Chapter 21
No Time Toulouse
The reactions to the first task were mixed and branched into various distinctions. The three real champions were applauded for their outstanding performances and The Quibbler ran a full article detailing how they faced their dragons. The two "chumpions" of Hogwarts, as Ron and Draco were now being referred to, were a different matter altogether.
Ron was unconscious for about a week after the task, due more to the injuries he sustained on his own than from either his transformation or the dragon bite. When the carrot-topped ponce finally did reawaken, he compensated his loss of time by attempting to eat the week's worth of meals he had missed. Despite what had happened in the arena, Ron actually had managed to get his golden egg and complete the task, though it was not through any rational thinking on Ron's part. During the task, as Ron had been running about in a state of blind panic, he had seen the golden egg, and, mistaking it for some sort of snack wrapped in golden foil, he had eaten it whole as a way of calming himself down. As a cruel twist of fate, this was the very thing that had led to Ron's extended stay in the hospital wing as Madam Pomphrey had had no choice but to administer a Flushing Potion as Ron was allergic to Regurgitation Solution. The knowledge of how the egg had been removed from Ron's stomach meant that no one could look at Ron or his golden egg for more than ten seconds before feeling ill.
Draco, however, seemed to think he had done incredibly well and was now strutting up and down the halls as though he had already won the tournament. His father, on the other hand, was now suffering severe nerve damage from the number of Crucios he'd been put under as a result of Draco's failure to get Potter into the tournament; Lucius had sent a letter to his son stating that it was absolutely essential that he follow instructions from the Dark Lord and make sure that Potter would be in that cemetery on the designated date. Draco seemed to brush off his father's concerns, writing back that he would be working on a plan; however, Draco was actually more focused on getting some training so as to ensure his performance at the next task would be even better and had sent a letter out requesting a defense instructor. The instructor, however, a Mr. Samuel Gibbon, was an expert in only one form of defense.
"Evenin', young Malfoy," he said as he strolled into the classroom. "Right, now, self-defense. I'm going to be carrying on from where we got to last week when I was showing how to defend yourself against anyone who attacks you armed with a piece of fresh fruit."
Another unintended consequence of the tournament in regards to Draco is that Pansy Parkinson's family no longer felt that the betrothal agreement between Draco and their daughter was wise as the boy had humiliated himself in front of countless people, including some important people from the Ministry. Pansy's engagement to Draco was broken and Pansy herself was forbidden to interact with Draco outside of the normal exchanges within the classroom. Pansy had been devastated at the time, but one look at the boy she was betrothed to now, Theodore Nott, and all thoughts of Draco flew right out the window.
Unfortunately, not everything was smooth-sailing for Harry and his friends. Harry walked into the Great Hall a few days after the first task and he knew at once that something was wrong. People were reading Witch Weekly and whispering about something. When he sat down with his friends at breakfast, he noticed that they were a member short.
"Where's Daphne?"
Hermione bit her lip and set down a copy of Witch Weekly in front of him.
There was the picture Skeeter had taken that day in Hogsmeade. His image had been blurred, but the faces of the people with him were very clear, especially Daphne's.
We all have heard about the Lord of Hogwarts, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the alleged savior of the Wizarding world, whose name we are not legally able to print without his consent. However, we know very little of his friends. The boy we all know has spent a great deal of time with some very respectable people such as the heir of the Longbottom family, the young heiress of the Bones family, and many others. Some of his friends, on the other hand, are not quite so reputable.
One of these people is a Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl who has allegedly been the young Lord's "best friend" since first year who is almost constantly seen by his side. Miss Granger is from a non-magical family, but exceedingly bright and capable of doing most anything to achieve her goals.
"No one really likes her," said an anonymous source. "She's unappealing and bossy and has to voice her opinion on everything. It drives everyone insane. I will admit that she's smart. Too smart, in fact. Don't know why she's not in Ravenclaw, but I'd guess she's only in Gryffindor to get close to the Boy-Who-Lived."
Then there is a Miss Luna Lovegood, a girl from an old pure-blood family who has the great misfortune of inheriting her father's mental instability. You all will remember that Xenophilius Lovegood is the same man who brought us stories about Fargles and Wiggling Humdlingers and other such nonsense.
"Lovegood has always made a nuisance of herself," said another anonymous source. "She rambles about her idiotic, made-up creatures and I think she spies on people because she says things about them that they've never told anyone."
But the most startling of these friends is Miss Daphne Amalthea Greengrass, heiress to the Greengrass family. Miss Greengrass is not, as she has purported to be, a pure-blood, or even entirely human. Through my brilliant investigative skills, I have discovered a long-hidden secret of the Greengrass family. The current Lady Greengrass, once identified as Amalthea Zabatos, is a Greek whose parents moved to Britain shortly after the fall of Gellert Grindelwald. And the surprises do not stop there; Amalthea Zabatos is the daughter of a Muggle-born wizard, Nikolas Zabatos, and a sea nymph named Eudora.
Sea nymphs have been known throughout history to use their ethereal powers and unnatural good looks to win the affections of unwary young men. One can only hope that such is not the case with the young Lord who has so much of the public's admiration and…
Harry threw the magazine down on the table. How dare that woman?! He knew she was nasty, but this…
"It goes on for quite a while like that," Tracey said. "Daphne got one look at the article and ran out."
"Skeeter is going to pay for this," Harry said. "I should have stopped her before but I didn't want to get my hands dirty."
"You can't sue her, Harry," Hermione said somberly. "She didn't use your name directly and there was no contract preventing her from publishing things about the rest of us."
"There's more than one way to get revenge, but first things first. I have to talk to Daphne."
Harry got up from the table and headed out into the hallway. When he was sure that no one was looking, he pulled out the Marauder's Map and scoured it for Daphne's name. Sure enough, there she was up in the Astronomy tower. Hurrying as fast as he could, Harry made his way up the long staircase. Harry had never seen Daphne cry before, he didn't think that she was able to cry; however, the sounds of quiet sobbing were coming from the figure huddled up in one corner of the tower.
"Go ahead," she said softly, "go ahead and stare. Everyone else did and will continue to."
She turned and looked at Harry; her eyes were somewhat red from crying, but that wasn't the most shocking thing. Harry supposed that those of sea nymph heritage, like veela, could transform when experiencing particularly strong emotions. Daphne's skin, already pale, was now almost clear and had a silvery glint to it, allowing a series of blue spiraling marks to stand out vividly on her face. Her hair, too, had blue streaks running through it.
"You're probably wondering if what Skeeter wrote is true. Well, it is, everything about my family is true." She sniffled slightly and gave a mirthless chuckle. "I'm not fully human. My gran was a sea nymph. That's why I created the whole 'Ice Queen of Slytherin' persona; because, whenever I feel a strong emotion, I turn into this!
"My mother has even less control of it and my gran doesn't have any at all. Even now I'm holding it back. This," she pointed to her face, "this isn't even half of how I really feel about myself right now."
"Daphne," Harry said gently, "do you really think that being partly non-human makes you any less important than anyone in this school? Hey, look at me." He suddenly used his Metamorphmagus power to give himself aqua-colored hair and neon pink eyes. "I've got something that makes me different." He morphed back to normal. "Does that make me any less of a person?"
"It's different for you. You're Harry Potter, after all. Nothing you do could ever be wrong."
"Hey, don't think for one moment that there is anything wrong with you. So, you're part sea nymph. What does that matter outside of making you even more special? You're Daphne Greengrass and that's all that matters."
Harry hadn't expected Daphne to pull him into a sudden kiss right then. The only thing he registered was that it was a very pleasant feeling. He wasn't sure how long they kissed, only that he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her in a comforting manner. Harry had very limited experience comforting girls; in fact, the last girl who kissed him when she'd been crying was Cho in the old timeline, and look how well that turned out.
"I'm sorry," Daphne apologized as she pulled away. "That was far too forward of me and-"
"Daphne," Harry said calmly, "please don't apologize." He put and arm around her shoulder and directed her to the stairs. "Come on, let's go get some breakfast before class starts."
"But! Wait, I'm still in my…other form. People will see-"
Harry Metamorphed so that he looked like a male version of Daphne.
"Then let them see."
As they descended the stairs, something else occurred to Harry.
"Does this have anything to do with why you don't like the Beauxbatons champion?"
"Actually, it kind of does," Daphne said a little sheepishly. "Veela are fire-based creatures and have a long-standing dispute with water creatures like sea nymphs. I was able to sense that she was a veela right from the beginning and, well…"
"Okay, I understand, but please don't judge her solely because of her heritage."
Oh, don't worry about that, Harry, Daphne thought. I'm far more inclined to judge her because she's clearly out to snag you.
As the two walked into the Great Hall, all eyes predictably turned to them. Daphne was a bit unnerved by all the attention, but Harry's presence was definitely reassuring. That's when the clapping started. It began, amazingly, with several people in Slytherin; though it wasn't so surprising when Harry noticed that it was Justine Max, Cedric's girlfriend, who was leading the group. The applause then spread throughout each of the four Houses and amongst the staff and, finally, to many of the visiting students.
As Harry showed Daphne to her seat, someone else entered the Great Hall. It was Astoria, Daphne's little sister.
"I just got here!" the eleven-year-old said. "What's going on?"
Having Winky as her personal elf was a tremendous help for Hermione. As it turned out, both were incredibly strict about neatness and organization; however, Winky turned out to be far more stubborn than Hermione.
"Winky insists Mistress Hermy put down books and finish her dinner," the elf said when Hermione was incredibly absorbed in one of her late-night study sessions.
"I assure you, Winky, I am perfectly-"
"Winky is a good elf and will not let Mistress Hermy strain herself." Winky snapped her fingers and all Hermione's books closed and stack themselves on the shelf, bookmarks securely in the places where Hermione had stopped. "Mistress Hermy will finish her dinner and go to bed so she can be well-rested for end-of-term tests tomorrow."
With a pout on her face, Hermione did what she was told.
Meanwhile, back in Hermione's hometown of Crawley, her parents were in the middle of a very late…appointment with a client.
"Now, Mr. Venderberg, you are going to tell us what we want to know," Dan Granger said, holding up a dental drill. "If you do not, then I am afraid we have ways of…" He stopped for a moment as he was struck by an odd feeling.
"Ways of what, Granger?" the foreign spy demanded.
"Hmm, oh, sorry, I just had the strangest feeling that someone actually managed to get my daughter to go to bed the night before a test."
"I felt it, too, dear," said Emma Granger. "And that person also made Hermione finish her dinner and put away her books."
"FINALLY!" the husband and wife shouted together.
"Now, where were we?" said Dan.
"We were about to show Vanderberg here why it is a bad idea to mess with the British Dental Association," said Emma.
"Ah, of course."
"May I have everyone's attention?!" Professor Babbling shouted as she entered the Gryffindor common room. "Are all the Gryffindors accounted for?"
"Yes, ma'am," said the prefects.
"Good, I have a very important announcement to make. As per a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, there will be a Yule Ball to celebrate the unity of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. The ball was originally planned for Christmas Day; however, the owner of Hogwarts," she threw a brief look at Harry, "did not want this to interfere with your Christmas holidays. Therefore, it will take place from eight o'clock until midnight the day before you are scheduled to depart. The dance is officially open to all those in fourth year and up, those below may attend if invited by an upper year.
"All those students who wish to remain at school will please check in with Deputy Headmistress McGonagall.
"Thank you. You are dismissed." Now came the part that Babbling was dreading. "Mr. Ronald Weasley, a word if you please?"
Ron slouched forward.
"Weasley, the champions and their partners-"
"What partners?" Ron asked.
"Partners for the Yule Ball of course. As a champion, you will be expected to bring a date and open the Ball with the first dance."
"Oh, sure, no problem. I'm a champion, after all. What woman wouldn't want to go with me?"
Bathsheba raised an eyebrow. She was sincerely hoping that stupidity wasn't contagious; otherwise Weasley was sure to start an epidemic. It just so happened that Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, the most notorious gossips in Hogwarts, had overheard this exchange and word spread that Weasley and Malfoy would be in need of dates. The warning reached all corners of the school in a matter of hours and girls instantly began scrambling for dates.
Harry, meanwhile, was in a deep quandary about who to ask to the Yule Ball. He was certain he should ask one of the girls in his close group of friends; the question was 'who should he choose?' Harry, despite being from the future, was still very much the nervous teenage boy who didn't want to hurt anybody's feelings or make one of his friends feel left out. Luckily for Harry, his rescue from the situation came from Luna Lovegood.
Luna, who already knew how things were going to work out, had called together the other five girls. Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, Fay, and Susan were rather surprised when the young Ravenclaw asked them to meet her privately in the Room of Requirements, and even more surprised when she knew that they all were not interested in going to the ball with anyone other than Harry. Luna, however, devised a solution that made all the girls sigh in relief. They accosted Harry after the last board meeting of the term with their request.
"Harry, we've been talking," Hermione started. "The six of us have mutually agreed that you are the only boy in the school we would even consider going to the ball with."
"We were wondering, if you want to, of course, if you would consider going with all of us as a group?" Susan continued. "That way, we can spend a nice evening with a decent bloke and you don't end up having to go to the ball with some crazy fangirl."
"It doesn't even technically have to count as a date," Fay added. "We can just go as friends if you want."
Harry wanted to drop to his knees and thank God, or whatever Supreme Being it was who decided his fate, that his friends had made this particular decision for him. Of course, Harry, as articulate as ever, simply replied with a "Sure, whatever you want" and was immediately tackled in grateful hugs by the six girls.
"Of course, you know, if you hadn't accepted then two of us might have been forced to go with Malfoy or Weasley," said Daphne, sending disgusted shudders through the group.
"You think that's bad?" said Tracey. "My parents wanted me to go with Goyle to the ball."
"How could parents ever inflict that on their daughter?" said Fay.
"My parents are intending to arrange a betrothal between me and Goyle." Tracey looked faintly ill. "The only way I could hope to get out of it is if they think I have a better prospect. Of course, Mother frequently reminds me that my 'pretty face won't last forever.'"
"You're fourteen," Hermione said in shock. "How could they be pushing you like that?"
"My parents have a bit of an age gap. About thirty years to be precise. Mother was sixteen and still in school when she got married."
The others looked outraged, though Daphne simply had a dark expression as this was something Tracey had already told her.
"Don't worry, Trace," Harry said. "I promise you that will not happen to you."
Tracey gave a grateful smile, though she doubted that he'd be able to do anything that would help outside of marrying her himself.
Harry made his way into Gryffindor common room after taking a turn about the castle to admire the beautiful Christmas decorations. As soon as he walked in, Harry realized that history had decided to repeat itself again. Ronald Weasley was sitting, ashen-faced, in one of the armchairs being comforted by his sister. Already guessing what had happened, Harry decided to ask about it.
"What's with him?" he said.
"He just asked Fleur Delacour to the ball," Ginny replied. Then, realizing it was Harry, she straightened herself up and tried her best to look flirtatiously at him.
"And?"
"Well, 'asked' is a relative term," Fred piped up.
"Bloody making a mess is a more apt description," George added.
"This poncy git decided it was wise to just march up to a quarter-veela, say how 'lucky' she was that he was asking her out, and then slap her on the derriere."
"Let's just say that dear ronnikins is lucky to still be alive right now."
"Does he even realize what he did counts as sexual harassment?" Harry asked.
The twins burst out laughing.
"That's a good one, Harry!"
"Yeah, for a moment there I thought you were serious."
"He's not Sirius, I'm Sirius," said Harry's godfather as he entered the room. "Hey, Harry."
"Hey, Padfoot."
"Got something I need to give to you. Won't take a sec."
Harry followed him outside and was immediately grabbed in a hug.
"Harry, I'm so proud of you!" Sirius said.
"Uh…what?"
"Scoring a date with six gorgeous young witches is exactly the type of thing that I'm hoping to encourage. Now, I assume each of these ladies will be wearing different dresses, correct?"
"Uh, yeah?" Harry was confused where this was going.
"Then I think it's time to give you this." He handed Harry a large, wrapped package. "It's a special set of dress robes that automatically change tie and trim color to match the outfit of the lady you're dancing with and not cause you to look like a prat. I tell ya, this type of dress robe saved me on a number of occasions."
"That's great, Sirius, how'd you get it?"
"Your grandpa Charlus actually developed it. Before he married my great-aunt Dorea, he was a bit of a ladies' man and, well, he liked to look sharp."
"Thanks, Sirius, this will be really helpful. Oh, I'm guessing you're inviting Bathsheba as your date to the ball?"
Sirius got a giddy smile on his face. Harry wished him well and reentered the common room where he was greeted by Ginny Weasley.
"By the way, Harry, I was wondering if you'd like to go to the ball with me," she said, as if she expected him to instantly want to go with her.
"Uh, sorry, Ginny, but I've already…"
"Great! I'll meet you down here at eight o'clock tomorrow evening!" She then rushed up to her dorm room leaving an incredulous Harry behind.
"How could anyone be this dense?" he said to himself. He then threw a look at the nearly catatonic Ron. "Oh…that explains a lot."
Ron did manage to break from his stupor by the next day. Unfortunately (though that depends on your point of view), he wasn't able to find a date anywhere. He wasn't the only one, though, as Draco was shocked to discover that not one, single girl would even consider going with him. Both boys brought their complaints to the Deputy Headmistress; oddly enough, they both came at the same time and started trying to shout their problems louder than each other.
"QUIET!" McGonagall yelled and both boys instantly shut up. "You both were unable to find dates to the ball?"
"It's a conspiracy to make me look bad, Professor," said Ron.
"I know it's all Potter's doing," said Draco.
"I even asked that French veela, but she turned me down for some reason."
"Pansy won't even talk to me anymore. She just follows Nott around like a lost puppy."
Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose in thought and tried to remember if there was a contingency plan for this sort of thing in the Triwizard rulebook. That was when she remembered that there was on page 666, subdivision 13, passage 4.
"There is a solution to this problem," she said and both boys stared at her expectantly. "According to the rules for protocol in relation to the Triwizard Yule Ball, if two of the champions are unable to find suitable dates then they must go with each other."
Once both boys had allowed that information to sink in, they promptly fell in dead faints to the floor.
"I think they took that well."
On the day of the ball, Hermione and Luna had invited the girls to the Founders' Quarters (with Harry's permission, of course) so that they could get ready; Susan had even invited Hannah along as the other Hufflepuff girl was going as Neville's date. The girls had decided to use Helga Hufflepuff's old rooms to get ready as, a few days earlier, Hermione and Luna had discovered an interesting secret about the Hogwarts foundress. Helga Hufflepuff had, apparently, been very interested in designing clothes and had an entire closet full of gowns and jewelry that she herself had made and placed under a Stasis Charm so that they were in the same condition as when she was last in the room.
"Lady Hufflepuff certainly didn't want for taste," Daphne commented as she examined a particularly lovely gown of silvery velvet.
"Looks like she designed clothes for all the ladies at Hogwarts," Hermione said, looking at sketches the late foundress had made, each of which bore the name of the woman who had inspired the design.
"Hermione, this would look lovely on you," Hannah said, pulling out an elegant, periwinkle blue gown.
"Ladies, I think we are going to dominate this ball," said Susan.
Three hours and a whole lot of anxious pacing outside the Founders' Quarters later, Harry and Neville looked up to see the group of beautiful young ladies emerge.
Hermione was wearing the dress of periwinkle blue, just like in the old timeline, only this one looked considerably better on her; she was also wearing a necklace and earrings made out of a dark, purple stone that definitely complimented the outfit. Luna was wearing a midnight blue gown with a bronze-colored shawl; Harry noticed the fabric glittered slightly when the light hit it. Daphne was wearing a silver dress that reminded Harry distinctly of his Invisibility Cloak, and had fastened her hair up in an elegant knot which was ornamented by a single, white lily. Tracey was wearing a dark purple gown that had a distinctly Roman style to it, including a white stola draped across her left shoulder. Fay's dress looked decidedly, for lack of a better word, Gryffindorish; a scarlet robe with gold embroidery and garnet necklace made her look like the female personification of her House. Susan had also opted for wearing something bearing her House's colors; an empire-waisted dress of honey-yellow with black trim.
Neville also seemed taken with his own date's attire. Hannah was dressed in a silky dress of pale blue that matched her eyes and fit nicely on her slender frame.
"Were the three hours worth it?" Hermione asked.
"Definitely worth it," the boys agreed together.
"Shall we?" Neville said, offering his arm to Hannah.
"We shall," the girls agreed.
Harry had to escort three girls on either arm, but he felt perfectly comfortable with it as he knew all those girls were his friends, people he could trust with his life, rather than some last-minute date he'd barely said two words to in his entire life.
The group happily made their way down to the Great Hall where they were greeted by many interested looks, some of which were more unpleasant than others. Harry noticed early on that there were several people who did not look at all pleased by Harry's choice of date…er, dates. Cho Chang was among them, having been one of the more aggressive persuants of Harry's attention when everyone was vying for partners; she had ended up with Zacharias Smith as her date after Harry had turned her away.
There were, on the other hand, many people who looked as though they couldn't be happier with the way things were at that point in time. Harry saw Cedric Diggory and Justine Max happily chatting with several students from Durmstang, clearly taking the opportunity to make some new friends. Harry also noticed Viktor Krum with a Hogwarts girl that Harry had seen before but only knew by name and because she was a Beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, a very tall and quiet seventh-year named Iris Moon. Viktor and Iris actually seemed to be fairly well-matched as both stood quietly in a corner of the entrance hall away from the prying eyes of the other students.
"All of you, into the Great Hall," Professor McGonagall instructed.
As Harry, Neville, and the girls entered the ballroom, Harry glanced back when he heard McGonagall address Malfoy and Ron who had clearly just arrived. Harry tried to see what unfortunate girls they had brought as their dates but he didn't see anyone and didn't have time as his companions shuffled him off to the side to wait for the ball to start.
Everyone cleared away from the entrance as the great, oak doors swung open and the champions processed in. Cedric and Justine led the way, followed by Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies, then came Viktor Krum and Iris Moon, and lastly…Ron and Malfoy? Everyone shook their heads, not fully certain if they were actually seeing what they thought they saw. Sure enough, there was Ron, in his old, tattered dress robes, and Malfoy in his expensive, black velvet robes. Both boys looked absolutely miserable and threw glares at each other. When the two boys caught sight of Harry Potter and his six dates, it seemed like the two extra champions would explode with envy.
The magical community might have its prejudices, but they were slightly more open-minded towards same-sex relations (as long as any pure-bloods involved eventually obtained a respectable pure-blood spouse of the opposite sex with which they could produce heirs). In this situation, the students were not laughing because two boys were attending the ball as partners, rather they were laughing at the fact that it was these specific boys who were attending as partners.
Once everyone had taken their seats, the feast began.
"So, what are we going to do about dancing?" Harry asked his lovely companions.
"We've managed to work out a schedule together," said Hermione, producing a piece of paper with a carefully planned timetable drawn up. "We reached an agreement and decided that I am getting the first dance with you. After that, it will be Tracey's turn. Then Daphne, then Susan, then Fay. Luna asked to go last as she said she is not overly interested in dancing."
"However," Luna spoke up, "I do want a goodnight kiss at the end of the evening."
"Um, sure, Luna," said Harry.
The little Ravenclaw smiled brightly.
"You will be allowed a ten minute break between each dance, Harry," Hermione continued. "We don't want you getting overtaxed."
"At least, not yet," Tracey whispered to Daphne and the two bit back giggles.
"Guys, whatever you do, don't look up at the head table," Neville said, looking slightly green.
"Why?" said Harry.
"Ron's eating."
Sure enough, Ronald Weasley, Triwizard champion, was scarfing down plate after plate of food as if there were no tomorrow. The other people at the table looked positively disgusted, especially Ron's "date."
"Weasley," Draco hissed angrily. "Stop embarrassing me and use your cutlery."
"Piss off, Malfoy," Ron replied, accidentally splattering food-stuffs on Draco as he spoke.
Draco, meanwhile, was inwardly planning how he would get his revenge for this indignity when the Dark Lord returned to power. Oh, he'd make them all pay. He'd especially get back at Potter as Draco knew this was all scarhead's fault. He then turned to look at Daphne Greengrass, looking positively radiant in her formal attire, and Draco grinned maliciously. Even if she was some mixed-breed, Daphne was still a very attractive girl; maybe he'd ask the Dark Lord to give her to him as his concubine in return for his brilliant efforts in aiding his master's return. For now, Draco had to put up with the unfairness that was his current situation.
While Ron stuffed large quantities of food down his gullet, he caught sight of Hermione sitting next to Harry, dressed up in all her finery, and another wave of envy hit him. Hermione was one of the many girls who had, for some reason, turned down his invitation to the ball. This was so unfair! Harry not only got six gorgeous girls as his dates, he also got the one girl Ron was certain would be so desperate she couldn't possibly turn him down. Ron kept thinking furiously about how he would get back at his former best friend for this unwarranted, in Ron's opinion, betrayal. It wasn't that Ron had thought Hermione was particularly attractive (until tonight, of course, because she just looked drop-dead gorgeous right now), it was just that his mother had told him Hermione was a decent girl who wouldn't turn him down and would be more than happy to help him with his schoolwork.
Fleur Delacour was currently proclaiming, rather loudly, the inadequacies of Hogwarts to her drooling date.
"Zis is nothing," she said pompously. "At ze palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey never melt, of course…zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like zat." She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.
Harry and his friends shook their heads. Harry remembered very clearly how obnoxious Fleur had been at first in the old timeline, though he had largely forgotten about it after she got engaged to Bill. Come to think of it, she had still been rather obnoxious up until Bill was attacked by Fenrir Greyback and she showed that she wasn't as shallow a person as everyone assumed. Right now, however, Fleur's impolite comments about Hogwarts were annoying a great many people.
Dumbledore was also one of the people at the ball who were not particularly happy. Things were definitely not looking up for him, especially since the ban on love potions. He needed Harry to fall for Ginny Weasley so that he could get control over Harry, not to mention the boy's fortune. In the meantime, the old man was having a great deal of trouble thinking up who would serve as Draco's and Ronald's hostages. Dumbledore glanced over at the two boys and something about them struck him; for some reason, the two reminded him of himself and Gellert at around that age (though nowhere near as intelligent of course), and it prompted a moment of nostalgia for the aged headmaster.
"Albus…Albus!"
"Hmm? What is it, Minerva?"
"You're supposed to call for the champions to start the dance."
"Oh! Yes, of course. Thank you for reminding me." Dumbledore stood up and smiled at the students. "Will you all please rise?!" he called out, waving his wand so that the tables shot to the sides of the hall. "Champions, please take your places for the first dance!"
As the music started, the four couples began to dance. Well, three out of four, at least. Draco and Ron were doing something more akin to a fight than dancing.
"I told you, Weasley, I'm leading!"
"No way, ferret-face! I'm leading!"
"ME!"
"NO, ME!"
Everyone largely ignored the two as other couples made their way onto the dance floor. Harry took Hermione's hand and gave her a gentle twirl as they began their waltz. When the students had taken up their places, the faculty joined in. Sirius led Bathsheba, who was dressed in bright, gold robes that clung to her curves in just the right places, out onto the floor, followed closely by Remus and Tonks, who had developed a close bond over the course of the term. Even Mr. Stearns was showing off his dance moves with Professor Burbage as his partner.
As the first song ended, Harry led Hermione back to their table and took Tracey by the hand, noticing that his dress robes had changed their color scheme from the periwinkle blue they had been when he'd danced with Hermione to a dark purple that matched Tracey's gown.
Soon enough, that song also ended and Harry was given his ten minute break. He and Tracey joined the others at the table and took a grateful sip of butterbeer.
"Excuse me," came a voice. They all turned to see Viktor Krum standing there with his date. "Herm-my-own-ninny?"
"Hermione," the girl corrected.
"Yes, I just vish to thank you again for introducing me to Iris," he said.
Iris gave a small smile at Hermione before glancing back at Viktor.
"I vasn't sure if I vould be able to find someone here who vas not blinded by my fame enough to be good company this evening."
"Well, you are both very welcome," said Hermione. When Viktor Krum had asked her out a few days ago, she had politely declined but had also decided to help the Bulgarian Seeker find another girl to accompany him to the ball. The girl she introduced him to was currently standing shyly beside him.
Viktor then turned to Harry.
"You are Harry Potter, correct?"
"Yes, and you're Viktor Krum." The two boys shook hands.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard your story many times in my own country. You are quite well-respected there."
"I am?"
"Yes. The Dark Lord you defeated is considered worse than Grindelwald, and my people hated Grindelwald for what he did."
"Really?"
"Yes. We are also grateful that your headmaster killed Grindelwald for what he did to our country."
"Um, actually, the headmaster didn't kill him."
"Vot? But he vas defeated."
"Dumbledore just had Grindelwald locked up in Nurmengard. Dumbles over there couldn't deal with the thought of killing his old boyfriend."
The color drained out of Viktor's face before a dark shade of red overtook it.
"If you vill excuse me, I haff a letter I need to send immediately." He gave his date a quick kiss on the hand. "I vill return shortly, Iris."
Harry watched Viktor leave and head in the direction of the Owlery. He had a funny feeling he had stirred up trouble abroad by revealing what he had, luckily it wasn't trouble for him, but Dumbledore would soon be finding himself persona non grata in Bulgaria and several other countries in the Balkans and further up in central Europe.
The music for the next dance had begun and Harry was about to lead Daphne onto the dance floor when someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Fleur Delacour, smiling at him in a suggestive way.
"Pardon moi," she said. "Are you 'arrie Potter?"
"Yes, that would be me," he said.
"I was wondering if you would like to share zis next dance with me." Harry could feel the Veela Allure coming off of her and shook himself.
"Thank you, but I have already promised the next dance to this lovely lady here." He indiacted towards Daphne, who was scowling heavily at the French girl.
Fleur and Daphne locked gazes, eyes boring heavily into each other. Fleur had seen the other girl enter the Great Hall that day in her true form and had been highly disgusted. The little quarter-nymph had appeared in near complete transformation in front of everyone, and they had applauded her for it; Fleur would certainly never debase herself by appearing in her own other form.
"Are you certain I might not have zis dance, 'arrie?" Fleur asked again, cranking up the allure.
Harry felt Daphne squeeze his hand and shook his head.
"I do not think that it is customary to offer a dance to a man whose castle you were so vehemently insulting earlier," Harry said.
"Pardon moi?"
"Hogwarts is under my jurisdiction and I do not appreciate it when people make fun of it. I am afraid I must decline your offer, and any future offers. Good evening, mademoiselle."
Daphne shot a smug grin at Fleur as Harry continued to lead her onto the dance floor. Fleur was looking outraged.
How dare that little trollop steal my prey? Fleur thought furiously. A man with that kind of money and power deserves someone better than water-dwelling trash like her! I'll make her pay for this!
"That was impressive," said Daphne as she and Harry moved about the floor. "Most guys can't fight off Veela Allure. Usually it takes the presence of a soulmate or the boy has to have a great deal of love for another to resist."
"It wasn't too hard," Harry replied. "You being there certainly helped."
Daphne felt a blush in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled a bit.
The evening wound down as Harry proceeded to give each of the girls a dance. Luna was the most interesting to dance with as she seemed to move to music in her own head rather than what was playing and her moves more closely resembled a polka than the slow waltz, but Harry played along and made sure to oblige Luna with her goodnight kiss when it was over.
Ron and Draco had, after the humiliation of the first dance, attempted to get a dance with a pretty witch, only to be turned down at every corner. Both boys spent the remainder of the night sulking at the back of the hall. They weren't the only ones who'd had a miserable evening; up in Gryffindor Tower, Ginny was ranting and raving to whoever was still there about how Harry had stood her up.
Chapter 22
Get on With the Spiel
Everyone awoke the next morning and readied themselves for their return home, except for the two or three students who had to stay behind, and headed down to the train station. Harry and his friends piled into a compartment together and began discussing what they were going to do for holiday. Tracey had been upset because Daphne and her family would be visiting relatives in Greece for Christmas which meant Tracey had to go to her own home that year; luckily, Hermione had offered her a place to stay much to Tracey's relief. Neville had invited everyone to a party at Longbottom Manor the day after Christmas, something which everyone was most enthusiastic about. Conversation soon turned to the subject of revenge against Skeeter for her article.
"I just can't sit by and let her get away with trying to hurt you all," Harry insisted.
"It's all right, Harry," Daphne assured him. "I'm not ashamed of my heritage, at least not after our little talk."
"Skeeter was just being petty," Hermione added. "I just wish I knew who those 'anonymous sources' of hers were."
"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Harry muttered. "What about you, Luna? Skeeter insulted you and your father by questioning your sanity."
"It's okay, Harry; I'm used to it," said Luna calmly. "Ravenclaws say I'm mad, people around where I live say I'm mad…well, I am mad, but I'm naturally mad. I don't use any chemicals," she added firmly.
Everyone blinked at her a few times.
"Well, if you guys aren't interested in revenge, then what am I going to do with this?" Harry said holding up a glass jar.
"What is that, Harry?" asked Fay.
"Everyone, meet Rita Skeeter." Harry smirked as he pointed out the fat beetle inside the jar. "Found her scurrying around the school."
"You mean she's…?"
"An unregistered Animagus, yes. Thought this would be a nice little gift for you all."
A bunch of evil smirks graced the faces of the students. After coming up with a bunch of ideas on what to do with their captive, it was decided that they would simply send her to the DMLE; though they were tempted by the suggestion of feeding Rita to Daphne's sister Astoria's pet spider, Eric (why Astoria had a pet spider was anyone's guess; why the spider's name was 'Eric' was even more of a mystery).
Ideas for revenge against the tabloid-writer aside, they continued their conversation in a more cheerful vain; in other words, talking about their plans for the holiday.
"I'm spending most of my Christmas planning more reforms," Harry stated glumly. "I still need to institute more courses at Hogwarts like Maths and English. For some reason I'm finding it harder to find teachers for those subjects than for any of the other ones. Then I have to figure out how to restructure the Ministry of Magic and get rid of some of the stupid, outdated laws and practices."
"The first and most important thing you have to do is find a way to get rid of the incompetents who only got where they are because of who their parents were," Daphne explained.
"I'm sure Aunt Amelia would be more than willing to help you on that, Harry," said Susan. "She's always complaining when she gets a bunch of new recruits in the Auror corps who can't figure out the right way to hold their wands."
The usual interruption in the form of either Malfoy or Ron was deterred by the fact that both boys happened to arrive at exactly the same time and ended up getting into a brawl outside the compartment. The passengers inside the compartment had thought to put up muffling spells so as not to be disturbed by any noises from outside.
Eventually, the scarlet steam engine pulled into King's Cross just as Harry was elaborating his latest plan for magical education reform.
"…I'm just saying, it doesn't seem right to leave magical children waiting for eleven years to find out. Those in Muggle families will just think there's something wrong with them and they'll possibly even be mistreated by family members for a supposed 'abnormality' while those in magical families are subjected to all sorts of indignities by their relatives in order to force accidental magic out of them."
"Harry, we're here," said Hermione.
"What? So we are. I guess I'll see you all later. Happy Christmas."
Harry bid farewell to his friends and joined up with his caregivers. As he left the station, Harry began to wonder what had become of the Dursleys after he'd left Vernon to possibly suffer from a heart-attack at the beginning of last summer. Oh well, Harry thought, if something horrific ended up happening to them it would be no skin off his nose.
It just so happened that the Dursleys were not doing so well lately. After his heart-attack, Vernon had ended up missing an important dinner with some wealthy investors and had lost the chance at a promotion. Also, the stipend his family had been receiving over the years to care for the "freak" had stopped coming in; in fact, it seemed that they were now swamped with debt. Following that, some of the neighbors became suspicious of the sudden disappearance of the Dursleys' nephew and many rumors were being bandied about.
Then there was that new gang in town. How it happened the Dursleys weren't sure; just that once it became clear that Harry Potter would no longer be living at Privet Drive, old Mrs. Figg had invited some of her Knitting Club friends over and the lot of them had started riding around the neighborhood on motorcycles and beating up the young men who would likely have been in regular motorcycle gangs (Dudley suffered the worst of it as he was the fattest and slowest of his little buddies). The gang didn't do much other than that, except for their odd habit of stealing telephone kiosks.
Vernon was just getting home after a long day's work, wondering how his life had turned up so rotten, when he was suddenly struck by a van filled with French tourists.
"And on your right, you will see ze typical English pig-dog 'oo does not look where 'e is going," the tour guide said in a nasally voice, prompting jeers and taunts from the other French tourists.
If anyone from Hogwarts had been there during the incident, that person would've sworn that the French persons in the van bore a distinct resemblance to the painting of the rude French knights; though that was surely just coincidence. Right?
Draco Malfoy had been quite surprised when he was met at the train station, not by his mother, but by one of his father's old friends.
"Hello, Draco."
"Good day, Mr. Yaxley, why are you here?"
"I'm afraid you won't be able to go home for a while, Draco."
"Why not? And where's my mother?"
"How do I put this?" Yaxley tried to think of the best way to explain things to the boy but settled on simply handing him the letter his mother had sent. "This was sent to your father."
Draco opened the letter and began to read.
Dear Lucius,
I am sorry to tell you this, well not really, but I have requested permission from Lord Black to have our marriage dissolved. You have brought shame and disgrace on the noble family you once allied yourself with by lowering yourself to serving some bastard who calls himself a Dark Lord. Furthermore, you have allowed that pitiful excuse for a son of ours to run around and whine whenever things don't go his way. I've had enough.
Goodbye and sod off,
Sincerely,
Narcissa Cassiopeia Black
Draco gawped for a few moments before becoming absolutely furious.
"How dare she disgrace the Malfoy family like this?!" he shouted. "Where is she?! Where is that pathetic excuse of a mother of mine?!"
"Last I heard, she was enjoying the benefits of being a wealthy, single woman on the beaches of southern France," Yaxley explained with a shrug. "Unfortunately for you, Draco, I'm afraid that you won't be able to go home to Malfoy Manor."
"What? Why not? When my father-"
"It seems that your father put the deed to Malfoy Manor in your mother's name in order to avoid property taxes and she sort of sold it to Gringotts before she left."
Draco stood there in shock. Yaxley then leaned down and whispered to the boy.
"At least you'll still be able to be around your father," he said quietly, hoping there weren't any Aurors nearby. "I managed to get you a Portkey to his location. Here." He handed Draco a pocket watch. "It'll reactivate when it's time for you to go back to school."
"Thanks, Mr. Yaxley," Draco said with a haughty grin. "It's nice to know that real purebloods are still looking out for each other."
As Draco and his luggage disappeared with a flash, Yaxley let out a sigh of relief.
"At least it's him that's going to get crucioed by the Dark Lord this time and not me."
Tracey wasn't sure what to expect when she was introduced to Hermione's parents; they'd only met in passing at the New Year's party at Harry's manor last year, though Tracey got the impression that they were very decent people. This was different, though; Tracey would be spending about two weeks in the Muggle world, a place she had no more than a faint familiarity with. Tracey fidgeted awkwardly as Hermione greeted her mother.
"Where's Dad?" Hermione asked.
"He had an appointment with Mr. Stapleton from up the street," Emma Granger explained.
"Isn't he the man who runs the bookshop? The one who's always telling people to get out and go to a different bookshop?"
"Yes."
Hermione's face darkened; Mr. Stapleton had refused to sell her any books every time she went in and had simply ushered her out of the shop. She hoped her father had forgotten to give the man the courtesy of anesthetic before putting him under the drill. No one keeps Hermione Granger from her precious books!
"This must be your friend Tracey. Hello, dear, I'm Dr. Emma Granger."
The two shook hands.
"Doctor?" said Tracey nervously. "Aren't those the Muggle Healers who cut people up?"
Emma chuckled.
"No, I'm a Dentist. I take care of people's teeth."
Tracey nodded, but was still a little anxious.
"Well, come on, girls," said Emma Granger. "We should be home just in time for afternoon tea."
Tracey had never ridden in a car before; she'd never even taken the Knight Bus because her parents considered it a low-class form of transport. Tracey had to repress a wince when she thought of her parents; if they knew she was staying with Muggles…she didn't even want to think of what they would do.
"Here we are," Emma said as she pulled into the driveway of an upscale suburban home.
They entered the house just in time to see Dan Granger walk in from the office, which was adjacent to the house, dressed in his uniform and wiping off several of his surgical tools.
"How'd your appointment with Mr. Stapleton go?" asked Emma Granger.
"Very well, I think," said Dan. "He was being uncooperative at first, but I managed to make the importance of proper oral hygiene clear."
Tracey looked somewhat ill.
"Oh, do we have another customer?" said Dan Granger with a look at Tracey.
"No, dear, this is Tracey, one of Hermione's friends from school," Emma said hastily.
"Alright, then. Oh, Emma, my sister is stopping by with her daughters tomorrow."
"Aw, Dan, you know I loathe your sister."
"I do, too, but family is family."
Emma gave an indignant 'hmph.' Her sister-in-law was one of the most unpleasant individuals she had ever met and those two daughters of hers were just as bad. Nothing like that in her family; just good, decent dentistry folks in her family. Emma prided herself on her long family history in the dental profession; even her American uncle (who disappeared some time in the sixties under mysterious circumstances) was a well-respected dentist who provided affordable dental care to the poor people living in skid row.
"Hermione, why don't you show your friend around?" said Dan Granger. "Your mother and I need to have a quick word with Mr. Stapleton before he leaves."
"Okay, Daddy." Hermione led the anxious Tracey upstairs.
The two Granger parents entered the room where their 'patient' was strapped into the chair.
"Well, Mr. Stapleton, are you willing to talk yet?" said Dan.
"I'm telling you, I don't know anything!" the man pleaded.
"Wrong answer," said Emma as she reached for the drill. This would teach him to throw her out of the bookstore when she was looking for a copy of "An Illustrated History of False Teeth." The unabridged version, of course.
Neville had returned home to Longbottom Manor and, after a brief afternoon tea with his grandmother, headed straight to the greenhouse to continue his research. For much of the year, Neville had been working on a project that he'd devised after reading the book on Floraloqus that Harry had given him last year in addition to what he'd learned after putting his new talent into practice. Neville had learned, after using plant-speaking, that there were many plants with mind-restorative properties that, if combined correctly, could very well end in a tremendous success for his endeavor.
After a few hours, he went off in search of an owl to send his findings to a proper authority on potions.
Arthur Weasley was not expecting his children's return from Hogwarts to involve his two youngest ranting and raving about how Harry Potter was ruining their lives. Ron seemed to be under the impression that Harry had conspired to ensure he wouldn't be able to find a date to the Yule Ball, forcing him to attend with Malfoy. Ginny, on the other hand, was sobbing her eyes out that a group of sluts had stolen "her Harry" away, making him forget to take her to the ball; this was followed by the girl running upstairs to her room.
Arthur let out a patient sigh and asked the twins what had happened. Fred and George both assured him that Harry was merely escorting a group of his closest female friends to the ball because he didn't want to hurt any of their feelings by only choosing one of them and had never actually made any promise to take Ginny.
As evening wore on and everyone went to their separate spaces, Arthur sat across from Molly in the living room.
"Mollywobbles, is there something wrong with Ron and Ginny?" he said.
"What?" she exclaimed, aghast. "Why on earth would you even ask such a thing?"
"It's just that, well…Ron seems to think that Harry is trying to ruin his life just because of a dispute that, from what I've heard, it seems Ron started."
"Well, friendships often have their little ups and downs, I'm sure dear Harry and Ronald will soon forget their little spat and go back to where they were before."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. He seriously doubted Harry and Ron would ever be as close as they once were from what he'd been hearing. Arthur pressed on.
"And Ginny…she's, well, she seems to have it in her head that Harry is her boyfriend, or will be, regardless of the fact that he doesn't seem to have shown any interest in her at all…ever."
"It's only a matter of time, Arthur. I'm sure Harry will realize that Ginny is a perfect match for him. After all, don't you think they would look just like another version of James and Lily?"
Arthur had to fight back a retort that Harry was not James and Ginny was most definitely nothing like Lily except a slight similarity in appearance. The way Molly was going on it sounded as if she assumed Harry would automatically be attracted to Ginny based solely on how she looked. Arthur winced slightly; why, oh, why hadn't he listened to his mother's advice and married that nice, quiet, non-interfering, Muggle-born witch from Suffolk he'd dated before he became interested in Molly? But noooo, he had to do things his way (or, rather, Molly's way as she was the one who'd practically hounded him into marriage); at least Abigail had actually listened to his opinions rather than browbeating him into just agreeing with everything she said.
"Molly, I'm trying to talk about something I feel is important," he said firmly. "I don't think Harry and Ron are going to patch things up and I also don't think it's healthy for Ginny to obsess over Harry when his feelings clearly lie elsewhere."
Molly looked up from her knitting and glared at her husband.
"Arthur, go get me some tea," she said indignantly.
"What? But, I was just-"
"Now."
Arthur's shoulders slumped and he walked towards the kitchen. As he left the room, he shot a brief glance up at his mother's portrait; Cedrella Weasley looked down sympathetically at her son and mouthed the words "I told you so."
Draco Malfoy was currently enduring the worst Christmas holiday he'd ever experienced. At first he'd thought that serving the Dark Lord would be great; the rage-driven Crucio he'd received for his incompetence had killed that idea stone dead. When he'd complained to his father, the man just told him to shut up and deal with it like a man (and then cry about it late at night like a little girl).
"Listen up, you idiotic fools!" the baby-like form of the Dark Lord hissed. "I have figured out a way for Dorko over here to make up for his blunders and get Potter to be here for the ritual."
As Voldemort launched into his overly-complicated and extremely convoluted plan, no one was aware they were being observed by a green-eyed peregrine falcon outside the window.
Caitlin and Roslyn were Hermione's cousins; fourteen and fifteen years old, respectively. Both were tall, almost at an anorexic level of skinniness, had dyed their brown hair blonde, and wore clothing that showed way too much cleavage. For years, these two had relentlessly tormented and harassed their bookworm cousin; some of the things they did could just be downright sadistic and outright abusive. Their mother, Priscilla, seemed to think her precious daughters could do no wrong and always turned the other way when it came to their treatment of Hermione.
So, it goes without saying that Hermione was not pleased to have them visit. Tracey was certainly not impressed by the girls; so far, she had had a very positive impression from the Muggle world, but these people were not on her list of good aspects.
Once the adults had left the four girls alone, Caitlin and Roslyn immediately lashed into Hermione.
"Looks like Herman's parents finally decided to buy her a friend," Caitlin sneered.
"Obviously," Roslyn added. "I mean, it's not like beaver-face could ever actually find people who like her."
The two snickered pretentiously.
Hermione, however, was not going to let their insults get to her like when she was younger. She'd seen things that normal people didn't even know existed; her cousins were nothing but arrogant little twits with delusions of grandeur after what Hermione had experienced.
"You both keep talking but all I hear from you is 'blah, blah, blah,'" Hermione said calmly. "Your insults are clearly too juvenile and unimaginative for someone of my intelligence to regard as anything more than nonsensical yammering. Come on, Tracey, I want to show you around town."
Caitlin and Roslyn just stood there, red-faced, as their former favorite punching-bag walked out arm-in-arm with her friend.
Sirius was currently pacing outside the doors of the main sitting room of Potter Manor, thinking what he was going to say to the beautiful witch waiting for him inside. Harry and Remus watched him with growing impatience.
"Just go in there and ask her," Harry said.
"I can't!" Sirius exclaimed. "I don't have the faintest clue what I'm doing. What if she says 'no'? What if she says 'yes'?"
"You love her, don't you?" said Remus.
"Yes, of course!"
"Then get your sorry arse in there and ask her to marry you," the most mild-mannered of the werewolf said firmly.
"You don't get it, Moony!"
"No, you don't get it that if you don't stop whining and get in thereright now I am going to…I will…I will cut off your squeaky-toy supplies for a month!"
"You wouldn't!"
Remus grabbed his friend by the front of his shirt.
"Then get in there," he growled and tossed his old buddy into the doors, which swung open to admit him to a very astonished Bathsheba Babbling.
"Squeaky-toy supplies?" Harry inquired quietly.
"Don't ask," Remus replied, shaking his head.
The doors of the room closed behind him and Sirius straightened himself out.
"Ehem, Bathsheba, there's something I want to ask you," Sirius said nervously.
"I'm listening."
"We've known each other for quite some time, and I feel like we've got a…special connection…"
Outside the room, Harry and Remus were standing with their ears pressed to the door and muttering "Get on with it."
"…There's no one else I've ever really seen myself with…"
"Get on with it," a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sirius' father said loudly in the back of his mind.
"…There's no one else as smart, witty, fun-loving, or beautiful as you in my eyes, and…"
"For the love of God, Padfoot, GET ON WITH IT!" the portraits of James and Lily Potter shouted from the top of the mantelpiece.
"Bathsheba, will you marry me?" Sirius finally blurted out as he opened a small box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring.
Bathsheba blinked a few times at him in surprise before speaking.
"I guess it's a plus that I won't have to change my monogrammed towels," she said as a grin spread across her face.
"So…is that a yes?"
"Of course it is, you goofball."
"Finally!" came the relieved exclamations from outside the room.
Tracey had spent several days at the Granger residence and was so far loving everything the Muggle world had to offer (well, except for Hermione's aunt and cousins, but Tracey wasn't about to throw stones at other people's families). She and Hermione had just gotten back from shopping with Hermione's mother, when they noticed a couple envelopes waiting for them.
"Oh, must be the photos from the Yule Ball," Hermione sated. Harry had had the brilliant suggestion of getting Colin Creevey to take photos for the couples at the ball like at regular school dances in the Muggle world; luckily, the students with families in the Muggle world were able to get prints that didn't move so as not to violate the Statute of Secrecy.
"What have you got there, Herman?" Roslyn sneered once Hermione's mother was out of earshot.
"They're photos from the ball at our school," Hermione replied simply.
"Ball?"
Hermione smirked as she withdrew the unmoving photographs from the envelope and held them up for her two cousins to see. One was a shot of her with Harry, a second was of the people at their table, and a third showed Harry with all the girls together.
"We decided to go as a group," Hermione explained to her shocked cousins.
"There is no way that's you," Caitlin squealed. "There's no way you could pull a guy like that, not even if you were going as a group."
"And yet, here we are."
"Didn't Harry say he'd stop by sometime soon?" said Tracey.
"I think so. He just had an event to attend with his godfather. I think it was something about a donation."
Roslyn shook herself out of her stupor.
"I can't wait to meet what kind of pathetic loser settles for trash like you, beaver-face," she said.
"You keep talking, Ros, and all I hear is mindless dreck," said Hermione with a dismissive wave.
"Harry," Sirius whispered as he lightly poked his godson in the back. "Harry." The boy simply grumbled and pulled his covers over his head. "HARRY!"
"WHA?!" Harry exclaimed as he practically flew out of his bed. "Don't do that, you lunatic."
"Just wanted to make sure you were up, kiddo. We've got to get ready for the big event today."
Harry's sleep-addled mind failed to figure out what his godfather was talking about for several minutes until the wires all finally seemed to click in his head. The over-excitable youth leapt towards his closet in search of something presentable to wear.
"Will you be joining us for breakfast, Prince Harry, or should we send a house-elf up with a tray?" Sirius teased as he began to exit the room.
Harry didn't seem to hear him as he rushed about getting ready. Sirius shook his head; the boy was just like his mother. When it came to life-threatening monsters or Dark Wizards, both Harry and Lily were calm as a human could be, but put them in a situation that involved a large number of people they didn't know, the media, and some important event and they went all to pieces prepping for it.
All around Britain, people turned on their television sets to see a very interesting announcement.
"Good afternoon to you all," the reporter said as he stood outside in the snow. "It seems the spirit of goodwill has come early this Christmas season. We are very privileged to announce that two lords, recently returned from ignominy to the public of Great Britain, have decided to make considerable donations to charity."
The camera switched to a close-up on Harry and Sirius who were currently shaking hands with a number of important government officials. The reporter continued.
"Lord Sirius Orion Black and his godson, Lord Harry James Potter, were reunited just over a year ago after the former was released from a ten-year false imprisonment. The Black family and the Potter family have not held their political seats for over two centuries. What made you two decide to return now?" the reporter asked them.
"Well, we wanted some time to recover, to get to know each other, and to establish our places in society," Sirius explained. "I hadn't seen my godson since he was just over a year old and didn't want too many obligations to prevent me from spending time with him."
"Why exactly were you separated?"
"Over thirteen years ago, there was a terrorist organization actively attacking innocent civilians. My friends, the late Lord and Lady Potter, and I were part of an organization to take down these monsters and we ended up becoming targets ourselves. James and Lily went into hiding with their infant son as the leader of the terrorists was gunning for them in particular. One of the men we considered a trusted friend betrayed their location to this terrorist leader and it cost my friends their lives. It was a miracle that Harry made it out alive but then the traitor ended up framing me for betraying them and then faked his own death, inadvertently hitting a nearby gas-line which exploded, causing twelve bystanders to be killed.
"I was sent to prison without a trial and my godson sent to live with his mother's relatives."
"Lord Potter," the reporter continued, "if you went to live with your relatives, why aren't they here today?"
"Simple," Harry replied. "They treated me like garbage for over ten years, lied to me about my heritage, and convinced everyone that I was a lying little delinquent while their fat whale of a son was permitted to beat me up as often as he liked."
"Is that why you chose these particular charities to patronize?"
"Yes. I felt that it was only fitting to give money to the Society for the Prevention of Child Abuse, Child Welfare, children's hospitals, and the orphanage system so that other children might be saved from what I endured while in the 'care' of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Oh, perhaps I shouldn't have said their names on telly. Well, at least I didn't mention that they live at Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Oops.
"It's just as well, though; if they hadn't treated me like a subhuman slave, I would have been inclined to share my substantial wealth with them."
"Yes, five million pounds is quite a lot for a single person to spend on anything, let alone on charitable organizations," said the reporter.
"Another reason why I'm doing this is because it's the obligation of the wealthy to look after the less fortunate. Maybe if more people understood that we wouldn't have so much misery in the world."
"Very true. And, Lord Black, any particular reason you chose the charities you did?"
"Well firstly, I chose to donate to the homeless shelters of Britain because I understand the experience of starvation and the fear of dying on the streets," said Sirius. "Secondly, I chose to donate to the regular hospitals because of the fine medical care I received that got me back on track. And thirdly, I chose to donate to the Society to Stop Animal Abuse just because I have a deep affection for animals, especially dogs. Man's best friend and all that."
The Dursley family sat there in shock as they saw the boy they had once forced to live under their stairs on the television giving huge quantities of money to charity. Vernon erupted into a fit of rage, spouting off about how that "ungrateful runt" dared to slander their family. Petunia had that expression on her face as if she'd been sucking lemons; she had no idea the boy had so much money; to think that she could've lived at the height of style if they'd only treated the brat like a human being. Dudley couldn't believe what was going on as he stared at the television; the "freak" was giving away five million pounds to a bunch of lazy, worthless bums (as his father called the poor); Dudley then began whining about why he didn't have that kind of money and about all the things he could get with that kind of money.
The Dursleys didn't realize yet that their world was about to fall to ashes as everyone in their neighborhood realized just what abominable monsters the Dursleys were for treating their nephew as they had; many even felt pangs of guilt for ever believing the lies spread about Harry Potter as it dawned on them who the real menace was in their community.
Hermione, Tracey, and the Granger parents just grinned smugly as Priscilla and her daughters gaped at the young man on the television, unmistakable from the photos Hermione had shown them. The proud woman and the two spoiled girls couldn't believe that Hermione was actually friends with him; this had to be some kind of trick.
"Lord Potter, I understand you go to an exclusive boarding school for the gifted?" the reporter asked.
"That's right, I was put on the enrollment list since I was born," Harry replied. "My parents were alumni from the school and it later turned out, after some investigation into my family tree, that I was actually the lawful owner of the establishment. I found a number of problems there, mostly in the curriculum and the abuse of power by the headmaster, but I have been moving to correct those problems."
"Is there anyone who has helped you in this?"
"Well, my godfather, after his release, has been an enormous help. Of course, I wouldn't have had half as much success if it weren't for my friends; especially my oldest and closest friend, Hermione Jean Granger."
Caitlin and Roslyn looked about ready to faint. Hermione blushed vibrantly and Tracey gave her a playful nudge.
Very far away, in a little place known as Ottery St. Catchpole, a portrait of the late Cedrella Weasley watched with narrowed eyes as her daughter-in-law went about brewing a number of mysterious potions. Since the days when she was just a babe in nappies, Cedrella had been taught about potions; especially those of an illicit nature (hardly surprising considering her family). So, when she realized what exactly it was that Molly was brewing, she knew she had to tell Lord Potter when he returned; for now, she would bide her time and let the fat harridan dig herself deeper and deeper.
Why couldn't Arthur have married a more sensible woman? She'd told him that Prewett women tended to be rotten; the men were generally decent folk like Gideon and Fabian, Ignatius, and of course Ambrose and his descendants. Prewett women had the nasty habit of turning out like, well, Molly. Or even worse, Cedrella thought with a shudder, like Muriel Prewett. Cedrella wasn't sure why, but her family had always staunchly opposed having any of their sons marry Prewett women, something about a curse on daughters born straight out of the Prewett line.
Cedrella pushed that train of thought to the back of her painted mind and continued to observe her target. It was high time Molly realized why you don't mess with Cedrella's family.