Disclaimer: Bah.
A/N: HULLO, I know, lots many chapters being updated in quick rapid-fire succession! W00T! FUNFUNFUNFUNFUN:D:D Yes! Slavemaster Meg equals w00t! XD Whilst I describe the characters' costumes, I am not using any pictures as references. These are purely out of my own imagination along with that of dear Slavemaster Meg's.
I apologize in advance for any pure obviousness that I put into this chapter. It's just foreshadowing for the future, and this really is the perfect place to put it in. You'll see what I mean later, lol.
About Dean's football team – I'm sorry if I got it wrong, I had to make it up because I don't have the books on hand for reference purposes. They are now the West Ham Avengers. :D Hehehe.
Slavemaster Meg recently read a Batman comic. So ... don't ask later. Especially as she has become obsessed with him now. So yeah. She can't wait until the new Batman movie comes out. "Woot." ... She's almost as obsessed with Batman as I am with Harry. grin
Anyway, ta-ta, darlings, love you all. Thank you for reviewing:)
Enjoy!
Harry took a deep breath, adjusted his robes, and pushed open the doors.
There had been a considerable level of noise in the Great Hall before, but now it quieted slightly as people caught a look at Harry and his costume. (A/N: I believe it is time I described it to you.)
He was wearing a dark emerald green tunic, matching his eyes, that came down to his lower thighs, tied at the waist by a gold cord. It was embroidered with leaf patterns all over. The sleeves billowed loosely and hung down just above the tips of his fingers. Underneath he wore loose black breeches and black leather boots coming up to just below his knees, with silver ties. Overtop of it all, he wore a long, flowing black robe, sleeveless, embroidered with foreign silver designs. Altogether, it gave everyone a sense of otherworldly royalty.
The tips of his long, pointed ears protruded from beneath his still messy raven hair. The lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was barely visible. On his face were strange markings that added to the effect. A black upside-down triangle hung underneath his left eye. Both eyes were pronounced and fully emphasized by dark eyeliner, making them look bigger and somehow deeper.
Mouths dropped all over the Great Hall as nearly everyone stared, people leaning back and across their friends to get a look at him. Harry felt very self-conscious. He hadn't wanted to draw this much attention.
He looked quickly around for Ron and Hermione, and grinned as he spotted his friend sitting at one of the tables. Harry made his way over to them, and sat down in the one empty seat in between 'Dumbledore' and a football player. Slowly, the conversation level of noise rose back up to what it had been before, although people were still making an effort to catch a glimpse of Harry.
"Bloody good costume, mate!" Ron grinned, slapping Harry on the back after he sat down. "Those three sure know what they're doing! Oh, by the way, did Professor Brightflame mention me at all?"
Harry laughed and shook his head. "No, sorry. But they did keep throwing me in a closet and locking me in there for long stretches at a time. That got boring, I can tell you."
"What'd they chuck you in a closet for?" Ron wanted to know. Harry grinned at how much his friend looked like the Headmaster and shook his head.
"Dunno. I think they were helping other people with their costumes as well," he said, and looked around Ron at Hermione. His eyebrows shot up.
"Well. You look ... different," Harry said finally. Hermione glared at him.
"Where'd your glasses go?" she asked. Ron hit himself in the forehead.
"I knew there was something missing!" he exclaimed. Harry and Hermione laughed.
"Moonshine did some spell that corrected my vision for a while. She didn't know how long it would last, but it's working so far. They said something like 'Elves don't wear glasses'."
"No offense, but you don't look much like a house-elf, mate."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not a house-elf, Ron. I'm an Elf, capital E. Don't ask – they thought it up, not me. Anyway, like it?"
"The costume? It's bloody brilliant, mate," Ron replied. Hermione was slower to respond.
"Oh – yes, it's very effective," she said matter-of-factly, playing with her gold dinner fork. Every time Harry looked at her, he took in more of her costume. If his was effective, hers was very effective. He'd never seen her in something so ... different before. It wasn't the most revealing thing he'd ever seen, but it was enough. Her hair was straight and layered, too.
And her amber eyes. They were attention grabbing; almost hypnotizing to watch. Harry caught himself staring, and blinked a couple of times to clear his head. Ron was looking at him oddly.
"Hello-o? Earth to Harry, anyone in there?" Ron asked, knocking lightly on Harry's forehead. "I said, are Brightflame and the other two coming to the ball?"
"Sorry. I don't know – I would think so, almost everyone else has," Harry replied. Ron sighed longingly.
"I hope she comes. I wonder what she'll be dressed as. D' you think she might be an Egyptian princess or something? That would be brilliant..." Ron looked off into the distance and entered his own little fantasy world. Harry rolled his eyes at his friend and turned to the football player on his other side.
"Dean?" he asked, and the football player nodded, pointing to his chest. The shirt read West Ham Avengers – Dean's favourite Muggle team. Harry nodded in understanding and looked past him to Dracula. "Seamus," he said, and the other boy nodded.
"Nice costume there, Harry," he said in approval. Harry grinned.
"Thanks. Why, Nick, you're not see-through!" he said to Neville, seated by Seamus. Neville raised his eyebrows.
"I'm not Nearly Headless Nick, I'm Neville, just so you know," he said earnestly. Harry fought very hard to keep a straight face.
"I know, Neville. I know," he said. "Good costume, though."
"Thanks!" Neville beamed. "I spent hours putting on all sorts of white powder on my face and hair and my hands, and do you know, I had hardly any white clothes, I had to borrow nearly all of it."
"Huh. Uh ... Ginny?" Harry guessed at the girl sitting on Neville's other side. She was dressed as Xena the Warrior Princess, and she nodded, grinning.
"I once saw an episode of Xena when I was at a Muggle-born friend's house, and I decided to dress up as her," Ginny explained cheerfully. Harry swallowed. Now her outfit was revealing. She certainly had come out of her shy shell since last year, he thought to himself. He didn't know any of her three friends, so he didn't bother trying to guess who they were as his eyes traveled around the table, coming to rest (once again) on Hermione, who was now talking to Ron.
Dumbledore – the real Dumbledore – stood up at the High Table, and silence gradually fell over the hall. "I have three announcements to make," he announced once he had everyone's attention. "Firstly, after the Halloween feast has finished, the first, second- and third-years will be escorted back to their respective dormitories by their Heads of Houses to have a games night. Secondly, during the ball, there will be no skedoodling on the dance floor or anywhere in the immediate vicinity of the dance floor. Thirdly, it is my command that each and every one of you have fun tonight. For now, enjoy your meal!" he said, and everyone tucked in as the golden dishes were filled with food.
A few seconds later, there was yelling outside in the Entrance Hall.
"Get your ass moving!"
"We spent time working on you, so get in there!"
"Come on!"
Apart from the frustrated yells coming from what sounded like Brightflame, Moonshine and Blackstorm was an unearthly howl of agony that sounded vaguely familiar to Harry, but not really. The doors to the Great Hall were pushed open yet again, and in stomped someone, dragging behind them an unwilling man; it was difficult to tell who he was. But the one dragging him in was nearly unrecognizable.
After close examination, it turned out to be professor Blackstorm. She was wearing all black, with a leather corset-like device for a top, with purple silk underneath it. A Batman-esque (A/N: for lack of a better descriptive word) cape hung from a collar around her neck and was attached to the wrists of her long gloves. The gloves didn't cover her fingers, just ending after the palm. (Hand socks, but leather.) Her pants were not tight but not baggy either, and her leather boots came up to her knees. They had shiny silver buckles all the way up. She had black markings on her face similar to Harry's, but more.
The dark triangle under her eye was jagged and rough around the edges, and there were two parallel, horizontal triangles on her other cheek. A pitch-black diamond-shaped stone was set onto the middle of her forehead, and she had dark makeup on. Her ears were like Harry's: long and pointy. The students assumed she was an Elf as well, then, but a more modern, scary one.
The man she was dragging into the Hall snarled at her. "I told you time and time again, I do not want to be here!"
Everyone gawked. The voice belonged to none other than Severus Snape. But was it?
His hair was fluffy; it didn't look greasy at all, and it almost ... bounced ... as he walked forward. (A/N: Well, as he was dragged forward.) The unhealthy pallor that usually adorned his skin was gone; now he looked like he was made of porcelain. It was so unusual, unnatural, and all-around wrong that at first, many refused to believe that it actually was Snape. But under further inspection, it turned out to be quite true, and he appeared to be solid, so perhaps it wasn't just a well-crafted illusion. He really could look clean if he wanted to (A/N: or if some very determined, very beautiful women wanted him to).
"Well, now that you are here, you might as well shut up about it!" Blackstorm growled at him, yanking him toward the High Table by the sleeve of his robes. Reluctantly, he moved after her, and stopped grumbling. Or, rather, he stopped grumbling loudly. The students' attention shifted, however, at the sound of agonized yowling from outside the doors. Brightflame's back appeared through them, wearing a dress of all reds, oranges, yellows and pinks; her entire costume flickered with hungry flames, and although they gave off considerable heat, they didn't burn.
She was desperately holding onto hands that were tied together with a strong strip of leather. However sadistic/masochistic that may sound, it was purely for his own good. It turned out to be Elendil, in all his female-attracting, silver haired glory. He was struggling for all he was worth in an attempt to somehow avoid the inevitable draggage of himself into the Great Hall by Brightflame and whoever was pushing him from behind.
"I hate parties, I hate people, I hate dancing, I hate balls!" he was moaning. Blackstorm growled at him over her shoulder from up ahead.
"Do you also hate good free food?"
Elendil paused and pondered this for a moment, and Brightflame seized her chance. She yanked on his wrists as hard as she could, and he stumbled forward into the Great Hall. Moonshine was pushing him from behind and straightened up as Brightflame took over, using Elendil's momentum to get him up to the high table. If not every male's jaw was dropped at their STUNNING BEAUTY already, they all were now.
Moonshine was wearing all green with blue streaks. The airy and flowy material of her shirt and pants was sheer and layered, rustling and shifting with every movement she made. Her hair was quite different than the long golden brown it had been; now it was just above her shoulders, layered and choppy, and was a deep auburn-red colour. Green, flowered vines seemed to grow out of her very skin; they surrounded her and twisted themselves about her body. But all these things paled in comparison to the massive wings sprouting out from her shoulder blades.
They were a myriad of colours, ranging through all the colours of the rainbow and more. They all seemed to blend together and seemed to be constantly moving around. The edges of the wings, which extended down to the floor and about four feet above Moonshine's head, were jagged and long. The wings themselves were translucent, and fluttered slightly in a nonexistent breeze.
She looked around at the drooling students who were watching her, Blackstorm and Brightflame and rolled her eyes.
"Shut your traps, all of you. Have you never seen girls before?" she drawled, and impatiently followed her two coworkers up to the high table and helped them keep Snape and Elendil down.
Dumbledore looked on curiously until they had all sat down, and then couldn't keep in his question any longer. "Professors, would you care to introduce Master...?"
"Elendil Losshelin. He's my cousin," said Moonshine. Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow.
"Your cousin, Professor?" asked McGonagall inquiringly.
"Yes. My cousin. Elendil. I hope you don't mind his coming, Headmaster," Moonshine reiterated. "His visit was rather unexpected for me, as well."
"Just can't stay away from my dear old cousin," Elendil piped up, earning himself a glare.
"Old! You're calling me old!" Moonshine said accusingly, and instantly a vine appeared in her hand. "If I remember correctly, you're far older than I am. By a LOT!"
Elendil looked bored. "Oh, bother to you. Killjoy."
"I'M a ki–?"
"Yes, well, it's lovely to meet you, Master Losshelin," Dumbledore interrupted gracefully.
"Please, Elendil. A pleasure to meet you as well, Headmaster."
"Sure, you're utterly polite to him..." grumbled Moonshine, just loud enough for most of the students to hear her and laugh. When Dumbledore turned back to the room at large, Elendil stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth at Moonshine, who glowered.
"Welcome, students, to our Halloween Ball!" Dumbledore said, raising his arms for silence, which immediately fell. "I trust you have all found a place to sit at a table with your friends. After the feast, the first, second- and third-years will all go with their respective Heads of Houses to their common rooms, where a games night will take place. Here in the Great Hall, the dancing shall begin. I beg of you not to be shy and to all shake your booties to your hearts' content. And one last piece of advice: never go anywhere without yourself! Tuck in!"
Amid laughter and applause, the students heartily did so.
"So, have you heard the news?" Seamus asked during dessert. He leaned in closer to Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville. "There's a rumour going around that You-Know-Who is back!"
Simultaneously, all four other boys whacked him over the head and flicked food into his face.
"Okay, okay, I was making a joke! I actually did have something to say, though," he said in defense. "Listen. I heard that You-Know-Who has actually been sighted all over Europe in the past couple of months, but they're trying to keep it hush-hush still. I think the last place they saw him was somewhere in Greece."
The boys' eyes widened. "You – you're not putting us on, are you?" Neville asked nervously. Seamus shook his head, deadly serious.
"No, mate. Me mum read a tiny article mentioning it in the corner of a page in Witch Weekly – it was only three lines long. Someone really doesn't want the public to know, probably to stop widespread panic."
"Blimey," breathed Dean, just as Ron exclaimed, "Bloody hell!" under his breath. Neville had turned pale.
"I wonder what he's up to now," Harry said grimly. The other boys turned to look at him, and Ron tentatively opened his mouth to ask a question.
"Have you ... er ... had any ... ahem ... any dreams, like you did last year? Something to tell you what's going on?"
"No."
"What are you all talking about?" asked Hermione, looking around Harry at the five boys. They had all opened their mouths to say something different when Dumbledore stood up and silence fell.
"Now that you have all finished your food, it is time for the ball to start! Everyone up, please!" he said, and as the student body stood up, all the chairs and tables moved quickly to the sides of the hall, stacking themselves into neat little piles – the food and plates had already disappeared. "Third-years and below, you know what to do! Let the dancing begin!"
As the younger kids made their way out of the Great Hall, music began to play from the High Table. Everyone looked up at it; a band of five wizards and witches were playing and singing. A few students started moving out onto the floor, and at their brave acts, soon almost everyone was dancing.
Harry, Ron and Hermione casually stood against the wall, talking, when they happened to overhear a group of the teachers having a conversation as they passed slowly by.
"So, whereabouts do you come from, Master Losshelin?" Snape asked shrewdly. Elendil gestured vaguely.
"Oh, here and there, and around. I was born in – uh – Hathersage Booths, but I travel a lot, never really stay in one place for long."
"Hathersage Booths, you say?"
"Yes, that's in ... Somerset. West of London, you know."
"Of course..." Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but didn't say anything further. Flitwick took over the questioning now.
"Your hair and eyes are quite interesting colours," he commented. "What kind of spell did you use?"
"Oh, the uh, hahaha isn't that funny, I can't seem to..."
Blackstorm punched Elendil lightly on the arm. "Go on, tell the man. Actually, Professor Flitwick, it was the –"
"Oh, yes! I remember now!" Elendil interrupted, his eyes lighting up. "The blah charm. It's very effective. I've gotten so used to using it I completely forgot what it was called ... I just say the words automatically now."
"I see, that's very interesting."
"So why again are you here, exactly?" Snape asked, looking carefully at Elendil to measure his response. The silver-haired man smiled broadly.
"I can't keep away from my dear cousin!" he said, wrapping an arm around Moonshine's shoulders and noogieing the top of her head. She forced a smile of her own onto her face and poked him in the side.
"And where will you be staying, Master Losshelin?" Professor Sinistra asked Moonshine. Her wings were folded over and were now acting as a translucent, shimmering cloak-like object for her. She grinned.
"He's staying in Darkira's rooms. It's already been arranged," she said, just a hint of malevolency in her tone. Both Blackstorm and Elendil choked and coughed in unison, glaring furiously at the winged woman. She ignored them cheerfully. "Oh, yes," she went on, grinning even more widely, "her quarters are bigger than mine are, and Fiora's are the smallest of all. There was really no other option."
Now the group of teachers had passed beyond earshot, and Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked at each other, not knowing quite what to think. Ron shrugged.
"Well."
"Shouldn't technically Elendil be staying with Moonshine, since they're cousins?" Hermione asked, lifting her eyebrows skeptically. Harry nodded.
"I would think so. But whatever, it's not our business. Oh – that reminds me – speaking of something being none of our business, apparently Voldemort's been sighted all over Europe lately. Seamus's mother read a three-line-long article in Witch Weekly about it."
"Really? Goodness..." she said in a low voice, eyes wide. Ron nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. Scary, eh?"
"For this next song, I'd like to make a special request!" bellowed one of the singers suddenly. Everyone looked in her direction. "Everybody has to dance to this one!" All the people standing against the wall around the room swallowed. "If you don't, we'll make you, too! What's the point of a ball if nobody's on the floor, anyway? Come on, get up on your feet!" she cried, and reluctantly, all the students moved forward.
Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked uncomfortably at each other. "Er..." said Harry, and then Ginny popped up out of nowhere between him and Ron.
"Gah!" cried the tall redhead. "Where'd you come from!"
"Ron, everyone has to dance! Come, my friend Laura has a crush on you," Ginny said matter-of-factly, taking a firm hold of Ron's sleeve and turning to Harry. "You want me to find you someone, too?"
"No thanks!" Harry said, his voice strangely high-pitched, and he quickly slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "We're good!"
"Okay," Ginny shrugged, and dragged Ron into the crowd. He managed to yelp for help, but as neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to be subjected to Ginny's matchmaking, they just laughed and waved. When the two Weasleys had disappeared, Harry removed his arm and they turned to look at each other.
"Right. So, uh, shall we dance?" he said nervously, and Hermione laughed.
"Sure." The music started playing, and she fell easily into the rhythm. Harry stood rather stiffly, however, and became very worried. "What?"
"How do you do it?"
"Do what, dance?"
"Yeah, that."
"Oh! How typical. The girl has to teach the guy how to dance," Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Here, I'll show you." Over the course of the song, she made him shift his weight from one foot to the other in small steps and bob his head slightly to the beat. He really was hopeless; he'd trip over his own feet (or, on occasion, other people's feet), and couldn't seem to loosen up. His whole body was still very stiff by the end of the song, and he felt extremely relieved that it was over.
"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione asked when he started to walk towards the side of the room again. He looked at her, unsure of what to expect.
"Uh ... the song's over. I'm going to go sit down."
"You aren't going anywhere until you learn how to dance, mister," she grinned, and tugged him back into place. He paled slightly.
"All it is, is moving from side to side!" he protested.
"Yeah, and you still can't do it," she countered, sticking her tongue out at him. "Like I said – you can't sit down until you can move."
"That makes no sense," Harry muttered, but didn't try to escape. He knew he wouldn't get very far. When the next song started, Hermione resumed her instruction on how to dance. She tried and tried to get him to loosen up, always keeping at least a foot of space between them so that he wouldn't be nervous and become immobile again.
She wouldn't let him leave until three songs later, when he had sufficiently learned how to flow to the rhythm to Hermione's satisfaction.
"We'd better go find Ron," Harry said with a laugh when she finally said he was good enough. He wiped sweat off his brow – it was hot in there – and she nodded. They left the floor and walked around the edges of the Great Hall in search of their friend. They hadn't seen hide or hair of him since Ginny had dragged him off earlier. When they finally spotted him, he was surrounded by a group of fifth-year girls, and he looked absolutely petrified.
Laughing, Harry and Hermione came over and rescued him from the girls, and sat him down on the opposite side of the Hall from them. He immediately started yelling.
"Where have you two BEEN! I haven't been able to escape them for about a bloody century! They're all giggly and, 'aren't you the cutest little Dumbledore! We love your costume!'" he said, doing a ridiculous impression of an eyelash-batting girl. Harry couldn't stop laughing, and Hermione was having trouble controlling herself as well. Ron rolled his eyes at them and crossed his arms. "BOTHER you two!"
Just then, a man in normal wizard's robes hurried up to them and grabbed Ron's arm, taking him aside a foot or two away. He looked serious and worried. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, who shrugged in confusion.
"Professor Dumbledore," the man said in a low, urgent voice, "I have a message from the Order. You-Know-Who was just sighted in Rome. He Disapparated almost immediately, but the witness was positive it was him – he took the Angevellius Key from the catacombs underneath Vatican City!"
"He took the what from the who under where?" Ron asked, completely and utterly baffled. The man looked strangely at him.
"Dumbledore?"
"No, I'm Ron!" cried Ron. "This is just my costume – it's Halloween, man!"
The man paled to nearly white. "Bloody f–"
"Excuse me, is something the matter?" asked Dumbledore, striding up through the sea of students and coming to stand beside Ron and the man. Ron shrugged helplessly, and the man looked intensely relieved.
"Dumbledore?" he asked, and the headmaster nodded briskly.
"What is it, Alan?"
"An urgent message from the Order," Alan replied, and the two walked away quickly.
Hermione and Harry came in close to Ron, who looked at them with wide eyes in complete confusion. "What on earth was that about?" he asked quietly.
"Frankly, I have no idea," Hermione said, "but I get the feeling that whatever it was, was important."
"Me too," agreed Harry. "I feel like we're in first year again, trying to figure out who Nicolas Flamel was."
"What, you want to go look up the Angels of Hell Key?"
"The Angevellius Key, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't you listen at all? That man said Voldemort took it from the catacombs underneath Vatican City – that's in Rome, Italy. We can start looking there."
"You want us to go to Italy?"
"No, you idiot, I'm saying we can start by researching catacombs there, see if we can find anything of interest. How on earth would we have gotten to Italy anyway?"
"I dunno, Apparate or something."
"We don't know how to Apparate. And besides which we're underage, making it illegal."
"Shut up, you two," Harry finally interrupted, shaking his head. "Arguing about stupid things won't get us any closer to finding out what Voldemort's up to. I think we should go to the library."
"What, now? The party's only just started, can't we worry about it later?"
Harry and Hermione both looked at Ron incredulously, then turned and started to make their way through the crowd of dancing students in the direction of the exit. Ron hurried to catch up with them. "What? What did I say?"
Twenty feet from the doors, Ginny-Warrior-Princess popped out from nowhere again. "You have a knack for doing that," was Harry's comment. She grinned and grabbed her brother.
"Laura's been looking all over for you, Ron!" she exclaimed over the loud music. "Come on, she'll be so disappointed if you just leave her cold like this!" Ignoring Ron's terrified protests, she dragged him away and they soon disappeared into the masses. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, biting their lips to stop themselves from laughing, and then both decided that there was no point.
"Think we should start looking in the library anyway?" Hermione asked when they'd finished. Harry shrugged and nodded.
"Why not? After all, it's not as if Ron likes doing research," he said reasonably, and they started to leave again. Ten feet from the doors, they were interrupted once more, this time by Seamus in his Dracula costume. He sauntered up to Hermione and placed his arm around her waist while holding her hand with his other hand.
"I'd suck your blood any day, my dear," he said suavely into her ear. Hermione blinked blankly at him for a few seconds, then slipped out of his grasp.
"That would be painful on my part, so no thanks," she replied smoothly, and determinedly didn't look at Harry as she continued making her way out of the Great Hall. He was laughing so hard his eyes were tearing up, but it wasn't over yet.
Justin Finch-Fletchley came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. It was hard to tell in the relatively dim lighting and with all the dancing students around them, but he was blushing. Hermione turned around to look at him. "Yes?"
"Er ... uh ... do you want to dance?" he asked bashfully. Harry snorted, a few feet away. Hermione sighed and rested her hands on her hips.
"Justin, I'm flattered, really, but I was actually just leaving."
Justin flushed hotly, and nodded, looking down. "Oh, okay."
"Oh, god, I didn't mean it like that," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Sorry – ugh, now I feel horrid," she complained to Harry as Justin turned and walked away. "It's not fair."
Harry couldn't keep a straight face. "Oh, poor you to have everyone think you're gorgeous," he said sarcastically. Hermione was about to reply snappishly when a gaggle of girls, headed by Lavender and Parvati, swarmed up and surrounded him.
"Harry, Harry, come dance with us!" they were all saying excitedly – with far too much giggling, in Harry's opinion – and he looked desperately at Hermione.
"Help!" he mouthed at her, but she simply crossed her arms over her chest and stood back, watching as the girls took him away, and laughed. Her smug moment was completely ruined by Dean.
"I'm going in!" he yelled, and charged at her from the side. She didn't have enough time to react, and in one fluid movement that he had obviously practiced for hours on end, he swept her whole body up over his shoulder and started carrying her away, amid much cheering from about twenty other boys. Even as Harry was being taken prisoner by the girls, he couldn't help laughing at Hermione's predicament.
She, Harry and Ron all stayed separate for about an hour, each occasionally and unsuccessfully trying to escape from their own group. However, all three gradually started to enjoy themselves.
Ron really didn't mind having ten-odd girls fawning over him and exclaiming how cute his costume was. Hermione, although slightly bruised from Dean's tackle earlier, had loosened up and was dancing with a group of boys and some girls from various houses. And although Harry was still relatively uncomfortable, he got used to the girls, and was allowing them to teach him more about how to dance. This didn't necessarily mean he actually got any better, but he was beginning to have fun.
At around ten o' clock, Harry and Ron met up when their groups of girls collided and the older girls merged with the younger ones. "Harry!" Ron cried over the music, and waded through the girls to his friend. "So glad I found you, mate, they were becoming unbearably repetitive! 'Oh, you're so cute, I love your costume, and oh you're so cute I love your beard, oh you 're so cute I love your glasses,' on and ON and ON!"
Harry laughed. "Come on, let's go find Hermione," he said, and they somehow got out off the dance floor and sank down onto poufs at the edge of the room.
"Thought we were going to find Hermione?" Ron asked, and Harry shook his head tiredly, letting it flop back.
"Let her come to us, mate," he grinned, and Ron laughed. Surprisingly enough, they sat there for half an hour chatting, and she didn't magically show up. After a while Harry decided he'd had enough partying for one night, and stood up to go find their friend and leave. Ron wasn't so sure.
"I dunno, I kind of like dances," he said casually, and Harry shrugged.
"Suit yourself." He maneuvered through the crush of constantly moving bodies and located Hermione in the midst of a group of people on the other side of the room. She came over as soon as she saw him, smiling happily, her face flushed and her straightened hair slightly messy. He liked her hair that way. For no reason at all that he could think of, he found himself blushing.
"Hi, Harry! Where've you been?" she asked cheerfully when he was close enough to hear her over the din.
"Oh, just dancing," he grinned at her, and she laughed. "I'm tuckered out, though, think I'll head up to Gryffindor Tower. You coming?"
"Yeah, I've been dancing nonstop for forever, my feet are killing me!" she agreed. "Where's Ron?"
"He wanted to stay, don't ask me why," Harry said, and she shrugged as they turned to leave. This time they made it all the way to the doors without being stopped, but just as they were about to slip outside, they opened, and Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall came in. When Harry thought about it, he hadn't noticed that any of them had gone, but he hadn't seen them during the approximate two hours that had passed since Dumbledore had left with the strange man named Alan.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione called as the other two teachers walked past them into the crowded room.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"We couldn't help – overhearing what that man was saying to Ron earlier," Harry said. Dumbledore looked ever grimmer than he had when he came in. "We'd like to know what he was talking about."
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Harry, and I believe you know why," Dumbledore said quietly. Harry had expected this answer, but still wasn't exactly pleased about it.
"With all due respect, Professor –" he began, but the headmaster cut him off before he could get any further.
"I'm sorry, Harry, and I understand the situation you are in, but I simply cannot disclose information such as this to you. It is strictly the business of the Order, and as you are not old enough to be included in Order activities as of yet, I am sorry but I can't. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have an announcement to make."
Harry turned to Hermione, frustrated, and she touched him sympathetically on the arm, but both knew that there was nothing productive they could say. (Note: Harry really wanted to complain, but as it wasn't productive, and Hermione was turning to look up at the stage, he didn't.) Hermione turned to look up at the stage where Dumbledore had moved to stand, the band making sufficient room for him as the music stopped. Everyone quieted.
"Hogwartians," he said with a smile, "it is time for me to announce the winners of tonight's costume contest. I shall first address the teachers. The female victor is none other than our very own Professor McGonagall, for her amazing duplication of a Victorian Muggle."
The room rang with applause as McGonagall came forward and received a large bag of chocolate and sweets from the headmaster, smiling. Dumbledore turned back to the room. "And the male winner is of course Professor Flitwick, for his wonderful imitation of a mouse!"
The tiny old wizard somehow made his way up to the stage and also received a large bag full of sweets from the headmaster. He turned to the students. "And now the moment you have all been waiting for – the winners of the student costume contest! The female winner is Susan Bones, for her outstanding representation of Frankenstein's bride!"
The girl came happily up onto the stage amidst cheers and shook Dumbledore's hand, knowing that her prize would come over winter break. He turned back to the room at large for the final time, and smiled. "And finally, the last winner of a prize tonight, the male student victor is Ronald Weasley, for his stupendous impersonation of myself!"
Harry and Hermione cheered wildly from the doors as their friend made his way up to the stage, whooping, and shook Dumbledore's hand enthusiastically. He spotted them from the stage, and waved, laughing in delight. It really was remarkable how much he resembled the headmaster. Hermione leaned close and said in Harry's ear, "Do you think that's what he'll look like when he's old?"
Harry burst out laughing.