how to react to this. It was definitely the first time he had ever used the words proud and sister in the same sentence and the only thing she could think of doing was hugging him. Another ground-breaking, earth-shattering event.

But Jason had been key in teaching her the basics of Quidditch and as much as he pissed her off, Jason was her big brother and not everyone got to go to boarding school with their siblings. She was grateful for him, even if she had a weird way of showing it.

When Morgan pulled away, her arms still wrapped around his torso, she stared up at him. Jason was smirking. "Well, this is weird," he said.

"Apparently, this is what siblings do," Morgan replied.

"Are you sure?" He quirked a brow.

"Not entirely," she replied. "But I think it would be good for us if we got used to it."

Jason shrugged before tucking her back under his chin, swaying her in the embrace. With one final squeeze, he released her and picked up his drink once more.

"How did you get in anyway?" She asked.

"I'm actually related to one of the Chasers," Jason replied, lifting his chin. "You should have seen her today, she scored twice."

"It was three times actually," she corrected, smiling like an idiot.

"My apologies," Jason laid a heartfelt hand on his chest. He took a sip, swallowed, and then said, "They are being quite strict on who they let in, though."

"Really?"

"Oliver hates seeing too many ops, as he calls them," George explained.

"Yeah, he has a real house bias when it comes to sport," Fred continued.

"Ah."

Now that she looked around the room, there were very few non-Gryffindors in the room, despite how populated the parties usually are. That didn't stop the room from feeling so packed. And they had all shown up to celebrate her team. Their win.

She spotted her roommates, Maggie and Kamilah, talking to Katie Bell. There was Harry's assortment of friends by the food table and Lee Jordan in charge of music.

Drew Carmen, a Ravenclaw, was even there. Morgan saw her occasionally outside of the meetings for the paper, but since she was a third year, they hardly spent a lot of time together. But her presence at the Gryffindor team celebrations (probably because of her boyfriend, Nick Alas, a Gryffindor in their year) made Morgan feel so happy. Even her not-so-close friends were there, house irrelevant.

"Not that we should care," George said, grabbing her attention again. "Everyone who matters is here right now."

"Yeah," Fred smirked, "so get drinking, Morgan. You've got a lot to celebrate."

They passed her a cup, and Morgan couldn't help but glance at her brother. He smiled reassuringly back and knocked his cup against hers.

"What they said."

❋❋❋

MORGAN SAMUELS HAD FLOWN UNDER THE RADAR HER WHOLE TIME at Hogwarts. Something she didn't mind. She had a good group of friends, people to talk to in her classes, some to smile at in the hallways. She lucked out in the roommate department and had plenty of friends in her extracurriculars. Which is why the amount of attention she was receiving now was a little alarming, what with how foreign it was to her.

"I've had like thirty people I have never met come up to me tonight," she told Bea.

"And why are you not happy about that?"

"Because ninety percent of them were─"

"Boys?" Bea finished for her, smirking as she pressed her beer bottle to her lips. "Yeah, I figured."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Morgan practically shivered. She had been with Herbert for so long, it had been a while since a guy had spoken to her.

Bea just shrugged. "Guys like girls who play sports."

Morgan's immediate response to this was Herbert didn't care, but she figured defending him probably wasn't the best course of action ever.

What bothered her, however, was that now she had changed a part of herself, she was suddenly deemed more interesting? Was her personality beforehand really not enough?

"It took one Quidditch match for me to be considered worthy of people's time?" She scoffed.

"Hey," Bea said, laying a half-sympathetic hand on Morgan's shoulder, "I didn't make the rules. But yeah, pretty much."

The more she thought about it, it was true. If she hadn't met Casper through Edie, she would easily have heard his name because of Quidditch at some point. And her brother ─ he hated school until he made the team and suddenly everyone was in love with him. Jason got on her nerves all the time, sure, but she had always known he was sweet and generous and conventionally attractive. But he didn't start getting female attention until he became a Ravenclaw Beater.

Morgan slumped against the wall they were pressed against, the room very much still flooded with sweaty bodies. "I know so many cool people who don't play Quidditch," she huffed.

"I bet. So do I," Bea replied. "But it's a coveted spot. There are like forty people in the entire school who play. Consider yourself lucky."

Morgan had never thought of it like this. As much as Bea had a point, Morgan wasn't that keen on being friends with people who only want to talk to her now that she was "cool".

Speaking of people she did want to speak to, Oliver fell under this bracket, and, after searching for several minutes in the masses of crowds, he located her.

"Hey, Morgan, can you come with me for a sec?" He asked.

Grateful for the time away from the glances in her direction and overwhelming duty to be nice to every stranger that approached her, Morgan chirpily replied, "Sure."

But where she thought Oliver was going to pull her to the side for a moment, he led her up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Maybe he just wanted a quiet place to talk, but the further they went up the stairs, she realised they were heading to his room. When the staircase was perfectly deserted for them to have a chinwag.

Morgan must have subconsciously been sporting a confused look, which Oliver spotted and quickly shut down any unanswered questions. "Don't worry," he chuckled as he unlocked his door and led her inside, "I'm not trying to bag you or anything."

Morgan laughed nervously, probably because she had not seen the inside of the Gryffindor boys' rooms and this was all very new. She hadn't been inside a boy's room since Herbert. But she also didn't know how she would feel if Oliver was trying to "bag her". This was all very weird.

While Oliver walked over to his bed, Morgan did a quick survey of the room. To her disappointment, it looked exactly the same as hers, just a little messier.

"It's a Gryffindor tradition," Oliver then said as further explanation as to why she was standing in his bedroom while a party for them raged downstairs.

"Am I walking into some freaky initiation right now?" She laughed.

"No," he assured her. "But don't be surprised if Fred and George try and do something along those lines."

"Great."

She met him over by his bed just as he was pulling something out from under it. After a quick inspection, it was a very large, very worn, leather-bound book. Its pages were thick and crinkled ─ it was a scrapbook.

Oliver then began to flick through a couple of the pages where signatures and little notes were scrawled in an array of colours and styles. Some messy, some cursive and pretty. "Everyone who's ever played for Gryffindor gets to sign this book," Oliver explained. "It's been around since McGonagall played."

Morgan was already awed by how wholesome this idea was, but she was even more amazed when she realised that the reason Oliver had brought her up here was so that she could sign it.

He handed her a quill, smiling sweetly. Oliver must have watched many people do this and Morgan thought about how he must have felt to be in her position all those years ago. An excited twelve-year-old boy, his whole Hogwarts life ahead of him and a whole lot of Quidditch matches to be played in honour of his house. And now he was almost eighteen, the Captain, and his final year was flying away from him.

Mouth still hanging open in surprised delight, Morgan took the quill and signed her name. Underneath, she wrote a little passage for future players and anyone who may see this someday, just as every other player had. She felt honoured to be a part of such a lovely tradition, her name solidified in history, alongside so many who came before her. Bea hadn't lied ─ Morgan was lucky to be a part of something.

"How did that feel?" Oliver asked her as Morgan handed over the quill.

"I don't quite know how to explain," she said. But what Morgan did know was that she wished she could bottle up this feeling and keep it forever.

"I get that."

Oliver then shut the coveted book, putting the cap on the quill and ink, before storing them back in a box under his bed.

"Can I ask you a question, Oliver?" Morgan then asked him. Something had been playing on her mind since her talk with Beatrice and since they were here together, she thought she'd take the opportunity to get a second opinion.

Once Oliver got to his feet again, dusting his trousers of the dust from the floor, he said, "Anything."

"Did you pay any attention to me before I tried out for Quidditch?"

"Um."

A standard response to a far-out question, she supposed.

"It's okay," she told him, "you can be honest." Morgan was expecting a particular answer; she just knew he felt weird admitting it.

"I think the first time I met you was in Hogsmeade, the day you got dumped," he told her. "And seeing a girl you didn't know sob definitely leaves a mark."

"Okay," Morgan drawled, rolling her eyes playfully, "before that, then."

"Um," Oliver said again before wincing slightly. "No? But we're in different year groups," he reminded her and she supposed that was fair enough. She was better off asking someone in her own year. "I definitely would have noticed a pretty girl like you in one of my classes."

Morgan's thoughts were suddenly elsewhere. She felt her cheeks blush. She hadn't felt like that since Herbert. "You think I'm pretty?" She asked, one side of her mouth tipping upwards.

Oliver lifted one shoulder. His smile was so sweet, it was the kind that would wreck your teeth because of it. "I'd be a fool not to."

Compliments aside, Morgan had completed her research ─ people paid attention to those they deemed worthy of their praise. And that was the Quidditch players. Oliver could probably name every member of every Quidditch team at Hogwarts, long before he became captain. Because they were important. In a place where cliques didn't really exist, hierarchy didn't come from interests or academics. It came from age and achievements.

Morgan had entered the big leagues.

❋❋❋

CONSIDERING HOW HARD SHE HAD WORKED, MORGAN WAS NOT going to let this high go slowly. She intended to milk it for as long as she possibly could. Luckily for her, Gryffindor did not let their wins go unannounced and the team were treated like royalty for the week following the match.

In other aspects of her life, such as her social life and even education, Morgan made sure everyone was aware of how the game went and that she was playing.

Morgan was now in what she saw as a perfect situation. She had not only won her very first Quidditch match as a new recruit, but she could now write about that success in the paper.

Morgan had already spoken to Bianca, the Chief Editor of the Hogwarts Herald, who had agreed to let the former report on the game. The issue following a Quidditch match was always a big one since matches didn't happen very often, but it felt even better to write about since it was about her own house and about her own team. Morgan was sure the others wouldn't mind ─ Bianca and Maggie were Gryffindors themselves anyway, and the other two (Jameson and Drew) were Ravenclaws. Slytherin's loss was not a major deal to either of them.

So when Morgan strolled into the classroom for the Hogwarts Herald weekly meeting, she was feeling quite swell. And she didn't use that word lightly.

"Great game the other day, Morgan," Drew smiled as she slipped into the seat next to the Gryffindor.

"Why, thank you, Drew."

Jameson could tell Morgan was chuffed that this was the first thing one of them had said to her since she had arrived and just had to say something. "Would we use the word great?" He queried. "I mean, good luck against Ravenclaw. I hear our very own Drew Carmen got called up this year?"

The raven-haired girl blushed and Morgan could tell the conversation had swerved very far from her success. "That is true, Jameson, I'm very glad you noticed."

Jameson had his eyes trained on Morgan, smiling, clearly very proud of himself. "You're so very welcome, Drew."

"Right, shut up."

Bianca had since walked in and now that the blackboard was rubbed clean, she wanted everyone's undivided attention. Jameson removed his feet from the table, Maggie finally pulled out a quill, and Drew sat up a little straighter. They were all a little scared of their Chief Editor. In all fairness, it was Bianca's last year and she was clearly feeling the stress of final exams.

"I'm going to do some switching around with the column assignments to make room for new material," Bianca then explained, now she had their attention. "Maggie, you'll still be doing Culture and Education."

Maggie saluted ─ these were where she flourished and it had been a while since she had taught students her best cheating tips and played them off as education tips.

"Jameson," Bianca continued, "I'm putting you on Politics and Economics. Drew, you're still on Sport so that I can─"

But before Bianca could continue, Morgan sat up straighter in her chair. "I thought I was allowed to do Sport this time? You know, since I like it now?"

Bianca sighed, "I understand that you've gained a new attitude towards Quidditch and I can see how nice it would be to write about your own victory, but you're a bit close to the event to be reporting on it."

Morgan saw where the Chief Editor was coming from, but that didn't mean she was happy about not being able to fluff herself up in the newspaper.

Jameson leaned back in his seat and peered over at Morgan because of course Jameson was going to have his word in. "Just because you played in one Quidditch match, does not mean you know everything about sport."

"And Drew over there," Bianca once again, took the reins, "knows the sport inside out." Drew, the small third-year who was as fierce as any, grinned from ear to ear. Bianca then turned to a now slouching Morgan. "I'm sorry, Morgan, but you're not exactly a Quidditch prodigy."

"Ouch," Morgan huffed. "Where does that put me then?" She asked. If she wasn't going to be able to report on the start of the new season, then she at least wanted a good alternative.

"I'm assigning you to a new column," Bianca replied.

This didn't make much sense. There wasn't an awful lot else they could do. "What are you doing then?" Morgan asked, brows furrowed.

"As I was about to finish," Bianca sighed, "I'll be doing History and Business."

Morgan had shifted to the edge of her seat, her back as straight as a rod. "What could that possibly leave me with?"

Bianca suppressed her smile not so discreetly. "Rumour Has It," she said, her hands held up like she was displaying something. Not a single one of them knew what the fuck she was on about but they listened a little bit more intensely after that.

Bianca acknowledged Morgan's dubious brows and elaborated: "The Drama Drop for Hogwarts."

"A gossip column?" Morgan asked suspiciously. "What happened to literary prestige and credible dignity?"

These were the exact words Bianca had instilled in every one of them at the start of her premiership. She had not let them forget it and yet gossiping about their fellow students seemed awfully hypocritical.

"It's my final year," Bianca rolled her eyes, "that doesn't matter anymore."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Morgan said slowly.

She, apparently, was the only one.

Maggie, on a solo desk to Morgan's right, was grinning. Jameson, to no one's surprise, was revelling in this new prospect. And finally, to her left, Drew was practically rubbing her hands together in delight. "I have been waiting for this."

Morgan's head snapped to the Ravenclaw. "Just because you're all loved-up does not mean the romance at Hogwarts is worth reporting on." Drew was all about sport, not gossip. Did being in a relationship really make romantic gossip about school that interesting?

Jameson leaned back in his chair, twisting his head to respond on Drew's behalf. "Just because you're not all loved-up does not mean the romance at Hogwarts isn't worth reporting on."

"Shut up, Jameson," Bianca ordered.

"Yeah, shut up, Jameson."

"Ward."

"Sorry."

Bianca then rounded the front desk, leaning up against it, her arms folded in front of her. "The problem is," she sighed, "McGonagall told me that if readership remains at the low point it is right now, Dumbledore might cut the printing expenses from the budget. We need stuff the students will actually read."

"Yeah," Jameson exhaled, "nerd numbers are low at the moment."

"Says the guy that writes for the school newspaper," Maggie pointed out.

"I'm a cool nerd," Jameson retorted defensively.

Bianca now squared in on Morgan, coming to stand right in front of the girl's desk. "Morgan, this is not an option," she said. "I need you to get all the dirt you can on your fellow students and write about it."

Morgan stared up at her Chief Editor with a grimace. "Isn't that like an invasion of privacy?"

"Who gives a fuck?" Maggie chuckled.

"Yeah," Drew agreed. "Hogwarts' gossip is juicy. You'll have a whale of a time."

But if the other three writers were completely on board with this crazy idea, then why on earth was Bianca looking to Morgan to write it? Was she just left with the unprofessional work because her writing wasn't as good as the others?

Morgan slumped in her chair, looking up through her eyebrows at Bianca. "Why me?"

"Because I think this is a great opportunity to put yourself out there," Bianca replied.

Morgan did not like this response. Ever since her breakup with Herbert, this was all she had heard. Pity.

"Because playing Quidditch for the first time in sixteen years wasn't," she retorted.

Bianca was having none of it. "Get writing, Samuels," she ordered before a smirk slowly formed on her face. "Like Drew said, Hogwarts life is juicy as hell."