The next morning, more out of politeness than anything else, Harry went in search of Cedric Diggory, who he didn't think would know about the dragons otherwise. He had to inquire directions from several Hufflepuffs, but eventually he found Cedric in the library, whispering away with Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum. Harry sidled closer, trying not to betray his presence.

"So that's what Madame Maxime says," Fleur was saying, in a low voice; she looked like she hadn't slept. "Dragons. It is –"

"Merlin," Cedric said shakily. "Shouldn't we tell the kid?"

"Nyet," said Krum, who was reading and looking morose. Then again, Krum always looked morose.

"No," Fleur agreed, tossing her silvery hair. "He is a silly little boy, and he is going to die. That is not our fault. It is not our problem."

Cedric swallowed. "I – I suppose you're right. The Quibbler had the right of it. Potter told me so himself.

"But how did he do it?" Fleur asked.

"He had help," said Cedric sourly. "You know that little red-headed girl who follows him around? The two of them cooked up some nonsense with a Confunding Charm."

Fleur stared. "But she cannot be more than twelve!"

"Ginny's thirteen," Harry said, before he could stop himself, "and you promised you wouldn't tell."

Cedric glared at him. "First, I promised no such thing. Second, you told Rita Skeeter, so it's hardly a state secret. Have you told Weasley and Granger?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I – Ron's not speaking to me, I don't think, and Hermione cried."

Fleur snorted.

"Alright, then, we might as well fold you in," said Cedric, looking grimly satisfied. "Don't be like that, Fleur, four wands are better than three, aren't they?"

"Very well," Fleur said sulkily, and Harry, feeling very small and very stupid, sat down.

"So," said Mr Crouch, who was sweating in his thick robes despite the cool weather, "today you'll all be working together to fight some dragons. We don't expect you to go about subduing them alone, of course. We'll give you ten minutes to prepare your group strategy. The only rules are that your strategy must be cooperative and must not result in death or permanent injury to the dragons." He turned on his heel and left.

"Shit," Cedric said, sitting down heavily on the floor. "What're we going to do?"

"We'll take turns," Harry suggested; this was the very first strategy Ginny had suggested. "In pairs. You and me, you and Viktor, me and Cedric, Cedric and Viktor. We all get a fair shake and do teamwork and other Hufflepuff things."

Cedric glared at him. "Don't pretend you don't have teamwork in Gryffindor."

"Da," said Krum.

Fleur paced backwards and forwards, reciting spells in a high voice, presumably trying to work out which of the methods they'd considered would work for pairs.

"Somnus might work," Cedric exclaimed, after a minute or two. "Well done, Fleur."

Fleur flushed and translated for Krum, who was looking rather blank.

"Da," Krum said, light dawning across his face.

"Do you know Somnus?" Cedric asked Harry.

"No," Harry admitted. He'd hoped they would use one of the more fourth-year-friendly ideas.

Cedric rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't. Will you do it, Fleur? I don't think I can stand up yet, and Viktor's as likely to hex him as help him."

Fleur snorted and said something in French. Harry didn't speak French, but he managed to catch his own name and that the tone was not in the least complimentary. Both Cedric and Krum laughed. "Right," Fleur continued, "wand out."

And she proceeded to teach Harry Somnus in a manner so professorial that Harry felt like he was once again a first-year, learning how to hold his wand in Charms.

"Thanks," he said, once she was finally satisfied. "You'd be a great professor."

"Teaching is not hard," Fleur said dismissively, "but you are a sweet little boy to say so."

"I'm not a little boy," Harry objected.

At that moment, Mr Crouch came back in. "Are you all ready? Good, good, excellent. Come along now, we haven't got all day. Through there, yes, that's it – good luck."

The noise of the crowd was deafening, and their faces all blurred together; what was a crowd, however rowdy, compared to four dragons?

"Shit," Cedric said softly. Fleur was saying something very rude-sounding in French, and Krum was swearing up a storm of Bulgarian or Russian or whatever it was he spoke. Harry's breath had gone from him, and he'd seen the dragons before; he didn't think any of the others had.

"Alright," Cedric continued, pulling himself together with obvious effort. "Let's start with the easy ones. Fleur, Harry, you take the green one. Viktor, with me."

"Da," said Krum. Harry was seriously beginning to wonder if Krum could speak English.

Fleur took a deep breath. "Oui."

She stepped out from behind the rock and was greeted with cheers. Harry followed her, and the crowd fell as silent as if they had all dropped dead, save for Ginny, who was right in the front row cheering like mad. And then somebody in the Hufflepuff section began to boo.

Ignore it, Hermione said in the back of his mind, as she'd said right up until he'd blown it. Ignore them, Harry, ignore them. But the boos were travelling round the stands like some heavily contagious disease.

"Alright," said Fleur, very loudly. "Ready?"

"Ready," Harry agreed.

Cedric and Viktor emerged, to great applause, and set about distracting the other three dragons with some hastily transfigured rocks and conjured sparks.

"On three?" Harry asked Fleur. He had to shout; the crowd were screaming their approval. Luckily, their dragon didn't appear to have noticed them yet.

"On three," Fleur agreed, raising her wand. "One, two, three –"

"Somnus!" Harry and Fleur shouted in unison. The dragon collapsed, and the crowd went wild.

"Well done!" Cedric called. "Harry, get over here! Fleur, halves on the red?"

Harry and Krum got between the red dragon and the other two dragons, using the snoring mass of the green dragon as a makeshift shield.

"Make lights," Krum told him, between spells. "Not get in way, da?"

"I'm not a child," Harry protested.

Krum shrugged and transfigured a rock into a wolf. "Not child, maybe. But not get in way also, da? Not know this, da?"

Harry was forced to admit he didn't. Instead, he sent red sparks from his wand. "Will this do?"

"Da," said Krum.

A shriek came up from behind them. Harry whirled. Fleur was standing, unhurt, before the still-awake red dragon, but Cedric was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Cedric?" Harry demanded, stomach turning. Cedric was so popular, and the Hufflepuffs hated him enough already; if he'd managed to get Cedric killed, he'd never forgive himself.

"How should I know?" Fleur asked. "On the other side of the dragon, perhaps – CEDRIC!"

"Fleur?" came the answering bellow. "Fleur, are you alright?"

Harry swallowed. "Well, he's alive, at least. For now."

"And what is zat supposed to mean?" Fleur shrieked. The red dragon raised its head, and they hurriedly ducked behind a rock. "Of course 'e is still alive!"

Krum bellowed something incomprehensible, and the blue dragon fell, keening.

"What are you doing?" Fleur shouted, jumping out from their hiding place. "Do you 'onestly zink –" she switched to French and screamed at him. Krum made a face and shouted back, and just like that they were arguing. Harry sidled around the back of the red dragon and discovered, to his relief, that Cedric was unhurt.

"What's going on?" Cedric demanded. "Why's it ignoring me?"

Harry shrugged. "Fleur's arguing with Krum. Want to take this one?"

Cedric rolled his eyes. "Fine."

The red dragon, too, went down easily, leaving only the biggest dragon, the black one. Krum and Fleur were still arguing, heedless of the dragon's head, mere metres from them.

"Pull yourselves together," Cedric said disgustedly, but they ignored him.

The dragon raised its head and aimed a bolt of flame at Fleur.

"Move, Fleur!" Cedric shouted, jumping forward and shoving her aside. The flames struck him instead, and he went down, screaming.

"Aguamenti!" Harry cast desperately. "Aguamenti! Aguamenti!"

Behind him, dimly, he heard a loud thump, but he ignored it and carried on sending jets of water at Cedric. He didn't like Cedric, and Cedric certainly didn't like him, but fire seemed like an awful way to die, and Cedric was barely of age … the fire was out. Harry collapsed onto the nearest rock and looked around. Krum and Fleur had managed to subdue the last dragon, and Krum, it seemed, had made a hasty exit; Fleur was casting some very nasty hexes at the rubble; and the crowd were cheering and whistling like mad. Cedric was on the ground.

"Can you stand?" Harry asked Cedric.

Cedric shook his head. He was white, with a definite greenness about the edges, and looked like he was trying very hard not to vomit.

"I'll help you," Harry offered, kneeling. "C'mon." He took Cedric by the shoulders, which appeared to be the least scorched part, and hauled him upright, no easy undertaking, for Cedric was a head taller than him and a deal wider. "Alright?"

"I'll be fine," said Cedric, and rather ruined the effect by falling over onto his face. His back was a red, blistered ruin, and Harry didn't want to think about what had happened to his robes. Fleur turned away and vomited into the dirt.

"DIGGORY!"

It was Madam Pomfrey, armed with a scowl and a big jar of orange glop.

"Sorry," Harry said hastily, taking a step back.

"Don't apologise," Madam Pomfrey said, clucking. "Well, are you hurt – pull yourself together, Delacour – what, Ludovic?"

"I came to give the champions their rewards," said Ludo Bagman, who had descended from atop the commentator's box atop a very elderly-looking broom, carrying four golden eggs each about the size of Harry's head. "Well done, all of you – one, two, three, keep them safe, you'll need them – where's Krum got to? Excuse me." He dismounted and hurried from the arena. Some burly dragon-handlers came into the enclosure and made pointed shooing motions.

"Alright, alright, we're going," Madam Pomfrey said crossly. "It's a miracle only one of you got hurt. Right, come along. Corpum leviosa!"

Cedric rose, squirming.

"Come on!" Madam Pomfrey exhorted, striding off. Harry took Fleur, who seemed glued to the spot, by the elbow and dragged her along.

"Where's Krum?" Harry asked, as they headed for a large tent which had been set up just outside the arena. "He wasn't hurt, I don't think, but …"

"Well, if he's hurt, it isn't giving him any trouble," Madam Pomfrey said disapprovingly. "Ran right past me like he'd seen a Grim, without so much as a nod." She showed them into the tent, which contained four of the beds from the hospital wing. "Right, Potter, help me get Diggory onto the bed – oh, sit down, girl. Sit! Parlez-vous anglais?"

"I think she's in shock," Harry said. That was what Aunt Petunia had always called it, anyway.

Madam Pomfrey peered critically at Fleur. "No, she's going to faint, is all. See the unfocused eyes? And there she goes. French girls. So delicate. In my day …"

Fleur had collapsed against Harry. Harry couldn't tell if her eyes were unfocused, because they'd rolled right back into her head.

"Put her on the floor and prop her legs up," Madam Pomfrey continued, uncapping her jar of orange goo. "Find someone to get her a glass of water." She levitated Cedric onto one of the beds. "Oh, Diggory. This is precisely why Professor Sprout told you not to enter."

Cedric groaned.

"I'll be back in a sec," Harry said, sticking his head out of the door. The spectators were streaming past. Most of them pointedly ignored him, but Rita Skeeter and her photographer stopped.

"Didn't you look brave?" Rita cooed.

Harry stifled a groan. "Yeah. Look, I saw your articles. They were both really great. Thanks. I think we're going to get on really – Ginny! Hey, Ginny, will you fetch some water? Fleur Delacour's fainted."

Ginny hared off towards the castle.

"Is that the famous Miss Weasley?" Rita asked slyly, peering past Harry into the tent.

"You promised," Harry reminded her.

"Hello, Madam Skeeter," said Luna Lovegood, who was wearing a big green coat and a Slytherin scarf.

"Hello, Luna, dear," Rita said, reaching into her bag. "Excuse me, Harry, this is for the Prophet –"

"Daddy says thank you for the article," Luna said, glowingly earnest. "We got another five subscribers out of it."

Harry snorted. "Which brings you up to what, six?"

"Was the fee alright?" Luna continued; she seemed terminally incapable of taking a hint.

"Oh, yes, it was fine, dear," Rita said. "Your father needs the money more than I do, and I'm hardly going to do anything with it, am I? Come on, Bozo, get in there – ah, thank you, Miss Weasley. Forward!" She and her paunchy photographer ducked into the tent on Ginny's tail. Luna seemed to take this as an invitation to follow.

"You should leave," Harry said quickly, imposing himself between Bozo the photographer and Cedric, whose burns were now covered with a layer of the orange gloop. Fleur appeared to have come round, but was still very pale. "Look, if you need quotes or something, ask Krum. He isn't injured."

Ginny laughed. "I'll tell him you said that. Alright, Luna, push off. Nobody likes you."

"Don't be cruel, Miss Weasley," said Madam Pomfrey, who had been fussing over Fleur. "Out, Rita, for pity's sake, and take that photographer with you. Miss Lovegood, not a word of this reaches your father."

"I've got what I wanted," Rita said, smiling. "Until next time, Harry." She ducked out, Bozo in tow.

"Krum won," Luna told Harry, very coldly. "You came second. Fleur and Cedric would have tied, but they gave Cedric extra points for bravery."

Harry wasn't sure what mechanism they were using to award points, but knowing wizards it wasn't sane. "Why don't you tell someone who cares?"

Madam Pomfrey tutted and shooed all three of them out. Luna marched up to the castle in high dudgeon, and Harry and Ginny headed down to the lake.

"Fleur Delacour seems a bit wet," Ginny said, picking up a stone and skipping it across the still water. "I mean, fainting, honestly."

"You didn't see Cedric's back," Harry pointed out. "I mean, it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't been arguing with Krum, so there's that, or it could just be adrenaline."

Ginny bit her lip. "Did Rita Skeeter bother you at all?"

"No," Harry said. "I told her thanks for keeping to our bargain, and Loony stood around making pointed remarks about how much she hates my guts. You know how she is."

"This isn't how she usually is, though," said Ginny, in a small voice. "I've known her all my life – she and her dad live about half an hour's walk away from us, and she's only about six months older than me. She takes after the Lovegood side, always has. Harmlessly eccentric, good-natured, you know. And – I can't help but think we've done something very stupid."

Harry nodded. "I worked that out ages ago. But we have to see it through, right?"

"Of course," said Ginny. "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori and all that."

Harry wished he was still naïve enough not to know exactly what that meant.

The very next day, Harry met Rita Skeeter out near the Forbidden Forest, and she gave him the grilling of his life. Ginny lurked nearby, occasionally making snide remarks about Slytherins and Rita Skeeter's (admittedly rather interesting) dress sense; she was wearing hot pink robes today. As they were wrapping up the interview, Hagrid turned up with Ron and Hermione in tow.

"Hello," Rita said, taking a step back. "I'm Rita Skeeter. I write for the Prophet. Could I get a few quotes?"

"No," said Ron.

Hermione bit her lip. "Do – would you be willing to talk about Sirius Black?"

"No, she wouldn't," Ginny put in. "Don't dredge up bad memories, Hermione. I heard Nott's making his dad start a pressure group for better security in Azkaban and putting more effort into catching Black. Why don't you join that? Sorry, Madam Skeeter, Hermione's still traumatised from last year. Perhaps you'd best go."

Rita blinked several times. "Of course," she said, and set off for the gates.

"Wait," Hagrid shouted, heading after her. "How did you get in here? Professor Dumbledore didn't let you in."

Thanks, Harry mouthed to Ginny. The last thing he wanted was Hermione sticking her nose in.

Towards the end of the autumn term, Professor McGonagall announced that there would be a Yule Ball over the Christmas holidays. Harry now understood why he had been asked to buy dress robes.

"My dress robes are foul," he overheard Ron complaining to Hermione, on the way back up to the common room. Neither of them was speaking to Harry at the moment, and Daphne seemed quite happy to back Nott in pretending Harry no longer existed, so Harry was spending most of his time with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who didn't seem to care one way or the other and never objected to someone to gossip at. "They look like something Neville would wear."

"Ooh, who're you asking to the ball, Harry?" Lavender asked, giggling.

"I don't know," Harry said. He would have liked to ask Cho Chang, but knowing his luck she took the Quibbler. Next would have been Hermione, if they'd been on speaking terms. "I might ask Ginny Weasley."

Lavender pouted. "I feel jilted."

"You needn't," Harry said quickly. "It's just Ginny's been so great these past few months. You know, helping me with the bad press and stuff. You're both great, but …"

"Bet he can't dance, anyway," said Parvati, setting off another round of giggles.

When they got back to the common room, Harry made a beeline for Ginny, who was ensconced in a large group of girls. "Can I have a word, Ginny? In private?"

Ginny jumped to her feet and followed him into a quiet corner. "What is it? Is it the tournament? Has Moody told you the next task yet?"

"No," Harry said; he'd almost forgotten that the golden egg presumably had a purpose. "I'll ask him after Christmas. We've got ages. I just wanted to ask if you're staying over the holidays."

"Of course I am," said Ginny, grinning. "Catch me going home. Why?"

Harry swallowed and shoved his sweaty hands into his pockets. "Would you mind terribly coming to the Yule Ball with me? Not in a creepy way. Just as friends, you know. We'll have a laugh."

Ginny's face lit up. "Really? Of course I'll go with you. I love dancing."

"Great," Harry said, relieved. "I'll owe you one."

"Oh, no, I owe you," Ginny said, laughing. "And since you owe me for helping you out, shall we call it evens? I wouldn't be able to go if you hadn't invited me, and it sounds so jolly." She embraced him and returned to her friends. A few seconds later, a symphony of delighted shrieks rose from the group. Harry hurriedly retired to his dormitory.

Harry's Christmas presents were, he felt, not nearly as good as they had been in previous years. Hagrid had sent him sweets, Sirius had sent him a knife which apparently opened any door and enough sweets Harry wasn't sure there were any left in Honeydukes, and Mrs Weasley had sent him the usual jumper and bag of toffees, but Ginny had given him a pile of dull-looking books on advanced magic, Nott had clubbed together with Luna Lovegood to send him a bound set of (deeply unsympathetic) letters to the editor of the Quibbler about how awful the magazine's few dozen subscribers thought Harry was, and Ron and Hermione hadn't sent him anything at all.

"They'll get over it," Ginny said, as the two of them sat in their usual chairs comparing presents. "Thanks for those sweets you gave me. I love Pepper Imps. What did you think of the books?"

"I haven't read them yet," Harry admitted. He wasn't sure he ever would. "Where did you get them?"

Ginny flushed. "They're Bill's. He got them during his Dark wizard phase – not that it's Dark magic, it's just he wanted to look even cleverer than he is. He's got twelve OWLs, you know."

Harry stared. "Bill had a Dark wizard phase?"

"They're really into Dark magic down in Egypt," said Ginny, in a small voice. "It's all death and gods with animal heads and stuff. I mean, curse-breakers have to know some Dark magic, but it isn't in those books. I asked Charlie."

"I'll never understand your family," Harry said wearily. He supposed it made sense that Charlie would know; Charlie, who was friends with smugglers and had dropped out of Hogwarts after his sixth year without a single NEWT, was about as close to a black sheep as Weasleys could get. "Shall we try and get in some more dancing practise today?"

"Alright," said Ginny. "Oh, hi, Parvati. You look miserable."

Parvati collapsed into a chair. "I am miserable. I'm so behind, and now I've got to get ready for the ball – Neville's the best of a bad lot, if you ask me, but still, if I'd just said no …"

"You need a break," Harry said. So far as he could tell, Parvati had been doing nothing but taking a break all holiday, but he knew the sort of thing he was meant to say.

"I've got a pile of essays taller than Neville's stupid toad," Parvati said glumly.

Harry swallowed. "I bet Hermione would help you. She'll definitely check over your work. And she always has an obscure source up her sleeve."

"Literally," Ginny said snidely. "Look, it's snowing! C'mon, have a snowball fight with us. Nobody should work on Christmas."

Parvati rolled her eyes. "I don't celebrate Christmas."

"Yeah, but still," Harry said. "It'll be fun."

Parvati sighed. "Fine. I'll get my coat."

Parvati wasn't actually very good at snowball fights; she ducked if Harry so much as looked in her direction, complained of the cold while she packed together snowballs, and bemoaned the mess the wind made of her long black hair. Still, she gamely stayed out until lunchtime, after which she retired up to her dormitory to get ready for the ball.

"Well, I certainly shan't take all afternoon," said Ginny. "Want to practise while we wait?"

Three hours of waltzing in an empty classroom later, they finally managed to get through a dance without either of them stepping on the other's toes.

"Right," Ginny said gloomily, "I have to go and let Demelza make me over. Wish me luck."

Harry went upstairs, changed, came back down again and finished off his Astronomy essay. Then he had a stab at his Potions homework. By the time he'd given it up as a bad job, girls had started trickling down from upstairs.

"You look nice, Harry," said Parvati and Lavender, in unison. Parvati was wearing hot pink, and Lavender bright green.

"You too," said Harry automatically. "Looking forward to it?"

"Ooh, yes," said Lavender, giggling. "Where's your girlfriend?"

Harry stared. "Ginny isn't my girlfriend, Lavender. She's a friend who happens to be a witch. Just like Hermione was a friend who happened to be a witch."

"Yeah, what happened there?" Parvati asked. "I asked her about you the other day and she cried, and Ron Weasley came and shouted at me."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said. "Oh, um, look, there's Ginny!"

Parvati and Lavender, predictably, melted into a two-part chorus of cooing over Ginny's clothes and hair.

"Hi," said Ginny, flushing. Her blue robes, while clearly second-hand, fit her well and were in almost exactly the same style as Lavender's; so far as Harry could tell, the only change she had made to her hair was pinning parts of it up, so it looked like she was wearing a circlet. She looked pretty, but then she always looked pretty. "Do I look alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Want to head downstairs, see what the Slytherins are wearing this year?"

Ginny snickered. "Merlin, the rumours I've heard about the Slytherins' robes – you don't need to help me out of the portrait hole, you ponce. You never do usually."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, as the Fat Lady closed behind them. "I thought I was meant to be gallant. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop."

Ginny made a face. "Gallantry's so stupid. You know Ron's going with Loony Lovegood?"

Harry stared. "Is – she's blackmailing him, right?"

"Not so far as I know," said Ginny. "I think Nott might have put her up to it. Loony isn't really the sort of person you want to take to a ball. You know Neville tried to ask Hermione?"

"No," Harry said incredulously; it was hard to believe Neville even speaking to a girl. "Did she say yes?"

"Of course not," Ginny said. "Parvati's only going with him because she couldn't think of an excuse fast enough. Hermione said she had a partner, but I reckon she doesn't. I asked around upstairs and nobody's seen her all day."

Harry snorted. "She's probably crying in the back of the library."

They made their way down to the Entrance Hall, which was already quite crowded. Cho Chang was hanging off Cedric Diggory's arm, and Fleur Delacour had brought Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. None of the Durmstrang contingent were there yet.

"Oh, there's Loony," Ginny said, pointing. "Doesn't she look silly?"

Harry thought that Luna's silver robes were actually quite sensible by her standards, although the effect was rather ruined by the enormous stack of pamphlets she was distributing. Nott and Daphne stood nearby, watching; Nott looked proud, but Daphne looked, if anything, faintly embarrassed.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Daphne.

Daphne sighed. "It's some conspiracy theory she and her dad rumour-monger when they're not spouting off about imaginary creatures. Just ignore her. She'll shut up eventually."

"She is my first cousin once removed," said Nott, in significant tones. "Hello, Potter. Did you like your gift?"

"Not particularly," Harry said. "Can you stop it now? We get we're idiots."

"Does your daddy know you're a Legilimens yet?" Ginny asked sweetly.

Nott went white. "I'm not a Legilimens."

"Give it a rest and answer the bloody question," Harry snapped. "Voldemort's always looking to come back, and he could probably use someone like you."

"We don't talk about that," Daphne said, her voice suspiciously light. "Theo, dear, come and say hello to Draco." She took Nott's arm and dragged him over to Malfoy, who had brought Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was wearing frilly pink robes that made her look like an ambulatory toilet brush; Malfoy, beside her, looked like a lost vicar.

"Those robes are hideous," Ginny opined. "I mean, I know Johnathan Twilfitt's a friend of old Dionysus Parkinson's, but they haven't changed their cuts since Beedle's time."

"Who?" Harry said; he was always getting historical figures mixed up. "Was that the one who worked for Emeric the Evil? No, wait, it was a goblin, right?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Beedle the Bard, Harry. The one who writes the fairy-tales – oh, no, wait, I forgot. Of course you wouldn't know. Hermione's never read a fairy-tale in her life, and I'm still not sure Ron can read."

The stream of people coming into the Entrance Hall had slowed to a slow trickle. Luna Lovegood had managed to dispose of her pamphlets one way or another and was now standing beside Ron, who looked very uncomfortable indeed in his lacy maroon dress robes. Nott and Daphne were talking very earnestly to a very embarrassed-looking pair of older students; the girl, who Harry thought might be in Hufflepuff, bore a close enough resemblance to Daphne that they were probably related somehow. The Durmstrang contingent, headed up by Viktor Krum and a pretty girl in blue robes, had just arrived and were standing about, chatting.

"She's got really nice robes," Ginny said enviously. "You wouldn't know she's Prussian or whatever, would you? She's got such a lovely tan, and those robes … they look like they're from Madam Malkin's, but, I mean, they must have their own shops on the Continent …"

Harry resisted the urge to tell her that there was no such place as Prussia anymore, and if Prussia was still called Prussia then Prussian girls would probably go to Beauxbatons, which was in France, not Durmstrang, which was apparently somewhere in Scandinavia. "What sort of fairy-tales do wizards have?"

"Normal ones," Ginny said. "You know. The Fountain of Fair Fortune, Babbitty Rabbity and the Cackling Stump, the Tale of the Three Brothers … no, Luna, we don't want your dad's magazine and we don't want your dad's little brochure and we don't want to hear about the Peverells, either. Take your Hallows-questing bunkum to someone who cares. Ask Krum's girlfriend, maybe. Aren't they into it over there?"

"No, they're into Grindelwald," said Luna reproachfully. "Grindelwald used the symbol for his own purposes, you know. It was very rude of him. Harry, really, you needn't ask Theo questions like that."

Harry glared. "Look, I know you hate me. You didn't need to send me all those letters. Just leave me alone."

"I don't hate you," said Luna, silvery eyes wide. "You're – "

"Shut it, Luna," said Ron, not unkindly. "He doesn't want to hear whatever it is. He's a two-faced git." He shot Harry a glare. "C'mon, Luna, let's leave him and Ginny to it. They probably have some more cheating to plan and an interview with Rita Skeeter to arrange."

Luna took Ron's arm, and the two of them marched off.

"Oh, well," said Ginny, in a small voice. "There's hope yet, I suppose."

Harry snorted. "If she doesn't hate me, I'd appreciate her telling her dad. I don't think he's published a single letter in the last two months which says anything even remotely nice about me."

"It's probably a family thing," Ginny said wisely. "I mean, Loony's dad is alright – absolutely crackers, obviously, he makes Loony look sane, but he's not actually nasty, not like Mr Malfoy. But he's got a Death Eater brother-in-law, and you know Tom probably wants you discredited. I mean, if he can convince everyone you're scum …"

"Then he'd be right," Harry pointed out, in a low whisper. "Remember?"

Ginny scowled. "Yeah, but – oh, is the dance starting?"

"No, Miss Weasley," said Professor McGonagall, bustling towards them. "The meal is first, and then the dance. The champions will open the dancing, remember, so I do hope you've been practising."

"Oh, yes," Ginny said, beaming. "We've been practising loads."

Professor McGonagall sniffed loudly.

"Excusing me."

It was Krum, with his partner in tow.

"We'll be going inside in just a minute, Mr Krum," said Professor McGonagall, warming visibly. "And Miss Granger! You do look delightful."

Krum's partner – Hermione, glowing with joy and standing up straight and with her hair in smooth waves, no wonder Harry hadn't recognised her – beamed and dimpled. "Thank you, professor."

"Well, I must go and tell Miss Delacour and Mr Diggory," Professor McGonagall said. "Do try to enjoy yourself, my dear." She marched off towards Fleur Delacour, who was at the centre of a gaggle of Beauxbatons pupils.

"Hello," said Krum stiffly.

"Hi," Ginny said, flushing. "I'm Ginny."

Krum raised his eyebrows, turned to Hermione, and said something in French; it did not sound like a compliment. Hermione gave a guilty little giggle.

"Well, we hate you too," Harry muttered. "C'mon, Ginny."

The dinner was very awkward; Harry and Ginny were stuck up at the head table with the judges, the other champions and their partners, and Percy. Percy was the only one who seemed interested in talking to them, and it could not have been clearer that he was absolutely starving for someone to listen to his opinions about the inadequate construction of imported cauldrons.

"Oh, thank goodness," said Ginny, when the music began. "Let's go, Harry."

Harry thought he acquitted himself rather well; he didn't step on Ginny's feet, he kept mostly in time with the music, and nobody booed him. He'd never danced in his dress robes before, though, and it was surprisingly exhausting.

"Can we sit out for a few dances?" Harry asked Ginny.

Ginny made a face. "You can. I'm having a glorious time."

"Oh, alright," said Harry, and retreated to a nearby table, where Parvati and Neville were sitting with a Ravenclaw girl who greatly resembled Parvati and her partner, who was dark-haired and looked like he'd just been informed of a death in the family. "May I sit with you?"

"Yeah, sure," Parvati said, scowling. "Lavender's abandoned me. Where's Ginny Weasley?"

Harry glanced out at the dance floor; Ginny was dancing with one of the taller Beauxbatons boys. "She likes dancing, I think. I don't, so she's letting me sit out a few."

"Tell me about it," said the Ravenclaw girl, rolling her eyes. "Michael's sulking because Anthony and Terry wouldn't come."

"I'm not sulking," her partner protested.

Parvati made a face. "This is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Padma, my twin sister, and this is Michael Corner, the world's biggest drip."

"I'm not a drip, either," said Michael Corner, leaning across the table towards Harry. "Is it true Loony Lovegood's been bothering you?"

Harry stared. "I – I wouldn't call it bothering. She's just a bit rude. And weird. Keeps pushing her dad's magazine. They've taken a very negative stance."

"Yes, I know," Michael said, with a rather unpleasant smile. "Terry thought it was very unchristian of them. We can make her stop if you want."

"Michael's very persuasive," Padma put in, with a thin smile. "Oh, hello."

"Bonsoir," said a Beauxbatons boy who was a walking personification of dashing. "May I 'ave this dance?"

Padma glanced at Michael. "May he?"

Michael shrugged. "Do I look like I care?"

"No, you don't," said Padma. She got up and followed the Beauxbatons boy onto the dance floor.

"Forgive Padma, she's an acquired taste," Parvati said, frowning as though she herself had not yet acquired a taste for her sister. Harry supposed they had to be quite different indeed, if they were twins and yet had managed to get into different houses; Parvati definitely seemed the more pleasant of the two. "Won't you dance, Neville? This one's nice and slow."

"Just like you," said Michael, under his breath, as Parvati and Neville headed out onto the dance floor. From the stiffness of Neville's shoulders, Harry imagined he'd heard. "So, Potter, do you want us to make Loony stop?"

Harry considered. "How?"

"I have my ways," Michael said, with a self-satisfied little smile. "We're very sorry she's caused you trouble. We try not to let her out in public if we can get away with it, you know. She's a tad … embarrassing. What with the mad mother and the unfortunate family – oh, hullo, who're you?"

"I'm Ginny," said Ginny, sitting down beside Harry. "Who're you?"

Michael's smile became a deal more pleasant. "I'm Michael. It's lovely to meet you, I must say. You look very nice."

"Oh, you too," Ginny said, going so pink it was difficult to tell where her blush ended and her freckles began.

Harry hurriedly excused himself.