An ancient tower in the Forbidden Forest broke through the trees, seeming to brush the sky. The sun was just rising above the lush forest, creeping over the tower like the vines that had long ago begun their assault up the gray stone.
Watching the forest from one arched window stood a woman in a black cloak. She turned away from the window, surveying the inside of the turret, which had all the trappings of a mad alchemist's lab. Shiny bottles of strangely colored fluids lined row after row of wooden shelves. A cauldron boiled over the fire and various murky vats steamed odd silver and gold mists into the air. In the center of the room sat a large round container.
"Anandeus."
"Yesssss, my lord?" The witch Anandeus turned to look at the pot where Voldemort had taken root. Literally.
The black pot had been filled with sand, presumably from the desert, as it surrounded a tall, man-shaped cactus. It seemed Lord Voldemort was running out of forms to take.
"You have not yet explained why you think it will be so simple to destroy Potter and take a student for my new body. I realize that Dumbledore will not be present at Hogwarts for the next week, but Potter has shown remarkable intuition in the past. How will I be sure he has not discovered my plan?"
The woman nodded. "Ah, my lord. You have chosen a veeeery aussssspiciousssss time to attack. For you ssssseeee, the night after thissss is February 14th."
"Yes, and?"
"Valentine'ssss Day. There is a danssse on thissss day."
"Ah, yes." To the extent that a cactus-man can smile, Voldemort was. "It brings back memories. Re-writing candy hearts… poisoning chocolates… that dead rat in my gift to Teera… ahem. So, obviously Potter will be distracted, but will it be enough?"
The witch flashed her knife-blade teeth. "Yesss, Potter hasssss set himssself-"
"Would you stop with the hissing already?"
Anandeus looked hurt. "But my lord, I sssound like a sssnake, and it ssscares the children."
"No you don't and no it doesn't. You were sssaying? Er, saying?"
"Yes. Potter has unwittingly engineered his own diversion, far better than anything I could have devised."
"Which is?" Voldemort was obviously growing impatient, which was generally not a good thing. Anandeus quickly explained what she had discovered.
"Excellent!" Voldemort sounded positively ecstatic. The witch backed away; what most people feared now from Voldemort was a friendly pat on the back, or a high five. But instead Voldemort sighed.
"My lord?"
"I wish I could rub my hands together gleefully."
"Soon, my lord. Soon."
"Harry! Harry!" Ron was shaking him, and the very strange dream Harry was having about an evil cactus man slipped away as quickly as it had come.
"What?" Harry muttered.
"You have to get up! Don't you know what day it is?"
"It's Saturday." Harry stuffed his face into his pillow.
"No! Well, yes, but it's the day before the dance!"
With a groan, Harry gave up attempting to ignore Ron, who was now pacing back and forth in front of his bed. He put on his glasses and looked at the clock.
"Ron, it's five in the morning."
"Exactly. The dance is at nine o'clock tomorrow night, leaving us exactly 40 hours to get ready."
"Giving me 39 hours to sleep." Harry flopped back against the pillows.
But Ron kept pacing, and Harry could hear each footstep clomp down in the large room. Finally he opened one eye. "Why are you so worked up about this, Ron?" Normally, Ron was the most easy-going – not to mention procrastinating – person he knew.
Ron stopped pacing. "If I screw up, Hermione will kill me."
Harry nodded slowly. "You're right. At least let me get some breakfast first."
The Great Hall was packed, but the first thing Harry noticed – he hadn't even realized he was looking – was Malfoy. And Malfoy was looking back at him, a suspicious look on his face that Harry supposed matched his own. Harry looked away. He had a very bad feeling about today.
While Harry tried to eat his blueberry bagel, Ron was listing everything they were going to do during the day. Harry tried to pay attention, but he was too busy thinking about other things. Plus, Ron kept saying everything in military time.
"0800. We meet Ginny, who will help us brush up on our dancing. 0900... Harry, are you even listening?"
"Got it. '0900, Harry are you even…' oh. Sorry."
Ron frowned and waved his spoon at Harry. "You've been doing a lot of that lately. Listen, if whoever it was turned you down, we'll find someone else. I don't care if it's the ugliest hag, I don't care how many teeth she's missing, but you're going to this dance, and no one's- "
"No," Harry shook his head. "Geez, thanks for your vote of confidence, Ron. It's not that. It's just – " Harry didn't feel right about the upcoming dance. Something horrible was going to happen. Either that, or the bagel he had just eaten was a bit on the old side. Maybe, though, he was simply worried, because there was still no response to his note. Maybe he was afraid to go to the dance alone. He sighed. "I don't know. I guess I'm just nervous."
Ron nodded wisely. "Honestly," he confided, "I'm a bit nervous myself." Harry didn't mention how obvious that statement was, and Ron looked back down at his list. "I wish I knew who you were going with." But Ron didn't press, which was good, because Harry's response would have been "so do I." "Okay, so 0900. First, we'll stop at Talben's Tailors…"
Harry left the other half of his bagel on the plate. He did eat part of his omelet, though. He had a feeling today was going to be a very long day.
Somewhere in Ron's tightly planned schedule – actually, when Ron and Ginny began fighting, and Harry thought it best to go out – Harry found a chance to go down to the Great Hall. A lump in his throat, he approached the knight. He reached up, his palm resting on the warm helm, then lifted it. His hand brushed a piece of parchment, and he pulled it out.
Yes. You will pardon the delay; I needed to cancel a prior engagement.
Meet me here. Don't be late.
"Yes!" He reread the note, just to make sure. It was strange; he couldn't figure it out, and he didn't bother trying, but something about the tone of the letter was familiar.
When Ron found him, though, they went to Talben's Tailors, and Mr. Talben, a friendly man with a plump face, told them he would have their dress robes early tomorrow afternoon. Ron abandoned his schedule, and he and Harry spent the rest of the evening with Hermione in the common room, speculating on the upcoming event. Ron bet Hermione a butterbeer that the twinkle in Snape's eye meant he was going to try to take McGonagall to the dance. Hermione, normally not one to gamble, bet that the twinkle in Snape's eye meant he was planning to slam them all with a surprise quiz the Monday after the dance. She said the odds were so much in her favor, she could hardly refuse. Harry said he'd never noticed a twinkle in Snape's eyes, but if there was one, he'd probably gotten some powdered phlox in them.
They laughed, had a good time, and Harry forgot the two things he had been worrying about. When his head hit the pillow that night, he gave a brief thought to the mystery of his dance partner, pondered momentarily on the vague, looming threat that seemed to be taking shape, then fell asleep before you could say "Malfoy mauled a mob of muggles." From the look of things, Harry was going to need all the sleep he could get.
AN: All right, guys. I've gone too far. I admit it. Cactus Voldemort was artistic license taken too far, say, off the edge of a cliff. Utterly ridiculous.
"Where's the action?" you cry. (meaning Harry/Draco, of course) Next chapter, I promise! The dance (da-dun!) and Voldemort's less-than-creative plan to destroy Potter are unfortunately mingled with interesting results.
I guess that's all until next time. Thanks bunches for reviewing! Oh, one last thing. Say "Malfoy mauled a mob of muggles five times very fast…