Chapter 10:
Author's Note: Either the shortest, or second shortest chapter of the fic. Have your youtube-fu ready, I've put in, or at least tried to put in, links for music appropriate to the Yule Ball.
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"Harry, Harry!" Called a young voice that took Harry a moment to recognize.
"Yes, Miss Delacour?" Harry said, turning to face the small blonde, who was running down the corridor towards him, her elder sister approaching behind her at a more sedate pace.
Hermione and the rest of Harry's study group stopped to watch curiously, none of them having met or spoken with either of the Delacour girls before (though Hermione had been around Fleur once or twice).
"Harry," Gabrielle said, slightly breathless due to a combination of excitement and having run to catch up with the older boy, "I have just heard that there will be a Ball over Christmastime, and have decided to call in that little rudeness debt you owe me. You must take me to the ball!"
Harry had absolutely no idea how to respond to the blonde's declaration. He stared down at the smaller girl in confusion for some time, not even vaguely certain what to make of the girl's request/demand. After he did not respond for some time, her excited smile began to change to a confused expression as well.
"Is something wrong, Harry?" She asked.
When Harry didn't respond for another moment, Hermione stepped forward, looked the young blonde girl up and down, then Harry, before speaking.
"That sounds like an excellent idea," Hermione said, "Seeing as Harry owes you something, apparently."
Harry and Gabrielle both looked at Hermione in confusion.
"Now," Hermione said, carefully taking Harry by the shoulder and tugging him away, "I'm sure you can work the details out later, but we were just heading towards a study session, and I will have to arrange a few things, such as teaching Harry how to dance. Miss Delacour, could we arrange for you and Harry to speak of this again in say, three days time to handle the details?"
Gabrielle nodded, excitement overtaking confusion again, and Hermione smiled at the younger girl.
"Very well then," She said, "I must warn you that something may come up preventing Harry from attending, but if not, I will see to it that he's in tip-top shape to escort you to the Ball. Good day!"
Hermione carefully guided Harry, who was shooting her confused looks, down the hall, onward towards the library, and the rest of their friends fell in with them as they progressed.
"Who was she?" Gabrielle asked her elder sister in French.
"Hermione Granger," Fleur said, "A very intelligent young woman, who is rarely seen at Hogwarts outside of Harry's presence. She is something like a big sister to him, I think."
"I like her," Gabrielle said, "She's very polite."
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Later that evening, when the girls in Harry and Hermione's study group were all alone, Hermione was receiving more than a few unpleasant stares.
"What were you thinking?" Ginny hissed quietly, "Setting him up with an eight year-old girl?"
"I was thinking," Hermione replied evenly, "That Harry never would have asked any girl to go to the ball with him on a date, and would either have skipped out altogether, or asked myself because he wouldn't feel comfortable with anyone else, or McGonagall if he's become aware enough of social romantic contexts to try to avoid holding any."
"McGonagall?" Hannah Abbot asked with wide eyes.
"Of course," Luna said, nodding, "Hermione and the Headmistress are the only people Harry really trusts here at Hogwarts, even if he distrusts the lot of us less than everyone else. The only reason Harry didn't do anything forceful when I sat on his lap on the train, was because Hermione was amused, not worried, and he doesn't perceive me as a physical threat. He'd never ask me, or any of the rest of us girls, to the ball."
"This way, however," Hermione said, smiling, "He will be there, nobody will start any nasty rumors about him being involved with one of the rest of us, and we can all ask him for a dance. Or Neville." Hermione turned to smile at Hannah Abbot as she mentioned the Longbottom boy, who blushed slightly.
The other girls all smiled.
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"You wanted to see me, Headmistress McGonagall?" Harry said, stepping into the woman's office.
"Yes, Harry," McGonagall said, gesturing for Harry to seat himself, "I wish to have words with you about the second task. Have you figured out the clue?"
Harry nodded as he seated himself.
"The rules, of course, restrict me from telling you too much," McGonagall said, "I will, however, tell you that your 'precious thing' will be, despite its apparent danger, be protected by three layers of passive protection, and both Tournament staff and locals will be on hand to ensure that nothing untoward happens. I, personally, do not approve of the task regardless, but the rest of the judges over-ruled me."
Harry sat silently, considering.
"You're telling me these things because you believe I'm going to be upset by what I discover in the lake."
"Yes," McGonagall said, "I'm not happy about it either."
Harry nodded silently, then stood.
"Was there anything else, Headmistress?" He asked.
"No," McGonagall said, "That was all."
"Thank you for the warning," Harry said, "Goodbye."
McGonagall sighed as Harry left, then turned her attention to other matters that she could still do something about.
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"Harry," Hermione said patiently, "I know you like to always be prepared, but Dragonhide armor just doesn't fit under modern formal wear, muggle or wizard."
Harry scowled, and several of the girls in their study group fought down laughter.
"Hermione," Harry said, some anger leaking into his voice, "There is someone involved in this tournament, who is actively trying to kill me. I will forgo attending the ball altogether, before I forgo my armor."
Harry was focused on his conversation with Hermione, and facing away from the other girls in their group. He did not notice the meaningful glares that Susan, Ginny, Luna, Tracy, and Daphne sent Hermione's way. Neville, Blaise, and Hermione did not.
"I know Harry," Hermione said, sighing, and passing him an antiquated library tome, "Here, this one covers rules of etiquette from when the Tournament was first started. Depending on how much wizarding culture stood compared to muggle back then, you might be able to get away with wearing armor as formal wear, like the Knights used to."
Harry nodded, and began to page through the text. Once he was distracted, Hermione turned to glare briefly at the other girls, before delving into her own text. The rest of that study session was largely quiet.
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Harry was not certain what to make of an eight year old blonde French girl in a white dress. She was cute by age, instinctive human classification, genetics, and deliberate behavior, something Harry wasn't terribly used to dealing with. He had started having… urges relating to looking at girls, particularly when they were smiling at him (something most of the girls in his study group seemed to be doing an awful lot lately), but he had been largely successful in pushing them out of his mind. Harry wasn't willing to deal with puberty and plots on his life at the same time.
Gabrielle was not certain what to make of a short, wiry young Englishman in full plate mail. With a sword at his waist, and not a fencing foil or rapier like she had seen her father use sometimes, but a short sword with a broad blade and entirely functional grip. Gabrielle decided that he looked somewhat imposing, and needed a cape. A cape would make 'imposing' into dashing, and Gabrielle was all for dashing.
Harry had come to pick Gabrielle up from the Beauxbaton carriage, where she had been getting ready for the ball with her sister, and was somewhat surprised that Harry had apparently crossed the snowy outdoors between castle and carriage in armor, without even a cloak. Gabrielle had found the Scottish Winter to be beastly cold, and had not enjoyed it during either of her visits to Hogwarts thus far.
"Miss Delacour," Harry said, nodding courteously in greeting.
"Mister Potter," Gabrielle said, smiling brilliantly at the older boy, "You must call me Gabrielle."
Harry paused for a moment before responding. While he certainly preferred the social control that formality allowed, especially when dealing with people he was almost wholly unacquainted with, he was fairly certain it would be quite rude to refuse to use first names with his 'date' for the Yule ball.
"Very well, Gabrielle," Harry said politely, "You then must, of course, call me Harry."
Gabrielle smiled, and when he offered her his arm, she took it.
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Author's musical selection for the Yule Ball. Remove the space, and Youtube will kit you out for the proper dance experience! The first one is particularly appropriate for those of you unfamiliar with the genre (you poor saps).
www. Youtube watch?v=bR3K5uB-wMA
www. Youtube watch?v=n92ATE3IgIs&feature=related
www. Youtube watch?v=rC6JUA8cjoY
http ./ www. Youtube watch?v=8XPzICHxXoQ
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Hermione was impressed by how thoroughly the Great Hall had been transformed for the Yule Ball, but not quite surprised. After all, Minerva McGonagall was one of the foremost Transfiguration Masters of the age, and was hardly going to put on a poor showing for her school. What had surprised Hermione was the theme that McGonagall had selected. Hermione had watched The Rocketeer several times while she was younger, during a phase in which she was fascinated with unusual methods of air travel, such as rocket-packs and the now largely-extinct zeppelin, and the Great Hall's layout reminded her a great deal of the formal club/dance scene that ended with everything getting shot up.
Hermione dearly hoped the ball would not end the same way the scene in the movie had. The Great Hall was gorgeous, lush white carpet covered the floor, with a multi-tiered arrangement of tables and chairs around the edges of the room, save for one wall, where a large stage with seating for what looked like a full-sized 'Big Band' had been set. There were a lot of Brass instruments, being played by very sharply dressed men in white suits, sitting on or standing in front of white seats, on the white stage. A small waterfall ran down the middle of the stage, splitting to wrap around a small promontory equipped with a microphone, before rejoining and then flowing under the glass dance-floor in the center of the hall.
It was quite possibly the most gorgeous setting Hermione had ever been in. Glancing behind her, she saw that the other members of her little social circle were even more surprised than she was. It was at that point that she abruptly realized that aside from her and Harry, every single one of them was raised entirely outside of Muggle society. In all fairness, she thought, it's hardly likely that all British teenagers would be familiar with American culture from sixty years ago anyways.
Then Harry arrived, and she was entirely distracted.
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Throughout the ball, Harry watched many people. He watched Gabrielle, a little whirlwind of bright smiles, happy and curious words, and good cheer. He watched Viktor Krum, surly and unresponsive on the surface, but thoughtful underneath. He watched Fleur Delacour vary between warm and smiling when she interacted with her sister, and distant and impersonal when she interacted with anyone else. He watched as Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbot clumsily tried to make each other comfortable, and blushed a great deal.
He watched as Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick somehow managed to dance together, and actually found himself laughing together with Gabrielle at the sight. It was after the laughter that he began to feel like there was a pressure in his chest, demanding out, and that he get out, but he suppressed it as best he could. It would be rude to cut the young French girl's evening short, and Harry suspected that the girl wouldn't last too late into the night before she wore herself out, due to a combination both of her age and lively nature.
So Harry continued to watch, seeing the three Slytherins in his study group socialize like the well-trained professionals they were, seeing Susan Bones, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood laughing and smiling together.
Then Hermione came over and told him he should offer a dance to all the girls in their study group, and Harry nearly panicked. Then he started silently cursing puberty.
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Gabrielle was a little put out when the older British witch came and convinced Harry to dance with several other girls, but she knew it wouldn't be polite to keep him away from his friends, so she went to spend some time with her sister. Besides, it looked like her sister needed some relief from the stupid older boys, who had that stupid look most boys did around her big sister.
Gabrielle was quite used to saving her big sister from idiot boys.
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When Ginny Weasley danced with Harry, it was just about all she could do from breaking out into euphoric giggles. Harry was dancing with her. He was holding her! Her! Oh, he wasn't the best of dancers, he followed the forms well enough, but he did it more with a mechanical precision than any real kind of grace. Still, she wasn't exactly in the top of form herself, more blood-flow going to her face than to the bits of her brain and ears associated with balance. She quite enjoyed herself though.
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When Susan Bones danced with Harry, she noticed that he wasn't entirely comfortable, so she smiled softly at him, and made small talk about things of no consequence; the food at the ball, assignments they had done recently, things that didn't require much from him. He seemed to relax a little bit, and Susan enjoyed the dancing, so she counted it as progress, even if not so much as she would have liked. She left him with a smile when her turn to dance was done.
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When Tracy Davis danced with Harry Potter, she confirmed what she already knew for the nth time. Harry Potter was an incredibly powerful and skilled mage, observant and courteous, and almost totally apathetic to social dynamics, social standing, and the formal courtesies involved with interacting with people of various social ranks. Harry had no desire to play the social game, to rise in the eyes of his peers, and from what she could tell, he had no need to either. She enjoyed the dance, and still felt a powerful infatuation for the boy, but continued to firmly inform herself that as attractive as he may be, he wasn't suitable husband material for a family rising through the social ranks.
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When Daphne Greengrass danced with Harry Potter, her mind was running on overdrive. She was attracted to two, and only two things about Harry Potter. One, he was strong, stronger than any of their contemporaries, and by a wide margin. Two, he had shown absolutely no inclination whatsoever to hurt anybody who did not first attack him or someone he cared about. Considering what her mother's relationship with her father had been like, before the man had had an 'accident,' Daphne Greengrass could care less about absolutely anything else in a relationship so long as those two factors were present.
Daphne felt safe around Harry Potter, and that was really all she wanted in a relationship. Unfortunately, Hermione was miles ahead of her in getting close to Harry, knew him better than most probably anybody else in the world, and attempting to sabotage that relationship in order to supplant the Granger would be worse than useless, and well into counter-productive. Daphne's mind whirled as Harry spun her around the dance floor, attempting to find a way to attach herself permanently to the powerful Wizard.
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Luna Lovegood's dance with Harry Potter was, like so many things she did, rather outside the norm. Mostly because she opened it by thanking him for staying at the Ball longer than he really wanted to, and dancing with her and her friends. Harry was more than a little surprised by her expressed gratitude, and that she'd picked up on his desire to leave, but Luna said nothing further, just smiling and enjoying her dance with him.
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When Harry asked Hermione to dance, he did not actually say anything, instead simply extending an arm to her where she sat.
"Of course, Harry," She said, smiling before standing and accompanying him out onto the dance floor.
"Have you enjoyed yourself?" She asked, smiling as the band picked up with another song, and they began to dance.
"Some," Harry said, and Hermione's smile took on a bittersweet note.
"Too many people for too long?" She asked sympathetically.
Harry allowed himself a minute nod.
"Thank you for dancing with all of us girls anyways," Hermione said, "It's made most of us very happy."
Harry nodded again. Hermione gave him another sad smile, and a few moments of silence passed between them as they continued to dance.
"Thank you for coming, Harry," Hermione eventually said, "I know you could have just skipped out on it."
"I could hardly snub Gabrielle a third time," Harry said, "It would have been quite rude."
"Harry," Hermione said gently, "Leaving her because you need to go to class hardly counts as 'snubbing.'"
Harry's expression deadened slightly in the manner Hermione had come to recognize as meaning he didn't want to reveal his current emotions.
"She's eight years old," Harry said quietly, "And she's almost always smiling."
It took Hermione a little while to realize what the significance of Gabrielle being eight years old was, and in that time, the dance ended, and they moved to the edge of the dance floor.
"You see her so happy," Hermione said softly to Harry, gently taking his arms and pulling him around to face her directly, "And when you were eight, your uncle tried to kill you. It makes you want something better for her, doesn't it?"
Harry nodded quietly, and looked away, missing Hermione's smile, though he couldn't miss when she used her hold on his arms to pull him into a hug. She only hugged him briefly, mindful that they were in a very public setting, before pulling back and smiling at him again.
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"This is really quite fascinating," Maxime said, gesturing towards the Great Hall's makeover and rather extravagant musical presence, "Wherever did you get the idea?"
"It's from Muggle culture," McGonagall replied with a smile, "American, in particular, though the time where such as this was common has largely passed."
"A shame," Maxime said, "It's quite lovely, though I must confess, I'm surprised to see it all so clean. I had not thought Muggle's were really capable of creating things quite so white in anything other than a church."
"You'd be surprised," McGonagall said, "Though I think some of that has to do with most American buildings being aged by the decade, rather than the century. It is rather surprising, to a degree, how tidy it turned out. Filch has been particularly sharp this year, I suppose he wants to put on a good presentation for guests."
"I would hardly expect any less of my own staff," Maxime agreed, "It would be embarassing."
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"Excuse me," An accented voice said politely from behind Hermione, and she turned to find Fleur Delacour standing behind her
"My sister is tiring," Fleur said, gesturing quietly towards the table she had been sitting at, where Gabrielle was blinking tiredly, and watching them, "I believe it is time for her escort to bring her home for the night."
Harry nodded, disengaged from Hermione after squeezing her hands, and headed towards Gabrielle. Hermione and Fleur watched him go, and when he reached Gabrielle, Fleur spoke.
"Did his uncle really try to kill him when he was eight?" She asked quietly.
"Yes," Hermione said, "He had been living with his aunt and uncle since his parents died. Vernon Dursley is currently serving a life sentence, minimum of thirty years without parole, for domestic abuse, child abuse, assault and battery, and attempted murder."
Fleur paled slightly.
"There are rumors about him," She said carefully, "That imply he is a very powerful wizard."
"My relationship with him began in my first year when I was attacked by a Troll," She said frankly, turning to face the French witch, "He saved my life, killing it in the process."
"That says a great deal about him," Fleur said quietly, meeting Hermione's gaze deliberately, "That he has taken such good care of my little sister also says a great deal about him. You know him well?"
"Better than anyone else, most likely," Hermione said, "I don't suppose your sister will be visiting again? She's been good for him to be around."
"For the other tasks, most probably," Fleur said, "I will try to arrange time for them to visit."
"Thank you," Hermione said, and nodded to the French girl before going to join up with her friends again.
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Harry was not entirely sure how she had done it (though he remembered a cute pout quite vividly), but Harry was carrying Gabrielle piggy-back across the Hogwarts grounds to the Beauxbaton carriage.
"Mmm… Harry?" Gabrielle said sleepily
"Yes, Gabrielle?" Harry asked.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Gabrielle asked.
"…No," Harry said, uncertain as to the purpose of the question.
"I think you should be my sister's boyfriend," Gabrielle said tiredly, "All the other boys she's tried to go out with are jerks. But you're nice."
Harry was too shocked to say much of anything else except 'goodnight' when he dropped her off.
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Once the last guest left the Great Hall, and the House Elves began to clean it out, a small beetle detached itself from the underside of one of the tables, and buzzed off towards the exit.
Oh yes, Rita Skeeter thought to herself, Excellent material tonight…
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The second task began, and Harry removed his broom from his pocket, then unshrank it. In the same space of time, his opponents cast bubble-head charms, or transfigured themselves. While his opponents waded into the water, Harry cast a 'point me' spell targeting Hermione, then sped out over the lake. By the time the other Champions had moved beneath the surface of the water, Harry was floating over where his wand faced directly downward, or as close to it as he could perceive.
Harry then cast a Bubblehead charm, horrifically overpowering it, and ending up with a sphere centered on his head that had roughly a one-yard radius. Curling up so that his entire body fell within the radius, Harry pulled a small rock from his pocket, then unshrunk it, restoring it to its original small boulder status. Holding the rock became bracing himself on the rock, as it plunged directly into the lake, and Harry rode the stone down into the depths.
The lake was far from clear, but it was not so murky that he was unable to shift the rock's angle of descent to avoid striking any of the Mermen he passed, or avoid striking the hostages when he touched down next to them. Before doing anything else, Harry took a few moments to carefully inspect the area around the hostages, sweeping it both with his eyes, and a tendril of his magic. There were mermen and invisible wizards around the hostages, and several spells, as well as a small set of non-magical scuba gear on each of them. Satisfied that McGonagall had been telling the truth about the risk level, Harry set to work. After a swift cut with his knife to her bonds, he pulled Hermione Granger's unconscious form into his bubble with him, and released the rock, allowing his large bubble's buoyancy to bring them rapidly to the surface.
Harry's broom had drifted slightly across the surface of the water, but he quickly summoned it, then rather abruptly discovered that breaking the surface of the water had brought Hermione to consciousness. Wet, cold, and clingy consciousness.
"Merlin," She said, clamping her arms around Harry's midsection like cold bands of iron, "In the lake? In February? What were they thinking?"
"McGonagall was not pleased," Harry said, finding that Hermione's grip was causing him more shortness of breath than anything involved in accomplishing the task thus far.
"I'd think not," Hermion said as Harry awkwardly dragged them both onto his broom, "Cats hate getting wet."
Harry shrugged, and accelerated his Nimbus up out of the water, and towards the shore.
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"Well," Hermione said later that day, "The other Judges have officially stripped Karkaroff of his position for blatant bias."
"Damn straight," Ginny said, scowling at nobody in particular, "Harry's so obviously out-performed the others its disgusting. He just doesn't like the fact that Harry showed him up in a fight."
"It's not like it matters any more at this point," Tracy Davis said, "He probably only gave Harry four points in the first task so that he wouldn't get his position stripped then. By giving him zero now, he's ensured that Krum has almost as many as Harry going into the last task."
"It'll matter," Susan Bones said quietly, "He's made it obvious just how petty a man he is not only to Harry, but to the staff and students of all three schools, including his own. There were whispers about Harry showing up Karkaroff before this, but they'll gain a lot of credibility after this."
"It's also going to cost him a lot of face in pretty much every academic circle there is," Blaise Zabini said.
"How was Harry taking it?" Daphne Greengrass asked.
"He smiled," Hermione said, smiling herself, "I think he's taking it as proof that Karkaroff's afraid of him, since he's resorting to such petty revenge, and hurting himself in the process. I doubt Harry expects it to change his odds of winning."
"I don't think anybody expects it to change Harry's odds of winning," Neville Longbottom said wryly, "He barely took five minutes for the second task, and less for the first. Honestly, I think the other Champions got a raw deal, when Harry entered, they're all exceptional, but they're being completely shown up. Harry's in a different league than the rest of us. Except maybe for you, Hermione."
Hermione blushed at that, and began trying to stammer out a reply, but mercifully, someone brought the subject back around to something closer to where it started.
"Well," Luna Lovegood said, "I castigated Mister Karkaroff for his unsportsman-like behavior in my editorial for the Quibbler, do any of you suppose the Prophet will mention anything either?"
"We'll see tomorrow, I guess," Hannah Abbot said.
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Harry sat silently, alone on one of the battlements of Hogwarts, concealed in a place accessible only via flight or intense climbing skills. It was getting harder to find time alone, something Harry wasn't certain if he minded or not. He had gradually become more and more aware that Hermione was attempting very deliberately to get him into social situations more, and to become more comfortable around people. It was working, to at least some degree, but Harry found it more difficult to go off alone to develop his magical abilities, without someone watching.
He could still practice, of course, working simple tricks such as silently, motionlessly, and wandlessly applying and removing sticking charms to a book he was reading, color changing charms to switch the color of the text between brown and black, applying and slowly strengthening a hovering charm on his chair until it rose slightly off the ground, then weakening it slowly enough to avoid making noise. All of these tricks forced him to continue to develop his control, as while he could perform most spells with one component of the casting removed, doing it without all three was incredibly demanding.
It was hard though, dealing with people being around him for more than just a few hours each day, with people who knew his habits, who would come looking for him if he was missing at a time they were not used to. Sometimes, it made Harry feel hemmed in, sometimes it made him feel warm inside in a way that felt both wonderful and painful, for reasons he could not entirely understand. Harry rather wished that she could have tried this during a year that he was not being forced to compete in a lethal tournament against his will under pain of losing his magic.
Of course, considering she was taking her NEWT's this year, Harry doubted there would be opportunity for her to try to socialize him again. Something in Harry's chest ached at the thought of her not returning to Hogwarts next year, which confused him, as he had gotten on just fine during second year without her, but he turned his mind back to the Tournament instead. One task remained, and since nothing obviously irregular had occurred thus far, whatever the person or persons behind Harry's entrance into the tournament had planned would almost certainly take place there and then.
Harry intended to be ready.
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End Chapter 10.
"Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory:
He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.
He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.
He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.
He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.
He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign.
Hence the saying: If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat."
-Sun Tzu, Art of War, Chapter 3, Section 17-18
(old)AN: It's a good thing that this fic is nearing the end, as my author-coherency is falling apart. I'm accustomed to having a great deal of time to work back and forth across the entire piece to tie everything together, ret-conning stuff in the earlier parts of the story to fit how it's developing later, laying plot hints, etc. It's been five years since I finished the first draft of my novel, and it *still* hasn't been submitted for publishing, to give you some idea of how much time I've worked with prior to this project.
This was probably the single hardest chapter for me to write, as my own heart has not been in a remotely celebratory place almost the entire last few weeks, so doing the Ball properly was not going to be easy. If I'd been in a better state of mind/heart, the Ball section probably would have been twice as long, but I think I've done a reasonable job at it, even if I would have liked to make it a great deal more. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but as I said, I'm losing author coherency on this fic. Fortunately, the final chapter is what I've been anticipating writing this whole time, so that will be easy.
Next chapter will be the last chapter proper, but it'll probably be pretty long, and 90%+ chance of an epilogue. The focus and tone of the story will also narrow as it draws to a close; there probably will not be much more in the way of humor/light-hearted moments before the story climax.