Chapter Nine: Plotting and Partnering

Richard was beside himself over the loss of the Ledger. At breakfast the next day, Bruce had to physically withhold him from charging up to Ginny Weasley and demanding that she return it.

"You can't just go asking her about it!" Bruce barked, wrestling Richard away from the Gryffindor table. "What're you going to do, go up and say, 'Hi, we lost our book, the Dark Lord enchanted it and we think you stole it, want to give it back?'"

"I'll charm it out of her," Richard grunted, struggling to get past Bruce's grip. Beth thought that with the look on his face he was going to have a job charming anything out of anybody.

Melissa stepped up in front of him. "Stop it, Rich," she said firmly. "We need a plan."

That seemed to be the trick. At the sound of the word "plan", Richard's eyes came back into focus and he took a few deep breaths. "Right. Plan." He stopped struggling and Bruce let him go, but warily. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well," said Melissa, with a glance back at the table, "the first thing to remember is that we have two spies already in position."

***

"A real mission?" said Oren excitedly.

Richard did not even hear him. "You've got double Potions and Magical Creatures together, right? What about your electives?"

"I have Arithmancy," said Oren, "and Audra's in Ancient Runes. She in class with you, Aud?"

Audra shook her head. Her white hair fluttered around her shoulders.

"Then she must be in Divination," Oren deduced. "Figures."

"Divination," said Audra softly, "is a waste of time."

There was a pause. Even Oren looked surprised that she had actually spoken. "Er -- exactly," he said. "Tell you what," he said to Richard, who was looking disappointed, "we'll both keep our ears tuned -- we have class with her classmates, you know, and they might mention if she's acting suspicious or guilty or suddenly spending all her time reading some enormous dusty book."

"Assuming," said Richard, a little tiredly, "that they're not all in it together."

***

Nothing could shake Richard from his conviction. He even started stealing Beth's copy of the Daily Prophet to see if anybody was trying to sell the Ledger in the classified ads. "I really don't think --" said Beth angrily, the fifth or sixth time he asked for it, but Rich made such an effective puppy-dog face that she handed him that section anyway.

Blaise, too, was starting to show an unusual interest in the Daily Prophet. A week after the first task, she slid up to Beth at the breakfast table and asked, "Is there anything by Rita Skeeter in there?"

"Uh ... I dunno," said Beth. "Let me check." She flipped through the pages of the Prophet. "Here's something -- it's about the Tournament."

"Let me see!" said Blaise eagerly. Beth spread the paper out on the table and they both bent over it to read.

First Triwizard Task Ends in Tie;
Judges' Honesty In Doubt


While the first task of the Triwizard Tournament was a
thrilling display of man vs. dragon, writes Rita Skeeter, special reporter,
the final scores of the judges were less widely appreciated.
At the end of the first task, Hogwarts Champion Harry Potter
found himself tied for first place with Durmstrang Champion Victor
Krum. Notably, the Boy Who Lived was prevented from an uncontested
win by a low score from Krum's own Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff.
"I scored as I saw fit," said an evasive Karkaroff only moments
after the end of the task. "Now go away, you wretched woman."
Although the youngest Champion declined to comment to
the Daily Prophet, his angry demeanor showed clearly enough how he
felt about the fairness of the scoring.
"I shouldn't wonder that he'd be upset about it all," says
classmate Pansy Parkinson. "He's so very used to being made a
fuss over. Sharing the honor with Victor Krum must be dreadfully hard
for him."
Hard or not, Potter has already been forced to learn to share
honor in this tournament, this time with a second Hogwarts Champion,
Cedric Diggery.

As soon as she was finished reading, Blaise let out a cry of frustration.

Beth looked over at her in surprise. "What?"

"It's all wrong!" Blaise slumped moodily back into her seat. "Makes it sound like Potter's been cheated out of something."

"Technically," said Beth, rolling up the newspaper and passing it to Bruce, "he was."

Blaise's pout deepened. "It's supposed to make him look bad."

"They like him in there," said Beth lightly. She across the table for an apricot. "Remember right at the beginning of the tournament, when they had that whole enormous article about him?"

Blaise gave a little smile. "Yeah. That was pretty good, that bit about him still crying over his parents."

"Bruce still quotes it sometimes," said Beth.

"Yeah. Draco too." Blaise sighed. "Oh well ... there's always next time. Let me take this and show Pansy, will you?"

"Sure," said Beth. Blaise took the paper and was gone before Beth thought to wonder what "next time" meant.

***

The Ledger was first in the minds of the S.S.A., but the rest of the school had a new fixation: Dragons. After the first task, most of the school was suddenly clamoring to know more about them; no fewer than eight of Beth's Career Counseling classmates, from all different houses, expressed a sudden and unshakable desire to become dragon-keepers. Madame Pince went right on teaching them about the branches of the Ministry, but Hagrid took the cue and began his sixth-years on a curriculum of dragon care. Although every one of them (except perhaps Warrington or Antigone) could by this point recite the twelve uses for dragon's blood in their sleep, Hagrid's class dealt with what to do with the living thing, instead of how to use its parts once it was dead.

The dragons themselves had been returned to wherever they had come from. All that was left was a few loose scales, a whole acre of scorched grass, and ...

"Dung," said Hagrid proudly.

The entire class recoiled, except for the Weasley twins, who leaned forward excitedly. "Cool! Can we have a bit, Hagrid?"

"Yeah, Percy would really love to get some in his in-box ... again ..." Both of the twins sniggered.

"If you want some dragon dung, why don't you just pull some out of your heads?" Mervin muttered, just loud enough to be heard by those for whom it was intended. Hagrid, of course, was not among them.

"Mighty useful, dragon dung," Hagrid went on happily, while the twins glared at Mervin. "Keeps out Jarveys. Makes yer magical herbs stronger an' grows 'em faster, too. Professor Sprout wants the whole lot of it."

There was a pause.

"I hope you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting," said Antigone coldly.

Even a man ten feet tall could not help but quake under the well-practiced glare of Antigone von Dervish. "Er ... yes. Yes I am," said Hagrid staunchly. "An' you'll do it, too, von Dervish -- or it's failing marks fer the day."

He reached behind him and produced two handfuls of shovels.

The Slytherins, after a swift conference, unanimously decided to take the failing grade and let the Gryffindors do all the dung-picking themselves. Instead they sat around and gossiped, occasionally pausing to loudly speculate on what the dragons had previously eaten or pointedly ignore comments from the Gryffindors. It was a very pleasant class, despite the bottom marks, and at the end of the hour they trooped back inside feeling good about themselves.

"Load of spoiled brats," said Alicia Spinnet, as they climbed up the stone steps to the Entrance Hall.

"Yeah," grinned Aaron, "spoiled brats who don't smell like a barn."

A whole flock of students was collected around the announcement board in the Entrance Hall. The Slytherins and Gryffindors temporarily put aside their differences and crowded in together to see what the excitement was about.

"Just wait until he sees my dress, it's the cutest --"

"Jennie? Why would I ask her?"

"Ugh, I bet we all have to learn the minuet or something ..."

The Weasley twins put their gregariousness to good use and shoved their way forward to pluck the parchment from the board. "Here's your public service announcement for the day," one of them called over the crowd, "brought to you by Fred and George Weasley, incomparable pranksters, brilliant inventors, and lovable --"

"Blabbermouths?" called Angelina Johnson.

Everyone laughed.

"That most of all," one of the twins grinned back. "It says: 'The traditional Triwizard Tournament Yule Ball will be held in the Great Hall from eight o'clock to midnight on Christmas Day, the twenty-fifth of December.' Really, is that when they're having it this year?"

"Go on, George," Lee Jordan ordered, amid the overwhelming groans.

The other twin took over. "'All Hogwarts students in the fourth year and above' --" (there were disappointed noises from the crowd) "-- 'are invited to attend and mingle with their professors and students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Dinner will be provided' -- oh, good -- 'and dancing and appetizers will follow. Dress will be formal. See your head of house for more information or questions.'" The Weasley sighed wistfully and tacked the parchment back up to the board. "D'you think if I ask Professor McGonagall she'll really say yes?"

"How could she resist?" said his brother. "You handsome devil."

Laughing and chattering, the crowd dispersed into the Great Hall. Melissa had gotten that love-induced sheen in her eyes; she was bubbling over with "I'm going with Galen" and "I'm sure Pansy will be going with Draco" and "I wonder if we can get anyone to go with Bruce?"

Beth was less enthusiastic. "Not this 'going-with' stuff again!" she griped, half worried and half annoyed. "It'll be just like all those Hogsmeade trips last year. No one's going to ask me, and I'll end up taking Colin Creevey or somebody."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Beth," Melissa said, making herself a corned-beef sandwich. She piled on some lettuce and a tomato. "Richard's going to ask you to the Yule Ball."

Beth's jaw dropped. "What?"

Melissa looked surprised at her friend's own astonishment. "He likes you, Beth. Everybody knows it."

"You ... heard him say that?"

"Well, no ..." Melissa waved her hand in the air as if that wasn't important. "But he'll ask you. Who else would he go with?"

She had a point. Although Richard had his share of friends in the seventh year, Beth had rarely seen him with girls outside of the S.S.A. Still, it was never safe to get overexcited.

"Beth, can I see you for a minute?"

Richard's voice above them made them both jump. Turning bright crimson, Beth stood up too hastily and stammered, "All right."

She followed Richard around the table until they stood a little apart from the rest of the Great Hall. Stay calm, she told herself, as her chest pounded uncomfortably.

Richard leaned close and lowered his voice a little. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure. Anything." Parson, you sound like a moron. Stay calm.

"Bring a notebook to the meeting tonight, will you? It may not be enchanted like the Ledger, but we still need a place to write stuff."

Beth looked at him blankly for a minute. "Oh. All right." Her blush, if possible, deepened.

Richard nodded as if satisfied. "Thanks. Secretary's duty, you know." He patted her on the shoulder and strode off to the prefects' table.

She watched him go. Then she returned to her seat, plunked down by an excited-looking Melissa, and said, "I hate you."

Melissa looked from her friend to Richard's retreating form. "Oh." She gave Beth an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. He's just biding his time."

But Beth thought that Richard wasn't the sort to bide his time.

***

Nearly everyone put down their names to stay over Christmas -- even most of the younger students, optimistic that they could find someone to get them into the Yule Ball. Beth, reluctantly, did so as well, and that evening wrote a note to her father and Lycaeon explaining that she wouldn't be coming home for Christmas. She left the note for the house-elves to deliver to the Owlery, and at eleven o'clock as usual, headed on out for the weekly S.S.A. meeting.

Richard had wanted to start the meeting about five hours early that week; but as he was overruled by eleven other people who didn't, he was forced to hold it on schedule. He started speaking as soon as they were all in the door.

"I've been thinking about the Ledger."

His statement was greeted with a horde of remarks.

"No -- really?"

"Could've fooled me."

"Not you, Rich."

Richard gave a lopsided grin and blushed a little. "Ha. Really, I've been thinking over Ginny Weasley. I mean -- she's just a little third-year girl. Why on earth would she want our Ledger?"

"I don't know, but I bet you have a theory," said Mervin dryly.

This time Richard blushed the whole way. "Three, actually." Groans and laughter. "Maybe you all can help me decide which one is right. First ... she did it out of revenge."

"Revenge!" said Melissa hotly. "Revenge for what?"

Richard shrugged. "Evan did kidnap her, you know. She might've been so possessed that she didn't remember it, but still -- if she did, she's sure to be angry."

Evan smirked from the corner.

"Second," said Richard, "she wanted something inside it. Names, spells, history, what-have-you. I'm not sure what she'd want to do with it, which half scares me. Third -- and I hate to suggest this -- she's working for the Dark Lord."

Nobody spoke. It was a less ludicrous suggestion than it sounded at first ... Ginny Weasley had been his vessel two years before, without even knowing it.

"She looked a lot more ill back then," offered Oren timidly.

"It's ridiculous," said Evan shortly. His arms were tightly crossed across his chest. "He possessed her. He used her. She'd never do anything to help him."

"She still loves him," came a dreamy voice from the corner.

Everyone turned in surprise. Audra Verona had spoken -- even more surprisingly, she continued to speak.

"She hates him and fears him, but she remembers the first days with him, and she loves him a little bit, even now. She knows his new name, now ... but she still thinks of him as Tom. The boy she met in a book ... the handsome young man who almost killed her."

There was a stunned silence.

"How on earth do you know that?" said Mervin loudly.

Audra raised her eyes to him calmly. "Double Potions."

"I don't remember studying that in Potions," said Bruce.

Everyone looked at Audra for an explanation or a retort; but, unsurprisingly, she wouldn't say another word.

***

"Viktor vill be opening t'e dancing at t'e Yule Ball!"

Josef's exuberant proclamation was met with tremendous gaiety from both his classmates and the Slytherins.

"Oh Viktor, that means you'll need a dance partner," Gypsy said, eyes shining. "Who are you going to ask?"

Viktor flushed bright pink and muttered something about not being sure.

"That means he's got someone in mind!" Gypsy said gleefully. "Come on, Viktor, who? Do tell me it's not going to be that Fleur woman."

"Or a Gryffindor," put in Bruce. "Just say it's not a Gryffindor."

Katya said something in her native language and all the Durmstrangers laughed.

"I am sorry," said Josef theatrically, putting a hand over his heart, "but I cannot accept this honor, Viktor. I haff already chosen another."

"T'ank goodness," said Viktor, with half a grin.

Josef looked around the Slytherin table and spotted Beth as if for the first time. "Ah, Beth," he said cheerfully, sliding into place beside her, "I vos vondering if you vould be so kind as to go to the Yule Ball vith me."

Beth looked up at him in surprise and unexpected irritation. Her gaze fell on Richard at the prefects' table. "No, sorry," she said, and poured herself some coffee.

Josef didn't look phased in the least. "I vill meet you in t'e Entrance Hall at seven, yes?"

"No."

"Ah." Josef shook his head sadly and leaned conspiratorially toward the student on his left, who happened to be a second-year Slytherin. "The blonde ones, they are so hard to get. I'll vait for you, my beauty!" he declared loudly, and half of the Slytherin table snickered. A brilliant blush rose in Beth's cheeks.

Luckily, just then the mail came in, and everyone's attention was diverted by the flock of owls that swarmed in from the high open windows. Beth took the opportunity to sneak down the table to sit with Melissa. Her family owl found her, though, and deposited a letter onto her plate before swooping off to the Owlery.

She ripped open the letter.

If you're not going to come home for Christmas, want
to meet me in Hogsmeade next time they let you out?
Luke
p.s. Mr. Scamander wants to know what the devil is a
Blast-Ended Skrewt, and where can he get one?

"When's the next Hogsmeade trip?" Beth called over her shoulder at Melissa.

A chorus of people replied.

"January fifteenth," Melissa clarified, because it was impossible to hear over everyone's intermingled shouting. "Why?"

"I'm going to meet my brother in Hogsmeade." The words alone gave Beth a warm thrill; a year ago she wouldn't have been able to say them.

Melissa beamed. "I told you he'd love you," she said. "Isn't that sweet? My brother's just going to wait until summer to see me."

"Mel," said Beth, "your brother's three."

"Still," said Melissa, with a sniff.

Their Charms lesson was trickier than usual that day, and the sixth-year Slytherins decided to meet in the library after dinner and work out their homework together. Unsurprisingly, Antigone didn't show, but after twenty minutes had passed and not a single one of the boys had come by, Beth and Melissa went looking for them.

The boys turned out to be in the common room, gathered around the person of Warrington. Beth and Melissa slowed down as they approached. It didn't sound like a conversation that they were intended to hear.

"I can't," said Warrington, looking at his shoes.

"Sure you can," said Aaron brightly. "You just go up and say --"

"I can't," said Warrington doggedly. "Not ever. Not in a million years."

"Come on, Warrington, it's not that big a deal --" said Bruce in exasperation. "You're a tough guy, right, just go up and --"

"Not in a million years," said Warrington, to the floor. He lurched to his feet and strode away. He turned around and pointed back at the boys. "And don't you say anything about it!"

"Fine, fine." Mervin raised his hands. "Don't worry about it."

Warrington slammed the door so hard on his way out that the chandeliers shook.

Bruce whistled. "Touchy these days," he said to Aaron, who nodded.

"What's all this?" Beth grinned. "Trying to talk Warrington into beating somebody up?"

Melissa tossed her hair. "Oh Beth, sometimes I think you don't have any feminine intuition," she sighed. Beth scowled. "He's going to ask someone to the ball. It's Antigone, isn't it?"

Bruce glanced around the room to make sure that Warrington hadn't returned to hear the breach of trust. "Yeah. He just hasn't the guts to do it."

"I think it's better that way," Melissa said. "She'll never say yes. Better the poor boy doesn't have to deal with her rejection."

"I can't hurt to try," argued Bruce.

"We're talking about Antigone," said Melissa. "It certainly can."

She was certainly right. The next day at breakfast the boy from Beauxbatons, who had been eyeing Antigone all year, came straight up and asked her to the ball. She made a great show of ignoring him before breathing out a husky, suggestive "No" and whisking off to class. The day after that he came armed with flowers. She refused again and put the flowers on her bureau. The third day he was empty-handed; she carried on chatting with her friends while he made ardent proposals in both English and French to the back of her head. When he showed up outside Potions with chocolates and an enchanted violin, Antigone let him carry her cauldron all the way to the Entrance Hall before turning him down. He vowed to return and went off to the Beauxbatons carriage with his head held high.

The Gryffindors had followed them out of the dungeons with tremendous interest, and now the Weasley twins took the opportunity to speak.

"Mademoiselle von Snobbish, scourge of the French heart."

"Honestly," said the other twin, hands spread, "who else do you think's going to ask you? Pretty-Boy Diggory?"

Antigone tossed her hair. "And who are you two Don Juans taking to the Yule Ball?" she retorted. "Each other, I suppose?"

The one on the left looked horrified. "Gorry, no. George looks awful in a ball gown."

"That's not what you said last Tuesday night," the other broke in, miming indignation.

"Oh I suppose you're going to say it's my turn to put on the makeup."

"Well I have chapped lips."

"Chapped lips, huh, pantyhose always gives me a rash ..."

Antigone made a noise of disgust and stalked off, leaving the two Gryffindors still going back and forth, and their admirers howling with laughter.

Beth concealed her own laughter and headed off to the library.

She was only just starting to compile a list of the ingredients she would need for her Alchemy project. In most cases, any of two or three different ingredients could do the trick; it was a laborious process, choosing one based on cost, availability, potency, and the way they reacted to the other ingredients. Today it was between two pounds of cheap willow leaves and one ounce of expensive mandrake leaves. She turned into the Herbology section ... and paused.

Richard was there, leaning against one of the bookshelves with his face buried between two volumes. He was peering through a pair of Omnioculars.

"Uh ... Rich?"

"Aah!" Richard jumped a foot in the air and came down clutching his chest. "Beth! You scared the devil out me!"

He looked awfully cute, with his face flushed like that, and Beth had to pause and clear her throat before speaking. "What exactly are you doing?"

Richard looked sheepishly at the Omnioculars in his hand. "Just ... a little research."

Beth leaned over and peered through the crack in the shelves. All she could see was a table laden with books ... and a bright red ponytail. "Aha."

Richard shrugged guiltily.

"Listen," said Beth, "I know you're desperate to get the Ledger back, but I honestly don't think Ginny Weasley is going to be reading it in the library -- even if she did take it, which we don't know for sure," she added.

"She's our only suspect," Richard said passionately. He leaned against the bookshelf. "I just can't stop thinking about it ... I mean, it holds so much information ... and ... I mean, I'm the President, I should've taken care of it ..."

"Richard," said Beth firmly, "this is not your fault. The Ledger's been in the same place for fifty years -- you're just unlucky enough to be in charge when something went wrong."

"I know ..." Richard didn't sound convinced.

"It's true," Beth insisted. "You've got to think about something else for a little while. Like your N.E.W.T.s. Or how we're going to help Diggory with the second task. Or ..." Beth took a deep breath and summoned all her courage. "Or the Yule Ball."

Richard looked at her curiously. "The Yule Ball?" An expression of understanding rose on his face -- he broke into a smile -- his eyes began to glint and Beth suddenly suspected that things weren't going the way she had hoped. "The Yule Ball!" He ran a hand through his hair delightedly. "Beth -- you're a genius!"

"Uh," said Beth.

"Fantastic!" cried Richard, overcome with zeal. "Why didn't I -- perfect --" He started to skitter away, turned on his heel, grabbed Beth by the shoulders, planted a kiss in the middle of her forehead, and practically flew out of the library.

Beth stared after him. She raised a hand to her forehead. Then she put both hands over her face and slumped against the wall.

***

The S.S.A. meeting that week was a short one. It took one look at Richard to tell that he was plotting again.

"This is our best chance all year," he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. The old glint of battle was back in his eyes. "It's the one time we can get close to our prey without anyone being suspicious ... But who ..." He looked around the room thoughtfully. His eyes settled on Herne Rudisille.

"Herne, you've got to ask Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball."

Herne looked alarmed. "Why me?"

"You're the least threatening looking of any of us." That, at least, was true. Compared to Evan, Mervin, and Bruce, curly-haired Herne looked like a cherub. It was not, however, a point that Herne was proud of, and he flushed a bright pink (which Beth thought made him look extra cute).

"If Herne strikes out," Richard went on, "Bruce will be up next, he has those hulking Quidditch muscles." Bruce looked half astonished and Melissa burst into laughter. "Then Oren ... oh wait, you're too young, aren't you? ... then ... Mervin, I guess ..."

"Gosh, thanks," said Mervin dourly.

"You think Mervin looks less threatening than me?" asked Evan, with a twisted smile.

Richard looked irritated. "Yes, very frankly, and I don't want the poor girl terrified if Slytherin after Slytherin starts hitting on her. Besides, you look kind of like Tom Riddle, and that's the last thing she needs to be reminded of."

"The 'poor girl' took your Ledger," Mervin pointed out.

"I know," said Richard darkly. He got hold of himself quickly. "But we'll never get it back by acting like goons. Tomorrow, Herne. The sooner the better."

Herne swallowed hard and nodded, and Beth thought he looked like he was agreeing to go to war.

***

The sky was dark; the torches flickered green and cast weird tints into the shadows that surrounded them. Beth glided forward toward a green bonfire. The shadows danced in and out … the flames rose and fell with the nighttime breeze … she felt small, she felt young, she felt overwhelmed in the sea of fire and darkness … she felt afraid …

The banshee who rose up beside her began to howl ...

Beth woke up with a garbled cry, wrapped in sheets so twisted that they felt like chains. Then she reached out between her canopies and very deliberately beat her alarm clock to death.

The dream stuck with her as she showered, dressed and headed up to breakfast. She remembered quite clearly how nerve-wracking the previous year had been, with the death of an unknown family member looming over her, and weird green flames shrouding her mind whenever the dementors got too close. The loss of the Ledger was nothing compared to the potential loss of family that she had faced.

The Great Hall filled quickly. Melissa showed up excitable and sat down near where Beth had found a spot with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.

"Yule Ball gossip!" sang out Melissa. She leaned into the girls. "I know for a fact that Dumbledore has hired none other than the Weird Sisters!"

Blaise gaped.

"Oh," said Beth, "the ones who sing Peggy Fetch the Grease, I'm Stuck in Me Barrel and Whiskey Stole My Sister? Wow, they're good."

"They're outstanding!" said Blaise enthusiastically. "Pansy, isn't that fantastic?"

"Mm?" Pansy looked up from her copy of Witch Weekly. "Oh, them. Hairy bunch, aren't they? Not very interesting, I say."

"The Weird Sisters?" cried Blaise, astounded. "Pansy, they're incredible -- Donaghan Trewlett can play the guitar and cello and about five wind instruments --"

"Oh?" said Pansy, completely disinterested.

"They use the bodhran and the timpani --"

"You don't say." Pansy clearly had no idea what either of them were, or whether they were instruments at all.

"They're handsome," said Blaise, almost in despair. It was obviously a last-ditch effort to convey her excitement.

Pansy smiled at Draco. "I can't imagine that they would be much more handsome than certain of our classmates, can you?"

Blaise let out a noise of disbelief and turned away.

Someone at the prefects' table let out a wild, anguished cry.

The banshee! Beth thought instantly, and a cold dread dropped to the pit of her stomach. She whirled toward the prefects' table, half expecting to see the banshee right there in the middle of the hall, dress in tatters and hair blowing in an unseen wind ... but she noticed that others were turning too, some putting their hands over their ears. That's not right, she thought, I'm the only one who can hear her ...

The wailing broke off abruptly.

There was a smattering of laughter. Cedric Diggory stood up, smiling sheepishly, pink in the cheeks.

"Sorry," he called, holding up the large golden egg he had obtained at the first task. "Sorry, that was my fault ..."

He sat back down. Instantly, Richard Shaw and Penelope Clearwater leaned in toward him, almost begging to take a closer look at the egg. (The Gryffindor prefect, who had probably already looked over Potter's egg, didn't seem quite as interested.) Beth felt her heartbeat slow back down. She had been sure ...

She looked over at the Hufflepuff table and caught a glimpse of Louisa Parsimmer, the cousin she had never met. Her face was deathly pale.

"Hey," said Bruce, because Beth still looked frazzled. "Guess what."

Beth turned back to him and forced a smile. "No idea."

"I got us another scrimmage. Ravenclaw, the first Saturday of holiday."

"Hey, good job!" said Beth, her smile genuine this time.

"You know," said Melissa, "I was worried when they said there wasn't going to be a Quidditch season, but you seem to be doing just fine."

"Davies wasn't even interested," Bruce went on, hardly hearing her. "All he wanted to talk about was how he's taking the Beauxbatons champion to the Yule Ball. So I went to their Seeker. She didn't really believe me at first, but I got Viktor to vouch for me, and she seemed pretty excited after that."

Melissa snorted. "Show me a girl in the school who wouldn't get excited at talking with Viktor Krum."

"You two," said Bruce.

"We see him three times a day," said Melissa. "The glamour's worn off."

"I dunno," said Beth. "Those girls in the library never seem to get sick of him."

Indeed, Krum's unsolicited entourage was never more than three aisles away from where he studied.

Bruce scooted down the table to tell Aaron and Warrington the good news; at the same time Herne came and joined their group. His boyish face was somewhat paler than usual. "Well," he said, his voice a little shaky, "better get it over with now."

Beth and Melissa became very excited.

"Look her in the eye. Girls love that ..."

"Make her feel special. Like she's the only one you want to go with at all ..."

"And flattery could help."

"But not too much, she'll catch on."

"Be self-confident --"

"Ooh, but not too cocky --"

"Right, just be a little self-assured --"

"Remember Uther? Don't be like him."

"Uther had girlfriends all the time," said Herne uncertainly.

"Ginny Weasley is not that kind of girl," Melissa said. "Be kindly. Be suave. Be charming."

"I think I'm going to be sick," said Herne.

Melissa rapped him sharply. "It'll go fine. Now scat."

Herne tugged at his collar and, very reluctantly, headed across the room into enemy territory.

Blaise hurried over excitedly. "Is he going to do it?" she asked, eyes shining.

"Either that," said Melissa, "or he's going to go up to the Gryffindor table and just stand there like an idiot not saying anything."

Herne had more guts than Melissa gave him credit for. He only stood there like an idiot for a couple of seconds before he cleared his throat and leaned toward the red-haired girl.

"H-hi, Ginny," he stammered.

The red-haired girl looked up and her eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of the unfamiliar boy in the Slytherin robes. "How do you know my name?"

"Oh ... er ... seen you around," said Herne.

"What a ladies' man," Melissa murmured. Beth shushed her, but not without amusement.

"Oh," said Ginny, and went back to her reading.

Herne cast a desperate glance over his shoulder. The three girls shooed him forward silently, waving their hands as if they could force him to speak from afar. Finally, he swallowed hard and said, "So ... want to go to the ball with me?"

"So suave," said Melissa, and Blaise couldn't hide her giggle.

Ginny didn't look up from her books. "No."

Herne steeled himself. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely sure."

"But ... you know you can't go unless you take someone older ... I mean, someone older asks you ..."

"I don't care." She closed her book and put it away; her voice held a note of panic, and she was obviously preparing to bolt.

Herne too sounded panicky. "You don't understand, I really have to take you to the ball ... Listen, I -- I can't live without you!"

That, Beth thought, was overdoing it.

"I told you no!" said Ginny shrilly, standing up and grabbing her bookbag. "Go away!"

"But --"

Herne took a step closer and Ginny jolted backward. Suddenly, a round-faced boy was at her side, glaring up at Herne with fear and defiance.

"She said no, now -- get out of here!"

It was Neville Longbottom.

Herne looked astonished. "What?"

"I ... I said get out of here!" Longbottom placed himself between Herne and Ginny. "Ginny, d'you ... d'you want to go with me?"

A great relief washed over Ginny Weasley's freckled face. "All right, yes." She poked her head around Longbottom to glare at Herne. "I already have a date," she said firmly, and stalked away. Longbottom, after realizing that she left, hastily followed.

Herne came back to the Slytherin table, shaking his head in confusion. "Did she just turn me down -- in favor of Longbottom?"

"Don't take it personally," said Blaise soothingly, and patted him on the back.

"But Longbottom," Herne repeated, like a man scarred. Melissa poured him a cup of strong coffee.

Richard hurried over and bent in towards them. "How did it go?" he asked in an anxious whisper.

Herne buried his head in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~
"Whiskey Stole My Sister" is a song my sister and I wrote, for our terrible two-piece Celtic folk-rock band called Nobody Home. It goes:
Whiskey stole my sister
And the gin did too
If you had a sister
The whiskey'd steal her too.

Herne is so cute. For a while there I was calling him "Rudy", after his last name Rudisille, but somehow he ended up just Herne instead.