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The Misplaced Potter 2
Chapter 4
In which Henry prepares for the Yule Ball
"Happy Christmas," a rosy-cheeked Barbara Thane called out gaily as she entered the Porter's warm, homey kitchen.
"Happy Christmas," Danielle Porter returned in an equally jolly voice as she extracted a two large pans of biscuits from the oven. "You're just in time."
"So I see," Barbara replied. "They smell fantastic. What are they?"
"Honey butter," Danielle answered. "I promised Chris that I'd send him some back with Henry. Caroline, bless her, never can make a decent batch despite it being a very basic recipe."
Barbara performed a quick cooling charm on one biscuit before plucking it from the tray.
"Fabulous," she purred slowly chewing the morsel. "You must give me the recipe. The kids at mum's day care centre would love them."
"As I said, it's very simple," the older woman replied. "Can you cool the rest of them? I'll box them up and they'll be ready."
"So where's our lad?" the young witch asked waving her wand over the trays.
"Where else?"
"The stables," they said in unison.
"He told us that he discovered that he could talk with reptiles," Mrs. Porter said. "I think he's hoping to do the same with horses. I guess it isn't any more far fetched then chatting with an adder."
"Fewer ramifications, anyway," Barbara replied.
Mrs Porter began to stack the biscuits in a box. "Yes, he told us about that, also. He said that many of his classmates literally fear him now. He's a truthful boy but I find that difficult to believe."
"Fear him perhaps is a bit hyperbolic but it's safe to say the vast majority distrust him at the moment," Barbara answered. "And that would be the vast majority of the magical community, not just his classmates."
"That's not rational," Mrs Porter snapped.
"No, but prejudice never is," the young witch replied forlornly. "Do you remember that conversation we had at your sister's house after Henry was discharged from St. Mungo's?"
"Essentially, bigots spreading innuendo."
"Yes," Barbara said. "Unfortunately, The Daily Prophet is stoking the flames of intolerance. As far as their propaganda machine is concerned, a muggleborn parselmouth is made-to-order."
"Henry didn't tell me it was that bad," Mrs Porter said in a worried voice.
"Isolated as he is at Hogwarts, he probably doesn't realize the full extent of it," Barbara replied. "All that he knows is the reaction of his schoolmates."
"Is he safe?" Mrs. Porter nervously asked. "Should he be withdrawn from Hogwarts?"
"I didn't mean to frighten you, Danielle," Barbara quickly said. "Yes, Henry's safe. No one is going to harm him. The peasants aren't going to storm Hogwarts Castle brandishing pitchforks and torches. All-in-all, it's just a load of twaddle from a group of gits with inordinately loud voices."
Mrs Porter shook her head. "When Henry first went to Hogwarts, I thought that being a wizard was incredible, like it was the next step in human development or something similar. Now I realise that they are just people with a particular talent, people with the same foibles as the rest of us."
"Yes, but in our defence, we have the same virtues also," Barbara replied.
Mrs Porter reached out one arm and affectionately hugged the younger woman. "I haven't lost sight of that, Barbara. Hmmm, I seem to have made too many to fit into the box. I'll pour some tea and the two of us can discuss what to do with the excess."
Barbara smiled. "Smashing idea."
"Well, Doctor Doolittle, have you gotten any of them to say anything yet?" Robert Porter light-heartedly asked his son who was leaned against a stall gate.
"Yeah, they said if you give them some double-malt whiskey, they could fly as well as Madame Maxine's horses," Henry answered turning toward his father.
"Really, now?" his father blandly said stroking his chin. "Any particular brand?"
Henry smiled tossing up his hands. "Damn. The joke falls apart because I don't drink anything stronger then butterbeer."
"That's a fizzy drink, I presume?" Robert Porter said.
"Yeah, it's kinda like a cross between ginger beer and butterscotch," Henry answered. "I'm not too wild about it but since it's made by witches, it's the only one available at Hogwarts."
"Maybe you should take some Pepsi back with you?"
"No," Henry said. "I'm mostly trying to drink water, milk, and juice these days. It's healthier."
"Yeah, it is," Mr Porter laughed. "But when you say so it makes you sound forty instead of fourteen. Looking forward to the Yule Ball tonight?"
"Sure, well, in a way," Henry replied. "The only dances I know are the ballroom ones that mom taught me but I doubt if The Weird Sisters play anything like that."
"No, with a name like that they don't sound like a string quartet," Mr Porter agreed.
"No, they aren't," Henry concurred. "But with Maggie, Chris, and everyone there, it should to be fun anyway."
"Sounds like you got some good friends, son," Mr Porter said seriously. "Keep that in mind when you start to feel that the world is against you because of this snake talking pip."
"Yes, sir, I will," Henry promised. "You know, I don't care what The Daily Prophet prints or what some of the older students think but what bothers me is the kids in my form, kids that have gotten to know me well over the last three years who get …I don't know…leery around me, I guess."
Henry's father nodded. "Everyone's your brother until the rent comes due. It disheartens you when people you like turn against you but what you must avoid is allowing the situation to turn you bitter. Forgive them and get on with your life. Believe me, you'll be the better for it."
"So you've always taught me," Henry replied.
"That's because I've seen what hate does," Mr Porter said sadly. "It gets hidden under all the commercialism but today we celebrate the birth of someone who said that all people everywhere were called on to love one another. A radical idea, maybe an unobtainable ideal but it would be a truly wonderful world if everyone did just that."
"Yes, it would," his son agreed.
"Until the outbreak of universal brotherhood, Henry," Mr Porter continued. "Keep in mind two things. First, your mother and I love you very much."
"I love you, too, Dad."
"And second, remember that you have do some true friends."
"Yeah, I do," Henry acknowledged. "More friends then I ever had before."
"Don't be too proud to turn to them when you're troubled," his father said.
"Yes, sir," Henry promised.
"Well, enough lecturing," Mr Porter said self-effacingly. "Let's go back into the house before your mother eats all the biscuits she's making."
He laid an arm across his son's shoulders gently directing him toward the stable doors.
"You're getting taller," he mused as they walked out of the barn.
"I'm still the shortest boy in my form," Henry replied. "But it works out okay since Maggie's the shortest girl."
"Life has a way of working itself out," his father said. "A lot of people bemoan troubled times but it is in adversity that you realise your potential. From trial come champions."
"That's fine as long as you're not the one left at the gate," Henry quipped.
"I'm too good of a trainer to have raised anything but a champion," intoned Mr Porter.
Mrs Porter and Barbara were laughing over something one or the other had said when Henry and his father walked through the kitchen door.
"Happy Christmas," Barbara said.
"Happy Christmas, Barbara," the Porter men responded.
"You're early, aren't you?" Henry added.
"I don't know, Henry? You tell us," Mrs Porter answered. "Do you plan on going directly from a barn to the ball?"
"Oh, c'mon, Mom, I did plan on a shower," Henry replied. "But that doesn't take long."
"So, a quick shower then throw on some clothes and head for the dance?"
"Well, yeah," Henry answered in a less then confident voice.
Mrs Porter and Barbara looked at him enigmatically. Henry glanced to his father silently begging for guidance.
Mr Porter chuckled. "Son, just nod your head and promise to do what ever Barbara and your mother tell you. You'll end up doing it anyway so save yourself the aggravation."
Henry brought his hands flat together and bowed his head over them. "As my father commands."
"He didn't used to be so cheeky," Barbara joked.
"Teenager and smartarse are synonyms," Mrs Porter laughed. "But in seriousness, Henry, you need to look your best tonight. It will be very important to Maggie."
"Why?"
"Henry, you and probably most of the boys at your school see this as just a dance but this Yule Ball will a major event in Maggie's and every other girl's life. It will be something that they will look back upon for years," Mrs Porter said. "And while boys may not pay attention to such matters, every girl, to one degree or another, will be comparing herself to and competing with every other girl at the dance and the boy on her arm is very much a part of that equation."
"I don't think Maggie and Hermione are like that," Henry protested.
The women shook their heads in mirth.
"Hermione will be with Victor Krum, an international quidditch star," Barbara began. "And Maggie will be with you who, thanks to The Daily Prophet, currently hold the title of 'most notorious boy wizard in Britain' and girls do love their bad boys. Trust me, dear heart; both know that they have a leg up on the competition as soon they step into the great hall and both are going to savour the moment. Unless, that is, you show up looking like you just rolled out of bed."
"That seems too weird for words to me," Henry said.
"Oh, guys don't compare girls?" Barbara asked coyly.
"Yeah, but…" Henry floundered. "Well, we're guys."
"Well, guy, as much as I have treasured having you home for the last few days, you do need to get back to Hogwarts," his mother said. "Maggie is a sweet girl and deserves having you at your smartest. I can guarantee that she is getting ready as we speak."
"But its hours and hours before the dance," contended Henry.
"That's not that long," Barbara replied. "In all likelihood, most of the girls skipped Christmas dinner and hopped into the floo as soon as they were done opening their gifts this morning. I would have."
Henry started to speak but his father put a hand on his shoulder. After a quick nod to him, the boy surrendered.
"Okay, I'll go get my stuff."
A very brief time later found Barbara and Henry walking side-by-side along a noisy stream that meandered through the Porter's pastures, past a small wood then by the now fallow fields of the Thane farm before joining with the River Trent further along. Snow crunched under their feet. The sun shone wanly in the grey sky but no wind disturbed the branches of the ash and willow trees barren save for the occasional sprig of mistletoe.
"I hope that your mother and I didn't shatter too many of your illusions," Barbara said.
"No, not really," Henry answered. "I didn't know girls were that competitive with one another but frankly, I never thought about it."
"We are, especially at that age," Barbara said. "It probably lies in our most basic instincts about promulgating the species. When your strip away romance and carnal pleasure, that what it boils down to."
"That sounds so…"
"Primal." Barbara supplied.
"Yeah," Henry agreed.
"In the end it is," Barbara said. "But romance is a wonderful thing. When you're in love, everything seems better."
"Anyone special in your life?" asked Henry.
Barbara shook her head ruefully. "No. I could say that my apprenticeship doesn't leave me much time for a relationship but I'd only be lying to myself. In reality no one interesting has shown any interest in me, lately."
"But you're one of the most incredible women in the world," Henry protested.
"You are a silver-tongued rascal, aren't you?" Barbara laughed.
"Well, you are," Henry said.
"Thank you, Henry," Barbara replied. "I appreciate that. I'm not desperately trolling the streets of London or Nottingham looking for a man but one would be nice."
"I still can't believe no one is interested in you," Henry replied.
"Oh, I get my share of passes but I'm looking for something more then a quick lay," Barbara replied stumbling over a root hidden under the snow. "I'm sure that I'll find what I'm looking for."
"You don't have to wade through the snow on my account, Barbara," Henry said. "You can apparate back to your house if you want to. I'll be along shortly."
"No way," Barbara replied merrily. "I love walking outside on days like this. The crisp bite to the air. The fields and hills covered in snow. The peace and solitude. I come alive."
Henry understood. "People sometimes ask me why I run nearly every day. That's what I tell them. It makes me feel alive."
"I've been meaning to ask you for a long time," began Barbara as her expression sobered. "Being neighbours, your parents and I talk frequently. Exactly how much do you tell them about what's going on in your life? Your letters to me are fairly open so I don't want to inadvertently mention something that you have been keeping from them."
Henry looked pained. "I never lie to them exactly but neither do I tell them as much as they think I do. At least, I hope that they don't realise that."
"Lies of omission," Barbara guessed.
"Yeah," the boy admitted. "They love me so naturally they would want to protect me. I don't think that I would be able to convince them that ultimately I am safest where it seems that I am in the most danger."
"Do they know about Harry Potter?"
"Yeah, I told them," Henry said. "It didn't bother mom or dad. There weren't any surprises for anyone since I already knew that I was their adopted son. The only change was that they got together with the goblins at Gringotts to set up an investment scheme for my Potter money. According to Mr Hackaxe, instead of it just sitting there collecting a small interest, its value has increased eight and three-quarters percent over the last year."
"Well, well, handsome, intelligent and rich." Barbara teased him.
"Don't forget notorious."
"And notorious," Barbara added lightly. "Do you ever get the urge to reveal yourself? Put a stop to all of the muggleborn bias."
Henry shook his head. "No, never. As far as I can tell, it would only make matters worse. As it is, this Triwizards crap has shone more light on me then I need. I haven't been able to move as freely as I once did. I cannot afford to have anyone take a close look at the after class clubs or notice the time that I spend with certain professors. I need that training."
"You've had to grow up too quickly," Barbara said sadly.
"Yeah, maybe," Henry replied. "But it gives me a chance to grow old."
Barbara clasped Henry's gloved hand. They walked the rest of the way to the Thane home in silence.
Henry staggered, barely keeping his feet, as his journey through the floo network abruptly ended in the massive entrance hall of Hogwarts. Normally, the castle was isolated from the floo network but to allow students to go home for the Christmas holiday yet return for the Yule Ball, the Headmaster linked one fireplace to it.
Henry was certain that there were enchantments placed on the single fireplace to prevent mischief. Furthermore, he noticed several house elves standing beside Professor Flitwick, who was tallying the students as they returned. Many wizards underestimated the elves potent magic.
"Porter, Henry," the charms teacher cried out in a firm voice.
A quill dipped itself into an inkpot then quickly made a check on the scroll that lay on the writing table.
"Smooth landing," George Weasley quipped. He was standing with his three brothers.
"Henry, if you would, hand your satchel to Thyme. For security, you understand, it must be examined," Professor Flitwick said. "Did you come through a temporary link?"
"No, Professor," Henry answered, turning his bag over to the elf who stepped forward. "I used the fireplace of my neighbours, the Thanes."
"Excellent, one less complication," the diminutive man said.
"No dark magic," Thyme piped up, returning Henry's bag.
"Very good," said Professor Flitwick. "I hope that you enjoyed your abbreviated holiday."
"I did, sir" Henry replied. "And, if I may, happy Christmas to you."
"And to you all also," Henry directed toward the elves.
"Happy Christmas," Professor Flitwick responded cheerfully as the elves chorused the same. "Best be getting ready, now, Henry. Can't have a Hogwarts champion looking anything less then princely in front of our guests, can we?"
"Don't worry, professor," Henry chortled. "The women in my life have already lectured me on the subject."
With a warm smile and a wave, the charms teacher sent Henry on his way. Percy, whom Henry was surprised to see back at Hogwarts, had left but Fred, George, and Ron were waiting for Henry.
"Hi, Happy Christmas," Henry said joining the brothers as they walked toward the main staircase. "Where's Ginny?"
"She's been here for hours," Fred said shaking his head. "Missed out on a fantastic Christmas pudding."
"We were obliged to eat her share for her," George said in feigned sorrow. "The things we do for those we love."
"Barbara said that she thought most of the girls would get here early," Henry told them.
"And how is the fair Miss Thane these days," Fred asked.
"And has she ever mentioned any fantasies about redheads by chance?" George asked.
"Well and no," Henry answered.
"Excellent and crushing," George said.
"Here's our exit," Fred said "See you at the ball,"
Ron and Henry watched the twins bound enthusiastically up the stairs.
"I really don't wanna do this," Ron moaned. "But at least Maggie was able to alter my dress robes into something presentable."
"Why did you ask Luna if you didn't want to go to the ball?" Henry asked.
"Ginny," Ron replied. "She said that I had two choices. She could make my life a living hell or I could take Luna to the Yule Ball."
"Did you flip a coin?" asked Henry.
"Hell, no," Ron barked. "I went straight away and asked Luna. Don't let Ginny fool you. That girl can be mean. She would have made my life miserable."
"And you love her too much to fight back," Henry said.
"Oh, yeah and does she ever take advantage of that," Ron grumbled.
"Luna's a great girl," Henry said.
"Yeah, she is. A better girl then I deserve," said Ron. "But she scares me."
"You're afraid of Luna?" asked Henry incredulously.
Ron shrugged. "You know, not exactly afraid but, you know, she makes me skittish. I feel naked around her, like she can read my mind or something."
"I'm sorry but I just don't see it," Henry said.
"I know," Ron sighed. "It's just me. As you said, she's a great girl. I'll see you later."
"Later," Henry said as the boys parted.
The Hufflepuff common room was crowded when Henry entered. Some conversations hushed as more then one pair of eyes darted his way while others pointedly ignored his arrival.
"Ah, Henry, there you are," Ernie Macmillan said striding over to him.
"Happy Christmas, Ernie," he replied somewhat startled. Ernie, like most of the Hufflepuffs, while not hostile to Henry had been treading carefully around him as if he were a volatile potion that could explode at anytime.
"Happy Christmas," Ernie replied extending his hand. "Henry, I'd like to apologise for my suspicions and the way I've been acting toward you. If you're a dark wizard then I'm Brian Boru."
"It's alright," Henry replied shaking the Irish lad's hand.
"Thank you," Ernie said sincerely. "You know, I've been thinking…"
"That's dangerous," interrupted Justin Finch-Fletchley as he joined the pair.
Ernie laughed. "Anyway, I think that it's likely that there have been some good wizards who were parselmouths but they kept it secret. Who needs that kind of grief?"
"Believe me, if I had known, I'd kept it secret," Henry replied emphatically.
"I'll wager," Justin said before clearing his throat. "I've been going along with the crowd on this, Henry. I should have known better. I'm sorry."
"No problem," Henry replied happily. "Well, I have got to get ready."
"You've got time," Justin said. "How about a game of cribbage?"
"Thanks but I can't," Henry replied.
"Its hours before the dance," Ernie insisted.
"I know," Henry groaned. "But being one of then champions, I think that I'm going to have to pass a dozen inspections beforehand."
"Better you then me, mate," Ernie chuckled.
Henry tossed his satchel onto his bed when he entered his dorm room. What exactly to do next eluded him. In the absence of a plan of action, he sat down on his trunk and stared at the large wardrobe before him.
"I was wondering when you would arrive."
His fingers found the pendant under his shirt. "I'm learning that men and women have different concepts of time."
No, we don't. The difference lies in the amount of time it takes for a man to look smart as opposed to what it takes for woman to accomplish the same task."
"You never look anything but beautiful, Maggie."
"Thank you but one day you'll see me when I first awaken in the morning with my hair a mess and with breath that would gag a thestral."
"I look forward to it."
"Really, Henry? Do you know where I am now?"
Henry cast his mind outward. "Your mother's apartment."
"Yes but more specifically, I'm in a large tub that could easily accommodate two. Scented bubbles are lapping against…"
"Please, Maggie. I am going to have to see your mother tonight. If I show up drooling, she'll probably turn me into basset hound."
"I'm sorry, Henry. I should not dangle something in front of you that you cannot have. I need to talk to Doctor Murray. I think that the hormones are starting to affect me."
"That's what they're supposed to do."
"Yes. I'll see you in a little while, Henry. I love you."
"I love you, too."
Henry did not have to pass a dozen inspections but it was close. Professor Sprout just happened to drop in on the Hufflepuff common room moments after the Fat Friar declared himself satisfied with Cedric's and Henry's appearance. Her examination took a bit longer then the ghost's but in the end, she was equally pleased.
"You both do Hufflepuff proud," she gushed.
The Headmaster, who was in the entrance hall supervising the disconnection of the fireplace from the floo network, gave the boys an once-over when the two Hufflepuffs emerged from the stairwell.
His blue eyes twinkled over his half-moon glasses. "Don't break too many hearts, tonight."
Henry was willing to believe that it was pure chance that he met Professors Sinistra and Trelawney descending to the great hall as he was going up to the McGonagall apartment although Professor Trelawney insisted that their meeting was predestined. Both women scrutinized his shoes, robe, and the jaw that he shaved for the first time ever that morning.
"You look handsome, Mr Porter," Professor Sinistra said. "Enjoy yourself tonight."
"Thank you," Henry said. "Yes, ma'am, I will."
"Be wary, Mr Porter," Professor Trelawney dramatically intoned. "I see danger in your near future."
"Yes, ma'am," Henry replied politely stifling the ruder comment that first leaped to mind.
Henry finally stood before Professor McGonagall's apartment. Despite the several inspections, he gave himself a quick scan. He knew that his toughest critic would be on the other side of the door. His mouth was suddenly very dry while his palms were a veritable lake.
"This is ridiculous," he chided himself. "It's just a dance. You've knew both of them for three years. You love them. They love you. Well, Maggie does, anyway. Nothing has changed."
Still his knock was less then forcefully. Hesitant rap or not, the door swung open. Professor McGonagall stood towering in the doorway. She wore dress robes of red tartan. Her silver hair was styled in a formal knotted updo. He had never seen a photograph of Professor McGonagall as a young woman but he got the sudden impression that she must have been a knockout.
"Good evening, Professor," Henry said covering his nervousness with formality. "May I compliment you on your appearance?"
She saw though his stiffness to his apprehension. As her daughter had guessed, she was aware of how stern she could appear at times. She smiled. Henry's tense body relaxed slightly.
"Thank you, Mr Porter. Come in," she said stepping back from the doorway. "You can never go wrong complimenting a woman on her appearance even if she insists that she would scare a ghoul."
"I'll remember that, ma'am."
"Allow me to say that you look quite the blade tonight. Your green robes match your eyes." Professor McGonagall said closing the door.
"A couple of my housemates accused me of wearing Slytherin's colours." He replied. "But that's what the woman in Diagon Alley recommended when I went to buy dress robes."
"What's that in your hand?" she asked.
"Oh, it's a corsage," Henry said abruptly remembering the box in his hand. "I know that it's a muggle custom but I wasn't sure if it was a wizarding one or not so I got one just to be safe and I wanted to get Maggie one anyway so I did."
Professor McGonagall laughed. "Mr Porter, relax. I'm not going to toss you out of the window or transfigure you into a snail."
Henry ran a hand over his head. "Sorry, ma'am. I don't know why I'm so edgy. It's our first real date unless you count the Hogsmeade weekend but I've known Maggie for years."
"Please be sitting," Professor McGonagall said pointing toward the parlour set where they gathered for their animagus training. "It is more likely that it is the ball itself that you are nervous about then being with Maggie."
"I feel like I'm going to be on display at Tattersalls," Henry confessed as he sat.
"Which is what?" Professor McGonagall asked taking the chair across from him. She knew but talking about anything but the Yule Ball would ease the boy's tension.
"They're horse auctioneers," Henry explained. "Down in Newmarket. If you want a thoroughbred, that's where to go in Britain."
"Do you still wish to raise horses when you're grown," she asked.
"Yes, Professor, even if that may strike some other wizards as strange," Henry answered. "I can't think of anything else that I want to do."
"Then do so, Mr Porter. The happiest people are those whose avocation and vocation are one in the same," Professor McGonagall stated. "I cannot imagine being anything but a teacher. I have found it to be very rewarding. Only motherhood has been more so."
"Do you think that I'll get the chance?" Henry asked quietly.
Professor McGonagall leaned forward and stared Henry in the face. "One day I'll walk across the meadows of your farm with yours and Maggie's son holding one of my hands while your daughter holds my other."
"Do you believe that, Mum?"
Startled, Henry whirled around as he stood. Maggie ignored him keeping her attention on her slowly rising mother.
"Yes, my dearest one, I do," Professor McGonagall said. "Doctor Murray is undoubtedly a skilled physician but being a muggle, even one married to a wizard, I do not think that she can fully comprehend the talents of the healers at St. Mungo's."
Henry caught the briefest of glimpses of Maggie's tear-filled eyes as she flew past him into her mother's arms.
"I think that I'm missing the key point, once again," he thought, watching the sobbing Maggie cling to her mother.
Minerva allowed her daughter to cry for nearly a minute before she tenderly but firmly broke the embrace.
"Go wash your face, Maggie," she said gently. "You have kept your young man waiting long enough."
"Yes, mum," she replied. "I'm sorry, Henry, my emotions are all over the place lately. I'll return directly"
"I'll be here," Henry told her.
Professor McGonagall waited until the lavatory door closed behind Maggie before speaking. "I believe that the hormone regimen is starting to work on Maggie. I'm not a healer but I have decades of experience with adolescents. Erratic emotions are one of the signs of the onset of puberty."
"Yeah, one hour you feel like the king of the world and the next you want to crawl into a cave," Henry said staring at the door Maggie disappeared behind. "It's one of the worst parts."
The professor noted the boy's inattentiveness. "What's the worst part for you, Mr Porter?"
"The constant urge to…"
A red-faced Henry audibly clamped his mouth shut.
"Please do continue, Mr Porter," Professor McGonagall evenly said thoroughly enjoying the boy's discomfort.
"I rather go find that cave if it's all the same to you, Professor," he croaked.
Henry wanted to flee but he stood his ground as she walked over to him and clasped his shoulders.
"The constant urge as you so succinctly put it is another normal aspect of puberty," the professor began seriously. "And being a normal boy, I know precisely what is going on in your mind but Maggie related to me what you told her when she informed you of her need to remain chaste. You're a good boy, Henry, and one day you'll be a fine man, a man worthy of my daughter."
If the professor's words and calling him by his first name surprised Henry, he was stunned when she pulled him into a hug.
Maggie had opened door of the lavatory when her mother was saying 'you're a good boy'. When her mother hugged Henry, she closed it again her tears flowing anew. It was nearly ten more minutes before she could leave the loo.
Henry was standing by the window when she finally emerged, face repaired and emotions corralled. He turned at the sound of her heels clicking on the floor. He had always thought her pretty but tonight, she was a vision. Like Henry, she wore hunter green, a charmeuse single piece gown with puffed sleeves and a scooped neckline. Her make-up accented rather then hid the paleness of her skin and in a way that Henry could not fathom, changed the shape of her normally droopy eyes. The scent she wore was tantalizingly elusive. Around her neck was the silver chain, the pendant hidden beneath the bodice.
"Say something, Henry," Maggie demanded as the silence lengthened.
"If I may quote the Bard," Henry said. "Silence is the perfectest herald of joy."
"Perhaps," Maggie replied. "But I want to hear your voice."
"If the ancient Greeks saw you, they would add another grace to their pantheon," Henry said stepping forward. "This is for you."
He extracted the corsage from the box. It was a spray of white roses, yellow statice, and ivy leaves bound together by a white ribbon. Henry chose it because he liked it but it serendipitously matched her gown perfectly. Lovingly, he sat it on her wrist.
"It's beautiful, Henry."
"It pales beside you."
She smiled, caressing his cheek. "I can't muss my lipstick now but remind me to kiss you once the ball begins."
"I will."
"Where's mum?" she asked looking around.
"She left a few minutes ago." Henry said.
"We better hurry," Maggie said spying at the clock on the mantle. "We're almost late."
An exasperated Professor McGonagall looked up as Maggie and Henry descended the staircase to the entrance hall. She had been on the verge of sending an house elf after them.
"We were about to begin without you two," she said. "Everyone else has gone in. As I have already told the others, at the signal, the champions and their partners will march in, make their way to the main table and take the seats assigned to them. And by march, I mean an even, stately walk. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Yes, mum."
"Now, I want all eight of you to bear in mind the honour and dignity of your schools," Professor McGonagall continued in a lighter tone. "But remember to enjoy yourselves, also."
A chorus of assent answered the professor before she turned and entered the great hall closing the door behind her. The four couples lined up. Fleur Delacour took the first position nearest the door. Roger Davies was her escort. He had the expression of a man who won the national lottery and earned a place on the New Year's Honour's list on the same day. Henry wondered if he was going to be able to take his eyes off the Beauxbatons champion long enough to navigate the great hall.
Cedric Diggory, after a quick wave to Henry, took the place behind them. His date was Cho Chang, the pretty seeker for the Ravenclaw side.
Victor and Hermione stood next but instead of facing the doors they turned to talk to Henry and Maggie. Hermione was dream. She managed to straighten her normally bushy hair. It was glossy and done up in such an elegant, elaborate knot, Henry wondered how she accomplished it in one day. Her periwinkle-blue gown was vaguely medieval which was fitting since she was holding herself in a regal manner.
"I have had to use the word beautiful over and over tonight but I can think of no other," Henry told her. "You're beautiful, Hermione."
Hermione beamed. "It is a repetition that will not grow tiresome, Henry. Feel free to keep saying it."
"I pity any man not us tonight, my friend," Victor said. "I with the angel. You with the samodiva."
"Thank you," Maggie replied. Henry had no clue as to what a samodiva was but Maggie accepted it graciously so he assumed that it must be a compliment.
A fanfare suddenly blared and the main doors swung slowly open. Victor and Hermione quickly turned around. The procession of champions opened the Yule Ball.
It was nearly midnight. The dreamy smile would not leave Maggie's lips as she gazed slowly around the ball trying to chisel every detail of the evening into her memory. From the opening waltz where Henry spun her expertly around the floor to the speculative looks from many of the boys to the endless stream of compliments from the girls to punch that the Weasley Brothers managed to spike (thanks to Professor Moody's wilfully blind eye) the night had been perfect. She felt like Cinderella except that Maggie thought that the fairy tale princess in the Disney film could not have had as much fun at her ball as Maggie had at hers.
"Everyone looked too good at midnight for that to have happened," she thought cheerfully noting the state of her gown.
The pristine finery which she had entered the ball in was now somewhat rumpled after hours of dancing but it went unnoticed since every one else was in the same state of happy dishevelment. Her hair was damp and what was left of her lipstick was mostly on Henry.
She was sitting with her friends in a haphazard circle of chairs in one corner of the great hall. Henry sat by her with his arm wrapped around her waist. The tie that began the night around his neck was nowhere in sight as a bead of sweat crept unnoticed down his jaw. He, Luna, and Hermione were laughing at a story that Chris was telling which grew more outrageous by the sentence. Ron, seated across from Victor Krum, watched raptly as the Bulgarian seeker made hand gestures demonstrating various quidditch moves to him. Ginny had yet to leave the dance floor. When Chris, pleading exhaustion, begged off thirty minutes earlier, she simply found another guy.
The McNarney Girls had disappeared with Fred and George more then two hours earlier taking advantage of the up until then vigilant Professor Sprout hitting the dance floor with Ludo Bagman showing the moves that made her a jitterbug legend back in her school days.
"I'll get a blow-by-blow account in the morning, no doubt," Maggie thought when she noticed her oldest friends' absence. She paused, blushed and giggled. "Okay, maybe not the best choice of words."
Professor Dumbledore walked onto the stage as The Weird Sisters finished their song. Myron Wagtail leaned over as the old man spoke into his ear. The singer nodded once and then stepped forward.
"Are you having fun?" he shouted.
A roar of assent answered him.
"We loved Hogwarts when we were students here and it's been a real blast for us to be back," he chuckled. "I tell ya, we've played before bigger audiences but we haven't played for a better one. Give it up for yourselves!"
The kids stomped and clapped. Several shot sparkles and stars from their wands.
"It's been great," Myron cried before continuing in a low seductive voice. "But, before we go, one last slow song for the lovers out there."
Professor Dumbledore waved his wand. All of the overhead candles had their flames snuffed out in an instant. The hall was plunged into a romantic twilight bathed only in the glow of the stars and full moon of the enchanted ceiling.
"Have you got the energy for one last dance, Chris?" Ginny asked materializing at his shoulder.
"Oh, yeah," Chris smiled and took her hand. Maggie watched her friends paired up and head for the dance floor as the first notes sounded.
"Take a look," she quietly said to Henry nodding toward the dais.
Under Henry's discreet gaze, the Headmaster led Professor McGonagall to the centre of the great hall. Dumbledore's eyes never left her face as he took her into his arms and tenderly began to spin her about in a dance that Henry knew had to come from an era far removed from the modern world. It was stately, deliberate, and modest yet it screamed romance with every step.
"They are so in love with each other," Maggie said huskily, tears welling in her eyes. "I wish the Headmaster would put aside his fears and marry her."
"He's afraid to get married?" Henry asked in surprise.
"He was married a long, long time ago," Maggie mournfully replied. "It fell apart. Mrs Dumbledore left him and with their two young daughters in tow moved to New Zealand. It scarred him badly."
"But if he's in love…" Henry said.
"I guess that sometimes love isn't enough, Henry," she answered sadly.
"No, Maggie," Henry disagreed in a firm but kind voice. "Love is all that is needed. Love is greater then any fear, any tribulation, any obstacle."
Maggie smiled gloriously at him. "I love you, Henry. I would face anything, go anywhere, and do anything, if you ask me to."
Henry kissed her gently. "Will you dance with me?"
A/N: the final section was added at the behest of Fae Childe 19