Christmas Eve arrived at last. During the day most of the students frolicked outside in the snow. Harry and the other Gryffindor fifth-years had a snowball fight with the Ravenclaw fifth-years. There was no winner though, because the twenty-five-foot-high snowman being constructed by the Gryffindor seventh-years collapsed and everyone scattered to avoid being engulfed in the subsequent avalanche.

In the afternoon the first-, second- and third-years congregated in the Great Hall for their Christmas feast. The older students spent this time preparing for the Holiday Serenade. In Harry's dorm the boys' trepidation was palpable as they fought over mirror space.

"Out of the way, Thomas," Ron grunted to Dean.

"You're blocking my face!" complained Neville, trying to comb his hair. "Susan Bones will be furious if my hair looks like this."

"How are my teeth?" Seamus asked, elbowing Dean.

"It's fine," Dean said. "But if I were you I'd be more concerned about the spot on your nose."

"What! Of all the bloody times-" Seamus bodily shoved everyone to the floor and peered in the small mirror. "Not now, less than an hour before the Holiday Serenade! It's huge! I'm not going. Lisa Turpin can escort herself."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Harry. He was frustrated by the state of his hair. Dean had lent him a jar of Sleekeasy's Hair Potion for Wizards to tame his wild black hair; but the Sleekeasy's had only succeeded in plastering his hair flat to his head like a jet-black helmet. When spells had failed to rectify the crisis, it had taken forty minutes of frantic scrubbing to remove the goo from his hair. Now it looked exactly like it did every day, untidy, unkempt and sticking up everywhere, and it had made Harry surly.

"There may be no magic that can untangle my hair, but there's a simple solution to your idiotic tribulations," grumbled Harry, grabbing his wand. He enchanted the comb, which began neatly combing Neville's hair; he tossed Seamus a vial of diluted Bubotubor pus, which dissolved his spot in a matter of minutes; and lastly he Engorged the little mirror to take up half the wall so they could all share it. "There. Now stop whining."

At six the younger students returned from their banquet sated and happy. Harry was alone in the common room when they entered. Most of them went to their dorms to get dressed to go outside, but Niamh Giffard paused by the fireplace where Harry sat, watching the crackling flames. He looked up and invited her to sit, but she declined.

"I only wanted to say- will you promise me you'll watch out for Ron and Malfoy? To avoid any. unpleasantness?"

Harry nodded. He was ready to obey any of her advice, the memory of her terrifying spontaneous séance still fresh in his mind. "I would have done that anyways."

"Just promise," Niamh said brusquely, and smiled tensely. "Have a good evening." She hurried off to her dorm, leaving Harry puzzled.

A few students, resplendent in their finery, came down to the common room to wait for the appropriate departure time that would allow them to be fashionably but not boorishly late. Neville, Seamus, Dean and Ron descended the stairs. Ron wore a vague half-grin, in contrast to the anxiety written on the faces of the other three.

"She'll be down soon," he said dreamily to Harry.

"Here comes Lavender," Neville said to Dean.

Lavender was quite a sight, decked out in low-cut dress robes of an incarnadine red.

"Blood red?" Ron asked.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "It's coquelicot red, you unrefined oaf." She paused to look him over critically. "Although I must say you're looking quite well tonight, lout that you are. Hermione will be down in a moment, she's just doing her hair." Lavender took Dean's arm and swept out through the portrait hole.

Parvati Patil, stunning in fuschia dress robes, came down soon afterwards and like Lavender, appraised the boys and told Ron Hermione would be out soon. Neville and Seamus accompanied her out of the common room.

"Aren't you going downstairs to meet Sally-Anne?" Ron asked Harry.

"I'll wait a minute," Harry replied. "I want to see your face when Hermione comes down the stairs."

Ron opened his mouth to respond but his eyes travelled past Harry and his mouth stayed hanging open.

Harry turned and followed his gaze to Hermione, standing at the top of the staircase, an earthbound celestial deity. Her robes, alluringly close- fitting, were dark blue, almost black, and made of a soft material that shimmered when she moved. Jewels sparkled in the curtain of hair that hung straight and shiny down her back. She was radiant.

Hermione came lightly down the stairs. "Close your mouth, Ron, you'll catch flies," she said delightedly.

Ron snapped his mouth shut and beamed at Hermione. "You- er, you look." He shook his head mutely. He produced a single red rose from behind his back and, to Harry's surprise, drew his wand and stammered, "Floreo moreo!" The rose exploded into a bright bouquet of flowers, which Ron presented to Hermione. While she blushed the colour of Lavender's dress robes, Harry grinned and slipped out the portrait hole alone.

The Entrance Hall was full of students, the younger ones getting ready to go outside for a skating party, and goggling at the frippery of the older ball-bound students who milled about, waiting for their partners. Harry spotted Sally-Anne Perks immediately, easily the prettiest girl in the room. Sally was a vision in tangerine lace, her dress robes being made of some puffy material that gave her the appearance of being surrounded by a misty orange cloud. Harry grinned as he descended the stairs.

"Hi Sally," he said as she came to greet him. "You look. very." Harry paused, searching for words.

"Ravishing?" Sally suggested. Harry nodded. "Then don't just stand and gawp, Harry, let's go inside!"

And in a manner befitting their elegant attire and elegant comportment they swept into the Great Hall- and halted immediately, jaws scraping the flagstones.

The Great Hall was magnificently opulent. The four house tables had been cleared away to make an extensive dance floor, presently swarming with bodies. Giant firs towered over their heads, decked out in tinsel garlands, delicate glittering ornaments, and fairy lights of real fairies, who flitted about in the branches, tittering, and occasionally fluttering out among the white, red, and green candles hovering high over the dance floor.

At the side of the hall there was one long table, on which stood a massive crystal bowl of punch, rows of bottles of Butterbeer, and platters of hors d'oeuvres, like fruit, cheeses and olives. But some of the olives were eyeballs, and one cheese, oddly, was named Monster instead of Muenster.

The Great Hall was filled with laughter, chatter, and chamber music. Harry looked up and saw, under the floating candles, a 100-piece orchestra of player-less instruments, being conducted by Albus Dumbledore. He stood on a floating platform in dress robes of rich green and gold, merrily gesticulating with his wand as a conductor's baton. He waved his baton when he saw Harry enter and the self-playing violins thought he wanted them to speed up and began playing double-time. Dumbledore ignored them and floated the platform down to the floor to greet Harry. "Good evening, Harry, Sally-Anne!"

"Happy Christmas, Professor," said Sally, smiling.

"And happy Christmas to you both as well! Miss Perks, you look absolutely lovely, if I may say so." Sally beamed. "And Harry, I wanted to thank you for your gift." Dumbledore lifted the hem of his gold and green robes to show them the thick red woollen socks that Harry had asked Dobby the house- elf to knit for him to give to the Headmaster. "It was very thoughtful of you to remember."

"You're welcome, Professor," Harry said, grinning, glad that he had remembered that Dumbledore had wished he'd gotten socks instead of books for Christmas.

"Could you strike up a waltz, Professor?" Sally asked.

"Certainly, Miss Perks," said Dumbledore, raising his wand and calling up to the orchestra, "Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers!" His platform floated away as the first notes sounded from the strings section.

Sally smiled expectantly at Harry, who, reproaching himself for being inattentive, nervously asked if she would like to dance. "Of course," said Sally, and she pulled him into the crowd of dancers.

They danced two waltzes, a salsa, and a foxtrot. "You're not bad," Sally said to Harry while teaching him the foxtrot.

"How do you know so many dances?" Harry asked her.

Sally giggled. "My Muggle parents wanted me to be a lady, so I had to take lessons in etiquette, elocution and dancing. Of course, now that I'm here at Hogwarts and planning to have a career in the wizarding world, their dreams of my marrying a rich nobleman have been shattered." She smiled at him. "I'm getting rather tired, shall we get a drink?"

Harry agreed, and they left the dance floor. Sally was not tired at all, but she was loath to tell Harry that she was actually uneasy because Ginny Weasley kept shooting her venomous scowls.

Harry was picking up two bottles of Butterbeer when Sally said, "There's Professor Figg! She looks very smart tonight." Arabella Figg was elegantly draped in dress robes of dark green velours, her hair pinned as usual in a tight chignon, but tonight with red and green ribbons wound round it. She held a delicate wineglass of clear crimson liquid. "Happy Christmas, Professor Figg," Sally said to her.

Professor Figg looked round in surprise. "Oh, good evening. Happy Christmas."

"Don't like the fruit punch, Professor?" Harry asked, looking at her wine glass.

She noticed him for the first time. "Harry! Hello. Ah, well, the punch is fine for you students, but I prefer something a little. stronger."

"What year is that, Professor?" asked Sally, adding, "I know a little about wines, since my aunt owns a vinyard in Provence."

"Yes, er- well- it's an Ontario wine. From Canada. You wouldn't recognize it." She quickly drained what was left in her glass.

Rubeus Hagrid suddenly materialized and clapped a massive hand on Harry's shoulder, nearly causing him to fall to his knees. Hagrid was dressed in his regular clothes, but they had been dyed green and red. "Harry! Enjoying yerself? Sally-Anne Perks, yeh look lovely! Ah, Professor Figg, can I freshen your drink?" The giant pulled a flask out of his pocket and poured more wine into Professor Figg's glass.

"Thank you Hagrid," said Professor Figg. To Harry's great shock, she downed the wine in one gulp. "I think I shall ask Professor Snape to dance," she said, handing her glass to Hagrid, and went off to do so.

"She doesn't seem drunk, but trying to get Snape to dance certainly sounds like something a smashed person would do," Harry said to Sally.

"He won't dance," said Sally. "See, he's telling her no."

Professor Figg was laughing and pulling Severus Snape's arm, but he was shaking his head sourly and refused to move. Professor Figg at last capitulated to Snape and stood with him, and Professor McGonagall, attired in unembellished black dress robes, joined them. Snape frowned at something Professor Figg said and all three glanced momentarily at Harry.

Sally-Anne noticed Harry's discomfiture and suggested she teach him the mazurka. They returned to the dance floor, passing Seamus and his partner Lisa Turpin, Dean and Lavender, and Neville and Susan Bones. Fred Weasley was dancing with Alicia Spinnet, and George and Katie Bell were sitting at a table. Draco Malfoy was dancing stiffly with pug-faced Pansy Parkinson, and nearby were Ron and Hermione. Ron seemed preoccupied with trying to dance and not crush Hermione's toes, but he threw Harry a blissful smile over Hermione's shoulder.

Sally took Harry's hand. "Like this, one two three- oh!"

Harry had bumped into someone and been knocked forward into Sally. He spun angrily and came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.

"Potter," hissed Malfoy. "Can't you keep your clumsy gangling self out of people's way?"

"Watch where you're going," Pansy Parkinson sneered. The bright blue of her dress robes was garish and unbecoming on her plump body.

"YOU bumped ME," responded Harry. He and Malfoy glowered at each other.

"Come on, Harry," said Sally. Malfoy's pale eyes travelled over Sally- Anne Perks, taking in the pretty face and lithe figure, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Sally-Anne Perks?" he said incredulously. "You're Potter's date?"

"Of course," Sally said, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'd have thought you would know better than to associate with him," Pansy hissed at Sally, taking Malfoy's arm. "Don't you remember what he did last year? Cedric Diggory was in Hufflepuff with you. Are your loyalties shifting, Sally?"

Harry's cheeks burned. Sally-Anne was speechless for a moment. Then she narrowed her eyes. "Why Pansy darling, wherever did you get those dress robes? The bargain bin at Madam Malkin's?"

"This is a Paris original," snapped Pansy, furious. "It cost me an arm and a leg!"

"For the amount of flesh on those limbs, they should have given you a more fetching ensemble," Sally said sweetly. "Come on, Harry." Laughing, they hurried away from Pansy, whose pug-like face was flaming.

Malfoy, fuming, stood staring after Harry. Then his gaze alit on Ron and Hermione, who were dancing close together, and his frown deepened. He would get his revenge.

The hours passed and the slow waltzes changed into fast rock songs, sung by a band of suits of armour called Heavy Metal; and then wound back down to soft ballads and peaceful orchestral music. Harry avoided Malfoy like Niamh Giffard had advised. He completely forgot that it was Ron and Malfoy he was supposed to watch. He and Sally stayed at the opposite end of the room from Malfoy. During a slow song they were dancing close, Sally's head on Harry's shoulder.

"What a marvellous evening," she said, her breath tickling his ear. Harry felt slightly anxious.

"Great ball," he agreed, trying to keep his voice from squeaking.

"It would be nice if we could be alone," Sally whispered. "Somewhere quiet and secluded, where we could-"

"Harry!" Neville Longbottom was at his elbow.

"What is it, Neville?" Harry asked, annoyed at being interrupted before Sally could finish her sentence.

Neville's agitation hindered his speech. "It's just- Malfoy is- Ron and Hermione-"

Harry looked about wildly, and spotted Ron and Hermione by the punch table, and Draco Malfoy sidling up slyly, a sly look in his eyes.

"Oh no-" Harry dropped his arms from Sally-Anne's waist and began to push through the dancers, but he knew he was too late. Malfoy had already reached Ron and Hermione, and he spoke snidely to Ron. Hermione spoke before Ron could respond and turned to leave, but Malfoy let his gaze lazily glide the length of Hermione's figure and, smirking, made a remark that completely blanched Hermione's face. Ron lunged at Malfoy and knocked him to the floor.

"No Ron!" Harry and Hermione shouted at once.

Ron and Malfoy struggled on the floor, fists and feet flailing, both grunting and cursing. People stopped dancing and crowded round to watch. Over their heads, Harry glimpsed Professor Figg, standing frozen and stunned. Hermione looked on, furious. Harry pushed past the shocked Dean and Lavender and reached the brawlers, but Ron and Malfoy were out for blood and could not be separated.

Except- the orchestra music fizzled as Dumbledore used his wand-baton to blast the boys apart with a Reductor Curse. As they sat, stunned, the punch bowl took flight and hovered in the air above their heads.

"Don't move, or the bowl will tip," said Dumbledore, floating down to the floor on his platform. His tone was warning, but the blue eyes twinkled in wry amusement.

Professor McGonagall pushed through the throng of students, who all shrank away because she was clearly far from amused.

"WHAT is the meaning of this?" she shrieked, face flushed. "WHAT do you think you are DOING, fighting at a school FUNCTION?"

"He started it," gasped both boys at once.

Hermione suddenly burst out, "Ron Weasley, I never want to speak to you again!" She stalked out of the Great Hall, the crowd of students parting before her wrathful expression.

"Hermione, wait!" cried Ron, jumping up; and as Dumbledore had promised, the bowl upended, drenching Ron and Malfoy in punch. In the roar of laughter that followed, Harry ran out after Hermione.

The Entrance Hall was empty save a few younger students who'd come in for a cup of hot chocolate before returning to skating on the lake. Marcus McCabe and Darius Diggle accosted Harry outside the door of the Great Hall, faces pink from the cold, their skates slung over their shoulders.

"Harry, you look great!" bubbled Marcus. "Where can I get dress robes like that, Harry?"

Harry suddenly realized what had been wrong with Professor Figg at the ball. She had called him Harry, when as a rule she addressed all students by their last names.

"Hermione's in there," Darius said to Harry, nodding to an antechamber. He regarded Harry suspiciously. "She looked upset."

"She was crying," Marcus added helpfully, before Darius dragged him away.

Harry knocked on the closed door. "Hermione?"

"Go away," came the reply. "Especially if you're Ron."

"It's Harry. Can I come in?" He tried the doorknob. Locked. "Alohomora!" He entered cautiously.

A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace by which Hermione sat huddled in a chair. Her face was buried in a silk handkerchief embroidered with her initials, a Christmas gift from her mother. Harry sat in a chair opposite her and waited.

Finally she lifted her head and stared into the dancing flames, avoiding his eyes. "Tonight was going to change everything. I thought- I mean, the flowers, and the look on his face." She shook her head, as if to clear it. "But he couldn't change for just one night."

"Ron, you mean? But he just risked suspension for you!"

"He just humiliated me, you mean," Hermione said angrily. "Fighting in front of everyone like a common rogue!"

"He was defending you!" Harry protested.

Hermione finally turned to look at him, glowering. "Oh, fine, side with him again! You always take his side! You're always against me!"

"Hermione-" Harry began pacifyingly. A soft knock on the door interrupted him.

"The fireworks are starting," Darius Diggle said through the door. Harry could hear all the students filing through the Entrance Hall to watch Filch's fireworks show from the front steps.

"Let's go watch," he suggested. Initially demurring, Hermione finally allowed herself to be led out. The Entrance Hall was empty when they walked through. The whole student body was thronged outside, watching awed as starbursts and spirals of brilliant reds and greens exploded overhead. Sally-Anne Perks waved from a group of her friends and grinned sympathetically, so Harry knew she understood he had to stay with Hermione. They stood on the fringe of the assembly. The dazzling exhibition quickly dissolved Hermione's ire, and soon she was as entranced as everyone else.

As he stared skyward, Harry felt a tug on his arm. He lowered his gaze and found Niamh Giffard there, her expression reproachful.

"I told you to watch Ron and Malfoy!" she chided. Harry mumbled contritely and she sighed and said, "Well, what's done is done."

"I'd like to have hit him myself," Harry growled, glaring at Malfoy. Professor McGonagall had both Malfoy and Ron, wearing dry clothes, in her grip, and was lecturing them while irate Snape stood near, interjecting irritated remarks here and there. Reddish bruises were showing on the faces of both boys already. "That louse must have spent all day dreaming up something really awful to say."

"Or," said Niamh, dropping her voice urgently, "maybe he didn't think of it himself. Listen carefully, Harry, because you'll go inside in a moment. Don't you think he might have been put up to it?"

Harry was surprised, but he considered. "Maybe. It wouldn't take a lot of work to persuade Draco Malfoy to insult Hermione and Ron. But who would want him to do that?"

"Someone who wants the same thing Malfoy does: to see Ron and Hermione apart."

"But who-" said Harry, then cottoned on. "Ron's Secret Admirer?"

"Exactly," said Niamh. "So if she asked him t-"

She fell silent at the sight of Ron Weasley. He approached Hermione tentatively. "Hermione, please-"

But she turned abruptly away. "Harry, let's go inside. I'm trying to avoid association with total cads." Ron's mouth fell open. Harry turned to Niamh, but she had already returned to Darius and Marcus. After an apologetic look at Ron, Harry went inside with Hermione.

They headed for the antechamber again, but Harry stopped at the sound of voices from within. This was odd in itself, since it seemed like everyone was outside watching the fireworks; but what Harry found bizarre was that there seemed to be only one voice talking to itself. The door was ajar. Harry and Hermione stood on either side and listened.

"How was the ball?" asked a voice Harry recognized as Professor Figg's.

"Oh, it was perfectly lovely," answered Professor Figg's own voice. "Filius Flitwick did a bang-up job of decorating the Great Hall, it looked fabulous, Bella."

"Was it? Sad I couldn't be there myself. But there will be other balls, I suppose, next year and so on. The potion I brewed was all right?"

"Yes. I don't think anyone noticed anything different. Some students were a bit curious, but it looked so very much like wine because you brewed it so expertly. And I don't suppose they've had much experience with Polyjuice Potions, have they?" Harry and Hermione stared at each other.

"Did anything interesting happen?"

"Yes, actually, there was a bit of a fight towards the end. A couple of boys fighting over a girl or something. Absolutely loutish behaviour. Dumbledore seemed rather amused, but Minerva and Severus were furious." Harry watched Hermione fidgeting.

"Did you catch their names?"

"No. One looked like that red-haired fellow from International Cooperation, Percy Weasley? And the other was a pale sort of boy, resembled that madman Lucius Malfoy."

"Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy? In a fight? Minerva will expel them both! And Severus Snape will have Weasley's head! What did you do?"

"Ah. nothing. Should I have done something?"

"Yes! I would have intervened!"

"Well I'm sorry! Next time I impersonate you I'll study you a little harder. I also should have learned the students' names, I think, I didn't know anyone but Harry Potter."

At that moment, the grandfather clock nearby struck twelve, causing Harry and Hermione to jump.

"Stroke of midnight," said Professor Figg. "I'm changing back."

Harry cracked the door open a little more and they peeked inside. Arabella Figg, wearing everyday robes, sat in a chair, watching the elegantly attired version of herself who stood by the mantel. But the latter had pulled the ribbons out of her chignon and was shaking out the dry grey hair; and with every toss of her head the hair darkened and lengthened till it was waist-length and glossy chestnut brown. The hem of the robes crumpled to the floor as the frail old body diminished in height, becoming youthfully slimmer and lithe.

The woman flipped back her dark hair to reveal the soulful brown eyes of Perdita Clemens. "Merlin's beard, Bella, but it's difficult to be you."

"Enjoy your youth, Perdita, one day you'll be old too," Professor Figg said dryly. "It's cold tonight, dear, put this on." She pointed her wand and a wine-coloured cloak fell round Perdita.

"I take it you and Fletch didn't find anything?" Perdita asked.

"Not a sausage. We raked the school top to bottom, with spells, charms and hands-on searching. We talked to every suit of armour, poltergeist, ghost, house-elf, painting, and statue. And though we found out several new secret passageways to Hogsmeade and all round the school, none of them could have been accessed by Voldemort or the Death Eaters. I even took a map of the school from Potter, but there was nothing eye-catching on it." The Marauder's Map! So that was where that went, Harry thought. He had wondered where he had put it. She or Lupin must have smuggled it out of his trunk somehow-probably when he was staying at her house.

"Has Fletch gone home?" said Perdita.

"Yes, but I'll take you back to Hogsmeade in a school carriage. Let's go now, before the students become suspicious."

"If you like. Though they're mostly typical teenagers, never notice anything." Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him behind the grandfather clock. They peered out as the two witches stepped out of the anteroom.

"Did you have children, Bella dear?" Harry heard Perdita ask as they moved through the empty Entrance Hall, neither noticing Harry or Hermione.

"Yes, awfully bratty things, aren't they?" said Professor Figg, and they laughed as they walked outside. Hermione turned to Harry with large eyes.

"Do you know what this means?" she whispered excitedly. "They must have arranged the Holiday Serenade just to get everyone out of the school at once so they could search it!"

"They were looking for ways that Voldemort could get in," Harry said. "But they didn't find anything, so what does that mean?"

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose. He got in some other way. Oh- Harry, I think the fireworks are over. But I don't want to see Ron. Please Harry, can we go back to Gryffindor Tower? I've had enough for one evening."

"Yeah," Harry said quickly, for she seemed genuinely anguished; and they trudged in silence up the stairs.