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The Time of Destiny | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 503 Summary: Sequel to "The Refiner's Fire." Harry Potter returns to Privet Drive for the last time, prior to his Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Much to the Dursley's surprise, Remus is going to stay with him due to a head injury Harry received on the train. The Dursleys are not happy with this situation, as you can well-imagine. This fic covers both the summer before Harry's seventh year, and his entire last year at school. Canon-based with some OC. Ships, for those who care: H/G, R/H, R/T Hitcount: Story Total: 508835; Chapter Total: 18246 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Author notes: All the towns named in this chapter are real places in England (and the one in the USA is real, too). As I mentioned in a chapter in “The Refiner’s Fire,” the “soft focus” concept that Harry talks about here is one I learned from Sally Swift’s Centered Riding books. It’s a method used by horsemen to ride by feel instead of thinking too hard about what each part of the body is doing. “Soft focus” makes you a better, more sensitive rider. Harry explains it fairly well below. Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my betas, Blakevich, Starfox, Iris and Asad. You can join the Yahoo! Group for this fic at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPR efinersFire Due to the attack of the conjured beast, Professor McGonagall decided to postpone the assembly she’d planned on the Animagus transformation. She rescheduled the date to a Saturday evening in mid-October, which gave her a chance to introduce the topic in her younger classes. Finally, the evening was upon them. She was looking forward to it far more than the boys were, but they had stoically accepted their fates and were as ready as they could manage. “Now that we’ve finished our delicious dinner,” Professor Dumbledore said as the last of the puddings were consumed, “I’d like you to get out your parchments and quills. Professor McGonagall and some students will be leading an assembly in which you will learn more about the Animagus transformation.” With a clap of his hands, the tables were cleared of all dishes and the students quietened, looking toward Professor McGonagall expectantly, quills poised to take notes on the lesson. “As I’ve told all of you in class, there have been only seven registered Animagi in the twentieth century,” McGonagall began. “There are also unregistered Animagi — we know of four of them. Three of those were students who taught themselves how to do the transfiguration in order to help a friend. You all know Professor Lupin is a werewolf, which is in no way his fault. He was bitten as a very young child and suffered horribly, and quite alone, through a very painful transformation each month for many years.” She glared around the room to let everyone know her opinion of anyone who thought badly of Remus because of his affliction, then looked at Harry before continuing. His eyes were calm. He knew what she was going to say, and he no longer minded her use of the examples she’d chosen. “When Professor Lupin was a student here, his best friends, James Potter and Sirius Black, decided to become Animagi so they could keep him company during his transformation. Their company at such times was a great comfort to him. James and Sirius were the best students in school. James, as you may know, was Harry Potter’s father, and Sirius Black was Harry’s godfather. They are both, sadly, deceased, and are sorely missed by those of us who knew them.” She paused, her nostrils suddenly thin and disapproving as she went on. “They had another friend, Peter Pettigrew, to whom they taught the transformation so he could join them. Mr. Pettigrew is still alive and is now in the service of Lord Voldemort. If you see a scruffy rat with a missing toe on his right front paw, Stun it, cage it and turn it in to the staff or the Ministry. It may very well be Peter Pettigrew. The fourth unregistered Animagus of this century is Rita Skeeter, who took the form of a green beetle in order to spy on people for her newspaper stories. I’m glad to say the Ministry has put an Anti-Transformation Spell on her because of the many evil things she’s done with her writing.” She looked around the Great Hall, her gaze falling on Harry and Ron. “I told you there were seven registered Animagi in this century, but I’m very pleased to tell you that Hogwarts is home to two new Animagi, bringing the total of registered Animagi in this century up to nine. It has been many years since we’ve had students who openly pursued the transformation with such dedication, and with such great success. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, would you come forward, please?” The two boys got up from their seats and walked slowly to the front, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes following their progress. When they reached the staff table, they looked up at Professor McGonagall, who spun her finger in a circle, indicating they should turn around and face their fellow students. Both boys took deep breaths to settle their nerves, then complied, facing the crowd stoically. “I’ve asked Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to share their expertise in this area. Having Animagi in the student body is such a rare thing, I thought we should take advantage of it. I can explain until I’m blue in the face, and demonstrate until I’m spitting hairballs,” she said tartly, “but when someone your own age achieves such a difficult and significant goal, I believe it makes a difference in how you look at that achievement. I think if they explain what they did to learn how to do the transformation, and if they answer your questions, you may learn something that will be of help to you in your own efforts.” She glanced around the room. Nearly everyone was paying close attention, except the Slytherins, who were being obviously inattentive, doing such things as Levitating their quills, drawing on each other’s parchments, whispering. She turned toward them, her small square glasses flashing furiously. “This information may very well be in your examinations, so be sure to pay close attention to everything that’s said here tonight.” She waited until even the Slytherins had their parchments and quills at the ready, then said, “Mr. Potter, please tell us how you achieved your Animagus transformation.” Harry launched into the tale, much as he’d done in his class the previous term, explaining how he’d done a cat simply because they’d started in class turning a hand into a cat’s paw and he just went on from there. He turned back to McGonagall for a clue on what else she wanted him to say. “Mr. Potter,” McGonagall prompted, “would you do your explanation of how to choose your animal, and about ‘soft focus’ and magic flowing like water? I think that’s a very effective way to express how the transfiguration feels.” “Oh. Right. Well, um. . . . It’s a bit hard to explain. I didn’t really work out how I actually did it until I had to explain it to Ron, so I suppose I can use him as an example.” He glanced at Ron, who grinned at him briefly and nodded. Harry took a deep breath and went on. “He was trying to do the transformation but having a lot of trouble with it. When he and I talked about it, I realized he hadn’t focused on his animal precisely enough. He wanted to be a dog, but hadn’t chosen any particular kind of dog. We got quite specific about the dog he wanted to be, and it became easier for him. He’d been working on doing a paw and was blocked on it. He’d become frustrated, which is understandable, but isn’t the best way to get past a block like that. I suggested he try doing a different part, and he managed a ruff fairly soon after that. And the rest, as they say, is history,” he said, grinning mischievously at his best mate, who promptly turned into the sable collie. “See?” Harry said, gesturing to Ron with great pride in his friend’s achievement. The students who had never seen Ron transform burst into applause. The collie barked, then ran to Harry and bounced around, inviting him to play. Harry shoved on the collie’s shoulders, pushing it backwards, and the collie bounded back toward him, barking cheerfully. When the applause died down, the dog stood calmly next to Harry. “He really loves being a collie. I think it suits him,” Harry said fondly as he scratched the dog behind its ears. It leaned into Harry’s fingers, obviously enjoying the attention. “Mr. Potter?” McGonagall prompted. “Soft focus? Water?” “Oh, yeah! Sorry.” He smiled at the collie, who turned back into Ron and slouched against the staff table once more, a shy but self-satisfied grin on his blushing face. “Well. . .soft focus. That’s a term I’ve used with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and it seems to work well with explaining how to do this type of magic, as well. I think we sometimes block our magic by concentrating too hard on what we’re trying to do, such as the Animagus transformation. I tell the team to fly with soft focus rather than tunnel vision so they’re concentrating on what’s in front of them as they’re flying, but at the same time, they’re also completely aware of what’s around them — such as approaching Bludgers,” he said with a chuckle, which earned a laugh from many of the listening students. “Flying with soft focus means you’re flying the broom by instinct, by feel, rather than you looking at your hands and legs and the broom handle and thinking, ‘if I want to turn left, I have to push the handle and lean this much to the left and to use the left braking pedal if I want to turn sharply, and use the pedal more softly if I want a softer turn.’ Well, that’s if you have a broom with brake pedals like mine, anyway,” he added with a blush and a shrug. “But that kind of thinking, considering every detail while you’re trying to do something, is what makes kids fall off of brooms when they’re trying to learn to fly. You overcorrect, you focus on the wrong things, you don’t react quickly because you’re thinking too hard about how to do what you’re doing. You need to trust your body to work in coordination with the broom, and that takes a relaxation of sorts. A ‘soft focus.’ I think the same is true of magic. If you can learn how to relax and focus at the same time, I think the magic becomes more pure, more concentrated. I can’t focus my magic as well if I don’t relax first, using that ‘soft focus’ concept. Once you learn how to do it, it’s easy, but it takes some time to learn how to concentrate fully while you’re relaxed. It’s a lot harder than it sounds, but I think nearly anyone can do it if they work on it long enough.” He grinned suddenly. “And I didn’t just give away one of our training tips — it takes a lot of training to do the soft focus thing well in the middle of a Quidditch game. It’s much easier to do when working on a spell like this.” He stopped and reorganized his thoughts a bit. “One of the things I’ve learned is different in me than in some of my classmates is that I feel my magic flowing like water through me. It kind of, erm, ‘sings’ in my veins. When I have that feeling, my magic is at its most focused, most powerful. If you can find that feeling in your magic, the more difficult spells like the Animagus transformation may come easier to you.” He blew out a breath and relaxed, having done all the explanation he could think of for now. “Thank you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said with delight. “Harry has done an excellent job of explaining his concepts, which I believe are very applicable to the Animagus transformation. I wish I’d thought of them myself, but Harry brought his Quidditch perspective to bear on the problem, and came up with his process for doing the transformation from a different angle than I did. It pleases me immensely that he’s done so and is able to articulate it. Thank you again, Mr. Potter.” She glanced around the Great Hall, noting many students still frantically scribbling notes on their parchment. When they’d caught up, she continued. “Mr. Potter’s registered Animagus form is a cat. As you’ve heard in class, each Animagus has identifying marks which are used on the registration forms. Mr. Potter, would you change into the cat for me?” A moment later, a black cat leaped up onto the staff table and stood in front of her. “Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she said with a smile, running her hand down the length of the cat’s back and making it purr. “If you’ll look closely, you can see that Mr. Potter’s cat has green eyes like his, and has a faint white marking over his right eye which resembles his scar. This is his identifying mark. Mr. Potter, would you trot down the tables and let every one look at you?” As he jumped off of the table and hopped onto the Gryffindor table, she added, “Please don’t bother him — remember, there’s a young man inside that cat’s fur, and the cat is fully equipped with lovely sharp claws. You don’t want to annoy him.” The cat trotted amiably down the table, stopping in front of Ginny and rubbing its cheek on hers, purring loudly. It bumped its hip against Hermione’s shoulder, still purring, and flicked its tail at Neville, then continued on its way, stopping to visit various D.A. members and other friends as it progressed along the various tables. He trotted the length of the Slytherin table swiftly, not spending any more time there than necessary. McGonagall continued her discussion of the Animagus transformation as he moved through the Great Hall. When he returned to the staff table and changed back into himself, she was ready to move on. “Mr. Weasley, would you please tell us about your transformation, how you got started, how it feels to you, any problems you’ve experienced, and so on?” she prompted. “Sure. Well, Harry told you most of it. I wanted to do a dog, but hadn’t narrowed it down enough, didn’t have enough detail, enough ‘focus’ on my particular dog. Turns out it’s very important to know exactly what kind of animal you want to be, not just a dog, but a collie, a lab, a hound. Whatever it is, you need to know everything you can about that animal before you can change into it.” He was using some of the information Harry had told him about how Harry had achieved other forms, as well as his own experience. “Once I thought things through, I remembered the collie our neighbour had, and decided I wanted to do that kind of dog. With those details in my mind, it was much easier to get somewhere with the transformation. I got a bit stuck sometimes, and Harry had to talk me through it or even rescue me a few times, but those experiences helped me really conquer this spell. I know it inside and out now, because I’ve made mistakes and had to get out of them somehow. The main problem I had was losing concentration or losing confidence. I’d get to a certain point and just get stuck.” Harry snorted with laughter. “What?” Ron said, turning to him. “Sorry,” Harry said, trying to stop grinning. “Go on.” Ron gave Harry a curious look, which made Harry laugh out loud. “Now you have to tell,” Ron said finally. “Or is it going to really embarrass me if you do tell?” “I’m sorry, mate. I was just remembering when your collie had Ron’s feet one time,” Harry said, snorting with amusement. “Poor dog’s skinny white legs with Ron’s big feet.” The room erupted with laughter. “Yeah, and I can remember having to take you to McGonagall — sorry, Professor McGonagall — when you got stuck and couldn’t change back!” Ron retorted with equal laughter. McGonagall let the laughter go on a while, then calmed the room. “As you can see, the transformation is not without its difficulties, but with a good sense of humour and a nearby friend who’s capable of reversing the spell, learning to be an Animagus can be quite an adventure,” she said with a smile. “And add this to your notes — to reverse the spell on someone else, you tap the animal with your wand three times and think of him in his original form. There is no incantation. And if you have problems with reversing the spell on a friend who gets stuck, do come to me or Professor Dumbledore so we can sort things out.” She looked at Harry, wondering if he was ready for the next stage in this presentation. He felt her eyes on him and glanced up at her, his grin fading when he saw the questioning expression on her face. He gulped and nodded, then faced the other students again, his face much more serious than before. “As I told you earlier,” McGonagall continued, “James Potter and Sirius Black became Animagi in order to be able to accompany Professor Lupin when he changed into a werewolf. They protected him and helped him through very difficult times by doing this. It was a marvellously generous thing for them to do. Professor Lupin now has a potion that helps him through his transformation, but it’s still a lonely business, and at times, he is still drawn to run under the moon. As I understand it, sometimes the feeling is so compelling, it’s nearly impossible to resist, yet it isn’t safe for him to run on the grounds alone, so he locks himself up and suffers through those nights alone. “Harry is Professor Lupin’s godson, as many of you know, and he, like his father, wanted to help his godfather through his time of transformation. So Harry has done what’s nearly impossible and learned how to do more than one Animagus transformation. I would not be revealing this to you except for the fact that many of you have seen a black wolf and a collie running with the werewolf under the moon, and some of you know that they were all attacked while running together recently. That black wolf is Harry Potter. Having more than one Animagus form will be greatly helpful to Mr. Potter when he’s an Auror, which is his ambition. Mr. Potter, would you mind changing into the wolf for us?” In seconds, a black wolf stood in front of the staff table. A collective “ooooooo” passed through both the students and staff, and then they applauded. “Up here, please, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, patting the table beside her. With one easy spring, the huge beast stood on top of the table beside her. “If you’ll just turn toward the students,” she encouraged him. “Please notice, this wolf has green eyes, not golden or brown ones as wolves usually do. These green eyes are his identifying mark, as is the faint shadow of his scar in the fur here,” she said, touching the wolf’s head just over his right eye. “I’m going to ask the wolf and — Mr. Weasley, if you’d turn into the collie, please? — to go down the tables as the cat did before, so everyone can see you up close. Mr. Weasley’s collie has his bright blue eyes, did you notice? Those and the speckles on his nose, which resemble his freckles, are his identifying marks.” Rather than trotting on top of the tables as the cat had, the wolf and dog moved between the tables. As they progressed through the crowd, some people couldn’t resist reaching out to touch them, patting the collie’s silky fur as it passed, barely touching the wolf’s rough coat before it turned and glared at them with brilliant but fierce green eyes. Again, the animals stopped to visit their girlfriends, and spent a bit more time with their own friends and D.A. members. Halfway down the Slytherin table, the wolf stopped, its hackles up and a growl forming as it swiftly turned toward a student. All at once, there was a flash of spellfire close to the floor. The collie leaped over the table and knocked Blaise Zabini over just as Harry swiftly turned back into himself, wand at the ready. “Get off him, Ron!” Harry cried, aiming his wand at Zabini’s heart. “Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley!” Professor McGonagall cried. “What’s the meaning of this?” “Zabini was trying to hex us,” Harry snarled, his growl sounding amazingly like the wolf’s. Ron had changed back into himself and had Harry’s attacker by the collar, dragging him to his feet. Zabini’s wand clattered to the floor. Professor Snape strode quickly down the aisle and took matters in hand. He gave the Slytherin a look or utmost disgust. “Zabini, come with me,” he said, pocketing the boy’s wand. Harry and Ron stood glaring at the boy’s back as he was half-dragged from the Great Hall by Snape. Ron looked at Harry. “Are you all right, mate?” he asked. “Yeah, fine,” he said, rubbing the spell burn on his arm. The full hex had just missed him. “Thanks.” “No problem,” Ron said with a shrug. They looked up at McGonagall. “We haven’t quite finished this table. Do you want us to change back?” Harry asked as calmly as possible. “Are you all right, Mr. Potter?” she asked, greatly concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little burn,” he said, rubbing the pain away as he spoke. “Well, if you’re up to it, yes, please, boys,” she said, shaken by the near disaster. If Harry or Ron had hurt Zabini while in Animagus form. . .and if Zabini’s spell had actually caught Harry. . . . She took a deep breath and went back to her instruction as the boys became animals again and finished their tour of the tables. “As you could see, it’s possible to do the change very quickly,” she said. There was no point in trying to disguise how quickly Harry could change. One moment he’d been a wolf, the next, a very angry Harry with wand at the ready — it had happened in the blink of an eye. “Changing that quickly requires great discipline and control, and as we all know from watching Mr. Potter play Quidditch, he has very fast reflexes. I know some of you are wondering if the wolf and collie were following animal instincts or the wizard’s instincts. I assure you, the Animagus has control of his animal, although he is fully aware of the animal’s instincts. This is unlike the Human-to-Animal Transfigurations such as the Seventh Years have been doing, in which the animal’s instincts can, at times, take over, with the wizard not being able to control the animal.” The boys reached the front of the room again, and became themselves. “All right. We’ll take questions now,” Professor McGonagall said. “Raise your hands and when you ask your question, if you want an answer from a specific person, make sure you mention his name.” Many hands were raised, many questions asked, most of them aimed at Harry and Ron. Both boys handled the questions admirably, although Harry had a few difficult moments when someone asked pointed questions about the multiple Animagus transformation. Many of them had seen the two phoenixes during the Battle of Little Hangleton, and heard Ginny screaming Harry’s name over the phoenix that had taken the Killing Curse for her. Finally, with a glance toward Dumbledore where he saw an approving nod, Harry admitted it was him. “You mean you can do three Animagi forms?” Zacharias Smith demanded without raising his hand. “I just said that, didn’t I?” Harry said, his patience wearing thin. “What’s the phoenix’s identifying mark?” Ernie McMillian asked eagerly. “Green eyes and a hint of my scar,” Harry replied. “Show us!” someone called. Harry glanced at Dumbledore again, who again gave an approving nod. In the blink of an eye, a beautiful scarlet-and-gold phoenix sat on the staff table surveying the gathered students regally with its bright green eyes. There were many “ooooo’s” and “aaaaaah’s” in the crowd, which was too stunned by the idea of someone becoming a magical creature to applaud. The bird lifted into flight and soared over each table, giving them a chance to look at him, but staying out of their reach. The Gryffindor D.A. members, who’d seen him become a phoenix to help ferry Professor Sinistra and Hermione from the Astronomy Tower to the hospital wing after Draco Malfoy’s attack last spring, cheered loudly as he soared overhead. When it reached the far end of the Great Hall, the bird disappeared in a flash of light, reappearing over the staff table in another flash, then landed on the floor by Ron’s feet, quickly changing back into Harry Potter. The gathered students and staff applauded again, with cheers and whistles and the excited stamping of many feet included. “How can he be a multiple Animagus when most wizards can’t even do one form?” Zacharias Smith demanded when the room quieted. “Harry is a very talented wizard, and has worked extremely hard on these transformations,” McGonagall answered. “Those who were in class with him when we first discussed the Animagus transformation may remember that he asked about magical creatures then. I think he’d planned to become a phoenix all along.” Harry glanced back at her and nodded, blushing a bit. “So do you have healing tears and all that, Harry?” someone else asked. “I honestly forget that I can do that most of the time,” Harry said with a shrug. “Silly, that, but there it is. Usually when I need to do that kind of thing, there’s so much else going on that I just don’t think of it.” “Why did you keep this multiple Animagus form thing a secret?” someone else called. “I think the forms will be useful to me when I’m an Auror, just as Professor McGonagall said,” Harry replied. “I think that the fewer people who know about it, the better. The only reason I showed them tonight is because so many people saw me as a phoenix during the battle or on the Astronomy Tower when Malfoy attacked us there, and a lot have seen the collie and wolf with the werewolf. So those secrets were out anyway.” “What other forms can you do?” Ernie McMillan asked. “Who said I can do others?” Harry asked cheekily. “Who said you couldn’t?” Ernie snapped back with a grin, equally cheeky. “Three are enough for now,” Harry said, hoping he could keep his seven or eight — he’d lost count again — other forms secret. “And I think we’ve had a long enough lesson for this evening, as well,” McGonagall said. “I appreciate your attention, and Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I am very grateful for your help this evening. Thirty points to Gryffindor for each of you for your help in this lesson. Hopefully, what you’ve shared tonight will help others in their efforts to conquer the Animagus transformation.” Harry and Ron went back to their seats as McGonagall sat down and Dumbledore stood up for a last word. “This has been a very interesting lesson,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “I think Professor McGonagall had a marvellous idea to have an assembly so students of every year could benefit from hearing from their classmates about how they managed to accomplish something that is extremely difficult to do. Thank you, Professor. Thank you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley!” He clapped his hands, leading everyone in a round of applause. “You are dismissed. Good night!” “Professor?” Harry said several days later when he saw Dumbledore walking down the hall alone. “May I have a word?” “Of course, Harry! How are you?” the old wizard said genially. “I’m fine, thanks,” the boy replied with a smile. “I was wondering if you’d ever found out how that beast got into the forest. The one that attacked us?” “I haven’t found a definitive answer, merely suppositions,” Dumbledore said with a sigh, “but they may be the only ‘answers’ we ever find.” “And what are the suppositions?” Harry prompted. “It’s possible that Voldemort and an accomplice — since he’s still at least partially blind, as far as we know, I imagine he’d need a guide — set a spell in the forest that would be triggered by the presence of a collie. Mr. Weasley’s form is registered, and whoever informed Voldemort about your runs would know that Mr. Weasley doesn’t run at night without you. They might not have been able to see what your form was. That black wolf is very difficult to see even in full moonlight, after all. So the presence of the collie would mean you were probably close by, and would be the trigger that would set off the spell. At least, that seems logical to me.” “But what about the wards set around Hogwarts?” Harry said in concern. “They should have prevented Voldemort from coming that close to the castle.” “You’re right, Harry. The wards extend quite a way into the forest, but he found some way to get that spell past them. We’re working on it, don’t worry. In the meantime, just stay away from the edge of the forest, all right?” “Right,” Harry said darkly, angry that Voldemort had imposed on his life once more. The days were passing swiftly. Quidditch (Gryffindor had soundly beaten Slytherin, and were off to a decent start toward the Quidditch cup), D.A., the all-too-rare Hogsmeade weekends, and endless, everlasting study filled the days. October faded into November, which blustered into December far too soon. The Seventh Years could feel the N.E.W.T.s breathing harsh, hot, expectant breath down their necks. Whatever time wasn’t spent in class, Quidditch practice, D.A. meetings, eating or sleeping, was spent with their noses in books, doing this year’s homework and revising everything they’d learned in previous years. Harry still had his private lessons with Dumbledore and research with Remus to deal with. Sleep was a rare commodity for him, and even when he was asleep, he had troubled dreams about exams he hadn’t studied for, homework he hadn’t finished, classes he hadn’t attended, yet had to sit the exam. He could see the same kind of stress on the faces of all the Seventh Years, and the Fifth Years weren’t doing much better. Harry thought his brain was going to explode. He, Ron and Hermione had been working hard for hours, days, weeks. His eyes were aching, his brain hurt, his back muscles were locked up, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d held Ginny in his arms. As soon as he thought of her, he felt gentle hands on his back, massaging the knots in his muscles. “Oh,” he groaned, “that feels so good!” He slouched down in his chair and turned his face up so he could see her. Laughing brown eyes twinkled at him, soft lips brushed his in a tender, upside-down kiss. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed against her mouth. “Mmmm, me too,” she said, kissing him again. “You’re working too hard.” “It’s Seventh Year, Ginny!” Hermione snapped impatiently. “We have N.E.W.T.s coming up, our admission interviews to deal with for those of us going into jobs or university, research papers to do. . .” “I know, I know,” Ginny said, raising a placating hand. Hermione was driving herself and the boys into the ground, she was working all of them so hard. “You do know it’s Friday, right?” “Yeah, Friday, so?” Hermione said, quite impatient already. “Date night. Close the books. It’s time you had a night off!” Ginny said merrily. “No, it isn’t!” Hermione said hotly. “We don’t have time! Our schedule–” “Hermione, I can’t even see anymore,” Ron whinged. “I’ve been trying to read the same sentence for half an hour and my eyes are just crossed. I can’t focus at all.” Harry smiled at Ron. Ron was working so hard this year to get good grades, especially with Hermione pushing him, but he could see his best mate was about to break from so many hours of unrelieved work. “Hermione. . .all work and no play. . .and my brain just shut down,” Harry said mildly, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. “FINE! FINE! If you don’t do well on your N.E.W.T.s, it won’t be my fault!” Hermione snarled, packing up her books and preparing to storm away. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Ron said, wrapping one long arm around her waist and pulling her to him. “You need a break too.” He kissed her temple tenderly, smoothed her hair back off her neck and nibbled her ear. “Come on, ‘Mione. You know a break will refresh your mind,” a soft kiss to her neck, since she was keeping her face turned determinedly away, “renew your energy,” another soft kiss, “relax you so you can concentrate better. . . .” He chuckled as he felt the tension begin to leave her body. He was finally getting through to her. “Ron, I. . .,” she began righteously, but the protest died unspoken on her lips as he kept working on her, nibbling gently on the spot where her neck joined her shoulder, then wherever else his lips could reach easily. “Oh, do that again, yeah, right there,” she moaned suddenly as he kissed the tender skin behind her ear. He chuckled again softly and complied until she was completely relaxed in his arms. “So?” Ron said expectantly. “So what do you want to do, then?” Hermione said, her eyes languid as she nestled her head into his shoulder comfortably. “Snogging works for me!” Ginny said brightly. “Me too,” Harry agreed, tugging on her hair, “but we honestly do need to finish this bit of study tonight. I could use some fresh air, at the very least.” He looked across the table at Ron and Hermione. “Now that you two have your snogging out of the way,” he teased, “we haven’t been to visit Hagrid in a while, and it’s a beautiful evening. Let’s walk down there. The cold air will recharge my brain, anyway.” A short time later, they were trudging through the snow toward Hagrid’s hut, the crisp, clear air truly refreshing their minds and making them cheerfully playful. Two snowball fights and four snow angels later, they were knocking on Hagrid’s door. Fang’s booming bark greeted them. “Harry!” Hagrid said in delight. “Ginny, Hermione, Ron! It’s good ter see ya! You lot haven’t been ter visit me for a while! Come in, come in, I was just about to have a cuppa.” When they were all settled around his table, they chatted about inconsequential things, just enjoying the warmth of their friendship. Fang had his head in Harry’s lap, looking up at him with adoring eyes. Harry scratched him behind his ears, knowing even better, now that he’d become a dog and a wolf as an Animagus, how much dogs loved to be scratched behind the ears. “How’s the decorating going?” Hermione asked, knowing Hagrid had been dragging huge Christmas trees to the castle over the last few days. “Oh, it’s lovely, honestly. I dunno how Professor Flitwick does it, making it more beautiful each year, but he does. They’re doing some special stuff for the Yule Ball, y’know. It’s goin’ ter be brilliant!” “What kind of special stuff?” Ron asked. “Top secret! I can’t even tell you lot!” Hagrid said, his beard bristling in what they knew was a grin. “Are you going to the Ball?” Ginny asked. Hagrid blushed. “Well, I thought I might look in on it.” “Who are you going with?” Harry teased, his green eyes dancing with mischief. “Turns out Olympe — that’s Madame Maxime ter you lot — has some free time. She’s coming with me.” Hagrid looked so pleased, his beetle black eyes nearly disappeared in the hugeness of his smile. “Are you two an ‘item’ now?” Hermione said, happy for him. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said shyly, his blush deepening. “You fancy her, don’t you?” Ron said with a grin. “Well. . .a bit,” Hagrid admitted. “And does she fancy you as well?” Hermione said. “Now yer bein’ nosy!” Hagrid growled, but with a pleased grin. “It will be nice to see her again,” Ginny said, hoping Madame Maxime would be as happy to see Hagrid as the mere thought of her seemed to make him. She’d never seen him blush so much. “You lot are all going, aren’t you?” Hagrid asked, trying to get their attention off of him. “Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” Harry said, looking at Ginny with love in his eyes. The idea of spending an evening dancing had been horrible to him that first Yule Ball, but now, spending an evening dancing with Ginny was a delightful prospect. “How are the dragons doing?” Ron asked. He knew his brother Charlie and the other dragon keepers came to check the gate-guarding dragons’ health regularly, but their day-to-day care was Hagrid’s greatest pleasure. Charlie had brought two mated pairs of Common Welsh Greens, the most trainable of the dragon breeds, to guard Hogwarts’ gates the previous term. Charlie had got Hagrid permission to do limited breeding, which was the thrill of Hagrid’s life so far. “Oh, they’re thrivin’, just thrivin’!” Hagrid said with delight. “Never better! They got over their injuries from the battle quite well, actually. The females have been getting a bit broody. I think we may have eggs soon.” “Really? Wow!” Ginny said. “Yeah, Charlie’s goin’ ter come help me with the hatchin’, and he’ll take the babies back with him ter raise in Rumania when they’re ready ter leave their mummies,” he said, tearing up a bit at the thought. “Wicked!” Ron said approvingly. “Yeah, he’s shown me how ter build the nesting boxes an’ all,” Hagrid continued. “You Seventh Years are goin’ ter have some lessons on dragon breedin’ later this year. Oops, I shouldn’ta told ya that!” He chuckled, knowing he could trust them. They passed a very pleasant time visiting with Hagrid, then left reluctantly, knowing they still had mountains of homework facing them. It had started snowing seriously while they were in Hagrid’s hut. As they trudged back up toward the castle through the heavy, blowing snowfall, they passed the Quidditch pitch. “I’m freezing,” Ginny said. “Let’s stop in the locker rooms to warm up, OK?” “Yeah, it’s a lot colder than it was earlier,” Harry agreed. He did a Warming Charm on Ginny and she smiled up at him, but still shivered. “My feet are wet. I just want to sit down, dry my socks, and warm up for a few minutes,” she said. “No problem,” Harry replied. Ron went ahead of all of them, ploughing a path through the deepening snow. He was the tallest boy in school now, and had filled out considerably, his frame no longer gangly and gaunt but well-muscled, broad-chested and strong. Harry followed him, helping to stamp the snow flatter so it was easier for the girls to get through. The snow was heavy and wet and still coming down hard. Even the Warming Charms they directed at the ground weren’t strong enough to clear their path. Soon the four of them had collapsed on the benches in Gryffindor’s locker rooms. Ginny was shivering harder now. Harry pulled her shoes and socks off before she could protest, and was rubbing her feet as he renewed the Warming Charm on her. Hermione removed her own shoes and socks and put them in a pile with Ginny’s, casting a Drying Charm that soon had steam rising from all the wet socks, which now included Harry’s and Ron’s as well. “Somebody remind me why we decided it was a good evening to go to Hagrid’s in this awful weather,” Ron commented as he leaned against the wall, enjoying the warmth of the locker room. “We were tired of studying, remember? It seemed like a good idea at the time!” Ginny said brightly. “But my toes are still frozen!” “Seriously?” Harry said, concerned. He took her feet in his hands and rubbed them again. “Maybe we should put them in warm water.” “No, I just wanted you to rub my feet again,” she said, pleased her plan had worked. “You’re silly,” he said, tossing a dry sock at her head. Soon socks were flying everywhere as they got into a mad mock-battle which ended up with all of them in a laughing heap on the floor, Harry on top of the pile declaring himself the winner. “Winner of what?” Ginny asked tartly as he helped her up. “I get a kiss from the lady of my choice,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, and where are you going to find a lady who’s willing to kiss you?” she retorted pertly. “I said it was the lady of my choice,” he responded confidently, then swung her up into his arms. “And I choose you.” “Good decision,” she said, then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. “Well, shall we stay here and snog, or get back to the castle?” Ron asked, glancing out of the window by the entry door. “It’s snowing harder.” “I’d vote for snogging, but the way the snow looks, we’d better get back up there,” Harry said. “Come on, ladies, let’s cover those dainty toes!” With all of them re-shod, they opened the door to find themselves facing a real blizzard. The snow was well above the girls’ knees now. “Tell you what,” Harry said, “we’ll carry you girls piggy-back, and you clear a path for us with your wands. That should work.” “Can’t you turn into a thestral and just fly us up there?” Hermione asked. “You’d freeze if I tried to fly you, and the wind is so strong, it would make for a rough ride all round,” Harry said. “It just isn’t good flying weather, or I’d do that or the phoenix. But it isn’t that far. We can carry you. Our legs are long enough to get through the snow easily. Besides, this way will be fun!” “If you say so, mate,” Ron agreed, then bent down so Hermione could climb onto his back. Before long the four of them were trudging through the snow, the girls reducing the snow on the ground ahead of them as much as possible with their wands while the boys’ long legs slogged through the heavy, drifting snow with increasing difficulty. Finally, they made their way up the marble steps, which were magically clear of snow thanks to some well-placed housekeeping charms. They pushed open the huge doors and closed them on the blustery storm, glad to finally be inside again. The girls slid off of the boys’ backs and the two boys collapsed in laughing, exhausted heaps on the marble floor. “That was hard work!” Ron gasped. “Are you saying I’m heavy?” Hermione challenged him, her eyebrow raised threateningly. “No, sweetie, but the snow was deep even with your spells getting so much of it out of the way! I’m knackered!” Hermione forgave him — not that she’d truly been cross with him, but it was a good excuse to kiss him anyway. “I could stand some hot chocolate,” Harry mused from his spread-eagled position on the floor. “Butterbeer,” Ron countered. “Even better!” Harry agreed. Both boys sat up and grinned at each other. “Kitchen raid!” they said together, and climbed to their feet, grabbed the girls’ hands and tore off down the stairs to the kitchen. A short time later, they were happily ensconced at a well-scrubbed table, hot chocolate, hot tea, warm butterbeer and coffee all arrayed in front of them, as well as a huge tray of éclairs and scones. The house-elves had outdone themselves again. “Nwub duhs,” Ron mumbled around a mouthful of éclair, “sway hab stbbbrk!” “Huh?” Harry said helpfully. Ron made a manful effort at swallowing. “I said very plainly, ‘now this is the way to have a study break!” All of his friends laughed. The Yule Ball was to be held on December 23 so students would have time to get home for Christmas if they wanted to. It had been changed from Christmas Day by Dumbledore because he knew Remus and Tonks wanted to get married on Christmas Eve. The wedding needed to be at Grimmauld Place so all the Order members could attend without revealing to prying eyes that they knew each other. The evening of the Yule Ball, Harry and Ron dressed carefully, checking each other’s robes to make sure they were as well-turned-out as possible. As required by law and custom, both had all their medals arrayed on their robes, their Orders of Merlin hanging by gorgeous ribbons around their necks. Harry stood in front of the mirror quite a while trying to do something with his hair. “Ooo, it’s so sad, you do try so hard,” the mirror crooned helpfully. “You may as well give it up as a bad job, though.” “Oh, shut up,” Harry said, glad he’d remembered to tell Dobby to only put non-talking mirrors in the Grimmauld Place house when he redecorated the bathrooms and bedrooms. “You look fine,” Ron assured him with a smile. “And you’re such an authority?” Harry teased, ruffling Ron’s perfect waves a bit out of place. “Hey!” “Sorry. But now you know how I feel,” Harry said, grinning as Ron made a face at him. With Ron’s hair neatly back in place, the two boys followed the crowd down the stairs and stood waiting in the Common Room for Hermione and Ginny. They watched the spiral staircase to the girls’ dormitory for several minutes before the girls appeared. Ginny was wearing her beautiful deep gold dress robes, her medals glinting elegantly, her hair flowing down her back in ringlets, with bits of it caught up in a jewelled clip at the back of her head. When he looked closer, Harry could see the clip was the Firebolt one he’d given her months ago. Harry took her hands and leaned down to kiss her bare shoulder. “You look spectacular — and you taste good, too!” He straightened the ruby Gryffindor lion pendant she wore, which matched her earrings as well as the single earring he wore. She giggled and smoothed his unruly hair. “You look quite handsome, sir!” she said approvingly. Hermione’s robes were a deep midnight blue with silver sparkles strewn across them, her medals lined up with military precision over her heart. Her shoulders were bare, the silver necklace Ron had given her months before glinting beautifully against her skin. She also wore her charm bracelet with the book charm full of pictures of her friends. Glittering at her ears were the silver-and-sapphire earrings Ron had given her after she recovered from being attacked by Draco Malfoy on the Astronomy Tower during exams last term. “Hi, beautiful,” Ron said, leaning down and kissing her. Hermione blushed prettily and smiled up at him. “Hi, yourself! You look wonderful!” “Thanks,” Ron replied, then held up his arm like a posh gentleman. “Shall we?” “Absolutely!” Hermione said with a smile, taking his arm. She and Ron climbed through the portrait hole, followed by Harry and Ginny. Parvati and Dean were close behind them, Parvati in dress robes of a striking deep scarlet with shimmering gold designs embroidered on them. “Parvati’s going to loan me her dress robes for the wedding,” Hermione told her friends. “They’ll look great with Ginny’s gold robes, and will go with the wedding colours better than mine.” It turned out Tonks was also a Gryffindor, so Harry’s house, the site of the wedding and reception, was being decorated in Gryffindor red and gold. “That will be wonderful!” Ginny said, looking at Parvati’s robes approvingly. “Thanks for helping out, Parvati!” “No problem,” Parvati said with a smile. “I wish I could see this wedding! Professor Lupin getting married — who would have thought? What’s his bride like?” “She’s great. You’ve seen her. She’s come here to visit a few times. She always makes a great fuss over Harry,” Hermione said, making Harry blush. “Who doesn’t?” Parvati teased. “Hello? I’m right here, in case you forgot,” Harry said patiently. “We know, but you’re just so cute when you blush!” Parvati teased. “So Professor Lupin is marrying that woman with the spiked pink hair? Or is it purple?” “It’s been pink, purple, turquoise, pale blue, long, short, all kinds of ways,” Ginny said as they continued down the corridor. “She’s a Metamorphmagus and can change her appearance at will.” “Wow, that’s neat!” Dean said approvingly. “What’s her real hair look like?” “Those are all her real hair,” Hermione explained. “I think Dean means her original hair,” Ginny said with a smile. “Sometimes she’ll have her hair as long as mine, and it’s nearly the same colour. She says that’s her ‘original’ hair.” “How’s she going to do it for the wedding?” Parvati asked. “Whose wedding?” Lavender said as she came up behind them on Neville’s arm. She and Neville had just started going out, after Neville’s quite amicable break-up with Susan Bones. Lavender hadn’t dated anyone since Seamus’s death, so this Yule Ball was quite important to her. She wore robes of pale green that looked very pretty against the golden brown of her hair. “Professor Lupin’s marrying an Auror over the holiday,” Parvati told her. “Hermione and Ginny are her bridesmaids.” “Actually, Ginny’s maid-of-honour,” Hermione amended. “And Harry’s best man. Ron’s a groomsman as well.” “Anyway,” Parvati went on to Lavender, “Hermione’s borrowing my dress robes so she’ll look good in the wedding.” “So the colour will match the wedding colours,” Hermione corrected a bit impatiently. “Tonks is a Gryffindor, as is Professor Lupin, and the wedding colours are red and gold.” She forced her temper down and said, “I appreciate your loaning me your dress robes, Parvati. I’ll take good care of them.” “I’m sure you will,” Parvati said archly. “So where’s the wedding going to be?” Lavender asked. “At Harry’s house in London,” Hermione said before she thought about it. “Harry’s house?” Lavender said, looking at Harry curiously. “Harry has his own house? Or do you mean the house those Muggles live in? I thought you lived in Surrey, Harry.” “My aunt and uncle live in Surrey. I don’t live with them anymore. I have a house in London,” Harry said, hoping he wouldn’t have to go into long explanations. “When did you get a house? Where is it?” Lavender said excitedly. “I’m from London. We can visit during the holidays!” “Erm. . .I don’t spend a lot of time there, since I’ll be living alone now that Remus is getting married. I inherited it from my godfather,” Harry said uncomfortably. “Professor Lupin?” Lavender asked, confused. “No, Sirius Black,” Harry replied. “Oh, I see. Where are you going if you’re not staying in London?” Lavender said. “I’ll probably go to the Weasleys,” Harry said with a shrug. “I thought—” Ron began, but Hermione trod on his toe. “Oh,” he said meekly, cottoning on. “So back to this wedding,” Parvati urged. “Who’s coming to it?” “Just a few friends of theirs,” Hermione replied. “It’s very small. That’s how they want it.” “How are you doing your hair?” Lavender asked Ginny. Talk of hairstyles carried the four couples the rest of the way to the Great Hall. The Great Hall was, as usual, richly decorated with twelve magnificent Christmas trees, candles floating in shimmering bubbles, real fairies creating fairy lights in the trees, icicles hanging from every horizontal surface. The walls glistened as if they were icy, reflecting the candles’ glow over and over. Dumbledore’s great surprise, which Hagrid had hinted at, was the performance by the hot new band, Toads in the Loo, featuring the wildly popular Dan Jacobs on bass guitar and Emma Prince as lead singer. Emma was very pretty, with a luxurious fall of wavy brown hair and dark eyes that glimmered with both humour and sensuality. Her voice went from light, crystalline delicacy to deep, rich fullness, filling the room easily and enticing everyone to dance. Dan was a handsome, well-built young man with shaggy brown hair, big blue eyes full of mischief and the hint of a dimple in his chin. He played his guitar with great energy, gyrating wildly, shaking his hair and jumping around the stage with abandon, much to the delight of the girls in the audience. The other band members’ visual performances paled in comparison to these two, but they managed to keep up with them musically quite well. The band’s songs ranged from traditional dance tunes to the latest hard-edged teen music. They were funny, cheeky, and acted quite silly on stage, apparently having as much fun playing as the students were dancing. Toads in the Loo was a huge hit with the audience. “Hello, Hogwarts!” Emma cried happily when they finished their first set of songs. “We’re Toads in the Loo, and we hope you’re enjoying our performance!” This statement was met with approving cheers. Emma smiled and began to introduce the band members. “On lead guitar, we have Bob Minster from Killiecrankie near Pitlochrie!” Minster was a redheaded young man with loads of freckles and a roguish glint in his eye. He played a strident chord on his guitar and bowed flamboyantly when the crowd cheered for him. He, the drummer, and Dan Jacobs, the band leader, were the most popular members of the band, with crowds screaming their names wherever they played. Emma waited for the applause to die down before going on. “On rhythm guitar, we have Seamus O’Roark from Upton Snodsbury!” O’Roark grinned cheekily and did a little jig as he played a few notes and the crowd cheered for him. “On celestial keyboards, we have Kevin Pitcairn, from Kirkby Overblow in South Yorkshire!” Pitcairn appeared to be shy. He hung his head so his fringe covered his eyes and barely nodded when his name was announced, although he did play a rather dramatic flourish on the keyboard. “On drums, we have Scott Old Crow, of Norman, Oklahoma, USA!” The crowd cheered especially hard for Old Crow, a Native American wizard who had arrived in England on holiday several years before and decided to stay a while. His exotic good looks made him quite popular with the fans. His blue-black hair hung nearly to his waist, and his dark eyes flashed playfully in a handsome, high-cheekboned face, with skin that looked like burnished copper. He grinned wickedly and twirled his drumsticks as he shook his long hair behind his shoulders, making the girls scream for him again. Emma waited for the room to quiet a bit, then waved dramatically at the bass guitarist. “And on bass guitar, our leader, songwriter, backup singer, all around good guy and cute as he can be — Dan Jacobs, from Fulham, near London!” The girls in the crowd squealed raucously as he stepped forward and bowed with a dramatic little flourish of his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. The cheers went on for several minutes. When the excited crowd settled down again, he lifted his wand, murmured Sonorus, and spoke to the crowd. “Thank you very much for that warm welcome, Hogwarts! We’re glad to be here!” As he spoke, Emma poked him in the back and frowned at him spectacularly. He jumped dramatically in response to her poking him, making everyone laugh. “Oh. I guess we forgot something,” he said, trying his best to look guilty. He moved aside and held his arm out toward Emma as he said, “On vocals, our lead singer and by far the prettiest one of us, Emma Prince, who’s from Oxford!” He stepped away from the centre of the stage, leading the applause and giving her a rascally grin. Emma tilted her head and smiled at him coquettishly, then waved in acknowledgement of her applause. Dan muttered Quietus and put his wand away, then started a throbbing rhythm on his guitar that had everyone dancing before the song actually began. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were showing amazing grace on the dance floor, both of them beaming. Hagrid was wearing a new black suit which wasn’t nearly as horrible as the hairy brown one he usually wore on special occasions. Madam Maxime wore robes of the deepest possible blue, with her magnificent opals gleaming softly against her olive skin. “Look at them,” Ginny said to Harry as they danced past the giant couple. “Do you think they’re in love?” “I think Hagrid is,” Harry said with a grin. “The only time I’ve seen him that happy is when he’s talking about dragons.” “I hope she doesn’t break his heart,” Ginny said, studying the French woman seriously. “Yeah, me too,” Harry agreed. They smiled and nodded to friends they passed as they whirled around the floor. Dumbledore danced with all the women on the staff, and took a turn with Madame Maxime while Hagrid danced with Professor McGonagall. Even Snape danced occasionally, eventually doing an amazing tango with Professor Sinistra that had everyone applauding when they were finished. Snape bowed formally to Professor Sinistra and then shook his greasy black hair out of his eyes and strode back to his seat to watch the others enjoy the Ball. Professor Flitwick was doing his best to dance with Professor Sprout, but between his short arms and her stoutness, the picture they presented was far more humorous than elegant. The band played for an hour, then took a break, during which time recordings of their music were played for those who wanted to keep dancing. “I’m knackered,” Ginny said. “Can we sit down?” “Yes,” Harry replied. “Do you want me to get you a drink?” “That would be great!” “Be right back,” he promised as he helped her into her chair. Harry returned to the table with drinks for Ginny and himself and sat beside her, watching other couples still dancing, and chatting with their friends who joined them at the table for a moment. At one such point, Hermione and Ron, Parvati and Dean and Lavender and Neville were all at the table with them when the girls, in one of those intuitive moments women everywhere shared, all decided to go to the loo at once. The boys helped them with their chairs, then settled back to wait for their return. “May I join you?” a beautifully modulated voice said behind Harry. He turned around and found himself facing the magnificent breasts of Emma Prince. “Yeah!” Dean enthused. “Have a seat!” He started to pull out the chair beside him, but she had already slipped into Ginny’s chair next to Harry. “Harry Potter, isn’t it?” she said, turning to face him. “Uh. . . yeah,” Harry said, feeling stupid somehow. He fought his impulse to lean away from her. There seemed to be entirely too much of her for the space she was occupying, yet she wasn’t a big woman. “I’ve wanted to meet you for some time,” she said, completely ignoring all the other boys at the table. She put her hand on his arm in a strangely intimate gesture and leaned toward him as she spoke, giving him a view of those luscious breasts that the other boys were craning their necks to see. Dean was practically drooling, Neville’s mouth hung open in shock at being so close to a beautiful celebrity, and Ron. . .Ron was torn between awe and anger. Awe that he was so close to Emma Prince — her chair was between his and Harry’s, and her leg brushed his on occasion as she moved in her seat — and anger that this woman seemed to be making a pass at his sister’s boyfriend. While he trusted Harry to stay true to his sister, the woman’s advances were so obvious, Ron’s temper was simmering close to the surface. “Uh. . .that’s nice,” Harry said, uncertain what to do. “We’re. . .we’re really enjoying your music,” Neville said when he could get his mouth to work properly again. Emma turned her charms on Neville, making him gasp in shock. “You are so kind!” she said in a voice so filled with gratitude, it suggested she rarely got compliments and was absolutely thrilled to get this one. “What’s your name?” “Neville. Neville Longbottom,” he said nervously. “It’s lovely to meet you, Neville,” she said sweetly. She turned to Dean, who immediately turned on the charm. “And you are?” “Dean Thomas, very happy to make your acquaintance,” he said, standing up and bowing a bit as he offered his hand. She laid the tips of her fingers in his hand, as if she expected him to kiss it, but Dean just shook it, not having progressed in his lady-killer skills to the hand-kissing stage. “Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered without prompting when she looked at him. “Oh, yes. You’re the general in Dumbledore’s Army, aren’t you?” she said, smiling up at him. “I’ve read about you in the Daily Prophet.” “Uh. . .yeah,” Ron replied, wondering briefly if she had Veela blood, because his brain turned to mush as soon as their eyes met. When she turned away, the feeling was gone, leaving him scowling as he puzzled over what had happened. She turned back to Harry. “Would you dance with me, Harry? I love to dance, and very rarely have the chance to. I saw you dancing with that pretty little girl. You’re quite good.” “Uh. . .,” Harry said, feeling even more stupid. “I’m not that good, honestly. Ginny makes me look much better than I am.” “I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, taking his hand as she rose to her feet. “Come on, I love this song. Let’s dance.” Harry looked around at his friends, uncertain what to do. Neville just stared, awestruck, at Emma. Dean looked quite jealous of Harry’s luck. Ron was still scowling but looked uncertain somehow. Harry gulped. What should he do? This woman was his headmaster’s guest. He should be polite to her. Yes. That was the best thing to do. Glad he’d settled that in his mind, he stood up and followed her to the dance floor. He glanced toward the stage and noticed Dan Jacobs was standing in front of it, totally surrounded by girls who were fawning all over him. The guitarist was smiling widely, signing autographs, laughing and carrying on conversations with several girls at once, and seemed completely at ease. He didn’t seem to mind the attention one bit. Harry wished he was as comfortable with his own celebrity status as Jacobs seemed to be. Fast music was playing when Emma asked Harry to dance, so they bounced and jumped giddily in time to the music for the remainder of the song. The next piece was a slow love song. Harry started to thank her for the dance and leave, but she moved close to him, pulling his arms around her waist and putting hers around his neck, then leaning her head on his shoulder. “This is so nice, Harry,” she said as they danced, Harry trying desperately to keep some distance between their bodies and failing spectacularly. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long.” She raised her head and looked deeply into his eyes, her body soft, warm and pliant in his arms. “I’ve read everything about you. I understand, the way few others would, how awful it is when the press makes things up about you. They do the same thing to me. Being a celebrity isn’t as much fun as the rest of the world thinks, is it?” “I guess,” he said uncomfortably. She fit in his arms as if she was made for them. She moulded her body to his, her scent filling his nostrils and making him dizzy somehow. He felt a bit drunk, or how he thought it might feel to be drunk, without the nasty sick part of it, anyway. It was kind of a floaty, unreal sensation. He couldn’t hear the music anymore, didn’t see the other people around them, and felt as if he were falling into those dark eyes that smiled up at him so enticingly. “You and I are alike in so many ways,” Emma said, her voice low and intimate. “We’re both celebrities. People expect things of us, sometimes things we don’t want to give, right? Autographs, handshakes, hugs, kisses, friendship, when they aren’t really interested in being friends — they just want to be able to say they’re our friends.” Harry nodded. A lot of what she was saying made sense to him. “I think celebrities should stick together. We understand each other,” she said, smiling at him sweetly. “I’m staying in Hogsmeade tonight. Would you like to join me for dinner after the Ball? And perhaps,” she added, her fingers tracing the sharply defined muscles of his chest through his robes as she subtly ground her body against his crotch, “some recreation?” Her hands slid around his slim waist, then glided sensuously over his back. Harry blinked hard, once, twice, forced himself to glance around the room. He cleared his mind as well as he could, then concentrated on remembering a complex potion recipe, forcing himself to list the ingredients in order as he attempted to disengage her body from his crotch without being too obvious to anyone who was watching. Finally, whatever spell she was weaving was broken. “Uh, no, thank you. I have a girlfriend.” “That little redhead I saw you dancing with?” “Yes.” “Wouldn’t you like to spend time with a real woman, rather than a little girl?” she said in a husky voice, putting her hands on either side of his face and bending his head down so that he could see all the way down her cleavage. Harry blushed magnificently. She had nothing on under her robes, nothing, not one thing, and he’d seen it. Gasping with embarrassment, he dropped his arms and said, “Uh. . .no. No, thank you. Ginny’s all the woman I can manage.” He stepped away from her and inclined his head in a small, polite bow. “Thank you for the dance. I look forward to hearing the rest of the concert,” he said stiffly, then moved quickly back to his table, his cheeks flaming. His cheeks were nothing to the flames coming out of Ginny’s eyes. “What was that all about?” she hissed. “She asked me to dance,” Harry said lamely. “Spill, Harry,” Dean encouraged him excitedly. “What did she talk about?” “Uh, nothing much. Music. Being a celebrity. That kind of thing,” he said uncomfortably. “There was more to it than that!” Dean prompted eagerly. “Yeah, Harry! The rest of us didn’t get to talk with her. What’s she like?” Lavender said, her voice breathless with excitement. “I can’t believe we were in the loo when she came over!” “She wouldn’t have come over if you girls had been here,” Harry said shortly, his temper suddenly dangerously near the surface. “What do you mean?” Hermione said, leaning forward to see his face better in the dim light. He was keeping his head down, his fringe and long hair hiding his eyes and his blushing cheeks. “Harry?” Ginny said gently, all anger gone as quickly as it had flared. She knew him well enough to recognize when he was troubled. “What’s wrong? What did she do?” “Nothing,” he snapped. “Not nothing,” Ginny said sympathetically. “What happened?” ”She. . .she came over all fan-girl on me,” he growled. “Thought we should be ‘friends.’” “What’s wrong with being friends with Emma Prince?” Parvati asked innocently. “She. . .she didn’t want to be ‘just’ friends,” Harry said repressively, hoping nobody would push for more information. As realization hit, his friends either gasped or laughed in surprise. “I wouldn’t mind being her friend,” Dean said cockily. Parvati gave him a filthy look, but he ignored it. “You’re welcome to her, then,” Harry snapped, sounding thoroughly disgusted. Ginny looked up at the stage in confusion for a moment. Emma Prince, acting like a fan girl over Harry? She shook her head as if to clear it, then leaned down to peep under his fringe. She was more concerned about Harry’s feelings at the moment than about hexing the singer in revenge for her advances on Harry. “Do you want to leave?” “I came here to dance with you, and that’s what I intend to do,” he said, standing up abruptly and taking her hand. “Would you like to dance, Ginny?” “Aw, come on, Harry, tell us about Emma!” Dean whinged. Harry sighed, then turned furious eyes on his friend. “You want to know about her? OK. She seems nice enough, but she has a way of casting a spell that makes you dizzy, makes you forget yourself,” he said in an angry whisper. “You mean she came on to you?” Dean said eagerly. “For real? Wow!” “Not ‘wow,’” Harry growled. “Annoying. Irritating. Embarrassing. Humiliating. Are you happy now?” “And what, exactly, did she do?” Ginny bristled, ready to do battle for her man. “She just. . .made me blush,” Harry said quietly, forcibly stifling his temper. “Let’s forget it and dance, all right?” “Are you sure?” Ginny asked uneasily. “Yes, please. Come on,” he said, then led her to the dance floor and put his arms around her waist, pulling hers around his neck. “That’s better,” he said as he rested his cheek on her hair. Ginny pulled back and looked up at him. “She really got you upset, didn’t she?” “Yeah,” he admitted. “But what upset me most was that she managed to get me under her spell even for a minute. I love you, Ginny. I’m not interested in anyone else. She used some kind of magic on me, maybe in her fragrance, I don’t know, but it made me dizzy and forgetful and just. . .weird.” He glanced up at the stage, where Emma was singing a slow love song. Her eyes caught his and she sang the song right to him. Many people noticed. Harry broke eye contact and danced farther away from the stage, glad to have a buffer of numerous bodies between him and the singer. Ginny held him closely as they danced, glaring around his arm at the singer each time their dancing turned her toward the stage. If she could find a nice quiet way to hex the thick, wavy hair off of Emma’s head in front of everyone, she’d do it. She’d probably look good with purple pustules across her face saying “slut,” too, but Ginny didn’t want to disrupt the dance or upset Harry any more than he was already. She smiled up at him and stroked his cheek tenderly, her love for him shining in her eyes. He finally responded with a slight, bemused smile, and bent and kissed her as they danced. When the song ended and everyone clapped, Emma smiled and said, “We’re so glad Professor Dumbledore invited us to perform at Hogwarts. I don’t believe any of us have been here since we finished school.” She looked at the others in the band, all of whom shook their heads except for Old Crow, who shrugged and grinned. “Right, all of us but Scott. So it’s been years since we were here. I don’t know about the boys in the band,” she said, turning and smiling at the band members again. Dan gave her a cheeky grin and leering wink, which made her giggle, “but I’ve missed it. I can’t tell you how moved I was by the reports I read about your participation in the battles this past Spring. I couldn’t imagine students facing Death Eaters and surviving, but I understand you survived because of the training you received from Harry Potter. I have the greatest admiration for him, as I told him a little while ago. I also have tremendous respect for those of you who’ve fought by his side, and for those who fell in battle. Dan’s just written a new song that will be coming out on our next album. We’re performing it here for the first time in public. It’s dedicated to the heroes of Hogwarts.” “Let’s get out of here,” Harry said, taking Ginny’s hand, but she’d already been caught by the gorgeous opening strains of the song. They stood and listened, along with everyone else, not dancing, not talking, just listening to the haunting melody and heartbreaking lyrics that recalled the battles and honoured their dead in a way none of them could have imagined. If it extolled the virtues of ‘Heroic Harry Potter’ a bit heavy-handedly, there were few who objected. Those who’d been there knew he deserved the praise, even if it grated on Harry’s nerves horribly to hear her flattering him so. There were few dry eyes when the song ended. “Please, Ginny, let’s go,” Harry said, tugging on her hand as the band swung into an upbeat song and the crowd started dancing again. Ginny looked up at him and saw the pain in his eyes. “OK. Where do you want to go?” “Anywhere but here,” he muttered, leading her out of the Great Hall and down toward the main doors. “Let’s get some air.” “Harry, are you all right?” Remus said as Harry and Ginny neared the doors. He had Tonks by the hand. Apparently, they’d just come in from outside, because their cheeks were pinked with cold — or were they blushing? “Fine. Just needed some air,” Harry said abruptly. “Are you excited about the wedding?” Ginny asked Tonks. They hadn’t had time to talk since Tonks and Remus had arrived at the Ball. “You betcha!” Tonks said cheerily. “But what’s with our young man here? He looks as if he’s been coshed between the eyes with a cold fish.” “Huh?” Harry said, startled into looking at her. “Gotcha!” Tonks laughed, then quieted as she looked at him more seriously. “What’s wrong?” “Have you two been outside snogging?” Harry countered. “Is it very cold?” “Yes, and yes,” Tonks replied, “but that doesn’t answer my question.” “Don’t push it, Tonks,” Remus advised her. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready.” Harry stood fuming for a moment, then looked up at his godfather. “Does anyone know if Emma Prince is a Death Eater?” “What?” Remus and Tonks said together. “She put me under some kind of enchantment earlier,” Harry said, suddenly bursting to tell the story. When he was finished, he looked from one adult to the other, hoping for an explanation of some kind. “I’ll tell Albus,” Remus said. “He checked her out, and there didn’t seem to be any problems with her being here. Maybe she really does just fancy you.” “Isn’t it illegal for an adult to. . .to. . .proposition a student?” Harry said desperately. “Well, you’re seventeen now, so you’re legally of age, but it isn’t legal for her to put a spell on you,” Tonks said seriously, suddenly all business. “Do you want me to arrest her? Or I could at least have a serious talk with her.” “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know if she’d do it to anyone else or not, but she’s certainly not getting another chance at me,” Harry said uncomfortably. Suddenly he glanced at Ginny. “Ron!” He grabbed her hand and started back to the Great Hall, Remus and Tonks close behind them. “What about Ron?” Ginny said, panting as she struggled in her dress shoes to keep up with his long strides. “She mentioned him. She might go after him as well, and I didn’t warn him.” “After the way you reacted to dancing with her, do you honestly think Hermione would let him out of her sight?” Ginny said, still trying hard to keep up with him. “I have to be sure he knows,” Harry replied, slowing a bit as he noticed how much trouble she was having keeping up with him. “You can wait here if you want.” “Nope, you’re not going to be in the same room with that witch without me right beside you,” Ginny declared. She stopped for a moment, bent down and took off her shoes, and then ran with Harry, her elegant dress shoes clutched in her hand. Once the four of them reached the Great Hall, Harry and Ginny headed for Ron, Remus and Tonks for Dumbledore. “Ron! Ron, are you all right?” Ginny called as she neared him. He was sitting glassy-eyed and dazed, and Hermione looked furious. “Huh?” Ron said, turning toward Harry and Ginny. Harry pulled his wand. “Finite Incantatum,” he said determinedly. Ron immediately looked more awake, and quite confused. “What happened?” he said dazedly. “You tell me,” Harry said grimly. “Was Emma over here?” “Yeah!” Ron said, a vapid smile on his face. “She got off the stage and sang right to me!” “Ron! Focus!” Harry ordered, snapping his fingers under his best friend’s nose. “Focus. Yeah. On what?” Ron said, still bemused. Harry turned toward Hermione. “Has he been drinking anything but butterbeer or pumpkin juice?” “Dean offered him some firewhisky, but he turned it down,” she replied quickly. “Good. At least that lesson’s held,” he said grimly. “What happened?” “Emma came and sang to him while I was over there talking to Parvati and Padma,” Hermione said, looking disgusted as she gestured toward a table by the wall laden with snacks and drinks. “I didn’t think Emma could enchant Ron while she was just singing to him, or I would have come back sooner. She did say something to him when she finished, but I couldn’t hear what it was. It didn’t seem to be an incantation, just some conversation, but I hurried over here anyway. When I reached him, he was like this.” She looked at her boyfriend, shaking her head in frustration. “Well, he was worse. Your Finite seems to have helped.” “What did I miss?” Ron said, his face confused. “Blink, Ron,” Harry ordered. “Blink and look around. Clear your mind. Then think about something specific that has nothing to do with the Ball. Think of a list of ingredients for a potion or something. Something detailed.” As Ron followed Harry’s directions, they could see his face clearing and awareness returning. “That’s some spell, if a Finite didn’t end it,” Ginny murmured. “Why is she putting spells on Harry and Ron?” Neville said, having noticed what was going on. “I don’t know, but I mean to find out,” Harry said, getting up from the table and striding over to Dumbledore, who was still speaking to Remus and Tonks. “Sir, she spelled both me and Ron. What’s going on?” “Let’s find out, shall we? Let’s let her finish what we paid her to do, and then we’ll get to the bottom of this,” Dumbledore said. “We’ll make certain that she doesn’t get near any more male students in the meantime. Tonks, if you’d be so kind as to help with the interrogation, we won’t have to trouble the Ministry for other Aurors.” “No problem,” she said, her eyes glinting dangerously as she glared at the singer, who was still wooing the crowd with her music, apparently unaware that she was in trouble. When the Ball was over, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Remus and Tonks sat at a table together waiting for the crowds to leave. Professor Dumbledore chatted with Emma Prince, apparently cordially, as the Great Hall emptied. Finally, there were only a few staff members left, the band members packing up their instruments (a few girls stood nearby, hanging on every word and gesture of Dan, Bob and Old Crow), the group at the table, Dumbledore and the singer. He brought her over to the table and held a chair for her to sit down, deliberately putting her between Tonks and himself. “Ah, we meet again,” Emma said, smiling warmly at Harry, then at Ron. Both boys scowled back at her, which didn’t seem to faze her at all. “I’d like you to meet Professor Remus Lupin, who is a member of the staff here, as well as being Harry Potter’s godfather,” Dumbledore said, indicating Remus, who nodded stiffly, his face cold, “and Professor Lupin’s fiancée, Miss Nymphadora Tonks, who’s an Auror.” Emma beamed at Remus, barely nodded at Tonks. “We’d like to talk to you about something.” “We enjoyed ourselves a great deal tonight. I’m sure the lads and I would be delighted to come back and do another concert,” the singer said, anticipating what Dumbledore was about to say. “I don’t see that happening, although the music was lovely and your performance quite enchanting,” Dumbledore said mildly. “It’s the ‘enchanting’ you were doing on at least two of our students that concerns us.” “Sorry?” “You put some kind of spell on Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said, his genial expression growing hard and stern. “That is not acceptable behaviour. You’re an adult, nearly thirty years old now, aren’t you?” Emma gasped. “I am nowhere near thirty years old!” she protested vehemently. “I’m twenty-two!” “You were twenty-two at least seven years ago,” Dumbledore said, “because I remember when you came through Hogwarts, and it wasn’t that recently. So not only did you put spells on these young men, but you, as an adult, were behaving very inappropriately.” “They’re both over seventeen!” she snapped. “They’re not minors.” “Nor are they anywhere near your age. And both of them have girlfriends to whom they are quite devoted. Your behaviour was completely out of order. What do you have to say for yourself?” Emma looked around the table, seeing no friendliness anywhere, only hard eyes glaring at her in shades of blue, brown and green. She looked at those green eyes, her face growing sad. “I thought you would understand, Harry,” she said meekly. “Understand what?” he snapped. “How hard it is to find a suitable partner,” she said, spreading her hands humbly. “That’s ridiculous,” Hermione growled, “and you’re just acting right now. Stop it!” “And you are?” the singer said, attempting to be sweet and genteel, but coming off as cloying. “My girlfriend,” Ron said stoutly, taking Hermione’s hand. “You spoiled the evening for us.” “And us,” Ginny said, her eyes flashing in fury. “Our last-ever Yule Ball, and you just had to mess it up,” Harry snarled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. . .” Emma said uneasily. “Miss Tonks and I are going to ask you some questions,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Anyone who attacks Harry is immediately suspected of being a Death Eater. Push up your sleeve, Miss Prince.” “What? I’ll do no such thing!” she said, suddenly frightened. “Oh, yes, you will, ducks,” Tonks said, grabbing the woman’s arm and sliding the sleeve up, revealing a Dark Mark. Everyone gasped in shock. “How long have you had this?” Tonks asked as she Summoned and neatly caught the woman’s wand, then pulled her hands behind her back and magically bound them. “You may as well answer me now, because that man,” she said, indicating Snape, who was walking toward their table with something in his hand, “is bringing over a dose of Veritaserum for you. So talk!” “I. . .I haven’t had it long,” she said, her face ashen. “Our old manager embezzled the profits from our last album and we needed money to produce the new one. Each of us had to put in our share to pay for it. The lads were talking about splitting up the band if we couldn’t come up with the money for a new album soon. Dan carries the group — none of us would succeed without him. He writes the songs, he does the arrangements, he draws the fans to the concerts. . .I was desperate to stay in the band. Girl singers are easy to find — I didn’t want to be replaced, but I didn’t have enough money for my share of the album. I spent my share of the profits on new costumes and holidays — I didn’t know we were being robbed by our manager!” She looked around for sympathy, but saw none. She sighed and went on with her story. “Early this year, a man offered to fund my bit of the album if I’d do some small tasks for him. He had me, um, ‘entertain’ various men over the next several months, and then he disappeared, back in May. At one point, he took me to a meeting and this mark was put on me.” She hesitated, glancing at the angry faces around her. “I didn’t want to be a Death Eater! I needed the money! I just wanted to stay in the band!” she said desperately. “What was the man’s name?” Tonks asked in a stern voice. “Lucius Malfoy.” “Well, that figures,” Harry said with a disgusted sigh. “When you got your Dark Mark, surely you met Lord Voldemort?” Dumbledore said quietly. “You need to admit it if it’s true.” “Yes, he’s the one who gave me the Mark. He said I was doing what he wanted and that was all he was going to ask of me,” the singer replied reluctantly. “That was all. . .what do you mean?” Remus said. “He just wanted me to, um, entertain certain men,” she said. “By ‘entertain,’ you mean seduce?” Tonks prompted. Emma nodded. “And when you had them in your bed, what were you supposed to do then?” Emma froze up, shuddering in her seat, apparently unable to speak. “Memory Charm, I imagine,” Tonks said wisely. “Got that Veritaserum handy, Severus? We’ll try that first.” “Right here,” he said smoothly. The dose was soon administered. “What were you supposed to do to the men you seduced?” Tonks asked when the serum had taken effect. “Can’t say. . .mustn’t say. . .” Emma said, her head rocking back and forth as she tried to resist the potion. Tonks reversed the Memory Charm spell and asked her question again. “I was supposed to kill them,” the singer said in a dead-sounding voice. “How many have you killed so far?” Tonks demanded. “And who?” She named two men none of them had ever heard of. “Why them?” “Practice. It was training for when I’d have a chance to kill Harry Potter. If I couldn’t get Potter, I was supposed to get Ron Weasley.” Hermione gasped, while Ron’s and Ginny’s faces blanched and Harry’s grew red with fury. “Why Ron?” Harry snarled. “Because he’s the general,” Emma replied, sounding a bit tired. “With him gone, the Dark Lord told me the students wouldn’t have a chance against the Death Eaters.” “How were you going to kill them?” Tonks asked. She suddenly glanced at Harry warily. “Harry, temper!” she hissed, as the table began vibrating in reflection of his rage. Harry did his best to quell his anger. He pushed back from the table and paced, running his hand through his hair every so often as he thought about the implications. Now contracts were being put out on Ron’s life as well as his? How was he going to protect Ron? “I have potion and a knife,” Emma said. “Once I had him alone and interested, I’d put the potion in his drink and it would kill him. If he didn’t drink enough to kill him, it would slow him down enough for me to use the knife. I was told that, if I liked him, I could take him to bed first, then do it.” “Where are the potion and knife now?” Tonks asked. “In my bag,” she replied. Tonks moved the bag carefully away from the other woman’s seat and set it down well away from her. “We checked each of you for a Dark Mark when you arrived, and did so when we hired you, as well,” Dumbledore said. “How did you disguise it?” “I was warned by the Dark Lord that you would be checking for it both times, so I took the time to hide it with a Glamour Charm before our first meeting, and before we arrived tonight,” she replied. “Are the other members of the band Death Eaters as well?” Tonks demanded. “No, just me. And they don’t know about me. Dan would hate what I’ve done. He’s a very sweet, honourable man, no matter how wild he acts on stage. He’s very much against the Death Eaters, but I couldn’t find another way to raise the funds for my share of the album,” she replied, shaking her head. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. “I didn’t want to kill those boys. I admire them. They’re both handsome boys, and heroes. I just wanted to enjoy some time with them. I would have taken them to bed first.” She sighed. The girls looked at Harry and Ron, who were both shuddering in disgust. “Seducing young men and even thinking about killing them is not the way to show your admiration, Miss Prince,” Dumbledore said sternly. He looked at the young people across the table from him. “I checked her out thoroughly. She should have been fine. I’m so sorry. We won’t have any more outside entertainment until Voldemort’s been destroyed. It’s simply too dangerous.” His suddenly sad eyes locked with Harry’s. “I wanted this to be a very special Yule Ball for all of you.” “I know, Professor. Sometimes things happen no matter how hard you try to avoid them,” Harry said quietly. “Come on, I’ve got to deliver you to the Ministry for processing and I have a wedding to get to tomorrow! Let’s go!” Tonks said, dragging the woman up to her feet, grabbing the singer’s bag as she stood up. “I’ll come with you,” Remus said. Tonks smiled at him. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She shoved the singer in the back. “Move!” The four students, Dumbledore and Snape watched the other three leaving the Great Hall. Dan Jacobs approached the group hesitantly. “Excuse me? Where’s Emma going?” he asked politely, his face confused. “I’m afraid she’s got herself in a bit of trouble,” Dumbledore said sadly. “You’ll need to replace her.” “Bloody hell,” Dan grumbled, then blushed as he glanced at Ginny and Hermione. “Sorry, ladies.” “No problem,” Ginny said, smiling warmly at him. Harry and Ron looked at her oddly, but she just tossed her head defiantly when she noticed their looks and continued to smile at the guitarist. Harry glanced at Hermione and saw she was smiling at the young man too. Were the girls going all fan-girl over this musician? “What happened? Is it serious?” Dan asked. “Serious enough. I’ll have the Aurors send you an owl telling you all about it, all right?” Dumbledore said kindly. “But what did she do?” Dan insisted anxiously. “I’d like to know. I need to find out if she’s coming back soon so I’ll know if I really need to replace her. We’re starting a tour in a few weeks. I’ll have to tell the lads what’s going on.” Dumbledore sighed, then said, “She’s a Death Eater. She was sent to try to seduce and kill Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.” “WHAT?” Dan said, his blue eyes wide with shock. “No way!” “It’s the truth,” Harry said, not certain if he felt sympathy for the man or not. The band’s leader should have known what was going on with his associates, shouldn’t he? But then again, Harry forced himself to admit, it was sometimes hard to know what your friends were up to, what they were thinking, why they did various things. He felt a bit more sympathetic after he worked through these ideas. “You’re both all right, aren’t you?” Dan said in concern, looking Harry over, then turning to Ron. “We’re fine. We managed to break the enchantment she was casting,” Harry replied. “Oh. Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? You’re both OK, I mean. That’s good. Damn. I had no idea Emma was like that.” He shook his head in confusion. “Why would she do such a thing? I don’t get it. All of us have the greatest admiration for you lot! She helped me with the lyrics for that tribute song we did about your battles.” He turned and looked seriously at Harry. “Did she say why she did it?” “She said a man promised to give her the money she needed for her share of your album if she’d, um, seduce and kill certain men,” Harry replied, wishing he knew some way to soften the blow. The look on Dan’s face showed how badly this information hurt him. “I would have loaned her the money!” he said, raking his hands distractedly through his thick, untidy hair. “She didn’t have to do that.” He looked thoroughly miserable. “She said girl singers were easy to come by,” Hermione said quietly. “She thought she’d be replaced if she couldn’t pay her share.” “That’s bloody sod Bob talking, that is,” Dan growled. “He told her that because he couldn’t get her to go out with him. SHIT!” He glanced at the girls again. “I’m sorry. Normally I’m not so foul-mouthed.” He stood there panting, his anger growing. “Excuse me. I need to go throw bloody Bob off a tower — or the stage at the very least.” He stormed away, grabbed the lead guitar player by the neck of his robes and threw him bodily off the stage, then jumped down and stood over him, berating him loudly just before firing him from the band. “Well, that was interesting,” Ron said finally, when the last of the band members hurried out of the Great Hall with Dan, still fuming, bringing up the rear. Harry turned to Ginny. “Be right back,” he said quietly. “Where. . .?” “Be right back,” he repeated as he jogged after the band. “Mr. Jacobs?” “Dan, please, Mr. Potter.” “Harry,” Harry said, holding out his hand to shake the band leader’s. “I just wanted to tell you — you lot were brilliant tonight. It’s a shame that what she did messed up the Yule Ball for us, but it messed things up for you, too. I know it wasn’t my fault, but in a way. . .well, the man who did this to her was an enemy of mine, so in a way it is my fault. I’m sorry about all this.” “You have nothing to feel guilty about, Harry,” Dan said sincerely. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “You said the bloke who did this ‘was’ an enemy of yours?” “Yeah. He’s dead now,” Harry said with a shrug. “He’s. . .dead. And she still —” Dan stopped and shook his head, unable to comprehend everything he was hearing. “That’s how Voldemort works. The man who hired her, Lucius Malfoy, died back in May. But once Voldemort sets a plan in motion, it goes on until it either succeeds, or someone stops it.” “Well, I don’t understand why people act that way, but I know it happens. I’m sorry about her part in it. I wish I’d known what was going on. Maybe I could have done something to prevent it.” He shook his head sadly. “Emma made a bad choice.” “Yeah, she did,” Harry agreed. He was quiet a moment as he appraised the man standing uneasily before him. From what he’d seen of Dan tonight, Harry respected him. It was obvious he was quite distressed about what his singer had done, and wished he could do something to change how things were. Harry suddenly realized how much trouble the band might be in without their singer. “You’re going on tour, right? Will it be hard to replace her?” Dan sighed resignedly. “As Bob told her, girl singers are relatively easy to find,” he said. “She’s good, but I should be able to replace her fairly easily.” His eyes danced mischievously for a moment as he grinned and nodded toward Ginny. “That pretty little redhead doesn’t sing, does she?” Harry laughed. He knew the man was teasing him. “If she does, it’s only for me,” he assured the older man. “Good luck finding new people for your band. My girlfriend and I really enjoy your music. She has all of your albums.” “All two of them, eh?” Dan teased with a grin. “No, really, that’s great! I appreciate that. Hey, it’s wonderful to meet you, Harry, even under such ridiculous circumstances.” “You, too.” “I’ll send you tickets for a concert sometime. What town would be the best place for you to hear us?” “London.” “You’re from London? Cool! I’m from Fulham, just outside London. All right, you’re on. We’ll have a concert there next summer — July, I believe. I’ll owl you some tickets. What, four, so your friends can come too?” “That would be great, thanks,” Harry said, grinning. “Good night. Have a nice holiday,” Dan said, shaking Harry’s hand again. “And you, as well.” Harry waved and jogged back to his friends. When Harry left to speak to Dan, Dumbledore turned to Snape. “Severus, did you know about this?” “No, Headmaster. The Dark Lord keeps his people separate as much as possible so we can’t identify each other,” the Potions Master said darkly. “I had not heard of this particular plot, or I would have warned you. I do my best, but I’m not privy to every plan he makes.” “I understand,” Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh. “I appreciate what you do for us, Severus. I simply can’t believe that none of my research showed her to be any kind of a threat.” “If she’s a fairly new Death Eater, and has only killed two people none of us have ever heard of, then it would be easier to make such a mistake — she has no criminal record,” Snape said quietly. “There are many Death Eaters who pass security checks with no problem. You know that.” “Yes, I do,” Dumbledore said heavily. Just then, Harry returned to Ginny’s side. “He seems like a nice young man,” Dumbledore said to Harry, nodding toward the door Dan had just passed through. “Yeah, he does. He’s pretty upset about this,” Harry said seriously. “He seems to want to do the right thing.” He turned to his friends and added, “He’s sending us concert tickets when they play London next summer.” “Does he think he’ll be able to replace her easily?” Ginny asked. “He actually asked if you could sing,” Harry said, grinning at her. “I told him you only sing for me.” Ginny smiled warmly at him, her eyes dancing. “It’s obvious he hasn’t heard you sing!” Ron teased, then changed his mind about saying more when his sister gave him a warning look. “Ronald!” Hermione warned, poking him in the ribs. “Don’t be rude!” Ron pretended to be quite seriously wounded by Hermione’s poke, which made all four Gryffindors giggle. Dumbledore watched the young people, who were trying to make the best of a bad evening, and smiled. “It’s late. You should go up to your dormitories. We have a busy day tomorrow, what with Remus and Tonks’ wedding and everything. How are you travelling to Grimmauld Place?” “I’m going to flash Ginny there as a phoenix,” Harry said, “since she can’t Apparate yet.” “And we’re going to walk to Hogsmeade and then Apparate,” Hermione replied. “Very good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow! Hopefully, that will be a much less stressful party than this one turned out to be. Again, my apologies. Good night, all.” He stood and gave them a small smile, then walked slowly away, looking as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Good night, sir,” Harry said as he helped Ginny with her chair. Ron did the same for Hermione. Harry’s heart went out to Dumbledore, who he was certain had done his best to ensure their safety this evening. It saddened Harry to see his headmaster look so defeated. As they walked back to Gryffindor Tower, the four friends were silent. Finally, Ginny said, “Well, that was interesting.” Ron snorted derisively. “Interesting? I’m glad you thought so! I just found out a mad murderer is after me now!” “Well, you were second choice,” Ginny said tartly, startling all of them into uneasy laughter. “Let’s forget that part of the evening,” Hermione said practically. “Before she came on to Harry, we were having a lovely time. At least, I was,” she said, smiling up at Ron. “It was fun, wasn’t it?” Ron said. “Hard to believe a few years ago we thought dances were torture.” “Yeah,” Harry agreed. “It’s much better with the right partner.” He leaned down and kissed Ginny on the temple. “And you, m’lady, are the right partner for me!” She smiled warmly up at him. “Oh, I’ve got to get those robes from Parvati!” Hermione said suddenly. “We need to hurry so I can make sure I get all the accessories and so on lined up before she goes to bed!” When they got to Gryffindor Tower, after quick but heartfelt goodnight kisses, the two couples went their separate ways up to their dormitories. “Harry?” Ron said, sounding nervous. “Yeah?” “I feel creepy.” “Why?” “Because. . .because she had me on her list too,” Ron said, “and she got to me. I was under her spell! I’m such a bleeding idiot!” “No, you’re not. She had me under her spell for a while too,” Harry said with a sigh as they neared their door. “It’s just lucky she did it when there were people around to help.” “Yeah.” Ron was quiet for a minute, standing unmoving in front of their door. “Harry?” “Yeah?” “How do you manage?” He frowned and studied his friend’s face quite seriously. “Manage what?” Harry said, a bit flummoxed. “You have people trying to kill you all the time, and you know it, yet you just go on and live your life normally. How do you do it? I feel so weird, I’m probably going to jump at every sound, look over my shoulder all the time, and not trust anyone.” “That’s not such a bad thing, Ron,” Harry said philosophically. Ron’s face fell, his eyes wide and anxious. “I can’t bear it! It feels horrible! How do you live with this kind of stress?” “I decided a long time ago that Voldemort isn’t going to impose on my life any more than necessary, so I just do what I want and deal with the threats when they pop up,” he said with a shrug, hoping he was calming his friend a bit. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Huh. I’ll try that,” Ron said quietly as he opened the door. “You’ll be fine. And remember, you’ve got Hermione, Ginny and me watching your back.” “I have, haven’t I?” Ron said with a sudden smile. “Thanks, Harry.” “No problem.” Author’s note: Those of you who, like me, are fans of the movies and the actors in them may have gotten a kick out of two of the band members. Dan Radcliffe’s middle name is “Jacob” so I made the leader of the band “Dan Jacobs.” Dan also plays bass guitar, which is why Dan Jacobs played that instrument. Emma Watson sings and dances, so I made her the singer for the band. She’s “Emma Prince” here because Hermione was so insistent in HBP that the half-blood prince could be a girl. In real life, Dan is from Fulham, near London, and Emma is from Oxford. “Bob Minster,” the lead guitarist who caused some of the trouble, is named after Bobmin (whose last name I don’t know — if I guessed right, it was a complete accident!!). Bob is one of my readers, who also writes and decided it would be fun to use “Abraxan kidneys” as part of a potion he was writing about in one of his stories (“Sunset over Britain,” AKA “SoB” available at http://bobmin.fanficauthors.net/Sunset_O ver_Britain/index.html) because I made him mad at Hermione (in an earlier chapter of Destiny) when he was trying to write about NICE Hermione! [Bob — I did spell your name backwards to keep your anonymity! LOL!] “Scott Old Crow” is named after another fanfic author, Old-Crow, who made me the Minister of Magic in one of his fics (Thanks, Scott! The story is “Tom and Harry,” available at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2510579/1/). I don’t know that Scott is Native American, but using the name “Old Crow” made me think “Scott Old Crow” could easily be Native American. And the Toads in the Loo — that name was inspired by my Yahoo group (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPRefiner sFire/), the elves of which have organized into the “Time of Destiny Sulkers & Whiners’ Club” AKA “ToDS&WC.” Since a “WC” is a water closet, which is a “loo” (which is a bathroom), they call themselves “Toads in the Loo.” MJC (AKA “Cashman”) in my Yahoo group commented that a band with that name should open for the Weird Sisters, but I thought I’d give them their very own gig. I hope you enjoyed reading this stuff as much as I enjoyed writing it! BTW, the references to Dan and Emma were inspired by somebody on my Yahoo group reading that I’d named Neville’s grandfather’s “Rupert” and wondering when I was going to mention Dan and Emma, LOL! (Honestly, I’d just used the name Rupert because it’s so very Brit-sounding!) |
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