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Chapter 4

Harry woke with a start and frowned. He knew that he'd been dreaming, but as soon as he woke up, the dream had eluded him. All he could remember was quicksilver eyes and a smooth, deep voice saying…something. Harry shoved a hand through his bed-tangled hair in frustration.

It was now one week into their stay in Britain and every night Harry had the same dream. And every morning, Harry awoke with barely a wisp of memory of it. He could never remember who the person was, what they had been saying, or why they were even in his dreams. All he knew was that, aside from the frustration, it left him feeling strangely content.

Harry rarely dreamed, but when he did, it was usually full of important information that his subconscious had pieced together before his conscious mind. If only he could understand it.

Tossing aside the sheets, Harry stumbled into the bathroom. It was too early for such complicated thoughts and a hot shower would help clear his head. As steam filled the large bathroom, Harry stripped and glanced at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Strong lean muscles rippled under his pale skin. Once, when he was fourteen, a girl had called him cute. Harry had begun to lift weights and run religiously after that.

He was not cute, dammit!

He usually ran about three miles a day and it paid off nicely. Harry's robes usually hid his physique, but he didn't need women drooling after him anyway. It didn't matter what other people thought; he kept up his appearance solely for his own confidence and masculine pride.

Harry turned away from the mirror and stepped into the shower. He sighed in relief as the hot water cascaded down his body and warmed him.

For a moment, he imagined a man ogling him, instead of the usual women. A tall man, dark and handsome, with eyes that smoldered as he eyed Harry up and down. And stronger than Harry, definitely…


Elise scowled as her sleep-heavy limbs twitched and caused her to smear her eyeliner. Zut, she hated getting up this early! But it was unavoidable; she needed every second available to primp. Even on a day where she was planning to stay home, it was imperative. Who knew who would unexpectedly come out of her Floo? Elise needed to be prepared for any scenario that would involve a meeting with someone.

A quick make-up remover spell cleaned off the mistake and she set to work once more on the tedious process of applying make-up the muggle way. Sure, there were spells that applied make-up, but Elise found that muggle products had improved over the years and surpassed any charm wizards had invented. Muggle cosmetics allowed for more variety than the pre-made design that a charm would apply. The muggle make-up was more subtle and natural, and there were specific products that were made for sensitive skin. Elise had very delicate skin that simply couldn't tolerate the harsh spells and charms.

Thus, the petite woman was forced to wake two hours earlier than her preferred time every morning. But, it was all worth it in the scheme of things. Elise couldn't afford to miss any opportunity.

A flick of her wrist showed the date and time. Elise smiled as she realized that the ministry's Halloween Ball was in just three days. Oh, she couldn't wait! She had already bought her gown and shoes, but she still needed to find the accessories. Perhaps some diamonds would go with the sapphire dress…


When Harry emerged from the bathroom wrapped in the hotel's complementary bathrobe there was a small brown package sitting on his bed. He sighed, allowing his worry to erase all thoughts of his shower fantasy. It wasn't hard to make the connection between that man and the one he'd been dreaming about, which left him with a wealth of questions he didn't want to answer.

He cast several spells over the package to check for any malicious curses that may have been cast on it. When the spells found nothing, he opened the package, anxiety heightening as he took his first look at the robes he'd ordered for the ball.

Inside was a set of stunning dark green robes with intricate silver beading. Harry picked up the outfit and held it up, noticing with a jolt that the fabric was silk. He'd been sure to give the seamstress a price limit. Silk was the biggest trend in France and thus rather expensive, but perhaps the English favored a different fabric that left silk as the cheaper choice.

Harry glanced down at the hem of the robes and winced. That was going to draw a lot of attention. He knew that it was potentially dangerous to tell a clothes salesman to do whatever they wished as long as it remained in his price range, but growing up with such a fashion-conscious mother did not give him good fashion sense.

If it were up to him, he'd wear the most comfortable and simple black robes available.

Well, at least the eye-catching robes looked comfortable. Placing the forest green outfit back into the box, Harry traced the silver embroidery with one finger.

The molten silver eyes of that politician at the Ministry filled his mind. Harry wondered if he would be at the Ministry ball. Surely, as a Ministry official, he would have to attend.

Not that it mattered, because Harry wouldn't be looking for him.

Nor would the politician be looking for Harry.

Gritting his teeth, Harry slammed the lid back onto the delivery box and stood up from the bed. He marched over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of muggle jeans and a t-shirt.

Today was an excellent day to visit muggle London.


Voldemort sat back in his chair and picked up his tea as the Ministry Party Planners bowed as one and left his office. Withholding the urge to massage his temples, he absently watched as the meeting was crossed off his schedule for the day. A spell he'd created in his fifth year, meant to sense when each task was completed using keywords such as 'Halloween Ball' and the command word 'yes'. It was a bit ridiculous to work in the word 'yes' at the end of each meeting, but not difficult for Voldemort.

As he sipped at his cup of tea, the charming politician contemplated the Planners' choices for the upcoming Halloween Ball. About a decade ago, some minister decided that he wanted nothing to do with planning the various ministry events—conventions, balls, charities—and had appointed a group of wizards and witches to do the planning instead.

Voldemort reluctantly had to admit that he sympathized with the man's dislike for parties. In fact, there was nothing wrong with the concept of having a special department set aside for planning ministry events; it was the people that worked in the department that infuriated him. They just didn't know when to quit. Voldemort was sure that those damned Party Planners drained more than half of the ministry's budget.

This year, they had managed to outdo themselves.

They had the gall to waltz into his office and tell him all about the extravagant decorations they chose and the full orchestra they'd hired to play live music, then reassure him that "it was nothing the Ministry's budget couldn't handle".

Reassure him, the minister! As if he didn't know the ministry's budget intimately from receiving memos of expenses every single day! Who did they think he was, Cornelius Fudge?

A brisk knock on his door preceded his Undersecretary.

"Minister, the portkeys are ready to be sent out. Shall I authorize their departure?"

"Yes, thank you Percy."

There was a pause, and Voldemort looked up to see Percy apparently intrigued by his scheduling spell.

"Sir, I truly believe that it would benefit you to hire an assistant. There is no need to clutter your mind with such unnecessary things."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and locked eyes with his pretentious Undersecretary.

"Percy, I did not make it this far by having someone else memorize my schedule for me." Percy blushed but kept his chin up. Voldemort returned his attention to the reports on his desk. "Are the owls not waiting to deliver portkeys?"

Without a word, Percy hurried out of his office, bumping into someone on his way out. Papers scattered everywhere as Voldemort's door shut quietly on the scene.

Clumsy people…

Bright green eyes flashed through his mind and he smirked. Soon, he would be seeing that intriguing boy again. Voldemort had already memorized the names of every guest that had received an invitation to the ball; it always helped to keep up political contacts by knowing their names before they arrived. He was pleasantly surprised to see Harry Beauvais' name on the list.

He was even mildly excited to see that his mother was attending with him; the ball would certainly be entertaining if he could bring that woman down a few notches.

A sneer briefly crossed his lips as he thought of her reaction to the portkey she would receive this afternoon.


Elise clamped her mouth shut to contain a squeal of excitement as a beautiful snowy white owl delivered a small parcel from the Ministry. She fed the regal bird some of the hotel's complimentary premium owl treats before releasing it back out the window. The excited woman forced herself to open the letter first, before tearing into the package like she wanted.

To Ms. Elise and Mr. Harry Beauvais:

The Ministry of Magic was delighted to receive your RSVP to our annual Halloween Ball. A package containing the portkey to our venue has been sent with this letter. Please touch the portkey with your wand and say "All Hallow's Eve" on 31 October after seven o'clock. The portkey will activate in ten seconds.

We look forward to your attendance!

With shaking hands, Elise placed the letter aside and reached for the small brown parcel. She untied the string holding the lid to the box and slowly opened it. A gasp of surprise left her lips as she beheld the most stunning portkey she had ever seen.

Inside of the silk-lined box was a pure gold, three-dimensional "M" with an indented bar through the middle. Though simple, the symbol of the British Ministry of Magic was powerful in its own right. Elise carefully lifted the portkey from the box and reverently traced over it with her fingers.

"Whoa. What is that?" The excited grin dropped from Elise's mouth and was replaced with a sneer as that annoying brat made his insufferable presence known.

"The portkey for the Halloween Ball," she answered shortly, hoping that the kid would take the hint and leave her alone.

"Damn. Can we melt that hunk of gold?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. He was sure that it would sell for a hefty amount of money at Gringotts. Those Goblins were famous for being greedy, and would surely take any gold they could get their hands on. Harry figured that it would be worth more if it weren't in that hideous symbol.

Elise jerked back as if Harry had insulted her instead of the portkey.

"Jamais de la vie! I will put it on display in the entrance hall of the manor so everyone may see my connections with the British Ministry," Elise smirked superiorly, already feeling better than her friends. Harry grimaced as his mother continued to admire the portkey. Disgusted, he continued on his way out the door and into the hotel corridor.


"Well, at least you won't embarrass me tonight."

Harry glanced up at his mother as she stepped into the sitting area of their suite. She eyed his outfit with a quick critical glance before dismissing him in favor of activating the portkey. Apparently she had deemed him decent enough to be in her presence, but bland enough to not outshine her.

With an expressionless face, Harry grabbed the portkey and clenched his teeth as it transported him to the unknown venue for the ball. Of course, he still couldn't control his landing and tumbled to the ground. Fortunately, the portkey arrival area was away from the entrance to the ballroom and, because Elise always made a point to be fashionably late, clear of any people save for the attendant that was there to welcome them and point them in the right direction. Harry avoided eye contact with the man and pretended that he hadn't heard his mother's snickering.

As they approached the tall entrance doors, Harry began to feel a fluttering in his stomach that he hadn't experienced in years. What annoyed him the most was that this uncharacteristic nervousness did not stem from the ball itself, but from who he expected would be at the ball. He stubbornly refused to acknowledge that the nervousness was mixed with hope.

The ornate double doors opened and Harry and Elise stepped through to find the Halloween Ball in full swing. A rare smile graced Harry's lips as he watched the men and women dance to a waltz. Harry always found classical slow dances mesmerizing. They were so intimate and graceful.

However, Harry had never danced at any party before. Elise had forced him to take lessons as a child, but the awkward teenager was positive that he would only look like a fool if he were to dance in public. He simply didn't posses the proper grace for it.

Elise disappeared to his right, and his attention switched to the large ballroom. Harry could do nothing but stare stupidly at the sight.


Voldemort glanced up as he felt the wards around the room shift to allow more guests in. He'd thought that they had all arrived by now, but apparently someone had taken the phrase "fashionably late" to heart. His silver eyes took in the woman in a large sapphire gown, not surprised in the least. He had gotten the impression that she was the type to want a dramatic entrance.

Unfortunately for her, this was not France, and the British were ambitious wizards that paid no attention to unimportant people like her. If she couldn't boost their family name most wouldn't look twice at her. However, they would look twice at her son.

Especially when he was in such an eye-catching outfit. The boy's robes were cut in an oriental style, with one slit on each side starting at the hips. Thin silver clasps held the robes closed from mid-chest to the top of the collar. All edges of the robe were trimmed in silver with two silver Chinese dragons embroidered along the bottom. The dragons ran up the sides of the slits before turning and running back down. He wore a pair of simple, loose silver pants underneath.

While the style was similar to the current trend, the oriental details separated his outfit from other teenagers'. It was obvious that the boy had quickly deduced this and was not happy with it one bit. Apparently he wasn't the type for dramatic entrances like his mother.

Voldemort thanked Merlin that he'd not inherited that particular trait from the woman. Turning his attention back onto the dark-haired boy, the minister couldn't help but smirk at his expression.

Harry was standing still in the entranceway and staring incredulously at the sparkling chandeliers, the thin fog that floated mysteriously along the floor, and all of the gold. Everything from the beverage cups to the furniture was made of solid gold. Even the entire inside of the room was coated in gold, including the walls, pillars, and floors.

It certainly didn't reflect Voldemort's personal taste, but this was the price he had to pay for letting those blasted Party Planners take over.

Harry's eyes suddenly locked onto his and Voldemort forgot about his annoyance. He allowed a small genuine smile to tease the corners of his lips. Harry answered with a small smile of his own.

Well, it seemed as if his interest was mutual. The minister raised his glass to his lips to hide his smile and turned back to the dull politician that was attempting to converse with him.


With despair, Harry noticed that this was the second time he'd gaped stupidly in Britain.

The entire room was practically dripping in gold! Harry had never seen such an ostentatious display of wealth before in his life. Mon Dieu, his mother might have just found herself a match for greed. He hoped that the Minister wasn't the one who planned these decorations, because he and Elise might just be made for each other if that were the case.

He didn't know many British wizards, save for that group of redheads he'd briefly met in Diagon Alley and that annoying shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley, but he hoped that they were as resistant to Elise's charms as that politician.

And damnit, there he was again, popping up in Harry's mind.

Finally snapping out of his 'gold daze', Harry descended the staircase and immediately drifted to the food and drink tables. He definitely needed a drink if he was going to be in the presence of all this glittering gold for the night. As he picked up a glass full of champagne, the curly-haired boy couldn't help but make a face at the solid gold chalice.

"I know; it's a bit over the top, isn't it?" a male voice commented to his right. Harry turned to see a tall man dressed in formal navy blue robes with a high collar. There was a small gold crest embroidered on the left breast, of a capital 'M' and a wand laying over it vertically. The man had curly black hair that fell in soft waves to his shoulders.

" 'A bit' is an understatement," he replied with a grin. The man smiled back and held out his hand.

"Sirius Black." Harry took his hand and shook it lightly.

"Harry Beauvais." Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"Beauvais? Are you French?" Harry nodded and watched as Sirius' jaw clenched.

"Ah, well, that's interesting. I haven't met any French people, though I hear that the women are beautiful." Sirius forced a laugh as his eyes scanned the room before focusing on something. His hands fisted at his sides.

"If you'll excuse me, I've just seen an old acquaintance…"

Harry watched the man head off into the crowd, frowning slightly in confusion.


Elise laughed delicately as the old politician cracked a bad joke. Merde, these men were so boring! She glanced about the room discreetly, searching for the British Minister. Her eyes briefly drifted over Harry, before freezing on the man that he was talking to.

No! He shouldn't be here—he shouldn't be talking to Harry—

C'est une catastrophe!


Jamais de la vie – Not on your life; certainly not

Zut – Damn it

Mon Dieu – My God

Merde – shit

C'est une catastrophe – This is a disaster