A/N: And now, the first Task in the Alternative Tournament, as well as the Yule Ball. We get to meet the first of Harry's other Professors, as well as his date for the Yule Ball (it probably won't be who you think). WARNING: this chapter contains implied SLASH; if you can't handle that, stop NOW. There's also a definite mention of Harem Boy!Harry, chained to a bedpost….

Disclaimer: as in Chapter 1. This is not being done for profit, but purely as homage to the characters and their creators.

Chapter 2

The next morning dawned clear and cold. Neville and the rest of the Gryffindors bundled up against the Scottish fall before trooping down to the arena where the first task was going to be held. As they were on their way, they were interrupted by a call from near the entrance.

"Neville! Neville Longbottom!"

"Gran!" Neville laughed, running to embrace the formidable woman. "You made it!"

"Of course I did," Augusta Longbottom sniffed, smiling despite herself. "You invited me, didn't you? Now come, we're going to be sitting near the Headmasters."

Neville waved his friends away, ignoring Ron's envious stare as he escorted his Grandmother up the steps to the official boxes. They were just getting settled when Sirius Black arrived with his party—Remus Lupin, Mary Poppins, and a strange witch that Neville didn't recognize. Curiously, a series of gasps and hushed cries as the strange witch's face came into view followed them into the stands.

The newcomer was tall and slender, clad in a black and purple robe that flowed behind her in a way vaguely reminiscent of bat wings. With a casual move, she doffed her hood, revealing a beautiful pale face (with just a hint of green to her skin) and startling yellow eyes. A black skullcap covered her hair, and her cloak was fastened with a silver clasp in which an extremely large stone glowed with faint green light. Aside from that, her only other jewelry was a gold ring with a large black round stone setting.

"Remus, Sirius, Mary Poppins...how nice to have you here," Dumbledore was saying. "And who is this with you?" he asked. Then, he froze in place as he saw the face of the witch following behind Mary Poppins. "Lady Maleficent," he grated, eyes flashing. "How...kind of you to grace us with your presence."

"Ah, Albus Dumbledore, charming as always," the witch said in a pleasant voice. "A simple 'Madam' will be sufficient; since that unpleasant business with Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip, I no longer claim any titles other than that. Olympe, how nice to see you here; Igor, you as well," she said, turning to the other Heads while Fudge and several others from various Ministries merely stood and sputtered.

"Maleficent," Olympe Maxime hissed, her hand twitching towards her wand.

"I would remind everyone that the faculty and staff of the various schools involved in the Triwizard Tournament have complete immunity during the Tasks and any other Tournament-related events," Mary Poppins voice coolly sliced through the background noise. "Madam Maleficent was kind enough to agree to assist me in Harry's lessons these past few weeks; as such, she can be considered to be a Professor at the Poppins Institute." The prim woman gave a tight smile. "Since it has already been established that the Poppins Institute is an active and valid participant in this Tournament, the rules should apply to all of my faculty just as they do to the other schools." Here she gave Igor Karkaroff a flat stare before turning back to Dumbledore. "Or is it merely former Death Eaters who are extended such a courtesy?" she finished. "If not, then we shall consider the contract of the Goblet abrogated by the hosting Ministry; my Champion will immediately withdraw from this Tournament, and we will all take our leave."

"Nnn..no! Of course not!" Ludo Bagman sputtered. When Edward Spindle's barrister partner, A. P. B. Gallsworthy, had appeared in his office to file the paperwork for the Poppins Institute of Practical Magic, Bagman had initially laughed it off as a huge joke. He hadn't been laughing when Gallsworthy argued that the binding magical contract created by the Goblet was not only a priori evidence, de facto as well as de jure, of the existence of the Poppins Institute, but also binding on the other Ministries involved as well. In short, Gallsworthy argued, for the British Ministry to deny the school recognition would be to violate the contract, with consequences for every witch and wizard in Europe that he refused to guess at.

"Rubbish" was Bartholomew Crouch's response.

"What!" was Cornelius Fudge's reaction.

"Hmm...quite possibly, he's correct," was the opinion of the Unspeakable Bagman managed to corner. "We could all loose our magic if the school isn't allowed to compete."

"Handle it as you see fit," Dumbledore told him, speaking as Chief Warlock.

"I find your arguments quite compelling," Bagman said, stamping the paperwork before sending it along to Griselda Marchbanks at the Wizarding Examinations Authority for final approval.

"I'm sure that everything will be fine," Bagman pressed on, looking frantically from face to face in the Head's box. "After all, we're all friends here, isn't that right?"

"I'm only here to see my student do well," Maleficent said calmly, taking her seat with an easy fluidity.

"Indeed," echoed Mary Poppins, taking her seat beside her with equal grace.

"I suppose," Headmistress Maxime hissed, before turning away and pointedly ignoring the other witch.

Ludo Bagman flushed, then collected himself. "Yes, well..." Then, he took a deep breath, raised his wand to his throat, and began announcing the beginning of the first task.


"And now, the Champion for the Poppins Institute...HARRY POTTER!" Bagman's voice rang out.

The fourth Champion strode from the entrance as though he hadn't a care in the world. Harry looked up at the Hungarian Horntail standing watch over her clutch of eggs, searching around for something or someone to vent her anger and indignation upon. If Harry had to guess, he'd say that she was about to reach the point of not being terribly picky about just who was the 'ventee'.

Harry smiled. This was just what he had trained for, there was no need for him to worry; it was just a dragon. Granted, it was the most dangerous dragon of the lot, and she was terribly, terribly angry, but still...he had a trick or two up his sleeve.

Concentrating, Harry focused his energy inward, seeking out his magical core, touching it and convincing it to bend his lithe frame to his will. Then, with a great push, he felt himself began to change...and change...and CHANGE.

"YES!" he roared, throwing back his head and shouting his triumph to the skies. Across the enclosure, the Horntail looked at him, confused.

"He's a great bloody dragon! How'd he ever manage that?" Neville blurted, gripping his grandmother's arm.

"It's called magic, dear," Augusta laughed. Oh, this was well worth the effort of the trip, just to see the looks on the faces around her!

"He must have known!" Karkaroff thundered. "This is clear evidence of cheating! I demand that the task be repeated!"

"I'm afraid that I must agree with Headmaster Karkaroff," Dumbledore shook his head sadly. His thoughts began racing, trying to find some loophole that he could use to pry Harry Potter away from the irritating woman's clutches and return the brat to Hogwarts, and to his control.

"Oh, pish posh! Did you seriously think that you could drag three dragons across the length and breadth of Europe and another up from the Welsh preserve without anyone noticing? Really, Albus," Mary Poppins drawled.

"I find it strangely coincidental that each of the previous Champions didn't seem at all surprised to see their dragons," Maleficent remarked. Her voice was casual, the tone something that might ordinarily be used to comment on the weather, or an article in the Prophet. "Most wizards and witches would have either fainted or run screaming at the first sight of the beasts. Instead, they all acted like it was something they'd been told to expect. Now, our Harry," she went on, "was only told to expect a large magical creature; anything from a hippogryph to a basilisk. Fortunately, he's a natural at self-transfiguration, one of the most gifted young wizards I've ever encountered. Pity his potions education was so horrible before I began working with him. Can you believe that no one had ever bothered to teach him the correct way to prepare ingredients before starting in on brewing? Horrible, I tell you, simply horrible. Still and all, he's made remarkable progress; he could make a fine Potions Master one day, given even half-way adequate training."

"Indeed," Mary Poppins agreed. "Bright as a new penny, he is. I don't think I've ever seen anyone blossom under a few simple compliments like he has. Doesn't speak well of his early upbringing, I should think."

The two women's conversation was largely ignored (except for Severus Snape, who was turning a lovely shade of puce), as most of the people in the stands were focused on the spectacle below. The sleek black dragon that had been Harry Potter was now coiling itself against the Hungarian Horntail, rumbling in his chest in a soothing manner. A conversation in what could only be dragon speak was in progress, with hisses and low-pitched roars being traded back and forth. After a few minutes of this, the Horntail darted her head down to inspect her eggs. Then, with a convulsive flick of one claw, she sent the fake golden egg spinning out of the nest before turning back to nuzzle Harry's neck. It took Harry another few minutes to extricate himself from the Horntail's embrace so that he could transform back to his usual self. Once he was safely Harry again, he scurried across the grounds to retrieve the golden egg. Holding it aloft, he went to stand in front of the judges' box, with only an occasional nudge from the now-relaxed (and very friendly) Horntail to make him stumble.

"Well done, Harry!" Mary Poppins raised her parrot-head umbrella so that a ribbon of yellow could jet from the tip, forming a large '10' in the air over her seat.

"Yes, well done, Harry!" Ludo Bagman agreed, also giving Harry a perfect score.

"A disgusting display of foreknowledge of the task," Karkaroff rumbled, raising his wand and giving Harry a '2'.

"A rather interesting approach to the situation, however," Madam Maxime said, then considered briefly before giving Harry a '6'.

"I'm more concerned about the Dark potential of such a skill," Dumbledore muttered, then gave Harry a '5'.

Hearing him, Maleficent only laughed. "Well, I suppose if anyone should know about 'Dark Potentials' it would be the 'Great' Albus Dumbledore," she quipped. "Tell me, Albus, how is Gellert doing, by the way?"

Dumbledore stiffened, then turned to the foreign witch. "He remains imprisoned for his crimes...a fate which you've thus far managed to escape."

Maleficent laughed again. "Could that be because, for all of my alleged sins, I've never tried to eliminate an entire race of people, Albus? Or had a hand in plunging a continent into bloody war? Remind me again, just how many millions of people died because of your 'friend' and his little ally with the bad mustache?"

"That will be quite enough." Even though Mary Poppins voice was soft, it cut through the noise around the judges' box, effectively ending the confrontation between Maleficent and Dumbledore. "The task is completed, and I think that we all have Champions to congratulate. Come along, Maleficent," she said, sweeping out of the box.


In the Champion's tent Harry Potter sat there, clutching his golden egg, while Poppy Pomphrey fussed over him.

"Hold still, Mr. Potter! How can I examine you, with you wiggling like that...and put that blasted egg down!"

Harry grinned at the school nurse unrepentantly. "I'm fine, Madam Pomphrey, really. The dragon was really nice, and didn't hurt me at all. Well, except by accident," he clarified; rolling a shoulder that was a bit tender from an overly enthusiastic nudge.

Nurse Pomphrey was on him in a flash. "Shoulder contusion, no significant damage to the bones or ligamentous structure," she said, waving her wand over the joint. "I'll give you a salve to reduce the bruising, but you'll be sore for a day or so." Stepping back, the Hogwarts nurse lowered her voice and asked gently. "Really, Harry, how are you? You've certainly grown, more than I'd ever hoped. You must be eating well, I was never able to put so much meat on your skinny bones."

Harry smiled up at one of the only people he felt truly cared for him. "Really, I'm great, Poppy. You know that Mary Poppins took Sirius and me to the hospital in Paris to be checked out." He paused as the nurse nodded; she'd gotten a thick sealed packet from Healer Latour, which she had—as requested—not placed in Harry's school file. "He gave me a round of potions, and then every evening Mary Poppins does the same with her tonic. The worst thing has been the growing pains, but they're not too bad," he shrugged. "Oh, and contacts are brilliant, don't you think?" he asked, looking up at her, green eyes glowing.

"I do indeed, Harry," Poppy Pomphrey agreed, and then cleared her throat. "Well, Mr. Potter, I think that should do it," she said in a normal voice. Handing him a small sealed pot she went on. "Apply this salve to your shoulder two or three times a day until the bruising resolves, and do try not to get into any more trouble while you're here."

Harry hopped down from the raised table easily. "Trouble, Poppy? Me?"

"Oh, get on with you now," the nurse swatted at Harry's backside, which he easily dodged as he ran to the tent entrance. "Sirius! Remus! Catch!" he cried, tossing the golden egg towards his Godfather and friend.

"Well done, Harry!" Remus said, his were-enhanced reflexes letting him snatch the egg from the air before it could hit the ground.

"Great job, pup," Sirius crowed, lifting Harry up into a great squeezing hug. "You'll have to watch on the omnioculars tonight, just to see the crowd's reaction to your transformation. I thought that old Snape was going to piss himself when he finally noticed what you'd done."

"Finally noticed? I transfigured myself into a great bloody dragon, and he didn't notice at first? Just what was the berk doing?" Harry wondered.

"Being angry at Madam Maleficent for her description of his utter lack of teaching skills," Remus clarified. "She was praising your potions work—after those three days of remedial ingredient preparation and properties that she took you through—and being none too kind about Severus' methods while she was doing so."

Harry shrugged, supremely unconcerned. "Serves him right. I never knew just how much fun potions could be until she started teaching me. I can't help but wonder just how many people the greasy git's soured on the whole subject just by being such a great thumping prat of a professor."

"Far too many, I'm sure," Maleficent said, coming up to the group. "I'm just happy that I had some small part in awakening your own skills in that area, Harry," she smiled. "Now, let's talk about your transformation during the task. I noticed that it seemed to take you an extra second or two to gather your concentration, which in a combat situation might well prove dangerous, if not fatal."

Harry just rolled his eyes while Mary Poppins interrupted. "There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow, I should think," she said lightly. "For now, I believe that Harry deserves a chance to rest, and to bask in his well-earned achievement. Run along and see your friends, Harry; we will see you later at dinner. There may very well be ice cream, I understand."

"Great! Thanks, Mary Poppins! Sirius, Remus, Maleficent," Harry nodded, then raced away to where Neville Longbottom and his grandmother were waiting to see him.

Remus Lupin cleared his throat before turning to Madam Maleficent. "Maleficent, I owe you an apology."

"Nonsense, Remus, you owe me nothing of the sort," Maleficent waved away the werewolf's concern.

"No, I do," Remus set his jaw then plunged onward. "When Mary Poppins brought you into the household, all I knew about you was your reputation, and I was terrified that you would corrupt Harry, or slaughter us all in our beds, or some such. I see now just how wrong I was to prejudge you, and beg your forgiveness."

Maleficent smiled, then took the werewolf's hand. "And I was a bit concerned about sharing a house with a werewolf, Wolfsbane potion or not. It seems that we both were guilty of the same thing, so if you can forgive me, then I can forgive you."

"Certainly," Remus smiled. "I would like to sit in when you critique Harry's performance, if you'll allow it. I can't help but wonder if there aren't a number of similarities between the were transformation and the self-transfiguration you've taught Harry."

"Oh, sweet Merlin, there they go," Sirius rolled his eyes. "They'll be at this for hours now! Come along, Mary Poppins...I think you mentioned ice cream?"

"Why, Lord Black, I do believe I did," Mary Poppins smiled as she took Sirius' arm. "Shall we go investigate the kitchens?"

"We shall indeed!" Sirius said, and led the way out of the tent and into the milling throng.


Harry spent the afternoon and early evening catching up with Neville, Seamus, Dean and the other Gryffindors. After brief encounters with Ron and Hermione, he quickly realized that his former friends were not going to be as supportive as he might have hoped. All Hermione wanted to do was grill Harry incessantly about what he'd been doing since he left Hogwarts, alternating with lectures about how his transformation violated several of so-and-so's Laws of transfiguration and how that type of magic was dangerous and therefore prohibited by the Ministry, and probably Dark, as well.

Harry listened to about three minutes of this nonsense before he'd had quite enough.

"So, just to be clear, Hermione...what I did was impossible, and illegal, and Dark, and I've been neglecting my studies—even though I'm rather far ahead of you lot. Does that about sum it up?"

"Well, I don't know that I'd say that, Harry, it's just..." Hermione tried to recover from being interrupted.

"No, I think you've said enough," Neville broke in. "Why don't you just go and bother someone else, Granger? I think Harry's pretty much summed up everything you've had to say since he arrived, and quite frankly, I'm getting a bit tired of your attitude. Just because you don't know everything about something doesn't mean that it's necessarily evil."

"It doesn't mean it isn't, either!" Ron Weasley put in hotly. "He turned himself into a great bloody black dragon, in front of all of us! If that doesn't make him Dark, then I don't know what does!"

Harry, stung by this from his former best mate, turned his head while Dean Thomas leaped to his defense. "I suppose that if it'd been Cannon orange that it'd be okay then, Weasley? What a sorry kind of mate you are! You've done nothing since Harry left except whine and bitch about Harry cheated this and Harry always gets that...did you ever once stop to think about what Harry has to do to get all that? First a great raving maniac of a dark wizard murdered his mum and da, and then he winds up fighting that same Dark Lord again in his first year here. Just now, he faced down a sodding dragon! I didn't see you down there rolling those dice, did I? Didja ever notice how you're always the odd man out this year? Without Harry's coattails for you to ride on, you're a truly useless piece of shite, you are. Sure, you're the youngest boy in your family, and you don't have all the tosh you'd like...but even if you was rich as Malfoy, you'd still be a whiny little bitch about something or other. Now, get out of my sight before I give you what me mum gave me da when he'd been too long down to the pub!

"Why, I ought to..." Ron stood up, only to be firmly put back down by two strong hands on his shoulders.

"Ought to..."

"What, Ronnikins? Run and..."

"Tell the Headmaster just how..."

"Harry's friends have finally..."

"Called you out?" Fred and George Weasley stood over their brother, looking down on him. Their usually sunny expressions were—for once—dark and stormy.

"Ickle Harry here's been..."

"Like a brother to you..."

"And the rest of us..."

"These last three..."

"Going on four..."

"Years now..."

"He even saved..."

"Our dear sister..."

"When you flaked out..."

"Were useless, really..."

"Just like always..."

"You'd rather whine..."

"About things you don't have..."

"Than make do..."

"And be thankful..."

"For what you have..."

"And that includes..."

"Especially includes..."

"Friends who'll tolerate your shite..."

"Even when they don't have too..."

"Or when you go on too far, or too long..."

"Which is now, like always..."

"So shut your gob..."

"And go run and tattle to Dumbledore..."

"Just like he's told you to do..."

"Like the good little rat you are!"

His face even redder than his hair, Ron did a kind of slide-roll off of the couch to escape the twin's hands, then scurried for the door. He tried to slam it behind him, but couldn't; Hermione was right behind him, and she caught the door, almost breaking her arm in the process. When they were gone, Harry looked up at the twins, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Thanks Fred, George."

"Not a problem, Harry."

"He's needed to hear that for a long time."

"And he really will go to the Headmaster."

"He and Hermione have been called there for regular reports..."

"Ever since you left."

"Well then, it's a pity that they don't know anything worth telling, isn't it?" Neville smirked. "You might want to keep it that way, Harry. Not that I'm trying to tell you what to do, or anything, but..." Longbottom shrugged.

Harry nudged his friend's shoulder. "Not that anyone ever tries to do that," he said. The rest of the evening was quite pleasant, but Harry begged off early, saying that he'd promised the Horntail that he'd come back and spend some time with her. This, of course, set off a whole slew of teasing comments that made Harry blush and most of the rest of the Gryffindors laugh.

"Her name is..." Harry said, then let out a long hiss-roar-aackk sound, then grabbed his throat. "Ow, that hurts. Anyway, she's lonely, and upset, and afraid for her eggs. One of the other mothers lost an egg earlier in the day, and she's worried that hers are next. I don't know what the Ministries were thinking, bringing nesting dragons here! They're rare and endangered, and now there'll be one less baby dragon come spring, all because of this stupid tournament."

"I'm sure that every precaution was taken," one of the Gryffindors ventured carefully.

"And yet, an egg was destroyed, just to give a bunch of idiots a spectacle!" Harry answered hotly. Then, he shook his head. "Maybe if you could talk to them, like I can, you'd understand. How would you lot like it if your family were taken by, say, the Goblins; dragged down under Gringotts and forced to participate in their yearly games?"

All around Harry, eyes went wide as his analogy hit home. The Goblin Games were the stuff of legend and nightmare, and wizarding children for centuries had been threatened with being taken by the Goblins for the games.

His point made, Harry took his leave after promising Neville that he'd stay in touch.


Some time later, a tired Harry Potter dragged himself back into the guest quarters where he and the rest of his small group were staying. He found Mary Poppins waiting up for him, a single candle burning in the room as she sat and rocked, humming.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm so late, Mary Poppins," Harry began explaining. "It's just that..." he paused, then cleared his throat, "the Horntail and I got to talking, you see, and time got away from me."

"It's all right, Harry," his governess said gently. "I thought as much. Now, come here, take your medicine and tell me just what you and she were discussing at such great length."

Nodding, Harry complied. "Mmm, chocolate syrup. Where are Sirius and Remus and Maleficent?"

"Gone down into Hogsmeade. I expect that we'll need several doses of hangover potion tomorrow," the elder witch said, the corners of her lips twitching. "Fortunately, my medicine bottle can take care of that, as we need them. Here, I had the elves make up some hot chocolate, to help you sleep."

"Mmm, thank you, Mary Poppins," Harry said once again, taking the steaming mug. "When are you going to teach me to make my own medicine bottle?" he asked, suddenly very sleepy.

"It's far beyond your NEWT level material, so not for another year, at least," came the answer, as if from far away. "Now then, tell me about the dragon."

"She's so lonely; her mate was left behind, just like all of the others. Did you know that dragons mate for life, Mary Poppins? No one bothered to explain what was going on, or why; the first idea she had that something might be up was when a bunch of wizards charged her, shooting stunning spells. The next thing she knew, she was tied up in a great huge crate on the back of this huge flying carpet, halfway across Europe from the reserve where she lives."

"I see. That does seem more than a bit rude."

"Mm hm. She's very sad for the mother who lost an egg. Dragons only mate every few decades, and the eggs take almost a year to hatch. She doesn't know what she'd do if she lost an egg. Probably go mad with grief, but then the wizards around her would put her down, and that would leave her babies orphans." Harry settled down on the couch and sleepily turned his head. "Mary Poppins, if something happens to her, can I help find her babies a new home? I told her that I know Charlie in Romania, and Hagrid would always like a pet dragon, even if he lives in a wood house."

"I'm certain that something could be arranged. Now, off to bed with you," Mary Poppins carefully took the empty mug from Harry's fingers, then led him to bed. Gently helping him into his pajamas, she saw him tucked in safely. He was asleep from the moment his head touched the pillow. For a long moment, Mary Poppins stood over him, just watching him sleep. Then, she reached down and moved a lock of his hair out of his face. "Sleep well, Harry Potter. You have certainly been the hero this day."

Then, leaving a candle burning in case he awakened in the night, Mary Poppins left the room, humming softly.


"I tell you, the boy used Dark Magic!" Severus Snape groused.

"Oh, shut it, Snape!" Professor Alastor Moody fired back. "You're just bent out of shape because Maleficent called you on your lack of teaching skills!" He took a swig from his cup. "It's not like it's a new thing," he muttered into his cup.

"What was that?" Snape roared, moving to stand.

"That's ENOUGH!" Dumbledore snapped. "The question remains, just what is Harry Potter being taught, and how can we get him back here at Hogwarts."

"No, the question is, just what penalty will be enforced on him for his blatant cheating in the first task," the Durmstrang Headmaster insisted.

"Absolutely nothing," Dumbledore said, flatly. "Look, Karkaroff, if we assess a penalty, then his 'Headmistress'," he hissed, not caring just who saw his hatred for the woman, "will insist on using Veritiserum on all of the other Champions, to see if..."

"...who," Moody interrupted.

"...who," Dumbledore corrected himself, glaring at his DADA professor, "gave them their own advance knowledge. And, knowing her, she'll have Rita Skeeter right behind her all the time. No, I know what goes on in my own castle, ladies and gentlemen! There will be no penalty against Harry Potter. This time."

"And next time? What can any task possibly offer as a challenge to a young man who can change himself into a dragon at will?" Madam Maxime was beside herself.

"We will have to institute a new rule preventing such a change," Ludo Bagman said hesitantly. "I suppose there might be precedent..."

"Sod the precedent, this is Harry Potter we're talking about here," Snape bit out. "Little bugger lives to break the rules, just like his father. Make the new rule and be done with it!"

"Severus is correct," Dumbledore said, giving his Potions Master a repressive look. He'd heard exactly what Maleficent said to Snape, and agreed with it. Still, it suited his purposes to have Snape exactly where he was, doing exactly what he was doing. "We will simply have to make the rule, and announce that we are doing so out of fairness. If done correctly, I'm sure that the Prophet and other rags, er, publications, will provide the correct...interpretation of our motives."

"Namely, that none of your students can match Harry Potter—or Mary Poppins' training—so you have to rig the rules against him, and call it 'fairness'." Mad-Eye Moody hawked and spat, then glared around the room with both his normal and magical eye. "'Bout sums that up, don'cha think?"

"I would not have put it so crudely, but yes," Madam Maxime agreed, while Dumbledore and Karkaroff nodded.

"What I thought," Moody said, then stamped out of the room.


Dear Neville,

Have you got a date for the stupid Yule Ball yet? I got an owl last week telling me that I have to be there, and I have to have a date. I can't take who I want, and I can't just skive off...maybe the twins could think of something? Please ask them for me. Hedwig is the only owl I trust to carry my mail, someone (? old coot) has been trying to interfere with her. She's too smart for him, though. Also, Remus helped me find a spell or two in the Black library that helps protect her, and what she's carrying. If somebody else beside you tries to take a letter from her, STAND BACK!

Your mate,

Harry


"I want to ask Oliver!"

"Harry, they'll say you're a shirt-lifter!"

"Sirius, what if I am? What then?"

"Then, pup, I'll have the best shirt-lifter of a godson in the realm, and sod anyone who says differently. Just...I don't think now would be a good time for you to..."

"To what? Come out? Announce to the world at large that their 'Savior' likes to kiss boys?"

"HAS HE KISSED YOU? I'LL KILL HIM!"

"TOUCH ONE HAIR ON HIS HEAD AND I'LL EAT YOU!"

"That will be quite enough, both of you."

"Yes, Mary Poppins." "Sorry, Mary Poppins."

"Now, despite what we might all think about the Yule Ball, Harry is required to have an escort. I believe that I have an ideal choice in mind, but I will have to make some arrangements. Until then, there will be no further arguments about the matter. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am." "Yes, Mary Poppins."

"Good. Remus, keep them from doing anything overtly stupid for the morning, will you? I have to go out for a bit. I'll be back in time for lunch, and then we will begin reviewing yesterday's Arithmancy homework.

"Certainly, Mary Poppins. I'll do my best to keep things under control."

"I hate Arithmancy."

"Shut it, Padfoot; you said you'd brush up on it with me."

"Would you really eat me, pup?"

"No. You'd probably taste all manky and stuff."

"He'd give you hairballs."

"Ewwwwwwwwww."

"Not helping, Remus."


The afternoon of the Yule Ball eventually came, and the castle itself seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation of...something. All of the drama of the last few weeks—getting dates, dancing lessons—seemed to fade as the girls disappeared into their rooms, leaving the boys with nothing to do for four hours except hang around the common room, play exploding snap, and perspire furiously.

Mary Poppins had sent an owl to Albus Dumbledore, informing him that she, her school's Champion, his escort, and a small accompanying party of instructors and their escorts would be arriving on the evening of the Ball. No rooms would be required for this visit, as they would also be leaving at the conclusion of the Ball.

The parchment itself was of the finest quality, and topped by an ornate masthead and coat of arms (a chalice above crossed broom and umbrella) of the Poppins Institute for Practical Magic. Oddly, no founding date was given.

The letter went on to state that all of the parties from the Poppins Institute were aware of their status as media figures. They would understand, of course, if the press were present at their arrival and departure but requested that a suitable distance be maintained for the safety of the party. All of the members of the party would also make themselves available at some time during the evening for photographs, but no interviews would be given. As Headmistress, she was expecting him to manage the arrangements with the press to accommodate her group in accordance with their wishes; the other schools could make whatever arrangements they liked.

Dumbledore's response was to hand the letter to Minerva McGonagall and tell her to handle it.

The Deputy Headmistress suppressed (yet another) sigh and did just that, replying to Headmistress Poppins on Hogwarts letterhead that her wishes would be accommodated and that she looked forward to seeing them on the date of the Ball, etc. etc. She then wrote a stern letter to the Prophet, with copies to all of the other British wizarding papers and magazines, to explain to them just how they would comport themselves during the Ball.

The end result of all of this was that a small horde of press had gathered on either side of the entrance to the Great Hall. Magical ropes cordoned off the press area from the rest of the halls and the entrance itself, but most of the students were caught staring at the press as they came and went about their business. The Great Hall itself had been closed since the end of lunch; snacks were available in all of the common rooms, and for those students who wouldn't be attending, the house elves would be serving the evening meal there as well.

Finally, the hour of the Ball approached. The students began filtering down the stairs (or up, in the case of the Slytherins), gradually forming up into couples. A knot of boys without dates gathered on one side, while a similar group of girls gathered on the other. Professor McGonagall had just sent Cedric Diggory and Viktor Krum and their dates (and was that Hermione Granger? Sweet Circe! She looked nothing at all like her usual self) off to a small antechamber and was looking for Fleur Delacour when a commotion began at the entrance.

Looking out, she saw a stately black coach drawn by six great horses pulling up at the main stairs. Liveried attendants scrambled off the thing as it pulled to a stop, putting down a small step and opening the door for the occupants of the carriage to disembark. A tall footman stepped away from the carriage to stand off to one side, bellowing the names of the arrivals as they left the confines of their transport.

"Now arriving: the Headmistress of the Poppins Institute, Mary Poppins, escorted by Mr. Bertram Sweeps...the Champion of the Poppins Institute, Lord Harry Potter, escorting the Lady Augusta Longbottom...Professor Lord Sirius Black, escorting Miss Adelphia Eubanks...Professor Remus Lupin, Seneschal to House Potter, escorting Miss Dorothea Ratcliff."

The press went wild, while most of the students crowded up against the ropes to see for themselves. Mary Poppins stepped down gently, helped by the tall, spare, elegant older man who then proceeded to take her arm, leading her up the steps with a somber look on his face. Harry Potter came next, helping Neville's grandmother out of the carriage, an identical somber look on his face. Sirius stepped out, wincing as yet another flurry of flashbulbs went off, then grinned and helped a lovely young lady out of the carriage before following his godson up the steps. Lastly, Remus helped another young lady to step out, then take his arm for the procession up the steps.

At the top of the main steps, Mary Poppins and her escort stopped. "Hello, Minerva," she said lightly. "As promised, we are here."

"So I see, Mary. Well, it's almost time. If you would, go around to the faculty entrance on the left, Albus and the other Heads are already inside, I believe," she asked, gesturing with her hand, "I'll need to ask you two," she said, speaking to Sirius and Remus, "to say here and follow the students into the Hall. Now, Harry...and Augusta," she said, finally speaking to the Poppins Champion and his 'date', "if you'll come with me, please. The Champions must lead the procession into the Hall."

Harry and Augusta both nodded, Harry answering for both of them. "Of course, Professor," he smiled, nodding slightly. McGonagall couldn't help but notice that the boy had grown almost another hand. He was taller than Augusta Longbottom, even a bit taller than McGonagall herself. And, he looked quite the dashing figure in his expertly tailored evening robes.

The Lady Longbottom caught her in the act. "Stop ogling my date, Minnie," she whispered, making both the Deputy Headmistress and Harry blush hotly. "If you ask nicely, I might let you dance with him later on," she went on, as they were ushered into the room where the other three couples were waiting.

"Oi! Right here!" Harry protested, earning himself a wink from the smiling dowager on his arm.

"Oh, hush, youngster. Minnie and I may be old, but neither of us are dead quite yet. Why, in our day, we both had quite a few young men..."

"Now that we're all here," Professor McGonagall sharply cut off her old friend before anything more embarrassing could be said. "Cedric, if you would take the lead as Champion of the hosting school, then Mr. Krum, Miss Delacour, and finally Harry bringing up the rear. Ready? Then let's be off," she said, not looking back as she opened the doors to lead the Champions out.

As Harry and Augusta waited their turn to exit, Harry fidgeted, muttering to himself. "I could just send in the bloody robes…I bet nobody would notice, stupid prats."

Augusta smiled at the young man beside her, then gave him a mock-glare. "You'll do no such thing!" she whispered, so that only Harry could hear her. "I don't care how good you are with substitutiary locomotion, somebody's bound to notice an empty dress robe flinging itself around the hall. And besides, you promised me a dance! Now, buck up, Potter; we're on!"

The command was so like her grandson that Harry couldn't help but feel better. Giving his escort a smile, he pulled himself to his full height and let a calm expression spread across his face.

"Better," Augusta gave a miniscule nod. "Now remember: they all want to be us tonight, so all we have to do is look like it's as much fun as they imagine. Keep smiling, don't fall down, and follow my lead. You're in good hands, Harry," she finished, giving his arm one final squeeze. Then, Gran Augusta vanished as the Dowager Lady Longbottom came to the fore.

Reassured, Harry Potter led his escort from the room with all the gravitas anyone could have asked from a Triwizard Champion and Scion of a Noble and Ancient Wizarding House.

Another flurry of bulbs exploding followed them all the way into the Hall.


A short time later, after an excellent dinner and the obligatory first dance, Harry and Lady Longbottom were sitting, sipping cognac and butterbeer at their table when Neville Longbottom stalked up, his face stormy. His own date, Hannah Abbott, trailed anxiously after him.

"Potter," Neville grated. "As the eldest male of the most Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom, I demand to know what your intentions are towards my Grandmother!"

"Neville, look, this wasn't my idea..." Harry tried to answer quickly, only to be rudely cut off.

"His intentions are to be dressed as a harem boy and chained to my bedpost for the next several weeks, at least," Augusta Longbottom said evenly. "He should only need to say about six words during that time, two of which will be 'Yes, Mistress', and the others something simple like 'more, again, please, and thank you'. You can visit him there over the hols if you like, Neville," she finished, her face pleasantly neutral.

Neville, Hannah and Harry all stared at the elderly lady with various looks of shock and disbelief written on their faces until she could no longer hold it in. Throwing back her head, she laughed long and loud, drawing attention to herself from all across the hall.

"Oh, Merlin, the looks on your faces! Priceless, simply priceless!" She laughed again, waving Hannah Abbott over to sit beside her and gesturing for her grandson to sit beside a furiously blushing Harry Potter.

"Come, sit, dear; you must be the young Miss Abbott Neville's written me so much about," August said gently. "Something you need to learn about men right now, girl, is that they are quite simple creatures. Terribly easy to prank, they are."

"So I see," Hannah Abbott said, smiling as she sat down. "So...no Harem Boy Harry tonight? Pity, that," she finished, stifling a grin.

"Sadly for him, no; no harem boy duty for young Harry tonight. We're going straight back to London after we leave here. More's the pity, really; the things I could have taught the boy..." Augusta finished conspiratorially, winking at the younger girl. "However, that's not to say that you and my grandson can't do your own version of 1001 Arabian Nights..."

"GRAN!" Neville exploded, his face the color of a telephone box.

"Oh, shush, boy! I've already checked this young lady out seven ways to Sunday; if I thought she'd actually do such a thing I wouldn't have invited her over!" Augusta said. Then, as Harry and Neville put their heads together, she turned and whispered to Hannah. "Contraception spells, dear; they should be available in each of the girls dorms; if not, owl me soonest. Keep them up until at least three months after the wedding, that avoids any hint of scandal. Oh, and if you hurt my grandson you will answer to me," she smiled, showing teeth.

"I don't intend to hurt him, but try to come between us and we'll dance, crone," Hannah smiled with just as much teeth. "I'm aware of the spells, but we won't be needing them for some time to come, you've raised a perfect gentleman."

Augusta's smile didn't change as she and Hannah locked eyes for several long seconds. Then, she nodded, carefully looking away then back. "You'll do, girl, you'll do. Welcome to the family, then," Augusta said.

"Not until after we both graduate Hogwarts, but thank you," Hannah said, giving her future grandmother-in-law's hand a squeeze.

"Have you told Neville yet?" Augusta asked, watching the two boys whispering frantically back and forth.

"Not yet...he's still getting used to the idea of us dating. I'm in no hurry." Hannah shrugged.

"Good girl. Owl me if you need anything, or if I seem to be getting in the way. It won't be intentional, I assure you," Augusta smiled as Hannah nodded back. "There, now that we've settled on everything but the date and colors for the wedding, how are things here? Is there anything you need? Anything I need to know about?"

Hannah considered carefully, then shook her head. "No, I'm fine, so is Neville. He's coming into his own in his house this year, and I know that he's the only one that Harry owls regularly. It's been...different...this year, what with the other students being here, and Harry being gone. It's almost like things are...more calm, I suppose...without Harry and Draco Malfoy going at one another, or some homicidal maniac trying to get into the school to kill Harry, or whatever. Dumbledore seems even more distracted than usual, if you can believe that." She gave a little wave of her hand. "I know, that's a poor explanation, but there it is."

"That's actually quite a good report," Augusta said, impressed despite herself. "I'll look forward to more like that from you in the future. I'm no longer an active member of the Board of Governors, but I do try to keep my ear to the ground, if you know what I mean," she said.

Hannah nodded. "So I've...heard," she answered, and the two women shared another look. "I'll try to owl you regularly, but I can't promise anything, you understand."

"Oh, I most certainly do, my dear...you've your studies, and the work of convincing my grandson that it'll actually be his idea to ask you to marry him!"

"Well, there is that," Hannah smiled, looking down and blushing. Then, she looked up as Augusta pressed a small glass of cognac into her hand.

"Let's drink to a successful pursuit, then," Lady Longbottom said, lifting her glass to the next Lady Longbottom.

"Cheers!" Hannah smiled, tossing hers back.


"Harry! You brought my Gran to the Ball!"

"Nev, this isn't my fault! Mary Poppins set the whole thing up!"

"Did she now?"

"Yes, she did...she went out one morning, and when she came back it was all arranged, including the coach and footmen. She said that it'd be a 'most appropriate' choice, given my age. It's also twisting Dumbledore's tail; he and your Gran have had several...disagreements over the years. Plus, it avoids me having to start the whole family-politics-marriage thing just yet. Not that I'm going to play that game anyway, but still..."

"Oliver couldn't come tonight?"

"Mary Poppins and Sirius wouldn't let me ask him."

"Oh? Well, what about Sirius and Remus, then?"

"They had to get their own dates. One works at the Ministry, the other is a clerk in a shop in Diagon Alley."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh, they say they're fine with it, I guess. They just didn't think it was the right time to go public with it."

"Well, it will shock a lot of people when they find out that the Savior of the Wizarding World is also a poofter."

"Yeah."

"Personally, I find it revolting."

"Yeah."

"And disgusting."

"Yeah."

"And horrible."

"Yeah."

"Pity you're still just Harry, so I have to put up with you the way you are."

"Yeah...thanks, by the way. I didn't know how you'd react."

"How did you think I was going to react? Like Ron? Oh, please..."

"And how is dear old Ronnikins? Still being a prat?"

"Is water still wet?"

"Hmm. Hermione?"

"Sky still blue?"

"So...both still trying to spy and pry for the old coot?"

"Every day."

"You could tell them the harem boy story; they'll be shocked, and Dumbles will probably get his rocks off on it...which now that I think about it is just disturbing."

"Yes, yes, and you are soooooo right about that! I'll tell them first thing tomorrow."

"Good. Your Gran's a pip."

"I guess."

"No, really...okay, I mean, at first she's all, like, 'Grand Duchess Lady Longbottom', but once you get past that..."

"You get down to the 'Lady Longbottom, Dowager Grand Duchess' core."

"Nev..."

"I know...it's just...she's my Gran, you know?"

"Yeah."

"So...Hannah?"

"Yeah."

"Good?"

"Yeah."

"Any problems?"

"No, not really...except for those times when she looks at me like she's sizing me up for wedding robes."

*snicker* "So, you're already caught, then?"

"I...don't know."

"You are so caught."

"Maybe."

"Well, congrats. If she breaks your heart, my shoulder is always there."

"You know, our families have been allies for, like, centuries. You could offer to have the wench killed, or something."

"Do I need to?"

"No. Thanks for the shoulder offer, but I'm good."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So...dancing."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"So...Potter."

"Yeah?"

"Swap dates...one dance only?"

"Sounds good...only no feeling up my date, Longbottom."

"Heh. As if...Harem Boy."

"I've heard nappy stories, you know."

"I've no doubt about that. Tell anyone else and die."

"Absolutely. Allies for centuries and all that, keep each other's secrets until we die."

"Right you are."

And with that, the senior males of the Noble and Ancient Houses of Potter and Longbottom rose to their feet, straightened their robes, and asked each other's escorts for the privilege of a dance.


"I must say, the Ball seems to be going rather well," Filius Flitwick commented to Minerva McGonagall from their seats at one end of the room. His Ravenclaws seemed to be mingling well enough, the dancing lessons he'd insisted on seemed to be paying off in spades. Of course, the Ravens had responded to the challenge of learning to dance the way they responded to every challenge: find the book, memorize the book, and then go through the exercises. Their more cerebral, restrained style was perfect for the formal waltzes and pavanes that were currently being played: later on, they might not do as well when the Weird Sisters came on stage. Then again, they might, he'd been surprised over the years at just how versatile some of his charges could be. He remembered some years back when he'd first learned the terms 'geek' and 'goth'. He'd thought initially that the first term was very nearly perfect for his House, and the second the same for Slytherin; he'd since learned differently. He'd been a bit surprised to see one of his Ravens wearing black eye makeup, but then reminded himself that if his grandmother and grandfather had been less open to ignoring common prejudices, he wouldn't be there at all.

"Thus far, at least," McGonagall muttered back, her eyes never stopping their constant scan for trouble. Given the high profile of several of the guests attending the Ball, she'd asked Amelia Bones for a squad of Aurors to provide incognito security, in addition to those who were prominently stationed around the room, plain red robes easily seen among all of the formal wear. She'd picked up several of the undercover security easily enough—they were part of the human catering staff, or dressed as guests—and she suspected that she'd missed at least a couple. Well, that was all fine; if she couldn't spot them she doubted anyone else could.

Albus had, not unexpectedly, objected to her arrangements when he'd been informed. She'd ignored his protests and gone on with her plans. After all, he'd dumped the thing on her; he could bloody well shut up and let her do her job.

"I must say, I didn't expect Mr. Potter to be escorting Madam Longbottom," Filius was saying. Of course, Minerva wasn't taken in by his light tone for a second.

"I don't know whether to blame her, or Mary," McGonagall answered, just as lightly. "Somehow, I rather doubt that she was his first choice."

"Oh, I suspect that you're correct in that assessment," the diminutive professor replied. "Still, it's something of a master stroke of subtlety. It provided him with the required escort, even though he's still underage. She's obviously not a marriageable candidate for him, so it's an apolitical choice. Their two families have been allied for as long as anyone cares to remember, so it's a way of letting everyone know that he intends to continue that arrangement. And, let's not forget, everyone knows that Augusta Longbottom is one of the more active 'behind the scenes' players in our society; she's making it known just whose side she's on. Oh, and it's given her a chance to be here tonight despite Albus' best efforts to keep her away."

Minerva nodded, Filius was absolutely correct. Albus had decreed that the Ball was 'for the children'; parents had specifically been excluded from the guest list 'to let the children have a bit of closely chaperoned-fun without having to worry about their parents ruining the evening for them'. It had prevented any of the more socially inept youths from simply inviting their parents, forcing them to spread their social wings a bit. In that, she supposed it was a good thing. Merlin knew, it had kept Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and their lot away, which was one less headache she had to deal with. Also, it had been so in keeping with Albus' long-standing 'keep the parents well away' philosophy' that no one had bothered to question it.

That Augusta Longbottom had managed to wrangle herself a seat was going to be considered a major coup for her, at Albus Dumbledore's expense.

Of course, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had done the same thing, but as 'Professors'-and didn't that term jangle her nerves when applied to 'Sirius Black'-there wasn't anything that anyone could do about it.

Right then, the Lady Longbottom was being twirled about the floor by her grandson, looking as if she were Queen of the May. Just behind them, Harry Potter and Susan Abbott followed along, smiling and laughing together, occasionally looking at the couple leading them before laughing once more. Indeed, it seemed to be the case that the Ball was going well, without any major incidents.

Minerva sighed. She'd just cursed herself, she knew.


"Madam Longbottom? May I ask you something?" Some time later, Harry and Augusta were back at their table, taking a breather. Actually, Augusta had pulled herself from the dance lineup some time previously, but she'd handed Harry off to one of the Patil twins (she honestly couldn't remember which one) with instructions not to come back until he'd danced with at least four other girls. Now he was back, knocking back a butterbeer while a fine sheen of sweat cooled on his forehead.

"Certainly, Harry...and please, call me Augusta."

Harry nodded, then took another swallow of his drink. "I...I want to dance with someone, but I'm not sure that I should. Sirius didn't think it'd be a good idea, when I talked with him several days ago, but still..."

Augusta smiled at the young man sitting across from her. He looked terribly nervous just then, rather than the calm young wizarding Lord he'd been portraying all evening. "Afraid to ask her, are you?"

Harry looked down, then looked back up, his eyes determined. "No. Afraid to ask him."

Augusta froze for a second, then narrowed her eyes as her mind raced. "I...see," she said, then sipped her drink to buy herself another precious few seconds to compose her answer. "You're concerned about the repercussions of asking this young man to dance with you, here and now."

Harry nodded. "I know that lots of people don't approve...you probably don't, being old and stuff, like you are, I mean it's not very well accepted by the older generations, but it's not like I'm the first one to ever come along and there are more of us than you think and we're just like regular people, and..."

"Harry, you're babbling, which is never attractive, please stop. Now, that's better. Yes, I may be old, but I'm not dead. You should have figured that out by now," Augusta said, gently now that she'd stopped his rambling. "I've known more than a few 'like that' in my time, I know a few of them now. You're just one more to add to the list. At least you're willing to be open and honest about yourself, many can't or won't do that, for whatever reason." She paused and sipped again, then spoke carefully. "I think that we'd better consider the political implications of such a bold move carefully. Oh, you can dance with whomever you like, in your own home," she grinned, "but this would be something that you could never, ever take back. You understand that, don't you?"

Harry nodded seriously. Good, Augusta thought, the boy seems to be able to think things through before he acts; he's more Slytherin than Gryffindor in that respect, thank Merlin.

"Then, there's the effect it will have on the person you ask. He'll immediately be cast as an invert, and dragged into the spotlight along with you. That may or may not be a good thing for him. Certainly you have enemies, just because of who and what you are; he would acquire many of them merely by the association of one simple dance. Then there's the matter of how his parents will react, not to mention the public reaction. There are those who will automatically condemn him as the one who 'corrupted' you, regardless of whether you initiated the contact or not. That kind of thing will follow him for the rest of his life, and probably beyond. Are you willing to place that burden on someone, just because you'd like to have a dance at a Ball when you're fourteen?"

"No. You and Sirius are right, of course," Harry said, miserably. "It was foolish of me to even think about it," he said, looking at his lap.

"Not at all," Augusta said sharply. "It was normal for you to think about it. It would have been foolish of you to act impulsively, without consulting those of us who care about you first. Like it or not, you are the Boy Who Lived," she went on, reaching out to grab Harry's hand when he sighed. "Buck up, Potter!" her voice cracked like a whip. When Harry's eyes shot to hers, flashing, she smiled. "There, that's better. You didn't choose this destiny, just like you didn't choose to like boys. Doesn't matter, it is what it is. So, the question becomes one of just how to get what you want, with the minimum of fuss and bother to all concerned. Do you follow?"

"Yes...I think so," Harry said, a bit confused. "I get that I'm the BWL, and all that, okay; I'm trying to deal with it. But...I don't see how I can ask a boy to dance without everything going pear-shaped."

"You may not be able to, tonight. I know it might not seem like it, but this is not the last Ball you'll attend; I'll see to that!" Augusta grinned. "Yes, that was a threat...and a promise. Now, let me think," she said, chewing her lip thoughtfully. After a minute's thought, she spoke again. "The best course of action would be to say and do nothing to indicate your preference until some years from now, when you're better established in society. Say, after your second or third term as Minister," she said, just to see the horror grow on Harry's face. "Or maybe not quite that long," she smiled, gathering herself a glower that let her know that Harry had figured out that he'd been played. "But you get the general idea. Now, can you let it go tonight, or will you absolutely explode if you don't get to dance with this particular boy on this particular night of all nights?" she asked, watching him carefully as he considered his answer.

"I'd really like to dance with him, tonight, at the Ball," Harry said carefully, then paused. "But, I've not spoken to him at all about it. I don't even know if he might feel the same way as me, much less how his parents and house-mates might react. Of course, the Prophet'll have a fit, regardless. I doubt he'd thank me for that."

"It sounds to me like you haven't laid the proper groundwork for such a bold move," Lady Longbottom said gently. "Quite honestly, I can't recommend that you do it; not just yet, anyway. I'm certainly not telling you 'no', not by any means...but without having matters set up in advance..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "Risky, very risky; and for very little benefit other than the immediate pleasure of the thing." She made a sour-faced moue of distaste. "I don't like doing things like that. They seldom end well."

"No, they don't," Harry said, looking miserable.

"I think," Augusta began, then sipped her cognac before beginning again. "I think, next time, you need to come to me at least a week or two beforetime, so that we can make some contingency plans."

"You'd help me?" Harry looked up, astonished.

"Of course! We're allies, and all that, aren't we?" Augusta snorted. "Besides, old crones like me thrive on stuff like this; it's the closest we get at our age to actually getting any action," she laughed as Harry once again blushed furiously, this time while grinning. His grin changed to a look of astonishment when Augusta went on. "Besides, I don't see that nice Oliver Wood here, and I thought that you two were an item? Just whom were you planning to invite to a three-way? And, what would I have to do to get pictures?"

Harry sputtered, then busied himself with his butterbeer for some time thereafter.


The remainder of the Ball went off without any remarkable incidents; Ron Weasley getting a plate of hors d'oeuvres dumped on his head by one of the Patil twins (Minerva couldn't tell which one, not that it mattered, the boy was a complete prat) being the most serious event that occurred all evening long. She did notice that Harry Potter danced with several different girls, never more than one dance apiece; he also spent quite a bit of time off to one side, talking with Cedric Diggory and Viktor Krum. Draco Malfoy and his pair of bookends did visit the group of Champions once, but were sneered off in short order, so no need for her to 'officially' notice that anything had transpired.

The Weird Sisters had performed, and Minerva did see both Mary Poppins and Augusta Longbottom on the dance floor for one of their less energetic numbers; she'd sniffed and tried to look appropriately disapproving while ignoring the small part of her that wanted to go and show them just how it ought to be done.

Finally, the last number had been played, the last dance danced, and the last bit of pâté scrapped from Ron Weasley's head...and it was time to go.

Albus and the other two Heads were gathered at the Hogwarts entrance as Mary Poppins and her party made to leave.

"You know, you're welcome to stay the night in the castle," Albus said, his best smile-and-twinkle in place.

"Thank you, but no; as we said, we'll be going back to London this evening," Mary Poppins replied, nodding to Madam Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff. "We had a most enjoyable evening, Albus," she said, then stepped past the Hogwarts Headmaster before he could detain her any further.

"Yes, a most enjoyable evening," Augusta said, preening on Harry's arm. "My compliments to your Deputy, Albus; Minerva did a smashing job with the arrangements."

"I'll be sure to pass that along," Dumbledore said, his eyes narrowing slightly at the personal dig.

"You do that," Augusta said, smiling.

"It was brilliant!" Harry said, before being swept away by Augusta while Dumbledore seethed. He'd tried all evening to corner Harry for a brief bit of brain-raiding, to no avail. As his final chance of the night vanished, he only gave a cursory nod to Sirius, Remus and their dates as they swept past and into the Black carriage. Albus recognized it now; the old Black family relic probably hadn't been out of the stable for decades, but tonight it looked factory-new. As always, layers of protective charms prevented anyone from seeing or hearing anything that went on inside or near the carriage, and there seemed to be something a bit...off...about the attendants, but they were away and gone before he could quite manage to suss out just what it might have been. Giving a mental shrug, he turned to enter the castle. His only duty before he turned in for the night would be to pen a quick note to the editor of the Prophet, making sure that he, and not his Deputy, received full credit for the excellent evening that had just occurred.


Yule came and went, and the most notable thing that occurred was Augusta's gift of 'Arabian pajamas' to both Harry and Neville, and a catalogue of 'special items' to Hannah Abbott and Oliver Wood.

In January, Harry and Oliver were spotted together in Quality Quidditch Supplies, and a photograph of them leaning close together to examine the new Comet 300 made the Prophet's Sports Section above the fold. The accompanying article speculated about endorsement deals with the Comet company for both young men, but this proved to be a baseless rumor. It was noteworthy only for the fact that Puddlemere was a Nimbus team, and there was a minor flap about the possibility of them changing over that was hotly debated across the country for almost two entire weeks.

Yes, January was a very slow news month indeed.

Neville received letters from Harry telling him that his Gran was teaching Harry wizarding history and etiquette, as well as politics. He'd figured out the clue in the golden egg, and was learning to swim; more than that, he refused to say. He was working hard, and planning on taking his OWLS shortly before the third Task. Other than that, his letters back and forth were filled with the kind of gossip that teens thrive on, but that the rest of us would find utterly trite, silly, and boring.

Hence, Dumbledore's continued efforts to capture Harry's letters, all of which came to naught, were essentially wasted time and effort. And, in good time, the date of the second Task arrived.

A/N: Wow! Apparently this story has caught people's attention; the responses have been overwhelming. Sadly, the 'reply link' function has been on the fritz, which is why I haven't answered all of your reviews. Rest assured, they are all read, and cherished…and then fed to other plot bunnies!

Why Maleficent, you ask? Well, why not? Who better to teach Harry how to deal with a dragon, than a witch who can become one at will? All right, so she once styled herself the 'Queen of all Evil', but that was simply ages ago! Youthful indiscretions, we've all had them…well, by the time you get to be my age, you have; no, I'm not going to give away any of my own secrets here, the rating system won't tolerate it, don't ask!

You'll notice some familiar figures, and ideas from some of my other fics—yes, I do recycle, and some ideas (Harem Boy!Harry) are just too good not to reuse. Also, I tend to write the characters as I perceive them, so there are a number of similarities between how they're portrayed hither and yon. Specifically, I despise Dumbles, and have little use for Hermione and Ron; I like Neville and Augusta and feel a bit sorry for Minerva. So, don't be shocked at what I've got in store for one of the Tarnished Trio in the next chapter….

Oh, and if Augusta Longbottom seems a bit 'loose' by the end of the ball, well…cognac will do that to you. Besides, the Ball is the most fun the old girl's had in over a decade, let her be!

Next Chapter: The Second Task! Now…just who will Mary Poppins have found to teach young Harry how to swim? And for the Third Task…well, of course he'll need someone to hone his dueling skills, just in case; there's no telling just what he might have to face in the Third Task, now is there? There might even be a Shout Out! Prize for the first person to correctly guess just who Harry's new instructors for both Tasks will be….