Chapter 19:

"Endowment – who seems to be alive – is on the planet Nalthis. What has happened since this letter arrived? Has she truly discovered a way to resurrect the deceased as Khriss has heard? This is information I greatly desire to acquire."

From Albus Dumbledore's Notes; 20th Century, Earth.


"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…" Ginny whispered, staring at the dress-robes her mother had sent after Ginny had asked for them. They were hideous. A relic of her Aunt Muriel's. They were fluorescent green, with white lace around the neck and cuffs, and it seemed designed to downplay any and every possible feminine attribute she had.

There was nothing Ginny hated more than what Tom Riddle had done to her. What she had let him do to her. But she was pragmatic enough to admit that there had been one lasting effect of her time under Tom's influence. He had advanced her development – intending to increase her magical power. In doing so, he'd pushed her physical development further than it should be for someone her age. It did little good. Her mother had refused to send her any bras, and Hermione had taught her the spells to help with periods and cramps – she still had some of the boxes of muggle pads and liners in her trunk that Hermione had given her. Ginny had inherited her mother's curvaceous figure, though, due to her father's lanky jeans, she doubted she'd ever be as… voluptuous as Molly Weasley. And thank Merlin for that.

What it did mean was that the horrific dress her mother had sent – the one that looked like it belonged to someone from the previous century – did not fit her.

She dropped the dress on her bed in the head-girls room and sank into the nearby armchair in defeat.

"We could incinerate it?" Ember suggested.

Ginny opened her mouth to tell the faerie that was a ridiculous notion, then stopped. Because was it? It would certainly solve a lot of problems.

The door swung open, and Gabrielle rushed inside, followed by two of her Beauxbatons friends – Jacque and Eleanor – and Daphne.

"Ginny," Eleanor commanded in her sweet, pitched French accent, "You simply must show us your dress."

"You are going to be ze centre of attention. With Fleur acting like an imbecile, and Krum being a boring, macho type, it will fall to you to thrill the entire ball. You must look your absolute best. I can 'elp you with this, I am an expert at such…" Jacque trailed off, following Ginny's forlorn gaze towards the abomination sitting on her bed. Gabrielle looked pained at the sight of the thing, Eleanor gasped in horror and Daphne cracked up laughing.

"Oh, Merlin. I figured your mum would only send you something super conservative, but that looks like the most efficient chastity belt ever invented." Ginny groaned in pain, slumping back into her chair in embarrassment.

"What am I going to do?" She anguished. God, she was a champion. She had to open the entire ball. Everyone would be staring at her. And Harry… oh, he would be so embarrassed. He'd regret ever asking her to the ball. Regret kissing her… Her stomach crumpled in on itself, and Ginny resisted the urge to vomit.

"This won't do," Gabrielle said, stamping her foot on the ground. Vel, perched in Gabrielle's jacket pocket, perked up, staring around with wide eyes. She stepped over to Ginny and grabbed her by the shoulders. "I will fix this. Don't worry. I've got a plan." She stormed towards the door, then stopped, drawing her wand.

"Incendio!" The dress exploded in flame, and Ember let out a scream of glee.

In the hallway, Gabrielle led her friends to Harry's door, then stopped, and turned conspiratorially to them.

"We are going to make damn sure Ginny looks astonishing at that ball, or I'll go and swear myself to a convent to be celibate for the rest of my life. Eleanor, Daphne, you've got Harry."

"What?" Daphne said, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I love the boy, but he doesn't have a fashionable bone in his body. Make sure he's actually thought about buying dress-robes, and make sure he isn't wearing a Muggle suit. You'll probably have to teach him how to dance, and proper etiquette – he did grow up robbing people after all."

"Do not worry, Gabi," Eleanor said, a sparkle in her eye as she rubbed her hands together, "We will make sure Harry Potter is ze perfect date."

"Good. Jacque, you and I are going to use Madame Maxine's emergency Floo. You're the expert at this, and I'm about to make your wildest dreams come true."

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Château Delacour. I'm going to set you loose inside the Delacour Family Gallery. We're Veela, we don't collect art," Gabrielle said, an enormous smile creeping across her face, "we collect gowns."


Harry stood outside the entrance hall, hands clasped behind his back, trying to level his breathing. He couldn't decide what exactly he was terrified of more. On the one hand, he was about to walk into the Great Hall on the arm of Ginny Weasley. Daphne and Gabrielle's friends Eleanor had been giving him lessons on decorum and how to dance – which was very good, because Harry hadn't realised he'd even need to dance. Eleanor had declared Harry a natural at the art, Daphne – who knew better – had accused Harry of using the Strength Force to decrease his friction to ease in movements. She was very perceptive that girl. What if he screwed it up? Embarrassed her in front of the whole school? What if he accidentally set himself on fire because he was nervous… or god, what if, even worse, he set Ginny on fire? He should have just gone stag… or… or… shown up fashionably late or… just bailed on the whole thing. Yes. That would have been a good idea.

The second thing that had Harry petrified was Nicolas Flamel. He'd spotted the mysterious man slipping inside in the Great Hall a few minutes ago, and there was no way he wouldn't try and seek Harry out once more. In the two weeks since they'd first met the man, Harry and Mak had come to one terrifying conclusion. Nicolas Flamel was not of this Earth. He must be from some other planet – one with a different set of Gods. Dumbledore's notes said as much. The strange colour augmentation that followed the man around must be part of whatever magic he had. Whatever it was, Mak was confident it didn't derive from Imagination or Equality. Harry just hoped it wasn't Ruin's magic, or Odium's. The giant sword he carried had been absent physically, but Mak had confirmed that he still had it on his person, though how that was possible, she wasn't sure. The flasks at his belt were most likely potions of some kind – though it once again begged asking the question, did they come from Earth or from somewhere else? Finally, the knife. A silver knife in a black sheath. Of all the man's seeming powers and oddities, that knife terrified Harry and Mak the most. "Mr Potter, the item you requested will be completed in a few days. I must make sure, however, that you are aware of the dangers associated with what you are asking us to make…"

"Well, if it isn't Harry James Potter," Fred exclaimed, walking down the stairs from the Grand Staircase with Alicia Spinnet on his arm. Beside him was his brother George, Angelina Johnson walking alongside him.

"The greatest Wizard of our time," George continued.

"The Hero of Magic,"

"The Defeater of Dragons,"

"Summoner of Storms,"

Angelina and Alicia both slapped their respective twin over the back of the head, and they all laughed. Harry didn't partake, couldn't partake, because all the breath he was holding had vanished from him in a moment.

Ginny stood at the top of the staircase, wearing a gown of midnight blue, silver beading across the bodice. The upper half of the garment hugged her frame, accentuating her curves, then below the waist, it tapered out into flowing skirts that dusted the ground. Her hair had been intricately curled and pulled around her right shoulder – an elegant silver brocade holding it in place. Her eyeshadow matched the shade of her dress, eyeliner applied with utter precision. Her cheeks shined softly with a silver blush, and her lips were darker and fuller – though how he could tell he wasn't sure. But what drew all of Harry's attention, was the beaming smile on Ginny's face. No matter what happened for the rest of the night, seeing that gorgeous grin made everything worth it.

"Well, my work is done," a voice said from behind him, but Harry was too transfixed to care.

"Holy mother of Merlin."

"Wow."

"She's gorgeous."

"Magnifique,"

"Woah."

Ginny, still with that infectious grin, reached the bottom of the stairs, and Harry, remembering Daphne and Eleanor's lessons, stepped towards her.

"You look amazing," he whispered. He took her hand in his, and raised it to his lips, kissing it lightly. Ginny blushed furiously, biting her lip. Thank you, Eleanor.

"You look quite dashing yourself," she replied, taking his hand in hers and squeezing.

"This?" Harry said, gesturing to the black and blue-trimmed dress robes he wore, "I just wore what Daphne told me to." Ginny laughed before holding her free hand up in a thumbs-up position to someone over his shoulder. Harry turned to look, and sure enough, Daphne was standing with Jacque a few feet behind them – Daphne wearing a sleek silver mermaid gown and Jacque wearing a pure white suit.

"Wow, Harry. Thanks for all the compliments," Gabrielle said, and Harry spun back around, realising with a start that Gabrielle – in black velvet – and Eleanor – wearing a green ensemble – had actually been beside Ginny as she walked down the stairs. Bugger. Not even five minutes in and he'd already insulted his friends. This was going to be a long night.

"Do not be so 'arsh on him, Gabi," Eleanor said – blood-red lips curling in a sly smile, "he is still trying to process the beauty of his girlfriend. It will take 'im a few minutes to think clearly again."

"We're not…" Ginny started, but Eleanor cut her off.

"Oh please. You are together now. It is just men being bad at these things we call feelings. He is yours – did you not see 'im drooling at the sight of you?! Everyone else certainly did."

Harry and Ginny both blushed, and they were saved from further embarrassment by Professor McGonagall, who came rushing over to collect them.


Emily stumbled out of the fireplace, forcing herself forward in her green gown so as not to hold up the line. James stepped out behind her in a tight suit, then came Nylah in a white and gold embroidered dress, and finally Sammy in white lace.

Emily thought these outfits were ridiculous. There was more fabric than she knew what to do with, and while she admitted they were pretty, she didn't see what the big fuss was about. She was far more comfortable in sweats and jeans. If she wanted to feel sexy, she'd wear shorts to show off her legs, or something to hug her chest, not these over the top ballroom dresses. One of these dresses could feed someone in the Bunker for weeks, perhaps months.

What she was impressed by, was Hogwarts Castle. It really was a castle, right out of ancient history. Stone floors, gargoyles lining the walls, candle-lit braziers hanging from the roof instead of electric lights. This banquet hall they'd arrived in was… well, it was breathtaking. The roof had been magicked to look like a starry night sky, and real snow was falling around them. Sculptures made from ice adorned every table, and tiny magical elves roamed the hall wearing robes with the Hogwarts crest on them.

James, Sammy and Nylah came up beside her, equally astonished by the spectacle.

"This is incredible," James whispered.

"That's one word for it," Nylah said, "Now we need to find Harry…" The giant wooden doors at the head of the hall swung open, and all attention turned to towards the people walking inside. First came a tall woman with silver hair like a Targaryen, wearing an elaborate silver dress Emily didn't have time for, on the arm of a boy who looked very much like he belonged to a fraternity. Next was an imposing man – foreign by Emily's guess – walking beside a tall, dark-skinned woman with braided hair. Finally, clearly drawing more attention than the other two, was a young woman Emily's age, with hair like flickering flames wearing a gorgeous midnight blue gown. And walking with his hand grasped firmly in hers, was Harry.

She watched the couple reach the centre of the room and stared unhearing as they began to slow dance. Neither of them were very good, certainly worse than the other two couples, but they made up for it in the way they smiled, the way they seemed to fit together, the way they laughed.

And deep down inside, a little piece of Emily's heart died.


Ginny was sure she'd drunk a love-potion, because nothing, nothing at all, could get rid of the haze that surrounded her. She was sitting at one of the tables adorned with ice-sculptures – this one in the shape of an Owl – with Harry, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Gabrielle. And everything was amazing. The snow falling around her, numerous flakes caught in her hair. The warmth of the butterbeer as it slid down her throat. The rowdy conversation as Fred and George relayed the prank they'd played on the early arrivals. The feel of this exquisite dress on her body. The glow of Harry's face whenever he looked at her. The heat that coursed within her at his proximity. Everything was perfect.

"Ah! Harry Potter, just the man I wanted to see." The sound of a chair scraping along stone drew the attention of everyone at the table, and the light reflecting through the ice-sculpture began refracting in a noticeably rainbow hue. Harry froze, and his hand clenched around his knife. Ginny, concerned, turned to look at the newcomer. He was tall and well built, with hair greying at the temples. His dress robes were unlike anything she'd ever seen before. He wore a sky-blue waistcoat over a loose-fitting shirt, with a knee-length… armoured skirt? It was. It was an actual skirt of metal chain-link armour. Only this armour looked to be made from a different material than the suits that adorned Hogwarts halls. His belt was a darker contrasting blue, of a material that resembled a mix between silk and rope, tied twice around his waist with the end hanging down his leg.

He pulled a chair from another table upon Harry's other side, and sat on it backwards.

"And you must be our brave Champion. You look simply dazzling tonight, Miss Weasley," the man said, reaching past Harry to offer his hand to Ginny. She took it warily, then the man leaned his forearms on his chair.

"Thank you, Mr…"

"Flamel dear. Nicolas Flamel." Ginny froze.

"As in… the Nicolas Flamel?" Fred whispered.

"Indeed. I know of no other. Though I haven't been back to Earth for a few years now, so there may be another, I don't know I suppose. I should have to check!" He said cheerfully, before grabbing a chicken-wing and biting down on it. This was Nicolas Flamel? The man was a legend. The oldest and wisest man on Earth… wait, did he say…?

"Haven't been to Earth?" Gabrielle asked hesitantly.

"No. I take regular sojourns across the Cosmere. Things do tend to get dreadfully boring after 700 years."

"Where have you been then?" Alicia queried, looking intrigued.

"Well, you see I've just come back from the planet Roshar. It isn't too far away if you hire the Reachers to ferry you across the Expanse of Delusions. Things are very interesting over there at the moment. What with Odium gaining the upper hand in his endless squabble with Honour and Cultivation. There are rumours you see… the Night of Sorrows, the True Desolation. It's all very exciting. I even brought back a rather one of a kind souvenir, would you like to see it?"

All the blood drained from Ginny's face in a heartbeat, and the haze of perfection that had clouded her night, shattered. Odium. Oh, Merlin not him. Please not him… he was trapped. Imprisoned. He had said as much. Oh God, please not him. Not again. Her fork clattered to the table, dropped from trembling hands. No one noticed. Where was Ember?

Flamel reached behind him, and a fog of mist appeared around his hand, before coalescing into a giant silvery metal sword, curved like a half-moon from tip to hilt.

Inside Ginny's mind, Ember screamed in utter terror.

Fred, George, Alicia and Angelina's jaws all dropped open.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Gabrielle shoved her seat back, then bolted across the room, leaving the chair to clatter on the flagstones as it fell ass over tip. Before anyone could register that she'd left, another man had appeared, grabbing the chair, righting it, and taking Gabrielle's vacated place.

He was short, thin of frame, with shaggy black hair and ashen skin. His crystal blue eyes had a spark of mischief in them that was very unnerving.

"Now, now, Nicolas. I do believe that's enough confusing the poor children. Talk of other worlds when they haven't even finished school…"

Flamel let the sword vanish back to mist. "Of course, I do forget myself sometimes. But tell me, Master Hoid, how fares Edgli? You've seen her recently, I imagine. The rumours I've heard coming from Nalthis… let's just say I'm a bit concerned."

"You're concerned? The man who's managed to live for 700 years by imprisoning a cognitive entity? I dare say that's a bit hypocritical." Harry took a sharp breath, and his gaze flitted to Ginny's. A cognitive entity? What was a… wait, did he mean a faerie?

"Bah!" Flamel said, waving off Hoid's comment. "Spren are spren. It's like putting a fish in a fish tank. The fish doesn't care, so why should I?" Hoid raised an eyebrow, before grabbing a mug of butterbeer.

"I think you're conveniently forgetting the nature of your own world Flamel. The Shard of Imagination's power has a tendency to induce sentience more so than others. To say a faerie is a spren is to say a goldfish is a dolphin. While both are fish, the intelligence of the species varies just a tad."

Flamel's smile vanished.

"What are you doing here, Hoid? What do you want?" Hoid stood up from his seat and straightened his jacket.

"I'm here to find a friend of mine. I suggest you stay out of our way. You may think you're collected powers make you invincible, but I don't think I need to remind you of what will happen should one of the Others turn their gaze upon you. All it takes is one misstep and…" Hoid snapped his fingers. "Ruin is free, and he takes such pleasure in twisting people who use his arts without permission. Even Endowment could snuff you out like a candle if she was in the mood." He turned and left, strolling towards a tall African-woman with her long hair braided, standing in the corner.

Ginny swallowed, pushing thoughts of Odium out of her mind.

"Harry? Care to dance?"

"Yes!" Harry said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. They rose without a farewell and retreated to the safety of the dance-floor.


Authors Notes. MUST-READ!

It has been brought to our attention that Fanfiction . net has stopped emailing people when we reply to their reviews. WE ARE STILL REPLYING! Please don't think we're ignoring you! We respond to every review longer than five words, and usually to shorter ones too. To find our replies, you have to log into your Fanfiction . net account and check under the Private Messaging tab.

But for now, we shall reply to your reviews here as well just to make sure.

To trekkifulron: We honestly wouldn't be surprised if the product in his hair had gone to Malfoy's brain. It also begs the question; does he use Sleek-Easy Hair Gel? And if he does, does he know who owns it?

To Ashes Ascending: Thanks for the praise and the review! We tried to keep everything as quasi canon as possible. Technically, until Sanderson reveals the identities of all sixteen shards, the events of this story can be considered completely canon! Here's a bit of a quiz for you. If you've read the other Cosmere works, can you catch where each of Nicolas Flamel's powers come from? Also, we hope you enjoyed the appearances from some worldhoppers in this chapter.

To Watering Wizard: We always love bringing Malfoy back to Earth, and Hagrid's reaction was just all kinds of fun.

To mwinter1: You wanted more? Well, here it is!

To .X: We're glad you enjoyed it, and we shall continue writing until we're both six feet deep in God's Country.

To scrsppy8: Please for the love of all seven gods and none, make an account so we can reply to you!

To WinkingSkeever: Here be your update, as requested.

Until next week, and the final chapter of Volume II. The end is nigh!