It wasn't the sun that awoke Harry on the last day before the ball, but instead droplets of rain falling on his face. There was something about the rain that had always set him on edge. Probably because rain meant spending time indoors with his aunt and uncle. His cousin was often more violent towards him on rainy days as well. Stretching out, Harry noticed that his back was aching. Looking around, it took him a moment to realize that he was not in the bed but was instead still sat at the desk beneath the window, which was open; allowing the rain to drip into the room. His candle that he had been reading by had long burnt out, and he scrambled to remove his book from the dripping of the rain.

The ink on the page that he had been reading was running, and it was all he could do not to shout. He pulled the book tightly to his chest, cursing at himself before pulling the window closed it sharply. "I was wondering when you were going to get up mate." Ron greeted, having already dressed for the day. Harry just grunted in his direction and rubbed the ache out of his neck. Sleeping while hunched over a desk had not been a good idea. Approaching his friend, Ron grabbed the book in his hands. "A Winter's Tale? Isn't this the one you were going all gooey for in the book shop yesterday?" Harry snatched it back from his friend, careful not to damage the soggy binding from being under the rain.

"Yeah. Its brilliant! I've read Shakespeare before, but this play is just…" His face warmed as he caught a glimpse of the smirk on Ron's face and he realized that Ron was taking the piss. "Well anyway…is there still breakfast? I'm famished." If his stomach hadn't been loudly complaining to him how hungry he was, he might've skipped the meal altogether to finish the play. It was certainly well-written, but it also seemed like it might hold the secret behind Susan's mystery. Dressing quickly and running some water through his hair, he looked to Ron. "Ready?"

Ron seemed to light up as he always did when food was imminent. There was something comforting about the consistency of the Weasley appetite. When they arrived downstairs, Ginny and Dean were gone, with a note left that they had gone to spend the morning with his family.

He and Ron ate in a companionable silence, and Harry even ate more than he normally did due to having skipped most of his dinner the night before. "Whatta wan do?" Ron asked, his mouth full of some pastry that had been sitting in front of him. Harry just rolled his eyes at his friend and assumed that he had meant to ask what he wanted to do that day.

"Well it's the last day before the ball, and I did promise Hagrid we'd have tea with him before we left. I figured we could owl him and make a plan for afternoon tea. As for now…" He put his most mischievous smile on and glanced at his red-headed friend. "Want to go to the racetracks?" Ginny would skin them alive if she found out they went to the tracks without her, but Harry couldn't help but want to go. His father had been a fantastic racer, even winning some tourneys when he was in school. Lily had always told him his father had dreamed of Harry following in his footsteps.

Ron swallowed the rest of his pastry down like a chipmunk and beamed at Harry. "Bloody hell that'd be brilliant! Gin can never find out though. She's downright scary that one." Harry laughed at Ron's frown and toasted him with his jug of ale. He didn't have any money to bet with, but he loved just watching the horses run.

When they had eaten their fill at breakfast, Harry borrowed an owl to send a message to Hagrid inviting him to tea at Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade. It was in the section of the city closest to Hogwarts, and Harry's skin crackled with excitement at the thought of being near the old castle again. As they got ready, they waited for a response, and were unsurprised when the owl returned only five minutes later.

"Hagrid says he can't meet for tea today, but that we will see him at the ball tomorrow. He also wishes us fun at the races, says it should be very interesting." Harry re-read the letter again, and shrugged off his curiosity at Hagrid's peculiar phrasing.

"We best be off before all the good horses have run themselves ragged." The ride to the racetrack was not quick, taking them nearly a half hour to trudge through the winding streets, but when they arrived, Harry couldn't peel the wide smile off his face. The rain had slowed and then stopped as they went along, but their horses' hooves remained covered in mud. Of course, they could smell it before they heard or saw it. Finding seats wasn't too difficult, as the rain from the early morning was still drying off. They managed to get a rather good set of seats to the right of the box reserved for the royal family.

"I heard that the King and Queen love the races, but the Princess hates them. People say her chair has been empty since she was six. Don't reckon they'll show up today though, what with the ball being tomorrow and all." Ron chuckled at his shared bit of gossip with Harry, and Harry shook his head. The more he learned about this Princess, the more he was certain that Ron and she would have nothing in common. After all, he loved horse racing more than anything else in the world.

The first few races were thrilling, with the horses staying neck and neck. The speed gave Harry a thrill, and he nearly screamed in delight as the passing mares caused his hair to move back from his face. He had felt the rush of riding the wind with a horse before, and it was intoxicating. The third race left a sour note in his day as he watched Malfoy, pompous git that he was, climb onto a beautiful pale white Arabian horse. Bastard had the nicest horse in the world courtesy of his daddy's money. It boiled Harry's blood knowing that prick would be King someday if the Princess didn't find a husband. He couldn't imagine what would be a worse fate, being his subject or being his wife.

"Shite!" Ron called out suddenly, and Harry was broken out of his angry staring at Malfoy. His arm was pulled down, and soon he was crawling on the wooden boards that made up the stands.

"What are you doing?" Harry yelled, finding Ron clamping his hand over his mouth. He started to angrily mutter into the boy's palm, but Ron just shushed him.

"Your bloody family is here. You said those buggers don't like the races." They moved slowly to glance over the top of the stand. Just as Ron said, his Aunt, Uncle, and cousin were placing themselves in the front row in the stands opposite where they were sitting.

"They don't like the races. What are they doing here?" Before either boy could hypothesize an answer, trumpets blared nearby. Looking at each other, Ron gulped as Harry tried to wordlessly ask him what was going on. Ron didn't need to answer though, as the crowd rose. There, arriving on horseback, were the King and Queen.

Harry had never seen the royals before, and it was all he could do not to openly stare. King David was a tall man, with a very slim build. He wore an outfit in bright red, with gold and white thread embroidering the edges. On his head he wore a simple band of gold, a smaller crown that Harry supposed he used in less formal situations. A trimmed beard of brown and grey blocked out the bottom half of his face, and his bright blue eyes shone as they glanced over the crowd.

Queen Helen next to him nearly took Harry's breath away. Her curly blonde hair glinted in the light, as tones of browns and golds danced throughout the ringlets. For some strange reason, looking at the Queen made him think of Susan, and how her curly hair had glinted in the sunlight. Queen Helen wore a similar traveling crown as her husband, but hers was decorated with elegant jewels. Her chocolate brown eyes joined her husbands, and he could see the wrinkles around her eyes move as she smiled at her love. Her gown was a similar red tone, with matching white and gold embroidery, but hers extended to the bodice of her gown as well. She wore a simple floral-patterned gold necklace, and Harry struggled to push aside the thought that she reminded him so much of Susan.

"We do not wish to interrupt the festivities." The King joked, as he dismounted his horse. He then made his way around to where his wife would dismount and offered his hand. She moved so gracefully that she seemed as if she was floating off the creature.

"My husband and I wanted to thank you very much for attending both this tourney and the Birthday Ball we are throwing for our beautiful daughter." Queen Helen's voice was warm and kind and seemed to echo without much effort. She certainly was not raising her voice and yet every person in the amphitheater could hear her.

"I would like to personally sponsor this last race. 500 galleons to whoever can prove to be the fastest rider." Harry's jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he heard the King speak. He looked over to Ron, who seemed to nearly faint at the sum. 500 galleons would be enough to propose to Susan! Harry thought, instantly grabbing Ron's arm and moving against the crowd out of the stands.

"I need to be in that race, but if the Dursleys see me they'll murder me." Harry rubbed his temples, trying desperately to figure out a solution. Ron's eyes darted around, eagerness on his face. Suddenly, his eyes stopped and before Harry could follow his line of sight, Ron was gone. He lost track of his friend in the crowd, which was a rather difficult thing to do considering Ron's bright red hair. When he returned however, Harry couldn't help but sneer at what he was holding. The chain mail cap would cover all of his tell-tale hair, as well as most of the bottom of his face. There was a slot for his eyes, nose, and mouth, but he was unsure that it would be enough to prevent his family from noticing him.

Ron seemed to see the leeriness in Harry's eyes because he placed a hand of support on his back. "Listen mate, your hair is your most distinguishable feature. If we cover that they're never gonna be close enough to see your eyes. You have to do this. I've seen you ride, you're brilliant. If it makes you feel any better, I'll distract the Dursleys for you while you're racing. I wouldn't have a chance against you or Malfoy either. I bloody hate to say it but that blighter is swift." Harry couldn't help but hug Ron, mumbling his gratitudes to his friend. He really was the best mate that anyone could ask for. Donning the heavy metal cap, Harry made his way over to the registration tent for the next race. It was much more crowded than before after the announcement of the King's wager. He had to wait in line for five or ten minutes before a rather grumpy looking clerk called him forward.

"I'll need your name and your horse's name." The older man nearly growled. Harry couldn't really blame him for being unpleasant, as the crowd was rather loud and somewhat boisterous.

"Urmm…I'm Neville Longbottom and my horse's name is urm…Witherwings." He managed to lie not too obviously. The man looked at him with a bored stare before handing him a piece of parchment with a number. A wave of his hand dismissed Harry, and he found his way back to where Ron was standing with Buckbeak.

"So um if you are around any racing officials, I told them my name was Neville Longbottom." Ron laughed at Harry's obvious lie, and recalled the slightly pudgy boy that they had sometimes played with as children.

"Mum says he's some big shot now, apprenticing under one of the Hogwarts professors. Even got married last spring." Harry just shrugged his shoulders, moving slowly towards the race track. He did love to ride, but he hadn't ridden Buckbeak for speed in months; not that the beautiful horse wasn't up to the task. Patting the grey and white horse's mane, he thought back to when his Godfather had been visiting before his mother died, and he had taught him to ride.

"Your father taught me to ride." Sirius looked out into the distance, the way he always did when James was brought up. As if Harry wouldn't notice the tears if he was turned away. "Of course I knew how to ride the proper way, all show and no bite. But your father…your father showed me what it meant to fly. To ride a horse like it would sprout wings and take you far away from everything. And more than anything, he wanted you to fly, to feel that freedom. Every time you ride, think of him; feel him in the wind."

"Are you ready to fly boy?" Harry asked the horse, who seemed to almost understand him. His whinny was clear though, he was ready to ride. Ron departed in the direction of the Dursleys, and Harry said a quick prayer that he would be successful in distracting his horrible relatives. That 500 galleons would mean that he could finally escape from his aunt and uncle, that he could properly court Susan…it would change everything.

There were twenty-seven racers total, and he was right in the middle. He only recognized a few faces, Malfoy's smug sneer most prominently. To his left a few spaces down was a Bulgarian count who had come to try to win the Princess's hand. Harry had been watching him all day, and knew that he was one to watch for. Trumpets sounded as a signal for the riders to take their marks, and Harry looked over to the royal seats. The King and Queen seemed to be watching intently, holding each other's hands and leaned into each other. Once again, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about them. He was broken out of his trance however, by the second blaring of trumpets. The race was about to begin.

The sound of impatient hooves stamping into the muddy fair ground was the only thing Harry could hear. He cleared his head and remembered what Sirius had told him.

"The first step is to get in sync with your horse. You should be moving as one, breathing as one. Never watch your opponents. It is only you and your horse; no one else exists."

Carefully clinging to Buckbeak's reigns, he placed a hand on the creature's long neck. Even this far from its heart, he could feel the thunderous pounding. He breathed in and out to the rhythm.

"Step two is to crouch low to the beast. Your belly should be nearly touching his back."

Pulling himself closer to the saddle, Harry waited patiently for the final trumpet to blare. Step three was the most important. As the crisp brass notes echoed throughout the air, Harry opened his eyes.

"Step three…fly."

Buckbeak's hooves carried him so fast that his breath was almost stolen from his body. The air was hazy from the morning rain, but the wind felt delicious against his skin. Watching the curves pass that were created from the previous races, he rounded the first turn. He didn't know how he was doing or where everyone else was. He trusted his horse to take him where he needed to go. The second turn came and went, and Harry was only vaguely aware of the cheering crowd. Some shouted the names of specific riders, others just screamed; but Harry could only hear the pounding of his horse's hooves beneath him. The third turn flew by, and he could see the finish line.

His hearing came back and he blinked away his focus as he crossed the final line drawn in the dirt. Scores of people cheered, and he was suddenly surrounded by people. Ron was the only face he could make out of the approaching crowd, and he scrambled to make his way over to him.

"You did it mate! 500 galleons! Malfoy looks like a whining child. Bloody git actually threw his helmet. That was brilliant!" Harry just took a moment to breathe, the smile on his face nearly hurting from the pressure.

"I did it?" He asked, watching as Ron nodded his head fervently. "I did it! You know what this means Ron?"

"Yeah you're bloody rich now!"

"No…well yes, but I can ask to court Susan. At the ball tomorrow! I'll be able to move away from my awful family." His celebration was interrupted by a tall kingsguard who approached him.

"Pardon me, but the King has asked for an audience with his champion." The man seemed about Harry's age, and his Irish brogue laid heavily on his words. Ron shot him an incredibly jealous look but took Buckbeak's reigns from him anyway.

"I'll meet you by the entrance when you're done." Although Ron looked a bit put out at having to leave Harry to meet the monarchs, there was nothing that could be done.

Following the man, he trudged through the mostly dried mud of the fields to arrive in the royal box. The King and Queen were still seated as he had seen them before the race, but rose as he approached. From the brief time he had spent in etiquette lesson with Lady Weasley, he knew that he was to bow to the King and Queen and offer to kiss her hand. With the necessary formalities out of the way, he waited for the King to speak first.

"That was a rather impressive ride young man." He complimented, and Harry found himself blushing under the weight of the comment. He had never been this close to royalty before.

"Thank you, your majesty, but the credit must go to my horse. After all, a rider is only as good as what he rides." The Queen laughed at his statement, and he could feel the nervousness that was consuming him start to slip away.

"I must say I agree with that sentiment. You registered under the name Longbottom, strange though that I find you are not the Neville Longbottom we know. I'm sure there must be some reason for this deceit." Harry sputtered at her statement, trying desperately to come up with a cover story. However, before he could, she held up her hand to stop him. "I do not mean to pry. Every man deserves his secrets after all. I do believe there is now the subject of a reward." Nodding to her husband, he gestured for the same man who had escorted him here.

"Seamus, do give the man his gold." The weight of the brown pouch he was handed startled him. Overall the galleons probably weighed nearly ten pounds.

"I am very grateful for your majesties' kindness. This money means a great deal to me." Thinking of Susan again, and her beautiful honey-brown eyes, he couldn't help the bright smile that broke out on his face.

"May this money serve you well then. We do hope to see you at the Ball tomorrow. Any man who is so humble as to thank his horse for a race like that is welcome in my palace." Harry just blinked rapidly at the man, trying desperately to comprehend the fact the King himself had just personally asked him to attend the ball. Finding words failing him, he just nodded and bowed again, dismissing himself.

When he arrived back at the front gate, Ron was standing there waiting with both Buckbeak and Ron's horse Hercules. The ride back to the Leaky mostly consisted of Ron asking for the details of Harry's meeting with the King and Harry vaguely freaking out over having just met the monarchs.

His mind kept drifting back to Susan, and his heart beat faster in his chest as he thought of her and her beautiful chestnut curls.

"Tomorrow…everything will change tomorrow." He promised himself, not understanding how right he was.