On Crimson Wings.

Part 1 of The Heart of the Dragon.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the world or the characters. They belong to J. , with gratitude for letting us play with them. The challenge comes from GoldenSteel, with gratitude for the ideas. The only thing I could lay claim to are the story and plotline, but that just seems greedy...

Draconic Communication is indicated this way: ¤I'm a Dragon, too!¤

Chapter 10: Questions Need Answers.

Ludo Bagman's announcement the next evening was not good news, as far as Harry could tell. The recap of scores and placing was tedious, and by singling out the Champions (Hermione had pointed out that for an event that was supposed to promote friendship, they certainly had the Champions isolated from each other, one at each House table), he seemed to be promoting the idea of competition over co-operation. Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully as his mate nibbled her bottom lip.

"The golden eggs you have each recovered," the former sports-wizard pontificated, "are your clues, providing a warning about the next task. This task shall be taking place on February twenty-fourth. Good luck!"

Harry tuned out the rest of the speeches, instead gazing at Hermione. She'd taken advantage of their new-found ability to shape-shift to... adjust the size of her front teeth. It didn't make any difference as far as he was concerned. She'd always been beautiful, now she was just adding a little bit of pretty to the mix. As they rose and headed off to today's classes, he wondered about how to make their 'mating night' special. He could throw a party? Hmm...

The Crimson couple seemed a little uneasy in Potions that day. There was a strange smell, and it wasn't coming from the admittedly pungent ingredients Snape had them working with. It was a subtle scent, and it felt as though someone had gone to great lengths to conceal it. The mixture of mud, clay and rotting vegetation mixed with the brewing regurgative draught (even brewing the potion sometimes rendered it unnecessary) to create an odour that quite turned their stomachs. Snape was staring at each member of the class in turn as he spoke.

"I am aware that this potion is not usually taught until later in the year. Today, I was going to teach you to brew the polyjuice potion, but alas, it seems that someone" here he glared at Harry and Hermione, "has pilfered my stores of the necessary ingredients, so we shall have to make do."

As he passed, Harry caught a whiff of his scent, all the smells of before, with a faint acrid tang that he couldn't place, but was familiar... Shaking his head, he returned to his potion, even as Malfoy and Weasley glared in his direction.

Transfiguration came easily today. At first, he felt terrible, as he strained to focus his spell on the dove he was supposed to turn into a decanter. His first few tries, much as Hermione's, were abysmal. This was one of their better classes, and it felt awful to have this much trouble. He was about to try again, when he recalled some of the advice and techniques that Bryn had bestowed on them. On the spur of the moment, although he kept the wand in hand, he decided to remove it from the casting. His dove turned into a beautiful crystal decanter, an ornate bottle that sparkled as the light hit it. He quickly whispered his breakthrough to his mate. "Just forget the wand, like Bryn said."

Seconds later, Hermione also had a perfect decanter. Having earned ten points apiece for their House, they were permitted to read ahead, studying the next transfiguration they would be attempting. Professor McGonagall insisted that they had to know both what they were changing, and what they were changing it into. As the bells sounded to end school for the day, the teacher rose from her chair.

"Mister Potter, could I have a word with you now, please?" she 'asked', in a tone that said it was not a request. Hermione caught his eye, and he shook his head, waving her on. In return, she tapped her wrist twice. She would wait ten minutes, then.

Once all the students had left, save Harry of course, the Transfiguration teacher spoke. "Harry, there are many recent changes that have come to my notice," she started. "Many of which we can talk about later. More than a few of these include your attitude towards Miss Granger, and it occurs to me to ask if you have been told about... that realm of human interaction called love." A very embarrassed Harry, blushing madly, nodded.

"Mr Granger was kind enough to fill me in," he replied in what might well have been a nervous squeak. Of course he was too manly to admit it... who was he kidding, Hermione had heard it for sure. "It...wasn't a comfortable discussion, particularly with his 'father's prerogative' tacked on at the end. More of a... 'here's what to do... now don't' speech."

Minerva barely suppressed a laugh. "Very well, since we are both spared that conversation, there is something I need to discuss with you," she replied, having managed to maintain a straight face. "It is traditional, as part of the Tournament, to hold a Yule Ball, which will require dancing. Specifically you, as one of the Champions, must open the ball with a dance."

Harry froze. "Dance?" he squeaked. There was no way he'd bother denying that. "With a girl? Like a date?" His answers amused his teacher, even as the feline animagus nodded to each.

"Indeed Mister Potter, so I'd advise you to hurry up if you have someone in mind to take," she said. "If you don't, someone else may try to snatch her away from you. That will be all. Good luck." She ushered the dumbstruck dragon from her classroom, and placed silencing charms before finally giving in to the urge to laugh at the look on his face.

Hermione's ten minute wait was not uneventful, as no sooner had she leaned against the corridor wall to wait, than she was approached by a young man in a Durmstrang uniform. It was that Quidditch player, a seeker like Harry, but not as good... what was his name? Something unpleasant, Kreep, Skum... no, wait, Krum... Viktor Krum. "Now what can hepossibly want?"

"Excuse me," he said in a thick Eastern European accent, somewhere between German and Russian, "but I am Viktor Krum. I voz vundering vy such a petal as you is alone, here. I haf seen you in the library, as I go there to escape from the wild mobs of fans." He paused as though an idea had just occurred to him. "There is a ball this Yule, perhaps..."

Hermione cut him off. Obviously her reaction was not what he was looking for. "A Yule Ball, how wonderful," she sighed. "I'll bet my..." she decided that subtlety would be lost on this man, and upped the stakes. "...fiancé is going to try and surprise me when he asks me, and now you've spoiled it... I could pretend, but we're so close we can see right through each other... Still, I thank you for warning me, this means I can get my Mum to help me find a dress, and there's so much to do to prepare. Oh, here he comes now..."

Indeed, Harry opened the door as Professor McGonagall nearly shoved him through it, and saw Hermione next to Viktor Krum. His attention had not been focused on the corridor, instead being on the discussion with the Transfiguration teacher, so he didn't know what was going on, but by the way his bushy-haired she-dragon was beaming, and the glare on Krum's face, he didn't have much trouble guessing. In some other life, where he hadn't managed to gather up the courage to tell her how he felt, perhaps the Bulgarian would have taken her to the Ball, but in this lifetime, Harry wouldn't let that happen. It was too soon after receiving notice for him to manage anything smooth, but he was still going to do this.

"Hey, Mine," he said, as he hugged her tight, planting a quick peck on her forehead. Nuzzling against her cheek was his first impulse, but that seemed a little... personal for a Hogwarts corridor. "You'll never guess what Professor McGonagall just told me."

"There's a Yule Ball, so find your date fast?" she answered, smiling while she tested Harry's nickname for her inside her mind. Mine. Mine. She could live with it, so he got to. Anyone else might be in trouble though.

"Oh, drat, somebody told you," Harry pouted. "Still, have to be sure. Hermione, I'm already the luckiest man alive with you as my beloved... fiancée," he continued responding to her nearly inaudible prompting, "would you make me even happier by accompanying me to the Yule Ball?"

Hermione dragged her mate down for a sizzling kiss, losing herself to it, and very nearly forgetting Krum's presence. When they broke for air, they grinned.

"I take it that's a yes?" Harry asked.

"Of course it's a yes," Hermione answered him. Turning her head, she spoke to the slightly jealous Quidditch star. "I'm sorry," she said as if she'd just remembered something. "You were about to say something, and I cut you off, what was it?"

"It is of no matter," Viktor replied, recovering his composure. "Now I owe Kolya five Galleons. He said you vere not for such as me." With a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he turned and was about to leave.

"Wait a moment, Viktor," Harry said. "You were about to ask my intended to the Ball, yes?" Reluctantly, the Bulgarian nodded. "Why?"

"Because... she is beautiful to those who vish to look for it, and she does not care for fame... mine or yours, it appears, and because I vould enjoy to haf a good discussion vare I might learn something more than my own Quidditch statistics."

Harry grinned. "A friend of ours is... between boyfriends, and would probably be able to give you such discussions, she's pretty clever, and she's a chaser for our House team, so she knows the strain of having to live for Quidditch."

"HA!" Viktor laughed, "I haf heard of your Oliver Wood, your Quidditch Captain, yes? He is well spoken of by graduates who haf made other teams, but also cursed for his training schedules. Very vell, I vill gif this a try." As they reached the Hall, Hermione and Harry pointed out Katie Bell to their new friend, and as he left, wished him luck.

"That was close," Hermione said, glad to have settled the matter without a fight or duel.

"Mm-hmm," Harry agreed. "Now I've only got two problems."

Turning to meet her mate's eyes, Hermione saw humour and worry, an odd combination. "And those are?"

"First I have to find a corsage that does you justice," Harry said. "And then there's the big one. I have no idea how to dance."

As it turned out, there was no need to worry on that account, as Professor McGonagall took some time to schedule dancing lessons for the students. Professor Flitwick provided the music by charming an old phonograph to play music for the types of dance they required. With Harry holding Hermione close, they used their new senses to feel the mood of the music, to tell where they were about to set their feet. With their link, they knew each move the other was about to make, and quickly became proficient in the art. They were not the best, but they were miles ahead of where anyone had thought they would be... but only with each other. Anyone else was in danger of having their feet stepped on, girls who tried dancing with Harry, or boys attempting the same with Hermione, were often the target of glares and subtle snarls... even those among their friends who danced with them couldn't help being aware of the... distractedness of their partner.

As it turned out, Katie accepted Viktor's invitation to the Ball, and was quietly happy. "At least he'll be able to relax," she told Hermione and Parvati. "It's such a shame that he has to keep hiding from fans all over the castle. So I decided I'm not going to bring up Quidditch unless and until he does." As the other two applauded this idea, Katie felt vindicated by her decision.

Neville had asked Hannah, and Fred and George were taking the other Gryffindor chasers. Susan was going with Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had quietly put up with Malfoy nicknaming him 'Flinchley' for years. "Just because he's not smart enough to speak my full name, I should blow my top?" was how he'd put it when asked by Harry and Neville. Daphne had been invited by Blaise Zabini, a... neutral Slytherin. He was the sort who reserved judgement in every situation until he had all the facts, and quietly supported his chosen cause, but he was very polite. Astoria and Luna weren't old enough to come on their own, and weren't lucky enough to be invited by anyone they cared to dance with. Padma and Parvati were invited by a dashing pair of roguish twins from Beauxbatons by the names of Adler and Leon duGuerre, an irony since Leon was Padma's date and Adler Parvati's.

Cedric Diggory had found a good friend in the French Champion, but it was hard to get through her self-imposed shell. She was convinced her allure and her tenuous control over it would destroy the friendship completely. When his girlfriend Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker, found out about his new friend, she dropped an ultimatum on him, one that would ironically prove to the veela girl that he was serious about his friendship.

"Either she goes or I do, Cedric," the comely Chinese girl demanded. Cedric looked over the girl he might have grown to love, who was obviously possessive and selfish, somewhat shallow, and, if what he'd overheard from some of the other 'claws was true, a bit of a bully, and then over at the lonely French girl, too proud to admit her loneliness, unwilling to let anyone see her cry when she was hurt to the heart. The choice was obvious.

"Alright. Bye, Cho." He turned to the silver-blonde witch from across the channel. "Miss Delacour, by some strange set of circumstances, it seems I have no-one to go to the Ball with. Would you be willing to help me out by accompanying me?"

Fleur's delighted acceptance was quickly the hottest school gossip in years.

Ron Weasley had embarrassed himself by stumbling up to Fleur, babbling out an incoherent string of words, and running before she could turn him down politely. He then compounded his problem in the Gryffindor common room.

"Hermione, you're a girl," he realised loudly. "I can take you to the Ball!"

"No, Weasley," she said, rolling her eyes, "you can't."

"What?" He couldn't believe his ears. He'd keyed the potions and slipped them into Harry and Hermione's drinks... well, Ginny had, after he'd followed his instructions from home and dosed her with one keyed to Harry. She shouldn't be refusing him... "Why not?"

"I'm already going with Harry, of course." Hermione stood and glared at him, letting a tiny bit of dragonfear slip through, just enough to have the redhead nervous. "And even if I hadn't smelled sulphur, sea salt and old books in my drink, I'd still be going with Harry. We're bound, Weasley. It's not something love potions can smother. It's not something apathy draughts can suppress. And thanks to the fact that you tried to dose the Head of an Ancient and Noble House, I don't think you have to worry about going to the Ball."

"Huh?" Ron was really having trouble keeping up. "What Head?"

Harry answered him. "That would be me, Weasley. Ancient and Noble House of Potter, present and accounted for." He waved his hand at the ginger's sister. "I find it interesting that not only our drinks have that set of odours about them. I think we'll have to take her down to Madam Pomfrey to see what we can see." He too allowed a trickle of the dragonfear to break loose, nudging Ron to very bad decision.

Already panicking at being found out, and facing some very hard questions just for dosing Harry, adding Hermione and Ginny to the mix was setting him up for some very bad consequences. The damage wouldn't stop with him, either, as his potion grades were abysmal, so anyone who looked once at them would know he hadn't brewed them, and that would drag in his Mum, and maybe his Dad, and could tear his family apart... With cold sweat breaking out all over his body, he did something no-one had predicted, pulling his wand, pointing it at Hermione and screaming "Reducto!"

They saw the spell fly across the common room, and for Harry and Hermione, time seemed to slow. He was in motion, but wouldn't make it in time. She could dodge it, but then it would sail past her into the crowd of Gryffindors who'd gathered to watch the show. She raised her hand, agonizingly slowly to her, and cried out an incantation of her own.

"Capere Incantatum!"

Time resumed its stately march, as everyone watched as Hermione Granger reached up and caught Ron Weasley's hastily cast spell in the palm of her hand, holding the incipient orange explosion in a web of crimson chains, something even the seventh years were amazed at. Harry recognised the spell as one from his family's grimoires, which he'd been studying when he had a spare moment in secret. Apparently their minds were deeply linked, and desperation had brought this spell to his mate's mind when she needed it. With her safe, he changed his trajectory just a little, driving his shoulder into his former friend's chest, hearing a rib or two pop, and snatching the wand from his hand. Standing, he pointed his hand at Ron and hit him with a wandless stunning jinx. Levitating him, he and Hermione began to drag him down to the hospital wing, taking just enough time to lure Ginny into following.

Madam Pomfrey was livid, and once she'd sent off word to the DMLE, along with the evidence she'd finally been able to collect, she sent her Patronus (a dove, naturally) to let the Deputy Headmistress know. She was with Minerva and Filius on this one. Albus, although he was a great man once, was no longer reliable. Snape was incredibly biased against anyone who wasn't Slytherin, and yet Dumbledore let him run rampant, with massive point deductions. The only time he'd done anything to counter the unchecked favouritism was three years ago, and he'd done nothing since. The school was becoming less and less safe, and no-one was in a position to do anything... and the Headmaster seemed to be losing his marbles. Perhaps it was the stress from his other positions, but Albus was, as Septima Vector, the Arithmancy teacher, had once put it, no longer in a one-to-one contact with reality. But people had been overlooking it because he was Dumbledore, Hero of the Wizarding World War and vanquisher of Grindelwald.

But this was something she was refusing to overlook for anyone. This was Amortentia, the most potent 'love' potion around, and a severely restricted substance. There were next to no legal uses for it, save under certain contract that had to be agreed to by all parties involved. It was certain that young Mister Potter had not agreed, and nor had Miss Granger. While she was not quite coherent yet, from the horrified looks she was giving those around her, it seemed that Miss Weasley hadn't either.

Minerva arrived escorting Amelia Bones, the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She had been a top Auror as little as a year ago, and had been fast-tracked to her current position after her predecessor's resignation over the Sirius Black debacle. She was reputed to be a hard taskmaster, but fair and incorruptible. She was also not Minister Fudge's favourite person. The Wizengamot was such a balancing act...

"Mister Potter brought this to my attention a month ago, with Miss Granger the sole victim at that time. Now we have three victims and an instigator, but one who is unable to create the potions required. If these apathy draughts hadn't been perfectly balanced, they would have concocted a rather nasty poison. As for the Amortentia, a lot of our seventh years and past graduates couldn't make it." The mediwitch was quite incensed, her audience noted, including the two she thought were busy helping poor Miss Weasley. The teachers had no idea how good the Crimson Couple's hearing had become. The truly regrettable thing is that Albus would sweep it all under a rug to avoid confrontations. Whatever happened to the wizard who championed Muggles and Muggle-born?"

"One compromise too many?" suggested Madam Bones. "Politics is a slippery slope, and it has happened before that a man defeats a monster, only to fall. So what are we going to do about this. Attempted Line Theft is a serious matter, as is Mister Weasley's attack on Miss Granger. With an Ancient and Noble involved, it gets worse."

Minerva was about to throw her two knuts' worth into the conversation when they were interrupted by Harry. "Excuse me, Professor, Madam Pomfrey, Madam Bones, but from what I've read recently, it's not that simple," he announced. "There's a few things I've been keeping under wraps, so to speak, because I didn't want any more attention, but if they can help us resolve this, I don't mind telling you." he glanced over his shoulder, receiving a nod from his mate where she sat holding a basin and vanishing Ginny's wastes. Turning back to the adults, he raised his right hand, fingers upwards, with the back towards them so they could see his signet. "I'm also the Duke of Slytherin, confirmed by right of conquest, and the Hunter of Ancient Days. I'm not fully familiar with the protocols for it, but if it can help..."

Amelia Bones was staggered. Having married into the Ancient and Noble House of Bones, she'd learned of many secrets, but their status as the Reeve of Ancient Days had been a surprise. More so that said Reeve was her niece, Susan, after her parents were killed by stragglers in the last Blood War, because as one who married into the line, she herself could not hold it. She did stand regent on the Head of the House title, but was there more than just that? Gathering herself, while Minerva and Poppy were both still goggling at Harry's revelation, as much that he knew it as that he was, she spoke firmly.

"That may actually help," she said. "The four Duchies of Magical Britain answer directly to the Throne, not the Ministry, and we could side-step a lot of red tape. We can't just judge and sentence him, but on your authority we can bring in both him and his family for investigation discreetly, call it 'helping us with enquiries', and find out exactly who's guilty in this. I'd hate to think Arthur had a hand in this."

"Then consider it authorised," Harry said, "and I'll sign the necessary paperwork."

Amelia stared at the boy. "How'd you know about that?" she asked.

Harry snorted as he returned to Hermione's side and continued helping Ginny. "Please, it's a branch of the British Government. Of course there was going to be paperwork."

*Author's Note: The spell Hermione uses to catch Ron's "Reducto" is translated roughly as "Capture the spell".