Chapter 8: The After-Party
His heart pounding, breath quickening, Harry searched the Great Hall for Dumbledore, finally spotting him on the dancefloor with Professor Babbling when Hermione pointed them out on the Marauder's Map. Harry stuffed the Map back into the pocket in his robes and took Hermione's hand. As quickly as they could, they wove through the crowd, which was pogoing to one of The Cure's bouncier ditties.
Harry goggled at Dumbledore, catching him in mid-bounce. Hermione looked equally bemused to see their headmaster cutting loose. Dumbledore halted, twinkling at his two stunned pupils.
"Harry, Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Sir... er... could we speak to you in private for a minute?" Harry asked, glancing nervously at Professor Babbling.
"It's really important!" Hermione added.
"Certainly! I always have time for my students," said Dumbledore, taking stock of their earnest, anxious features. He gave Professor Babbling an apologetic look. "Bathsheda, if you don't mind..."
"Of course not, Albus," Professor Babbling reassured him. "Duty calls! Our pupils come first after all." Babbling beamed at Hermione. "And by the way dear, that last paper on warding against Water Sprites and Demons was exceptional. Your translations were very accurate - any sailor would be lucky to have you developing rune sequences for their boats."
"Thank you, Professor Babbling," Hermione squeaked, blushing at her high praises. "I just wish I was a bit better at the execution."
"Nonsense dear! Your calligraphy and carving techniques are quite good - more than adequate."
Despite feeling anxious, Harry grinned; he could tell from Hermione's expression that 'more than adequate' wasn't good enough in her mind.
"Well then," said Dumbledore, gesturing towards the door of the anteroom, which was located behind the stage, "Shall we?"
As Harry and Hermione followed Dumbledore around the stage, Harry glanced at the amplifiers and electric guitars and synthesizers, wondering how the band managed to operate them if electrical equipment didn't operate properly in Hogwarts. Were there Charms to make them work with magic instead? Shelving that thought to discuss with Hermione later, Harry darted through the doorway into the anteroom.
Once Dumbledore shut the door, only the muffled boom of bass and drums could be heard coming from the other side. It took his ears a moment to adjust to the relative quiet after all the noise in the Great Hall.
"I can see this is a matter of some urgency," said Dumbledore, his features more serious, the twinkles fading. "Please, by all means, don't be shy."
Harry took a deep breath and began.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir, it's Professor Moody... It's not really him! He's really Barty Crouch..."
"He must be using Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Professor Moody," Hermione interjected. "But we don't know why he would do such a thing."
"Why indeed?" said Dumbledore, stroking his long silvery beard and looking mildly skeptical. "How did you come to this conclusion?"
Harry took another deep breath and swallowed anxiously, hoping Dumbledore wouldn't be too cross with him when he showed him the proof. His hand shaking slightly, he reached into his dress robes.
"This..." said Harry as he unfolded the Marauder's Map and handed it to the Headmaster, "...this originally belonged to my dad, and I suppose to Sirius and Lupin too. They invented it. It proves that Moody is really Crouch. ... Look at the names of everyone in the Great Hall, and see who's really dancing with Professor Sinistra."
"Good Heavens!" Dumbledore exclaimed, his bushy eyebrows shooting up as his fingers lightly brushed the surface of the parchment. "This is a truly remarkable piece of magic! Your father and his friends created this during their time at Hogwarts I presume?"
"Er... Yeah." Harry nodded, watching Dumbledore's eyes dart across the page, scouring the floorplan of the Great Hall.
The headmaster's eyes widened in surprise again, then narrowed in consternation.
"Ah, yes! So I see, Harry. It would appear that you are correct, and Miss Granger's deduction is most likely correct as well. This is quite troubling... very disturbing in fact."
"What's going to happen now, sir? What are you going to do?"
"For the moment, we are going to enjoy the rest of the Yule Ball to the best of our ability," said Dumbledore calmly as he folded up the Map, "and act as if nothing is wrong. I must please ask you both to say nothing, not even to your friends for right now. It would not do to raise Crouch's suspicions that anyone might be on to him in such an open setting."
Dumbledore then held out the Map, as if he expected Harry to take it back.
"Sir? I... I don't understand."
"Well, it is yours after all." A twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eye, though his features otherwise retained a grave demeanor.
"Really?" Harry was flabbergasted, having expected to be admonished, and have it taken away, as Lupin had done when first discovering that Harry had been using it. He glanced at Hermione who didn't look quite as surprised as he did, and there was a strong hint of "just-go-along-with-it" in her expression.
"Really, Harry!" Dumbledore nodded. "I am quite serious."
"But what if you need it?"
"I believe that you may need it far more than I do, Harry. I daresay that along with your Invisibility Cloak, this will afford you even more protection from any potential threats at Hogwarts. I suggest you keep it handy at all times."
Harry gulped, Dumbledore's meaning becoming all too clear to him. Hermione shot a "see, I-told-you-so" sort of look at Harry, and he realised that she had understood the advantages that the Map had provided him against any possible invasion of Hogwarts by Voldemort or his supporters long before he himself had - probably since Lupin had returned it to him at the end of Third Year.
"Right, okay," said Harry slightly hoarsely, nodding, his jaw setting in resolve as he retrieved the Map from Dumbledore.
"Very good! Now, as I was saying, until the Ball is over, keep your heads down. I will invite several of the professors - including the False Moody - to the staff room for a nightcap at the Ball's conclusion. There, we will unmask his true identity, and I would like you and Miss Granger to join us."
This time it was Hermione who blurted out, "Really?" with a bewildered look on her face.
"Yes indeed. If my suspicions are correct - some of them quite... perplexing - then this involves Harry a great deal. It may be that Crouch is not the Crouch you believe him to be, which seems impossible on its face. ... That, I will explain later in more detail, should my suspicions prove to be true.
"For now, suffice it say that it is probable that Crouch - as Moody - placed your name in the Goblet, Harry. You deserve to know why, and to hear it from the 'horse's mouth,' so to speak. And Miss Granger, as your compatriot, having stood by your side through thick and thin, is equally deserving."
~o0o~
It was hard not to want to say anything to anyone during the remainder of the Ball. Hermione could see Harry itching to tell someone. Harry peered longingly at Ron and Neville, who were sitting with Seamus, all slouched at one of the tables with sloppy grins on their faces as they watched the band playing and gawked at the girls in their ballgowns. But even if Harry had been tempted to tell Ron and Neville, it was clear that they were too plastered to pay much attention.
Harry and Hermione tried dancing a bit more, but they were both a bit too agitated to really enjoy it, and Harry kept shooting glances at Moody, who was now dancing with Pomfrey. Hermione knew she had to do something before Harry made Moody suspicious.
"Come on, Harry," she said, dragging him away from the dancefloor.
"Er... What?"
"I know you're anxious, Harry. I am too! But we need to try and forget about this for another hour at least."
"Fat chance of that!" Harry snorted.
"Oh, I think we'll find a way!" Hermione led Harry to a chair by one of the most isolated tables and plonked him in it, grinning. Then she popped the cork on an unopened bottle of champagne and filled two empty goblets to the brim.
"Cheers! Bottoms up, Harry!"
"Oh... er, alright," said Harry, suddenly catching on. He gave her a lopsided grin in return. "Cheers, Hermione!"
Two glasses of champagne later, and they were both feeling a lot more relaxed and giggly. Hermione licked her lips and pulled Harry out of his seat. Harry thought they were going to dance again, but Hermione apparently had other ideas. She led him out through the great oak front doors of the castle, and into the courtyard.
The cold air was bracing, and it was lightly snowing again, but the champagne induced tingles shooting through Hermione and Harry kept them warm. The music was loud enough to waft through the windows of the Great Hall, some of which had been cracked open to prevent overheating during the Ball. The courtyard had been decorated too, with ornamental red and white Christmas Roses.
"Hellebore," Harry chuckled giddily as he sat down on a stone bench near the castle which hadn't gathered too much fresh snow yet. "I just realised, Hermione - Christmas Roses are Hellebore - I recognise them from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi."
"Very good, Harry," Hermione giggled, snuggling right up next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. "We'll make a potioneer out of you yet."
"Maybe so," said Harry, looking slightly wistful as he curled an arm around Hermione. "It's a bit like cooking really, and I'm alright at that, actually. I help Aunt Petunia cook and it's one of the chores at the Dursleys I never really minded doing."
"Do your aunt and uncle make you do loads of chores then?" Hermione asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"Sometimes. I don't do everything - Aunt Petunia does a lot herself. But they don't make Dudley do any chores at all. That probably bothers me the most... well, that and when they give me extra chores and no supper for punishments."
Hermione wondered how often they punished Harry for him to look so thin at the beginning of school terms - and she knew his aunt and uncle had been starving him half to death last summer when they had put his cousin on a diet, because Harry had actually broken down and sent Hedwig to her and Ron with pleas for food - but she didn't like to ask any more questions along those lines at the moment. It felt nice and peaceful cuddling Harry while watching the whorls of falling snow and she didn't want to spoil the mood.
"Anyway," Harry went on, chuckling again, "that's probably why I like cooking... nicking bits of food whenever Aunt Petunia has her back turned. Still, there's something kind of nice about mixing ingredients together and coming up with something new, and Potions is a lot like that. ... I sometimes feel that I might actually like Potions if Snape weren't teaching it."
Harry fell silent and Hermione hoped he wasn't dwelling on things, but then she felt his lips pressing against her hair and she sighed happily. Harry planted several kisses atop Hermione's head, which she tilted until his kisses met her lips. Soon they were both entwined, lost in one another as the kiss grew deeper and more impassioned.
Hermione didn't know how long the kiss lasted, but she giggled when their lips finally parted and she saw a layer of snow frosting Harry's hair. Harry grinned at her, and flicked a few of the curls spilling over her shoulder, sending a few snowflakes flying.
"You look like a Snow Queen."
Hermione blushed and fluttered her eyelashes shyly. "I think I'd rather be Gerda, actually."
"Pardon?"
"In Hans Christian Andersen's story, The Snow Queen, Gerda is a girl who saves a boy named Kai from splinters of a troll-mirror which are lodged in his heart and eye with a kiss. She saves him with the power of her love."
"Oh! Okay, Gerda it is then," said Harry, smiling gently as he leaned in for another kiss. "I suppose that makes me Kai..."
~o0o~
By the time Harry and Hermione returned to the ballroom, The Cure were on their last song. When it was finished, they tarried near the staff table while the students began filing out of the Great Hall, returning to their respective common rooms. They eyed the headmaster with great curiosity when he seemed to whisper something in "Professor Moody's" ear.
Moody nodded and grinned, then waved them over.
"Potter, Granger, how about a nightcap with me and a few professors before goin' back to Gryffindor? Seems like Dumbledore's feelin' a bit generous tonight with his brandy. He's got a bottle over three hundred years old that he's been savin' for the right occasion, and he reckons you two can handle a couple o' sips without comin' to any harm."
"Oh, er, sure," said Harry, feeling a bit startled by Dumbledore's rather cunning ploy. "Er... How about you Hermione?" he asked, trying act as casual as possible, despite the fact that his heart was pounding like a jackhammer.
"Erm... alright!" Hermione squeaked, trying not to show her own trepidation.
She and Harry waited while the professors saw to the band packing up and made sure that the pupils were all off safely, and spotted the Weasley Twins approaching them through the dwindling crowd of students.
"There you are," said George, "We've been looking for you two."
"After-party in the common room is starting right now," said Fred.
"Er... We're actually joining a few of the professors for a... er, nightcap," said Harry, flushing slightly.
"Oooh, a nightcap with the profs! All high and mighty, aren't we now?" sniggered Fred. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Right, well if you want to join the rest of us plebs when you're finished, you know where to find us," said George.
Finally, the hall was empty, and most of the professors had trotted off to their own quarters, leaving Harry and Hermione with the headmaster, "Moody," and Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick, and Madam Pomfrey. If Harry weren't anxious enough already, Snape shot him a look of loathing as they all made their way to the staff room.
The staff room was as cozy as the Gryffindor common room, with sofas and plush armchairs aplenty, and a roaring fire blazing in the hearth.
"Please, by all means, make yourselves comfortable," said Dumbledore warmly, reaching into the liquor cabinet for an ancient, dusty looking bottle and an assortment of crystal snifters.
Harry and Hermione plopped on a sofa together, smiling nervously at the professors. McGonagall and Snape both looked a bit uncomfortable, but Flitwick beamed cheerily, and Pomfrey - usually so stern when in her own fiefdom - gave Harry and Hermione a reassuring smile.
Dumbledore lofted the bottle of brandy and blew a bit of the dust from it, his eyes twinkling.
"Dragon Barrel Brandy... nearly three hundred and fifty years old, never opened," the headmaster stated casually. "And this seems a splendid occasion to rectify that situation. I did ask Olympe and Igor to join us as well, but apparently Olympe has hit it off with our illustrious Care of Magical Creatures professor, and Igor... well, is Igor.
"I am pleased you could join us Harry, Miss Granger," he continued as he filled their snifters. "Normally I wouldn't be offering such a strong libation to fourth year students, but this year is a bit different after all, and a rather special occasion, don't you think?" Dumbledore gave them both a wink, and a canny smile which neither of them thought had anything to do with the false Moody situation.
"Oh, er... yes it is," Hermione squeaked, turning pink.
"Er... I suppose it is," Harry agreed, his cheeks growing hotter. Dumbledore poured each of the professors a snifter in turn, then lifted his own goblet in the air.
"If I may, I propose a toast, to a pair of the brightest young students to have graced these hallowed halls. Harry, Miss Granger, you have both truly done Hogwarts proud this year, representing the best that this school has to offer.
"Your path has been difficult, Harry, and fraught with peril, each year bringing you new challenges far beyond that which most students could be expected to face, yet you have met each challenge with grace, courage, and no small amount of wit..."
Harry could see Snape struggling to contain himself, but Dumbledore seemed to be ignoring the Potion Master's discomposure as he continued.
"...And Miss Granger, your sharp intellect, warmness of heart, and steadfastness beyond measure has stood Harry well in meeting those challenges in concert with one another. It gives an old man great pleasure to bear witness to the flowering of your partnership with Harry. I have no doubt that the both of you will have a long and happy future together."
Snape couldn't help letting out a disdainful snort at that point; Pomfrey and McGonagall both shot him glares and Flitwick raised his eyebrows. "Moody" chuckled, and winked at Snape with his real eye.
"Cheers, then, to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, may they both flourish in the embrace of Hogwarts' bosom," Dumbledore concluded, as if oblivious to the drama proceeding around him.
"Cheers!" said the professors in unison, clinking their glasses together, though Snape's, "Cheers," was hissed through gritted teeth, his lips curled in a grimace.
Harry and Hermione were both as red as the field on the Gryffindor coat of arms now, as they took sips from their own goblets. They were both pleasantly surprised by the rich, fruity flavour of the brandy, and grateful for the soothing warmth which crept through their veins as it slipped down their throats, feeling their nerves settle.
On the other sofa, something odd seemed to be happening. "Moody" - who was seated between Snape and Flitwick - began to twitch. The two professors on either side of the false Moody had their wands out instantly. Without a word, ropes shot out from Flitwick's wand, binding "Moody" tightly.
"Albus, what the bloody blazes...?" gasped "Moody," just before his eyes glazed over and the twitching stopped.
"My apologies, 'Alastor,' which I doubt very much is your real name," said Dumbledore politely. "I have it on good authority that you are not who you claim to be. And I suspect we shall see the truth of the matter in less than five minutes, as I last saw you sipping from your hip-flask nearly an hour ago."
"Moody" simply stared back glassily. Harry and Hermione peered at him, bewildered.
"Veritaserum - a truth telling potion," said the headmaster, for the benefit of his students. "Professor Snape was kind enough to sneak out before the end of the Yule Ball and return with a vial of it, which I slipped into 'Alastor's' drink as I poured the brandy. Now all that remains is to wait and see if the polyjuice wears off as suspected, and then interrogate him.
Sure enough, after several minutes passed, everyone fidgeting in anticipation, "Moody's" features began to bubble and melt. The magical eye popped out with a disgusting squelchy sound and rolled across the floor, the wooden peg-leg fell away from his knee with a clunk, replaced with a growing calf and foot. The grizzled hair shortened and stubble withdrew into the bubbling skin.
When the transformation was complete, Harry and Hermione were both utterly perplexed. McGonagall gasped in shock. Snape's eyes widened, and he shot a look at Dumbledore which held perhaps even a small hint of fear.
"That's not Barty Crouch!" Harry blurted out, peering in astonishment at the much younger man with stubble free skin and a thatch of straw coloured hair. Hermione clutched Harry's hand tightly, frowning.
"Actually, it is," said Dumbledore. "However, it is not the Barty Crouch you were expecting. Meet Barty Crouch's son - Barty Crouch Junior... who was imprisoned in Azkaban - along with the Lestranges for torturing Neville Longbottom's parents into insanity - by his own father no less."
"But he's supposed to be dead!" snapped McGonagall.
"Though he would not be the first to escape the clutches of death that we know of," Snape muttered meaningfully, a sour expression on his face.
"Quite true," said Dumbledore, nodding as he stroked his long silvery beard pensively. "But I have my doubts that we are looking at another 'Dark Lord.' I believe there is something much more intriguing going on. And there, we will begin our interrogation. ... Barty can you hear me?"
"Yes," said Crouch Junior in a flat, wooden tone.
"Very good," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, if you please, tell us how you have come to still be alive, and escaped Azkaban..."
Harry and Hermione listened intently, growing more and more bewildered and tense as Crouch revealed all, an intricate plot hatched by his brokenhearted mother, and carried out in conjunction with his father, who had apparently loved her deeply enough to break their son out of prison for her. The plan had involved polyjuice potion and the mother taking her son's place in Azkaban, where she eventually died, still bearing his features.
Meanwhile, Crouch Junior was being watched over by his father - who kept Junior under the Imperius Curse much of the time to control him - and looked after by Winky the house-elf.
The story took an even more bizarre turn when Dumbledore pressed Crouch Junior to explain how and why he had come to be at Hogwarts, disguised as Alastor Moody. Apparently things began to go awry with the plan around the time of the World Cup, when Crouch Junior managed to escape the control of his father's Imperius Curse, and had cast the Dark Mark as a warning to the Death Eaters causing mayhem - those who had disloyally disavowed the Dark Lord to stay out of Azkaban, believing him to be dead and gone.
Junior had then been discovered in his home by Voldemort and Wormtail, after they had apparently got all the information they needed from a hapless Bertha Jorkins (who had learned of Junior's existence inadvertently, only to have the knowledge obliviated by Crouch Senior) when she was on holiday in Albania.
Harry's head was spinning with all the convoluted details as the story continued - much of it stretching credulity to its breaking point - his chest taut with anxiety to learn that Crouch Junior had been sent by Voldemort to Hogwarts as Moody, while Crouch Senior was being kept imprisoned in his own home and imperiused when sent out on occasion to keep up appearances at the Ministry.
Hermione squeezed Harry's hand comfortingly and gave him a sorrowful look when it was revealed that Crouch Junior had entered Harry into the tournament, in a twisted plot to somehow manage to keep Harry alive all the way through till the end, and then kidnap him in a bid to reconstitute Voldemort through some sort of ritual.
It all seemed a bit stupid really to Harry - why not just kidnap him right at the beginning and save all the trouble? That still didn't make a lick of sense to him, even when Crouch Junior's supply of information had been exhausted.
Harry hoped that at least they would be able to work out where on earth Voldemort was hiding, but Crouch Junior wasn't able to reveal that tidbit due to some sort of Secret Keeping Spell. Crouch Junior had been supposed to turn the Triwizard Cup (the award - part of the prize - not the Goblet of Fire as Harry had at first assumed) into a Portkey at the very last minute, so it was impossible to track down Voldemort that way.
One good thing came out of the whole affair though. When the interrogation was finished, Dumbledore called for Winky the house-elf. She was beside herself and sobbing at first to see her Master's son captive, and to hear of his involvement with the Dark Lord.
Hermione was in tears to see her so abject, and this time it was Harry who provided the comforting hug. His arms wrapped tightly around Hermione and held her close as they listened to Dumbledore explaining things to Winky.
"My poor Master," Winky wailed after hearing a truncated version of events, "Barty is being very bad boy, hurting his father. But I is not wanting to see him punished. He is needing love and caring."
"I am so sorry, Winky," said Dumbledore as pitiful house-elf wept. "There is little I can do about that. I expect that once his story is told to the proper authorities, he will be sent back to Azkaban. But there is one who still needs you. Barty Crouch Senior is still very much alive and Imperiused, held captive in his own home.
"As your current employer, it is my wish that you bring Barty Crouch Senior to the Hogwarts infirmary for recuperation, this very night, where Madam Pomfrey will see to his medical needs. Following his recovery, you are to look after Barty Crouch Senior at his home once more."
"You is letting me work for my old Master?" Winky squealed in surprise. "But what if Master is not wanting me?"
"I do not believe that Barty will have any objections, at this point," Dumbledore sighed. "However, he will not be able to send you away or sack you again, as technically you will be working for him on my behalf."
"Oh thank you, Master Dumbledore, sir! Thank you!" Winky wept again, but this time big fat tears of joy rolled down her beaming cheeks. "Thank you! You is being great wizard to give me back my true Master. Thank you!"
Dumbledore wiped a tear away from his own eye and smiled back at the effusive house-elf.
"Then go Winky. Go now to your old Master and bring him to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will meet you there." There was a little popping sound, and Winky was gone. "Poppy?" Dumbledore peered at Pomfrey over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
"I'm already on my way, Albus," said the school nurse, clambering to her feet. "Are you coming Severus?" she asked, her tone cold, "We have to pick up the real Alastor on the way."
"Oh Harry," Hermione sobbed, her tears dripping onto Harry's shoulder. "I'm so happy for Winky, but I can't stop crying."
"You don't mind?" asked Harry, not sure of his own perplexing cauldron of feelings.
"Oh, one day, I'm still going to do my best to make sure that house-elves have rights, Harry. But that's just it - freedom doesn't mean house-elves shouldn't be able work for who they like. I never wanted to take away their happiness - I just want them to have freedom to choose who to work for, and to not be treated cruelly.
"Winky loves Barty Crouch to bits... Of course Winky should work for him if that's what she wants, as long as he isn't mistreating her."
"Yeah," said Harry, nodding his head, "I agree a hundred percent. I hate slavery! I'm sorry I wasn't a bit more supportive of S.P.E.W. Hermione. I guess I was letting Ron and Hagrid influence my opinion a bit.
"But you're going to have to do something about that acronym, Hermione," he added, grinning. "It really is dreadful."
Hermione let out a teary little giggle. "You're right Harry. I suppose it's not very conducive to eliciting sympathy for house-elves."
"Well, I hate to intrude on this moment," said Dumbledore, who had apparently finished giving his instructions to the other professors, "But I believe it best that you return to Gryffindor now. You and I have much to discuss, Harry, and we will be talking again at length before the New Year."
"What's going to happen with Barty Crouch Junior?" asked Harry, still trying to fill in the gaps.
"...And the real Moody?" asked Hermione worriedly.
"Professors Flitwick and McGonagall are going to secure Crouch Junior in a warded, but comfortably furnished dungeon cell tonight. And I will be sending for Madam Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt tomorrow to take his testimony for themselves... After that, as I explained to Winky, he will likely be returned to Azkaban. I wish there were more we could do for him, but as you can see, Crouch Junior is quite devoted to Voldemort, and it would not do for him to escape from Saint Mungo's Mind Healing ward.
"As to Alastor... once he has recovered from his ordeal, I see no reason why he shouldn't take on the role I hired him on for. There is none other more suited to the task of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts - I would trust him with my life...
"Which is probably why I was less cautious than I should have been in regards to keeping my eye on him," Dumbledore sighed. "Even I sometimes make mistakes. I should have been much more on guard after the near conjunction of events at the World Cup with the incident which resulted in the apparent Alastor Moody's altercation with muggle policemen.
"This all confirms the vision you had earlier this summer, of course, Harry. Which is why we must be on high alert and reevaluate the current situation. Voldemort has failed for now - he cannot reconstitute himself in the manner he had hoped... and that gives us time to make plans.
"As I said, you and I will be conferring in coming days to try and sort things out - and Miss Granger, given your closeness with Harry, I do believe your presence is warranted as well. But for now, get some rest, and make the best of the holidays - you have both earned the respite.
"And if I am not mistaken, I do believe that the Weasley Twins' post-Ball celebration is continuing in the Gryffindor common room. They are no doubt expecting you," Dumbledore concluded, the twinkles returning to his eyes.
Chapter 9: Boxing Day
Dumbledore's keen ability to accurately guess what was going on at Hogwarts wasn't guaranteed, as evidenced by the exposure of Barty Crouch Junior, but Harry decided it was still pretty remarkable when he and Hermione found Fred and George's after-party still going strong, despite the late hour (which was nearing two am).
"The Champion and his Lady-in-Waiting have arrived," Fred announced gleefully over the loud music blaring from the horn of the old fashioned record player as he gave an exaggerated, sweeping bow, "deigning to grace their subjects with their presence."
Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry snorted mirthfully, shaking his head.
"What say ye, my liege and lady?" George called out, following the lead of his twin. "Dost thou care to share a libation with the peasants?"
He gestured towards a table festooned with a legion of bottles, mostly butterbeers, but there were a number of champagne bottles - clearly nicked from the Yule Ball - and a smattering of smaller bottles of stronger stuff, including red-currant-rum and firewhiskey (which the prefects were pretending didn't exist).
Hermione raised her eyebrows at the rum and the firewhiskey, but having imbibed a few sips of "stronger stuff" with the headmaster, she knew she couldn't really say anything without seeming a complete hypocrite. She glanced at Harry and was pleased to see him shaking his head.
"Nah, I'm good, thanks!" said Harry. "I had a few glasses of champagne earlier and a brandy with Dumbledore - that was plenty. I don't want to get completely pissed."
"Probably for the best," Fred chortled. "You don't want to end up like the Three Musketeers."
"You should've seen them," George guffawed, "Ron, Neville, and Seamus are totally sauced. They'd give Uncle Bilius a run for his money."
"Uncle Bilius?" Hermione frowned thoughtfully; the name seemed familiar. "Isn't he the one who supposedly died twenty four hours after seeing a 'Grim'?"
"Is that what Ron told you?" George snorted. "The way I heard it he snuffed it after tossing back one too many at the pub and tripping over his neighbour's dog - just happened to be a black labrador. He hit his head, and didn't go to St Mungo's, thinking he was all right. ... By the time one of the cousins he'd been drinking with checked on him the next evening, it was too late."
"Shame, really," said Fred wistfully, "He was the life of the party. He'd down a bottle of firewhiskey, whip up his robes, and pull bouquets of flowers out of his arse. ... He'd've been alright if he'd just gone to a Healer to check his noggin."
"Hmm... Sounds like an object lesson in not over-indulging to me," Hermione proffered.
Fred shrugged.
Harry couldn't help but agree with Hermione. It was one thing to get pleasantly tipsy, but he'd been on the receiving end of Aunt Marge's vicious drunken tirades too many times to see much point in getting sloshed - that was usually when she started complaining about him, or whacking him with her walking stick.
"Anyway, I think I'm off to bed," said Harry, "I'm bloody knackered - been up since five thirty. But don't stop your after-party on my account," he added with a half-smile.
"Don't worry! We won't," said George, grinning. "'Night then, Harry."
After saying good night to Fred too, Harry walked Hermione to the foot of the stairs which led to the girls' dormitories. Hermione smiled at Harry, just a hint of sadness in her eyes.
"I had a lovely time today, Harry, despite how it ended. At least Voldemort's plans have been thwarted..."
"...for now," Harry interjected. Hermione nodded.
"I know. But we'll get through it, Harry - together. We always have." Hermione thought she saw a glimmer of something in Harry's eye - guilt, or worry, she wasn't sure - but then it faded.
"Yeah, we will," said Harry quietly, taking Hermione's hand.
His eyes flickered at the rest of the busy common room as he wondered if it was dark enough. Hermione made the decision for the both of them, reckoning everyone else was too distracted to pay attention, and drew Harry closer for a proper kiss. The noise of the party faded as their arms encircled one another, and for a moment they were the only two people in the world. When the kiss finally ended, Hermione was pleased to see Harry looking cheerfully dazed again.
"Good night, Harry. See you tomorrow," she murmured before turning and climbing up the stairs.
Harry watched Hermione for a moment, then made his way to the other side of the common room and up the stairs to his own dorm. Upon entering, Harry was briefly taken aback, his eyebrows shooting up. He rubbed his crinkled forehead, torn between feeling amused and mildly embarrassed for Ron and Seamus.
Only Neville seemed to have managed to climb into his bed properly and pull up the covers. Seamus was completely starkers, save for a sock dangling from one foot, and lying face down on top of his bedclothes, his pyjamas still in one hand and his clothes strewn across the floor.
Ron wasn't in much better shape, clad only in his boxers - barely, as he had apparently passed out before he'd got them past the top of his thighs, exposing his bum - sprawled across his bed, pyjamas beside him, and drooling into his pillow. His clothes were also messily scattered across the carpet. Shaking his head and smirking slightly, Harry drew the curtains around Ron's bed and Seamus's bed to save them all any further embarrassment when they woke the next morning...
~o0o~
Dumbledore couldn't recall such an eventful Boxing Day morning in recent history. He stirred a spoonful of honey and squeezed a slice of lemon into his steaming cup of Earl Grey as he eyed his deputy headmistress who was adding a splash of milk and a sugar cube to her own tea.
They both sipped their teas in silence, listening to the crackling of the flames in the hearth and Fawkes ruffling his feathers. Finally, Professor McGonagall broke the quietude.
"Well, this is quite the to do, Albus! Voldemort may be foiled for now, but how long until he crafts another mad scheme to come after Mr Potter?"
"That is indeed a good question, Minerva. There is no clear answer to that. Though we can at least be thankful that Cornelius has seen reason. He cannot deny that Voldemort has returned, as I feared he might. The evidence presented by Amelia and Kingsley after their own thorough Veritaserum interrogation of Barty Crouch Junior, and the confirmation from the Senior Crouch was far too convincing for Cornelius to ignore.
"And given the soft spot Cornelius has for Harry Potter, his drifting allegiances have now been pulled firmly back into our orbit. I had little trouble convincing him that Lucius Malfoy is also a potential threat to Harry. Cornelius will now, I believe, be quite reticent to continue giving Lucius the time of day."
"Yes, well, it's the Senior Undersecretary who most concerns me," said McGonagall pointedly. "I don't trust her, and she still has Cornelius's ear."
"Quite," Dumbledore agreed. "Dolores Umbridge certainly bears keeping an eye on. In any case, in regards to Voldemort, I have put the Order on high alert, and Amelia has agreed to station some Aurors at Hogwarts. Kingsley will be joining us of course, and he and Alastor have made some recommendations of those who are less inclined to be swayed by Scrimgeour's perspective.
"There is one in particular who should make a suitable escort for Harry - Alastor and Kingsley both believe she is a good candidate for recruitment into the Order. ... Now, on to other matters. ... Minerva, I confess, I am in a quandary regarding several problems which concern Harry, and I believe it is long past time to confide in you, and seek your counsel. I feel I also owe you an apology - there are a number of things I have kept from you over the years."
"You don't say," McGonagall snorted. "Perhaps you can start with why you really left Potter with those awful people."
Dumbledore sighed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Indeed, that is a good place to begin..."
A knock at the door of the headmaster's office startled McGonagall; she pursed her lips and frowned in frustration. Of course there would be an interruption just as she was about to get some real answers for a change.
"Please feel free to enter," called out Dumbledore, "the door is unlocked."
The door creaked open and a girl with pink spiky hair who barely appeared to be sixteen or seventeen poked her head in, looking a bit nervous.
"Oh, sorry Professor Dumbledore, sir. I didn't know you had company - Shacklebolt told me you 'ad a special assignment for me and to get over here as soon as possible. Hi, Professor McGonagall."
"Ah, thank you for coming Auror Tonks, do come in," said Dumbledore warmly, his eyes twinkling. "My apologies for drawing you away from your family this holiday season. But yes, this assignment is indeed regarding a matter of some urgency..."
~o0o~
It was almost noon before Seamus and Ron peeked out through their curtains, their faces red with embarrassment, both thankful there was nobody else in the dormitory. They both winced when the light hit their eyes.
"Er... What happened last night, Seamus?" Ron squeaked. "Are you, er..."
"Starkers, mate," said Seamus, "You too?"
Ron nodded, then wished he hadn't when his head throbbed painfully.
"D'you think anyone saw us?" he asked.
"S'pose so," Seamus mumbled as he massaged his sore temples. "Someone must've shut our curtains. Either Harry or Dean, or both, I guess."
Ron groaned, then glanced over at Neville's unoccupied bed and frowned, hoping to have him to share the embarrassment with as well.
"How did Nev manage to survive?" he grumbled.
"Smaller sips than us, I reckon," said Seamus. "He was still pretty smashed though, just not as bad as us."
"Speaking of which, my head feels like it's going to explode."
"Hangover, mate! Me da gets 'em all the time - at least once a week. Reckon Pomfrey will have somethin' for the headache."
Ron and Seamus dragged on some clean clothes, both moaning in pain when they stood up to find them. Then the haggard looking pair shuffled off to the hospital wing, hoping Madam Pomfrey wouldn't ask too many questions. They both spotted curtains pulled around one of the hospital beds in the ward.
"Wonder who else is in here?" Ron muttered.
"Probably Harry," said Seamus, grinning as much as his aching head would allow. "He's always in here for something or other."
Madam Pomfrey peered out through the doorway of her office to see who the new arrivals were. She raised her eyebrows, giving them both a shrewd look.
"Mr Weasley, Finnegan, I hope you're not bothering my patient," she said brusquely.
"Who's in there?" asked Ron, burning with curiosity.
"Never you mind for now," said Pomfrey. "What can I do for you two?"
"Er... headaches," said Seamus shiftily.
"I see. And the two of you both have headaches then," The hint of a smirk hovered at the corner of Pomfrey's lips. "Should I be worried that you have something contagious?"
"NO!" Ron blurted out, his eyes widening. "Just... er... erm..."
"Hmm... 'Er' can be quite dangerous if you're not careful," Pomfrey interjected. "Especially at your age. Let this be a lesson, boys. Now wait right here and I'll find some pain potions for you - and you'll stay away from my other patient if you know what's good for you."
Ron and Seamus both gulped and stayed rooted in one spot while they waited, neither wishing to test Pomfrey's temper. Moments later she returned, a satisfied look in her eye to see that they hadn't moved. Pomfrey handed each groggy looking boy a vial.
"Right! Now down the hatch," she said, watching as they downed the contents of their vials. "Very good! I strongly suggest you make sure to drink lots of water to flush your systems and rehydrate. 'Er' can be quite toxic in high quantities, and dehydrates the body - as Longbottom found out the hard way too. ... Now shoo, so my other patient can have some peace and quiet."
Feeling much better, Ron and Seamus made their way to the Great Hall to discover that lunch was almost over and that many of the other students had departed to play in the snow or lounge in their common rooms. But Harry and Hermione were still there chatting to Fleur Delacour and a little girl who looked much like her and much too young to be a student.
Fleur glanced up to see Ron and Seamus approaching. Harry and Hermione turned to see who she was looking at.
"Hi guys!" said Harry, grinning.
"Good afternoon Ron, Seamus," said Hermione teasingly, her eyebrows raised.
"Up so late - Why, I wonder?" said Fleur with a smirk and a look which suggested a rhetorical question. "Ze morning ees gone." She noticed them peering questioningly at the young girl beside her. "My seester, Gabrielle. She and Maman - zey visit for the holidays - weel be here through New Year."
Fleur glanced at Harry and Hermione and rose gracefully from her seat. "Thank you! Gabrielle ees mos' excited to meet you, but I theenk we go outside now, play in ze snow. Per'aps we see you again later."
"Yeah, of course, Fleur." Harry smiled at Fleur's younger sister. "You're welcome to join us any time."
"It was nice to meet you, Gabrielle," Hermione beamed.
"Thank you, 'Arry, 'Ermione. Ees vairy nice meeting you also," squeaked Gabrielle, blushing shyly as she stood up and took her sister's hand.
As the Delacour sisters departed, Harry and Hermione waited patiently for Ron and Seamus to say something, as the latecomers were hastily piling bangers and mash on their plates before it vanished.
"So, Harry," Ron tentatively began, his voice low, eyes darting around nervously, "Did you, er... see anything last night?"
"Whatever do you mean, Ron?" asked Harry, his face a picture of innocence. But Hermione got right to the point.
"You're lucky Harry found you, you know!" she said with falsely prim tone, the look in her eye and the upward twitch at the corners of lips giving her away. "If Dean had gone upstairs first, I expect you wouldn't hear the end of it from half the school - or at the very least from your brothers."
"Harry told you?" Ron shot a wounded expression at his best friend. Seamus didn't seem to care, being more concerned about his empty stomach as he dug into his lunch.
"I tell Hermione everything," Harry retorted. "She's my girlfriend. Besides, it's perfectly safe, Hermione's your friend - you know she wouldn't say anything to anyone else."
"Yeah, that's true enough I suppose," Ron agreed, shrugging as he forked a banger. "Hermione's right anyway. Dean probably would've been laughing it up with Fred and George right now if he'd spotted us."
"Anyway, that's not really what I wanted to talk to you about," said Harry, as eagerness crept in his voice. "We've got loads to tell you about last night. If you hadn't been completely blotto, I would have told you already - you might have even been in on it, in fact..."
"Jusht get t'th'point, Harry," Ron grumped through a mouthful of mashed potato and banger, feeling a bit cross that he'd apparently missed out on something. Hermione looked a bit green as a few bits of mash flew from his mouth.
"You know the Marauder's Map," Harry began, "I've been checking it out lately, and I saw something weird on it a few times, but I wasn't sure what was really going on. Anyway, last night, I finally figured it out when I brought the Map to the Yule Ball - Professor Moody wasn't really Moody... he was Barty Crouch Junior, Barty Crouch's son..."
As Harry launched into his explanation, with Hermione interjecting at intervals, they told Ron the whole story - minus Barty Crouch Senior's involvement in his son's escape from Azkaban which Dumbledore had asked them to refrain from discussing with anyone, having decided Crouch Senior had been punished enough for his mistake. Ron was rapt as he shoveled his lunch into his mouth at a rapid clip; even Seamus was listening intently.
"Blimey!" gasped Ron, when Harry and Hermione finished telling him everything. "Another bloody maniac involved with You-Know-Who was out to get you then."
"Yes," said Hermione, in a mildly haughty tone. "Which is why you shouldn't have been so dismissive about Moody's supposed paranoia about Dark Wizards when he was teaching us all about the Unforgivable Curses. Well, the fake Moody's alleged 'paranoia' anyway - he apparently did a good enough impression of the real Moody to even fool Dumbledore. Either way, he was absolutely right! After all, you know Vol..."
"Don't say it," hissed Ron.
Harry struggled not roll his eyes, but Hermione rolled hers.
"Fine! You-Know-Who then," she snapped. "Anyway, you know he and Wormtail are back in Britain, because Harry told us all about his vision. And apparently you forgot all about the Death Eaters terrorising everyone at the World Cup!"
Ron had the decency to look a bit sheepish. "Yeah, I guess that was a bit stupid of me. I did forget about the mayhem at the World Cup actually."
Seamus shook his head and chortled. "How'd you manage that, Ron? You were right in the middle of it, weren't ye? I'll never forget that night - our tent was burnt to the ground, and me da was with me and Mum - special allowance for muggles married t'wizards, you know. We were just lucky those mad blokes in the masks didn' know me da's a muggle or they'd've probably cursed him."
"Oh!" said Ron seriously, "You really are lucky then."
"I'll say!" Seamus sighed, suddenly serious himself. Then he dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "Anyway, I'm off to find Dean - see what he's up to. Is it okay if I tell 'im what's goin' on?" he asked Harry.
"I don't see why not, really," Harry replied, shrugging. "It's not really going to be a big secret when the real Moody starts teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. And the Ministry probably knows all about it by now. Dumbledore told us the Aurors would be taking Crouch Junior into custody this morning. ... Just don't tell anyone about my Map, or that Hermione and I were involved."
"Righto! Cool! Thanks, Harry," said Seamus, looking excited at having an amazing tale to tell.
"I think I'll go find Neville and tell him too," said Ron, looking just as eager as Seamus. "Unless you were planning on telling him," he added, with a sort of pleading and hopeful expression.
Harry supposed Ron wanted to be one of the first to spread the news, and reckoned Ron should have his moment in the sun.
"No, that's all right, Ron! You can tell everyone if you want. Just remember to keep me and Hermione out of it."
Ron beamed. "Thanks, Harry! No problem!" Then Ron and Seamus dashed out of the Great Hall to tell everyone they knew.
"That was really sweet of you, Harry," said Hermione when they were gone.
Harry grinned. "Well, thanks to you, I get Ron a bit better now. He needs the attention more than me. Anyway, I think I fancy a stroll in the snow myself. Maybe we can find a quiet spot away from everyone to just look at the lake and the mountains, and, erm..."
Hermione giggled. "That sounds very romantic, Harry."
But just at that moment, a girl with spiky pink hair whom they had never seen before entered the Great Hall and peered around as if looking for someone. She grinned when she spotted Harry and Hermione.
"There you are! Been looking all over for you two..."
Chapter 10: The Guardian
Professor McGonagall departed from the headmaster's office feeling disconcerted, not to mention perplexed, anxious, and more than a bit angry as well. After Nymphadora Tonks had been briefed on her task, Dumbledore and McGonagall had spoken at length; but her more discomfiting emotions were tempered by a measure of thankfulness that Dumbledore had confided in her, and no small measure of relief that he was taking Harry Potter's safety and well-being seriously.
McGonagall was also very pleased that things were coming along very nicely for Harry - better even than she had hoped for, in fact, when she had taken matters into her own hands regarding Harry's partner for the Yule Ball. It had been the nudge that Potter and Granger had both needed to see that what they were looking for had been right in front of them the whole time.
McGonagall also couldn't help thinking that Potter was better off for being a bit closer to Granger now, than when he had gravitated more towards Weasley. Weasley's lackadaisical attitude towards schoolwork had been a bit of a bad influence on Potter, who - with the right motivation - generally showed more aptitude and inclination to learn than Weasley.
And now Potter, who had always been quite prodigious with his wandwork, was taking his study of magical theory more seriously as well - which would hopefully prove advantageous in surviving the dark trials he still faced ahead of him. And Granger had found that which she had been yearning for so long, something a bit more than books and "just friends" could provide - someone who truly respected her intellect and put her emotional needs ahead of certain others.
But McGonagall was still quite shaken by some of Dumbledore's revelations - not the least of which was Severus Snape's role in things. And she was also startled to learn that Sirius Black was in fact innocent, and that Peter Pettigrew had been the traitor all along - Wormtail as Barty Crouch Junior had referred to him last night.
But most importantly, Voldemort's obsession with Potter made much more sense now, as did Dumbledore's otherwise dubious decision to place Potter with the sister of his mother. But the lengths the self appointed "Dark Lord" had taken to remain on this side of the veil were truly horrifying, and the implications that they held for Potter's apparent connection to Voldemort chilled her to the marrow.
McGonagall was determined to make every effort to help Dumbledore discover some means of ridding Potter of that disturbing link. Her thoughts turned again to Potter's budding relationship with Granger, which seemed even more important than ever now...
~o0o~
"Er... Hi?" Harry peered at the girl in Gryffindor robes, perplexed.
"Do we know you?" asked Hermione, wondering if she was a sixth or seventh year practicing Advanced Transfiguration to disguise herself. "I don't remember seeing you before."
"Sorry," said the pink haired girl as she sat down at the table, "I didn't know you weren't expecting me. Dumbledore didn't say. I'm Tonks - Auror Tonks... but I'll be undercover as a Teacher's Assistant who's just returned to Hogwarts after a few years - in trainin' to be a Professor. "
"Er... Excuse me for saying so, but aren't you a bit young to be an Auror?" Hermione inquired, looking a bit skeptical.
Tonks chuckled. "That's what everyone says. I'm older than I look. My seventh year ended just before your first - I'm twenty one - twenty two in January. ... And I was actually a Hufflepuff, but bein' a Gryffindor will make it easier to hang out a bit with you two sometimes, and shadow you between classes and when you're doin' your own thing."
"Wait, why would you be following us around?" asked Harry, frowning in suspicion. "We're not in trouble with the Ministry are we?"
"Well, it's more on Dumbledore's orders really - Madam Bones is letting him 'borrow' me - sort of a joint operation I suppose. I'm your protection detail, Harry, now that we know You-Know-'Oo is back and tried to infiltrate Hogwarts to get at you. And because Hermione's your girlfriend, she's under protection too."
"Oh!" Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he glanced at Hermione.
A protection detail was the last thing he had expected. Harry supposed that Dumbledore had decided not to take any more chances after all of the trouble that seemed to find him every year. He wasn't sure how he felt about having someone following him around all the time, invading his and Hermione's privacy.
Tonks seemed to understand the look on his face, because her eyes darted around the Great Hall to make sure no-one was listening - and fortunately it was largely empty except for a couple of Ravenclaw stragglers on the other side of the Hall - then she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially.
"Don't mind me too much, Harry, I'll stay outta your hair as much as possible. And you should know, I'm Sirius's cousin - well, second cousin... or first cousin once removed, or somethin' like that - I can't really keep that sorta thing straight past first cousins. My mum is actually Sirius's first cousin.
"Anyway, the upshot is that Sirius managed t'chat with Dumbledore via floo apparently, sometime late last night - I reckon 'e must be staying somewhere that Dumbledore knows about - and Sirius is on board with this. The Ministry can't know about that, for obvious reasons, him bein' a fugitive an' all still - not enough proof to get them off his back yet until Pettigrew actually shows his face. But I've been getting some letters from Sirius since the summer, and I know the truth, Harry."
"You actually believe him then?" Harry was surprised, but he felt some relief, and a bit of excitement as well to know that not everyone believed that Sirius was a mass-murdering maniac.
"Course I do!" said Tonks, sounding a bit wounded. "He was my favourite cousin when I was a kid - more like an uncle to me really. I never believed 'e did it. I've always thought it was some sort of frame-up! He was the only one on the Black side of the family besides Mum who hated all that pureblood rubbish - my dad's a muggleborn, see. So Sirius used to come over every once in a while to visit."
The more Harry listened, the more he liked Tonks. There was just something about Tonks which made him trust her; he supposed that in a way, she was more or less family, seeing as Sirius was his godfather.
"Anyway," Tonks continued, "seein' as I'll be hanging out with you a bit, and I'm undercover, you probably should call me Dora instead o' Tonks I suppose. The professors and the other Aurors know me of course, but it's best not to let anyone else know 'oo I really am, just in case."
"Won't some of the older students remember you though?" asked Hermione, looking slightly skeptical as she peered at Dora's pink hair. "Especially the Hufflepuffs fifth year and older."
"Doubtful," Dora replied, "I 'ad longer hair and I didn't colour it back then. I'm a metamorphmagus and I can change it whenever I like."
Harry's jaw dropped.
"Oh," gasped Hermione, "Harry's one too... at least we think he might be."
"All I've really done is change my hair a bit - without a wand," said Harry, his excitement growing at meeting another metamorphmagus. "Once before Hogwarts - before I even knew I was a wizard, and once last night, just before the Yule Ball. ... I didn't even know I could. It doesn't usually look as short and neat as it does right now."
"Blimey!" Dora's eyes boggled. "That's amazing! We're really rare. There's only a couple others in the Auror Corps, and maybe only half a dozen more in all o' Britain as far as I know. So let me see then."
Harry concentrated really hard, trying to remember how it felt as he scrunched up his face, but nothing happened. He began to wonder if it had been a fluke.
"Don't try so 'ard," said Dora, who could see Harry straining to make it happen. "Willpower is important, but it only works if you just kind of let it happen instead o' forcin' it, if you know what I mean. It's sorta in-between - so just picture it in your mind and relax a bit while you focus on it. Let your other thoughts just sorta swim around it instead o' tryin' to push them away."
Relaxing had never really been Harry's strong suit. But then he remembered his anti-Dementor training, and reckoned it might be a bit like that, thinking about something happy at the same time. Flying on his Firebolt - the sense of freedom when he was in the air - and kissing Hermione - letting everything go as he lost himself in her - popped into his mind while he pictured his hair going back to normal, and to his surprise, he felt his hair reverting back to its usual unruly state.
Dora grinned. "Wicked! That's it Harry! You really are a Metamorphmagus! ... I can help train you up a bit, if you'd like."
"Yeah!" said Harry eagerly, "I'd really like that! That would be brilliant!"
Dora suddenly peered around the Great Hall again, looking a bit anxious, but she relaxed when it appeared that the few Ravenclaws hadn't noticed a thing.
"Alright then," she said quietly. "But maybe just keep it to yourself for now. It's probably best not to let too many people know you're a Metamorphmagus. Change your hair back for now, and let it gradually go back to normal a little bit each day."
Harry looked puzzled for a moment, then it hit him. "Oh!"
Hermione nodded, having come to the same conclusion. "Of course Harry! You'll have an advantage that Voldemort and his followers won't know about."
"Yeah, and also anyone shady at the Ministry too for that matter," Dora muttered. There's some 'oo are in bed with suspicious folk like Warlock Malfoy. I 'eard from Shacklebolt this morning that the Minister was cutting him off, but there's still some others. I also talked to Mad Eye just now while I was lookin' for you two..."
"You mean Professor Moody?" asked Harry.
"How is he doing?" Hermione chimed in.
"Yeah," Dora chuckled. "That's him. He'll be alright in a few days - a bit malnourished is about the worst of it. Anyway, he thinks someone at the Ministry instigated the Triwiz just to get at you to begin with, Harry. He reckons someone else probably entered your name as well as Crouch Junior."
"What? But that's mad!" said Harry. "Why would anyone do that?
"If it's someone at the Ministry who's in league with Mr Malfoy, who knows how far they'd go, Harry?" said Hermione, looking very worried. "It could even be Ludo Bagman for all we know. He could have been bribed. ... He does gamble an awful lot, and if he owes a lot of money, he'd probably jump at the chance to get you in the tournament and sabotage you for a payday."
"Of course!" Harry groaned; he should have known it wasn't over. "So I'm not out of the woods yet! Whoever it is will probably make the tasks even harder for me."
"Well, don't worry too much Harry," Dora reassured him. "If I know Mad Eye, he'll be taking over your training once he's recuperated. We'll get you through this - we've all got your back. He wants to meet you when you get a chance - maybe tomorrow after he's had some proper rest and been fed up a bit."
"Good!" said Harry, scowling now. "Because I'll need it if I've got two lots of people after me."
Hermione frowned; Harry clearly needed a distraction. "Just forget about it for now, Harry. Let's just try and enjoy the rest of the holidays before we start thinking about that. Why don't we go for a walk, like you suggested earlier."
"Yeah, okay Hermione," Harry sighed. "Sounds like a plan. So, er... I suppose you're going to be following us, Dora?"
Dora half-smirked, eyeing Harry and Hermione perceptively.
"Don't worry. I'll keep my distance - you'll still be able to get up to, things. I won't by spyin' on you - I'll just be nearby scoutin' around, watching your backs and keeping an eye out for trouble. If anything, I'll make sure nobody else disturbs you."
Harry's brain whirred, considering the advantages of having a secret guardian; if it had to be anyone, he was glad that Dumbledore had picked the one Auror who was practically family to shadow him and Hermione.
"That sounds... alright, actually," said Harry, giving Dora a wry smile.
"Right then, I'll let you be off to do your own thing for now then," said Dora, "... Oh! Before I forget, there's just one more piece o' business to get out of the way. Your class schedule will be changing a bit, Harry - you'll be in all the same classes as Hermione now, to make it easier to watch out for you both. Sorry about that - I know it's a bit more work for you - it was all McGonagall's idea."
Harry was shocked. That meant he'd be taking Runes and Arithmancy now with Hermione. Though Harry had to concede that it just made sense to keep him and Hermione together. And it wasn't like he hadn't already been kicking himself for not choosing more challenging classes to begin with. At least he wouldn't have to put up with Trelawney always predicting his imminent demise, as Hermione had ditched Divination last year.
After taking their leave of Dora, Harry and Hermione trudged for a bit through the snow, deep in thought as they made their way to find a spot away from the other students who were braving the cold to have snowball fights and build snowmen. They headed towards the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest near the lake, hand in hand.
Finally Hermione broke the silence.
"I know it's all a lot to take in, Harry," she said earnestly. "And if you're worried about being a year and a half behind the rest of the fourth years in Runes and Arithmancy, don't be. I'm sure Professor McGonagall will explain the situation to Professor Babbling and Professor Vector. And I'll help you loads to try and catch up, I promise."
"Honestly, I'm not too fussed," said Harry. "You know it's been bothering me lately that I hadn't picked more challenging electives, after all. But yeah... I will need your help - especially in Arithmancy. I wasn't awful in Maths in primary school, but I wasn't great either. ... It was a bit rough for me to tell you the truth.
"I've more been thinking about Dora. She's Sirius's cousin - that means she's more or less family to me, and I know the Weasleys have always treated me like family, but... er..."
"...you've always wanted a real family - one which really belonged to you," said Hermione gently, finishing Harry's sentence for him as she gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "But you're feeling a bit guilty because you think it might offend the Weasleys somehow."
"Yeah... Yeah, I think that's it, Hermione," said Harry, sounding slightly rueful. "It sounds a bit silly when you say it out loud, but I guess that is how I'm feeling. I mean... I know they're not really going to mind - it's not like they'd know how I feel inside anyway. But I'd know, and there's just... I felt some sort of connection to Dora which isn't quite the same as I have with the Weasleys, more like how I feel about Sirius I suppose. And I'm not entirely sure why, considering I've just met her."
"Meeting another Metamorphmagus who can help you figure out your power might have something to do with it as well, Harry," Hermione suggested. "There really aren't that many after all."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, there's a bit of that too. Thanks for helping me sort that out Hermione."
Then Harry peered out across the lake from under the canopy of a copse of pines and knew they had found the perfect spot. The bed of pine needles on the ground was largely free of snow excepting near the lake and a few patches which had blown in.
A thick layer of ice stretched out across the surface of the lake, breaking up in the distance as the edges neared the centre, the ripples of the water shimmering slightly in the pearly grey reflection of the clouds above. And the mountains across the lake reared like glittering glaciers against the sky, the base hidden by the snow-covered woods on the other side.
"It's beautiful," Hermione murmured.
Harry and Hermione sat cross legged next to each other on the bed of pine needles, Hermione's arm curled around his waist, his arm draped across her shoulders as they admired the spectacular view. Hermione let out a contented sigh, and eventually Harry's lips met hers. The kiss was somehow deep and passionate yet gentle, echoing the ambiance of the peaceful setting, and time seemed to stop as the world stilled around them.
They had no idea how long they sat like that, arms around one another, their kisses warming them to the core. But it must have been a while, because when they were finally ready to return to the castle, very few students were left outside as they traipsed back up the hill through the powdery drifts broken at intervals by deep furrows and trails of footprints. Harry caught a flash of pink hair not too far in the distance and grinned.