Chapter One - Club Phoenix
The night was un-seasonably warm, and the humidity was so high, it was making a certain member of 4 Privet Drive so sweaty, he briefly considered breaking the laws for underage magic to perform a cooling charm. But he quickly put those thoughts aside as he stared back at his parchment, illuminated by the beam of light from his flashlight. Either Professor Snape's essay on Polyjuice Potion was easier than most summer essays, but maybe it was just the fact that Harry Potter had personal experience with the brewing of that particular potion. He had made the potion with his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, during their second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and although Hermione had done most of the work of brewing the potion and stealing the ingredients, Harry had helped, too. He thought of Hermione, and all she had done for him over the years, anything to take his mind off the heat (plus the fact that every room in the Dursley household had air conditioning except his). Not only had she helped him with his homework, she'd also been his partner in crime, along with Ron. She'd helped him save Sirius Black, his wrongly imprisoned Godfather, during his third year, and she'd taught him the summoning charm last year, during the Triwizard Tournament.
Briefly, an image of Cedric Diggory's dead body flashed before his eyes. Wormtail, Voldemort's assistant, had killed Cedric last year during the Triwizard Tournament's third task. That image haunted Harry's dreams, the body crumpled on the ground, all life gone from the limp form. Harry hadn't even known Cedric that well, but they had been the two Hogwarts Champions during the tournament. Harry still blamed himself for Cedric's death. It was his fault the cup had been made a portkey to take him to Voldemort, it was his fault for asking Cedric to take the cup with him, it was his fault for putting Cedric, his friends, his family, everyone he came in contact with, in danger of being hurt by Voldemort. Harry knew Voldemort had come back to power; he had been there, seen it with his own eyes. His own blood had been used to resurrect his sworn enemy, and Harry hated himself for it. Hated himself for his anger at Voldemort, an anger and a hatred that ran so deep, it tainted his very soul. He hated himself for being capable of such anger, and he made a vow never to let anyone know such anger existed inside him. Voldemort had taken Cedric, and Harry knew that Cedric was just the beginning, for Voldemort didn't care whom he killed, as long as he could hurt Harry, make the suffering so great that Harry collapsed from the pain and the loss. And Harry knew that. He knew what was coming. He just didn't know when.
Harry slammed his book shut and wiped his eyes. He stared at the clock and read 9:58. He stared down at his parchment and let his mind wander. The Dursleys had acted as they usually did when he came home from school. They ignored him, except for when they wanted him to perform manual labor. If Harry wasn't cooking Dudley's special meals from the "Weight Watchers Cookbook" (Aunt Petunia had ordered it from the United States), he was mowing the lawn, pruning the garden, or cleaning the garage, the attic, the basement; the list of chores never ended. The only positive side of this was the fact that Harry had grown muscular. This combined with his growth spurt to make him exactly six feet and lean, yet not lanky. His muscle was sleek, not bulky, just right for his body frame. Harry knew he looked pretty good, and wondered if his new muscle would help him at Quidditch in any way, or even make Cho Chang take a second glance at him.
Harry sighed. Cho was probably still grieving over Cedric. "Everything leads to bloody Cedric," his mind screamed, "Will I never feel any peace? Or maybe, was that what Voldemort wanted all along." Immediately, he lost all interest in finishing his essay, or doing any of his summer homework. Harry suddenly felt suffocated. He needed fresh air. But how to get out without waking the Dursleys? The stairs creaked, so that wasn't an option. His Uncle Vernon had a way of rousing himself from his deep slumber just when Harry was almost free. His last attempt at escape the other week had resulted in two days without meals. Harry had written to Ron for help, and a few hours later, Hedwig had come home laden with Mrs. Weasley's pies and cookies. For that, he had been extremely grateful. No one cooked like Mrs. Weasley, and Harry had made a mental note to ask for some of her recepies. Maybe if he wowed the Dursleys with his cooking skills, they might be a little nicer. Or maybe not. He decided that he didn't want to think about it, and to focus on the task at hand.
He went to the window and opened it as wide as it would go, and stared down. He couldn't jump it, even if he used a cushioning charm, which was forbidden outside of Hogwarts. There was only one thing to do, something he'd seen on the telly at Mrs. Figg's house. He stripped his bed of its sheets and tied the ends together. He secured one end around his bedpost, and threw the other end out the window. He let Hedwig out of her cage, and the white owl pecked his cheek before soaring out the window. Harry assumed that if he was stifling, it must have been just as bad for Hedwig. Harry watched her stretch her wings as she flew through the trees. He walked back to his desk and switched off his flashlight. Then he started to climb out the window. As he began to rappel down the side of the house, Harry briefly thought about what he would do as soon as he go on the ground. There was nothing to do on Privet Drive, so Harry decided to walk to downtown Surry. For once, he would celebrate his birthday in a fashion besides working for the Dursleys. Maybe he would even buy himself a present.
It was then that Harry realized that he had no Muggle money, and the few Galleons he had up in his trunk wouldn't be accepted anywhere in Surry that he knew of. "So much for a decent birthday gift," he thought to himself. Now that wasn't true. He was sure that five owls would swoop into his room later that morning with presents from all his friends. There might even be a letter from Sirius. With this thought in mind, Harry jumped down the last few feet and landed with ease. His Seeker reflexes had not deteriorated with the absence of numerous Quidditch practices during the previous school year due to the Triwizard Tournament. He stared back up at his window, and only hoped that none of the neighbors would notice the sheets trailing down from his window if they awoke for midnight snacks. But then, the worst that would happen would be him, locked in his room again, and he still had a pie or two underneath his loose floorboard. The Dursleys couldn't touch him now. He was free of their home and their rule, even if it was just for one night. And he was going to live that night like it was his last.
Harry scanned the street. No one was there. There were no sounds except for the rustle of the wind in the trees. He would have thought it was spooky, but after facing Voldemort numerous times, very little scared him now. With one last glance at his window, Harry set off toward downtown Surry.
Hermione Granger was fuming. And she had every right to feel this way. "Mom, you're not serious. I'm fifteen, I do not need a babysitter!" Dr. Granger sighed. Her daughter had been home for only a few weeks, and they had been bickering about everything. Hermione's nine-month absence had strained her relationship with her daughter. She had felt such sorrow when Hermione had unpacked a tube of lipstick and some mascara from her trunk. Wasn't she supposed to take her daughter out to buy clothes and makeup? Dr. Granger was determined to do something of that sort before Hermione left again.
"The babysitter should be arriving any minute. I know how old you are, but I just don't feel comfortable leaving you alone. If we didn't have to go to the practice's ball and award ceremony we wouldn't, but there's nothing we can do. The babysitter is only two years older than you, so maybe she can help you catch up with what's been going on in the real world." Hermione looked shocked. She was just about to retort when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," called Hermione as she raced out of the room. Dr. Granger rubbed her eyes and went to finish getting ready.
Hermione opened the door and stared at the girl who would be "watching" her for the evening. The girl wore black, lots of black. Fishnet stockings and scuffed combat boots and a torn black jean skirt, plus a black tee shirt with safety pins closing a slit down the neck. Around her neck was a dog collar stuck with silver studs. In each ear were several piercings, and the girl's hair was jet black. "Hello, I am Lavinia," she said in an unfaltering monotone. "I'm Hermione," said Hermione, "Would you like to come in." Lavinia just nodded. Hermione opened the door wider. This was going to be a long night.
Drs. Granger weren't sure what they wanted more: Hermione to be home alone, or Hermione to be at home with Lavinia. In the end, they decided to keep Lavinia, since she was someone to watch Hermione and it was too late to find someone else. The Drs. Granger didn't want to anger her, not so much out of fear as out of annoyance. If worst came to worst, Hermione could always hex her, since Lavinia didn't know about the laws of Underage Magic. They could always explain the situation to the Ministry of Magic officials later. With one last goodbye to Hermione, the two doctors drove away, leaving their precious daughter with a stranger who wore black.
"Well, that was fun," Lavinia said as the Drs. Granger drove away, much cheerier than her earlier monotone. "Excuse me?" said Hermione, puzzled by Lavinias change in attitude. "Man, its hot outside." Hermione simply nodded. "Hey, you don't mind if I invite some friends over, do you?" Once again, Hermione nodded her indifference. She told Lavinia that she would be upstairs, and then went on her way.
It wasn't very hard not to notice when three more girls about Lavinia's height knocked on the Granger's front door. Hermione assumed that Lavinia would get the door, and went back to writing her Herbology essay, about the evolution of magical plants she'd picked from the list on her assignment sheet. So far, she'd only written about gillyweed, making a special note about Harry's use of the plant during the Triwizard Tournament. How was Harry, she wondered. Hermione knew about Harrys guilt from the past year, with Cedric's death and Voldemort's rise. It was obvious that he blamed both events on himself, no matter what anyone had said to him, and Hera knew she tried.
She'd been trying to sort out her feelings for Harry and Ron on the train home, and had spontaneously given them both quick kisses on the cheek before she left the station with her parents. Hermione didn't know that both Harry and Ron had developed feelings of some sort for their bushy haired friend during their fourth year at Hogwarts. During the Yule Ball, she'd seen the reactions both boys. For once, she was not as their friend, but a girl. Harry had developed an infatuation with Cho Chang at the beginning of the year, and Hermione had to admit that Cho was not only pretty, but she liked the same things as Harry. However, after Cedrics death, Harry had dropped his Cho obsession, on the grounds of her grieving for Cedric. Hermione was a little happy when he had admitted this. Harry was one of her best friends, and she knew (although she never told Harry this) that a relationship with Cho would never work. They were just too different.
Hermione knew Ron liked her, and she knew inside that she had decided to ignore her feelings, since she really didn't know how strong they were. Hermione had seen his frustration with her and her relationship with Viktor Krum, and she knew that it had been vented on Harry. Harry had known the feelings existed, also, and she had overheard him chiding Ron for hiding them.
Hermione remembered the obscure satisfaction she had felt when Ron had been jealous of her and Victor. She had wanted Ron to ask her to the Yule Ball, and suddenly, she made a realization. Did she really want to go to Bulgaria next week, if she'd only gone to the ball with Victor to make Ron jealous of her? She tried to sort out her feelings for Ron, contemplating the way he made her feel and the possibilities of him feeling anything for her. She made her decision then and there. Tomorrow, she would write to Ron and tell him how she felt. Hopefully, he would write her back and accept her offer to be more than friends once they went back to Hogwarts.
Hermione would have continued pondering her feelings, but the loud stomping on the stairwell pulled her back into reality. Numerous fists pounded on her door, which Hermione had locked upon entering. She quickly threw her books into her trunk, and shoved her quills and ink into her desk. She put her spare parchment into a drawer. "Hermione, open up," shouted Lavinia. Hermione cautiously approached the door and unlocked it. Four girls burst into the room. "Hermione, when are your parents coming home?" asked Lavinia. Hermione thought about previous years. "Usually around two or three in the morning," said Hermione. The four girls grinned devilishly. "Oh, by the way, this is Robin, Avril, and Gigi," said Lavinia, "Friends from school." Hermione nodded. These girls were up to something, something that needed her cooperation to work. "So Hermione-it is Hermione right?" said Laura. Hermione nodded. "You see, this new club opens tonight, its called Club Phoenix, and since I'm in charge of you, (she turned to her friends and grinned) would you like to come with us? We can drive, and you don't need to be over 21 or anything." Hermione thought about it. On one hand, it would be fun, getting out of the house. The only other thing to do was homework, but it was hard to concentrate in the heat. On the other hand, did she really want to go to a club, with lots of loud noises and strangers? It only took her a few seconds to decide. "I suppose so," said Hermione.
The girls just stood there. "Well, are we going?" asked Hermione. "Wearing that, are you kidding," cried Lavinia. Hermione looked down at her skirt and tights. She looked nice, not shabby or anything. "I guess," she said. "Oh no you don't," said Robin, crossing the room in a few steps and opening up her closet. The four girls began going through her clothes. Hermione was forced to sit on her bed, and stare at her clothing being pushed and wrinkled and criticized by these four strangers. Finally Gigi cried out, "What have we here?" She pulled out a dress that Hermione had always considered a bit risqué. It had spaghetti straps and a very low neckline. It was very short, and it laced up the back. It also happened to be made of leather, and it was a bit tight. Her mother had bought it for her as a fourteenth birthday present, as a joke, for Dr. Granger knew Hermione would never wear it anytime. She secretly hoped that maybe one day Hermione would open up her closet and find the dress, and wear when she went out to meet a normal boy, or hang out with normal friends, not the witches, and more importantly, the wizards that Hermione talked about from school. Hermione took off her blouse and her skirt, but left her black tights on. She silently pulled on the dress, and held still as Lavinia laced up the back. Why did I agree to this again? She asked herself.
Once she was dressed, Hermione was herded to the bathroom. For the next half and hour, Hermione sat on the toilet lid as the four girls applied her makeup from an unknown source and worked with her hair. Hermione was sure she was going to lose her sanity, with all the poking and prodding and pulling, so she began to recite the twelve uses of dragons blood over and over. That always kept her mind active. If the girls noticed her spacing out, they didn't say so. After what seemed like forever, Lavinia cried out, "Well, I never would have guessed that Miss Hermione Granger cleans up so nicely!" Hermione stood up and stretched her legs. Then she looked in the mirror. And what she saw was amazing.
The four had somehow tamed her hair so that it was sleek and soft. It had been pulled into an elaborate twist at the back of her head, so that it was almost elegant. A few stray wisps of hair framed her face, which had also been transformed. Her eyes were smoky and mysterious, with lots of gray eye shadow and black eye liner. Her lips were soft and red, and her cheekbones had been highlighted with some sort of peach blush. Her shoulders had been dusted with glitter. This was not the Hermione Granger she knew, and the thought was a bit enticing. She could go out into a world that didn't know her, dressed to kill, and do whatever she wanted. "I guess I can't back out now," thought Hermione. She was herded down the stairs and out the door. The five girls walked outside to Lavinias car, and the five sped off into the night.
Harry had no idea where he was going, but somehow, his feet took him to downtown Surry. He had noticed that a breeze had picked up, and it had gotten stronger as it got darker. As he entered the vicinity of downtown Surry, he noticed that the street he walked on was lined with cars and lights were blaring from a building at the end of the street. Harry, with nothing better to do, decided to see what was going on. As he walked, the breeze tore a flyer off a telephone pole. Harry, who was lost in thought, did not notice it until it hit him in the face. His anger at this rude awakening quickly vanished as he read the flyer:
LOCAL DJS NEEDED FOR CLUB PHOENIX OPENING
SPINNING CONTEST FOR THOSE WHO ENTER
NO FEES NECESSARY
FREE DRINKS WITH PARTICIPATION CASH PRIZE FOR WINNER
Harry, who had no idea how to "spin", was greatly intrigued. He knew what DJs did; they played music for clubs. And they were offering free drinks. Harry immediately decided to sign up for the contest. He didn't care that he didn't know how to spin, or even what it was. He could spend the night drinking and dancing with total strangers, maybe even make some money. It beat spending another night in his room. Harry was secretly surprised by his attitude. Maybe it was hormones or something. As for the spinning, he would just watch some other people do it first, hoping to learn by watching them. As Harry approached Club Phoenix, the crowd that was waiting to get in absorbed his body. He searched frantically for a side entrance or something to get him out of the crowd. To his luck, he spotted a piece of paper taped to the side that said:
ALL PARTICIPATING DJS PLEASE ENTER THROUGH SIDE DOOR (-------
Harry pushed his way through the crowd to the side door. It opened into a dark hallway, where two boys were sprawled on chairs. A sinewy old man strode down the hall to Harry. "Hey boy, what kinda DJ are you? You look like those tossers out from the States." Harry stared down at his clothing. He didn't think he looked that bad. His jeans, Dudley's hand-me-downs, were a bit baggy, but that was what the other boys were wearing. His tee shirt was clean, but his hair was unruly as ever. The man reached over and tore the sleeves off of his shirt. "Hey!" Harry cried, wondering what the Dursleys would say about it in the morning. "Come with me," said the man. Harry followed obediently, not quite sure if he'd made the right decision. The man led Harry into a room off of the hall. The man then proceeded to clasp several necklaces around Harry's neck, and he plastered a fake tattoo on his arm. Harry didn't really mind once he saw what the man was doing. When the man finished, Harry hardly recognized himself. Very nice! He thought.
"Look kid, the only reason I'm doin' this is because I've seen those other two spin, and they're bloody awful. I'm counting on you to make the music tonight, so don't screw up, ok!" Harry gulped. There was no way he could back out now. The man abruptly left the room. Harry, trying to play it cool, while internally panicking, walked back down the hall and sat down next to the other boys. "So, how do you guys spin?" he asked casually. "Well, my strengths fading the music," said one of the boys, "You must have good transitions, or it sounds funny." The other boy smirked. "Make sure you change the disk before the new song ends. This bugger over here has made that mistake more than once," The boy smirked. "Oh sod off you wanker," The other boy cried, before turning back to Harry. "Don't scratch during requests, especially if you like the requester." In fact, don't scratch any disks if you don't know what your doing. I had a problem with that once. The two boys laughed, reminiscing about previous times spinning. They smiled as the man reappeared. "Lets go boys, the gates 'ave opened." Harry, still very nervous, followed the man.
Hermione listened to the radio as the car sped on the highway. She liked the breeze in her face. Laura turned up the radio as a new song came on, "Children of the Revolution" by T-Rex. Obviously, Lavinia and her friends liked the classics station. Hermione found that she liked the song. As Lavinia and Avril and Gigi began to sing along, Hermione tried to pick up the words. It would be a good dance song, she decided. She would request it at the club. Lavinia pulled off the highway, and into Surry. Hermione began to wonder what Harry was doing. Probably sleeping, she figured. She knew he lived somewhere in Surry, when suddenly it hit her; it was his birthday! How could she have forgotten? She had bought him a present, and it had arrived by owl post a few days ago. Hermione resolved to send it as soon as she got home.
Somehow, Lavinia managed to find a parking space in the crowded parking lot. Hermione jumped out of the car, feeling a slight adrenaline rush as she saw the lights and the people. She'd never done anything like this before, and she decided she might as well have a good time. The five girls joined the huge crowd waiting to enter the best club outside of London. Eventually, they entered the front gates. Inside was a fountain, and at the top was a metal phoenix sculpture, illuminated by golden and red light. It was beautiful in a strange way. Hermione was reminded of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix. She knew how much Harry loved Fawkes, ever since the bird had come to his rescue in the Chamber of Secrets.
"Harry again," she thought, "I wonder how he's doing?" Hermione put her thoughts aside as she entered the second set of doors and stood in awe. The room was large, and illuminated with gold and red lights. The floor had a mosaic phoenix, and the same design was glowing on the ceiling. Black silk curtains swept the sides, and velvet cushions lined the border of the dance floor. One side of the room was devoted to the bar, and the wall was lined with bottles of various drinks. The opposite side had the DJs stand raised above the floor on a platform, with a tiny balcony for requesters to line up. It was all wicked.
Lavinia led her posse over to a cushion as the hall began to fill. Then she left to get drinks. Hermione noticed her friend's outfits. Avril had on a blue tank top that laced up the back, plus some blue leather pants. Robin had jeans on and a tube top, and Gigi had black leather pants on, and a black tank top. They were all ready to party. They had probably planned this before Lavinia got her babysitting job. Hermione glanced at her watch. It was already 11:00. She made a mental note to remind Lavinia when to leave, so that they could get home before her parents did. Hermione didn't even want to think about what her parents would say to her, about her behavior or her outfit. For some odd reason, Hermione didn't really care. It must be the atmosphere, she thought. Lavinia brought over some cans of diet coke. "You get the caffeine, but not the calories," laughed Lavinia, as she passed them out. She sat down next to Hermione and took a large swallow. Then the music started, and the girls cheered. Hermione set down her diet coke, and went out to the dance floor.
Later that evening, Avril confided in Gigi that Hermione obviously didn't know what a guy magnet she was. Hermione had not stopped dancing with various guys for the past half hour. "She must never get out," thought Gigi. The music had been ok. The four had only had limited club experience, but from what they heard, the DJs were awful. Then the music stopped for a few minutes. When it started back up again, you could tell the DJ was different. He was good. In fact, he was great. Avril saw that Hermione had left her recent dance partner and headed for the DJ stand. A few minutes later, T-Rex's "Children of the Revolution" came on over the loudspeakers. Hermione had gone back out onto the dance floor, and was dancing and lip- synching to the song. Avril saw the DJ leave the box and head out to the dance floor. He was kind of cute, she mused. He cut in and began dancing with Hermione. They just seemed to click. Their movements were in synch and they seemed to fit together perfectly. It was rather remarkable.
When the song ended, a slow one came on, and Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder. They continued to dance for the next fifteen minutes. At the stroke of midnight, he spoke to her, and then they kissed. Their heads came close, and they shut their eyes, and then their lips touched. The kiss seemed gentle at first, but fiercer as they continued. You could see the electricity that flowed between them. They continued for several minutes, took a break, and then continued kissing. Slowly he led her to a cushion, and their kissing continued for several more minutes. But then she pulled away. And screamed. And ran to the girls bathroom.
Lavinia, Avril, Robin, and Gigi had no choice but to follow her.
Harry had stood behind the two other DJs after declining their offer to go first. He saw how they switched disks and took requests, and after a half hour, he took his turn. He was surprised at how fast he picked it up. He could hear the catcalls from the dance floor. He took of his headphones and waved them in the air, which resulted in several screams. I could do this for a living, he thought. A girl scantly dressed in black made an unusual request, "Children of the Revolution" by T-Rex. Most people asked for new hits or chart favorites. She complimented him on his spinning, and he thanked her. She seemed surprisingly familiar, and something inside him stirred as he stared at her. She looked away quickly, and then went back to the dance floor. Harry felt an urge to follow her, and finally succumb to it.
He gave the headphones to Billy, one of the other boys who DJ'd. Then he followed his mystery girl out onto the dance floor. She was dancing with some guy, but Harry cut around him easily enough. And then it was just them. The girl swung her hips to the song, and sang the lyrics softly. She had a pretty voice. They moved together, swinging their hips and intertwining their arms, getting lost in the lights and the music and each other. It was a new type of ecstasy, that needed nothing but two people who felt the same way at the same time. And Harry and Hermione, without knowing it, had recognized each other. And they everyone seemed to understand this except them.
A slow song came on, and Mystery Girl wrapped her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder. He was surprised; he didn't even know who she was. Yet, it just felt. right. Harry looked down at his watch and squinted, trying to read it. He saw that it was exactly 12:00. "Do you know what," he whispered in her ear, "It's my birthday, right now. And I think that this is the best birthday I've ever had. " She giggled softly, still swaying to the music. She picked her head up off his shoulder and looked up at the Phoenix on the ceiling. Harry felt a shock of recognition. Somehow, he knew this girl. All of a sudden, she pulled his head down and smiled. And then he leaned down and she brought her head up, and they kissed. Warm and tantalizing, this kiss was amazing. Her lips were soft, and Harry felt something stir inside oh him. He pressed his lips to hers; kissed her like it would be his last. She let out a tiny sound, barely audible, but Harry heard it. He pulled away slowly, and saw stars in her eyes. They continued to dance, locked in a world of their own.
Hermione was reminded of a scene from Romeo and Juliet. That particular scene was rather fitting for the current situation. She didn't know whom she was dancing with, although something about him seemed familiar. Yet she felt something. It wasn't love, but it certainly wasn't dislike. To Hermione's surprise, her dance partner whispered, "Sin from my lips? Oh trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again." Hermione, taken aback, jerked her head off of his shoulder, only to have him kiss her again, this time more urgent and fierce than before. She was so absorbed in their kissing that she didn't even notice that they had moved to the side of the dance floor until she felt a soft velvet cushion under her. She traced her fingers over his facial features, feeling the tiny beads of sweat that lined his forehead. As she brought her fingers down, she felt something on his forehead, hidden by his dark hair. She traced it with her fingers, and then suddenly, it hit her. "Harry?" she whispered, breaking off their kissing. "How do you know my name?" he asked her, then pushed his lips onto hers again. Hermione jerked away.
"Harry!" she screamed.
"Hermione!" he gasped.
Hermione said the first thing that came to mind, "Don't tell Ron, ok!" Then she jumped off the cushion. She started walking away, until panic overtook her and she bolted across the floor, pushing aside anyone who got in her way. She didn't even notice that Harry hadn't followed her. He was still sitting on the cushion in a state of shock. He had felt something for the mystery girl, but he was also content with letting them go when the night ended. How would he live this down? How would they be able to speak again, go to school together, and be in the same common room? With these questions flooding his brain, Harry bolted to the DJs stand. "I have to go," he called to the two DJs.
Harry pushed open the door he had entered from and walked out into the night, not even noticing how cold it had gotten. Harry shivered as a cold blast of wind hit him, bringing him back to earth. He had a lot to think about in the morning.
The night was un-seasonably warm, and the humidity was so high, it was making a certain member of 4 Privet Drive so sweaty, he briefly considered breaking the laws for underage magic to perform a cooling charm. But he quickly put those thoughts aside as he stared back at his parchment, illuminated by the beam of light from his flashlight. Either Professor Snape's essay on Polyjuice Potion was easier than most summer essays, but maybe it was just the fact that Harry Potter had personal experience with the brewing of that particular potion. He had made the potion with his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, during their second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and although Hermione had done most of the work of brewing the potion and stealing the ingredients, Harry had helped, too. He thought of Hermione, and all she had done for him over the years, anything to take his mind off the heat (plus the fact that every room in the Dursley household had air conditioning except his). Not only had she helped him with his homework, she'd also been his partner in crime, along with Ron. She'd helped him save Sirius Black, his wrongly imprisoned Godfather, during his third year, and she'd taught him the summoning charm last year, during the Triwizard Tournament.
Briefly, an image of Cedric Diggory's dead body flashed before his eyes. Wormtail, Voldemort's assistant, had killed Cedric last year during the Triwizard Tournament's third task. That image haunted Harry's dreams, the body crumpled on the ground, all life gone from the limp form. Harry hadn't even known Cedric that well, but they had been the two Hogwarts Champions during the tournament. Harry still blamed himself for Cedric's death. It was his fault the cup had been made a portkey to take him to Voldemort, it was his fault for asking Cedric to take the cup with him, it was his fault for putting Cedric, his friends, his family, everyone he came in contact with, in danger of being hurt by Voldemort. Harry knew Voldemort had come back to power; he had been there, seen it with his own eyes. His own blood had been used to resurrect his sworn enemy, and Harry hated himself for it. Hated himself for his anger at Voldemort, an anger and a hatred that ran so deep, it tainted his very soul. He hated himself for being capable of such anger, and he made a vow never to let anyone know such anger existed inside him. Voldemort had taken Cedric, and Harry knew that Cedric was just the beginning, for Voldemort didn't care whom he killed, as long as he could hurt Harry, make the suffering so great that Harry collapsed from the pain and the loss. And Harry knew that. He knew what was coming. He just didn't know when.
Harry slammed his book shut and wiped his eyes. He stared at the clock and read 9:58. He stared down at his parchment and let his mind wander. The Dursleys had acted as they usually did when he came home from school. They ignored him, except for when they wanted him to perform manual labor. If Harry wasn't cooking Dudley's special meals from the "Weight Watchers Cookbook" (Aunt Petunia had ordered it from the United States), he was mowing the lawn, pruning the garden, or cleaning the garage, the attic, the basement; the list of chores never ended. The only positive side of this was the fact that Harry had grown muscular. This combined with his growth spurt to make him exactly six feet and lean, yet not lanky. His muscle was sleek, not bulky, just right for his body frame. Harry knew he looked pretty good, and wondered if his new muscle would help him at Quidditch in any way, or even make Cho Chang take a second glance at him.
Harry sighed. Cho was probably still grieving over Cedric. "Everything leads to bloody Cedric," his mind screamed, "Will I never feel any peace? Or maybe, was that what Voldemort wanted all along." Immediately, he lost all interest in finishing his essay, or doing any of his summer homework. Harry suddenly felt suffocated. He needed fresh air. But how to get out without waking the Dursleys? The stairs creaked, so that wasn't an option. His Uncle Vernon had a way of rousing himself from his deep slumber just when Harry was almost free. His last attempt at escape the other week had resulted in two days without meals. Harry had written to Ron for help, and a few hours later, Hedwig had come home laden with Mrs. Weasley's pies and cookies. For that, he had been extremely grateful. No one cooked like Mrs. Weasley, and Harry had made a mental note to ask for some of her recepies. Maybe if he wowed the Dursleys with his cooking skills, they might be a little nicer. Or maybe not. He decided that he didn't want to think about it, and to focus on the task at hand.
He went to the window and opened it as wide as it would go, and stared down. He couldn't jump it, even if he used a cushioning charm, which was forbidden outside of Hogwarts. There was only one thing to do, something he'd seen on the telly at Mrs. Figg's house. He stripped his bed of its sheets and tied the ends together. He secured one end around his bedpost, and threw the other end out the window. He let Hedwig out of her cage, and the white owl pecked his cheek before soaring out the window. Harry assumed that if he was stifling, it must have been just as bad for Hedwig. Harry watched her stretch her wings as she flew through the trees. He walked back to his desk and switched off his flashlight. Then he started to climb out the window. As he began to rappel down the side of the house, Harry briefly thought about what he would do as soon as he go on the ground. There was nothing to do on Privet Drive, so Harry decided to walk to downtown Surry. For once, he would celebrate his birthday in a fashion besides working for the Dursleys. Maybe he would even buy himself a present.
It was then that Harry realized that he had no Muggle money, and the few Galleons he had up in his trunk wouldn't be accepted anywhere in Surry that he knew of. "So much for a decent birthday gift," he thought to himself. Now that wasn't true. He was sure that five owls would swoop into his room later that morning with presents from all his friends. There might even be a letter from Sirius. With this thought in mind, Harry jumped down the last few feet and landed with ease. His Seeker reflexes had not deteriorated with the absence of numerous Quidditch practices during the previous school year due to the Triwizard Tournament. He stared back up at his window, and only hoped that none of the neighbors would notice the sheets trailing down from his window if they awoke for midnight snacks. But then, the worst that would happen would be him, locked in his room again, and he still had a pie or two underneath his loose floorboard. The Dursleys couldn't touch him now. He was free of their home and their rule, even if it was just for one night. And he was going to live that night like it was his last.
Harry scanned the street. No one was there. There were no sounds except for the rustle of the wind in the trees. He would have thought it was spooky, but after facing Voldemort numerous times, very little scared him now. With one last glance at his window, Harry set off toward downtown Surry.
Hermione Granger was fuming. And she had every right to feel this way. "Mom, you're not serious. I'm fifteen, I do not need a babysitter!" Dr. Granger sighed. Her daughter had been home for only a few weeks, and they had been bickering about everything. Hermione's nine-month absence had strained her relationship with her daughter. She had felt such sorrow when Hermione had unpacked a tube of lipstick and some mascara from her trunk. Wasn't she supposed to take her daughter out to buy clothes and makeup? Dr. Granger was determined to do something of that sort before Hermione left again.
"The babysitter should be arriving any minute. I know how old you are, but I just don't feel comfortable leaving you alone. If we didn't have to go to the practice's ball and award ceremony we wouldn't, but there's nothing we can do. The babysitter is only two years older than you, so maybe she can help you catch up with what's been going on in the real world." Hermione looked shocked. She was just about to retort when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," called Hermione as she raced out of the room. Dr. Granger rubbed her eyes and went to finish getting ready.
Hermione opened the door and stared at the girl who would be "watching" her for the evening. The girl wore black, lots of black. Fishnet stockings and scuffed combat boots and a torn black jean skirt, plus a black tee shirt with safety pins closing a slit down the neck. Around her neck was a dog collar stuck with silver studs. In each ear were several piercings, and the girl's hair was jet black. "Hello, I am Lavinia," she said in an unfaltering monotone. "I'm Hermione," said Hermione, "Would you like to come in." Lavinia just nodded. Hermione opened the door wider. This was going to be a long night.
Drs. Granger weren't sure what they wanted more: Hermione to be home alone, or Hermione to be at home with Lavinia. In the end, they decided to keep Lavinia, since she was someone to watch Hermione and it was too late to find someone else. The Drs. Granger didn't want to anger her, not so much out of fear as out of annoyance. If worst came to worst, Hermione could always hex her, since Lavinia didn't know about the laws of Underage Magic. They could always explain the situation to the Ministry of Magic officials later. With one last goodbye to Hermione, the two doctors drove away, leaving their precious daughter with a stranger who wore black.
"Well, that was fun," Lavinia said as the Drs. Granger drove away, much cheerier than her earlier monotone. "Excuse me?" said Hermione, puzzled by Lavinias change in attitude. "Man, its hot outside." Hermione simply nodded. "Hey, you don't mind if I invite some friends over, do you?" Once again, Hermione nodded her indifference. She told Lavinia that she would be upstairs, and then went on her way.
It wasn't very hard not to notice when three more girls about Lavinia's height knocked on the Granger's front door. Hermione assumed that Lavinia would get the door, and went back to writing her Herbology essay, about the evolution of magical plants she'd picked from the list on her assignment sheet. So far, she'd only written about gillyweed, making a special note about Harry's use of the plant during the Triwizard Tournament. How was Harry, she wondered. Hermione knew about Harrys guilt from the past year, with Cedric's death and Voldemort's rise. It was obvious that he blamed both events on himself, no matter what anyone had said to him, and Hera knew she tried.
She'd been trying to sort out her feelings for Harry and Ron on the train home, and had spontaneously given them both quick kisses on the cheek before she left the station with her parents. Hermione didn't know that both Harry and Ron had developed feelings of some sort for their bushy haired friend during their fourth year at Hogwarts. During the Yule Ball, she'd seen the reactions both boys. For once, she was not as their friend, but a girl. Harry had developed an infatuation with Cho Chang at the beginning of the year, and Hermione had to admit that Cho was not only pretty, but she liked the same things as Harry. However, after Cedrics death, Harry had dropped his Cho obsession, on the grounds of her grieving for Cedric. Hermione was a little happy when he had admitted this. Harry was one of her best friends, and she knew (although she never told Harry this) that a relationship with Cho would never work. They were just too different.
Hermione knew Ron liked her, and she knew inside that she had decided to ignore her feelings, since she really didn't know how strong they were. Hermione had seen his frustration with her and her relationship with Viktor Krum, and she knew that it had been vented on Harry. Harry had known the feelings existed, also, and she had overheard him chiding Ron for hiding them.
Hermione remembered the obscure satisfaction she had felt when Ron had been jealous of her and Victor. She had wanted Ron to ask her to the Yule Ball, and suddenly, she made a realization. Did she really want to go to Bulgaria next week, if she'd only gone to the ball with Victor to make Ron jealous of her? She tried to sort out her feelings for Ron, contemplating the way he made her feel and the possibilities of him feeling anything for her. She made her decision then and there. Tomorrow, she would write to Ron and tell him how she felt. Hopefully, he would write her back and accept her offer to be more than friends once they went back to Hogwarts.
Hermione would have continued pondering her feelings, but the loud stomping on the stairwell pulled her back into reality. Numerous fists pounded on her door, which Hermione had locked upon entering. She quickly threw her books into her trunk, and shoved her quills and ink into her desk. She put her spare parchment into a drawer. "Hermione, open up," shouted Lavinia. Hermione cautiously approached the door and unlocked it. Four girls burst into the room. "Hermione, when are your parents coming home?" asked Lavinia. Hermione thought about previous years. "Usually around two or three in the morning," said Hermione. The four girls grinned devilishly. "Oh, by the way, this is Robin, Avril, and Gigi," said Lavinia, "Friends from school." Hermione nodded. These girls were up to something, something that needed her cooperation to work. "So Hermione-it is Hermione right?" said Laura. Hermione nodded. "You see, this new club opens tonight, its called Club Phoenix, and since I'm in charge of you, (she turned to her friends and grinned) would you like to come with us? We can drive, and you don't need to be over 21 or anything." Hermione thought about it. On one hand, it would be fun, getting out of the house. The only other thing to do was homework, but it was hard to concentrate in the heat. On the other hand, did she really want to go to a club, with lots of loud noises and strangers? It only took her a few seconds to decide. "I suppose so," said Hermione.
The girls just stood there. "Well, are we going?" asked Hermione. "Wearing that, are you kidding," cried Lavinia. Hermione looked down at her skirt and tights. She looked nice, not shabby or anything. "I guess," she said. "Oh no you don't," said Robin, crossing the room in a few steps and opening up her closet. The four girls began going through her clothes. Hermione was forced to sit on her bed, and stare at her clothing being pushed and wrinkled and criticized by these four strangers. Finally Gigi cried out, "What have we here?" She pulled out a dress that Hermione had always considered a bit risqué. It had spaghetti straps and a very low neckline. It was very short, and it laced up the back. It also happened to be made of leather, and it was a bit tight. Her mother had bought it for her as a fourteenth birthday present, as a joke, for Dr. Granger knew Hermione would never wear it anytime. She secretly hoped that maybe one day Hermione would open up her closet and find the dress, and wear when she went out to meet a normal boy, or hang out with normal friends, not the witches, and more importantly, the wizards that Hermione talked about from school. Hermione took off her blouse and her skirt, but left her black tights on. She silently pulled on the dress, and held still as Lavinia laced up the back. Why did I agree to this again? She asked herself.
Once she was dressed, Hermione was herded to the bathroom. For the next half and hour, Hermione sat on the toilet lid as the four girls applied her makeup from an unknown source and worked with her hair. Hermione was sure she was going to lose her sanity, with all the poking and prodding and pulling, so she began to recite the twelve uses of dragons blood over and over. That always kept her mind active. If the girls noticed her spacing out, they didn't say so. After what seemed like forever, Lavinia cried out, "Well, I never would have guessed that Miss Hermione Granger cleans up so nicely!" Hermione stood up and stretched her legs. Then she looked in the mirror. And what she saw was amazing.
The four had somehow tamed her hair so that it was sleek and soft. It had been pulled into an elaborate twist at the back of her head, so that it was almost elegant. A few stray wisps of hair framed her face, which had also been transformed. Her eyes were smoky and mysterious, with lots of gray eye shadow and black eye liner. Her lips were soft and red, and her cheekbones had been highlighted with some sort of peach blush. Her shoulders had been dusted with glitter. This was not the Hermione Granger she knew, and the thought was a bit enticing. She could go out into a world that didn't know her, dressed to kill, and do whatever she wanted. "I guess I can't back out now," thought Hermione. She was herded down the stairs and out the door. The five girls walked outside to Lavinias car, and the five sped off into the night.
Harry had no idea where he was going, but somehow, his feet took him to downtown Surry. He had noticed that a breeze had picked up, and it had gotten stronger as it got darker. As he entered the vicinity of downtown Surry, he noticed that the street he walked on was lined with cars and lights were blaring from a building at the end of the street. Harry, with nothing better to do, decided to see what was going on. As he walked, the breeze tore a flyer off a telephone pole. Harry, who was lost in thought, did not notice it until it hit him in the face. His anger at this rude awakening quickly vanished as he read the flyer:
LOCAL DJS NEEDED FOR CLUB PHOENIX OPENING
SPINNING CONTEST FOR THOSE WHO ENTER
NO FEES NECESSARY
FREE DRINKS WITH PARTICIPATION CASH PRIZE FOR WINNER
Harry, who had no idea how to "spin", was greatly intrigued. He knew what DJs did; they played music for clubs. And they were offering free drinks. Harry immediately decided to sign up for the contest. He didn't care that he didn't know how to spin, or even what it was. He could spend the night drinking and dancing with total strangers, maybe even make some money. It beat spending another night in his room. Harry was secretly surprised by his attitude. Maybe it was hormones or something. As for the spinning, he would just watch some other people do it first, hoping to learn by watching them. As Harry approached Club Phoenix, the crowd that was waiting to get in absorbed his body. He searched frantically for a side entrance or something to get him out of the crowd. To his luck, he spotted a piece of paper taped to the side that said:
ALL PARTICIPATING DJS PLEASE ENTER THROUGH SIDE DOOR (-------
Harry pushed his way through the crowd to the side door. It opened into a dark hallway, where two boys were sprawled on chairs. A sinewy old man strode down the hall to Harry. "Hey boy, what kinda DJ are you? You look like those tossers out from the States." Harry stared down at his clothing. He didn't think he looked that bad. His jeans, Dudley's hand-me-downs, were a bit baggy, but that was what the other boys were wearing. His tee shirt was clean, but his hair was unruly as ever. The man reached over and tore the sleeves off of his shirt. "Hey!" Harry cried, wondering what the Dursleys would say about it in the morning. "Come with me," said the man. Harry followed obediently, not quite sure if he'd made the right decision. The man led Harry into a room off of the hall. The man then proceeded to clasp several necklaces around Harry's neck, and he plastered a fake tattoo on his arm. Harry didn't really mind once he saw what the man was doing. When the man finished, Harry hardly recognized himself. Very nice! He thought.
"Look kid, the only reason I'm doin' this is because I've seen those other two spin, and they're bloody awful. I'm counting on you to make the music tonight, so don't screw up, ok!" Harry gulped. There was no way he could back out now. The man abruptly left the room. Harry, trying to play it cool, while internally panicking, walked back down the hall and sat down next to the other boys. "So, how do you guys spin?" he asked casually. "Well, my strengths fading the music," said one of the boys, "You must have good transitions, or it sounds funny." The other boy smirked. "Make sure you change the disk before the new song ends. This bugger over here has made that mistake more than once," The boy smirked. "Oh sod off you wanker," The other boy cried, before turning back to Harry. "Don't scratch during requests, especially if you like the requester." In fact, don't scratch any disks if you don't know what your doing. I had a problem with that once. The two boys laughed, reminiscing about previous times spinning. They smiled as the man reappeared. "Lets go boys, the gates 'ave opened." Harry, still very nervous, followed the man.
Hermione listened to the radio as the car sped on the highway. She liked the breeze in her face. Laura turned up the radio as a new song came on, "Children of the Revolution" by T-Rex. Obviously, Lavinia and her friends liked the classics station. Hermione found that she liked the song. As Lavinia and Avril and Gigi began to sing along, Hermione tried to pick up the words. It would be a good dance song, she decided. She would request it at the club. Lavinia pulled off the highway, and into Surry. Hermione began to wonder what Harry was doing. Probably sleeping, she figured. She knew he lived somewhere in Surry, when suddenly it hit her; it was his birthday! How could she have forgotten? She had bought him a present, and it had arrived by owl post a few days ago. Hermione resolved to send it as soon as she got home.
Somehow, Lavinia managed to find a parking space in the crowded parking lot. Hermione jumped out of the car, feeling a slight adrenaline rush as she saw the lights and the people. She'd never done anything like this before, and she decided she might as well have a good time. The five girls joined the huge crowd waiting to enter the best club outside of London. Eventually, they entered the front gates. Inside was a fountain, and at the top was a metal phoenix sculpture, illuminated by golden and red light. It was beautiful in a strange way. Hermione was reminded of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix. She knew how much Harry loved Fawkes, ever since the bird had come to his rescue in the Chamber of Secrets.
"Harry again," she thought, "I wonder how he's doing?" Hermione put her thoughts aside as she entered the second set of doors and stood in awe. The room was large, and illuminated with gold and red lights. The floor had a mosaic phoenix, and the same design was glowing on the ceiling. Black silk curtains swept the sides, and velvet cushions lined the border of the dance floor. One side of the room was devoted to the bar, and the wall was lined with bottles of various drinks. The opposite side had the DJs stand raised above the floor on a platform, with a tiny balcony for requesters to line up. It was all wicked.
Lavinia led her posse over to a cushion as the hall began to fill. Then she left to get drinks. Hermione noticed her friend's outfits. Avril had on a blue tank top that laced up the back, plus some blue leather pants. Robin had jeans on and a tube top, and Gigi had black leather pants on, and a black tank top. They were all ready to party. They had probably planned this before Lavinia got her babysitting job. Hermione glanced at her watch. It was already 11:00. She made a mental note to remind Lavinia when to leave, so that they could get home before her parents did. Hermione didn't even want to think about what her parents would say to her, about her behavior or her outfit. For some odd reason, Hermione didn't really care. It must be the atmosphere, she thought. Lavinia brought over some cans of diet coke. "You get the caffeine, but not the calories," laughed Lavinia, as she passed them out. She sat down next to Hermione and took a large swallow. Then the music started, and the girls cheered. Hermione set down her diet coke, and went out to the dance floor.
Later that evening, Avril confided in Gigi that Hermione obviously didn't know what a guy magnet she was. Hermione had not stopped dancing with various guys for the past half hour. "She must never get out," thought Gigi. The music had been ok. The four had only had limited club experience, but from what they heard, the DJs were awful. Then the music stopped for a few minutes. When it started back up again, you could tell the DJ was different. He was good. In fact, he was great. Avril saw that Hermione had left her recent dance partner and headed for the DJ stand. A few minutes later, T-Rex's "Children of the Revolution" came on over the loudspeakers. Hermione had gone back out onto the dance floor, and was dancing and lip- synching to the song. Avril saw the DJ leave the box and head out to the dance floor. He was kind of cute, she mused. He cut in and began dancing with Hermione. They just seemed to click. Their movements were in synch and they seemed to fit together perfectly. It was rather remarkable.
When the song ended, a slow one came on, and Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder. They continued to dance for the next fifteen minutes. At the stroke of midnight, he spoke to her, and then they kissed. Their heads came close, and they shut their eyes, and then their lips touched. The kiss seemed gentle at first, but fiercer as they continued. You could see the electricity that flowed between them. They continued for several minutes, took a break, and then continued kissing. Slowly he led her to a cushion, and their kissing continued for several more minutes. But then she pulled away. And screamed. And ran to the girls bathroom.
Lavinia, Avril, Robin, and Gigi had no choice but to follow her.
Harry had stood behind the two other DJs after declining their offer to go first. He saw how they switched disks and took requests, and after a half hour, he took his turn. He was surprised at how fast he picked it up. He could hear the catcalls from the dance floor. He took of his headphones and waved them in the air, which resulted in several screams. I could do this for a living, he thought. A girl scantly dressed in black made an unusual request, "Children of the Revolution" by T-Rex. Most people asked for new hits or chart favorites. She complimented him on his spinning, and he thanked her. She seemed surprisingly familiar, and something inside him stirred as he stared at her. She looked away quickly, and then went back to the dance floor. Harry felt an urge to follow her, and finally succumb to it.
He gave the headphones to Billy, one of the other boys who DJ'd. Then he followed his mystery girl out onto the dance floor. She was dancing with some guy, but Harry cut around him easily enough. And then it was just them. The girl swung her hips to the song, and sang the lyrics softly. She had a pretty voice. They moved together, swinging their hips and intertwining their arms, getting lost in the lights and the music and each other. It was a new type of ecstasy, that needed nothing but two people who felt the same way at the same time. And Harry and Hermione, without knowing it, had recognized each other. And they everyone seemed to understand this except them.
A slow song came on, and Mystery Girl wrapped her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder. He was surprised; he didn't even know who she was. Yet, it just felt. right. Harry looked down at his watch and squinted, trying to read it. He saw that it was exactly 12:00. "Do you know what," he whispered in her ear, "It's my birthday, right now. And I think that this is the best birthday I've ever had. " She giggled softly, still swaying to the music. She picked her head up off his shoulder and looked up at the Phoenix on the ceiling. Harry felt a shock of recognition. Somehow, he knew this girl. All of a sudden, she pulled his head down and smiled. And then he leaned down and she brought her head up, and they kissed. Warm and tantalizing, this kiss was amazing. Her lips were soft, and Harry felt something stir inside oh him. He pressed his lips to hers; kissed her like it would be his last. She let out a tiny sound, barely audible, but Harry heard it. He pulled away slowly, and saw stars in her eyes. They continued to dance, locked in a world of their own.
Hermione was reminded of a scene from Romeo and Juliet. That particular scene was rather fitting for the current situation. She didn't know whom she was dancing with, although something about him seemed familiar. Yet she felt something. It wasn't love, but it certainly wasn't dislike. To Hermione's surprise, her dance partner whispered, "Sin from my lips? Oh trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again." Hermione, taken aback, jerked her head off of his shoulder, only to have him kiss her again, this time more urgent and fierce than before. She was so absorbed in their kissing that she didn't even notice that they had moved to the side of the dance floor until she felt a soft velvet cushion under her. She traced her fingers over his facial features, feeling the tiny beads of sweat that lined his forehead. As she brought her fingers down, she felt something on his forehead, hidden by his dark hair. She traced it with her fingers, and then suddenly, it hit her. "Harry?" she whispered, breaking off their kissing. "How do you know my name?" he asked her, then pushed his lips onto hers again. Hermione jerked away.
"Harry!" she screamed.
"Hermione!" he gasped.
Hermione said the first thing that came to mind, "Don't tell Ron, ok!" Then she jumped off the cushion. She started walking away, until panic overtook her and she bolted across the floor, pushing aside anyone who got in her way. She didn't even notice that Harry hadn't followed her. He was still sitting on the cushion in a state of shock. He had felt something for the mystery girl, but he was also content with letting them go when the night ended. How would he live this down? How would they be able to speak again, go to school together, and be in the same common room? With these questions flooding his brain, Harry bolted to the DJs stand. "I have to go," he called to the two DJs.
Harry pushed open the door he had entered from and walked out into the night, not even noticing how cold it had gotten. Harry shivered as a cold blast of wind hit him, bringing him back to earth. He had a lot to think about in the morning.