AUTHOR'S NOTE:/ I wanted to take a moment to tell you all that Maya_0196 has begun the insane task of translating this fic into Spanish I believe, so if English isn't your first language, or if you're just curious, go and check it out!
Link (retype as accordingly, don't copy and paste): (colon) / / / s / 12574054 / 1 / Death - is - but - the - Next - Great - Adventure - TRADUCCIÓN
Fading evening light swept through the tall windows and stretched their tired fingers out toward the impossibly tall book cases that occupied the library. An insidious chill carried on the back of a draft drifted around like a phantom and chased away most of the lingering students who wished to get a head start on their winter break course work. One student in particular, though, didn't seem to even notice the cold as he sat at a small table pushed up close to a large window. He worried his bottom lip between his stark white teeth and rubbed absently at the glossy black bristles on the feather end of his quill while his eyes raked over the crowded page of the plain school journal he'd been pouring over for months now.
It held all of his notes, plans, and work for the ritual that was meant to bring back Tom Riddle. He had all the ingredients and supplies ready to go in that little expanded pouch he carried on him at all times, the only thing he had left to work on was the arithmancy and rune work. Unfortunately, as helpful and informative as the Book of the Dead was to Harry, there was no set spell or ritual for exactly what he needed. Since Horcruxes were not an actual form of proper necromancy, there was no way to reverse the damage completely—at least, not yet.
So, Harry has to build his own ritual essentially from scratch—and spell creation was incredibly difficult, it involved an extensive knowledge of the practical and mathematical side of magic. And, as with any form of science and discovery, it took a whole lot of trial and error to gain such an intimate knowledge of the different runes and how they interacted with each other to make sure that there wouldn't be any disastrous results from using them together.
He'd spent months secretly working it out in his free time and recording it all in that notebook to ensure he could look back on his notes if there were any issues. Now, he had every rune carefully planned out for the circle he would have to draw and it would get the job done, but there was something missing. Adding too many runes would make any circle more unstable—which it was already turning out to be—but Harry also had an issue with the strength of the runes. They simply weren't powerful enough as is to hold out long enough for Tom's new body to fully form and be capable of magic. Harry's worried it might weaken and stutter out halfway—which was certainly a problem.
It was teasing his mind and remained just out of reach, he couldn't quite reach it. . .
Harry sniffed and absently rubbed his nose with his hand as the dry scent of parchment irritated his nose and broke his intense concentration for a moment. Harry was about to curse under his breath in frustration at not being able to think properly when his eyes caught on something on his page and he zeroed in on it. He relinquished his swollen lip as a disbelieving smile tugged at his lips and he grabbed the note book as his eyes flitted excitedly over the page. 'Yes! That's it!' He thought as he quickly jumped into the calculations that suddenly seemed so simple now that he was looking at it.
It wasn't really simple, it was actually only by chance that Harry had remembered reading some short passage from a book he'd found while exploring the Black library. It had been a book on the more experimental theories of runes and spell creation, and though they weren't entirely proven, the evidence was all there and reliable enough for Harry to trust it and implement it in his ritual.
Harry sat back with a breathless laugh, not really seeing the writing in the notebook anymore so he shifted his gaze to the dying light outside the window as he felt something tight inside loosen for the first time since taking up the challenge of helping Voldemort.
He was ready.
The last week before the Yule Ball was a mess of emotions running high, anything but a restful winter break atmosphere, and a mad dash to find a date for those who hadn't yet.
The first of the champions to find a date was, unsurprisingly, Fleur—who had perhaps the most abundant and impassioned 'suitors' out of the four. Though, no one who knew the girl even half decently was surprised to find that she decided to attend the event with her friend, Armand. It was understandable, really. Being part-Veela, Fleur was undoubtedly the victim to constant unwanted attention from those incapable of resisting the allure, it's easy to see why she would prefer to go with someone she knew and trusted well, so that she could let her guard down a little in all the chaos. And if there was more there, no one could deny that the French boy was quite attractive and seemed to make her happy.
Next came Cedric. Apparently, he'd caught the amorous attention of the popular Cho Chang, a pretty fifth year from Harry's own house. When it had come up in a short conversation between Cedric and Harry, the Hufflepuff had admitted to not knowing her very well but thinking the way she'd approached and asked him to the ball had been rather sweet and 'cute.' Harry hadn't said anything to that, as he didn't quite understand what Cedric had meant and what motivated him to decide to take an all but stranger to the ball, since he seemed pleased enough with his choice.
Viktor was third on the list to get a date . . . assumedly. The Bulgarian had never announced who he was taking, but he had confirmed he'd found someone. Though, Harry didn't have to be overly observant to find out who considering the knowing glances and slightly pink-tinged cheeks exchanged between Viktor and the curly-haired raven amongst his group. He'd been surprised, none the less, by that development. He hadn't been aware of any sort of relationship between the seeker and Hermione, but then again, Hermione—like Harry—valued her time alone and didn't spend as much time around Harry as say Draco or Anthony did. It was plausible that they'd met around the castle at any point over the last few months and had just kept it a secret to preserve their privacy.
As for Harry's group of friends, Draco had confidently secured a date with one of the more lovely and fair ladies from Beauxbatons and had smugly flaunted that fact—even if she was a few inches taller than him and made him look quite young in comparison. Also, in a surprising turn of events, Ginny would also be going as she had been invited by a timid Gryffindor in Harry's year, since she was too young to go on her own as a third year.
Harry seemed to one of the last amongst them that finally found the right someone to take him to the Yule Ball. It was a few days before the ball and Harry was sitting on his bed in the dorms, curtains drawn back and reading an interesting book on old wizarding custom before bed when there was a tapping at the window and he opened it to let in an unfamiliar owl that had a shrunken package tied to its foot. Harry took it from the owl and sent it on its way with a few owl treats. As he sat back down on his bed with package in hand, Anthony sat up from where he was lounging on his bed next to Harry's with a spark of interest.
There was a small note attached and after reading it, Harry discovered that the package contained his formal robes for the Yule Ball. Anthony must have guessed as much.
"Your robes?" He asked, head slightly cocked and an interested glint in his warm eyes. Harry nodded, and since they were the only two currently in the room, he sent the package floating wandlessly over to his trunk and sealed it away until the time he had to put them on. Anthony didn't even pause at the action. "Have you found someone to go with yet?"
"No, most of the people who have asked me are those who I've never even spoken to before and I doubt most would be able to hold a right interesting conversation with me throughout the night so that I don't end up losing my mind before the first song is even over. That is, seeing as how all of the 'interesting' things I wish to talk about are things I can't with other people. Plus, having to be polite and courteous whilst also getting to know someone new sounds dreadful. Most of the time I handle myself perfectly fine around other people, but with all of the fanfare and pandemonium, I fear I'll forget myself, lash out in frustration, and end up sullying my own reputation in the matter of a single night." Harry vented with more passion he realized he felt for the subject he'd been pointedly pushing out of his mind for the past few weeks.
Anthony released burst of unchecked laughter and looked at Harry's contrite—not pouting, mind you—face with something akin to a mix of amusement and fondness. There was a pause, while Harry released some of the residual energy that had built up during his rant and Anthony settled a little more without losing that bright glint in his eyes. Then Anthony broke the silence.
"Then don't." He said, pulled Harry's attention back from whatever he'd been thinking about.
"What?"
"Don't take a stranger." He stated so simply that Harry just blinked. Anthony's familiar little smirk appeared then. "I'll take you. You said you don't want to spend the night with someone you don't know and can't talk to, and I still haven't found a date either, so let's just go together. That way we can both be comfortable and you don't have to worry about ruining that precious reputation of yours." He finished with a cheeky wink and Harry would have sent a vengeful stinging hex his way for that alone if he weren't in the process of thinking over the offer. He didn't have much to think about.
"I have to partake in the opening dance, do you know the steps?" he asked curiously, feeling the dread that had been hardening in his gut the past few weeks beginning to loosen at the prospect of attending the ball with his closest friend.
"Of course, Draco would have my head if I embarrassed myself—and by extension, him—by not knowing the correct steps. He already taught me a week ago."
Harry looked over at his friend with a smirk. "Good. It's set then. So long as you don't have a problem with us leaving before the night is over, I'm none too fond of crowds." Anthony grinned and Harry suddenly got the impression he was going to say something stupid again.
"Brilliant! Just let me know what color of dress you're planning on wearing so we can coordinate." For that, Harry forewent the hexes and instead lobbed his pillow at the blonde, causing him to fall back in a fit of laughter moments before Harry followed the pillow and leapt from his bed to Anthony's in order to good-naturedly hit and poke the blonde's ribs until he took his foolish words back. The dorm room rang with a chorus of laughter and shouts from both boys in a rare moment of utterly free and mindless joy one could only find in youth.
The twenty-fifth of December was the set date of the Yule Ball, but it was also a holiday. It had snowed all throughout the night previous and in the morning, it blanketed the grounds thick and untrodden, reflecting the light of the clear blue sky and beaming sun up into the windows of the castle and making the ancient walls seem brighter than they had ever before.
The Great Hall that morning had been utter chaos as almost all of year four through seventh had stayed for the ball and were all receiving their Christmas presents from friends and family during breakfast as they would all be too busy preparing for the ball later on. The food began to disappear under the layers upon layers of packing parchment and discarded boxes. It was such a mess that Hogwarts house elves began to be called up to deal with clearing away rubbish as well as helping to transport students' gifts up to their rooms for them. Harry had chosen to open everything when he got back to the dorms, as had his friends—except for Draco, who was too impatient.
His gifts were of the usual variety: books, scarves, gloves, an odd magical item or two, and plenty of letters of well wishes. Though, there was one gift that stood out amongst the others. Along with the other gifts Remus and Sirius sent him, there was a small box with its own note attached. In the note, Sirius explained that inside was a sort of pin and that the style of Harry's formal robes could be worn as they were, but it was custom to wear them with certain adornments as well. He explained that they could get to be quite ornate, but he'd gotten Harry something a bit simpler to suit his tastes. Curious, Harry flipped open the lid.
Lying on a bed of black velvet, the 'pin' was about the size of a thumb. It was a small rose cut from crystal, the centermost petals were a deep indigo and became more translucent each petal that curled outward until the outermost petals and leaves were completely clear. The short stem was a delicate silver cut through with veins of more clear crystal. It was small and looked so fragile and though it wouldn't draw much attention, once someone actually looked, it was quite captivating. Harry wasn't much for accessories, but he liked it, oddly enough. It looked like it had been carefully carved from ice, so cold to the touch, and could melt away at any moment.
Once Harry had put his gifts away, he went down to the Ravenclaw common room to secure a spot by a window and work in some leisure time just reading and sipping the sweet milk and honey tea he liked. He was joined by Anthony at some point, but didn't really pay attention to his surroundings until the grandfather clock in the corner had only just struck noon and he noticed most of the girls in the common room started getting up and moving up to their dorm rooms in clusters with excited murmurs passing between them.
Then Harry realized that they were leaving to go start getting ready for the Yule Ball. Passively, Harry wondered exactly what went into preparations that getting ready for one event became a day-long endeavor. Should he start getting ready then as well? Harry looked around but none of the boys seemed to be in the same kind of rush, so perhaps not. Harry shook his head and went back to his reading, he still had plenty of time until the ball.
Apparently, someone of the more outspoken Ravenclaw girls that came down—hair curled, styled, and make up half finished—saw none of the boys had moved much when it was nearing seven (an hour before the start of the Yule Ball) and thought that they had wasted enough time already and went about shooing them up to their rooms to get ready, much to many of their chagrin.
Harry grabbed what he needed from his trunk and since he had the bed closest to the wall, he didn't wait for a turn in the bathroom—or just changed out in the open like some of the other boys might—and instead just drew his bed curtains on one side and the end of the bed to act as a partition. Speaking of the others, from what he knew, Terry Boot had found a quiet Hufflepuff to take to the ball—a rather plain girl, but he'd heard she was nice—and Michael was going stag, which Harry thought had a lot to do with both the boys recent skittishness as well as his nasty temper that seemed ingrained into his personality.
Harry didn't really care, ever since the night Michael, Terry, and Morag decided to take things a little too far and pushed him down some rather unforgiving stone steps, causing him to perish and scare the living daylights out of them by coming back, the little trio had been the furthest thing from his mind, as they had been doing a rather good job of staying out of trouble and not crossing Harry's path anymore. Also, it was no secret that they were not in Harry's favor and—as much as Harry liked to deny it and pretend it wasn't so—he had significant influence in his house and his behavior affected the others quite a lot. In short, it meant that those three would continue not being much of a problem for him, and he was certainly okay with that.
Harry reached for the lid to the box that held his dress robes and suddenly felt a little anxious, as it would be his first time seeing the robes Sirius and Remus had helped design for him. If they were truly dreadful, he could always make last minute adjustments and transfigurations for the night. The lid slid off, was left off to the side, and the thin protective white cloth was lifted away to reveal glossy black silk with intricate embroidered designs done in even darker opaque black thread that was visible, but subtle. It was the top robe, so Harry moved it aside for later without unfolding it and moved on to the other garments that had come in the box.
Harry stripped and quickly got dressed in the tailored black trousers, and the light weight black dress shirt with the same style of short banded collar he'd spotted on the outer robe. Harry slipped on a fine pair of glossy black dress shoes he'd already owned, but had never worn. Finally, Harry picked up the outer robe and let it unfold in his hands so he could get a full look at it before sliding it on easily over his clothes. The top robe was of luxurious taste to say the least.
The black silk was thin and expertly tailored to conform to Harry's arms and torso. Like his shirt beneath, the collar to the robe was banded, though a little taller, and hugged his long, pale neck comfortably. Instead of the robe opening right down the center, the fabric overlapped a little and fastened closed—with hidden buttons on the inside—a little off to the right so that the seam of the opening followed a straight line from the end of his collar bone to the inside of his hip. The hidden buttons ended horizontal to his belly button and the rest of the fabric fell loose to the floor, with the opening seam following his right leg and there being enough loose fabric to allow ease of movement for his lower body.
Overall, it was quite an impressive piece, being light weight, breathable, elegant and yet still masculine. He conjured a mirror to examine his appearance. Harry knew he wasn't exactly 'tall' for his age, but even he could see he cut an impressive image in those robes. Out of his normal plain school robes, it was clear that Harry was growing up, and fast. He was of average height, but his form was still rather slim and his limbs were long and the way that he moved made him seem taller than he was. His face had lost quite a bit of the soft-roundness of childhood and his more imperial and regal bone structure was coming through each day. However, his black lashes were still just as long and thick around his haunting pale green eyes and his lips soft and rounded, especially his top lip, which made him look more feminine and doll-like.
His face would probably always be a blend of both soft and hard, both masculine and feminine, both innocent and knowing. However, his shoulders were a bit broader than before and there were lean and subtle muscles taking shape on his body that moved him further away from the image of a skinny child and closer to an actual adult. At least, as close as Harry would ever come, being that his genes had decided to favor his mother's willowy, slight form over his father's naturally broad, muscled, tall, and intimidating form. Harry liked to think that for what he didn't accomplish in physical size and physique, he made up for in magical prowess, burning cold gaze, and overall regal demeanor when he needed it.
Harry shook his head, thoughts running wild and unchecked in his mind. Harry adjusted his robe sleeves and smoothed down the front with his hand before he turned back to the bed and picked up the small box that held the gift he'd received earlier. Taking the small crystal rose out of the box, Harry made sure he followed Sirius' instructions on where to place it, which was on the front of his robes over his left pectoral muscle. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but once the rose was pinned in place, it seemed to sparkle and gleam a little more, and the blue center of the rose almost had the faintest inner glow to it that made it stand out a little more against the black silk back drop of his robes.
After taking a brief moment to adjust his silken black curls so that nothing was overtly out of place and they looked a little more intentional, but still a little unavoidably wild, Harry slipped his wand into a hidden pocket in his robes and stepped out from behind his bed. Anthony wasn't in the room and Harry assumed he'd finished getting dressed and had moved down to the common room. Michael was still in the bathroom, and Terry was hopping around on one foot as he fought a losing battle to wrestle his dress trousers up, even though, from what Harry could tell, they were on backwards to begin with. Harry ignored his struggles and moved on without breaking pace.
Harry had thought most of those who were ready would have already moved down to the Great Hall where the Ball would be hosted for the evening, but he was surprised to find it bustling with quite a few people either socializing as they waited for their date or to go down as a group, or were getting last minute help from their friends to fix snagged zippers, find missing shoes, or lend a bit of makeup. However, it only took a moment for Harry to be noticed and it suddenly went quiet as people stared, blinking in a daze or turned to their friend to exclaim about something under their breath. Ignoring their ridiculous reactions, Harry scanned the crowds until he found Anthony standing close to the door on the other side of the room, staring at Harry as well.
Harry smiled as he walked over to his friend, taking in his clean-cut appearance. He wore a more common style of dress robes, but they were clearly well made, expensive, and very sharp indeed. Anthony was still growing like a weed and was half a head taller than Harry, with broader shoulders and more visible muscle than him. His blonde trusses were combed neatly back, though still wavy and relaxed, not slicked back like some of the other boys around the room who looked like they had more product than hair.
"You look quite handsome, my friend." Harry said with a bright smile and the spell on the room seemed to break as the noise picked up once more, though Harry still caught quite a few gazes following him still. Anthony unfroze as well and grinned cheekily, hoping to cover the slight heat creeping along his neck and curling over his cheeks as he forced himself not to dwell for too long on the way Harry's dress robes were incredibly flattering or how his eyes almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the common room.
"You're quite a vision yourself!" Anthony returned with something light and playful in his voice that caused Harry's smile to widen a bit, amusement bright in his eyes. Harry glanced around the common room before looking towards the archway that led to the dorms for a moment.
"Do you think we should wait for Hermione and walk down with her?" He asked Anthony, thinking silently about how glad he was that Anthony had asked him and he would be able to feel more comfortable that night because he knew he wouldn't have to fake anything and the two of them knew each other well enough that not much had to be said for them to pick up on what the other needed or wanted.
Anthony nodded and the two stood off to the side and waited for the other Ravenclaw to come down from the dorms. For as punctual as Hermione was known to be, that occasion seemed to be the one exception. By the time she finally came down, the common room was mostly empty, everyone else too eager to get down to the Great Hall early. Harry had to admit to himself that Hermione looked very different than she had that morning. Her frizzy mane of light brown curls had been tamed into a cascade of loose curls half pinned up and the makeup she wore did quite a lot for her usually plain face. Harry and Anthony both complemented her before leaving a bit hurriedly in order to make it down on time.
If Harry's observations were correct, then all three of them would be starting off the first dance and McGonagall would have their heads if they were late.
As they neared, Harry could hear the impressive volume of voices echoing out from the main doors of the Great Hall. There was still a pretty steady flow of people entering the Great Hall, so unfortunately there was a bit of an audience when they arrived and they had to walk through a repeat performance of the silent stares from the common room. Only, this time Hermione's drastic change drew enough attention to take some of the weight off Harry, which he was glad for, even if Hermione's cheeks turned an unnatural shade of red.
McGonagall spotted them as well and Harry found himself nearly dragged over to the side of the doors where the other champions stood with their dates. McGonagall was berating Harry for being so late—even though he wasn't technically late—and when Anthony and Hermione walked up, she must have confused things, for when she was placing Harry at the end of the little line, she then grabbed Hermione and put her next to Harry, causing both of them to look at her perplexedly while Viktor turned with a crease between his brows. Hermione spoke up first, cheeks becoming red once more.
"Um, excuse me, professor, but I'm not here with Harry, I'm here with Viktor." She stated in a slightly meek voice. McGonagall blinked as Hermione stepped up one spot and stood next to her date. McGonagall turned back to Harry.
"Then where is your date, Harry?" Her voice was high and sounded a little panicked, as if she feared he'd decided to come alone and force her to exempt him from the opening dance. Before he could answer, though, Anthony cleared his throat politely and moved to the spot beside Harry meaningfully. Understanding blooming in the Deputy Headmistresses eyes after a moment and there was a slight blush high on her cheeks when she spoke next.
"Oh my! I see, well . . . I wish you boys a lovely evening." She sounded flustered for the first time in the years that Harry's known her and he almost wanted to laugh at the reaction. Instead, he offered a polite nod gently placed his hand on the crook of Anthony's elbow when he offered it. The professor burst back into motion and began ushering students into the hall as it was almost eight and the opening dance would begin. When she was far enough away, Anthony leaned over to speak quietly in his ear.
"You know, if you get too nervous, my robes have protective charms on them in case you vomit. I won't be mad." He teased, earning a subtle, yet well placed jab in the ribs from Harry's elbow. Anthony coughed, which immediately turned into a laugh.
Before he could say anything back, McGonagall appeared at the front of the line next to Fleur and Armand just as they heard the first joyous and bouncing chords of music and suddenly they were moving in a line into the Great Hall. The hall had been transformed into a breathtaking world of frosted walls and windows, white and silver stone, glossy floors, pale light shining through the enchanted snowfall overhead that disappeared before touching the tops of their heads, towering snow dusted Christmas trees at the other end of the hall behind the orchestra, and the frigid glimmer of light reflecting off icicles hanging off of everything—some even reaching over eight feet in length. The frost had created glimmering ghostly swirls and leaves in pale patterns, like the first night of winter. It was all dazzling and looked nothing like the same hall Harry had eaten nearly every meal in for the past four school years.
At the center of the room was a dance floor where almost everyone had gathered and cleared a wide circle of space that the champions and their dates then walked into and took up their positions. Harry placed a hand on Anthony's firm shoulder and put his other in Anthony's slightly larger hand as Anthony took his waist. There was a pause in the music as they all took up their stances, and the moment it started again, they all burst into a whirl of movement and steps and turns. Harry allowed Anthony to lead and wasn't disappointed when the blonde took to it like a fish to water. Anthony, for all of his joking before the ball, was a very impressive dancer and led him well.
When the first lift of the song came, Harry wasn't in the slightest bit worried and trusted his friend as he moved both hands to his shoulders and kicked off the ground at the same time that Anthony hoisted him up and turned on his heel. The dance was full of many turns and quick steps and if Harry hadn't had the lessons he would have gone completely dizzy while dancing.
It wasn't long before Dumbledore stepped out with McGonagall for a dance, and other staff and the first few brave students followed. Soon the champions were no longer a spectacle for all their peers to stare at like zoo animals and the dance floor filled with spinning and quick stepping couples while a good amount hung back, either not wanting to dance or not knowing how.
When the first song came to an end, Harry and Anthony—along with quite a few others—stepped out of the fray of moving bodies to the cleared off area just as it filled with round tables covered in light blue cloth and people began taking seats. Once more people had begun to sit and chat, food and drink appeared on each table, which Harry gladly took part in.
Harry and Anthony enjoyed themselves and spent most of the night at their table, chatting, eating, saving each other from the occasional daring person who came to ask either of them for a dance, and quietly pointing out certain incidents of hilarity they spotted throughout the room as teens spilled drinks, were slapped by their dates for saying the wrong thing, or made an utter fool of themselves on the dance floor. Draco and his date—a girl who didn't speak much English but introduced herself as Veronica—joined them at some point for a while before moving off to socialize (Draco's favorite pass time). Hermione was so caught up in dancing with Viktor—and blushing so much Harry almost feared she had a fever—that they never left the dance floor.
Eventually the orchestra was swapped with the popular wizard band strangely named Weird Sister and the music became much louder. The students rushed to the stage and went mental over the band. Anthony laughed at the sight of his poor head of house being swept up in the stampede and disappearing for a few moments before suddenly reappearing on top of the crowd in what the muggles referred to as 'crowd surfing' he believed. He glanced around absently, Harry had gone to the bathroom a few minutes ago, leaving him without someone to talk to and occupy his time. He spotted Harry just as he came back in and was stopped by Hermione, who seemed to be away from Viktor for the first time all night and was gushing to Harry with an ecstatic grin on her face.
Anthony smiled at the sight and his gaze shifted to Harry while the brunette was busy and wouldn't notice his avid attention. He didn't allow himself to watch Harry as closely as he wanted. Anthony wasn't ignorant, he knew himself well enough to understand that his feelings for his closest friend had changed at some point—or perhaps they'd always been heading down that road. Even though he knew Harry didn't feel the same way about him.
Anthony's motivations for inviting Harry to the Yule Ball had not been unselfish, it wasn't just to make Harry comfortable. No, Anthony had an ulterior motive, a question he wanted to answer without Harry knowing, without his say. He wanted to know if there could ever be anything more between them. Even if Anthony had to wait a lifetime, even if the secrets Harry was keeping were heavy enough to crush him. . . if there was even the tiniest chance that Harry might one day reciprocate, Anthony was selfish enough to hold onto that and hold onto his feelings for his friend for as long as it took.
From the very beginning, he'd known that his friendship with Harry wouldn't be . . . 'normal' exactly. 'Normal' friends didn't know without a shadow of a doubt that they would die for their friend if they had to, normal friends didn't crave to protect said friend like it was more natural than breathing, normal friends didn't listen to their friend breathing at night because it soothed their insomnia like no potion ever could. And Anthony knew that Harry had never had a normal friendship before him and that his childhood left one hell of a learning curve for his friend when it came to interacting with people and all of that meant that Anthony could push boundaries and stand closer than a normal friend would because Harry didn't know any better.
Maybe it made Anthony a bad person, to indulge in Harry's presence and attention and trust, but he knew he would never do anything to hurt Harry. . .
Anthony refocused on the pair still talking in the distance, and the small fond upturn on Harry's full lips. Anthony pulled in a deep breath and smiled softly on an exhale as something settled in his chest. He'd invited Harry to the ball, put them in a situation where they would be considered a 'couple'—even if not officially—for just a few hours. Anthony looked his best and had spent secret hours practicing dancing to sweep Harry off his feet during the opening dance, but . . . Harry never reacted to it, not any differently at least. Anthony had Harry in his arms but the other boy's heart lay somewhere else, somewhere hidden.
Anthony wasn't sure if Harry even realized it himself, but his heart was closed off in such a sure way that it could only come from it belonging to someone else. His question had been answered and now he had to own up to it.
And when Anthony realized that . . . it was so easy. So easy to let his own heart settle and the anxious creature inside his chest that had been wreaking havoc on his nerves and thoughts for months now, to dissolve and feed into his bond with Harry. The bond that made him wish to support and protect Harry, but not necessarily be the one at his side. Anthony felt that he could finally stand at Harry's back instead and guard that little flame kindled in his friend that he'd been missing for so many years. He would protect Harry's happiness. Which meant that whoever took the steps that he couldn't, would have to gain Anthony's approval. Anthony would never allow someone else to hurt Harry either.
Besides, Harry's heart was much like a star—it was so beautiful glittering in the night sky, but getting too close could burn right through you. The one who was allowed closest would have to burn just as brightly.
Anthony felt warm and calm, the ache inside of him dying out like an unpleasant dream he would finally awake from, as Harry gave Hermione a small pat on the shoulder and began walking back towards Anthony.
"Do you suppose Krum would take any warnings I might give him on treating Hermione good seriously?" Harry asked as he took he seat next to him and Anthony grinned.
"With you? He'd better, if he knows what's good for him. I've heard that those who get on your bad side often end up rather misfortunate." He teased and received a mild glare in return.
It was nearing the end of the night and a handful of couples here and there had snuck away for some private time with their dates, though there were still quite a few going strong in the Great Hall as they danced and talked and ate until the buttons of their shirts or zippers of their dresses strained. The amount of people that approached him and Anthony had more than tripled in the last hour as less and less people occupied the dance floor and so many random and sporadic conversations had begun taking their toll on Harry and it had become hard to get through introductions without grimacing as a tired headache flared up. Anthony seemed to be enjoying a conversation he was having with a Slytherin sixth year about some book that had just come out by a well-respected author, so Harry didn't wish to bother him and instead just cut in long enough to say he wanted some fresh air and moving away while the other was still distracted and probably hadn't heard Harry properly.
Harry stepped out without catching the attention of anyone else, thankfully, and escaped out onto Hogwarts snow-covered grounds. Harry casted a warming charm on his robes, but that didn't help much considering the silk robes were made to be light weight and stylish, not cold resistant.
So, Harry decided to walk the short distance to the Herbology outdoor green house for at least some protection from the wind and falling snow (plus, it's just far enough away that he can't hear the blare of music that was doing nothing to help his head ache). Harry walked slowly towards the green house, allowing the frigid air to fill his lungs, sooth his flushed skin, and numb the sharp edges of pain in his head. Just a few moments of the dark night, cold air, and serene silence already had him feeling worlds better, though Harry didn't stop his trek to the green house to go back.
Harry reached it and was surprised to see the door half open and foot tracks of snow leading in. Stepping inside, Harry didn't see anyone at first, until he moved to the last row of plants, sitting along the wall of windows that looked out towards the lake. Harry took a few steps forward and the dark silhouette looking out over the grounds turned and Harry relaxed a bit when he recognized the figure as that of Viktor Krum. For a moment, Harry thought about apologizing for intruding on what must have been the others own escape from all the uncomfortable and draining socializing, but then thought better of it, as there was something he wanted to say right then.
Viktor's dark eyes watched him closely as he walked up and turned to look out the window as well, not saying a word to the smaller champion yet.
After a moment, Harry took a breath and broke the silence.
"I wanted to thank you, for what you did for me after the first task." Harry paused for a moment before adding at the last minute, "And also for not telling anyone about it. You could have helped yourself and got the judges to doc me points for injuring myself, but you didn't. So, thank you." He said again, feeling a little uncomfortable thanking the stoic teen so much, but feeling it was necessary. Viktor didn't say anything for several long moments, then he turned his gaze away to look out the window and Harry felt more comfortable without those dark, penetrative eyes boring into him anymore.
"How is your shoulder?" Viktor asked shortly and Harry was surprised he even said anything at all.
"It's fine now, thank you for asking." He replied and they lapsed into a long, uncomfortable silence as Harry debated with himself whether or not he should leave, and Viktor seemed on the brink of speaking up.
"I don't trust you." The quiet, yet firm statement took Harry completely off guard and he turned to stare at Krum, wide eyed and lost in how to even begin to respond to that. Thankfully, Viktor didn't seem to be expecting a response, as he went on to talk even more.
"I've never shared this with anyone before, and only a few people from my family know, but when I was very young I was in an accident. I was seven years old and I was spending a week with my cousins over the summer because my parents wanted to go on vacation for their anniversary. My cousins were thirteen and fourteen, and they didn't like the idea of having to look after me but my aunt made them take me with them wherever they went." Viktor huffed at some memory, though not quite looking humored by whatever it was. Harry listened silently, wondering why on earth Viktor was sharing it with him of all people, but not wishing to stop him either.
"I was like a little puppy, trailing after them wherever they went, no matter how much they pushed me around and told me to get lost. One day, I followed them to go see their friends and the other boys didn't like me hanging around them and getting in their way, so they told my cousins they didn't want them around again until they didn't have to 'babysit' any more. My older cousin, Vasil, had had enough and wanted to make me give up on following them around, so he told me that if I really wanted to go with them, I'd have to do something to prove I could be just as daring and strong as the other boys. My cousins took me out into the woods near their house and walked me all the way to the biggest river around. It was deep and the currents were strong, too strong to fish or swim in, so it was always avoided by the locals, but I didn't know this." Viktor's jaw clenched and he looked down for a moment.
"Vasil wanted to scare me into leaving them alone, thinking that if he gave me an impossible task, that I wouldn't go to my aunt when they left without me. So, he found where the water was the strongest, nestled between two short cliffs connected by a fallen tree covered in moss and slick from the constant spray of water below. He told me, if I could cross the river, then I could join them and the other boys would want to play with me too. However, he didn't count on my foolish, childish will." A bitter smile twisted his lips as he continued.
"My legs were shaking and I thought my heart would break right out of my chest and run away, but I still climbed over its roots and onto the trunk. My other cousin was yelling at Vasil and telling me to come back, but I didn't stop once I had started. The water was so loud. I was determined to earn their respect and prove I was just as strong as they were. But . . . even if I was strong enough, even if I was brave enough, none of that mattered because when I was halfway across the log, the rotted wood gave out and I fell straight into the river. The current swept me away immediately, too strong to swim against and too deep to catch my feet on anything. On top of that, I didn't know how to swim and was unable to keep myself above the surface." Viktor trailed off, standing completely still, eyes looking dim and far away in the darkness.
His next words were spoken quietly, almost too quiet for Harry to hear, if the winter night weren't deafeningly silent around them.
"I remember thrashing under the water, panicking as it clawed its way up my nose and down my throat. I remember everything fading in and out, like I was tilting on the edge of sleep. And then I remember darkness, and a cold that felt nothing like the water. It burrowed beneath my skin and I forgot what it was to feel warmth. I remembered drifting, not in any certain direction, just movement. I felt . . . something coming towards me, something inexplicable. All I knew was that it was something and that it saw me in the darkness, even though I couldn't see it. . .
"The next thing I know, I'm throwing up water on the river bank with my aunt kneeling over me, soaking wet, and everything just hurt. After that day, I put my memories of that incident out of my mind and moved on with my life, which was easy since I was young and any adult I told about the experience just dismissed it as my imagination." Viktor turned then and looked Harry right in the eye when he spoke. Harry felt like too transparent in that moment and felt the urge to storm out of that green house and turn his back on whatever Viktor was going to say.
"Not once, in almost a decade since that incident, have I thought about that day. . . Not until you. It's been so long, I wasn't certain about it at first, but now I am. You hide it well, but I can feel it. It's in the very essence of your magic, it surrounds you like a cloak. The same cold presence I felt in the darkness. I didn't know what it was back then, didn't have a name for it, but I do now. Death." Harry didn't move as single muscle and he felt his companion drift ever closer in sudden curiosity. Viktor swallowed and shuddered a little as, apparently, he too felt something in the air shift. "I don't know how it is possible or what it means, but you magic is both of the living world and the afterlife—like you are half in one and half in the other."
'Interesting. I certainly didn't see this one coming.' Death said from over his shoulder and Harry tilted his head slightly to the side as he listened.
'What do I do? Clearly, he is somehow sensitive to magic, like Anthony, and he can feel you. What do I tell him?' Harry asked silently as he turned back to look at Viktor, the other boy still watching him intently as he waited for a response.
'They say that the best lies are hidden in the truth. So, tell him the truth.' Death advised with amusement in his low voice as he watched the scene fold out. Harry sighed inwardly. Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts, and then a serene calm settled over him and he exhaled quietly as he looked back out over the snowy grounds.
"I suppose you could say I experienced something similar. When I was very young, I died for a short moment and came back." Harry stated vaguely, voice even and rather emotionless. He obviously couldn't tell Viktor the whole truth, just enough to keep from assuming something ridiculous, like Harry is Death or something. That'd be the last thing he needs!
"Ever since then, I've been able to sense the veil; the barrier between our world and the next. It's all around us, just out of reach from our physical bodies. As for my magic . . . perhaps my near-death experience is partly to blame for what you feel from it. However," Harry met Viktor's gaze again with conviction in his eyes, "They also say that the development of one's magic has a lot to do with one's upbringing. Now it's my turn to share something with you. I didn't grow up knowing about magic. My aunt and uncle who raised me knew, but their experiences with this world had left them bitter and resentful towards magic. I grew up in a very cold home with people who despised me. Without a drop of affection as a child, I never learned how to relate to other people properly or form any sort of attachments. I was a ghost living as an intruder in someone else's home.
"Perhaps my experience with death and sensitivity to the veil wasn't a good basis for my magic to start on, but everything after that was environmental and throughout all of the key magical developmental years of my childhood, I was in an oppressive and loveless place that became an irreversible part of my magic." Viktor looked away, seeming to be going over what he'd come up with in his head, as well as realizing then what Harry was implying about his past circumstance. "I don't know what exactly you're looking for, or what you believe I am and what I can do, but I'm telling you now that it is not as grand and fantastical as you're imagining.
"The truth? The truth is that I had a shite childhood and people around here like to joke that I'm so cold and untouchable like an 'Ice Prince,' but really, I'm struggling every day just to make sure the people I've grown to actually care about know that they matter to me because I can't show it the way other people can. I don't like to be touched because I went years without it and I have no idea what I'm doing! So yes, I'm different and my magic is strange, but what you all seem to forget is that I'm also fourteen. How threatening am I to be the source of such suspicion? The world is full of strange things that we don't understand, magic most of all, and my advice to you is to leave room for the world to prove you wrong, because things are constantly changing and shifting and if we remain too rigid, it will break us." Viktor shifted uncomfortably under Harry's piercing gaze.
Viktor closed his eyes and sighed deeply, seeming to be second guessing his words and actions. Harry knew he was manipulating the older boy in order to divert him from his suspicions that hit too close to home. Harry turned Krum's assumptions on their head to make him seem to be more similar to Viktor's experience rather than the close relationship he had with Death in reality. Though, what he was saying was all true, it was just used as a decoy for the more vital secrets he held.
"My apologies, I was out of line." Viktor said after a while, still looking a bit unsure of himself, but also appearing to be slightly more at ease in Harry's presence than he was before. "If you wish to return to the ball now, I'd be glad to escort you." Viktor spoke politely—something not common for the gruff quidditch player.
Harry realized then that he'd been outside for quite a while and though it hadn't been the complete silence he was looking for; his headache had subsided significantly. Harry agree graciously and the two began walking back towards the entrance, taking their time as they knew the very entrance was lined with the Hogwarts carriages, which were occupied by students looking for some intimate moments with their dates and neither boy wanted to linger once they reached that area.
They had just reached that section, and were making their way down the walkway behind the carriages when they heard two familiar voices having an argument. They both seemed to have similar ideas as they cast disillusionment spells on themselves to listen in on the odd exchange secretly. Snape was going from carriage to carriage, ripping open the doors and docking points from each panicked teenager that fled.
"It's happening again! Like before . . . and soon neither you or anyone else will be able to deny it." Karkaroff hissed in a mix of fear and frustration. Snape's expression twisted into an aggravated sneer as he slammed the carriage door shut.
"I told you already Igor, I see no reason to discuss it." Snape spat out, already striding off to the next carriage. Karkaroff stormed after the professor and waited until the next unsuspecting couple scampered off before speaking again.
"It's a sign, Severus. You know it is!"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Severus stated evenly as he side stepped the man. Igor gritted his yellow teeth and his eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"Really? Then, perhaps you wouldn't mind rolling up your sleeve?" Karkaroff challenged. Igor reached for Snape's left arm but the other man stepped out of reach before he could grasp it. "You don't fool me, Severus." His tone dropped down low as he stepped closer, eyes narrowed and posture dangerous. "You're are scared. Admit it!" He growled, hands curling into fists at his sides. However, Snape remained calm and still. There wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that Severus was the more dangerous of the two—he was more skilled in dueling and exceptionally powerful and intelligent.
"I have nothing to be scared of, Igor. Can you say the same?" That last phrase struck something in the other man as he shifted back and seemed to shrink down in his tall frame as the fear inside him grew. Before he could be entirely overwhelmed, Karkaroff turned on his heel and stormed off towards the open grounds. After a moment, Snape made his way back into Hogwarts.
Once alone, both boys undid the disillusionment charms and turned to look at each other.
"What do you think they were talking about?" Viktor asked, a shallow crease appearing between his strong brows. Harry knew, of course. They were talking about Voldemort. The two Death Eaters had felt their connection to him flare up, perhaps through their dark marks. If he had to chance a guess, Harry would say Voldemort had done it as a warning. A caveat to his return. He wanted his loyal followers ready, and the ones who hadn't been loyal, to be afraid. For a moment, Harry wondered if the tyrannical relationship Voldemort had with his followers would change after the ritual. He certainly hoped so.
"It seems the adults are keeping secrets again." Harry said finally, still partly in his own head as he spoke. Viktor's frown deepened. Krum shook his head and started walking back in the direction of the ball. Harry didn't follow right away, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before returning to the celebration. Right before he did, though, something caught the corner of his eye and he looked just in time to see Moody turning a corner out of the courtyard, having probably also witnessed Snape and Karkaroff's little chat. Which meant that soon, Voldemort would know as well. He wondered how that would affect both men in the time to come.
Linger not a moment longer, Harry returned to the ball and Anthony. The rest of the night went smoothly and they returned to the dorms nearly an hour early—thankfully—and they were both asleep before midnight. The night was over, the Yule Ball had been conquered, and Harry could rest for the rest of winter break. Now all he needed to do was figure out how to obtain the clue from the egg and begin planning for the second task.
