Thank you for all the responses on the last chapter!
A somewhat bouncy chapter. Well, kind of. Various characters do get whacked on the head.
gets out mallet
Chapter Thirty-Four: Serpent's Strike
"But what's the matter?" Blaise asked innocently, waving the Daily Prophet in Harry's face. "I would have thought you'd be pleased to see another article about you. Proves they haven't got tired of you yet."
Harry ground his teeth. If he could just respond calmly, or somehow banish the tide of blushing in his cheeks, then he could make Blaise stop teasing, he knew, but that was beyond him.
"It's been more than a week," he said, swallowing half his pumpkin juice at one gulp. Draco had to pound him on the back, and did so, more enthusiastically than was necessary. Harry shook his head when he could speak again. "You'd think they'd have forgotten about it by now."
He became aware immediately that he was the object of pitying stares from several directions. He met Millicent's eyes, and Pansy's, and Draco's, before he got tired of the game. "What?" he demanded.
"Potter," Blaise drawled. "Do you really think that a child defeating three adult dragons is going to be forgotten that easily?"
"I didn't defeat them, they flew off—"
"While the professors were doing nothing but standing around?" Blaise peeked at his paper. "Where is it—yes, there. 'Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore seemed confused by Harry Potter's presence in the air.'"
"They were defending the students—"
"And then you came back to the ground safely, after flying on your broom against dragons?" Blaise shook his head at him. "It's such a dramatic story, Harry. Of course they're going to love you."
"Of course I came back unharmed." Harry wanted to eat more of his toast, but he'd lost his appetite. He sighed and closed his eyes, massaging his forehead.
"Headache?" Millicent asked.
Harry peered at her, but she only looked sympathetic, not suspicious. "No," he said. And it wasn't, really. His scar hadn't hurt much in the last week. This headache had more prosaic causes. "I just wish they'd give up and move on to something else." He shook his head and stood. "Come on. McGonagall hasn't forgiven me for missing Transfiguration last Friday yet."
They'd just stood when Blaise, who was still looking at his paper, said, "Hello."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Didn't you fight a witch named Umbridge?" Blaise asked, glancing at him in interest. "Says here that she's been appointed Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
Harry felt his heart rate pick up. "That's ridiculous," he said to no one in particular. "She hated me because I was a Parselmouth. There's no way that anyone would let her be in charge of the place where we're supposed to go to register or be taken care of. There's no way…" He shook his head, unable to think of the folly it would take for someone to appoint Umbridge there.
On the other hand, this is the Ministry, after all. And not everyone in it is like Rufus Scrimgeour.
"Doesn't matter." Blaise folded the paper with a careless shrug. "Sometimes Ministry politics are like that."
"I know." Harry didn't speak the rest of what he was thinking aloud. If Umbridge was in a position where she could hurt magical creatures, that was a concern of his. He was vates. He had to think about this, and what it might mean for the future of magical creatures in Britain.
"Spill," said Millicent.
Harry started slightly. "I was thinking about my allies," he said, nevertheless. He had tried, whenever he wasn't hiding around the corner from people who wanted to congratulate him on being a bloody hero, to be more open with the Slytherins, and explain what he worried about and why. "The centaurs and the rest of them. They aren't going to fare well with a bitch like Umbridge in power."
"You're always thinking of the larger picture, aren't you?" Millicent didn't sound condemning, just thoughtful.
"He always is."
That didn't come from Blaise, from whom it would have been sarcasm, but from Draco. Harry turned around and looked at him in astonishment. He was taken further off guard by the open light he saw shining in Draco's eyes, something like tenderness and something like pride.
Why is he looking at me like that? I mean, I know he's my friend, but friends don't usually look at friends like that.
Draco gave him a small smile, and said, "I take it that you want to do something about this, Harry."
"I—yes." Harry shook his head, and felt the Many snake stir on his arm. It was a welcome distraction from trying to figure out why the hell Draco had been looking at him like that when he hadn't done anything to merit it. "Millicent, can you come with me to the Forbidden Forest this afternoon? I think I should find you an egg-shaped stone and introduce you to the centaurs."
Millicent nodded, her face relaxing. "About time, Potter," she said, but she didn't sound annoyed with him.
"Attention, students."
Harry turned around in irritation. They'd been close to getting out of the Great Hall, but more than that, Dumbledore's announcements at breakfast had never been beneficial for him.
The Headmaster didn't look in Harry's direction, though, instead choosing to twinkle at the tables where the Durmstrang and the Beauxbatons students sat, and at the Gryffindor table.
"I would just like to remind everyone," he said, projecting his voice easily over the Hall, "that the Yule Ball is coming up in a few weeks—a tradition that Hogwarts has always followed whenever the Triwizard Tournament has been held here. Students will be invited to the Great Hall for a night of dancing and celebration." The smile on his face grew more pronounced. "The Ball is limited to students fourth year and up, unless younger students attend with an older partner. Dress robes are the required formal wear. Our Champions will lead the dancing. I suggest you find yourself partners soon, Mr. Krum, Miss Delacour, and Mr. Potter. Your various schools will be counting on you to make a good showing."
This isn't the Second Task, is it? Harry thought in panic for a moment, before relaxing and telling himself not to be stupid. He knew the schedule as well as anyone else. The Second Task wasn't until February. He told himself to get over his paranoia, and moved towards the doors from the Great Hall, ignoring the other students' excited buzz. He supposed that announcement hadn't been that awful, though for all he knew it could have unforeseen awful consequences. All the others had.
"Excellent," Blaise said in a tone of deep satisfaction.
Before Harry could ask him what he meant, Draco sniped, "Thinking about asking your little crush, Blaise?"
The other boy flushed slightly, but lifted his chin and said, "As a matter of fact, I think I will. I think it's more than you'll get up the courage to do, Draco, since you've just been going around moping and brooding and thinking yours will never talk to you." He turned and walked out of the Great Hall with a smart stride.
"You could just talk to your crush, you know," said Harry, grabbing Draco's arm so that he couldn't hex Blaise in the back. "I know you don't want to, that you're shy, but it's the only way this person will ever know for certain that you like him or her."
Draco turned on him so fast that Harry nearly sat down on the floor. "You don't know," Draco spat, his face turning an ugly, mottled red. "You'll never get it, Harry Potter, not until it's marching in enormous letters down the ceiling of the Great Hall." He narrowed his eyes. "And I am not shy."
"You're certainly unreasonable about it," said Harry, moving away from Draco. There was no dealing with him in these moods. "And Blaise will only keep teasing you about it until you do something to counteract the teasing."
Draco just shook his head and brushed out of the Great Hall.
Millicent and Pansy were laughing as though they'd just heard the greatest joke in the world. Harry decided there was no chance to get sense out of them, either, and strode after Blaise and Draco.
"Ew," said Millicent, fastidiously flicking slime from her shoe with a spell. The Forbidden Forest was easier to navigate in the light, Harry had to admit, but it wasn't necessarily more pleasant.
"Come on, we're almost there," Harry said. His hold on the egg-shaped stone he'd found after a few hours' searching was tight. He didn't want to risk dropping it and then finding another. Besides, who knew what centaurs might have against dirt on the stone? Or perhaps they would insist that he bring only the first he found and no other.
He knew the centaurs were watching them. The odd snap of branches and the even odder hoofbeat said so. But they hadn't approached them yet. Harry suspected they wouldn't until he and Millicent reached the gallows clearing where he had saved Draco's life.
He and Millicent reached a pleasant stretch of the path, and Harry let himself relax a bit. It was a pretty day, most uncommon for December, the sun beaming through a pearly sky that lent itself to illumination as easily as the more usual blue. The trees around them had lost most of their leaves, but their trunks shimmered with splotches of gold from the light, and underneath their feet, the leaves talked and murmured as if they still hung on the branches. Harry felt a lively restlessness in the Forest. Most creatures were conducting their last business before the winter set in in earnest.
The solstice was coming in a few weeks. And then…then he would meet with Lucius Malfoy, and complete the final step in the truce-dance. Harry felt a quiet shiver of anticipation run through him, not unlike the emotions in the Forest's magical creatures. He thought he knew what Lucius would ask for, and he was alive with curiosity to see what he would receive himself.
Abruptly, the Many snake on his arm hissed so loudly that even Millicent glanced over. Harry stopped and drew back his sleeve, letting the little green-golden cobra see him. "What is it?" he asked, dropping into Parseltongue.
"Intruders," said the snake. "We can feel them. They are using the same spells that they used on us in our first home. They are searching for the hive, and when they find it, they will destroy it." The snake was vibrating with anger and anxiety. "How did they come here? Where are they from?"
Harry swore under his breath. He had promised that he would defend the Many from hunters, and he did not intend to go back on his promise. He turned and looked at Millicent, to make sure that he was speaking English. "Hunters," he whispered. "In the Forest, after the hive cobras."
Millicent's eyes widened, and then narrowed. "But the Forbidden Forest is off limits to hunters," she said. "Unless….oh, come on. That would just be stupid."
"What would be stupid?" Harry was listening now, trying to make out sounds that didn't belong to the Forest. It was useless. The Many's hive lay deeper in the woods, anyway. The hunters could be near it, and Harry wouldn't be able to hear them from this distance.
"Unless the Ministry allowed it," Millicent said, sounding disgusted. "Unless they passed some special kind of edict that said hunting was allowed. They did once fifty years ago, when the Chamber of Secrets was last opened and the beast was rampaging around the school. They thought it might be lairing in the Forest, so they authorized hunters to destroy it on sight."
Harry felt a brief shiver at the reminder of the Chamber—the memory he experienced when Dementors were near him—but he lost it in the rush of anger that followed. When he took a step forward, sloppy, new-formed ice broke under his foot. "Umbridge," he breathed. "She would have the power to allow something like this, and I bet she remembered that I could speak to hive cobras and had put them in the Forest. The Hounds could have told her. The bitch."
"What are you going to do?" Millicent shook her wand into her hand and followed him, head cocked on one side as if she weren't at all afraid. Harry supposed she might not be. His rage wasn't directed at her.
"Defend the Many," said Harry, but his mind was racing along another plan. His anger was greater than he had expected it to be. He understood it, though. Umbridge was only another minor thorn in his side. She aspired to become a major thorn, but he wasn't about to let her. And he had a way to prevent it, too, a way to make her go away for good and all. "Deprive Umbridge of her job. Manipulate people. You know, the usual."
Millicent laughed at his back, a sound full of dark promise. "Good," she said. "I wondered what you were going to do for an encore to the dragons. Lead the way, Potter."
Harry chose not to be bothered by her choice of words. He hissed at the Many, and they guided him and Millicent forward, towards the nest. Harry stroked the plan in his head, and hissed—a sound not part of Parseltongue—when he heard footsteps ahead.
You shouldn't have bothered my allies, he thought. You simply shouldn't have bothered my allies.
He crouched down, motioning Millicent to be still, and peered through the thick, tough fronds of some late-autumn plant in front of him. He could see two wizards, both fairly scrawny, dressed in robes that matched the browns and grays of the trees. They had their backs to him, and they were poised in front of the opening in the ground that Harry knew was the hive. They were debating something, softly, in voices too low for him to make out. One's wand sparkled the dark purple of a spell Harry didn't recognize.
"What are you going to do?" Millicent whispered.
Harry hissed softly to the Many in Parseltongue. The snake hissed back with enthusiasm, then slithered off his arm and dropped to the ground. It slid past the wizards without attacking, but called to its kin with their bond. Harry raised his eyebrows and waited.
The wizards' debate had ended. The one with the dark purple spell on his wand threw up his arms, as if agreeing that the other had the privilege of going first, and stepped back. The other came forward, turning slightly so that Harry could see his face. His eyes were narrow with determination, his head cocked slightly to the side, as if he could see down the nest by sheer force of will.
The Many exploded out of the den like a writhing flower.
Dozens of the tiny golden-green cobras raced straight for the wizards, who jumped back in sheer surprise. The nearest one raised his wand soon, though, and began to incant a spell that Harry suspected was meant to contain or destroy the snakes.
He cast a nonverbal, wandless Protego. He heard Millicent's breath catch sharply as his shield manifested above the cobras, throwing back the wizard's spell, though he wasn't sure why. With a wave of his hand, pleased that his magic stayed contained in his body, Harry expanded the Charm to cover the second slithering stream breaking off and attacking the other wizard.
This one didn't back down or seem as frightened as his companion had. He began steadily to chant, his face filled with disgust. Harry suspected that that spell wouldn't be able to get through his Shield Charm, either, but he thought this was a good time to intervene.
He bolted from the bushes, hissing frantically and waving his own arms. What he was hissing was really, "As we agreed, so that these buffoons don't know what's going on," but it would sound like a command to the wizards, and probably to Millicent.
The Many coalesced back together with an audible rasping snap, which came from hundreds of scales brushing together. They turned to face him, many small heads spinning all at once. Harry felt their mind leap from body to body and coalesce in one particular one near the head of the formation.
Harry hissed again, "As we agreed."
The Many began to sway back and forth, as if they were actually charmed by his very presence. Harry caught his breath and knelt down, hands held out, voice hissing a steady stream of reassurances. The Many flowed forward, slowly, and then faster, and climbed his body.
Harry stood up, draped with the cobras as he had been that day in Knockturn Alley, and let their tongues caress his face. The body that contained the hive's mind at the moment curled around his neck and hovered near his eyes. Harry stared back at it, and admired the slanting sunlight through its hood. He was still afraid, but the fear was a distant thing. He no longer seriously worried that the Many meant him harm; he only knew they could, and that was enough to keep a serious respect for them at the forefront of his mind. Let one of them spit, and I would be blind for the rest of my life. No cure for that poison, Muggle or magical. Remember that, Harry.
He hissed, "Quiet now?"
Their flowing voices came back to him, saying only, "Yes," and then they all fell silent as one. The overall effect, Harry had to concede, was quite impressive.
He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to the faces of the two wizards. The one who'd had the purple light on his wand still held it there, but he seemed utterly stunned and at a loss for what to say next. The other was nodding, his expression slightly more welcoming.
"You're Harry Potter," he said. "I read about you in the paper. Deadly creatures seem to like you." He made it a challenge.
Not so easy after all, then. Harry rewove his plan in his mind, and blinked. "I'm sorry," he said, focusing hard on the hunters so that he wouldn't accidentally start speaking in the wrong language. "I just got so worried that they'd hurt you. It was the only way I could think of to save your lives." He smiled and shrugged slightly, a move that helpfully made the Many hiss at him. "I'm glad you're all right, though. I'll hold onto that thought as they kill me."
"What?" spluttered the wizard with the purple light on his wand. Harry was glad that Millicent had the good sense to stay silent and out of sight, though she must have been as stunned at his declaration as the rest of them.
"Oh, the Many demand a sacrifice from the Parselmouth who takes their prey from them." Harry blinked at them, making sure it seemed as though he thought everyone should have known that. "Last time, when I interrupted them in Knockturn Alley, they were content with my bringing them to the Forest and setting them free. But now they want to kill me. That's all right. I'm just glad that I saved your lives, after all." He closed his eyes and lifted his chin.
"Wait," said the wizard who'd accused him of being friendly with deadly creatures. "That isn't—we can't let you die to save us."
Harry opened his eyes again and gave him a small, brave smile. "Of course you can," he said. "You think it's a plot or something already. But I'd advise you to run again when they're done with me. I won't be alive to control them anymore, and they might decide that they're still hungry."
The wizard with the purple light on his wand straightened his spine. "I can't let you do this," he said quietly. "Harry Potter, my name is Tybalt Starrise. Will you accept a life debt from me? You must be alive to accept and fulfill it."
Harry blinked at him. Now that he looked, he could make out the family resemblance in this wizard's face to the handsome man with bells in his hair whom he'd met at the Ministry on the autumnal equinox. Tybalt looked as though he disapproved of most everything in life, but there was honor written in the harsh lines about his mouth, and his blue gaze was clear and steady.
Harry made his voice mournful. "I don't know how I can. After all, the Many want to kill me for interrupting their dinner."
Tybalt shook his head. "I can't let you do this," he repeated. "Can you tell them that I'll offer myself to them in your place?" His eyes were filled with trepidation now, but he didn't look as though he would back away.
Trust a Light wizard to be honorable even unto death. Harry had been counting on that, actually, for his plan to work as it should. "I could ask," he said. "But they really want to kill the Parselmouth who takes their prey from them, rather than just getting the prey back. Unless—" He caught his lip between his teeth and worried at it, as though he'd just had an idea.
"What?" Tybalt leaned forward, his face hopeful. The other wizard snorted, as though he were still trying to maintain a modicum of doubt, but his eyes were uncertain as they moved back and forth between his partner and Harry.
Harry hissed at the Many. "The next part is going to take some convincing," he said. "Can all of you hiss at once? You don't need to say anything, just hiss, and make it sound impressive."
The Many did so. The sound welled up and around the clearing, and Harry could make out that it was composed of many distinct voices, which he usually couldn't when they all spoke in concert. Tybalt's partner took a step back. Tybalt himself remained still, eyes patiently fixed on Harry's face.
"They want to feel safe," Harry explained. "That's why they're angry enough to take my life. They were chased and harassed from their former home, and now they have eggs and a hive here. They might be able to let me go if I could promise they would stay safe." He met Tybalt's gaze. "That means that no hunters can come here ever again."
The wizard behind Tybalt huffed. "That's impossible. The Ministry authorized us to do this, but if we don't do it, it's just going to be someone else."
"Sometimes, John, you're an idiot," said Tybalt, without taking his eyes from Harry. "I think he doesn't just mean for us to leave and never come back. Isn't that right, Lord Potter?"
"I am no Lord," said Harry sharply, before he could stop himself. His magic flexed all around him like a beaten sheet of lead, briefly leaving his body. Tybalt blinked, then nodded.
"Your magic credits you with the title, but from your lips, I will believe the denial truth," he said, the tone formal. "You mean for us to strike at the source. To get rid of the problem as soon as possible."
"Yes." Harry raised one eyebrow. I think I know him well enough now that this will work. "I have reason to believe that Madam Umbridge passed the new laws only as a means of getting back at me. She was there the day I was abducted and brought in for illegal questioning. She doesn't like me, and she would have remembered that that was also the day I brought the Many home. She isn't following the rule of law in authorizing you to hunt the Many, only her own grudges."
Tybalt's lip curled, and his eyes fired. Harry nodded, a shallow motion only the Many could see or feel. I thought so. He was probably a Gryffindor. He doesn't approve of laws being used for dishonorable purposes.
"We can do something about that," said Tybalt softly. "My uncle has been forbidden from political participation for a year, but that doesn't mean the rest of us are helpless." He glanced at the wizard behind him. "Do you really think we can just go back and pretend we never heard this, John?"
The other wizard slowly shook his head. The suspicion had faded from his face at last, Harry saw, and forbade himself a sigh of relief. He'd done it. He'd convinced them, and, as Millicent had lectured him to do lately, he'd given part of the responsibility over to someone else. These men could work far more easily inside the Ministry than he himself could—even better, if the way Scrimgeour had operated in the past was a guide. Umbridge's days of pursuing her grievances through her new power were about to be numbered.
"Then, please," he said, "make sure that Madam Umbridge can't pass any more laws like this."
Tybalt nodded. He seemed almost abstracted. Harry was about to repeat his comment when Tybalt murmured, "My uncle has been near you, but I have not. He declined to speak of your power level when I asked him about it, murmuring something about it not being an appropriate subject to discuss around the average wizard, at least until you'd Declared for Dark or Light. But he did smile when the latest stories appeared. And now I see why. Will you forgive me for not properly introducing us? My name is Tybalt Starrise, elder son of Alba Starrise and her husband Tiberius Griffinsnest, nephew to Augustus Starrise." He bowed shallowly, and then drew John forward to stand beside him. "This sometimes ill-mannered wizard is my joined partner, John Smythe-Blyton."
John muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary, but bowed to Harry in return. He was Muggleborn, or so Harry knew he must be from his last name. His gaze on Harry was somewhere between awed and disbelieving.
"You hardly had time for proper introductions," said Harry, himself torn between curiosity and amusement. "Why now?"
"Because the magic I can feel around you is extraordinary," said Tybalt, and cocked his head and closed his eyes, as though basking in a fall of sunlight. "And it should not go unacknowledged. I do not know what my uncle was thinking, to engage in such stupidity as forbidding himself politics so soon after he met you, but I wish to remedy that mistake. I will send you a formal letter of salutation in the future."
"Do you want me to become a Light Lord?" Harry asked. He was a bit unnerved by what he could see in Tybalt's face. Better to get the misconceptions out of the way now. "Because I should tell you that I'm unlikely to."
"No," Tybalt whispered. "It's the magic that's important. You don't really understand, but why should you? You rest in the middle of it." He opened his eyes and smiled at Harry. "I will contact you, unless there is some reason that you don't wish me to." He had a patient, listening expression, as though he would understand if Harry said no.
Harry frowned. Why am I suddenly acquiring allies on the Light side of the fence? He supposed he shouldn't question his good fortune, but he did wonder at it. He had become resigned to the fact that no one Light was likely to ally with him when they found out how closely he consorted with Dark wizards, and especially when they learned he was a Parselmouth. "I won't forbid you," he said at last. "But your uncle may have been right to ignore your questions."
"He was right not to talk about you," said Tybalt. "Not right to cut himself off." He bowed one more time to Harry. "We will do what we can against Madam Umbridge. Luckily for us, we do know some of her weak points. Legacy of my uncle's close association with the old Minister." He nodded as though that were all, and started to walk out of the clearing. John followed on his heels, giving Harry a final bewildered stare that said he was somewhat surprised by all this, but would follow what his partner decided was appropriate.
Harry shook his head, and turned towards the plants where Millicent had been hiding as the Many slithered down his body. "You can come out now," he said.
Millicent moved forward. Her eyes were opaque, her mouth stretched in a faint smile.
"Are you angry?" Harry asked, since he couldn't make out anything from her expression. "He is a Light wizard."
"And you're sworn to protect and spend time with my little sister, Harry," said Millicent equitably. "No. Not angry. Just surprised, and then surprised at myself for being surprised. I should have seen how far your reach would extend."
Harry rolled his eyes and waited only for one of the Many snakes to encircle his left arm before he turned to lead Millicent back in the direction of the gallows clearing. After what had taken place just now, he expected their meeting with the centaurs to be somewhat anticlimactic.
Harry leaned back against the couch and stretched. Overall, the day had gone well. The centaurs had watched his encounter with Tybalt and John, and hadn't made much fuss about accepting Millicent as his delegated representative. It helped, he supposed, that Millicent hadn't stared or acted as though the centaurs were the "halfbreeds" some pureblood wizards called them. That would certainly have started this relationship out on the wrong foot.
He shifted around so that he could more easily read the Parseltongue book, which was fairly heavy, and provoked an irritated sound from Draco. Harry grinned at his friend. Draco had been sitting on the floor beside the couch while he did his Astronomy homework, leaning back with his head near Harry's leg. Harry appeared to have kicked him in the temple, accidentally, as he shifted positions.
"Sorry," Harry said, knowing he didn't sound it. "But you shouldn't have put your head in the way of my foot."
Draco scowled at him. Harry knew it wasn't a serious scowl. In fact, a moment later it melted away, and left that same expression of pride and tenderness that Draco had looked at him with this morning. Harry raised his eyebrows. He wants to say something. I wonder what it is?
"Harry—" Draco started.
"Oi! Potter!" Montague, one of the older students, called from near the door. "Someone's here to see you!"
Harry blinked and put aside the Parseltongue book, which was sometimes fascinating, but more dry; it was a history of famous Parselmouths in the past, and appeared to concern itself mostly with who they'd married and how many children they had. His visitor must be someone from a different House, but he couldn't imagine who it would be. No one had seemed especially anxious to talk to him at meals or in class today, when it would surely have been easier than trekking down to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room.
"Just a minute, Draco," he murmured, and slipped towards the door. Draco didn't listen, and followed him instead.
Luna Lovegood was standing in the corridor, her face patient and her expression abstracted as she stared at the ceiling. Harry smiled and felt himself relaxing. Of course she would come whenever she wanted to talk to me. I wonder what the stones are telling her?
"What is it, Luna?" he asked gently, so as not to startle her.
"The stones are telling me about the lake," said Luna. "They've felt many fish swim past in their time, but no Nargles. How strange. Would you go to the Yule Ball with me, Harry?"
Harry blinked, disconcerted by her speech, and then blinked again as he realized what she'd asked him. He looked carefully at Luna, but her face was absolutely serene. Of course she wouldn't play a joke like this on him—she wasn't that kind of person, it would never occur to her—but someone else might have put her up to it.
"Are you sure you really want to go to the Ball with me?" he asked, to test it.
Luna nodded, her eyes far away. "Of course. Unless you already have someone who will escort you. Then I could simply come for the dancing." She smiled mistily. "I like dancing."
Harry smiled in spite of himself. It wasn't as though anyone else would ask him, or was likely to. Besides, he didn't think he could trust many of the offers he might receive. The people who thought him—he grimaced—a hero wouldn't really be offering out of genuine liking for him, but just so they could bask in some sort of reflected glory. I hope Connor can find someone who really wants to dance with him, and not just a Champion. There was no doubt, though, that Luna meant it. "Then of course, Luna. I'd be honored."
Luna nodded to him, and turned and wandered up the hall. Harry watched her go, shaking his head. I wonder why she asked me? Maybe she knows that I'm one of the few people who will take her seriously.
He stepped back inside the common room, and turned around. "Draco, what were you going to s—"
He paused, finding Draco gone. He glanced in several directions, but didn't see Draco in the common room, and was just in time to hear a door slam. He sighed. My getting a date probably reminded him that he doesn't have one yet. Well, I'm sorry about that, but he should just ask this bloody crush of his, and then it wouldn't be a problem.
He moved back to his Parseltongue book. When he was halfway to the couch, Pansy exploded in laughter. Harry looked at her, and saw her sparkling eyes focused on him. She was hiding her mouth with her book, but she was definitely still laughing.
"What?" he asked.
"Draco is so funny," she said, by means of explanation, and then lay back on her divan and laughed her head off.
Harry sighed and picked up his book again. I do feel sorry for him, but he's got to get over that shyness. People will only keep teasing him until he does. And besides, his crush might reciprocate his feelings. I think he'd be happier then. He seems pretty damn serious about this.