Chapter 25: Hogswatch at Hogwarts

Harry stood in front of the mirror, fiddling with his bowtie nervously. Why, with all the wondrous things possible with a wand, had nobody ever thought to create a spell to make them tie themselves? He had been working on it for about half an hour now, and it still didn't look right.

"Dunno what you're so fussed about," Ron muttered grumpily from the bed behind him. "You're going with Luna, at least you'll match like that."

Harry glared at his friend, starting to get annoyed with him. The redhead had been in a bad mood ever since he found out about the party to which he had not been invited. Harry could understand Ron being a little ticked off about it – no-one liked being excluded from their friend's activities, after all – but it was hardly Harry's fault. Or Hermione's, for that matter, and Ron had been positively vile to her in the last few days.

"Are you ever going to let this go? It's not our fault, is it? Anyway, I thought Dean and Seamus were planning their own party. Take Lavender along, have some fun."

Ron muttered something under his breath, and Harry looked back at the mirror, rolling his eyes. He fingered the bow again, trying to work out how to fix it.

"I'd just give up if I were you, dearie," the mirror advised him. "You're never going to get it right."

This was the mirror's standard response whenever Harry attempted something a little more exotic than his basic school robes or jeans – he shuddered to think what it would say if it had seen him in his loincloth – but on this occasion, he reluctantly had to agree with it. Grabbing his wand from beside his bed, he gave Ron one last look.

"Have a good evening, mate. Try and get Lavender up here, who knows where it'll lead?"

Interestingly, Ron winced. Perhaps 'Lav-Lav' was beginning to wear on him as much as she did pretty much everyone else bar Parvati. That would solve a whole host of problems; Harry's life would be immeasurably easier if he didn't have to keep negotiating proceedings between Ron and Hermione. With a last wave, Harry wandered down to the common room. The Death of Rats was toasting marshmallows at the fire for a group of second years, most of the Gryffindors having become used to the skeletal being over the years – some of the girls appeared to find him cute in some unfathomable fashion. The main spectacle though was Cormac, who was schmoozing one of the girls in his year, Rebecca Dutnall. Harry had to repress a snigger as he watched Hermione glare furiously at him, practically radiating an aura of fire and brimstone as she seethed. He was sympathetic, of course, but she had rather brought it on herself. He took a seat opposite her, nodding at Ginny who was sitting next to her.

"Looking forward to the party?" he asked Hermione innocently. "Careful with Cormac around the mistletoe."

"He can dream on," she muttered, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "There's no way she's better looking than me, is there? And she's a complete cow."

Harry simply shrugged diplomatically. He didn't really think Cormac was interested in her personality, somehow. Ginny caught his eye and smirked; she knew exactly what he was thinking. "You haven't quite got that bowtie right, have you?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Nope. Cohen neglected that area of life over the summer, sadly. And Uncle Vernon was never going to teach me." He smirked as the image of Dudley in a bowtie flashed into his head. He couldn't think of anything more ridiculous. Ginny reached over and tugged the bow undone, and he scowled at her. "Hey! It took me ages to get it like that!"

"Time well spent, I'm sure," she commented snidely, rearranging it so that it dangled evenly. "There you go. You look much more dashing now."

He blinked, and looked down curiously. "Dashing? Really?" When she nodded with a smile, he was hugely embarrassed to find himself blushing. He cleared his throat. "Shall we make a move? We'll be late otherwise."

Hermione nodded, and stood up, dragging Cormac with her. He began to protest, but apparently took her growl of annoyance for a sign of unrestrained passion, by the resultant grin on his face. "What, time to go is it? Lead on!"

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry led them off. He broke off at the main stairs, heading over to the Ravenclaw common room to collect Luna. His younger friend had been delighted to be invited, and had thankfully not taken offence at Harry's heavy assurances that they would be going as friends – he was very fond of her, but the thought of her developing romantic interest in him disturbed him slightly.

She was waiting outside her common room for him when he arrived, wearing a shimmering silver dress and enormous radish earrings. They were real radishes, and Harry grinned happily at her. "Good evening! And may I say that you look simply radishing tonight?"

She laughed. "You're so silly, Harry. I like the bowtie."

"Thanks. Bowties are cool, I'm told," he said with a wink.

"Exceptionally, yes," she replied solemnly. "It looks very devil-may-care at the moment."

"Yeah, Ginny decided it looked stupid the way I'd done it, told me I'd look better like this."

"Yes, I expect she did," Luna said with a cryptic smile. Harry frowned in confusion as she took his arm and beamed brightly at him. "Shall we?"

By the time they arrived at Slughorn's rooms, the party was in full swing. Even after the best part of six years in the magical world, Harry's jaw still dropped as he walked in. By day, Slughorn's office was – well, an office, if rather more lavishly decorated than was the norm. Now though, it seemed to more closely resemble the Great Hall; it had clearly been magically extended to positively cavernous dimensions, the ceiling stretching away above them, and the space comfortably accommodated at least fifty students and staff members. There were a few people Harry recognised from the Daily Prophet, as well. Slughorn had clearly been calling on some of his old protégés.

Quite apart from the expansion, the room was draped in luxurious red and purple fabric. There were dancing ice sculptures scattered around the room, variously shaped like nymphs and fairies, and golden snow was drifting from the ceiling, apparently enchanted so that it didn't cling to the guest's robes. Wine bubbled from jugs that were floating around the room of their own accord, and groups of winged creatures that Harry didn't recognise were carrying trays laden with food between the guests. One of them buzzed past Harry and Luna, squeaking unintelligibly; Harry gave up on trying to decipher it, and simply grabbed a handful of sausage rolls, offering some to Luna.

They munched happily as they wandered around, pointing and giggling at the numerous extravagances and impressive spells. Passing a table, Harry grabbed glasses for them both: closer examination revealed that they were, quite literally, glasses of water – not frozen, but enchanted to keep a consistent shape. Even when Harry filled his up from a stream of delicious wine, the glass remained in shape. Luna could not explain how it was done, and they resolved to ask Hermione if they bumped into her.

Half an hour after they arrived, bumping into her was seeming increasingly likely. Harry had anticipated not being able to find her, that she would be spending all her time avoiding McClaggen and his wandering hands, especially given that there were several pieces of mistletoe hovering around the room. At the moment though, McClaggen was incredibly easy to locate. He was slap bang in the middle of the room, sitting opposite Mustrum Ridcully, an ominous sight even when you didn't take into account the flagons of alcohol on the table between them.

"Now this is what I call a Hogswatch party!" the Archchancellor boomed happily. He – and indeed all the faculty of Unseen University – had been bitterly complaining about the local customs; from what Harry had been able to pick up, on the Disc they all eagerly awaited the arrival of something called the 'Hogfather' every year. Initially, he had assumed that the pig was the bizarrely named starter at the University Christmas feast. A whole pig would probably get the wizards in the festive spirit rather nicely. However, Granny Weatherwax had assured him that the Hogfather was a person, or at least represented a person, somehow. The details had been a little beyond him, but it hadn't seemed to make much sense.

As they watched, Ridcully and Cormac clinked their flagons together, and then quaffed. Ridcully seemed to breathe it in, rather than drink it – it seemed like only a heartbeat before he had slammed the flagon down in triumph. Cormac was still swigging his, some of streaming from the sides of his mouth. It didn't take him much longer though, and he grinned hazily as he slammed his own flagon down.

"Still…still standing," he declared, pointing a wavering finger at the Archchancellor. Nobody pointed out that he was sitting.

"Ha! I like yer spirit, lad!" Ridcully exclaimed. "Bursar! More scumble here!"

The put-upon wizard hurried over, grabbed the flagons and filled them up at the nearest stream, before putting them back on the table. They were emptied within seconds.

"What – hic – what're we drinking for?" Cormac enquired as he wiped his mouth. Ridcully looked confused, as if he didn't quite understand the idea of drinking for a specific purpose beyond drinking. "I mean, this is a competition, right? A drinking competition," Cormac clarified. "If it's a competition, there must be a prize! Stands to reason." He stabbed his finger into the table for emphasis, before wincing in pain.

"Ah, I follow! Yes, we need a prize!" Ridcully looked around the room for something suitable. "Damn…there's bugger all here."

"I know!" Cormac declared. "The winner gets…the winner gets…another bottle of wine!"

"Excellent idea, sir!" Ridcully grabbed his flagon and swigged it back, burping in satisfaction. Cormac followed suit, and promptly passed out, hitting the floor with a thud. Ridcully leant over and examined Cormac. "Oh dear…lad's got no head for his scumble! Bursar! Get that Hagrid up here, he's good for a drink."

The bursar hurried off, and Harry shook his head in amusement. Luna tugged at his arm, pointing out Hermione hiding next to a pillar on the other side of the drinking 'arena'. They both meandered over, Luna stopping briefly to grab two enormous slabs of pie. She offered one to Harry, and he bit into it. It was delicious.

"Wow! What is it?" he asked.

"Hippogriff pie," she responded cheerfully, munching on her own slice. Harry narrowly avoided vomiting.

"Hippogriff pie?" He spat out the remnants of the pie still in his mouth. "People eat them?"

"Of course," Luna said in surprise. "Didn't you know?"

"But…" Harry genuinely couldn't think of how best to articulate his feelings. Surprise? Revulsion?

"It's not like we kill them," Luna explained. "They die naturally, then get prepared for food. Why not?"

"But…what if they died of some hideous disease?" Harry pointed out.

"What about it? Harry, we've got magic – it doesn't matter how something's died, it's always perfectly edible by the time it reaches the table." Luna did have a way of explaining things sometimes as if she was talking to a particularly stupid child. Usually, it was one of her more insane notions, but this time Harry genuinely did feel idiotic. He kept forgetting to factor magic in to the more mundane aspects of life.

"I bet the Horde would love that," he muttered to himself. Cohen and his friends had spent a great deal of time drilling him about the need to pack plenty of provisions, and making dire warnings about some mysterious substance known as 'dwarf bread'. Harry couldn't be entirely certain whether this was bread made out of dwarves, or by dwarves, and he suspected it wouldn't make much difference. Hermione smiled at them as they arrived.

"Isn't this a wonderful party?"

Harry frowned. "Got to say, I wasn't expecting that, Hermione. Have you been drinking?"

"I've had a glass or two of champagne," she admitted, "but didn't you see what happened to Cormac? Serves him right, the slimy louse."

"If you don't like him, why were you going out with him?" Luna enquired. Harry winced: it was the subject that you just did not mention. Ever. Sure enough, Hermione glared at Luna.

"Why would I be dating someone if I didn't like them? Honestly, Luna, just because I'm annoyed with him doesn't mean I don't like him!"

"Oh," Luna said, looking confused. "I'm sorry, I assumed that you were still interested in Ronald. You do keep staring at him."

Hermione gaped, and Harry had to conceal a laugh by coughing. Just as Hermione began to splutter a response, she was interrupted.

"Wassat? Trouble with your fella is it?" Nanny Ogg's wrinkled face appeared from behind the pillar, a wicked leer attached to it. "Come and have a word with me, gel, I'll get you sorted out!"

Before Harry could even blink, Nanny had latched onto Hermione's arm, a very Dumbledore-esque twinkle in her eye. She waved a flask vaguely at Harry and Luna. "Scumble?"

"No thanks," Harry said hastily. He had seen what the allegedly healthy fruit juice had done to Cormac, who was notorious for having a head like goblin steel, apparently due to the number of bludgers that had hit him. He didn't even want to think about what it would do to him – the Horde had taught him to quaff, but he had rarely drunk anything stronger than butterbeer, and scumble seemed even worse than firewhiskey, the most potent liquid he had ever tasted.

"Suit yerself," she said with a shrug. With one last appealing glance, Hermione was whisked off for a little girl talk. Harry and Luna looked at each other, and began to laugh.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Several hours later, and the party was winding down. Hermione had left much earlier, swigging down a glass of firewhiskey in an apparent belief that it would wipe her memory of the talk she had had with Nanny. Harry did not think that only one glass would be sufficient, but she had been staggering already, and he hadn't fancied carrying her back to the tower. Nanny herself had proceeded to get very merry, and had eventually passed out by the drinks table after crooning a song about a wizard's staff. Luna had professed to be rather confused by it, pointing out that wizards did not use staffs; Harry hadn't felt able to explain it to her.

He was rather surprised to find that he had enjoyed himself, certainly far more than he had been expecting. Slughorn's previous parties had always been excruciating affairs, but the festive atmosphere had lifted the occasion. Slughorn himself had made a very merry speech before joining Ridcully and Hagrid for drinks. Harry had known that Slughorn was something of a hedonist, or at least a drunk, but he had no idea just how much he liked his alcohol.

Harry walked Luna back to the Ravenclaw common room, but did not head back to the Gryffindor tower straight away. Despite the long evening, and the late hour, he felt too awake to go to bed, and knew that most if not all of his dorm-mates would be asleep by now. Instead, he went for a walk, deciding to practise some of the concealment charms that Marlinspike had taught him. A Disillusionment charm had him blending into the background; a few other, more obscure spells rendered him silent and scentless – being invisible would be useless if Mrs Norris could still smell him. As he walked, aimlessly, he wondered what Cohen would think of such spells, and whether it would affect the ancient hero's ability to knock Harry flat on his back in seconds.

It was strange, wandering the castle under such conditions. He was used to going about furtively, swathed in the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited, which was far too large and cumbersome for anything approaching a midnight stroll. As it was, he was going about hands in pockets, without a care in the world. Filch was notable by his absence, and Harry was beginning to think that the aging caretaker had already gone to bed.

It wasn't until he reached the seventh floor that he saw movement. Immediately darting into an alcove, wary despite his precautions, he peeked around the corner to see what was happening. Malfoy was coming out of a door, which melted away as he closed it. Surprised, Harry realised that Malfoy had been using the Room of Requirement, which would explain why Harry could never find him. That simple fact alone more or less proved Harry right about Malfoy's activities; Harry had never used the Room for anything that would be considered above board, so a probable Death Eater was clearly up to no good. Taking a moment to recast the spells he had placed over himself, and cursing himself for not taking the Cloak with him to the party, Harry slipped out of the alcove and followed the Slytherin.

Malfoy did not look well. He had always been pale, but it had always looked good, or at least purposeful. Now he looked gaunt, corpse-like. There were bags under his eyes, and he had lost weight, his robes hanging loose around him, despite the immaculate cut. Whatever Malfoy was doing, it clearly wasn't going well. It was apparently affecting his mental processes as well, or perhaps he knew something Harry didn't – he was making no effort to conceal himself, either through magic or more mundane means. He just walked through the winding corridors as if in a daze.

When he reached a corridor on the east side of the castle, overlooking the lake, Malfoy stopped and took out his wand. Opening the window, he poked it out, and began to mutter to himself. Harry couldn't quite make out what the other boy was saying, although it clearly wasn't a spell. It sounded like a message.

"…nearly done…more time…promise…will work!"

Malfoy almost spat the last words with desperation, and then waved his wand. A glowing, indistinct shape shot out of the end, disappearing into the night sky, and Harry recognized it as a Patronus. Malfoy closed the window, and hunched in on himself, looking about as if to make sure the coast was clear. Instinctively, Harry ducked behind a pillar – and nearly yelled aloud as a bust toppled from it. Malfoy reacted instantly, and the wall above Harry's head shattered under the impact of a spell, silver smoke streaming from the scorch-mark. Harry rolled away, drawing his wand in a swift motion. To run or to fight? Malfoy couldn't see him, after all. Then something rippled over him, a wave of heat from a spell he didn't recognise, and Malfoy called out:

"I know you're there – come out!"

Naturally, Harry didn't even move. Malfoy growled, and raised his wand, light streaming from the tip. When the light revealed nothing, he frowned, confused, and then nodded in understanding. With a lazy flick of his wand, he uttered two words: "Finite Incantatem."

The spell would cancel all of Harry's concealment charms, and he twirled his own wand, raising a shield as quickly as he could. It was just quick enough, although it dissolved as the spell hit it. He could not help smiling though. Malfoy had proved, without a doubt, that he was up to something. All Harry had to do was beat him, and the whole thing could be over. He fired back.

"Absonitus!"

Malfoy cried out in pain, and Harry pressed forward – but the Slytherin recovered much quicker than he had expected; someone had trained him. Malfoy stabbed his wand at the floor, and the rough stone suddenly went as slick as ice. Harry went tumbling to the floor, letting out an involuntary cry as he did so. Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"Potter…Sectumsempra!"

Harry did not recognise the spell, but was sure it was nothing good. Marlinspike's training combined with his intensive sparring with Cohen; he whipped a tapestry from the wall even as he rolled away from his position on the floor. The tapestry was ripped apart, and chips flew from the stone floor. Shuddering at the thought of what the spell could have done to him, Harry aimed his wand at Malfoy, and hit him square in the chest with a nasty little spell Marlinspike had taught him. Malfoy went rigid, spasming slightly as a shock of electricity ran through him. Harry grinned viciously, and pushed himself to his feet. Cancelling the spell, he clipped Malfoy with a Disarming charm, and his wand clattered to the floor. Harry bent to pick it up, and realised his mistake the moment he touched the wand.

Malfoy's boot smashed into his face, and he fell backwards, dropping both the wands. He would have expected something like that from Cohen, but he had never thought Malfoy would get as physical as that. His glasses had broken, and he scrabbled for his wand.

"Looking for this?" Malfoy drawled from above him. Harry squinted up, and held back a groan as the other boy held up the holly wand. Raising his own wand, Malfoy cancelled the concealment charms, and glared down at Harry. "This is for my father…"

He hit Harry in the face with a spell, and Harry felt his nose crack. Blood began to stream over his mouth, and he spat it away. Malfoy moved, and Harry heard the clatter of wood on stone a short distance away. Still squinting, Harry watched as Malfoy strode off without a backward glance.

That could definitely have gone better.