He's Not Dead Yet

I'm not entirely certain how many chapters I'm going to have, only that it's going to be more than I anticipated. You see, I find it very hard to read fanfictions where, though they have only a few chapters, everything is crammed into a lengthy chapter as it makes it hard to pace myself whereas stories that have more chapters but things are spaced out a bit are much easier to read.

I've been trying not to put too much into any one chapter at a time, but it does get kind of hard.

I don't own Harry Potter, et cetera, et cetera.

No Time Toulouse

The reactions to the first task were mixed and branched into various distinctions. The three real champions were applauded for their outstanding performances and The Quibbler ran a full article detailing how they faced their dragons. The two "chumpions" of Hogwarts, as Ron and Draco were now being referred to, were a different matter altogether.

Ron was unconscious for about a week after the task, due more to the injuries he sustained on his own than from either his transformation or the dragon bite. When the carrot-topped ponce finally did reawaken, he compensated his loss of time by attempting to eat the week's worth of meals he had missed. Despite what had happened in the arena, Ron actually had managed to get his golden egg and complete the task, though it was not through any rational thinking on Ron's part. During the task, as Ron had been running about in a state of blind panic, he had seen the golden egg, and, mistaking it for some sort of snack wrapped in golden foil, he had eaten it whole as a way of calming himself down. As a cruel twist of fate, this was the very thing that had led to Ron's extended stay in the hospital wing as Madam Pomphrey had had no choice but to administer a Flushing Potion as Ron was allergic to Regurgitation Solution. The knowledge of how the egg had been removed from Ron's stomach meant that no one could look at Ron or his golden egg for more than ten seconds before feeling ill.

Draco, however, seemed to think he had done incredibly well and was now strutting up and down the halls as though he had already won the tournament. His father, on the other hand, was now suffering severe nerve damage from the number of Crucios he'd been put under as a result of Draco's failure to get Potter into the tournament; Lucius had sent a letter to his son stating that it was absolutely essential that he follow instructions from the Dark Lord and make sure that Potter would be in that cemetery on the designated date. Draco seemed to brush off his father's concerns, writing back that he would be working on a plan; however, Draco was actually more focused on getting some training so as to ensure his performance at the next task would be even better and had sent a letter out requesting a defense instructor. The instructor, however, a Mr. Samuel Gibbon, was an expert in only one form of defense.

"Evenin', young Malfoy," he said as he strolled into the classroom. "Right, now, self-defense. I'm going to be carrying on from where we got to last week when I was showing how to defend yourself against anyone who attacks you armed with a piece of fresh fruit."

Another unintended consequence of the tournament in regards to Draco is that Pansy Parkinson's family no longer felt that the betrothal agreement between Draco and their daughter was wise as the boy had humiliated himself in front of countless people, including some important people from the Ministry. Pansy's engagement to Draco was broken and Pansy herself was forbidden to interact with Draco outside of the normal exchanges within the classroom. Pansy had been devastated at the time, but one look at the boy she was betrothed to now, Theodore Nott, and all thoughts of Draco flew right out the window.

Unfortunately, not everything was smooth-sailing for Harry and his friends. Harry walked into the Great Hall a few days after the first task and he knew at once that something was wrong. People were reading Witch Weekly and whispering about something. When he sat down with his friends at breakfast, he noticed that they were a member short.

"Where's Daphne?"

Hermione bit her lip and set down a copy of Witch Weekly in front of him.

There was the picture Skeeter had taken that day in Hogsmeade. His image had been blurred, but the faces of the people with him were very clear, especially Daphne's.

We all have heard about the Lord of Hogwarts, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the alleged savior of the Wizarding world, whose name we are not legally able to print without his consent. However, we know very little of his friends. The boy we all know has spent a great deal of time with some very respectable people such as the heir of the Longbottom family, the young heiress of the Bones family, and many others. Some of his friends, on the other hand, are not quite so reputable.

One of these people is a Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl who has allegedly been the young Lord's "best friend" since first year who is almost constantly seen by his side. Miss Granger is from a non-magical family, but exceedingly bright and capable of doing most anything to achieve her goals.

"No one really likes her," said an anonymous source. "She's unappealing and bossy and has to voice her opinion on everything. It drives everyone insane. I will admit that she's smart. Too smart, in fact. Don't know why she's not in Ravenclaw, but I'd guess she's only in Gryffindor to get close to the Boy-Who-Lived."

Then there is a Miss Luna Lovegood, a girl from an old pure-blood family who has the great misfortune of inheriting her father's mental instability. You all will remember that Xenophilius Lovegood is the same man who brought us stories about Fargles and Wiggling Humdlingers and other such nonsense.

"Lovegood has always made a nuisance of herself," said another anonymous source. "She rambles about her idiotic, made-up creatures and I think she spies on people because she says things about them that they've never told anyone."

But the most startling of these friends is Miss Daphne Amalthea Greengrass, heiress to the Greengrass family. Miss Greengrass is not, as she has purported to be, a pure-blood, or even entirely human. Through my brilliant investigative skills, I have discovered a long-hidden secret of the Greengrass family. The current Lady Greengrass, once identified as Amalthea Zabatos, is a Greek whose parents moved to Britain shortly after the fall of Gellert Grindelwald. And the surprises do not stop there; Amalthea Zabatos is the daughter of a Muggle-born wizard, Nikolas Zabatos, and a sea nymph named Eudora.

Sea nymphs have been known throughout history to use their ethereal powers and unnatural good looks to win the affections of unwary young men. One can only hope that such is not the case with the young Lord who has so much of the public's admiration and…

Harry threw the magazine down on the table. How dare that woman?! He knew she was nasty, but this…

"It goes on for quite a while like that," Tracey said. "Daphne got one look at the article and ran out."

"Skeeter is going to pay for this," Harry said. "I should have stopped her before but I didn't want to get my hands dirty."

"You can't sue her, Harry," Hermione said somberly. "She didn't use your name directly and there was no contract preventing her from publishing things about the rest of us."

"There's more than one way to get revenge, but first things first. I have to talk to Daphne."

Harry got up from the table and headed out into the hallway. When he was sure that no one was looking, he pulled out the Marauder's Map and scoured it for Daphne's name. Sure enough, there she was up in the Astronomy tower. Hurrying as fast as he could, Harry made his way up the long staircase. Harry had never seen Daphne cry before, he didn't think that she was able to cry; however, the sounds of quiet sobbing were coming from the figure huddled up in one corner of the tower.

"Go ahead," she said softly, "go ahead and stare. Everyone else did and will continue to."

She turned and looked at Harry; her eyes were somewhat red from crying, but that wasn't the most shocking thing. Harry supposed that those of sea nymph heritage, like veela, could transform when experiencing particularly strong emotions. Daphne's skin, already pale, was now almost clear and had a silvery glint to it, allowing a series of blue spiraling marks to stand out vividly on her face. Her hair, too, had blue streaks running through it.

"You're probably wondering if what Skeeter wrote is true. Well, it is, everything about my family is true." She sniffled slightly and gave a mirthless chuckle. "I'm not fully human. My gran was a sea nymph. That's why I created the whole 'Ice Queen of Slytherin' persona; because, whenever I feel a strong emotion, I turn into this!

"My mother has even less control of it and my gran doesn't have any at all. Even now I'm holding it back. This," she pointed to her face, "this isn't even half of how I really feel about myself right now."

"Daphne," Harry said gently, "do you really think that being partly non-human makes you any less important than anyone in this school? Hey, look at me." He suddenly used his Metamorphmagus power to give himself aqua-colored hair and neon pink eyes. "I've got something that makes me different." He morphed back to normal. "Does that make me any less of a person?"

"It's different for you. You're Harry Potter, after all. Nothing you do could ever be wrong."

"Hey, don't think for one moment that there is anything wrong with you. So, you're part sea nymph. What does that matter outside of making you even more special? You're Daphne Greengrass and that's all that matters."

Harry hadn't expected Daphne to pull him into a sudden kiss right then. The only thing he registered was that it was a very pleasant feeling. He wasn't sure how long they kissed, only that he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her in a comforting manner. Harry had very limited experience comforting girls; in fact, the last girl who kissed him when she'd been crying was Cho in the old timeline, and look how well that turned out.

"I'm sorry," Daphne apologized as she pulled away. "That was far too forward of me and-"

"Daphne," Harry said calmly, "please don't apologize." He put and arm around her shoulder and directed her to the stairs. "Come on, let's go get some breakfast before class starts."

"But! Wait, I'm still in my…other form. People will see-"

Harry Metamorphed so that he looked like a male version of Daphne.

"Then let them see."

As they descended the stairs, something else occurred to Harry.

"Does this have anything to do with why you don't like the Beauxbatons champion?"

"Actually, it kind of does," Daphne said a little sheepishly. "Veela are fire-based creatures and have a long-standing dispute with water creatures like sea nymphs. I was able to sense that she was a veela right from the beginning and, well…"

"Okay, I understand, but please don't judge her solely because of her heritage."

Oh, don't worry about that, Harry, Daphne thought. I'm far more inclined to judge her because she's clearly out to snag you.

As the two walked into the Great Hall, all eyes predictably turned to them. Daphne was a bit unnerved by all the attention, but Harry's presence was definitely reassuring. That's when the clapping started. It began, amazingly, with several people in Slytherin; though it wasn't so surprising when Harry noticed that it was Justine Max, Cedric's girlfriend, who was leading the group. The applause then spread throughout each of the four Houses and amongst the staff and, finally, to many of the visiting students.

As Harry showed Daphne to her seat, someone else entered the Great Hall. It was Astoria, Daphne's little sister.

"I just got here!" the eleven-year-old said. "What's going on?"

Having Winky as her personal elf was a tremendous help for Hermione. As it turned out, both were incredibly strict about neatness and organization; however, Winky turned out to be far more stubborn than Hermione.

"Winky insists Mistress Hermy put down books and finish her dinner," the elf said when Hermione was incredibly absorbed in one of her late-night study sessions.

"I assure you, Winky, I am perfectly-"

"Winky is a good elf and will not let Mistress Hermy strain herself." Winky snapped her fingers and all Hermione's books closed and stack themselves on the shelf, bookmarks securely in the places where Hermione had stopped. "Mistress Hermy will finish her dinner and go to bed so she can be well-rested for end-of-term tests tomorrow."

With a pout on her face, Hermione did what she was told.

Meanwhile, back in Hermione's hometown of Crawley, her parents were in the middle of a very late…appointment with a client.

"Now, Mr. Venderberg, you are going to tell us what we want to know," Dan Granger said, holding up a dental drill. "If you do not, then I am afraid we have ways of…" He stopped for a moment as he was struck by an odd feeling.

"Ways of what, Granger?" the foreign spy demanded.

"Hmm, oh, sorry, I just had the strangest feeling that someone actually managed to get my daughter to go to bed the night before a test."

"I felt it, too, dear," said Emma Granger. "And that person also made Hermione finish her dinner and put away her books."

"FINALLY!" the husband and wife shouted together.

"Now, where were we?" said Dan.

"We were about to show Vanderberg here why it is a bad idea to mess with the British Dental Association," said Emma.

"Ah, of course."

"May I have everyone's attention?!" Professor Babbling shouted as she entered the Gryffindor common room. "Are all the Gryffindors accounted for?"

"Yes, ma'am," said the prefects.

"Good, I have a very important announcement to make. As per a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, there will be a Yule Ball to celebrate the unity of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. The ball was originally planned for Christmas Day; however, the owner of Hogwarts," she threw a brief look at Harry, "did not want this to interfere with your Christmas holidays. Therefore, it will take place from eight o'clock until midnight the day before you are scheduled to depart. The dance is officially open to all those in fourth year and up, those below may attend if invited by an upper year.

"All those students who wish to remain at school will please check in with Deputy Headmistress McGonagall.

"Thank you. You are dismissed." Now came the part that Babbling was dreading. "Mr. Ronald Weasley, a word if you please?"

Ron slouched forward.

"Weasley, the champions and their partners-"

"What partners?" Ron asked.

"Partners for the Yule Ball of course. As a champion, you will be expected to bring a date and open the Ball with the first dance."

"Oh, sure, no problem. I'm a champion, after all. What woman wouldn't want to go with me?"

Bathsheba raised an eyebrow. She was sincerely hoping that stupidity wasn't contagious; otherwise Weasley was sure to start an epidemic. It just so happened that Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, the most notorious gossips in Hogwarts, had overheard this exchange and word spread that Weasley and Malfoy would be in need of dates. The warning reached all corners of the school in a matter of hours and girls instantly began scrambling for dates.

Harry, meanwhile, was in a deep quandary about who to ask to the Yule Ball. He was certain he should ask one of the girls in his close group of friends; the question was 'who should he choose?' Harry, despite being from the future, was still very much the nervous teenage boy who didn't want to hurt anybody's feelings or make one of his friends feel left out. Luckily for Harry, his rescue from the situation came from Luna Lovegood.

Luna, who already knew how things were going to work out, had called together the other five girls. Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, Fay, and Susan were rather surprised when the young Ravenclaw asked them to meet her privately in the Room of Requirements, and even more surprised when she knew that they all were not interested in going to the ball with anyone other than Harry. Luna, however, devised a solution that made all the girls sigh in relief. They accosted Harry after the last board meeting of the term with their request.

"Harry, we've been talking," Hermione started. "The six of us have mutually agreed that you are the only boy in the school we would even consider going to the ball with."

"We were wondering, if you want to, of course, if you would consider going with all of us as a group?" Susan continued. "That way, we can spend a nice evening with a decent bloke and you don't end up having to go to the ball with some crazy fangirl."

"It doesn't even technically have to count as a date," Fay added. "We can just go as friends if you want."

Harry wanted to drop to his knees and thank God, or whatever Supreme Being it was who decided his fate, that his friends had made this particular decision for him. Of course, Harry, as articulate as ever, simply replied with a "Sure, whatever you want" and was immediately tackled in grateful hugs by the six girls.

"Of course, you know, if you hadn't accepted then two of us might have been forced to go with Malfoy or Weasley," said Daphne, sending disgusted shudders through the group.

"You think that's bad?" said Tracey. "My parents wanted me to go with Goyle to the ball."

"How could parents ever inflict that on their daughter?" said Fay.

"My parents are intending to arrange a betrothal between me and Goyle." Tracey looked faintly ill. "The only way I could hope to get out of it is if they think I have a better prospect. Of course, Mother frequently reminds me that my 'pretty face won't last forever.'"

"You're fourteen," Hermione said in shock. "How could they be pushing you like that?"

"My parents have a bit of an age gap. About thirty years to be precise. Mother was sixteen and still in school when she got married."

The others looked outraged, though Daphne simply had a dark expression as this was something Tracey had already told her.

"Don't worry, Trace," Harry said. "I promise you that will not happen to you."

Tracey gave a grateful smile, though she doubted that he'd be able to do anything that would help outside of marrying her himself.

Harry made his way into Gryffindor common room after taking a turn about the castle to admire the beautiful Christmas decorations. As soon as he walked in, Harry realized that history had decided to repeat itself again. Ronald Weasley was sitting, ashen-faced, in one of the armchairs being comforted by his sister. Already guessing what had happened, Harry decided to ask about it.

"What's with him?" he said.

"He just asked Fleur Delacour to the ball," Ginny replied. Then, realizing it was Harry, she straightened herself up and tried her best to look flirtatiously at him.

"And?"

"Well, 'asked' is a relative term," Fred piped up.

"Bloody making a mess is a more apt description," George added.

"This poncy git decided it was wise to just march up to a quarter-veela, say how 'lucky' she was that he was asking her out, and then slap her on the derriere."

"Let's just say that dear ronnikins is lucky to still be alive right now."

"Does he even realize what he did counts as sexual harassment?" Harry asked.

The twins burst out laughing.

"That's a good one, Harry!"

"Yeah, for a moment there I thought you were serious."

"He's not Sirius, I'm Sirius," said Harry's godfather as he entered the room. "Hey, Harry."

"Hey, Padfoot."

"Got something I need to give to you. Won't take a sec."

Harry followed him outside and was immediately grabbed in a hug.

"Harry, I'm so proud of you!" Sirius said.

"Uh…what?"

"Scoring a date with six gorgeous young witches is exactly the type of thing that I'm hoping to encourage. Now, I assume each of these ladies will be wearing different dresses, correct?"

"Uh, yeah?" Harry was confused where this was going.

"Then I think it's time to give you this." He handed Harry a large, wrapped package. "It's a special set of dress robes that automatically change tie and trim color to match the outfit of the lady you're dancing with and not cause you to look like a prat. I tell ya, this type of dress robe saved me on a number of occasions."

"That's great, Sirius, how'd you get it?"

"Your grandpa Charlus actually developed it. Before he married my great-aunt Dorea, he was a bit of a ladies' man and, well, he liked to look sharp."

"Thanks, Sirius, this will be really helpful. Oh, I'm guessing you're inviting Bathsheba as your date to the ball?"

Sirius got a giddy smile on his face. Harry wished him well and reentered the common room where he was greeted by Ginny Weasley.

"By the way, Harry, I was wondering if you'd like to go to the ball with me," she said, as if she expected him to instantly want to go with her.

"Uh, sorry, Ginny, but I've already…"

"Great! I'll meet you down here at eight o'clock tomorrow evening!" She then rushed up to her dorm room leaving an incredulous Harry behind.

"How could anyone be this dense?" he said to himself. He then threw a look at the nearly catatonic Ron. "Oh…that explains a lot."

Ron did manage to break from his stupor by the next day. Unfortunately (though that depends on your point of view), he wasn't able to find a date anywhere. He wasn't the only one, though, as Draco was shocked to discover that not one, single girl would even consider going with him. Both boys brought their complaints to the Deputy Headmistress; oddly enough, they both came at the same time and started trying to shout their problems louder than each other.

"QUIET!" McGonagall yelled and both boys instantly shut up. "You both were unable to find dates to the ball?"

"It's a conspiracy to make me look bad, Professor," said Ron.

"I know it's all Potter's doing," said Draco.

"I even asked that French veela, but she turned me down for some reason."

"Pansy won't even talk to me anymore. She just follows Nott around like a lost puppy."

Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose in thought and tried to remember if there was a contingency plan for this sort of thing in the Triwizard rulebook. That was when she remembered that there was on page 666, subdivision 13, passage 4.

"There is a solution to this problem," she said and both boys stared at her expectantly. "According to the rules for protocol in relation to the Triwizard Yule Ball, if two of the champions are unable to find suitable dates then they must go with each other."

Once both boys had allowed that information to sink in, they promptly fell in dead faints to the floor.

"I think they took that well."

On the day of the ball, Hermione and Luna had invited the girls to the Founders' Quarters (with Harry's permission, of course) so that they could get ready; Susan had even invited Hannah along as the other Hufflepuff girl was going as Neville's date. The girls had decided to use Helga Hufflepuff's old rooms to get ready as, a few days earlier, Hermione and Luna had discovered an interesting secret about the Hogwarts foundress. Helga Hufflepuff had, apparently, been very interested in designing clothes and had an entire closet full of gowns and jewelry that she herself had made and placed under a Stasis Charm so that they were in the same condition as when she was last in the room.

"Lady Hufflepuff certainly didn't want for taste," Daphne commented as she examined a particularly lovely gown of silvery velvet.

"Looks like she designed clothes for all the ladies at Hogwarts," Hermione said, looking at sketches the late foundress had made, each of which bore the name of the woman who had inspired the design.

"Hermione, this would look lovely on you," Hannah said, pulling out an elegant, periwinkle blue gown.

"Ladies, I think we are going to dominate this ball," said Susan.

Three hours and a whole lot of anxious pacing outside the Founders' Quarters later, Harry and Neville looked up to see the group of beautiful young ladies emerge.

Hermione was wearing the dress of periwinkle blue, just like in the old timeline, only this one looked considerably better on her; she was also wearing a necklace and earrings made out of a dark, purple stone that definitely complimented the outfit. Luna was wearing a midnight blue gown with a bronze-colored shawl; Harry noticed the fabric glittered slightly when the light hit it. Daphne was wearing a silver dress that reminded Harry distinctly of his Invisibility Cloak, and had fastened her hair up in an elegant knot which was ornamented by a single, white lily. Tracey was wearing a dark purple gown that had a distinctly Roman style to it, including a white stola draped across her left shoulder. Fay's dress looked decidedly, for lack of a better word, Gryffindorish; a scarlet robe with gold embroidery and garnet necklace made her look like the female personification of her House. Susan had also opted for wearing something bearing her House's colors; an empire-waisted dress of honey-yellow with black trim.

Neville also seemed taken with his own date's attire. Hannah was dressed in a silky dress of pale blue that matched her eyes and fit nicely on her slender frame.

"Were the three hours worth it?" Hermione asked.

"Definitely worth it," the boys agreed together.

"Shall we?" Neville said, offering his arm to Hannah.

"We shall," the girls agreed.

Harry had to escort three girls on either arm, but he felt perfectly comfortable with it as he knew all those girls were his friends, people he could trust with his life, rather than some last-minute date he'd barely said two words to in his entire life.

The group happily made their way down to the Great Hall where they were greeted by many interested looks, some of which were more unpleasant than others. Harry noticed early on that there were several people who did not look at all pleased by Harry's choice of date…er, dates. Cho Chang was among them, having been one of the more aggressive persuants of Harry's attention when everyone was vying for partners; she had ended up with Zacharias Smith as her date after Harry had turned her away.

There were, on the other hand, many people who looked as though they couldn't be happier with the way things were at that point in time. Harry saw Cedric Diggory and Justine Max happily chatting with several students from Durmstang, clearly taking the opportunity to make some new friends. Harry also noticed Viktor Krum with a Hogwarts girl that Harry had seen before but only knew by name and because she was a Beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, a very tall and quiet seventh-year named Iris Moon. Viktor and Iris actually seemed to be fairly well-matched as both stood quietly in a corner of the entrance hall away from the prying eyes of the other students.

"All of you, into the Great Hall," Professor McGonagall instructed.

As Harry, Neville, and the girls entered the ballroom, Harry glanced back when he heard McGonagall address Malfoy and Ron who had clearly just arrived. Harry tried to see what unfortunate girls they had brought as their dates but he didn't see anyone and didn't have time as his companions shuffled him off to the side to wait for the ball to start.

Everyone cleared away from the entrance as the great, oak doors swung open and the champions processed in. Cedric and Justine led the way, followed by Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies, then came Viktor Krum and Iris Moon, and lastly…Ron and Malfoy? Everyone shook their heads, not fully certain if they were actually seeing what they thought they saw. Sure enough, there was Ron, in his old, tattered dress robes, and Malfoy in his expensive, black velvet robes. Both boys looked absolutely miserable and threw glares at each other. When the two boys caught sight of Harry Potter and his six dates, it seemed like the two extra champions would explode with envy.

The magical community might have its prejudices, but they were slightly more open-minded towards same-sex relations (as long as any pure-bloods involved eventually obtained a respectable pure-blood spouse of the opposite sex with which they could produce heirs). In this situation, the students were not laughing because two boys were attending the ball as partners, rather they were laughing at the fact that it was these specific boys who were attending as partners.

Once everyone had taken their seats, the feast began.

"So, what are we going to do about dancing?" Harry asked his lovely companions.

"We've managed to work out a schedule together," said Hermione, producing a piece of paper with a carefully planned timetable drawn up. "We reached an agreement and decided that I am getting the first dance with you. After that, it will be Tracey's turn. Then Daphne, then Susan, then Fay. Luna asked to go last as she said she is not overly interested in dancing."

"However," Luna spoke up, "I do want a goodnight kiss at the end of the evening."

"Um, sure, Luna," said Harry.

The little Ravenclaw smiled brightly.

"You will be allowed a ten minute break between each dance, Harry," Hermione continued. "We don't want you getting overtaxed."

"At least, not yet," Tracey whispered to Daphne and the two bit back giggles.

"Guys, whatever you do, don't look up at the head table," Neville said, looking slightly green.

"Why?" said Harry.

"Ron's eating."

Sure enough, Ronald Weasley, Triwizard champion, was scarfing down plate after plate of food as if there were no tomorrow. The other people at the table looked positively disgusted, especially Ron's "date."

"Weasley," Draco hissed angrily. "Stop embarrassing me and use your cutlery."

"Piss off, Malfoy," Ron replied, accidentally splattering food-stuffs on Draco as he spoke.

Draco, meanwhile, was inwardly planning how he would get his revenge for this indignity when the Dark Lord returned to power. Oh, he'd make them all pay. He'd especially get back at Potter as Draco knew this was all scarhead's fault. He then turned to look at Daphne Greengrass, looking positively radiant in her formal attire, and Draco grinned maliciously. Even if she was some mixed-breed, Daphne was still a very attractive girl; maybe he'd ask the Dark Lord to give her to him as his concubine in return for his brilliant efforts in aiding his master's return. For now, Draco had to put up with the unfairness that was his current situation.

While Ron stuffed large quantities of food down his gullet, he caught sight of Hermione sitting next to Harry, dressed up in all her finery, and another wave of envy hit him. Hermione was one of the many girls who had, for some reason, turned down his invitation to the ball. This was so unfair! Harry not only got six gorgeous girls as his dates, he also got the one girl Ron was certain would be so desperate she couldn't possibly turn him down. Ron kept thinking furiously about how he would get back at his former best friend for this unwarranted, in Ron's opinion, betrayal. It wasn't that Ron had thought Hermione was particularly attractive (until tonight, of course, because she just looked drop-dead gorgeous right now), it was just that his mother had told him Hermione was a decent girl who wouldn't turn him down and would be more than happy to help him with his schoolwork.

Fleur Delacour was currently proclaiming, rather loudly, the inadequacies of Hogwarts to her drooling date.

"Zis is nothing," she said pompously. "At ze palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey never melt, of course…zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like zat." She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

Harry and his friends shook their heads. Harry remembered very clearly how obnoxious Fleur had been at first in the old timeline, though he had largely forgotten about it after she got engaged to Bill. Come to think of it, she had still been rather obnoxious up until Bill was attacked by Fenrir Greyback and she showed that she wasn't as shallow a person as everyone assumed. Right now, however, Fleur's impolite comments about Hogwarts were annoying a great many people.

Dumbledore was also one of the people at the ball who were not particularly happy. Things were definitely not looking up for him, especially since the ban on love potions. He needed Harry to fall for Ginny Weasley so that he could get control over Harry, not to mention the boy's fortune. In the meantime, the old man was having a great deal of trouble thinking up who would serve as Draco's and Ronald's hostages. Dumbledore glanced over at the two boys and something about them struck him; for some reason, the two reminded him of himself and Gellert at around that age (though nowhere near as intelligent of course), and it prompted a moment of nostalgia for the aged headmaster.

"Albus…Albus!"

"Hmm? What is it, Minerva?"

"You're supposed to call for the champions to start the dance."

"Oh! Yes, of course. Thank you for reminding me." Dumbledore stood up and smiled at the students. "Will you all please rise?!" he called out, waving his wand so that the tables shot to the sides of the hall. "Champions, please take your places for the first dance!"

As the music started, the four couples began to dance. Well, three out of four, at least. Draco and Ron were doing something more akin to a fight than dancing.

"I told you, Weasley, I'm leading!"

"No way, ferret-face! I'm leading!"

"ME!"

"NO, ME!"

Everyone largely ignored the two as other couples made their way onto the dance floor. Harry took Hermione's hand and gave her a gentle twirl as they began their waltz. When the students had taken up their places, the faculty joined in. Sirius led Bathsheba, who was dressed in bright, gold robes that clung to her curves in just the right places, out onto the floor, followed closely by Remus and Tonks, who had developed a close bond over the course of the term. Even Mr. Stearns was showing off his dance moves with Professor Burbage as his partner.

As the first song ended, Harry led Hermione back to their table and took Tracey by the hand, noticing that his dress robes had changed their color scheme from the periwinkle blue they had been when he'd danced with Hermione to a dark purple that matched Tracey's gown.

Soon enough, that song also ended and Harry was given his ten minute break. He and Tracey joined the others at the table and took a grateful sip of butterbeer.

"Excuse me," came a voice. They all turned to see Viktor Krum standing there with his date. "Herm-my-own-ninny?"

"Hermione," the girl corrected.

"Yes, I just vish to thank you again for introducing me to Iris," he said.

Iris gave a small smile at Hermione before glancing back at Viktor.

"I vasn't sure if I vould be able to find someone here who vas not blinded by my fame enough to be good company this evening."

"Well, you are both very welcome," said Hermione. When Viktor Krum had asked her out a few days ago, she had politely declined but had also decided to help the Bulgarian Seeker find another girl to accompany him to the ball. The girl she introduced him to was currently standing shyly beside him.

Viktor then turned to Harry.

"You are Harry Potter, correct?"

"Yes, and you're Viktor Krum." The two boys shook hands.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard your story many times in my own country. You are quite well-respected there."

"I am?"

"Yes. The Dark Lord you defeated is considered worse than Grindelwald, and my people hated Grindelwald for what he did."

"Really?"

"Yes. We are also grateful that your headmaster killed Grindelwald for what he did to our country."

"Um, actually, the headmaster didn't kill him."

"Vot? But he vas defeated."

"Dumbledore just had Grindelwald locked up in Nurmengard. Dumbles over there couldn't deal with the thought of killing his old boyfriend."

The color drained out of Viktor's face before a dark shade of red overtook it.

"If you vill excuse me, I haff a letter I need to send immediately." He gave his date a quick kiss on the hand. "I vill return shortly, Iris."

Harry watched Viktor leave and head in the direction of the Owlery. He had a funny feeling he had stirred up trouble abroad by revealing what he had, luckily it wasn't trouble for him, but Dumbledore would soon be finding himself persona non grata in Bulgaria and several other countries in the Balkans and further up in central Europe.

The music for the next dance had begun and Harry was about to lead Daphne onto the dance floor when someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Fleur Delacour, smiling at him in a suggestive way.

"Pardon moi," she said. "Are you 'arrie Potter?"

"Yes, that would be me," he said.

"I was wondering if you would like to share zis next dance with me." Harry could feel the Veela Allure coming off of her and shook himself.

"Thank you, but I have already promised the next dance to this lovely lady here." He indiacted towards Daphne, who was scowling heavily at the French girl.

Fleur and Daphne locked gazes, eyes boring heavily into each other. Fleur had seen the other girl enter the Great Hall that day in her true form and had been highly disgusted. The little quarter-nymph had appeared in near complete transformation in front of everyone, and they had applauded her for it; Fleur would certainly never debase herself by appearing in her own other form.

"Are you certain I might not have zis dance, 'arrie?" Fleur asked again, cranking up the allure.

Harry felt Daphne squeeze his hand and shook his head.

"I do not think that it is customary to offer a dance to a man whose castle you were so vehemently insulting earlier," Harry said.

"Pardon moi?"

"Hogwarts is under my jurisdiction and I do not appreciate it when people make fun of it. I am afraid I must decline your offer, and any future offers. Good evening, mademoiselle."

Daphne shot a smug grin at Fleur as Harry continued to lead her onto the dance floor. Fleur was looking outraged.

How dare that little trollop steal my prey? Fleur thought furiously. A man with that kind of money and power deserves someone better than water-dwelling trash like her! I'll make her pay for this!

"That was impressive," said Daphne as she and Harry moved about the floor. "Most guys can't fight off Veela Allure. Usually it takes the presence of a soulmate or the boy has to have a great deal of love for another to resist."

"It wasn't too hard," Harry replied. "You being there certainly helped."

Daphne felt a blush in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled a bit.

The evening wound down as Harry proceeded to give each of the girls a dance. Luna was the most interesting to dance with as she seemed to move to music in her own head rather than what was playing and her moves more closely resembled a polka than the slow waltz, but Harry played along and made sure to oblige Luna with her goodnight kiss when it was over.

Ron and Draco had, after the humiliation of the first dance, attempted to get a dance with a pretty witch, only to be turned down at every corner. Both boys spent the remainder of the night sulking at the back of the hall. They weren't the only ones who'd had a miserable evening; up in Gryffindor Tower, Ginny was ranting and raving to whoever was still there about how Harry had stood her up.